?EL 5C





THE


YOUNG IDOMINICAN,
OR
LIFE IN TE ITNQUISITION;
AND
REVELATIONS OF THE SECRET SOCIETIES OF SPAIN.$
BY M. V. D. FEREAL.
WITH
IHJSTQRICAL NOTES BY M. MANUEL DE CUENDIAS.


$lianslatcb fzrom its fOrant).
ILLUSTRATED WITH OUTS.
PHILADELPHIA:
LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO, & CO.
1853.





TRANSLATOR'S PREFACE.


THE following graphic and authentic description of the
incredible barbarities 'and wickedness of the Spanish Inquisition is written by a Roman Catholic. Whilst many
of the characters who figure in the following story are
fictitious, the author has adhered closely to facts in every
thing relating to the usages of the horrid tribunal which
he describes. The portrait of the monster.is exact and
faithful, but the drapery is artificial.
The immense popularity of the work on the continent
of Europe will surprise no one who peruses its pages.
They present unquestionably the most thrilling exhibition
of the atrocious wickedness of the Inquisition anywhere
recorded, and this exposure is not the less remarkable,
because it is offered by a Roman Catholic.





THE


MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.
CHAPTER I.
TIHE WARD OF TRIANA.
TOWARDS the middle of the sixteenth century, during the reign of
Charles V., the population of Seville, the joyous and gay capital of
Andalusia, had gradually become gloomy, taciturn and sad. In vain
did the Moorish city unfold to the rays of a brilliant sun, her spacious
terraces covered with shrubs and flowers; her elegant balconies over
which were entwined like verdant and blooming network of lace,
the red pomegranates and Virginian jessamines with their golden
clusters. The voice of amorous cavaliers, blended with the thrilling
chords of the guitar was no more heard in the evening, under the
balconies; and if during the delightful hours of night, timid girls still
ventured to show themselves upon the terraces, and breathe the fresh
and fragrant air which was wafted from the banks of the Guadalquiver,
they flitted like shadows silent and grave, and from their mute lips,
instead of the buoyant and merry laugh, and that harmonious melody
of language, which in the mouth of woman makes the Spanish language resemble sonorous music, nothing escaped but stifled sighs.
For a long period, terror had every where raised his gloomy standard; no more sociality in the family circle-no more patriarchal
gatherings; distrust and fear had paralyzed the sweetest affections of
the heart. The father suspected his son, the brother his brother, the
friend his friend; for at this epoch men were in constant dread, lest they
might find in the being most fondly cherished, an informer or a spy.
No one felt secure of fortune or life; all lived from day to day, not
daring to form any attachment, suppressing in the deepest recesses
of the heart every emotion of generosity or tenderness, no longer
experiencing consolation or hope even in God, the great source of
comfort in all afflictions; for no man dared invoke him in the liberty
of his conscience, uncertain as he was, whether the language of his
prayer, or the manifestation of his faith would be the legal expression,
approved by the supreme tribunal of the inquisition. The holy
usurper which required men to worship God. according to its forms,
or rather which arrogated infinite rights and a fatal power over the
bodies and souls of men, transforming itself into God; a pitiless
tyrant, seeking by all possible means to attain its-single aim, supreme
dominion. The inquisition was then in the horrible apogee of its
power. Its chief was the Cardinal Alphonso Manrique, Archbishop
of Seville.





6


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


This short sketch was necessary for the proper understanding of
the chapters which are to follow.
Let us carry ourselves back to February 15, A. D. 1534. It was
about seven o'clock in the evening; the streets of Seville, forinerly full
of noise and animation, were dark and silent, although it was the season of the carnival. Here and there, monks of a sordid aspect met in
the streets some wandering gypsies; the familiars of the holy office,
those vigilant spies, saluted one another as they passed by a sacramental sign,* and the inhabitants of the ward of Triana,t hurried towards
the avenues of the bridge of boats thrown across the Guadalquiver,
uniting the city to this immense suburb, a foul sewer which to this
day swarms with the refuse of the population of Seville. Among
the persons, who at this hour crossed the bridge of Triana, a man of
high stature might be seen, clothed with the gown of a preaching
friar. His broad and heavy brow was more calm than austere. His
large black eye was full of sweetness, although enthusiasm and thought
made it sparkle with fire; and upon his silent lips, the seal of eloquence and poetry was imprinted. The energy of Saint Paul and
the mildness of the beloved disciple were combined in his radiant
countenance.
This man walked slowly, as though engaged in deep thought; and
in his profound abstraction from earthly things, he did not notice the
passers by who hurried against each other, nor those, who coming
from the same direction towards which he was going, might push
against him in the darkness of the evening.
When he had reached the other side of the bridge, he paused for
an instant, uncertain whether he should take the right or the left of
the two streets which forked out before him. But as thoughts of
another nature mingled with this indecision, the monk, evidently
abandoned to the control of a single idea, stood pensive and motionless at the same place. He looked more like a man, who is waiting
at a place of rendezvous, than a philosopher engaged in meditation,
and at this moment, especially, very few would have supposed, when
viewing the monk thus motionless, that he was halting, only in obedience to his thoughts.
At this instant, a man neatly clad appeared in the street on the
right, which was then called La calle de los Gitanos, the street of
the Bohemians, and paused a few moments at the angle of this street,
looking on all sides, as if he had been in search of some one; then
perceiving the monk, he slowly moved towards him. Having come
within a few paces of the preaching friar, he again paused; the monk
did not yet observe him. The layman approached a step nearer, and
pronounced in a low voice, the single word:
" Hito. "* A sacramental sign. The familiars of the inquisition had signs like the
masons and other secret societies, certain touches and words known only to
themselves, by means of which they might recognise one another.
f The ward of Triana: The quarter of Triana: this district, separated from
the city of Seville by the Guadalquiver, has always been and is still to this day,
the suburb in which people of loose habits,, smugglers, liberated galley slaves
and others reprieved from justice, establish themselves.
H Hito. This word, the diminutive of chito! silence! and of san-benite, a
scapular of yellow cloth, in which the inquisition clothed the persons intended
to figure in an auto da fe, is one of the sacramental words, which the former





WARD OF TRIANA.


7


At the sound of this voice, the Franciscan hastily raised his head,
looked for an instant at the face of the man, who had spoken to him,
and gravely replied by another word:
SCoraza."~
SGodt has sent me," added the stranger.
" God has all power over men," replied the monk.
"Your reverence may follow me," pursued the layman.
The friar obeyed, and walked by the side of his guide with an air
as calm and natural as if this incident had not been unexpected;
suffering himself to be led like a docile child, and scrupulously observing the imperious chiton,_ commanded by the terror which the
inquisition inspired, and which remains like a dark proverb among
the Spaniards to this day.
The stranger and the monk followed together, the street of the
Gitanos; a long, black, tortuous avenue, in which no other light was
to be seen, but that issuing from numerous taverns, ranged along
this hideous street, from which proceeded a shrill and confused noise,
a babel of discordant and drunken voices.
The rabble of Seville, the baser sort, pickpockets and others, were
diverting themselves, and drinking to excess manzanilla and p(jareti, which they quaffed at large draughts from the chiquetas, long,
strait glasses, of a square form, still in use in the Andalusian inns.
After reaching the lower part of the street, the layman stopped before a tavern, better lighted than the others, and pointing out the gate
to his companion, he made a sign to him to enter. The friar, without hesitation, crossed the threshold of this horrible place; for it was
not then unusual to see monks in a tavern. Besides, it is well known
that they have always intermeddled, in Spain, with matters of the
lowest and basest kind. Hence, without doubt, the hatred and contempt which have pursued and expelled them.
The friar entered the tavern. It was a low, long and dark hall,
with black and smoky walls, covered here and there with broad
marks, whose lighter colour, contrasted with the gloomy tints of the
wall, formed upon this black ground a mosaic of hieroglyphics.
Coarse and crazy benches stretched across this hall, before black
and filthy tables, to which, however, the constant friction of elbows
had imparted a sort of varnish. Upon the walls, to the height of
half way to the ceiling, a vast number of coarse images had been
pasted, representing the numerous Madonnas which are worshipped
note explains. This scapular was also called Zamarra. Every one who
had worn the san-benito, remained eternally dishonoured and deprived of all
civil and political right. This stigma extended to all his descendants.
* Coraza. The coraza was a high and pointed cap. Upon this cap in which
the condemned were muffled at the stake, devils, flames and a thousand grotesque figures besides, were painted. The word coraza was also part of the
secret vocabulary of the familiars,
j God. In the mystic gibberish of the familiars, this name signified the inquisitor general of the kingdom, or of the province, or the inquisition in a collective sense.
t Chiton! Silence!!! The terror which the inquisition infused into the
Spaniards was such, that through fear of being denounced even by him, to whom
they were speaking about it, the Spaniards have made it a proverb. People still
say in Spain, "In matters of the inquisition, chiton!" in order to express the
danger of speaking about things which ought to be kept secret.





8


SMYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


in Spain, o?' the horrible scenes of the auto da f6. Beneath each
of these images, burned two small wax-candles, about as thick as the
quill of a feather, or an oil lamp, smoking and fusty. These lights,
which burned constantly during thE night, were the sole illumination
of the tavern.
Upon the beams of the ceiling, numerous iron hooks with several
oranches were screwed, called garabatos, from    which were suspended pel mtel, hams, smoked bacon, fresh meat, hats, and even
cloaks.
To see all these people of hideous aspect, monks, adventurers,
gypsies and familiars of the inquisition, for there were men of all
these descriptions in the tavern; to see them, seated at the long ta
bles, by the flickering light of the tapers, in their strange habiliments,
they might have been taken for an assembly of demons seated under
gibbets in the midst of a catacomb.
The floor, earthy, gray and damp, emitted no sound under the sandals of the monks or the naked feet of the gitanos; the noise of the
hoarse voices resembled a funeral psalmody. This filthy place inspired as much terror as disgust. Such were, at that period, the ta
verns of the ward or suburb of Triana."
The friar proceeded to take his seat at the extremity of the hall, at
the end of a table, where there was no one/, then he invited his
companion to take a place at his side.
Suddenly the stranger said-" I must first speak to the Chapa,"f
and he pointed to a young girl who was standing some paces from
them at the door of a narrow recess, which served as a kitchen.
The Chapa, sister of the tavern-keeper, was a young Andalusian
brunette; half gypsey, with delicately rounded limbs scarcely covered
below the knees with a short red habit. Her long black hair, somewhat curled, divided in two plaits, fell from each side of her head
down to her waist, and a broad fillet of orange riband was fastened
under her neck by long pins with steel heads, whose thousand facets
glittered like stars.
The stranger accosted her familiarly, and said in a low and suppressed voice,
" Has Frazco come, Chapa?"
"Not yet," replied the Andalusian, but he will soon be here: I
have sent my brother Joachim to inform him that Senora Dolores
will leave her home at midnight; Frazco is to come and join you
here, as also this holy man, whom God$ honors with his confidence."
* Such taverns as the author describes are rare now-a-days, even in the ward
of Triana. I saw only three or four in 1822. In Spain, as every where else,
the taverns which were the delight of our fathers, have been transformed into
magnificent cafis, where people get drunk, it is true, but at more expense, surrounded with gilding and mirrors, and drinking from crystal glasses, liquors and
wines perhaps inferior in quality, but much dearer, and bearing foreign names.
The taverners, formerly persons from the dregs of society, often scape-gallowses, are in our day metamorphosed into honourable citizens; and by means
of a patent they may be at once, merchants, usurers, thieves, sacristans, saints,
electors, often eligible, and sometimes even elected.
f Chapa. This word signifies a plate of shining sonorous metal-applied to
a young woman, it means pretty and charming. The lower orders only use it
in this sense.
t See note page 7.





WARD OF TRIANA.


9


At the same time, the Chapa cast an inquisitive glance at the noble
and imposing figure of the friar.
S This is he," said the stranger;  he is the confidential friend of
the most illustrious and reverend father Pedro Arbues: I met him at
the entrance of the bridge of Triana, just as his eminence had told
me; and now we are waiting only for Frazco to carry our project
into execution, provided Seniora Dolores always keeps her word."
" She will leave home, sir," replied the Chapa; "I carried a letter
to her myself from her betrothed, which his eminence had employed
Pierre de Saavedra* to write as a kind of pastime."
" And the young girl has therefore all at once consented to a meeting?" inquired the stranger, whom for greater facility in our narrative, we shall call Enriquez.
" At first she refused," said the Chapa, " but the letter was so
pressing! It treated of matters affecting the life of her betrothed, and
she promised all I wished.   She is to repair this evening to the appointed place. You may well think," added the sister of Joachim,
" that I was not displeased with her determination, and that I aided
her in it to the extent of my ability."
" Thank Heaven!" cried Enriquez with feigned emotion;      Chapa,
you are a real witch! and on my soul his eminence could not choose
a better than you as an instrument of his very holy and immutable
will. You know full well, Chapa, that our holy inquisitor has no
other aim than to snatch from the devil the soul of this young girl,
by hindering her marriage with Don Estevan de Vargas, who is, they
say, the son of a Marrano,t and grandson of a Moor."     " Oh! that
is true," replied the Chapa, making the sign of the cross. a My lord
is a Saint, he is always occupied in the concerns of heaven. But do
* Saavedra (Juan Perezde) surnamed the False Nuncio, was an intriguer
highly celebrated on account of his skill in counterfeiting all sorts of hand-writings. It was he, who, aided by a Jesuit, established the inquisition and the
Society of Jesus in Portugal, by means of forged bulls of the Pope, and false
letters of Charles V. and the prince Philip, afterwards Philip II. Saavedra was
not satisfied with promoting the interests of the Jesuits and those of the inquisition. His facility in counterfeiting royal bounties and titles of credit against
the state and against private individuals, procured him considerable sums. The
inquisitor Tabera finally had this wretch arrested as he was coming out of a
church in Malaga, and the inquisition, which sent to the stake thousands of
honest people for a word, contented itself by condemning this miscreant to the
galleys for ten years. It is true that the holy office profited by the labours of
the false nuncio; the inquisitorial tribunal established by him, and what is more,
all the offices and dignities which Saavedra had c.mferred, were confirmed by
the inquisitor general.
Nineteen years later (in 1562) Philip II. called the false nuncio to the court,
and employed him there. This monster, who had been made bishop, nuncio
and legate a latere by his own hand, died at Madrid in 1675, worth more than
400,000 ducats ($220,000) and in high esteem. Thus were established in Portugal, the Society of Jesus and the inquisition, two institutions worthy of one
another, and nevertheless mutually hostile, doubtless, because both aimed at
the same object, namely, power. (Hist. of the Inquisition by Llorente.) Who
knows but Father Lacordaire, by the mighty combinations of his genius, may
not contrive to give France a perfect inquisition? To begin with, France already
possesses the Dominicans!!! the department of la Muerthe and the Lower
Rhine.
(Marrano. Swine. In Spain, the Moors and Jews converted to the Catholic
religion are designated by this name.
2





10


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


not tell me that I am a witch," added she, terrified: "such a word
ought not to pass from the lips of a familiar of the holy office; for,
as the price of my zeal in serving the holy inquisitor, this word
might perhaps make me figure in the first grand auto-da-f6 which
shall take place to celebrate the victories of the king, Don Carlos, our
beloved sovereign."
" Well, be not alarmed, Chapa, you are too good a Catholic, and
too faithful a servant of the holy inquisition to fear that. We cannot fail soon to have a grand auto-da-f6,-it will not be the first since
our beloved lord and king Don Carlos has ascended the throne, and
I promise you the best place in the great balcony of the public square,
to see all the heretic dogs roasted."
"True enough!" cried the young Andalusian, clapping her hands
with delight!  " Oh! Senor Enriquez, they say, that there will be
more than fifteen heretics burned, and a great number to whom his
eminence will show favor, provided they will abjure and are willing to die like good Christians; these will be strangled before they
are delivered to the flames."  Oh! that will be grand! Sefor Enri.
quez,-you will let me see all this, will you not?"
"I swear it," replied the familiar, "by all the saints in the calendar, with permission of the holy inquisition of Seville. It will be
magnificent," added Enriquez, charmed at seeing the gypsey thus
animated with zeal for the holy office. But if he had attentively regarded the countenance of the Andalusian, he would have seen her
red lips imperceptibly blanched, her bright and sparkling eye full of
vague terror, and under her corset of black velvet, had he been a little
nearer, he might have heard her heart beat with hurried and unequal
strokes.
The sister of Joachim could not remain calm whilst facing the inquisition, whose humble servant she had become through fear: and
by no means reassured by the sanctimonious and hypocritical mien
of the soldier of Christ,t she cried out in an impassioned strain, to
* It often Jhappened that victims condemned to the stake were reconciled to
the church, that is to say, plead guilty to crimes and offences which they had not
committed, and made confession at the foot of the scaffold. In such cases the
inquisition felt its maternal bowels moved, and granted to the condemned the
ravor of being strangled before they were delivered to the flames. (Annals of
the Inquisition.)
f Soldier of Christ. The familiars of the holy office bore this name from
the time Torrequemada, under Alexander VI., caused the youngest of those who
composed it to be armed. "This strange militia," says Llorente, in his History
of the Inquisition, " was very numerous; Torrequemada had shown himself so
cruel, he had encouraged spies and informers to such an extent, that a great
number of distinguished gentlemen, deeming it more prudent to belong to the
inquisition, than sooner or later to be declared suspected; voluntarily offered
themselves as familiars of the holy office: the example of the nobility attracted
a throng of the lower orders. Soon there were as many familiars as there were
persons subject to municipal taxes, from which every individual belonging to
the inquisition was exempt.
The armed f.niliars composed what was called the Militia of Christ.
This militia performed the duty of body guard, both to the general and the provincial inquisitors.
The Mihitia of Christ was organized in France by Dominique de Guzman, A.
D. 1508, during the reign of Philip II., King of Frarce, and Pope Innocent III.





WARD OF TRIAN A.


11


which she endeavoured to give the appearance of joy,-" Oh! that
will be grand, that will be grand!"
At this instant, she perceived the large black eyes of the friar fixed
upon her. The monk had not lost a word of her conversation, nor a
single expression of her countenance.
" Give us wine, my daughter," said the familiar.
And the poor Chapa, glad to escape the piercing glance of the friar,
and the conversation in which she was afraid every moment of betraying her terror, quick and light, went to fetch a jar of wine, which
she placed before his reverence.
As Enriquez moved a wooden stool to seat himself before the
Franciscan, a new personage entered the tavern.
The new comer approached the familiar, and'looking at the monk:
"Is this our holy commissary?" asked he, in a hurried tone.
"It is he, himself, Senor Frazco," replied Enriquez.
The friar rose and crossed his two hands upon his bosom. Frazco
made the same gesture; the monk then crossed them in an opposite
direction and inclined towards Frazco as if to salute him. Frazco on
his part performed the same movement in such a way that in bending forward., their foreheads lightly touched each other. This was
the distinctive salutation of the familiars of the holy office.
But Frazco was not content with these signs of recognition; he
uncovered his breast, and upon his vest, displayed a silver plate
which had the figure of Christ inverted. In the midst of the breast
of the image, glittered a sun, the symbol of light, a satirical device of
the inquisition, that messenger of falsehood and deceit.
To this last sign, the Franciscan made no reply.
Frazco cast upon Enriquez a dark look of distrust.
Enriquez shrugged his shoulders with an expression of unconcern
and conviction.
"He is none of ours," Frazco murmured in a surly tone.
Enrique-z made a gesture indicating doubt.
"He is none of ours, I tell you," repeated Frazco, " and we are
betrayed: betrayed, do you hear?" he continued, clenching firmly the
wrist of Enriquez; and his forbidding countenance was expressive of
ferocious anger.
All this passed in a low tone of voice, not so low, however, that
the frequenters of the tavern could not observe a movement of excitement, which announced a quarrel. All eyes were then turned
towards the friar, who, standing calm and collected, seemed a witness
rather than an actor in this strange scene.
Some of them, at the sight of the Franciscan, whose imposing figure
inspired respect, ventured to murmur, and threats against Enriquez
and Frazco, fell from the lips of these bandits.
Although sure of revenge in case of insult, the familiars of the inquisition were not desirous of coming to a quarrel with the inhabitants
of the Ward of Triana: they knew them well enough to be satisfied
that in defence of a monk, they would suffer themselves to be cut to
pieces to the last man; but there was something which was still more
imposing to the people than priests and monks; it was the inquisition.
With infernal subtlety, Frazco, turning towards the carousers, whose
looks and gestures intimated hostile intentions:





12


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" Brothers," cried he, ' will you be such bad Catholics as to defend
an enemy of the inquisition?"
At this dreaded word, THE INQUISITION-you might have seen
every head bowed, and a livid paleness assume the place of the animation of their countenances: you would have said, a thunderbolt had
fallen in the midst ot these rude and turbulent people. Not a man
of them dared utter a word.
The friar, without regarding either the anger of Frazco or the astonishment of the bandits of the tavern, gravely rose and walked towards the door, in the midst of the sullen silence.
" What!" exclaimed Frazco, C will you let him escape in this way?
Will not one of you go and inform the police of the holy office?
" I will," cried thd terrified Chapa, instantly darting towards the
door, wishing to escape, by her zeal, the danger which she apprehended for herself; but as she was about to raise the latch, the Franciscan cast upon her a deep and earnest look, and the Chapa, fascinated, clasped her hands and fell on her knees before the man of
God.
Then the monk, turning with a majestic air towards the mute and
motley assembly, imparted a benediction with a heavenly countenance,
and hurrying into the street, disappeared before any one, even Frazco
himself, could think of detaining him.
SWe are betrayed, you fool!" said Frazco, turning to Enriquez,
who like the rest was plunged in profound amazement.
" He knows nothing," replied Enriquez.
" Well, to work then!" cried Frazco, reassured. "We have no
ieed of a third person for that."
And the two soldiers of Christ went out of the tavern together.
CHAPTER       II.
THE PALACE OF THE GARDUNA.
At the extremity of the Ward of Triana, stood an old dilapidated
building of Moorish architecture, whose ruins afforded shelter to the
birds of night.'"
Mendicants without home and strolling Gitanos often slept among
the stones, during the warm nights, which in Andalusia render all
shelter unnecessary; and during the days of winter, old women
crouching in the sunshine sought behind these ruins a shelter against
the rigor of the north-east wind.
The large proportions of the dismantled walls, with certain architectural ornaments in entire preservation, plainly indicated that a vast
and sumptuous domicile had formerly stood on that ground, for in
* The Spanish Catholics set so little store by the beautiful monuments which
the Moors had bequeathed to the country, that with the exception of some ot
the most remarkable, of which the monks took possession, all were abandoned
to beggars, Gitanos and malefactors, who still occupy them.





THE PALACE OF THE GARDUNA.


13


the midst of the wreck, a lofty, light and elegant colonnade sustained
an arch, covered with arabesques in perfect form. A wall, almost
untouched, although apparently of fragile construction, enclosed this
colonnade, which had probably ornamented a splendid hall, whilst a
door of remarkable strength defended the entrance.
Here and there in the rubbish wild shrubs were entwined, and
weeds with blossoms of a pale rose colour, yellow clusters of sweetscented wall flowers, thickets of sweet brier and wild laurel, whose
thick bushes covered the nakedness of these ruins with a shady and
cheerful verdure.
This strange place served as a rendezvous for the members of the
confraternity of the Garduna,* and was the palace of the master of the
order.
* The confraternity of the Garduzia, a brotherhood of rapine. Under this
title, there has existed a secret society in Spain, since the year 1417, composed
of all kinds of brigands. This society, perfectly organized, had for its object
the performance on a grand scale of all sorts of crimes, for the benefit of any
one who had revenge to execute or resentment to satisfy. It undertook for
the lowest price, and warranted, to inflict wounds with the poniard, mortal Co
not, according to the wish of the employer, to drown, to give a bastinado, ant
even to assassinate. Assassination cost a high price, and a certain consequence
was requisite to procure it, but once promised, it might be depended on; for the
brotherhood of the Gardunia laid a desperate stress upon serving its customers,
so soon as it had made an engagement.
The brotherhood of the Garduna was composed of a grand master, called, hermano mayor, superior brother, who occupied the court, in which he frequently
held an eminent position. This superior brother sent his orders to the capatazes, masters of provinces: the latter had them executed with a precision and
zeal, which would do honour to many a public functionary.
The membership of the Garduna which was very numerous, was composed of
guapos, a kind of bravos, usually great bullies, bold assassins, and consummate
bandits, whose courage was proof against the rack and even the gibbet. In the
lingo of the society, these guapos were called puntadores, pointers, such as
gave sharp blows. Next to these came thefloreadores, the skirmishers: these
were young people, adroit thieves, for the most part such as had escaped from
the jails of Seville, Malaga or Melilla: they were called brothers postulant.
After these came thefuelles, the bellows, so called, because their office in the
society was to blow in the ear of the master of the order what they knew of
families in the city, where they introduced themselves, by virtue of their hypocritical exterior. Thefuelles were all old men of a saintly aspect, who might
be seen always at church, chaplet in hand, excepting during the hours of service
appointed by the master of the Gardufia or the inquisition; for the greater part
of these old men combined the employment of familiar of the holy office with
that of a spy of the Gardufia. The Gardufia had also a great number of female
receivers of stolen goods, who were called coberteras, lids, from the verb cubrir,
to cover, conceal; and a large body of young people from ten to fifteen years of
age, who were designated by the name of chivatos, roebucks. The chivatos
were the novices of the order. It was necessary to be a chivato, at least for
one year, in order to merit the honour of working in the quality of a postulant.
A postulant who had done the brotherhood good service became a guapo at the
end of two years of probation. This was the highest grade which the society
conferred, after that of master and grand master. Besides the people just mentioned, the Gardunfa counted a large number of Serenas, sirens. These were
young and pretty women, chiefly gypsies. The Serenas were the odaliskes of
the big caps of the order. They attracted persons who were designated, to places
favorable for the operations of the Gardufia. To all this personnel, add the
alguazils, the secretaries, procurers, monks, prebendaries, and even bishops and
inquisitors, who were as much instruments as they were protectors of the Gar.
B





14


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


All those who have read the novels of Cervantes can remember the
delightfully grotesque character of.Monipodes, chief of the thieves of
Seville.  At the epoch of which we speak, that is to say, more than
fifty years before Cervantes, a brotherhood of thieves, protected by
some members of the police, already existed in Spain. This singular
institution, whose origin is to be dated at the commencement of the
fifteenth century, had at that time as its chief, at Seville, a man whose
aspect was at once grave and sarcastic, and his language hideously
picturesque; on the whole a traditional type, so far as regards character, such as might still be found in Spain in 1821.
On the same evening of February, 1534, on which the events related in the last chapter had taken place, a scene not less curious and
far more original was enacted in the palace of the master of the
Gardufia.
It was about ten o'clock, when the heavy and massive gate of the
palace of the Garduila, turning upon its hinges, gave admission to about
thirty individuals of every sex and age. They entered silently and
in order, scrupulously observing the rights of rank and hierarchy.
In the midst of the hall, which was tolerably well lighted by pine
knots fixed upon nails imbedded in the columns, might be seen the
master of the order.
He was a man of great stature, strong and bony; his olive face,
furrowed with scars, presented a strange mixture of cunning audacity,
sang froid, and occasionally, when he condescended to smile, of sarcasm and irony. His masculine and heavy voice had the accent of
energy, and when he gave a command, tre strength of his determination impressed upon his looks and gestures, a power which enforced
obedience.   He wore a shirt of coarse linen cloth and a brown waistcoat, thrown over his shoulders in the way of a cloak, his thighs below
the knee were clothed with zaragi.elles, a sort of linen trowsers.
His naked and brawny legs were covered with hair, and his broad
feet, the indices of base extraction and of unwieldv physical strength,
were shod with alpargatas, a kind of sandals tied iround his ankles
by a multitude of strings.
This man was called JAandamiento.The different personages who had just entered formed a circle
around the master of the Gardufla y Floreo.t    Close to him, and in
dufia, of which they often stood in need, or who gave them money, and we shall
have an idea of this society which desolated Spain for more than four centuries.
The Garduna established at the commencement of the fifteenth century was
entirely destroyed by the mountain hunters under my orders.  The papers of
this strange and horrible society, consisting of several registers containing
the orders of the day, the statute of the brotherhood, and a great number of letters were deposited by me in the criminal register of Seville, Sept. 15, 1821,
They were still there in 1823. Francisco Cortina, who was master of this society in 1821, arrested with a score of his accomplices, was hung in the square
of Seville, and also sixteen of his fellow criminals, November 25, 1822. At
the proper time and place I shall give an authentic translation of the statutes
of the Gardunfa. In this chapter the author copies, almost word for word, the
order of the day for Feb. 15, 1534.
* Mandamiento. Command.
f Floreo is a word, derived fromflorear, to skirmish: in the cant of the Spanish thieves, florear signifies to wound with a knife;floreo might then be rendered, stabbing.





THE PALACE OF THE GARDUNA.                   15
order of merit, were seated two guapos in the prime of their age, one
on his right, the other on his left. The first was called, Janofina,
or dexterous hand, on account of his unrivalled address in inflicting
wounds with the poniard, passing on, without his victim being able
to perceive from what quarter the blow had come, and also his prodigious talent as a bully and a marksman with the pistol.
The other was called Cuerpo de Hierro, iron frame. He had on
three several occasions submitted to the torture without avowing his
crimes, without denouncing any one, and without exhibiting the least
token of bodily pain.
After them came two old men called fuelles, bellows, a name
which the society gave to all those of its members who, by means
of a sanctimonious demeanour, served as spies and guides to every
point where a theft might be accomplished. After them came certain old women, useful personages, called coberleras; then again divers
chivatos under various costumes, and lastly several young women
called serenas: these were the bayaderes of the big caps of the order.
They had the' farther commission of moving, by their charms, the
judges, attorneys, and even the secretaries, upon whom the lives of
the brothers of the Gardufia often depended. Frequently also their
seductive arts were not without effect upon some voluptuous prebendary or lascivious priest, whose influence was at that time unbounded, both in temporal and spiritual affairs.
Outside of the circle, and a little on one side, modestly stood a
young man, the principal object of this meeting; they called him
Garabato.*
Senor Aandamiento regarded the assembly with a searchifig look,
devoutly made the sign of the cross, and muttered a prayer, turning
towards a coarse image of the holy Virgin pasted upon the wall.
All the assistants imitated his example.
Then, Mandamiento addressed them in these terms:
" Noble and valiant knights of the poniard, faithful spies, useful
concealers,, seductive sirens, nimble roebucks, and other members of
this honourable brotherhood, health! May our Lord and his holy
Mother grant you their divine protection and deliver you from the
hooks,t the straps,4 the pulleys,~ the pangs,|l and the vomit,~f often
fatal and always dangerous to your brethren. I have called you together to-day to consult you upon a fact which interests our rights
and may compromise our society.
You all know, my children, that since by the favour of Heaven,
you work under my direction, we have had to deplore only a dozen
* Garabato. A hook with several branches. The Spaniards give this name
to the young people of the lower classes, whose defective education has filled
Spain with thieves, as well as to all persons who devote themselves to roguery
of any kind. Garabato, taken in this sense, signifies a thief.
f Hooks. The alguazils, policemen.: Straps. The leather scourge with which criminals were whipped in Spain.
Pulleys. An instrument of torture employed by the inquisition, and also
by the common courts to extort confession.
I1 Pangs. Hanging, the struggles preceding strangulation.
IT Vomit. Confession.





16


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


somersets,* about forty mule-rides,t and a few enlistments in the royal
marine. t
Seville furnished six times as many every year to be choked by
the smoke~ before you had chosen me as the chief of your brotherhood.   Scarcely sixty-five ganchos,\\ of whom the half at least were
runaways, have this year fallen into the jaws of the wolf,~ and of more
than a score of our brothers, who are at this moment between his
teeth, I dare affirm there will be hardly three that will swing, five or
six, who will become mariners, and a dozen who will perform      an
equestrian feat. I think we may still have two or three well flogged,
and as many of our sisters put in honey,"" but we could not help it.
When we have money enough to have more masses said, and to pay
the police better, our affairs will go otherwise. Such, my children,
at this day, is the flourishing condition of the Garduia.
SIf I have adverted to my trifling services," continued Mandamiento with mock modesty, " it is not to make any parade of the
feeble talent which Heaven, whose humble instrument I am, has
condescended to allot me, but to make you understand how very
important it is, that the strictest union and perfect harmony should
reign amongst us, in order that we may be able to exercise our useful
profession with all possible success, and merit the favour of the ladies and cavaliers who do us the honour to employ us. I proceed
to the object of this meeting."
At the same time the master cast about him a scrutinizing glance,
and having descried Garabato, who stood modestly leaning against
a column, he made a sign to him to approach.
* Somersets. Hangings.
f M1ule-rides. In Spain, persons condemned to public exposure are borne
upon an ass, throughout the city, with the person naked to the waist.
\ The royal marine. The galleys.
i Choked in the smoke. Seized by justice. The Spanish thieves call justice, smoke.
II Ganchos. Thieves.
a Jaws of the wolf. The prison.
** Put in honey. Women of loose life, particularly those persons who follow the horrible trade of corrupting youth, were punished in a singular mode
in Spain. Until very recently, so soon as a woman was convicted of being a
prostitute, or of having induced another to become one, she was condemned to
be feathered.
At eleven o'clock in the morning, the executioner repaired to the cell of the
condemned, and, assisted by his valets, disrobed her entirely from her waist to
her head. Then he covered her body with a thick coating of honey. This
done, he put on her a coroza, a pointed pasteboard cap. Thus accoutred, the
condemned was mounted on an ass, then a kind of collar was attached to her
neck and fastened to a bar of iron, the end of which rested upon the tail of the
ass; she was afterwards conducted slowly between two rows of soldiers and alguazils, and escorted by a crowd of people. Behind the condemned, two servants of
the executioner walked, bearing a large basket full of feathers, attended by the
public crier and the executioner in person. The cavalcade halted in the principal streets and squares of the city, when the public crier read in a loud voice
the sentence which condemned the patient to be feathered, telling the reason.
The crier always finished with this formula: quien tal hizo que asi page; " thus
should she suffer who has done so."  As soon as these words were pronounced,
the executioner took two handfuls of feathers and threw them upon the honey
with which the body of the condemned -was covered; the feathers stuck and at
last gave so hideous and grotesque an appearance to the culprit as to call forth
bursts of laughter from the crowd. This was being put in honey.





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ITI"












THE PALACE OF THE GARDUNA.


17


Garabato obeyed without delay. The living circle which separated
him from the master opened to admit him. The young man approached, and a few steps brought him within the reach of Mandamiento.
The master of the Gardufia took the young man's hand, and presenting him to the assembly, continued his address as follows:
"Brothers, Messrs. Manofina and Cuerpo de Hierro surprised this
young man under the peristyle of the cathedral, stealing first a
handkerchief from  the pocket of a gentleman, then a purse pretty
well filled from the sacristan of a convent of nuns. To tell the truth,
he has shown great skill in this business, but it is not less true, that
inasmuch as he does not belong to our brotherhood, he has violated
the statutes of our order in eclipsing without having the requisite authority, and still more in attacking the goods of the church.
"Messrs. Manofina and Cuerpo de Hierro, considering the good
parts, and precocious talent of this young man, which they say will
prove an honour to the Gardunia, with the help of St. Denis and our
good instruction, these gentlemen I say, have preferred bringing him
to us to throwing him into the smoke, which might perhaps have
stifled so happy a disposition.  However, this young man has violated our statutes, and deserves to be denounced."
"What think you, gentlemen?" said Mandamiento, throwing his
eye over the assembly.
"The master is right," murmured the bandits; "this young man
deserves to be denounced."
Manofina and Cuerpo de Hierro uttered a sullen growl, expressive
of murmuring dissatisfaction.
"'Cursed rabble," muttered Manofina, "it is here just as at the
Rosary;* these fellows always answer, amen."
" Such a ready grip!"-added Cuerpo de Hierro.
"Denounce him! Denounce him!" exclaimed several coberieras,
displaying by a hyena grin, two or three long loose teeth, which fell
down on their under lip, like the tusks of a boar.
Mandamiento manifested no excitement, but nothing that was passing around him escaped his notice. He suffered the wave to subside; then again addressing the assembly:
"What is your opinion, gentlemen?" said he with a tone which
* The bravo here alludes to certain brotherhoods, which even in 1820, frequented the streets of Spanish cities, asking alms to offer Novenas to our Lady
of the Rosary, or to any other Madonna; these alms they dispensed in a very
holy manner, in making delicate repasts, after having deducted the expenses.
The expenses by the bye, consisted in a dozen wax tapers, which were paraded
in as many lanterns, affixed to the end of a stick, and in the payment of a porter, employed to carry a banner with a picture of a Madonna. In 1820 the
members of these confraternities amounted to seventy-nine in Madrid alone.
Even at this period, it was hardly possible to walk in the streets of great cities
in Spain, during the evening, without meeting several Rosaries, that is, so many
troops of hypocrites and simpletons, ranged in two ranks, reciting the chapter
in a loud voice, and with an appearance of any thing but devotion, with no other
interruption than the bawling voice of those who solicited alms, bellowing at
the close of every Ave Maria: Maria sanctissima del Rosario hermanos!
"Give to our Lady of the Rosary, brothers!" And the pieces of coin would
fall wrapped in a bit of burning paper so that the (demandero,) solicitor could
see them! Oh monks of Spain! Here is your picture.
iB2                     3





18


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


hadrfar more the accent of command than of deference. All were
silent, and their stupid faces were expressive of nothing but that
passive and instinctive obedience, which vulgar creatures always
render to men of genius.
The two guapos alone cast upon the chief a sinister look, expressive of dissatisfaction and hatred.
The master pretended not to perceive it, and turning anew towards the assembly:
6 Gentlemen," said he, my advice is, in consideration of the precocious genius of this young man, and also of the recommendation
of our honoured brothers, Manofina and Cuerpo de Hierro, who ara
his protectors, my advice, I say, is, that we. receive this young man
among us in the quality of a brother postulant,> dispensing with the
year of his noviciate, and that for his, better encouragement, we grant
him all the privileges to which those of our apprentices are entitled,
who have distinguished themselves during their year of trial, provided he pays all the duties which other members pay to the brotherhood, and renders tribute to God. In a word, I take him under
my protection-and now," added the master, c if any one of you
has any remarks to make, let him speak!"
Every body was still; some of the serenas regarded with complacency the young Garabato, who was a comely lad. " Stupid
brutes!" murmured the guapos.
" It is well, gentlemen," continued Mandamiento, your wishes
are in accordance with my own, and I thank you."     Then advancing towards Garabato, he again took his hand, and presented him
individually to all the assistants, who gave him a fraternal embrace.
The grand master did him the same honour, then gave him the
watchword, and taught him the various signs and touches of the
order. Last of all, he handed him a parchment, upon which the
duties and privileges of the brothers of the Garduiia were written.t
* The brothers of the Garduia passed through three degrees, like the free
masons; they were first chivatos, apprentices or novices, then postulants or
companions; and finally, they were admitted guapos, (bravos,) masters. It was
not until after obtaining this last degree, that they could be intrusted with the
murders and assassinations, which were enjoined upon the brotherhood.
t- The Gardufia was not an irregular society. The following were the statutes
by which it was governed.
Article 1. Any honourable man, having a good eye, a good ear, good
legs, and no tongue, may become a member of the Gardufia. Respectable persons also of a certain age may become members, if they wish to serve the brotherhood, either in keeping it informed respecting profitable operations, or in
furnishing the means to execute the said operations.
SArticle 2. The brotherhood will also receive under its protection every matron, who ha: been a sufferer at the hands of justice, and who may wish to take
charge of the preservation and safety of divers things which Divine Providence
has vouchsafed to send to the brotherhood; also the young women who may be
presented by some brother. These latter on the condition of serving the interests of the society with all their soul and with all their body.
Article 3. The members of the brotherhood shall be divided into chivatos,
postulants, guapos, andfuelles. (See the previous notes.) The matrons shall
be called cobcrteras and the young women serenas. The latter should be
young, alert, faithful and attractive-(See note as above.)
Article 4. The chivatos, inasmuch as they have not yet learned to labour shall
not be permitted to undertake any thing alone, and shall never make use of the
poniard except in self-defence. They shall be fed. lodged and entertained at





THE PALACE OF THE GARDUtTA.


19


The ceremony being thus concluded, Garabato mingled with his
new companions of murder and rapine.
Then the master, drawing from his pocket a dirty paper covered
with scrawls.
64 My brothers," said he, " this is the order of the day."
Three baptisms, (stabs with a dagger) to be applied as lightly as
possible, one to a handsome young man with black whiskers, who
passes every evening at seven o'clock, over the bridge of Triana. He
is a gentleman of tall stature and good appearance, and wears a scarlet
coat.  This baptism will be rewarded with fifty reals, five hundred
maravedis more, if it can be applied on the face, so as to mark the
individual well.   The person who pays is a very handsome lady,
who is yet young; so, Mr. Garabato, I rely upon your gallantry for
the fair sex, for it is you, whom I entrust with this commission.
"' There are thirty-seven reals and a half which will accrue to you,
without counting the five hundred maradevis as a token of her satisfaction, which the lady will give if you can manage to make an indelible gash on the face of the baptized, an easy matter, and for which
the expense of the brotherhood. Each of them shall receive for this purpose
from the capatazes, 136 maravedis (1 franc) per diem. In case of some signal service rendered by a chivato, he shall immediately pass to the honourable
category of postulant.
Article 5. The postulants shall live by their grip; these brothers shall be exclusively entrusted with Eclipses (thefts) performed with a clever hand on account and in favour of the order. For each eclipse, the operating brother shall
receive the third part, of which he shall give something for the souls in purgatory. Of the two remaining thirds, the one shall be thrown into the treasury
to meet the expenses of justice (to pay the alguazils, the notaries and even the
judges who shall protect the brothers,) and to procure masses for the repose
of the souls of our deceased brethren; the other to be at the disposal of the
grand master of the order, who is obliged to live at court,* in order to watch
over the welfare and prosperity of all.
Article 6. The guapos shall have for themselves the extinctions, interments,
voyages, baths and baptisms. (See following notes.) The two latter operations they may entrust on their own responsibility to a brother postulant. -The
guapos shall have the third part of the proceeds of all their operations, only they
shall give thirty per cent. of their income for the support of the chivatos, and
whatever they think proper for the souls in purgatory: the rest of the proceeds
of their operations shall be distributed as has been said in Art. 5.
Article 7. The coberteras shall receive ten per cent. on all the sums which
they may realize, and the sirens, six maravedis for every peseta (franc) thrown
into the treasury of the fraternity by the guapos. All the presents they may
receive from noble lords, monks and other members of the clergy, shall be their
private property.
Article 8. The capataz, or provincial chief, shall be nominated from among
the guapos, who have rendered at least six years' service, and have deserved
well of the brotherhood.
Article 9. All the brothers should rather die martyrs than confessors, under
penalty of being degraded, excluded from the brotherhood. and in case of necessity pursued by it.
Given at Toledo, the year of grace, 1420, and the third after the institution
of our honourable brotherhood..Signed,
EL COLMILLUDO.
* In 1534, the grand master of the Garduia was still at Toledo. It was not much later,
under the reign of Philip III., that he established himself at Madrid, where he became secretary of the king, under the name of Don Rodrigo Calderon; thanks to the weakness of the
Duke of Lerma and the powerful protection of the Jesuit, Francisco Louis de Aliaga, confessor of the king and inquisitor general of Spain, firom 1618 to 1621.





2o


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


it will be sufficient to rub the wound, which you shall inflict, with a
little soot diluted in vinegar."
Here Mandamiento handed to Garabato a vial filled with a black
liquor.
" The second baptism," continued the master, "ato be rewarded
with only forty reals, must be administered to his paternity, the prior
of the convent of the monks of mercy: he has carried off a female
penitent from his beatitude, the father provincial. His beatitude
will pay: he will give four doubloons as a mark of approbation, if it
can be so managed as to gouge an eye of the prior; for the penitent
in question admires nothing in the world so much as fine eyes."
"I1 believe that in order to ensure the prize of four doubloons, I
ought to entrust Senor Manofina and his beloved Culverina with this
baptism. Her address will be sufficient to entice the reverend prior
of the monks of mercy to a convenient place. Here are thirty reals,"
added he, "and do not forget the Holy Virgin.' The four doubloons
will belong to the serehia."
"Yes, yes! I will take charge of it," cried the siren, whom the
master had designated by the name of Culverina. I will take charge
of it, Senor Mandamiento."
" Silence, my wild rose!" interrupted the master, stroking his
moustaches, " we know your skill and your devotion."'
" A genuine pearl you have there, my son," continued he, turning
towards the bravo, " take good care of her, and do not beat her too
much."
" Yes, a genuine treasure to keep for others," murmured the bandit,
with an expression of brutal jealousy.
" Come, come," said the master, " have more devotion for the
common cause, Sefnor Manofina."
The Garduiian was silent, but he eyed the girl with looks of
anger and distrust.
Culverina advanced towards him, and passing her arm into his,
looked tenderly in his face with her large sparkling eyes.
" Come now, my Manofina," said she, "are you going to be angry? Don't you know I love nobody but you?"
The countenance of the bravo became less stern; he yielded to the
fascination of the senses which act so powerfully upon strong physical natures.
"Yes," said he, in a suppressed tone, "you love me, is it not so?
But this prior?---
" Well-this prior-I will bring him to you-with him to promise is not to perform. You know well that I am entirely yours."
The bravo regarded her with a mixture of confident joy and cruel
doubt. Strange as it might seem, the serena spoke the truth. By a
very rare exception, this woman devoted by her profession to every
thing that was shameless, employed her extraordinary personal attractions to entice victims into the snares of the Garduia, but never
had either her heart or her body been the accomplices of this constrained intrigue, she had constantly, and in every instance, preserved
her fidelity to the fierce bravo, whom she had chosen as her lover.
* Upon receiving his salary, every Gardunia was accustomed to throw some
maravedis into a box fixed against the wall, under an image of the virgin in the
hall of the Gardufia





THE PALACE OF THE GARDUNA.


21


Mandamiento continued:
"A third baptism with a reward of six doubloons; a prebendary
pays; the amount is sufficient indication of that. This baptism must
be applied to-morrow to a member of the confraternity before six
o'clock in the evening, in order that the baptized may not have it in
his power to pay the requisite visits to the members of the chapter,
in order to solicit their votes for his election as dean; this will leave
a better chance for his rival. If at the end of some days, this baptism could end in interment, the prebendary would double the reward.
It is understood that this business requires skill, in order not to extinguish* your man on the spot. Such is the desire of the proxy, and
he pays well for being served. Besides, if this prebendary should
be elected dean, without any doubt, the Garduina may rely on his protection; his lordship has given me a formal promise to that effect.
This baptism falls to your lot, Senor Cuerpo de Hierro. Make use
of a thin poniard and, better still, of a triangular blade or of a bodkin;
if you have it in your possession, a good saddler's needle: it is the
best instrument for making a wound which lasts ten or twelve days,
and which does not bleed. Here is your money, go and be exact.
" Six bathst to be given," continued the master, and he allotted
this easy commission to six of the less distinguished comrades.
"Besides there are three voyages, t one of which is on.the road to
Jaen, to-morrow at nine o'clock; that is the hour at which the galley~
will pass, bearing eighty thousand reals for the nuncio of his Holiness, the result of the sale of bulls and indulgences in the kingdom
of Seville; the other on the route to San Lucar, at midnight, also
at the passing of the galley: this has a freight of one hundred and
twenty thousand reals, which belong to a Jewish banker, and are
designed for a Moorish banker of Seville. We are in duty bound
to take away this money from the enemies of God, who would only
use it to the prejudice of our holy religion.
" The third voyage will take place upon the route to Grenada, at
the point where the road diverges towards Xeres. Three gentlemen
are to pass there, whose fobs are well garnished, and who have a new
wardrobe. Now, you know that several of our brethren are rather
poorly furnished."
These three expeditions were comimitted to three trusty brothers,
who were passed masters.
SFinally," said Mandamiento, " and this is a weighty matter, an
extinction l upon the person of the young Estevan de Vargas. He goes
out every evening at midnight, from the house of his excellency the
governor of Seville. He is, they.say, the betrothed of his daughter,
a pretty girl of seventeen, whom this extinction will without doubt,
cost many tears; but that is none of our business. This operation
will be paid for with fifty doubloons in advance, besides an equal
amount after the issue, and the protection of the holy inquisitor of
Seville, whom the affair doubtless interests, since he has caused his
protection to be offered us, a coin of which he is not prodigal."
" And who ensures these fine promises?" interrupted Manofina


* Assassinate.
t Highway robberies.


~ The mail.


f Drownings.
11 Assassination.





22


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION,


whom the lively glances and caresses of the serena had singularly
affected in favour of the two lovers.
" The person who has made and signed them is well known to
me," replied the master, ' and if he should fail to perform them,
these written promises would be sent back by me to the great chimney, of Seville. You see, my son, that I have taken my sureties."
At this instant, a chivato, who was on the watch at some distance
from the ruins, rushed in with the utmost alarm.
"' Master! master!" he exclaimed, "a Corchete is coming towards
the house."
The Gardunas, alarmed, laid their hands upon their poniards. The
master was by no means concerned; he turned towards his companions:
"To your knees, children," he cried, and, looking at the image
of the Virgin, he began devoutly reciting the chaplet, to which the
united voices of his assistants responded as a choir.
Some minutes after, the alguazil half opened the door, and put his
head into the inside of the hail. Mandamiento, without interrupting his prayer, slowly turned his head towards him, and when in the
midst of an Jive Maria, exclaimed in great glee:
SOh! it is Coco,t our faithful brother."
A general sign of the cross put an end to the prayers which had
been begun; all rose from their knees. The master hastily drawing
the policeman into a corner of the hall:
"What brings you," said he, " brother Coco?   Are you on the
track of some danger which threatens our holy brotherhood?'
"Not exactly," replied the Corchete. "You know that I take
good care, and that my double office of alguazil and familiar of the
holy office, puts it in my power to save you from many snares."
"It is true, you are a good friend, a devoted brother."
" Well," pursued Coco, " it is your turn to render me a service,
master."
" Speak, brother, what is the matter?"
"The first business," resumed the alguazil, "is to restore to one
of my relations, who is sacristan of the Carmelites, a purse, which
was stolen from him this morning."
" You shall have the purse, brother, we are in the way of satisfying you oi this point. Afterwards?"
" After this, there is something more serious," said the Corchete,
lowering his voice; " the business is nothing less than to extinguish,
if need be, two or three familiars of the holy inquisition."
" Brother," exclaimed Mandamiento, alarmed,   you abuse your
position, you ask impossibilities."
" Impossibilities or not, they must be done," replied Coco, in a
firm tone.
"But, brother, do you not know that the holy inquisitor of Seville is our best customer?"
* Criminal court.                          f Joachim.
f Mandamiento was right. Among the papers seized at the time of the arrest
of Francisco Cortina, and the destruction of the Garduna, in 1824, was a register, upon which the commissions which divers members of the inquisition
had enjoined upon the brotherhood in the space of 137 years, that is to say, from





DOLORES.


23


"No matter, you must serve me, or from this evening I am no
longer one of you," said the alguazil, in a resolute voice.
SWell, what must we do?" asked the master, overcome by this
menace.
" You must give me, instantly, two or three tried bravos, and a
half dozen Chivatos, that I may conduct them   wherever I think
proper, and make them   extinguish whom I please; in short, they
must obey my orders as they would your own."
" Coco, you ask too much."
- The apostle wishes it," drily replied the alguazil. " Make haste,
Mandamiento; be quiclk, I have no time to lose."
" Since the apostle wishes it, we must obey," said the master, with
a sigh; "his will must be like that of God, for he resuscitated Manofina
and delivered Cuerpo de Hierro from the jaws of the wolf: it is he
who cares for us when we are sick. Be it as you will, Coco, take
my two best bravos, and let them obey you as they would myself."
At the same time the master made a sign to Cuerpo de Hierro,
said a few words to him in a suppressed tone, then calling Manofina,
he ordered them to accompany the alguazil. "i forgot to tell you,"
added he, addressing Manofina, " that I charge you to extinguish young
Estevan de Vargas; this operation will bring you back into the
good graces of the inquisitor, in case of any check in the matter
which our brother Coco may enjoin upon you. Adieu, gentlemen,
and be of good courage."  The two bravos chose each on his side
three active and robust chivatos.
" Go," said the master, making a motion with his hand, "and
may the Virgin protect you!"   The alguazil placed himself at their
head, and favoured by the darkness, the little band went out silently
from the den of the Gardufla.
CHAPTER III.
DOLORES.
WHILST this scene, at once horrible and grotesque, was passing in
the palace of the Gardulia, an incident of another kind had taker
place, at the house of the governor of Seville.
It was one of those spacious and commodious Andalusian ma
sions, lighted only by glass doors and windows, opening on a lar
court filled with flowers.
1520 to 1667, amounted to 1986, and had produced 198,670 francs, that is
100 francs, on an average; among these commissions enjoined by the pro
tors qf the faith, about one-third figured as rapes; murders and assassinatio
formed another third, or nearly so; corrections, that is to say, drownings, stabbings, false denunciations and false testimonies constituted the rest. This registry, deposited on the criminal records of Seville, was one of the most overwhelming evidences against Francisco Cortina and his companions. In order
to bear faithful witness to the truth, I ought to add, that no commissions given by
a member of the inquisition appeared in this registry since 1797.





24


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


In the upper story of this mansion, which was ordinarily used as a
winter residence, at the side of a spacious saloon in which the family
met, was a small chamber furnished like the cell of a nun. It contained a little bed, white and hard, adorned simply with a lawn curtain, two chairs of black sculptured wood, an altar of the same style,
surmounted by an ivory crucifix, and in a recess or sort of niche indented in the wall, a small statue of the Virgin in white marble, a
precious monument of the chisel of a celebrated sculptor, before
which a silver lamp filled with the purest olive oil perpetually burned.
This was the chamber of the governor's daughter.
This young girl, scarcely seventeen years old, was far from resembling other Andalusian women.     Possessing a simple and noble
beauty, and a firm and elevated character, Dolores had not passed hei
young years in the mystic idleness, whicih so immoderately exalts
the imagination and the passions of Spanish women. She had had
as her preceptor, a brother of her mother, a man of learning and dignity, who having for a long time travelled in France and Germany,
had taken delight in cultivating, and adorning her brilliant understanding, and fortifying it by philosophy. He had not sown on
ungrateful ground. Dolores would have been, even in our days, a
very remarkable woman.
Ardent in heart and soul, endowed with an exquisite judgment,
and an energetic will, she held the pure and enlightened faith of the
fathers of the church; her indulgent charity repelled all the errors
and the cruelties of fanaticism. She was pious as the Catholic Isabella, that great queen, whose sweet and tender piety struggled so
long and with so much abhorrence against the establishment of the
inquisition, and always against its works." The daughter of the governor obeyed the spirit and the morality of the gospel, a dangerous
thing at that time, when to live securely one was obliged to be, not
the disciple of Christ, but the creature of the inquisition. Notwithstanding her philosophy, so advanced for her age, and especially for
the epoch in which she lived, Dolores, faithful in the discharge of
external duties, the daughter of good catholics, had not attracted the
notice of the dreaded tribunal.
The grand inquisitor of Seville, Pierre Arbues, seemed on the contrary to extend his all-powerful friendship over the house of the governor, like an agape of peace. Received at all hours into the family
in his double capacity of priest and chief of the inquisitorial tribunal,
Pierre Arbues, then at the age when passion is most furious, for
he was not yet forty years old, could not behold the pure and excellent young girl, without having the most violent desires enkindled
* Isabella of Castile, wife of Ferdinand of Arragon, always abhorred the cru.
elties of the holy office, and for a long time opposed the establishment of the modern inquisition in Castile. Torrequemada, the confessor of Ferdinand, an intriguer as well as a fanatic, under pretence of serving the avaricious policy of
the king, extorted rather than obtained the consent of the pious Isabella, whenever as inquisitor general, he atthmpted to encroach upon the royal authority.
The noble queen one day replied to a new exaction of the inquisitor, which he
dared to accompany with threats; "Monk! Do not forget that a royal ordinance
has established the inquisition, and that a royal ordinance can abolish it."
(Chronicles of the Catholic sovereigns Ferdinand of Arragon and Isabella of Cas
tile, by Louis Ponce de Leon, chronicler of Castile.)





DOLORES.


23


by the demon of lust; he could not see the young Estevan de
Vargas become the sole object of the love of the governor's daughter,
without experiencing the most horrible jealousy; he had watched the
progress of this attachment with a burning inquietude and a hatred,
which all the cunning of the ghostly inquisitor could scarcely conceal.
In vain had he attempted under the veil of a holy and paternal
friendship, to excite in the soul of this lovely child, sentiments corresponding to his own; in vain had he exerted upon her the fascination of his looks and of his rare personal beauty. Dolores had never
been able to rid herself of a feeling of fear for him which she endeavoured to regard as one of respect; the looks of the inquisitor occasioned her great anxiety and caused her to look pale and tremble.
That day, Pierre Arbues had spent the evening in the parlour of
the governor.
Towards 10 o'clock, the young girl, restless and agitated, retired
to her chamber; she merely closed the latch of the door, as she was
in the habit of doing, having nothing to fear in her father's house,
where she was almost worshipped by the servants. Untying her
head dress, she suffered her long ringlets to flow over her white
shoulders; and kneeling at the desk, she engaged in fervent prayer.
Thus, for some minutes, she breathed out the dark despair which
oppressed her soul; then drawing from her bosom a small letter, she
read it with sorrowful avidity.
" It is indeed," said she, "it is surely his writing. Poor Estevan!
I have not been deceived! The inquisition hates hiri, and he is afraid
of committing me by coming to our house. The journey, which he
assured me was indispensable, was only a pretext to be removed from
this place for some days; and now he cannot live without seeing me:
he conjures me to repair this evening to the foot of the Giralda,
where he is to await my arrival: he will die if I refuse."
" Oh yes, he would die without me and I should die also without
him," added she, wiping away a tear: " our love is not of that kind
which absence can extinguish."
" Oh!" she continued, "in what unhappy times do' we live,
when we must restrain the sweetest emotions of nature!     Ye
divine laws of Christ, what has become of you! Age of the apostles,
when two betrothed Christians loved each other freely in the Lord,
lived for one another, and died together, thou didst not bring forth
this iron age, in which we cannot even love God as we would! in
which the priests are no longer our comforters, but our executioners!
in which the tree of life has become the tree of death, which spreads
its gloomy branches over the world!"*
" 0 Estevan! whither shall I flee with thee to a friendly soil
which this leprosy has not yet penetrated!"
* It is well known, that about this same period Charles V. established the
Spanish inquisition in the Netherlands, under the name of a spiritual tribunal;
later, under Philip II. this tribunal caused the death of more than eighteen
hundred persons in the space of three years.-(Meiner, History of the Refor.
mation.)
America and all the foreign possessions of Spain and Italy were also under
the yoke of the Spanish inquisition.
C                    4





26


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


In a paroxysm of mad despair, the unhappy girl wrung her hands,
and snatching the ivory crucifix, which hung over the altar, she clasped
it forcibly against her breast, and murmured in a broken voice:
" Thou who hast suffered so much, my God, teach me to suffer!"
Instantly, by a sudden reaction, convulsive sobs issued from her
parched throat, and she covered with bitter tears the image of him
whom she had just invoked.
At this moment, the door of her chamber was gently pushed open;
the weeping Dolores rose to her feet, and, terrified, recoiled to the
window of her chamber before the grand inquisitor himself, who
slowly advanced towards her, clothed in his long robe.
Dolores had not even power to cry out.
c Do I disturb your prayers, my child?" said Pierre Arbues in a
honeyed tone.
"My lord," said she, in a broken voice, " why do you thus enter
my house at night? Ought not the chamber of a young woman to
be sacred?"
" The grand inquisitor has all power of dispensation," replied the
Dominican, "and you commit no sin in receiving me into your
house."
" My lord," replied Dolores, blushing with pride and indignation,
"I do not comprehend these miserable subtleties which thus limit
the immutable laws of conscience to the will of those who employ
them; which render lawful to one what is a crime for others. Virtue
is one; her laws should be invariable and eternal. You are a man, my
lord, and a man should not enter at night the chamber of a woman,
unless he is her husband."
" Dolores," said the inquisitor, in a stern tone, "do you forget that
Christ has said to his apostles: ' Whatsoever ye shall loose on earth
shall be loosed in heaven?' That he has given us all power over the
soul and body?"
" Oh! my lord, do not thus distort the words of the gospel; its text
is so clear and so pure, that unless by a perverse design, there is but a
single mode of interpreting it, which is the same for all, my lord; for
you, a minister of the living God, as for us, your humble disciples."
" The letter kills, and the Spirit quickens," replied the inquisitor,
" and you are very imprudent, young woman, to venture to speak in
this manner before me. The holy books are a sacred code, a divine
chart, whose interpretation is intrusted to us alone-your duty is
passive obedience. Wo to them, who interpreting them alone and
without our help, attempt to seek for light without us; wo to those
fools who walking without the support of the representatives of Jesus Christ, fall into error and heresy."
"My lord, there is no heresy in obeying the gospel!"
"If you had spoken thus before any other than the grand inquisitor of Seville," said Pierre Arbues, with a threatening frown, " the
dawn of to-morrow would not find you in your father's house, and
the inquisition-"
"I have committed no offence against the inquisition," exclaimed
the betrothed of Estevan, in a tone which she affected to render confident, but an invincible terror made her tremble in spite of herself.
Pierre Arbues observed it, and approached the young woman, who





DOLORES.


27


could not move back another step; her feet touched the wall of the
window.
"Dolores," said he, "do you not know that I am your friend?"
" Oh! my lord, then retire, and do not abuse your authority to invade my chamber-go, my lord, go, I beg you on my knees!"
Pierre Arbues, absorbed in the contemplation of a beauty so extraordinary, seemed not to hear her prayer. Dolores was there before him, with her long hair dishevelled, clothed in a black robe,
whose broad slope, according to the custom of the time, displayed in
an admirable manner the rich and pure contour of her marble shoulders. Her erect form seemed higher and her bearing more commanding than usual, and the brilliancy of her large black eyes, into
which all her life seemed to have taken refuge, lent a new charm to
the blooming paleness of her countenance.
" Oh! my child," cried the priest, " how beautiful art thou, and
how happy is Estevan!"
"My lord," cried Dolores, terrified by the cynic expression of the
Dominican's looks; "my lord, am I beside myself?  Are you no
longer the grand inquisitor of Seville, the priest of the Lord, the
guardian of the virtue of others?"
"No," shouted the monk, transported by the fiery passion which
consumed him: "the grand inquisitor is no longer here, it is not a
priest who is before you; it is only Pierre Arbues, who loves you,
Pierre Arbues, who is dying with despair and with love."
A hoarse and inarticulate shriek burst from the breast of the girl,
and her whole body became cold as a block of stone.
The inquisitor was on his knees, the violence of his brutal passion
rendered his naturally handsome and regular countenance horrible at
this moment; he attempted to seize the daughter of the governor.
She, by dint of terror, rendered herself so slender in shrinking
against the wall, that she seemed to escape like a shadow from the
trembling hands of the Dominican. He already touched the border
of her robe. Dolores, unable to movp, stood stiff, and as if petrified,
against the narrow window.
In the situation in which the unworthy priest had surprised her,
she had kept the ivory crucifix clasped against her breast, and at the
instant when the inquisitor, imboldened by her terror, threw his
arms around her waist, she held up before him the holy image by an
energetic and sudden motion.
"Pierre Arbues," she shrieked, "step over this barrier if you
dare; priest of Christ, dare you brave your Master?"
The lewd Dominican bowed his head and recoiled; he was afraid!
This fanatical priest could easily violate and dishonour the law of
God, but he could not profane an image. He rose slowly, cast upon
the young woman a look full of hatred, and went on without turning
back.
Dolores again pressed the protecting image against her breast:
"Oh! thou who hast saved me," she exclaimed, "thanks!"
The hollow voice of the watchman cried half-past eleven o'clock.
Exhausted as she was, the lover of Estevan arranged her hair
under a large shell comb, wrapped herself in a long brown cape, slowly





28


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITIOk,

descended the stone which led to the outer gate of the mansion,
and took the road towards the Giralda.
As she crossed the threshold of her dwelling, an indistinct shadow flitted from an arcade, gradually enlarging upon the opposite
wall, dimly lighted by a pale reflection, and distinctly portrayed the
profile of a man, enveloped in a cloak. Dolores started; but she continued her course without stopping.
4 "Well,", said the inquisitor, for it was he, "she is gone; Enriquez
will do the rest."
CHAPTER IV
THE GIRALDA.
THE little band, which under the guidance of Coco had left the
den of the GardufLa, followed, in silence, the provisional chief who
had just been appointed. The bravos in advance on the two sides
of Coco, the chivatos behind, gliding along the houses in the black
and tortuous streets, and speaking no more than if all these men had
been mute from their birth.
In France, we cannot do any thing without a great noise: but in
Spain, things are done in a different way. The Spaniard acts without speaking, without external demonstrations; his coquntenance betrays nothing; you may indeed strike the statue, but it will return
only a heavy sound, and you will never guess what tempestuous
emotions are enclosed in this breast of marble.
Culverina followed at a short distance, alarmed by the secret mis.
sion which had been given to Manofina, concerned in behalf of this
coarse man whom she loved, and, it may be, also, impelled by that
instinct of woman, which irresistibly attracts her wherever there is
sorrow to assuage or danger to prevent. Coco and his band marched
in this way as far as the bridge of Triana, crossed some more
narrow and obscure streets, and finally reached a spot near the
cathedral, on the square de l'Esplanade. It was very dark there;
all the lamps were already extinguished in the houses about the
square.
Upon the blue sky, it is true, sparkling stars were shining; but
these radiant orbs, too far from us, rolled peacefully in the fields of
space, disdaining to shed upon the earth their glittering rays, which
they bestow, doubtless, upon creatures more happy than those of our
sad planet.
Having reached the cathedral, Coco ordered the two bravos to lie
down in a recess formed by two enormous pillars; then he said a
few words in a low tone to the chivatos, who immediately went and
posted themselves at the four corners of the Esplanade, where they
lay flat on their stomachs, with their ear close to the ground, so as
not to lose the slightest sound.
After thus disposing his troop, Coco turned towards the porch of





THE GIRALDA.


29


the cathedral, and chose in his turn a shelter under this lofty pile of
stones.
The serena, afraid of being detected, stepped along the margin of
the houses all around the Esplanade, walking with so light a tread,
that she seemed to be borne on invisible wings; then gliding between
the trees, she finally stopped under a large orange tree near the fountain.
At the faint noise, which the serena had made, a slight crowing
in imitation of a cock,* was heard at one of the corners of the square,
but every thing immediately became silent again. Coco understood
that this was a false alarm, and no one moved.
At this instant the serenot crossed the Esplanade, and stopping
near the fountain, cried midnight in his hoarse and monotonous voice.
The serena started.Midnight! This was the hour of crimes; the hour in which the
unhappy woman had been the witness or the actress in so many
bloody dramas; the hour in which the shades of those whom she had
seen die, returned for her.
She was afraid.
The watchman passed on and nothing was heard but the indistinct
rustling of the leaves, slightly agitated by the wind.
The serena knelt down and began to pray.
But soon a quick and light step sounded on the earth in the direction of the Giralda. One of the chivatos uttered a crowing sound
more piercing than the first, which was immediately repeated by the
three others.
Coco, Manofina, and Cuerpo de Hierro laid their hand upon their
daggers.
The serena arose and stretched out her neck, trying to discover
from what side the danger was coming.
At this instant, Dolores crossed the Esplanade.
Having reached the foot of the Giralda, she looked on all sides,
and perceiving no one, she began to call in a low voice:
SEstevan! Estevan!
No one replied.
Suddenly a young woman hurried out of the tower and threw herself aghast with terror at the feet of the governor's daughter.
* The chivatos, or apprentices of the Garduija, were chiefly employed in
watching during the operations of the Gardunos. In case of danger or alarm,
they imitated to perfection the cry of a beast or the song of a bird. At night,
they mimicked the crowing of the cock, the hooting and screeching of the owl,
the croaking of frogs or the mewing of the cat, according to the season, or to
the signal agreed upon. In day time, they imitated the barking of the dog, or
the cry of some domestic animal.
t The sereno is the guardian of the night. In all the great cities of Spain,
men employed to watch over the public safety and to give alarm in case of fire,
walk each in his district, furnished with a spear, called chuzo, a lantern, and a
copper whistle. The spear answers for self-defence, and even, in case of need,
for assault; the lantern to show the way and furnish light to the rondas, (citizen patrols,) in case of necessity, and the whistle to call one another in case of
an attack upon some malefactor. The serenos are bound to cry the hour every
five minutes to prove that they are awake. This useful appointment of serenos
is traced back to the fifteenth century. They were appointed by Isabella, to
watch the Moors of the city, who it was constantly feared would revolt,
c2





30


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" Who are you? What do you want with me?" asked Dolores.
"Fly! fly!" exclaimed the Chapa,for it was she; "fly, sefora, you
are betrayed, I have deceived you."
" But where is Estevan?" asked the girl, recognising by her voice
she person who had brought her the fictitious letter of her betrothed.
J I know nothing about him," replied the Chapa, "I do not know
him."
" You do not know him! Yet you told me, he would await me
here, this evening."
"I have deceived you," repeated the dismayed Gitana; they told
me go, and I was obliged to go. For I, you see, I am      only a
wretched tool, I must obey under pain of being destroyed-Oh! but
when I saw you, so noble and so fair, I swore to save you if I should
die for it. Fly then, senora, fly, I conjure you; soon there will be
no more'time: they are close at hand."
But Dolores, dismayed, thought no more of her own danger, she
thought of none but Estevan, pursued by the inquisition, and the uncertainty where she was threw her into inexpressible anguish.
All at once a sullen rumbling, accompanied by a light trampling,
was heard on the river side. The crowing of the chivatos, echoing
and prolonged, redoubled the attention of the members of the GardufIa.
"Do you hear?    Do you hear?   They are coming?" cried the
terrified Gitana, rising up and attempting to drag Dolores with her.
The daughter of the governor repelled her with an energetic motion full of contempt:
"Be accursed," said she, liar that you are!"
At these words, the Chapa again took refuge in the Giralda; Dolores half mad with despair and fright, began to run across the Esplanade.
Scarcely had she advanced a few steps, when four sbires, sallying
from the four corners of the square, seized her and carried her in
their brawny arms, without any resistance on her part, and without
her having power to utter a single cry.
After having seized their prey, the sbires took the road towards
the Guadalquiver, where Enriquez and Frazco awaited them at the
side of the inquisitorial carriage. This carriage, specially designed
for nocturnal expeditions, was a kind of coach, the four wheels of
which, enveloped in pliable and thick leather, produced no sound as
they rolled over the pavement. The mules which drew it were shod
with night boots.'
* These night boots were a covering of leather in the form of a boot, which
was fitted by means of buckles and straps to the feet of the-mules which drew
the vehicles employed in the nocturnal arrests of the inquisition. The sole of
this boot consisted of a thick layer of tow sewed between two pieces of leather.
When shod in this manner, the mules might approach within a few paces
without giving warning by any noise that they were at hand. This boot, the
invention of which is due to the infernal genius of the inquisitor Deza, was still
extant in the inquisitorial arsenal of Malaga in 1820, when the gates of the holy
office were broken and the prisoners delivered with cries of Liberty for ever!
At this same period, the unfortunate General Torrijos, (who was oasely shot
some years after by order of Ferdinand VII.,) when rescued from the dungeons
of the inquisition, in which he had been confined for two years, carried with
him one of these boots. Two others were taken by an Englishman, Thomas





THE GIRALDA.


31


At the last signal of the chivatos, Coco and the two bravos had
issued from their hiding-place and gliding along the walls of the cathedral, they had followed the track of the ravishers. The serena
followed them at the pace of a wolf.
The chivatos, leaping, like adders, upon their hands and feet, had
meanwhile been beforehand, and had stationed themselves near the
carriage.
Enriquez and Frazco were watching there, but when they heard
the sbires coming, they advanced a few paces forward. The chivatos, like real thieves, profited by this diversion so as to cut the traces
of the carriage and drive off the mules, who seemed to have been
shod expressly to be stolen. To them one booty was the same as
another. Like veritable sons of the Gardunia, the chivatos had begun by suddenly pitching into the water the coachman who held
them. All this had bpeen executed in less time than we have consumed in describing it.
SThere she is," said Enriquez to Frazco, when they were near
the shires, who were carrying in their arms the fainting Dolores.
SIt is well," replied Frazco, in a savage tone; " be still, and let
ýis make haste!"                                    i
"Oh! now we have her," resumed Enriquez, with an air of
triumph. "Not yet," cried Manofina, inflicting a vigorous blow
with his poniard upon the left arm of the familiar.
Enriquez, thus surprised, staggered under the force of the sudden
pang which he felt; but suddenly regaining courage, " Help!" he
cried out to the shires, two of whom, immediately abandoning the
daughter of the governor to their comrades, ran to the succour of the
familiar.
Frazco had not expected this: at the first cry of the wounded
man, he had flown towards Manofina. Enriquez, for his part, furious,
and unable to distinguish his enemies in the darkness, had turned
again upon Cuerpo de Hierro and engaged with him in a desperate
conflict.
Meanwhile Coco had begun the pursuit of the two sbires, whQ at
the noise of the combat had fled with rapid strides towards the carriage: but after having deposited Dolores in it, they saved themselves
with all the swiftness of their legs, without waiting the issue of the
conflict, which had just then commenced.
Coco, divided between the desire of protecting the governor's
daughter and that of succouring his comrades, hesitated for a few
moments; his warlike propensions, however, gained the ascendency:
he returned to the place of the combat, and arrived in time to save
Cuerpo de Hierro, who, despite of his lion-like courage and his athletic strength, had great difficulty in keeping at bay, three adversaries
at once, the two sbires and Enriquez. The latter, notwithstanding
his wound, defended himself with desperation. The arrival of the
alguazil changed the face of affairs.
Wilkings, Esq., who had them in his possession as lately as 1830, in London,
Paddington place, where he exhibited them to all his friends. It will be perceived that this tribunal, which avowed itself the defender of the religion of a
God of peace, knew how to take precautions so that heretics should not escape.
We cannot well be more zealous than it was.





32


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


During the whole fight, the agents of the inquisition endeavoured
to gain the bridge at which the carriage was stationed. On their
part, the Gardufios redoubled their efforts to drive them thither, well
assured that if they were once there, they would have easy work
with them. In fact, the sbires had scarcely set foot upon the bridge
of Triana, when the two Gardunios had wounded them mortally and
thrown them into the water. Enriquez, by this time exhausted, had
fallen at the distance of a few paces. Cuerpo de Hierro came back
to him, and supposing him to be dead, raised him in his arms to the
height of the parapet and hurled him into the river. Coco had returned towards the carriage, well satisfied that Manofina engaged
alone with Frazco would not have much trouble in ridding himself
of him; he was mistaken, however. Frazco, finding himself alone
against the bravo, and perceiving t1hat he had an indifferent chance
against the fierce Gardufla, had thrown around his neck a silk lasso,
called el nudo escurridizo.* It was all over with Manofina, whose courage and address were becoming useless. Choked by the murderous
cord, he was gradually losing breath and strength. The dagger
dropped from his trembling hand, his eyes red and swollen were
covered with a film, and Frazco was already raising his hand to give
the finishing blow, when he was himself pierced to the heart by a
sharp poniard, and fell dead on the spot.
Culverina had struck him with her short Andalusian dagger. The
young woman hastened to untie the cord which still choked Manofina. Notwithstanding this severe punishment the bravo had kept
his feet.
" Bravo! Culverina," said he, pressing with warmth the hand of
the serena: "you are a brave and courageous girl, and the master
will reward you."
" None of that, it is from you alone that I wish my reward."
" From me!" said the bravo, surprised, " say, what do you wish
By the Virgin of sorrows, I swear to grant you whatever you shal.
ask of me."
".Manofina," said she, hanging upon his arm by a graceful gesture
of feminine importunity, " 1 ask of you the life of Don Estevan de
Vargas."
" Culverina!" exclaimed the bravo in a tone of vexation, "there
you ask of me an impossibility. What need the death of this young
cavalier concern you?" added he, with an air of jealousy.
" It is not right to extinguish those who love one another faithfully," said the serena, "and the governor's daughter would die of grief
if her betrothed should be taken from her, as I should have been dead
this evening if you had been killed, my Manofina!"
* The Spaniards, the Andalusians especially, possess prodigious skill in the
management of this murderous weapon. The familiars of the holy office, the
sbires particularly, never went out on an expedition without having in their
pockets el nudo escurridizo, " the running knot." It was indeed seldom that
this silk cord was used to strangle a resisting enemy. Who would have dared
resist the inquisition  This lasso was chiefly used to strangle the dogs, which
might have given the alarm by barking-and in case of emergency to stifle the
cries of prisoners previous to adapting a gag. It will be seen from this how
coolly and skilfully calculated was the cruelty of the inquisition.





THE GIRALDA.                      33
"I cannot promise that," replied the bravo, affected, and yet embarrassed; for he would not betray what he called his duty, and he
was pained at the thought of displeasing her whom he loved.
The serena hung her head, and began to weep.
"Do not weep so, my soul," said the bravo, pressing her tenderly
to his bosom; "we will see what we can do."
Meanwhile Coco and Cuerpo de Hierro had taken from the carriage
Dolores, who was still insensible.
"What shall we do with this young lady?" asked Manofina, approaching Coco.
"Follow us, and be on your guard," replied the alguazil.
Taking the lead with Cuerpo de Hierro, Coco took the road towards the house of the apostle, situated upon the other side of the
Guadalquiver.
Manofina and the serena followed them at some distance, ready to
defend them against new ambuscades of the inquisition.





34


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


CHAPTER V.
A COLLATION OF MONKS.
THE palace of the grand inquisitor, Pierre Arbues, was an immense
and sumptuous Moorish edifice, formerly occupied by the king of Seville. After traversing magnificent gardens planted with the finest
flowers and with the rarest trees, they reached an isolated pavilion,
which was formerly used as a bath house. The voluptuous Arbues
had applied it to a very different purpose.
This pavilion, remote from the principal mansion, and lost as it
were, in a mass of foliage, was the ordinary place of the merry meetings of the grand inquisitor and his favourites. Bishops and monks,
profligate men, if ever such there were, exhaled with rapture in their
midnight orgies the brutal ardour which devoured them, casting away
from them as a garment too heavy to be worn the constraint of the
cross or the gown, and giving the reins to the spirit of debauchery,
which exhausted itself in sallies of wit, in licentious words, in incredible defiance of all virtue, in monstrous buffoonery, which surpassed all that the imagination of a layman could conceive.
These monks reserved for their nocturnal scenes all the power
which the habitual constraint of their life impressed upon their
moral faculties. It was a torrent swollen by all the impediments
which it had met on its passage; by all the impurities which its inipetuous current had carried away with it; and there too, for want of
some other fuel for the devouring lava of their imagination, they elaborated the monstrous laws of the inquisition; a barbarous code to
which the reign of each inquisitor added some articles still more cruel;
a hideous monster, born of adulterous parentage, which like the sons
of Anteus attempted to dethrone Heaven.
These men stood so much in need of violent emotions, that they
could assuage their insatiable desire of excitement only in blood and
fagots. The devil had become incarnate in them, and we might be
almost tempted to believe that after the incarnation of God in the
person of Christ, the incarnation of all the infernal spirits had appeared in the person of the inquisitors.
We may be told that some were sincere in their fanaticism. Let
those who believe it read the history of the inquisition, and then
answer. This monstrous institution, created by the policy of the
popes, tolerated, protected in Spain by the policy of the kings, has
never belied its vile origin, and the agents of this iniquitous power
have always been as iniquitous as itself.
It was midnight.
In the solitary pavilion, which stood contiguous to the inquisitorial
palace, in the midst of an elegant hall, stood a sumptuous table. The
ceiling of this hall was covered with delicate arabesques, the costly
work of Moorish artists. Upon the walls, brilliant frescoes represented fruits and flowers of every kind, imitating nature so closely





A COLLATION OF MONKS.


35


as to awaken her jealousy, and enclosed the pannels which the artistic
taste of the inquisitors had adorned with the most voluptuous scenes
of heathen mythology.
There was Clytia, half naked, reclining on a bed of flowers, ardent
and enervated, turning towards the sun, her eyes burning with amorous desires; Jupiter, that immortal debauchee, disporting himself
in the waves, by the side of Leda, under the figure of a swan, expressing in lascivious attitudes the ardor of lust which consumed him:
there too, in short, was Venus, the great prostitute, in all the phases
of her amorous and libertine life. A man must have been a saint to
remain unmoved in the presence of all these licentious paintings,
designed to feed the sensual passions of messieurs, the inquisitors.
A rich mosaic of marble formed the floor of this hall, and upon the
table arranged in the centre, the choicest fruits and most exquisite
viands filled the large vases of crystal, stone, anl porcelain from China.
X6res, Tintarrota, the sweet wine of Malaga, the juice of the banana, recently imported from America; all the burning wines produced under a sky of fire, flowed in waves among the guests, scented
bishops and jolly monks, over whom presided his eminence, my lord,
the grand inquisitor of Seville. A wild and somewhat mystic gaiety
animated all these stern and ardent countenances. The eyes of Pierre
Arbues, especially, glowed with unwonted fire; the pangs of desire
and uncertainty mingled their gnawing bitterness with the slight intoxication of the grand inquisitor. Their heads were high, however
reason still controlled them; the ranks were not overthrown; each
one maintained his place, and a tinge of monkish prudery still veiled
the freedom of conversation. My lord Arbues was the first who
threw off this constraint.
" Do you know, fathers," said he, in a voice slightly affected by
wine, "that the porter of heaven* is incessantly forging new keys to
guard more securely the avenues of this beautiful realm, and increase
for us the joys of earth? Behold the inquisition established in Portugal,t and soon there will not be a corner of the globe to which
our power will not extend.
" So much the better," cried the Archbishop of Toledo; "the inquisition is a mill in which the bad grain which is ground is changed
for use into fine Spanish doubloons."
" And the doubloons into celestial joys, and delicious festivities,"
said a prior of the Dominicans, with a voluptuous face and fiery eyes.
"Well," replied the Archbishop, " it is worth more to be inquisitor
than pope, and the porter of paradise, as our master says, is, take him
altogether, nothing more than the steward of our privy purse."
" And then," observed a young monk, beautiful as a girl, and the
favourite of Pierre Arbues-" a pope is so old! Of what use are the
good things of this world when we cannot enjoy them?"
" It is better to be a novice in a convent of Dominicans; is it not
true, Jose?" said the grand inquisitor, stroking with his white hand
the head of the young novice.
* The pope.
t The author here commits a voluntary anachronism. The inquisition was
not established in Portugal till 1551 or 1552, by the false nuncio, Jean Perez
de Saavedra, of whom I have spoken in a previous note.





96           THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.
"It is better to be the humble slave of your eminence," replied
the young monk with feigned humility.
" The pope sows and we reap," gaily exclaimed the Archbishop of
Toledo, " and whilst he is yawning with his cardinals, we gather in
the fields of Cythera all the beautiful flowers of love which spring up
under our feet."
" I have not even the trouble of stooping to pick them up," observed the bishop of Malaga, who was at the feast; " the lady superior of the convent of the barefooted Carmelites takes charge of this
concern for me, and the first fruits of the finest flowers of her garden
are offered to me by her."
" For my part," said the prior," I like well enough to pluck them
myself; when my good star leads to my confessional young and
pretty penitents, it is not often that such flowers are neglected. I do
not care about them when they are past thirty."
" I give myself less trouble than that," said the archbishop of Toledo: "when a woman pleases me, I see to it that she is carried off
by the society of la Gardufia.
" A useful institution," said the grand inquisitor: " one which we
ought to protect with all our influence, my lords. From the day
when the brotherhood of the Gardunia shall no longer exist in Spain,
adieu to our pleasures and our revenge; we shall then have to act
alone, and our interests will be greatly compromised."
" Bah!" exclaimed another inquisitor, "nothing can compare with
the familiars of the holy office for nocturnal elopements and clandestine murders. A familiar is discreet as death, and he can do every
thing with impunity; for the word inquisition is the warrant for all
his deeds; no one dare murmur against him."
" Poor creatures!" said Pierre Arbues, leaning towards the ear of
the novice, whose extreme paleness formed a strong contrast with the
gaiety of his manners; " poor creatures! they are more intoxicated
with vanity than with the wines which I lavish upon them."
" Thus your eminence is master of them all, my lord," said the
novice in a low tone; "you know how to preserve your reason in
the midst of a revel, and do deliberately all of which they boast in
their drunkenness."
The noise of the voices drowned this conversation, which was carried on in a whisper.
" Enriquez does not come," said the inquisitor with impatience;
"you did not meet him at the bridge of Triana, Jose?"
" No," replied the young monk, "I thought it more prudent to
let him act alone; but be easy, my lord! Enriquez is trusty."
"What are you speaking about, gentlemen?" asked Pierre Arbues,
addressing the bishop of Malaga and Toledo.
"My lord," said the Archbishop, " we were speaking of the fine
women which your city of Seville contains, and 1 maintain against
the bishop of Malaga, that the handsomest of them all is Dolores Argosa, the daughter of the governor."
Arbues started with surprise.
"Oh! as for her," said the grand prior, " she is an impregnable
fortress; I have heard her twice in confession, and I very strongly
suspect that she is somewhat tainted with heresy, she carries on a
controversy like a disciple of Luther."





A COLLATION OF MONKS.


37


"What a pretty heretic to see burned!" said the bishop of Malaga.--
" With the fire of love, you mean, doubtless," replied the archbishop of Toledo; " she would be a conquest worthy of his eminence."
" Have you nothing more difficult than that to propose to me?"
asked Pierre Arbues, with a smile full of complacency.
SHis eminence shrinks," said the prior of the Dominicans.
" No, I do not shrink," rqplied the inquisitor, casting a look of
pride over the assembly, " but in truth, I should not wish to do so
little in order to be agreeable to you, my fathers."
" We shall be well content with that-" exclaimed the guests in
chorus.
At this moment, a heavy screen of silk opened at the end of the
hall, and a familiar approached the grand inquisitor.
" My lord," said he, " Enriquez asks to be introduced to your eminence."
A smile of triumph lit up the countenance of Pierre Arbues.
" Gentlemen, the devil has been your humble servant; you are going
to see the daughter of the governor." Then, turning towards the
familiar, "Enriquez may come in," said he.
The familiar left the room.
All eyes turned towards the entrance of the banqueting hall.
SMy lord," continued Arbues, turning towards the Archbishop of
Toledo, "  ask of you, a hundred days of indulgence for this good
Enriquez, who brings us the governor's daughter; he is the best servant of the most holy inquisition."
As Arbues finished these words, the screen was again raised and
good Enriquez, pale, bleeding, drenched with water, entered, but
alone, and scarcely able to stand.
SWhat is this?" exclaimed the inquisitor, surprised.
"My lord," replied the familiar in a feeble voice, "all our shires
have been killed-the governor's daughter has been carried off from
us, and I have saved myself with great difficulty by swimming, in order to give you an account of my commission."
Every body gathered around Enriquez, who then related in a faint
voice, the events of the evening.
During this recital, the eyes of the grand inquisitor sparkled with
rage.
"So then you have all been cowards alike, have you?" said he at
last, with terrible sarcasm.
" We did all we could to execute the wishes of your eminence,"
timidly replied Enriquez.
SAnd Frazco?" inquired Pierre Arbues.
"Dead! my lord, dead like the others," replied the familiar, who
did not know of the flight of the two first sbires.
"You are a miserable fellow!" exclaimed the inquisitor, in a terrible voice.  Get out of my sight, and never show yourself again
before me."
Enriquez, weak from the loss of blood, his unexpected bath in
the Guadalquiver, and the excitement of the evening, could no longer
hold up under this last blow. His knees gave way, and he fell insensible.
D





38


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Pierre Arbues rang a bell, two servants appeared.
"' Take this man away," said lie, in an indifferent tone.
Then turning to his guests:
"To the table, gentlemen; and let us end the night as we have begun it."
The monks and bishops resumed their places, and intoxicating
liquors circulated afresh.
Pierre Arbues had rage in his heart, and he breathed it forth in
gaiety, and in sharp and biting sarcasm.
Jose, his favourite, watched him with an attention which nothing
could disturb; the novice was still more pale than usual, and his black
and sparkling eye gleamed with dark irony.
" Jos6," said Arbumes, bending towards the ear of the favourite" this is an evening which will cost the governor of Seville dear."
A thought full of bitter joy crossed the brow of tho novice, but it
remained inexplicable to the inquisitor.
The revel was prolonged until day-break.*
CHAPTER VL
THE HERETIC'S HOUSE.
THE dwelling of the apostle was a secluded charter-house in the
midst of a rustic garden, washed by the waters of the Guadalquiver.
The apostle was one of those monks, who are both preachers and
confessors, and who whilst following the rule of the order which they
had embraced, belonged to no religious corporation.
This monk was the same whom we have already seen at the tavern
of the Chapa.
He had chosen this humble retreat, where he was in the habit of
relaxing from his apostolic labours, and by its distance from the city
and its proximity to the river, it had often served as a refuge for the
victims of the inquisition.
It was the day succeeding that, on which so many events had
transpired in the same evening.
Dolores was alone in the chamber which offered her an asylum.
Night was beginning to fall, and veiling surrounding objects with a
pale tint, gave to the river the aspect of a broad band of mohair.
Notwithstanding the sharpness of the north wind, which was blow* The Bacchanalian scene which our author describes will perhaps appear exaggerated and incredible to some of our readers; but similar scenes have often
taken place at the houses of the grand dignitaries of the church of Spain. We
read in the historian Mariana, that whilst the butler of king Henry III. was
obliged to pawn the cloak of his master to buy a dinner, the lords of the court
abandoned themselves to all the excesses of the table, at the house of the Archbishop of Toledo, who resided at Burgos, in company with a number of bishops
and other high prelates of Castile.





THE HERETIC'S HOUSE.


39


ing out of doors, Dolores opened her window, and with her white
hand parting the long tresses which veiled her face, she offered her
naked and burning forehead to the cold and icy breeze.
Dark despair oppressed her spirit; her eyes were swollen with
weeping, and her marble face was furrowed with blue veins.
In the profound grief which consumed her, she had in vain had recourse to the consolations of prayer; the angel who carries to the feet
of the Most High the burning expression of our wrongs, and brings
us in return the tears which console, had in vain shaken his wings
upon the brow of Dolores; the mortal wound of her soul could not
be assuaged. This young woman, possessing a determined spirit, an
understanding just and severe, whose whole faith rested upon the
purest principles of evangelical morality; this artless enthusiast, who
expected to find in the priest a being of divine perfection, for to her
the priest was not a man, but a transformed being; this noble lover
of every ideal perfection, a poetess in love and in religion, could not
behold the abyss of luxury and hypocrisy in which those who called
themselves the ministers of Christ were sunk, without a feeling of
profound abhorrence. Doubt, that gnawing and almost incurable
wound, which is often not arrested until after it has laid every thing
waste, had assailed the spirit of Dolores, and swollen her heart with
the deadly poison whose touch burns and consumes.
" What!" exclaimed she, to herself, with bitterness, " are these the
representatives of the Saviour?  Are these the depositaries of the law?
Oh! if Jesus of old drove the sellers from the temple, can he not now
banish from it the inquisitorial priests? Will not the flames of the
fagots which they kindle, turn against themselves and devour them?"
An ardent and holy indignation murmured in the heart of the
young woman. She looked upon the sky so calm and placid, which
was unmoved by the sorrows of earth, and reflecting on her own
weakness, and the terrible power of the inquisition, she tremblingly
asked herself, if God had any concern for his creatures?  She had
begun to cherish doubts, and from that to infidelity there is but a
single step.
On the whole, it must be remarked, this era of terror and persecution was the most fruitful in sects the most conflicting and absurd.
Every one was disposed to create a faith according to his fancy, not
being able to content himself with the barbarous creed cruelly imposed by the rack and the stake. In short, the only thing in which
the inquisition could make men believe was in hell, which it had
transported upon earth.
"Jesus! Jesus!" cried the poor despairing girl, "thou who could'st
only love and bless, why dost thou endure the crimes of these
butchers?"
"To purify the good," said a sweet, solemn voice at her side.
On turning her head in the direction from which the voice proceeded, Dolores thought she had seen the figure of the Saviour himself; there was so much gentleness and force in the countenance
which beamed as though environed with a halo of light.
It was the apostle's.
" Oh! my father," exclaimed the young woman, falling on her
knees before him, " sustain me, for I am reeling, and my terrified





40


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


soul can believe only in evil. Has not the devil made himself master of this world, to banish from it the true God?"
6" My child," said the apostle, placing his hand upon the burning
brow of the young woman, as Jesus himself would have done, " since
when can strength be overthrown by weakness? Is not the evil
weak, and the good strong?"
" No," replied she, in an altered tone, "it is the evil which is
strong; for these are the wicked who oppress, and the good who
Suffer."
"Christ also suffered, and he was strong, for he was God. Are
you a Christian to abjure Christ?"
46 Oh! my father, pardon me," said the young philosopher, "I
have not the strength of the martyrs; and happiness seems to me to
be the right of man."
"Happiness! it is here," said the apostle, placing his hand upon
his heart.
" No," cried the young woman, in despair; "for even this asylum
is not inviolable for inquisitors."
" Can they restrain its pulsations, or accelerate its motions?" replied the apostle; "can they drive from it a cherished image, or
banish the faith of your fathers?  Do you not feel within you the
superhuman power of the soul, which says to you, go on, fear nothing,
love, and believe. They may kill the body, but that within us
which loves, is imperishable. The breath of the Eternal never dies."
" Oh! thanks, thanks," exclaimed Dolores, kissing the hands of the
man of God, which she covered with her tears; " thanks to you who
console, thanks to you who resemble God."
The apostle withdrew his hands from the constraint which pressed
them; his gentle humility could not accept this testimony of deference, we might almost say adoration, which the monks of Spain received, not as homage, but as a tribute.
S Oh!" pursued Dolores, who understood what was passing in hi;
mind, you are humble and strong, and believe: I ought also to believe, weak persecuted woman that I am."
"Yes, you ought to believe, my daughter, and to suffer without
repining; for you are a chosen spirit.  Arm yourself, then, with fortitude and constancy, my child, and if God sends you still more trials,
say to him as the Great Victim, who died for the truth, ' Not my will,
but thine be done.' "
" Oh! who are you?" asked the young woman, " who are you, my
father, who restore hope and energy to the heart? What is your
name, that I may mention it in my prayers?"
" I am an humble servant of God, and my name is John," replied
the apostle: "young woman, whenever you feel weak, invoke the
name of Christ, and not mine; for he only can give strength and
consolation. But it is growing late," added he, "it is time to return
to your father's house. Come, I will be your guide; and if you are
ever in distress, and have need of an asylum, remember this humble
dwelling, it is always open to those who weep."
Dolores looked up to heaven with ardent resignation. " I follow
you, my father," said she, and again taking a last look at the blessed
roof which had sheltered her, she wrapped her cape around her, and
ient out with the monk.





THE HERETICS HOUSE.


41


They walked side by side for a great distance without saying a
word. Vague presentiments agitated the spirit of the young woman.
Her brow, till lately calm and pure, was contracted under the weight
of the storm which had carried away her crown of happiness.
Women of the strongest mind and principles, always have a weak
spot in the heart. The power of endurance which they possess sometimes renders all the arguments of reason and philosophy powerless:
they do not know how to brace themselves up against events like
men. Their enthusiastic and feverish nature, which at times renders
them so strong, refuses them that energetic courage which suffers
with patience, which can await and repel a continuous shock: they
are irritated and excited, and in the violence of their suflerings, there
is but one thing that quiets them, tears; but one that consoles them,
and that is love.
Recalled to more gentle sentiments by the consoling words of the
apostle, the governor's daughter shed copious tears, and her love for
Estevan rose higher than all the intensity of her grief. Anxious on
his account, she hurried rapidly over the distance, impatient to reach
the house of her father, who might, perhaps, have seen her betrothed.
But, constantly pursued by her fear of the inquisition, she was
thinking of fleeing with Estevan and her father to some distant
country to Germany, where toleration and liberty were already established, and where she might, without fear, follow the impulse of her
heart and conscience. Then she looked with an eye of regret around
her: she admired her own beautiful Spanish sky, so sweet and pure,
and involuntarily shuddered at the idea of fleeing from it: she was
chilled at the thought of a dark sky and a soil covered with snow.
The apostle left her entirely to her mournful reflections, absorbed
as he doubtless was himself in grave meditations.
They drew near the abode of the governor. The young woman
uttered an exclamation of joy as she recognised the street in which
his mansion stood.
She redoubled her steps, drawing after her the monk who followed
her.
" Oh, my father!" she exclaimed, " I am going to see him again."
Dolores did not dare to mention the name of Estevan.
She steps forward--But why has the reflector which every evening
gleamed upon the front of the palace, not been lighted? The door,
usually open, resists her efforts.
She knocks-no reply-she calls by their names her dearest domestics-no voice answers her own.
A frightful silence reigns throughout this dwelling. It might have
been taken for a house in which, during an epidemic, all the inhabitants have died without help, one after another, and which had not
yet been opened through fear of the contagion.
Dolores, dismayed, shuddering with increasing terror, strikes with
redoubled blows with her naked fists upon the unfeeling door, whose
iron studs bruised her delicate hands.
"My father, my father," she exclaims, in a voice of anguish.
No reply.
The apostle has surmised the truth; he approaches the young woman, ready to offer her consolation, for he feels that she will need it,
P2                       6





42


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Dolores looks wildly around her. At the noise which she has made,
several doors are half opened.
"My father, what has became of my father?" exclaims the unhappy child.
But no one returns an answer.
"4 It is the daughter of the governor, who was arrested this morning
by order of the grand inquisitor," several voices said, and the doors
were closed again, and all shrank from the young woman as if she
had been smitten with a pestilence.
Dolores heard the word inquisitor, and the horrid truth flashed upon
her mind. Her father is in the dungeons of the inquisition, and as
the horrible tribunal leaves nothing to the unhappy men who are
summoned before it, the dwelling of the governor is closed, his goods
are confiscated: nothing remains for his unhappy daughter but alms
-alms, which will perhaps be refused to the daughter of the heretic.
Dolores weeps no longer; no complaint escapes from her lips; her
eyes have become dry and burning, a bitter smile contracts her discolored lips.
She approaches the monk once more; with a firm hand she seizes
the sleeve of his robe, as if she wished to attach herself to him as her
last refuge: then in a short and hurried voice,
" My father," said she, c" this is my Mount of Olives-pray God
that he would take pity on me."
The apostle expected to see sorrow less resigned. Notwithstanding his profound knowledge of the human heart, he did not understand that a terrible and unexpected blow overwhelms the heart and
sinks it into a faintness which leaves it nothing but the power of endurance. Wounded in that which she held dearest, wounded by the
inquisition, that tormentor, pitiless as hell; prostrated under the terrible thought that no more hope was left for her, Dolores no longer
had the power to complain; she could only say, like Jesus, with the
certainty of not being 'answered, "My God, let this cup pass from
me." The apostle said nothing to her at this fearful crisis; words
would have been powerless. He gently took the arm, which she
passed under his own, and guiding her by his side, like a timid child,
he resumed the road towards his dwelling. The young woman did
not even turn back to cast a last look at her palace: she bowed her
head upon her bosom, and followed her compassionate guide without
saying a word.
Scarcely had they advanced a few steps in the street:vhen in the
darkness they pushed against a man, who, sword in hand, was defending himself against another in a desperate conflict.
Aroused from her lethargy, the governor's daughter uttered a
piercing shriek. She had just recognised this man.
"Estevan!" "Dolores!" they both exclaimed in the same instant; so
irresistible is this power of attraction, this invisible and magnetic fluid
which circulates around us at the mere approach of the beloved object;
so that the air which vibrates about him, makes us instantly recognise
him.
Dolores drew Estevan away The conflict ceased for a moment;
a young woman hanging upon the arm of the other combatant, who
wore the coarse costume of the children of the Garduiia, seemed de




THE HERETIC'S HOUSE.


43


sirous of snatching the poniard from his hand, and by earnest supplications to ask of him a favour which he would not grant.
SI cannot, I tell you," suddenly exclaimed this man, in a shrill and
positive tone. " I cannot, Culverina, I have promised to kill him,
and he must die."
Meanwhile the strange group had drawn close to the side of the
apostle, who had stepped forward a few paces, alarmed by this inci
dent.
The young woman recognised him. Without letting go the arm
of the man whom she still held back, clenched with a vigorous grasp,
in spite of his efforts to disengage himself, she fell at the feet of the
apostle.
"Oh! my father," said she, " do not let Manofina kill this young
man. Have we not murders enough like this?"
"The apostle!" exclaimed the bravo, who also recognised him,
and he bowed his head humbly before the man of God.
" Manofina," said the monk, who knew all these men by name,
"Manofina, who has given you your commission to kill?"
" The society of the Gardunia, my father, to which I belong body
and soul; it is my trade to wound and kill, as it is yours to hear confessions and to preach. Let me, then, attend to my business, and not
steal the money which has been given me for this purpose."
" Manofina," said the monk, " do you believe in Jesus Christ?"
The bravo bowed at this sacred name.
" Surely, my reverend father; I am a good catholic: it is for this
reason I wish to carry on my trade with a good conscience. Justice
before every thing. I have promised to kill, and kill I must."
"' He who takes the sword, shall perish by the sword,'" continued
the apostle. " Manofina, in truth I tell you, the business you follow
is a bloody one, and Jesus abhors blood, my son."
" And if I renounce this business, father, the inquisition, which
I would rather not serve any more, would have me burned like a
heretic, or would compel me to fly from Spain, as it has done with
all these poor Moors, who are leaving Seville by thousands. Then
what will become of this woman, who is mine, and whom I
support?"
" No matter," exclaimed the serena, moved by the gentle language
of the apostle, "it is better to die than to live in this way."
"But, my comrades," said the bravo, " how can I abandon them?
I, of all others."
"No," said the monk, too much of a philosopher to believe that
this ignorant man could at once be detached from the customs of his
whole life, "no, you shall not leave the brotherhood of the Gardufia;
but as one good action atones for many crimes, you can employ yourself henceforth only in saving the victims of the inquisition."
" But I shall betray my trust," said the bravo, constantly beset by
his singular honesty, his chivalric fidelity to the statutes of his order.
" The intention is every thing," replied the monk, " will you not
have the intention to do good?  Will you not then in fact be doing
good?"
It was against his heart, that the apostle, the loyal and brave defender of the gospel, employed this subtlety, which has since become
5k





44


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


the weapon of a celebrated order,ý the means by aid of which it has
overturned the world every where, and diffused the venom of hypocrisy; but, surely, if ever subtlety was holy and to be allowed, it
was at this moment, when the man of God concentrated all his
powers of persuasion to avoid innumerable evils by gaining the ascendency over a single man.
The bravo listened thoughtfully; one more doubt still beset him.
SAnd my father," said he, at length, " will you absolve me from
all breaches of trust committed against my brotherhood? At this
price, I will do all that your beatitude can desire, for you alone will
be responsible for the salvation of my soul, and it cannot be better
off than in your hands."
"I will bless you as often as you save a victim, and I absolve you
from all the murders which you shall not commit. Go in peace, my
son, and may God be your guide."
The bravo fell on his knees before the apostle, by the side of the
serena, and their heads bowed together under his hands clasped, in
order to bless them.
" He has married us," said the serena, in a low voice, as she arose
And this Bohemian vagabond, brought up like the bird of the
forest, with no other guide than the instincts of her savage nature,
started with a chaste and religious emotion; she had just caught a
glimpse of heaven in love, the consecration of the purest sentiment
of the soul.
At a few paces from them, Estevan and the governor's daughter
mingled their sorrows and their tears: the joy of meeting again had
at least afforded this alleviation to their despair, that its flame, no longer
smothered in their bosom. A sad, fugitive, and distant hope, the
hope which never abandons love, smiled upon them in the midst of
their lowering sky.
"See," said the serena, whose womanly instinct had guessed the
whole, "see, Manofina, how wretched we should be, if instead of
meeting again her handsome betrothed, this poor girl had stumbled
against his corpse."
" Culverina," said the bravo, "it seems to me as though the voice
of the apostle had given me a second life, and that I am no longer the
same man that I was this morning. Oh! but I have people to save
before I can efface all the blood which I have spilled. I see plainly
that I must quit the society of the Garduna."
" The apostle has said that ' one good action atones for many
crimes,' " replied the serena; "be still, then, darling, and do not be
alarmed about the rest. His reverence has charged himself with the
care of your soul, and if we leave the Gardufia, the good God who
feeds the beasts will take care of two poor Christian creatures."
The bravo and his companion withdrew.
Estevan and Dolores had forgotten every thing else in order to
weep together.
"Come, my children," said the apostle, "we will consult to-morrow
about the choice of a retreat for my daughter, Dolores."


* The Jesuits.





THE HERETIC'S HOUSE.


45


" Father," said Estevan, " we must consult, I believe, about fleeing
this unhappy Spain, which devours its purest children."
"Fly, when my father is in prison!" exclaimed Dolores, "Estevan, could you think of it?"
" But you will destroy yourself uselessly," said the young man;
"you must set out alone, Dolores, you must accompany me out of
Spain, whilst I will employ my credit and my fortune to save your
father."
" Save the living," said the monk, in a whisper, " when the inquisition does not respect even the ashes of the dead!"
" Be silent, father," said Estevan, who had heard him, " do not
deprive this unhappy child of all hope."
"I will not leave Spain without my father," said Dolores, resolutely.
"Poor child," thought the apostle, affected; "you, too, have one
of these souls made up of self-denial, which always lead to Calvary."
" Daughter," said he, " to-morrow I will conduct you to the convent
of the Carmelites."
"Estevan," said the girl, in a low whisper, " take care, the inquisition has its eyes upon you."
They had reached the house of the apostle. Dolores entered first.
Estevan paused outside, not venturing to cross the threshold.
" Come, both of you, my children," said the Franciscan, "we will
spend the night together in prayer; come,. for you will have to leave
to-mnorrow."
Estevan followed them in silence. The door closed upon them.


~iillsi~;l "
LS~C3,                      1





46


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


CHAPTER VII.
ESTEVAN DE VARGAS.
ABOUT eleven years before the epoch at which all these events happened, the elevation of Cardinal Alphonso Manrique, Archbishop of
Seville, to the eminent station of inquisitor general of Castile, had
taken place. For a long time previous, under the reign of the predecessors of Manrique, the hatred of the Spaniards against the holy
office had been displayed in bold conspiracies, in continual revolts,
in vehement complaints couched in determined language, and carried
even to the tribunal of the popes, whose cowardly complacency, and
private interest, seconded by the egotistical weakness of the kings,
remained proof against the miseries of Spain.
The inquisition covered it with fagots, depopulated the cities with
impunity, made a wilderness of the country by depriving it of the
arms which cultivated the soil, and out of a rich and chivalric nation,
devoted to the arts, to liberty, to glory, it made a vast catacomb, in
which the sight of the dead terrified the living: a disgraceful arena,
upon which men fell without resistance, where the infamous hand of
the executioner scattered its blight over the purest brow, at the signal
of the hideous despot, who wore a crown of flames and a sceptre of
iron.
But whilst the cowardly policy of the kings suffered this noble
realm to be thus decimated, there were noble Spaniards with hearts
filled with indignation, and burning with the love of liberty, who
protested loudly, at the peril of their lives, against the iniquities of
the tribunal of the inquisition.In the number of these heroic defenders of the rights of humanity
* It is generally believed that Spain has borne the yoke of inquisitorial despotism with cowardly patience; but this is a mistake. The Spaniards have never
ceased to struggle for their political and religious liberty. Since the beginning
of the fifteenth century, the communes and the cortes have always protested
with energy against the hypocritical and stupid despotism of the kings, and
against the insatiable avarice of the monks, and of Rome. Padilla Porlier, chief
justice of Aragon, and thousands of the courageous defenders of the rights of
humanity, sealed with their blood the efforts which they made to deliver Spain
from kingly despotism. Jane Boleorques, Mary of Bourgogne, surnamed the
mother of the poor, Rodriguez de Valero, and many other true believers in Jesus
Christ, were martyrs, whose blood has nourished the religion of the gospel, and
branded with a stigma of infamy the foreheads of the haughty butchers, who
presumed to call themselves the priests of a God of peace. Let it not be said
that all those who were persecuted by the inquisition were heretics. John
D'Avila, John de Dieu, St. Theresa, St. John de la Cruz, friar, Louis de Ldon,
Louis de Grenada, Mariana, that is to say, men whom Rome herself has been constrained to declare saints, men the fame of whose genius has filled Europe,
also suffered the persecutions of this odious tribunal, which might well be
called the chapel of hell, and constantly contended with their eloquent tongues
against this iniquitous power, opposed to all the laws of God and man.-(Proces
verbaux de l'IUquisition et Histoire g'nirale d'Espagne, par Mariana.)





ESTEVAN DE VARGAS.


47


were to be found noble Castilians, literati, reverend bishops, and even
members of the council of Castile. Spain was then in a state of permanent insurrection; but this generous crusade against the inquisition was not sustained by the kings, and could not be effectually supported by the people, bowed under the yoke of fanaticism, and at
that time too ignorant to understand their real power; it therefore remained unable to destroy this rapacious hydra. The movement was confined to some ineffectual measures, to fallacious legal
enactments obtained with great difficulty against inquisitors who
were too audacious. Thus, twenty-six years before, Philip I. had
suspended from his functions the grand inquisitor Deza and his
friend, Lucero, the inquisitor of Cordova, whose horrible cruelty pronounced nearly all the accused, whether they confessed or not, guilty
of concealing their offences, and thus caused them to be condemned
as false penitents.*
Among the Spanish noblemen who were hostile to the inquisition,
young Estevan de Vargas had distinguished himself by the violence
of his indignation.  He was descended from one of those illustrious
Moorish families, who, previous to the conquest of Grenada, had
voluntarily embraced Christianity.t
Young, ardent, and impassioned, Estevan possessed that masculine
and poetic beauty, which indicates more energy of understanding
than physical strength.
His brown complexion, of extreme fineness, presented those gilded
tints whose vague transparency would scarcely permit one to suppose that under the slender network of the veins, rich and ardent
blood was coursing in rapid circulation. His black eye, mild and
ordinarily calm, sparkled at the least emotion of the soul. He had
that tall, active, and graceful figure for which the noble Moorish families were so remarkable, and upon his pale forehead, black and
* Whenever one of the victims of the inquisition confessed all that was wished,
and submitted to all the penance and humiliations which were demanded of
him, the tribunal was constrained to release him, and be content with some
ample indemnity, according to the terms of the inquisitorial laws themselves.
The rapacious and greedy genius of Deza and Lucero discovered the means of
not resting satisfied with so little, by accusing such as thus escaped from them,
with having made insincere confessions, and declaring them to be false penitents.
The false penitents were burned or condemned to perpetual imprisonment, and
all their property was confiscated.-(History of the Inquisition, reign of Deza.)
f Some time before the capture of Grenada by Ferdinand of Aragon and
Isabella of Castile, that is to say, about the year 1493, a great number of the cavaliers of the tribes of Abencerrages, Gom.elds and Gazuls, exasperated by the
cruelties of Mulei Hassan and weary of the imbecility of Boabdil, left the
Moorish city, went in quest of the catholic kings, and embraced the Christian
religion. The catholic monarchs secured, by special enactments, great privileges to these cavaliers, and granted them distinguished favors. On their part,
the new Christians rendered eminent service to the crown of Castile by fighting
valiantly for the cause of Spain, and for that of catholicism which they had embraced in good faith. (History of the Civil Wars of Grenada by Genes de
Hita.)  Under Deza, and subsequently, the descendants of these cavaliers, the
flower of the chivalry of Andalusia, were designated by the epithet, marranos,
" Swine," and persecuted as heretics and rebels. A few words will explain
this persecution. The descendants of the Moorish cavaliers, converted during
the reign of the catholic monarchs, were all very wealthy, and the inquisition
has always been extremely fond of riches.





48


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


glossy locks threw their thick shade, and crowned the beautiful head
formed to wear a crown of gold, or rather, of laurel; for Estevan
possessed the poetry which charms, the eloquence which persuades
and captivates, and his powerful philosophy was worthy of the
master whom he had followed.
Estevan had fed upon the gospel without attaching himself to any
particular sect, without adopting the doctrines of Luther or Melancthon, without becoming anabaptist or one of the enlightened (alumbrado,) excesses which all appeared to him equally absurd. Estevan
had regulated his life upon the pure morality of Christ; his philosophy was charity-excessive charity, charity when alone; his practice was always charity under all its forms. His object of worship
was God, God mighty and pure, detached from all human passions,
the source of life, lavishing upon mankind benefits without measure,
and exacting in return only a love like his own, indulgent to the bad,
and ready to succour all, and demanding, as the best homage, a pure,
loving and devoted life.  All the rest, in the estimation of Estevan,
were but trifles and unworthy expedient more or less frivolous or
disgraceful.
The sublimity of his soul, the depth of his convictions, the eloquence of his language, conferred upon the young philosopher that
power of fascination which captivates the masses. At his voice, the
excited people would have arisen as by magic, and made the terrible
tribunal tremble. His father, who had been a member of the Council
of Castile in 1502, had, by his courageous opposition, favoured the
establishment of the junta known by the name of the Catholic Congregation," called to repress the outrages, and repair the injustice of
* During the reign of the inquisitor General Deza and his proteg6, Lucero'
inquisitor of Cordova, the cruelties, or rather barbarities of the holy office, exasperated the Spaniards to such a degree that eloquent voices were raised on
every side against these men, who, under the name of defenders of the faith,
would have made skeptics of the very apostles. Deza, after having been suspended from his functions, by Philip I., resumed his post at the death of that
prince in 1506, in the fourth month of his reign, and immediately cancelled all
that the supreme council had done, and re-instated Lucero in his office. From
that time a bitter persecution was commenced against the pious bishop of Grenada, Ferdinand of Talavera, and against the sage Antonio de Nebrija, the latter, being denounced to the holy office for having discovered and corrected some
errors which had crept into the Latin text of the Vulgate. These persecutions,
joined to the cruelties of Lucero, wearied the Andalusians, who revolted, broke
open the prisons of the holy office, and set at liberty the captives, whose number was incalculable. The fiscal, the register of the tribunal of the inquisition,
and several subalterns in their employ were arrested at Cordova, and Lucero
owed his safety only to a prompt flight. These events, connected with the arrival in Spain of Ferdinand V., regent of the kingdom, inspired Deza with so
much terror, that he voluntarily renounced his post, after having caused two
thousand five hundred and ninety-two persons to be burned alive, besides the
effigies of eight hundred and twenty-nine others, and having condemned to perpetual imprisonment or to the galleys, with the confiscation of their property,
thirty-two thousand nine hundred and fifty-two accused persons. In order to
prosecute the trials of the numerous individuals arrested on account of these
troubles, the inquisitor Cisneros, successor of Deza, more politic and not less
cruel than his predecessor, solicited and obtained from.the king permission
to form a junta, composed of twenty-two persons the most distinguished in the
kingdom, in order conveniently to finish the suits brought by the inquisitor Lucero against the inhabitants of Cordova. This junta, which took the name of





ESTEVAN DE VARGAS.


491~


the infamous Lucero* against the inhabitants of Cordova. Unfortunately, this tardy and incomiplete measure was only a treacherous
truce granted to the Spaniards Iby the inquisition, that monstrous
hydra, whose heads constantly gJ'ew  a-0ain after having heen cut oflU
Young Vargyas, after attaining to manhood, was called to struggle
aoailnst the same abuses and perhaps against still greater.
What power would such a man as Estevan exert over a soul like
that of Dolores?
Pure, perfect love does not spring up in commnon minds; the love
of a strung beingy for one of ordinary cast is no longer true love, it
then becomes error or weakness.     But this perfect melting of two
souls which makes themn love the sam-ne life, and suffer the same torments, which unites the desires and wishes so that it seems as though
there were hut a single being in two persons, this love is formed only
in kindred souls, boiind by a perfect aflinity.
Naturally of a strong mind, endowed with that sublime     candour,
which worships truth, rejecting   with horror every false or mean
maxim, and- every act tainted w ith dissi in ulation or falsehood, Dolores
placed in Estevan. that blind faithi, which is the offspring of profound
admiiration.  Their lofty principles, the adverse events of their existnnce, although still so young, their mutual bias for religious philosophy, ani the entire purity of their intentions, had, in a manner,
spiritualized their heart.
Betrothed to one another by the wishes of their parents, they felt
that their union( did not depend upon the consent of man, that they
were already by a tacit and inviolable agreem-ent betrothed to one
another and that death itself could not separate them.     Thus thou
love was externally quiet; they looked forward with joy, but without trouble and impatience, to the period which would render their
union pci feet in the eyes of the world.  They felt that this consecration rimht add to their happiness, but they awaitedl this happi.
nes' cUlmiIN; so far was mind in themi superior to matter.
Dinrincm the day which i)olores had passedl in t-he abode of the.,rpostle, she had artlessly related to h-im the events of her life, her
pious childhood, her pure and enlightened youth, her love for the
noble Estevan.
catholic congregation, held its first meetino at Biurgos, in 1508. After a laborious sesýsion of several mouths, the juota declared:-I. ''That the wVitnesses examinedt by Lucero in the affair of Cordova, were unworthy of credit. 2. That all
the accused who were then in prison were innocent, and (inpht to be set at liberty. 3. That the reputation of those who had been hurried should he restored,
and lastly, that the houses razed by order of Lucero and Deza ought to he rebuilt at the public expense." This decision of the catholic congiRegat ion went
into complete accomplishment after hiaving been solemnly published at Valladolid amidst the acclamations of the people, who supposed that they had at last
broken the yoke of the inquisition. Poor creatures! In their loyalty they did
riot k-now that the inquisition, in grianting a fallacious truce, was preparing to
strike a heavier blow hereafter, after having thoroughly envolopýd themi inthe
mmiense net of stratagems without iitme, which the priesthood hats always employeod for the aoo'randizement of their temporal power. THis! ory of the In.
quisition.)
*Lucero had received from the Spaniards the epithet of dark. In Spanish
Lucero means a brilliant star




7





59


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


The apostle was a man of warm heart, full of kindness, in whom,
it may be, the mysterious remembrance of a chaste passion, broken
by the hand of man or by that of death, had only changed the name,
and was now called charity. The apostle, affected by this touching
avowal, had not hesitated to say to the young man, "Enter my
dwelling with your betrothed; pure love does not offend the God of
heaven; it is an homage rendered to his omnipotence."
And when they were all assembled in this humble abode, whose
white walls presented no other ornament than the image of him who
died on Calvary, " My children," said the monk, " bless God who
afflicts you, the persecutions of the wicked are so many crowns for
the life to come. Happy are they who pass:through this world
praying and weeping."
" Father," replied the young man, "your words are holy, and full
of consolation, and, with you, I adore the hand which weighs upon
us; but we young men, full of life and zeal, we Spanish cavaliers,
whose fathers have always loyally served the Christian religion, or
have voluntarily embraced it with faith and conviction, we faithful
observers of the law of Christ, the law of kindness and love, may we,
without being cowards, bear the yoke of an unjust power, which in
the name of God, braves all divine and human laws with impunity?
Is not rebellion against it a duty?"
The apostle paused some moments without replying; he seemed
engaged in profound reflection.. " My son," said he, finally, " I believe that the inquisitorial power
is an abuse which must be resisted with the sword of speech, with
loIic, with truth, and not with insurrection, the offspring of rage and
hatred, and therefore blind, passionate, without rule, without restraint
or measure, always going either too far or not far enough; a glass
of water thrown upon an immense conflagration, which instead of extinguishing, excites the fury of the fire."
"Yes," exclaimed Estevan, with an energetic gesture, "but a gag
s thrust upon the eloquent mouth; truth is stifled under bolts, and
reason.... Oh, father! you well know how skilful they are in combating it. The dark genius of the inquisition stifles it under its delicate knots of all kinds of subtleties, or under the constraint of iron
despotism: they kill every thing with the phrase, ' In the name of
God,' and the ignorant rabble bow their head. They are afraid of
committing sacrilege by revolt."
" The people suffer," said the apostle, "for in all ages their power
is resignation: when weary of the yoke, they revolt and shake it to
the earth, what do they gain by that? A change of masters; that is
all. Their blood and struggles are of no service except to the powerful, to the leaders of the revolt; as for themselves, they continue
sumiering and enslaved."
"Father," said Estevan in a grave voice, a when the chiefs are
pure, the people are happy; their misfortune is not in obedience, it
is in hatred against him who commands."
" Doubtless," replied the apostle, "for he who is worthy to command, voluntarily becomes the brother and the equal of those who
obey him: he remains superior to them only in wisdom. He is the
pilot who holds the helm to secure the safety of the crew."





ESTEVAN DE VARGAS.


51


" Fathei," exclaimed the young woman, " what has a chief who
governs by right or by choice in common with this barbarous power,
which, in the name of God, depopulates Spain and covers it with a
funeral pall?"
" Dolores," quickly retorted Estevan, " if he who governs were a
good shepherd, he would not let his sheep be shorn by greedy speculators, who thrust their shears into the flesh to have the wool and the
blood of the flock. The royal toleration of the inquisitiofis nothing
but the calculation of an avaricious politician..It is the love of gold
which covers the kingdom with funeral piles."
The apostle raised his eyes to heaven, and tears flowed down his
pale cheeks.
" My son," said he, " God will enlighten the kings respecting
their true interest, and will touch their hearts with compassion that
will be effectual. The voice of the preachers of the gospel will
finally be heard; many of them, with heroic courage, a courage as
great as his who arms his hand with a sword, raise their voices in the
pulpit against the errors of fanaticism, and at the risk of their lives,
preach the doctrine of Jesus Christ in its primitive purity and simplicity. Let us have hope in them: my son, the power of conviction is greater than that of arms, and the period of the triumph of
true Christians is, perhaps, not far distant."
"Father," said Estevan, "you advise us to be patient and resigned,
and yet I have heard you in our churches raise your eloquent voice
against the scribes and pharisees of our day; for I am not deceived,"
continued he, looking with admiration on the noble countenance of
the apostle: " you are one of those courageous combatants, who under
the very axe of the executioners, contend with word and gesture
against the disciples of Dominique of Gusman, that fanatical monk
of whom the court of Rome has made a saint."
"I am the most humble of the servants of God," replied the monk
with true humility, " and as for the crown of the saints, God alone,
who reads the secrets of the heart, can confer that."
" Father," asked Estevan, " would you be the partisan of the doctrine of that illustrious reformer called Luther, who has converted to
his new doctrine so many learned doctors in theology, besides princes
and even bishops?"
" I am a Christian," replied the monk, " all controversy appears
to me like a sacrilege against that law so simple, so humble, and so
mild which Jesus has revealed. By dint of dogmatizing, my son,
we become lost in incomprehensible darkness; faith and charity,
which are the basis of our worship, become cold or perverted, for all
disunion brings with it sourness or doubt. The Christian religion is
so simple! Why embarrass it with all sorts of difficulties?  Why,
above all, place it at the service of human passions?"
" Father," said Estevan, "c your religion is that which I and Dolores
have embraced; this is the reason why we are regarded as heretics."
"Christ also was condemned as an impious man, and a blasphemer.
Of what do you complain, my son? It is an honor to suffer for his
doctrine."
Dolores listened with rapture to these two men of faith so pure
and the fear of the inquisition which had tormented her so much, va
nished before the sublime reflections which fortified her courage.





52            THE MYSTERIES OF THIE INQUISITION.
Thus they passed the sad night which had brought for the young
betrothed such deplorable vicissitudes in their destiny. The apostle
consoled them, or prayed with them, and whilst inspiring them with
resignation, he imparted greater strength to their hope.
The want of sleep was not felt: when the mind is highly excited,
it rules the body, which then obeys it like a slave, and this encroachment of the intellect uponl the physical requirements seems to augment
the strength and clearness of the understanding still more. A generous fever circulated in the veins of the young woman; she would at
this moment have suffered martyrdom with joy, if her death could
have saved her brethren, and restored quiet and liberty to Spain.
Towards morning a pale light mingled its vague tints with the
limpid clearness of the lamp which burned in the chamber; there
was a gentle knock at the door.
Estevan and Dolores started involuntarily.
"Fear nothing," said the apostle, "it is doubtless one of our
friends."  He opened.
A young monk, clothed in a habit of black bombazine bound
around his person by a white cord, threw himself into the arms of
the apostle, and resting his head upon his bosom:  It is your son,"
said he, ' who has need of you."
" Welcome," said the apostle, kissing his forehead, as a mothen
would have done; "speak, my son, and tell me what has brought
you?".The young monk sat down.
' Speak, my son," resumed the apostle, pointing to the betrothed;
" these are two friends; say, what do you wish?"
" Father,". said the monk, "I have been desirous of putting in
practice the lessons which you have given me; like you, I have thought
that preaching was not enough, and that to the care of souls ought to
be added that of the body. Aided by the gifts of some pious souls,
and thanks to the noble self-denial of some distinguished young men,
whose wa m hearts, filled with love, have found no room for the
pleasures of the world, I have formed a tolerably numerous society,
animated by the sole desire of being useful to their fellow men, and
to succour their misfortunes. By our efforts an hospital is to be erected
at Cadiz," intended to gather suffering members of Jesus Christ. We
will care for them with our own hands, and we shall endeavour, whilst
healing the body, also to stanch the wounds of the spirit."
"There, you entertain a pious purpose," said the apostle, "life is
glorious when it has so noble an aim."
" My dear master," continued the young monk, " but one thing embarrasses me. The sorrows of humanity are so numerous, and so various! What kind of wretchedness shall we endeavour to assuage?"
" My son," replied the apostle, " among the suffering members of
Jesus Christ, there are those whose misfortunes, far from being an
object of pity to their fellow men, become, instead, a subject of hatred
and contempt; all society repels them, and instead of mitigating and
* An hospital was founded by St. Jean de Dieu, towards the middle of the sixteenth century, for the treatment of leprosy, and that terrible disease imported
into Europe by the companions of Christopher Columbus.





ESTEVAN DE VARGAS.                     53
relieving their bodily sufferings, it adds to these sorrows moral anguish, a thousand times more cruel. The one should be pitied, the
other should be cherished and consoled."*
O Oh! my father," exclaimed the disciple, wisdom is in you, and
charity speaks through your lips. You have decided my doubts.
Yes, from the unfortunate we will select the greatest sufferers, all
such as no one dare approach, and we shall bring to them so much
more consolation and joy, as they are more forsaken and desperate.
Thanks, my holy master, our poor sick ones will bless you, for you
are their father."t
Then they entered into a long conversation, although they had
passed the night without sleep. The fervour which animated them
rendered them insensible to bodily fatigue. The young monk submitted to him, whose disciple he was, the statutes of the order which
he wished to found. They discussed together its wisdom, number,
and utility, and the two young lovers derived from their discourse
this just and true conclusion, that all the practical part of the Christian religion consists in this single precept:---" Love one another."
Thus was founded that celebrated order which still exists in our
day, under the name of Hospitaliers of St. John; for the young
monk was none other than the great preacher, subsequently known
under the name of St. Jean de Dieu. For once, at least, Rome did
justice in granting to him the crown of the saints, which Spain had
long ago decreed to him.
The morning bell rang for the Angelus.
Dolores and her betrothed united with the two monks in this
morning prayer.
Day was about to break.
c My children," said the apostle, "I must bid you farewell. This
morning I will conduct this young woman into the cloister, that she
may there in peace await the will of Heaven. As for you, young man,
you know my retreat. I repeat to you what I said yesterday to
your bride: ' It is always open to those who weep.'
Dolores raised towards heaven a look of sorrowful resignation.
Estevan was silent: the paleness of his countenance alone betrayed
the conflicts of his soul. He pressed with warmth the hand of his
bride, extended the other to the apostle, who looked on them with
tender compassion, and hurried out, uttering this single word:
" Courage!"
A solitary tear trickled down the pale cheek of the governor's
daughter. The apostle went out with. his beloved disciple.
At the end of a few minutes he returned: he had adjusted his
sandals, and his right hand rested upon a beechen statl
* Letters of St. Jean d'Avila to St. Jean de Dieu, his disciple.
( St. Jean de Dieu consecrated sixty years o his life to the alleviation of'
suffering humanity. He and his disciples discovered the greater part of the specifics still employed at the present day, in the treatment of the diseases, to the
cure of which, they applied themselves. Before his death, St. Jean de Dien
gave to Spain more than sixty hospitals, all attended by monks of his order.
Why have not all the monks drawn upon themselves the blessings of the people
like the hospital friars.
E2





54


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Dolores had kneeled before the image of the Saviour. Upon the
approach of the monk, she turned towards him, and seeing hirm ready
to depart, she rose up in haste, and stifling a sigh of distress, 'h Iich
swelled her bosom:
" FIther," said she, "I am ready to follow you."
CHAPTER       VIII.
MANOFINA.
THuE daughter of the governor remained under the care of her
pious conductor. Let us return to Manofina, whom we left under
the impulse of a new conversion.
The bravo with his companion slowly retraced the road to the palace of the Gardufia. Their walk was silent; only occasionally, Manofina pressed with ardour the arm of the serena who leaned upon his,
and by this mute pressure endeavoured to strengthen himself in the
resolution which he had taken.
Thus they arrived at the ruins which constituted the avenue to the
strange abode of Mandamiento.
A feeble light illumined the interior of the hall, which at this hour
was almost deserted. None of the members of the brotherhood had
as yet returned from their nocturnal expeditions.
The master alone was in waiting, seated on the wreck of a mutilated
column, counting with an eager gaze a handful of doubloons. Here
and there, some old coberieras had spread their aprons on the ground,
and slept on this thin mattress in profound and tranquil slumber.
Warned by the sound of the feet of the young couple who advanced
in the shade, the master hastily raised his head, and observing the
bravo, exclaimed with a pleasant tone:
" Ah! it is Manofina, always the first at his post. Don Estevan
de Vargas?"
" Is as well as you and I," replied the guapo in a sullen voice.
" By St. James!" shouted Mandamiento, " have the wizards broken
the blade of your poniard in its scabbard, my brave, or does don Estevan possess a charm which makes him proof against steel?"
" Neither one nor the other, master. I am come to tell you that
I am tired of extinguishing, and that I will no longer be a member of
the brotherhood. Here is the money which was given me."  And he
threw a purse at the feet of the enraged Mandamiento.
" Thousand devils!" exclaimed the master, "is it you that speak,
Manofina, or some malicious sprite that has taken your shape to
abuse me and do you wrong?"
SIt is I myself, master, in flesh and blood," replied the guapo,
" myself, who come to take leave of you, and to thank you for the
very special protection with which you have honoured me."
Mandamiento knit his brow; he turned towards the serena, who
kept behind the bravo, with an humble mien and downcast eyes





MANOFINA.


55


" And you, Culverina," said the master, " will you also renounce
the pleasures and profits of the trade, to follow a fool, who will have
no other food to give you but the miserable melopia' of the monks?"
"I renounce them," replied the young woman, drawing close to
the object of her love.
"Race of fools," murmured the master.
Manofina made no reply.
Mandamiento having hastily risen from his bench of stone, began
to walk with great strides up and down the hall, murmuring unintelligible words.
It was the hour at which the members of the brotherhood usually
returned; they came to render account to the capataz of the result of
their respective missions. Gradually the enclosure was filled with
people; the master, still absorbed, had as yet noticed and questioned
no one.
At last the house was full: there were only a few tardy chivatos
who were absent, persons of little importance. All the big caps of
the order were assembled, and observing that Mandamiento, absorbed
in. his vexatious ideas, paid no more attention to them than if they
had been of the other world, Cuerpo de Hierro took upon him to approach the chief, and gently pulling the sleeve of his shirt;
" Master," said he, " all your children have fulfilled their commissions."
" Not all," exclaimed the master, casting a dark scowl at Manofina,
who stood apart by the side of the serena.
All eyes were turned upon the apostate guapo.
Manofina had no downcast look, he regarded his former comrades
with a mien of perfect calmness, and made no reply.
" What's that you say?" exclaimed the others; "is it possible,
master?"
"Yes," returned Mandamiento, with a voice ridiculously solemn,
"a gardufio has failed to fulfil his commission; the society loses at
one stroke two of its bravest supports, and this cowardly desertion
will bring upon us great misfortunes. Yes," continued the master.
pointing to Manofina and his companion, who seemed altogether unconcerned, " the order loses in them two of its best children; but it
loses even still more than that, it loses its reputation for probity, its
renown, so far without stain, acquired by long and perilous services.t
What will the noble lords say?    What will the fine ladies say?
* Melopia. Thus, in Spain, they call the soup, or rather, the miserable broth,
which the monks distribute to the crowds of beggars with which the country was
filled, thanks to the fanaticism and cruelty of the inquisition. The word melopia is a corruption of the word mezclopia, mixture; derived from the verb mezclar, to mix. The author, in his sixteenth chapter, will give exact and unfor.
tunately, but too true details respecting this monkish charity.
f It is not easy to conceive a just idea of the fanaticism which the Spanish
malefactors exhibit in the performance of their promises. They would regard
themselves as very guilty, and as for ever dishonoured, if; after having received
money to commit a murder, they should fail in their engagement. They have,
if the expression may be allowed, honesty in crime, so deeply has loyalty imbedded its roots in the heart of this people, so horribly perverted by a bad political system, enslaved tc the insatiable demands of Rome, and the incredible
cruelty of the inquisition





56


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Above all, what will the clergy say? our best customers. What will
the Dominicans say, who have filled our coffers with doubloons?0
We shall pass throughout the kingdom of Andalusia for a miserable
set of sharpers, who take money for extinguishing, and do not extinguish
after all. We shall be compared to the alguazils, who are paid for
arresting thieves, and who arrest only honest people, or to those
faithless monks, who get paid ten times for a single mass of which
they do not say the half. Do you understand, brothers," continued
the master, growing warm progressively, at the sound of his own
words; " do you understand that the inquisitor's rage will be aroused
when he shall learn that an extinction commanded by himself has not
been accomplished?   And, my lord, the archbishop, will not he also
say tl'at we are cowards and thieves? and we shall lose the protection of Don Pedro Peladeras Martinez and Cabrera the Colmiliudot
the protector of our order, and jester of the king, our lord Don Carlos,
whonr God preserve! Oh! Manofina, Manofina! retrace your steps,
and abandon this momentary weakness."
The assembly had listened to this strange harangue in profound
amazement. As soon as Mandamiento had ceased, some hypocritical
fuelles sided close towards Manofina.
" Brother," said they to him, "it is not possible that you are going
to abandon us, is it?"
"It is done," replied the bravo in a decided tone.
On another side two coberteras, from among the oldest and most
repulsive, had advanced towards the serena, and by honeyed words,
and envenomed flatteries endeavoured to bring her back to her former vocation.
" It is of no use," replied she, " what is said, is said, we shall not
change."
" Manofina's a rogue!" exclaimed a guapo newly promoted.
" Manofina is not a rogue," replied the bravo, "he has given back
the money which he had received; but he declares before all that he
has failed, that the business does not suit him, and that he renounces
his titles and privileges."
Manofina spoke with a calm voice; he was no longer the turbulent
creature, greedy of perilous and horrible adventures: he was a strong
courageous man, converted by the words of the apostle, still loving
danger and adventure, but not peril without an object. All his warlike ardour was now turned against the oppressors of the weak, against
the familiars of the inquisition.
" Away with him to the chimney, to the chimney!"i exclaimed the
new graduate.
* In order to understand the full drift of this exclamation, the reader is referred
to a previous note.
f The Colmilludo the sharp-fanged. There was, at this period, an officer
at court, whose functions ranged between those of flatterer of the king, and
especially of the noble lords of the court, and those of the zany, or rather, he
combined these two employments.
The Sevillians maintain to this day, that the Colmilludo was the chief of the
Gardfia; and when they wish to exaggerate the skill or rascality of a bandit,
they say, " Es mas ladro y mas malo que el Colmilludo," he is more of a thief
and more wicked than the Colmilludo.
J Justice,














-                                  /


-)  U - u -u -1  - -


C
Hi      __ K




MANOFINA.


57


" Brother," replied the master, with severity, " the society of the
Garduifa has never yet delivered over to the great chimney of Seville
any of her children, not even the most guilty. If they are weak, insincere or unskilful, she degrades and sends them back; if they are
traitors, she extinguishes them, but she never commissions.Jklateo* to
avenge her."
" Master," said Manofina, a the society does not deliver up her
children, and neither will her children betray her; she will never
have any thing to fear from me."
" My son," said the matter, affected, c why do you wish to leave
us? Have you any cause of complaint against me? You may yet
repair your fault."
" Never!" replied Manofina, in a resolute tone.
" Do you know," repeated Mandamiento irritated, "that every
unfaithful member deserves punishment?"
" Every unfaithful member incurs degradation; degrade me then,
and be done with it."
"You ought to know that there are certain cases in which we
extinguish him," replied Mandamiento,. with severity.
" You extinguish none but traitors, and 1 am not a traitor."
" But,"" But, you may fear that I shall become one, you mean to say,
and then. you may extinguish me, is it not so?" added the bravo, with
an air of defiance. " Very well, I advise him who shall be charged
with this mission, devoutly to say his confiteor, for by the beard of the
king, he will have a rough job. My poniard will no longer be at
the control of any and every body, but it will always be ready for
my own defence."
The defiance of Manofina wounded the self-love of some brothers,
who raised their hands to their poniards. The serena, whose notice
this movement had not escaped, convulsively grasped the haft of
her short Andalusian dagger.
The guapo who had been just promoted, stepped forward to Manofina with a bantering mien, and said to him in a low tone, 'Manofina, I never would have believed that you could be afraid?
The convert smiled scornfully.
" What are you doing there?" exclaimed the master, do you not
know that it is not proper to speak in an under tone during solemn
sessions?"
" I was saying to Manofina, " replied the new graduate, " that it is
a pity that he should have become such a coward; for I maintain that
it is fear which has hindered him from doing his duty."
These words were scarcely pronounced, before the guapo, carried
away as by a tempest, was rolling at the feet of Mandamiento, prostrated by a vigorous blow applied by the hand of the terrible Manofina.
Twenty poniards instantly gleamed above the head of Manofina.
But he, without being disconcerted, rolled his cloak around his left
arm, grasped his.dagger with his right hand, and assuming an athletic
attitude, ready to brave every thing, awaited his assailants with a firm
step.
* The executioner.
8





58            THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.
The serena, seeing him in this position, also rolled her mantill'a
arcund her left arm, and placing herself back to back with the bravo,
awaited with uplifted dagger those who might attack her lover in the
rear.
No one dared to stir.
" Well!" said Manofina, " come on, all of you."
" Come on, you brood of chickens," shouted Culverina, her eyes
sparkling like those of a tigress, " Come on, and see whether we
have forgotten how to baptize!"
Mandamiento remained motionless.
The guapo, who had already been once overthrown, rose furious'
as a jackal wounded with an arrow, and rushed upon Manofina; but,
to the great disappointment of the assembly, he rolled again upon the
ground. Manofina, covering his face with his left arm, had at the
same time, given him a vigorous kick, which had instantly knocked
him down.
The other members of the gardufa had not budged.
" Gentlemen, you are a set of cowards!" cried Manofina, "you
are ready to let me extinguish this young chick, who has more ardour
than experience."
" Manofina," then said the master,  this young chick, as you call
him, has a right to some reparation, and you are too brave to refuse
it."
"I am ready to give him all possible satisfaction, but in order, and
one by one."
" Culverina will help you," said the others, sneeringly.
" Culverina will keep herself quiet as a corpse," replied the bravo,
Sdo like her, and let this young man and myself settle our affairs in
peace."
"To order, my children," cried Mandamiento, "and let every dagger go back into its sheath. And you, Senor Garabatillo,"' added
he, turning towards a young gardufio, who waited on him as his page,
" go, be on the watch, and croak like a frogt at the least atom of
smoke$ which you shall see coming towards us from the direction of
the water."
The messenger went.
A wide circle of men and women was formed in the hall of the
Garduia; the guapo and Manofina, both armed with their enormous
&albacete,~ knives, stepped forth into the midst of the living circle.
* Young hook, apprentice thief.
f The malefactors and all people without permanent places of abode, who
live on plunder and roguery, go in bands and accompanied by young adepts
who watch during their operations. These young people, skilled in imitating
the crowing of the cock, the barking of the dog, the mewing of the cat, and the
croaking of frogs, warn by one of these cries, those who are engaged in some unlawful business. It often happens in Spain, that in open day, in the midst of a
walk, you hear a concert of frogs, or a dispute between cats, and all at once,
you may see a band of thieves in full flight, simple people of the lowest class,
and often children who had been engaged in stealing, playing at cards, or with
dice.
t An Alguazil, or some other agent of justice, who may be approaching.
I Long and pointed knives, of incomparable temper, of which duellists make
use in Spain.





MANOFINA.


59


Before beginning the fight the two combatants carefully measured
their weapons in order to be sure that they were exactly alike.
It is a fact, which conclusively refutes the charge of treachery
brought against Spaniards by foreigners, that even people of the
lowest class, the refuse of the populace, rogues, thieves, scape-gallowses, liberated galley-slaves, and others, manifest in this kind of
combat, a loyalty, a chivalric generosity, which one would scarcely
expect to find in beings so degraded.
There is not an instance on record in which a baratero* has struck
his adversary, so soon as the latter has declared that he was disabled
or unwilling to prolong the fight. If one of the two combatants is
without cloak, the other will take off his own, and use his naked arm
to parry the blows. This generosity is the more remarkable, inasmuch as people of this description most frequently fight on the
most trifling provocation, for a few farthings, often for less.t
The weapons of the two gardufios were found to be exactly of the
same length, and their sharp blades were of equal breadth. This examination being finished, the combatants rolled their cloaks around
their left arm as a sort of buckler, then they stood fiercely opposed
to each other.
In this attitude, they awaited the signal.
The new guapo, impatient as a young cock who feels that his
spurs are growing, was the first to exclaim:
". iqnde usted! come on now."
At this word, the two men rushed upon one another, bending,
straightening,arid twisting themselves like adders, throwing themselves
back in order to leap forward again with a surer aim, and wound their
enemy.    In these rapid and sudden movements, which have no
other object but to deceive the adversary, so that he cannot direct
his blows with any certainty, Manofina being more calm and experienced, had a decided advantage.
The young guapo, mad with rage, furious from pursuing a shadow,
which incessantly escaped him, rushed in desperation upon the adroit
Manofina, forgetting to defend himself in his eagerness to attack, and
twenty times offering his breast to the murderous knife.
* Baratero. This name is applied in Spain to certain thieves, who with no
other property than a pack of filthy cards, go about the markets, fairs, &c.,
lending their cards, or rather, imposing them for so much a game, upon those
who wish to play. They are so jealous of one another, that they often decide
by a duel which of them shall hire out his cards. The word baratero comes
from barato, a name given to the paltry maravedis, which these men make the
players pay, under pain of a duel with the knife.
f A duellist having met his enemy asleep at the foot of a tree, woke him up,
and gallantly offered to fight him, which the other accepted with equal politeness. After the duel was over, the one who was least wounded, helped the
-other to gain the first corps de garde, supporting him like a tender and devoted
'friend. When they had reached the post which I commanded, both placed
themselves under our care. The one was sent to the hospital, the other to the
infirmary of the town prison; for very severe laws forbid the duel by the knife
in Spain, as it is the most dangerous of all duels. One of these men died of
his wounds, the other was hung. He had preferred giving himself up, to
*abandoning his adversary dying in the midst of the wood: that would have been,
in his estimation, an indelible stain; he would have been for ever dishonoured
-n the eyes of all the barateros, of all the majas, (bad girls,) and of the whole
-crew ofliberated or runaway galley slaves!





60


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Culverina followed with a sparkling eye and panting breast this
terrible combat. which held all minds in suspense. Some of the bystanders prayed in their hearts for the young bravo, whom they
already beheld stretched dead upon the ground. The master was
silent: his countenance was without expression.
The young garduno, already tired, was out of breath by pursuing
this imprudent mode of fighting. Twenty times the poniard of
Manofina had glanced upon his breast; but Manofina, who did not
wish to kill him, seized the moment when his adversary stretched
out his hand against him, horizontally, the knife pointed towards
his breast, and'hastily raising the left arm with a violent and suddenblow, he sent the albacete of the young man rolling at the feet of the
master.
"Well done! bravo!" was shouted from all sides, " bravo Manofina, you are still worthy to be one of us."
" Thank you, brothers," replied the lover of the serena, " thank
you; your approbation is enough for me."
" Manofina, you are in truth a courageous man," said the vanquished guapo, extending his hand, " no grudge, brother."
Manofina cordially pressed the hand which sought his own.
Then approaching Mandamiento, " Now, master," said he, let us
finish the ceremony, that I may be free."
Mandamiento saw clearly that all attempt to change the resolution
of the guapo would be useless. The master then drew his poniard;
resting the point upon the ground, and bending the blade, he broke
it and handed the pieces to Manofina, who gave him his in return.
By this exchange the bravo was degraded and disqualified from
sharing the exploits of the Gardufia, and contributing to its renown.
Mandamiento afterwards took the bravo by the hand, and conducted
him to an imhage of the Virgin: there, Manofina having kneeled
down, pronounced the following formula:
"By the sorrows of our Lady, and by the blood of her Son, our
Lord, shed for us, I swear never to betray the society of the Gardunia, nor any of the brothers of the order, never to become a member of the corps of justice to the detriment of the brothers of the Gardufla, and never to draw my dagger against any of them, except in
lawful defence. May God be my helper according to the sincerity
of my oath, and punish me if I fail to keep it."
"..1men," replied in chorus all the members present, kneeling
behind the guapo.
At the conclusion of this ridiculous ceremony, Manofina took the
arm of his companion, and casting a farewell glance at his former
comrades, he weno'ut of the cave of the Gardulia to return to it no
more.
" Brothers," exclaimed the master, as soon as Manofina was out
of sight, " we will perform a novena to Our Lady of the Seven
Sorrows, that she may condescend to send us a worthy successor of
this poor misguided child who has just left us."





THE INQUISITOR'S FAVOURITE.


61


CHAPTER         IX.
THE INQUISITOR'S FAVOURITE.
THE day after the revel had dawned. It was about ten o'clock
in the morning; the inquisitor had just risen. His countenance still
bore the indications of the excess of the preceding nioght, and of that
unrefreshing sleep which fatigues and wears out strength instead of
recruiting it.
Pierre Arbues was pale and wan. Combined with the nervous
excitement caused by intemperance, were the agitations of another
passion, sullen rage against the agents of his crimes. Enriquez especially excited his resentment to the highest pitch. The savage
passion of the inquisitor for Dolores rose above all the obstacles
which had frustrated his designs.
The bilious complexion of Pierre Arbues was flushed with purple
spots; his large dark blue eye, sparkling and deep-set, was bloodshot like that of a tiger, and his eagle profile, violently contracted,
was marked by savage ferocity.
He moved towards a brasero,* which burned in the midst of the
chamber, and held his chilly hands before its agreeable warmth; he
was cold; the violence of his sensations concentrated the vital heat
in his brain.
"Dolores," he mutter6d, " Dolores!"
His excited imagination depicted before him, as in a mirror, the
fascinating beauty of the governor's daughter. He started from his
chair, and his teeth were clenched in a paroxysm of ungovernable
rage.
"t Oh, she was beautiful!" exclaimed Pierre Arbues, irresistibly
pursued by the image of the girl, " how beautiful in the midst of her
terror! Could I but have seen her so here-have had her here in
my power witho-ut fear either of her anger or her cries; and
so I should, but for the cowardice of Enriquez. Vile slave, who understands flattery but not service, cursed crew, who kiss the dust of our
sandals and shrink from danger when required to do our bidding.
But what," pursued the fierce inquisitor, haughtily raising his head,
" am I not master of this place, and can I not obtain by force what
skill has not been able to effect?
" Hola!" he cried, drawing towards a silk screen which separated
him from an anti-chamber in which were his domestics, k" call my
secretary."
The secretary came in haste. He was a young nobleman of poor
family, who had placed himself at theservice of his Eminence in order
* The brasero, is a copper dish in the shape of a cup, filled with small coals,
which were placed in Spanish saloons to heat them during the winter. French
chimneys, and the stoves of northern nations, were not introduced into Spain
until after the wars of independence.
F





62


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


to escape misery and persecition. Every thing was under the control of the  inquisition.
" Don Philip," said the inquisitor, " was the governor of Seville
arrested last night?  Has he been brought to the prison of the holy
office?"
Don Philip bowed:
" My lord, the orders of your eminence have been executed."
A gleam of sullen joy sparkled in the inquisitor's eyes.
" Tell them, sir, to send me Jos6,".rejoined Arbues.
The secretary withdrew.
SAt least," said he, " I shall be ireveued on her; and then," continued he, still speaking to himseif. " I hope these cursed Gitanos
whom I protect have accomplished their task better than my familiars; it is seldom that the children of the Gardula miss their aim.
This Estevan, whom I hate, is dead before now; at all events, I
have snatched Dolores from this odious rival."
Whilst soliloquizing in this strain, the pale form of Jose appeared at
the chamber door. Upon seeing him, the countenance of the inquisitor assumed a milder aspect.
" Come in, Jos6," said he, " your presence is always agieeable to
mne."
The novice was, in short, one of those creatures indispensable to
the powerful, who are cut off in a measure from the world, which
have always been designated by the name of favourites; instruments
of good or evil, according to the goodness or perverseness of their
soul; weak creatures, who exercise their rule by kindness and complaisance, and yet who are not to be resisted; mysterious influences,
fatal as destiny itself, the familiar geniuses of the master, all whose
actions, good or bad, are suggested by them, they seem to owe their
agency to a talismanic charm; for on the very day when this talisman is lost, they fall themselves, carried away by the irresistible
power, which dashes them to the ground as readily as it exalted
them without reason or motive.
"My lord has not slept well last night?" asked the favourite, in a
soothing tone.
"Yes, I have slept badly,Jose, I have spent a weary and cruel
night."
" My lord, there is a poor man in the palace, who also has had a
bad night, wounded as he has been in body and soul in the service
of your eminence."
The eyes of Pierre Arbues flashed with rage.
Jose continued without being disconcerted:
" This man, my lord, has all but lost his life in the service of your
eminence, and when he returned to you, bleeding and maimed, your
eminence drove him from you like a filthy beast, and since then have
refused to hear his apology."
" Jos6," cried the enraged inquisitor, "do you know that if any
body but yourself should dare intercede for Enriquez--"
"Your eminence would hear him just as you condescend to hear
me," rejoined the favourite in a calm tone; "for your eminence is
above all, just, and in your soul, your cruelty towards poor Enri'
quez gives you pain."





THE INQUISITOR S FAVOURITE,


63


SA traitor," muttered Arbues.
" A servant ready to die for you, my lord; a brave, faithful servant,
whom you greatly need. Whom will you now make governor of
Seville?"
" By the slipper of the pope, you are jesting, master Jos6; I do
not know which of us is the greater fool, you, hair-brained boy, who
talk such nonsense to me, or I, grand inquisitor of Seville, who
listen to you."
" My lord," said Jose, " I am going to prove to you on the spot,
that we are both of us very wise."
"I wonder how you will do that!"
"Nothing more easy, my lord. You have just taken from the
noble city of Seville, its highly honoured, and very honourable governor, count Manuel Argoso; now, do you not see the city is minus
a director, and yourself are minus an auxiliary? In these days of
heresy, my lord, an auxiliary is a thing which your eminence cannot
do without."
"What are you driving at?" said the inquisitor, who began to
listen complacently.
" I am going to prove to you, my lord, that the best auxiliary of
the inquisitor is the governor of the city, and that it is all-important
that this governor should be a creature of your eminence. Well,
where will you find a man more devoted than this poor Enriquez,
who in the simple attempt to carry off a young girl, has suffered two
or three baptisms, as these cursed Bohemians of the Garduiia say,
and the most complete bath, that can possibly be imagined?"
Pierre Arbues smiled pleasantly, the influence of the favourite had
calmed the fever which inflamed his blood.
" Enriquez, governor of Seville!" he suddenly exclaimed, in a fit of
spontaneous gaiety, " but do you know, Jos6, that he is nobody at
all?"
SSo much greater will be the power of your eminence, who will
make somebody out of him," replied Jos6, with the utmost coolness.
A loud laugh; with nothing of contagion or sympathy about it, an
inquisitorial laugh, was the sole reply to this sally.
Jose continued with the importunate perseverance of a spoiled
child:
" My lrd, shall I call this poor Enriquez, so that he may make
his apology, and implore the restoration of your good graces?"
" Is he very penitent for the failure of his expedition?"
" He manifests perfect contrition, my lord."
"In fact,"' said Arbues, "a man who has received three baptisms,
and who exrubits perfect contrition, certainly deserves absolution.
Go then, my little Jose6, and fetch Enriquez."
The novice iissed the inquisitor's hand with feverish earnestness:
any one who could have seen his head at that moment leaning towards the hand uf Pierre Arbues, would have supposed, from the hateful and fierce expression of his countenance, that the favourite would
rather have torn in pieces the hand of his master, than cover it with
hypocritical kisses.
Jos left the room.
" After all," said the inquisitor to himself, ( this child's idea is,





64


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


perhaps, not so bad. Enriquez, governor of Seville, elevated and
sustained by myself alone, will become the docile instrument of my
desires, the lictor to whom I may say strike, and he will strike.
Yes, Jos6 is right, and wisdom dwells in him."
As he, uttered these words, the favourite appeared, followed by
Enriquez. The familiar was still pale, his wounded head and
maimed arm were wrapped with bandages. His hypocritical mien
imparted to his emaciated and exhausted look an appearance of even
greater distress and suffering. At sight of him the brow of the inquisitor was again overcast.
The offender bent one knee on the floor, and by a gesture solicited
the favour of kissing the hand of his eminence. Pierre Arbues
looked at his favourite. " Come, a little indulgence," said Jos6, by
his looks.
" I pardon you, Enriquez," said the grand inquisitor: thank Don
Jos6, who has pleaded for you better than an advocate could have
done, and tell me in detail about the nocturnal expedition which has
cost you these wounds."
Enriquez did not suffer himself to be asked twice; he related
anew to his eminence all that which we already know respecting
the attempt to carry off Dolores, without failing to attribute to himself all the honour of the blows given and received; indeed, he took
only the property of the dead; it was an inheritance, and not a theft.
When he had done, the inquisitor, somewhat softened down, or
rather entirely disposed in his favour, said in a tone pervaded by benevolence, and patronage, "Enriquez, I believe you faithful, and
although you have not succeeded in this affair, I hope that hereafter
your efforts and cares in the service of God,* will atone for this
failure, and in order to prove to you that I retain no resentment
against you, and that, on the contrary, I regard you as my most devoted servant, I am going to write to the king, and ask for you the
title of governor of Seville."
" What, is count Argoso dead?" asked Enriquez, with,mingled
emotions of surprise and joy.
" Just as good," muttered Jose, between his teeth, " he is in the
prison of the holy office."
"My lord," said a familiar, raising a corner of the silk screen,
" master Mandamiento wishes to speak to your eminence."
" Estevan is dead," thought the inquisitor.
" Let the master of the Gardufia come in," said he, laying an
ironical stress upon the title.
Mandamiento was introduced. He stood erect with his head
covered in presence of the inquisitor. This savage man entertained
so grotesque and fanatical an idea of the prerogatives of his office,
that he regarded himself as treating with another power on equal
terms.
Enriquez made a sign to Mandamiento to take offhishat, the master
retorted by a look of contempt. The inquisitor smiled, and turning
towards the garduio, " Well," said he, " all is over, is it not so?"
" Nothing has been done," replied Mandamiento, with a gloomy
look.
* The inquisition.





THE INQUISITOR'S FAVOURITE.


65


" What, Estevan de Vargas?"
" Estevan de Vargas is at large, and not a hair has fallen from his
nead. For the first time since her existence the Gardunia has fostered a traitor in her bosom, and this traitor has been found among
her bravest children," continued Mandamiento, with comic grief.
He mourned over the desertion of Manofina, as a good father of a
family over the profligacy of an only and cherished son.
SBy Satan," shouted the inquisitor, stamping with rage, "every
body betrays me in this affair. What is the traitor's name?" he inquired abruptly.
" I have sworn that no one shall know it, my lord, and the name
is of little consequence to your beatitude. I have come to you
merely to restore the sum advanced to-him who had been intrusted
with the affair."
And with the most scrupulous probity, the bandit deposited on
the table the pieces of gold which he had received for the assassination of Don Estevan.
"Is there then no one among your Gitanos who will take charge of
this?" asked the inquisitor.
t There is no want of brave and faithful men among us, and I
dare promise you for the future. But we have lost the tracks of our
man, and I should need some delay."
"Let that be," replied the inquisitor, "if you promise me that
Don Estevan shall not escape you. Take your money back, Mandamiento, the price is no object, the more difficult the matter is, the
greater shall be your reward, my brave fellow."
"Be it so," said the bandit, again taking the gold pieces;
" eight days from this date, my lord, I can promise your reverence,
that the young man shall have received a baptism from the hand of
a master."
" Amen," said Jpse, and he left the room with an air of unconcern.
" Could you not tell me, Mandamiento," inquired Arbues,"in what
place the daughter of the governor of Seville has taken refuge?"
" My lord did not intrust me with the care of his ward," replied
the gardufio.
" The very answer of Cain to the Lord," Enriquez ventured to
retort.
Arbues could tolerate in Jose what he would not suffer in the familiar. He knit his brow; his mind was too much engaged to be
amused with pleasantry.
" Mandamiento," he continued, " this is a prize for which the
gold of my coffers shall be lavished, try to discover this young woman, and to bring her to me."
"Safe and sound?"5 coolly inquired the bandit.
"By --," exclaimed the inquisitor, who swore indifferently,
by things holy and things profane, " by -, without hurting a
hair of her head, do you hear? without causing the least alarm.
Have you not women among you who make a business of that?
Let them find out where this girl is, she will not distrust one of her
own sex; let them employ stratagem; in short, you know how to
proceed in such a case."
F2                      9





66


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" Oh. the serena," thought Mandamiento, "she was importunate
and adroit."
" My lord," he continued aloud, " we will try; but I promise
nothing. This is more difficult than might be supposed."
" My lord," said Enriquez, in a whisper, " I will find her out.
Am not I soon to be governor of Seville?"
Arbues dismisssed the master of the Gardufia.
This strange personage withdrew; his head erect, and with an air
of confidence. He had an exalted opinion of his importance, and
this folly, enhanced by an eccentric mode of life, and the naturally
haughty and poetic bias of the Spanish disposition, impressed upon all
the movements and gestures of Mandamiento a solemn ferocity,
which it is impossible to describe. When he was gone, Arbues
shrugged his shoulders.
" To be associated with things of this sort," he muttered, " and
all owing to the soldiers of Christ. If the familiars had zeal enough,
should we need these Bohemians?"
"My lord," said Enriquez, " if these Bohemians were not in our
pay, they might wage war against us."
' That is perhaps true," replied Arbues.
The familiar being restored to favour, continued in conversation
with the inquisitor. Of what passed between them, we know
nothing: but assuredly, hell must have smiled at this intimate conversation, an interchange of cynic and impious confidence between
these two infamous characters.
Scarcely had Sefior Mandamiento walked a few steps in the street,
when he felt himself held back by the sleeve of his dress.
The master looked around, and was not a little surprised to recognise the inquisitor's favourite, in the person who had stopped
him.
" Has his beatitude forgotten something?" asked the Bohemian.
" His beatitude has forgotten to tell you, that I do not wish Don
Estevan de Vargas to die," replied Jos6.
" He must be reminded of it," replied Mandamiento, in the same
tone.
SProvided you know it, is not that enough?" said the novice.
"My lord has given me money in advance to extinguish Don Estevan," continued the bandit, " and I know nothing which hinders
me from performing the wishes of my lord."
"Except my own," said Don Jose, authoritatively. " Ido not wish
Don Estevan to die, do you hear, Mandamiento? I will return the
amount advanced to my lord, be easy on this point, and go about
your business."
The master knew that the influence of Jose was all-powerful with
the inquisitor. The decided tone of the novice rendered him irresolute: should he displease the master or the favourite?
Mandamiento reflected a moment, then turning to the young
monk, who searched him with his piercing eye, "Your reverence
shall be obeyed," said he, " whatever may be the consequences to
myself."
" It is well," said Jos6, "C whatever may happen, depend on me,"





THE PROFESSION.


67


and slipping a purse filled with gold into the hand of the gardunio,
the favourite disappeared at the corner of a street.
"66 This is a gift," thought Mandamiento, to himself, looking at the
rich present of the monk. " Nothing is better acquired than what
is given to us; I may therefore keep it."
The master of the Garduna withdrew humming, in an under tone,
one of those old Spanish ditties, which the Gitanos still sing in
Andalusia.
CHAPTER X.
THE PROFESSION.
AT some distance from Seville, upon a pleasant hill, which bathes
its feet in the Guadalquiver, stood a convent of Dominicans, a vast
and sumptuous edifice, erected in the midst of an oasis, surrounded
externally with all the charms of rich and diversified nature, and embellished internally with exquisite beauty and convenience, doubtless in order to render abstinence and self-denial more easy for the
children of Dominique of Gusman.
This convent, or rather palace, the ancient abode of a Moorish
prince, served as an asylum to some thirty monks destined to supply
the tribunals of the inquisition. Several of them had figured with
&clat in the high grade of provincial inquisitor; all were distinguished
for their pitiless zeal in the extirpation of heresy, and my lord
Arbues was peculiarly attached to this holy asylum, to which he
occasionally resorted to find relaxation from his laborious duties.
On this occasion, an important affair called him to this abode of
happiness; a brilliant ceremony was in preparation, to which the
presence of the inquisitor was to give additional solemnity.
It was two months after the disappearance of the governor's
daughter. The passion of Pierre Arbues, although not extinct, afforded some moments of truce to his ardently despotic spirit, and
the piquant pleasures of power at times cooled the deceptions of his
unbridled lust.
Besides,'Dolores was not the only object of interest in the life of
the inquisitor. On this day, his favourite Jos6, was to make his profession in the convent of the Dominicans, and the friendship of Pierre
Arbues for this young man of feminine beauty, was sufficiently strong
to divert him from a more ardent passion. From the dawn of this
solemn day, the convent had been full of activity; the chapel, a vast
rotunda, which under its Christian ornaments had preserved a
Moorish aspect, had been adorned with garlands and flowers.
Our lady of the rosary, the special patroness of the Dominicans,
had assumed her festival robes; silk and velvet had veiled the chaste
image of the humble mother of the lowliest of men, and the modest
queen of angels glittered with diamonds and pearls like a queen of
earth. The white marble of the pillars was hidden under a tissue of
roses; countless tapers shone upon the altar, and from the intoxicating scent of the perfumes, the superb brilliancy of the drapery,
the mythological and fabulous elegance of the colonnade, and the





68


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


profusion of flowers which filled this enclosure, it might have been
imagined that a temple of some ancient Venus had suddenly been
transformed into a Christian chapel; and that in place of the pagan
divinity, the image of the heavenly virgin had merely been substituted. On one of the sides of the nave, the statue of the gloomy
patron of the Dominicans on foot, recalled by his severe countenance the sober thoughts, which the pleasant aspect of this place
would otherwise have rendered it difficult to originate.
On the right, a chair covered with velvet, and surmounted by an
elegant canopy, had been prepared for his lordship, the grand inquisitor; at his right, upon an arm-chair somewhat lower, the prior of
the convent was to be seated; he ordinarily occupied the first place,
but on this occasion, it was of course necessary to conform to the
rules of hierarchy. Towards nine o'clock, a loud and solemn
chant rang through the vaults of the chapel, already filled with numerous guests, chiefly ladies and lords of the court. The monks
with their banner in front, advanced slowly in two ranks, chanting
the gloria in excelsis. Each of them held in his hand a lighted taper.
These gloomy figures, illy disguised under the garb of savage asceticism, passions which were altogether terrestrial. The long procession
of men clothed in the insignia of the tomb, (white and black) always
presented something mournful, which chilled with fear; the prior
clothed in his episcopal ornaments closed the procession.
At the conclusion of the anthem, the monks paused facing each
other. The prior passed through their midst; two monks, filling the
office of deacons followed him. They accompanied the novice, who
was clothed in the rich and graceful costume of the Spanish cavaliers. All four knelt in the middle of the aisle on velvet cushions,
which had been prepared for their reception. A Spanish lord attended as the father of Don Jose. Pierre Arbues already occupied
the place which had been reserved for him.
After the gospel, the customary sermon was delivered; it was an
inflated mystical discourse on the happiness of the monastic life; incoherent phrases, obscure and finical, marked by deep and unintelligible asceticism, making no appeal to the heart, none to the imagination, but tending constantly towards the only aim o( Rome, to
destroy in order to rule. The auditory was well pleased with it.
The eloquence of the preacher did not always prevent the fine ladies
who were present at the ceremony, from piously ogling the young
novice, and admiring his good countenance and fine figure. Jos6,
however, was very pale, but his black eye had a strange expression,
and gleams of sullen joy flitted over his countenance. After mass
was over, the prior advanced towards the novice: "What are you
come to seek, thus arrayed, in the house of God?" he demanded.
" I seek the salvation of my soul," replied Jose.
"Do you expect to find it in the midst of worldly pomp?'
"( Well, I renounce the pomp of the world."
" That is not enough, the flesh and its lusts must be renounced."
" I will make a vow of chastity, and I will be humble and submissive towards him who will lead me in the way of salvation."
" Go then," said the prior.
Two monks laid hold of the novice, and conducted him behind





THE PROFESSION.


G8


t'ne altar, to a place prepared for his reception. It was a dark spot,
lighted by a sepulchral lamp, which hung from the vault. In the
centre, on the floor carpeted with black cloth, a bier covered with a
pall, around which burned four tapers of white wax, seemed ready
to be let down into the earth. Upon the cover of the bier, grinned
a death's head, placed on two cross-bones, displaying two rows of
teethcwhite as ivory.  The great silver cross, and the manga* which
was carried at funerals, towered aloft like two dark standards with
the shaft fixed in the earth.
Towards the upper end of the cave by the side of a desk surmounted by a leaden crucifix, stood a table covered with black cloth,
upon which the new habiliments intended for the novice were deposited.  Lastly, at the other end, opposite the desk, a large plate of
polished metal attached to the wall, reflected and multiplied all these
gloomy objects. The place was called the Cave of Salvation.t
There the novice was left alone. He divested himself of his secular garments, and clothed himself in the garb of the Dominicans,
a white tunic with a black scapular; a sombre costume which looks
like the livery of death. Then he laid aside his cap adorned with
feathers, never more to wear other covering than his hair closely
shaven, and in place of the gilded belt which supported his sword,
he girt his loins with a cord, the emblem of poverty. Last of all, he
took off his costly boots and put on the sandals, which he was henceforth to wear. All this lasted about half an hour.
The hand of the novice trembled as if he had had a fever, his heart
throbbed with unequal and hurried strokes, a cold sweat ran down
his white and polished face.  He knelt before the crucifix, and with
a bitter and mournful voice began to pray. Convulsive sobs were
heaved from   his breast; he murmured unintelligible words, and a
name which he alone could understand, constantly returned upon
his lips. Meanwhile the organ filled the chapel with its imposing
* The manga is a kind of round banner in the shape of a tower, terminating
in a point, and surmounted by a cross; it is made of black velvet, ornamented
with gold lace for married persons and the widowed, and with silver lace for
celibates, young persons, and children. At Spanish funerals, the manga is the
inseparable companion of the cross.
f The cave of salvation was, among the monks, what the chamber of meditation is among the freemasons.. In this cave every thing was adapted to
work upon the imagination of the neophyte, who, already excited by three days
of almost absolute fasting, suffered in an inconceivable degree. I have heard
father Antonio say, (a monk, and an honest man, if there ever was one,
and as good a liver as a man of the world, the morning after his election to the
priorate of the hermits of Madrid,) that although he greatly preferred being
prior of his convent to being a grandee of the first rank in Spain, he would
gladly have renounced this dignity if he had been required to pass again
through the ceremonies of profession, and remain an hour alone in the cave of
salvation. "I believe," said he, " that it ought to be called the cavern of
Satan; for if I believed in the existence of a devil, I should not doubt that I had
seen him with all his retinue of demons, imps, and hobgoblins. After having
heard the exhortations of the master of the novices, passing three days without food, and almost without drink, and having remained half an hour in the
cave of salvation, 1 understand the temptation of St. Anthony, and I have faith
in it."
Does not this remark of a monk prove that in place of the solemn and simple
ceremonies of Christian worship, the monks have substituted a farce, at once
ridiculous and impious, designed more to delude the senses, than to elevate the
soul





70


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


harmony. The chant of the monks, reverberating and discordant,
arose in thrilling and sonorous notes. The nerves of the young
novice, already struag by long fasting, became excessively excited;
the chants of the men blended with the tones of the organ, which
resembles the gigantic voice of another world, assumed a strange
and fantastic character; instead of religious and pious thoughts, infernal ideas assailed his brain. These holy anthems sounded to him
like frightful irony; instead of flowers, incense and lights, he saw
only blood and scaffolds. The voice of the monks sounded in his
ears like the frightful howling of so many demons, coolly augmenting
the anguish of the himan race; and in thought he murmured the
awful words of the gospel: " They shall all depart into hell, where
there is weeping and gnashing of teeth; depart, ye cursed, into everlasting
fire." The novice felt as though a palm of fire had been laid upon
his bare cold hand; a taunting, hoarse, infernal voice murmured in
his ears, amidst a horrid tingling:.... "Come."
Instantly yielding, in spite of himself, to the control of this invisible conductor, without even having the trouble to raise himself, in
order to walk, Jose felt himself hurried down from one abyss to
another, through a hot and buzzing atmosphere, to an immeasurable
depth. There he stopped. He was in the bowels of the earth.
Night enveloped him in a heavy mantle of darkness. His breathing
became hurried, difficult, and convulsive; he believed himself shut
up alive in a sealed sepulchre.
But at this moment, a door opened before him, and suffered him
to behold a most singular spectacle. It was an immense place, frightful and burning, from which issued a pestilential flame. Grotesque
and hideous monsters flew heavily through the space above the
gloomy vapour of fire, borne on broad membranous wings, like
tough black parchment. These monsters uttered dismal and savage
howlings; they yelled in mockery of the horrid laugh of devils and
the damned; then they repeated in chorus, with a harsh and grating
voice, like the noise of a rattle:...  "See, there they are! there
they are!"
Jose attempted to look around. Innumerable legions of monks
thronged about the entrance of this vast pandemonium. He saw
them all march singly one after another; and as they arrived in this
place, they laid aside their first form. By the red glare of the eternal fire, he saw them assume horrid or hideous shapes, and despite
of this transformation, preserve the desires, propensities, and intellect
of man, whilst constrained to follow the instincts of the vile creature
whose form they had assumed. Sometimes they combined in one,
the forms of two animals of opposite instincts, and subject to the
cravings of these two contrary natures, they experienced in this
eternal contradiction frightful sufferings, and desires which could not
be gratified. This cruel punishment, invented by a delirious imagination, made the novice shudder. A hoarse and convulsive laugh
rattled in his throat; he had just seen the inquisitor Arbues, under
the form of a tiger, with the beak and feet of a gander.
This fatiguing hallucination was succeeded by almost entire prostration: when they came for Jos6, to conduct him again to the Phurch,
he could scarcely stand. His step was slow and unsteady, uis pale





THE PROFESSION.


71


face was bent forward on his bosom, and a heavy sigh escaped from
his breast. But, in approaching the altar he observed Pierre Arbues
seated on the episcopal throne; this sight seemed to revive him, a
gleam of hatred shot from his dark eye, the blood returned to his
heart, he was restored to the reality of life. Then he knelt humbly
upon the bare stone, no longer escorted by his adopted father as he
had been at the commencement of the ceremony, but alone; he had
now no other father but God.
He pronounced his vows with a firm tone. The prior received
them, and after the last formula, the organ again began its solem:r
anthem, and the monks joined in the Te Deum. This was a hymn
of thanksgiving, intended to praise God for having snatched a soul
from the power of the devil. At the close of the anthem, the professed monk was stretched on a bier, and the office for the dead was
commenced. Meanwhile, Jose, overwhelmed by his emotions, and
by fatigue, had fallen into a deep sleep. It seemed that the tomb
was the only place in which there was peace and quiet for him.
The funeral pall which covered him, had separated him from life,
and the sorrows which it brings with it. Even the movement made
by the monks, in raising the coffin to carry it to the catacombs, did
not arouse the young monk. When he awoke from his lethargic
sleep, he was alone in the subterranean vaults of the abbey, surrounded by tombs and skeletons.
Such were the ceremonies which accompanied the profession of a
Dominican monk; once adopted, he was soon initiated into the selfish
enjoyments of the monastic life, so that he would scarcely regard all
this farce as serious. When Jose awoke, he heaved a deep sigh, and
cast around him a look of distrust. "Death," he murmured, " yes,
death is sweet, it reunites,.... But I, I cannot die yet. Oh!
no," he exclaimed, with energy, " before death, I must have revenge.
Fernand," he continued, in a hollow voice, as if in retiring from
this place of death, he was speaking to an invisible being, " Fernand! wait a little, soon!"





72


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION


CHA1i   TER     XI.
THE INQUISITOR'S PAROXYSM.
FOR two months, Dolores miraculously delivered from the persecutions of Pierre Arbues, had lived quietly under the protection of
the apostle, in the asylum which he had chosen for her. For two
months also, the unhappy Manuel Argoso, the former governor of
Seville, had languished in secret in the dungeons of the inquisition,
those vast sepulchres from which it is to be wondered that any living
creatures could come forth."*
Notwithstanding his inquiries, and the zeal of Enriquez, who by
his influence had been appointed governor of Seville, the inquisitor
had been, unable to discover the retreat of Dolores Argoso, concealed
in the abbey of the Carmelites under a fictitious name. His impure
passion had been still more inflamed, and in his inability to satisfy it,
a profound disgust, an internal and devouring rage gnawed the heart
of the licentious priest, who every day sought to satisfy his cravings
for revenge at the expense of the unfortunate creatures whom he was
called to judge.
Instigated by the insinuations of Jos6 and excited in the perverse
instincts of his savage nature by this young monk, who seemed made
to be his evil genius, Pierre Arbues heaped upon his head the curses
of Spain; but neither the sight of the torture, nor the mournful solemnities of the scaffold, could glut his appetite for brutal excitement, or those ardent and sensual desires, which the remembrance
of the beautiful Andalusian aroused in the heart of the licentious
Arbues.
In causing his indignation and rage to fall upon the governor, the
inquisitor had no other motive than to constrain the unhappy child,
by the influence of terror, to yield herself to him. He had managed
like a skilful man, like a man who knows the heart of woman. To
arrest herself, plunge her in the dungeons of the inquisition, deliver
her to the torture, to death, what would it all amount to?  The heroic young woman was able to suffer and to die,-she had a lover.
But to assail her by means of her father, to throw him like food to
the-tormentors of the inquisition, to devote him to ignominy and to
the stake, would not this be a punishment sufficiently cruel for the
governor's daughter?  To see this old and honoured father, the parent who had loved her with the tenderest affection, who had rendered her life so happy and sweet that she had scarcely felt the loss
of her mother, to see him given up to the butchers of the dreaded
tribunal, this misfortune would surely be the rock on which the courage of the girl must be wrecked. Pierre Arbues grieved but for
one thing, it was that he could not discover her place of concealment.
* All the historians who have written on the inquisition, agree in saying that
so soon as an individual had been arrested and confined in the dungeons of the
holy office, he was not permitted to hold communication with any one, not even
with his nearest relations: worse than that, if any one should venture to intercede in favour of a prisoner, or attempt to exculpate him, he was immediately
arrested under the same pretext as the person whom he had wished to defend.





THE INQUISITOR S PAROXYSD.73


73


The militia of Christ had in vain been sent in quest of her; in
vain had the dark brotherhood, whose chief was the vigilant and
cunning Mandamiento, received the most magnificent promises of
money and protection; a providential power seemed to extend over
the young woman whom the holiest of men had taken under his care,
or perhaps, in the counsels of Heaven, the period of persecution had
not yet arrived for her.
This period was not far distant. The disappointment of Pierre
Arbues was so deep and pungent, that even the habits of his life of
debauch had lost their attractive relish. The revel appeared insipid,
the women whom. vice or fear surrendered to his lust left him cold
or irritated as he turned from the transient excesses, whose easy recurrence became insupportable to him. The remembrance of Dolores alone had intoxicating charms for him; at pleasure he plunged
into an absolute solitude peopled with this enchanting image; not
that his depraved heart was susceptible of genuine affection, but in
accordance with that mysterious law which decrees that the most
perverse creature should at times yield to the influence of a beautiful and pure being, and without being able to comprehend its divine
nature, or to rise to its elevation by repentance which regenerates
man, should voluntarily and with delight make itself the slave of this
adored object.
Unfortunately, in passions of this nature, the spirit remains so
much under the control of the senses, that when they are gratified,
the spark of love which had softened the rock, becomes extinct;
nothing is left but a brutal and savage creature, where, for some moments, one would have supposed a man to have existed.
Plunged in the incredible hallucinations of unappeased passion
which had reached its height, the inquisitor of Seville had sought
under the shady foliage of his garden, a refuge against the phantoms
which pursued him. He tried to escape from himself.,But the
balmy perfume of the flowering orange trees, a powerful charm, sufficient to disturb the reason of the most sedate, far from calming the
agitation of his blood, excited the nerves of his brain excessively.
Torrents of voluptuous delight seemed to circulate around him with
these intoxicating perfumes.
The air was already cool as it is in the northern regions, although
it was as yet only about the end of April. Upon the blue sky,
thousands of stars were sparkling like so many gleams of fascination.
The night was not clear; white transparent vapours flitted swiftly
like shadows over surrounding objects; they might have been taken
for fairies in a dance, impalpable and airy creations of another world,
visiting our earth for a moment in order to preside over the awakening of nature to the joyous blossoming of spring. No distinct
sound disturbed the silence of this illusion, but the rustling of the
leaves resembled the mysterious harmony of stealthy. kisses; and
perhaps, too, in the vast fertilizing of nature at the moment when
she awakes from her sleep, the invisible and powerful hand which
arouses her most latent energies, may produce this vague and impalpable sou'nd, this strange harmonious murmur, which often escapes
the perception of the material ear, but which is heard in the soul
in the hours of retirement and meditation.
G                      10





74            THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.
Exhausted by weariness, overcome by the incessant conflicts of
nature, by this fruitless irritation which at once enervates soul and
body, Pierre Arbues threw himself on one of the marble benches
placed here and there in this voluptuous oasis. There he supported
his burning head with his hands, whilst tears of rage and disappointment fell from those savage eyes, whose look made a whole province
tremble.
An excessive weariness overcame him; he remained in this position for some moments without speaking, and without sufifring the
sigh which heaved his broad chest to betray the grief which preyed
upon him. Subdued like a timid child, the inquisitorial tiger slumbered in that terrible sleep which brings disquiet and alarm.
Suddenly a light step was heard on the sand, the branches of
the orange trees were pushed aside with a slight rustling, and the
sound of convulsive respiration disturbed the silence which reigned
in this place. In the midst of his unnatural sleep, Pierre Arbues
heard this noise; but just then under the influence of a sort of lethargy induced by the violence of his former sensations, he did not
open his eyes, having neither energy nor desire to know who was
coming to disturb him. He was under the fascination of a dream,
and the image of Dolores, the only one, who during his sleep was reproduced before the eyes of his imagination, mingling with the real
noise which he had heard, imparted such clearness to his revery that
he appeared to see the object of his desire.
Some one was, in fact, walking in that direction, and the inqusitor believed that he saw Dolores coming towards him. When she
was sufficiently near, he extended his arms towards her, and seized,
in an* impassioned embrace, his favourite Jose, who uttered a piercing
shriek upon finding himself in the arms of Pierre Arbues.
Pierre Arbues opened his eyes, and at the sight of the gloomy
figure before him, he threw it from him by an energetic motion.
Jose fell at some paces from him on the green sward. He was pale
as a spectre, and his heart scarcely throbbed.
"Cursed dream!" exclaimed the inquisitor, in a sullen tone, " I
thought I had hold of some one else."
Jose made no reply, he had not strength to speak. A terrible
reminiscence had been recalled to his mind, and at the moment
when Pierre Arbues had seized him in his arms, he felt chilled by
fearful terror.
This fright soon passed over. The inquisitor rubbed his hand over
his forehead like a man who tries to collect his ideas; then looking
at his favourite, who still lay upon the ground, motionless and terrified, he burst out into a loud laugh.
"Poor child,' said he, 4" I took you for a woman."
A cold sweat covered the brow of the young Doimnican.
6" Come, get up," continued the inquisitor, " and take a turn with
me around this shrubbery; help me to drive away the blue devils
with which the air is filled this evening. The fairies* of the Giralda
* According to a Moorish tradi'.on, which has been preserved to the present
time, it is the popular belief that the Giralda was built by fairies, who still make
it their habitation.





THE INQUISITOR'S PAROXYSM r


75


nave 'made their rendezvous with me. I am beside myself, and
no longer live a real life. Come, Jose, help me to get back to it, I.beg of you."
Jos6 had time to compose himself during this jocose remark: he
got up, and saluting his eminence, inquired respecting his health.
" I am well, very well, my little Jose," said the inquisitor, with a
pleasant air.
The painful dreams of the evening had left no trace.
Pierre Arbues was a man of that kind; he passed rapidly from
one sensation to another: this is the case with persons whose mind
has great impetuosity and little depth.
The image of Dolores, however, was not so effaced that it failed
soon to return and besiege the imagination of the inquisitor, who,
whilst continuing to walk up and down in the garden by the side of his
favourite, gave to the conversation the natural turn which the subject
uppermost in his thoughts would be likely to impart to it.
" Jos6," he asked, " you know nothing more then?"
"Nothing, my lord, I have not been able to discover any thing."
This question, and the reply to it, were very obscure; but these
two men understood one another with a word. Jose knew the inquisitor thoroughly.
" What can I do?" muttered Arbues, angrily, " I have set on foot
the whole militia of Christ; I have bribed with a little gold the
whole of this miserable crew of Gitanos, who make a business of espionage and murder. No use. I have searched all the convents of
Seville. Nothing. Can it be that Dolores has fled from the kingdom    Would this tender and dutiful girl have abandoned her father
to my vengeance in order to save her own life?"
Pierre Arbues told the truth when he declared he had searched all
the convents of Seville. That of the Carmelites had not been excepted; but a very simple circumstance had saved Dolores. As she
had manifested no intention of becoming a nun, and had been
warmly recommended by the apostle, she was allowed almost absolute liberty. She complied with the exercises of the house only in
so far as it was necessary for a woman of the world who was a good
catholic. Dolores was very fond of flowers, and in the immense garden of the abbey, she had selected a solitary spot, where with her
own hands, she cultivated the plants which she liked best. At the
time of the inquisitor's visit, she was in this place at a great distance
from the buildings.
Pierre Arbues, had, however, asked the abbess whether she had
not some novices or newly professed nuns besides those whom he
knew, but Dolores was neither one nor the other, and the abbess regarding her as a free pensioner, whose stay would be of short duration, had made no mention of her presence to his lordship the inquisitor.
This was not done either from prudence or precaution, it was
simply through forgetfulness.
These were the reasons on the strength of which the inquisitor
was persuaded that the governor's daughter had left Seville.
SMy lord," said Jose, " if this girl has really attempted to
escape the pursuit of the inquisition by flight, could you not in that





76


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


case, write to the tribunals of Aragon and Castile, to those of Malaga
and Cuenca, to all the offices of Spain, and even to the king himself,
in order that the sbires of the holy office may be put upon the track
of the fugitive?"
"No, no," replied Arbues, with warmth, " it is not her death that
I desire, it is herself, herself only."
"Is not the governor of Seville in the dungeons of the inquisition?"
" Certainly, and this is why I cannot account for the flight of his
daughter; she is so strong and courageous, she is so ardently attached
to her old father."
"Oh! if she would but come," he continued in a kind of phrensy,
"with what pleasure would I say to her, Your father shall be free,
only be mine. And she would give herself to save her father."
"And her father would not be saved," muttered the favourite,
sullenly, casting a hyena look upon the inquisitor.
" What are you whispering, Jose?" said Pierre Arbues.
" I was considering, my lord, what new tortures might be invented to terrify this young girl, provided she could be found again."
"Who goes there?" said Arbues, suddenly stepping back.
"Your faithful Enriquez, who is in quest of you, my lord," replied
the new comer, who was no other than the governor of Seville, Enriquez, the former familiar of the holy office.
"Why do you intrude on me in this way?" said Pierre Arbues,
in a very bad humour.
"1 bring good news to your eminence," humbly replied the governor, " and I thought-,"
" Speak, let us hear, what is the matter?"
" Dolores Argoso-"
" Well?"
" Is in the convent of the Carmelites, on the other side of the
Guadalquiver."
"Dolores! since when?"
" For the last two months."
" You lie!" shouted the inquisitor, "I visited the convent myself,
and Dolores was not there."
" She is there, my lord, I swear it by the holy eucharist; I am
sure of it, and I will prove it."
" Brave Enriquez!" exclaimed the inquisitor, with a burst of joy,
" brave Enriquez, how have you ascertained this?"
"My lord," replied the familiar, bowing awkwardly, " will your
reverence give me absolution for the sin? 1 disguised myself as a
monk, and I confessed the abbess."
" Good -," replied Pierre Arbues, "this is an idea which
never came into my mind, though I am a priest."
" Will your eminence grant me absolution?" said Enriquez, with
a solemn look.
The inquisitor made a great sign of the cross in the air, and the
new governor of Seville, proudly raising his head, assumed the attitude of a man who comprehends all the importance of his services.
" It is well," cried the inquisitor, rubbing his hands, " it is between us now, proud Lucretia."





THE INQUISITOR S PAROXYSM.


77


" Let us go back," he continued, Enriquez has something to tell
me about the details of his government."
"How goes it with heresy?" continued Pierre Arbues, still walking on.
" My lord, it is gaining ground in a fearful way; the very convents are not exempt from this leprosy."*
" The devil!" replied the inquisitor, "good order must be enforced,
and catholic zeal must be excited by treating as heretics all those
who will not denounce heresy."
"Who have been arrested this week?"
" Only fifteen or twenty persons, my lord."
"Of any note?"
"Yes, for the most part; two or three doctors of theology, who
presumed to find mistakes in the Latin text of the Vulgate, and
some others of the same stamp, who, whilst calling themselves catholics, are zealous admirers of Martin Luther."
" In the latter class," said Pierre Arbues, " there are some whom I
hate most specially; they are conceited men, who employ all their
learning and eloquence to destroy the power of the inquisition.
Jean d'Avila, Luis de Grenada, John, whom they have surnamed
the divine, and some other enlightened ones, who give themselves
out as apostles, and if need be, as martyrs, in order to strike deep
into the hearts of the people, the roots of revolt and independence.
But by St. Denis! They shall be dashed to pieces like glass against
the inquisition!"
" My lord," said Jos6, " have you not power to silence all these
mouths?"
" Yes," exclaimed Pierre Arbues, "I am weary of these everlasting
preachments, which have no other tendency but to inspire the people
with the desire and courage of liberty. These people make themselves simple and humble in order that they may gain influence, and
the rabble trust in them, because they make themselves like the rabble, in order to gain access to them; but the Lord knows, every one
of their words is like the blow of an axe upon the chair of St. Peter,
and if the vicar of Jesus Christ understands the real interests of the
church, he will let me punish them without restraint, and burn them
like mere laymen, since they are heretics in fact, and, notwithstanding their ecclesiastical character, they separate themselves from the
Roman church in heart and desire."
" My lord," said Jos6, coolly, " in order to destroy the tree, the
roots must be cut off; so long as a single heretic shall remain in
Spain, heresy will be reproduced like those noxious weeds of which
the least blade must not be left in the ground."
"We will call them to order," replied the inquisitor, " and by the
* The doctrines of Luther and Calvin moved not only Germany, England,
Switzerland, the republic of Genes, and the south of France: in Spain, in the
convents especially, they had also numerous partisans. " It appears certain that
a great number of Spaniards, among whom ecclesiastics were numbered, had
found means to procure books published in Germany by the protestants of
Spire."--(Llorente, History of the Inquisition.)
G2





78


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Virgin! we will hew into the very ground that they tread on, in
order to destroy them."
" We cannot do too much for God," said Enriquez, in a hypocritical tone: " I have already thought of that," he continued with an
air of importance.
Whilst engaged in this discourse, they had reached the door of the
inquisitor's apartment.
SWill you come in, Jose?" asked Pierre Arbues.
SExcuse me, my lord, I must prepare a sermon for to-morrow."
"And after your sermon, you will accompany us to the convent
of the Carmelites."
"I am entirely at the command of your eminence," replied the
favourite, in taking leave of the inquisitor.
Arbues and the new governor of Seville, entered alone.
Jos6 left them.
Just as he was crossing the threshold of the inquisitorial palace, a
woman clothed in black from head to foot, threw herself in his way,
and rightly supposing from his Dominican dress, that he probably
belonged to the Holy office, she approached him, and with clasped
hands, and in the tones of excessive distress, exclaimed:
6 Reverend sir, let me speak to my lord Arbues."
"Who are you?" asked Jose, taken by surprise; " what have you
to do with the inquisitor?"
" I wish to ask him for the life of my father," replied the young
woman, with great excitement; "of my father, who is innocent, and
who is accused of heresy; of my father, who was governor of Seville, but who to-day" " ` * *
"Dolores!" exclaimed Jose, looking with ardent curiosity upon
the noble form of the girl, half concealed under the black lace.
H How do you know my name?" she inquired, with agitation.
"Dolores Argoso," continued the Dominican in a mild voice, full
of tenderness, "Dolores Argoso, do not go near this house; for there
either dishonour or death awaits you."
" How do you know that?" asked the terrified girl.
The Dominican drew Dolores with him, and she suffered herself
to be led without resistance.
" Come, poor child," pursued the young monk, hurrying Dolores
from the inquisitor's palace; " come, if you wish to remain pure, if
you wish your father to be saved, hide yourself: oh, hide above all,
from the sight of Pierre Arbues!"
" Well!" said she, gaining confidence, for, notwithstanding his
terrible livery, the Dominican's voice had an irresistible tone of affectionate sorrow; "Well! but what must I do to save my father?"
" Hide yourself, and let me act," replied Jose. " Confide your
cause to me, young woman."
" To you?" she replied, looking on him with a somewhat suspicious eye; for she had just bethought herself that he belonged to the
inquisition.
"Yes, to me," he replied in a voice of sadness-" to me, who under this dark garb bear a warm and ardent heart."
"He is so young!" thought Dolores, viewing by the pale glim




THFE INQUISITOR'S PAROXYSM.


79


mering of the night the noble figure, and the delicate white hands
of Jose.
" Oh, why then are you a Dominican?"
" Perhaps in order to save you," said Jose, deeply moved; "beiieve me, young woman, do not try to sound the mysteries of my
life; the garb is sometimes only a mask, which hides the wounds of
the heart."
"And you too!" exclaimed Dolores, who felt herself drawn towards the young monk by an irresistible sympathy.
"c Do not think of me, let us be concerned about yourself only.
What is to become of you, now?"
" Whatever it shall please God!"' said she.
"Where will you conceal yourself?"
61" will go back to the convent of the Carmelites!"
" Beware of that," said Jose: " the inquisitor has discovered your
retreat, and before to-morrow, he will ascertain in person the truth
of a report which has been brought to him this evening on this subject."
" How could he know that?" asked Dolores: " the apostle has
mentioned my name to no one, not even to the Abbess."
"Poor child! Do you ask, how the inquisition violates all secrets,
and all consciences? It knows every thing, I tell you, and there is
nothing which it cannot violate, not even the tomb!"' x
" Oh, my God! my God!" cried Dolores, covering her face with
her hands-and she gave free course to the tears which choked her.
"Be calm, be calm, my sister," said Jos6, employing this mild
name, in order to inspire the girl with greater confidence, and also
because he felt drawn towards her by their common sorrows.
" It is true, father, we are not even permitted to weep."
"No," said Jose, "the sound of sobs irritates the tiger, and his
thirst for blood becomes more raging."5
1"Not so loud, not so loud, father; we might be overheard."
" Yes, you are right; there is a babbling echo in every stone around
us. Then, be still, be still! But before you leave me, poor child!
tell me what is to become of you?'
44 Do not be uneasy," said she, " I have an asylum; and now do you
promise to save my father?"
" By the soul of that which I have most loved! if your father
dies," said Jose, " it will be because I could do nothing for him, and
because you could not have saved him by making an entire sacrifice
of yourself; do you hear, Dolores?"
* In 1559, in a general auto da f6 which took place at Valladolid, under the
eyes of the prince Don Carlos, and the princess Jeanne, they burned the bones
and the statue of a lady called Eleonor de Vibero y Cazalla, who had died a
good catholic, and was accused and convicted after her death, by confessions
extorted from witnesses, who were subjected to the torture, of lhaving lent her
house to the Lutherans of Valladolid, that they might there perform the ceremonies of protestant worship. This lady was declared to have died in heresy,
and her memory was denounced as infamous, even in her posterity; her property
was confiscated, and her house was razed to the ground with a prohibition to
rebuild it. Upon the ruins of the house, a monument was erected with an
inscription relative to this event.-(History of the Inquisition.)





80


THE MYSTEU&1ES OF THE INQUISITION.


' I believe you," said she, pressing his hands, which she covered
with tears; " I believe you. But where can I see you again, my
father? "
"Listen," said Jose: " at the extremity of the street of the Bohemians, in the suburb of Triana, there is a horrible place, a vile spot,
which is called the tavern of La Buena Ventura, (Good Luck;) a real
nest of vultures, where theft, murder and robbery hold their rendezvous every evening. The aspect of this place is repulsive and
gloomy; there you will hear nothing but coarse laughter, or frightful
curses. This spot is haunted by every thing impure which Spain
contains; robbers, women of the town, Bohemians and monks. And
there, from the mouth of the monks also proceed blasphemous and
obscene words; drunkenness confounds in a common brutishness
those whom society rejects from its bosom, and those who arrogate
to themselves the right of controlling it. There disgraceful crimes,
judicial assassinations, unjust persecutions, false testimonies, wounds
with two-edged poniards which kill with deadly certainty; nocturnal rapes, murders and poisonings are elaborated; for in this vile den
of infamy, instruments for every crime may be found."
"What do you mean by all this, father?" asked Dolores, alarmed.
"Well," continued the monk, "to this place you must come to
find me."
" Am I deranged?" cried the poor girl; "what do you ask,
father?"
"You were coming to the Inquisition this evening; well! believe
me, young woman, the place, whose horrible picture I have just
drawn, is a thousand times less dangerous than the palace of Pierre
Arbues."
The eyes of Jose sparkled with a gloomy brightness; his cheeks,
usually so pale, had become burning red: he appeared to be consumed by internal fever.
Dolores thought him deranged.
But all at once, softening the tone of his voice, which was ordinarily very deep, and to which excitement had imparted a tremulous
tone, Jose looked upon Dolores with tenderness.
" Go, poor child," said he, " do not be afraid to come where Jose
shall tell you to go: 1 shall be willing to save you at the cost of
my life!"
" The tavern of La Buena Ventura," he continued, " belongs to
an alguazil named Coco, a brave and honest fellow, who is devoted to
my service, and to his young sister the Chapa, an excellent girl, who
would throw herself into the Guadalquiver to do any body a service.
These good people are poor, they gain their livelihood as they best
may, but you may trust them. If you require my help, you need
only say to Coco or to his sister, 'I would like to see Father
Jos6,' and you will see me again; but take care that you go out only
at night and in disguise. Fear nothing, I will not compromise your
safety." " *
"But," replied she, " have I nothing to fear?"
" Nothing," said Jos6. " They will never suspect that you frequent this place; only go there disguised as an ordinary girl."





THE RASTRO.


81


Whilst conversing, they had arrived opposite the bridge of Triana; when they had crossed it, Jos6 turned towards Dolores, and
inquired:
" Which is your road?"
"This way," said she, pointing to the right bank of the Guadalquiver.
SAnd mine is this," said Jos6, ascending the street of the G_.
tanos.
" Farewell, Dolores, rely upon me; but remember that you must
name me only before two persons, the alguazil Coco and his sister.
Farewell, be prudent."
"And you, father, have compassion on me," said she, as she withdrew.
Jos6 followed the street of the Gitanos.
Dolores walked on the bank of the Guadalquiver: this was the
road which led to the house of the apostle.
CHAPTER XII.
THE RASTRO.
A PREY to that kind of hallucination common to all those whose
life is so full of adventure, Dolores soon crossed the space which
separated her from the house of the apostle. Notwithstanding the
strange benevolence which a member of the inquisition had just
manifested towards her, she was not entirely reassured, and she was
anxious to feel herself under the protection of her pious friend.
Her desire to see the apostle once more was the more earnest, because since her abode with the Carmelites, she had seen him only
once, and had had but this single opportunity to hear tidings of Estevan.
This unfortunate young man, suspected by the inquisition on account of his enlarged and philosophical opinions, and besides, odious
to Pierre Arbues, who saw in him a hated rival, owed his life only
to the intervention of Jose, who, as we have already shown, had baffled the cruel orders of the inquisitor by gaining over the master of
the Gardufia.
Ignorant of the fate of him whom she loved, Dolores suffered the
most tormenting anxiety.
": Is he still at liberty?" she asked herself with alarm; and this
frightful uncertainty accelerated the pulsations of her heart, and
made her hasten her steps in order to arrive the sooner.
When she was near the house of the apostle, she was surprised at
not seeing across the narrow windows the pale glimmer of the lamp
which gave light to the pious vigils of the man of God. The gate
of the garden, however, was unlocked, and opened readily.
It was a kind of trellis work made of light branches of palm on
a wooden frame.
11





o3ý           THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.
Dolores proceeded to knock at the door of the house, but the door
was shut, and no one answered.
"( He is not here!" said the poor girl, stunned by this new mis.
fortune.
She knocked again with more force and earnestness; it was in
vain; the door remained immoveable; no one came to open it.
Dolores then explored the garden, a kind of spacious enclosure, in
which grew fruit trees, crowned with twining vines, the patrimony
of the children and of weary travellers who came and with impunity despoiled the beautiful trees of their fruits, and the vines of their
golden clusters. The apostle had permitted it; had this not been the
case, the veneration in which he was held would otherwise have protected them, and the simple wicker barrier of his garden would never
have been crossed. In vain did Dolores pry into all the recesses of
this rural spot; no one was to be found. It was evident that the
apostle was absent.  But as his isolated abode was far from every
dwelling, no one could tell her what had become of him. What was
to be done?  She could not return to the Carmelites; the risk was
too great. Shall she go to the city?  Which of her relatives would
she have dared expose to the vengeance of the inquisition by requesting an asylum? Besides, would not every door be shut against
the daughter of a man accused of heresy?  It is true she still had
the tavern as a last resort; but the picture which Jos6 had drawn
of it deprived her of all courage to seek a refuge there. She preferred passing the night in the garden. It was still cool, notwithstanding the beauty of spring; the proximity of the river rendered
the air somewhat damp. Dolores had no other clothing except a
robe of black silk, and a lace mantilla.
The trees were covered with leaves and flowers: long grass grew
at their feet. Dolores reclined against a large plantain tree; she
wrapped her long hair around her shoulders like a cloak, rolled her
mantilla about her head, and raising a suppliant look towards heaven,
sat down on the ground in the fresh and tufted grass. She hoped
that the apostle would soon return.
But hours passed by; roused by anxiety, Dolores suffered from
the freshness of the night; at times steps were heard in the road;
then she raised her head to look in that direction, hoping to see him
arrive of whom she was in quest; but the passing traveller withdrew, and Dolores again relapsed into her former dejection.
Near her the Guadalquiver rolled its peaceful flood with an equal
and monotonous sound; the cock uttered his piercing song in the
silence of the night, and at times a breeze of spring blowing by
fitful gusts swept the top of the trees, from which the blossoms fell
in a rosy and fragrant rain,
But for the unhappy young woman, this magnificent night was
full of vague terror and dark forebodings. Towards morning, borne
down by grief and weariness, she fell asleep. At first she was cold;
soon it seemed to her that a mild warmth revived her torpid limbs;
she was in an enchanted palace.
Under a blue ceiling, the immense dome of this splendid palace, a
great golden lamp lighted by the hand of fairies, slowly ascended in the
cupola, carried up by invisible beings, and in proportion as it rose,





TIMHE RASTRO.


83


its brilliancy and heat increased, until at length it shed floods of light
and flame throughout the palace. But scarcely had the golden lamp
touched the cupola, before this magnificent palace, peopled by transparent creatures of wondrous beauty, suddenly changed its aspect.
The brilliant furniture and the flowers which adorned it disappeared.
The wings of the sylphs and fairies fell into golden dust; their beautiful bodies became deformed, and assumed a red transparency; a
burning heat threatened to set the palace on fire; Dolores wished to
withdraw, in order to escape from this intolerable punishment, but
these monsters ranged themselves around her in a circle to hinder her
from going out, and one of them raised upon his head an immense
burning mirror, under which she felt herself burning, as though on a
funeral pile. Roused by the sufferings of this dream, Dolores opened
her eyes. The burning, dazzling sun had slowly risen in the heavens, and darted his rays upon the face of the young woman. She
had slept long; it was ten o'clock in the morning. In astonishment, she looked around as if to collect her thoughts, interrupted
by sleep; and the events of the evening retracing themselves upon
her recollection, she was overwhelmed with bitter distress.
Dolores was of a strong heart and mind; but she was too young,
too little accustomed to the constantly recurring vicissitudes of a chequered existence; she knew too little of the things of the world to
brace herself spontaneously against misfortunes which overwhelmed
her so suddenly; there was more resignation than energy in her
courage; she was not really strong except in the face of a great
danger. For the ordinary sorrows of life, she at first had nothing
but tears, energy came only after reflection; Dolores had a just and
lofty spirit, and she fortified herself by reason.
Such are all women who are called superior. Their courage
is nothing but an eternal conflict of reason against tne heart, except
in things in which the heart is interested; then it defies the loftiest
courage of man. Beyond that, the strength of women is only the
gift of knowing how to suffer. Would they be women, if they were
otherwise constituted?
Dolores remained for some moments depressed by this new misfortune. She turned her eyes towards the house - ý * every thing
was in the same condition as on the preceding evening; the windows
were shut, and the silence of death reigned there. In order to be
still better satisfied, Dolores adjusted her clothes, replaced the beautiful hair which had sheltered her, let her mantilla hang over her
forehead, and went once more to knock at the apostle's door. But
it was in vain: the apostle had not returned.
Dolores was alone, abandoned, without home, without bread; and
she was afraid to venture into the streets of Seville in the day time,
fearing that she would there be recognised and arrested.
She decided to repair to the tavern, it was her last resource; she
therefore committed herself to Providence. But in order not to expose herself to be surprised by the shires of the inquisition, she resolved to wait until night before venturing into the city.
The garden of the apostle was planted, in some places, with tall
sugar canes. American trees which become so vigorous and beau





84


THE MYSTERIES OP THE INQUISITION.


tiful under the warm sun of Andalusia, entwined their thick shade
with the branches of the vine, scarcely covered with young leaves,
and with the flowering peach trees, which expanded to the sun their
rosy and fragrant blossoms.
Dolores chose a shelter in the bed of sugar canes, determined to
pass the long day in this manner. She waited until evening, the
prey of anxiety, overcome with fatigue and want; she had eaten
nothing since the evening.
She broke between her teeth some stalks of the sugar cane, and in
her hands she drew clear water from the Guadalquiver to quench the
thirst which consumed her; but this was not enough to recruit her
strength. Still she esteemed herself happy in her destitution, for this
relief due to Providence alone.
During this long and gloomy day, many people passed over the
road, and some children came into the apostle's garden to catch butterflies; these were the only incidents which disturbed the poor forsaken girl. She kept herself well concealed in the branches, and no
one suspected that the brilliant Dolores Argoso, the daughter of one
of the richest lords of Spain, was there, like a beggar, obliged to sleep
on the bare ground, having neither food nor shelter. At last the sun
descended to the horizon; it was the hour in which every body in
Spain usually take their siesta. Dolores thought that she might
without danger leave her hiding-place.
Jos6 had advised her not to go out unless disguised; she must
therefore, first of all, contrive to procure a dress.
Dolores had no money; but her silk gown was of magnificent
stuff, and her mantilla of the very finest lace. She thought of repairing to the Rastro,* in order there to effect an exchange. It was
there only, that she could without money obtain a convenient disguise.
She left the garden, veiled her face, and retraced the road which
she had traversed the evening before; for the Rastro was in the
ward of Triana.
At the far end of the street of the Gitanos, there was then an irregular square, in which a number of dirty and obscure alleys terminated, and there stood the shambles of the city. On one side of
this square, in the wooden sheds ranged one at the side of the other,
like houses, the dealers in refuse meat held their market. In front
of these sheds might be seen hanging from iron hooks (garabatos,)
the liver of oxen, calves, sheep, and even hogs, hearts and kidneys
of these same animals, together with the bloody brains in the open
* The Rastro. This word Rastro means track. In their symbolic language,
so rich in figures, the Spaniards call the place the Rastro, where all old articles
as well as stolen property are exposed for sale. In every city in Spain a pub.
lic square is devoted to this business; this square resembles in manners, customs, and general aspect the Temple of Paris. As soon as a Spaniard finds
that he has lost any article whatever, and suspects that it has been stolen, he
mentions it to the judge of his district, who after having taken the description
of the missing article, sends an alguazil to this market, with the direction,
Siga el rastro, follow the track. The description of this place, as the author
gives it, is perfectly exact.





THE RASTRIO.


85


skulls. There, in large troughs of dirty water, heads, feet, entrails
heaped together pel mel, were swimming. All these disgusting and
hideous viands which the rich despised, were destined to serve the
lower classes of Seville as food.
The odour which was exhaled from this filthy place, combined
with the stench of the shambles, was insupportable.
Then on the ground, upon the pavement of the square, imagine a
multitude of women miserably clothed, ranged sy in metrically in a row,
each having before her a large rag which served as a stall.
The lover of contrasts can surely not do better than visit the
Rastro of Seville; there, even to this day, every thing may be found,
from the rag which serves to make lint to the gala dress of the duchess; from the wooden porringer in which the Bohemian eats his
food, to the silver virgin before which he kneels. Sometimes this
virgin will be set off with an old felt hat, destined like herself to be
sold. A little farther off, a chaplet of coral beads hangs to a gridiron still covered with grease and soot; a magnificent service of plate
stands by the side of a chamber utensil; a mantilla is sometimes suspended from a broom; at other times a crucifix is accompanied with
a pair of pistols which hang from the two arms of the cross. In short,
the Rastro was a vast capharnatim, in which all kinds of misfortune
were displayed, from that of the Spanish grandee too lavish of his
income, to that of the last of those unhappy creatures whose sweat
was absorbed by the rapacity of the monks: it was a confused assemblage of discrepant or heterogeneous things, a true and most exact
picture of the saloon of a constitutional king.
No one need be surprised at this strange medley of wealth and
poverty. The second-hand dealers of the Rastro are not like those
of the Temple at Paris, they do not sell on their own account; they
sell for every body, and are in truth traffickers in whom great confidence is reposed.
The church confides to them her virgin, in order to buy a finer
one; the noble lady her jewels, to pay her debts, or something worse;
the courtezan, her ornaments of which she is tired, at the end of an
hour, and the manola her Sunday clothes, which she is sometimes
obliged to sell, in order to get bread.
The huckster of the Rastro makes herself all things to every body;
she knows how to satisfy those who are hardest to please; she makes
sales and barters; and there, as with all dealers in the world, the
sharpest has the best of it; but she rarely suffers victory to escape
from her; the advantage, and a great advantage, always remains on
her side.
At the period to which our narrative refers, this trade was more
considerable than in our day, on account of the large amounts of
plunder taken from those who were condemned by the inquisition;
these accrued to their respective informers, who had them exposed
for sale.
When Dolores reached the square of the Rastro, she recoiled with
disgust, affected by the excessive stench of the place; but soon doing
violence to her feelings, she continued to go forward, and approached
with some agitation a huckster, who was still rather young, whose


H





I             THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.
countenance inspired her with more confidence than any of the
others.
But so soon as these women understood that she intended to buy,
they formed a circle around her, and there was an uproar of words,
enough to stun a deaf man. Each one praised her wares with gestures more or less captivating, and babble that might fascinate a
sorcerer.
6" Miss," said one, buy of me this pretty necklace of fine pearls,
it once belonged to the princess Jeanne, daughter of queen Isabella;
it was sold at her death by one of her maids of honour, to whom she
had given it."
6" Look," said another, " at this enamelled chaplet adorned with a
cross of rubies: the paters are emeralds: it has been blessed by our
holy father, the Pope. A hundred days of indulgence are gained
every time that it is recited, madam."
"Buy this of me," cried a third, lifting up a heap of Flanders
lace, whose delicate network was covered with arabesque embroidery.
"Madam, this is a blessed ring, for it preserves from witchcraft."
The ring in question was simply a very large gold one, the collet
of which represented a clenched hand passing the thumb between
the middle and fore-finger. It was a relic of Moorish superstition,
adopted by the Catholics, and to which the common people added the
belief that in order to baffle all the charms of sorcerers, it was enough
to present to them the hand clenched with the thumb passed between
the first two fingers. This was the reason why this special virtue
was attributed to the ring of which we have just spoken.
Notwithstanding her distress, Dolores smiled slightly; she did
not share in the superstitions of her age, and had no faith in witchcraft.
Happily for her, her smile was so imperceptible, that no one paid
attention to it; had it not been for that, she might have run some
risk.
" Let us see," said the first huckster whom Dolores had first accosted; " you want none of all -that, is it not so, Miss? Stop, buy
this pretty image of the Virgin; it was given me by a holy man,
him whom we call the apostle: he had need of money to relieve a
person in distress; as for himself, he is never in want of any thing:
I advanced him the money, too, on the spot, without waiting till I
had sold it."
" The apostle!" exclaimed Dolores, " do you know the apostle,
good woman?"
" Holy Mary!" said the huckster, "who is there in Seville that
does not know him? Is it not he who comforts us, and who gives
bread to our little children?"
"Do you know where he is at present?" continued Dolores.
" No," rejoined the huckster, "like the good God, he is invisible;
but we can always find him when we want him."
Disappointed in the hope which she had instantly conceived, of
learning where her protector was, Dolores thought of making her
exchange as quickly as possible.
"I do not wish to buy your holy virgin," said she, timidly; "I





THE RASTRO.


87


have nothing wherewith to pay you for it, but I want a complete
manola* dress, and if you will give me one for mine." '  *
"For yours, Miss," said the huckster, measuring Dolores with
the true look of a dealer, by the toilet which appreciates at a glance
the value of a garment, and sees without touching it, its smallest defects, from the slight fraying at the elbow to the whitish streak
which the dust makes on the border of the newest clothing, even
though it has been worn only an hour.
" For your mantilla, too?" continued the merchant, examining the
fine lace which covered the beautiful hair of the young woman.
" To be sure," said Dolores; " you will give me a silk one."
The eyes of the huckster sparkled with eagerness.
She felt the satin gown of the young woman; it was of the finest
texture; and after ascertaining that the body and the sleeves were
new, she went to fetch a purple gown made of serge, and a black
mantilla of silk cloth. This garment was of the right size for Dolores.
" This will do," said the young woman.
" Will that suit you?" asked the huckster.
" Yes, I think this will suit me very well."
" Well, Miss, what will you give me for it into the bargain?"'
Dolores opened her eyes wide, and looked at the huckster with
astonishment. Her dress was worth ten times as much as that
which was offered to her.
i "Yes, how much will you give me?" repeated the huckster.
1 I cannot give you any thing," said poor Dolores; " I have told
you that I have no money."
" Oh! then that alters the case; if you have no money, poor child,
take it at any rate; you may owe me the rest. God preserve me
from giving trouble to a pretty girl like you."
"How shall I manage to change my dress?"
"Come, come," said the woman, " my house is not far off."
Immediately opposite to the stall where she sold clothes, the huckster had a wooden shop, in which her husband sold refuse meat.
Behind the meat stall, there was a square place with a single mattress on the floor, and a trunk in which the huckster kept her rags;
this was her dwelling; it was thither that she led Dolores. As she
was helping her to undress, she perceived in her gown a kerchief
which served as a stomacher; this kerchief was made of splendid
Brussels material.
"' Madam," said the huckster, ' since you have no money to give
me on our exchange, I will be satisfied with this trifle."
4 Take it," said Dolores, with a gesture of disgust; "that would
not suit well with my new dress; but give me at least a linen kerchief, so that I may not feel this coarse wool upon my neck.."
The huckster brought her one, which was not new, but it was
tolerably clean. Dolores contented herself with it for want of a
better.
When she was dressed, she viewed herself in a small plate of po

* Manola, a woman of the common order of society.





B8             THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.
lished tin, which answered the huckster for a mirror: she was satisfied with her metamorphosis.   Her coarse, heavy dress disguised
the elegance of her figure tolerably well. She wrapped her mantilla about her and went out.
"Let me have your custom, madam," said the huckster.
But Dolores did not hear her; she proceeded rapidly towards the
street of the Gitanos.
CHAPTER XIII.
A MIRACLE.
IT will be remembered that Enriquez, governor of the noble city
of Seville, by the grace of my lord Arbues, had signalized the first
days of his power by numerous arrests.
Some very distinguished men, learned and pious doctors in theology, spiritual, lovely women of strong mind, with souls full of energy and power, groaned in the prisons of the holy office under the
mere suspicion of Lutheranism.
Alarmed, not for himself, but for those whom he loved, by this
fresh outbreak of persecution, the apostle had persuaded Estevan to
remove for some days from Seville, as he himself was anxious to visit
his poor people. They therefore set out together, and went in the
direction of San Lucar.
This was the reason why Dolores had found no one in the house
of the Franciscan.
It was the practice of this man of God, to make excursions from
time to time, to the numerous villages of Andalusia; there his spirit
of toleration confounding all sects and professions, welcomed alike
Jews and Christians, Moors and Gitanos. He consoled some, dissuaded others from crime, encouraged them all, and scattered over
all equally the gifts of his exhaustless charity."
Throughout all Andalusia, the name of the apostle was a magic
charm; the mere mention of his name was sufficient to make every
mouth smile, and to cause every eye to be raised towards heaven
with an expression of gratitude.
When from one village to another along his route, the report was
spread that he had commenced his circuit, women might be seen all
along the road, carrying their children in their arms. They awaited
the passage of the saint, in order to be the first to be blessed by him.
When they had succeeded in touching the hem of his garment, they
thought themselves secure from every evil.
The apostle was constrained to say to them with mild authority,
* Some pious friars at this period traversed Spain, asking alms of the rich,
giving to the poor, preaching to all the holy doctrines of the gospel, and assuaging all sorrows. This truly apostolic conduct was in too great contradiction with that of the monks and the inquisition; for this reason, monkery and
the inquisition persecuted these charitable friars most bitterly.





A MIRACLE.


89


"You must not pay homage to me, I am only a bit of dust like
yourselves; it is to God you owe it, who speaks to you by my
voice."
The people, always somewhat pagan in their worship, found it far
more simple to prostrate themselves before this man, who heaped
benefits upon them and whom they saw, than before God, whom they
did not see.
" My son," said the apostle to Estevan, who was astonished by the
gentleness and docility of these uncultivated men, who became lambs
so soon as the saint had spoken to them, "see how easy it would be
to make these people honest and pious, if, instead of stupifying
them  by terror, and exasperating them by torture, they were induced by kindness and gentleness, to be believers in God and his
providence, under the influence of its lively representation. Instead
of that, their brain is filled with superstitions; they are tormented
so cruelly, and so little kindness is shown to them, that they only
believe in the devils of hell, of which a foretaste is given them on
earth. Deprived of happiness, comfort, and hope, they become at
once fanatical, weak, and cruel."
" How can it be otherwise?" replied Estevan, "these men have
nothing, the monks have carried away their all," and every day the
inquisition robs these poor creatures of liberty of conscience, the
only blessing which is left them. And yet it would be so easy to
render this warm-hearted and poetic people happy."
" They are still better than that," said the apostle: " they are intelligent and brave; their mind is a singular compound of gaiety, ingenuity and good common sense, which render all serious meditation
easy to them. These people are capable of comprehending life in
its most enlarged and elevated aim of universal fraternity. But out
of these men, naturally brave, loyal and affectionate, they make cowards and hypocrites, nay worse, informers! And I myself, yes, I owe
my security to nothing but the dress which I wear. If I had shown
them the same kindness as a layman, if I had preached to them the
same morality, I should have been looked upon as a Lutheran or a
zealot, and my zeal for their happiness and for truth would have cost
me my life; but I was a priest, I was a monk, and can a monk do
wrong?"
"Take care, father," replied Estevan with a bitter smile, " my
lord Alphonso Manrique and my lord Arbues might, perhaps, not respect your garb any more than the grand inquisitor Torrequemada,
* In the thirteenth century, the monks and members of the clergy were reckoned at the hundredth part of the population of Spain, which was then about
thirty millions of souls; those employed by the government, including the troops,
amounted to about one million: the great and small proprietors might be estimated at nearly two millions; all the rest of the population was composed of
persons without property and beggars. The monks and clergy possessed for
their own use a good third of Spain.-(Statistics of Belmonte and Baldivieo.)
The monks and the Spanish clergy, thanks to their intolerance and insatiable
avarice, have reduced the Spanish people to about eleven millions. The sloth
and cruelty of those in power will soon convert Spain into a desert, if God
does not take pity on this unhappy country.
Hi2                       12





90


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


of hateful memory, respected the episcopal dignity of the bishops of
Calahorra and Segovia.'"
" Torrequemada was of a very cruel disposition," said the apostle,
with a sigh, "but at all events, he did not combine the most
infamous debauchery with his brutal fanaticism and inexorable
cruelty.t Fanaticism had made him a fool, for how could human
cruelty otherwise have gone so far? And yet after the grand inquisitor had pronounced sentence on an infidel, the austere Dominican, Thomas de Torrequemada knelt humbly before his crucifix, inflicted the lash upon himself, and lacerated his body to atone for al"
the heresies of the kingdom of Castile."$
"Oh! my father, in some centuries, if humanity advances as it
should, men will scarcely believe these horrors, mingled with so
much folly."
"Without a doubt, my son, they will be believed only to be deplored, the errors of the past will be a lesson for the future.  The
time will come when all men will read the gospel, and then all will
have the right to say to one another, ' we are your brethren, why do
you treat us like strangers?'
" When all the individuals of a nation thoroughly understand the
code of laws which govern them, it is not likely that they will injure one another.   Still better, when this code is the gospel, this
guide of the soul, then the soul is well governed, and then it is
rarely that actions are not. Where ignorance reigns, there are also
disorder, superstition, and folly; all these scourges, which make the
earth a hell inhabited by devils and the damned."
Whilst conversing in this way, the apostle and his companion ar* These two bishops were the sons of baptized Jews, but they enjoyed general
esteem. The inquisitor Torrequemada caused them to be put on trial, although
according to the apostolic canons, bishops were not under the jurisdiction of
the inquisition. The two prelates repaired to Rome to appeal to the pope.
The sovereign pontiff referred the affair to other bishops, whose'decision was
favourable to the accused. As indemnity for the persecutions which they had
experienced, the pope nominated the bishop of Segovia as ambassador to Naples,
and the bishop of Calahorra to Venice. The inquisitor was not disheartened.
Torrequemada found means to bring a new process to bear against them, in
which he succeeded in proving that these bishops had fallen into heresy, and in
causing them to be confined in a castle, where they died after having been deprived of all their property, and degraded from the episcopal dignity.-(Llorente,
History of the Inquisition.)
f The Spaniards have always accused the inquisitors, and others employed by
the holy office, of making the women, shut up in the inquisition, the victims of
their lusts. This accusation is not so unjust as the defenders of this hideous
tribunal pretend. After the revolt of Cordova, and the flight of the inquisitor
Deza, his successor Ximenes Cisneros, wishing to put an end to the scandalous
excesses committed with the women who were in the prisons, decreed, according
to the advice of the supreme council, that all persons attached to the holy
office, who should become guilty of such excesses, should be punished with
death. Opportunities of enforcing this law were not wanting subsequently, but
it remained a dead letter.-(Llorente, History of the Inquisition.)
t The fanaticism of Torrequemada equalled his cruelty, or rather his cruelty
was merely the result of his fanaticism. On every occasion when he saw himself constrained to proceed against a heretic, the confessor of Ferdinand or
Aragon prepared himself be fasting and penance. This latter consisted in applying the discipline (a short whip) until his flesh was lacerated and his blood
flowed from it.-(Life of Torrequemada, by Ponce de Leon.)





A MIRACLE.


91


rived at a little village bunt on the summit of a mountain, such as
are frequently found in Spain. Low houses principally, painted red
and green, were ranged irregularly in two rows upon the top of the
mountain, thus forming a winding street, terminated by a small
church, whose pointed spire rose more than forty feet above the
houses. When the bell of this church was in motion, one might have
supposed from the appearance of the village, that it was an enormous boa, raising its head, hissing and darting towards heaven its
flickering tongue.
When the two travellers arrived there, all was quiet. It was
nearly night; the villagers having returned from the fields, were silently occupied with their evening meal. A few half-naked children were playing before the doors, which were partly open; whilst
from the kitchen of the houses a strong odour of puchero* escaped,
and some shepherds were slowly clambering up the back of the
mountain, in order to drive their goats to the stable.
The apostle had been only once or twice in this village, and the
little children, who have generally a weak memory, did not recognise him.
Estevan and he traversed the greatest part of the street without
meeting any one in their walk.
But as they were passing before a low house, whose dilapidated
exterior betokened misery and careless poverty, they stopped simultaneously, struck by a strange medley of voices, young, masculine,
old and trembling, clear and rough. There were certainly many
people in this house, to all appearance some strange occurrence was
taking place.
The travellers listened for some minutes: suddenly they heard a
little clear voice which said in a tone of feminine compassion,, Poor Pablo, he was so well this morning!"
"There is some one here to whom we can be of service," said the
apostle, pushing the worm-eaten door, which immediately gave way
Estevan entered with him.
In a miserable hovel, into which the daylight could scarce pene
trate, and whose uneven and earthy floor was covered with rubbish
of every kind, a score of Gitanos, men and women, children and girls,
surrounded a man clad in his Sunday apparel, and sitting on a chair,
in a graceful posture.
This man was very pale, and seemed to be asleep.
The whole ranchot of the Gitanos, over whom the abuelat presided, the queen of these strange corporations, surrounded the Gitano,
who was seated. On the arrival of the apostle and his companion,
the circle was not deranged, but the abuela, who entertained a great
veneration for the monk, had a little wooden stool in the form of a
tripod brought for him, the only seat which was in the rancho. Estevan remained standing.
* The puchero is a boiled mess, composed of several kinds of meat, pulse,
and chick-peas. Rich people add to it, el chorizo, sausage, and la morcilla,
black pudding. The puchero is then called olla podrida.
t El rancho, the room full of people, or assembly.
t Abuela. Thus the Bohemians call the chief of the rancho, who is always
an old woman.





92


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


"What does all this mean, father?" he inquired of the apostle.
"This man is dead, and they are performing the funeral ceremony: look."
A Gitano advanced towards the dead man, and placed a guitar in
his hands. Then, in a loud voice, and without the least shame, he
accused himself of all the crimes which he had committed since the
death of the last brother deceased in the rancho.
After he had finished this singular confession, the Gitano accosted
the dead man:
"Play," said he, "and if I have done wrong, let thy music deafen
me; if I have done right, do not stir, and I shall deem myself absolved."
As may well be imagined, the dead man did not care to obey the
former of these injunctions, and the Gitano withdrew, as easy in his
conscience as a usurer, who has just received absolution under a promise to restore what he has stolen.
" What heathenism," said Estevan, in a whisper.
"Wait, my son," said the apostle, " this is not all."
In short, each member of the rancho made his confession in his
turn, and the whole fraternity remained filly at ease under their
enormous load of crime; the deceased had absolved them, they believed themselves all as innocent as doves.
The room had just been lighted with pine torches; the apostle,
who had a profound knowledge of medicine for the time in which
he lived, and who, above all, possessed the gift of second sight, the
exclusive privilege of some men of genius, attentively examined the
dead man.
" This man's limbs are very flexible," said he, in an under tone to
Estevan, "and his complexion has not undergone the least alteration,
only, he is very pale."
"It is true," said Estevan, who began to examine him in his turn.
Soon however, it was out of their power to continue their physiological observations; a girl began to dance before the dead man an
amorous and animated fandango; by degrees all the members of the
rancho began to dance one after another; the assembly thus in motion, they took hold of each others' hands, and formed a circle
around the dead man.
They began by moving slowly and in time, as if they had wished
to get the step, and become familiar with the measure; then the
dance became more rapid; they lifted each other up in turning;
and becoming more animated by degrees, they finished by whirling
round so quickly, that they looked like a band of demons hurried
through space by an invisible power.*
Suddenly this furious troop stood still and uttered loud cries: the
dead man had been thrown down from his seat, and had fallen in
the circle formed around him, upon a young woman, who, less
nimble than the rest, had entangled her scarf in the metal buttons of
the dead man's waistcoat. The Gitana started back with a motion
of horror, and the dead man's face struck against the ground.
* T'he dance which the author describes in this chapter makes part of the ceremony called the watch of the dead. This ceremony is very similar to the
wake of the Irish.





A MIRACLE.


93


c Oh!" cried the abuela, "what a pity, poor Marica! that Pablo
should have fallen on thee."
"Yes," said the others, "there are great disasters, and perhaps
death before her, at least, if she will not spend the night with
Pablo."
" I pass the night all alone with a dead man?" shrieked the terrified Gitana, I pass the night with Pablo, to see all the devils of hell
come and dance around him, and carry him off?""'
S I would cheerfully stay with you, poor little Marica," said a tall
boy, who looked lovingly at the Gitana; c but then it would all be
of no use to you."
"Oh! I am too much afraid," said the little gipsey, weeping,
" I will rather die, if Pablo wishes it."
Whilst the Gitanos were debating this grave question, the apostle
had hastened towards the dead man, and in stooping towards him to
raise him up, he perceived that in falling, Pablo had inflicted a slight
wound on his face, and that this wound was bleeding.
" Silence, my children," he cried out in a loud voice; "this man is
riot dead; wait!"
The voices were hushed as by enchantment, and all the Gitanos
stood chained on the spot in stupid astonishment. They had danced
fearlessly around the dead man, but they were afraid of one who was
coming to life.  Aided by Estevan, the apostle seated Pablo upon
the chair, and drawing from his pocket a flask, which he always kept
by him, he let the sick man smell at the salts, whilst Estevan rubbed
his hands warmly, in order to reinfuse heat and life into them. At
the end of some minutes, the Gitano opened his eyes; his face suddenly became flushed; the reaction threatened to bring on an attack
of apoplexy.
The monk then excited the wound of the Gitano, to make it bleed,
and ordered Estevan to apply a strong friction to his lower limbs.
The sick man soon breathed freely, slowly opened his heavy
eyes, and looked about him in stupid astonishment.
He was out of danger. He had been suffering merely from
fainting, followed by a lethargy occasioned by a drunken excess.
But when they saw him again alive, whose funeral they had come
to celebrate, the Gitanos fell on their knees, and the younger portion
began to run through the street, crying out that the saint had just
performed a miracle.
* The Gitanos do not profess any religion; they always pretend to embrace
that of the country in which they live; but they are the most superstitious people in the world. Thus a Gitano accustomed to live on theft and roguery of
every kind will not steal or cheat the day after a night, during which he has
heard the hooting of a screech owl; for, according to the superstition of his
clan, the hooting of the owl always indicates a judicial arrest, or at least
some trouble with the law. The Gitano will not drink any liquor into which a
fly has fallen; for every one who drinks of any liquor which drowns, will himself be drowned. Finally, the Gitano who has been touched by a corpse during
the wake, must pass the night with a dead person, and have the courage to see
the devils come and carry off the body of the deceased, after having danced
around him, under penalty of dying in the course of the year. It is, also, a
great misfortune when a corpse falls during the dance which his relatives and
friends perform around him, the evening before his interment, in order to secure him from the visit of the devils





94


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


The resuscitated man himself, still feeble and scarcely able to support himself, kissed the hands of the apostle, saying to him, " I was
dead and you have recalled me from the abodes of darkness."
"It is not I," said the apostle, "it is God alone."
" Father," Estevan asked, in the Latin language, in order not to
be understood, "why do you let them believe that this man was
dead, and that he has come to life again?"
" My son," replied the saint, " these people are not ripe for the
truth. If we were to attempt to explain the phenomenon which has
just taken place, on natural principles, they would ascribe it to magic,
and take us for sorcerers. Leave them their artless faith, it is their
only comfort. Believe me, Estevan, it is the work of more than a
day, to enlighten the reason of a people, and to ameliorate their
condition by science, especially when their natural instincts have
long been forsaken. It is easy to make an impression on white canvass, but in order to apply new colours upon a canvass that is already
painted, the old ones must first be effaced."
"Must these people, then, remain in eternal ignorance?"
" No, my son, no; let the water filter drop by drop, it will finish
by digging its own channel."
Meanwhile, at the noise of the miracle, which had just been performed, the inhabitants of the village had abandoned their houses;
the little children themselves, despite of their appetite, had withdrawn from the hearth where the olla podrida was preparing, in order
to see for themselves, the saint who had just raised a dead man to life.
After leaving some small benefactions with the Gitanos, and exhorting them to renounce theft and murder, admonitions which they
always listened to with emotion, but which they soon after forgot,
on account of their savage nature, their deep-rooted habits, and also
the difficulty which they experienced in living in any other way,
the apostle left them to go into the village, to carry succour and
consolation to the sick and afflicted, and to give them some pieces of
money, a valuable kindness to these poor serfs of the monasteries,
who had bread and soup, but never any money. These poor people
often preserved as relics the maravedis which the apostle had given
them: they pierced them, and made buttons of them, with which
they adorned their velvet jackets."
The travellers found no difficulty in entering the houses; a dense
crowd hurried on before them, but at the approach of the saint, it
opened in two ranks, to leave the passage free, whilst he, stopping
before each one, questioned him about his family, his wants, and his
sufferings; to those who seemed to be sick or afflicted, he gave medicines and consolation; to such as were poorly clad, some money to
buy clothes. But to all alike he recommended obedience and resignation, " for," said he, " the murmurs and irritation of the spirit
remedy nothing, they only render misfortunes heavier."
* The Gitanos, and many other people of the lower classes, in Andalusia, are
fond of making buttons out of bits of money. The poor people pierce the
ochavos (farthings,) those in more easy circumstances, the reals, (twenty-five
cents,) a small piece of silver. There are rich muleteers, and wealthy smug.
glers, who have several hundred gold pieces of five, ten, and twenty francs,
pierced, in order to make buttons of them for a single velvet jacket.





JOSE AGAIN.


95


The impetuous Estevan, notwithstanding his philosophical opinions,
which would have recommended a more active reformation, could
not help admiring the profound wisdom of the apostle. " It is thus,"
thought he to himself, " that all reformers should be, sober, persevering in action, patient for the result; it is only thus that a people
can be regenerated."
The passage of the apostle through the midst of this enthusiastic
and oppressed population, was a touching scene; like a ray of sunlight falling upon the darkness of these simple but ardent souls.
" Francisca," said a young man to his wife, "our child will be
handsome and strong, for the apostle looked at him, and kissed his
little hand."
"The harvest will be good," said another, "the apostle has come
to visit us in the season when the ears begin to fill."
c" The fire of heaven will respect my house," cried a third, " the
apostle stopped before the door in passing."
"6 God will bless you because you are good," said the saint to them,
" and you will be happy, because you will do harm to nobody."
" Father," cried a young woman, with tears, who carried in her
arms two little twins,c "my husband has been put in prison in the
holy office, because he was a converted Moor, and had strayed away
from mass in order to take care of me the day when I brought into
the world these two little children."
The apostle raised towards heaven a mournful look.
c" Have patience, my daughter," said he to the poor woman, "your
husband shall be restored to you; have confidence in God, who will
console you, and I will take care of you: do you hear?"
c" He is in truth a saint," said an old woman in an under tone, "he
is not afraid of the inquisition."
" Woman," said the apostle, who had understood her, " those
who truly believe in God fear nothing,.,"
Thus ended this day.
Estevan and his guide accepted some provisions with which they
filled their wallet and for which they found means to pay a hundred
fold; then they withdrew, with the loud benedictions of the people,
in order to spend the night in one of the huts of brushwood, which
the herdsmen erect on the mountains in order to pass the wvinter in
them *with their flocks.
CHAPTER        XIV.
JOSE AGAIN.
LET us go back to Dolores, whom we left on the road to the
tavern.
After reaching the extremity of the street of the Gitanos, it was
easy for her to recognise the sign of the BUENA VENTURA, which
was written in large letters over the wall: despite of the growing
darkness, Dolores could not mistake it.
There were still very few people there: some monks were empty




96            THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.
ing their mug of wine of pajareti whilst conversing, and at one of
the ends of the table, a man and woman, rather shabbily dressed,
were eating a piece of black bread, together with some raw onions,
they had before them two tin cups, and a pint of the most ordinary
wine.
The little lighted tapers against the wall threw their dubious
brightness into the obscurity of the room.
The quiet which reigned there somewhat restored the confidence
of the governor's daughter. Yet she hesitated for a few minutes,
for she did not see the Chapa, and could not tell whom to accost;
but the Chapa soon appeared at the entrance to her kitchen. Then
Dolores, taking courage, pushed the door open, and walked directly
to the young hostess.
When she was near her, she put aside the borders of her veil, and
the Chapa instantly recognised her.
But Dolores had also on her part recognised the girl who had
served as a messenger in the horrible conspiracy of which she was
the victim, and she started back with an expression of horror. The
Chapa looked at her suppliantly, but said nothing; and with a presence of mind entirely Andalusian, she took her warmly by the
hand, and kissed her on both cheeks.
" Oh! is it you, my poor Anna!" she broke out in a tone of
gaiety; " who would have thought I should be so happy as to see
this dear cousin to-day?"
"Come then," added she, drawing Dolores with her into the dark
and narrow recess, where she was preparing the puchero, "come and
let us talk about my good aunt and your brothers, my poor Annita.
Oh! but I am pleased to see you."
During this flow of words, the Chapa had withdrawn Dolores from
the eyes of the people in the tavern, and Dolores, who could scarcely
support herself through agitation, sat down upon a miserable straw
chair which stood in a corner.
6 Be composed, seniora," said the sister of Coco to her in a low
voice, bending down almost on her knees before her: "be composed
and fear nothing; I would give my life to protect you. But," added
she, seeing that Dolores was regaining confidence somewhat, " look
as though you were talking with me, and as though you were my
cousin; we must deceive these spies."
At this moment, a monk called for a mug of wine; the Chapa, active and alert, hastened to wait on him.
' This poor little cousin!" said she to a young woman who was
supping at the end of the table, " how kind she is in coming to see
me!"
But the woman to whom the Chapa addressed these words, was the
only one to whom Dolores was not a stranger: this woman was Culverina; and the instant the governor's daughter entered the tavern,
the serena had recognised her.
Manofina, for he was the man who was taking his supper by her
side, had less recollection than she. Women only possess this clearsighted glance, which is quick as thought.
The serena smiled pleasantly, but said nothing. After some minutes, Manofina wished to leave, and Culverina then approached the





JOSE AGAIN.


97


hostess, who had gone out before her door to see whether her bro
ther was coming or not.
" Chapa," said she to her, take good care of your cousin; and if
she has occasion for my services or Manofina's, you know where to
find us."
The Chapa looked at the serena with astonishment.
" I know your cousin," added the young Bohemian in a whisper,
laying stress on the word cousin.
"Culverina," replied the Chapa, "take care to say nothing about
her."
" Well," said the Bohemian with a graceful movement of the
shoulders, " why are you afraid? A prot6g6e of the apostle! I love
her as much as yourself. Only remember what I have told you; if
she wants us, come and fetch us. Farewell."
The bravo and his companion went away.
"Let us see your cousin, Chapa," said a fat portly monk, whom
the fumes of the wine began to enliven; "is she as pretty as yourself,
my little girl?"
" Oh! the poor girl, let her be quiet," replied the Chapa, "she is
as timid as a sheep."
"But that does not hinder her from being pretty."
"You shall see that after she has slept," said the Chapa, continuing
to arrange her jugs; " she has walked several leagues, and she is
very tired."
The arrival of a numerous band of workmen, put an end to this
conversation. The monk kept on drinking. The Chapa, after having
waited on all her customers with remarkable vivacity and address,
availed herself of the general engagedness which always follows the
commencement of a meal, and of the noise which all these hungry
jaws made in eating, to converse in a low voice with the daughter of
the governor.
" Chapa," asked Dolores, somewhat relieved of her former distrust, "do you know the monk Jose?"'
" Do I know him?" said she; " he is a saint, sefiora, although he
wears the garb of the inquisition," added she in a whisper. " He
came yesterday, and informed me that if you asked for him, we must
go and fetch him."
"A Ah!" said Dolores, breathing more freely, then he has not deceived me!"
"And me," said the Chapa, almost weeping, "have you forgiven
me yet?"
"Yes," replied Dolores, "I forgive you, although you have done
me great injury."
" Oh! I did not know what I was doing. I obeyed, that was the
whole of it. If you knew all that we must do to preserve life."
" Poor child! go, they are calling you, do not trouble yourself
about me; serve your customers, so that they may not take any
notice."
The Chapa returned to the hall, and served each one with what he
asked for;. then she came back to Dolores.
The governor's daughter was excessively pale, she had eaten nothing all day.
I                  13





98


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" Give me something," said she to the hostess, 1 am dying of
hunger."
" Holy Virgin!" exclaimed the Chapa, why did you not tell me
that sooner, sefiora?  All that I have here is at your service."
Forthwith she handed her a cup of chocolate, which she kept always ready, in case a monk, wishing to refresh himself as he passed
by, should ask for it.
Dolores had scarcely finished this light meal, when an unusual
noise was heard in the dining room; she stretched forward her head.
Every body had risen by a spontaneous movement of respectful deference; the inquisitor's favourite had just entered the tavern. Even
the children of St. Francis did not hesitate to render to the young
Dominican this public testimony of submission and respect.
He walked straight to the kitchen. Dolores raised towards him
her beautiful face, marked with sorrow and anguish.
" Here already?" said Jos6, upon recognising her.
" Already?" she replied mildly; "this word sounds like reproach,
my father. Do you already repent of the protection which you have
afforded me?"
" No indeed, poor child," said the young monk; " what I have
promised I will keep with all my heart, but do not be offended at
my surprise, did you not tell me yesterday that you had a home?"
" I thought so, my father, but I am accursed like Cain; he whom
I went to see was not at home, it may be he is dead; I passed the
night in the reeds, and this evening I procured this dress with great
trouble, in order not to be recognised."
" And you have acted prudently, my daughter; you are more in
danger than ever, but I will look to it, and no one, I hope," he added,
with a bitter smile, " no one will suspect Jos6, the Dominican, of.
having given shelter to a woman who is persecuted by the inquisition."
"My father," said Dolores, somewhat uneasy, for incidents so extraordinary had happened to her of late, that she might reasonably
be permitted to manifest some anxiety, " where are you going to
take me?"
" Do you distrust me, Dolores?" asked Jos6, fixing upon her his
ardent eye, full of candour.
"Oh   pardon me," said she, clasping her hands; "but every step
I take in life brings me to a precipice, and now! *  0" Oh! I believe
you, I believe you!" she exclaimed; " if you wished to betray me,
you could not look upon me as you do."
"Poor innocent child! Have you no other warrant for my good
faith than the candour of my look? Do you not know that I am
not one of those who conceal the heart of a tiger under the features
of an angel?  Is there nothing more-is there not a secret presentiment, which tells you that your cause is mine, and that I will defend
you as if you were my own sister, and the same breast had sustained us?"
" Do with me what you will," said the governor's daughter,
placing herself almost on her knees before this strange man.
Two tears, bitter and corrosive, tears long restrained, which sometimes start in spite of itself from the most energetic heart, trickled





JOSE AGAIN.


99


slowly from the eyelids of Jose down his pale and somewhat sunken
cheeks.
SYou weep, my father!" said the young girl, affected; "oh! you
too ought not to have been born in this iron age."
" God," replied Jose, " casts us here below when he pleases, and
for any purpose which he deems best, either to persecute or to suffer,
and he sometimes makes him who suffers the instrument of his eternal vengeance. This may be the reason, Dolores, why you and I
live in this age."
" Oh!" said she, "your grief alarms me, and yet I have confidence in you, and I will go wherever you wish to lead me.....
And then," added she, with a little hesitation, " there is another
thing I would like to ask you."
"Speak," said Jos6, who almost guessed what she meant.
SI was betrothed to Don Estevan de Vargas."
" I know it," replied Jos6, suppressing a sigh;  be at ease, Don
Estevan is safe."
" Have you saved him too?" she exclaimed joyfully.
" No, I have not saved him, but eternal justice has; God is the
Master who commands, I am only the hand that obeys."
" Oh my father! God bless you for having saved the life of my
Estevan!"
All this passed in a suppressed voice, in the kitchen of the tavern;
the Chapa went in and out, distributing in turn to her guests meat or
wine-slices of tunny fish, fried in oil, fresh sardines, and bread,
which in whiteness surpassed all the rest in Spain; and such was
the respect for the holy inquisition in general, and for the inquisitors in particular, that no one presumed to think this long interview
of the young monk with the cousin of the Chapa at all improper.
Meanwhile, Coco had returned to the tavern. Jos6 took him on
one side.
" Coco," said he, C whilst your sister is engaged, follow me with
this girl to the outer gate of the city."
" It shall be done as your Beatitude orders," replied Coco, with a
profound bow; "but are you both going to cross the hall which is full
of people?"
" You and I will go through it alone," replied Jos6, "the girl will
pass out by the little private door."
There was in this sort of kitchen, a door communicating with
another small low room, or chamber, in which the alguazil slept, and
which opened upon an alley.
The Dominican went out of the tavern, accompanied by the respectful salutations of the noble assembly. Coco joined him in the
street, a few minutes afterwards. They went together round the
house, and returned through the alley. Dolores was ready to set out.
She bade farewell to the Chapa, and followed Jos6, who served as
their guide, for the alguazil himself did not know to what place he
was going to conduct them.
"You are not in the least afraid?"' said Jose, pressing the trembling hand of Dolores Argoso.
" See," said she, leaning on his arm with noble confidence.
They all three went out of the tavern without attracting the least
notice.





100


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


CHAPTER XV.
THE ABBESS OF THE CARMELITES.
WHILST this scene of minor importance, but necessary to the development of our history, was taking place at the tavern of the
Buena Ventura, an incident of another kind had occurred in the
Abbey of the Carmelites.
The abbess, descended from an almost princely house, that of the
Dukes of Lerma,- and who in consideration of this fact had been
elected, notwithstanding her youth, was at this juncture enthroned
in the midst of some of her favourites; enthroned is the proper expression, for this humble daughter of Saint Francis occupied a large
velvet arm chair raised upon a platform of several steps, and covered
with a canopy of gold fringe.
Near her was the crozier or pastoral crook, the insignia of her dignity as abbess. From her waist, a long rosary of filigree and emeralds hung down upon her skirt of brown stuff; each pater of this
rosary was represented by an oriental pearl as large as a small hazelnut; upon her breast glistened a large cross of carved gold, and every
motion of her white and delicate hand caused the enormous collet of
her official ring, formed of a single diamond of the finest water, to
sparkle with dazzling brightness; it was a priceless diamond from
the mines of Golconda or Visapour. The abbess was about twenty--
four years old. She was a woman of rather middle stature, who appeared tall, owing to her lofty.bearing and the straight and erect
elevation of her head from one of the most graceful necks in the
world. Her complexion of a rosy paleness, fairer than that of the
Andalusians generally is, had become still more delicate from the
shade of the cloister, and her eyes of dark blue sparkled with metallic lustre under two long eye-lashes, black as ebony. The countenance of the abbess, however, had no other distinctive type than
pride of birth and a great disposition to sensuality; a propensity
visibly indicated by two red voluptuous lips, shaded by a light down
almost as black as her eye-Brows, although of extreme delicacy.
But the dominant passion of the abbess was pride; she prized the
prerogatives of her rank above every thing else; her affection was
entirely for those who could most effectually flatter her aristocratic
vanity; she wished to be queen, even in the cloister.
Around her, upon very low seats, her favourites conversed whilst
occupied with needle-work, magic embroidery, which can proceed
only from the hands of a nun. Some were even seated on the last
steps of the throne, almost under the feet of the abbess, as an expression of greater humility; this was a mute flattery as adroit as it
was easy. The holy flock knew the foible of their superior. A great
event at this time occupied the pious indolence of these holy girls; it
was the disappearance of Dolores.
* Francoise de Lerma is not an historical personage, but only a type, or per.
sonification of abbesses of that period, and even of some in our day.





THE ABBESS OF THE CARMELITES.


101


" Clara," said the abbess, to a young nun sitting near her," do
you know why this young woman has forsaken the convent in which
I treated her like my own sister?"
" No, indeed, mother," replied the Carmelite,  unless they had
shut her up here, in order to withdraw her from some worldly affection to which she has returned."
"She was of exemplary modesty," said the abbess, " and notwithstanding her somewhat haughty and reserved manners, her character
was most amiable. I had thought, but in vain, that I might attach
her to our humble flock, and this hope was the stronger, because she
had been brought to me by a saint, the purest monk in Spain."
" What a pity that she should lose herself in the world," said a
novice whose sparkling eye was far from expressing the perfect calm
of the senses and the soul; "where will she be more happy than
among us?"
" Daughter," replied Frances de Lerma, " bless God, who by
snatching you from the same danger, permits you here to pass your
life in peace."
The young recluse stifled a sigh, in the effort to give to her countenance the appearance of contentment. She would have preferred,
however, the independence and joyous liberty of a worldly life, to
the holy pleasures of the cloister.
" Do you not admit, mother," she continued, spreading out on her
knees a broad band of white mohair embroidered with golden flowers of infinite delicacy, the embroidery of which she had just finished,
" do you not admit that this is a beautiful front for an altar, and
that no convent in Seville can boast of one like it?"
" Admirable indeed!" replied the abbess; "it will be a beautiful
ornament for our chapel on the day of your profession, my daughter. But what have you there, Catherine?" she continued, addressing a young nun, who, under her veil, was turning the leaves of a
coarsely printed volume, adorned with engravings still worse than
the text.
The nun blushed slightly, and hid the volume in her pocket.
" Show me that," said the abbess, in a tone of severity.
SCome, sister, give up that book," said the others, whose curiosity
was warmly excited. Catherine had been somewhat spoiled by the
abbess, on account of her amiable disposition, but particularly of the
great fortune and high position of her family. She handed the book
with an air of displeasure, and her companions were able to read on
the cover, these words, printed in large characters: " The Holy
Bible."
It was a Protestant Bible, translated into Spanish, and printed in
Holland.
c It is a book of devotion," said Clara;  it was well worth while
to make such a secret of it."
"Yes, but it is a Lutheran Bible," said the abbess, less ignorant,
but quite as inquisitive as the others; " where did you get it, Catherine?"
cc From a brother of my mother, madam; he brought it from Flanders where he was commander of a regiment. My uncle was a warm
friend of the reformed religion; so when my mother insisted on
12





102


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


making me enter upon a religious life, my uncle, who had long opposed it, gave me this book, telling me: 'My niece, you will not
always remain shut up; when the reformation of the great Luther
shall have penetrated into Spain, the nuns will be at liberty, and they
will be permitted to marry, as they have done in Germany.' "
" Oh! mother! what sacrilege!" exclaimed the nuns, who listened
with incredible avidity.
"Hush, Catherine!" said Fran9oise, "it is imprudent to speak in
that way, my daughter."
"Is it very far from here to Germany?" asked the ignorant Clara.
"Oh! certainly," replied Catherine, "and we shall all be dead
before Luther comes."
" Hush! hush!" cried the impetuous Frangoise, whose heart beat
violently at the mere thought of liberty, so little was this ardent
and lively woman who had sought aliment for her great energy
in the exercise of monastic despotism, adapted for the self-denial and
indolence of the cloister.  "Oh!" thought she to herself, " liberty
for us too! But we shall be dead, before that comes," she murmured
to herself, in a suppressed voice, repeating the words of Catherine.
" Our mother is sad," said Clara, in a whisper.
A loud ring of the bell sounded in the ears of the nuns.
6" Clara," said the abbess, suddenly recalled to herself, " see what
is the matter; I do not expect any visit at this hour."
"What can this be?" muttered the indolent flock, to whom the
most trifling incident was a matter of grave importance, so completely is this convent life passed in futile absurdities, mystic lamentations, and empty excitements; time and life are squandered there
to no purpose. Clara had risen up; but before she had crossed with
her slow and measured step, the hall which was at least thirty feet in
length, a sister, who served as domestic, raising the silk screen of the
door, came towards the abbess, carrying in her two hands a plate of
silver, upon which was a letter.
Clara took the plate from the hands of the waiting sister, and in
spite of the efforts of the other nuns, who all had at once stretched
out their arms to seize the much desired plate, she raised it above
her head, being taller than the others; when she had reached the foot
of the throne, she walked lightly up the steps as far as the last one,
and there kneeling before the abbess, she presented the plate to her.'
The abbess took the letter, broke its seal of green wax, and after
having read the first lines, she rose erect from her seat.
" My sisters," said she, "let us appear before my lord, the grand
inquisitor Arbues, who does us the honour to pay us a visit."
At a signal from the abbess, the sisterhood went out. Then with
crozier in hand, Frangoise de Lerma preceded them, and followed
by her favourites, went to the outer door of the convent to receive
his eminence. It will be seen that she had not condescended to give
* This entirely Christian ceremonial has been preserved, to our day among
the female servants of Jesus Christ. With one knee on the ground, and a
plate of silver or gilded, in their hands, the nuns of the street St. Dominique,
present to the humble lady superior of the Jesuitesses the missives which are
addressed to her.





THE ABBESS OP THE CARMELITES.


103


any intimation to the rest of the flock. In a despotic government,
the state is the king and his favourites.
After reaching the gate of the cloister, Fran9oise de Lerma ordered the two folding doors to be opened. At the same time, Pierre
Arbues alighted from  his litter; he was alone, (with no companions except his servants,) Jose had feigned sickness in order to dispense with this visit. The reader knows whither he had gone.
The inquisitor approached the nuns, and when he had set his foot
on the threshold, the abbess knelt before him to receive his blessing.
All the nuns imitated her. Then Frangoise de Lerma resumed the
route towards the great hall, which she had just occupied, and ordering two large arm-chairs with gold fringe to be set out, she invited
lord Arbues to be seated, and sat down herself opposite to him. It
was the custom of the abbess to preserve at least the equality of rank
in the presence of the grand inquisitor. Pierre Arbues, himself very
punctilious in matters of etiquette, contented himself with smiling
at this subtlety, he would have tolerated even greater encroachments
upon his rights and prerogatives from the abbess of the Carmelites,
and there were times when he would cheerfully have seated himself
on the lowest step of this beautifully gilded throne, so well filled by
the handsome Francoise de Lerma. But, on this day, Pierre Arbues
was gloomy and stern, and with a haughty look, he surveyed this
feminine assemblage with an air of dissatisfaction. The abbess perceived that something extraordinary was passing.
"My sister," said the inquisitor, at length, "I wish to converse
with you alone; let our sisters who are here, retire, if you please."
The abbess made a sign, and the veiled flock disappeared like a
cloud of birds.
Pierre Arbues went to assure himself that the doors were well
closed, then he returned and sat down by the side of the abbess.
" Madam," said he, in a frosty tone, " the last time that I visited
this community, I asked you whether you had not a nun or a novice
whom I had not yet seen. You told me, I believe, that you had
not!"I
" And that was true, my lord, there was no nun here who was not
known to your eminence."
" No,'" rejoined Arbues, " but there was a woman whom you concealed from me."
"I did not conceal her, my lord," replied Franqoise de Lerma;
"she was not here when you did us the honour to visit us; that was
all; and as she was neither nun nor novice, I did not think it necessary to speak of her to your eminence."
" And yet it was precisely this woman of whom I was in quest."
" That is a fact, which I do not doubt in the least," said the abbess, with a little irony.
"A truce to sarcasm, madam," said the inquisitor, with rudeness.
His passions were too violent to be long contained, and to permit him
to reach his aim with much address. " This woman is here, and I,vish to see her."
" You should have told me that sooner, my lord; this woman, or
her this girl, has left without my being able to learn why she has
ine away, for I had all possible regard for her."





104


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


SGone!" exclaimed the inquisitor, stupified; gone! Oh! you are
deceiving me, madam. Dolores Argoso isthere, and you will show
her to me instantly, do you hear?"
" Dolores Argoso?" replied Frangoise, "'that was not the name
of the girl who was with me, my lord; she was called simply
Maria; she was an orphan, who had been intrusted to me by a'holy
preacher, Jean d'Avila, every where surnamed the apostle of Andalusia."*
" Jean d'Avila," said the inquisitor, in a bitter tone; " I am not
surprised that all this turns out to my disadvantage; Jean d'Avila
belongs to the bare-footed Carmelites; all these mendicants of St.
Francis are our enemies."
" What has Jean d'Avila done to you, my lord?" said Frangoise,
who, in a spirit of womanly contradiction, took pleasure in exciting
the anger of the inquisitor.
SWhat has he done to me, madam! You ask me what all these
preaching monks, who, to the detriment of Rome, affect to follow and
to preach the gospel better than we, have done to me, the grand inquisitor of the province? These humble upstarts, who make so
broad a religion for the people, that the holy inquisition seems to
them to be a despotism, and our zeal to be cruelty."
" Oh! what is that to you, my lord?" said the abbess, " they can
talk, but you have the power; they preach in the desert; believe me,
there is no occasion to be so much alarmed about the propagation of
their doctrine."
" But this woman, this girl," replied the savage Dominican, "let
her be brought, madam! I tell you that she is here, and that I wish
to see her."
"My lord," replied the abbess, a little vexed, "I have told your
eminence that this girl has disappeared; will your eminence do me
the honour to believe me on my word?"
"Frangoise!" cried the inquisitor, fixing upon the abbess an irritated look.
SPierre Arbues!" instantly retorted Frangoise de Lerma, whose
countenance was suddenly flushed with anger and jealousy, " did
you suppose that I ought to be the guardian of your mistress? This
girl is gone, what do I care? Let your sbires and your familiars
look for her! Are you in want of spies in Seville to find a woman
who flees from you?"
" Dolores is here, and I will see her!" shouted Pierre Arbues, in a
voice of thunder.
" Dolores Argoso is not here," rejoined the abbess, with cool, collected anger; " and if she were here, I would not give her up to
you; do you hear, my lord!"
" By---! It is rash in you, madam, to trifle with the inquisition; do you know what I can do, and what I am, Frangoise de
Lerma; do you know it?"
"I know that you are an abominable priest!" cried Frangoise,
* I shall speak at the proper time and place of Jean d'Avila, that noble and
devoted soul, whose name is so popular and beloved in Spain.





THE ABBESS OF THE CARMELITES.


105


exasperated; " a shameless monk who is bent only on satisfying his
brutal passions, cost what it will."
6 Hola! Frangoise de Lerma, holy abbess of the Carmelites, what
do you think Spain would say of you, if she knew your excesses?"
" Oh! it is true," said she, with a gesture of fear, "it is true; I
am a miserable woman, who conceal vice under the garb of piety,
and who, sheltered by the walls of the cloister, satiate, without fear,
the devouring passions which God has given me. But who was it
that debased my spirit?  Who was it that said to me, when trembling and humbled, I accused myself, bowed at your feet, of the rebellion of the flesh: ' God permits the desires of sense to be gratified,
provided it be with me?'ý  Who was it that told me that, Pierre Arbues?   Who covered my remorse with his guilty and fallacious morals, in order to appease its gnawings? Who lighted up in my bosom
those burning passions, which, in the days of my innocence, revealed
themselves only by flashes, which were instantly repressed by conscience? You, none but you, whose unbridled propensities fostered
my own, you whom I have had the weakness to love!" * * * *
During this energetic burst of passion on the part of the abbess
of the Carmelites, the inquisitor noticed on a seat the Protestant
Bible which Catherine had forgotten to take with her. He hastily
read the title, printed upon the cover: upon this discovery, a malicious gleam darted from his eyes, and urged by an infernal artifice,
he took the book, and slid it under his tunic. Then, raising his eyes
towards Frangoise, who was too much excited to notice this larceny,
Pierre Arbues began to view this ardent and impassioned woman,
rendered still more beautiful by anger, with mixed emotions of desire
and admiration. A lively blush animated the white and pure complexion of Fran9oise, and her eyes flashed with such brightness, that
one would have thought sparks were about to dart from them. The
rage of the inquisitor yielded for a mpment to this dazzling spectacle: Frangoise de Lerma had never appeared so beautiful to him.
The austere countenance of Dolores, whose chaste and severe expression removed desires instead of exciting them, could not contend at this instant with the incomparable beauty of the abbess of
the Carmelites. To a sensual man, the comparison was all in favour
of Frangoise; besides, Dolores was absent.
Men who live under the impulse of sense have no eyes in the
soul,-the present exercises all the dominion over them, and that
rules them which causes the material fibres of their being to vibrate.
"Oh! Frangoise, how beautiful you are!" exclaimed Pierre
* It is not only in the sixteenth century, and they are not inquisitors only,
who have said to their penitents, " God permits the desires of sense to be
gratified, provided it be with one of his ministers, and without scandal;" these
sacrilegious words were said at Toulouse, not five years since, to a nun of the
convent of Saint Anthony by her director, against whom she was subsequently
compelled to institute an action for damages before the civil tribunals of Agen,
and the royal court of Toulouse. This scandalous process has proved, that
if some civil laws have become obsolete, or have been reformed, and if the
morals of the world have been purified, neither the ecclesiastical laws nor the
morals of certain members of the clergy have been, who always continue to
make holy things subservient to their passions. Let us hasten to tell it, the
lower clergy in general groan over these excesses. Is it so among the big caps?





106


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Arbues, who had gazed upon her for some minutes, in mute admiration.
This dishevelled passion appealed to his savage nature, and the
mixture of remorse which was apparent, was an additional piquant
attraction.
" Beautiful sinner!" he continued, taking in his hands the white
hand of the abbess, which anger had made cold as marble.
" Pierre," said the nun, falling on her knees, pale and subdued by
a sudden reaction, " Pierre, I am afraid of hell!" * * *
CHAPTER XVI.
THE MELOPIA.
AFTER he had visited the poorest villages in the environs of Seville, the apostle resolved to terminate this journey.  He was
anxious on account of Dolores, and the feast of Pentecost being at
hand, an epoch at which an auto da f6 was usually celebrated, he was
afraid that the period would arrive when it would be necessary, not
to save the unfortunate governor of Seville, for John D'Avila dared
not hope for that, but at least attempt it, and console his unhappy
daughter, if his efforts should prove ineffectual.
Estevan shared in all the fears of the apostle, and the dangers
which awaited them in Seville were a very weak consideration for
these two courageous men. They feared the loss of liberty only because it was useful for the safety of others.
They therefore proceeded towards the Moorish city, both on foot,
like prophets of Judea, beguiling their anxiety and the distance of
the road, by good and pious conversation, encouraging one another
to pursue their earthly pilgrimage with courage. The ardent spirit
of Estevan bowed under the mild authority of John d'Avila: the
young man learned from him to struggle patiently and with resignation.
It was about six o'clock in the evening. An immense number of
pebple crowded the streets; it was the hour at which the innumerable monasteries of Seville distributed the melopia* to the beggars
and vagabonds of the city. After the monks had robbed these poor
creatures of every thing, it was certainly the least they could do to
give them something to eat.
Estevan and the apostle found themselves at this instant in the
presence of a convent of monks of mercy.t The crowd in the street
* Soup.
t The monks of mercy followed, like the Dominicans, the rule of Saint Augustine. In its infancy the order of mercy was very useful. The brothers of
this order diffused themselves all over Christendom, asking and obtaining many
alms, which were faithfully employed in ransoming Christian captives in Barbary. Some monks of mercy sent to Algiers to buy the ransom of captives, remained themselves in the place of those whose ransom they could not pay.
Some of them even suffered martyrdom, but this sublime devotion did not con.





THE MELOPIA.


107


was great, for there was no lack of beggars in Seville, and in their
eagerness to be served first, each one endeavoured to make way for
himself at the expense of his neighbour: so that this compact crowd
entirely obstructed the passage.: Let us stop a moment," said Jean d'Avila; "let us wait till these
poor starvelings are fed; then we will proceed on our way."
They drew back some paces and leaned against the wall, so as to
see every thing, and trouble nobody.
By degrees this concourse of people became more compact: they
were wedged in one against the other, speaking very loud and very
fast; nothing was to be heard but a sullen and confused noise of discordant voices, in which the tone that was dominant, was that of impatient anger; one might have thought that they were quarrelsome
dogs waiting for offals. Suddenly this angry murmur was changed
into exclamations of lively and prolonged delight; this mass of people, wedged against each other almost to suffocation, seemed to make
but one immense body, with hundreds of heads turned towards the
same object by a single will.
The door of the convent had just been opened. Two young and
stout lay brothers carried, by the help of a large stick, passed through
the two handles, an immense copper kettle, in which the much desired melopia was still boiling.
Then you should have seen all these arms and hands convulsively
agitated, as they raised in the air the wooden porringer intended to
contain the ration.
Hoarse cries and savage howlings welcomed the appearance of this
refreshment; one would have thought all these unfortunate people
were going to throw themselves upon it at once, in order to devour
it; but at this moment a third lay brother appeared. He was armed
with an enormous ladle, and clothed in a gown so filthy, that neither
the stuff nor the colour of it could be distinguished..1 las filas!
" To your ranks!" he shouted in a voice of thunder. Instantly every
one took his place, muttering between his teeth: the sound was like
the growling of a cur which has been robbed of a bone.
Para todos hay, silencio. " There is some for all of you; be still!"
again cried the dispensing brother.
This assurance caused all these murmuring voices to be silent, as
though by enchantment. The distribution commenced.
As all the porringers were of the same size, no one could complain; there was complete impartiality in the distribution of the
melopia, a word corrupted from mezclopia, mixture; and in fact it
was a most filthy mixture, the refuse of the table of the monks,
soiled and gnawed remnants, boiled in salt water with a little oil, or
parings of fat. It was necessary to be either a dog or a Gitano to
touch it. But hunger, hunger! and all these people were hungry.
It was a pleasure to see them eat their portion with as little dislike as we should experience in swallowing an excellent broth; but
tinue long. During the eighteenth century, the monks of mercy always asked
and obtained large alms; only, instead of employing them for the redemption
of captives, they used them as the other monks employed the enormous sums
which they extorted from public credulity, to increase their power and extend
their authority.





108


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


it was a pity too for one who knew the real state of things, to
see this poor Spanish people thus reduced to the most degrading
poverty.
" What a strange mess!" exclaimed Estevan, all at once, who had
in vain endeavoured to guess what this gruel of all colours was made
of; for it had no distinct form, and it exhaled a sickening odour of
burnt fat and rancid oil.
" Yes, strange indeed," replied Jean d'Avila, sorrowfully; "if
you knew what it was made of!"
" What, father?  Do you know?"
"When the monks have dined," continued the apostle, " they
throw to these poor people, as though they were dogs, such bones as
they do not want. The lay brothers collect in the kettle which you
see there, all that the sensuality of the monks causes them to reject
from their plates; bones half gnawed, the heads of fish, the claws of
birds, asparagus, of which they only suck the head; in a word, all
that they do not eat. Among these fragments, there is always something to be found which may be gnawed; then they cut bread in
this kettle, they pour water, and a little oil into it; all this when
boiled over the fire for a quarter of an hour, is called melopia; it
keeps alive at least a fourth part of the population of Spain.
" What a shame!" exclaimed Estevan.
SThis is not all," continued Jean d'Avila: "the monks are not
satisfied with cultivating the misery of the poor, for these poor
creatures have nothing more to give them, and the vile food which they
throw out to them in this manner every day, is a mere semblance of
restitution for all the property of which they have deprived them;
the rich may be cultivated with profit, for these, the monks have invented an inferior melopia."
" What is that?" asked Estevan.
SMy son, when a rich man is sick, he has his physician called in,
but more frequently, also, he consults his confessor.
"I am suffering," says the sick man.
"Make a vow," replies the confessor: " this vow consists usually
in living on alms for a certain time. Well, in all the convents of
Spain, there is a table served with wholesome food and plenty of it,
to which all those come to eat gratis, who have devoted themselves
to the melopia. A wholesome and regular diet usually produces happy
results; the health of the rich man improves, and at the close of his
vow, he leaves a rich recompense to the convent, blessing God for
having vouchsafed him a cure. This is the way, my son, in which
religion is favoured;* thus the pharisees make merchandise of the
grace of God, which can be obtained only by prayer, purity of heart,
* The convent of the Capuchins of Madrid was in my time the most renowned for the inferior melopia. One dish especially, called chaufaina, a
'ragout made of the liver, lights, and heart of the lamb, was very much sought
after by the epicures of the capitol. I have often eaten of this dish in numerous
and good company; men and women, great lords and great ladies went to eat
chaufaina with the capuchins, pel mel with plain citizens, and poor ignoble
people; some from devotion, others from taste, some from necessity; but as
these last were few in number, and as the others never left the convent without
calling for at least two good messes, that is to say without leaving five or six
francs in the hands of the almoner, this charitable refectory became a perfect





THE ABBESS OF THE CARMELITES.


109


or tears of repentance. Thus they debase the spirit of a generous
and enthusiastic people, who are lovers of the marvellous, and are
every where looking for miracles, which are shown to them by dint
of gross impositions, as if the invisible hand which moves all things
had need of human means to accomplish his sovereign will."
Just as the apostle uttered these words, a beggar came up, equipped
with his large porringer, expecting to receive his share of the common supper.
" It is all done, there is no more," cried a boy to him, who
was swallowing his portion with greediness unworthy of an Andalusian.,
" So much the worse for the melopia," haughtily replied the vagabond, looking with proud disdain upon the assemblage, and he
began to sing as if he had made the best meal in the world.
"Poor man!" said Estevan, " must he go without his supper, this
evening?   It cannot be denied that these are wretched people."
"Not so wretched as you might suppose them       to be; the Andalusian is naturally a poet, but lazy, indolent, and contemplative like
all beings in whom imagination is the dominant faculty. As for
him, the wants of the body are of little consequence, matter is subordinate to mind; thus, for want of food for his intellectual faculties,
he plunges into incorrigible laziness, or devotes himself to a vagabond life, according to the alternatives of ardour or apathy which
usually follow one another in such temperaments. With this he
combines immense pride, springing from a consciousness of his own
merit; bad treatment does not daunt him, it only brings the body
into subjection. These people are waiting for the reign of mind, it
is that alone which will be able to develope their good dispositions
and natural virtues."
table d'hote, to which any one might sit down, provided he was willing to give
above five francs.
In 1816, a handsome bull-fighter named Zapata, found himself between the
horns of a bull; but he was not hurt, the reason was, that a young and pretty
duchess made a vow to eat the melopia of the capuchins for eight days, if God
would deliver the handsome Zapata. Her excellency did, indeed, eat the
chaufaina of the capuchins for eight days, after which the brother almoner received a sum round enough to establish an income of eighteen hundred francs,
or two masses at two francs and fifty centimes a day. The hermit monks
managed still better. Besides their interior melopia which could vie with all
the melopias of the kingdom, these worthy fathers had established a tavern,
where excellent wine of Valdepenfas was furnished with pepper-pot every Sunday; the labourers and citizens of Madrid repaired by thousands to a vast grassplat which extends from the Prado, to the Buen Retiro, before the establishment
of the fathers. This establishment, attended by lay monks in tunic, scapular
and apron, did very little business in winter, but it did plenty during the nine
months, which in Madrid may be called summer months. In 1824, at thie return of Ferdinand VII. from Cadiz, the tavern of the hermits brought 65,798
reals, (16,449 fr. 50 c.) net profit. I have these figures from the brother tavernkeeper at that epoch. This good brother, having emigrated in his turn in 1832,
continued his trade of keeping an eating-house at Rouen on the quay de Paris,
where he sold pepper-pot, under the false name of tripe a la mode de Caen!
* Of all the inhabitants of Spain, next to the Galician, the Andalusian is the
most sober. The Andalusian lives, as it were, on sunshine and perfume; one
can never understand all the poetry, and unconcern of worldly things which are
in him. A morsel of bread, a cigar, and plenty of meditation, are oll that an
Andalusian needs to make him perfectly happy.
K





110


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" What a pity!" said Estevan, c what a pity to suffer these brilliant
imaginations, these lofty minds, and generous in the same degree,
were they only directed towards a good object, to be brutalized."
"Without doubt, my son, and this is a crime insulting to the
Divine Majesty, it is despising the greatness of God in beings formed
after his image; to brutalize and degrade the people is to sap the
very foundation of a nation, it- is silently preparing the mine which
will some day finally break out in revolts and civil wars."
" Father," suddenly said Estevan, viewing with admiration the
noble figure of the apostle, radiant with sadness, with pious anger,
and love for the human race: " father, why did you become a
monk?"
"To resist," replied Jean d'Avila, " to probe to the bottom, the
secret wound which is devouring Spain, and to carry my stone to
the new edifice, which must one day be raised upon the ruins of fanaticism and persecution. But the time has not yet come," he exclaimed sorrowfully, " and too many clouds still hide the sun of liberty, to permit it to enlighten Spain. No matter," he continued,
with enthusiasm,1 the regeneration of a people, is the gradual work
of centuries; man does not always repose under the tree which he
has planted. Wo to him who sows only for himself, and expects
his recompense here below."
" My father," said the young man, " you are not like the majority
of reformers, who usually work for themselves and their own glory,
without thinking seriously of the happiness of those whom they come
to regenerate.5"
" My son, he alone is worthy of the name of a reformer, who makes
an abstraction of himself and confers happiness to men, even at the
expense of his own happiness, and if necessary, at the cost of his
life. I know of but one reformer worthy of this name; that is
Christ. All we who labour to propagate his sacred doctrine or to
re-establish it when it has been corrupted, are only the recipients
of his commands."
The people had finished their supper. By degrees the street had
become clear. Jean d'Avila pursued his journey with Estevan.
Whilst they were approaching a group of mendicants, who were engaged in making impromptu seguidillas,* after having emptied their
porringers, Jean d'Avila felt himself held back by the sleeve of his
robe, and upon turning round, he recognised the serena.
"I ask pardon of your beatitude," said the young woman; but I
have been at your house, and have found nobody."
" What is the matter?" asked Estevan, well aware that the conversation was respecting Dolores.
" Know, your reverence," pursued Culverina, still addressing the
apostle, " that the young lady whom you have taken under your protection came some days ago to the tavern of the Chapa."
" How," exclaimed the apostle, " could Dolores have left the convent of the Carmelites?"
* There is not even an illiterate Spaniard who is not endowed with the
faculty of making extemporaneous verses called seguidillas. This poetic faculty is derived from the Moors,





THE CAVALCADE.


1.11


I do not know," replied the serena; but sure I am that I saw
her enter the tavern with my own eyes."
" Are you sure of it?" asked Estevan, with anxiety.
"Sure as I am   of my death, sir; I recognised her perfectly,
although she was clothed like a manola, and her face was very pale."
" Oh! what new misfortune has befallen her?  Let us run, my
father," exclaimed Estevan.
"Imprudent man!" said the apostle, "do you not know that the
tavern is the rendezvous of the familiars of the inquisition?  I will
go alone, or rather, we will first send this young woman thither."
" Culverina," said he, turning towards the serena, " go directly to
Coco, and come back and tell me what has become of the lady Dolores."
" Where shall I find your beatitude again?"
"At my house," replied Jean d'Avila, " go, my daughter, and
may God direct you."
The serena set out like an arrow. Estevan and Jean d'Avila
quickened their pace in order to arrive more speedily at the residence of the latter.
CHAPTER XVII.
THE CAVALCADE.
NEAR the grand square of Seville, in an obscure street ranging by
one of the sides of the cathedral, might be seen a little low house,
whose walls of red brick, and certain architectural ornaments, attested that it had probably been built about the same period as the
Alhambra.'   The entrance to this house was through an arched
door-way, which was narrow and low, and no apparent opening admitted light upon the street. However, a few feet above the door a
square opening had been made, sufficiently large to admit of the head
being passed through, which could be closed inside by means of a
mass of bricks combined in one piece, exactly of the same dimensions as the opening, and joining so perfectly, that when it had been
placed there, no one would have suspected that such an opening was
in the wall, which was close as a tomb.
The house had only one story, a terrace upon which no one was
ever seen, and in the rear a small garden enclosed with walls so high
that it could not be overlooked from the adjoining houses. This garden, or rather this well, for it had the shape of one, was full of grass
and flowers, which grew notwithstanding the absence of the rays of
the sun, intercepted by the walls, the air of Andalusia is so warm
and the soil so fertile.
Itwas reported that this dwelling had belonged toa Santon in the time
of the Moors. At the period to which our history refers, it was occupied by a woman, already advanced in years, very pious, and devoted to the church, but who received no one except a young Dominican priest, who was supposed to be her confessor. At first people
were astonished at a life so entirely solitary: but as this woman was
* Alhambra is a word composed of two Arabian words, which signify a red
castle or palace. The Alhambra, in fact, is built of red bricks.





112


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


in order, face to face with the inquisition, her want of sociality was
finally attributed to excessive devotion, and no one thought of
blaming her. It was not known from what country she had come;
she had lived in the Santon's house for some years. It was always
supposed from her costume and her manners that she was of pure
Spanish blood.
It was noon. In a small low room which opened in the garden,
two women were conversing whilst occupied with needle-work.
One of them, who was more than fifty years old, had a mild and
grave countenance, marked with profound sadness; a painful sorrowful secret seemed to weigh upon that brow which was completely covered with white hair; a long and cruel conflict had furrowed a face which might once have been handsome, and had
slightly bent her tall figure. This woman was called Juana: she
was the mistress of the house. The other, in the flower of early
youth, was as sad and dejected as she; it was Dolores.
Such was the shelter in which Jose had concealed her.
Juana was the young Dominican's nurse.
"6I did not see my son, yesterday," said the old woman all at
once; " my poor Jos6, can he be sick?"
" He will come to-day, without a doubt," replied the governor's
daughter; "did he not promise to bring me tidings respecting the
apostle?"
" And he will do it, be assured," said Juana; "my Jos6 has the
heart of an angel; he has never done any thing but good."
Whilst saying these words, Juana wiped away two tears which
trickled down her furrowed cheeks.
" Come, my daughter," continued she, folding up her work, and
laying it on her chair, " it is time to dine; leave this embroidery,
and come sit down to the table."
" I am not hungry," said Dolores, sorrowfully.
"But you must eat, in order to live-to have strength to live,"
continued the old woman, with sadness.
At the same time, she arranged upon a narrow table, simple, but
abundant food, boiled rice, boiled mutton, and fruits.  Dolores
rose up slowly, and proceeded to take her place at the table, rather
from obedience than appetite.
It was warm: at this moment all was silent around the house, and
in this retreat so well enclosed, they might have supposed themselves to be remote from the city.
Suddenly the sound of a loud flourish of trumpets echoed at a distance.
Dolores started hastily from her chair, and pushed away from her
the refreshments to which she had been helped.
" What is the matter?" asked Juana, eagerly "what is the matter
my child?"
" Listen!" said Dolores, terrified, fixing her wandering and affrighted eyes upon the face of Juana: "listen, mother, do you not
hear?"
The clangour of the trumpets sounded again, louder and more
lively, for it was coming nearer, and with this startling noise was
mingled the trampling of horses.





THE CAVALCADE.


113


"Well!" said Juana, pretending not to know the meaning of it,
what harm does this noise do you, my child?"
" This tumult, my mother,.announces the triumphal procession of
the inquisition; do you not understand?  The king of the butchers'
is riding through the streets, announcing to the city that his hand
has not been idle, and that he has gathered a harvest of victims for
the approaching auto da f6; do you not hear, mother?"  "
"You are mistaken, I think," said Juana, trembling.
4" Oh! no, I am not mistaken; listen again," said she.
The cavalcade had already reached the great square, and the sound
of the trumpets more shrill and distinct, could now be plainly heard.
4" Come, come!" cried Dolores, dragging the old woman after her,
and forcing her to follow to the first story of the house; "you shall
see, mIother."
Having reached the room which commanded the view of the
street, and from which a part of the great square might be seen,
Dolores gently raised the stone which closed the opening made in
the wall.
" What are you doing?" cried the old woman.
"Do not be alarmed, mother, no one will notice it; they are too
much engaged in looking at the retinue of the inquisitor."
Juana then likewise carried away by curiosity, looked through the
opening.
The square was covered with people. The grand inquisitor, Pierre
Arbues, clothed in a long purple robe, and mounted on a white horse
of the finest breed, which pranced under its rider, approached, followed by his suite.
The fine figure of the inquisitor, proud, haughty, and impassioned,
his tall stature which he was too proud to bend, was as imposingT
upon the people as the dignity of his office.
Pierre Arbues was openly and frankly a despot, by dint of sheer
audacity, for there was not in the world a more perfidious heart than
his own, so soon as the interest of his passions required him to be
so. But in ordinary life, he despised men too much, he believed
himself too much their master to condescend to hypocrisy.
The other inquisitors came after Pierre Arbues, like him, on
horseback, but clothed in black. A troop of body guardst escorted
this cavalcade.t
The people bowed or knelt during the passage of the holy retinue; their faces became pale, and the silence of death reigned
throughout the kneeling throng.
Having reached the middle of the square, the grand inquisitor
paused. Then with a loud voice, which he endeavoured to render
pious and afflicted:
"My brethren," said he, " in a month's time from this day, the
holy inquisition will award justice to the heretics who dishonour the
divine religion of our Lord. A grand auto da f6 will take place, in
* Since Deza's time, the Spaniards have called the inquisitor general the king
of the butchers.
t Armed familiars.
t: The description of this cavalcade is precisely such as may be found in Llorente's History of the Inquisition, chapter VI.
iK2                     15





114


THE MYSTERIES OFI THE INQUISITION.


order to celebrate the success of our great king Charles the Fifth, in
Flanders, and his zeal against heresy. Pray, my brethren, that God
may reveal to us all the heretics, even those who are such only in
the depths of their heart, and do you denounce yourselves all those
whom you know, if you wish to merit the indulgences promised for
this purpose, by his holiness, the pope."
" Oh!" cried Dolores, " what will become of my father?"
The people made no other answer to the proclamation of the inquisitor, than by great signs of the cross. The trumpets sounded
again.
"My father!" repeated the governor's daughter, agitated almost
to madness.
"Be calm," said Juana to her; "Jos6 will soon be here; fear nothing."
Dolores returned to the window. The procession was leaving the
square, and drawing near to the house.
" Come away from there!" said Juana, terrified; "they are going
to pass by here, and they will see you. Dolores, Dolores, hear me!"
But Dolores did not hear.
Her eyes fixed invincibly upon the inquisitor, she seemed determined to read in his countenance the fate of her father and of herself. The procession was almost under the house. Dolores still had
her face turned towards the street.
The chamber was very dark. In the shade in which she was
placed, the delicate profile of the young girl was indistinctly formed
upon the wall of the opening. In passing, Pierre Arbues raised his
head; but at this moment, Juana seizing Dolores round the waist,
succeeded in removing her from the window. The inquisitor started
upon his horse: he again fixed his eyes upon the opening, where
this vague resemblance had appeared to him, but quick as lightning,
Juana had replaced the stone. Instead of the apparition which had
startled him, Pierre Arbues saw nothing but a uniform wall, a house
without windows. He believed that he had been deceived by his
imagination, and turning towards a familiar who was some paces
behind him:
" Do you know," said he, "to whom this house belongs?"
The familiars knew every thing.
" Your eminence, it is the abode of a poor widow, to whom your
almoner, Don Jos6, gives alms."
"I am a fool," thought the inquisitor, "but I see this woman every
where."
The procession held on its way. Juana placed Dolores who had'
fainted, upon a chair. The sound of the trumpets was lost in the
distance. Dolores was still deprived of consciousness. Kneeling
before her, Juana rubbed her hands briskly, and sprinkled fresh
water upon her face.
Being alone, and not daring to call in any one, she began to be
alarmed, when the outer door of the house opened with a slight
noise: some one walked up the stair way with a rapid pace. " God
be praised t" cried Juana, " this can be no other than Jos6."
In fact, it was Jose; at the instant when he entered the chamber,
Dolores opened her eyes, heaving a long sigh.





THE CAVALCADE.


115


SWhat is the matter, nurse?" asked Jos6.
" My father! my father!" exclaimed Dolores, on perceiving the
young monk; " Don Jos6 you know very well that they are going
to kill my father!"
" Be composed, Dolores," said Jos6, mildly; " who has told you
that they are going to kill your father?"
"' Have I not just heard these cries of death? Have they not just
proclaimed an auto da f6 as near at hand?"
"What does that prove?" replied the young Dominican; "if
your father were designed to figure in it, am not I there to guard
against it?"
" Oh! you are deceiving me, Don Jos6, your cruel pity induces
you to conceal the truth from me. Do I not know that the inquisitor thirsts for the blood of my father, and that he will put him to
death?"
" Be calm, and listen to me," said Jos6, drawing near to the young
girl.
"; No, I do not believe you!" she exclaimed, with increasing excitement; " do you not yourself wear the livery of the inquisition?
Let me alone, I have no need of your help to save my father. I
will go and throw myself at the feet of my lord Arbues; I will embrace his knees; I will implore and weep so much, that if his heart
is not as hard as a rock, he will be melted into pity, and give me
back my father."
" Poor distracted girl!" said Jos6, in a tone of grief, looking at
Juana, who was weeping; " have the inquisitors a heart? Do they
know what it is to have a father, a mother, a lover, or a sister? No
emotion has ever affected their bowels of marble. Do they know
any other sensations except lascivious, fierce, and pitiless desires; the.hideous ravings of unbridled debauchery, thirst of blood, and sights
of agony?"
" I will go! I will go!" repeated Dolores, still more excited by
this terrible picture, but really trembling with fear.
At the same time, she rose up, sustained by excitement, and pushing Juana away, who was endeavouring to sooth her by gently folding her in her arms.
" Let me be," said she, you are all leagued together to deceive
me: you have shut me up here as in a prison, in order that the report of what takes place, might not reach me: but God has frustrated your designs, and I have learned what you wished to conceal
from me. Let me be now; set me at liberty; by what right do you
keep me here a prisoner?" she exclaimed deliriously, and casting at
the Dominican a look of defiance and anger.
Jose said nothing, he was affected, and very pale. Juana looked
at him with an air which implied:
SThis poor girl is losing her senses."
" She is happier than myself," replied Don Jos6, in a whisper.
Juana then relaxing the arms which had endeavoured to retain Dolores, went and sat down at the other end of the chamber.
The girl perceiving that she was at liberty, paused, and began to
look at Jos6, whose pale and handsome countenance quivered with
compassion,





116


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Juana wept; these two suffering creatures were much more like
victims than executioners. The eye of Dolores suddenly lost its
sparkling glare; she threw herself back, exhausted upon the chair;
the paroxysm had subsided. Then Jose moved towards her.
" Forgive me," said she, extending her hand to him, "I have been
unjust; grief destroys reason; forgive me, Don Jose; but I tell you
now calmly, my resolution is not to be shaken; I will go and throw
myself at the feet of the grand inquisitor; it is my duty; I ought
to try every thing to save my father, and it shall not be said that I
have been cowardly."
" You will not do that, Dolores!" exclaimed the young Dominican,
with energy.
" Oh!" cried Juana, "have pity on yourself."
" I fear nothing," replied the girl, with dignity; "do you think I
fear death?"
"But you fear infamy!" retorted Jos6, with emphasis; "do you
not know the inquisitor of Seville?"
" Oh! that is true," she said with terror, " I had not thought of
that!"
" Well, then!" continued Jos6, " follow my advice, follow it, Dolores, or on my soul, you are ruined! -  *  Let your friends act
for you; one victim is enough; you will lose yourself to no purpose,
and the sacrifice would be of no advantage to him whom you wish to
save."
"Oh! if I only knew where Estevan is!" said the daughter of
Argoso, with inexpressible despair.
" I will find that out, I promise you. Estevan, like myself, is
concerned only for you; be calm then, and rely on us. You are
safe here," added he,( "do not attempt to leave this place; it is the
only spot in Seville, to which the inquisition will not come to look
for you."
Despite of the consolations of Jose, Dolores remained plunged in
the deepest distress.
" I will come soon again," said the young Dominican, upon leaving her. Juana went with him to the outer door.
" My good Juana," said Jos6, sorrowfully, " take good care of this
young woman; take care that she never goes out. " * There are victims enough like this," he continued, bitterly.
" Oh! my noble child!" said the nurse, pressing him closely to
her bosom, " may God bless your courage!"
"Do you think that it is diminished?" quickly replied the young
monk.
Juana made no answer, but she turned aside her head to hide her
tears.
" Fear nothing," said Jos6, pressing her hand with warmth, "fear
nothing, I shall attain my end." ""





THE RAGE OF THE PEOPLE.


117


CHAPTER        XVIII.
THE RAGE OF THE PEOPLE.
NiGHT had come. Upon leaving Dolores, Jos6 bent his steps towards the palace of the inquisitor. In order to arrive there, it was
necessary to cross the street in which dwelt the governor of Seville.
On approaching this street, Jos6 was surprised to see a great concourse of people at this hour, blocking up the avenues of the governor's palace.
An indistinct noise of imprecations and menaces uttered in a hoarse,
sullen, and terrible voice, ran like the breath of a tempest through
these irritated groups.
It sounded like the moaning of the wind in a forest of oaks. There
were none of those shrill outcries, none of those varied and discordant sounds, which in France, burst forth in popular tumults, and
overthrow every thing beneath the rage of the people, which evaporates as quickly as the smoke of powder.
The Spanish people, so much oppressed, so patient, and so calm,
cause the sullen crash of the branch which they wish to break, and
which resists, to be heard under a more energetic attempt to twist it
from the trunk. And yet, it was not for themselves, that these people, at this moment claimed the rights of humanity, and of justice:
they could suffer and die without complaining; but they were protesting against an unjust act of the inquisition. They had in their
hearts, the feeling of right and wrong, and if they had so long tole.
rated the yoke of despotism, it was because, above the power which
persecuted them, they were directed to a greater power, that of God;
and in their artless faith, these people who knew concerning God
only what their persecutors had taught them, adored this sovereign
Being such as he had been represented to them, and submitted without murmuring to those whom they regarded as his ministers.
It was not intelligence that the Spaniards wanted, it was light, and
this light was not suffered to reach them. This is the reason why
Spain was so long depressed in the inextricable bonds of ignorance
and prejudice.
Notwithstanding the most violent persecutions, the spirit of investigation whose constant tendency is towards truth, was always stirring in the upright and intelligent heart of the Spanish people, and
even in the midst of the tortures of the inquisition, and the despotism of the kings, it occasionally leaped forth in brilliant flashes,
which have lit up in Spain a distant hope for the future; divine
emanations, fragments of the great whole which manifested themselves on earth under human forms and names, like vigilant sentinels stationed min the life of nations by Him who governs the world,
in order to keep a great people from perishing and burying itself in
the darkness of ignorance.
A cro-wd of excited men and women moved towards the palace
of the governor of Seville, which was lighted by a single reflector





118


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


The street was dark. This living mass advanced slowly, then it was
rapidly thrown back upon itself by another crowd who were going
in an opposite direction. It looked like the undulations of a wave.
Multitudes were crowding towards the palace of the new governor. The people of Seville, weary of the unjust administration of
Enriquez, had at last conceived the design of avenging themselves.
This sullen, controlled, yet persevering and implacable anger of the
people was terrible to look upon. The insurrection had been so sudden, and accompanied with so little noise, that there had been no
time to oppose an armed force to it; it moved towards the palace of
the governor like those invisible whirlwinds which burst upon the
earth with the rapidity of thought.
However, a few alguazils were running in different directions,
and here and there gloomy gardunos looked on the m4b, without
taking part, ready to lend their help to those who should offer the
most.
" What is the meaning of this crowd?" inquired Jos6, of a familiar of the palace, who was running in all haste, sent by his eminence to ascertain the truth.
"Your reverence, it is only an old Jewess who has just been arrested."
" Your reverence," cried out a courageous manola, who had heard
the reply of the familiar, " this Jewess was as good a Catholic as you
and I; but she had an infidel servant: she sent him away in disgrace, and her servant has denounced her as a Judaizing heretic."'
" What is the name of this lady?" inquired Jos6.
"Mary of Bourgogne, your reverence; she is more than eighty
years old, and she is a saint, who gives all her goods to the poor.
We call her our mother; this is the reason why so soon as it was
known that she was in the prison of the holy office, they have all
rushed with one consent to the governor's palace; for it is he who
has had her arrested."
The familiar was going to give an order for the arrest of the manola; Jose made a sign to him to retire; this was not the time to use
violence. The familiar turned in another direction, endeavouring to
pierce this compact crowd, which opposed an almost impassable embankment; but he promised himself not to forget the face of the imprudent woman who had just expressed herself with such temerity.
" I advise you strongly," said Jose, in a whisper, to this courageous Andalusian, " to leave Seville as soon as possible, your words
may soon cost you dear."
" I believe it," said she, looking at the young Dominican, and
smiling bitterly; " you too are an inquisitor!"
SI am indulgent, and I love these suffering people," said Jos6;
a go, poor woman, you need fear nothing from me."
The crowd pressed on more furious, and more dense, before the
palace of the governor. Some armed with iron levers, endeavoured
to break the door, which had been carefully barricaded, whilst others
brandishing aloft their formidable tlbacete knives, were preparing
for a desperate defence. The very girls clenching their sharp po* Practising the Jewish religion.





THE RAGE OF THE PEOPLE.


119


niards in their right hands, threw themselves in the front ranks,
furious, and excited by a feeling of indignation, which it is impossible to depict.
It was a fine and yet a fearful sight, to see all these brown figures,
whose sparkling eyes darted fearful flashes on every side, and these
animated lips which, half opened at each expression of their wrath,
displayed teeth of dazzling whiteness, like those of the tiger.
The African character was revealed. The ardent blood of the
Arabs of the desert, which had not yet become cool through eight
centuries of generations in the veins of the Andalusians, was now
boiling like molten lava. Hatred, profound, bitter, devouring hatred,
was urging them irresistibly to revolt. They had at last said: " It
is enough!" and they rushed in desperation upon this iniquitous
governor, whom the caprice of the grand inquisitor had imposed
upon the city, a man taken from the lowest ranks, who oppressed
and crushed the people.
Enriquez, shut up in his palace, which he was afraid to leave; Enriquez, as cowardly in the moment of danger as he was cruel in
prosperity, waited tremblingly for help which did not come. Every
blow of the lever which shook the palace door, echoed like the knell
of death to the heart of this wretch.
Kneeling in his chamber before an image of the virgin, the beautiful little statue which had adorned the maiden oratory of Dolores,
the former familiar of the inquisition, the tool of Pierre Arbues,
trembling with fear, muttered unintelligible words,-the vain and
trivial formulary of all those who honour God only with their lips.
Enriquez smote his breast, and accused himself of puerile offences,
without thinking at this last and terrible moment of asking God to
absolve him from his crimes.
Like the pagans of old, Enriquez, in a fit of fervour, inspired by
the fear of death, promised to the mother of the Saviour a hundred
more victims every year to the auto da f6 of the inquisition; this
was the only expression of his repentance.
The door of the palace, a heavy mass of wood, studded with iron
nails, was on the point of yielding under the redoubled blows of a
thousand robust and desperate arms; and as there had been no time
to sound the tocsin of alarm to apprize the troops, there were six
hundred men from the people, bold and determined, against fifty
familiars or sbires, running here and there one after another.
A crash of wood and iron soon followed the sounding and violent
blows aimed at the door; it had given way, and leaving the hinges
which held it, it fell against the pavement with a terrific noise.
At this instant a gloomy silence succeeded, as by enchantment, the
cry of triumph uttered by the people at the sight of the prostrate
door. These men, lately so violent, stood motionless before this
broken barrier; no one ventured to cross the threshold of the governor's palace.
Whence came this miracle so easily performed?  It was owing
simply to the sudden appearance of Jean d'Avila at one of the extremities of the street, where the gathering had commenced.
What are you doing?" said he, in his deep and powerful voice,





120


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


accustomed to speak in the lofty cathedrals, " where are you going,
madmen? Stop!"
This word had run from mouth to mouth; and at the name of the
apostle, the fury of the people, lulling like a tempestuous wind at
the voice of the Eternal, had changed into adoration. The people
had recollected that Jean d'Avila had recommended patience to them,
and promised heaven in return.
These noble and brave people of Spain did not revolt through
turbulence, restless caprice, or empty bravado; no, they were calm
and grave; long suffering and gentleness dwelt in these courageous
hearts. They had indulged for a moment, the wrath of the lion
which is tortured, and they had turned with a roar against the hand
which never ceased to torment them; but at the first word of kindness, they had returned to their great and noble obedience, the
obedience of the strong being which is performing a duty.
Spain has always been eminently Christian, and had not fanaticism
been imposed upon it by dint of severity and persecutions, it would
perhaps have been the nation of the earth, which would most religiously have preserved the sacred spirit of the gospel.
Little as the Spanish character has been studied, this is easy to be
understood; the basis of the natural temper is simplicity, full of
greatness. But, what is at once more simple and great than the
gospel?
Jean d'Avila advanced without difficulty to the midst of this
crowd, lately impenetrable; every one made way at his approach.
6 My children," said he to them, " why do you revolt? What
good will it do you?"
" Father," said one of them, "they have just arrested Mary of
Bourgogne, who fed our little children."
" God will restore her to you," replied the saint; " do you hope
to save her by revolt?"
Just then a man armed with an enormous iron lever, came up before the apostle. This man seemed to be one of the chiefs of the
revolt. Jean d'Avila recognised Manofina.
" What are you doing here?" inquired the saint, in a mild voice.
SI wanted to avenge a victim," replied the bravo, without being
disconcerted; "' we came to kill this miserable Enriquez, whom they
have given us for our governor."
" There is no occasion to kill any body," said Jean d'Avila.
" As for that, it would have been no great harm, an upstart of this
kind -   ' * but since your beatitude would rather not" * "
" It is God who does not desire it, my children; retire, and leave
the care of vengeance to God."
These men, who a moment ago were so fierce, had again become
mild as lambs.
As they were quietly withdrawing without making any manifestation of hostility, some shires advanced to arrest some of them.
a What are you doing?" cried the saint; " will you punish the
lion because he has been generous?  Go away; you have no need of
arms, every body is quiet,-do you not see it is so?"
The emissaries of the inquisition yielding despite of themselves,
to the influence of this extraordinary man, hesitated for a moment.





THE RAGE OF THE PEOPLE.


121


At this instant, Jose, coming out of the crowd, made a sign to the
alguazils; at this mute order, these men vanished like shadows.
Notwithstanding his unbounded charity, Jean d'Avila eyed the
inquisitor with a look of dislike and suspicion. At this period, the
Dominicans and Franciscans were still at variance.A
In general, they were bitter enemies; Jean d'Avila, notwithstanding his piety, perhaps did not guard against an involuntary feeling of
aversion and repugnance at the sight of the young Dominican.
But Jose came towards him, and with a confident and calm tone,
" My father," said he, "cshe whom you seek, is in safety."
Jean d'Avila started; he supposed that Dolores had been arrested
by the inquisition.
" Father," repeated Jose, looking at him mildly, "do you not see
in my countenance, that I tell you the truth?"
1" Restore to me this poor child," said Jean d'Avila, " Estevan
and I have lamented enough about her."
The serena could ascertain nothing; the Chapa had refused to tell
her what had become of Dolores.
"To-morrow, at midnight," replied Jose, "I will meet you in the
Esplanade, near the fountain; come and join me there, I will conduct
you to Dolores."
" Hush!"' said the apostle, observing Estevan, who had followe4
him  at a short distance, coming towards them.    "To-morrow, at
midnight, near the fountain."
Jose disappeared; but he turned after walking a few steps, to look
at the handsome figure of Estevan, and the noble profile which
was distinctly perceptible in the twilight of the summer's evening.  At this view, a deep sigh escaped from the breast of the young
Dominican, and two scalding tears started from his eyes.
Jean d'Avila said nothing to Estevan about this meeting; he
wished to go alone to the appointed place, where, perhaps, he was
fearful of a snare.
That night, Enriquez still slept in peace.
* The everlasting dispute of the Franciscans and Dominicans respecting the
immaculate conception of the Holy Virgin is well known. The Dominicans
have always affirmed that she was conceived in sin; and in order to prove it,
they have burned all the sons of St. Frarcis, who declared the Virgin to be immaculate. These grave disputes which so warmly engaged the doctors of the
Council of Trent are far from being ended. In Italy, at Rome especially, they
still furnish habitually the text to nearly all the sermons of the two rival orders,
but as in all wars, there is an armistice, these theological declamations cease
on both sides, on the day of the second festival of Christmas. On that day the
two hostile camps unite at a sumptuous banquet, and in the excesses of the table
forget the enmities of the whole year. During the repast, which lasts all night,
the proud children of St. Dominique are the best friends of the humble sons
of St. Francis, although the next morning they recommence their insults, and
their inexhaustible argumentations respecting the pious birth which furnishea
the matter of their incessant dispute.


L


16





122


THE MYSTERIES OF THE I1NQUISITIOBR


CHAPTER       XIX.
THE AMULET OF THE GRAND INQUISITOR TORREQUEMADA.
ON his return to the inquisitorial palace, Jose repaired to the grand
inquisitor.
Pierre Arbues was alone in his chamber; but outside, the guards
had been doubled, for the rumor of the tumult so quickly appeased,
the sound of which had scarcely reached him, had so terrified him,
that it seemed to him, every moment, that he saw the door of his
apartment forced by assassins. He was cowardly as the hyena, which
shuns the light of day, and feeds only on dead bodies.
Seated before a little ebony table, inlaid with mother of pearl, a
costly work, made at the commencement of the revival of the arts,
Pierre Arbues, with his head leaning on his two hands, was viewing
with fixed attention a singular jewel set in carved gold.
It was a tusk of a unicorn, which had belonged to Thomas Torrequemada, the founder of the modern inquisition in Spain, that savage
mTonk, whose cruelty exceeded all bounds to such a degree, that pope
Alexander Borgia himself, was alarmed at it. This relic, which had
fallen, it was not known how, into the hands of Pierre Arbues, had,
it was said, the faculty of detecting and neutralizing poisons.*
Pierre Arbues had imitated Torrequemada so much in his cruelties, that he followed him also in his superstitious prudence. This
tusk of the unicorn never left his chamber.
At the approach of Jos6, the inquisitor raised his head.
"Well, Jose, what news?"
"All is quiet, my lord, your shires have done wonders, and the
crowds have soon dispersed."
" God be praised!" exclaimed the inquisitor, and poor Enriquez
has sustained no injury?"
"None at all, my lord; they did nothing but break the door of
his palace; Enriquez is at this moment as safe as your eminence
perhaps."
" Then they did not intend to come towards the inquisitorial palace?"
"Not at all, my lord; who would venture to attack the grand inquisitor of Seville?"
SI am in no danger, am I, Jos6?  They would not dare attack so
high-perhaps," continued Arbues, " I may have done wrong in
raising Enriquez to the difficult post of governor. The man wants
energy and resolution."
" Not so much as your eminence might suppose."
" But he is a man of mean extraction, ignorant and coarse."
" What of that, my lord? He is devoted to you; and believe me,
* The inquisitor Torrequemada actually had a unicorn's tusk, which he really
supposed to be imbued with the faculty of discovering and neutralizing poisons.
-(Llorente, History of the Inquisition.) The Spanish inquisitors had preserved this prejudice from the time of the Moors.





THE AMULET OF THE GRAND INQUISITOR TORREQUEMADA. 123
the governor's gown sits as well on his shoulders as on those of
another."
" The people regret the removal of Manuel Argoso," said Pierre
Arbues. " That man manifested a culpable toleration for heretics,
and cold Christians; thus all loved him."
" This is the reason why they revolt against Enriquez, my lord.
There is but one way in which to remedy that; it is to redouble
your severity."
" Yes, these revolts must be stopped; the Spanish inquisition must
extend its authority over the world, and rise even above the power
of the popes. The leprosy of heresy must for ever disappear from
the face of the earth."
"And the whole earth must belong to the inquisition," added
Jos6, half serious, and half in jest.
" The ashes of the heretics must fertilize the earth, and make it
full of pleasures for us. The good things of this world, as well as
those of heaven, belong of right to true catholics, they alone are
worthy to enjoy them. They will never gain them, except by dint
of perseverance and wholesome severity."
"My lord, the more heretics or bad catholics the inquisition sacrifices, the more strong and powerful it will become."
"Without a doubt," said the inquisitor, with a savage leer; "
have looked to that, Jos6, we shall have nearly one hundred and
eighteen condemned persons at the next auto da f6."
" Fifty more than at the last, my lord. What will you do with
the old governor of Seville?" continued Jos6, carelessly.
"I will treat him as he deserves, like a Lutheran heretic;" cried
the inquisitor, exasperated by the recollection of his vain attempts
upon Dolores.
Jose, it will be observed, flattered the passions of Pierre Arbues with
skill; it will be seen also, that the inquisition was not moved merely
by an ardent fanaticism, as has been represented. Its inexpressible
cruelty, implacable as fate, was certainly not the result of an extravagant and blind zeal for the glory of catholicism. There was, in
truth, another motive. The interests of religion came only in the
second line, or rather religion itself served as a mask and a pretext
to the unbridled ambition, and the thirst of wealth of the inquisitors.
We can believe that absolute fanaticism and blind faith can exist
only among fools, or those of obtuse intellect; the inquisitors certainly were neither fools nor stupid. They were bent on usurpation, that is the whole secret; they wished to reign, and in their
astute policy, they had learned that the only crown which will never
break, is the crown of thorns of the God-man; this is why th'ey
sheltered their despotic royalty under it, why they made an aegis
of the divine name of Christ by offering it as the surety of their
crimes.
"It is time," continued Arbues, "to take possession of the inheritance which our holy founder, Thomas de Torrequemada bequeathed
to us."
Just then, the inquisitor observed that Jose was playing like a
child with the unicorn tusk, which lay on thd table.





124


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


"(Take care how you touch that, my son," said Pierre Arbues,
gently taking it out of his hands, 1" it is a precious relic which we
should not profane; this is what constantly protected the life of the
happy Torrequemada, and which now protects my own."
" How did you get possession of this gem, my lord?"
"By inheritance; I descend by my mother's side, although in an
indirect line, from the same family as the first grand inquisitor of
Castile."
Jose was silent, and hastened to lay the unicorn tusk in the place
from which he had taken it. The skepticism of the young monk
did not exclude a slight superstition; he had still too much of the
ardent imagination of the Moors, not to believe in the virtue of an
amulet.
"Jos6," resumed the inquisitor, "since all is now quiet in Seville,
I am of the opinion that we should partake of a light collation together, and taste some excellent wine of Lacryma Christi, which has
been sent to me by the pope's nuncio."
" I am not hungry," replied Jos6, with indifference.
"No matter, my child, this delicious wine will sharpen your appetite. Ring the bell, and tell them to bring some."
Jose had not time to execute the orders of the inquisitor. A familiar entered in haste, and handed a letter to his eminence.
" From whom does this come?" said Pierre Arbues.
" It is the governor of Seville who sends it," replied the familiar.
Pierre Arbues broke the seal of the letter and read it hastily.
" My lord," said Enriquez, " the abbess of the Carmelites is very
sick, and has sent for a Franciscan to hear her confession. I thought
it my duty to apprize your eminence of the fact. This monk is to
repair this very evening to the convent, for it seems that the case is
urgent. This is all that I have been able to learn. My letter,
which has been written for the last two hours, could not be sent
sooner to your eminence, on account of the riot which has disturbed
the city, and threatened my life."
"Poor Enriquez!" exclaimed the inquisitor, whose countenance
whilst reading the letter, had expressed the most violent rage, " what
zeal in my service!"
"You see, my lord," said Jose, without knowing any thing of the
matter in question.
"By the saints!" pursued Arbues, "this woman is bold. Send for
a miserable Franciscan, when I am her confessor! How dare she
have recourse to any but myself? Yes, I understand," he muttered
in a low voice, " she is afraid of death; and perhaps!--Oh! but there
is time enough yet. This silly woman may commit me, I must see
her immediately."
"Hola!" said he, calling his familiars, "get my litter ready, I
must go out." Then turning to Jose, who in vain endeavoured to
guess what was passing in the mind of Pierre Arbues: " Jose," said
he, " an important affair calls me. The abbess of the Carmelites is
dying, she claims from me the consolations of religion; I must leave
you, adieu."
Pierre Arbues hurried out of his chamber, hastily descended the
marble stairway of his'palace, mounted his litter and set out. When





THE AMULET OF THE GRAND INQUISITOR TORREQUEMADA.       125
he arrived at the door of the convent, a Franciscan monk was
crossing the threshold, and advanced towards the inquisitor. When
they were opposite to each other, Pierre Arbues cast an inquisitive
look upon the countenance of the monk; notwithstanding the darkness, these two men recognised each other. Pierre Arbues looked
earnestly at the monk.
" What is your business here?" he demanded, in a stern voice.
"The salvation of a soul," replied the Franciscan.
This monk was Jean d'Avila. The inquisitor cast upon him a
look full of hatred, and hastily passed through the door of the cloister.
When he reached the sick room of the abbess, Frances de Lerma,
consoled by the kind words of the apostle, seemed to experience a moment of peace. She was not seriously ill; but this violent and robust woman, suddenly attacked by a sickness which had broken
down her strength, had felt fear of death and horror on account of
her depraved life. Unable to confide in the accomplice of her crimes,
whose violence she feared, she had sent for Jean d'Avila, whose
piety inspired her with unbounded confidence; and in a sincere confession, the unhappy woman had poured into the bosom of this
apostle of truth, the remorse which preyed upon her spirit.
Oh! how the man of God was constrained to shed tears of blood
over the church of Christ so shamefully profaned! over these confessions of a trembling and lacerated soul as they fell from the lips
of the haughty abbess of the Carmelites.
The disease had humbled her indomitable temper, and remorse,
the only virtue which is left to those who have sinned greatly,
had brought her to repentance. Notwithstanding the perfidious insinuations, and the lies which Pierre Arbues had employed in order
to persuade her that she was not committing sin, Frances had never
been satisfied in her own mind, and she had certainly sinned deliberately.
" Madam," said the inquisitor, when he was alone with the sick
abbess, " why have you sent for another confessor than myself?"
At this well known voice, Frances de Lerma hastily turned round,
and eyeing the inquisitor from head to foot with a searching look,
without replying, she made with her lips a sign of mockery and contempt.
" Did you not know, my sister," continued Pierre Arbues, in a
hurried voice, " that I have power to absolve you?"'
" Before absolving others," slowly replied Frances de Lerma,
" cover your head with ashes, my lord; humble your pride in the
dust, and pray with bended knees on the bare earth, that God wouldl
pardon your crimes. By what right do you talk of absolving others,
you who have sinned so much?"
"Poor, misguided soul," retorted the inquisitor, can there be
bounds to our spiritual privileges and powers? Are not we the
anointed of the Lord, and is there any thing in the world that can
efface this sacred character?*  Have I lostthe right to loose souls
* Nothing can efface our sacred character; our spiritual power is so extended
that whatever we command a penitent to do, he will not commit sin in obeying
us. This manner of explaining their power, has always been successfully employed by bad priests, when they wished to corrupt awoman. We will give
somewhat later, a very curious history in support of this assertion.
L2





126


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


from the bands of sin? The priest, however unworthy he may be,"
he continued, with mock humility, "is nevertheless the representative of Jesus Christ, and have not you compromised the interests of
the church in making your confession to a monk, selected from the
Franciscans, who are our most deadly enemies?"
" That monk is a saint, my lord; he has consoled me, and reconciled me to God. Let me then die in peace, and give yourself no
more concern about the care of my soul."
Then turning to the other side, Frances covered her head with the
clothes, as if she had desired to place between herself and the inquisitor, the winding sheet of the grave.
Pierre Arbues plainly perceived that this soul had sincerely returned to God, and that his influence over her was at an end. But,
like a skilful inquisitor, covering his anger with the mantle of kindness and humility, he withdrew without violence, without betraying
the least displeasure; and as he rightly supposed that the sickness of
Frances was far from being mortal, he promised himself that he
would keep her from seeing Jean d'Avila again.
The conversion of Frances de Lerma had become for her an implacable arrest.
CHAPTER XX.
THE RENDEZVOUS.
THE hour of the rendezvous appointed by Jos6 for Jean d'Avila,
drew near. Estevan had just supped with the apostle, and in spite
of himself, the latter had been unable to dissemble the painful subject which oppressed his mind, and threw a shade over his calm
countenance to which it was a stranger, although habitually meditative.
Anxious respecting the fate of her whom he loved, Estevan was
afraid that Jean d'Avila had some sad secrets which he wished to
conceal from him, yet he was afraid to ask him, perhaps, in consequence of that human weakness, which makes us both desire to
know and afraid to hear of a misfortune.
Jean d'Avila maintained an unusual silence. Estevan followed
with an anxious eye every expression of his countenance.
" Father," he ventured at length to say, "have you heard nothing
respecting the unhappy governor of Seville?  Has not his trial been
commenced as yet, and could we not do something to save him?"
" No," said Jean d'Avila; "the trial of Manuel Argoso has not
been begun as yet, and when it is time, do you not know that I will
apprize you of it? Till then, keep yourself in obscurity, and out of
public view. Are you not aware what danger you would incur by
opposing the inquisition?"
SI will brave it, whenever it is necessary," replied Estevan, in a
calm voice.
" Well, then, reserve your strength for the day of battle, you will
need it."





THE RENDEZVOUS.


127


At the same time, Jean d'Avila, seeing that the sand of the hour.
glass placed upon the table, was almost entirely exhausted, went out
without saying a word, as he had been in the habit of doing frequently. But, although nothing extraordinary had occurred that
day, Estevan, anxious and distressed, suffered the apostle to withdraw for a few paces, then he went out in his turn, shut the door of
the dwelling, and favoured by the darkness, he followed Jean d'Avila
at such a distance as not to be perceived.
When he came near the fountain, which is opposite the cathedral,
Jean d'Avila stopped. Jose awaited him there.
Seated upon the bank of the fountain, his face leaning upon one
of his white and slender hands, the young Dominican appeared inexpressibly graceful in this melancholy posture.
Alone in the midst of the vast square, shaded by tufted orange
trees, at the noise of the wandering waters which fell with a murmuring sound into a great marble basin, Jose had for a moment abandoned himself to the control of a deep and mysterious revery:
doubtless, it was for him one of those moments in which the events
of life, empty dreams which already belong to the past, range themselves before us in groups like a living reality, or unfolding themselves one after another in vague and indistinct succession, pass under
our eyes like a phantasm, and whether pleasant or terrible, cause us
to turn away our head with disgust, so much that is empty do they
offer to the insatiable soul of man. Who of us at such times would
be willing to begin life again at the price of the same trials?
Jean d'Avila had made very little noise in approaching the fountain; still Jose heard it, and rising from the stone on which he was
seated, he went to meet the apostle.
A few paces from them, Estevan, screened in the thicket of orange
trees which surrounded the fountain, had been able to approach without being heard. What was his surprise on seeing Jean d'Avila accost a Dominican. He listened attentively.
"Father," said Jose, bending before the apostle of Andalusia, "I
would gladly have spared you this walk, but I could not have gone
to your house without exciting the suspicion-of the inquisition,"
he added, lowering his voice, "which would have injured you whilst
hindering me from serving you."
Jose spoke with so much candour, and there was so much nobleness
and enthusiasm in his voice, and on his fine, pale forehead, so youthful, and yet already seared, which shone like sculptured marble under
the silver lamps of the night, that Jean d'Avila, who himself possessed all the candour of men of genius, lost almost all the distrust
which the garb of the Dominican had inspired.
Between these two choice spirits, the magnetic spark of affinity
had already kindled.
" Well! Dolores?" said the apostle, hastily.
At the name of Dolores, the foliage of the orange trees was shaken
by a slight rustling, as if the breeze had agitated them.
" Will you venture to follow me?" asked the Dominican, in a
mild voice.
" Why should I not venture?" replied Jean d'Avila, whose noble





128


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


heart was beyond the reach of fear; "I will follow you," he added,
in a tone of confidence, " lead me, my brother."
" No, your son, father," said Joseturning towards him with an
attractive and graceful gesture, joining his two hands before the
apostle: " your son, you will need your prayers"
Jean d'Avila was moved. Jose inspired him with a sentiment
which cannot be defined; he exerted upon him also, that irresistible
fascination of good, noble, and enthusiastic beings.
" Follow me, father," rejoined the young Dominican, withdrawing from him, " we have not far to go."
Indeed, in a few minutes, they were before the door of the Moorish house where Juana lived. Jose then drew a key from his pocket,
he opened the door and entered first; but, as Jean d'Avila was about
crossing the threshold, Estevan, whom he had not noticed, came
hastily towards him, and said to him in a voice that was almost suppliant:
"Father, if any dangers are to be incurred here, let me share
them, and suffer me too to see her again, since it is true that she is
restored to us."
"I hope so at least," replied Jean d'Avila; "I had wished to
spare you a possible disappointment, but since you know all, come."
Then turning towards Jose, who waited inside, and who was look
ing out to see what obstacle had arrested Jean d'Avila:
SI will not come in without my son Estevan," said the apostle.
" Estevan!" murmured Jos. " Yes, let him come in, father, and
see her once more."
When they had entered, Jose carefully closed the door. Dolores
and Juana waited in the lower room.
Dolores, anticipated by Jose, ran towards her liberator; but
when she observed Estevan, whom she did not expect, an ashy paleness covered her face, and she fell back overwhelmed upon the divan,
from which she had risen; her emotion had overcome her.
" Dolores," said Jean d'Avila, approaching the young woman,
"we must be strong in joy as well as in grief. In these evil days,
whoever suffers himself to be bowed by every conflicting wind, is
soon beaten down and broken."
At the mild voice of the apostle, Dolores came to herself again,
and looked gratefully at Jos6.
Jose turned away his head to hide a tear which, in spite of him,
had started from his eyes. But after this first emotion accorded to
the liveliest sentiments of the heart, Dolores was ashamed that she
had not as usual applied her first thought to her unfortunate father,
and looking anxiously at Jose:
" Don Jose," said she, "when will they begin the trial of my
father?"
" The day after to-morrow," replied Jose, for he did not wish to
deceive Dolores.
" Are you quite sure?" inquired Jean d'Avila; "I thought it
would not begin for several days."
6 It is the day after to-morrow," replied Jose, I have it from the
grand inquisitor, who has concealed nothing from me."





THE RENDEZVOUS.


1o9


cWell!!" exclaimed Dolores, with anguish, " what must we do
now to save my father? As yet we have done nothing to accomplish that."
"Because nothing could be done," replied the Dominican.
4 And now," said Estevan, 1" we are going to try to find witnesses
for him, this is the only means to save him."
Dolores made no reply, but she reflected a moment in silence, and
seemed to form a resolution. Then, addressing herself to Jean d'Avila:
"Father," said she, "you will serve him as a witness, will you
not?"
" Certainly," replied Jean d'Avila; " do not concern yourself
about that, be as calm as you can, every one of us has need of all
his courage. Let your friends act with perfect freedom without distressing them by your grief."
At this moment, whilst Dolores lent all her attention to the words
of the apostle, Jose went into the garden, as though he wished to
look at some flowers, and made a slight sign to Estevan, who immediately followed him. When they were far enough removed not
to be overheard:
" Don Estevan," said Jose, " we never shall save the governor by
testimony; let us devise some more efficacious mode."
"I know no other," gravely replied the young philosopher, too
prudent to betray his secret design to a man whom he did not know.
" But if this means fails," rejoined the Dominican, "- what shall we
do?")
'I hope in the justice of God," replied Estevan.
Jose smiled bitterly, and taking the hand of young Vargas, which
he warmly clasped in his own:
" Don Estevan," said he, "you do not trust me; what have I done
to merit this injustice?  One day, I accidentally met your betrothed
in a state of distraction, running to the inquisitor's palace to ask
mercy for her father; I snatched her from certain death, more than
that, perhaps from dishonour. I have sheltered her in my own house,
1 have maintained and protected her as a sister. Now I wish to save
her father; what more can I do in order to inspire you with confidence-why do you distrust me?"
" You are a Dominican," replied Estevan, with candour.
" I wear the garb of one," said Jose.
SI admit,"' said Estevan, " that every thing about you inspires
confidence; your countenance breathes candour, and your words
bear the impress of truth; but is it my fault, if at this day in Spain,
we must suspect even our dearest friends?"
" Jean d'Avila has trusted me," replied Jose, with simplicity.
" I have too," said Estevan, extending his hand.
" Well! prove it to me, Don Estevan; answer me frankly if we
cannot succeed in saving the governor by testimony, what means
will you employ?"
" I do not know," replied Estevan, with hesitation.
Jose perceived that he had some secret design.
" Rouse the people, carry off the governor during' the auto da fe;
kill the inquisitor?" said the Dominican.
Estevan looked at him with an air of distrust.
17





130


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Jose understood that he had hit upon the secret purpose of young
Vargas.
" This plan would not be good except in an entirely desperate
case," replied Estevan; but his changing countenance belied the prudence of his words.
Jose had guessed the whole.
The young monk pressed him no farther, but in bringing Estevan
back to his betrothed, he said to him in an earnest tone, and full of
candour:
"Don Estevan, whatever may happen, depend on me for life, and
for death!"
" Thanks, Don Jos,"7 replied Estevan, 6 but friends are best
known by proof."
" The proof will come," said Jose, sorrowfully. aOh! Estevan,
you have not a more faithful ally than myself, and in this conflict I
may perhaps lose my life.  *  Then you will believe," he mildly
replied.
Estevan was young, he was affected and overcome; he would perhaps have spoken all his mind, and confided himself to this strange
man, who both astonished and fascinated him, but as they were returning into the lower hall, there was a loud knock at the street
door.
"We are betrayed," thought Estevan. Jean d'Avila looked at
Jose, as if to read his countenance; but neither the Dominican, nor
Dolores manifested the least surprise.
Juana opened the door. It was Coco who came every evening,
at the same hour to receive the orders of Jose, and render account of
those which he had received the evening before.
At the sight of this friendly face, all fears subsided.
" What news, my brave Coco?" inquired the young Dominican.
"Your reverence," replied the alguazil, hesitating, ' the governor
of Seville * * * "
"Will appear in two days' time before the tribunal," said Jose, "I
know it, what next?"
" I shall be stationed as a guard at the door of his dungeon," said
Coco.
" Oh!" exclaimed Dolores, anxiously, "then could you not?"
' I shall not be alone," replied Coco, understanding her idea.
" Well," thought Dolores to herself, " since no one can do any
thing for him, it depends upon me to save him.' * "   *
Jean d'Avila rose to take leave.
" Dolores," said Estevan, in a whisper, "I will die, or I will rescue your father."
" God bless you, Estevan!" replied she.
" My daughter," said Jean d'Avila, in his turn, be prudent, rely
on your friends, and do not go out under any pretext.9"
Dolores hung down her head without replying, for she was not
willing either to speak an untruth or to make any promise. Her
eyes left Estevan's, only when the street door had closed upon
him.
Estevan, Jose, and the apostle withdrew together; Jos6 accompanied them to the bridge of Triana; there he left them. Coco had





THLE PASS OFP D ESPENAPERRO.3


131


followed them at some distance. Jose turned back, and moved towards the alguazil:
" Coco," said he, " watch with care every step taken by Don
Estevan de Vargas, and whatever it may be, let me know it instantly."
" Your reverence," replied Coco, with some hesitation, "it is
doubtless for his good, that you wish it to be so?  A friend of the
apostle---"
" Be easy, my poor Coco, have I ever done harm to any one, tell
me?"
" Oh! you are good as the angels of heaven!" replied the alguazil; "I will do all that your reverence desires."
CHAPTER         XXI.
THE PASS OF D'ESPENAPERROS.
THE sun had just risen; his first rays of a pale yellow, mingled
with a rosy hue, variegated with brilliant reflections the light fog
which still covered the summits of the Sierra Morena; they looked
like thousands of brilliant spangles thrown upon a veil of white
gauze.
Two travellers slowly pursued a sandy road cut in the flank of the
mountains, at times so narrow, that it seemed scarcely possible that
a chamois could rest its feet upon it, and for the most part overhanging frightful precipices whose yawning abyss made the traveller
dizzy. Here and there some stunted pines blended their sad verdure with the granite tint of the rocks; or by a strange contrast, it
might be that a wild eglantine twined, all covered with rosy blossoms, over the steep declivity of the precipices, whose dizzy depth
thle eye ventured not to measure. The travellers had at this moment reached one of the loftiest summits of the Sierra Morena; they
then turned towards the east, an.d the sun shone full in their faces.
The elder of the two was scarcely more than thirty years old;
but his brow was so grave, so full of gentle austerity, that at first
sight, it might have been supposed he had already attained to the
full maturity of age.
Upon an attentive examination, it might be perceived that laborious watchings, the renouncement of the things of earth, and the
habit of meditation, had alone marked with a peculiar seal of sagacity and wisdom, the countenance of this man, who wore the humble garb of a Franciscan.
The other traveller, much younger, for he was at most twenty years
old, offered with his companion a contrast the more remarkable, as differing in physiognomy, in manners, and in character; these two
men still met on a single point which will constantly unite men even
the most opposite in opinions and in thoughts; they possessed an
equal loyalty of character. Besides, they professed the same doctrine, and if the inclinations of the one, frequently leaned in a con




132


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


trary direction from those of the other, they were at least active in
the same object and for the same cause.
They had just ascended the pass of Despenlaperros, one of the most
elevated peaks of the high and inaccessible Cordillera, called the
Sierra Morena.
Both wearied, they sat down. After having rested some minutes,
feeling that their breathing was more free, and that courage was returning, with their strength, they simultaneously cast around them
that profound investigating look of the philosopher, who in the midst
of the wonders of creation, constantly seeks the cause in the effects,
and whilst admiring the works of God, sees as it were, God himself,
so lively and clear do the perceptions of the soul become which alone
enable us to communicate with the Spirit. Behind them, the Sierra
Morena, properly so called, reared its haughty head, white with the
snows of centuries.
Before them, stretched the desolate plains of La Mancha; a little
on the left in the rear, the voluptuous Andalusia displayed, in proud
contrast, her fields of olive trees, her verdant vines and flowering
citrons.
Farther off, on the right, were the Sierra Nevada, the Sierra Elvira, and the Alpuxarras, continuing this chain of inaccessible mountains which surround the two Castiles, as in an immense barrier of
granite. Then, last of all, bounding in thought over the last space
which still separated them from it, they imagined they could see Castile, that sanctum of Spain, never conquered by foreigners; Castile with
its grotesque and diversified views, through which the yellow flood
of the Tagus and the silvery Mancanares meandered.
From this elevated spot the travellers commanded the view of the
whole of Spain. Whilst viewing this rich and beautiful country, a
bitter thought mingled with their admiration. Below, under their
feet in those fertile plains adorned by the hand of God, an unjust and
brutal power robbed the people of the free enjoyment of the benefits
of the earth and of one another, that happiness which is a right of
life.
" There is the end of our journey," suddenly exclaimed the religious, extending his hand to the horizon, towards a point which imagination only could reach, for it was lost in the distance.
" Oh!" exclaimed the young layman, sorrowfully, " shall we arrive soon enough?-and more than all, shall we succeed in touching
the heart of the king?"
" Be of good cheer," replied the religious; "why distress yourself
beforehand about an uncertainty? Impetuosity always injures the
success of an enterprise; it is only by calm perseverance that we attain all we wish. The grand secret of life is to know how to wait,
and not to make of the uncertain future, a positive torture for the
present. The mind becomes wearied and enervated in these continual apprehensions, these premature anxieties. The strong man
awaits events with a firm foot without fearing them; he often passes
for insensible, when he is only courageous."
"Oh! my father," said the young man, with bitterness, " it may
easily be seen that no care reaches you, and that in renouncing the
joys of earth, you have also renounced the sorrows of human nature;





THE PASS OF ESPENAPERROS.


133


that you are isolated in your religious order as in a desert, and that
as you no longer lead a common life, you cannot understand its
griefs."
"My child!" replied the Franciscan, mildly, " do you suppose that
the apostolate is a mission of selfishness and insensibility? Is it not
in order to enter in spirit more deeply into the sorrows of human
nature, that we have embraced voluntary self-denials? Wo to him who
understands the mission of a priest in any other way! Wo to him
who makes a temporal power out of the authority of the gospel
which he expends to the profit of his own passions, instead of directing them to the happiness and consolation of all! The apostolate
has no other aim. He who uses it for another purpose, mistakes the
duties of his ministry. In a word, what ought our life to be?  To
be always ready to shed our' blood for our brethren, to succour and
console them in their misfortunes, to render their life sweeter by
causing them to hope for a better. Do you suppose, my son, that he
who renounces the sweets of private domestic life in order to devote
himself to the happiness of the great human family, is an egotist or a
coward?   No, no, do not think that; this devotion is a virtue which
comes from God, and God alone gives strength for it."
SOh! my father," replied the young man, pardon me; I am ungrateful and unjust; I owe you every thing, and I insult you! Grief
perverts my reason. You are a sublime exception. But, tell me,"
pursued he, with that bitter skepticism which great misfortunes sometimes originate, " where are the descendants of the apostles?  If I
look around me in the whole of Spain which swarms with monks,
I see only servile mendicants, or cowardly oppressors."
" My son," replied the Franciscan, in a tone of severity, " you are
too young and too inexperienced to judge thus in an absolute manner.
With you, I acknowledge the abuses of the church of Spain; I weep
every day over the ills which result from it; I contend against them
with all my strength; but when entering into myself, I prostrate
myself before the feet of the Eternal, whilst I offer him my conflicts,
my prayers, and my complaints, I sometimes say to myself with
sorrow, but with resignation, this is, perhaps, part of the counsel of
God."
"No, no, that cannot be," exclaimed the young man, with impetuosity; " God, the great and noble, God, whose divine essence is
love, can he permit that in his name, those shall be oppressed to
whom he has given an immortal soul, a scintillation from himself?"
"My son," said the religious, somewhat embarrassed by this
question, but too firm in his faith to endeavour to sound the mysteries which his reason could not comprehend; " my son, one thing
is certain, God has created man for happiness, and happiness consists in perfection. We are constantly tending towards this single
aim; perhaps it cannot be reached but by sorrow, perhaps the generations who shall follow, will themselves have need of the blood
and tears of their fathers, as we cannot dispense with the blood of
former martyrs of the faith; and it may be too, that for those who
suffer, God, who is the source of'eternal justice, has in reserve even
in this life, a glorious recompense. In times of persecution, the man
who is always exposed to martyrdom, living from day to day, atM





134


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


taches himself but little to the things of earth, he is accustomed to
live in spirit, and from this profound consideration of men sometimes proceed those great lessons by which nations are regenerated.
Then let us cease to miurmur; let us struggle with perseverance; voluntary submission to the decrees of an almighty, but infinitely good
being, brings with it noble consolations. We are not obeying a blind
fatality, but an intelligent being full of love, who always places the
good by the side of the evil, and often good in the evil itself by superior combinations sometimes obscure to our limited intelligence, but
which we may be assured always lead to an end designated beforehand by his eternal will."
The young layman made no reply. He looked silently at this
young man, so noble and dignified, who, gifted with the most costly
endowments of intelligence and fortune, had renounced the vain honours of this world in order to lead only a spiritual life, and contribute with all his power and his faculties to the edifice of social
happiness; not the frail happiness based on Utopian paradoxes, but a
certain, eternal, infallible happiness, which in spite of reverses, of
suffering and of death, springs up in the heart of the man who ardently embraces a consoling faith, and lives, as it were, even here
below, a life beyond the grave.
Although this young man had been educated in pure and Christian
sentiments, the native ardour of his young Spanish blood, the chivalric life which the noble lords of this epoch led, had notwithstanding his natural taste for philosophic meditations, imparted a lively
and martial turn to the expression of his opinions and ideas. Made
to embrace all great religious or benevolent conceptions, the young
philosopher still needed the patience which supports and never anticipates the natural order of events. A gentleman, he was morally a
bold and intrepid combatant, who, confident of his strength, attacks
in front all his enemies at once, and instead of fighting them one by
one, and securing his victory by the lightness of the contest, proudly
runs the risk of a defeat by his impetuosity.
This perhaps, explains the constant defeat in every century of
philosophical and liberal Spain, in her contests against the ultramontane party. The defenders of liberty of conscience were not wanting either in courage or in perseverance; they lacked the prudence
of Ulysses, the distrust of men and events, the address which borders almost on cunning. They had the valour of loyal knights;
they fought on the great day, and with bared breast against dark
enemies, retrenched in the ignorance and fanaticism of the people,
like the bandit in the furze by the way-side, enemies who did not
defend themselves during the combat, but who basely struck their
adversary in the back, so soon as he was tired of beating the air.
This treacherous habit has long characterized the Roman church;
she never combats by legions; she offers nothing but skirmishes to
the enemy; she suffers him to employ his strength in pursuing innumerable invisible foes who seem to fly and multiply themselves
under his feet; and when she believes him to be wearied, then she
rises in mass like one man, and utters her cry of fearful triumph,
which echoes to the utmost limits of the world.





THE TRIBUNAL,


135


" It is five days," said the young man, "since we left Seville, is
it far from here to Madrid?"
" Eight days' journey at least," replied the Franciscan.
" And during this time, the inquisitorial vulture tears in pieces its
prey, and perhaps when we return, it will be already too late."
" Be composed," said the religious, "the inquisition does not move
so rapidly; she sucks the last drop of her victims' blood, before abandoning them to the executioner. Come on, courage," he continued,
as he saw the guides approach, leading the mules which they had left
behind in order to ascend the mountain on foot.
The travellers arose, and descending the narrow paths of the north
side of the mountain, they rejoined their guides who painfully clambered over the rocky way, which led to Castile, scarcely indicated
by the tracks of travellers, and where at this day a magnificent royal
road may be seen, which leads spirally up to the ridge of the mountain, and by windings and circuits conducts from Castile to Andalusia, and from Andalusia to Castile.
At the period to which this history relates, this road was much
more rough; but our travellers were not wanting in courage. They
addressed themselves to their journey, and sometimes on their
mules, sometimes on foot, descended the mountain to gain the Carolina, which they reached the same evening.
In these two travellers, our readers have doubtless recognised Estevan de Vargas and Jean d'Avila.
CHAPTER         XXII.
THE TRIBUNAL.
IT was a sad and gloomy day, a day of inquisitorial session. The
great hall of the tribunal had just been opened. It was a vast oblong saloon, hung in black.
Near the lower extremity, a semicircular table stretched from one
side to the other. Behind this table, covered in its entire length
with a thick black woollen cloth, might be seen an arm-chair of dark
velvet, surmounted by a canopy of the same stuff. This was the seat
of the president, or grand inquisitor.
Under the canopy, against the wall, a large ivory crucifix was suspended on a black stand. Two other seats of the same colour as the
canopy, stood on the two sides of the president's arm-chair; they
were designed for the inquisitorial counsellors who composed the
tribunal.
On the table at the right, was a little bell; on the opposite side a
large volume of the gospels, wide open, and in the centre, before the
president, a sheet of white paper on which he wrote his private
notes. Facing the crucifix, at a distance from the table, stood a
bench, or rather a triangular stick, sustained on four feet, in the form
of a cross, which served as a seat for the arraigned.
Finally, at the right of the president, also at a distance from the





136


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


table, the sbires and four men in masks, held themselves in readiness, clothed in a long robe of black buckram, their heads covered with
a cowl of the same stuff, with holes for the eyes, nose, and mouth;
four men of frightful aspect; then at the left, two secretaries seated
before a small table, wrote at the dictation of the president, or according to his orders, at that of the witnesses.
Pierre Arbues, clothed in his grand costume as a monk, adorned
with the white cross which glitters on the breast of the children of
saint Dominic, and seated on his presidential chair, cast around him
a gloomy scowl.
His two assistants, insensible to the tempest which raged in the
soul of this savage man, but animated with the same tyrannical spirit,
awaited with hypocritical composure the appearance of the accused.
No internal emotion pierced through their brazen mask; they knew
nothing of the struggle and anxieties of the judge who is divided between the obligation of punishing one who is guilty, and the fear of
striking one who is innocent.
Their decrees were dictated in advance. To strike, to strike without intermission, this was their motto; they feared nothing but an
acquittal, and never acquitted voluntarily.
At the lower end of the hall were some monks of different orders,
the customary witnesses of these solemnities, and a few nobles of
Spain, devoted to the inquisition, whom Pierre Arbues had invited
by note; for it was not an ordinary person who was to appear on the
culprit's bench, but a noble and powerful lord, a good catholic accused
of heresy, whom his peers were probably to see condemned without
daring to utter a single word in his defence.
A  frightful silence reigned throughout this sad company: it
might have been taken for a funeral escort, ready for the burial, so
uniform was the expression of sorrow and death which these different countenances wore.
But soon a slight, almost imperceptible movement was made in
this gloomy assembly; all eyes were slowly turned towards the door;
the accused, led by two sbires, had entered the hall.
He was a tall, pale man, of about fifty years of age. His hair, of
a very deep black, but of which more than the half was already
blanched, overshadowed a broad forehead in which loyalty, rather
than genius resided. His frank and open eye had the honest and chivalric expression of a true son of Castile, and great religious resignation, a distinctive characteristic of the Spanish Christians, tempered
the expression of bitterness and grief which veiled the countenance
of this man. He was, moreover, weak and emaciated, by an abode
of more than two months in the dungeons of the inquisition.
He moved forwards with slow steps in the midst of his guards,
and when he had come before the president, he looked around for a
seat on which to rest; but perceiving nothing except this kind of
triangular perch, on which the tribunal caused its victims to sit, a
slight smile, bitter and sarcastic, half opened his withered lips. He
sat down as well as he could upon this grotesque seat of inquisitorial
invention.*
* When the accused appeared before the tribunal of the inquisition, they
were not permitted to sit on a stool, but on the edge of a triangular stick, sup




THE TRIBUNAL.


137


Then raising lis head, without bravado, but with extreme dignity,
he fixed upon Pierre Arbues a clear and piercing look, which would
have made any other man except an inquisitor, hang his head.
Pierre Arbues endured it without changing countenance, and addressing the arraigned:
" You who are accused," said he, "rise, and swear upon the gospel
to speak the truth."
The prisoner rose slowly, advanced towards the table, and placing
his hand upon the holy book, said in a firm and clear voice:
" I swear in the name of Jesus Christ, and on his holy gospel, to
tell the whole truth."
"Now, your name?" continued the inquisitor.
" Paul Joachim Manuel Argoso, count of Cevallos, noble of Spain
of the second class, and governor of Seville, by the appointment of
our beloved king, Don Carlos V."
" Omit your titles," said the inquisitor, " they no longer belong to
you."*ý
Manuel Argoso made no reply; but his lower lip curled contemptuously; the pure blood of Castile revolted in him.
"Your age?" demanded the president.
"c Fifty years," replied the governor.
"Manuel Argoso," resumed Pierre Arbues, in a slow, metallic,
pitiless tone; " Manuel Argoso, you are accused of having received
into your house, a young man descended of an heretical race; a
young man who professes sentiments opposed to the doctrines of the
holy Roman catholic church, and of having failed to denounce him."
S "My lord, I do not know what you mean," gravely replied Manuel Argoso.
" The failure to denounce heresy is encouraging heresy," continued
the inquisitor.  " You could not but know that Estevan de Vargas,
the descendant of a Moorish family, is far from being a pure catholic, and you have not only received him into your house, but you
have betrothed to him your only daughter.'
At this word, the bosom of the unhappy governor heaved with a
bitter sigh, and a tear was seen to trickle down his pale cheek; but
instantly rallying:
"My lord," replied he, " young Estevan de Vargas descends from
one of those noble Abencerrage cavaliers, who voluntarily submitted
to the religion of Jesus Christ, and acknowledged themselves subjects of king Ferdinand of Aragon, and of the great Isabella, our
glorious sovereign.j  These cavaliers received from our kings the
ported on two X X. called potro. Frequently when an accused person refused
to make the confessions which were exacted from him, he was held seated, or
on his knees, two and even three hours on the edge of the potro. Was not
this a preparatory torture? I say preparatory, because the inquisitors had
better ones than this.
* Every person arrested by order of the holy office, lost by this single fact, all
his titles and dignities, as well as his civil privileges, and never recovered them
until after he had obtained definitive absolution, which very rarely happened.
Thus the first effect of inquisitorial persecution was the ruin and dishonour of
families ' And the inquisitors called themselves defenders of the catholic faith!
~t Don Estevan de Vargas was, in fact, descended from a Moorish family belonging to the tribe of Venegas, a word from which Vargas has been made.
M                    18





138


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


same privileges which the Castilian nobles enjoyed; why shall we
now deny them a right, which legitimately belongs to them since the
last century?"
"He who obtains a right incurs an obligation," observed the inquisitor; "and so soon as he fails in this obligation, his right becomes null and void. Don Estevan de Vargas, professing doctrines
contrary to the holy canons of the church, loses his safeguard as a
good catholic; he is tainted with heresy, and whoever makes an alliance with him is reputed a heretic, and liable to the penalties attached
to this crime."
"My lord," said Argoso, solemnly, '"I swear to you on my honour, that Don Estevan de Vargas has never uttered a word before
me which was not worthy of a pious Christian, and a loyal cavalier
how then could I be the accomplice of a crime which has no existence?"
"He denies!" said the inquisitor, with an air of compassion, turning towards his counsellors, as if to consult them by his looks.
The counsellors made a gesture of horror, raising their eyes towards heaven with hypocritical distress.
This pantomime was familiar to them, and supplied the place of
rectitude, of judgment, and the logic of sound reason, of which none
of them had any share.
The secretaries wrote down the questions and answers. Pierre
Arbues seemed to be meditating.
A long silence ensued, during which this impetuous and passionate soul was profoundly summoning its internal energies to regain
those honied intonations, that sanctimonious and affected look, those
words full of evangelic mildness, the only language in use among
the inquisitors, and from which none among them ever departed
under any pretext or circumstances, whether this was one of the
statutes of their rule," or because this hypocritical mildness was only
a refinement of cruelty; for in vain would we persuade ourselves
that they committed wickedness with sincerity, and that this studied
gentleness combined with such barbarity, was the result of their zeal
for religion, and the offspring of tender pity for the victims whom
they believed themselves obliged to torture in this way.
The father of Don Estevan was nominated a member of the council of Castile,
by Philip L., in 1506. Don Estevan had a brother, an inquisitor, named Don
Pedro de Vargas de la Santa Cruz, who was his most cruel persecutor. Don
Estevan escaped the inquisition only by leaving Spain.
* The following note may be read on page 100, of the Ultramontanism of
M. Edgar Quinet, first edition, 8vo. p. 282.
" Manner of inflicting torture on the accused who refuses to reply, or will
not reply with precision:"--" It frequently happens that the accused will not
reply with precision, but does it in evasive terms: I do not know, I do not remember; that may be, I do not believe it; I ought not to be guilty of this fault.
Answers must be given in clear precise words. I have said so, I have not said
so; I have done so, I have not done so. In these cases it is necessary to proceed against him with a rigorous examination, (torture,) to draw from him an
absolute, precise, satisfactory and sufficient reply. But at first, it is right to
address proper admonitions, after that to menace with torture. The notary
will record the said admonitions and menaces. The formula is the following:
Kindly warned, benigne monitus.





THE TRIBUNAL.


139


Their dissolute morals furnish a triumphant answer to all the
apologies which may be entertained on this subject. Entire purity
of heart is the sole warrant of its goodness.
At last, eyeing the governor of Seville with an air of regret:
" My son," said Pierre Arbues to him, "you see me sincerely
afflicted by the obstinacy which the enemy of all good has infused
into you. I have loved you in God, and in my zeal for the holy
cause of the church, and my sincere friendship for your person, I
pray the Lord that he may send you the spirit of repentance and
contrition, in order that, ackn6wledging your faults, you may make
a solemn abjuration of them, and be restored to the straight way
which leads to heaven."
" My father," calmly replied Manuel Argoso, a God is my witness, that I have never harboured a single thought which was contrary to the laws of his holy gospel, and that I have always served
him with love and confidence."
"But you confess that you have had certain connexions with a
Moor," insidiously added the inquisitor.
" Don Estevan de Vargas is not a Moor," replied the governor;
"he is as good a catholic as you and I, my lord."
" God of heaven!" exclaimed the inquisitor, " the evil spirit
blinds him, and he insults our holy religion!"
"My lord," objected one of the counsellors, in a low voice, " he
avows his relation to Don Estevan de Vargas."
Pierre Arbues made a motion with his head, which meant: " Well,
I will use that."
"My brother," he resumed, addressing the accused, " will you
also deny that you have brought up your daughter in sentiments
contrary to the true spirit of the catholic religion, and that she has
employed herself in the pernicious studies which come to us from
the north, and which are called philosophy?"
" I deny it;" replied the governor.
" Can you prove it?" demanded the inquisitor.
Manuel Argoso turned towards the assembly which occupied the
lower portion of the hall, and observing several gentlemen who in
the time of his favour, habitually frequented his house:
" Gentlemen," he exclaimed, a which of you will come and render
testimony to the truth, and affirm that neither Manuel Argoso, nor
my daughter, the noble Dolores, have ever practised any other
maxims than those of the gospel; you all know this, gentlemen, for
my soul was as open to you as my house."
The governor awaited a reply in vain, every mouth remained
mute, and the downcast eyes were afraid to suffer the least shadow
of emotion or pity to escape them.
Manuel Argoso let his two arms drop by the side of his body with
an expression of discouragement impossible to depict; then turning
quickly towards the inquisitor, and as though enlightened by sudden
inspiration:
" My lord," he cried, "I appeal to yourself for the proof; you
came every day to my house, and in your double capacity as a friend
and a minister of God, you ought better than any one else, to know
my real sentiments, and especially those of my daughter."





140


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


"I was not her confessor," replied the Dominican, in an icy tone.
"6 Oh, my. lord!'' said Manuel Argoso, with a voice that might
have melted a rock," my lord, is Dolores then also accused of
heresy?  Is Dolores too, a prisoner like myself?"
"The question does not concern your daughter at this moment,"
replied the inquisitor, who designedly wished to prolong the uncertainty of this unhappy father; "you are the accused party, Manuel
Argoso; confess your crime if you would merit the pardon of heaven, and that of the holy church."
The governor made no reply; his eiger and feverish eye interrogated that of Pierre Arbues; he endeavoured to read upon his features, the fate which he was reserving for his daughter; but it was
in vain; the countenance of the inquisitor betrayed nothing but a
frightful hardness of heart incrusted in a halo of hypocritical gentleness.
-'My daughter!   What have you done with my daughter?"
cried the governor, clasping his suppliant hands, " answer me, my
lord, I conjure you, tell me that no danger threatens her, and I shall
be able to endure every thing."
"Manuel Argoso," said the inquisitor, in a slow and mild voice,
"this is not the time to occupy your mind with earthly affections;
think of God and of your salvation, and leave to Providence the
care of watching over those who are dear to you."
Notwithstanding the affected mildness of his words, the countenance of the inquisitor expressed an inflexible determination. The
father of Dolores understood that no hope could be based upon this
soul of bronze; he bowed his head upon his breast, and resigning
himself with a heroism worthy of the first martyrs:
"Let the will of God be done!"' he thought to himself, and was
silent.
" My brother," said the inquisitor to him, in the mildest possible
tone, "confess at least that you have been tempted by the evil spirit.
Feeble creatures that we are, we do not always escape his insidious
assaults, notwithstanding the best intentions. Come then,'my brother, tell us that his fatal power has subdued you; that you have
been more blind than guilty, and whilst mitigating in your case the
rigour of earthly chastisements, we will endeavour at the same time
to save your soul from perdition."
The governor said nothing in reply.
"' Confess at least that you have taken pleasure in listening to the
philosophical and Antichristian maxims with which Lutheranism infests Europe."
" I do not know what Lutheranism is," replied the governor; "It
never engaged my attention... Luther must indeed be a great
man to be able thus to overturn the world."
At this bold reply, the whole assembly shuddered with horror,
for they saw a scowling gleam dart from the eyes of the inquisitor.
Much less than that was necessary to insure a man's condemnation
by the inquisition.
" The unhappy man! He blasphemes!" exclaimed Pierre Arbues,
" and he surrenders himself," he added, in a suppressed voice....
The two other inquisitors exchanged a look of intelligence.












4z)l
4 IV





THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE.


141


" Is it true, then," resumed Arbues, " that there is reason for accusing you of secretly professing the maxims of the enemy of God,
and of being an admirer of Luther?"
"How can I admire and follow the maxims of a man of whom 1
know nothing?" replied the governor; "are they better than my
own? Is his religion worth more than that which has been taught
me?  Besides, who accuses me? Tell me the name of my accuser,
that I may confound him."
"Christian charity does not permit it,"' replied the president.
SConfess, my son, confess and repent, it is the only means of salvation which is left you for the life to come."
" I have nothing more to say," replied the governor. " I can do
nothing but pray to God, who knows my innocence, to display it on
the great day, and convict my judges. Whoever the enemy may
be who accuses me," he continued, " I swear in the presence of the
God who sees and hears me, that he is a wretch and a calumniator;
I declare that my daughter Dolores is an angel. Cursed be he who
would dare attempt the purity of her life! Now," he added, "let
the will of God be done in her, and in me, I have confidence in Him
who protects the innocent."
After this, they might well overwhelm him with insidious and
multiplied questions; Manuel Argoso maintained an imperturbable
silence; it was impossible to make him speak.
"The unhappy man, he will have it so," said Pierre Arbues, in a
tone of hypocritical commiseration.
Then, turning towards the masked men, who stood motionless as
spectres, on the right of the tribunal, he stretched out his hand and
pointed to the prisoner with his finger.
An icy shudder ran through the assembly; soon a frightful silence
reigned in it; not a breath was to be heard in the noiseless vault of
this immense hall; it seemed as though these living creatures had
become marble.
The four masked men alone appeared to detach themselves from
the ground, like phantoms, gliding slowly and noiselessly over the
floor; then, having come near the accused, they seized him, and
almost lifting him up in their arms, without his making a single
movement, they disappeared with him by a side door.
CHAPTER         XXIII.
THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE.
IN the midst of a spacious rotunda, in a deep cave, lighted by two
dim torches, four men in masks, surrounded another man sad and
feeble, who sustained himself with difficulty, and whose enfeebled
vision the gloomy light of this sepulchral place pained and wearied.
A humid and thick atmosphere extended like a pestilential fog
throughout these subterranean regions, from which a fetid and sepul* The inquisition never named the witnesses, and by this means, encouraged
informers.-Annals of the Holy Ofice.





142


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


chral odour was exhaled. In this sort of grotto, all around the
uneven walls which glistened with the water oozing through the
soft stone, instruments of torture might be seen suspended; the infernal invention of the ascetic and savage imagination of the monks,
the very sight of which caused a shudder.
There were racks, iron bolts, nails of an enormous size, ropes of
every thickness, and in a corner by the side of a rack, a pan of burning coals which darted its red and blue flames in the recess of this
dark corner. It was terrible to behold.
The descent into this infernal place was by numerous winding
stairs, whose humid steps were covered with mouldiness, and upon
which it was impossible to walk without slipping, but the servants of
the inquisition had, as they say, the sailor's foot. They were acquainted with the least turn in this frightful labyrinth to which they
had led Manuel Argoso, when they left the hall of the tribunal, and
where we now find them again with the unhappy accused, waiting
the arrival of the grand inquisitor.The former governor of Seville had suffered himself to be led, or
rather carried, closing his eyes in order not to see the road over
which they hurried him; but the executioners had stopped in the
midst of the chamber of torture, thus this gloomy den was called;
the accused opened his eyes again, cast around him an anxious look,
and when he observed nothing but the veiled figures of the sinister
creatures who in this terrestrial hell, filled the office of demons, and
who were called tormentors, when he had counted one after another,
the horrible instruments of torture which surrounded him, his imagination, enfeebled by fasting and imprisonment, became the prey of
a strange hallucination. In his faith as a pious Christian, he believed
he had left this world, and had arrived at the terrible place of which
the gospel speaks, where there is weeping and gnashing of teeth.
Need we be surprised after this, that in such moments, and in the
midst of such a horrid pageant, the inquisition has obtained the most
singular abjurations, and confessions the most contrary to the character of men whom she made her victims?
Pierre Arbues came at length, followed by a second inquisitor,
and by the apostolic notary. The accused was standing in the midst
of the chamber of torture.
At the sight of his judge, he was recalled to the sad feeling of
reality; on raising his eyes towards heaven, as if to supplicate it, he
perceived that above his head, in the vault, a strong pulley had been
fixed, through which passed a solid rope of hemp which hung down
to his feet. He shuddered involuntarily. The four masked men
stood silently by his side.
Pierre Arbues, and the inquisitor who accompanied him, sat down
upon seats to assist at this mournful scene, conformably to the eighteenth article of the code of the inquisition, which provided, that
one or two inquisitors, assisted by the apostolic notary, should always
be present at the torture, to record the declarations of the accused.
Manuel Argoso, although he had the courage of strong minds,
* The description of the chamber of torture is made in accordance with that
which may be read in the History of the Inquisition.





THE CHAMBER OF TORTURE.


143


could not divest himself of awful terror. He thought of his daughter, who would, perhaps be obliged to undergo the same trials, and
all his courage forsook him.
If he could have saved her from them by confessing imaginary
crimes, he would not have hesitated a single moment; but he well
knew that such a confession would ruin instead of saving her. He
therefore summoned all his energy, and prepared to suffer,
At a signal from the grand inquisitor, the tormentors stripped the
accused of his clothing, and left him with nothing but his shirt.
Then Pierre Arbues moving towards him:
A My son," said he, with evangelical sweetness, " my son, confess
your crimes, and do not grieve our soul by persisting in error and
heresy; spare us the sorrow of obeying the just and severe laws of
the holy inquisition, by treating you with all the rigour which they
demand."
Manuel Argoso made no reply, but he cast upon the inquisitor a
fixed, cold, piercing look, which defied torture.
" Avow and confess," resumed Pierre Arbues, with incredible
perseverance, but still with a voice full of unction and gentleness.
" We are your fathers in God, and we are actuated solely by the desire to save your soul. Come, my son, a sincere confession can alone
save you in the other life, and in this, deliver you from the just vengeance of God. Confess then, confess your sin."
" I cannot confess a crime which has no existence," replied the
governor.
" My son," pursued the judge, I am grieved at your impenitence, and I beseech the Lord to touch your soul, which, without
grace, will inevitably be lost; for the devil holds it in his power, and
it is he who inspires you with this guilty persistance in wickedness.
Pray with me, if you possibly can, that God may have pity on you,
and send you the light of his Holy Spirit."
At the same time, Pierre Arbues kneeling on the ground by the side
of the sufferer, muttered in a low voice, an unintelligible prayer, with
a sanctimonious and affected air. Then he made one after another,
several rapid signs of the cross, humbly smote his breast, and remained
for some minutes with his face leaning upon his clasped hands.
At this moment, the savage inquisitor of Seville was only an humble Dominican, praying and weeping for the sins of others, at length
he rose up:
a Unhappy slave of the devil," said he, addressing the accused,
" has God vouchsafed to hear my prayers and open your eyes sealed
against the brightness of our holy faith?"
" My faith is still the same," replied Argoso; " it has never varied
a single instant; as I have received it from my father, who was a
pious Christian, so I will carry it with me to the tomb."
" God is my witness, that it is not my fault," said the judge, raising
his eyes towards heaven; " go," he pursued, looking at the tormentors, "apply the torture of the cord."
At these words the accused shut his eyes; a dull buzzing sounded
in his ears; a cold sweat ran down his limbs, and he shuddered in
every fibre. The tormentors drew towards them the cable which
hung down from the vault.





144


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


"You will continue the torture until we judge it expedient to
suspend it," continued the inquisitor, "and if during this time, the
accused suffers any injury, be it the fracture of a limb or even death,
1 protest before you all that the fault of it should be imputed to him
alone. And now, let the will of God be done," added he, extending
his hands towards the executioners.
Instantly the four masked men seized the unhappy governor, and
tied his hands behind his back, with one of the ends of the cord
which hung above his head; then seizing the other end, by the aid
of the pulley, they raised the sufferer to the height of the ceiling, and
let him fall rapidly till within half a foot from the ground. The
unhappy man almost fainted at this terrible shock.
The tormentors waited a few minutes until he had recovered, and
immediately, when he re-opened his eyes, they recommenced this
cruel ascension and suffered him to fall again as violently as the first
time. This punishment lasted for an hour.*
The unfortunate governor had not uttered a complaint; only his
panting and suffocated breast emitted a hoarse and constrained respiration, which resembled the death-rattle. His heavy eyes, glazed
like those of the dying, seemed to have nothing more to do but to
close in their last sleep. The cord which enclosed his wrists had
cut so deeply into the flesh, that the blood of the tortured man
having trickled all over his body, his shirt, the only clothing which
they had left him, was soiled with bloody mire; 'for the floor was
earthy and damp, and when the torture was over, the wretched man
released from his bonds fell on the earth like a lifeless mass; his dislocated bones and mangled muscles could no longer support him.
It was a harrowing and horrid spectacle, to see this strong man,
tall, robust, and still in the vigour of his age, annihilated by a cruel
torture, and punished before he had been tried.  What might not be
expected from a jurisprudence which imposed such trials on the accused?   But the inquisitors had no bowels; they reigned by torture,
they delighted in agony.
"Take this man back to his prison," said Pierre Arbues, with an
air of pity; "that will do for to-day;" and turning towards the inquisitorial counsellor:
* I borrow again from M. E. Quinet, a part of the note p. 101.  After
having caused the accused to be suspended, they shall interrogate him in his
torture respecting the said fact only (the fact in question,) keeping him suspended a longer or shorter time, at option, according to the quality of the case,
the weight of the proof, the condition of the tortured person, and other similar
things which it shall be the duty of the judge to consider, (and which he did
not consider in Spain at least,) in order that justice may be done, and that no
person may be unduly injured.--(Manner of inflicting the cord, <4c." p. 286,
287.) " If during the torture, the accused persists in denying, the examination
(the torture) shall close as follows: The inquisitors not being able to extort
from him (the accused) any thing farther, shall order him to be gently let down
from the cord to which he is suspended, and to be untied, and that the joints
of the arm shall again be set, that he be re-clothed and taken back to his place,
after having kept him suspended in the torture for half an hour, measured time,
and the notary will sign the record." This punishment, which at Rome lasted
only half an hour, was, according to Llorente, protracted to more than an hour.
-(Punishments inflicted by the Inquisition.)





THE DUNGEONS OF THE INQUISITION.


145


" My brother," said he, " do not forget this unhappy man in your
prayers."
Such was the manner of the inquisitors' procedure when in the
presence of their victims; they concealed" the abominable hardness
of their heart under the hypocritical exterior of profound piety.
Two sbires carried the wretched governor in their arms. Manuel
Argoso no longer gave any sign of life.
CHAPTER        XXIV.
THE DUNGEONS OF THE INQUISITION.
IT was midnight. All were asleep in Seville, except, perhaps, the
wretched prisoners plunged in the sinks of the inquisition.
Along the avenues of this gloomy edifice, called the prison of faith,
nothing shed a ray upon the darkness of the night. The silence of
death reigned there; the tombs which enclosed the living were too
deep to permit the victim's shrieks of agony to penetrate the gloom.
Two persons were moving with stealthy steps towards the prison,
a religious and a woman. The night was so dark, and their clothing
of such sombre hue, that not even a spy would have been able to distinguish them from the blackened wall which they followed, feeling
their way along its side, in order to direct themselves in the darkness.
Soon they reached the gate of the prison. The religious knocked
slightly, yet distinctly with a key which he held in his hand; instantly the door turned slowly on its hinges, as if by magic. The
religious and the woman were introduced into the interior.
No light enlivened their passage, and as soon as they had entered,
the door closed softly without grating on its hinges, which had previously been carefully oiled.
" Oh! I am afraid," said the companion of the religious, in a whisper.
"Be composed, Dolores," replied Jos6, ( with me you have
nothing to fear."
The girl leaned upon the arm of the Dominican, for her heart
beat violently. The jailer had meanwhile lighted a dark lantern.
" Reverence," said he, addressing the monk, " where am I to lead
your paternity?"
"To the dungeon of the governor of Seville; go, and walk before
us."
The jailer hesitated a moment; he knew how barbarously he would
be treated by the inquisition, should it be discovered that he had introduced a woman into the dungeon of a prisoner.
"Well," said Jos6, "do you hesitate?"
" Your reverence!"
The favourite of the grand inquisitor made an imperative sign
without speaking. The jailer immediately went forward, not daring
to reply.
The monk and the girl followed him. Before reaching the subN                    19





146


THIE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


terranean region where the holy office kept its victims, they descended a narrow stairway of about fifty steps. A nauseous and insupportable odour exhaled from these infected recesses. The monk
and his companion were almost suffocated, and ready to faint; the
delicacy of their organs rendered this stench intolerable.-  Jos6,
however, more courageous, supported Dolores in his arms, pale and
almost exhausted as she was.
"Oh!" exclaimed the young girl, with anguish, pausing upon the
last step of the stairway, "is it here, then, that my father lives?"
"Courage,"' whispered the Dominican, "courage, you will need
it."
At this moment a heavy iron       door opened with difficulty,
emitting a blast of air so thick and fetid, that it resembled smoke.
" It is here, your reverence," said the jailer, entrusting to the
young monk the dark lantern which he held in his hand, "' go in,
but in the name of heaven, make no noise, and do not stay long."
"Be gone," said Jose, imperiously, taking the lantern from the
hands of the jailer; " I want to hear no objections from you."
The jailer obeyed, and withdrew into a remote corner of the
subterranean corridor.
Then by the uncertain and flickering light of the lantern, Jose endeavoured to guide Dolores through this profound darkness. They
crossed the threshold of the narrow and massive door, and after their
eyes had become somewhat used to the doubtful light which enveloped them, at the extremity of the dungeon, which was ten or
twelve feet broad, upon a floor which covered scarcely the half of it,
they perceived a man stretched, as if asleep.
This man was the former governor of Seville. He was alone.
The five other prisoners who had usually lived in this den, large
enough only for three persons, had died, one after another, during or
subsequent to the torture.
The unfortunate Argoso, stronger or more courageous, had withstood the terrible ascensions which he had endured; some hours
after having been brought back to his dungeon, he had been restored
to life, and to pain.
At the moment when his daughter entered his dungeon, a gentle
slumber had suspended the misery of dwelling in this vile place.
Some earthen vessels, designed to satisfy the wants of nature, and
vwhich were emptied only once a week, exhaled around him  an in-.
tolerable odour. This frightful spot received light only by a kind
of bored sky-light at the top of the wall, on a level with the street,
and it was so damp, that the mat on which the prisoner slept, was
* "The dungeons of the inquisition were deep subterranean dens, real tombs
more than thirty feet under ground. In each dungeon, about twelve feet long
and eight wide, stood a camp bed four feet broad by twelve in length. Every
dungeon ordinarily contained six and often eight persons, of whom three or
four of the more robust lay on the damp ground, and the others on the bed. A
vessel designed to satisfy the wants of nature, and which was emptied only
every eight days, and sometimes not for two whole weeks, was in one corner,
and completed the pollution of the atmosphere, already exhausted for the most
part by the breathing of the poor creatures condemned to inhabit these places."
-(History of the Inquisition.)







100


ýýf I


R DE MORAINE, "DL










THE DUNGEONS OF THE INQUISITION.1


147


entirely rotten, and lay in tatters. When the complement was full,
the floor being too small, the stronger of the prisoners slept on the
cold and miry ground. Such were the places in which the inquisition confined its victims.
Dolores softly approached the floor on which her father slept, and
clasping her hands with an expression of overwhelming grief, she
looked at him for some minutes, but she could not see his face,
which was turned towards the wall, and resting on one of his arms,
he appeared so calm, that she did not dare to wake him.
Jos6, however, in coming forward, stumbled against an earthen
pitcher which lay in his way.
At the noise which it made in falling, the governor raised his
head; he was so pale, and so changed, that none but his daughter
could have recognised him.
" My father!" exclaimed Dolores, with a piteous moan. She
threw herself sobbing upon his breast, and embracing him in both
her arms, with the sublime enthusiasm of tenderness and grief, she
pressed him against her bosom. But the unhappy father did not return the embrace; in spite of himself a piercing complaint burst
from his lips; his daughter had aroused the sharp pangs of his broken
limbs by embracing him.
" What is the matter? Oh! what is the matter?" cried she, trying to raise him in her feeble arms.
"Nothing, nothing at all, my dear Dolores," said he, forcing himself to smile; "oh! I am happy to see you again!"
Jose guessed the whole; he knit his brow, with an energetic expression of indignatio., and murmured in a suppressed voice:
" Oh! if I had knownl this, righteous God!"
Manuel Argoso made LjefTectual efforts to rise; his arms paralyzed
by suffering, his dislocated bones, and mangled muscles, remained
powerless, and refused obedience to the efforts of his will.
His daughter, the only being in the world whom he loved, his
daughter, whom he had believed he should never see again, was
there before him in his prison, to which she had descended as by a
miracle, and he was unable to press her affectionately against his
bosom; he could only stammer words incoherently, interrupted by
sobs and tears.
This external death which afflicted him whilst he was still alive,
was an inexpressible torture. His eyes only could be satiated in
contemplating his daughter; he looked at her with passionate love,
with the sacredly artless tenderness of a mother, but without speaking; tumultuous sobs swelled in his breast, his large dark eye, feverish and sparkling in its deep socket, was suffused with tears, and his
trembling lips were agitated by convulsive movements.
" Oh! then you are at liberty!" he exclaimed at last, with an expression of joy so true and so sad, that the heart of Jose beat like
sounding brass; an icy shudder passed through his frame, and by an
involuntary motion, he fell at the governor's knees.
"Who is this monk?" inquired Manuel Argoso.
" An angel, my father," replied Dolores; " an angel who has reunited us."
" Too late!" murmured the governor.





148


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


S"Why too late?" replied the girl; "you are suffering, but we
will save you."
She did not perceive that the inquisition had reduced this robust
man to a mere carcase.
Jos6 could contain himself no longer. Bitter tears made his
bosom heave with anguish, his indignation was killing him.
"Poor child!" he exclaimed, with a burst of emotion, a do you
not see that they have broken his limbs?"
"Be still! Be still!" said the father, quickly.
It was too late, Dolores had comprehended the whole.
Overwhelmed and crushed, she threw herself on her knees before the litter on which her unhappy father was lying; she gently
raised his mangled limbs, and covered them with kisses and tears;
it seemed to her that by dint of tenderness, she could restore to her
father the life of which they had deprived him.
But, at last seeing that her efforts were useless, and that the
afflicted go~ernor still motionless, lived only through grief, she
turned reproachfully towards the Dominican:
"You knew it," said she, " and you did not tell me of it.."
" If I had known it," replied Jos6, "I would not have brought
you here; I have been deceived like yourself, Dolores; the torture
has been applied immediately after the examination, which is scarcely
ever done; and you know that yesterday, I was obliged to be absent
from Seville!"
"Oh! oh! they have killed him!" moaned the poor girl, and covering her father's hands with convulsive kisses, she exclaimed:
SSee, Dan Jos6, he cannot move at all, and they have left him
thus in this infectious dungeon, without even dressing his wounds.
Oh! my father, how have you been able to live here? This prison
is a tomb!"
" Be composed, my child," said the governor, sweetly, " my misfortune is not without remedy; I shall get well, be assured of that."
"Yes, you shall get well again," said she with firmness, "for I
will stay here to take care of you. Who would venture to tear me
from him?" exclaimed the noble girl.
"I," replied Jos6, " I who desire to save you both."
"You told me that before, and yet you see to what a condition he
has been reduced. You all deceive me, I will listen to no one but
myself, I will stay here!"
" Dolores," said the young monk, " believe me, do not give way
to this useless excitement; remain free in order to save your father.
The continuation of his trial will not be resumed very soon. Do
you not know that Estevan and Jean d'Avila are engaged in trying
to save him from the inquisition?"
"Have they been seeking witnesses for me?" asked Manuel Argoso, in a feeble voice.
At the word witnesses, the governor's daughter came to herself
again; she recollected a project which had already occupied her
mind.
" Don Jos6," said she, turning towards the young Dominican, "do
you assure me that my father's wounds can be healed?"





THE DUNGEONS OF THE INQUISITION.


149


Jose, who had some knowledge of surgery, felt the prisoner's
limbs one after another.
"1 swear it," replied he; " in a few days your father will be able
to walk; his joints have been replaced."
"Well then," continued Dolores, without revealing her intention,
from fear that Jose would hinder her from putting it into execution.
"I will await the return of Jean d'Avila."
"Don Manuel," said the young monk, addressing the governor,
"do not be in haste to show yourself cured; delay a second examination as much as possible; give your friends time to arrive... God
will have pity on us," he continued, with gloomy excitement, " and
the day of vengeance is not far off!"
"I can endure every thing now," replied the governor, "my
daughter is at liberty, and you will not betray us," added he, looking
at Jose with an indefinable expression.
Manuel Argoso was afraid of this man who wore the livery of the
inquisition.
"I owe him my liberty," said Dolores quickly, understanding the
fears of her father; "it is he who has saved me from dishonour and
from death; trust him, and you, don Jose," said she, sweetly," pardon my injustice and rebellion; Oh! I suffer so much!"
" I too have suffered," replied the young Dominican bitterly;
"4 this is the reason why I am interested in you, and I forgive you."
At this instant, steps sounded on the narrow stairway which led
to the dungeons.
Jos6 quickly concealed his dark lantern under his cloak, and looking at the governor and his daughter; " not a word," said he, " wait."
A bitter feeling of doubt crossed the heart of Manuel Argoso; notwithstanding the confidence of his daughter, he was afraid of treason,
still he gave no evidence of his fears.
The noise continued for several minutes. Those who descended
the stairway, passed before the door of the dungeon-where the governor was confined, then they withdrew a few steps farther; the door
of an adjoining dungeon opened and shut, the stairway was remounted, and nothing more was heard but convulsive sobs, which
the thickness of the walls could not intercept.
The sbires of the holy office had just finished a nocturnal expedition.
"Another victim!" said Jose bitterly. "A woman," added Dolores,
shuddering, " I recognised her by her voice."
" Go, go," exclaimed the governor, " the atmosphere of this prison is contagious; return to liberty, my Dolores, we will see one
another again; go!"
"Yes, we shall see each other again, my father; for I will come
again," said the girl, questioning Jose with a look.
"Not here," said the governor with warmth; "not here, I forbid
you. Do all that you can to deliver me, but in the name of heaven,
do not come to this place again."
"Come, come," said Jose, "he is right; we are never safe in the
prisons of the holy office."
" Not yet, oh! not yet," said Dolores, clinging to her father, whom
she could not leave.
N2





150


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" You must," rejoined the young monk, almost employing violence to detach her from him. "Farewell, don Manuel, hope; you
have friends who will save you."
At this moment, the jailer half opened the door of the dungeon,
and said to Jose; "Your reverence, take away this girl, I implore
you; she is not safe here, and I risk my life; I conjure you, take
her away."
" Let us go," said Dolores resolutely, I do not wish to endanger
the life of any one. Farewell, my father, we must not suffer our
misfortune to fall on another, farewell, and take courage," added she
in a whisper, embracing him once more.
Dolores and Jose went out: the door of the dungeon closed again
on the prisoner.
CHAPTER XXV.
A GRAND FESTIVAL AT SEVILLE.
IT was a great gala day at Seville.
The balconies displayed their coquettish tapestry of silk or beautiful carpets of Grenada. A present had been made to the people;
since the rising of the sun, Pajareti wine flowed in streams from
the fountain of the Esplanade.
The Gitanos, the beggars and the monks had reaped an ample
harvest, for in Spain on festival days, the good Spanish people was,
as they say in common parlance, the milch cow of the monks and
the Gitanos. Each of these castes knew after its manner to profit
by their credulity or good nature, the religious, by means of relics
to be kissed, the others by telling fortunes and furnishing the girls
with talismans; all important things which never went without salary.
The imagination of the people, that silly and lively magician so
ardent in these burning climates, has never yet been unproductive
to its cultivators, and of such there has been no lack. Why have
there not been found men of dignity animated by the sacred love of
the human family, who would turn to advantage this disposition for
the marvellous in order as it were, to make philosophy poetical,
render reason and virtue attractive by making their poetic dress
graceful and sublime, and thus obtaining for a good purpose what
fanaticism has gained for an evil one, rule the multitude in order to
make them happy, as fanaticism has reigned over them to their eternal
misery?
Doubtless this day will come, the contest has begun, the genius of
the future already spreads his wings over Spain. Oh! tliat it might
brood like a spirit over this vast abyss, and from the profound chaos
of passions and opposing opinions, cause the eternal light of truth
to spring forth!
But let us return to Seville.
It was, as we have already said, a festival day. The beautiful Andalusian city had for one day gladly laid aside the mourning which





A GRAND FESTIVAL AT SEVILLE.


151


usually covered it. No doubt many hearts were bleeding, for deepseated grief and bitter resentment lived in the soul of the Andalusians; yet, these thoughtless sons of the finest country in the world,
these children of pleasure who are better artists and poets without
knowing it, than the greatest writers and the most celebrated singers,
had gaily gone back to their cherished Ca2ha and their voluptuous
fandango. The inquisition was forgotten, the deaths were forgotten,
the sbires were forgotten, terror was forgotten, the Sevillians having
again become musicians, poets, and lovers, sang and danced deliriously; they lived only for the present moment, and strange as it may
appear, this festival, the object of so lively an enthusiasm, was in
honour of the inquisition.
The noble city of Seville celebrated the arrival within its walls
of the Duke de Medina Ccli, grand standard bearer of the faith,
who had come to hold his place in a royal auto da f6, which was to
take place there in order to celebrate one of those innumerable petty
triumphs of Charles V., who had obtained such great ones against
the Protestantism of Germany; triumphs most frequently followed
by defeats, a medley of good and evil, of alliances and revolts,
which after the league of Smalcalde* held Europe in suspense for
so long a time, and rendered it doubtful which would be victorious,
Rome or Luther; triumphs which served so often as a pretext to
the Roman charch to multiply her funeral piles.
The night had arrived, beautiful and starlight as usual.  The
bracing and fragrant air, the exhilaration of the dance and the wine
from the fountain, had occasioned an excessive excitement among
the people of Seville. The Jacara had never been danced with such
good will, nor the Cara sung with more voluptuous abandon. It is
true that the Duke de Medina Cmli, who paid the expenses of the
festival from his coffers, had shown himself a great and generous
lord; he had liberally furnished the gentlemen, the Moors and the
vagabonds of the city with something to drink.
But whilst the people were rejoicing in the streets, it was of
course necessary that the lords and grandees of Spain should have
their share of this national festival.
The noble hidalgos of Seville, the well disposed, that is to say, the
servants of the inquisition, amused themselves in the splendid saloons
of the Count and Duke de Mondejar, son-in-law and nephew of the
puissant and most excellent Duke de Medina Celi.
At the close of a sumptuous banquet which had taken place at the
house of the Count de Mondejar, the guests assembled in one of the
magnificent saloons of the hotel, were engaged in conversation,
stting on broad silk divans, which reminded one of the oriental
luxury of the kings of Seville, smoking delicious cigaritos, a luxury,
On the 28th of December, 1530, the German princes who had adopted the
doctrines of Luther, having learned that the catholic princes of the empire had
formed a league for the support of the established religion, at the head of
which was the emperor himself, assembled in all haste at Smalcalde, and there
concluded a league offensive and defensive, against every aggressor. After
this league all the protestant states of the empire were to form but a single
boQ.--(W. Meiners, History of the Reformation, chap. iv.)





152


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


which at this period, was within the reach of none but kings and
very great lords.A large number of chandeliers of rock crystal suspended from the
ceiling, diffused through the hall a glare of light, which streamed in
flowing undulations over the silk vestments of these noble lords.
Not one lady had been admitted to this soir6e, which might have
been designated by the name of the catholic and inquisitorial club, and
of which the Count de Mondejar was the president, always excepting
the rare moments when his most illustrious father-in-law condescended to honour this pious assemblage with his presence.
" Do you know, Don Rodriguez, that another triumph has been
gained by catholicism over the protestants of Germany, owing to the
admirable policy of our beloved sovereign Don Carlos V.?"'
These words, pronounced with true Castilian emphasis by a
young lord, a favourite of the Duke de Mondejar, and who was
already spoken of as his son-in-law, were addressed to an old man,
whose shabby and ill-arranged clothes, contrasted in a singular manner with the refined though severe elegance of the lords who composed the assembly.
Notwithstanding the wretched and sordid appearance of his
clothing, this man was of very easy manners, and this external disorder seemed to be rather the result of negligence, or haughty asceticism than of poverty. His bold and lofty features indicated
genius, whilst the horizontal lines which intersected his broad
forehead, combined with a peculiar frown of the eyebrows, betrayed
habits of meditation grafted upon tumultuous and even excessive
passions.
His face might have undergone the same transformation as that of
Socrates; the soul when changed had subjected it to this metamorphosis, and if the ardent and somewhat oblique cast of the eye testified that he was a prey to habitual enthusiasm, the bold outlines of
his features, the fine irony of his lips and the severity of his brow
announced that his clear and deep thought had nothing of that instability which characterizes those who are deranged, but that on the
contrary, there was in him a proper and complete developement
of the intellectual faculties. He turned slowly towards the young
man who had addressed the remark to him, and looked at him without replying.
" We shall have a month of festivals and public rejoicings," continued the young nobleman, "without reckoning the royal auto da f6,
which will certainly be a grand affair, if the programme keeps its
promise."
" Rest satisfied, there will be no failure there," replied the old
man, in a tone which his companion took for approbation, but which
was full of bitterness and irony.
" None indeed," resumed the young man, whose name was Don
Carlos; " for it is asserted that the grand inquisitor has reserved for
this solemnity, Don Manuel Argoso, the former governor of Seville."'
"A true Christian," remarked the old man, gravely.
~ The first tobacco introduced into Spain was sent from Tabasco, by Ferdinand Cortes to Charles V. in 1519.





A GRAND FESTIVAL AT SEVILLE.


153


" Hum!" said Don Carlos, " he was the very intimate friend of
Don Estevan de Vargas, and Don Estevan de Vargas has always
assumed philosophic airs. He scents the fagot when a league off;
is it not so, Don Rodriguez de Valero?"
"Don Estevan is a noble soul," replied Don Rodriguez, "but he
has enemies, he never would serve in the militia of Christ, and you,
Don Carlos," continued he, in a slightly sarcastic tone, " have you at
last come so far as to apply for the anto?"
" Not yet," replied the intended son-in-law of the duke de Mondejar, with an air of sadness; " but I hope to slip in a word about it
this evening to his excellency, the great standard bearer."
" The opportunity is, indeed, a fine one; I advise you not to let it
escape."
" How, Don Carlos, do you intend to become a familiar?" exclaimed a young Aragonese nobleman who had come for the first
time into this illustrious assembly.
" Certainly, Don Ximenes, would I dare make pretensions without that to the hand of doiia Isabella, the daughter of the duke de
Mondejar?"
" Hard lot for a Spanish cavalier," said the Aragonese, shaking
his head.
" On the contrary a noble lot!" said Valero, in a shrill tone, " a
noble lot, Don Ximenes, to be a familiar of the inquisition, that is,
to be on horseback on the wheel of fortune. To wear under his
vestment the insignia of this order, is to have his passport to the
most important posts of the kingdom; with this, any thing may be
attained. Tell me, what houses in Spain combine more offices, riches,
and honours than the houses of Medina Cceli, and of Mondejar?
Do you suppose if Don Manuel Argoso, and Don Estevan de Vargas
had belonged to the holy office, they would to day be, the one on
the point of being burned alive, the other, wandering over hills and
valleys; and that if the confessor of the beautiful Dolores had been
called Don Pedro Arbues, or simply Don Jose, this charming heretic
would be what she is, poor and houseless as a gipsey, without even
a stone for a pillow?"
"Hush," said Don Ximenes; "you are destroying yourself,
Valero."
"Be easy on that score, they take me for a fool."
In fact, the other nobles who composed this party, occupied with
nothing very important concerning the affairs of religion, bestowed
no attention on the remarks of Rodriguez de Valero, about whom,
they never troubled themselves at all, for they did not understand
his profound wisdom.
" Believe me, sir," continued the old man, " now a days in Spain,
there is only one kind of honour, to belong to the master, and you
know the master is the inquisition. Formerly," he remarked, gra-..
dually becoming more animated, "formerly, in order to merit the
reputation of a brave cavalier, a man was required to know how to
break a lance, and manage a fiery steed. He was reputed a loyal
and good servant of the king, who had fought the Moors on the
battle field. Then there was some glory. Now a days, gentlemen,
there ire no more Moors to fight, there are only Moors to denounce.
20





154


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


There is no longer a noble and beautiful queen, who will reward
you with a smile on your return from the combat, offering you her
white hand to kiss, there are monks who will bless you with their
filthy hand, when you have ruined a faithful servant of the king. Formerly, after a day of battle, the squadrons were drawn up in a circle,
and a herald at-arms proclaimed three times, the names of those who
had fought bravely; and six times the names of those who had died
with arms in their hands. In our day, the names of the servants of
the holy office are proclaimed by no body; the servants of the holy
office have not even the privilege of publishing their infamy."
" Don Rodriguez!" exclaimed the young Aragonese, frightened
by the words which he had just heard, "upon my soul! I would not
give at such a time as this, a maravedis for your head."
" Don Rodriguez de Valero enjoys unwonted liberty and happiness," added Don Carlos; "they let him say whatever he chooses."
" It is vexatious, is it not, Don Carlos?" replied the old man,
with increased bitterness, " for if I were not called Don Rodriguez
de Valero, by reporting to Pierre Arbues the fourth part of what
you have just heard, you would be sure to obtain the hand of Doina
Isabela, and you would be registered without farther information
among that horde of devils whom they call the soldiers of Christ.*
Unfortunately, I am not worth even the trouble of denouncing, and
you would lose your time at that."
After saying these words, the old man abruptly left the assembly.
Don Carlos blushed up to his forehead, and stood with downcast
eyes. At this moment, the grand inquisitor entered the hall, accompanied by the Duke de Medina Coeli.
The Duke was a little rickety old man, of a sickly and jaundiced
complexion. His appearance indicated asceticism, his gait was unequal, his voice was hoarse, and too strong for so puny an individual;
this produced a somewhat ludicrous effect when he spoke; his voice
might have been supposed to be that of a ventriloquist, this organ so
disproportionately developed, was in such discord with the exterior
of the duke.
The noble lord, and the priest saluted the assembly; then the duke
addressing Don Carlos:
" Young man," said he, "my son in law has spoken to me of a
desire which you have expressed; I have said a word respecting it
to his eminence, who, I hope, will not refuse you this favour."
"Don Carlos," rejoined Pierre Arbues, "I am pleased to see your
zeal for the service of God."
" Come then, do not be so timid," resumed the duke, " his eminence knows your merit; he knows how pure your blood is."t
* The surest means of attaining the honour of being reckoned among the familiars of the holy office, was to denounce some well known personage; for the
poor, those who had nothing to lose, had nothing to fear from the inquisition.
This fact, substantiated by all the works which have been written on the inquisition, proves that neither the glory of God nor the triumph of faith concerned the inquisitors; they sought only to enrich themselves by the spoils of
victims, and to acquire power by amassing wealth.
t By a very sagacious policy, the inquisition was anxious to secure as familiars., men of noble blood and long established Christian families; by this





A GRAND FESTIVAL AT SEVILLE.


155


Don Carlos made no reply. This young nobleman, who two days
before would have given the whole world to become a familiar of
the holy office, a title which the Duke de Mondejar exacted of him
before granting the hand of his daughter, was at this moment
ashamed of having miade the request.
The Duke de Medina Coeli did not at all understand the reason
of his hesitation, and mistaking the real sentiments of the young
man, he turned to the grand inquisitor:
" My lord," said he, "this young cavalier will be a warm defender
of our holy religion."
Pierre Arbues held out his hand to Don Carlos to kiss, and said in
a honied tone:
" To-morrow, after high mass, be at the cathedral to receive the
santo from my own hand."
Don Carlos bowed without replying.
At this instant a servant raising one of the crimson velvet screens
which masked the entrance of the hall, announced with a loud voice:
" Dofa Dolores Argoso of Cevallos."
The inquisitor started, and perceiving a private room open, contiguous to the place at which he was standing, he drew into it the
Duke de Medina Cceli.
Dolores immediately entered the hall. At the sight of so many
people, the girl stood confused, looking for the master of the house.
The Duke de Mondejar had, however, risen as her name was mentioned; but on seeing the inquisitor disappear with the Duke de
Medina Coeli, he was so fearful of offending Pierre Arbues, that he
scarcely felt able to move a step towards the daughter of his old
friend; he remained standing nailed to his place, stammering from
habit some forms of politeness.
Dolores moved towards him with a noble and touching expression of countenance.
A  murmur of admiration circulated in the assembly, notwithstanding the terror which was felt for a heretic, so great was the
fascination of this extraordinary beauty, combined with moral dignity.
"My lord," said Dolores, seeing the Duke de Mondejar grow
pale, and tremble at her approach, " is the presence of a fugitive so
fatal in your house that it should change into sadness the joy which
animates this noble assembly?"
The duke pointed her to a seat, without replying-one of those
sculptured tabourets, so rich and durable, furniture which was even
means, it secured the respect of the people who were easily induced in those
days to believe that whatever the noble lords did was honourable, not understanding how a gentleman could be guilty of any thing base and mean; in order
to be admitted to the honour of belonging to the militia of Christ, it was at least
necessary to establish the purity of the blood, that is to say, to prove that they
were not descended either from a Jew or a Moor, or from parents who had
been condemned or made penitents by the most holy inquisition (a sacred rule
of the conditions essential to qualification fbr membership in the militia of
Christ.) This same regulation exonerated the women who might wish to engage in the service of the holy inquisition from establishing the purity of their
blood, " considering the great services which they could render to the cause
of God."





156


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION,


then antique, belonging to the middle ages, and preserved in families like a tradition.
After she was seated, the governor's daughter said nothing for
some moments. The duke maintained on his part an equally constrained and embarrassed silence.
Notwithstanding her courage, Dolores felt herself seized with that
girlish timidity, which when it is not encouraged, degenerates
into real torture. Her forehead was suffused with a burning blush,
she heard her heart beat with hurried strokes in her bosom, and her
quivering lips refused to articulate a single word. The spectators of
this scene waited with increasing anxiety.
On seeing Dolores in this state, the Count de Mondejar felt moved
with great pity for this young and beautiful creature, not long since
so brilliant, now so poor and abandoned, and who presented herself
before him in the humble garb of a girl from the ranks of the common people. But the grand inquisitor and the Duke de Medina
Coeli could see and hear all that passed from the ante-chamber which
they had entered. The fortune and life of a Spanish lord were entirely dependent on the inquisition, and the Duke de Mondejar was
under the influence of that profound terror, which, it must be said,
utterly changed the national character, naturally so noble, so chivalric, and so devoted.
Dolores eyed the countenance of the duke for some moments, and
she was not mistaken in the icy coldness, the mask of bronze which
refused to betray the feelings of the heart.
"My father is lost," thought she.... Still determined to brave
every thing, she regained, by a great effort of the will, her accustomed energy, and rising from her seat with captivating nobleness and modesty:
"My lord," said she, addressing the Duke de Mondejar, "I see
how painful my presence is to you, and 1 ought not to trouble you
with it, for I know also how dangerous it is. Misfortune is so contagious!   But it shall not be said that I have shrunk from the accomplishment of a duty. My father is groaning in the dungeons of
the inquisition; my father, doubtless slandered," she added, blushing, for she did not wish to disclose the real motive of his disgrace;
" my father will be condemned like a criminal if his friends do not
come to his help. You have loved him, my lord, and better than
any other, you know the purity of his faith. Be a witness in his
behalf in this unfortunate affair, that the testimony of one of the
purest Christians in Spain, may confound calumny and imposture;
restore a father to his daughter-oh! my lord! restore my father to
me, and I will bless you!"
"Even if I should be willing, one witness is not sufficient," replied the Duke de Mondejar, greatly embarrassed respecting the
effect of this reply upon the inmates of the ante-chamber.
Then Dolores, turning towards the assembly with a gentle and
graceful movement:
"My lords," said she, with a suppliant voice, in the midst of her
tears, "my lords, you have all been acquainted with my father!"
A death-like silence was the sole reply to this appeal.





THE CHAMBER OF MERCY.


157


Dolores clasped her hands, and raised towarcs heaven a despairing look.
At this moment, Rodriguez de Valero re-entered the hall; he had
heard all that had just passed. With a haughty and dignified air, he
approached the girl, and saluting her courteously:
"Seniora," said he, " I will be a witness in behalf of your father."
" Oh! thank you," said she, clenching her hands.
Instantly, an icy, shrill, metallic laugh, a laugh which sounded like
a knell of agony, issued from the ante-chamber, in which the inquisitor had taken refuge; then raising the screen, and showing himself to the assembly, which was pale and mute with horror:
"Rodriguez de Valero," said Pierre Arbues, continuing his frightful laugh, "Rodriguez de Valero, the testimony of fools is not received."
On seeing the inquisitor, Dolores uttered a shriek, and fainted
away.
The duke de Mondejar, pale and terrified, knew not what deportment he should maintain.
Pierre Arbues looked at him in a peculiar manner. The duke
seemed to recover his self-possession; he rang the bell, two valets
answered the call.
"Take this young woman home in my litter," said he, in a loud
voice.
The valets obeyed; they carried the governor's daughter away in
their arms; she was still unconscious. The duke went out by another door. At the expiration of a few minutes, he returned. His
countenance was bright.
"Duke de Mondejar," said the inquisitor to him, in a whisper,
" when God shall call to himself the Duke de Medina Coeli, you
shall succeed him in his office of grand standard bearer."
" My lord," said Valero, who had walked up to him, " God preserve me from going to paradise if your eminence shall there maintain your dignity of grand inquisitor."
CHAPTER XXVI.
THE CHAMBER OF MERCY.
THIE prison of the holy office of Seville, was situated in the street
which is at present called the street of the Constitution; then it
went by the name of the street of the Inquisition.
In all the great cities of Spain, there was one street which bore
this name, and a building called the palace of the Inquisition.
At Seville, the palace of the inquisition was a great square monument flanked by four towers, built of red bricks, and covered with
slate. Upon the outside, a large number of windows might be seen,
regularly inserted. These windows had no shutters on the outside;
but every one of them was masked to its summit, and even somewhat higher, by a wall which rose at right angles, nearly in the same
style as the board enclosures which are put around the windows in
mad-houses; so that from dwellings in the vicinity, the eye could by
0





158


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


no means reach the interior of the palace, and those who lived in
it could see nothing more on the outside but a fragment of the sky
as large as the narrow opening, which admitted from above a scanty
and feeble light. The hall of the tribunal, the register's office, the
chambers of torture, the chambers of mercy, the chambers of penitence, and the dungeons, were all situated in the palace of the inquisition; these were so many different prisons in which the accused
were classed, according to what was hoped from them, and the fate
which was reserved for them.
A very rich prisoner was sent first to take up his abode in the
chamber of mercy. The inquisition, that gentle viper brought him
to the point, at which in entire detachment from the possessions of
the world, he made over to the holy office as a voluntary gift, all his
fortune, and then went out after a few months of retirement, poor
as Job, but rich in the endowments of grace, and walking straight,
and without stumbling, in the way to heaven.
At other times, the care of a rebellious conversion was entrusted
to the chamber of penitence, which we will describe hereafter.
Finally, in a desperate case, recourse was had to the dungeons, to
torture, and to death.
The chambers of penitence were built under the roofs in the
towers; the chambers of mercy occupied with the hall of the tribunal, all the first story: on the ground floor, the register's office, and
the rooms of the subaltern employees of the tribunal were situated.
The dungeons and the chambers of torture were under ground, as
the reader already knows.
It was about ten o'clock in the mornng. The illuminations of
the festival which had taken place during the day, had gradually
become extinct, one after another. A profound silence had succeeded the dances and the songs of joy. The streets were entirely
deserted, and a few scattered lights which still burned here and
there in the interior of the houses, testified that the city roused longer
than usual, was not yet entirely plunged in sleep.
A closed litter left the hotel of the Duke de Mondejar, followed
the street of the inquisition, which was at a short distance from it,
and stopped only when it reached the palace. One of the footmen
who accompanied the litter, raised the heavy knocker of the door.
The janitor opened it; the footman immediately whispered a few
words to him. These two men approached the litter together, and
taking in their arms a young woman who was insensible, they carried her to the first story into one of the chambers of mercy. Here
they laid her on a bed, and the footman withdrew. The janitor then
carefully closed the door of the chamber, and went down stairs.
'Teresa," said he to his wife, "go up and see how this lady is
doing who seems more dead than alive."
Teresa obeyed; she went up to the chamber where the girl had
been left, who as yet gave no sign of life.
The wife of the janitor, a contracted and almost idiotic creature,
sat down in silence by her side waiting until it should please God to
restore her to life.
However, the fit which had lasted for two or three hours, seemed
at length to be subsiding. The prisoner moved, stretched out her





THE CHAMBER OF MERCY.                  159
arms like one who is awaking from a deep sleep, slowly re-opened
her eyes and raising herself on one elbow, looked around the
chamber in amazement, but without being able to recognise the furniture or its arrangement.
The bed on which she was reclining had a large square top furnished with curtains of white muslin. An ivory crucifix was hanging from the wall on a cross of ebony; a few convenient but simple
chairs, a sculptured chest, a table with crooked feet, and a mat of
La Mancha reeds composed the furniture. Some books were arranged on ebony shelves above a prayer desk of the same wood,
and some flowers gathered the evening before, filled a large earthen
vessel of porous and red clay, called alcaraza de Valencia, placed
in the centre of the table. Besides, here and there might be noticed some smaller articles used by women of that period; charming
and convenient trifles, which in every age are like the toys of great
children and which they often prefer to more useful things.
These details were all unnoticed by the young woman; she was
struck only by the whole appearance and aspect of this chamber
which were strange to her, for her ideas had not yet become clear
and distinct.
"Juana?" said she, in a sad and gentle voice.
"My name is not Juana," replied the half idiot, who was seated
by her pillow; "I am called Teresa."  The girl then looked at this
woman, and not recognising her face, she uttered a shriek of terror.
S"Where am I then?" she exclaimed suddenly, in a voice full of anguish. " In prison," replied the stupid creature.
"In prison! in prison, do you say?  But what have I done that I
should be in prison?"
"I do not know; that is none of my business."
"Oh! oh! my God!" exclaimed the girl passing her hands ovei
her forehead like one who endeavours to recollect somethin g, "what
has happened to day, and why am I here now?    Ah! yes, yes, I
remember, I went out this evening from the house of Juana; they
were dancing in the streets-every body was happy. But I was
overwhelmed with despair! I had seen my father dying, and I
could do nothing for him; nothing! nothing!" she repeated with the
bitterness of despair. " I wished to try, however, I presented myself to his friends- to those whom he called his friends!! I surprised them  in the midst of the revelry of a feast-I appeared
among them suddenly with my mourning and my distress -I prayed
and wept, asking with loud cries that my father might be restored
to me; they would not listen to me. And there concealed like a
traitor, the grand inquisitor was listening to my words! Then they
gave me up like cowards to the executioner, and in the house of this
noble duke, I have not enjoyed even the safeguard of hospitality.
Yes! yes, that is it," she continued, recalling by degrees each of the
incidents of the evening, "the duke de Mondejar has generously
paid with my life for a smile of Pierre Arbues. What o'clock is
it?" she suddenly asked, addressing the janitor's wife.
"I do not know, Miss; but it has been night for a long time; 1
was asleep when you arrived, for I was very tired, it was a festival
to day, and so many prisoners came!





160


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" A festival indeed," said the girl ironically; "a memoraole festival, gloriously terminated by an act of cowardly treachery. Dolores
Argoso was a victim worthy to be sacrificed to the god who presided over this solemnity!" " * * Dolores was not mistaken, the
most cowardly perfidy had indeed surrendered her to the power of
the inquisitor.
The order given by the Duke de Mondejar to his servants, to take
her home will be remembered. This order, given in a loud voice,
was designed only to deceive the assembly.
During the few moments in which he had been absent from the
hall, the noble duke having perfectly understood by a simple sign,
what the wishes of the inquisitor were, had given new instructions
to his valets, familiars of the lower order, and the governor's daughter was forthwith conveyed to the palace of the inquisition. Instead of defending her as a true cavalier, the duke surrendered her
to the holy office, and yet, the Duke de Mondejar was neither a
cowardly soldier, nor a base noble, nor a treacherous friend; he was
simply a man who was afraid of the quemadero.
But who could express the profound horror of Estevan's bride,
this noble and loyal girl, who would have devoted herself to martyrdom, rather than betray a friend? Who could paint her bitter, deep,
and harrowing grief, in view of such odious treachery? Her first
emotion was generous anger, proud indignation; in the noble dignity
of her soul, she recoiled from all injustice and perfidy; but by degrees
as the excitement of a just resentment passed over, sensibility, a
faculty, the more painful in proud and passionate women from its
union with physical weakness which generally condemns them to
passiveness, sensibility regaining the mastery, restored her entirely
to the realization of her misfortunes, and she faced her new position
with a deadly fear.
The janitress, half asleep, shut her heavy eyes with no more concern about the prisoner than if she had never existed. This intelligent creature had not the least perception of moral grief.
Dolores remained for a few moments, crushed under the weight
of a frightful certainty; she was no longer free!
Dejected, her head leaning on her breast, she buried herself in
this desolating thought. Then, by a sudden reaction of mad despair,
she burst out into piercing shrieks and convulsive sobs. The old
woman startled out of her sleep, rose up, frightened by this overwhelming sorrow.
" Seniora," said she, " do not cry so loud; you are not so badly
off, they have given you the prettiest chamber in the palace of the
inquisition."
At this dreaded name, the governor's daughter started convulsively on her couch, and her sobs were hushed. Her terror had become so great, that she did not venture to groan or complain any
more. The recollection of her father, whom   she had seen the
evening before, broken, killed, without permitting him to die, had
presented itself before her in all its horror. Perhaps the same torture was reserved for her, and death would be the end of her sufferings.
In the midst of her cruel apprehensions, a single idea was sweet





THE SANTO.


161


and consoling to her, she was dying a martyr to her filial devotion.
The pious and noble resignation of her truly loyal heart, then
raised her above her mortal fears. Divested of earthly occupations,
she rose far above them, and placed her trust in Him who is the
eternal comforter of those who suffer.  She said, in imitation of Him
who drank the bitter cup, "my Father, thy will be done!" and
death had no more terror for her; she was prepared to meet it as a
pledge of eternal life. Her fine countenance, lately so pale, was
suddenly lit up with    heavenly radiance.    A  divine brilliancy
seemed to dart from her large eyes, so bright and gentle, and her
two white and transparent hands, clasped upon her bosom, imparted
to her the aspect of one of those heroic virgins, who died at Rome
for the faith of Jesus Christ.
"Senora," said the old woman, "since you are not dead, you
have no need of me, I will go to bed."
She went out. Dolores had not heard her: her spirit was roaming
through higher regions, and her quivering lips murmured a prayer to
Him, who came upon earth to pray, to suffer and to die.
CHAPTER XXVII.
THE SANTO.
THE bells of the old cathedral of Seville were ringing in loud
peals, interrupted by a monotonous chime, in order to announce to
the populace that high mass was about to begin. This mass, at
which the archbishop of Seville was to officiate, was one of the numerous episodes of the grand festival given on the occasion of the
royal auto da f6, of which, young Don Carlos de Herrera had spoken
so complacently the evening before, at the Count de Mondejar's
soiree. It was a splendid religious solemnity, for after the gospel,
his lordship, Pierre Arbues, was, with his own inquisitorial hand,
to give the santo to a large number of persons, who, kneeling before
him without distinction of rank, were to be enrolled in the holy
militia of Christ.;
Sublime equality indeed! Clowns and gentlemen were to be
marked with the same seal, subject to the same duties, called by the
same name; a soldier of Christ!    The inquisition in passing its
powerful hand over their heads, lowered them all to the same level;
it marked them with its brand, without distinction of rank or age,
as the herdsman marks indiscriminately all the cattle in his flock.
The old cathedral with its wide circumference, whose lofty nave,
* When the inquisition made a batch of familiars, which happened almost
every year, some day, before all the solemn auto da fes, the grand inquisitor,
arrayed in his pontifical ornaments, after a mass sung and a long sermon
preached for the occasion, exhorted the candidates to serve the holy office faithfully, and received the abominable oath which the author gives in this chapter.
Every new familiar received a parchment enclosing the sacramental words, and
the exact description of the signs and touches, by means of which he might re.
cognise all the agents of the holy office, and be recognised by them. These
signs, words, and touches constituted the santo, or word of command of the
militia of Christ.
02                   21





162


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITIONS.


separated by four rows of columns, resembled a forest of granite,
had assumed its most pompous ornaments. Thousands of tapers
ranged in order about the altar, up to the vault, shed streams of light
through the sacred enclosure. The gigantic shadow of the columns
variegated the slabs of the floor, which was made of white unpolished
marble, with large black furrows; through the innumerable panes of
glass, of a thousand colours, the external light penetrated so feebly
and gloomily, that it became pale before the dazzling brightness
which filled the upper part of the church. In the choir, behind the
chief altar, the broad seats of oak, carved and carefully polished,
were already occupied by the canons of the cathedral, belonging
nearly all to the order of St. Dominique.
In the centre of the grand altar, a large ostensory, of massive gold
seemed to dart its rays, glittering with jewels, and by fascinating the
eyes, protect the god which it concealed from the vulgar gaze.
Gold, diamonds, and crystal,-were every where scattered in profusion, as in a story of the thousand and one nights. The candelabras
were of massive gold; the tabernacle, the chalice, the decanters, the
angels, which on both sides of the grand altar veiled their faces with
their wings, all were of gold.
Large silver statues, representing the different saints whom Spain
honours, adorned innumerable chapels built in the recesses of the
columns all around the church. There was more wealth there, than
in the ancient tabernacle of the Jews; the whole Jewish nation had
but a single ark of the covenant, whilst Spain had hundreds of
churches or chapels, in which, under various forms, the wealth of
the new world had been hoarded up.
It was, indeed, an enchanting spectacle, and well adapted to excite the imagination of the people; these poor creatures whom they
sated with incense, lights, and music, to make them  forget their
slavery and poverty.
Thus they might be seen running in crowds, pressing into the
avenues of the church as often as a religious ceremony was offered
as food to their poetic indolence, their constant need of excitement,
and their ardent and puerile curiosity.
Do you see in the cathedral those manolas crouching on their heels,
clothed in their broad black mantillas?  Do you see how they strike
their bosom at intervals, running over almost convulsively with their
hand, the bright chaplet which hangs at their waist?  Observe those
little Andalusian feet which protrude from beneath the short frock,
and those delicate and brown, yet graceful hands, and those black
eyes, sparkling like enamel through the transparent network of the
lace which covers their features.
Is there not a strange mysterious contrast between this vast cathedral, glittering like a ball room, and these women in mourning,
humbly bowing the knee, women naturally so gay and sprightly,
who, in this place, look like souls in pain, praying from beneath,
that they may be permitted to ascend to the radiant glories which
sparkle over their heads?
Do you see again at the end of the church, on that broad platform,
those men who are praying in a low voice, with a contrite and
humble mien?   They have left at the door their love of pleasure,





THE SANTO.


163


and the dance, they are bowing with feelings of compunction before
the majesty of the living God, whom     they have invested with
worldly pomp? They have become accustomed to worship only
matter; their divinity is an altar of marble and gold.
Then last of all, at the great door, see that compact throng of
mendicants and Gitanos, who jostle and push one another to get in.
This musical and perfumed spectacle is for them. Come open the
folding doors! Let this ragged crowd come in: let them respire
with a full breath the intoxicating odour of the incense; let them
satiate their eyes with all this splendour! It is their bread-theirs,
who to-night will go to sleep hungry, in their tattered mantle, on a
cold stone; let all these people who have no other roof but the vault
of heaven-let them come in; they too must have their share of the
enjoyments and comforts of this world, and the temple of God is
the parlour of the poor!
But silence!  Now let every one stand still on the place which
he has been able to procure. This is the hour of meditation and of
prayer, the priest is at the foot of the altar.
It was, we have said, his lordship, the archbishop of Seville. Two
deacons in embroidered capes, stood at his side.
On the right of the altar, in the arch, Pierre Arbues, arrayed in
the purple robe which he wore on great occasions, was seated on the
centre of a throne of gold and velvet, placed on twelve steps, richly
carpeted, which raised him  some feet above the ostensory, so that
the representative of God was enthroned higher than his master."
On the right of the throne, and two steps lower, was the armchair of the archbishop. On the other side, a similar arm-chair was
occupied by Jos6, the almoner and favourite of his eminence.
A large number of priests and monks in white, yellow, or embroidered chasubles, enhanced still more the splendour of this solemnity, and a great-cloak, embroidered with gold, and exceedingly
heavy, covered the shoulders of the officiating priest. Not far from
the grand altar, in private seats, ladies and lords occupied places reserved for them.
Soon, a great concert of solemn, deep voices, harsh to the ear, but
in perfect harmony, ascended to the vault of the cathedral. This
simple chaunt, whose monotony never permits the voice to be heated
with the fire of passion, this combination of guttural notes methodically sung without art and attraction, had something overpowering
and mournful, which, as it were, wrapped the soul in a winding
sheet. There was discord between the joyous magnificence of the
altar and this cold sombre harmony. The divine melody of the
Italians was wanting there; those ravishing and sonorous voices
t In all solemnities in which an inquisitor was in the presence of the king
or of God, the inquisitor had the precedence. In the great auto da fes, the
throne of the inquisitors was always more elevated than that of the king; in
the church, the inquisitorial throne was always at the right of the holy sacrament, and much higher. The inquisitor Tabera caused the chief priest of the
cathedral of Malaga to languish two whole years in the prisons of the holy
office, under the accusation of irreverence towards the inquisition, because
this ecclesiastic, whilst carrying the holy viaticum to a dying person, had not
stopped to let him, the inquisitor, pass.-(Rights of Inquisitors compared
with other Members of the Clergy.)





164


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


which add such heavenly fascination to the theatrical pomp of the
ceremonies of the Roman worship.
Still, the Spanish people not prepared to appreciate, or rather not
accustomed to scientific music, feasted their eyes with delighting
default of their ears, and the most perfect devotion reigned throughout this kneeling throng.
Soon, however, a great movement was made in the church; every
one rose to his feet, tracing with his thumb, the sign of the cross on
his forehead, his mouth and his breast.
They had proceeded in the mass as far as the gospel. The archbishop read it slowly, and then sat down by the grand inquisitor on
the chair which was designed for him. The two deacons stood at
the foot of the throne.
Now, a broad way was opened in the crowd, and you might have
seen advancing through the midst of it, without any impediment, a
group of people of all kinds, all aspiring to the same honour; this
company directed their steps towards the throne of the grand inquisitor. Then, towards the lower end, a little outside of the nave,
among the populace, who had been unable to enter or to obtain a
convenient place to view with ease the ceremony of the santo, you
might have heard the strangest dialogues.
" Holy virgin!" said an old Gitano, with a white beard, "look at
that miscreant, Juanito, how rapidly he is pushing his fortune! The
society of the Garduna would not have him to make even a gancho
of him, he is such a lazy beast, and I declare he has succeeded in
enrolling himself among the militia of Christ!'
"Is it true, uncle?" exclaimed a young danseuse of cas'anets, as
brown as an olive'in November; "is it true? Is Juanito  oing to
receive the santo with all those feathered gentry, there?"
"Why not, Conchica?" replied the old Gitano; "is he not a
child of the good God, as well as all these fine gentlemen, whom
heaven preserves?"
" Hold! hold!" said another, " look at Ramon Zocato;n it seems
he has served his time at Melilla,t for there he is."
" Where is he?" asked a fourth.
"Down there; don't you see that young man with the orange waistcoat, by the side of his excellency, the Marquis de la Ronca, who
has gone up to receive the santo?"
" How many are there?" asked the Gitana.
" They are too many to count," replied the old man; " holy
Mary, what recruits!"
" Those fellows are like the pope's soldiers," grumbled an old
woman, "they never march in daylight."
" Who is the pope?" asked the little gipsey.
" He is the major-domo of his lordship, the grand inquisitor,"yreplied the old woman, who had no more precise or elevated idea of
the vicar of Jesus Christ.
" Hold your tongues, women!" cried an old soldier from the cam* Zocato, left-handed.
f Melilla is a small port in Africa, which belongs to the Spaniards; it is the
prison where those condemned to more than ten years' confinement, go to serve
their time,





THE SANTO.


165


paigns in Flanders, " your tongues are too long, and when you touch
fire, you will burn."
"Take your helmet out of the way a little, senior cavalier, that I
may see;" said a lad of fifteen years, who did not reach up to the
soldier's shoulder.
"4 You will see enough of it, gandul," replied the other.
Meanwhile the candidates for the santo had advanced to the foot
of the grand inquisitor's throne. In the pew of the Duke de Monde-.
jar, a very animated scene had occurred, although it passed in a low
tone, and the different actors in it had all the art requisite to maintain an unruffled countenance in the midst of a very warm altercation, and to demean themselves in such a way, that no one could
comprehend the object of these short, abrupt and rapid remarks exchanged between them in a whisper.
They were four in number; the Duke de Medina Celi, the Count,
Duke de Mondejar, young Isabella, daughter of the count, and Don
Carlos de Herrera.
It will be remembered, that the latter had been directed by his
lordship, Pierre Arbues, to appear before him on this day to receive
the santo, and take the oath at his hands. It will be remembered
also, that Don Carlos, at first very warmly interested in the cause of
the inquisition, as a young man in love usually is in every thing
which can promote his suit, had solicited the honour of enlisting in
the sacred militia; and that now this young and ardent spirit recalled to a sense of true honour by the noble indignation of the
young Aragonese nobleman, Don Ximenes, and the severe remarks
of Rodriguez de Valero, had received the advances of the inquisitor.
and his promises of protection, with diffidence, and a feeling of inexpressible shame.  However, attracted by an ardent affection,
assured that the only means of obtaining her whom he loved, was to
obey the wishes of the Count de Mondejar, Don Carlos had come to
mass, unable to resist the desire of passing some hours by the side
of Isabella.
-He had come there at once repelled and attracted; attracted by a
violent passion, a real Spanish passion; repelled by a frightful antipathy, arising from  the simple remark spoken in his hearing,
SSorry business for a Castilian!"  These words had excited in this
young, ardent, and at times, inconsiderate young man, the most serious and profound reflections.
" Christian," it might be said, "you will be the soldier of Christ,
the champion of the faith."
" Cavalier," his thoughts replied: " Your loyal sword will become
the servant of a stole and a priest's cap. You will sell your liberty,
and your conscience will no longer be your own."
Then in his great desire to become the husband of her whom he
loved, he said again to himself, by way of encouragement: "The
greatest lords of Spain have become familiars of the holy office;"
and he instantly inquired: "have they done right or wrong in this
easey
Don Carlos was neither theologian enough, nor enough of a phi

* Gandul, lazy fellow.





166


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


losopher to solve these difficult questions. In his doubt, a mere
instinct, the instinct of what is right and just, warned him that Don
Ximenes was right in censuring his first resolution; for he could not
conceal from himself, that as a familiar of the holy office, it would
be necessary to manifest blind obedience, to be the passive instrument of that fearful thing which was called the inquisition, and he
knew very well that it did not always command what was just.
He was in this frame of mind when the company of aspirants for
the santo arrived before the throne of the inquisitor. Pierre Arbues
with a piercing look, which has passed into a proverb,* counted
with a single glance the men who were before him; and not seeing
Don Carlos, he turned his head slowly in the direction of the pew
of the Duke de Mondejar. At this instant the old duke, pushing the
young man's elbow, said to him earnestly:
" Well, Don Carlos, is it thus that you manifest your zeal for the
service of God? Will you be the last to present yourself before his
lordship?"
" Sir," replied the young man, with a trembling voice," I really
do not know whether I am worthy."
"Nonsense, what a strange scruple! Are not you a gentleman of
pure blood? Has the least of Moorish blood ever tarnished your
noble escutcheon?"
" Young man," added the Duke de Medina Cceli, speaking as low
as his squeaking voice permitted, " young man, is it thus that you
requite my kindness?"
" And," added the eloquent look of Isabella, " will you do nothing
for me?"
Don Carlos shuddered with shame, irresolution, and vexation.
Notwithstanding the love which he entertained in his heart, he inwardly cursed himself for having yielded to the temptation to come
to this ceremony.
On another side, the Duke de Medina Coeli and his son-in-law,
irritated by this indecision which might compromise them in the
eyes of the inquisitor, clenched their fists, whilst they muttered:
" Don Carlos, go, take the place which awaits you, or I renounce
you for ever."
"Oh! go there, I beseech you," whispered the daughter of the
Count de Mondejar, with an imploring look; at the same time, the
Duke de Miedina Cceli pushed the arm of the young man.
Don Carlos, confused, and half demented, went staggering from
the pew, passed through the crowd, which opened before him, and
arrived at the foot of the inquisitorial throne. Pierre Arbues had
seen through the whole of it, his eyes sparkled with the joy of triumph.
Don Carlos, with downcast eyes and blushing face, stood behind
the others, the last in the crowd who were greedy of inquisitorial
infamy. Then Jose, in his office as almoner of the inquisitor,
rising from the arm chair on which he was seated, received from the
hands of a deacon a package of printed sheets, and a box containing
a large quantity of metallic plates, on Which was engraved a picture
of Christ reversed, surrounded with a sun.
* The look of an inquisitor, to express a look which searches to the bottom
of the soul.





THE SANTO.


167


The aspirants for initiation, then approached one after another,
mounted the steps of the throne, and kneeling at the feet of Arbues,
each received from his hands one of these plates, and a pamphlet,
which Jose presented to them individually.
This paper enclosed the instructions necessary for the familiars, to
enable them to act in all circumstances according to the rules or instructions of the power to which they had devoted themselves. The
metallic plate was a distinctive mark, a sign of recognition and union,
which enabled them to identify one another every where, and to
combine for a common purpose, whatever might be their antipathies
or private animosities in other respects.
During this distribution, which lasted about twenty minutes, the
inquisitor had constantly glanced, sometimes on young Don Carlos,
who still maintained his place behind the others, with the air of a
man violently opposed to the whole procedure, sometimes towards
the pew of the Duke de Mondejar, where the latter maintained a somewhat embarrassed aspect, whilst the Duke de Medina Cmli darted
flaming looks at his grand-daughter, as if he would say to her, " See
the man whom you have chosen!"   As for Don Carlos, he no longer
ventured to turn his eyes towards his betrothed.
But when there was no one before him, and his turn to receive
the santo had finally arrived, he advanced, reeling like a drunken man,
to the feet of his lordship Arbues, and with a trembling hand received
the insignia of his new title.
"Don Carlos de Herrera," said the inquisitor to him, in a low
voice, is there any thing with which you reproach yourself?"
Don Carlos bowed without replying; he could have wished himself
a hundred feet under ground. He slowly walked down the steps
of the throne, and mingled in the crowd of new familiars, which had
spread itself out, and arranged itself in a semi-circle before the inquisitorial throne.
A profound silence reigned in the church. This strange exhibition was full of interest, and fruitful in varied emotions for the population of Seville. All eyes were steadfastly directed towards the
grand altar. His lordship, Arbues, with his wonted grace and majesty, rose from his gilded chair, haughtily descended the steps of
the throne, as was befitting a prince of the church, and followed by
Jos6, who constantly maintained his place on the left, he paused
before Don Carlos, who closed the circle on his right.
Don Carlos blushed and looked abashed; he could no longer endure the glare of the piercing glance which Arbues fixed upon him.
Then, in that full, abrupt, imperative voice, which in certain circumstances, could so well assume the tone of command:
" Don Carlos de Herrera," said the savage Dominican, " do you
swear to consecrate yourself, soul and body, to the service of our
most holy, catholic, apostolic, and Roman religion?"
" I swear," replied the young Castilian noble, in a confident tone,
not seeing any thing in this oath which should alarm his conscience
as a loyal cavalier.
" Do you swear never to lend an ear to the corrupting and pestiferous doctrines of those wretches of the north, who are called phi




1,68


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


losophers, and reformers, and not to encourage them in any manner
whatever?",
SI swear," said Don Carlos again.
" Do you swear never to afford shelter or protection to a heretic,
or to a person pursued as such by the holy tribunal of the inquisition?"
Don Carlos without replying, raised his large eyes staring at the
stern figure of the inquisitor; this oath seemed to him atrocious.
Pierre Arbues frowned like Jupiter Olympus, and the young man
awed by this haughty expression of despotic authority, stammered
with an unintelligible voice: "I swear."
The inquisitor seemed to be satisfied with this; then in a short
and abrupt tone, he added:
"Do you swear to pursue with word and sword all Marranos,
Moors, Jews, Judaizing Christians, or Lutherans; to denounce them
to the holy tribunal for the greatest glory of God, and to deliver
them, even were they your guests, whenever with your own ears,
you have heard them utter heresies, or because you have seen them
commit actions indicating that they are not in the true way of salvation,
or because you only suspect that they are not in heart and soul attached to our most holy religion, or because you have observed, that
they have neglected some of its duties; or finally, because in their
house they have tolerated some such negligence on the part of one
of their family?"
" My lord! my lord!" said the young cavalier, in a whisper, with
inexpressible anguish, " what you demand of me in this oath is the
part of a spy and a.  "
The terrible look of Pierre nailed the word in the throat of the
young man; his lips remained half open and quivering on an unfinished word: he seemed to be whispering; but, in fact, he articulated nothing. It was merely a convulsive motion of the mouth.The inquisitor seemed satisfied with it. He continued in the same
tone:
a Do you swear to be always ready to march in the service of God
at the first call of his representatives, should you even be by the side
of a dying friend, were you even at the pillow of your mother in
her death agony?"
The eyes of the young man remained fixed by terror, and his hair
stood on an end with horror.
"Mercy, mercy, my lord!" he murmured in a faint voice.
The inquisitor and Jose were the only ones who heard these
words. Pierre Arbues appeared not to understand them. He added,
laying stress on every word:
" Do you swear to renounce all the ties of friendship, and of family, when the cause of God shall be in question-and to denounce
without restriction, your brothers, your sisters,your mother, your
wife, your father, and even your children, if you should discover in
them sentiments contrary to our holy catholic faith?"
At these last words, Don Carlos, restored to self-possession by a
lively sentiment of indignation, proudly raised his head:
a My lord," said he, in a firm voice, but without being loud, "1
will not swear to do that; I will not be both a denouncer and a





CANDOUR AND HYPOCRISY.


169


traitor. Keep these," he added, with bitter irony, returning the santo
and the figure of Christ on the cross, which he had received from
him, "I am unworthy of such honour; keep these, my lord, for a
more devoted servant than myself."
At the same time, he hurried from the place where he was, crossed
the circle of men who surrounded the throne, passed through the
kneeling crowd, and went out without turning around, as if he was
afraid, should he look back, that he would see the church falling
upon him.
The Duke de Mondejar and his son-in-law trembled with fear and
rage. Isabella wept, without understanding what had just taken
place, and the scandalized crowd waited with gaping mouth for the
explanation of this enigma.
Jose alone seemed unmoved in the midst of the general conster.
nation; only an imperceptible and sarcastic smile played about the
corners of his expressive lips.
His lordship, Pierre Arbues, raised towards heaven a look of inspiration, and addressing the assembly:
"My brethren," said he, "this young man was in mortal sin, he
has done right in deeming himself unworthy of taking part to-day
in this holy ceremony. Let us pray for him, my brethren," he
added, falling on his knees.
Every body imitated the inquisitor. They prayed about ten mi
nutes, during which Pierre Arbues had time to bridle his rage, and
compose his countenance.
When he arose, his face did not bear the least trace of emotion or
anger; he was dignified, calm, unmoved; his head looked like a
piece of sculpture.
The grand inquisitor then recommenced the formula of the oath,
to which all the candidates responded joyfully and without the least
hesitation. That day, the militia of Christ was enriched by more
than two hundred members.
The same evening, the jails of the holy office numbered one prisoner more.
CHAPTER        XXVIII.
CANDOUR AND HYPOCRISY.;
NOTWITHSTANDING the fatigue of this long ceremony, which had
lasted until two o'clock in the afternoon, Pierre Arbues, after retiring to the inquisitorial palace, could not enjoy a single moment of
repose. The inextinguishable ardour of his despotic and impassioned spirit imposed upon his body a constant demand of excitement and activity, which was fearfully insatiable. His spirit was
like the gulf of which the preacher speaks, never satisfied.
Men thus constituted, inevitably become either the blessing or the
scourge of the human race. Still an inward satisfaction might be
read on the countenance of the inquisitor; the certainty that Dolores
was henceforth in his power, impressed an infernal radiance on his
P                   24





170


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


features, and like the spirit of darkness, when a pure soul falls into
his hands, he rejoiced in his triumph.
Jose, silent and sad, turned over the leaves of a Latin Bible, in a
corner of the room. A gloomy presentiment seemed to agitate him.
He did not know that the governor's daughter had disappeared from
the house of Juana; the inquisitor's joy had something sinister and
murderous about it; Jose was alarmed as though a calamity had
happened.
For the first time also, and by a secret instinct, the inquisitor felt
disposed to distrust his favourite, not that he did not feel confidence
in him; but he derived an inexpressible charm from this secret satisfaction; he had had so much trouble in arriving at the accomplishment
of his wishes, that it seemed to him as though the mere mention of
his happiness to an intimate friend, would in some measure cause its
finest savour to evaporate; he was silent.
Only at intervals, an involuntary smile curled upon his lips, his
eye sparkled with a strange brightness, and a transient flush lit up
the brow which was usually so pale.
From time to time, Jose slowly raised his large black eyes over
his book to look at the face of his master. He saw that his countenance betrayed unusual emotions; but he could not guess the cause
of it.
It was some time after the last repast of the evening; although it
was already nearly midnight, Pierre Arbues could not resolve to
defer till the next day, the pleasure of seeing Dolores.  He was
waiting for Jose to retire, and Jose, like a true favourite, was the less
anxious to withdraw, as he perceived that his presence thwarted his
lordship. He maintained a cool resolution to remain in his way
with his eyes fixed on his Bible, of which he did not read a word.
At last, Pierre Arbues lost patience, he came smiling towards him,
and snatched the book out of his hands:
" Come, let this be, my little Jose," said he, you can resume
your reading another time, I would like to sleep, and so would you
too, I will engage, for 1 'see you are as pale as a girl the morning
after a ball.,"
"' However, I can assure your eminence that I do not feel the least
fatigue."
"'Your zeal is so great, my good Josh! I hope when you are
somewhat older, and when the death of his lordship, Alphonso Manrique, shall permit me to aspire to the office of inquisitor general, I
hope, 1 say, to nominate you in my place as grand inquisitor of Seville."
SI do not wish it. if in order to obtain it, I must leave your eminence," replied Jose, with a charming pout.
"Poor child! you are right, you shall be better yet than that, and
you shall not leave me; but for the present, go to sleep; go, my son, we
have need to recruit our strength, in order that we may be able to
prosecute our laborious apostolic work."
"He surely has some project in his head," thought Jose, rising, as
if to withdraw.
"The royal auto da f6 is at hand," added the inquisitor; "the
prisons are encumbered with heretics, tried or to be tried, and we





CANDOUR AND HYPOCRISY.


171


must distinguish ourselves in the presence of our great king Charles
V.; a monarch so zealous for the religion of the kingdom!"
But whilst saying this, it was evident that Pierre Arbues spoke
only with the end of his lips, and that his mind was pre-occupied
with other projects.
Jos6, endowed with extraordinary perspicacity, saw plainly that
Charles V. was at this moment the very least in the inquisitor's
mind: he prudently kept his counsel, and said, rubbing his eyes:
"61 believe, my lord, that the disposition to sleep is gaining on me
too: will your eminence condescend to give me your blessing, that I
may retire?" and the favourite bowed his fine head covered with
black hair, except a little spot, at which the tonsure was scarcely perceptible.
Pierre Arbues extended over him his two clasped hands, pronounced the sacramental words, and then added:
" To-morrow, my child, come and see me before the hour of the
torture;" so saying, he withdrew by a door which led into his sleeping room, and thence into the street by a secret stairway.
Instead of retiring to his apartment, Jos6 descended the stairway
of the palace; then having reached the court, he hid himself behind
a large laurel bush, and waited.
It was the hour at which Pierre Arbues very frequently went out,
accompanied by four familiars or body guards of the inquisitors, an
office which Thomas de Torrequemada, the founder of the militia of
Christ, had assigned them; his life so frequently threatened, on account of his unhe:rd of cruelties, required these precautions.
Jose usually followed the inquisitor in his mysterious peregrinations. " So," said he to himself, whilst making a screen of the tufted
branches of the laurel, let us see where they think of going without
me."
It was not long before he saw my lord Arbues appear, clothed over
his tunic and Dominican scapular with an ample Spanish cloak, and a
hat with a broad brim; precautions which he was in the habit of
taking, in order not to be recognised.
Pierre Arbues walked on before, the four familiars followed at
some distance, ready at the least signal, to defend at the peril of their
life, th-is citadel of the faith.
Scarcely had the door of the palace shut upon them, than Jos6,
who always had a key of it about him, opened it without suffering it
to grate, and glided like an adder through the half open door.
Then, he saw Pierre Arbues go towards the street of the inquisition. He followed him slowly, keeping far from the familiars, and
walking without noise, favoured by his sandals. In less than ten
minutes, they had reached the door of the prisons of the holy office.
Arbues paused, and knocked in a peculiar and preconcerted manner. Jose gradually moved towards him. It was dark in that place.
Jos6 glided softly along the wall, and scarcely had the inquisitor
crossed the threshold of the prison,before the favourite gently entered
after him, at the risk of being perceived.
But Pierre Arbues little thought of him indeed! He hurried with
rapid strides towards the stairs which led to the first story, and as
they were accustomed to see Jose accompanying him every where, the





179


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


jailer let him enter without hinderance; then he carefully closed the
door, and taking in his hand his lantern and bunch of keys, he ascended the stairs in all haste, in order to open to his lordship the door
which he might designate, and to give him light. The young Domininican sat down on a bench in the corridor. The familiars had remained outside of the prison.
Some moments after, the jailor came down again, and without
troubling himself about the young monk, he went into his lodge and
laid down on an oak bench to sleep, until such time as it should
please the holy inquisition to wake him again.
Jos6 then ascended in his turn, and as he had heard them walk
and open a door above his head, he paused at the first story, thinking
that there he could discover what he wished to know.
In fact, he had scarcely walked a few steps, groping through the
corridor, when he perceived a ray of light which escaped from one
of the cells by the key hole; at the same time, he heard two voices,
in which he could not be mistaken; one belonged to the inquisitor,
the other was that of Dolores.
Jos6 shuddered with terror at the accent of this well known voice.
He could not conceive by what fatality, Dolores had been snatched
from the retreat which he had chosen for her.
"I am deceived," he thought to himself; but the same sound of
voice rising in notes more distinct, again made him start. Seized
with a mortal anxiety, he endeavoured to look through the narrow
opening where the ray of light escaped. The key which had remained inside, did not permit him to distinguish objects. The light,
however, seemed to him to be placed opposite the door, and the
voices proceeded from a more remote point; he concluded that it
must be on the right side of the room.
As it was impossible to see, he listened. The incidents which occurred in the room were these:
When Pierre Arbues entered, the governor's daughter was seated
on the edge of the bed, her head leaning on her pillow.
Since her entrance into the prison, she had not laid aside her clothing; but after a night and an entire day full of terror and distress,
yielding at length to irresistible dejection, she had fallen into a gentle sleep. Whilst thus reclining on this bed of dazzling whiteness, to
which her black dress presented a strong contrast, the young girl appeared inexpressibly graceful.
The border of her gown had been chastely gathered under her
small feet, only the extremities of which were visible. One of her
hands, together with her arm, was pressed against her waist; the
other negligently thrown over the pillows, supported her pale and
dejected head. Her brow, so pure and lofty, which looked like
beautiful marble, was at this moment of a heavy whiteness, and furrowed, towards the temples, with blue and transparent veins. The
shade of her long eye-lashes which projected over her weary cheeks,
imparted to her noble countenance a still more profound expression
of sadness and discouragement. It seemed as though she had fallen
asleep amid thoughts of death, whilst turning her eyes away with
disgust from this world, in which she had experienced so much sl
fering.





CANDOUR AND HYPOCRISY.


173


Upon seeing her thus, more beautiful in her mourning than she
had ever appeared to him in the days of her prosperity, the savage
inquisitor paused, affected and trembling, as if fearful of committing
sacrilege. An inexplicable emotion, perhaps a feeling of remorse,
made this ungovernable man hesitate, although he recognised no
other master than his passions. He looked around him with a sort
of fear, as if to assure himself that there were not in the air invisible
witnesses ready to accuse him.
The most profound silence reigned in the room; nothing was to
be heard but the even and peaceful respiration of the slumbering girl.
Pierre Arbues made an effort to shake off the importunate terror
which had assailed him.
"I am a fool!" said he to himself, and he sat down in an arm chair
by the pillow of the prisoner. Dolores was not yet awake. Pierre
Arbues had leisure to gaze upon her for some moments, and to satiate
himself with the view; but as he looked upon her with his audacious
eye, the nature of his impressions changed. The vague terror by
which he had been surprised was succeeded by one of those paroxysms of phrenzied passions, the return of which plunged him
into fearful excitement. Notwithstanding his incredible audacity,
and the certainty of impunity, a conflict was still waging in his
breast, whether in consequence of secret remorse, or through fear of
adding to the enormous aggregate of his crimes, or from whatever
other cause, it is at all events certain that this internal struggle saved
the governor's daughter.
We have said that she was in a very gentle slumber. The inquisito-, plunged in a profound ecstasy, gazed upon her with avidity, but
dal ed not awake her.
In his delirium, he leaned softly towards the hand which reposed
upon the pillow, and pressed upon it his burning lips.
At this contact, Dolores shuddered in all her frame, half opened
her heavy eyes, and at the aspect of this dark figure, which presented itself before her, she uttered a cry of terror, and covered her
face with her two hands.
" Are you afraid of me, then?" said Pierre Arbues, gently.
SOh! my lord! my lord! why do you pursue me thus?" exclaimed the girl, with a voice broken with sobs.
It was at this moment that Jose had heard her.
" My daughter," replied Pierre Arbues, restored to his charactei
of inquisitor, by the terror which he inspired, " my daughter, the
shepherd always seeks the sheep which strays until he has found it
again."
Dolores, who had assumed a sitting posture, looked at the inquisitor with distrust, and a bitter smile played upon her lips; then she
said slowly:
SThe wolf too, seeks the sheep to devour it."
" Dolores!" said the worthy disciple of Dominic de Gusman,
irritated at seeing his hypocrisy shaken down before the uprightness
and candour of a child, "'Dolores! I see with sorrow, your soul
blinded and perverted by the abominable doctrines of the reformation. He who has faith in God, has faith in his ministers, and you
no longer believe me."





1   t


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


"Be just and good as God is," replied the courageous girl. "I
will obey the servant when he follows the precepts of the master,
But what do you ask me, my lord? To adore the hand which always seeks the place where an innocent head may be found, in
order to strike?  Do you wish that I should bless him who has
made of my father, my noble father, a living corpse?"
"Poor, foolish girl! Have you gone so far in view of perdition,
that truth can no longer dissipate your profound darkness? Do you
not know that we strike the perishable body only in order that we
may save the immortal soul?"
" Ah! my lord, if these are your means of saving souls, believe
me, the sooner you renounce them the better, they are good for nothing but to awaken doubts respecting the justice of God."
"That is the way! that is the way!" pursued the inquisitor; "always this obstinacy and insubordination towards the laws of the
church, steeped in the doctrine of the apostate monk. Do you not
know, young woman, that God himself has said, ' Every tree that
beareth not good fruit shall be cut down and cast into the fire;' and
that he has said again, ' Drive the spotted sheep from the flock?
This is the reason why the holy inquisition, in order to obey the or-.
ders of its master cuts off all such bad limbs from catholicism, whose
perverseness threatens to infest the great Christian family."
" My lord, the Master has said that, but he has said again: ' Do not
pull up the tares, wait till the harvest.' Why then do you employ
against me, persecutions and violence? Why have you snatched
from me my father? What has he done to you, that you should
torture him so?
"He has perverted your heart by his guilty forbearance. The
inquisition has done justice in wishing to punish him; it is
through the fathers that corruption is entailed on the children."
The inquisitor whilst thus expressing himself had an entirely biblical majesty about him: even hypocrisy was imposing in him. His
severe mode of speaking, his grave and measured gesticulation, his
energetic and sonorous accent, the apparent plausibleness of his subtleties had great power of fascination; but Dolores notwithstanding
her youth and inexperience, had too upright a mind to suffer herself
to be convinced by it.
The abominable purpose for which Pierre Arbues employed
the lofty faculties of his mind inspired her with sovereign contempt,
and this sentiment might be read upon her changing countenance.
Besides she was afraid to be alone with him in this prison, where
he commanded as a king.
Too proud and too candid to dissemble her impressions she was
nevertheless afraid to irritate still more, this man upon whom the
life of her father depended, and on the stern face over which intolerance had drawn its brazen mask, she sought some trace of sensibility; she wished to know whether the savage inquisitor to whom the
death of a man was merely sport, had not yet remaining in his
heart some fibre which might be made to vibrate.
But the face of Pierre Arbues expressed nothing but pitiless obduracy. The passion which was consuming him darted in flashing
sparks from his eyes: the prisoner was abashed and afraid to speak.





CANDOUR AND HYPOCRISY.


175


"Dolores!" resumed the inquisitor in a calm and gentle tone,
"you are not willing, then, to be converted?"
" I am a Christian in heart and soul, my lord, why then do you persecute me?"
"Oh, my child! how much you are mistaken respecting my real
sentiments," said Pierre Arbues, approaching the girl, whilst she
pressed against her person the silk dress which grazed the robe of the
inquisitor.
"Do you hate me then?" said he, with vexation.
" Mercy, my lord, mercy and pity!" said she, clasping her hands
with terror; " give me back my father, restore me to liberty. I
implore you in the name of the God whom I adore, in the name of
the great Martyr, who died on the cross to redeem us."
" Oh! If you would relent?" he continued, regarding her with passionate admiration.
Dolores shuddered and became very pale; she recalled the scene
which had passed some months before in her chamber, and she was
at this moment in the power of the inquisitor!
Jose heard all this conversation from the outside; he too was
alarmed for Dolores; but as he pressed his ear close to the lock in
order not to lose a syllable, the door yielded slightly, and he perceived that Arbues had neglected to shut it; he then drew back a
little, so that it should not open any more, for he inwardly rejoiced
in this discovery.
The inquisitor continued imposing extreme violence upon himself
in order to remain calm, whilst he was burning with all the fires of
passion.
" Who has told you, my child, that I have not acted thus before
you, in order to bring you back to the true faith, from which you
have strayed, and afterwards to employ the mercy and indulgence
of the good shepherd? Learn then, how dear you are to me, and
that I do not wish to do you any injury.
An almost imperceptible movement of the lips was the sole reply
of the governor's daughter.
"Oh! Dolores!" pursued the inquisitor, "you cannot conceive how
heavy and wearisome is the task which God has imposed on us, of
governing men and bringing them  back into the right way. Our
very zeal often draws down upon us the hatred and anger of heretics,
and our recompense here below is incessantly to bear a heavy cross.
But," he added with a penetrating and hypocritical tone, " God in
his goodness has at times reserved for us unexpected consolations.
To chosen souls, yours for example, it is permitted us to accord not
only a spiritual affection, but in addition that portion of earthly love,
which, without offending the jealous majesty of God, on the contrary, honors and glorifies him in Ins creature. We are most concerned to snatch these choice spirits from error, for they are made
to serve as examples to others; and to attain this end, the means of
-gentleness, tenderness, and persuasion, being the most certain, our
whole heart attaches itself with ardent love to this glorious conquest.
This is the reason why I love you Dolores, why I would wish to
infuse into you the profound tenderness of which my heart is full."





176


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Pierre Arbues spoke with unction, with captivating warmth, and the
candid young girl, unable to form any conception of a blackness so
profound, doubted for a mo.ent whether she was not too hasty in
condemning this man.
" Can it be possible after all," thought she, " that he has in view
only the interests of religion? In this case to be mistaken is still
honourable."
She ceased to look on the inquisitor with distrust, and regarding
him with her beautiful, proud, and candid eyes:
" My lord," said she, with noble simplicity, " I believe you, I
wish to believe you; what interest could you have in deceiving a
poor girl who has never injured you? Well, then, if you think I
am in error; instruct me, my lord, I will be docile, I ask nothing
but truth, I wish with cheerfulness to practise the doctrine of our
divine Saviou. If I have strayed from this road, lead me back into
the good way, I promise you to follow it; but set my father at liberty, and restore me to his embrace."
" Dolores!" exclaimed the inquisitor triumphantly, "my noble
Dolores! I am delighted to see you so docile and charming; yes, I
will restore you to your father, I will restore you to liberty. Oh!
what woman will be more happy and more beloved! I will set all
my affections upon you."
Whilst saying these words, the monk rose up, his large dark eye,
fixed upon the young girl, sparkled with a sparkling and bilious
glare.
By a secret instinct of alarmed modesty, Dolores had let herself
glide down the side of her couch, and her feet rested on the floor.
The inquisitor was silent, but his swollen breast heaved with a loud
and quick respiration, the noble candour of the girl, was all that still
restrained the torrent of his unbridled passion. A fearful conflict
was passing in his heart.
For some seconds, he stood awed, not daring to attempt another
crime. His wandering imagination saw, passing and whirling around
him as in a dream, all the victims whom he had sacrificed; there
they were before him, grinning like spectres, uttering shrieks, and
howling the word vengeance! Vengeance! echoed in his ear like
the tingling of an alarm bell. Soon his sight became confused, passion grasped him as it were with burning pincers, then like a man
seized with vertigo who throws himself headlong into an abyss, the
inquisitor stretched out both his arms, and rushed towards the motionless girl. Dolores uttered a piercing shriek. ' * *
" My lord!" cried Jose, opening the door of the prison.
Pierre Arbues restored to self-possession by this sudden apparition, haughtily raised his head, and with a scowling and irritated air
exclaimed:
"What are you doing here?"
SMy lord, I have come, like your eminence, to try and convert
some heretics."
" By-    are you weary of life, that you cross my path in this
way?"
" My lord misconstrues the zeal of his most faithful servant,"
replied the favourite, in a tone of mock humility; "but the servant





THE TORTURE BY WATER.


177


has nothing to fear from so good a master, and Jos6, the inquisitor, is
not afraid of the inquisition.'"ý
Dolores looked with surprise at the young Dominican; but by a
sign he enjoined upon her not to recognise him.
"Begone!" said the inquisitor, imperatively.
"I will not go without your eminence," replied the favourite,
"rumors of revolt are rife in the city; conspiracy against your precious life is spoken of."
"Is it true?" said the inquisitor, somewhat alarmed.
" Too true, my lord; I will accompany you then, for in case of
necessity, this good Toledo blade might defend your eminence,"
added he, showing a sharp poniard which he carried under his scapular; " it is an excellent weapon, my lord, it will never betray its
master!"
And Jose stroked with the back of his thumb, the blade of this
pointed triangular dagger, which shone like a polished mirror.
" Come, then, my lord, and fear nothing.9"
Pierre Arbues yielding in spite of himself, to the influence of
Jose, whom at this moment he detested with all his heart, approached
Dolores again, and said to her softly:
"I hope to find you to-morrow in a more submissive mood, my
daughter."
"Oh! I hate you!" replied she, turning away her head with disgust; " let me die with my father, it is the only favour which I ask
of you."
Jose" drew the inquisitor away with him.
"'Oh! I will have revenge on her!" exclaimed Pierre Arbues,
clenching his teeth with rage; " what shall I do to subdue this indomitable spirit?"
S "My lord," replied the favourite, "send her to the chamber of
penitence.."
CHAPTER XXIX.
THE TORTURE BY VWATER,
IT would be difficult to form an idea of the rage and disappointment of the inquisitor Arbues, on seeing his most secret and skilfully devised plans frustrated by an inexplicable fatality.
Notwithstanding his afflction for Jose, whom he loved with all the
tenacious infatuation of heartless creatures, for the favourite toy of
* Although as a general rule, every body was subject to the jurisdiction of
the inquisition, there was still an exception for the popes, their legates, and
nuncios, the officers and familiars of the holy office, so that even when they
were formally denounced as heretics, the inquisition had no other right than
that of receiving secret instruction, and afterwards sending to the pope. The
same exception obtained in the case of bishops; but kings and princes remained
subject to the jurisdiction of the inquisitors.- (History of the Inquisition, chap.
ii., second part, Of the Crimes of which the ancient Inquisition took Cognizance.)
23





178


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


their passions, or their caprice, he had not forgiven him for having
surprised him in the prison of Dolores. Not, that he guessed or
conceived at all, the interest which his favourite took in this girl:
nothing is more obtuse than the vision of men accustomed to employ stratagem and fraud, and the inquisitor had not the least suspicion against Jose. He regarded him merely as a spoiled child, alternately impudent towards his master, or full of charming flatteries,
which atoned for his boldness; but it never entered his mind that
Jos6, this handsome youth, that Jose, his creature, could betray him:
and it must be confessed, the young Dominican was even more precious to him than Dolores.  Dolores excited his passion, Jose was
always there to serve his caprice, to applaud his most unjust acts, to
encourage him in crime, when his haughty soul, bowing at times,
under the weightof so many iniquities, began to inquire in the secresy
of conscience, whether that God whose name he was profaning
wbuld not have, some day, eternal and terrible vengeance in store for
him. This was the reason why this man, who sometimes despaired
of heaven, which he had closed against himself by his crimes, threw
himself with fury into the phrenzied joys of the debauch.
It will be remembered that this was the day of torture. The auto
da f6 was at hand. A great number of prisoners were to figure in a
scene of this long and terrible drama which lasted three centuries.
Jose, with his accustomed audacity, entered the inquisitor's room
whilst the latter was still in bed, wearied by a sleepless night.
At the sight of his favourite, Pierre Arbues knit his brow; the
young Dominican was not in the least affected by it, and advancing
to the last step of the elevated floor, which supported this proud and
royal couch:
" Has my lord any commands for me?" said he, in that mild and
submissive voice, whose fascinating accent was irresistible.
" Your boldness is great truly," said Pierre Arbues; " after the
scene of last night, how dare you show yourself in my presence?"
" My lord ordered me to call before the hour of the torture,"
humbly replied the favourite.
"I supposed Jos6 to be faithful, and Jos6 is not so," replied the
inquisitor, who did not believe a word of what he was saying; all
his anger had been dissipated before a smile of this young, handsome,
and eccentric creature, who was become necessary to his existence.
"Jose has exposed himself to the rage of your eminence in order
to watch for your safety; the humble Dominican gathers the rumours which are circulating, he sees the storm coming, and desires
to allay it; this is all of which he is culpable, my lord."
"Are we then so weak, that we must tremble before a few rebellious Jews and marranos?" replied Pierre Arbues, with a haughty
air.
"My lord," replied the favourite, "the serpent which creeps and
drags itself along the earth, sometimes bites the lion, which is the
king of the forests. Every little enemy is to be feared, and in order
to destroy it with certainty, it must not be suffered to grow. Prudence is the mother of safety. Let us watch, my lord; this is not
the time to sleep amid the pleasures of earth; the enemy is at hand,
we must prepare to fight him."





THE TORTURE BY WATER.


179


Pierre Arbues, like all ardent and impassioned men, could not
divest himself of a slight propensity to superstition, a disease, by the
bye, very common at the period in which he lived. The profound
tone of Jos6, and his air of sincerity, produced upon the inquisitor
the effect which the favourite designed. In the hands of this child,
the savage Arbues became like soft wax.
" Dolores Argoso will therefore be the only woman who has resisted me," he soon rejoined with vexation, beset by this thought.
" Dolores Argoso is not like other women, my lord: she knows
that were she to sacrifice herself soul and body to save those whom
she loves, it would not avail, and that therefore, it is better to die
with them than to survive them."
This was said with a tone of bitterness which made a deep impression on the inquisitor; he started involuntarily, as if he had been
shaken by a terrible reminiscence.
Jose scanned him with a searching look; he seemed to take delight in torturing this man whom he ruled at his pleasure.
"I am at your service, Jos6," said Pierre Arbues, as though animated by a sudden resolution. " Come," added he, "I we must not
detain the tormentors, those brave auxiliaries. How many are there
to be examined to-day?"
And as if he had wished to stifle his anguish and rage in the horrid pleasures of torture, he began to count in a loud voice, the victims who were to pass under his eyes. Like the tiger let loose in
the amphitheatre, he tasted in advance the pangs of the prey which
he was to devour. A few moments afterwards, he was up.
"Come, my son," said he to Jose, "let our zeal in the cause of
heaven, console us for the deceptions of earth, and merit for us the
protection of God!"
When they came to the prison, the corridors were encumbered:
two tormentors, clothed in their gloomy costume, were scourging
and driving before them six prisoners, among which were three
women. One of them, young, tall and handsome, although disfigured
by the hardships of the dungeon, wore between two rows of white
teeth, a gag which prevented her from crying out.
These wretched creatures were naked to the waist, the women as
well as the men; their shoulders bruised by the scourge, were covered
with purple spots, and notwithstanding this frightful punishment,
none of them uttered the least complaint.
The inquisitor passed before them without seeming to be affected;
Jose shuddered inwardly with a mournful pity.
The woman who was gagged walked last of all. When she had
come opposite Pierre Arbues, she looked at him steadfastly, and in
default of words, her black, gloomy and terrible eyes, still more enlarged by the paleness of her emaciated face, her eyes, full of hatred,
despair, and revenge, fixed upon those of the inquisitor, as if to say
to him:
" Do you not know me?"
Pierre Arbues had in fact recognised her, notwithstanding the
fearful alteration in her features.
" Frances!" he muttered, in a low voice, abashed before her frightful gaze.





180


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


The abbess of the Carmelites could not speak, but she raised her
eyes towards heaven, as if to summon her executioner to the tribunal of the great Judge. The inquisitor passed on, and the butchers
pursued their cruel execution.
Pierre Arbues and his favourite were about to see exhibited before them, a spectacle far more exciting and fertile in emotions than
the wretched ceremony of the scourge.*
When they had gone down into the chamber of torture, the sbires
brought before them a young and charming woman of frightful paleness, so weak and sick, that she had scarcely strength to stand; her
dim and languid eye of angelic mildness, seemed to implore for
mercy. When she was in the presence of the inquisitor, she made
an effort to join her two slender hands of almost transparent whiteness.
" My child!" murmured she, in a voice which was scarcely audible, so feebly did it proceed from her discoloured lips.
C Daughter," said the inquisitor, in the honied voice which he
knew how to assume, "your sister is a Lutheran, and you are accused
of having encouraged her in her apostasy."
SIt is false! It is false!" replied the unhappy woman, with all
the energy which her state of decay and weakness permitted.
" Have you nothing to say in support of this denial?"
"My child! Let them     give me back my child!" repeated the
unhappy woman with a heart-rending cry.
The child which she demanded with such anguish, was scarcely a
week old; for this poor mother, imprisoned in her pregnancy, had
been subjected to the torture almost immediately after her delivery,
as her mangled wrists attested. But under the burden of an accusation, so serious as that of having encouraged her sister who had recently made an open profession of Lutheranism, after going to Germany, was it possible to employ too much severity?
Neither her tears nor her supplications, so touching that they
might have melted a rock, made any impression on the pitiless Arbues.
Josh alone, concealed under external indifference, a terrible and profound emotion.
His heart trembled, oppressed by a feeling of pity. He required all
the strength which long years of dissimulation had given him, not to
burst out in sobs and imprecations.
Arbues, on the contrary, as if grief and tears were to be his external
aliment, jealous besides of manifesting his zeal for the catholic faith
by pursuing Lutheranism to the uttermost, as he knew this to be the
bugbear of Charles V., Arbues gave the signal; the tormentors instantly seized their victim.
* All complaint was forbidden to the prisoners of the inquisition. When a
poor creature uttered a groan, a gag was imposed for some hours, and if that
was not enough, he was cruelly scourged along the corridors. The punishment
of the lash was inflicted also upon them who made a noise in the companies or
who engaged in disputes; in this case, the whole room full of prisoners were
treated alike, and all who composed it, were scourged without distinction of
age or sex, so that young girls, nuns, and ladies of distinction, were often
stripped of their clothing, and beaten mercilessly, pel mel with men both young
and old. (History of the Inquisition, chap. v., part 3, Of the punishmrents, 4'c.)







~7 'i/Il
I    I;


ILIi


(


LI{ ElE










THE TORTURE BY WATER.


181


They had no need of orders to know what they should do with her.
It was the second time that she endured the torture.
Two vigorous and robust men brought a chevalet into the midst of
the chamber. This horrible implement of wood made in the form of
a gutter, large enough to receive the body of a man, had no other bottom but a stick upon which the body was bent by means of a mechanical contrivance so that the patient had his head lower than his
feet.
The tormentors raised the poor woman, who was half dead, then they
tied her limbs with hempen cords. The victim endured it all without uttering a single cry.
But the inquisitor having approached her to induce her again to
confess the crime of which she was accused, the unhappy woman
once more protested her innocence, as loudly as her exhausted strength
permitted.
" Impenitent! impenitent!" exclaimed the grand inquisitor, with a
sad and disconsolate look.
At these words, two strong men violently turned a bar of wood,
which, tightening the cords with which the victim was bound,mangled
her so terribly that the blood spirted out upon her tormentors.
The poor woman uttered a shriek of agony, feeble, but heart-rending; it was as though all her powers of suffering were centered in that
cry.
The tormentors coolly wiped away with the back of their broad black
sleeve, the blood1with which their robe was stained.
Pierre Arbues drew towards her once more.
" Confess, my sister," said he, in an endearing tone.
The victim, who had not strength enough to speak, made with her
head a sign that she would not.
In the position in which she was placed, it was with difficulty that
she could breathe.
1 Impenitent," repeated the inquisitor.
The tormentors then fastened over the face of the patient a
piece of very fine linen saturated with water, one end of which was
introduced into the lower part of her throat; the other covered
her nostrils; then they slowly poured water in the mouth and nose.
The water filtered drop by drop through the wet linen, and as it
was introduced into the throat and the nasal organs, the victim whose
breathing became more and more difficult, made efforts to swallow
this water and breathe a little air; but at each of these efforts, which
necessarily wrung her whole person with a painful convulsion, the
tormentors turned the wooden bar, and the cord cut into the very
nerves.
It was horrible.
Jos6, his face leaning on his hands, in the attitude of deep meditation, wiped away with his fingers, the bitter tears. His heart was
swollen to bursting, and when at times he raised his head, his cheeks,
in the dim light of the torches which lit up this pandemonium, had the
livid paleness of death.
For nearly an hour, the tormentors poured the water, drop by drop,
into the throat of the sufferer, recalling her to sensation from time to
time by twisting the cords more tightly around her limbs.
Q





182


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


At each new turn of the bar, the unhappy creature uttered a cry
more feeble and more plaintive, a cry of inexpressible agony, in
which at each time, a portion of her soul was exhaled.
At last this cry became so feeble, that the physician of the holy office, who usually assisted at these mournful tragedies, approached the
patient, placed his finger on her pulse, and turning towards the grand
inquisitor:
1" My lord," said he, " this woman cannot endure any more without dying.?'X
S "Let her be released," said Pierre Arbues, " the torture is suspended until farther orders."t
The tormentors immediately removed the linen, which covered
the face of the tortured woman; but when they had untied one by one
the bands which surrounded her delicate limbs, they perceived that
these limbs had been cut down to the bone, so deeply had the cords
entered into the flesh.
Jose, then approached, seized with inexpressible horror, and after
viewing the countenance of the victim:
" My lord," said he, " the torture is over, this woman is dead."'
"Do you think so?" asked the inquisitor.
Meanwhile the tormentors having raised her up, and the body resuming its vertical position, the poor woman was seized with a convulsive hiccup, and torrents of black blood flowed from her mouth;
then, without opening her eyes, she murmured softly for the last time,
in a voice scarcely intelligible,
" My child!1
-At last she expired; and her beautiful head, pale and dishevelled, fell
back on the arm of one of her murderers.
"~ God have mercy on her!" muttered Pierre Arbues.
"' My lord, what if this woman was innocent?" whispered Jose.
"If so, she is in heaven," replied the grand inquisitor," why then
bewail her death?"1
Two sbires carried off the corpse, and a new victim appeared before
his eminence,
She was an old and worthy woman, whose head had become white
in the exercise of the most sublime charity.  It was that noble Mary
* The torture by water, with the horrible circumstances here described by
the author, was applied to Donia Jane Bohorques, under Philip I. The memory
of this martyr was reinstated at the general auto da f6 which took place at Val.
ladolid, in 1554.
f The cruelty of the inquisitors was pushed to such an extent, that the Supreme Council (the royal council of the inquisition, appointed by Ferdinand of
Arragon,) was constrained to forbid them to apply the torture to the same
person more than once; but these monks, with cool barbarity, soon found out a
trick, by means of which, they eluded this prohibition. Thus, when they had
tortured a poor creature for a long time, they sent him back to prison, declaring that the examination was suspended until such time as they should think
proper to continue it.-(History of the Inquisition, chap. v., 3d part.)
I The inquisitors, whilst admitting that the torture might destroy as many
innocent as guilty persons, maintained that the torture ought still to be applied,
because if sorne good catholics should be put to death by it, they went straight
to paradise. Reasoning, worthy of the priests of a God of peace!-(Inquisitor's Guide, by Ximenes Cisneros.)





THE TORTURE BY WATER.


183


of Bourgogne, surnamed the mother of the poor,ý who had been arrested on the day of the riot on the suborned deposition of a slave,
who pretended to have heard her say:
"Christians have neither faith nor law."
Mary was then eighty years old, and although the supreme council
expressly forbade the torture to be applied to persons of too great an
aget the courageous octogenarian had already endured the torture.of
the cord and that by water. It seemed as though a divine strength
supported this frail and feeble body, which had only a few more days
to live.
Her immense wealth had proved a temptation to the treasury, and
not knowing of what to accuse her, she had been arrested on the
charge of practising Judaism.
"My sister," said the grand inquisitor, of course with evangelical
gentleness, "will you finally confess your crime and obtain a pardon?"
" I am innocent!" replied the mother of the poor; "let the will of
3od be done."
"0 holy religion of the crucified Jesus!" exclaimed the Dominican, " shall we never succeed in making thee triumph on the earth?"
' Go," said he to the tormentors, pointing to a furnace of burning
coals, which lit up the darkest corner of the cave.
"Pierre Arbues!" exclaimed the old woman, in a tone of inspiration, "thou art accursed of Him    who came down to earth to do
good!"
" She is a Jewess! She is a Jewess!" cried the sbires and the tormentors, crossing themselves with terror.
With these words, they stripped off one by one, the garments of
the old woman. When she was almost entirely naked, they wished
to carry her in their arms; but she repelled them with a gesture full
of dignity.
" I will walk," said she; 6 whither must I go?"
* Mary de Bourgogne was eighty years old, when denounced by a slave who
pretended to have heard her say, " Christians have neitherfaith nor law:" she
was arrested under suspicion ofJudaism. For want of proof, the inquisitors kept
her five years in prison, hoping to be able to find a sufficient number to condemn
her, and seize the large possessions which she held. Weary of waiting, the
judges of the holy office several times subjected this poor old woman, ninety
years of age, to the torture, notwithstanding the rules of the Supreme Council, which expressly forbade the torture to be applied to persons more than
sixty years old. Mary endured without complaining, all the torture to which
she was subjected, constantly declaring that she was an apostolic Roman catholic. She died in prison protesting her innocence. The inquisitors, however, continued their process, and condemned her to the flames: her bones and
effigy were thrown into the fire; her property, which was considerable, became
the prey of the inquisition and the treasury, and her children, and children's
children, were doomed to eternal infamy. This sacrilegious murder was committed by the inquisitors of Murcia, the same year in which the abdication of
Charles V. took place, during the reign of the inquisitor Valdes. Mary de
Bourgogne was surnamed the mother of the poor, on account of her great
charity! She endured the three tortures by the cord, by woater, and by fire.(History of the Inquisition.)
t "The torture could not be applied under any pretext, either to children
under ten years of age, or to persons more than sixty years old."-(Rule of procedure, art. 7: Cases in which torture may be applied to the accused.)





184


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


The tormentors designated with their hand, the large furnace
which burned in the shade at the extremity of the chamber of torture. Mary moved in that direction with a firm step, and gazed with
unblanched cheek at this fiery abyss which seemed to dart its thousand tongues of flame through the darkness, as though it had been
hungry for the food which was destined for it.
The tormentors stretched the victim upon a wooden bench by the
side of the furnace, and bound her to it with cords so tightly, that
it was impossible for her to make the least motion.
Mary suffered herself to be bound without resistance. Then, imparting to the bench a rotary movement, they placed it in such a
manner, that one of its extremities, that on which the feet of the sufferer rested, almost touched the burning coals.
At the first impression of the fire, Mary de Bourgogne heaved a
deep sigh, the only expression of pain which testified her horrible
sufferings.
" We have forgotten something," said one of the executioners all
at once, on seeing the feet of the victim become excessively red, and
then grow white like a burning parchment.
" It is true," said the other, " I did not think of it."
He went into a corner and brought out a little stone vessel, full of
oil, and by the help of a sponge attached to the end of a stick, he
rubbed the feet of the sufferer with it.
The action of the fire, excited by the presence of this greasy substance, in a few minutes became so penetrating, that the skin burst,
the flesh contracted, and in drawing back, exposed the naked nerves,
muscles, and bones.
The inquisition was endowed with an abominable inventive genius. To this incredible torment, Mary opposed heroic firmness;
and when the pain having become intolerable, extorted from her an
involuntary complaint, she exclaimed as the Saviour had done in his
agony:
"My God! forgive them, for they know not what they do."
Yes, without doubt, the inquisition had some blind fanatical instruments, and for that reason, perhaps excusable, who did not know
'what they did. What religious and secret corporation has not such
belonging to it?' These are not the persons who are accused, but
those certainly are in whom the spirit of the matter resides-those
who command and n  prostitute a holy religion to the service of the
worst passions. The others are merely passive instruments of the
society, disqualified from sharing in the success or the wealth which
result from it, protecting gabions, behind which the chiefs shelter
themselves during the battle.
The pious exclamation of Mary, was that of a Christian martyr,
and not of a Jewess. Still, her punishment was prolonged to the
full extent that her exhausted strength permitted.
When they were carrying her away to her dungeon, this courageous and pious Christian woman, had still strength enough left to
say to Pierre:
" May God our Saviour forgive you, as I forgive you, my lord!"
The deposition of a single witness had procured the condemna




THE CHAMBER OF PENITENCE.


185


tion of Mary de Bourgogne, and this witness was a slave; but Mary
was too rich to find favour with the holy office.
Jose, overwhelmed with emotion, could scarcely stand; he leaned
gently towards the ear of Pierre Arbues:
S" My lord," said he, "I feel very sick; the odour of this charcoal
makes me dizzy, and my heart is fainting, as if I were at the point
of death."
" You must accustom yourself to that," replied Pierre Arbues; "a
single torture more, and all will be over."
As he spoke these words, the sbires came into the chamber of
torture.
"My lord!"--said they, with hesitation.
"Well! What is the matter?    Speak!"
" My lord, the prisoner is dead."
" Dead!" repeated Pierre Arbues.
" She has cut her throat with a pair of scissors."
" Why did you let her have them?" said the inquisitor, sternly.
Then this hypocritical monk added with a disconsolate air: " Impenitent! Died impenitent!"
This prisoner, who was called Jane Sanchez, belonged to the order
of women, half secular, and half religious, designated under the
name of beatas; she had embraced Lutheranism, and had died without renouncing it.*
" All prayer for the deceased would be useless," continued the inquisitor, rising up, "her soul belongs to the devil."
There this session terminated. Pierre Arbues and his favourite
went out of the palace of the inquisition.
" Oh!" said Jos6, breathing eagerly the fresh air out of doors, and
passing his hand over his forehead, like a man who awakes from
sleep.
" In truth you are more delicate than a woman," said Pierre Arbues, in a caressing tone.
6 No, my lord, I have indeed the courage of a man, believe me,"
replied the young monk, seriously.
" We shall see that by experience," continued the inquisitor.
" Oh! we shall see it, when the time comes, my lord; you may
be sure of that!..
CHAPTER XXX.
THE CHAMBER OF PENITENCE.
THE advice of Jose had not been lost. One evening, eight days
later, in one of the little towers which formed the four angles of the
palace of the inquisition, the governor's daughter was alone, crouched
upon her knees. A little wooden footstool of a round form, was
* Jane Sanchez, of the class of women who were called beatas, was condemned to the stake as a Lutheran. When she was informed of her condemnation, she cut her throat with a pair of scissors, and died impenitent in her
prison. Her dead body was burnt at Valladolid, in 1559.
Q 2                   24





186


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


placed by her side; she was leaning upon it with one of her elbows,
and with her pale hand she supported her weary head.
The cell in which Dolores was confined, was scarcely more than
ten feet in diameter. It was entirely round, and the vaulted ceiling,
as well as the walls offered to the eye nothing but an unbroken surface of heavy whiteness. A small opening made at the top of the
vault, permitted a glare of light to enter, which undivided into any
angle, produced not the least shade, in which the eye wearied by this
monotonous glow might find repose.
Dolores, overwhelmed with ennui, disgust, and weariness, tired
even by the only seat which had been left her, had kneeled on the
floor, endeavouring thus to overcome, by a change of physical position, the gloomy despair, into which the eternal monotony of this
frightful abode had plunged her.
Broken down by incessant trials, this poor girl, so young, and yet
withal so strong, implored from heaven, courage to enable her to endure. Love, that holy aliment of the soul, still sustained her with
its sublime energy. Love, whose unspeakable joys she had but half
seen, inspired her with the desire of longer life, that she might taste
its happiness, the hope of those who sufler, and who love; a divine
treasure, which heaven shares on earth with those, whom it destines
one day to possess it in all its plenitude. In the heart of this courageous girl, her love for Estevan was inseparable from tenderness
bfor her father. Was not Estevan the adopted son of Manuel Argoso?  And as those who love never entirely despair, it seemed to
her that so long as Estevan lived, all was not lost for her. Night
surprised her in these tender meditations.
By degrees, the vertical and wearisome light which fell around
her in straight, abrupt, and glaring rays, faded gently away like a
lamp, in which the oil has failed; the opening by degrees appeared
as though leaves of gauze had been placed over the orifice which admitted the light, thus relieving the wearied sight of the captive.
At last it was night, and Dolores could no longer distinguish even
the walls of her cell; she might imagine, if she pleased, that she
was in the midst of a vast plain.
"Oh! what a pleasure," she exclaimed, as she rose up, "no longer
to behold this wall all white, eternally white! This circular and
uniform wall which makes me blind."
As she uttered these words, a bright light penetrated into the cell,
and the eyes of the girl, again dazzled, closed involuntarily.
SIt is I, do not be alarmed," said a friendly voice.
Dolores opened her eyes; it was Jose.
" Oh! thanks!" said she, throwing herself in the midst of her tears
upon the bosom of the young monk; "thank you, my good Jos6, for
having come!"
"I could not come sooner," replied the Dominican; "1I was afraid
of arousing the suspicions of the inquisitor."
" Oh!" exclaimed Dolores, with a gesture of horror, "how can
you serve that man?"
"I must do it," replied Jos6, with a tone of profound sincerity.
"Yes, I understand," rejoined the young woman, after some moments of reflection; "it must indeed be, that a powerful fatality thus





THE CHAJMBER OF PENITENCE.


187


binds you to the destiny of Pierre Arbues; you, so good, t~o noble,
so generous, would you otherwise have consented to became, even
in appearance, the accomplice of this monster?"
" You believe that, do you not, Dolores?" said the favourite, with
a bitter smile.
"Oh! yes, doubtless, it must be so; you must have very great
motives, and a fearful misfortune must have presided over your life.
When I begin to think of you, Don Jos6, who are bearing with so
much courage this heavy cross which has been made for you, I find
myself very little and very miserable; for, I must confess, 1 sometimes succumb under the load of the misfortunes which overwhelm
me, and it seems to me as if my reason abandons me. Captivity is
killing me; or this is, perhaps, a just punishment of my pride, which
had made me believe myself able to resist every thing."
SPoor child!" said Jose, looking sadly around him.
" Yes, it is that, Don Jose, it is the place which is killing me; to
have just air enough to keep from dying, to be unable to walk three
paces without stumbling against an impassable barrier; and then
around me to see this white, uniform wall eternally revolving, to be
as dizzy as if you were flying through the air on an enchanted
swing. To close your eyes in order that you may see no more, and
still in thought to turn and turn; to feel the floor yielding under
tour feet as in a dream, and launched into space to be without a
corner in which to rest. To wish to sleep, and hear incessantly in
your ears a fearful buzzing which keeps you awake; to call the night
as others call for day, and to be afraid to see the sun rise, whose
brightness every morning renews this interminable punishment. Oh!
it is enough to drive me distracted, Don Jose-and see, see," she
continued, with alarming volubility, " they are afraid that I do not
yet suffer enough, that I might repose my burning and distracted
head for a moment; so soon as day appears, they take away my bed,
which they do not bring back again until evening."
The animated expression of the countenance of Dolores, her extreme agitation, alarmed the young monk. The abode in this cell
must indeed have something terrible about it, to bring this girl, usually
so gentle and resigned, into such a state of excitement. Jos6 repented bitterly having advised the inquisitor to shut her up in this
gloomy recess, although he had had no other intention in doing it,
but to render the escape of Dolores more easy, from the position of
the towers, which were nearer the street than the great body of the
buildings, and had, besides, private and less frequented points of
egress. Unable to remedy the evil, he endeavoured to comfort the
poor captive by words of encouragement and hope.
"I will come and see you as often as I can," said he; " all this
will have an end. Meanwhile summon to your aid all the force of
your reason, and wait with courage; God will not forsake us."
"Alas! it is not courage that I want," said she; "I brace myself
every day with all the strength of my will against the malign influence of this abominable cell, which acts so strongly and fatally upon
the faculties of my mind. Sometimes in the evening, after having
struggled all day against numberless hallucinations, somewhat calmed
by the night which affords rest to my vision, I begin seriously to re




188


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


flect on my position, and I say to myself, that after all, the probable
end of this will be torture and condemnation to death."
"No," said Jos6, " do not believe that."
" Oh! I have accustomed myself to this idea beforehand," she replied, with warmth; " and I am fully resolved to endure every thing
with courage, rather than show myself cowardly, and deny, through
fear of death, the pure faith of the gospel which I hold; rather than
refuse to die as the betrothed of my noble Estevan. But, understand, before I do this, and I will do it for the good of my country,
of this unhappy Spain, whose veins have been so impoverished, that
she has not even strength enough to protest against her oppressors;
well, I poor woman that I am, will protest; when I appear before
this unjust inquisitor of Seville, who fattens on the dishonour of
women, and the ruin of families, I will throw his infamy aloud into
his face, and we will see afterwards if the blood of a courageous victim will be fruitless for the liberty of Spain."
" Noble and courageous woman!" said Jose, "they will not leave
you even this last resource. Your case will never be called up, and
you will die in the dungeons of the inquisition, like Frances de
Lerma, who came into them, the very night on which you saw your
father!"
"Oh! oh," exclaimed the young girl with a cry of horror, "is it
possible that I must be buried alive in this way? What do you tell
me, Jos? but it is impossible; you must see that all justice opposes
it. Let them condemn me, it is well, innocent or not, a judicial procedure in the eyes of the world is necessary for the acquittal of the
conscience of my judges. But that by an arbitrary act of the most
odious nature, they should attempt my liberty for ever, that I should
be suffered to die slowly of despair. Oh! that will not be Don Jos6,
that is not possible, and you slander the inquisition."
" Frances de Lerma was the favourite of Pierre Arbues," coolly
replied the young monk, "and when Frances wished to reform her
life, Pierre Arbues had her shut up in the holy office."
"The Abbess of the Carmelites! of what is she accused?"
" Points of accusation are not wanting to the ingenious inventions
of the holy office; but as a trial might commit the inquisitor, no trial
will be held. Frances will die without being condemned. Believe
me, Dolores, I am not speaking a calumny."
"Oh! it is terrible, Don Jos6, and how can our king, Charles V.,
who is called so great, how can he suffer such abuses?"
" The inquisition is stronger than the king," replied the Dominican;
the strength which is concentrated in a single individual, is broken
by the power of many united in one body. However, our king is
just, and if he could know all the abuses which are committed, there
is no doubt but he would endeavour to repress them. Of these
abuses he is ignorant; and, besides, do you not know that the inquisitors who have the right to accuse and to judge princes and kings,
are themselves amenable only to the sovereign pontiff?"
"Well," said the daughter of the governor, with a dejection which
it would be impossible to depict, " 1 see that there is nothing left for
me but resignation!"
SI have not said that"' replied Jose, with warmth; "if I must





THE CHAMBER OF PENITENCE.


189


pay for it with my life, I will restore you to liberty, Dolores; but
the moment has not yet come, Estevan and Jean d'Avila are at
Madrid."
"I know it, Don Jose; I know all that they have done for me."
"May they not, perhaps, procure from   the king the pardon of
your father?"
"' His pardon do you say? But what pardon can the king grant
to a man condemned by the inquisition? Have you not told me that
he can do nothing?"
" The inquisition sometimes relaxes its habitual severity, in order
to please the king," replied Jos. " The least that can be left to the
Sovereign of Spain, to the great Emperor Charles V., is the right of
petition."'I' Ah true!'" said the governor's daughter, 4 "When I was a little
child, playing on my father's knees, if I heard the name of the king
mentioned, that name seemed to me to shine like a halo, and I figured
to myself a noble, powerful and magnanimous being, who by a word
could change the cottage into a palace, the tears of the people into
shouts of joy, and who wherever he went dispensed prosperity, happiness and hope. King! Emperor!      These two magic words are
after all then only a fallacious symbol, with which a mortal and perishable man like ourselves is invested, as weak as ourselves, and a
hundred times more unhappy; for, besides the subjection of his passions, he is governed by all the things and all the men, who by any
influence whatever, can weaken his power or assail his authority.
Is this reigning? Of what use is it that they address you; ' Sire,'
and bend the knee before you, if even the right to do justice is not
left you?"7
"Justice! empty sound," murmured Jose; "that word is nothing
but a mask Dolores, like many other words of frequent and habitual
use. But what is all this to me?  What are these thousand weighty
nothings to me, by which the religious and political life of men is
nourished and which are reflected even in the domestic hearth?
What care I for the struggles of one dogma against another?  The
susceptibilities of one sect, the foolish pride of another, the cruelty
of those who gain the victory-what are they all to me?  My course
here below is marked out, and to arrive at the end, I need not meddle
in the bloody dust raised by the feet of those who combat; I need
only pass through the midst of them without looking back, sure never
to be injured; for," added he, pointing to his monkish robe, "I wear a
cuirass by which every sword is blunted."7
Whilst listening to these words, Dolores looked steadfastly in the
* The right of petition. This was, in fact, all that the inquisition had _eft
to the monarchs, and to the pope himself. The popes and the kings had, in.
deed, the right to annul the decrees of the inquisition, but the inquisition had
the skill to recommence its persecutions, and to institute new trials, and it
always ended by seizing the victims whom the justice of the pope or that of
the king had recovered out of its reach for some time. Witness the bishops
of Segovia and Callahorra, of whom I have spoken in a preceding note. Yet
the petitions of the kings, were for the most part unavailing. The inquisitors
openly resisted them under the pretext of serving the interests of religion, and
destroying heresy.-(History of the Inquisition, and History of Spain, by
Mariana, p. 717.)





190


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


face of the young Dominican. She endeavoured to comprehend
this strange medley of bitterness and sensibility, skepticism, and
faith, which made him two different beings. Jos6 manifested at
once in his conversation, the energy of the strongest man, and the
sensibility of the tenderest woman. His mind, as well as his person, offered a seductive mixture of the most opposite qualities.
Whilst seeing and listening to Jos6, people forgot that he was a monk.
and an officer of the inquisition; he was regarded only as a young,
captivating, and irresistible being, either because his pale and handsome countenance, bore the impress of profound sorrow, or because
his pure and sparkling eye, kindling with a soft light, energetically
expressed the impassioned tenderness of that mysterious soul,
changing as the waves of the sea. He had an endowment which
very few people possess, that is, fascination.
It may be too, that he only who has struggled against storms, acquires that mobility of countenance, that graceful ease of manners,
that facility of expression, but above all that impassioned melancholy which irresistibly attracts all the sympathies, so strong a tendency is there in the heart of man towards that which is strange.
This attractive power of certain beings is a physiological mystery
which defies analysis. It is defined, it is true, by the word "magnetism."  We admit it is magnetism, but who will explain to us
what it is? Who is he who understands it?  For our part, it seems
to us, that in order to find the rational cause, we must resolve it into
the divine agency.
At the period to which our history relates, the word magnetism
was not in existence. It was found shorter to call every thing magic
which did not fall under the immediate perception of the external
scnses. The minds of that day were spiritualists to a far greater
extent than those of our epoch. They paid no honour to the matter
of the prodigies which the superior intelligence who rules the world
lavishes around us. They had, it is true, pushed matters rather far.
For when a being endowed with superior reason, arose in the midst
of these ignorant and narrow-minded men, not being able to understand him, they called him a sorcerer, for they believed him to be
inspired, and assisted by the devil. This popular superstition at
times, wonderfully promoted the ambition and policy of the inquisitors, who feared all those whose science or philanthropy might enlighten the public mind. It was thus that St. Jean de Dieu, the illustrious founder of the order of the Hospitaliers, whom we have already introduced in a former chapter, was accused, a few years subsequently, of necromancy, by the tribunal of the inquisition, and
obliged to have recourse to the pope, to obtain his release.*
But in all ages, upright spirits free themselves from these puerile
superstitions. The sympathy which attracted Dolores towards Jos6,
* We read in the History of the Inquisition, chap. vi., part 4: " Saint Jean
de Dieu, founder of a hospital order, (see a previous note,) consecrated to the
care and assistance of the sick poor, was arrested, (at the same time with the
learned archbishop of Toledo, Barthelemy Carranza, against whom the inquisitor Valdes showed his wrath, excited more by jealousy than by zeal for religion,) under charge of heresy and necromancy, and his pious philanthropy
would, perhaps, have caused him to languish a long time in the dungeons of the
inquisition, if the pope had not warmly opposed it."





THE CHAMBER OF PENITENCE.


191


and for which she sought no supernatural cause, had something sweet
and consoling, free from all constraint, resembling the friendship of
one woman for another. Jose lost in her society the stiffness and
gravity of a monk; Dolores the somewhat embarrassing reserve,
which a man clothed in the garb of a priest, inspires into a young
woman. An inexpressible charm for both resulted from it.
" My good Jos6," said the governor's daughter to him, on seeing
him sad and pensive, "you grieve me by speaking of yourself; that
is a painful subject to you, and you never advert to it, without an
overwhelming sadness."
"You are mistaken, dear Dolores, it is not sadness; why should I
distress myself now? I have told you my course is marked out
beforehand. I obey an implacable fatality; about what then would
you have me be disturbed?"
"Jos6, you alarm me; such sentiments are not Christian."
"Do not let us speak of myself," replied the young Dominican;
" let us think of you, Dolores, and of you only; that is the will of
God; I am the instrument which he will employ to effect your deliverance. I am a victim of expiation. When my mission shall be
fulfilled, I shall be able to return to God, hands filled with the blessings of my brethren, and then, if I have sinned, shall I not have the
privilege of crying to him: Mercy! mercy! for I too have been a
martyr, and martyrdom is a baptism which washes away all stains."
Whilst speaking these words, Jose had become animated, and a
sombre excitement flushed his handsome countenance, it was, excepting the costume, the fine head of Judith.
Dolores, seated on the ground, her two hands clasped upon her
knees, listened to him in silence; and whilst her large eyes suffused
with tears, followed the movements of the countenance of Jose with
an attentive gaze, silent tears trickled down her cheeks.
She took the hand of the young monk, that white, delicate, and
beautiful hand of exquisite proportion, and pressed it affectionately
between her own:
SJose," said she, " my good Jose! what is the matter?"
" Nothing," he replied, recalled to himself by these words; "I
am thinking of my mission upon earth to deliver those who suffer.
That is all."
' Will Estevan return soon?" inquired Dolores, endeavouring to
divert the young monk from his gloomy thoughts, by speaking about
herself.
" Before eight days, perhaps," replied Jos6, "I shall hear of his
arrival immediately, and I shall certainly have good news to communicate to you. I hope much from the influence of Jean d'Avilawith the king."
Perhaps, this is the place to explain how Jos6 had learned that Estevan and the apostle had gone on their journey. It will be remembered that in their last interview at the little Moorish house, Jos'
had charged Coco to watch the movements of Estevan, and inform
him of them. Jose had been informed by the landlord of the Buena Ventura. Coco had also been charged by Jean d'Avila to inform Dolores of their departure, in order to encourage her. Unfortunately, in her desire to save her father, she had not had the pa




192


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


tience to wait, and her imprudence had thrown her into the power
of the holy office.
"We must part," said Jose, at length, seeing the prisoner somewhat encouraged; "let us be prudent, that we may remain strong."
" Oh! not yet," she exclaimed, clinging to the robe of the young Dominican, ' not yet, Don Jos6; you see that I shall relapse into my
horrible fright, that I shall become distracted again."
This word, " we must part," had again suddenly brought her
back to the bitter feeling of her solitude. Her nerves calmed for a
moment by the consolations of friendship, underwent a painful reaction. Her imagination again became peopled with spectres and
phantoms, the sad effects of a captivity so cruelly combined that it
tortured all the senses at once, by acting especially in a terrible manner on the seat of all sensation, the brain.
"Jose, Jose, do not leave me!" said the girl, in a stifled voice,
"you see that I shall die here. Oh! take me away, take me away
with you, put me in a dungeon, if you will; but not here, not
here."   * *
She clung, distracted to the knees of Jose'. This strong moral organization, this girl, pure, pious and devoted as she was, succumbed
under the terrible effects of the regimen of the cells.
Jose gently raised her up, poured upon her burning forehead some
drops of water, which had remained in a small vessel which furnished her with drink, and with his fresh and caressing hand, he
gently passed over a few times, her forehead from one temple to the
other; without a doubt, by an effect of magnetism, this repeated contact seemed to calm the poor captive.
" Go, I will be calm," said she, closing her eyes; for she was afraid
to look around her.
At this moment, there was a knock at the door of the cell.
" Come in," said the young monk, assuming by the side of the
kneeling prisoner, the attitude of a confessor opposite his penitent.
It was the jailer who brought back the bed on which Dolores
slept.
"' The prisoner is submissive," said the Dominican; "you will leave
her bed during the day."
" Your reverence shall be obeyed," said the jailer.
"6 Adieu, my sister," continued Jose, and bending towards the
girl, he added in a whisper:
"I will come soon again."
He xwent out.
Dolores remained kneeling in the dark, her head reclining on her
breast. ~ {  *
And now, let the reader follow us to Madrid, to the palace of
Charles V.
CHAPTER         XXXI.
MADRID.
ON a pleasant and fresh morning in May, two travellers were pur..
suing the route which leads from la Mancha to Madrid. The royal
city already appeared before them on the inclined plain on which it





MADRID.


193


is built, rising in the air like a forest of masts, its thousand pointed
belfries overlooked by the lofty cupolas of Saint Isidore and St.
Francis.   Already on the west of Madrid they perceived the hermitage of the pious labourer, a little chapel in great veneration
among the Jladrilenos, on account of the numerous miracles which
were there performed. A poetic edifice which tracing from afar in
the azure vault of heaveh its graceful and airy profile, resembled
rather a caprice of the imagination or an optical illusion, than an ancient habitation of labourers, converted into a chapel by public devotion."
Soon they crossed the bridge of Toledo, an admirable Roman
monument thrown over the Mancanares, the gloomy stream which
winds through a still more gloomy plain; then, toiling up the somewhat rough declivity of the road, they arrived before the shambles,
or school of the Toreadores.  There they stopped a few minutes to
enjoy the prospect; but in vain did they look around them for those
living traces of civilization, which announce the presence of a great
city, the rich cultivation, and varied vegetation which attest that the
hand of man has not been withheld from the soil, and that industry
has every where guarded against want; in the distance all around
the capital of the Castilles, enclosing it as with a girdle, was the nakedness of the desert; a red or whitish soil, sown over with sharp
stones, which in the burning rays of the sun, seemed to dissolve in
impalpable dust.
" 0 what sadness and nakedness," exclaimed the elder of the two
travellers, in whom the reader has already, without doubt, recognised
* The hermitage of Saint Isidore is situated on a height to the west of the
capital. This hermitage is the ancient farm where the saint was employed as,
a servant, and of which the clergy have made a magnificent chapel for the purpose of public devotion. Saint Isidore is bound to perform a large number of
miracles every year, under pain of losing his reputation, which is immense,
and which produces enormous sums to the chapter of the college of Madrid, which
derives the revenue from it; but these miracles are easily executed, and within
the limited capacity of a peasant. Saint Isidore, who is now the patron of
Madrid, was only a very fat peasant, who sometimes beat his wife, Saint Maria
de la Cabeza, out of sheer jealousy.
The miracles which Saint Isidore performs, consist in reconciling friends and
lovers who have quarrelled, a reconciliation which is obtained by drinking water
from the wells, from which the saint made his cattle drink, when he was a servant on the farm. The water of these wells, now a days converted into a
fountain, will also cure sick headache, provided people amuse themselves right
well after having drunk it; indeed, there is always a great deal of amusement
at the hermitage of Saint Isidore on the 15th of May, the festival day of the
saint. On this day, more than 200,000 souls repair from a circuit of more than
twenty miles to drink the reconciling water, make good dinners on the grass,
eat cakes, and dance with the prettiest girls in the country. On that day
liberty and joy are great in the environs of the hermitage.
It must be mentioned, however, that in order that the water of the fountain
may reconcile you with your enemy, you must both drink of it at the same
time, which is very easy, if you only agree beforehand as to the hour at which
you will repair to the miraculous fountain. We must mention, too, that in
order to have these miracles performed, you must have faith; in the latter case,
enter the hermitage, kiss the relic of the saint, give a few maravedis, and go and
drink; the miracle will not be delayed long. The chapel of Saint Isidore is as
much in vogue as ever; and the water of the fountain is more miraculous now
than at any former period.
R                      25





194


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Jean d'Avila; "does it not look like an immense cemetery which
rejects from its bosom innumerable bones?"" Yes," replied Estevan, "death, where all should throb with life!Indolence of the arms as profound as that of the mind!"'
c" No," pursued the apostle, " life which moves in the depth of
the tomb to roll away the burden which oppresses it; life which
always tends to show itself, for it abhors darkness."
"And the darkness has conquered it, my father; see it everywhere failing, despairing of itself as we have despaired of it! See,
still the same silence!  At Madrid as at Seville, a mournful silence,
the frightful absence of noise; nothing but the dull murmur of a
funeral dirge, stifled groans, gnawing painfully at the heart's core,
and on the surface... mute desolation! Is that the life of a great
nation?"
"Estevan," said the monk, " when in the depth of winter you
look at a dry and naked tree which seems dead, would you suppose
that under this black and wrinkled bark which betrays no sign of
vegetation, a warm and generous sap is circulating, which at the first
rays of the sun, will cover these leafless boughs with a rich fleece of
foliage?  So it is in Spain.   Wait until the sun of science and
liberty shines upon her, and you will see what a superabundance of
sap and life is concealed under the insignia of death, and how these
burning hearts, now compressed, will bound at the first glimmer of
a new era of complete regeneration."
"God grant it," replied Estevan, with fervour.
They arrived at the gate of Toledo. This principal entrance of
the city of Madrid, which now is a handsome stone monument, was
at that time merely a large wooden gate with two folds, closed by a
heavy cross bar, it looked not much unlike the door of a barn.51
The travellers passed through, and entered the street of Toledo.
This street, one of the finest of the city at that period, was composed
almost entirely, in that place, of innumerable mesones, inns for muleteers; these were almost the only edifices that were to be met with
up to the square of the cebada, the grain market,t which worthily
4 In order to comprehend the entire propriety and beauty of this comparison
of the author, in speaking of the fields which surround Madrid, it is necessary
to have seen this dry and parched ground, almost entirely divested of verdure,
and completely strewed over with pebbles, calcined by the rays of the sun.
i Of all people, the Spanish, more than any other, seem to have been formed
for great and noble deeds. Endowed with rare intelligence, great sagacity,
and correct judgment, the Spaniard is apt at all sciences and arts; and yet the
Spaniards generally have very little science, and for many years back the arts
have scarcely been cultivated in Spain. In reading the history of this unfortunate nation, we are obliged to accuse the inquisition, or rather Rome-Rome
which created the inquisition, and which still preserves it in 1845, of occasioning
all the inactivity and the inefficiency which have made Spain an immense corpse.
t La plaza de la Cebada, is also the place where executions are performed;
on this square, the defender of liberty, the immortal Riego, was ignominiously
hung in 1823, after he had been dragged on a hurdle tied to the tail of an ass,
amid the plaudits of the populace excited by the harangues of the monks. Be.
fore dying, the noble Riego was insulted by the very executioner: " I have you,
you free-mason, son of the devil, and this time you shall pay for all that yoil
have done." Such were the words which the man whom justice used as its
sword, addressed to him, whom all Europe in 1820 had saluted with the name
of the liberator of Spain!





MADRID.


195


terminated these two long rows of inns. On approaching this square,
Estevan was surprised at the number of people of every sex and
age, who crowded the avenues. Notwithstanding this concourse,
however, the loud and discordant noise which is usually made in
popular gatherings, was not to be heard; it was rather a dull buzzing, an expression of terror and pity, mingled with a kind of quiet
meditation.
" What means this concourse of people?" inquired Estevan, with
surprise.
"It is an execution, without a doubt," said Jean d'Avila; cc an
unhappy man whose life human justice demands."
In fact, no sooner had they entered the square, than a spectacle at
once grotesque and terrible met their view.
A man mounted on an ass without ears" was coming down in the
direction opposite to that by which they arrived. This man, clothed
in a white tunic, was dressed in a green cap, on which a cross of the
same colour as the tunic was fastened. He proceeded in the middle
of a double rank of soldiers and brothers of peace and charity.
Before him, the almoner of the prison, and some monks of the
order of the agonizing walked slowly, preceded by a cross borne by a
sacristan.
One of these monks, who were to relieve one another by turns,
kept constantly by the side of the sufferer, exhorting him to die
well.  The others recited in a sad and monotonous voice the prayers
of agony, whilst the two brothers of peace and charity, each furnished with a little bell, accompanied the verses and responses with
a mournful tinkling.
The people rushed on in crowds towards the place, stretching out
their necks to gain a better view. On another side, by an adjacent
street, a large number of brothers of peace and charity, joined those
who accompanied the sufferer; these had gone all over the city from
early dawn, preceded by a crier furnished with a bell, and every where
repeating in a plaintive voice:
" Give, brothers, something to say masses and do good to the soul of
him who is going to be executed."
This pious pilgrimage of the brotherhood of peace and charity,
was so exempt from   every kind of hypocrisy, from  the ridiculous
mummeries which usually accompany institutions of this kind; there
was so much real piety, and an idea of such exalted philanthropy in
this association of the most eminent men of the city, for the purpose
of soothing the last moments of those whom the law had condemned,
and of placing, as it were, human justice and divine mercy in pa* In Spain, those who are condemned to the gibbet, or algarrote, to strangulation, are conducted to the place of punishment upon an ass, which belongs to
the executioner. Formerly, the executioner sold his asses the day after an execution, and bought others only the evening before a new one. Some of the
asses sold by the executioner, having been recognised as the same employed at
a hanging, have excited bloody persecutions against their possessors. It has
been known that girls of good family have been unable to find husbands because
some one of their family had bought one of these animals. This inconvenience,
originated the Spanish law which requires the executioner to crop the ears of
all the asses which he uses, which are bought and maintained at the expense of
the state.





196


THE MYSTERIES OF THE 1NQUISITION.


rallel lines, that people felt moved with sacred respect in the presence
of these pious noblemen, all of the best or richest houses of Spain,
thus united in the highest work of Christian charity, the consolation
of those whom all abandon.
"Sublime charity!" said Jean d'Avila; " there is the proof, my
son, that the germ of life is in the heart of Spain, and that a people
so noble will not perish."
"Do these men belong to a religious order?" inquired Estevan.
"No, my son; these men are simply Christians, animated by the
pure spirit of the gospel; they gather out of the mire of the streets,
the lepers whom every body repels; they speak words of peace to
him who repents, and by dint of gentleness and tender compassion,
they touch the heart of the hardened sinner. It is very seldom that
at the view of charity so true, perfect, and affecting, the unfortunate
creature whose life human justice demands as an expiation for his
crimes, does not return sincerely to God. He does not despair, because he is made to understand, that above human justice, and in
spite of its inflexible decrees, there is a law of pardon and of love
which protects repentance, and leaves a heavenly hope to him who
expects no more from men. These brothers of peace and charity
are truly the apostles of Him who forgave the adulterous w6man;
they are true missionaries of the Christian faith."
"Are they subject to no regulation?" inquired Estevan, warmly
interested.
- Not precisely," said the apostle; "' however, the brotherhood of
peace and charity is far more severe than many religious orders.
Thus, in order to be admitted a member, a man must never have
been in the hands of the law, and must enjoy an unblemished reputation; for this honourable corporation not having been instituted for
any object of fanaticism or gain, but solely in a spirit of charity,
those who compose it, insist above every thing else, in maintaining
it in its primitive purity. The greatest lords of Spain, and those
who enjoy the best reputation, consider it an honour to belong to it.
On entering the society, a sum of five hundred francs must first be
paid into the treasury, and an engagement must besides be made to
share in future expenses, which are all incurred in favour of the
condemned."
" Let me get a little nearer, I beg you, gentlemen," abruptly said
an old woman, leaning on a crutch, and edging as well as she could,
between Estevan and Jean d'Avila, fb have a better view, and to
make a shelter of their tall persons against the wave of the populace which became more and more rapid and urgent;-" you see that
the sufferer has got to the foot of the gallows."
In fact, the balconies were rapidly filling up all around the square;
young and pretty women and happy children, knowing no cares,
were not afraid to come and assist at the horrible spectacle of a
hanging.
" What does the brotherhood do with all the money which is
thrown into the treasury?" inquired Estevan, more interested in his
conversation with the apostle than in the execution.
"This money is not badly employed, believe me; first, during
the morning of the execution, all the priests of Madrid pray and say





MADRID,


197


masses for the soul of him who is about to die; then, during the
three days which precede the last day of his life, and which the condemned passes in a lighted chapel, the brotherhood give him all that
he desires, thus endeavouring to sooth his last moments by satisfying his most capricious wishes; then, last of all, a still more useful
and laudable thing, if the criminal leaves children, a mother or a
widow, these unfortunate people may depend upon it, that after he
is gone, their livelihood will be secured to them, and that they will
never have to endure the anguish of a dishonoured life rendered
frightful by poverty."'
"Oh! yes, that is indeed a noble and pious institution," exclaimed
the young man, whose heart throbbed at every noble thought, " yes,
this is worthily honouring and employing religion, when it is made
the incentive to the most generous actions."
"And do not suppose, Estevan," continued the apostle, " that they
confine themselves to these niggardly benefits towards the relatives
of the criminal, humiliating to him who gives, and to him who receives. They are not content with giving them money; no, they
add the life of the soul to that of the body; the children of the condemned are educated with care, and the society of peace and charity abandons them only when they are in a condition to provide for
their wants in an ample and honourable way."
As Jean d'Avila spoke these words, a great rush was made among
the people, every body rose on tiptoe, the criminal was in the hands
of the executioner, who drew him along the ladder attached to the
gallows. The mendicants and the blind, rehearsed with a nasal
twang, interminable complaints; some sang on a single note, varied
by semitones, the Paternoster and Ave.Maria; this is a very common
custom in Spain. All minds were in suspense.
" Holy Mary!" exclaimed a girl; " see him already tied by the
neck; oh! the executioner mounts upon his shoulders!"
"Oh dear! oh dear!" said an old beggar with a white beard, "see
the agonizing brother, who begins the credo."
A shudder ran through the assembly, and nothing was to be heard
in this vast crowd of people but an immense voice, blending with
that of the agonizing brother, who in a mournful and convulsive
voice recited the symbol of faith.
" Creo en Dios padre todo poderoso, criador del cielo y de la
tierra; y en Jesus Christo su unico hijo."  "I believe in God
the Father Almighty," &c.
At these last two words, the executioner still seated on the shoulders of the sufferer, made a swninging motion,resting his feet strongly
on the bound hands of the criminal, and launched out with him into
space.
Instantly the bells of San Milan chimed the death knell.
The executioner-and the criminal swung in the air for two or three
minutes. The agonizing brother continued the recital of the symbols.
" Holy Virgin!" shouted a crowd of astonished voices in unison;
" he may well say that the good God protects him."..
The rope of the gallows had broken; the executioner and the
culprit had fallen together, pel mel, upon the ground.
R2





198


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Immediately, the major brothei of peace and charity extended to
wards the sufferer a long wand which he held in his hand" Saved! Saved!" shouted the people.
The brothers of peace and charity immediately raised the wretched
sufferer; he still breathed, the strangulation had not been complete.
Meanwhile a young woman, accompanied by a little boy five or
six years old, was beating her child, after having stripped off his
jacket.
" What has this poor little fellow done?" inquired Estevan, affected by the tears of the child, who wept as though his heart would
break.
" Nothing," said the mother; "this is that he may remember, and
not be a thief when he grows up-the rope does not always break,"
added she, as though reflecting earnestly.
" What is to become of this man, so miraculously saved?" inquired Estevan!
" He belongs to the brotherhood," replied Jean d'Avila, " for the
executioner has lost him; besides, every person to whom such a
thing happens, has his life saved, by the mere fact of having been
touched by the wand of the major brother of peace and charity;
this is a privilege granted to this society by several laws and statutes of king Ferdinand of Aragon, confirmed by Charles V. Do you
think, Estevan, that a king can encourage such associations too
much?"
"And what will now become of this man?"
"Be assured, the brotherhood will take care of him, and if he
does not become honest and upright, it will certainly be his fault;
if he had died, on the contrary, seven hours after, the brotherhood
would have demanded the body, and made, at its own expense, a
magnificent funeral."
A kind of Gitano, who was listening to them, began to laugh with
a cunning leer, muttering between his teeth:
"That fine funeral would not have helped him much. What a
pity if Mateo had not missed his aim. What a fine gancho* we
should have lost!"
At these words, Jean d'Avila recognised in the Gitano a member
of the brotherhood of the Gardufia.
"What a contrast!" he exclaimed; "there the elite of the population, the purest hearts and the most enlightened faith; here, men
lost in vice, plunged in fanaticism, ready to do any thing for money;
on one side, the work of the true religion of Christ; on the other,
the sad results of a disfigured religion, which is neither a restraint
nor a consolation, but a means of corruption, the footstool of power,
an instrument of despotism."
" This man who has just been saved, was a malefactor then, and
will remain such, since he belongs to this vile society of the Gardulia, will he not?" asked Estevan.
SPerhaps so," replied Jean d'Avila-" as yet," he added, with a
sigh, " the time has not come when the good will rule the evil; and
in this road, sown with thorns and stones, which those pursue who
* Gancho, hook, thus the gardunios call the thieves





THE ROYAL PROMENADE.


199


move on towards virtue, many who have not strength enough to
suffer, are discouraged."
"No matter!" exclaimed Estevan; "honour to those who hold
on their way, and honour too to those who perish! They will have
beaten the road for those who follow!"
"Let us go, then P" said the apostle; "the crown of the martyr
is well worth that of the conqueror."
The crowd had dispersed. Jean d'Avila pointed with his hand to
the other side of the street of Toledo, which was directly opposite.
"This way," said he, "this is the road which leads to the palace."
CHAPTER         XXXII.
TIHE ROYAL PROMENADE,
ESTEVAN and Jean d'Avila, followed the street of Toledo as far
as the plaza, mayor, the whole length of which they crossed; then,
taking on the left the street of Orfbvres, they arrived at the church
of Sainte Marie Majeure, the oldest parish of Madrid. From these,
passing under the arcade of the palace, they stopped in the midst of
a vast oblong, from which the view spread away in the distance to
the west of the palace, as far as the Ventas de Alcorcon.They were on the plaza de palacio. On their left, stretched the
field of the Moor, (campo del Moro) a deep and verdant valley
which separates the Manganares from Madrid, and extends from the
gate of Saint Vincent to the gate of Segovia. On their right was
el Prelil, a somewhat elevated hill, at the foot of which the grand
body guard of the palace are stationed; and finally, opposite them,
the palace itself, an immense and superb edifice, spreading wide its
broad wings, and from the summit of this lofty elevation commanding the capital of Spain.
This immense block of granite, pierced in its four stories with
high and countless windows, presented an appearance, at once simple,
noble, and imposing. Large carved balconies adorned the entire
upper facade. The entrance was by three large gates like arcades,
adorned with columns of the Corinthian order, with beautiful effect; and the flat slate roof formed an inclined terrace, enclosed in a
stone balustrade. T'Ihe lout ensemble was imposing, and truly royal.
"We are here at last," said Estevan, stopping to admire this
* It was in this plain, called las Ventas de Alcorcon, July 7, 1822, that eight
thousand Spaniards butchered one another. Of this number, three thousand were
national guards of Madrid, or soldiers of the regiments of Almansa and Ferdinand
VIL., and five thousand royal guards, whom King Ferdinand VII. excited to revolt against the constitution of 1812, then in force, only to abandon them, the
very next day, so soon as he saw they were conquered. For this battle, in
which the royal guard lost more than four thousand men, all old soldiers of the
war of independence, the crowned tiger created a decoration, which somewhat
later, became a mark of proscription. What could the Spaniards expect from
a king, who after having sold Spain to Napoleon, pursued, caused to be executed and sent to prison, those who had defended him from 1808 to 1815, and
who at his death, bequeathed to his country a civil war.





200


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


sumptuous edifice; "this is the end of our journey, the place in
which our last hope resides."
" Be calm, be calm, my son," said Jean d'Avila, who always endeavoured to repress the tendency to excitement which he remarked
in this young man, persuaded that excitement wastes strength to no
purpose, and takes away that spirit of preparedness, that cool sagacity which men need in the great emergencies of life.
Estevan smiled good humouredly, like a docile child at the beloved being who reproves it; the inflexible composure of the apostle
exerted the greatest influence over him.
They proceeded as far as the principal gate of entry into the royal
mansion. It was guarded by numerous sentinels, and a great commotion was going on inside; people were going and coming freely
as in days of great solemnity.
" Let us go in," said Jean d'Avila, "and see what is going on."
After having passed through the first gate on the great stairway
to the right, they saw a crowd of people, men, women, and children,
ranged along the balustrade or towards the walls, forming two rows
of heads of a curious and eager expression.
" The king is about to go out on the promenade," said the apostle,
" but he will not go out so soon, the troops are not yet on the square.
Come, let us look at the court, which is well worth some attention."
Whilst saying these words, two regiments of guards, Walloons
and Spaniards in full uniform, defiled upon the square of the palace,
and ranged themselves, with music in front, in two parallel lines on
the two sides of the principal gate.
Estevan and Jean d'Avila had entered the court of honour. This
was a vast and perfect square, paved with broad slabs of bright granite,
fluted in grooves, so that the horses' feet might rest more securely
on this slippery and polished surface. Lofty stone arcades, sustained
by fluted columns, formed a broad peristyle all around; in the middle
of each of the four interior fagades, two colossal statues of the most
celebrated Roman emperors stood upon a pedestal.
The inside of this magnificent palace corresponded with the outside; it was a sumptuous dwelling, worthy of the great emperor
Charles V. Whilst the travellers were admiring this imposing architecture, the noise increased in the square and in the palace. The
drums beat to the field, and the band began to play the royal march.
A rapid rumbling was heard, the state coaches, drawn by six splendid mules" richly caparisoned, and led by a coachman and postillion
in the king's livery, entered majestically the court of honour, moved
slowly around it, and the first of them stopped at the foot of the
great stairway.
The crowd had become more dense. Estevan and Jean d'Avila
had great difficulty in forcing their way to the first steps. All these
people stretched their hands towards the broad landing which commanded the first flight of stairs which was composed of twenty-three
steps. A few were perched on the large granite balustrade; others
were seated on the back and even on the head of the two gigantic lions,
which, in their proud and calm attitude, and their granite immobility,
* The carriages of the king of Spain were drawn by horses only on Sundays
and holidays.





THE ROYAL PROMENADE.


201


resembled two insensible sentinels, eternally stationed as the guard
of the royal majesty.
It was pleasing to see all these faces young or old, the greater
portion wan and withered, radiant with hope and happiness, in expectation of him who was about to appear. To these poor people,
so enthusiastic and so good. so mild and patient notwithstanding their
matchless pride, the king was truly the image of divinity; the image
of justice, strength, and power; of him in whom power and goodness dwell at the same time, of him who is able and willing; for
all good emanates from him, and his happiness consists in diffusing
it. Oh! what a noble office it then was for a king to act as a protector and a judge!  With what sublime emotions would his royal
soul be filled at the sight of these people, whom he held, as it were,
entirely in his hand, for he could cast them down by a breath, make
them bend by a word, and raise them up by a smile; because, the
people at once artless, proud, and candid, adored in him the majesty
of a father still more than that of the king; their obedience had
nothing servile in it, for obedience is summed up in two words;
respect and love; such obedience honours man instead of debasing
him; it is nothing more than an act of independence and free will.
The Spanish populace, then so oppressed, was there panting,
waiting for him in whom supreme power was invested, in order to
make their complaints and obtain justice; at that epoch, and indeed,
it is still the case in Spain, the most patriarchal country in the world,
the people had no need of addressing the ministers to obtain an audience from the king. The king of Spain was not surrounded with
armed regiments and inaccessible barriers; he let the people approach
his person freely, as a father does his children; and from this free
and intimate communication, springs the unbounded and imperishable love which binds the people and the king with a chain which
it is morally impossible to break; thus, never has the life of any
king of Spain been even attempted.
Still, despite the radiant expression of hope which on that day
might be read in every face, the profound sadness impressed on these
naturally serious countenances could not be remarked without a lively
feeling of pity; it was evident that these people who exacted so
little for the wants of their material life, who required so little to
make them happy, had in their heart a running sore; they bore on
their brows the mark of those terrible conflicts of strong beings resulting from the want of activity, which kills them like lightning,
without appearing to have touched them.
But suddenly all hearts throbbed with one feeling; a large carved
door opened at the top of the first landing, and a bailiff clapped his
hands three times. This was the signal which announced the king.
Then, preceded by his Vergers, escorted by four halberdiers, the
great king Charles V. who made the world tremble, advanced in the
midst of his body guards.
He wore the graceful costume of that period, and although he was
not of very great stature, his bearing was full of dignity, and his
young and proud face had that peculiar and powerful charm, which
a sparkling eye and sagacity illumined by the fires of genius always
impart; the expression of his features was besides full of ingenuity
26





202


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION,


and discrimination, and if kindness was not always the dominant
trait in this somewhat haughty countenance, it was at least nearly
always supplied by that air of extreme courtesy, by which so many
people are deceived, and which, especially among the great, they
willingly call by another name.
Jean d'Avila fixed upon the king a deep and scrutinizing look; it
was the first time that he had been so near to him.
" The king has a good countenance," whispered Estevan, who also
eyed him with much attention.
Jean d'Avila made no reply; he had more experience in faces
than Estevan.
King Charles V. was like all men of great genius, he had good
impulses, but there is a great distance between that and being always good.
The emperor advanced slowly in order to go down, and at each
step which he took, he paused in order to take in person the petitions which were presented to him, and handed them afterwards to
the captain of his body guard, who walked at his side.
To those who had no petition to offer, the king presented his hand
to kiss, with the most noble and paternal air; in truth, he well sustained
the royal majesty, and he displayed genius even in trifling things.
Thus he walked down the whole of this long stairway, stopping
a considerable time at each step, greeting with the same smile, the
poor man in tatters, and the rich citizen, speaking to many as if he
had known them personally, and sometimes securing right and justice on the spot, to those who asked it.
How often did this proud conqueror delay his promenade to go
back into his apartments with a petition for justice!
His condescension towards those who had complaints to make,
the eagerness to repress abuses and to satisfy an urgent demand,
were great and noble.
The man who was suffering from oppression or injury, had only
to complain, he was not compelled to wait; nothing was necessary but
his complaint, methodically drawn up; this was a passport from step
to step from the; first clerk of the ministers, down to the last employees; he was not obliged to endure the insolent arrogance of this
hierarchy of scriveners; for the king was king for every body, and
reparation was made on the spot; the complainant had not to undergo the agony of a long and uncertain delay, which is most frequently terminated by a flat denial of justice.
"There," said Jean d'Avila, " see, the noblest attribute of royalty
is to represent Providence."
"Would that it may represent it in our case!" rejoined Estevan.
Charles V. continued to walk down the steps; the band of the
guards played the royal march with redoubled animation, and the
mules of the coach pawed with impatience, notwithstanding their
naturally gentle disposition.
Those of the populace who had been unable to find room on the
stairway, pressed towards the gate in order to have their share also
in the honour of kissing the king's hand.
The day was warm and bright, joy and smiles beamed in the dazzling rays which the sun seemed to throw like a veil over the sad




THE ROYAL PROMENADE.


203


ness and paleness of countenances which were momentarily soothed;
the crowd was so great, that Jean d'Avila feared he would not be
able to approach the king; he drew Estevan along, endeavouring to
make way with him through the midst of the throng, so as to put
himself in the way of the king. But at every pause which the king
made, hands extended before him waved in the air innumerable petitions which were all kindly received, and immediately handed over
to the captain of the guards.
Charles V. manifested not the least impatience; he seemed not at
all wearied by these numerous claims which detained him so long.
Only his noble countenance occasionally denoted internal meditation, the constant and involuntary labour of the intellectual faculties, and an indefatigable ardour of genius, that feverish and consuming ardour which killed the monk of Saint Just for having laid
aside his kingly power.*
At length he reached the lowest step; the bailiffs had dispersed
the crowd to some extent, but it was still too dense, to permit Jean
d'Avila to approach the king; seeing that it was impossible for him
to advance, he raised both his arms over his head, and reached out
his suppliant hands towards Charles V.
* It is known that the emperor Charles V. abdicated the throne, in order to
shut himself up in a cell of the convent of Saint Just; but few persons know
that after his death, the inquisition of Castile dared to institute a suit against
the memory of the father of Philip II. According to Messrs. de Thou, D'Aubignh, and le Laboureur, Charles V., was accused and convicted after his death,
of having maintained a constant intercourse with the protestants of Germany,
and of having retired to Saint Just only in order to be at liberty in this retirement, to finish his days in the exercises of piety adapted to his secret disposition, and to do penance as an expiation for the bad treatment which he had
caused the princes of the protestant party to suffer. In support of these accusations, they made account of the choice which he made of the Dr. Cazalla,
canon of Salamanca, as his preacher, and of Constantine Ponce, bishop of
Dresden, for his confessor: two persons suspected of heresy. Another proof
of which the inquisition made use, in order to tarnish the memory of Charles
V., were the numerous inscriptions which were found in the cell of Saint Just,
made by the hand of the monarch, on justification and grace, in the sense of
the innovating doctors. Finally, the will of Charles V. furnished the inquisi.
tion with another means of defaming the memory of the emperor. This will
contained scarcely any pious legacies or foundations for prayers, and it was
drawn up in a manner so different from that employed by zealous catholics, that
the inquisition deemed itself called upon to take formal notice of it.
As soon, also, as the inquisition supposed it might manifest its rigour without
too much exasperating Philip II., it commenced an attack on the bishop of
Toledo, primate of Spain at Cazalla, preacher of the emperor, and on Constantine Ponce, his director, whom Philip II. suffered to be imprisoned. These
three persons were condemned to the stake, together with the emperor's will.
King Philip II., roused by the commotion which this scandalous process made
in Spain, at first rejoiced at the idea of seeing his father's glory tarnished, but
he soon became apprehensive of the consequences of this horrible attempt, and
by means of cowardly concessions, he persuaded the inquisition to leave
Charles V. out of this affair. The inquisition did not venture to refuse every
thing to the king; but as it wanted victims, it caused Dr. Cazalla to be burned
alive in 1559, with the effigy of Constantine Ponce, who had died some days
before, in the prison of the holy office. The archbishop of Toledo appealed
from this decision to Rome, where, by dint of friends, and above all, of money,
he was declared a good catholic. It was at this price that the inquisition of
Castile consented not to tarnish the memory of Charles the Fifth!





204


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


At the sight of this monk, whose fine figure and sacred costume~
inspired respect, the people drew back of their own accord; the
captain of the guards beckoned to the religious to approach, and
Jean d'Avila, still with extended hands, fell at the knees of the
king.
Charles V. surprised, kindly raised him up.
"What can I do for you, my father?" he inquired.
"Show mercy, sire, mercy to one of your best servants; but the
story would be too long t t tell here," added the apostle, looking at
the crowd who surrounded them; " I wish to speak with your majesty in private."
"Come to-morrow," replied Charles, presenting his hand for Estevan to kiss, who had also approached towards him.
" This young man is with me," said Jean d'Avila.
" Let this young man come with you, to-morrow, my father, we
will see that justice is done you."
" God will bless you, sire!" humbly replied Jean d'Avila.
( At the audience, to-morrow, we meet again," repeated the king,
in a tone of kindness.
A footman then opened the door of the royal coach, Charles V.
mounted with a light and nimble step, and the coach started away
like an arrow, followed by the attendant carriages, which carried the
gentlemen of the king's retinue.
The regiments of the guards immediately shouldered arms, and
the people slowly retired, happy in having seen him, who in their
eyes was the image of God upon earth.
CHAPTER         XXXIII.
CHARLES THE FIFTH.
THE royal audiences in Spain were not such as might be supposed
in a country in which the ceremonial of court etiquette was so rigidly strict. This etiquette originated by the filial and almost fanatical affection of the Spaniards for their king, was merely a tradition preserved by the consistent character of this affectionate, grave,
and thoughtful people, who are naturally averse to all innovation in
their habits; it was a homage rendered to a father by his children.
So far, however, from these respectful forms of profound love and
enthusiastic deference tending to estrange the people from the sovereign, it attracted them, on the contrary, by the very sense of security with which it inspired the king, a security so great, that on
every day, during several hours, those who came in time, were at
liberty to enter the palace, and obtain an audience, even on the great
days of complimentary service.t
* It is well known that in Spain the costume of a monk opened the gates,
and facilitated access for him who wore it, to all the dignitaries of the kingdom.
Has not the cassock almost the same privilege in the fine realm of France?
j The audiences granted by the king, are not more difficult to be obtained in
our day, than in the time of Charles the Fifth. Whoever wishes to speak to





CHARLES THE FIFTH.


205


The king usually received visitors from ten o'clock in the morning until two in the afternoon.
Estevan and Jean d'Avila took care to be punctual in attending to
the interview appointed by Charles V. The clock had scarcely
struck ten, on the following morning, after their arrival in Madrid,
before they were ascending the great stairway of the palace.
Before them, on the second landing, the floor of the first antechamber was open. They entered without the least opposition from
the two halberdiers who were stationed at the door. No one had as
yet arrived.
A valet handed them a card bearing the number 1, and the two
travellers sat down on one of the short benches covered with red
cloth, with which the ante-chamber was furnished.
This ante-chamber had three doors, closed only by broad velvet
screens. One of them, opposite the entry door, opened on the royal
saloon; that on the right, led to the apartments of the king; the
third, on-the left, was that of the apartments of the princes.
The apostle and his young companion viewed some paintings of
the Flemish and Italian schools, with which the conquests of Charles
V. had enriched the palace.
During this time, some other persons of every condition, and of
both sexes, came in, one after the other, and received in their turn,
from the valet, a number in the order of their arrival.*
The royal saloon still remained closed, and the sound of an animated conversation was heard, of which, however, not the, least
word could be distinctly understood.
The emperor was in conference with the ambassador from Tunis.
This audience was prolonged about half an hour, during which the
voice of Charles V. was constantly dominant, sometimes insinuating
and persuasive, lending a fascinating accent to the natural eloquence
of this great monarch; sometimes abrupt, emphatic, and overbearing, impressed with that energetic power of will, which constituted the basis of the character of Charles V.
By the varied inflexions of this voice, it would have been im
possible to ascertain the real sentiments of the king. They presented the same character as his words, ambiguous, astute, and profoundly weighed, so adroit, that they always left him the means to
refute his adversaries, whatever might be the interpretation which
they might have given to his acts, his words, or his writings. The
mind of Charles V. was a subtle net in which the most wary were
caught.
At length, the Tunisian envoy withdrew, and a chamberlain, raising the broad screen, called with a loud voice, for number one.
the king of Spain, need only repair to the palace before ten o'clock, and wait
his turn in the royal ante-chamber. This facility of speaking to the king has
not even been suspended in times of revolution, or even during periods of popular
insurrection. The kings of Spain have never ventured, any more than the
Spaniards to suspect the possibility of a regicide!
S On entering the ante-chamber of the king of Spain to wait for an audience,
a valet hands you a card, bearing the number of the order of your admission,
Whoever you may be, no one will pass before you, except those who have a
lower number.
S





206


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Estevan and Jean d'Avila were introduced into the royal saloon.
It was a place of incredible magnificence.
On the right and left, at equal distances, four large openings, closed
by screens of red velvet, led to the apartments of the king, and to
those of the princes.
In the spaces between the doors, which were covered with carved
pannels, an inlaid pier-table supported some large candelabras of
massive silver, a few little statues or magnificent chased vases.
The floor, of admirable design, was made of hard and polished
wood, which shone without the aid of wax. Three enormous lamps
of rock crystal, were attached to the slightly vaulted ceiling, which
was covered with gilding of exquisite delicacy and admirable finish.
Above the doors, all around the saloon, ran a broad gilt cornice, the
entablature of which supported costly trophies; and on the upper
wall, a broad space which separated the cornice from the vault, frescoes, made by the pencil of the best painters, represented a group of
personages clothed in the different costumes of all the nations of the
earth. Spain had in this way personified her conquests, which embraced the four parts of the world.
Finally, towards the upper end of the saloon, a throne of velvet
and gold, under a magnificent canopy, ornamented with emblems of
every kind, the most remarkable of which was a pelican opening its
breast to nourish its young; in the midst sparkled the arms of Spain.
Two lions, in repose, the proud lions of the Spanish monarchy,
watched like motionless satellites on the steps of the imperial throne.
Broad and high windows threw the light of day over all this
magnificence. A few Spanish nobles, clothed in the mode of that
period, were conversing here and there in an under tone.
The king, with an air of thoughtfulness, was walking slowly from
the right to the left side of the saloon.
At the instant when Jean d'Avila entered, the king recognised
him. He advanced gracefully towards him, eyeing him, however,
with a look of distrust.
"What do you wish?" he at length inquired, in a benevolent
tone.
"Justice, sire," replied Jean d'Avila, falling on one knee, and
kissing the hand of the emperor; "justice against the inquisition,
which abuses its privileges, and compromises your majesty's character by its incredible cruelties."
At the word inquisition, Charles V., that haughty despot, could
not divest himself of some little excitement, and perceiving that the
conversation would be more important than he had at first supposed,
he beckoned to the gentlemen of his suite to retire.
When he was alone with Jean d'Avila and young Vargas, Charles,
resuming the stern and despotic tone which was familiar to him,
said to the Franciscan:
"Do you know, my father, that great courage is requisite in order
to complain openly of the inquisition?"
"No, sire," rejoined the apostle, " only great love for justice is
required."
" Such love is dangerous and rare, now a days," replied the king.





CHARLES THE FIFTH.


207


'; It is for this reason, sire, that we come to seek it at the foot of
the throne, as we cannot find it elsewhere.,
SWell, let us see, what is the matter?  Speak without fear; before every thing else, I wish to do justice. What have they done to
you?"
" To me? nothing sire," replied Jean d'Avila; "but you had a
faithful servant named Manuel Argoso---
" Governor of Seville, I believe," said Charles, interrupting him
hastily.
"The same, sire. Your majesty, of your own good will, conferred
upon him this honourable title, and there never was a man more
worthy of it. But the inquisitor, Pierre Arbues, wanted to reward
one of his creatures. He has therefore caused Manuel Argoso to
be thrown into the prison of the inquisition, and has put in his place
a man of the meanest extraction, a contemptible fellow, the slave of
all his whims."
" Indeed, I recollect," said the king, after a moment's reflection;
SI myself signed the nomination of this man who had been recommended to me by the inquisitor of Seville. I was assured that he
had rendered eminent service to religion. But," continued Charles,
" do you know, my father, that this is a matter of vast importance?
The former governor of Seville is, as it appears, guilty of heresy;
numerous witnesses have made depositions against him; he has been
convicted of Lutheranism, and I cannot arrest the progress of a suit
instituted by the holy office. Why, I could not even save my poor
Benedictine Virues, whose sermons afforded the most agreeable relaxation of my life!""Witnesses, sire!" said Jean d'Avila, bitterly;  does not your
majesty know that the fatal privilege of the inquisition, which permits it to conceal the names of the witnesses, who have made their
depositions against unaccused persons, enables it every day to commit the most monstrous abuses; that it is enough, that one man
should be the enemy of another, to put his life in jeopardy, and drag
him before the tribunal of the inquisition."
"Had Manuel Argoso enemies?" said the king.
" None, sire: Manuel Argoso was beloved by all: there was but
a single man in Seville, who perhaps had motives"....
" Who was this man?"
"This man, sire, is the grand inquisitor of Seville."
" My father," said Charles V., sternly, "in thus lightly accusing
a grand dignitary of the inquisition, do you not forget what profound respect we owe to the inquisitors, and to all connected with
* Alphonso ViruBs was a Benedictine very well versed in oriental languages;
the author of several works, and a great preacher. Charles the Fifth heard him
with such delight, that he took him with him in all his expeditions in Germany,
and at his return to Spain, he never would hear any other preacher. Being
suspected of heresy in 1534, Virues was arrested by the holy office, and shut
up in the prisons of the inquisition at Seville. The emperor did not doubt that
Virues was the victim of some jealous monks, and ordered that he should be
set at liberty, but he was disobeyed. It was in vain that Charles banished Alphonso Manrique from the kingdom, Virues nevertheless remained for four
years a prisoner, secretly confined in the dungeons of the inquisition.-(History
of the Inquisition, ch. iv., part 4.)





208


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


the holy office, instituted by my noble grandfather, and my pious
grandmother, Isabella the Catholic?"
"Sire," replied the monk, "I am in no danger of forgetting the
respect which is due to the priests of the Lord, being myself one of
his ministers, nor of wishing to entice others from paying it. I approve and venerate all which tends to propagate and establish the
religion of Jesus Christ in the midst of us; but I protest against the
fraud and hypocrisy of unworthy ministers who become sacrilegious,
and profane that holy doctrine by rendering it the instrument of
their bad passions, and making a cloak of it, in order to cover their
injustice, their baseness, and iniquities."
Charles V. was a man of genius, he loved courage and boldness;
every thing that bore the seal of greatness, excited in him a lively
sympathy, and although his fear of the inquisition was great, he
looked with profound admiration upon this loyal and courageous man,
who dared thus, in the presence of the king, hurl his anathema upon
an institution, whose name the king himself could not pronounce
without trembling.
"My father," said he, at length, in a calm voice, "what proof
have you of the hostility of Pierre Arbues against the governor of
Seville, and of the injustice of the proceedings against him?"
"Sire," replied Jean d'Avila, alluding to the confidential informa.
tion, which he had received from Dolores, "there are things which
belong to the secrets of confession, and which are not proper to be
divulged; these things I will not mention, for they have been entrusted to me at the tribunal of penance; however, when the life
and the honour of a man are at stake, we must state, without violating our obligation, all that we may reveal in order to save him.
I affirm, I swear here before your majesty, that the inquisitor-of Seville has acted against Manuel Argoso out of pure personal vengeance, that he has falsely accused him of heresy and -'
"Who will prove that it has been done falsely?" said Charles,
interrupting him.-" Heresy! This is the real plague of the kingdom. The doctrines of Luther have spread every where; and this
crazy monk who believes himself more skilful than the fathers of
the church, and more holy than the pope himself, has thrown over
the whole of catholic Europe, an immense fire-brand of discord.
This doctrine is abominable, and pernicious, and I cannot sufficiently
approve the zeal which the inquisitors of my kingdom display
against the fools who suffer themselves to be seduced by it. Such
are men," continued Charles, "'every novelty charms them; a sounding and imposing word rouses them.    Independence! Religious
liberty! These are the empty words which excite them, and make
them endure the ecclesiastical yoke with hatred; they let them.
selves be seduced like children, pleased with the idea of escaping
from the authority of those who direct them, and they cannot understand that happiness consists in obedience, that the safety and prosperity of states, as well as families cannot have a better guarantee
than the unanimous agreement of the governing and the governed;
but no, they wish to withdraw from the legitimate authority of the
church; they reason about things which should be blindly adored,
and from this reasoning, proceed insurrections and revolt. They





CHARLES THaE FIrTa.


209


have denied the authority of the pope, who knows but they will
finish by denying that of the king? Believe me, father, do not defend the Lutheran sectarians, they are an abominable race whom I
detest."
Jean d'Avila had listened in silence to this long harangue of
Charles V.; he suffered him to exhale without interruption, his
hatred against the protestants; then, when the excitement of the
king was somewhat calmed, meeting with no obstacle, Jean d'Aviia
took Estevan by the hand, and presented him to the king with these
words:
( Sire, here is my answer to your majesty: I disapprove as you
do, all that tends to change the nature of the religion of Jesus Christ;
this is the reason, why I contend against the inquisitors, who cause
it to be hated, whilst pretending to defend it. This young man's
name is Estevan de Vargas. His father was made a member of the
Council of Castile, by king Philip I., he has always been a pious
Christian, and a zealous defender of the crown. Estevan has followed
the example of his father. Yet, the inquisitor Arbues, not being
able to pursue him judicially, has attempted his life., What is that you say, father?" said Charles V. sternly.
" 1 have the authentic proof of what I advance," replied the religious, " and I can give it to your majesty.", Be silent, father," muttered the king; "you have said enough
to send the half of Spain to the Quemadero."
"Your majesty is discreet," said Jean d'Avila, with a smile.
" Well, father, may we rely on your discretion as truly as you can
upon ours? Tell us your name, if you please; for we do not know
as yet to whom we are speaking."
"Jean d'Avila," replied the apostle, with simplicity.
At this name, revered throughout all Spain, which was associated
with the idea of every virtue, Charles V., seized with the involuntary respect which all true greatness inspires, began to eye the apostle with a lively feeling of admiration.
" I am no longer astonished at your courage, my father," said he
at length, "and I see with sorrow, the abuses of the inquisition, for
now 1 can no longer doubt their existence."
The emperor might have added:
" And before you I can speak without constraint."
This was in fact what he did, very sure that he had nothing to
fear from such a witness. The apparent love of Charles V. for the
inquisition, was far from being sincere; it was, moreover, like all
the sentiments of this monarch, regulated precisely by the exigencies of his policy.
Far from  being pious from conviction, or firmly attached to the
doctrines of Rome, Charles V. would cheerfully have disposed of
them in favour of that of Luther, if the reformed ideas of liberty
had not alarmed his gloomy despotism. An enemy of the inquisition in his youth, he protected it in maturer years, and whilst detesting it, he fostered it as the most powerful auxiliary of his exactions,
his love of power, of money, and of conquest.
Still, his conscience frequently revolted against it, for it had more
s2                   27





210


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


than once given him cause of complaint. Charles V. was the king of
Spain, the inquisition was the king of Charles V.
The genius of this great emperor wanted one thing, that is, to
comprehend that the greatest glory of a king is to favour the progress of light, instead of seeking to put it under a bushel; that it is
more easy, more glorious, and more agreeable to reign over freemen
than over a nation of slaves, and that this is, moreover, in the true
spirit of the gospel. The tendency of the reformation was to instruct the great mass of the people, every where to diflise the treasures of science; and surely Charles V. in becoming hostile to it,
but little understood his real interest; he would have found a more
solid support in the enlightened philosophy and loyalty of the protestants than in the despotic and ambitious fanaticism of the monks.
But he did not see that, and suffered the balance to fall on that side,
on which he thought his interest made it incline.
"Father," said he to Jean d'Avila, " we deeply deplore the abuses
of the inquisition, and we could wish it were in our power to repress them; but consider, this formidable institution, founded for a
useful and pious purpose, is at this day more powerful than Rome
herself, and the pope himself dare not resist it.""
"The emperor Charles V. has dared resist the pope," replied Jean
d'Avila, alluding to the reply of Charles V. to a brief which pope
Clement VII. had hurled against him some years before, " and the
emperor will resist the inquisition, for the rights of justice and humanity require it."
A smile of satisfaction played on the lips of the king, he could
not recollect without a lively sentiment of pride, that virulent manifesto published in Germany, a master piece of energy, irony and
diplomacy, which brought back to him the minds soured by his
former protestations against the doctrines of Luther. Jean d'Avila
had made the right cord vibrate, in reminding the emperor of this
act of lofty policy, which looked like an act of independence, and
had so well served his interests in the north.
Charles V. looked benignantly upon the religious, and said to him
with the most gracious and royal tone in the world:
" Let us see, my father, how may we prove to you our desire to
be agreeable?  Let us, above all, endeavour to reconcile justice with
the interests of royalty, let us restrain the abuses of the inquisition,
but let us not strike the inquisition itself; it is a serpent which turns
again to bite as soon as it is touched, and its wounds are always
mortal."
" The lion does not fear the bite of the serpen', and your majesty
is king in order that you may command," replied the apostle; " it is
only by the energy of your will, that you can restrain these audacious profaners of a law which is all love, men whose unheard of
* In the sixteenth century, the inquisition braved the power of Rome to such
an extent, that several cardinals were imprisoned, and condemned to different
punishments at Rome, although the person of a cardinal was sacred even in the
estimation of kings. It is known that Henry III. was excommunicated by
Sixtus V., for having presumed to punish cardinal Guise, convicted of rebellion
and of an attempt against the state. But was not the inquisition the king of
kings, and the terror of the popes themselves?





CHARLES THE FIFTH.


211


cruelties have depopulated and impoverished     Spain.  What had
these Moorish families done, who have been so hotly persecuted by
the inquisitor-general Adrian, that they have left the country in
thousands, transporting to a foreign soil their riches and their industry, the source of the prosperity of the kingdom?"
"The Moors had revolted," said Charles V.
" The Moors imitated the camel of the desert, which throws its
burden on the ground, when it is too heavy," replied Jean d'Avila.
1" Adrian Florencio was of a gentle and pacific disposition," replied the king, " he never did any thing but with a good intention."
"Adrian Florencio was weak, sire; he suffered wrong to be done
without repressing it, and deceived your majesty respecting the true
conduct of the inquisitors."*
"< Monk you are very bold to dare speak in this way!" exclaimed
the king, whose indomitable pride would not suffer any one to believe him capable of being mistaken or deceived by others.
" I speak the truth to your majesty, sire," replied the religious,
" and the truth has a right to be heard.  The inquisitors of Spain are
not priests, they are executioners; they oppress the people, and the
king is the defender of the people."
Whilst saying these words, Jean d'Avila looked at the king
steadfastly in the face, without audacity or bravado; a pious majesty
beamed frorn his countenance.
Charles felt himself subdued by this mixture of simplicity and nobleness, of genius and piety, which made the apostle so remarkable
a man.
"Proceed," said the emperor.
' Sire," continued the religious,  a man has been falsely accused
and unjustly tortured. The inquisitor of Seville has committed this
crime, it is for him to make reparation.  Will your majesty order
Pierre Arbues to set Manuel Argoso at liberty?"
" I cannot do that," said the king, pensively.
" Ah! sire," exclaimed Jean d'Avila, " shall it then be in vain that
your noble realm of Spain hailed your accession to the crown with
so many acclamations?   Has your majesty given a vain promise to
the Cortes to put an end to these persecutions and cruelties, and to
extinguish the funeral piles?t  No, sire, you would not deceive the
* Adrian Florencio, the third inquisitor-general of Spain, was, it is said, less
cruel than his predecessors and his successors. Adrian Florencio was, perhaps,
the weakest of the inquisitors, or perhaps he was the most adroit. During his
reign, which lasted nearly five years, the inquisition in Spain condemned 24,000
persons, of whom 1620 were burned alive, and 560 in effigy. It was Adrian
Florencio who established the second tribunal of the inquisition in America, and
extended its jurisdiction over the Indies, and over the ocean. It was Adrian
again, who hindered Charles V. friom refobrming the inquisition, as he had promised the Castilians, the Aragonese, and the Catalanians in 1518, and that, by
deceiving the emperor respecting the conduct of the inquisitors.-(History of
the Inq'isition, ch. iii. part 4.)
f On his arrival in Spain, at the advice of his preceptor, William de Croy,
and his grand chancellor, Selvagio,"the emperor Charles V. was very much
disposed to abolish the inquisition, or at least to organize the procedure of the
holy office according to the rules of natural right, and on the model of all other





212


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


promises of your reign, and it is with good reason that I have hoped
in you.  Manuel Argoso is innocent, and you will protect him, sire,
and you will save the life of one of the purest servants in your realm.
A word from your majesty will be enough," continued the monk,
persuasively; " speak this word, and your name will be blessed in all
Spain; for the justice of the kings is the safeguard of the happiness
of the people."
"Is this young man the relative of Don Manuel Argoso?" inquired Charles V., pointing to Estevan de Vargas.
" I hope to become his son," replied Estevan, with a modest and
confident air.
"Manuel Argoso has a daughter then?"
6 An angel," replied Jean d'Avila; "the most beautiful and modest in all Spain; do you now understand, sire, why the governor of
Seville is accused of heresy?"
Charles bit his lips; it was not the first time that similar accusations had been brought against the inquisitors of the kingdom.
The king hastily approached a table, on which lay pens and paper,
and every thing necessary for writing.
"Let these matters be between us," said he, addressing young
Vargas; " will you, for this once, serve as my secretary?"
"I am at the service of your majesty," replied Estevan, drawing
towards the table.
" Write," said the king.
Estevan took a pen and a sheet of vellum.
The emperor proceeded, dictating very rapidly, without concerning
himself about the secretary, as his habit was.
" Eminence,
" Don Manuel Argoso, Count de Cevallos, at this time in the
prison of the holy office at Seville, has constantly been our faithful
servant, and we have always believed him to be a good and zealous
catholic. The accusation of heresy which weighs upon him, appears to us to be exaggerated, and it may be possible, that this accusation is the work of some enemy of the count, interested in his ruin.
For this reason, we venture to hope that your eminence will endeavour to discover the truth, and do justice to a faithful servant.
tribunals. The Cortes of Castile believing that the moment for delivering
Spain from the yoke of the inquisition was come, assembled, as well as those
of Aragon and Catalona, at the commencement of the year 1518, in order to
demand of the king the abolition of the holy office, or at least such reforms as
the conduct of the inquisitors had rendered indispensable. Charles V. had a
new code drawn up by Selvagio, in concert with the deputies, and promised
the Cortes to order the inquisitors to obey it. But at the moment when justice
was about to triumph, the chancellor Selvagio died, and Adrian Florencio,
the third inquisitor general of Spain, elected pope January 9, 1522, after the
death of Leo, managed to change the disposition of the king, and by dint of
lies, made him an ardent protector of the inquisition. Still, Charles V. solemnly promised the Cortes that he would compel the inquisition to respect the
privileges and customs of Castile, Aragon, and Catalona, and to observe the
holy canons., The Cortes believed Charles V. in good faith, and testified their
gratitude to him by a gift in money. But the Castilians, the Aragonese, and
the Catalans soon discovered that the promises of Charles V. were as fallacious
as those of his predecessors.-(History of the Inquisition, Annales d'Aragon,
session des Cortes in 1518, &c. &c.)





RtODRXGtTX5Z DE VALtEO.213


213


We feel assured that your eminence would wish to terminate the
suit against him  as soon as possible, and in the manner most conformable to justice and Christian charity.
At our palace in Madrid, this 20th May, 1534.
CHARLEtS."
After this letter was written, the king sealed it himself with his
royal seal, and handed it to Jean d'Avila, with the remark:
SWe are delighted, my father, at having seen with us, the apostle
of Andalusia. And you, young man," added he, addressing Estevan,
" when you shall be the son-in-law of Manuel Argoso, return to our
court, we will there give you a station worthy of the name you
bear."
"Sire," replied young Vargas, "I return thanks to your majesty;
my heart and my arm are at your service, with my life."
The king thanked Estevan with a gracious smile, and returned into
his apartments.
The same day, Estevan and Jean d'Avila left Madrid.
C.HAPTER XXXIV,
ODRaGUEvz Dm VALEO.
FXrTEEN days had elapsed since the audience at which we have
seen Jean d'Avila in the presence of Charles V.
On his return to Seville, the first care of Estevan was to obtain
information of Dolores; Jose had advised him     never to go to the
house of Juana without him, and as he could not present himself at
the palace of the inquisition, where the favourite of Pierre Arbues
lived, Estevan repaired at nightfall to the tavern of La Buena Ven* This letter is apocryphal so far as the date and subject are concerned; but
it is true as a type and a fact, Charles V. wrote several to the same purport;
these letters were often regarded as though they had not been received by the
inquisitors, witness Alphonso Virues, who., in spite of the recommendations
and even the commands of the emperor, languished for four years in the prison
of the holy office in Seville. In addition, we should remark, that very frequently, letters which the emperor wrote in favour of some victims of the inquisition, were neutralized by other letters which the emperor took care to despatch after them, Besides, the duplicity of Charles V. is well known; who
does not know the manner in which the emperor treated Francis I., whilst that
monarch was a prisoner at Madrid I Francis being very sick from grief, occasioned by the loss of his liberty, Charles V. went to see him.
S"Have you come to see if death will soon relieve you of your prisoner?"
asked the king of France.
Y'ou are not my prisoner," replied Charles V,, but my brother and my
friend; I have no other intention but to restore you to liberty, and afford you
every satisfaction which you can expect of me;" then he embraced him.
The promises of the emperor produced a salutary effect, and Francis I. regained his health after a tedious convalescence. When the emperor found his
prisoner restored to perfect health, he again became stern and cold in his deportment. It was in vain- that Francis I. reminded Charles of the promise
which he had made him during his illness; Charles did not release his prey
until after having obtained, January 15, 1520, the treaty which purchased the
liberty of the king of France at so onerous a price for the nation,





214


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


tura, supposing that the alguazil or his sister might inform him of
the fate of her whom he loved, and of what the inquisition was
doing.
When young Vargas arrived at the tavern, no stranger was there;
it was not yet supper time. The Chapa was alone in her kitchen,
preparing, with a practised hand, the different dishes which she designed for her customers.
From time to time she left her stove in order to look out into the
street, to see if any one was coming; then she returned to her chaufaina," muttering between her teeth:
"This is the hour at which the workmen have finished their task,
and the monks their sermons: Come," continued she, "let us make
haste, they will come tumbling in presently like a flock of hungry
birds."
Just as she had said these words, she perceived a young cavalier
wrapped in a cloak, who was coming towards the tavern. The
Chapa drew back to leave him a free passage. The cavalier entered,
and after having looked about him, appeared pleased to find himself alone.
He drew a bench on one side and sat down with his back turned
to the door, before one of the long tables, with which this filthy
house was furnished.
"What will your lordship have?" inquired the Chapa, in that
gentle and pearly voice which distinguishes the women of Andalusia, and the charm of which is augmented in proportion to the
good appearance of the cavalier whom they accost.
" Give me a cup of chocolate," replied Estevan, removing the
broad brimmed hat which covered his fine head, and placing it by
his side.
"What a handsome cavalier!" thought the Andalusian, preparing
to serve him with her best.
When she had placed before him the cup, the glass of water, and
the azucarillos, the necessary accompaniment of every Spanish refreshment, Estevan, looking at the hostess with confidence and
friendship, said to her, calling her by name:
SSit down near me, Chapa, I am greatly in need of your service
to day."
" Of my services, sefor?" said she astonished; how is it possible,
and what can I do for your lordship?"
"You know the lady Dolores, the daughter of the governor of
Seville?"'
The sister of Coco looked at Estevan with eyes wide with astonishment.
" I do not know what you mean, sir," she replied,   I do not
know the person of whom you speak."
" You know her, and you know the apostle too," said Estevan,
who saw plainly that distrust alone had dictated the reply of the
hostess. ' Well! Chapa, fear nothing, the apostle has sent me, and
* See a, previous note respecting the melopia.
t The azucarillos are loaves of sugar, very much refined and very soluble,
perfumed in various ways. In Spain, but especially in Andalusia, water is;ared except with the azucarillos.





RODRIGUEZ DE VALERO.


215


wishes to know if the lady Dolores is still in the house where his
reverence Don Jos6 had concealed her. Now, do tell me," continued
Estevan, observing the sudden paleness which had invaded the brown
and fresh cheeks of the young Andalusian.
The sister of Coco, instead of replying, hastily rose up, and ran
towards her kitchen, crying out:
" Oh! dear! my broth is boiling over; I shall be at your service
Ipresently, sir."
SAt this instant, the door of the tavern opened, and Coco himself,
clothed in his costume as alguazil, stopped, much surprised to see so
Ifew people as yet in his house; but, after having eyed Estevan's
face, who had turned his back as he entered, he recognised him, and
an expression of sadness and regret spread over the changing countenance of the landlord.
" You will tell me at last," said the young nobleman; I have interrogated your sister in vain; I have not been able to get any thing
out of her. Sit down by my side, seinor Coco, and tell me, I beg
you, what has taken place since the day when I left Seville."
The Chapa had inquisitively moved towards the door of her
kitchen.
The alguazil came towards Estevan, and kept standing before him
with an air of great embarrassment.
" Now speak, I implore you!" exclaimed young Vargas, "is my
betrothed sick?"
" Your honour," replied the alguazil, in perplexity, I dare not
in truth--"9
" What is the matter, in heaven's name?" impetuously demanded
the young man.
The alguazil looked on the floor, and said nothing.
Estevan stood up in desperation, and running towards the sister of
Coco, he took both her hands, which he pressed earnestly, and said,
with anguish:
"Do tell me, Chapa, what has become of the governor's daughter?  Is she dead or alive?  Whatever may be the matter, answer,
I wish to know the whole."
The Chapa who burned to tell the whole story, then looked at her
brother, as if to consult him.
"You may speak," said Coco, understanding this look, "for my
part, I should not have the heart; speak, my sister, it is the betrothed
of the young Senora."
" Sir," said the Chapa, seized with excessive timidity in view of
the pain which she was about to inflict, " promise me at least, not to
take it too hard."
"To the point, what is the matter?" exclaimed Estevan in unspeakable distress.
SSir, your betrothed --
"Well?"
" She is --"
"What! finish, in heaven's name!"
' In the inquisition," replied the Chapa, in a low, tremulous voice.
6 Oh!" exclaimed Estevan, striking his forehead, "I might have
suspected that; a Dominican!"





216


16TWE X 'rSTV1lLF48 OV T0lt IZflQISIXTION


41 Sir.)said the alguazil s1warmrly, "beware how you accuse Don
Jose, he is innocent of all this.'!
But the protestations of Coco were not sufficient to destroy the
suspicions of Estevano He reproached himself bitterly for having
trusted the young monk, and as we are always inclined to blame upon
others, the misfortunes which happen to us, he deplored vehemently in his mind, what he called the im-p.udent cuntidence of Jean
d'Avla,
"Have you seen my betrothed?" he inquired of Coco, "csine you
are ofden in the service of this abominable prison."
"No, sir," replied the alguazil; "ý but his reverence, Don Jos6, has
visited her several times, and I am certain," added he, in a low tone,
-thrt he is devising means for her deliverance."
A bitter and sarcastic smile, half opened the lips of Estevan, a terrible suspicion, had just darted into his soul; he knw the profound
rnw ality of the monks; and at this noment the ne s of the death
of Dolores would, perhaps, have been less painful than the fear
whieb he had just conceived.
Overwheltned under the weighit of so many conflicting emotions,
he sank down on the bench, and placing his two elbows on- the table,
he suffered his head to drop into his hands.
The sound of two voices speaking in a very high. key, soon caused
him to raise his head; two men had just entered the tavern of the
Buena Venttura; the one wore the elegant and ehaste costume of
gentlem-en of that period, the other was clothed with. gordid negligence.
"4You' ereý Estevan!,' said the latter, extending his hand to young
Vargas,
Myself Don Rodriguez."
"It is an age, since I have seen you," added Don flodriguez de
Valero, iyhorn the reader already knows; I.am delighted at meeting
you, and I ask permission to introduce to you. one of my friends,
Don Xi xnes de Herrera, a noble Aragonese genti man, who will be
charimed to make your acquaintance."'
With these words, Don Rodriguez d. Valero pres eted to Don
E8gteva the samne Araoonese (rentlemain  whom we haLve alivay seen
figuring at the soire of the Count de Mondejar,
The t-wo yoUn1g noblemen reciprocated all the compliments, in
usa ýe at this epoch of chivalric manners, which tllA were impressed
with the exquisite courtesy of the Moors- but Yalero so-on observing
the  xessive paleness of Estevan, and the unwon ted fire which
darted from his large black eyes, aid to him in. a paternal tone
6t What is the matter, Don Estevan?  You seem to be in pain."
" Nothing, Don Rodriguez," replied the youngg man, With an air
which contradicted his words
"You are deceiving me," rejoined Valero, "ýyoku know, howeveer,
that you way confidently rely on me."
k now it," said Estevan, and I kno  too that you are a most
detexrmnined enemy of the inquisition; but this -you g noblemn"
added he, designating Don Ximoaes with a leook"ýThis youngý nobleman is a loyal cavalier, and an independent
soul" -replied Vaero; "if this had not ben. the cae would I have





11ODiIGrfEZ nn VALERO.217


t217


introduced him as my friend?  Speak, tell me what distresses you:
we are both ready to make common cause with you."
"Oh!0 Don Rodriguez," exclaimed Don Estevan, glad at length to
find a heart into which he could pour all the bitterness of his
own, -1;we live in an abominable age; justice is banished fronm the
earth!"j
"4 That is because it hagsfallon into the hands of Lthe monks," replied Valero, in a stern tone.
41 Will you believe, gentlemen," resumedE~stevaii,4"thatnot content with having thrown the governor of Se~ville into the dungeon's
of the inquisition, Pierre Arbues has also caused hbis daughter to be
arrested, the most noble woman in all Spain?"
4"4His daughter!" exclaimed Don Ximnes de Herrera, ca ting at
Valero a-look of intelligence.
"Oh!" said Valero, warmly, 1 told you the truth', Don Ximnies,
that that day would not pass without dencni6ations, or even  omwething worse-."
"4 Do you know, thený wihat has taken place, Don iRodriguez?"
axmiously inquired Estevan.
"9 Be composed, be calm"-replied the old gentlemian_--1 I wAill
tell you all that we know about that matter."
Don Rodriguez do Valero, then briefly related to the betrothed of
Dolores the events which had occurred during thesoir~e  of the
Count de M ondejar; excepting the treachery of the latter, which
had remained a secret to all the guests but the grand inquisitor.
Estevan heard the whole with profound admiration four Dolocres,
and sovereign contempt for, her tormentors; but his fears wvere increased by the recital  he,distrusted Jos&, and hio knew Pierre
Arbues.
" D o you know, gentlemen,"' said he at last, breaking out in. a loud
tone, " Uthat -we have no need to wonder at this sullen. ferment of rebellion, concealed under the apparent passive obedience of the Spaniards I?"
"The Spaniards," replied. Talero, "11are as -yet omly, a bIody which
wants a head; they suffer and writhe in painful convulsions under
the Constraint of despotism; but they have not the intelligence
which conceives, combines, and organizes the mean of breaking the
chains which bind them."
"C It is not enough that they say, cII suffer,' whllst they writhe
under their chains," continued the old cavalier; "they drive them
deeper into the flesh; they must either have perse'verance to gnaw'
them link by link, or holdness and daring, which at once break the
sceptre of despotism."
Whillst speaking thus, the countenance of the old man, animated
wvith the sacred love of liberty, had a sublime expressiion, and his
broad forehead full of genius, gleamed  uder his white hair lie a
"-Don Rodriguez," said Estevan, moved to his heart's core by
these generous ideas, which corresponded with his own,!"4Don Rodriguez, it is not the head which the body wants, the soldiers are
vanting to the leader; our arrmy of freemen, W' as yet too  oakt to
T                    28





218           THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.
contend successfully against these countless troops of monks and familiars."
"So many," rejoined the sarcastic Valero, ' that we might almost
envelop Spain in one vast cowl."'
" Oh! Don Rodriguez," exclaimed Estevan, this is not the time
for pleasantry; my betrothed is in the dungeons of the holy office,
and her father is perhaps already condemned."
"You will have a great deal of trouble to save them, my poor Estevan."
"I will save the governor; I hope so, at least," replied the young
man; 4 but Dolores, oh! oh! Dolores!"
' And by what means, if you please," inquired the old man, " do
you hope to snatch from the claws of this inquisitorial vulture, whom
they call Pierre Arbues, the prey which he has already seized?"
" Oh!" said the young man, " there is a power in Spain greater
than that of the inquisition."
" Where will you find this power?"
" On the throne, Don Valero, and the king --
"The king is the chief valet of the inquisition," drily replied the
old gentleman, believe me, look elsewhere for your support."
"However," said Don Ximenes, "it seems to me that the authority of the king is above that of a monk, and that, after all -"" Do you know, gentlemen," interrupted Estevan, " that I came
this very day from  Madrid, and that the emperor Charles V. has
condescended to give me a letter for the inquisitor of Seville?"
"And after your departure," said Rodriguez, scornfully,   the
great emperor Charles V. has doubtless despatched a courier, as the
bearer of a second letter which will arrive before yours, Don Estevan."
"Oh! treachery!" exclaimed the two young cavaliers, at once.
"Can that be possible?" inquired the lofty and loyal Estevan; "I
know that the king is ambitious and greedy of wealth, but that he
can be deceitful to this extent, I cannot believe."
" How do you know it, Don Rodriguez?" added the Aragonese.
" How have my white hairs seen more things than your pretty
black locks, gentlemen? Take my word for it, as regards dependence, trust none but yourself, or a second self, if Heaven has made
you so rare a present; but above all, never reckon on the friendship
of a monk, or the protection of a king; it is a flimsy veil, which
always turns to the breeze of personal interest: he who relies upon
it, generally finds that it fails in case of emergency."
" Experience is a bitter thing," observed Estevan, with an air of
disappointment.
" This is the reason that old age is sad," replied Valero. "And
yet," added he, " experience does not make all old men selfish, hardhearted, or indifferent to the sufferings of others: it tends sometimes only to make them wiser, or more courageous; for true courage
is likewise the result of wisdom."
During this animated conversation, the three gentlemen, completely absorbed, had not seen the young head of a monk stretching
forward at the door of the kitchen, in the shadow formed towards
the end of the hall, by the paucity of the thin tapers: it was Jos6,





RODRIGUEZ DE VALERO,


219


who had entered by the stable door, and observing these three men
occupied in so warm a discussion, had listened without saying a
word, for it was of importance to him to learn every thing that related to Estevan or Dolores.
The words of Rodriguez were understood by him in a sense which
Estevan had no idea of giving them: Jose had that quickness of
perception, which by a word, draws inferences far out of sight, and
stops only at the utmost limits of the consequences which it deduces. He addressed himself to Coco, who, seated in a corner of
the kitchen, was carelessly leaning his chin on one of his hands, and
said to him:
"Coco, you see those two gentlemen who are conversing with
Don Estevan de Vargas?"
" Yes, your reverence.3"
" Look at them well, that you may know them again."
" I know them," replied the alguazil.
" You will watch them, and inform me of all their actions."
" Must I also inform his lordship, the grand inquisitor?"
"No! me, me only," replied Jose, emphatically.
6 It is well, you only, your beatitude! 1 have understood perfectly," replied Coco, who adored Jose; for his brutal and ignorant
nature instinctively comprehended the superiority of the mind of
the young religious, and he yielded also to the fascination of the
extreme kindness of Jos6, a powerful persuasive in superior beings.
The three gentlemen continued their conversation.
"Do you then expect much from this letter of Charles V.?" inquired Ximenes de Herrera.
" If I am to believe Don Rodriguez, there is not much dependence to be placed on it. No matter; I will try. It is my duty to
try all possible means, and if this does not succeed -- '
The arrival of a flock of Gitanos and monks, of all colours, interrupted Estevan at this moment.
The young count had no great desire to find himself in such company, although at this epoch, in Spain, as in France, gentlemen
readily frequented the taverns; he drew Valero and his friend into
the street.
" Farewell," said he to them, " I am obliged to leave you,"
"i Where shall we see one another again?" inquired Valero.
"Do I know that?" said Estevan.
" Listen," said Valero, in a solemn tone, " I doubt whether your
letter from Charles V. will be good for much; if you fail, come and
meet me at the muelle."  I walk there every evening before supper.
Perhaps," added he, " we shall find the means of delivering the
governor of Seville and his daughter."
"What do you mean?" inquired Estevan.
"I will explain that to you, when you have no other means of
safety for those whom you love; farewell, for a little while."
* On the quay, the banks of the Guadalquiver are, of all the promenades of
Seville, the most frequented until nine o'clock in the evening, during summer,
after this hour, those who are disposed to walk, repair to the Alameda; the
quincunx and the quays are then deserted.





220O


220  TUl4XYST2EUIfES 01' THJB INQUJISITION.


Estevan -withdrew full of grief and apprehension.  Valero and
Don Xime'nes returned into the tavern.
It was a peculiar enjoyment for the sarcastic observer, Rodriguez,
to study the different physiognomies of the frequenters of the taVern, mon)ks and people, who mutually reflected on their countenances the different feelings which they excited in one another.
Thus, the egotism and rapacity of the monks, and their vast contempt for the human race, were written in haggard and jaundiced
lineaments upon the wretched countenances of the people, or the
cunning physiognom 'y of the thieves, whilst upon the blooming
figures of the mionks, in their notorious portliness, and even in their
humble hypocrisy, -might be read the profound and blind respect of
an abused people, who helieved they were performing a meritorious
work in stripping themselves even to their very skin, in order to
pamper these pious sluggards.
"Let us sit down," said Valero to his young friend  "it is here
that I come to reap my harvest of contempt and courage.",
At the instant w-hen they were about to sit dowsn, the silver tone
of a bell slowly rang the Angelus, in a neighbouring church.
The monks, who were supping in the tavern, arose with great solemnity, and began to recite the Angelus in a hoarse and nasal. twang,
with downcast and hypocritical eyes, which- all downcast as they
were, did not fail to fix with great complacency upon the naked
limbs and brown shoulders of some gipsgy girls who had come there,
Elke the rest, to take their supper.
Mewanwhile, Jos6 had, approached the table at which Yalero and
Doa Xim~nes were seated. The people replied ina achorus to the
prayer recited by the monks.
Valero, alone, stood with his lips closed, and did not even rmake
the sign of the cross.
Scarcely had they pronouneed the last.dnle, hefore a hermit, who
stood near him, accosted him in a tone of anger:
"'Are you a heretic, that you do not pray with us?"
"It is '-ell for you to pray in public, and to kneel in the temreplied Valero, i terifly;- "y.ou yihave so many shameless deeds to expiate, that it would not be too much if you were to spend your whole
life on your knees, crying to God to have mnercy on you.
"What does the beggar say V" inquired a monk of Mercy, eyeing
ith aj disdainful air, the more than niglected garments of theo old
gentletman.
I say,"Y replied Valero, "(that you have paid for more roods of'
ground with the gold of the faithful than you have ran omed captives."
o3 mercenary~ rose to his full height, his eyes sparkling with rage,
and approached the bold man who ventured to brave him in this
wajy, in a threatening attitude.
The Gitanos and the common people, hung down their heads over
their porringers, in order to conceal the inward satisfaction which
this quarrel occasioned them.
ios6 looked at Valero with his profound and scrutinizing eye.
The old gentllman remained firm in his place, and in a tone the





RODRIGU19Z M VALM10163


221


most calm and cool in the world, looking full in the face of the mercenary, whose countenance was purple with fury:
"What do you want with me?" inquired he.
"I want to teach you how to respect the ministers of the Lord!"
replied the monk, in a voice choked with anger.
"The true ministers of the Lord are gentle like their Master,"
replied Valero, without being in the least embarrassed; " they are
kind and compassionate towards the weak, and they help, instead of
oppressing them."
" Well said!" muttered, in an under tone, a guapo of the better
order, who was no other than Cuerpo de Hierro.
The mercenary violently raised his hand over the old gentleman,
as though he would strike him.
Jose threw himself quickly before him, saying, coolly.
"Let this man be, my reverend; you must see that he is crazy."
"Oh! yes, it is Valero," exclaimed a young Carmelite, who as
yet had said nothing; "do you not recognise him, my father?"
"Crazy or not, he must pray and kneel before the holy images,"
retorted the mercenary, in a brutal tone.
" Doubtless," rejoined Valero; "adore wood and stone as you do,
and by your deeds insult the King of heaven; is it not thus that you
worship God?"
"He is a heretic!" shouted the hermit, endeavouring to excite the
anger of the monk of Mercy.
"He is a fool, I tell you," calmly replied Jos6.: Fools sometimes say very sensible things," replied Valero, looking Jose in the face.
Jos6 shrugged his shoulders slightly, and looked at Valero with
an air which implied:
' It is better to pass for a fool than to be burned."
" He is a Lutheran!" continued the Carmelite.
"Your reverence," Coco ventured to say, for he was fearful of
a warmer dispute, "this old gentleman is deranged, I assure you;
our very holy inquisitor never would have him arrested for this
reason."
" That fool there speaks well," whispered an old Gitana, addressing Cuerpo de Hierro.
" J.buela!" replied the guapo; "blessed are the fools who can say
what they please."
An expressive murmur ran through the assembly, like the noise
which the wave makes as it rolls upon the strand.
The words of the fool, full of truth, found a hearty response in
the soul of these oppressed people, degraded by fanaticism and poverty; it was like the distant echo of their smothered destiny. The
Gitanos, alone, with that haughty indifference of nomadic beings for
every thing relating to questions of morality, quietly continued their
meal; still, in these uncultivated minds, degraded, but full of savage
poesy, the words of him whom they called the fool, sounded agreeably and pleasantly, for they aroused one of the liveliest sympathies
of these savage men; they were the expression of haughty contempt, and an ardent love of liberty.
If the dispute between Valero and the monks had become serious,
T2





222


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


notwithstanding the respect which their dress inspired, the monks
would, perhaps, not have been the best sustained. The Spanish people had enough cause of complaint against them, gladly to make reprisals when an opportunity presented itself. However, there was
nothing of that kind; the monks, like prudent men; (they are always
prudent who are deficient in courage,) succeeded at length in appeasing the mercenary by representing to him the madness of Valero;
but do as they would, the people in the tavern were not convinced
of this madness. They have an instinct which rarely deceives them;
their opinions are sometimes nearer the truth than those of men of
science. They have a peculiar kind of philosophy to which it would
be well sometimes to appeal.
This incident procured great respect for Valero among the customers of the tavern.
When he went out, all eyes followed him with a sidelong look,
for they did not dare to manifest the interest with which he had
excited them, in the presence of the monks.
But not a single one of these various shades of expression escaped
the penetrating eye of Valero, who was endowed with admirable
sagacity.
When he was in the street with Don Ximbnes de Herrera:
" Don Ximenes," said he, a this evening's adventure may prove
of service to us; those people there will now do what I want."
CHAPTER XXXV.
THE TESTIMONY.
THE sessions of the tribunal of the inquisition had become daily;
the period of the auto da f6 was drawing near; every day new condemnations swelled the number of the victims who were doomed to
figure in it; guilty or not, it must have a full harvest; they were
royal tithes, designed for the conqueror of Francis I.
Every morning, Estevan and Jean d'Avila repaired to the audience chamber, expecting to see the governor there; but the holy
office had so much to do, that it was requisite that each should come
in his turn.
At last, on the third day, Manuel Argoso made his appearance.The session was numerous and solemn; the accused who were to
figure in it, were of the highest distinction.
Estevan and Jean d'Avila had repaired early to the audience
chamber; thanks to his religious garb, the apostle found no difficulty in gaining admittance.
A vague rumour had circulated in the city, the evening before, that
the governor was to be sentenced the next day, and besides, Coco,
sent by Jose, had informed Jean d'Avila. Estevan and he proceeded
therefore to take their places on the seat designed for the witnesses.`
* The inquisition, whilst it was the most iniquitous of tribunals, whilst pro'ceding utterly at variance with the laws of justice and right, according to its





THE TESTIMONY.


223


There they waited. By degrees, the hall was filled with people;
the sbires and the familiars went and came here and there, engaged
on different errands; their steps sounded like a mournful echo through
the depths of this vast hall.
The tormentors, according to their custom, stood like spectres, motionless, on the left of the tribunals.
At last the hour struck; the inquisitors entered by the door in the
rear of the tribunal, and gravely proceeded to take their seats. The
secretaries already occupied those allotted to them. The hall was at
this moment full of monks and familiars of high birth. The screen
which was at the left of the president was drawn aside, and the prisoners appeared, led by the shires and escorted by the tormentors.
The first who approached the triangular stick which was to serve
as a seat, was a woman; she wore the garb of the barefooted Carmelites.
The second, was a Dominican priest. The assembly saw him
with astonishment, figuring among the accused.
Two other victims followed; they were two men, young and in the
flower of life. The one bore on his austere countenance the expression of meditation and profound study; the other, of a frank and
open physiognomy, exhibited that painful dejection, which so soon
seizes persons, naturally of a lively disposition, when they are overwhelmed by a great misfortune. These two arraigned persons took
their place by the side of the Carmelites, on the perch.
The fifth was Manuel Argoso. As Jose had predicted to Dolores.
the governor, cured of his wounds, walked almost without difficulty;
but his face bore such deep marks of suffering, that Estevan did not
recognise him.
" Do you see the governor?" said Jean d'Avila to him, in a whisper.
"Oh! oh! is it possible!" groaned Estevan; and he began to seek
in these emaciated features, in that haggard physiognomy, in those
almost extinguished eyes, which could scarcely bear the light of day,
the strong features of the noble Count of Cevallos. The Count of
Cevallos had lost that lofty and chivalric look for which he was distinguished among the greatest lords of that period.
An irresistible expression of bitterness contracted his withered
lips. He sat down. The sbires and tormentors assumed their
wonted place. Then, Pierre Arbues looking at the accused, said to
the nun:
" Stand up."
The Carmelite obeyed, and, at the command of the inquisitor, removed the veil, which until then had covered her face.
caprice, still wished to have the appearance of impartiality, and above all, of
mercy: we all know what idea we must form of its mercy; as for its impartiality, it has become proverbial in Spain, where people say, to this very time,
when speaking of a prevaricating judge, " he is as just and impartial as an inquisitor." However, in all the inquisitorial audience-chambers, a bench was
placed for the witnesses. Only, whenever a witness whose testimony might
exculpate, ventured to take his seat there, the inquisition found means to inculpate him, and make him participate in the penalty which it inflicted on the
accused. As for accusing witnesses, as the inquisition never made them
known, what business could they have on the witnesses' bench.





224


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Jean d'Avila started, he had recognised Frances de Lerma.
Notwithstanding the sufferings of her imprisonment, the face of
the abbess of the Carmelites was still incomparably beautiful. Her
strong and vivacious youth had resisted the contagious atmosphere
and the abominable food of the inquisition, with the almost total absence of exercise; her expressive countenance had lost nothing of its
lofty look. She fixed her black and piercing eye upon the face of
the inquisitor, endeavouring to disturb his conscience; but the actor
was ready for his part; Pierre Arbues remained unmoved. Then,
without waiting for the ordinary questions, the abbess of the Carmelites, haughtily raising her voice:
" What am I accused of?" said she.
" Of Lutheranism," coldly replied the inquisitor. " You should
have waited for my question, my sister," be added, in a gentle tone.
Frances smiled scornfully.
" Of Lutheranism!" said she, "and how will you prove that?"
' My sister, God always takes care to discover secret crimes, in
order that they may be known and punished according to justice."
" God cannot have discovered a crime which I have not committed," replied the Carmelite, with an air of defiance.
" My sister," continued Pierre Arbues, ( it would be more in aocordance with the spirit of our holy religion, were you to confess
your crime and repent of it."
"This accusation is absurd," replied Frances, with a slight motion
of the shoulders. " Who ever thought of believing me to be a heretic? In a word, who is my accuser?"'
"This book, found in your possession," replied Pierre Arbues,
showing the Lutheran Bible, which he had picked up in the apartment of Frances, on the day of their last interview but one.
Frances perfectly recognised the binding of the book, the leaves
of which had been turned over with so much pleasure, when in the
midst of her favourites; she guessed at once by what 'infamous
treachery Pierre Arbues had taken possession of this volume, forgotten by Catherine; and in the profound amazement into which the
sight of it had thrown her, she remained silent for a moment, at a
loss how to reply to a proof so overwhelming, which could outweigh
all possible testimony.
From this moment, she despaired of her safety; she fully understood that if Pierre Arbues had not intended to put her to death,
he would not have employed so irresistible a proof. Aware that she
was lost, she met her hopeless condition with great courage. This
sensual woman, who had loved life so well, and had thought so little of
eternity, suddenly, as if by Divine inspiration, detached herself from
the world, in which her days had been marked by nothing but sins.
Her superstitious and fanatical religion was enlightened at the
brink of the tomb; a ray from on high descended upon her; she was
resolved to close her life by an act of resignation and of courage.
SShe slowly raised her eyes, which had remained downcast for
some minutes, and looking at the inquisitor with an air at once
haughty and inspired:
" My lord," said she, laying great emphasis on every one of her
words, "I am a great sinner, and all the tortures with which the in




THE TESTIMONY.


2Z5


quisition punishes those who have relapsed, infidels and heretics,
will not be enough to expiate all my crimes. Is it not so, my
lord?" added she, with a clear and piercing look, which covered the
face of Pierre Arbues with an imperceptible paleness. "Punish me
then," continued she, " punish me with the most dreadful tortures;
but in this great act of justice, my lord, do not forget to strike all
the guilty. Remember, that he who suggests the crime, sins even
more than he who commits'it. I have not sinned alone, my lord;
then punish my accomplice also, and let eternal justice be satisfied."
" You are the only one who is accused," replied the judge, without looking at Frances.
"My lord," she shouted, in a shrill voice, "I know that I alone
shall bear the penalty of my crimes; for who would dare accuse
those whose office it is to judge others? 1 shall therefore be, in this
world, the expiatory victim; but above-"
" Take this woman back to her prison," coolly interrupted the inquisitor; "she has lost her reason, we will hear her another time."
" My lord," exclaimed Frances, pointing to heaven with an energetic gesture, "above there is a supreme tribunal, which will condemn prevaricating judges. Pierre Arbues! you are an abominable
priest, and you will never see the face of God! Put me to death
now," added she: "the justice of Heaven will take care to punish
the licentious monk, and the inquisitorial butcher!"
Frances could not proceed; at a signal from Pierre Arbues, the
tormentors gagged her and tied her hands. She suffered herself to
be led away without offering the least resistance; but having observed Jean d'Avila, she addressed to him a sad smile of affection
and farewell. Then she crossed the hall with as much dignity as if
she had been in the midst of her daughters in her abbey.
This incident excited deep emotion in the hearts of those present
who were not sold to the holy office.* The inquisitor was any
thing but beloved, and a scene of this kind was not calculated to
increase the veneration of the inhabitants of Seville for his eminence.
" I have done wrong in summoning this woman," thought the inquisitor; " Jose advised me to do it: another time I will take counsel only of myself."
Pierre Arbues then accosted the first of the two accused young
men who were on the perch:
"What is your name?" he asked.
SAntonio Herrezuelo."
"Your profession?"
" A licensed advocate."
"Antonio Herrezuelo, you are accused of professing the reformed
religion."
* It was rarely that the inquisition judged the accused with closed doors: in
order to give an appearance of publicity to the discussions, the hall of the tribunal was open to all those who were the bearers of an invitation; only, these
invitations were granted to none but familiars of the inquisition, and this seldom, and in very small number to experienced catholics; that is to say, to simple
souls who believed the purity of the zeal of the inquisitors, and the necessity of
destroying heretics in order to promote the glory of God.
29





226


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Antonio made no reply.
" What have you to say for yourself?" continued the inquisitor.
The same silence was maintained on the part of the licentiate.
SAntonio Herrezuelo, is it true that you have embraced the religion of Luther?"
" I profess the true religion of Christ', replied the accused.
" The religion which you call the religion of Christ, is that of
apostates, and not that of the church," rejoined the inquisitor.
" When the church disfigures and corrupts the traditions of the
gospel, and when she intrusts to impure hands the keeping of the
flock of Jesus Christ, then it is time that the learned and the wise
should make themselves the depositories of the law, and, with the
gospel in their hand, condemn those who have made of the gospel
a code of debauchery and theft."
Never before had words so bold been spoken to the face of the
inquisition. The stern courage of the followers of the great Luther
might easily be recognised in them; they breathed that heroic contempt of terrestrial life, the incredible firmness of those grave and
severe men, who regarded all luxury and indulgence in the pleasures
of the world as a violation of the Christian law, and endeavoured to
bring men back to the noble simplicity of the primitive ages of Christianity.
The inquisitor did not wish to hear any more; he was afraid of
the electric spark so easily communicated by the words of a courageous man, which is sometimes sufficient to kindle an immense conflagration.
" It is enough," said he; "this man avows his crime, and persists
in it: take him back to his prison."
" Say, take him   to martyrdom!" exclaimed the philosopher,
with gloomy enthusiasm. "Thanks! my God, I shall die for thy
cause. The blood which is shed will not be unfruitful; truth will
one day beam upon the world."
A tormentor approached in order to gag Herrezuelo. The accused, with dignity, beckoned to him to stand back"It is of no use," said he, "I have nothing more to say, I shall
hold my peace."
Then turning towards the other young man who was his fellow
prisoner, he made a friendly sign to him, as if to encourage him.Antonio Herrezuelo was led away.
The other victim arose before he was ordered to do so.
" Your name?" demanded the inquisitor.
' William Franco, a nobleman."',
* The names of Herrezuelo and Franco are historical. I shall speak of the
former at the proper time and place. As for the second, the following is his
history as Llorente reports it, who has extracted it from the files of the inquisition.
William Franco, a citizen of Seville, lived in that city under the reign of
the inquisitor Valdes, and was endowed with a jovial disposition, of great probity, and of upright mind. A priest suborned his wife, and disturbed his domestic happiness. Franco not being able to put a stop to this intrigue, corn
plained of his misfortune before his friends at a party. They were speaking of
purgatory, and Franco exclaimed:-""I have purgatory enough in the society
of my wife; I have no need of any other!" This expression was reported to





THE TESTIMONY.


227


s "William Franco, you are accused of having committed sacrilege
by striking a priest of the Lord."
S"I struck a wretch who had dishonoured me," replied Franco, in
a tone of indignant sorrow; an unworthy minister, who, under the
shelter of his sacred garb, has brought despair and shame into my
house, seduced a wife whom I loved, and the mother of my children; a monster who had pronounced my marriage benediction, and
has himself broken its bonds. I intended to kill him, and I drove
him from my house; but 1 had right on my side-he is the sacrilegious man, I was only the friend of justice."
The inquisitor bit his lips; it seemed as though, that day, all the
accused who appeared were leagued against the inquisition, and endowed with that courage which destroys abuses, the offspring of a
long and cruel oppression, inspiring a haughty contempt of life; it was
like a partial awakening of Spain; a shock insufficient to arouse her
from the profound torpor into which her tormentors had plunged her.
The inquisitor had address enough to neutralize, for this time, the
effect of this courageous resistance.
" William Franco," said he, mildly, "it is extremely painful to us
to hear such blasphemies proceeding from your mouth; the spirit of
darkness blinds you, my son; he suggests these impure sentiments.
Your wife is a woman full of virtue and of real piety; she often
partakes of the sacraments; why then should it be strange, that she
frequently converses with her holy director? You, on the contrary,
were indifferent and cold in relation to religious duties; you have
neglected to fortify your soul by prayer, and the exercises of piety;
the devil, who saw the place poorly defended, seized that moment to
take possession of it. He has inspired you with a blind jealousy, an
abominable sentiment, my son; and instead of admiring your chaste
spouse, who was walking with so firm a step in the way of heave.n,
under the impulse of criminal folly, you have struck the Lord's
anointed, you have been at once a murderer and a sacrilegious man.
Repent, my son, believe me; you are about to be led back to your
prison, and our well beloved brother and almoner, Don Jose, will go
and converse with you piously, and endeavour to snatch your soul
from the devil and the flames of hell!"
"Ah!" exclaimed Franco, " I have but little fear of the hell of
the other world; I have had hell enough in this!"*
the inquisition, which ordered Franco to be shut up in the prisons of the holy
office as suspected of Lutheranism, and condemned him, by this single act, to
indefinite or perpetual confinement. In this way the holy inquisition protected
the fair sex, and purified the morals of the catholic clergy!
* Whilst the holy office sacrificed honest Franco to the wantonness of a
priest, and to what the clergy call the honour of religion, as if religion could
have any thing in common with priests, debauched and soiled by all sorts of
iniquity; whilst, I say, Franco was shut up in the dungeons for having complained of his wife, who dishonoured him with an unworthy minister of the
religion of Christ, the inquisition pitied the fate of a wretch who had dared
falsely to accuse his father of having circumcised a child.
This wretch whose name was Antonio Sanchez, confessed that he had denounced his father in order to have him burned! The inquisition was satisfied
with condemning this miscreant to receive a hundred lashes as his whole punishmenrt! This was because the inquisition found it necessary to encourage
informers.





228


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


The inquisitor made a great sign of the cross, whilst the tormentors led the accused off to prison. Pierre Arbues then turned towards the assembly:
" My brethren," said he, "let us pray for the soul of this poor
madman, possessed by the evil spirit."
And kneeling down first to set the example, he mumbled, in a low
voice, some Latin prayers; then, having risen up, he accosted the
fourth prisoner. This was an old Dominican priest.
" My brother," said Pierre Arbues to him, "it is exceedingly
painful to us to see a man seated on the bench of the accused, clothed
in this holy garb, which we also have the honour to wear.      At a
time when heresy, that daughter of hell, watches like a prostitute at
the gates of the Roman church, calling to her all those who enter or
go out of it, with words of seduction and licentiousness, which win
for her the hearts of the weak, should not we, the vigilant sentinels
of Rome, the eternal pillars of the catholic faith, redouble our zeal
and activity in order to defend our revered religion, instead of suffering ourselves to be seduced by error, and preaching it to others?"
" My lord," replied the Dominican," who had listened to this
strange harangue, with manifest indifference, " I know better than any
one else, how important for the maintenance of a religion it is, that
those who follow it should courageously profess and defend it even
unto death.   I therefore here confess in the presence of God, that
when I appeared for the first time before this tribunal, I was cowardly and unfaithful in denying a doctrine which I hold; yes, I have
embraced and preached the new religion because it appeared to me
to be the only one which is in conformity with that of the apostles
and the primitive Christians. I declare, moreover, that I have had
no accomplices in my abjuration, that I am a Lutheran purely in
heart and soul, and from  the conviction of my mind.    Let no one,
then, be persecuted on my account. I have confessed; put me to
death, but spare me the torture: I fear it a thousand times more than
death."
* The name of this priest was Francis Dominique de Boxas; he was a Dominican, but he never would belong to the inquisition. Dominique de Boxas
appeared for the first time, May 13, 1558, before the tribunal of the inquisition
of Valladolid, and declared that he professed the doctrines of Luther; afterwards he retracted his declaration. He underwent several examinations, and
always retracted in the one what he had declared on the preceding occasion;
but in all his declarations he endeavoured to defend the catechism and the different sermons which he had composed. When subjected to the torture on account of his retractions, Dominique de Boxas begged that he might be spared
the torment which he feared more than death; this favour was granted him on
condition that he would no longer conceal any thing.  Dominique de Boxas
declared and confirmed all that was desired, and asked to be reconciled. Notwithstanding the laws of the inquisition which granted life to those who confessed, it was intimated to Dominique that he must prepare to die the next day.
On the day of execution Dominique refused to confess, and when he came
down from the scaffold to which he had been conducted, in order to hear the
sentence read, which condemned him to die by burning, Dominique turned towards the king, and exclaimed: "I die for the defence of the true faith of the
gospel."  Philip II. ordered him to be gagged.
At the instant when fire was about to be applied to the fagots, Dominique's
courage failed; he asked to be permitted to confess, received absolution and
was strangled.-(Llorente, History of the Inquisition.)





THE TESTIMONY.


229


" My brother," replied the inquisitor, " your mind is disturbed
to-day: perhaps, the penances which you impose on yourself -"
6' My reason is not impaired," replied Boxas.
" Yet you have told us on a former occasion, that you had merely
from mistake, and unintentionally slipped a few heresies into your
sermons; and as you have always been firmly attached to the doctrines of the catholic church, we are willing to believe that it was
owing merely to an aberration, my brother; we will go ourselves
and visit you in your prison, and perhaps God, in answer to our
feeble prayers, may be pleased to send his Holy Spirit upon you. Go,
my brother, be yourself again; watch and pray; he who prays does
not fall into temptation."
Dominique de Boxas rose up without replying; he perfectly understood the meaning of the honeyed words of the inquisitor.
" What a holy man my lord Arbues is!" said some persons but
little au fait in matters that passed out of the hall of the tribunal.
" Pierre Arbues will perhaps show favour to this man, on account
of his garb," whispered Estevan to the apostle.
" That man and the others will be burned with no farther ceremony," replied Jean d'Avila: " the inquisition possesses a wonderful
talent at abridging the processes which compromise it."
This was said in a very low tone, not sufficiently so, however, to
escape the ears of a familiar who was standing some paces from
them.
The familiars had the eyes of a lynx, and ears of incredible acuteness. The governor was the only one left. The heart of Estevan
throbbed violently, and a still deeper silence pervaded the assembly.
Manuel Argoso had listened to all that passed with profound indifference. To those who knew the inquisition, these sessions inspired only one kind of emotion, that which springs from horror
and injustice, and profound pity for innocent victims. There, the
mind was not excited by the solemn and dramatic poesy of a judicial discussion. There was no advocate to dispute with the sword
of the law for an innocent or guilty head; there were none but
butchers and their victims; of what use would it have been to attempt a defence? To struggle against the inquisition, was to struggle against fate! Like destiny, the inquisition issued irrevocable
decrees, dictated beforehand, and, implacable and blind as destiny, it
smote without regret or pity.
Oh! it was truly a laughable thing to see these men clothed in
black, investing their ridiculous and arbitrary deeds with mock solemnity; but it was also an imposing sight to behold the noble Spanish
people in battle array against this gloomy standard, succeeding and
pressing upon another from one generation to another, in order to
fight this colossus, foot to foot; several times in every century filling
up the immense void left in their ranks by the death of innumerable victims, who had fallen on the battle field, and thus gradually
undermining this edifice of death, which has so long oppressed the
Spanish realm.
This is a matter of the utmost importance for the philosophical
historian to observe. From the close of the reign of Philip II., the
triumphs of the inquisition were almost imperceptibly yet constantly
U





230


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


becoming weaker, under the persevering efforts of the heroic Spa.
niards; and at last, crushed under the final blows of the patriots in
1820, it fell like an old edifice that has been slowly undermined, whose
foundations have gradually been destroyed by thousands of ants, occupied, for centuries, in carrying off a grain of sand every day."
This day too was one of the days of battle; but the inquisitor, that
valiant wrestler in the dark, did not so easily acknowledge himself vanquished. He had on this occasion the perfidious patience of the reptile,
which waits until its enemy has turned, to bite it in the back.t
Relieved of the accused whose courage might have compromised
him, he drew himself up to his full height, still blending the most
perfect moderation in language, with that inward pride, springing
from the consciousness of strength, by which he was inflated.
" Stand up, my brother," said he to Manuel Argoso.
The governor stood up with an air of complete indifference, like
a man who has been deprived of all hope, and who has no earthly
interest to bind him to the world.
" My son," continued the inquisitor, casting a sidelong glance at
the bench of witnesses, upon which Estevan and Jean d'Avila were
seated;  my son, you see, the catholic religion, the holy religion of
Spain, is every where violently threatened. More guilty still are
they, who in these times of religious controversy, do not use the
powers with which they are invested, in order to stop the progress
of heresy; not that the church can perish, it rests upon eternal foundations, but in order to avoid immense evils, and snatch from perdition, thousands of souls who every day are plunging into the abyss
of hell. You, my son, who from your elevated position, had great
athority in Seville, you must not only reproach yourself with a personal bias in favour of the pestiferous doctrines of Luther, but also
with criminal indulgence towards those who practise them-towards
heretics, whom it was your duty to denounce to the holy office."
" Was I then a spy, or the governor of the city?" replied Manuel
Argoso, proudly raising his head.
" Still the same obduracy!" muttered Pierre Arbues, with hypocritical sadness.
* When, in 1820, we opened the doors of the inquisition for the last time,
the number of prisoners which it contained was still very considerable; at
Madrid alone, more than two hundred persons were counted; but, I hasten to
say, in 1820, the inquisition was no longer a religious tribunal, but a state
prison. Since 1801 no person has been burned in Spain. Still the mode of
procedure in the inquisition was the same; the greatest mystery always surrounded its least operations; the same iniquity always dictated the decisions
of the inquisitors, which were, by the way, dictated or enjoined by Ferdinand
VII., and nearly always pronounced, not against heretics, Moors or Jews, but
against those who laboured for the deliverance of their country.
f When has Rome ever fought face to face? On the day when Rome shall
venture to say what she means, when the Roman clergy shall raise the mask
and show themselves as they are, that is to say, as men who profane and make
merchandise of the sublime religion of Christ, on that very day, the people will
rise in mass, to drive them from the church of the apostles, as Jesus formerly
drove the traders from the temple; on that day, the Roman priests would hear
the words: " Wo to you, scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites, for you devoui
widows' houses, and for a pretence make long prayers, therefore ye shall re.
ceive the greater damnation." (Matt. ch. xxiii. v. 14.)





THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


231


"You do confess, at last then," he rejoined in an insidious tone,
" that you not only have had intercourse with heretics, but still more,
that you are yourself a heretic?"
" I confess nothing of the kind," replied Manuel; "I have al-,
I ready answered similar questions; I have undergone torture without
confessing, for that would have been lying, and I will not utter a
falsehood, even to escape the stake."
" Yet, my son, witnesses accuse you, and no one undertakes your
defence, no one comes to protest against the first depositions. Let
us see, my son, who are your witnesses?"
" They are here," said Jean d'Avila.
Estevan and the apostle rose up.  Pierre Arbues eyed the Franciscan and the young cavalier with disdainful pity.
"We are here to proclaim the innocence of Don Manuel Argoso,
Count de Cevallos," continued the impetuous Estevan.
" What is your name?" asked the inquisitor.
" Estevan, Count de Vargas," haughtily replied the young man.
"Sefor Don Estevan," resumed Pierre Arbues, " we cannot admit your testimony; your grandfather's name was not Vargas, but
Venegas; he was not a catholic, but a Mahometan; he changed his
name when he changed his religion. We cannot receive any persons as witnesses for the defence excepting men of pure catholic and
Spanish blood."
" My lord," replied Estevan, red with indignation, " king Don
Philip II. was less scrupulous than your eminence; he supposed that
the descendant of a family, which had given kings to Grenada, the
offspring of a brave and faithful tribe, who had voluntarily devoted
themselves to the cause of the kings of Spain, was well worthy of
some recompense; he made my father member of the council cf
Castile. Has not the son of a counsellor at the court of Castile the
right to appear as a witness before the holy office?"
" Such are our statutes, my son, I cannot violate them in any way.
Sit down, then, we will proceed to question this pious monk."
During this dialogue between the inquisitor and Estevan, Manuel
Argoso, seized with admiration and gratitude for the devotion of
the young man, had constantly expressed to him by his looks the
grief which he felt at seeing him thus expose himself on his account:
he seemed to say to him,
" Where is the use?  You will not save me."
However, when Jean d'Avila rose in his turn to reply to the inquisitor's questions, a fugitive ray of hope flitted before the eyes of
the unfortunate Manuel.
"Your name, my father?" said Pierre Arbues.
"Jean d'Avila," replied the apostle.
This name, revered throughout all Andalusia, produced a great
sensation in the auditory.
" What have you to say in favour of the accused?"
" I come here to protest before you all, that Manuel Argoso has
always conducted himself like a true Christian, and a loyal cavalier
that he has never done any thing to merit the censures of Rome. I
declare him, therefore, to be innocent of all the accusations which
aie brought against him."





239


THE TESTIMONY.


" My father," replied Pierre Arbues, in the most humble tone
imaginable, your testimony is of great weight, and it is painful to
me to tell you, that notwithstanding our profound respect for your
person, we cannot regard your testimony as sufficient. The statutes
of the very holy inquisition require the affirmation of twelve witnesses,* in order to secure the acquittal of an accused person. Where
are the other witnesses, my father?"
" I am alone," replied Jean d'Avila; " but since my testimony is
not sufficient, my lord, perhaps your eminence will not refuse to
listen to this."
On saying these words, Jean d'Avila presented to the grand inquisitor, the letter of Charles V., sealed with the royal seal.
This incident caused no little surprise among those who were present.  Pierre Arbues, without being in the least disconcerted, with
the appearance of one who expects what has happened, slowly unfolded the king's letter, read it from end to end, carefully weighing
every one of its expressions; then he looked at a second letter open
on his bureau, and secured by a small square of marble. It was a
note from Charles V., which contained merely these words:
" Don Manuel Argoso, Count of Cevallos, at present in the dungeons of the holy office, is said to be innocent of the crimes of which
he is accused.  Don Manuel Argoso has always served me faithfully, and it is my desire that he may be acquitted by the very holy
tribunal of which your eminence is the chief. Yet, as the cause of
God must take precedence of mine, and as the holy tribunal is alone
competent in this delicate matter, I desire that every thing may be
done in such a manner as may result in the triumph of our holy religion, and promote the glory of God.
' This letter alone must be regarded as valid before the holy tribunal and your eminence, whom may God preserve through long
and prosperous years.
" At the palace of Madrid, the -  day of May, 1534.
" Don Estevan de Vargas must not be prosecuted."
The inquisitor compared the two signatures for a moment; they
were perfectly similar; the shape of the two missives was exactly
the same.
Pierre Arbues folded the two letters together, slipped them into the
sleeve of his tunic, and looking at Jean d'Avila and young Vargas:
" We will consider what course it will be proper to take," said he.
" Don Estevan de Vargas and you, my father, may retire."-" The
session is over," added the inquisitor, rising from his throne.
* When an accused person had been declared innocent, by twelve witnesses of
pure catholic blood, the inquisition was compelled, according to its statutes, immediately to set him at liberty. -This deliverance, obtained by the declaration of
twelve witnesses, was called definitive absolution; but it seldom happened that
twelve persons of pure catholic blood dared present themselves to defend an accused person, for as has been observed in a previous note, every one who ventured
to defend an accused person was prosecuted by the holy offce, and regarded as
infected with the same crime as the accused whom he had defended. Of what
advantage, then, would it have been to an accused person to obtain definitive absolution, when the inquisition had once taken hold of him? None at all, for
the inquisition well knew how to find new reasons for a fresh prosecution, and
always ended by destroying, or at least ruining him.





THE CONSPIRACY.


233


The effect of these last words was quick as lightning, it chilled
with terror all who were present.
The unhappy Argoso turned a look of despair towards his defenders, as if to bid them a last adieu.
Jean d'Avila hastened to lead away Estevan, who was stunned by
indignation and surprise, from fear lest, recovering his faculties for a
moment, he might destroy himself by some imprudent and angry remark.
When Pierre Arbues had raised the black velvet screen, which
was behind his arm-chair, he paused for a moment on the threshold;
then he extended his arm towards Jean d'Avila, with a menacing
gesture, and muttered between his teeth, clenched with restrained
rage:
" We will try our strength, silly monk!"
CHAPTER         XXXVI.
THE CONSPIRACY.
IT was evening; objects were veiled in that twilight obscurity
which in southern countries is so quickly succeeded by night. The
bells were ringing for the angelus.
A few belated pedestrians were slowly deserting the Muelles, in
order to repair to the Alameda."  Night was falling with frightful
rapidity; two lovers would hardly have been able to recognise each
other's faces.
Two cavaliers met near the landing place, and although it was
physically impossible for them reciprocally to see each other's features, they stopped nearly at the same time.
" Is it you, Don Valero?" asked he who came from the direction
of the city.
" Myself, Don Estevan; you have been punctual in attending to
the appointment which I made the other day at the tavern."
" Three days ago," replied the count, with an air of despondency.
" Well," continued Valero, lowering his voice, for fear of being
heard, for the familiars of the inquisition were gliding about every
where like invisible demons; " well, my young friend, have you succeeded in your enterprise?  And the governor -
" The governor will be burned a week hence, if we do not contrive to deliver him."
" Ah! I told you so, the king is the chief footman of the inquisition; the protection of a garduno would have had more influence
with the inquisitor than that of the emperor."
" Oh! Valero! Valero!" said Estevan, enraged, " if you knew
what an abyss of iniquity the soul of Pierre Arbues is!"
" I know it better than you," replied the old gentleman: "but
you will not change it, and the business now is to devise means to
save the governor of Seville."


* El Muelle-the quay; l'Alameda-the quincunx or groves.
"U 2                    30





234


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" You promised to help me in that matter, Don Valero; speak,
what is to be done?  I am ready for any thing."
" For any thing! Are you quite sure of that, Don Estevan?"
"For any thing! I swear it," replied the young count, exasperated to the uttermost by the abominable fraud of the inquisitor.
" Hear me, Don Rodriguez; my father was a member of the council of Castile, and he struggled constantly for the liberty and prosperity of Spain. Profound neglect of his son has been the reward
of his services. They have not even condescended to remember
that the Count de Vargas has left an inheritor of his name; but it is
not this which excites my anger; I care but little for the vain honours of the world, and I despise the patronage of courts. This is
not the ground of my hatred against the barbarous power of the inquisition which dictates all the decrees of the royal power, and holds,
as it were, in tutelage the conqueror of the world. I have in truth,
many other motives to hate it; I was the intimate friend of the
governor of Seville, the noblest heart in all Spain; I was the betrothed of his daughter, whom I love; they have mutilated the father,
and imprisoned Dolores. For all that I know, Pierre Arbues, or
some one of those vile monks, has treated her with abominable outrage. I presented myself as a witness for the governor, but as they
had accused an innocent man, and as it was absolutely necessary to
find him guilty, my testimony has been refused, and, adding contempt and insult to injustice, I have been upbraided with my noble
origin, as though it were a reproach. I performed the journey to
Madrid, in order to implore Charles V. to do justice, and the emperor dictated a letter to me myself for the inquisitor, in which he
enjoined upon him not to condemn the Count of Cevallos. The inquisitor, despite of this letter, sends us back without having done
justice."
"1 told you it would be so, my poor Estevan."
"Oh! you can imagine, Don Rodriguez, how all these injuries vex
the soul; they fill it with gall and hatred; one is almost tempted to
detest the whole human race which produces such monsters."
" There are no monsters but the inquisitors," said Valero; " the
inquisitors are the men whom we must strike."
"How can that be done?"
"Listen, young man, you are not the only one in Spain whose
heart has been ulcered by injustice and persecution; thousands of victims as unjustly persecuted as-yourself, cherish in the depth of their
souls a sullen and concealed hatred, which requires only a spark to
set it in a flame. The inquisition has filled Spain with widows, with
childless old men, and with orphan children; it has sown injury, let
it reap revenge! The people, dissatisfied and oppressed, begin to
understand, that they need only turn in order to break their yoke;
the light beaming from afar, already illumines their minds with a
distant but lively reflection. The people are ready; they only want
leaders. Let us lead them. Two other young noblemen whom you
know will share this glory with us: Don Ximenes de Herrera, and
young Don Carlos."
" The son in law of the Count dee Mondejar?" inquired Estevan,
hastily.





THE CONSPIRACY.


235


" He was to have been," replied Valero; " but things have changed
greatly within the last few days, and the sentiments of Don Carlos
also; he is now more hostile to the inquisition than he lately was
devoted to the daughter of the Count de Mondejar."
"I have no confidence in these sudden conversions," objected Estevan.
"You are wrong, this one is sincere, or rather the natural loyalty
of young Don Carlos has revolted against the conditions which were
imposed on his marriage, and he has preferred renouncing Donna
Isabella to becoming a traitor in order to obtain her."
" That alters the case," said young Vargas, " and I esteem him as
much as I formerly despised him."
" Well!" continued Valero, "let us then be the leaders of a conspiracy against the inquisitor Arbues, against the butcher of Seville."
" What do you mean?"
" I mean," rejoined Valero, " that it is time that Spain should
rouse from her torpor; that she should rid herself of a monster
which devours her purest children."
"To the point! what are you driving at?"
" Do you not understand?  The auto da f6 is at hand; let us instantly organize an army of freemen, as the inquisition has its army
of familiars; you, Don Ximenes, Don Carlos, and myself will be its
leaders. We have already many trusty friends. I will engage to
rouse the people. On the day of the auto da fe, when the procession
shall have met on the square of Seville, whilst the sentence of the
condemned is read, we will give the first signal by throwing ourselves upon the inquisitors, the people will do the rest, and we shall
save the victims!"
" Thank you! Don Valero," said Estevan, pressing the old man's
hand with warmth; " thank you! you anticipate an idea which I
have long cherished!"
" When the inquisitor is dead," continued Don Rodriguez, "the
rest will be easy."
" Dead! Do you say? Do you mean to kill the inquisitor?"
" The death of a wretch is an act of justice," replied Valero.
" Don Rodriguez!" said Estevan, " on that condition I cannot go
with you."
" Why so?" said the old man. "Is not Pierre Arbues about to
immolate innumerable victims? If he is put to death in order to
save them, will that be a great crime?"
" His crime is at least clothed with judicial forms," replied Estevan; "ours would be an assassination, I cannot consent to it."
" This is the only means, however," said the gloomy Valero.
" If we are in force," said Estevan, " can we not carry off the
prisoners, and make ourselves masters of the inquisitor without attempting his life?"
" The serpent which is suffered to live, will end, some day or other,
by biting you," said Valero.
" Blood soils him who sheds it," replied Estevan, whose chivalric
courage did not permit the effusion of blood, except on a field of
4battle, or in lawful defence.
" Devise some other means, Don Rodriguez, I cannot accept that
which you propose to me."





236


THE MYSTERIES OF TIHE INQUISITION.


" Remember," continued Valero, "the familiars and sbires are
numerous; we cannot expect to be strong enough to carry off the
prisoners and the inquisitor himself, without the loss of a great many
lives, then our attempt will be to no purpose; whereas, if we succeed in killing Arbues, we shall have freed Spain from a monster
who decimates Andalusia."'
"A monster who will soon be replaced by another," replied Estevan. " Believe me, Don Valero, the mere breaking of a branch
will not be sufficient to uproot a tree. When we have killed Pierre
Arbues, shall we have destroyed the inquisition? In order to overturn this formidable colossus, we must slowly dig the trench, in
which it shall one day be buried; but rest assured, this glory will
not belong to us. Our object now is to deliver the governor of Seville. Let us carry off Manuel Argoso without attempting the life
of any one."'
"We never shall be numerous enough for that," said Valero.
"We shall be in greater force than you suppose; are you rich, Don
Rodriguez?"
"As a gentleman who has always had more pride than /income,"
replied the old man. " My youth was very dissipated; and if it were
not night, you would hardly have asked me that question," added he,
alluding to the more than negligent simplicity of his apparel.
" Well, I am  so happy as to be wealthy," said young Vargas;
" and with money, every thing can be arranged. Let me act, Don
Valero, I will furnish more hands than will be needed for this object."
" Oh! I understand," exclaimed Valero; " you will doubtless
apply to that cursed society of the Gardu~a, who desolate the country by their thefts and assassinations; but, my dear friend, those fellows are sold to the inquisition."
"Those fellows are sold to any one who pays them, and I can
assure you, they will not decline this job. Let me arrange that, and
do not let us stain with blood this heroic insurrection against the
butchers of our country."
Whilst engaged in conversation, they had walked on until they
had arrived before a house of rather elegant exterior. The windows of the balconies were lighted. Rodriguez knocked at the door.
"What are you doing?" inquired Estevan.
" I am going into my house," replied Valero, " or rather into the
house of my friend, Don Ximenes de Herrera, who gives me a home
with him; for I no longer possess house or home. Follow me, Don
Estevan, we will all three converse respecting our project."
The door had been opened; Estevan and Valero ascended to the
se:ond story, where the apartment of the young Aragonese noblem zn wa situated. Don Ximenes was alone. He appeared slightly
surprised at seeing Estevan.
" Don Ximenes," said the old gentleman, "at last we have a
worthy colleague in our sacred alliance against the oppressors; Don
Estevan de Vargas is one of us."
Ximenes extended his hand to the young count.
SLet us then be friends," said he; " let us unite our heart and
will in this holy cause."





THE CONSPIRACY.


237


" Have you informed Don Carlos?" inquired Rodriguez.
"Don Carlos is no longer at liberty," replied Ximenes, sorrowfully; " he was arrested on the day of the santo, and thrown into
the dungeons of the inquisition."
SAnother victim!" exclaimed Rodriguez, indignantly; "and how
have you learned that?"
" From young Isabella, who loves him passionately, and who, notwithstanding the fanatical devotion with which they have endeavoured to inspire her from infancy, would gladly burn all the inquisitors to save him whom she loves."
"Three leaders will be enough," said Estevan; "and with the aid
of which I have just been speaking to Don Rodriguez --
" What aid?" inquired Don Ximenes de Herrera.
Estevan then explained to Don Ximenes what he expected from
the Garduia, and by what means he would secure their services.
"I dislike," added he, "to have recourse to such people, but, gentlemen, you may believe me, this means is not to be despised; if
those fellows were not on our side, they would be against us, and
God only knows what would become of our enterprise."
"You know them, then, it appears," said Ximenes, with a smile.
"Don Ximenes, do not jest; unhappy circumstances have even
compelled me to employ them.     They have once already saved Dolores from the hands of the inquisition; unfortunately, her filial devotion has destroyed her."
SYes, yes, I know," said the young Aragonese, "I saw her on the
very evening, when, without a doubt, she was arrested."
" Well, gentlemen, these people may help me to save her a second
time. I undertake to see them, and to engage them for our project."
"For my part, I will undertake to rouse the populace," said Valero.*
* Rodriguez de Valero is an historical personage, whose true character, the
author has preserved. Only, this person did not live at Seville. Rodriguez de
Valero was an Aragonese nobleman, a cotemporary of Charles V. and Jean
d'Avila. During his youth, he led a dissolute life; but all at once he reformed,
and Rodriguez, applied himself with ardour to the study of the holy scriptures.
From having been a rake, he became one of the most zealous preachers of Lutheranism, and carried his boldness to such an extent, that wherever he found
monks or priests, he accosted them, and reproached them for havng strayed
from the pure doctrines of the gospels. Fortunately, the inquisition supposed
him to be deranged, and did not prosecute him. For a long time, profiting by
this belief on the part of the inquisition, he preached in the streets and squares,
where the people were fond of hearing him, and assembled in order to listen
to him; but the inquisition at last grew weary of his sermons, caused him to
be arrested, and condemned him as a heretic, apostate, and false apostle, to
perpetual imprisonment and the loss of all his property.
Valero was very miserably and meanly clothed, but he made numerous converts, amongst whom, the most remarkable was Dr. Egidius, a man of exemplary conduct and pure morals, an eloquent preacher and a learned theologian.
Egidius was first arrested by the inquisition and condemned to do penance on
suspicion of Lutheranism. Some time afterwards the emperor Charles V. nominated him to the bishopric of Tortosa; an appointment which procured him
the persecutions of the monks, and the hatred of the inquisition. The latter
again imprisoned Egidiusin its dungeons. The emperor, who was much attached to him, undertook his defence, and wrote several times in his behalf to
the inquisitor Valdes, who at last let him go. Egidius died almost immediately
after his release.-(History of the Inquisition.)





238


THE MYSTERIES OF THE IINQUISITION.


"And I engage to lead them, in case of necessity," added Don
Ximenes.
"I wanted the inquisitor to be put to death," replied Valero, "it
would be just to punish him: but Don Estevan, like yourself, is desirous that there should be no blood shed."
" Perhaps there will be but too much," exclaimed the two young
noblemen at once.
" It is late," said Estevan, " I must leave you in order to prepare
the requisite means."
" Where shall we meet again?" inquired Don Ximenes.
" In the ward of Triana," replied Estevan, " at the place where the
gardufios hold their secret meetings; an isolated ruin, quite at the
end of the suburbs. Come to-morrow, before midnight, and meet me
there; that is the hour of the nocturnal councils of the Gardufia."
4" Be it so," said Valero.-" To-morrow."
" Are you, at all events, sure of those fellows?" inquired Don
Ximenes.
" Sure as I am of myself," replied Estevan; " a gardunfo never
betrays one who has given him money. Farewell, gentlemen, do
not forget our rendezvous.'"
Estevan went out.
We shall soon see what was the result of these proceedings with
the Gardunia.
CHAPTER        XXXVII.
TWO HERMITS.
AT some distance from Seville, in the direction of the house of
the apostle, might be seen a kind of cave, dug in the solid rock, at
the foot of a bushy hillock, whose tufted summit overlooked the
river. The entrance of this grotto, which was almost circular, and
about a man's height, looked like a garland of flowers,
The pale cytisus, the white vine, gay and full of plumes, the lively
hawthorn, whose flower exhales a sweet perfume of vanilla and
cocoa, and the barberry bush with its coral clusters, grew in profusion on the light layer of vegetable earth, which covered the granite
of which this hill was formed. Their roots and flexible boughs,
spreading here and there like a thousand arms, and their strong stems
entwined in one another, served to retain around the orifice of the
grotto the light and moveable earth, which would otherwise have obstructed the entrance by constantly rolling down.
The inside of this grotto, which was somewhat damp, was curtained
with scolopendra and maiden hair, modest flowers, growing in the
fissures of the granite, and hanging from the vaulted ceiling in chandeliers of shining green.
It was night. The clock of the cathedral had just struck ten.
In a corner of this grotto, a man and woman were seated on a
coarse mat of Valencian broom, which served at once for a seat and
a bed.





TWO HERMITS.


239


Towards the entrance, in another corner, a lively fire of olive
branches gave light to the inmates of this strange abode, and tended
also to obviate the humidity of the cave, which was somewhat cool,
notwithstanding the heat of the climate and season.
The woman, young, pretty, and well made, was gracefully seated
on the mat. The man, clothed merely with linen trowsers, and a
shirt open on his bosom, was reclining on the mat, and his left arm,
leaning on the knees of his companion, supported his dejected head.
This man maintained a profound silence; his coarse features, full of
energy, had a singular appearance of dejection and sorrow; he did
not even raise his eyes upon his companion, who gazed upon him
with a deep expression of passionate love and melancholy.
The physiognomy and attitude of these two persons were in perfeet keeping with the melancholy solitude of their habitation. Manofina and his companion, who were the actual possessors of this cavern, had almost become hermits on ceasing to be gardurios. The
savage guapo was at this moment enduring the frightful reaction of
the absolute change in his mode of living.
This inactivity of soul and body pressed, like an overwhelming
weight, upon his strong and vigorous nature. The physical man had
too strong an ascendency over a being brought up as he had been, to
be able to content itself with mere spiritualism. There was enough
poetry, uprightness, and instinct about him, to admit of his being
easily induced by the attraction of virtue, and converted by the sublime charity of the apostle; but his energetic and strong faculties
required active exercise, and not ecstatic contemplation or passive
resignation. Manofina could have endured martyrdom, for in that
case again, there was a moral conflict, and exercise of strength to
supply the place of a physical combat; but suddenly to renounce his
life of adventure and incident, to let the poniard rust in its sheath,
and to live continually in indolence and meditation, this was beyond
the guapo's strength. Even the love of the serena was not sufficient
to supply the wants of this turbulent, vagabond spirit. Debility was
beginning to subdue it; Manofina had the fever of inaction; in a few
days more, he would have become an idiot or deranged, so much does
matter govern mind, when the latter has not been long accustomed to
rule it constantly by continual exercise, and incessant conflicts.
The serena, of a milder nature, had accustomed herself to this negative mode of life better than he. That void in the heart could not
exist in her; she was a woman, she had an object of love; but, although she did not entirely share in the feelings of the guapo, she
suffered at the sight of his sufferings, and her ingenuous tenderness
had no other object or occupation but to comfort him.
Seeing that Mianofina, motionless for more than an hour, leaning
on her knees, had not spoken a word to her, Culverina passed her
small delicate hand through the coarse brown hair of the guapo.
Manofina shuddered, and slowly raised upon his companion his
large eyes full of gloom and sadness.
" What do you wish, darling?" said he.
SI could wish to see you happy," replied the serena, sadly.
The guapo started suddenly, as if a hand had been applied on a
raw wound; but he made no reply.





240


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" Oh! Manofina," resumed the young woman, with a deeply impassioned intonation, "you may pretend to say that I am mistaken,
and play the happy man, when we meet old comrades, but I see
clearly to the bottom of all that; you are full of ennui, you are suffering, and this retreat which seemed so pleasant to you the first
days, has become more gloomy to you than a prison."
" Oh! Culverina, do not blame me," replied the guapo, mild as a
lamb under the influence of his affection for the serena. "I have
done all that you wished, I have obeyed the apostle; well, in spite
of myself, I am suffocating; and it seems to me, at times, as if this
mountain which covers us was about to crumble upon us. Do you
see, darling, there is something in me which I do not rightly understand as yet, poor ignorant creature that I am, and which I should
still like to know; for this mode of living is becoming intolerable,
and it is time to put an end to it. I had taken an oath to the
master of the Gardufa, and had sworn to obey him all my life; you
know whether I was faithful to my promise for a long time or not."
" Oh! yes, you were the bravest of our brothers," exclaimed the
serena, with sparkling eyes: the instinct of the gitano had been
aroused; " yes, the Garduna may rest assured that it will never supply
your place."
"Well," continued the guapo, the master had ordered me to extinguish Don Estevan de Vargas."
" Afterwards?"-said the serena.
" I am not casting it up to you as a reproach," resumed Manofina,
"but you begged me not to extinguish that young cavalier, you followed my steps like a lioness to arrest my arm and soften my heart;
then the apostle came at last, I failed to keep my oath, I let Don Estevan live. Then," added the guapo, with a fierce expression, " as
one crime always brings on another, I renounced the Garduna, I
abandoned my brothers, and now, oh! now," he continued, with
gloomy energy, "I, who was always the first in danger, am passing
my life crouching on the earth like a dog; I, who lived by the point
of my poniard, am dependent on the melopia of the monks, and then
at night-yes, at night, do you know whilst you are sleeping by my
side, I cannot close my eyes; if the wind shakes the branches of the
trees, I seem to hear wails of agony!-when the lightning traces
in the air a red and bloody figure, I think I see a spectre which
passes before me to defy or terrify me-and then-I, who have so
often braved death, tremble at the cry of the cricket as it turns in its
earthen hut-I have become as cowardly as a chicken-I am afraid."
When he finished these words, the guapo had become ashy pale,
a cold, clammy sweat covered his weather-beaten forehead, and his
dull, haggard eyes expressed indescribable suffering.
The serena raised in her arms the distracted head of Manofina,
and laying it on her bosom with matchless tenderness, as a mother
would have done her sick child, she kissed him gently on the
forehead, as if the contact of her lips possessed power to sooth him.
It was indeed a consoling balm for the guapo's heart; he closed his
eyes gently in order that he might no longer behold the phantoms
which besieged him, and laid his head on the bosom of the serena
in order to repress the rapid throbbings of his temples.





TWO HERMITS.


241


c Dear soul," said the gitana, " why do you suffer so? Why do
you reproach yourself with the best action of your life, as though it
were a crime?"
"I am afraid God will punish me for having broken the oath I
made to the brotherhood."
"The apostle has given you absolution, what are you afraid of?"
"True, the apostle is a saint, and he would not have deceived us,"
said the guapo, somewhat reassured.
"Was it not he who prayed to God to restore you to health
when you were so sick that every body abandoned you, afraid of
being infected by your disease?"
"All but you, my Culverina; you went and brought the apostle
to help me, you were not afraid of the contagion."
" Aye! there was no great merit in that," said she, with a slight
movement of the shoulders; "What would I have done if you had
died? The shortest way would have been to fall sick and die after
you."
" Oh, I know you love me!" exclaimed Manofina, with a mingled
emotion of joy and pride; "I know you have always told me the
truth."
" Poor innocent!" said she, "I love you so because God wills it,
and it was by his direction, too, that we abandoned the Gardufia."
" Do you think so?" said the bravo, artlessly.
"The apostle told me so; I believe every thing the apostle tells
me," replied the young woman.
"Perhaps you are right, Culverina," murmured the guapo, pensively. " Oh! but," he immediately rejoined, with a slight expression of regret, " to live in this way without doing any thing,
without meeting adventures, without exposing one's life, day and
night, without ever having any body to say, 'well done, Manofina,'
do you see, my darling, this is driving me distracted. Yet, if I
could deliver victims from the inquisition, as the apostle was saying,
or fight the familiars of the holy office, as we did that evening when
we rescued that young lady, don't you remember?"
" That was well done," said the serena, " the apostle ordered us to
save her."
" Oh! but without you," rejoined Manofina, whose eyes sparkled
at the recollection of that nocturnal combat, " without you, Culverina,
it would all have been over with me; Manofina would never again
have sported his albacete knife."'
During this conversation, the guapo complacently caressed the
ivory handle of his Spanish poniard, whose broad Damascus blade
gleamed in the fitful light of the hearth.
"Be content, corazon mio!" said the serena; "he quiet, the war
is not over; we shall have more than one enemy to fight yet; your
dagger will not rust in its sheath; there are so many poor creatures
at Seville, who are persecuted by the inquisition! Do you not remember that the apostle advised us always to rescue as many as we
could?"
"But where shall we find them?" exclaimed Manofina, "since I
left the Garduiia my knife has never left its sheath, except to cut
X                   31





242           TiE MYSTERIES OP THE INQ& SITIOiN.
the rushes on the Guadalquiver, for you to make the mats which we
lie on."
" Be calm," said the serena, tenderly, " the time will come, before long," and smiling in the sweetest manner, she showed two
rows of white and polished teeth, pure as those of a child.
At this moment a gust of wind, proceeding from the outside, violently agitated the flame on the hearth; the knotted and shady
boughs which hung over the entrance of the cave, like embroidered
drapery, separated with a prolonged rustling.
" Who goes there?"' shouted the guapo, hastily rising to his feet
and grasping his poniard.
" Do you want to kill me, brother?"' asked the new comer in a
clear and silver tone.
" Virgin del Carmen/!" exclaimed the serena, "who would have
thought that Coco would come to see us at this hour?"
" Do you need our services?" inquired Manofina, eagerly.
" That is Manofina!" cried the alguazil; "still the same brave
fellow! You have not lost your courage, though you have become
a hermit."
" Oh, dear!" sighed the guapo, "but it is a long time that any
body has said that to me! You are a very happy man, Coco; you
go, you come, you work, you are good for something, whilst I am-"
The serena laid her hand gently on his mouth to stop him-but
the alguazil had already guessed the moral condition of the guapo's
mind.-Quickness of perception is at home in Andalusia. Coco had
read, to the very last syllable, all that was passing in the mind of his
old comrade.
" Well," thought he, "he is tired of doing nothing: we have him."'
"What is there new at Seville?" inquired Culverina, endeavouring to turn the conversation.
"Oh! a great deal," replied the alguazil, with an air of mystery.
"Tell us, what is it?" exclaimed the serena and guapo, both at
once, stretching out their necks towards him with a gesture of eager
c-riosity.
"Have patience," said the alguazil; "it is rather a long story."
" Well," said Culverina, gathering under her feet her red gown,
which was spread over the mat, " sit down, Coco, and tell us what
is the news."
Coco sat down. The serena rolled in her delicate fingers some
bits of hawthorn, which she amused herself by crumbling on her
apron.
Manofina fixed upon the alguazil his two large eye-balls, gleaming
like those of the lion of the desert.
" 1 must say to you, Manofina," the wily Coco commenced, "that
the society of the Gardurla has not yet supplied your place."'
"That I can believe," rejoined the serena, quickly.-" Did they
expect to do it?" she continued, with the indescribable vanity of an
enamoured woman.
" Let him speak, Culverina," said the guapo.
"I was saying," replied the alguazil, "that your place is still vacant in the Gardunfa."
" Well, what then?" said Manofina.





TWO HERMITS.


248


" The society, however, is still as brave, loyal, and faithful as
ever towards them who employ it."
" Do you mean to reproach me?" murmured the guapo, sullenly.
" No, my brave fellow, Heaven forbid: I only wanted to tell you,
that the functions of the Garduna are, every day, becoming more
important, and that --"
" Well, what is that to me?" said the guapo, abruptly, you know
I have nothing to do with them."
" That is your own fault," said Coco.
" The apostle said I should not," was his reply.
" Why do you come to tempt him, Coco?" said Culverina, somewhat vexed, a that is not acting like a good brother."
"If you would let me have time to speak," grumbled the young
innkeeper, " you would not lose your time and words in this way, to
no purpose."
"6 Oh! well, speak on; we will say no more: we are listening."
" Now you make me forget what I was saying; once for all, I tell
you, be quiet.-Where was I? Oh! yes! The Gardunia is more
flourishing than ever, the inquisitors pay it to kill heretics, and they
wish to hire it to extinguish-not to arrest the inquisitors."
" How so?" said Manofina, whose countenance brightened with a
strange fire at every word of the alguazil.
" Oh, my friends! if you knew what is going on," resumed Coco,
"t the governor of Seville is to be burned; his daughter is in prison
for life."
" Oh dear! oh dear!" exclaimed the serena, "c and what has become of Don Estevan."
" Hush!" said Coco, putting one finger on his lips, and turning
his head round on every side, as if he were afraid of being overheard; " of him, we must not speak, for they will perhaps put him
in prison too, and -
" Do not be uneasy about that!" said Culverina, hastily;  there
are no familiars here; we have no neighbours but vultures and vipers, and they are less to be feared than the others."
" Oh my friends!" continued Coco, "if you only knew what they
are going to do."
" Explain yourself, and be done with it," said Manofina, impatiently.
" I am going to," replied Coco: " Don Estevan de Vargas, who is
anxious at any price to save his father in law, and his betrothed, has
determined to carry off the governor and the lady Dolores, on the
day of the auto da fi, and to arrest the inquisitors."
" I will help him!" shouted Manofina.
" Stop, you could not do that all alone; that is the reason why it
is necessary that the society of the Gardulfa, which is always ready
to fight and avenge the innocent, ought to share in the plot, in order
to ensure its success."
" You know very well that I do not belong to the society any
more," objected Manofina, mournfully.
" That is the very reason why you can help us, brother," said
Coco, seeing that he had already accomplished three-fourths of his
task in securing Manofina.





244


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


"Explain yourself, brother."
" I have already told you, that the master has not been able to
supply your place, and that he exceedingly regrets your loss. Now,
we want the master, in order to manage our enterprise rightly. It
rests with you, Manofina, to go in quest of him; you always were
his favourite; he will not refuse to take part in the conspiracy if you
promise to be with him; for, in the hope of regaining you for the
society, he will do any thing that you may wish."
"If I let him cherish that hope, I shall deceive him," replied the
guapo, struggling violently between his pugnacious instinct, his unbridled love of danger, and the promise which he had made to the
apostle.
" You need not deceive him," replied the alguazil; " if he indulges
a vain hope, so much the worse for him; you will not be obliged to
keep what you have not promised. Besides," added he, " Don Estevan is very rich, and I believe that the recompense, which I am
authorized to promise in his name, to the brotherhood, is worth the
trouble of doing him a service. Come, my brave fellow, get ready
to follow me, it is time; come, let us find the master, and make
haste; the auto da f6 is fixed for a week hence; there is no time to
be lost if we would have matters arranged. Come, let us be off."
Any one who could have studied the countenance of the guapo at
this moment, would have been alarmed, at the vast poem of emotions which were developing in his mind, whilst the alguazil was
speaking. All the vital powers of this energetic man, which had so
long remained inactive, were aroused at once. His heart had bounded
in his broad chest, like an unchained lion, and the fever of enthusiasm, the burning excitement of long repressed courage, gave an imposing expression to his manly figure. His sovereign contempt of
danger, and profound religious fanaticism, were equally perceptible.
The moment had come for executing the commands of the apostle,
whom he regarded as the messenger of God. He was at length
going to contend for justice, to fight against oppressors in favour of
the oppressed, and whilst giving full scope to his faculties, and most
earnest desires, to gain the paradise of Jesus Christ! Paradisethe sublime hope of the poor and the afflicted.
The guapo stood for a moment overwhelmed by the weight of so
many different emotions, stunned by the accumulation of happiness
which he was enjoying. The serena looked at him, anxiously wait.
ing the sovereign decision of her lord.
At length Manofina rose to his full height, bounded like a savage
bull, and girding about his loins the red belt which held his poniard,
he shouted:
a Let us go."
The serena, more nimble than a mountain doe, was already at his
side.
" Where are you going?" asked the alguazil.
" With you," replied the serena, proudly; Are you going to
keep holiday without me."
" Right!" said the guapo, pressing her tenderly to his bosom; "we
will go together."
They all three went out of the cave.





EL BAILE DE CANDIL.


245


CHAPTER          XXXVIII.
EL BAILE DE CANDIL.*
M ANOPINA's excitement increased, the nearer they approached the
palace of the Gardunfa; his nostrils dilated, and he snuffed the air
like an Arabian horse when he recognises his master's tent.
The serena, too, could not divest herself of something of that
thrilling pleasure which is experienced at the sight of places which
we have long loved, and had supposed we should never see again.
The night was calm, cool and dark; the moon, which was at the
full, had long disappeared behind the horizon. It was a delightful
night for lovers or conspirators.
As they were about crossing the first enclosure of walls which
surrounded the palace, they stopped for a few moments, at once surprised and delighted with a spectacle which presented itself. A
broad stream of light escaped through the half open door, and the
thrumming of a guitar inside, was heard, accompanied with the masculine voice of a man, and the shrill strains of the pandero.
' How merry they are!" said the serena, with a sigh.
* Who is the saint of the day?" inquired Manofina.
" Perhaps it is the close of a novena," replied Coco.
" Let us go in," said the serena, whose little impatient feet moved
involuntarily in cadence to the sound of this well known music. The
serena was the best danseuse of the fandango in Seville; besides she
sang the cana in a way that might have made an anchorite crazy.
They quickened their pace, and as they passed before a thicket of
ebony trees and lilacs, they noticed in the shade, three men, whose
features and dress they could not recognise. These persons were
standing behind the thicket, and conversed together in a low voice.
The guapo was too much preoccupied to pay much attention to
them. Coco pretended not to see them, and the serena at that moment was concerned about nothing but the dance; she already observed the heads of the dancers covered with ribands of different
colours, floating at the impulse of their steps, like banners in the
wind, and following all the undulations which passion or caprice in
turn imparted to them.
Oh! indeed they were holding the most animated and merry baile
* A ball by lamplight. The balls of the common people in Spain, go by this
name. Balls, in which a smoky lamp is the only light, and in which two or
three cracked guitars and out of tune, blended with the voices of the male or
female singers of seguidillas, compose the whole orchestra.
f Pandero.-Imagine a square frame upon which a piece of parchment has
been stretched and fastened, and around which a number of copper bells and
ribands of lively colour are hanging, and you will have a sufficiently exact idea
of the pandero. The pandero is the instrument par excellence, and in most
lamplight balls it supersedes the guitar. This instrument is touched only by
women, and a Spanish woman of the lower class, regards it as a handsome
present, if she is offered a pandero, ornamented with ribands and furnished with
bells, especially if on one side of the parchment, a heart on fire, and pierced
with arrows, has been painted; and on the other, a faithful portrait of a handsome smuggler, or that of a renowned bandit.
Xo





246           THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.
de candil that had been seen at Seville for a long time. Notwithstanding their impatience, however, when they had arrived near the
door, the guapo and the serena paused; a feeling stronger than their
desire, the bashfulness of pride, if it may be so called, kept them on
the threshold of the dwelling which they had voluntarily abandoned,
they hesitatedSWell, go on!" said the alguazil.
"You go in," said Manofina to his companion.
"No, you Coco," said the serena, in her turn; "you must introduce us."
" Oh! I shall make no difficulty about that," replied the innkeeper,
taking the hand of the serena with true Andalusian gallantry; "come
in then with me, Culverina, since you are afraid to do so alone-and
you, Manofina," added he, "follow us, my brave, you will see whether we shall be well received."
With these words, Coco opened the door wide, and advanced with
an air of triumph into the midst of the assembly; Manofina, imboldened, followed him at a short distance.
"May Heaven defend your lordships," said the alguazil, courteously, doffing his hat.
At this unexpected apparition, an exclamation of surprise arose in
the hall, and the assembly, who an instant before had been so intent
on thd dance, crowded together, curious and eager to learn from what
motive the guapo and his companion had again appeared among
them.
They had scarcely set their foot in the palace, than the quick eye
of Mandamiento, who was looking all around, had recognised them,
He had meanwhile been at the extremity of the hall, calm, paternal,
and surveying with the most good-humoured gravity the pleasures
of his children; for in the same degree as the master was severe
and despotic in urging the execution of his commands, he was also
prepared by a calculating indulgence, and apparent concessions, to
subdue those whom he governed, and render them content with their
lot. Mandamiento would have made a very popular king, had not
royalty been at this period a sacred thing which could be transmitted
only by inheritance, and which no one presumed to touch. The
serena walked timidly with downcast eyes.
A bright light filled the hall. Every column supported two large
torches of pitch, whose burning wick rose in red and bold jets of
flame, throwing towards the vaulted ceiling gleams of flame and
clouds of smoke.
Upon the floor, all around the columns, a great number of mats of
Valencian broom had been spread. Every woman had her own,
which served as a chair, and when squatting down upon it, she
afforded support to a man seated like her on the ground, and leaning
his elbows on his knees, like the arms of an arm-chair. The assembly was thus arranged in a double row of men and women; the
view was strangely picturesque. The Sevillians, brown, slender and
agile, clothed in their holiday gear, presented in their original and
varied physiognomy, an aspect of the most striking effect.
The middle of the circle formed by those who were seated, wa5
occupied by the dancers.





EL BAILE DE CANDIL.


247


The amorous fandango, a poem of love, slowly developed in an
expressive pantomime, was then, as it now is, the favourite dance of
the Andalusians, and the most delightful of their amusements; what
must it have been for the gardunios? creatures without curb or restraint, of feverish and impassioned nature, a tribe of the desert,
still too near their origin to have forgotten it! An intoxication of
mirth presided over this festival.
The most graceful chivatos of the society plumed themselves, and
acted the beau in their elegant costume of majos;' their hand
haughtily resting on the hip, their nose snuffing the breeze announcing their approach at the distance of twenty paces, by the sonorous
tinkling of their silver buttons, and stretching their limbs in walking, so as to show to advantage their nimble and nervous legs.
The young women danced or coquetted, inviting by their voice,
gesture, or looks, the most elegant of the majos.
The coberteras conversed among themselves, slandering the young
girls, and looking at the boys. Still, as we have said, the appearance of Manofina and Culverina had produced such a sensation, that
the dance had relaxed for a moment, and all heads were turned towards them.
In order not to disturb the dance, the serena went around the
circle in order to reach the extremity of the hall; but the master did
not give her time; he came towards her with as 'much gallantry as
could have been expected frbm a hidalgo, and regarding her with his
most gracious smile, he said to her courteously,
"' What saint of paradise has inspired you with the happy thought
of visiting us, my daughter? You are welcome, and Manofina too,"
added he, extending to the bravo his broad and callous hand.
Manofina somewhat confused, placed his hand, not without some
repugnance, into that of the master; it seemed to him as though it
was almost making an engagement with him, and that, he was not
willing to do.
A general hurrah of approbation followed this kind reception of
the ex-gardufnos, on the part of the master. All the garduuios, big
and little, crowded around their old comrades, and there were countless embracings, and deafening acclamations.
A few serenas, newly enrolled, eyed with a jealous leer the pretty
and graceful Culverina, who had not her rival in Seville.
Soon, however, one of them turning towards a cobertera, who was
of the most ancient order, said to her with a laugh of triumph and
satisfaction,
" Only see that girl there! she has not even a new mona on her
* Majos.-The word majo has no synonym in any other language. The
Spanish majo is a type which is to be found nowhere but in Spain, and particularly in Andalusia, where it exists in its primitive splendour. The majo
must not only dress with extravagant finery, but he must be expert in the use
of all sorts of deadly weapons, and must be able to thrum the guitar, and fight
and kill a bull according to the rules of art. He must, moreover, be desperately
enamoured of one woman, and gallant towards the fair sex generally, as both
inconstancy and indifference are alike forbidden. He must be sober and inured
to hardships, detesting revelry and debauch. He must also hate avarice and
be prodigal with his money, and stand prepared to fight a duel at the slightest
provocation.





248


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


head; her woollen petticoat is faded as if she had never had any
other since she was born, and her satin stockings are dangling about
her heels as if they wanted to run away."
" She has become as yellow as saffron, since she left us," replied the old woman; "and she has chosen the wrong time to present herself clothed in such guise, before such good company. See
what comes of being proud, and abandoning the brotherhood. Indeed, she was a good deal more showy when she looked so lovingly
at that fat prior of the Mercenaries, whom Manofina baptized so
handsomely under the left eye."
"Be still, will you, old magpie," said Garabato, who at this moment was near the cobertera, " Culverina is the prettiest girl in
Seville; she is more beautiful in rags than the others are in pearls and
ribands."
The opinion of Garabato was generally entertained by the men,
and those who did not say so, sufficiently proved it by looks and
gestures.
For his part, MIandamiento did not attempt to dissemble his joy.
He led the serena to a mat which had been left vacant towards the
upper end of the hall, and after having invited the bravo's companion to sit down:
" Amuse yourself, my daughter," said he, " I am going to converse a little with my brother Manofina."
With these words, Mandamiento took the hand of the guapo, and
beckoning Coco to follow them, he led them some distance from the
circle into an isolated corner. When he was alone with them, he
began:
" I suppose, my children, that the presence of Manofina in this
place is not without motive, and I am curious to know what it is.
Perhaps our dear Manofina is in some perilous situation, which
claims our aid? Although he is no longer a member of our honourable brotherhood, and no duty binds us to him as brothers, yet we
are always disposed, as friends and comrades, to help him as often as
it can be done-without transgressing the rules of our honourable
brotherhood."
"Brother Mandamiento," rejoined Coco, "the matter in agitation
at present is not whether we shall help Manofina, but on the contrary, whether we can induce him to lend us his aid."
Mandamiento started with surprise.
" I have an operation to propose to you-and of the most serious
nature," continued Coco; " this is why I have come here with Manofina. Listen to me now, the thing is worth while."
" Speak," said the master, more and more surprised.
"There is a young nobleman in Seville, who is very rich, who
needs your services."
" By the beard of the king," exclaimed Mandamiento, " I am always at the service of young noblemen, who have plenty of money."
" This young cavalier will give you a large sum. In return, this
is what you must do-"
" Extinguish his rival?" interrupted the master.
" Much more than that, indeed," said the alguazil; "an expedition such as the brotherhood has certainly never undertaken."





EL BAILE DE CANDIL.


249


" By the virgin of Pilar!" cried the master, " you begin to alarm
me! What is the matter?   Explain yourself."
Coco looked about him with a mysterious air; no one could hear
them; they were more than fifteen paces from the circle where they
were dancing. Still, through excess of prudence, the alguazil urged
Mandamiento and the guapo to the most remote of the columns;
then leaning towards the master, he said to him in a low tone:
" You must help to deliver the governor of Seville on the day of
the auto da fe."'
" How so?"
" By carrying off the grand inquisitor, whom you will keep5 prisoner. Two days will be enough in order to enable Estevan to
reach the first port of Spain, and embark for another country."
" Brother," replied the master, " have you thought well of what
you ask? Do you know, that in such an enterprise we stake our
life - "
"Against two hundred thousand reals," added the innkeeper, instantly; "this is the sum which Don Estevan de Vargas offers to
give you as a recompense."
" Two hundred thousand reals!" said Mandamiento, dazzled by
the enormity of the sum; " two hundred thousand reals for ---
"For carrying off my lord Arbues, and keeping him a prisoner
for two days in the caverns of the G-arduia," said Coco, hastily.
" Yes," replied the master, " and when my lord Arbues is free, he
will have us all burned like so many heretics. Do you take me for
a fool, Coco? Extinguish him at once; dead men can do no more
mischief; but to carry him off-no, no, I carry off none but young
girls."
" His lordship does not wish him to be killed."
"His lordship is as gentle as a lamb; had it not been for the good
will of Manofina and the orders of-  but it is enough, I understand-if Don Estevan is still alive, it is not the inquisitor's
fault."
" Oh! I care nothing about the inquisitor's life," said Coco; "but
if you speak to Don Estevan about extinguishing him, he will never
consent to it, and the governor of Seville will be burned."
" It is all right! Very well! We will be discreet," said Mandamiento, with the grin of a demon.
" Two hundred thousand reals!" thought he to himself, "to have
the pleasure of poniarding this rascally inquisitor, who owes me a
grudge, and gives me nothing more to do, since 1 missed Don Estevan. Two hundred thousand reals! It is a magnificent reward.
Moreover, my lord Arbues will certainly be replaced by another,
that will not be difficult, and the new inquisitor, who will have no
ill will against me, will certainly employ us.-Every thing, therefore, is to the advantage of the brotherhood in this affair."
Such were the rapid reflections of the master of the Gardufia; but,
like a skilful diplomatist, he took care not to communicate it to those
with whom he was treating. Addressing Coco, who awaited his
reply, he said:
" Would Manofina consent to take part in this expedition?"
" Certainly," replied the guapo, emphatically.
32





250(


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" So you find that the Garduna is a good mother, and you would
like to return to her?" the capataz inquired, insidiously.
SMaster, I have not said so," replied Manofina;  this expedition
pleases me; I am willing to help you in it if you think it best, and
so is the serena," he added proudly. "You know, master, that the
serena is worth a guapo for courage and audacity."
"I understand," said Mandamiento, twinkling his long eyelids,
under which his green eyes sparkled like those of a jackal; "I understand, the serena and yourself are very glad to take part in this
operation, on account of the reward which is promised."
" Master," said Manofina, in a tone indicating some little displeasure, aI have never refused a salary honestly gained; but if, on this
occasion, you deem it expedient to give us nothing, it is of little consequence to me; I will share with all pleasure the dangers of this expedition, without asking any reward, since you think that we have
no right to any, not being any longer members of the brotherhood."
"And why would you not be members of it?" resumed Mandamiento, for that was the point at which he was aiming.
" Do not tempt me, master," said Manofina: " what is done is done;
I shall not return to your society. Only tell me whether you accept
my aid and Culverina's; this is all I want to know. In case you
do, you will restore to me, for one day, my authority of guapo; you
will give me a troop to command, and do not be uneasy, I will take
care of the rest."
" Well," said Coco, "is it a bargain, master? May I bring Don
Estevan and his friends here, so that you may have an understanding
together, and arrange the matter?"
" You may do so," replied Mandamiento, delighted with the resolution of Manofina, notwithstanding his restrictions, for he indulged the hope of succeeding to bring him back entirely to him;
then, addressing himself to the guapo:
"My son," said he, you shall see whether the brotherhood and
myself preserve our friendship for you; we have not yet found any
one of our bravest postulants worthy to succeed you, and your place
is still vacant in the Garduhia. Resume it, then, for the day of the
projected expedition, and may Heaven inspire you as to your future
course, my child! May you adopt a good and wise resolution."
" I," said Coco, ' will run and inform Don Estevan; every thing
must be settled this evening."
" Go," said Mandamiento, "nothing is more favourable to an operation of this kind than the tumult of a public procession. And now,
Manofina," added he, " will you not dance a fandango with your
pretty Culverina?"
"With all my heart," said the guapo.
Manofina proceeded towards the serena to lead her into the circle
of the dancers.
Notwithstanding the poverty of her dress, every body was eager
to see the serena dance. She was so pretty, so captivating, and so
melancholy, that it was impossible tb see her without loving her,
and then she danced so well!
Meanwhile, Coco had gone out of the palace, and was on his way
to the thicket of ebony trees, where the three men had just been





EL BAILE DE CANDIL.


251


conversing together. They were still standing at the same place,
and seemed to be waiting.
The alguazil approached them, purposely making some little noise.
Although it was dark, Estevan recognised him.
" Well?' said he.
"All is ready, senior; the master of the Gardulia will do all that
you wish."
" Did I not fell you so?" said Estevan, turning towards his companions, Don Rodriguez de Valero, and Don Ximenes de Herrera;
Snlow, we are sure to succeed."
"Don Estevan," whispered the old gentleman, "you have thought
proper to secure these gitanos, so be it; but, my young friend, you
do not know the half of your strength; if I were of your age, if I
were as good-looking as you are, and if my name were Don Estevan
de Vargas, I would, by a mere word, rouse to a man, the people of
Seville, and overturn all Spain."
"Don Rodriguez," replied Estevan, " you speak at this moment,
like a young man; let me answer you like an old one. You impute
to me great power of fascination; be it so, I will take for granted
that I possess it, and that I could easily, thanks to the memoryof my
father, which still lives in the hearts of all the Spaniards, revolutionize Seville against the inquisitors. Now supposing all this to be
so, what good would that do to Spain? Of what use would it be?
It would destroy thousands of lives without benefitting the condition of those who might remain. Do you know, Don Valero,
that in order for ever to break the yoke of the inquisition, it would
be necessary that the whole of Spain should be united in perfect
harmony of sentiment and will. Partial revolutions beget civil
war, impoverish and destroy a country, but they do not change it;
they are like the repeated bleeding of a robust frame, they enable it
to breathe for a day, only to ruin it at last. Nothing but science
and philosophy will be able to regenerate Spain and render it free.
For that, however, do not let us hope; we are not destined to see
those happy days."
" Why then are we conspiring?" interrupted Valero.
" For the accomplishment of a single object," replied Estevan, " for
a private interest; I, in order to save those whom I love, you and
Don Ximenes, from friendship to me: this is, believe me, our main
motive."
" Estevan," said Don Ximenis, "you misrepresent our intentions,
by restricting them to a private interest."
" No," replied Estevan, "I do not misrepresent them; we
have noble and daring spirits who groan over the wrongs of humanity; three months ago, I would have said as you do, Don Rodriguez, that the mere love of our suffering brethren, love for a degraded and persecuted people, was urging us to this act of rebellion.
I have since learned to analyze the feelings of men more correctly, and
I have said to myself, that if God had created us to be the regenerators of Spain, he would have given us other means of action, and
would, perhaps, have let -us live a century later; or, at least, we
should have had the office of the apostolate, we should have been
humble and courageous combatants like Jean d'Avila, like John de





252


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Dieu, and like your learned disciple Egidius, noble souls, so inflamed
with the holy love of mankind, that they make a complete abstraction of themselves, and of all personal feeling in favour of the great
human family. The right of moving Spain to her very bowels, and
regeneraling her by the power of mind, belongs to them! As for
the regeneration of the sword, it is a wound upon a sore, and that is
all; if I enter into a conspiracy with you, gentlemen, to-day, it is not
because I expect to derive from it any advantage for my suffering
brethren in Spain; it is because I love, and I wish to save her whom
I love. There is egotism in that, I think," added he, with a bitter
smile.
" Estevan," said Don Ximrnes, "you are worth more than we are,
and at the proper time, you will be more devoted than ourselves."
" Whatever the motive of our revolt may be, it is sacred. Let us
go, then," said Valero, "and Estevan, do you manage the whole
affair; you are more eloquent than Cicero, and you have a frankness
which is irresistible."
" Whither must we go?" added the old gentleman, addressing the
alguazil.
" Follow me, gentlemen," said Coco, " and in order not to awaken
suspicion, join in the ball without ceremony, amuse yourselves, talk
to the pretty girls. Don Estevan, I advise you to ask the serena to
dance."
" Whom shall I get to dance with me?" asked Don Rodriguez.
" Your honour need not be concerned about that," said the alguazil, smiling, the Garduha is not at a loss for dancers; it has plenty
of every age and colour."
" Lead the way, then," said Estevan.
The dance was at that moment lively and animated. A merry
bolero, danced by Manofina and the serena, kept every one in suspense. Crowds of bravos watched every graceful attitude and every
nimble pirouette of the danseuse. The serena, her neck stretched
out, her eyes sparkling and moist, her little hands furnished with
castanets," bounded like an adder, balancing her nimble and arched
figure with wonderful grace. The guapo, excited by the music, by
the attractions of Culverina, and also by the acclamations of the assembly, displayed with inconceivable boldness the vigour and agility
of his limbs. With the form of a true child of Andalusia, the guapo
had muscles of steel, combined with that bold, savage, and emphatic
grace, which is the result of a wandering life, and boundless liberty.
At the last step of the bolero, a universal and prolonged hurrah
rose in the hall.
The three gentlemen entered just at that moment. Their arrival
made no change in the enthusiasm of the honourable society. In
Spain, titled men mingled of their own accord with the common
people, without the former supposing that there was any thing derogatory to their dignity, or the latter feeling themselves honoured by
such condescension.
Coco approached the master
" This is the young gentleman who is to pay," said he, pointing
to Don Estevan.
* Rattles.





EL BAILE DE CANDIL.


253


" The same whom Manofina was to have extinguished," observed
Mandamiento; " it seems that between this young gentleman and
the inquisitor of Seville there is a war unto death.  Well! well!"
he pursued, rubbing his hands, " where there are broken eggs, we
can make omelets. It is all right, Coco; let them stay until after the
feast, and then we will speak of business; just now, the Garduiia
needs some supper."
In fact, in the midst of the circle of dancers, an apprenticed se
rena and two or three chivatos, who were on kitchen duty for that
day, were beginning to serve up the repast.
Upon a large mat stretched over the ground, as a substitute for a
table and cloth, they had arranged their sumptuous midnight repast.
It consisted of several earthen dishes filled with gazpacho," an
enormous pile of hash, and four roasted kids. Plates and spoons
there were none. The gardunfos were utterly ignorant of the use of
these implements of luxury; they eat cordially from their porringers, and helped themselves with their ten fingers by way of forks.
The master then moved towards the conspirators.
" Gentlemen," said he, with courtesy, " will your lordships condescend to partake of the repast of my children?"
" Very cheerfully," was their reply.
Each one, taking possession of a mat, they sat down on the
ground like the others, without being afraid of spoiling their silk
clothes. Estevan had adroitly chosen a place near the serena.
The lover of the guapo, already well disposed in favour of this
noble cavalier, whose life she had saved, looked at him with a gentle
sadness, and tears came into her eyes, as she remembered that his
beautiful betrothed was in the dungeons of the inquisition, and that
the unhappy Estevan was forced to smile.
SWhilst the assembly were clearing the dishes with the appetites
of gardunos, Estevan, whilst pretending to eat some scraps of the
cabrito, said to Culverina, whom he wished to gain over to his interest:
" You will dance with me, will you not?"
"No, sir," replied she, with affectionate sadness, " I like to dance,
and I should be greatly honoured by dancing a fandango with your
lordship; but you shall not have this unprofitable task this evening.
The ball is over for to-day, and after supper, every one will go about
his business; besides, you would hardly feel disposed to dance."
"Kind Culverina!" replied Estevan.
" Be composed," said she, in a whisper, " we will dance in other
style, a week hence; for I shall have a share in it too; but now eat
" The gazpacho is a very common dish in Andalusia, not only among the
common people, but with persons in high life. It consists of some morsels of bread
soaked in water, and then sprinkled with red pepper, oil, vinegar and salt.
Then a little water is added. This is the common gazpacho. Persons in
better circumstances add sausage from Estremadura, and often slices of smoked
and salted beef cut into small pieces. The gazpacho is considered a very refreshing dish. The soldiers who garrison the different cities in the south of
Spain, receive a daily ration of it, from April 1st, until September 30th. The
gazpacho is said to be the best preservative against the fevers which often become epidemic in the four kingdoms of Andalusia, that is to say, in the four
provinces of Seville, Malaga, Cordova and Grenada.
Z





254


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


something," continued she, "and do not let us say any.thing more
about that-see, there are some serenas who are jealous because they
see you talking with me."
The supper vanished with marvellous rapidity. Don Rodriguez
eat like a gitano, and joked with the young girls. Don Ximenes
laughed his very best with a pretty serena, who would gladly have
exchanged her guapo for the handsome cavalier dressed in velvet.
No one suspected that this apparent gaiety concealed a conspiracy.
Immediately, however, when Mandamiento saw that the repast
was finished, he gave a signal; his face, which had just been smiling,
became commanding and severe. The gardurnos, men and women,
rose up as one man, and each one, according to the orders which he
had received from the master, before the commencement of the ball,
repaired to the post which had been indicated to him.
CHAPTER         XXXIX.
A CONSPIRACY.
No one was left in the palace of the Gardulia except the master,
the alguazil, Manofina, his companion, and the three gentlemen.Some of the torches were gradually going out, the spacious hall was
becoming darker, and the lateness of the hour of night imparted
still more solemnity to this mysterious meeting..It was two o'clock in the morning. The master then opened a
large trunk of oak, which stood in a corner of the hall, drew from
it a register of yellow and greasy parchment, a leaden cup full of
ink, and a strong eagle quill, coarsely cut: then he closed the chest,
which answered both for cupboard and table, and after arranging
upon the lid the various objects which he had taken from it, he went
towards the door to assure himself that it was well closed. The
holt of the lock had indeed not properly entered the staple, for, at
the moment when Mandamiento was about to push this heavy mass
of oak with his vigorous hand, in order to close it entirely, it opened
as of its own accord, and a new personage entered the palace of the
Gardufia. It was Jos6.
Having been apprized by Coco, he had repaired to this meeting.
At the sight of the young Dominican, Estevan uttered an exclaniation of rage, and turning to the alguazil, said to him in a sullen
voice:
" Wretch, you have betrayed me!"
The alguazil was not in the least disturbed, and replied with the
utmost composure:
"4 No, sir; I have not betrayed you."
There was such an expression of truth in the countenance of Coco,
that Estevan was staggered by it.
Mandamiento, meanwhile, ignorant of the motive of this nocturnal visit, received the Dominican with all the respect due to the favourite of the grand inquisitor.





A CONSPIRACY


255


" What does your reverence wish?" the master at length inquired,
somewhat alarmed.
"' To speak to these gentlemen," replied Jos6.
Mandamiento knit his brow.
"What does this monk want?" whispered Valero to Estevan.
"We will soon see," replied the young count; and he immediately
approached the young religious. Jose held out his hand in token of
friendship.
Estevan did not take it, but, looking the young Dominican in the
face, he said to him:
"It was not enough for you to betray me, you want to ruin me, is
it not so?"
" I have not betrayed you," replied Jose, in a mild and mournful
tone; "I came to console and help you."
"But Dolores?" continued Estevan, whose intense and cruel jealousy was aroused in the presence of him whom he suspected: " Dolores! what have you done with her?"
"Dolores shall be restored to you safe and sound," replied the
young Dominican.
"Yes, for I will deliver her myself," shouted Estevan, with impetuosity; "your perfidy will deceive me no longer, Don Jose, and
if I chose at this moment," added he bitterly, " if I chose!-See,
Don Jose, you have been imprudent-we are here five against one,
and these men are devoted to me."
"The proof that I am not afraid of you," replied Jose, "is, that I
have come, and that I have come alone. If I had betrayed you, why
would I go in quest of you? What need have I of you? Trust me,
Estevan, and do not mistake your true friends: their aid is necessary,
and they offer it to you in the sincerity of their soul."
" In sober truth!" cried out Rodriguez, all at once, " it is the young
monk who saved me the other day from the fury of his companions."
" Reverence!" added he, approaching Jose, " permit me to thank
you for the help which you afforded me, two days ago, at the tavern
of the Buena Ventura. I have entirely recovered my reason,"
said he, with a smile, " and I feel bound to prove it to you, my
father."
" Reason does not consist in saying sensible things," replied Jos6,
coolly, " but in saying them at the proper time and season; when we
sow on the rock, the fowls of heaven eat the grain, and it produces
nothing for him who has sown it. Your declamations will cause you
to be burned alive, believe me."
" They would not dare," replied Valero; "the inquisition believes
that I am a fool."
" The inquisition might, however, at last, perceive that you are a
dangerous fool, and it might treat you as it does wise men."
"Well," exclaimed Valero, " what do I care? Martyrdom is an
honour."
~For the second time since his acquaintance with Joas, Estevan
was vanquished by the real simplicity and the fascination which
breathed in all the features of the young religious. He extended
his hand to him in his turn, with a frank and friendly air; Jose tool




256


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


it, and pressed it affectionately, saying to him in his mild and en
chanting voice:
" Let us be friends, believe me-friends until death-I deserve it.
Jos6 will, perhaps, one day be very dear to you."
Estevan still hesitated-a cruel doubt beset him"Don Jose," he at length said, after a few moments of hesitation:
" One thing more, if you wish to convince me; restore Dolores and
her father to me, and I will believe you."
"Do you think," said Jos6, that the holy office restores its victims so easily?"
" No, but, Jos6, the favourite of the inquisitor does what he pleases
in the holy office."
"Jose can do a great deal," replied the favourite; but he cannot
restore a man to you, whose limbs have been broken and burned.'
" What do you say?" inquired Estevan, in haste.
SI say, that Manuel Argoso yesterday underwent the torture of
fire and that of water; I say that it is impossible that I should save
him, since he cannot walk."
" But Dolores! Dolores!" exclaimed the unhappy young man,
with inexpressible anguish.
SAs regards her, you may be at ease; Dolores has undergone no
torture, and I will deliver her. If after the auto da f6, you do not
find her in the house of Juana, do to me whatever you please, Don
Estevan. I am not a very formidable adversary; go," added he,
with that deep accent of sorrow which seemed to constitute the
basis of his character.
" Do you swear to restore Dolores to me?" demanded Estevan.
" Oaths have been invented for villains," replied Jos6. " I do not
swear, I promise it."
" Gentlemen!" exclaimed young Vargas, " to work, and let us
agree on our plan. The object is to deliver Don Manuel Argoso, or
to perish. Here is an assistant whom Heaven sends us," added he,
designating Jos6.
" A monk!" cried the sarcastic Valero; " of what use can he be in
a conspiracy?"
"I hear confessions every day," replied Jos6.
c" True! True!" said Valero, "I had forgotten that you fight in
the dark."*                                  1
< God brings good out of evil," replied Jos6.
" Are you a fool?" whispered Don Ximenes to Estevan; " do you
mean to deliver us over to this inquisitor?"
a God changes evil into good," repeated Estevan;   well! it has
pleased God to change this inquisitor into a kind and compassionate
creature who will aid us with all his power. Be composed, Don
* Of all the means which the clergy and monks of Spain employed against
the French during the war of independence, the most certain has always been
the confessional. This has always been for the priests and monks a perfidious
arm, a means of exciting the passions of the people. In our day, the confessionals are the most formidable obstacles in the progress of reason and science.
We can reply to a sermon, an essay, or a discourse, by another sermon, another
essay, or another discourse. But by what means shall we reply to the dark insinuations which are elaborated and diffused with such profusion in the five
hundred thousand confessionals scattered over Europe?





A CONSPIRACY.


257


XimenBs, and fear nothing. Let us see, master," he continued, turning towards Mandamiento, who awaited in a corner the result of this
conference, "are you ready to put all your forces at my disposal?"
" Sir, that depends on circumstances," replied the master; "our
forces can he more or less considerable, according to the exigency
of the commission, and the compensation offered to the brotherhood."
"There shall be no difficulty about salary, I will pay generously.5"
"Our brother Coco, has spoken, I believe, of two hundred thousand reals," said Mandamiento.
" Is not that enough, master? and can you not for this sum bring
three or four hundred persons into the field?"
"Where shall we find them?" observed Don Ximenes, in a whisper.
" He could find twenty thousand in case of necessity," said Jose.
"Well! master, can that be done?" resumed Estevan.
The master reflected a few moments; then he replied:
SIt can be done, sir cavalier; but twenty thousand reals must be
added for travelling expenses, for I shall be obliged to send for some
brothers from neighbouring cities."*
"I will give the twenty thousand reals myself!" exclaimed Don
Ximenes de Herrera.
" In this case, will your lordships give me this promise in writing?
I am about to inscribe the commission on the register of the brotherhood."
" There is no difficulty about that," said Estevan.
The master then took from his register, a sheet of vellum, and
offering the pen to Don Estevan:
"Write, sir," said he.
Estevan wrote:
" I, Estevan, Count of Vargas, engage upon my honour, and promise to pay to Mandamiento, master of the brotherhood of the Gardufna, the sum of 200,000 reals, on the morning of the royal auto da
f6, which is to take place on June 4 of the present year.
" Given at Seville, May 27, A. D. 1534.
"Estevan, Count de Vargas."
Underneath, Don Ximenes wrote:
"I bind and engage myself in honour to pay the said sum to Senor
Mandamiento, in default of Don Estevan de Vargas, on the morning of the day above indicated.
" Ximenes de Herrera."
" We do not know what may happen," said he to Estevan, "permit me to be your surety."
* It has already been intimated that the Gardufia had a chief whom all the
provincial chiefs obeyed. The provincial chiefs were equally obeyed by the district chiefs. The Gardufia was organized better than any other administration
of that period, and so well organized, that when it was destroyed in 1822, it
was forthwith re-established in South America, where it exists at this moment.
In Brazil, in Columbia, in the Argentine republic, in Peru, at Havana and
Mexico, the assassination of a man may be procured for a few dollars. Only,
the heroes of the Gardunia over the sea, are mulattos and free negroes, instead
of being gitanos or Moors.
Z2                     33





,Q58


5  Ti iMST.IUES O 1T'T I QiJa MISITION,


" That will do, gentlemen. Now, let me take note of your commission," continued the master.
He then wrote upon his register:
SCommission given to the brotherhood of the Gardufa, by Seior
Don Estevan de Vargas, May 27, 1534:
" 1. To place at the disposal of the said gentleman, four hundred
persons of the Gardufia, postulants, chivatos, and guapos, as also, coberteras, and serenas, who all in their kind, are equally useful to the
brotherhood, and concur in promoting its prosperity.
"2. To arrange them in such a way, on the day of the approaching auto da f6, as to extinguish the grand inquisitor---
SStrike that out; I did not say so;" interrupted Estevan: " you
will merely carry him off: no murder, senor Mandamiento."
"No, indeed!" said Jose, in his turn;  you will carry him off, do
you hear, and you will conduct him to the dens dug under your
haunt. Take care not to kill him at any rate," added he, with animation.
SStrike out that word extinguish; out with it!" said Estevan.
The master pretended to cancel the obnoxious word with the end
of his pen in which there was no ink; he had taken care to wipe it
on his coat, without being perceived. He resumed:
6To arrange them   in such a way as to be able to carry off the
grand inquisitor, and deliver his lordship, the old governor of Seville, unjustly condemned by the inquisitor; and after having delivered him, to conduct the governor to the Gardunia, in order to intrust him to the hands of Don Estevan de Vargas --
" Or to mine," interrupted Jose.
" It is for your lordship to command," said the master.
" Yes, yes," said Estevan, " write: or into the hands of his lordship, Don Jose, almoner of his eminence, the grand inquisitor."
"Is that all?" continued Mandamiento.
"That will do, I believe," said Don Rodriguez:  it is well understood, Senfor Mandamiento, that nothing will be neglected by you
for the success of this enterprise.5"
" Cavalier," replied the capataz, in a self-sufficient tone, do you
regard as nothing our honour and reputation, which would be compromised by a failure of that kind!"
" Add," said Jose,
" To retain the grand inquisitor in the caverns of the Gardufia,
until Don Jose permits Mandamiento to set him at liberty."
"Useless," replied the master: " when I have done my duty as
regards the inquisitor, your lordship may dispose of him as you
please."
" I take charge of him," said Manofina, who, out of respect for the
noble assembly, had remained silent with his companion.
6 I will give you instructions respecting it," said Mandamiento,
with a significant look.
" Well! well! master, your instructions shall be followed."
SNow, gentlemen," said Valero, "leave the rest to us."
"So far," said Jose, in his turn, as to maintain absolute silence
and discretion."





A CONSPIRACY.


259


SOn the day of the auto da f6," added Don Ximenss, "let us be
at the avenues of the square, with our friends."
"My gardunfos have nothing to do with you," said Mandamiento;
" do as I tell you, gentlemen; do not interfere with it. Our business
is to carry off the governor, is it not? I undertake to do it; my
guapos and myself will manage that affair."
" However," said Estevan, " if there should be a collision, it may
still be right that we should help you, in case of necessity."
" It is of no use, gentlemen, only prepare the people, not in order
that they may help us, but that they may suffer us to act; that will
be sufficient."
" A general revolt would have saved all the victims," observed
Valero.
" Alas! this garduno is perhaps right," said young Vargas, with a
sigh; perhaps we ought to let him act."
SYes, he is right," said Jose; " an open revolt would tend, at this
moment, to no other purpose, than to redouble the cruelties of the inquisition, and increase the number of victims. You may rest assured, precautions are taken for defence, in case of necessity; numerous troops are ready, and this is not the time to plunge the poor
people who, after all, are sure to be the sufferers, into an insurrection. The object is to save the governor: let us employ stratagem,
and not force; this is not the time. Do you forget, that the emperor Charles V. is to be present at the auto da f6, and that a large
body of soldiery will accompany him?"
" Don Jose is right," added Don Ximenes de Herrera; "a revolt on
that day would look like a conspiracy against the king, and it is the
inquisition alone, that we wish to attack."
" Well, gentlemen, what shall be our decision?" inquired Valero.
At this instant, a loud knock was made at the door of the hall.
Every one started.
Mandamiento, without being disconcerted, pushed a moveable column, which in turning, discovered an opening leading to another
room, which was dimly lighted: this was the master's cabinet.
" All of you go in ther," said he. They obeyed. Mandamiento
replaced the column, and ran towards the door-he opened it.
The Chapa was there. She rushed into the hall, bathed in tears.
"What is the matter, my little Chapa?" said the master: " is your
house on fire?5"
"Where is my brother?" inquired she, trembling.
Mandamiento reopened the hiding place.
" Do not be alarmed, gentlemen," said he, " there is no danger, you
may come out."
They all returned into the hall.
"Oh! gentlemen!" exclaimed the Chapa, "if you knew what a
misfortune has happened!"
The gitana, choked by her tears, was unable to proceed.
SWhat is the matter?" they all asked at once.
SThe apostle! Gentlemen, the father of Seville. "
SWell! finish -"
"Arrested! Arrested by the inquisition!" she continued, in a
voice broken with sobs.





260


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" Oh! avenging God!" exclaimed Estevan.
"They arrested him as he was going away after preaching," resumed the sister of Coco, "under the pretext that he had preached
heresies."
" Now! Don Estevan," said Valero, " take good care of this
sweet Pierre Arbues! Respect the feelings of the king, who permits such iniquities."
" Don Rodriguez, our turn will come," replied Estevan; "a man's
strength consists in knowing how to wait."
"Master," said he to Mandamiento, "you will act alone with
your gardufios; you are to carry off the inquisitor and Don Manuel
Argoso. We, gentlemen," added he, " will make it our duty to prepare the people; it will be easy to gain them in a cause like this,
which is their own."
" Do not fail to make sure of the person of Pierre Arbues," added
Jos6.
" Your reverence may be satisfied on that score," replied Mandamiento. "His eminence will not escape."
Matters being thus arranged, the three gentlemen and Jos6 went
out together from the palace of the Gardula.
CHAPTER XL.
THE SERMON AT THE CORNER OF THE STREETS.
IT was the fourth day of June, in the year 1534. Five o'clock
in the morning had just struck. The population of Seville was
awake at an earlier hour than usual. A great event kept all minds
in suspense.
It was the day of the auto da f6. A solemn and sacred festival,
on which no one was permitted to work, but all were required to
pray.
At this hour, a band of gentlemen having at their head Don Rodriguez de Valero, passed through the streets of Seville, conversing
with one another in a mysterious way, and occasionally stopping the
common people whom they met. They spoke to them for a few
minutes, then the manolas withdrew pensive and thoughtful, as if
something important and serious had been intrusted to them.
The countenances of the cavaliers were gloomy and thoughtful;
they walked two by two, sometimes standing in a circle, in order to
coinmunicate an idea; then they resumed their walk, and continued
their conversation with the populace, the sole object of this early excursion.
Something mysteriously terrible, like those sullen convulsions ot
nature which precede the storm, agitated the people of Seville.
This ill-omened day was big with rumours of revolt.
Profoundly exasperated by the insinuations of Valero, Estevan
and their friends, seduced even at the holy tribunal by the insidious
eloquence of Jose who, for his part, had manceuvred in the dark, as
Valero had said, the people of Seville, nearly all composed of Marranos,





THE SERMON AT THE CORNER OF THE STREETS.


261


Moors, or Jews, apparently converted, were waiting with restrained
anger for the day of the royal auto da f6. Weary of the odious persecutions which weighed upon them, weary of the forbearance which
had served only to augment the boldness and cruelty of their oppressors, they were in that state of exasperation, when the slightest
spark is sufficient to inflame, and to urge them, terrible and furious
as the flame of the conflagration, against the obstacles which irritate it.
Such had been the result obtained by the adroit Valero. At this
moment, the prediction which he had uttered a few days before,
as he went out of the tavern, might have been realized:  This people will now do whatever I wish."
Valero had been assisted in his intrigues by the young noblemen
who were then accompanying him, ardent and impassioned men,
captivated by that great and sublime thing which is called libertya daughter of heaven, so often misapprehended, that men most frequently adore in her stead a hollow and painted idol, the imperfect
work of their own hands. These noble Spanish hearts did not worship an empty word or a fallacious image: it was liberty-heavenborn liberty itself, that was the object of their aspirations and their
desires, the liberty which protects and tolerates-that sublime virgin,
the sister of Christian charity, which like her, covers the poor and
the humble in the folds of her white robe, feeds them, consoles them,
and breathes her heavenly breath upon the wings of dejected and
discouraged genius, saying to her, " Go on, go on! I am here to open
thy path and to sustain thee."  Heavenly virgin, beloved by the
noble hearts of all ages! She animated the proud chivalry of Spain,
who for so long a period struggled against the inquisitorial tiger;
sublime figures, types of nobility, courage and strength, immortalized
by the pencil of Murillo and Velasquez'
"Courage, my friends, courage," said Valero, " we are drawing towards the end; this day, let Don Estevan say what he will, we will
not fail to promote the welfare of Spain."
"Ah!" replied Estevan, a if I only could infuse into the hearts of
these people the conviction which animates me, and make them in
a single day what I hope they will be in the course of some centuries, happy and free! One single thing distresses me. These kind,
artless, and confiding people, to whom we say to-day, you will protect those who are going to save your old Governor, suppose, that
by this single fact, they are making a great stride towards liberty,
whilst they are only promoting an interest that is altogether per" If you redouble the hatred of the people for theii oppressors,"
said Don Ximenes, '" you are already doing them a service; you are
preparing them for that great and general revolt against an unjust
and merciless power, which sooner or later will take place. In the
great suit of a people against their oppressors, every private cause is
bound to the common interest."
Whilst conversing in this manner, they found themselves stopped
in the street by a group of mendicant monks half drunk.
These monks were coming out of a tavern, where they had passed
the night. Several among them were young, and their swarthy and





862


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


bloated faces bore the impress of lazy gluttony and the absence of
care respecting worldly subsistence.
What need had they to trouble themselves? Every body was
working for them.
The faces of these monks were brown; their nervous neck and
their somewhat awkward gait, betrayed the vigour and liberty of the
tribes of the desert, from whom the Andalusians and Valencians are
descended. This type has been preserved even to our day; put a
turban on a Spanish monk and you will have a Bedouin.
Their clothes were dirty; their hands were dirty, and every part
of their person that was visible, indicated the utter absence of all external care. The expression of their eyes, at once audacious and
equivocal, outraged modesty and inspired fear. Their black or gray
beard looked like a bush; besides, it was all over sprinkled with
grains of hellebore, a fine and reddish powder, used in those days
like tobacco, which was not known until later under Catherine de
Medicis. This hellebore powder is still called Spanish tobacco.
The Spanish monks consumed an enormous quantity of it. Still
they knew how to make the outside of the cup and platter clean,
in case of necessity, and to throw a thick and wide mantle of hypocrisy over the turpitude of their soul.
Although somewhat intoxicated, as the fresh air came upon their
faces, they entirely recovered the use of reason, and maintained a
befitting deportment. There were a great many people in the
streets.
SMy brethren," said the oldest of the monks, "this is the great
day of the auto da f6; we cannot choose a more auspicious time to
propagate the holy catholic faith. Let us stop here, I will exhort
the people."
With these words, the monk pointed to a broad flat curb-stone
fixed against a house, and surmounted by a niche, in which the devotional generosity of the inmates of the dwelling, had placed a
statue of the virgin, before which a light was constantly burning.
The monk mounted the curb-stone, made a great sign of the cross,
and prayed for a few moments before the image; then turning towards the crowd who were grouped around him, he blessed them,
and prepared to commence his sermon with full scope. At this instant Valero interrupted him.
SMonk," said he, "you had better wait till after you have slept
before you preach, instead of coming here after a night of debauch
and profaning the word of God. Do you not know that every thing
that passes througn impure lips becomes impure?'
The monk looked with inexpressible rage at the man who dared
accost him in this manner.
" Pay no attention to him, reverend sir," said one of the other
monks, "it is crazy Valero; he has the privilege of insulting every
body. What are you doing here at this hour?" continued he,
addressing the old gentleman.
" I have come to see how the scribes and pharisees sit in the chair
of Moses!" replied Valero, with severity.
"Miserable fool, will you be still?" exclaimed the monks.
Valero continued in a prophetic tone, looking at the people, who





THIE SERMON AT THE CORNER OP THE STREETS.


263


were astonished at his boldness: '"All things that they tell you to
observe, observe and do; but do not their works, for they say and
do them not."
"Will you be quiet?" repeated the preacher.
"Let him alone," said the people, "let him speak."
Valero continued without being disconcerted.
" They bind together burdens which cannot be borne, and put
them on men's shoulders, but they will not move them with their
finger!"
"My brethren," began the preacher, " on this day of glorification
for our Lord, on which the triumphant church will gain a victory
over the heresies which desolate the earth  _"
" Ye serpents! Generation of vipers!" interrupted Valero; "ye
kill just men and prophets, and the blood of just men and of prophets
will fall upon your heads!"'
These energetic words, borrowed from the gospel, found a hearty
response from the people. There were few persons in the crowd
who had not a fresh wound in their hearts, which these words
probed to the quick.    A sullen murmur was heard grumbling
around the monks, and if they were not hooted away, it was because
deep heartfelt sadness was mingled with the contempt and rage of
the people; they felt the need of vengeance, but it must be a mighty
revenge, as is sometimes inflicted when the measure has been filled.
1 "Rodriguez de Valero forgets the pranks of former years," said
the preacher, sarcastically.
"Rodriguez has repented, and God has pardoned him," replied the
old gentleman; " but you have an evil conscience, and yet you persist in evil. Beware! the wrath of God sometimes delays, but it is
sure; and you will all go where there is weeping and gnashing of
teeth."'
"6 Wine and women never make heretics,"" said the monks in bad
Latin, " hell is for heretics."
"Begone!" cried Valero, "infidel depositaries of the law of Christ,
you whose hearts are full of rapine and intemperance; go, shear
the sheep, which the good Shepherd bore upon his shoulders that
you may enrich yourselves with their spoils. Vampires, begone!
Go, suck in the dark the blood of those, who are steeped in slumber."
"The fool is the most sensible man of us all," said some of the
lower class of the people.
I" These monks are drunk," rejoined some others; "let us go away
from them."9
The groups of men and women who had formed around the
preacher suddenly scattered and dispersed in the streets.
The monks seeing themselves deprived of hearers withdrew, muttering between their teeth, and casting looks of hatred at him whom
they called the fool.
The bell of the cathedral tolled eight o'clock.
A great tumult was made by the crowd which encumbered the
* This was one of the maxims of the monks during the disputes between ca.
tholicism and protestantism.-(Meiner, History of the Reformation.)





264.


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


streets, the people were rushing towards the palace of the inquisition.
A great number of men might be seen, who always kept in sight
of one another, although they made no parade, but merely exchanged
looks of intelligence. Some few, as they met, pronounced in a low
voice the words:
" God and liberty."
All these persons were in the conspiracy. They glided through
the others, using their elbows in order to make their way; and when
they arrived before the palace of the inquisition, they had managed
to get before the eager crowd who were anxious to behold the mournful tragedies, so often renewed, with which they were feasted as with
a show.
The procession at this instant came out of the inquisitorial palace.
The coal-heavers headed the ranks.    They were one hundred in
number; each of them was armed with a pike and a musket."
After them came a large white cross, the banner of the children
of St. Dominique de Gusman, carried by a religious of the order;
then the Dominicans themselves, clothed in their long tunics and
their piebald mantle.  On their breast, in the middle of the black
scapular which fell down to their feet, glittered a large white cross,t
a long rosary hung from their waist.
This sacred soldiery was innumerable; the Dominicans swarmed
in Spain.
Next came the Duke de Medina Coeli, according to the privilege
granted to his family: he bore thestandard of the faith.  It was a
banner of purple damask, upon one side of which the arms of Spain
had been embroidered, on the other, a naked sword surrounded by a
crown of laurel, with the inscription: Justicia el misericordia.t
* The coal-heavers of the cities in which there was an inquisitorial tribunal
had the privilege of forming part of the retinue which constituted the procession in the auto da f6; but this privilege imposed a duty upon them, or rather, it
was merely a genuine inquisitorial mode of paying the dealers in wood which
the holy office required to burn heretics; the coal-heavers of all the cities in
which the inquisition had piled up their fagots, were expected to furnish gratis,
all the wood necessary for the auto da fe. It will be seen that the holy inquisition understood its interests.
f The costume of the Dominicans, which many persons have confounded
with that of the Carmelites and Trinitarians, was the same as that of the above
named orders, i. e., a white tunic, a black scapular and mantle, a round black
cowl, turned up with white. The Dominicans were, however, distinguished
by the cross which several of these orders wear on their scapulars. This cross
is of white and red cloth, in the' rinitarians, that is, the trunk red and the arms
white, in the mercenaries, and white in the Dominicans: the Carmelites do
not wear any cross.
t The inquisition was not content with debasing the people, reducing them
to beggary and making a troop of slaves of them; this was not enough, it did
every thing to render them infamous. In order to succeed in this, the inquisition began by speaking and acting in the name of God, then it required every
citizen to become a spy; those who declined this ignoble office were liable to
be burned. The next step was to ennoble the trade of an informer. It procured indulgences from the pope for all who had virtue enough to denounce the
enemies of the faith, and a plenary indulgence and assurance of heaven to every
one who was good Christian enough to accuse a relative, a son, a brother, and
even a father or mother. In addition to these, it demanded special privileges





THE SERMON AT THE CORNER OF THE STREETS.


265


After the noble duke came the grandees of Spain and the avowedk
familiars of the holy office.  These were in great number.   Unjust
power always has numerous creatures: terror and personal interest
are mighty motives! and egotism is the leprosy of humanity.
The crowd watched the procession in silence, as it defiled before
them. The monks and familiars walked humbly, with their heads
downcast, mumbling with their lips the sublime prayers of the church
of Christ, rendered common and inexpressive by passing through the
impure mouth of these men of icy heart. They knew the formulary
of devotion by rote, but the practice of true piety, alas! they knew
nothing of that!  It was a sealed letter to them, and they gave themselves no concern about it.
Despite of themselves, the people remained mute and terrified in
presence of this pomp of death. Soon the condemned made their appearance; they were fifty in number.
They marched promiscuously, men and women, old men and
children, without distinction of rank or sex.
The victims condemned to slight penances were placed first; these
were clothed in a woollen san benito, with a large cross of St. Andrew in yellow cloth, upon their breast. Their head was uncovered,
and their naked feet were mangled by the roughness of the road.
The position of these poor creatures was sad and humiliating;
they felt that, although they had escaped death, the inquisition, by
marking them with its finger, had doomed them to eternal infamy;
not daring to destroy their material life, they annihilated their moral
existence; and these were called slight penances.t
Behind the first victims, came such as were condemned to the
galleys, to the lash and to imprisonment.
from the kings for its familiars. Thus Charles V. exempted from all imposts and
taxes every one who had denounced ten heretics, Moors, apostates, or.Judaizers,
or who enrolled himself in the militia of the holy office, and became a familiar.
The nobleman who was not a familiar was suspected of heresy. So far did the
inquisition carry its audacity, that it demanded and obtained for the house of
Medina Coeli, from pope Adrian, ex-inquisitor general of Spain, the honourable
title of standard bearer of the faith, and the privilege of bearing this gloomy
standard in solemn auto da fts, that is, such at which the king was present.
The family of Medina. Cceli is still the nearest to the throne: in default of
royal issue, the crown reverts to the oldest son of Medina Cceli.
* The avowed familiars corresponded to the serjeants of the police; those
not avowed, were like the spies of the secret police. The sbires were a kind of
constables; they seldom denounced any one, but arrested without mercy those
who were designated by the inquisition. The sbires were the most respectable
portion of the whole inquisitorial train.
- The reader already knows, that every person who was condemned to wear a
san benito, remained eternally disqualified for every civil employment, and
public function, and that this disqualification extended to all his posterity!
+ Those whom the inquisition punished slightly, and condemned to wear the
san benito, were conducted, after the auto da f6, to a house or convent, where
they were nominally instructed, in order that their faith might be strengthened,
and at the expiration of some months they were set at liberty, after having
been compelled to swear on the gospel never to reveal, either by writing, word,
or figures, what they had seen in the interior of the holy office. Not so with
those who were condemned to the lash or to the galleys. The former often
remained in the prisons of the inquisition and died there; the latter were generally shut up in garrisons or penitentiaries, where the san benito which they
2 A                    34





266


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


After these followed such as were condemned to the flames, who,
thanks to a tardy confession, had obtained the favour of strangulation.
They wore a san benito, which was painted with devils and flames
in a reversed position.  Their head was covered with a coroza,
three feet high.
Those who were to be burned alive walked last of all. Their
san benito was also covered with diabolical figures, but with the
flames ascending. They likewise wore the coroza. Every one who
was condemned, without exception, carried in his hand a taper of
yellow wax.
Those who were doomed to death were escorted by two familiars
and two monks. They were generally lean, pale and livid; some
of them could not walk without the assistance of the monks and
the familiars, who carried, rather than supported them. It was a procession of men in agony walking as the van of death. Among the
latter, poor Manuel Argoso came last of all.
With all his limbs broken, enfeebled by his moral sufferings, by
the diet of the prison, and by the torture of water, in consequence
of which several blood vessels had broken in his breast and provoked
vomiting of blood, Manuel Argoso could not walk; his feet, which
had been burned to the nerves, were unable to support him. He
was carried by two familiars. Two Dominican monks who likewise
helped him forward, exhorted him in a gentle voice to repent; but
the unhappy Count de Cevallos seemed scarcely conscious of existence.
His ashy and livid face already wore the colour of the tomb, and
his dull, fixed and inexpressive eyes had that oblique direction which
the visual organs of the dying assume at the moment when, ready to
leave the earth, they perhaps are turning their gaze towards another
country. Who can sound the mysteries of agony and death, of that last
struggle between the terrestrial form and the immaterial man? At
the sight of their old governor, that just, gentle and charitable man,
whom they had loved like a father, the common people, who are of
a warm and sensitive nature, like every thing that is primitive, were
affected and moved even to tears; but they did not dare to manifest
their compassion. Some bowed their heads upon their clasped hands,
assuming the attitude of prayer to conceal involuntary tears. At
the moment when those who were condemned to the flames left the
prison, the gardufios, mingling themselves with the crowd, furnished
with a rosary of very edifying length, with Mandamiento at their
head, ranged themselves in procession on both sides of the victims,
and followed the cortege very devoutly, praying most fervently.
Two powerful and robust guapos maintained a position near the
governor; some chivatos walked before and behind them, praying
and manifesting all the external signs of the most profound piety.
A great number of gardunios had mixed among the lower order
of the people; the latter, prepared by Estevan and his friends, lent
wore, rendered them objects of the contempt of their companions in misfortune; for not an assassin, not a forger, not one of the wretches who had deserved the halter, but who, thanks to the venality of a secretary, had been sent
to the galleys, was willing to associate or be yoked with one who wore the san
benito.





THE SERMON AT THE CORNER OF THE STREETS.


267


their favour, as they had been requested, to this mysterious plot;
they separated, of their own accord, without saying any thing, affording full liberty to every gardunio to go or come, as occasion required,
according to the position which he wished to occupy: it was all done
as by tacit agreement.
In proportion as the procession extended, new gardufios insinuated
themselves on both sides, and devoutly joined the ranks.
At length, the last victims appeared; those who, after all, defied
torture and the flames-the dead!*
Even these had not been permitted to enjoy the quiet of the
tomb. Not being able to burn their flesh, they burned their bones
and effigy.  They were enclosed in boxes: and pasteboard statues,
the images of those who were no more, were carried to the place of
punishment, to be delivered to the stake. The inquisition had gone
to seek its victims in paradise or in hell, that its holy vengeance
might be glutted.
During the whole period that the passage of the martyrs
lasted, a profound and religious silence had been maintained by the
crowd; they followed with an eager eye, deeply affected, with slow
and measured step. It was a sight both mournful and horrid, to see
these impious or fanatical monks, crucifix in hand, and words of
peace upon their lips, exhorting the victims of their barbarity, in the
name of Him, who on the cross, forgave his murderers.
Oh! how those odious days of religious fanaticism and oppression
accomplished the prophetic words of the God-man:--" I am not
come to send peace on the earth, but a sword."
The divine Reformer knew all that his disciples in every age
would have to endure from the scribes and pharisees, that impure
race, which perpetuates its existence by affiliation, and not by creation, and feeds, like the worms of the sepulchre, on dead bodies.
Soon a great trampling of horses announced the presence of the
inquisitors. The members of the supreme council, the ordinary inquisitors, and the members of the clergy forming an immense cavalcade, followed the martyrs.
The grand inquisitor closed the procession, escorted by his body
guards. Jose was a few paces in advance of him.
As the cavalcade defiled, some gardufios ranged themselves on the
two sides, constantly mumbling and praying whilst they leisurely
counted the beads of their rosary.
At the instant when the grand inquisitor passed, Manofina, followed by his faithful Culverina, began humbly to walk at his side,
praying with even more fervour than the rest.
Some moments afterwards, a prolonged barking was heard; this
was to inform Mandamiento that the procession had entirely gone
out. Then the master, who was in a position in which the gardunos
could see him, made a great sign of the cross, and kissed the medal
of his rosary.
Scarcely had he given this signal, which had been agreed upon
the previous evening, in an order of the day, when the two guapos
* The inquisition caused the bones of those to be burned who had died in the
dungeons.





268


THE MYSTERIES OF THIE INQUISITIONo


who kept near the governor, violently pushed aside the familiars
who carried him, and grasped Manuel Argoso in their iron arms,
whilst the chivatos held back the familiars, and fled with the rapidity
of lightning. The crowd cleared the way to favour their flight; and
the gardunios vanished as by enchantment in the tortuous streets of
Seville.
The monks who escorted the governor, as well as those who had
witnessed the bold stroke, terrified, and fearing a revolt, threw away
the crucifix, and attempted, in their turn,* to make their escape; but
the crowd had closed around them; it was impossible for them to
get out. The gardufios had prudently absconded one after another;
the rest of the band had continued to pray whilst following the procession. The grand inquisitor was too far off' to observe any part of
this occurrence.
Another barking was heard a few steps distant from Manofina.The guapo, with the quickness of a jackal, instantly leaped upon the
croup of the horse on which the grand inquisitor was riding, struck
Pierre Arbues with his poniard in the middle of the back, descended
with such agility, and fled with such great rapidity, that it was impossible to see who had given the blow.The crowd had also separated in that direction to favour the flight
of the guapo; but at the moment when Manofina had glided from
the horse's back, the serena violently seizing by the arm a sbire of
the holy office, began to cry out: " This is the man, this is the assassin! He has attempted to kill my lord, the grand inquisitor!" and
she held him with all the force of her slender but nervous hands, to
give Manofina time to escape.
This incident had been so rapid, that even those who walked immediately before the inquisitor, had scarcely observed it. Jose alone,
attentive to every thing that was passing, frowned with dissatisfaction at the moment when Manofina stabbed the inquisitor.
Pierre Arbues, struck by a blow, which apparently must be mortal, had not even reeled under it.
The inquisitors and clergy had turned around only when they
heard the cries of the serena; they then crowded eagerly around
Pierre Arbues; but he,, haughty and composed, looking at them with
a smile of triumph, said to those who questioned him:
"There is no harm done! A wretch has attempted to kill me;
but God protects me," added he, with a hypocritical air: "c the poniard has only pierced my tunic."
He then showed a slight rent in his purple robe, which was the
only evidence of Manofina's attempt. A gleam of joy sparkled in
the eyes of Jose, as he saw it.
"God has performed a miracle in favour of his eminence!"
shouted some monks.
The people, meanwhile, artless and credulous, began to venerate
the man, whom they but lately cursed in their very soul, for they
* The Spanish monks, forming the procession of the Fete-Dieu, in 1821,
threw down cross and banners, and began to run, on hearing the cry of " Run
for life, a mad bull!" pronounced by some wags.
t This manoeuvre of the guapo is the same as that employed by the Andalu-ians to kill the French cuirassiers during the war of independence.





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THE AUTO DA iE,


269


believed a divine interposition had taken place in favour of their
murderer.  They did not know that Pierre Arbues wore a cuirass
under his clothes.*
Meanwhile the shires had arrested the man of their company
whom Culverina had designated as the assassin, and the companion
of Manofina then mixed with the crowd of other women, who were
praying, whilst following the cavalcade. No one thought of denouncing her, although it was believed that she was not altogether a
stranger to the attempt to assassinate the grand inquisitor of Seville;
besides, the action of Manofina had been so rapid, that no one would
scarcely have credited the evidence of his own eyes, and several
said to one another: "The man whom this woman 'accuses, is perhaps guilty."
All this passed with great rapidity; the order of the procession
was not disturbed by it; only, a familiar was despatched to his eminence, the grand inquisitor, in order to inform him that the governor
had been carried off.
Pierre Arbues frowned at the intelligence, but that was all.
"It is well," said he, coolly, " nothing must arrest or disturb this
august ceremony. Let us go on, it will not do to detain his majesty.
After the auto da f., we will seek out and prosecute the guilty."
The procession resumed its march, which had been interrupted for
a moment.
In the interval, a Dominican monk had left the palace of the inquisition in the ranks; but, instead of following the procession, he
glided into the crowd, and gained the street where Juana lived.
Having arrived before the door of the Moorish house, he opened it
with a key which he held in his hand, entered and closed the door
after him.
This monk was Dolores. Jose had kept his promise.
CHAPTER         XLI.
THE AUTO DA FE.
WHILST the procession was going out of the palace of the holy
office, the Great Square, in which the auto da f6 was to take place,
was gradually filled with people.
On the broadest front of the square, before the palace, or rather
the house occupied by the king and his suite, belonging to the Duke
de Medina Cceli, a scaffold had been prepared fifty feet long, and
raised to the height of the royal balcony.
On the right of this scaffold, an amphitheatre was raised, surrounding its entire breadth, designed for the members of the supren-im
* Pierre Arbues is a perfectly historical personage, of whom we shall speak
more at length, at the proper season; his cruelties occasioned frequent revolts
against 'him. Afraid of being assassinated, he actually wore "a coat of mail
under his tunic, and a kind of iron helmet under his cap."-(History of the In.
quisition; iii. part, ch. xii.)
2A2,





270


THE IMYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


and other councils of Spain. Above the steps, the arm-chair intended
for the grand inquisitor had been placed.
This arm-chair was much higher than the royal balcony. The
inquisitor represented the papal authority, which is above all the
powers of earth.
A second amphitheatre designed for the condemned, rose on the
left, in front of the first.
In the middle, opposite the royal balcony, there was a third,
which was very small; upon it two cages had been placed, in which
every one of the condemned was shut up separately, whilst his sentence was read to him.
Opposite these cages, might be seen two pulpits. At the foot of
the first amphitheatre stood an altar.  Near the altar, a green cross,
surrounded with black crape, had been planted.Balconies, intended for the ambassadors, the nobles of the crown,
and scaffolds for the people, surrounded the rest of the square.
Crowds of Dominicans, kneeling on the theatre, were praying with
humble fervour; others were saying masses, relieving one another in
such a way, that the holy sacrifice was celebrated without interruption. These monks had been there since the preceding evening,
fasting and praying for the redemption of their victims.
By what epithet shall we designate the fanaticism of those who
were sincere, although their number was very small?
In the middle of the square, upon a broad and permanent stone
scaffold, fifteen funeral piles might be counted, formed of pine wood,
of oily materials, and straw, in order that the combustion might be
more rapid.
Each one of the condemned had his own: it was the fiery bed on
* On the evening preceding the auto da f6, a procession composed of colliers,
Dominicans and familiars, set out from the church of the inquisition, and repaired to the square in which the ceremony was to be performed on the following day: having arrived there, they approached an altar erected for the
monks to say masses in behalf of the souls of those who were about to be delivered to the flames; and they planted on the left of this altar a green cross
surrounded with black crape. "This cross was a sign which indicated to
those who passed by the mourning of the church for the loss of the souls of the
obstinate heretics who were to be burned." After the cross had been planted,
the procession returned, with the exception of the Dominicans, who passed the
night in the square, singing psalms and saying masses.
t Some historians pretend, and M. Edgar Quinet is of this number, that the
inquisitors were more fanatical than wicked. This opinion is a eulogy of the
hearts of those on whom it is passed: but, for my part, I, who have been born
in Spain, and who have been in circumstances to appreciate both monks and inquisitors at their true worth, besides having been brought up in the history, of
my country and having rummaged old records, which no one reads any more, am
persuaded that the pity which the inquisitors affected for their victims, and the
anxiety which they seemed to feel for the salvation of those whom they sacrificed to the ambition of kings and the insatiable avarice of Rome, were nothing
but a more iniquitous and cruel calculation than even the cruelties themselves.
By acting in this way, the inquisitors blinded the people, and kept them from
pitying the poor creatures whom they sacrificed by thousands. The Spanish
inquisitors and monks were infamous and cruel hypocrites, and not fanatics.
Fanatics are generally men of pure morals, but, tell me, if there ever has existed in the world, creatures more debauched, filthy and corrupt than the Spanish
inquisitors and monks, and the Roman clergy!





THE AUTO DA FE.


271


which his terrible agony was to terminate.. At the four corners of
this scaffold, four large statues of plaster were fixed like immovable
sentinels. Around each of these statues, four heaps of very inflammable wood had been raised. This apparatus of destruction was
horrible. The place at which the funeral piles arose, was called the
Quemadero.
The emperor, Charles V., already occupied the royal balcony.
The costume of the king was simple and chaste; it differed in no
respect from that of the lords of his court. However, he might
easily be recognised by the tawny colour of his beard, a remarkable
peculiarity which distinguished the catholic king of Spain, the son
of the house of Austria, and which they held in common with the
last sovereign of Grenada, Boabdil, king of the Alhambra, who shed
such bitter tears, when, despoiled of his kingdom, and exiled from
Grenada, he paused to cast a last look upon his beloved city.`"
Charles V. also loved Grenada; the magnificent palace, commenced
by the conqueror of Fez, may still be seen near the Alhambra.
A great number of ladies richly ornamented, occupied the royal
balcony.
The scaffolds designed for the people were soon filled up. After the
governor had been carried off, the crowd, which no longer had any
interest of curiosity to remain near the procession, had immediately
rushed to the spot, from which it might hope to satisfy its natural
taste for shows and executions, a depraved passion, common to all
nations, and which nothing but civilization, and intelligent civilization
will be able to subdue, by developing in these somewhat savage natures, moral feelings, at the expense of physical instincts.
At the moment when the procession arrived at the great square,
Charles V., notwithstanding his deference for the holy office, frowned
with, an appearance of displeasure. The emperor's great mental activity was impatient of delay.
At length he breathed freely, the ceremony was about to begin.
The colliers arranged themselves on the theatre, at the right of the
royal balcony. The councils of state occupied the gradations appointed to them, according to the hierarchical order.
Meanwhile the condemned were led around the scaffold, and,
passing under the king's balcony, they sat down on the amphitheatre
to the left. The monks and familiars who accompanied them remained near them, continuing to support and exhort them.
The Duke de Medina Coli took his place on the royal balcony, as
was his privilege.
His son-in-law, the Duke de Mondejar, member of the Council of
Castile, assumed his station among the counsellors.
The daughter of the count, Isabella, was seated among the ladies,
who were placed near his majesty. The appearance of this girl was
* The author alludes to Boabdil el Chico, the last Moorish king of Grenada,
when this king paused on a hill in view of the city and began to weep, for
which his mother reproached him in these words: " Weep like a woman, over
the realm which you could not defend like a man." The place where Boabdil
wept is still called El ultimo suspiro del Moro, (the last sigh of the Moor.)
From this point the view of the Alhambra, and of Grenada, represented in the
large vignette, entitled l'Alhambra, has been taken.





272


THE MYTERSIES OF THE INQUISITION.


melancholy and dejected; profound grief was consuming her. At
last, the grand inquisitor ascended in his turn, the steps which led to
his throne, above the supreme council, and sat down with triumphant
humility upon the broad chair of state with golden fringe, which
had been prepared for him; thus towering above the greatest dignitaries of the kingdom, and the king himself, who was kind enough
to permit it.
Soon a deep and mournful silence reigned throughout this immense crowd.
A Dominican priest, clothed in his sacerdotal ornaments, began
the sacrifice of the mass.
It was a strange spectacle. Monks of every order, an innumerable
militia, which constituted nearly the fourth part of the population,
were praying humbly, kneeling upon the ground; the crowd, at this
moment under the influence of a feeling that cannot be defined, a
mixture of superstitious terror and fanatical devotion, bowed their
heads and smote upon their breasts. Every one was eager to manifest his zeal and devotion: there was so much danger in failing to
keep up appearances! The mass continued as far as the gospel.
At this moment the whole assembly rose to their feet.
A Dominican monk ascended one of the pulpits fixed on the two
sides of the wooden cages, erected in the midst of the theatre. In
the second, stood the relator of the holy office, or the reader of the
sentences.
Then the grand inquisitor descended from his throne; when he
had reached the foot of the amphitheatre, Jos6, his almoner, placed a
golden mitre on the head of Pierre Arbues, and dressed him in a cape;
the inquisitor walked up to the royal balcony. Some officers followed
him, carrying the cross, a book of the gospels, and another book
which contained the formula of the oath which the sovereign was
expected to take.
Pierre Arbues crossed over the first steps of the amphitheatre as
far as the fourth, in such a way as to be placed constantly higher
than the king. There he paused, and in a strong and sonorous voice,
addressing the catholic emperor:
" Sire," he cried, " does your majesty swear to protect the Roman
catholic faith, to extirpate heresies, and to sustain the proceedings of
the inquisition with all your kingly power?"
The haughty emperor stood up, uncovered his royal brow, before
which every other forehead was uncovered, and, in a firm and emphatic voice, replied"  swear."
Then the grand inquisitor, turning towards the assembly, and accosting it collectively, cried out so as to be heard at all the extremities of the square:
" All you, children of the church of Rome, who are here present,
do you swear, every one, according to your capacity and power, to
defend and protect the catholie, apostolic, and Roman faith; to pursue and denounce heretics, and to lend your influence to all the acts
of the inquisition?"
"We swear! we swear!" replied ten thousand voices, in chorus.





THE AUTO DA FE.


273


Nearly the whole population of Seville was assembled in the square,
or its environs.
"It is well!  It is well!" said the inquisitor, beckoning with his
hand: " silence now, and listen."
Pierre Arbues slowly walked up the steps of the amphitheatre,
and resumed his place upon his chair of state.
The Dominican who was to preach, made a great sign of the cross,
and commenced his sermon thus:
1 My brethren-Inquisitio superior regibus, the inquisition is
above kings, for the power of heaven is above the powers of earth:
the inquisition is the gate of paradise. Living waters flows from it,
and we should all bathe our hearts in it, like the parched earth, for
want of which the Holy Spirit will open our mouth like that of Balaam and Caiaphas. In short, my brethren, the inquisition is holy
and superior to kings, superior regibus, for it dates its existence
from  the creation of the world, and the origin of the tower of
Babel!"ý
At these words, the emperor knit his brows, and could with dificulty restrain the indignation occasioned by this ridiculous speech.
However, he said nothing, as he did not wish to alienate himself
from the holy office. He numbered enemies enough among the reformed, at that time, and had no desire to make more among the
catholics. The time had gone by when he could answer the insults
of the pope by still greater indignities. He therefore suffered the
preacher to continue to his heart's content, this singular apology for
the inquisition, which lasted nearly twenty minutes; after which,
mass being over, they began the reading of the sentences.
The first two of the condemned, who were shut up in the wooden
cages placed between the two pulpits, were Frances de Lerma, the
former abbess of the Carmelites, and the unfortunate Herrezuelo,
whom we have already seen figuring in the same inquisitorial session with Frances.
Herrezuelo, bold and courageous even in death, steadfastly refused the exhortations of the confessor who had been assigned to
him; and when he had come to the middle of the cage, in which he
* The sermon, or fragment of a sermon, which the author puts in the mouth
of a Dominican monk at this auto da f6, will appear strange to the reader, on
account of its burlesque incoherence. The monks, however, used to say things
even still more burlesque and incoherent under very solemn circumstances, in
which gravity, learning, and especially good sense ought to have been exacted.
In 1546,in the opening session of the Council of Trent, the bishop of Bitonto,
in order to prove the necessity of councils, alleged that several councils had
deposed kings and emperors: " In the Eneid," said his mightiness, " Jupiter
assembled the council of the gods; at the time of the creation of man, and of the
construction of the tower of Babel, God appeared as it were to take council."
From which, his mightiness drew this conclusion: " That all the prelates ought
to repair to Trent, as to the Trojan horse."  Finally, by way of peroration, his
mightiness added, " That the door of the council and that of Paradise were one
and the same thing; that living waters flowed from it, and that the fathers
ought to bathe their hearts in it like parched ground, in default of which the
Holy Spirit would open their mouth like Balaam and Caiaphas."  This bishop
of Bitonto, named Fra Cornelio Musso, (the brother Cornelius Musso,) was a
Milanese monk, whose burlesque harangue as it will be seen, had very little
savour of the revival of letters.
35





274


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


was to hear his sentence, and the priest addressed to him new solicitations, he gently pushed him aside, and said, mournfully:
" I abandon my body to you, suffer my mind at least to be composed."
He then heard his condemnation without changing colour, and
courageously returned to his place.
It was not so with Frances: this poor girl felt her courage fail in
view of the torture: and as she was very ignorant, and unable to
discriminate between truth and error in religion, the first impressions of her youth regained the ascendency, or perhaps her soft and
sensual physical frame shrank with terror from the horrible punishment which had been prepared for her. Having taken her place in
the wooden cage, at the moment when the relator pronounced the
words, burned alive:
"No! no! not alive!" shrieked the unhappy abbess; "I repent;
I wish to die like a good Christian."
" God be praised!" exclaimed the grand inquisitor, clasping his
hands, " there is another soul saved!"
His heart was not affected by the agony of the wretched woman,
whom he had ruined.
Two more of the condemned succeeded the first. One of them
was a handsome and noble young man of Verona. Descended from
one of the first families of Italy; he had rendered eminent services
to the emperor Charles V.: learned and wise, and moreover very
wealthy, he was born an enemy of the inquisition. His name was
Don Carlos de Seso.
On passing before the royal balcony, Don Carlos cast at the emperor a look in which reproach was blended with profound pity.
The look seemed to say, "There is the man who is called great!"
When he had kneeled down in the cage, he asked for ink and
paper in order to write his confession. His request was readily
granted. A sergeant of the inquisition" brought him what he wished.
After having written, Don Carlos read in a loud voice; but to the
great disappointment of the inquisitors, this confession was based
upon the famous Augsburg Confession.J
SEnough, enough!" cried the inquisitor, in order to compel the
courageous reformist to be silent; but Don Carlos continued in a
loud voice:
" I declare that I wish to die in the religion of Luther, which is the
true faith of the gospel, and not in the Roman religion, a corrupt
doctrine, which the catholic clergy has adapted to its vices!"
" Gag that man," said Pierre Arbues:  he abuses the church of
Jesus Christ."
He was obeyed, and Don Carlos de Seso, compelled to be silent,
heard his sentence with composure.
During this time, Francis Dominique de Boxas was in the adjoin* The chief of the tormentors was called a sergeant of the inquisition.
- The Augsburg Confession is a profession of faith which the protestants of
Germany made at the diet of Augsburg, which met June 15, 1530. This Confhssion was drawn up by Melancthon, the friend and companion of Martin
Luther.





THE AUTO DA FE.


275


ing cage. This was the old Dominican priest who had shown so
much courage at the audience, at which we have already seen him.
Dominique maintained an obstinate silence, and refused to answer the
monk who exhorted him. When the time had come to read the sentence to him, he heard it to the end without saying a word, without
exhibiting the least fear of death; but on going down from the scaffold, he turned towards the king, and exclaimed:
6 I die maintaining the true faith of the gospel, which is that of
Luther."
Whilst Don Carlos de Seso, and Dominique de Boxas were descending from the scaffold to go to the quemadero, the tormentors,
armed with some large nails, and a hammer, approached a great
wooden cross which was on the scaffold, supported by two coarse
benches. Immediately, ten Judaizing heretics, who had been condemned to the flames, were brought before this cross. These unfortunate creatures, each placed a hand upon the cross, and this hand
was mercilessly nailed fast to it, in expiation of the crucifixion of
Jesus; ` so said the inquisitors. As the nail penetrated into the
flesh, these unhappy men uttered a frightful scream, but the tormentors were not in the least affected by it; they continued to drive the
nails with the utmost possible indifference. In this condition, these
poor victims heard their sentence. They were released only when
they were led away to die.
Next came a priest and his domestic, then two nuns,t condemned
to the flames and to strangulation; last of all came the turn of those
who were condemned to the galleys, to perpetual imprisonment, or
simply to the lash.
Among the latter might be seen William Franco, the unfortunate
husband who had been condemned to perpetual imprisonment for being unwilling to tolerate in his house a priest who had seduced his
wife.
During the reading of the sentence of the last named individuals,
those who were condemned to the fire had returned to their place.
The attention and eager curiosity of the crowd were redoubled.
King Charles V. stood gloomy and thoughtful; a great idea seemed
at this time to occupy the profound mind and bold genius of this
man, whose only fault, perhaps, was that of too much submitting
men and things to his private interest; his excessive despotism and
ambition constantly made him a slave. Born with an upright, comprehensive and just mind, Charles V. was continually submitting to
the demands of Rome, because he believed the concurrence of Rome
necessary for the maintenance of his authority. A very serious error of kings, and one which in every age has ruined them.
The terrible spectacle of a grand auto da fG, at which Charles V.
was then present for the first time, enabled him to see through a
* In the auto da f6, which took place at Valladolid in 1636, in the presence
of Philip IV., ten Isriaelites were nailed with one hand upon a great cross of
St. Andrew, whilst their sentence was read to them.
t Every ecclesiastic who did not second the acts of the inquisition was persecuted as remorselessly as were the laymen. The inquisition has burned alive
hundreds of prests and monks, who were too honest to propagate the inquisitorial doctrines.





276


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


great portion of the abominable abuses of the Inquisition, concerning which, he had so often been deceived.*  It may be, that at this
moment the project which he executed a year later, was generating
in his mind, to deprive the holy office of its royal jurisdiction and
to banish Alphonso Manrique, the Inquisitor general of Castile.t
Some have even asserted that this great king inclined, in the last
years of his life, towards the Reformed doctrines against which he
had so warmly contended, and that after his death a large number
of inscriptions was found in the cell of the monk of Saint Just,
which all manifested a very decided tendency to the Lutheran religion.
The reading of the sentences was at length concluded. The priest
continued the offering of the mass.   As soon as it was finished
Pierre Arbues rose from his throne, and in a loud voice pronounced
the absolution of those who had repented.1
Meanwhile all those who had been condemned to slight penances,
returned to the prison of the holy office escorted by archers of the
Holy Brotherhood: these were not to undergo their punishment until the next day, or some days afterwards. The unhappy victims
who were condemned to the flames had now all reached the place of
execution.  Pierre Arbues, under his sacerdotal humility, maintained
so haughty and lofty a bearing, that he looked more like a king than
the king himself.  He was then enjoying a twofold triumph of vanity and cruelty. Still the rescue of the governor of Seville occasioned
unpleasant reflections. His vengeance had been eluded at the instant when it was about to be satiated. The fierce Dominican was
already devising new punishments for the courageous girl who had
resisted him. All his rage was directed against Dolores.
The madman did not know, that at that very time his prey had
escaped from  him. Jos6 scanned with his eyes that countenance
which he had so long been accustomed to read. Jose, gloomy and
disdainful, concealed under the appearance of utter indifference the
hurried pulsations of his heart: any one who could have attentively
contemplated his noble figure, would easily have seen his large eyes
sparkling with the inward fever which was consuming him. An
actor in a Iong and terrible drama, he was moving with rapid strides
towards its close, and at the approach of this last moment, his face
* Both Adrian Florencio, and, after him, Alphonso Manrique, strangely deceived Charles V. on the subject of the inquisition: indeed it is to be presumed
that all the inquisitors have been culpable in this respect, otherwise the kings
could never have consented to see Spain, Italy, Portugal, India and America
decimated by the holy office, much less have lent their aid to the inquisitorial
butchers. Nero would have been a gentle monarch compared with these catholic sovereigns.
f Alphonso Manrique was banished in 1535 by Charles V., who could not
forgive the grand inquisitor for imprisoning Virues, the favourite preacher of
the emperor.
I In the auto da f6, the inquisitor-general of the province where the auto da
f6 took place pronounced the absolution of all who by confession had returned
into the bosom of the church; but this absolution did not involve pardon; it
merely removed the excommunication which affected every heretic or one accused of heresy, and opened the gates of heaven to those who died like good catholics, that is to say, to those who were strangled before they were delivered
to the flames.





THE AUTO DA FE.


277


so strangely beautiful, was impressed with something tragical, fatal
and inspired. The eyes of the young Dominican followed all the incidents of the auto da fe with the closest attention.
At the instant when the victims ascended the quemadero together,
a convulsive sob heaved from the breast of the favourite; his eyes,
which had just been so sparkling, were covered with a mist, and Jos6
fell upon his knees, covering his face with his hands in order to conceal an involuntary tear, under the semblance of an act of devotion.
The king then left the royal balcony.  As he was returning to his
apartments, the daughter of the Duke de Mondejar threw herself
at the knees of Charles V., and all bathed in tears, raised towards him
her suppliant hands,
"What do you wish, my child?" asked the king, surprised.
"4 Mercy! Sire, mercy for my betrothed, who is in the dungeons of
the holy office."
"6 Daughter," said the king, affected by this real grief, " my influence with the holy inquisition is very slender indeed; I think, the
best intercessor whom you can have in this affair, is your grandfather,
the Duke de Medina Coli, who is here."
4" Sire,' replied the old nobleman, 6" he who was to have been my
son-in-law has disgraced his title as a cavalier, a gentleman, and a
Christian; the holy office proceeded against him, and Don Carlos has
inflicted justice on himself in escaping, by death, the infamy of punishment: he has dashed out his brains against the wall of the dungeon.
At this cruel reply of the grand standard-bearer, Charles V. could
not repress an exclamation of horror and pity: the poor girl had fallen
insensible w-ith her face upon the floor.
Medina Cmcli beckoned with his hands, and two women carried the
unhappy Isabella away.
The king withdrew in silence, evidently deeply affected.
The executioners were about to commence. All eyes were turned
towards the quemadero.
It was a terrible spectacle, full of harrowing emotions.  Every
one of the condemned had kneeled down at the foot of the pile, on
which he was to be consumed.
The monks, crucifix in hand, prayed and exhorted the victims
with the utmost perseverance.  No one had as yet confessed.   The
ten Judaizing heretics were the first to ascend the pile. Four of them
were enclosed in statues:t the six others suffered themselves to be
* Suicides were not uncommon in the dungeons of the inquisition. Many
dashed their brains out against the walls, others brought on asphyxia by filling
the lungs with miephitic gases, which were emitted from the vessels kept in
each dungeon, and emptied only once a week.
In 1819, six accused persons were in one of the dungeons of the inquisition
at Valencia. A keeper, sent to prove one of them, that is, to try to obtain a
disclosure, told him, among other things, that if he did not confess and name
his accomplices, he would be put to the torture. The accused made no confession; but the next morning the six prisoners were dead; they had mutually
strangled each other, and the last had brought on asphyxia in the mode above
described. The six prisoners were accused of free masonry.
f Llorente says: "The great number of condemned persons who were put to
death by the flames, constrained the prefect of Seville to have a permanent
stone scaffold constructed outside of the city, on which four large statues of
2B





27S


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


bound with great courage; the natural obstinacy of the Jewish nation,
blended with their inviolable attachment to the faith of their fathers,
inspired them in their last moments with the heroism of martyrs,
Soon a thick black smoke curled round these ten victims: the executioners with a torch had just applied the fire.
At the sight of the flames which began to rise, the two young
nuns condemned to die like Lutherans, turned with anguish towards
their confessor.
"Father! Father!" they shrieked, confess me, I repent!"
The religious kneeled down at their side, heard the forced confessions, extorted by fear and violence; then he pronounced the words
of peace upon the head of the two victims, the younger of whom was
twenty years old.
The tormentors led them to the side of Frances de Lerma, who also
was to be strangled.
The abbess of the Carmelites was of a livid paleness; her complexion, formerly so white and pure, was marbled with spots, and her
large blue eyes, once so haughty and beautiful, had lost the metallic
lustre which made them look like two glittering sapphires.
The two other young victims who were to die by her side, were
already pale and cold, and a convulsive tremor agitated their limbs:
the agony had commenced, the executioner had very little to do.
Two tormentors approached them, seated them on the garrole,
tied them fast upon it, and applied the iron halter around their
white and delicate neck-then the executioner violently turned a
vice which was placed behind the beamThe victims bowed their heads forward in a general convulsion;
their eyes were glazed, their face became purple, violet, then livida slight rattling was heard-and all was over; they suffered no more.
The agony of Frances was more protracted. At the instant when
the executioner adjusted the iron halter around her neck, the abbess
suddenly recovering her energy, stretched out her arms towards the
amphitheatre; her darkened eye, reanimated for a moment, sparkled
with savage energy; looking at the grand inquisitor, she shrieked:
SVile priest! thou art accurs "The last syllable of this word was lost in the last breath of Frances. The executioner had turned the vice with such force that the
victim instantly expired.
Contiguous to the pile which consumed the remains of the three
nuns, Don Carlos de Seso and the courageous Herrezuelo rejected
the entreaties of their confessors with invincible resolution. Don
Carlos, already bound to the fatal stake, had been relieved of his gag.
The priest then kneeling before him, even on the very pile, said
to him several times, presenting the crucifix to him:
i My son, confess your sins that you may be absolved."
plaster were raised; these statues were hollow inside; in these relapsed Christian converts were shut up alive, in order that they might be slowly put to
death in the midst of a horrible combustion. This scaffold, called Quemadero,
(furnace,) was in existence a short time ago. What could be expected from a
tribunal which adopted such proceedings?--(History of the Inquisition, iii. part,
eh. 1.) The quemadero of Seville was constructed at the commencement of
the fifteenth century. Its ruins still exist in 1823





THE AUTO DA FE.


279


SLeave me in peace," replied Don Carlos.
Then turning towards the tormentors, he shouted with a reverberating voice:
"6 Apply the fire! apply the fire."4
The executioners obeyed, and Don Carlos disappeared in torrents
of smoke.
At some paces distant from him, Dominique de Boxas was strangled with two other priests, who, at the moment when they were to
be burned, had found their courage fail, and had made their confession.
On seeing the cowardice of Dominique, who had embraced the
doctrine of Luther with him, Don Carlos, who was already in the
embrace of the flames, made a gesture of reproach as if he meant to
say to him:
" You are a coward: men must have courage to maintain their convictions."
At this instant the domestic of one of the priests who had been
fastened to a stake, and reached by the flames which had already
burned the cords with which he was tied, leaped off the fagots; but
seeing his master, who had just been strangled on the scaffold, andr
Don Carlos, who quietly suffered himself to be burned, he boldly
reascended his pile, crying out to the executioner with all his
strength:
" More wood! more wood! put on more wood; I will die like Don
Carlos de Seso."
At this moment, Herrezuelo mounted the funeral pile.     In vain
did the monk exhort him to repent; Herrezuelo, bold and witty, replied only with bitter sarcasm; the flames already began to play
around him; but he seemed insensible, and his countenance betrayed
nothing of his terrible sufferings.
One of the archers who stood around his pile, irritated by such a
display of courage, plunged his lance into the body of theiicentiate.
The blood spirted in streams from the wide gash, and the noble Herrczuelo expired with heroic composure.t
* The circumstances attending the martyrdom of Don Carlos de Seso, are
described literally according to the testimony of Llorente. He was a nobleman
of Verona, son of the bishop of Placentia in Italy; a man of learning and address, who had rendered eminent services to Charles V. He was arrested at
Logrofio and taken to the secret prisons of the inquisition of Valladolid, where,
one year afterwards, he was informed that he must prepare for death. He was
burned at Valladolid, in October, 1559, under the reign of Philip II.
f " The licentiate Don Antonio Herrezuelo, advocate of the city of Toro, in
Old Castile, was condemned as a Lutheran, and died at the stake without manifesting the least repentance. Whilst he was led out to punishment, Dr. Cazalla, another who was condemned, addressed to him personally several exhortations, which he received at the foot of the scaffold, but it was all in vain.
Antonio ridiculed the doctor's remarks even after he had been fastened to the
stake, in the midst of the wood which was beginning to burn. One of the
archers of the inquisition, furious at beholding so much courage, plunged his
lance into the body of Herrezuelo, whose blood still flowed when the flames
reached him.-(I(istory of the Inquisition.)
Herrezuelo died in the auto da f6 at Valladolid under the eyes of the prince
Don Carlos and the princess Jane. "A large number of Spanish noblemen and
gentlemen of every condition, together with ladies of high rank, were present.





280


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


A  few who had been reconciled and condemned perpetually to
wear the woollen san benito with the cross of St. Andrew, resumed
the sad journey to their abode; henceforth they were politically,
dead, living corpses, destined to feed the terror which the holy office
inspired, mute witnesses of its abominable despotism!
Long jets of flame then rose towards the heavens in fiery sheaves,
enveloped in torrents of thick and nauseous smoke. The fetid odour
of the burning bodies mingled with the pitchy smell of the pine
wood, and the combustible matter by which the fire was fed.
The priests and monks kneeling on the square, prayed in low
tones, smiting their breast, and the people bending with them  on
their knees, remained bowed to the earth under a deep impression
of terror and pity.
At intervals, horrid and prolonged wailings of anguish, the rattlings
of death and moans of agony ascended from the midst of these cruel
hecatombs; from the bosom of the statues in which the poor Jews
were enclosed, howlings sullen and heart-rending escaped at intervals
-like screams of anguish rising from the bowels of hell-an awful
strain in this vast concert of agony.
A death-like stillness reigned among the people. From time to
time, the stern voice of the priests, rising above these various sounds,
poured upon the ear a couplet from the De Profundis or Jliserere, an
awful psalmody which mingled like a frightful parody with the lamentations of men, the wailings of those in the death-struggle, and
the gloomy voice of the flames.
Gradually the fires abated, groans, complaints, and shrieks became
weaker and less frequent; the people slowly deserted the square;
the dignitaries of the state withdrew.
All was over. Night had come. The clergy and the monks had
remained to the last. Then, from the summit of his more than royal
throne, Pierre Arbues could contemplate the quemadero, which, at
this moment, resembled an immense furnace, sprinkled here and
there with dark spots.
Broad flakes of smoke crossed each other in the air, like thick
gloomy clouds. In the midst of the piles, some branches of larch
which were just burning out, still threw a pale gleam over this profound darkness.
Pierre Arbues viewed this vast arena of destruction with infernal
delight--king of death, he ruled the desolation.
Then he murmured, raising his eyes to heaven, those terrible
words of the psalmist:
"Let God arise, let his enemies be scattered: let them  also that
At the same auto da fe, perished Dr. Augustine Cazalla de Vibero, priest and
canon of Salamanca, &c.-preacher to Charles V.; he was strangled before he
was burned. Francis Cazalla, brother of the former, was burned alive. Their
sister, Beatrice de Vibero y Cazalla, was strangled before she was burned. Alphonso Perez, a priest of Palencia, doctor in theology, was degraded and strangled and then burned, together with nine other persons, some of whom professed repentance. Besides these victims, some were condemned to lose their
properiy and liberty, (the least that the inquisition ever took.) Among these,
were two members of the Cazalla family, Jean Vibero Cazalla and Constanza
Cazalla, both condemned to wear the san benito perpetually. The latter left
fourteen orphan children!"





A MARTYR.


28i


hate him flee before him. As smoke is driven away, so drive them
away: as wax melteth before the fire, so let the wicked perish at the
presence of God."
With tranquil soul, the inquisitor and the clergy withdrew from
the theatre of their crimes.
Thus ended this memorable day.
CHAPTER        XLII.
A 'MARTYR.
WHEN the two guapos had carried off the governor, they had
plunged rapidly into the inextricable labyrinths of the streets of Seville, the most narrow and tortuous in the world.
The people had favoured their escape so well, that before they
could have been seized by the sbires of the holy brotherhood, they
had already arrived at the door of Juana.
This door had opened before them as of its own accord, and there
was no more trace either of guapos or governor; no one could have
followed them, or have seen in what place they had taken refuge;
and then, on a day of auto da f&, they had enough to do without persisting in their pursuit.
Estevan, Dolores, and Juana awaited together for the issue of this
event; it was Juana, who having seen the guapos coming with their
precious burden, had opened the door for them. She had watched
for them at the opening in the wall of her house which overlooked
the street, through that kind of sky-light closed with a stone, at
which Dolores so narrowly escaped detection on the day when Pierre
Arbues had announced to the inhabitants of Seville the auto da f6
which was taking place at that moment.
The guapos, with the utmost precaution, laid the father of Dolores
on a large sofa, which stood in the hall.
Manuel Argoso appeared to be lifeless. His arms and hands hung
motionless by the side of his body, which was almost cold; his eyes
were entirely closed, his countenance was colourless, and his limbs,
broken in several places, were covered with bleeding sores and half
closed scars. His forehead, which had so recently been covered
with thick black hair, had become almost entirely bald, and that
which still remained around the temples had assumed the pale and
sickly hue which is not the whiteness of old age, and the soft and
lifeless flexibility which is the certain evidence of complete prostration and approaching dissolution.
The nails, on the contrary, had grown inordinately, but they had
become yellow and soft like those of a child, or of a man who comes
out of a bath.
On seeing her father in this condition, Dolores could not restrain
an exclamation of grief. She was herself so pale and enfeebled by
the hardships of her imprisonment, that she could not resist this last
blow; she fell on her knees before the couch on which Argoso was
stretched, and with her parched anrd discoloured lips she kissed the
2B2                 36





282


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


livid hand of Ler father, that dear and revered hand which had so
often blessed her.
The unhappy governor, however, did not return this filial embrace; the hand which Dolores pressed, remained motionless and
cold in that of the young girl.
4 Oh! Estevan! Estevan!" she cried with increasing alarm, see,
he does not even answer my caresses! His hand is cold-his heart
throbs no more-Estevan! Tell me, is my father still alive?"
Estevan, overwhelmed by this new and unexpected sorrow, by the
despair of her whom he loved, Estevan, who had remained struck
with stupor on beholding the wan and livid countenance of the governor, approached timidly, and laid his hand on the heart of Manuel Argoso. It still throbbed, but so feebly, and at such long intervals, that it was evident these were its last pulsations.
Dolores followed all the movements of Estevan with looks full of
anguish and dimmed with tears. He was afraid to speak, and stood
timid and alarmed; he felt apprehensive, on account of the overwhelming despair, and the pious grief of a daughter, who after so
much resignation had found her father again, only to close in her
arms a corpse.
" Well," she at length inquired, with tremulous anxiety; "an
swer me, Estevan-speak, what may I hope for?"
" The heart still beats," said the young man;  it will be neces
sary to apply restorative perfumes."
" Stop, stop," said Juana; and she drew from her pocket a bottle
of rock crystal, furnished with a costly stopper of carved gold, and
filled with reviving and restorative Arabian perfumes, the precious
products of the alchemy of those days, which was far more advanced,
especially among the Eastern nations, than is generally supposed in
our day.
Dolores eagerly seized the vial, and let her father inhale the odour.
Manuel Argoso moved his head slightly; his eyes, which had been
closed up to that moment, opened half way.
Dolores uttered an exclamation of joy, and taking in her arms the
head of her beloved father, she gently supported it on the velvet
cushions.
" Oh! Estevan! he is alive!" said she, with hope.
Manuel Argoso had indeed opened his eyes; but like the eyes of
those who are born blind, they looked and saw nothing; the shades
of death covered them. Gradually, however, the cloud seemed to
scatter. Manuel Argoso appeared to have some slight perception of
what was passing around him; his hearing was the only organ which
had not been affected; it was also the first which was aroused in his
expiring nature. He turned his head in the direction where the conversation was going on, evidently endeavouring to collect his scattered thoughts, and to acquaint himself with the place where he was.
Soon his lips opened-he feebly murmured:-" The fire."
He supposed he was at the auto da fe. Every one was silent, and
listened in the most profound silence.
" My daughter-Estevan"-whispered the governor, whilst his
looks fixed on his children, kneeling before him, wandered from one
o the other without recognising them.





A MARTYR.


283


SMy father!" exclaimed Dolores.
"Hush!" said Estevan; "be silent; let him alone; see, life is returning."
" Hold," said Juana, " let him take this cordial."
She then handed Dolores a silver cup in which was some wine of
Alicante, ten years old, mixed with a slight tincture of aloes.
Dolores wet her father's lips; then with great difficulty she introduced some drops of the cordial into his mouth. This generous
liquid seemed to restore some heat to the almost exhausted and frozen
blood. The face of the governor, lately so pale, was suddenly
flushed with a passing glow; his dull and wandering eyes fixed upon
the face of Dolores with an ineffable expression of love, sorrow, and
regret. He had just recognised his daughter.
He smiled feebly upon her with unspeakable tenderness; then his
enfeebled gaze slowly passed from Dolores to Estevan, and to Juana.
" Where am I?" he at length murmured.
" With friends, with true friends," replied Dolores; " you are
safe, my father, and we will soon leave Spain."
" Yes, yes-leave it as soon as you can," said Manuel in a voice
which was constantly failing, and becoming weaker.
"With you, my father," said Estevan in his turn, kneeling before
the governor, by the side of his beloved Dolores.
On seeing them in this posture, Manuel Argoso seemed to experience the most lively joy. Notwithstanding the extreme weakness
of his limbs, bruised by the torture, and already stiffening in death,
he raised his two arms painfully, took his daughter's hand, placed it
in that of Estevan, and whispered with an expression of heavenly
joy:
" I bless you-never leave each other, and fly-fly--
"With you! with you!" repeated Dolores, bathed in tears.
SYes!-take with you my ashes-they would throw them to the
winds-farewell-love one another always---
These words, interrupted by the last sighs of agony, had exhausted what little life was left in this broken frame.
Manuel Argoso closed his eyes again, his head fell back, his body
became stiff with a slight convulsion, and the icy hand of death froze
upon his lips a name which he had commenced. It was his daughter's.
Dolores uttered no exclamation, she did not shed a tear; she turned
towards Estevan, her eyes dry, her lips white and quivering; and
clasping her hands with a suppliant air, she said, looking at him who
had just expired:
" He will follow us, will he not?"
" Every where," replied Estevan.
Dolores imprinted a pious kiss upon the pale forehead of her
father; then she drew over his face a large cambric veil which was
offered to her by Juana.
At this instant, Jos6 arrived. By the attitude of the persons who
occupied the room, he immediately comprehended what had just occurred, and his two hands were clenched in an energetic motion of
disappointment and anger.
The sight of him deeply affected Dolores, whose eyes, which had





284


THE MYTERSiES OF THE INQUISITION.


until then been dry and burning, were moistened with tears of sor
row; she threw herself weeping upon the bosom of this faithful
friend who had saved her; then, with a gesture of mute and eloquent grief, she showed him the dead body which seemed to sleep
in a calm and placid attitude.
"I did all that I could, God knows," said Jose, with emotion.
" I know it," said she;  you have exposed your life to save us,
for if the inquisitor had detected ---
"My life!" abruptly exclaimed the young religious, with an air of
disdainful dejection, " what is my life, and of what use is it?"
Estevan drew the young monk into another chamber, in order not
to disturb the religious silence of death.
Dolores remained kneeling before her father's dead body
" Don Jose," said Estevan, when they were alone, " he who is no
more, commanded us to leave Spain; pursued as we are, this is a
very difficult matter, however"" I will provide for that," said Jose.
" He bade us carry with us his remains."
" Leave the care of that to me," replied the young Dominican;
" you shall set out in three days; this time will be required in order
to make the necessary preparations. Till then, keep concealed; do
not show yourself in Seville, it would be risking your life. The
tiger who has spared it from caprice, might, by a contrary caprice,
deprive you of liberty."
" Yes," said Estevan, " as he has done in the case of- "
Jose looked significantly at Estevan; he did not wish to acquaint
Dolores with the arrest of Jean d'Avila.
" You speak," said Estevan, " of a caprice of Pierre Arbues; the inquisitor is, I hope, in the hands of Mandamiento. The Gardufia
rarely fails in its expeditions."
" The Gardufla has executed its orders badly," said Jose, the inquisitor was not carried off; an attempt was made to kill him, and as
the inquisitor wears a cuirass, Manofina's blow was without effect.
Pierre Arbues is at liberty; he is furious, and his rage extends to
every one who comes near him. What will it be, when he shall be
informed of the escape of Dolores? Be prudent, then, and above Jl
be patient; three days pass quickly."
" They are sometimes very long," said Dolores, approaching them
in order to know for what reason they delayed.
The cruel exigencies of their position forbade them to give a free
course to their pious grief. This is one of the bitterest ingredients
in great misfortunes; they do not even permit us to mourn as we
could wish. Those who are proscribed must hasten or suspend their
tears; they have not even liberty to weep.
' It is true," said Jose, repeating the words of the girl, " three
days are sometimes very long! Yet we must know how to wait.
Oh! Dolores, amid the misfortunes which afflict you, one consolation is left to you; a friend for life, chosen and blessed by your
father. Rest assured, the future may yet smile upon you; and even
vengeance will not be wanting to your joy! Vengeance, that handmaid of heaven, which often assumes a human form, in order to accomplish the will of her Divine Master, and which is then called





A MARTYR.


285


justice!  God, the eternal Judge, has not forgotten the iniquities of
Pierre Arbues. He will smite him on his golden throne, amid the
pomps of his debauch and unbridled vanity."
" Don Jose, you frighten me," said Dolores, trembling, " you are
gloomy and terrible as fate."
"I am strong as justice," replied Jose, "but," added he, with a
bitter smile, " my soul is sad and desolate as the desert. I shall
never rejoice except on the day of chastisement, when God shall
raise his mighty voice to cry to the Andalusian murderer, Enough!
enough! vanish from the theatre of thy crimes; I am weary of murders and persecutions."
Whilst saying these words, Jos0e looked beautiful and terrible as
the angel of the apocalypse.
Estevan and Dolores could almost have fallen prostrate before
him; but by one of those rapid transitions which were common to
him, Jose suddenly calling Juana, who was in the other room, said
to her:
" Be ready to follow us, a few hours hence."
Then he withdrew, promising to return and take them away when
it should be time.
The same evening, between eleven o'clock and midnight, Estevan,
Dolores, and Juana arrived at Mandamiento's gate.
Two guapos went before in order to escort them. Two others
followed at a short distance; the latter carried on their shoulders a
large wooden box, carefully covered with linen and bound with cords.
They carried this box with extreme precaution and a sort of respect. Two chivatos went with them to give the alarm in case of
necessity.
From time to time, Dolores turned round to assure herself that the
precious chest was following them, and that nothing was hindering
the progress of the gardunos.
When they had reached Mandamiento's gate, the two first guapos
knocked in a preconcerted manner; the master opened, and the
seven persons and the chest were mysteriously introduced into the
palace of the Gardufia.
CHAPTER         XLIII.
A LAST DAY OF DISSIMULATION.
THAT same evening Jos6 was alone in his dwelling. Seated before a table with curved supports, covered with ascetic books, he
was counting one after another, an enormous pile of bills of exchange,
which he had just procured from a Jewish banker;* and as he added
* It is known that bills of exchange were invented by the Jews; but it is,
perhaps, not as well known that the Israelites employed this medium of exchange
by means of which they and the Moors might send their capital to a foreign
land, before going into exile themselves, and thus secure their fortune from the
avarice of Ferdinand of Aragon, and the rapacity of the inquisition. Thus this
paper, which in our day is one of those things which make commerce prosperous by facilitating its operations, was, in the sixteenth century, an instru.





286


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


them up, he wrote the amount of the value of each one on a small
sheet of white paper. It was the young monk's fortune.
" Well," said he, with delight, after he had finished his calculations;
" this may now be carried wherever we please, and these poor
children will have something to live on."
Then he carefully replaced these valuables in a small portfolio of
red satin, added a letter which he had just written, a gold ring
which he took from his finger, and some hair enclosed in a very
small medallion. He then tied the whole together with a piece of
green silk, upon which he stamped a wax seal of the same colour.
This being done, he secured the portfolio in a pocket placed under
the fcld of his tunic.
He took another sheet of paper, on which he wrote in Latin:
" You will be tried to-morrow; but your arrest has not been communicated to the Supreme Council. Avail yourself of this defect in
the form; the holy office will be obliged to acquit you."
"This," said he, speaking to himself, " must reach Jean d'Avila
to-morrow before the audience," and he slipped the paper into the
sleeve of his tunic. " Well," continued he, " for a few hours longer,
I must wear this heavy chain of dissimulation and falsehood. A few
hours more of toil, and my vengeance will be accomplished! Have
I not thus far fulfilled my task courageously? Have I not humoured
with docile complacency the passions and vices of this monster, who
decimates Andalusia? Have I not thrown around his name a bloody
halo, the dark banner, which excites hatred and revolt? Have I not
slowly dug with my feeble hands, the abyss in which he must soon be
engulfed?  Oh! inquisition! I have succeeded in rendering thee infamous and odious enough in the person of the most criminal of
thy members, for all Spain, rising in a body, as one man, at the signal which I shall soon give, to overturn this insatiable colossus for
ever?  Be it so! I will throw down the first stone of this edifice
of death; let Spain follow me if it has the needed courage! Oh!"
said he, supporting his head in his two hands, with an air of inexpressible dejection, "aoh, what fatigue! when will the hour of rest
arrive? What a horrible day has this been! Oh! those flames,
those cries of agony!-they pursue me every where. Every where
I see again those livid countenances, those icy spectres. Every
where I see him again-him whom I loved -who, for so many years
has been unceasingly calling to me: come! come! Oh! the happy
dead who enjoy the eternal clemency of God-whom God has pardoned. Am I criminal in taking revenge?  No no," he continued,
rising with feverish excitement, "I obey the voice of God-I am
only the instrument of divine justice!-Wait, wait, thou who art
calling me-the day is at hand, thou shalt not wait much longer."
Suddenly this austere countenance, on every lineament of which,
suffering or thought was imprinted, became bright, the stern features,
which looked like the living personification of eternal wrath against
the wicked, again became as if by magic, mild and smiling; the
broad forehead, with brows contracted, a moment ago became smooth
ment of ruin for Spain, which, thanks to the insatiable avarice of Rome, and
the cruelty with which the inquisition sustained it, was the greater portion of
its wealth pass into France, Germany, and Holland.





A LAST DAY OF DISSIMULATION.


287


as a white sheet before the wind, and the bitter and haughty lips of
the young monk had become ready for deception.
He had heard a knock at his door. He opened. It was Pierre
Arbues, who had come to see him in his chamber.
On his return from the auto da f6, the inquisitor had learned the
flight of Dolores, and his merciless soul, not yet satiated with murder and torture, was already laying snares for new victims.
Pierre Arbues was pale and weary, but the insatiability of his rapacious instinct still sustained his exhaustless energy. He sat down,
and looking at his favourite, who remained standing before him:
" Jos6," said he, " every body betrays me to-day!"
" Except myself, my lord," replied the young monk.
" You-yes, I know it-you are the only one who is faithful, the
only one who can comprehend the wants of this restless heart which
beats in my bosom-the only one who has never thwarted my
wishes; the only one, at least, who has served me disinterestedly.
As for the others-do you suppose I cannot see through their selfish
devotion? The protection which I afford them, the gold which I
lavish upon them, the pleasures with which I intoxicate them, are
a certain warrant for their devotion and fidelity. Enriquez, whom
I have made governor of Seville; the others whom I have made
counsellors, priors, or bishops-in truth, all these creatures have no
great merit in being true to me. And yet-after all"-he added,
with rage, a Manuel Argoso has been carried off to-day, and Dolores
has escaped from the dungeons of the holy office."
" Why should your eminence be troubled about that?" said Jos6,
shrugging his shoulders.
STroubled about it, do you say? By Satan! I will send all these
jailers of the palace of the inquisition to the galleys. I will have
these stupid monks, these coxcomb bishops burned-every one of
them-and this clown too, clothed in the garb of a gentleman, whom
I have made governor of Seville!"
" You will do rightly," said Jose.
"Am I not surrounded by traitors on all sides," resumed Pierre
Arbues, becoming more excited at the recollection of the attempt
made upon his life; "a man has this day been found in the crowd,
who has dared to lift his hand against the grand inquisitor of Seville, and this man-this man was a familiar of the inquisition!"
" I know it," said the favourite, coolly.
" Had it not been for you, my good Jose, and for your pious and
salutary prudence, it would all have been over with me to-day; for
I owe my life to the cuirass, which I have worn under my tunic
ever since the evening when you followed me to the prison, apprehensive of the danger which threatened me."
" Was I wrong, my lord?"
" No-no-you were not! and I was unjustly excited against
you! against you, the guardian angel of my life!"
" It is because the life of your eminence is dearer to me than my
own, my lord, and I am bound to protect it. Oh! it is indeed precious to me," he continued with a strange smile; 6 but why does
your eminence cohdescend to be disturbed by the disappearance of
the governor's daughter? Of what importance to Pierre Arbues is





288


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


a woman more or less?   What does a millionaire care for a doubloon which he misses from his strong box?  Be assured, my lord,
your real glory does not consist in that. These sensual occupations
only tend, on the contrary, to weaken the soul, to dissipate the
strength of the mind, and extinguish the energy of the will. You
reign by terror! Well, then, increase your mighty power still more.
Are there not heads enough in Seville to strike?  That monk arrested eight days ago---"9
"Jean d'Avila!" shouted Pierre Arblies; "oh! I will make him
rot in the dungeons of the inquisition!""That will be very unwise, my lord. That monk," resumed Jos6,
" has preached doctrines contrary to the catholic faith; you must
make an example of him, and secure the triumph of the religion
which constitutes your glory and your power. The pope and the
king will sustain you; they both abhor the heresy of Luther. Make
Jean d'Avila appear in a solemn manner, let the session be public;
suffer every one to enter freely, and in the face of Seville, show, by
his condemnation, that he, whom Andalusia calls the apostle, is nothing but a miserable apostate-a dangerous heretic."
As Jose spoke, the countenance of the inquisitor expressed energetically the different thoughts which agitated him. Restored to the
great passion of his life-that of ruling-Pierre Arbues listened with
unspeakable delight to the tempting demon in the form of an archangel who, by dint of flattery and address, had become the soul of
all his desires.
"Oh! you are right," said Pierre Arbues; "you are right, Jose.
I too often forget the real object of my earthly mission; I too easily
suffer myself to be carried away by the indomitable fury of the
senses, and by the torrent of my devouring passions; the man too
often rules the inquisitor, and twenty times already, the imprudence
into which this fiery temperament has betrayed me, has nearly
ruined me. You are very happy, Jose"; your passions are calm as
those of a virgin, or rather you govern them by the force of your
will. You are the only one among us who cannot be reproachedwith the least weakness."
"My lord, in order to reign over others, we must begin by governing ourselves. The most difficult enemy to vanquish is self. You
will never be really powerful until you know, at the proper time,
how to repress a passion or a caprice, and subject it without mercy
to the exigencies of your position, never suffering yourself to be
governed by it."
"Do you speak in this way, Jose; you who have so often flattered
my inclinations and caprices, as you call them?
" Never, except when it could not injure your eminence; but
were I now to encourage your foolish love for this girl, who, after all,
is not more beautiful than many others, it would be signal treachery
against you. The people are dissatisfied; the events of to-day sufficiently show that: do not exasperate them still more, my lord, by
openly going in pursuit of the two fugitives: they have partisans
* Jean d'Avila did in fact remain five years in the dungeons of the inquisition,
as we shall see at the proper time.





A LAST DAY OF DISSIMULATION.


289


among the people. For the present, let them alone: if you insist on
it, you will find them hereafter. Is there any need of cruciatos" in
Spain, in order to pursue and overtake them? Believe me, it is better
to draw the attention of these turbulent masses to some other point;
flatter the pope and the king by exhibiting the most rigorous zeal
against the reformed. In a word, my lord, be an almighty spiritual
sovereign, and not the miserable slave of a woman."
"Jose," said Pierre Arbues, " if I were a king, I would make you
my prime minister."
" The minister would be the first slave of your majesty," replied
the favourite.
" Well! be it so," resumed the inquisitor, with enthusiasm, a be
it so: let us repress the rebellions of this indomitable flesh, which at
times renders me weak and wavering as a child. Let us be strong,
that we may reign, and in order that we may reign without a rival,
let us learn to subdue our own propensities. A woman! What is a
woman? What matters it, whether her name is Dolores or Paula;
whether she is the daughter of a noble of Spain, or that of the
meanest gitano in Andalusia? She is, after all, nothing but a wretched
toy, unworthy to occupy a large place in the existence of a man.'
"Doubtless," replied Jose, who at the mention of Paula, had shuddered; " doubtless, a woman is not worthy of a moment's regard from
your eminence; to look upon her in any other light than as a toy or
a slave, would be great folly. So then, to-morrow, my lord, not
later than to-morrow, will your eminence cite this dangerous monk
before you?"
"Yes, to-morrow," eagerly repeated the inquisitor: "is it not my
duty to defend the interests of Rome? and what greater enemies of
Rome than these mad priests who reduce the apostolate to the simple
observance of the gospel, as if this code of catholicism were not a
tissue of fictions and allegories which every pope, every council,
every dignitary of the church especially, has the right to interpret
as he pleases, according to the temporal or spiritual exigencies of the
country in which he lives, of the people whom he governs, and of
his own wants. Away with these foolish innovators, who preach
liberty to the people! It is unwholesome food, which intoxicates instead of nourishing them.  Has not Jesus Christ himself said: 'Render to Casar the things that are Cmsar's? The reformed, on the contrary, say: 'Deprive the pope of the power which he has received
from  God!' No, no, they will not succeed in overthrowing the
chair of St. Peter; the church will proceed against them with in* The cruciatos, says an historian of the inquisition, who has not thought
proper to put his name to his work, were a sort- of crusaders, whose object was
the extirpation of heresy wherever it could be found. According to the same
author, the cruciatos formed a brotherhood with which people of all conditions
were affiliated, monks and priests, bishops, policemen and cardinals, great lords
and beggars, wealthy persons full of fanaticism, and brigands without faith or
law. This brotherhood, adds the author before cited, had its chief seat in Portugal. If such a brotherhood ever existed, and if it was constituted as the
anonymous author states, it must have been in Italy and not in Portugal. In
the first place, the word cruciato, crusader, is perfectly Italian, which makes me
believe that this society was altogether Italian; in the next place, I believe that
Rome alone is capable of such a creation.
04C                  37





290


THE MiYSTERIES OP THt iNk~uL5TION.


creasing severity; the tares must not choke the good seed; ten monks
like Jean d'Avila, would soon revolutionize Spain, and overthrow
the inquisition."
"Your eminence is weary," said Jose; "you need repose after a
day like this."
" And you too, my poor Josh," said Pierre Arbues,,passing his
hand over the burning forehead of his favourite; "b ut you see, I
constantly suffer myself to be carried away by the torrent of my
fiery passions. Well-farewell till oto-morrow; I will go and pray
for another hour, that the Holy Spirit would condescend to enlighten
me in this trying emergency."
The inquisitor rose up, and the favourite accompanied him to the
outer door of his room.
SMy lord," said he, on leaving him, a I ask permission of your
eminence to make a retreat of three days in my convent."
"Be it so, my good Jose, I understand; you have need of repose;
but only three days, let that be well understood: you know that I
cannot do without you. I must say mass and preach at the cathedral on Sunday; you will return at the hour of the sermon."
"I promise you that," said Jose.
' On Sunday, then," repeated the inquisitor.
" On Sunday, my lord."
" Be sure that you are punctual in meeting me then."
" Rest assured, my lord, I shall take care not to be absent."
Jose returned, and suffered a heavy screen of red velvet to fall behind
him; then he threw himself into a large arm-chair, at the foot of
his bed, exclaiming with an air of inexpressible satisfaction:
SWell then, it is over! My last day of dissimulation is past!"
CHAPTER         XLIV.
A PRIEST ACCORDING TO THE GOSPEL.
LET us return for the third time to this terrible tribunal, before
which we have already seen so many noble victims appear; we have
lately been present at a very interesting and solemn session. Mighty
names have there been thrown as food before the Roman hydra, and
their escutcheon has been broken against this simple word, "heretic;"
this word, pronounced by a tribunal from which there is no appeal,
has sufficed to annihilate for ever, and erase from the social list, entire families, whose stock has been lost in the night of centuries.
Be it so! On the present occasion, it is not a family, it is not a
noble Spanish lord who is to take his seat on the criminal's bench,
in order there to hear from the mouth of the inquisitor the sentence
which condemns him to die, or consigns him to eternal infamy!
It is not power, wealth, or beauty which the inquisition arraigns
to-day: it is charity herself; charity in human form, and clothed in
the simple tunic of a barefoot Carmelite, on a mission of consolation
to persecuted Spain; the spirit of Christianity made flesh, in order
that under this common form, the people may be unable to mistake





A PRIEST ACCORDING TO THE GOSPEL.


291


or deny its existence; in a word, a poor monk, whose life has been
spent in praying, and blessing his fellow men.
This monk is Jean d'Avila.
The inquisition has been more afraid of his virtues than of the
vices of others; it has said:
S "Let us destroy this man, who is the living condemnation of our
crimes."
Let us, however, first go back a few hours.
It will be remembered, that on the preceding night, Jose had taken
leave of Pierre Arbues, under the pretext of a retreat. Instead of
repairing to his convent, as he had told the inquisitor, Jose had gone
out very early towards the tavern of the Buena Ventura. There
he shut himself up with Coco in the miserable recess in which the
alguazil slept, and the monk and the plebeian conversed a long time
in a suppressed voice; Jose confiding important secrets to Coco with
the most complete abandon, like a man who can rely upon the person whom he is addressing, and Coco receiving them with the proud
joy of an inferior who is full of devotion, and pleased that confidence is reposed in him, and that he is put to the test. This conversation lasted about an hour, after which the alguazil went forthwith
to the inquisition, showed the jailer an order from Jose, stamped
with the inquisitorial seal, in order to obtain admittance to the dungeon of Jean d'Avila, for the purpose of proving him, as was often done
in private conversation with the prisoners of the holy office. He was
permitted to enter; he handed Josie's billet to the monk, and after
having passed half an hour in the dungeon, repaired to the president of the supreme council. Jean d'Avila, in his dungeon, had
written with a pencil, which Coco had furnished, a note directed to
the president. Coco placed it in the proper hands, then he returned
to his business. Jose had bent his way towards the Gardunia.
Let us now resume our narrative, from the point at which we left
it. We are in the audience chamber of the inquisition.
Around us is still the same mournful preparation which is made
in such circumstances. Only, since the early hours of the morning,
the report has circulated in the city, that the session would be public, and that every one was at liberty to be present.
The rumour among the people has been great, and more than one
has left his business to repair, long before the hour, to the palace of
the inquisition.
It was so rare to obtain such a favour. The audiences of this tribunal, whose organization was different from every other, and which
proceeded almost without order, according to the judgment or caprice
of every inquisitor; these audiences, I say, whose favour was reserved to the frtiends of the inquisition, were almost exclusively the
habitual spectacle of the monks, and of their lordships, the fiamiliars. Once more, Pierre Arbues had yielded to the influence of
the perfidious advice of his favourite, by making public a session, at
which the friend of the people was to appear, the saint revered by
the Sevillians, the comforter of afflicted souls, the father of the poor
and the oppressed.
An immense crowd besieged the palace long before the hour; it
was not only the people who had flocked to this solemnity; entire





292


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


families of rich hidalgos were present, surprised at a suit of this
kind, and curious to see what crime would be alleged against a man
who was the model of every virtue.
At the moment when the doors opened, this eager crowd rushed
into the chamber of the tribunal, which was instantly filled by it.
Many were obliged to remain outside; a still greater number remained in the street and its environs, waiting with anxiety for the
end of the session, in order to learn as soon as possible from the lips
of the first who should leave the palace, what was the result of this
inquisitorial prosecution. All Seville was in suspense, anticipating
some great and fatal event.
Once more led astray by the insinuations of Jose, Pierre Arbues
had been deceived respecting the true state of the public mind; thus
the mighty ones of this world are nearly always deceived.
When he took his seat on the president's chair, the countenance
of Pierre Arbues was radiant with an expression which betrayed the
feelings of his heart; he consoled himself in some measure for the
loss of Manuel Argoso and Dolores, with the hope of condemning
Jean d'Avila. This expression was manifest to the assembly, and
the public hatred which was cherished against the inquisitor, was increased on that day by all the tender veneration inspired by the
apostle.
Soon the accused made his appearance. His countenance, without
being either proud or haughty, was full of majesty, and an evangelic
calm, sat on his countenance, slightly affected by eight days of suffering and confinement. He wore upon his brow the mild but energetic gravity of a true pastor of the gospel, and on seeing him advance to the middle of the hall with the liberty and simplicity of
innocence and strength, bearing his chains as another would have
borne a sceptre, on seeing him throw around him that look of serenity, mild and paternal, as though he had been visiting his poor, and
at length fix it on the grand inquisitor, who, notwithstanding his
habitual audacity, could not bear up under this accusing glance; it
would have been a doubtful case whether Pierre Arbues or Jean
d'Avila were the judge, had not the latter, with the most touching
humility, taken his seat on the criminal's bench. There, he waited
to be interrogated. Pierre Arbues, disdaining the ordinary forms,
without asking either his name or his age, without proceeding according to the order or method, in which the process should have
been conducted, said to him in an abrupt tone:
" Stand up."
Then suddenly perceiving that this was a departure from his inquisitorial character, he resumed with affected mildness:
" Stand up, my brother, and answer us."
Jean d'Avila rose to the full height of his handsome and noble
figure. Every heart was in suspense, and notwithstanding the presence of the inquisitors, remarks exchanged in a low tone, a general
murmur attested the sympathy of the people.
" My brother," continued Pierre Arbues, " our zeal for the service of God cannot permit us to forget that you are one of his mninisters, and that you wear the sacred garb of the Levites; but on this
very account our responsibility is the greater, and we may not to














A PRIEST ACCORDING TO THE GOSPEL.


293


lerate the least thing in you, which tends to alienate others from the
strict observance of the holy canons which are the code of the
church."
" The code of the Christian church is the gospel," replied Jean
d'Avila, with simplicity.
"The councils have made additions to this code," replied the inquisitor, 1" the church of Jesus Christ certainly has the right to continue the work of her Divine Master."'
Jean d'Avila remained silent; the inquisitor expected a reply; he
calculated on taking him insidiously in his own words; his attempt
had failed.
He continued. "My brother, being charged with a holy mission,
with leading and directing souls by preaching, why do you, on the
contrary, attempt to alienate them by propagating the doctrines of
the innovators? Do you not know that this is a grievous crime, an
injury to catholicism?",, Is that, then, the crime of which I am accused?" asked Jean
d'Avila.
"That is your crime, my brother, or rather your error," added
Pierre Arbues, with affected moderation.
The inquisitor again paused; Jean d'Avila, this time also, made
no reply.
"You have advanced in the pulpit," resumed the inquisitor, "that
God is alike good towards all, and that he sheds his benefits equally
upon the just and the unjust."
" It is not I who have said so,"' replied the apostle, "it is Jesus
Christ himself, who has not only proved it by his words, but still
more by his actions."
"Jesus Christ has pronounced an anathema upon the impious and
upon heretics," replied Pierre Arbues.
6" Jesus Christ has pronounced his anathema upon no one, my lordhe has accused and condemned none but hypocrites; those who hide
their vices under the cloak of devotion and virtue; those who under
external rigour conceal the grossest turpitude; these are the men
whom Jesus Christ has stigmatized, my lord. The others, such as
had strayed or were penitent, he bore on his shoulders, he received
and warmed them in his bosom, with the life-giving heat of his holy
love and divine charity.".
The auditory listened with profound attention; the apostle ruled
the assembly by the loftiness of his sublime morality.
Pierre Arbues was losing his boldness, and he began to repent
of having given such publicity to this audience. Still the craftiness
of the inquisitor came to his aid, he continued in a confident, slow
and solemn tone, aping gentleness and humility with all the eflbrts
of his haughty and ungovernable will.
"My brother," said he once more, to Jean d'.Avila, " it is not
only in your sermons that you have shown yourself the warm partisan of the reformation, or rather, that you have testified a culpable
indifference towards the catholic worship, and a still more culpable
toleration for the miserable heretics who voluntarily stray from the
pale of the holy church."
"I do not understand you, my lord," said the apostle.
2c2





294


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


SIt is said, that you make your most common and cherished
friends among beggars, Jews, and Moors; and it is enough to belong
to one of these accursed and reprobated castes---
" My lord," replied the apostle, abruptly, with sublime simplicity,
' these castes are unfortunate and persecuted; the others have no
need of me."
A long murmur of impassioned admiration greeted these simple
words, which depicted the whole soul and life of Jean d'Avila.
The inquisitor saw that it would be difficult for him to condemn
the apostle in presence of tk. entire population of Seville. He had
supposed that he needed only to speak a word in order to destroy
him, and behold! by the mere power of truth, the pious preacher
victoriously repelled these absurd accusations, and the victory was
on the point of being gained by him who had never sought any
thing but the happiness of retirement; for the office of preaching, that
divine commission, bequeathed by the apostles to their successors,
that daughter of the gospel, of whom the Roman church has-made a
shameless comedian, which gesticulates and parades in the churches
of Christ; preaching was nothing but a means by which Jean d'Avila
imparted consolation and instruction, and not an instrument of
worldly ambition. The humble Carmelite did not expect the honours of the episcopate from his vehement or impassioned eloquence;
he did not preach like a lawyer or a comedian, but as St. Paul, and
St. James would have preached, those two pillars of the Christian
faith, those fathers of the flock, who, next to their Divine Master,
scattered throughout the world the seeds of charity and liberty, divine treasures, the only source of human virtue.
The inquisitor was too sagacious not to perceive what feelings animated the assembly; on the other hand, he knew the fidelity of the
Spanish people, and their inviolable attachment to the catholic faith,
notwithstanding the fearful oppression to which they were subjected.
Pierre Arbues well knew that the revolts which agitated the country were directed, not against religion-the Spaniards were too
pious for that-but only against oppressors, against those who in the
name of that very religion, daily committed infamous abuses. He
therefore endeavoured to assail the weak side of the people by trying
to prove that Jean d'Avila was a bad catholic. Once more addressing the accused, he said:
a My brother, it is very painful for us, to-day, to have to reprove
a minister of the gospel, who up to this time has given only examples of virtue; but we are all weak and mortal; the evil 'spirit is
constantly on the watch, he sometimes gains an advantage over him
who does not watch, or who for a time is negligent. We will not
enter into the mysteries of so great a change which has surprised
you; but it is certain, six witnesses have affirmed it," said Pierre
Arbues, pointing to the record of depositions spread open on the
bureau, " it is certain, I say, that your mind, luminous and profound
as it is, has suffered itself to be seduced by the pestilential doctrines
which have come from Germany. You have several times maintained from the pulpit that external customs are of but little importance, that the purity of the heart is every thing: do you deny this,
my brother?  Is not this one of the doctrines of the reformed?"





A PRIEST ACCORDING TO THE GOSPEL.


295


"I deny it, so far as the expressions are concerned," replied Jean
d'Avila; "it is certain, that in denouncing me, my intentions and
my words have been distorted. I have said, my lord, and I repeat it
here before you, for I believe it to be conformed to the true spirit of
Christianity; I have said, that external customs are nothing without
works, nothing, if they be not accompanied with uprightness of
heart and purity of intentions. Do you believe, my lord," added he,
fixing his calm and searching look upon the face of the inquisitor,
6 do you believe, that that man can be very acceptable to God, who
prostrates himself before the altars and kisses the dust of the churches,
whilst his soul is all polluted with murders, revenge, or adultery?
That man, who cries to God with sighs and ejaculations, C My God,
pardon me,' and who cherishes in his heart the desire of destroying his
enemy; who says-to Jesus, 'Lamb without spot, have mercy on me,'
and who, as he leaves the place of prayer, goes, it may be, to plunge
into all the pollutions of vice?  The man ---
"My brother," abruptly said the inquisitor, somewhat disconcerted, for these two men seemed to have changed places; " my
brother, can you tell whether he who prays and weeps whilst
smiting his breast, is more acceptable to God by his very repentance,
than the haughty man who says, 'I have no need of prayer, I am
pure?' "
"My lord," replied the Carmelite, in a calm, grave, and imposing
voice, to which the accent of emphatic and free truth and of deep
conviction, imparted an electric thrill of irresistible authority, my
lord, I implore you, let us not enter into these theological discussions
from which the faith has nothing to gain. The people who listen
to us are just, pious, and confiding; they do not inquire in what
form, more or less abstract, the true observance of the laws of the
gospel is to be found, and I, too, have given myself no concern about
teaching them any such thing. I have merely said, be kind, chaste,
and charitable, because Jesus Christ our model was charitable, chaste,
and kind. I have said, love one another, help one another, for you
are all brethren, and children of the same Father, who is God; and
I have said this, not only to the Christians of the Roman catholic
church, but to those who leaned towards the reformed church. I
have said so to converted Moors and Jews, who were still wavering
in their faith, and to those who had abandoned the faith of their
fathers, merely from fear. To all, I have preached the same code of
morals and the same law, and very often, oh, yes, very often, my
lord, I have seen falling on their knees, and crying out with tears,
that they would embrace so mild a religion, those very persons, who
have subsequently blasphemed and cursed our holy religion amid the
flames of the stake."
" He blasphemes, oh! my God!" exclaimed Pierre Arbues, "a
priest of Jesus Christ dares accuse the holy inquisition."
To this burst of hypocrisy, Jean d'Avila made no reply; but the
look which he fixed upon the inquisitor was so clear, so cool and
searching, that the haughty Arbues could not endure its light; he
who made all Seville tremble before him, was abashed before a
simple preacher of the Christian ch areh, he trembled before his prisoner. The look of Jean d'Avila was an eloquent and mute register,





296


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


in which the inquisitor could read all his most authentic and secret
iniquities, his unjust condemnations, crimes boldly committed in the
face of day, and secret debaucheries, crimes still more abominable,
which were very frequently the sole cause of the former.
From the bed of an inquisitor to the stake, the transition was altogether natural. What would you have a licentious priest do with
the victims of his turpitude, living witnesses always ready to accuse
him?   When he is an inquisitor, he burns them; in days of civil
and religious liberty, he assassinates them. Mingrat and Lacolonge,
if born in the sixteenth century, would have done honour to the in.
quisition.
The auditory, chilled with terror, for they well knew the danger
of courage, and at the same time, electrified by the words of the
apostle, moved with respect, enthusiasm, and gratitude, were ready
to a man to pour blessings on the head of Jean d'Avila, and with
profound anxiety, they awaited the result of this session.
No one ventured to speak or communicate his thoughts, but more
than one, in this attentive crowd, were under the impression of the
same feeling; a simultaneous desire to save their pious preacher animated every heart.
Pierre Arbues perceived, that with a dialectician like Jean d'Avila,
victory was out of the question: without urging the discussion any
farther, he beckoned to the secretary, who had written out all the
answers of the apostle. The secretary handed them to him; his
eminence read them again, as if to excite himself still more to punish
such audacity, and at every phrase, his brow became more and more
contracted; a black tempest of hatred gathered upon that broad and
gloomy forehead, a frightful page, on which the observer might read
so many dismal things.
After he had finished, he took the record in which the depositions
were registered, and after reading a few lines, he said:
" It is all right; the depositions of the witnesses are entirely in
accordance with the answers of the accused. The witnesses who
have signed the record agree perfectly with one another, they have
all alike affirmed, that the priest Jean, surnamed Jean (d'Avila, a
preaching monk of the order of the Barefoot Carmelites, has not only
frequently held communion with Lutheran heretics, Jews, or Moors,
but also, that in his sermons, he has advanced propositions contrary
to the catholic faith. These witnesses have sworn on the gospel to
speak the truth, we must rely on their testimony. Conformably to
the laws of the very holy inquisition, we are therefore compelled to
condemn the priest Jean to the penalties indicated by our holy inquisitorial laws, at least, unless the accused shall be able to prove,
during the session, by the declaration of twelve witnesses for acquittal, that he has been falsely accused.
Whilst uttering these words, the inquisitor turned his eyes towards the bench at ivhich Jean d'Avila stood; the apostle had not
made the slightest motion, he had listened as though the question
concerned some one else; but a great murmur suddenly rose in' the
assembly, and the seat of the witnesses, which was empty a moment
ago, had become an object of contention to the most distinguished
of the hidalgos present at this session, who all disputed with one





A PRIEST ACCORDING TO THE GOSPEL.


297


another the glory of exposing their life in behalf of their beloved
apostle.
There were as many witnesses in the assembly as there were heads,
to render testimony to the innocence of Jean d'Avila; but he, on
seeing them thus expose themselves on his account to death, or at
least to very severe penalties, looked at them with his mild and paternal eye, and beckoned to them with his hand to withdraw.
In view of this universal love, his emotion was so great, that he
had not strength sufficient to speak. Two delicious tears, tears of
unspeakable and heavenly happiness, fell from those calm eyes which
had never been affected, save by the sufferings of others.
"He is innocent! He is innocent!" at once shouted all these enthusiastic voices.
"He has fed us when we were hungry!"
C He has comforted us when we wept. '
6" He has settled our quarrels, and restored peace in our families."
"He has blessed the young people who loved one another, and
reconciled married persons who were separated."
" He is the glory and the happiness of Andalusia."
It was like an immense concert of benedictions; a general hurrah,
stronger than the fear inspired by the inquisition, something spontaneous and irresistible. These men seemed to be obeying a voice
from on high, which invincibly urged them in contempt of personal
danger to the defence of so noble a cause.
At the sight of this general manifestation, the savage Arbues felt
himself seized with a paroxysm of hatred; he had believed that he
could impose by dint of boldness and decision upon these people
who were impelled to the defence of so sacred a cause; he did not
know that the people, that terrible enemy, is as devoted in favour of
the objects of its regard as it is resentful and merciless against those
who have wounded it, that its rage resembles that of the waves,
and that it engulfs those who attempt to resist it.
Determined to contend with open force, Pierre Arbues despised
this general and sacred manifestation; and now or never was the
moment to acknowledge the truth of the -adage-The voice of the
people is the voice of God.
Pierre Arbues gave himself very little concern about that.
The persons who had been able to find room at the seat of the
witnesses were there, standing up, loudly demanding that their testimony should be heard. The inquisitor paid no attention to them;
still, not daring to render sentence publicly, after having refused to
hear the witnesses, he employed his ordinary subterfuge, and turning
towards the sbires who were standing at his right:
" The session is suspended," said he; 6"take the prisoner back to
L\is dungeon."
The people knew what that meant.'    A general cry arose in the
* When, on rare occasions, the inquisition ventured to proceed to a public
trial, it sometimes happened that an accused person had the courage to defend
himself with energy and address; in this case, the inquisition, always adroit,
sent back the accused to his prison under the pretext that the tribunal must seek
information with a view to do justice. This was merely a revenge worthy of
Nero, the accused who ventured thus to brave the inquisition, sometimes es38





298


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION,


assembly, and numerous ardent and obstinate voices shouted at once;
"The witnesses! The witnesses! Let the witnesses be heard!"
"Clear the hall!" shouted Pierre Arbues, rising to go out.
Jean d'Avila stood up in order to follow the sbires, and addressing
the people, he mildly said to them:
"'Be calm, my friends, be calm! They will do me justice, rest
assured of that."
Whilst speaking thus, the apostle had earnestly looked towards the
extremity of the hall, as if he had expected some one: no one came.
Jean d'Avila raised his eyes towards heaven, and whispered with
great resignation:
" Let the will of God be done!"
The people continued to murmur, and a few, an act of unheard of
boldness at that epoch, ventured to step over the barrier which separated them from the accused. Then, throwing themselves on their
knees before him whom they called their father, they kissed his
hands and his robe, not with the humility of fanaticism, but with a
veneration entirely filial, with that profound respect which true virtue
obtains without asking it, and which is granted through fear to vice,
when it is all powerful.
The scene threatened to become stormy; but the inquisition was
prudent and cautious.
In a few moments, a treble rank of armed sbires and archers of
the holy brotherhood, had stretched like a long boa around the people assembled in the hall, so that these brave men found themselves
suddenly enveloped, and not one of them could have passed out of
that circle alive, if such had been the will of the inquisitoir.
A fearful collision was becoming inevitable, for these ardent and
courageous people would not have suffered themselves to be sacrificed
without resistance.
Jean d'Avila, who saw the whole at a glance, shuddered with pious indignation, and for a moment, he regretted that he was so much
beloved. The danger of this brave and loyal populace affected him
more than his personal peril.
Pierre Arbues, standing behind his chair of state, gazed around the
hall with the complacent look of the hunter, when he sees the lion
taken in the net which he has spread.
The people as yet had not observed what was passing. It was
fortunate for the inquisition that the preoccupation of his mind had
withdrawn his attention from himself; it was perhaps still more fortunate for the inquisitor himself. He had, it is true, an armed force
at his disposal; but what can an armed force do against a courageous
people, urged to desperation, and exasperated by years of oppression
caped the flames; but he was subjected to all possible tortures, and ended by
dying in the dungeons, with his limbs broken and his soul filled with despair.
Some years after his death his suit was closed; the accused was declared
guilty of heresy, and as he was supposed to have died impenitent, his bones
were exhumed and burned at the next auto da f6; his memory was tarnished to
his latest posterity, and his property became the prey of the inquisition. Llorente
mentions more than one example of this iniquitous mode of procedure; nearly all
those whose effigies and bones were burned had been victims of this altogether
inquisitorial procedure.





A PRIEST ACCORDING TO THE GOSPEL.


299


and misery. Pierre Arbues alone, blind as all despots are, did not
apprehend his own danger.
At this moment the great door opened both its folds; the guards
and the people made way with all the marks of profound respect.The inquisitor grew pale, he who had just entered the hall of the tribunal was the president of the Supreme Council, in person, followed
by his counsellors. When he had come in full view of the inquisitor, the president stopped; he was standing at the side of Jean
d'Avila. Pierre Arbues stood abashed before the president of the
Supreme Council, for the latter had cast upon him a look of reproach
and anger, which presaged nothing good. The president then turned
toward the apostle who had alrea-dy been seized by two shires and
was on the point of being led back in chains to his dungeon.
" Set this man at liberty!" said he in a tone of severity.
The bonds which held Jean d'Avila dropped as by enchantment.
' My lord?" Pierre Arbues ventured to say.
"By what authority have you condemned this man?" continued
the president; " you have not even condescended to communicate the
fact of his arrest to the Council; do you know that I could ""It is true," stammered Pierre Arbues, "this formality has been
omitted, but hereafter"" Begone," said the president sternly, "and hereafter remember,
that an omission of this sort is a crime. The King and the Council
are quite willing that heretics should be prosecuted, but let it be done
in legal form, so that we may judge for ourselves of the guilt of the
accused. You are at liberty, my reverend father," added the Chief
of the Council, addressing the apostle with the utmost benignity.
" Thank you, my lord," said Jean d'Avila, "I expected no less
from your eminence."
Pierre Arbues withdrew, full of wrath; his reign was over. " Hurrah! hurrah!" shouted the crowd, " God and the Virgin bless the
Supreme Council!"
The good-natured and generous people uttered shouts of enthusiastic admiration, and shed tears of joy on account of this stroke of lofty
and adroit policy, as though it had been an act of heroic devotion
or royal munificence.* Thus the poor confiding and loyal people are
imposed upon, and thus they were then deceived; yet in our day, he
is a foolish man who supposes that they are blind. They are sharpsighted, very quick to discern, and are becoming more so every day:
only they are sometimes too good-natured. It is not safe, however,
to calculate upon that; nothing is more formidable than exhausted
patience, which has lasted a long time!
At all events, the acquittal of the apostle of Andalusia was a matter of universal joy for Seville; it was supposed that Charles V. was
determined at last to keep all his promises, and the Supreme Council
gained immense popularity. But, alas! this great body of state which
* The deliverance of Jean d'Avila was, in fact, a master-stroke of policy. By
this means the supreme council, whilst compromitting the authority of an inquisitor, ifispired the people with confidence in the loyalty and justice of the inquisition, and thus strengthened the power of the odious tribunal which has inflicted
so much injury on Spain, and which would have destroyed religion itself, if the
religion of Jesus Christ could have been destroyed.





30oo


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


was almost entirely composed of archbishops and prelates, usually
manifested a zeal as great as the inquisition itself for the extirpation
of heresy; however, like every other power, the Council was very
jealous of its authority.
To trench upon its rights or appear to despise them, was an offence
not easily pardoned; this Pierre Arbues had done in neglecting to
communicate the arrest of Jean d'Avila. This defect in the form,
which trifled with the self-love of the Council, at all events, saved
the illustrious preacher.*
Why is it that the greatest results are not unfi;equently to be traced
to the most miserable causes?-This belongs, however, to the counsel of God!
When Jean d'Avila left the hall, the people raised him    in their
arms as on a shield, and the entire populace, delighted and intoxicated
with joy and hope, led him back in triumph to his humble dwelling,
shouting in a voice of transport.
" Hurrah! for our beloved apostle! hurrah, for the King! hurrah,
for the president of the Supreme Council!"
* St. Jean d'Avila was born in 1504, at Almodovar del campo, a small town
in the diocess of Toledo. His parents were wealthy, and held in great estimation in the country. St. Jean first studied civil and canonical law at the university of Salamanca, in accordance with the wishes of his parents, who designed
him for the bar, but his vocation for the priesthood was irresistible. God was
calling him to the noble office of a preacher. His parents, not wishing to thwart
his desire, sent him to Alcala d'Henares, where he entered with ardour upon his
theological studies.
Immediately after receiving holy orders, Jean d'Avila was desirous of setting
out for the West Indies, where he believed an ample harvest might be reaped.
From this purpose he was dissuaded by Alphonso Manrique, at that time archbishop of Seville, and subsequently Inquisitor general, who persuaded him to engage
in the work of preaching at home. His eloquence and piety soon procured him
the title of the apostle of Andalusia. Neither his piety, his eloquence, nor the
purity of his doctrines, could save him from the envy of the other monks, who
denounced him as a heretic. The mild tolerance of the apostle, who never cursed
or anathematized Jews, Moors, or heretics, was regarded by the inquisition as
heresy, and he was prosecuted as a schismatic. Notwithstanding the powerful
protection of Alphonso Manrique, who had been appointed Inquisitor general,
September 10, 1523, Jean d'Avila was imprisoned in the dungeons of the holy
office in 1528, and remained there for five years, until in 1534, when, thanks to
an informality in the process, he was acquitted. The inquisition had neglected
to communicate their proceedings against him to the supreme council. Jean
d'Avila died at Montilla, in 1569, at the age of sixty-five years. He left many
letters addressed to St.. Jean de Dieu, besides written sermons, a volume of which
was printed in Holland in 1617. This volume, which I read in Seville in 1817,
and which the French respected, is no longer extant. The populace burned it
in the Plaza Mayor in 1825, at the instigation of the Dominican monks, who
have always stigmatized the apostle of Andalusia as a marrano and a heretic.





A MARRIAGE AND A FUNERAL.


301


CHAPTER         XLV.
A MARRIAGE AND A FUNERAL.
IN the caverns of the Gardufia, (which were vast subterranean vaults
dug during the wars of the Moors against the Catholics, in order to
afford secret communications to the troops) Mandamiento had concealed Estevan, Dolores and Juana.
The box in which the body of Manuel Argoso had been transported,
had been exchanged for a large cedar coffin which had been procured
by the gardui-os. The greater portion of the gold which Estevan
had saved from his fortune, which he was obliged to abandon to confiscation, had been expended in paying for these services."
None could be more devoted than the gardunios were to those who
paid them.
The coffin which contained the mortal remains of him who had
been the governor of Seville, was deposited upon wooden stools.
According to the custom of the times, the face of the dead man had
remained uncovered; but care had been taken to clothe the body with
a very fine white shroud of Holland linen. Manuel Argoso had 'his
hands crossed upon his breast, and his eyelids were entirely closed.
Death had imparted wonderful serenity to his pale countenance which
had lately indicated so much suffering. The kind attention of Jos6
had not forgotten his friends in these painful circumstances.
Juana, the old nurse of the young monk, strong in her devotion to
her friends, prayed by the side of Dolores during this sad vigil with
the dead: she received in her bosom the tears of the disconsolate
girf. Jean d'Avila, on the other hand, the companion of all the unfortunate, had no sooner been released from the dungeons of the inquisition, than warned by the Chapa, he had hastened to the Garduna.
His unexpected presence had afforded sweet consolation to Estevan
and his betrothed. It was near midnight. Jean d'Avila and Jose,
kneeling by the side of the coffin, slowly recited the prayers for the
dead, whilst Dolores sobbed'aloud; but neither Estevan nor Juana
attempted to console her. They wept with her.
It was, indeed, a solemn moment, the final adieu of death to life;
the last moment, when the material form of him whom Dolores had
loved so well was about to be returned to the dust. At one end
of the cavern, a simple wooden table had been prepared as an altar,
covered with a white napkin and surmounted by a large crucifix.
Two massive candelabras of silver, the property of Mandamiento,
each supported three yellow wax candles, and in a bowl of carved
silver, a twig of box wood was steeped in the holy water.
* When a citizen, who had been accused or even suspected of heresy, left
Spain, all his goods were immediately confiscated to the profit of the king and
the inquisition; but as the inquisition had the precedence, the king received only
one-fourth of the confiscated property. In these judicial thefts, the inquisition
gained its end by instituting a process against the exile, by causing his effigy to
be burned, and prosecuting all his relatives, and even his friends.
2D





302


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


These were the only luxuries in this funeral ceremony; the carving
of the metal and the polished surface of the candelabras glittered with
a strange light in this gloomy place, sad and naked, and the figure of
the white crucifix, mild and bending towards them, seemed to weep
with the afflicted group who were bowed before it.
The solemn and penetrating voice of Jean d'Avila was invested
with an overpowering emotion, with which the mild and soft silver
voice of Jose' blended with a melancholy charm. The sobs which ever
and anon burst from the bosom of Dolores, notwithstanding her effobrts
to restrain them, mingled their thrilling harmony with the recitative
of the two monks. These funeral rites, thus divested of the pomp
and sound which worldly pride lends to them, had something affect
ing and profound, owing to the imperious necessity of celebrating
them in this manner, at night in an unknown place, screened from all
observation.
This poor girl, obliged to take refuge among malefactors in order
to rend'er the last sad office to her father, the two monks, one of
whom had just escaped from the inquisition, whilst the other belonged to the holy office, the aged Juana, a strange personage, who
seemed to have been created only to minister to the sufferings of
others, so indifferent did she seem to her own lot, all presented an
eccentrie and mysterious appearance, which resembled a legend or a
romance. Oh! the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries were fruitful in
incredible and terrible dramas, as well as the present day: were it not
for the authority of Spanish authors, who lived during these unhappy
epochs, and who certainly were too honest to deceive; were it not for
the testimony of annals whose authority cannot be contested, it would
be almost impossible to believe these histories which seem improbable, involving as they do so many horrors. The incidents we are
narrating were fearful, and yet this cruel tragedy was not yet developed.
Of all those who were present at this scene, Estevan was perhaps
the most sorrowful. To the grief which the death of Dolores' father
occasioned, was added the bitter conviction of inability to contend
efficaciously for his country. He saw with a despair which could
not be described, that the glory of a liberator was not reserved for
him, and in this bitter feeling, there wvas certainly less of the de-:
ception of human pride, than of pity for his country and compassion
for the victims of the insatiable ambition of Rome, the clergy and
the reigning powers.
In his broad and expanded ideas, Estevan had sometimes dreamed
of delivering Spain; at this moment, he looked forward to that day
as far distant. This thought threw over his young brow a dark cloud
of sadness, which even his love for Dolores was insufficient to dissipate.
The life of woman may fitly be translated by a single word;
"Love."   Man requires something more. Strong and courageous,
he does not concentrate his entire existence in a single individuality:
he embraces a wider and more complex aim, and even before the
name of the woman whom he loves, there is another word which vibrates through every nerve of his moral nature: it is his native land!
This beloved name was now sounding like a funeral knell in the ears





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303


of the young Count de Vargas, the mournful recitative of the two
monks, that awful De profundis, whose harrowing words fill the
soul with anguish, and cause an icy shudder to run through every
vein; that awful De profundis sounded to him like the last cry of
anguish of his oppressed country, the final farewell which Spain
seemed to moan, before her death, from the depth of the abyss into
which she had been plunged.
Jean d'Avila paused in the prayers from time to time, to sprinkle
the holy water which purifies; then he returned to kneel by the side
of Jose, and continued the office for the dead.
During the whole period that this sad ceremony lasted, Estevan,
supporting his head between his two hands, did not once look around:
but when Jean d'Avila had pronounced the last sentence in the
prayer for the dead, restored to the apprehension of what was passing, he rose up and approached Dolores; he felt that his love of country could not entirely absorb that which he felt for his betrothed,
and that it was also a sacred duty to watch over her and make her
happy.
At this moment, two members of the Gardufia entered, in order
to carry off the coffin. Dolores felt that the last moment had come,
and as she was endowed with that energetic will which in the great
emergencies of life knows how to control the bitterness of grief,
notwithstanding her sorrows, she approached with a firm step towards the funeral couch on which her father was reposing.
Estevan attempted to restrain her.
"Suffer me,' said she, resisting him gently, but with firmness,
'Suffer me to bid him a last farewell."
She then moved towards the coffin, kneeled down upon the naked
earth, bowed her head towards the beloved corpse, and placing her
lips upon that pallid brow, kissed it thrice, then calmly rising from
her knees, she took her seat at the remotest extremity of the
cavern.
The strength which had sustained her for a moment, abandoned
her. She hid her face in her hands, in order that she might see
nothing of what was passing around her.
Estevan and Juana did not remove their eyes from her
The gardufios, with every possible precaution, lifted up the cotSn,
and carried it into a cavern which was still wider and more retired,
There, seven or eight members of the order, men and women, were
in attendance.
When they had deposited the coffin on the ground, two of the
oldest coberteras took hold of the corpse.
These two hideous creatures, scarcely covered with wretched rags
of black wool, had tucked up the sleeve of theirjubons to the elbow,
and exposed their lean hands and arms, tanned, and furrowed with
large blue veins. Their thin hair, gray and dishevelled, hung in disorder upon their neck under a fillet of black and faded ribbon, which
had become gray from filth and dust. Their long lean necks were
exposed under a kerchief carelessly thrown around them, and with
their bare, broad and dirty feet they trod stamping over the earthen
floor of the vault. Each of these two old women was furnished with
a pruning-knife recently sharpened,





304


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


A rickety table, about six feet long, had been placed in the cave.
Upon this the coberteras stretched the body of the governor, and set
to work.
Like birds of prey, habituated to the sight of dead bodies, these
two old women opened the body in its entire length as an anatomist
would have done, then they extracted the bowels and the heart with
incredible dexterity.
Two guapos took the entrails, deposited them in the coffin, sprinkled some aromatic spices over them, and then covered them up again
in a large piece of satin; the two gardunos who were present kneeled
by the side of the coffin, and muttered some prayers; finally, the coffin
was let down into a deep ditch which had been prepared, and the gardufos covered it up with earth.
Meanwhile, one of the coberteras had, placed the heart in a silver
box, after having carefully embalmed it with precious spices known
to the gitanos, a race of Egyptian origin; her companion had carefully washed the body with perfumed waters.
After having wiped it with fine linen, these two women stretched
it upon a large silver gray cloth, woven with asbestos thread, a rare
and costly thing. But what was rare among the gardunios?
When they had made this disposition of the body, and had enclosed
the heart, the coberteras knelt down, and began to pray again; at the
same time, they sprinkled the body with liquid perfumes by means
of a branch of cedar, and mumbled unintelligible prayers in a low
tone, grotesque formulas borrowed from all sorts of rites, which they
had accommodated to their use by an ignorant superstition, somewhat
tinged with careless skepticism.
It was a horrible sight to behold these two hideous old women,
their hands and arms all covered with blood, kneeling before these
mortal remains, invoking with their lips an unknown God or demon, of whose assistance they were scarcely conscious, or rather reciting, from custom, incoherent and absurd sentences: standing corpses,
burying a dead body reposing on its bed. The gardufos calmly
waited until they had finished.
At the close of some minutes, they rose up, one of them handed
the box which enclosed the heart to a young guapo, with the.
words,
"Take good care of this."
Then, finally, the two sibyls, equipped with scissors and needles,
carefully enveloped the body in asbestos cloth, sewed it up every
where by means of thread extracted from the web of the cloth, and
then, having satisfied themselves that it was well hermetically sewed,
they turned towards the garduios and said, "It is ready."
It was now the turn of the guapos.
A large trench had been dug in the midst of the cavern, in the
form of a cross, covered at its orifice with an enormous iron grate.
The part of the trench which represented the body of the cross had
been filled with charcoal; that which formed the arms was intended to
serve as a conductor to the air, so that by alternately passing from one
side to the other, and divesting itself of its oxygen, it constantly maintained combustion. The charcoal which filled the trench was indeed
already on fire, and in consequence of the great quantity which had





A MARRIAGE AND A FUNERAL.


305


been thrown into it, it flamed rather than burned. Ventilators had
been carefully adjusted in the vaults, so that the gas could not suffocate any one.
The two gardufios who had taken the body then laid it upon the
grate which was already red hot, and could scarcely be distinguished
in the midst of the burning coals. Scarcely had the body been laid
on the fire, than a blue flame rose around it, as though eager to
devour it.
In proportion as the fire consumed the body, the asbestos cloth assumed a dazzling whiteness, and glittered like molten silver in the
midst of this furnace.
Soon a strong and disagreeable odour mingled with that of the carbonic acid gas. None but gardufros could remain in such a place.
They seemed by no means incommoded; and with genuine Spanish
indifference, they waited until the body had been consumed, and
nothing was left but a few ashes.
Then they removed the asbestos cloth which had become as pliable
as muslin, and resembled a large bag almost empty; as soon as it was
cool, they opened it, carefully extracted the ashes to the last particle,
and enclosed them in a satchel of morocco leather, about four inches
square, furnished with several strings.
This operation over, the gardunio who had been commissioned by
Mandamiento to preside over this ceremony, said, as he took the
satchel in both his hands, " This is in my care; the silver box shall
be intrusted to Garabato," added he, pointing to the young postulant,
the favourite of Mandamiento, whom we have already seen figuring
at the beginning of this book. The cobertera who had embalmed
the heart returned it with the box to him who had been intrusted
with it. Last of all, two other gardufios threw a large quantity of
earth upon the charcoal which had remained in the ditch, and all was
over. The ceremony was finished.
Whilst this strange funeral was performed, a very different scene
had been enacted in the other cavern.
After the gardunios had removed the coffin, Jean d'Avila had approached the governor's daughter, who, as we have said, had taken
her place at the extremity of the vault, and concealed her face in her
hands, in order that she might be at liberty to weep. When the
apostle was near her, he gently called her by name.
At the sound of this loved voice, Dolores raised her face all bathed
in tears.
"Daughter," continued Jean d'Avila, " your's is pious grief, and I
share in it; and yet, in the name of him whom you deplore, I conjure
you to show yourself strong and courageous: all your duty is not yet
performed."
' What remains to be done?" inquired she, with the stupid astonishment into which overwhelming grief plunges us.
The apostle took her gently by the hand and assisting her to rise,
he led her towards Estevan, who out of respect had not ventured to
go near her, and was standing at some distance, his arms crossed upon
his breast.
On seeing the apostle approaching with his betrothed, he went
towards them. Jean d'Avila then placed the hand of Dolores in that
39                 2D2





306


THE MYSTERIES 0F THE INQUISITION.


of the young man, saying in a mild voice, " It is your father'l
wish."
" It is mine also," replied Dolores, with noble candour.
This modest girl had too much real virtue to have recourse to that
conventional prudery which puts into the mouths of women so many
words which their actions contradict. Estevan took with rapture
the hand of her whom he loved. Jose looked 'on in silence, and a
kind of delirium, an inward moral fever sparkled in his looks, which
were even more ardent than usual.
SMy brother," said Jean d'Avila, addressing the young Dominican,
" you will bless our two friends."
Jos6 hastily raised his head, as if these words had interrupted a
dream.
"I?" said he, bitterly; " I bless the union of these two children?
No, my father, no, that cannot be. It is a privilege which belongs
to you," added he, in a calm and submissive tone, abashed before
the penetrating gaze of Jean d'Avila.
" Let it be as you wish," said he; " come, my children, I will unite
you."
He drew the betrothed towards him.
Jose and Juana advanced towards one another, and exchanged a few
words in a whisper, whilst Juana wiped away a tear which trickled
from her eyes over her pale and withered cheek.
When they were near the table on which stood the crucifix, Estevan and Dolores knelt down. Each of them had a marriage ring on
their finger; they exchanged them, and Jean d'Avila blessed them.
Then, after the usual questions, very simple questions, the formulary
of evangelical marriage, the Franciscan pronounced the sacramental
words.
During this time, kneeling side by side in pious and sad devotion,
the two betrothed prayed, and notwithstanding their grief, a gleam
of happiness still gilded the two futures which were about to be
blended in one.
Dolores was pale and deeply affected; so many terrible events had
preceded this moment, that she doubted whether it was not another
of those cruel deceptions which, for some months past, had presided
over her life. And yet, when she placed her hand in that of Estevan, and felt that hand gently pressed by him who was to be the
guide and support of her weakness, a deep sigh heaved from her
breast, she fixed upon Estevan a heavenly look, the sublime prayer
of love, more eloquent than speech itself.
When they arose, Estevan and Dolores were united for ever.
Jose then approached the young couple, and said to them with an
accent not to be described, and a voice trembling with emotion,
" Now, my friends, go, be happy, and never separate."
At this moment, a gardunlo entered the cavern. He had been sent
by Mandamiento to inquire whether the master might have an interview with them.
"The master can come," said Jean d'Avila.
Mandamiento then appeared with his ordinary assurance. " Every
thing is ready for the departure of your lordships," said he: "two of
the most sure-footed mules are waiting for you, my gardunlos will





A MARRIAGE AND A FUNERAL.


307


follow you on foot to serve as your Espolistas.  Here is besides the
watch-word, so that in all places in which your lordships may meet
the brothers of the Gardufia, instead of being dangerous to you, they
will afford you their aid and protection."
With these words, Mandamiento handed to Estevan a bit of parchment, on which a word was traced, which was almost illegible.
This was the firman, which was to protect the flight of the exiles
across the roads of Spain which were infested with gardufios.t
" Here," added the master, "are the two brothers who will accompany you; they are the bravest and most trustworthy of our fraternity;" and he pointed to the guapo and the postulant, to whom the
remains of the governor had been intrusted, and who just then entered the cavern.
" Where will you meet us again, my father?" inquired Estevan of
Jean d'Avila.
" At Cadiz," replied the apostle.
"I will be there as soon as you, but I shall go by another road;
it would not be prudent were we to take the same route."
"And you, Don Jose?"' inquired Dolores with regret, for she felt
a fraternal affection for the young monk.
"I! wherever it shall please God," replied Jose, with a mournful
expression of absolute discouragement and self-abandonment. At the
moment when the two persons were called to leave him, for whose
sake he had felt existence to be desirable; Jos6's heart failed as those
of tender sensibility do, before a fresh source of grief. Still, having
been long accustomed to master his feelings, he turned to Juana, and
said to her in a mild but urgent voice,
"My kind nurse, you are going with them, are you not?"
"!" said Juana, with a sublime expression of courage, a Can I gc
if you stay?"
"I I will meet you all in a few days," added Jose, with a volubility
which illy disguised his emotion. "Do you see, my kind Juana, we
must all leave Spain; no one is safe here."
"I will not leave without you, my Jose," said the nurse, resolutely.
Espolista, spurrier, from espuela, a spur. The name is given to certain
men, whose business consists in walking before the mules of travellers, and
especially before those of the monks. They perform the duties of footman,
guide and guard, are devoted to their employers, and of tried courage. They
are called spurriers, because it is asserted, that, by walking before the mules,
they excite them to greater speed. A good espolista and a monk's mule will
travel from eighteen to twenty Spanish leagues in a day.
t The garduiios, and after their destruction the renowned bandits, of Spain,
had agents, or insurers, authorized by them, in nearly all the cities, and in most
of the ventas, or isolated inns, to levy contributions on travellers, and to give in
exchange a watchword, which would prove a security to them in all places
within a specified distance. In 1823, every traveller, who did not wish to be
disturbed between Madrid and Cadiz, had only to take his passage in one of
Pedro Ruiz's stages, which cost about three times as much as a seat in the diligence, with a tax of five per cent. on the value of the baggage. The thieves
never disturbed the wagons of Pedro Ruiz. If the bandits made their appearance, and demanded your money or your life, all that was requisite was to produce the watchword, and the scoundrels were transformed into the most polite
gentlemen in the world, and, raising their caps, were sure to bid your uworship
go in God's name.





308


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.4


"6 Yes, but you will go first with our friends, you will be less observed; and in a few days, when I have realized the funds which belong to me, I will meet you all again. Come, Juana, you will set out
this evening."
"6 I will not go," said she, abruptly.
" It is my wish, Juana," rejoined Jose, abruptly; but he was so
pale, and his eye, usually so bright, had all at once become so dull,
that it was manifest he was inwardly the victim of a violent struggle.
At the word " it is my wish," Juana bowed her head sorrowfully,
and replied, in a subdued voice,
"I will go."
"Oh! so much the better,"' exclaimed Dolores; "Jose will follow
us too."
The strength of the young monk was exhausted, his hands trembled with a nervous convulsion, which all the energy of his will
could scarcely conceal; he tottered upon his limbs, and his eyelids
closed with an involuntary contraction. However, moral courage
triumphed over the physical man. By a superhuman effort he extended his hand to Estevan and Dolores, and regained strength
enough to press their's convulsively; then he threw himself upon the
bosom of Juana, embraced her with the tenderness of impassioned
despair, and dropped two tears which had been restrained until that
moment.
"Soon, my Juana," said -he, "we shall meet again: be composed."
"I do not doubt it, my son," replied the old nurse:" certainly we
shall meet again."  All was ready.
"Gentlemen," said Mandamiento, "make haste; you will hardly
have time to make two leagues before daybreak, in order to reach the
first residence of a brotherhood, where you will pass the day, for you
know you can only travel at night."
A third mule had been prepared for Juana, by the direction of the
inquisitor's favourite. The little caravan set out; Jose and Jean
d'Avila remained alone.
"My father," said Jose, " before you leave us, give me your blessing.r
"My son," said Jean d'Avila, more and more surprised at the demeanour of the young Dominican, "the Countess Estevan de Vargas
was not the saddest in our company this evening."
" Oh! no," replied Jose, with emphasis, "now that Dolores no
longer requires your aid, my father, pray for Jose."
" God bless and comfort thee, poor sufferer!" said the apostle, with
sweet compassion.
Jose, as if afraid to let himself be drawn into too great confidence,
abruptly withdrew, and turned his steps towards the house of Juana,





THE JUSTICE OF GOD.


CHAPTER        XLVI.
THE JUSTICE OF GOD.
IT was now three days since the miraculous deliverance of Jean
d'Avila; miraculous, on account of the rareness of such a triumph.
In the little dwelling of Juana, in the midst of the low parlour in
which the nurse of Jose was accustomed to pass her long and solitary days, the young monk was alone.
Seated on a broad sofa, embroidered by the hands of Juana, Jos6,
pale and exhausted, was carelessly reclining on the pillows.
His white and slender hand supported his weary head, two bluish
circles surrounded his heavy eyes, a gloomy excitement, a profound
and single idea imparted to his large black eyeballs a frightful fixedness, whilst extreme physical exhaustion was perceptible in all his
limbs.
Since the departure of Dolores and Estevan, Jos6 had remained
alone in this deserted habitation: for two days he had tasted no food!
This, however, was not the result of extravagant asceticism or stupid
fanaticism: during the two days and two nights which had just passed,
the lips of the young monk had not pronounced a single word.
It was a long time.since Jose had engaged in prayer. A vast
chaos of ideas had been formed in his head, governed by one single
purpose, which constantly returned under all possible forms, but incoherently and without order, a monster with a thousand heads, a
greedy hydra which darted its thousand fiery tongues at once, in
order to deceive and overwhelm him with fatigue.
During these two mortal days, the Dominican beheld incredible
and terrible events passing before him, scenes which were impossible phantasms: angels and demons, laughter and tears; a white dove
called truth, shaking with affright its bloody wings, and mounting
towards heaven after viewing the earth with a look of intense
sorrow.
Now Jose was conversing with an invisible and charming being,
which softly called him by his name, and which sometimes raised
his weary arms with a gentle and caressing hand, whispering,
" Let us go."
Jose made an effort to rise and follow this beloved object which
called him; but then an iron hand was laid upon his feeble arm,
foreing him to resume his seat, and exclaiming in a rough and fatal
voice,
" Not yet!"
The young monk buried his head in the velvet cushions, in vain
attempts to escape this cruel vision; then he started up furious and
desperate, a gloomy joy gleamed from his stern countenance, his
white teeth chattered convulsively, and with his frail and nervous
hand he clenched with rage the ebony handle of a poniard, whose
slender sharp blade had the brilliancy and hardness of a diamond.
"Wait, wait!" he muttered at intervals, "I have waited seven
years!"




310


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


Then for the last time, he turned over the clepsydra which enabled him to count the long hours of this mortal day. The ninth
hour of the morning was about to begin.
At this moment, the eye of Jose rested on a piece of tapestry,
commenced by Juana, an admirable specimen of art, which had beguiled the leisure hours of this poor sorrowful woman. The cloth,
all ope-n on the table, the needle with its woollen thread seemed to
await the return of her, who, under her feeble hands, had opened all
these brilliant blossoms, these roses of Alhambra with their flowers
so red and pure, and those African palms, whose foliage seemed to
wave and tremble at the caprice of the wind.
On seeing this, the breast of the young monk, burning and arid
as despair, swelled with grief bitter yet not so parched, deep emotion
bathed his burning eyes in tears, and he imprinted a kiss full of tenderness upon this insensible cloth. "Poor Juana," he exclaimed,
"how~ unhappy I have made thy life too!-Oh, if I could see theesee thee for another hour, rest my head upon the bosom which has
nourished me, and not be alone-alone in the world!" he cried
with a tone of profound distress, whilst his eye glared wildly around
the deserted chamber. "Yet, I have done well in removing her out
of danger, now she is free; my sad existence will no longer weigh
upon hers: I have given her friends who will be children to her.
Poor Juana! Oh, how she will weep when she hears that she must
never see me again!"
Jos6 looked at the clepsydra, it contained but a very small quantity of sand. " Oh, time!" he exclaimed, "time carries every thing
away with it-grief and joy, beauty and youth, grandeur and gloryone single thing resists its efforts, and is never destroyed; that is hatred-the hatred which is carried down to the tomb, and which is
not extinguished even after it has consumed life."
"Let us go!" continued he with a heavy sigh, as if he had made
a sublime effort to break the last bands which still held him to this
life-" my work here below is done! another world claims me, the
last hour has struck-let us go."
With these words the young monk adjusted his disordered tunic,
covered his shoulders with his cloak; then approaching a closet
which contained some phials filled with various liquors, he selected
one, which he emptied at a draught. It was a costly elixir mixed
by Juana.
No sooner had Jose swallowed it, than his pale forehead glowed
with the soft tint of the rose, his weary, heavy eyes resumed an
aspect of life, a brightness which might have deceived the most
practised eye; his hand trembled no more; he walked with a firm
and confident step; he was ready for the struggle. The last grain of
sand glided with the rapidity of thought pon the white and polished
base of the hour-glass, and instantly the clock of the cathedral sounded
three strokes, it announced the close of the mass.
" The hour has come!" exclaimed Jos6. He hurried towards the
door, and went out without turning his head.
It was the time agreed upon for his interview with Pierre Arbues.
Jos6 walked very fast, and his right hand, concealed under his tunic,
clenched the handle of his dagger. The day was delightful; a bright





THE JUSTICE OF GOD.


311


sun shone in a sky of lively blue, and as the heat became powerful,
the streets which were inundated with a glow of light, were crowded
with people clothed in holiday garb. They were going away from
high-mass, and every one was on the way to his own house or to
the tavern to dinner.
Those brown Andalusian forms, sun-burnt and indicating their
Arabian origin by their blood and colour; the sprightly manolas with
their nimble limbs, the elegant and coquettish majos, all this populace
naturally so gay, warm-hearted, and sociable, bore upon their brow the
impress of sadness, of servitude, and the gloomy listlessness of fear.
Those large black eyes generally remained veiled under their broad
restless lids, and all these lips, quivering with the instinct and desire of
poetry, seemed to force themselves to remain mute.
These popular poets, whose anthems and rythm still preserved its
rich oriental colouring, suffered its inspiration and joy to die in their
bosom; the people did not dare to sing, they could not stir a step in
the street without being elbowed by monks, and every monk was a
spy.
Jose passed through the midst of the crowd without seeing it, quickening his pace in order to arrive sooner, and fixedly looking before
him as if he was pursuing a shadow. Some manolas, on seeing him
pass with so rapid a step, stood still with astonishment.
"Whither is the favourite of his lordship the inquisitor going in
such haste?" whispered one of them: "he is pale as a corpse, and he
looks as though he had nothing more to do but to die."
"Be still," said an old woman, " that is none of our business; in
matters concerning the inquisition, silence!"
The young girls hung down their heads and crowded one against
the other like frightened fawns. When Jos6 arrived before the cathedral, scarcely any one was to be seen on the esplanade, but at a distance, in the adjacent streets, the monotonous and humming sound was
audible, which the footsteps of a large body of people make as they
move away.
The young Dominican then entered the temple. A strong odour
of incense still prevailed in ther body of the church. A soft light
streamed through the coloured panes of the windows under the
gloomy columns, and in the midst of this dubious day a large silver
lamp, suspended from the vault, threw out a bright and flickering flame
which at times darted towards the cupola in a brilliant jet, reflecting
the colours of the windows. Here and there, upon the bare marble
floor, a few women crouching upon their heels, were praying and
smiting on their breasts. Dressed in their black mantillas and kneeling on the tombs with which the church was paved, they looked like
souls in pain seeking to regain heaven.
Then again, from their complete rigidity, they might have been
taken for the statues of those whom the stone, on which they were
kneeling, enclosed.
Higher up, in the arch, at the foot of the grand altar, absolute solitude reigned; under the single ray of light which falling from above,
lit up this dark and mysterious place, the vague form of a Dominican
monk could with difficulty be discerned, kneeling alone upon the
steps.





312


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


The candles of the altar were still burning, and the amber odour
of the wax mingled its sweet perfume with the fragrance of the incense, whose smoke rose up in white flakes.
A large ivory figure of Christ extended its two arms on the cross
with divine resignation. In a spacious frame above the table of the
altar might be seen the Virgin with the infant Saviour, throwing
flowers and rosaries towards two monks of the order of Saint
Dominic.
From a distance, one might have supposed, that the monk kneeling
at the foot of the altar constituted part of this picture, and that he
was expecting gifts from the heavenly patroness of his order.
His shorn head was bowed upon his clasped hands, thus concealing
his tall stature, and the most profound humility was impressed on his
whole attitude.
From time to time he smote his breast with ardent and inimitable
fervour, as if prayer had been the favourite occupation of the man,
and contrition his chief delight.
Judging from appearances, he must be either a great saint or a great
sinner; but whether he were the one or the other, God surely must
have heard prayers of such fervency.
This monk was Pierre Arbues.
The grand inquisitor of Seville was accustomed after mass thus to
engage alone in long acts of thanksgiving before the altar. Jos6 paused
a moment under one of the columns of the church, in order to gaze
for a few moments upon him whom he had come to meet.
Despite of himself, the young monk trembled; he shuddered involuntarily in the midst of this silence, broken only by the sound of
prayers in a low voice, whose imperceptible murmur resembled the
buzzing of an insect upon a flower.
It was so calm and so solemn, this vast Gothic church in which
every voice was hushed, the sound of the bells and the lips of the
priests! Nothing was left there, but a vague perfume of prayer and
devotion; a distant vibration, an imperceptible echo of complaints, of
vows and sighs, which this sonorous vault had perhaps retained!
"It is he himself!" at last exclaimed the young monk in a Satanic
and sarcastic tone-; "a hypocrite and a villain even before his
God!" -
"That is it! He prays, whilst dreaming of fresh crimes-Pray
on, thou silly monk!-Offer thy last prayer devoutly-Perhaps, he is
repenting," he continued to himself, "then let him enjoy the holy
hour of repentance"And Jose paused a few moments, as if waiting until Pierre Arbues
had finished his dying prayer!The inquisitor made the sign of the cross several times, and a
slight movement preparatory to his rising up, indicated that his prayer
was near its close.
" Oh! but I am a fool," exclaimed Jose, "a fool, to think, that
Pierre Arbues can repent-"
Resuming all his presence of mind in this last moment, he slowly
approached the altar as if desirous of offering his supplication.
At the noise which he made in opening the grated door of the
chancel, the inquisitor looked round.







ii


'U


~~)t!Vipq










THE JUSTICE OF GOD.


319


On seeing Jos6, a glow of pleasure sparkled in his eyes; but the
figure of the favourite wore an expression so fatal and gloomy, that
PierrQ Arbues shuddered involuntarily, and notwithstanding the
sanctity of the place, he could not help saying to Jos6,
"What is the matter?"
Jose made no reply; but a terrible smile half opened his pale lipsand he eyed Pierre Arbues as though he would have devoured him.
The inquisitor recoiled, believing that his favourite had lost his
reason; but before he had time to ward off the blow, Jose had thrown
himself upon him like a tiger and plunged his poniard to its entire
length into the throat, at the spot where the cuirass afforded no protection.
The inquisitor spread out his arms before him and fell back: but
he was held up by the steps of the altar, and lay in a half reclining
posture.  His blood streamed in torrents from the wound.
"Thou!-thou, Jose!" he murmured, struggling against the pangs
of the death agony.
Jose leaned over his face, which was growing pale and rapidly assuming the purple tints of death, and fixing his flaming gaze upor
the almost extinguished eyes of Pierre Arbues, he exclaimed in a hollow voice,
" Remember Paula!"
At this name, Pierre Arbues for an instant reopened his eyes,
which were almost closed, and gazed vaguely upon the pale face of
the young monk.
A terrible recollection seemed to strike him, he murmured in a
stifled voice"God is just!" and expired.
The poniard of Jose had cut through the jugular vein.*
SPierre Arbues is an historical personage, and the character ascribed to him by
the author is by no means exaggerated; only authorized, by a license which the
nature of the work permits: an anachronism has been committed by the author,
in making Pierre Arbues live under the reign of Charles V., and representing
him as the cotemporary of Alphonso Manrique, St. Jean d'Avila, Saavedra, and
several other characters of this history. Pierre Arbues did not reign at Seville,
neither was he assassinated by a favourite; Jose is a fictitious character, the personification of the Spanish people, enduring the inquisition for several centuries,
but always hating it, and waiting with patience for the moment to strike a mortal
blow. This arrived at last, in 1820. Pierre Arbues, at the same time that he is
an historical character, is the personification of the inquisition, and especially of
the majority of the inquisitors. His debaucheries, cruelties, foibles, iniquities,
and hypocrisy, are the faithful picture of the debaucheries, cruelties, foibles, iniquities, and hypocrisy of the majority of the inquisitors, and of a large number
of the priests.
Pierre Arbues, canon of the cathedral of Saragossa, inquisitor general of the
kingdom of Aragon, lived in 1485, under Ferdinand of Aragon, and Isabella the
Catholic, and under the first grand inquisitor general of Spain, Thomas de Torrequemada. In 1485, the Aragonese, whose rights were every moment trodden under foot by the inquisition of Aragon, under the direction of Pierre Arbues, feared
that the scenes would be enacted among them which were of daily occurrence in
Castile, and in the other provinces of Spain, where the inquisition, which had
been established, only three years, and was under the control of monks and fanatical and debauched priests, had already sacrificed thousands of victims. In this
state of things, and seeing that the applications they had made to the pope and
the king had produced no result, a large number of the principal lords of Saragossa conspired against the inquisition, and resolved to sacrifice Pierre Arbues,
S2E                    40





314


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


At the sight of this strange crime, of this sacrilege committed in
a church, the women who were present uttered fearful shrieks, and
in an instant the church was filled with people.
Some of the women had rushed out of the church screaming
through the city: " Murder! murder! The inquisitor has just been
Skilled."
Upon this alarm, the whole militia of Christ, all the spires, the
entire holy brotherhood were aroused and on foot; and when the
chief alguazil entered the church in order to assure himself of the
event which had just happened, the dead body of the grand inquisitor was found lying at the foot of the altar, and Jos6, with his hands
crossed upon his breast, regarded it in silence with a savage look.
The countenance of the young monk was like that of a deranged
man, and his teeth chattered with a strange sound. The respect
which the inquisition inspired did not permit suspicion to rest on
the young Dominican. However, the alguazil, addressing him, said
with all the formality of the most profound respect:
" Reverend father, do you know who is the perpetrator of this
crime?"
"I am," coolly replied Jos6.
To this formal avowal no other answer could be given but an arrest.
The alguazil who had questioned the favourite had him arrested
on the spot.
Jose suffered himself to be bound yvithout resistance; it seemed as
though this moment, terrible to every one else, was full of unspeakable joy to him.
At the first rumour of the assassination, a great crowd of people
had gathered around the church. When Jos6 went out, all eyes
were directed towards him with ardent curiosity. He was so young,
so fair and so sad, that the sight of him inspired pity mingled with
emotion and sympathy: besides, the hatred entertained towards the
inquisitor was so strong, that the public sympathy was turned entirely
upon the murderer, and not upon his victim.
1" What had the inquisitor done to him?" they asked in a suppressed
voice.
who had made himself odious by his cruelties, in order, by this means, to compel
the other members of the inquisition of Aragon to renounce their office. Pierre
Arbues was warned of his danger, though his enemies were not named. Being
unable to wreak his vengeance upon them, he endeavoured to secure himself against
attempts upon his life by wearing a coat of mail, and defending his head by an
iron helmet, which he wore under his cap. These precautions saved his life several times; but one day, whilst he was at his-devotions at the fo't of the grand altar,
he was mortally wounded in the neck, and died two days after, September 17, 1485.
Violent riots occurred at Saragossa in consequence of his death, and the populace, excited by the monks, would have perpetrated terrible outrages, but they
were appeased by the promise of punishing, to the last extremity, the perpetrators of this deed. The memory of Arbues was revered, as though he had been
a saint. He was the object of particular worship in the churches; and but little
was wanting to make this Dominican canon the patron of the inquisition, and the
protector of the inquisitors. Meanwhile, they made him perform miracles, and
thus prepared the way for his beatification, which took place in 1664, under the
pontificate of Alexander VI  It is not many years since, in the cathedral of
Saragossa, a Latin epitaph might have been seen on the tomb of Pierre Arbues,
erected by order of Ferdinand and Isabella.





THE JUSTICE OF GOD.


315


"He was at all events the favourite," was the reply.
"See how the wolves devour one another," said an old man with
white hair, who was recognised as Rodriguez de Valero.
"Be still, Don Rodriguez," said his friend Ximenes de Herrera,
who was his constant companion, " your imprudence will end in your
ruin."
" What care I," replied the old man, sternly, "are my white hairs
worth the trouble of being cowardly in order to preserve them?
"But," added he, scrutinizing the face of Jos6, whom he recognised
as the latter came towards him, "it seems to me that this monk who
has just killed Pierre Arbues is the same whom we saw one evening
at the ball of the Gardunia?"
" It is he, himself," replied Don Ximenes, " I know him perfectly.
This young monk was certainly a strange creature."
" Or else an unfortunate one," rejoined Valero; "he scarcely resembled the other monks of Spain: it might be said of him as the
pagans themselves said of Christ; ' He was never known to laugh, but
often seen to weep.''g*
" He was charitable and kind," said some women, who regarded
him with great compassion, " what a pity! Now, they will put him
to death!"
"He has acted the part of Judith," replied Valero; "he is a martyr and not a murderer."
Whilst Valero spoke in this way, a man clothed in black was
walking at his side, with downcast look, and wiping his eyes from
time to time,-as though he had been greatly afflicted by the event
which had just taken place. This man had not lost a single one of
Valero's words.
As for Jos6, he appeared completely insensible to all that was
passing around him.   His excitement and the feverish animation of
his countenance had been superseded by a livid paleness. His soul
being now satisfied, had sunk in exhaustion: he was a prey to that
profound lethargy which succeeds the over-excitement of the faculties.
They were slowly approaching the prison of the crown,t this was
* At the period when the fame of Jesus Christ began to spread in Judea, Publius Lentulus, who was then its governor, wrote to the Roman Senate:
"There is here, at the present time, a man of singular virtue, who is called
Jesus Christ; the barbarians esteem him as a prophet, but his sect adore him as
a descendant of the immortal gods. He restores the dead to life, and heals diseases by a word and by his touch. He is of a tall and graceful stature, his
aspect is mild and venerable. His hair is of a colour which cannot be described,
falling in ringlets below his ears, and spreading over his shoulders with infinite
grace. He wears it parted on the top of his head, after the manner of the Nazarenes. His forehead is broad and smooth, his cheeks are tinged with a lovely
bloom. His nose and mouth are admirably regular; his beard bushy, and of the
same colour as his hair, descends an inch below the chin, and, separated in the
middle, it assumes the form of a fork. His eyes are beautiful, sparkling, clear,
and vivid. He reproves with majesty, and his exhortations are full of sweetness: whether he speaks or acts, he does all with eloquence and gravity. He has
never been seen to laugh, but has often been known to weep. He is very temperate, very modest, and very wise. In a word, he is a man, who, by his great
beauty, and his divine perfections, surpasses the children of men."
t The prison of the crown. Previous to the constitution of 1812, which
placed all Spaniards on a level before the law, every caste had its privileges, its





316


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


the place, in which Jos6, being a priest, was to be confined. The crowd
thronged close upon the steps of the alguazils and familiars, in order
to enjoy the strange spectacle of a Dominican who had just assassinated an inquisitor. Behind the armed troop which escorted the
prisoner, a numerous retinue of familiars and monks followed, carrying the body of Pierre Arbues on a litter, carefully covered over
with a large black cloth fringed with silver.  All these hypocritical
partisans of the inquisition affected a lively grief, and shed crocodile
tears over the death of this wicked man, whom, during his lifetime,
they had detested.
Some went so far as piously to wipe up with their handkerchiefs
the blood which still flowed and fell in large drops from the half open
wound of the inquisitor.
The Dominican monks extolled his sanctity, and invoked him almost as a saint, in the presence of the astonished multitude, who reSmained cold and mute, before these manifestations and eulogies which
were so little in harmony with the acts of him who had just been
killed.
It was an impious and sacrilegious parade for this funeral escort
thus shamelessly to invest an accursed head with the crown of saints
and martyrs; endeavouring to stifle the imperious and sacred voice
of the public conscience which casts without pity a blessing or a
curse upon an open tomb, and always with an equity from which
there is no appeal.
Unfortunately in cases of this kind, public opinion does not rule,
and the Roman church is there with its everlasting mummeries, its
impudent panegyrics, its impalpable proofs, its endless mysteries
and its Jesuit juggling, in order to stifle the voice of the people or
seduce and take by surprise the opinion of the wise.
By dint of parade skilfully arranged, it often deceives the most
upright consciences; they only are not its dupes, who with uprightness of heart combine the force of reason and of the will.
At the instant when Pierre Arbues had fallen under the blow of
Jos6, the people had begun by inwardly rejoicing over the fall of a
despot who feasted upon the blood and tears of Andalusia; but when
he reached the prison, a crowd of people seduced, carried away, and
fascinated by the hypocritical manoeuvre of the monks, began to
judges, its tribunals, and even its prisons! There were even some who were not
amenable to the law. Thus a caballero, (a nobleman,) was not amenable to any
tribunal, unless he had assassinated another gentleman, or had committed a crime
Caese majestatis, or a sacrilege. In the first case, he came under the jurisdiction
of the ordinary tribunals; in the other, the royal counsellors condemned him to
be beheaded or strangled, or to lose his property: in case of sacrilege, he was
handed over to the inquisition. People without privileges were tried by the corn
mon alcaldes. But, throughout the whole of Spain, there were two courts in addi
tion to the ordinary tribunals-the justicia del bureo, the court of the privileged
orders, and the tribunal ecclesiastico, or ecclesiastical court.
The jurisdiction of the former extended over all offences committed by servants
of the royal house, or officers of the government. The ecclesiastical tribunal
took cognizance of the offences of monks and priests, except in cases of heresy;
those were matters for the inquisition. Each caste had its prison. Offenders from
the common people were sent to the city prison; noblemen to the court prison; and
priests or monks to the prison of the crown, or tonsure: for the Spanish word corona signifies both crown and tonsure. Military men were tried by courts-martial.









A










THE JUDGMENT OF ME1N.


317


ask, if they were not very much to blame for having rejoiced at this
death, and whether really, in the sight of God, the grand inquisitor
of Seville was not a holy priest, the victim of his zeal for the Catholic religion.
At first, they had pitied and loved Jose, notwithstanding his
crime; now the most indulgent regarded him as deranged.
Oh! inconstancy of human opinions-when will you cease to be
the arbiter of human destiny? Or rather when will that entire honesty of feeling which is the basis of national happiness be restored
to men by.a wise education, instead of perverting the noblest instincts of the heart, by riveting them to incomprehensible mysteries,
to endless paradoxes, to incredible fictions and to false or imperfect
doctrines? When will they be launched forth into the broad and
easy road of truth?
Church of Rome! he who refuses to join your standard is nothing
in your eyes, but a child of darkness! But it is you, who make the
darkness, you, who are never pleased except in the night and obscurity
of ignorance; you, who wish to put a fillet upon each of your adepts,
under the penalty of reprobation! And you call yourself the spouse
of Christ, who died for the sake of right and truth!
Such is the Roman Church, and such she was in the sixteenth century; only then she was often the stronger, and her enemies succumbed. Some alarmists pretend that we are going back with rapid
strides toward those times of ignorance and slavery; but we protest
aloud against such anticipations; they dishonour the country which can
admit them; mind has marched onward; mind never retrogrades, it
always advances; and in every century, it must mark its passage by
new progress.
Let the enemies of science be as active and noisy as they list, in
proportion as they spread out their nets over the world, truth breaks
its meshes one by one, and the progress of the wise will not be embarrassed by it, for an instant. This is no longer the day, when of a
monster, they can make a saint.
The same evening, when Jose had been registered in the prison of
the crown, Don Rodriguez de Valero, denounced by a familiar, was
thrown into the prison of the holy office with Don Ximenes de Herrera. The inquisition which had long tolerated the fiery sallies of
Valero, had at last perceived that he had too much good sense to
be a fool.
'CHAPTER        XLVII.
THE JUDGMENT OF MEN.
ALTHOUGH it was not customary in Spain to try a man almost
immediately after his arrest, on account of the moral time which is
often necessary to justice in order to institute the process against an
accused party, and collect the evidence for or against him, the crime
of Jose was so different from the ordinary offences which were committed in Spain, the witnesses had so little to say in a matter in
21E2





818


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


which the criminal had denounced himself, and besides the indignation of the clergy was so great, and the holy office demanded such
prompt and signal vengeance, that the tribunal del bureo, the secular
court commissioned to try the assassin of Pierre Arbues, deemed it
expedient to cite Jose at the end of eight days.
The moment had at length arrived. The young monk had faced
it with a satisfaction full of bitter delight. He well knew that death
awaited him after his trial; but this term, fatal to all, seemed on the
contrary to be to him a cherished and desired object, a long expected
benefit.
On the morning of the day on which he was to be put on trial,
the young Dominican had risen at a very early hour, and he had applied extreme carefulness, and minute and exquisite neatness in the
adjustment of the simple dress of the order to which he belonged.
His noble head was almost entirely shorn, but the light crown of
hair, which parting in front encircled his head above the ears and
hung down upon his neck, was of admirable fineness and of a glossy
blackness like bronzed steel. For the first time for many years,
Jose bathed the clear and delicate skin of his face in perfumes, his
hands, always beautiful, assumed from the application of these fragrant essences a whiteness and delicacy worthy of the most exquisite lady. The uniform complexion of Jose, veined with blue upon
his temples, appeared unusually pale from the contrast with his black
dress; his eyes, surrounded with a broad brown circle, sparkled with
a sudden gleam, and his lips were drawn back by a slight smile, as
if he had been inwardly agitated by some delightful idea.
When the alguazils came to take the prisoner in order to lead him
to the tribunal, they were surprised at the brightness of his countenance, and the superstition of that period was so great, that some of
them were tempted to believe that he was a sorcerer. On seeing
them, Jose drew back as it were into the mystery of his soul; his
brow resumed a haughty and stern expression, and when the alguazils, still governed by the unalterable respect which a monk's robe
inspired, bade him follow them, Jose made no reply, but walked with
them as composedly as if they were conducting him to a feast.
The curious gazed with eagerness as this officer of the inquisition
passed by, who in consequence of so great a crime had placed himself beyond the reach of the law which required that the officers of the
inquisition and even the familiars should be tried only by inquisitors: here was a monk who was going to be tried by an ordinary
court as though he were nothing more than a mere man.
Without affecting either the haughty disdain of hardened criminals,
or the hypocritical demeanour of those who wish to dispose public
opinion in their favour, Jose passed on calm and indifferent, with his
eyes fixed and almost raised towards heaven; his soul seemed already
to be separated from his body, he appeared so little affected and occupied by the things of earth.
The people on their side, seeing him so unconcerned about himself,
took him for a magician, and mingling Moorish with Roman superstitions, they supposed him to be one of the Moorish santons so much
persecuted by the inquisition during the preceding reign, who had
assumed the figure of a monk in order to kill the inquisitor.





THE JUDGMENT OF MEN.


319


But Jos6 felt no anxiety respecting any thing that could be said
about him. Life, and all of which it is composed, was now nothing
more to him but a faded garment which is worn reluctantly, and laid
aside with pleasure.
He walked with indifference, troubling himself no more about his
judges than if the matter did not concern him, constantly occupied
with an ulterior thought: for whilst walking on, he seemed to be
making an appeal to his memory, and as a new idea crossed his brain,
his broad forehead was invested with a gleam of majesty, and the
genius of hatred satisfied, or rather that of justice accomplished,
stamped a mysterious and terrible seal upon his pale countenance.
When he had come in view of his judges, Jose seemed to awake
from a profound sleep, and for the first time since he had left the
prison, he began to think of what was passing around him. The tribunal was composed of three judges; one of them, the president, was
seated between his two associates.
A secretary, seated before a table, on the right of the judge, was
prepared to write down the answers of the accused and the depositions of the witnesses.
At a short distance from them the advocates were stationed, and
by the side of the defenders of the accused sat the notary who was
to take notes in his favour.
Jose was seated in the midst, facing the president, but no witness
was to be seen near him, not a soul was there! The hall was entirely deserted. It had been supposed that in a matter of this kind,
the process should be conducted with closed doors, out of respect for
the ecclesiastical dignity with which the accused was invested, or
rather from apprehension of some public revelation from Jose: as for
witnesses, it was deemed useless to summon them, inasmuch as the
criminal had confessed every thing. -He was therefore alone in the
presence of the judges. The president fixed upon him a stern look,
and said to him in a still sterner tone,
" Stand up."
The Dominican stood up.
"What is your name?" continued the president.
" They call me JoSe  replied the young monk with simplicity.
"c My profession you know, a monk of the order of St. Dominic."
" Jos6 is not a family name," added the judge; " your family name,
Don Jos F?"
" I have no family any more," replied the Dominican, 1 and as for
its name, I shall not tell it."
" Where were you born?" pursued the president.
" At Grenada," replied Jose.
At the mention of Grenada, the stern eyes of the young monk
filled with tears, as if his heart had been suddenly assailed by a painful reminiscence. The judge took no notice of it.
SCome forward," said he to Jose. The monk advanced to the
foot of the table, where a book of the gospels lay open before the
president.
The judge ordered the accused to lay his hand upon it. Josei
obeyed. The president looked fixedly into his eyes.
" Do you swear by God and the holy gospels," he asked at length





320


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


in a solemn tone, "to tell the whole truth in relation to every thing
about which you shall be questioned?"
"I swear," replied Jos6.
"Do you swear to tell it, even to your disadvantage?"*
"I swear," said the young Dominican again, in a firm and resolute
tone.
" It is well," said the judge, and he proceeded,--  Did you assassinate Pierre Arbues, grand inquisitor of Seville?"
" I did," replied Jos6.
"What motive could have induced you to commit so gleat a
crime?"
" I will tell you that presently," said the young monk in a bitter
and sarcastic tone.
" The advocate may make his defence," resumed the judge. Jos6
smiled incredulously, and turned round to take his seat on the prisoner's bench. He held this empty show of defence in contemptwords which were to be all lost merely in order to comply with the
forms of law. He suffered the advocate to exhaust himself with
empty arguments, display all the resources of his eloquence in order
to affect the sympathies of his judges, being unable to destroy their
conviction, string phrase upon phrase and word upon word, and lavish
his gestures and his breath in order to change an irrevocable certainty.
When he had finished, Jose turned towards him with a suppressed
smile, full of bitterness and detachment from the world, as if to say
to him: you are trying to restore life to a corpse."
Indeed, the efforts of the most skilful eloquence would not have
sufficed to save a man, who did not wish to save himself.
" Criminal!"t said the president, "have you any thing to add to
your defence?"
" To my defence!-no," replied the Dominican, ' for I declare here
before God, that death is dearer to me than life; but as honour ought
to be considered before life, I wish to save mine, and it is solely with
this view that I shall speak."
" Say on, then," replied the judge; "the court will hear you."
Jos6 resumed. " It is seven years since Pierre Arbues was raised
to the dignity of grand inquisitor of Seville. He was young, handsome, and insinuating; notwithstanding the horror which the inquisition has always inspired in Spain, for a moment, it was hoped, that
Pierre Arbues would be less cruel than his predecessors; this hope
was of short duration. The persecutions became hotter than ever;
as in the last years of the reign of Torrequemada, men who bore the
noblest names in Spain, were not ashamed to exercise the trade of
spies and informers in order to secure their property and life.
" The most virtuous citizens daily saw themselves at the mercy of
false testimony. Hatred, private family animosities, developed them* In Spain, the accused took an oath upon the open gospel, to tell the truth
even to their own detriment; it was not until 1812, that an article of the constitution, prepared by the Cortes, forbade the judges to require this oath.
- In France, an accused person is supposed to be innocent, until the law has
condemned him. In Spain, every person accused was addressed as a criminal.
This custom has been perpetuated until our day, although the constitution of 1812
and that of 1834 forbid the officers of the law to follow it.





THE JUDGMENT OF MEN.


321


selves in bloody dramas in the tribunals of the inquisition, favoured by
the darkness of fanaticism; rapine, theft and murder hovered over us
like birds of prey: a vast pall of mourning was spread over Andalusia."
" Prisoner," said the judge, "you are extravagant."
" I am defending myself," replied the monk, haughtily, "listen; at
this period, there lived in Seville, a Catholic family of the first nobility of Spain, whose mother, descended from the race of the Abencerrages, had left great wealth. This family consisted of two brothers-of three brothers," resumed Jose, suppressing a sigh; " three
noble and handsome brothers, of whom two had embraced holy orders; the third-was brave as the Cid, and still more beautiful. His
name was Ferdinand," continued Jose, who seemed to pronounce
this name with great delight; "then there was the father, a patriarch,
an old man full of faith and virtue; a young sister, a sweet and artless child, whose life was pure as an angel's, and last of all, an orphan,
a distant relative, a young girl, warm-hearted and proud, who loved
Ferdinand, and was beloved by him.
"In a chateau, which this family possessed at some distance from
Andejar, they had erected a catholic chapel which was served by
hermit monks.    The mother, who idolized her husband and children,
had caused this chapel to be built in order to serve as their place of
sepulture; she would not even in death be separated from those whom
she had loved.   Whilst still young, she went first to await them  in
this gloomy rendezvous. I have already said, that, at her death, she
left considerable property; the inquisition found it convenient to appropriate it to its own use.   She was accused of having died in
heresy and in sentiments contrary to the true Catholic faith, although,
at her death, she had given the most unequivocal evidences of attachment to this religion, which had always been hers.    But it was
necessary to accuse her of something. False witnesses were produced, who declared that she had died and lived in heresy; and notwithstanding the protestation of her children, of her two sons, priests,
invested with a sacred office,, the dead body of this woman was exhumed, her house was razed to the ground, with a prohibition never
to rebuild it, and all the property she had left was confiscated.* In the first chapter, part fifth, of Llorente's history of the Inquisition, the following may be found:
" Dona Eleonor de Vibero y Cazalla, wife of Pierre Cazalla, was the owner of a
sepulchral chapel in the church of San Benito el Real of Valladolid; she had been
interred there as a Catholic, without the least suspicion being raised respecting her
orthodoxy: subsequently, however, she was accused, by the fiscal, (the attorney
general,) of the inquisition, of having practised Lutheranism and was declared to
have died in heresy, although she received all the sacraments before her death.
The fiscal sustained his accusation by the depositions of witnesses, who were at
that time prisoners in the inquisition, and had been put to the torture for this purpose. From the declarations of the witnesses, it appeared that the house of Dofia
Eleonor de Vibero had been used as a house of worship by the Lutherans of Valladolid. Dofia Eleonor was declared to have died in. heresy, her memory was
condemned to infamy to her latest posterity, and all her property was confiscated.
The inquisition, moreover, directed that her body should be exhumed and delivered
to the flames, that her house should be levelled, never to be rebuilt, and that
a monument should be erected on the spot where the house had formerly stood,
upon which there should be an inscription perpetuating this event. All these
decrees were executed."
411





322


THE IMYSTElRIES OF THtE INQUISITIONO


"Criminal!" said the president, abruptly, " are you quite sure of
what you say?"
"It was the privilege of the inquisition," replied Jos6 in a sarcastic tone; he proceeded without being disconcerted:
" The father died of grief during this abominable process. The
children who bewailed their mother and dared to be indignant at
this profanation of her ashes, were thrown into prison.
"A single individual was spared. That was the orphan, the betrothed of Ferdinand. She lived alone with the woman who had
brought her up, alone to weep over those whom she was never to see
again."
"What became of them?" inquired the judge, seized with increasing terror and pity.
" What became of them, my lord? Do you ask what became of
them in the hands of Pierre Arbues? They were delivered to the
flames without mercy. The two oldest, Augustine and Francis, accused of dogmatizing in a manner contrary to the spirit of the Catholic religion, and their young sister Beatrix, convicted of following
the doctrine of her brothers, were put to death in the same auto da
f6.  Augustine, terrified by the torture, not on his own account,
but for his sister's sake, when he came in sight of the place of torture,
cried for mercy, and said that he would live as a good catholic.
"' He lies!' said Pierre Arbues, ' his repentance is inspired by the
fear of death.'
"'I repent! I repent!' again shrieked the poor victim.
"'Strangle him then before he is burned,' said the inquisitor.
"This was all the mercy that he could obtain.
"'You are a coward!' exclaimed his brother, and he ascended his
funeral pile, bidding farewell to Beatrix, who died with the resignation of a martyr."
Jose was silent.
The judges, although accustomed to such terrible dramas, were
seized with involuntary terror.
" Proceed," said the president, "proceed. What became of the
third brother?"
Jos6 shuddered in all his frame, his teeth chattered as though he
had been cold. He was heard with interest and attention.  The
third," he resumed all at once, in a slow and husky voice, " the third
still lived. He was so young! They did not venture to murder
him with the others. Pierre Arbues reserved him for a royal auto
da f6. Paula, the orphan girl who loved him, conceived the design of saving his life. She was twenty years old. What woman
at the age of twenty despairs of the clemency of a man, even though
that man's name is Pierre Arbues, and he is grand inquisitor?
Six months had passed since her unfortunate family had been
thus delivered to the flames, another auto da f t was spoken of, which
was to take place in honour of the king, and which the tribunal announced to the public a month beforehand."
"Prisoner, come to the point," said the president, abruptly.
The general auto da f6, which took place at Valladolid, in April, 1559, i"n
presence of Don Carlos and the princess Jane.
- In October,.559.





THE JUDGMENT OF MEN.


323


"I am coming to it," calmly replied Jose': "hear me, my lords.--
The trials commenced, strange trials, to be sure; conspiracies in
the dark, all the strings of which were in the hands of the judge, who
moved them at his pleasure, gloomy problems, which all tended to
the same solution--death. Paula, tormented by anxiety on account of him whom she loved, one day formed a lofty resolution, a
fatal resolution, as you will see, my lords.
" She fortified herself with sublime excitement, she weighed all
the chances of the step which she was about to take; and, whilst
hoping to move the inquisitor and save her betrothed, she said to
herself that, after all, the worst result that could accrue from this
procedure was to die with him: but, death had no terrors for her.
" It was on a gloomy day, such as is scarcely ever seen in Andalusia; but by a strange sympathy, or one of those chances which
resemble fatality, the sun was veiled with clouds, and a large black
spot had covered the half of his disc: there was an almost total
eclipse. It was near mid-day, and yet it was almost as dark as night
in the streets.
S"Paula, silent and resolute, eluded the watchful eye of her nurse,
the only friend that she had left in the world. Covering her face
with her veil, she took the road that led to the palace of the inquisitor. A savage troop of familiars guarded its avenues.
"When Paula approached the door, the entrance was barred, and
a familiar coming up asked what she wanted.
"' I wish to see my lord Arbues,' replied she, trembling, for who
can enter the palace of an inquisitor without trembling?
"'Who are you?' said the familiar.
"'A young woman of noble family,' rejoined Paula, haughtily.
"1 Wait,' was his reply.
"He disappeared for a few moments; Paula waited.  Soon the
familiar appeared again: a ghastly smile grinned upon his pale
lips.
"'Follow me, Seniora,' said he; I'his lordship consents to admit
you.'
"The familiar went on before, the girl followed him.
" She passed through several magnificent halls, long galleries, paved
with marble, with ceilings covered with arabesques: this palace of
death was furnished with oriental luxury.
" At last, in the most retired extremity of the edifice, a door opened,
Paula crossed the threshold. The door closed upon her; the familiar
had disappeared, and Paula found herself in the presence of the grand
inquisitor."
The narrative of Jose was invested with increasing interest.
" Pierre Arbues, resumed the young monk, was seated on a
broad soft divan, which extended all around the room.
" The grand inquisitor of Seville was at that period in the vigour
of youth, and his countenance was remarkably handsome, notwithstanding the expression of haughty cruelty which was perceptible
upon it. His eagle profile had much that was noble, and his tall
figure was straight and lofty in its bearing. Paula shuddered as she
found herself alone with this man.
"Come forward, young woman, said the inquisitor, struck with the





Q24


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


handsome figure of Paula, whose features he could not properly
discern.
" Paula threw back her veil, and fearlessly approached the grand
inquisitor.
"Pierre Arbues gazed upon her with admiration.
"When she had come before him, she fell on her knees, and
clasping her suppliant hands,"' Mercy, my lord,' she exclaimed; 6 mercy for my betrothed, who
is innocent; oh! restore him to me, I implore you.'
"The countenance of the inquisitor assumed a marked expression
of displeasure.
"'The name of your betrothed?' said he in a stern tone.
"' Ferdinand de Cazalla,' replied Paula, faintly.
" The savage look of Pierre Arbues terrified her.
"At the name of Cazalla, the countenance of Arbues had suddenly
become overcast; he looked earnestly at this young woman who had
ventured with such boldness to come even to the feet of the inquisitor, in order to ask the life of a man accused of heresy.
" Paula was beautiful; oh! she was very beautiful, my lords.
SThe inquisitor looked at her for a few moments. After slowly
eyeing the charming countenance of this young girl, her graceful and
noble form, which might have served as a model, for the huntress
Diana, Pierre Arbues gradually became more gentle; he extended
his hand towards Paula, who was still kneeling before him.
"'Rise,' said he, 'and speak to me without fear; the laws of the
inquisition are terrible, but I feel moved with compassion for you.'
"'Oh! may Heaven bless you, my lord!' exclaimed Paula, who
had conceived a ray of hope; 'you will spare Ferdinand, will you
not?'
"'Have I said so, young woman?' said Pierre Arbues, with the
smile of a tiger. He was playing with his prey.
"'Oh! my lord, do not retract the words which you have spoken;
you have pitied me; you will spare my betrothed, will you not?'
"'And if I spare your betrothed, what will you do for me, young
woman?'
"'Oh, my lord, my whole life shall be yours; but what can I, a
poor girl, do for you! what can I do for you who are so powerful?'
"'Paula, you are beautiful!' exclaimed Pierre Arbues with a look
which made her tremble.
" However, she dared not betray her fear. The inquisitor motioned to her to sit down at his side.
"Trembling, she seated herself upon the silk divan.
"Pierre Arbues had resumed his stern countenance.
"'Don Ferdinand de Cazalla?' he murmured with a gloomy air'Do you know, young woman, that whole family, convicted of Lutheranism, is for ever dishonoured in its living members, and in those
who are no more?'
"'That family is mine, my lord; I am betrothed to Don Ferdinand
by the wish of his father and by his own desire. If he is condemned
I have but one favour to ask, that I may not survive him.
"'That is ardent affection,' exclaimed the inquisitor; 'what would
I not give to be the object of such love?'




THE JUDGMENT OF MEN.


325


" Paula sat with downcast eyes before the priest, who thus addressed her."
"You slander the memory of a man clothed with a sacred character," exclaimed the president.
"I do not slander him, my lord; I relate facts, that is all," replied
Jos6: " will your lordship hear me to the end?"
"It is your privilege," said the judge, full of respect for the customs of the country, which had passed to the authority of law, and
which required that an accused person should have perfect liberty to
defend himself. Jose continued:
"' Do you know,' resumed Pierre Arbues, 'that Don Ferdinand is
designed for the next auto-da-f6, and that he is shortly to be subjected
to the torture?'
"A deep, pitiful and terrible shriek proceeded from the bosom of
the unhappy Paula; the torture! That was more frightful than the
scaffold.
"'What is the matter, young woman?' inquired the inquisitor.
"'The torture, my lord! Did you not say that Ferdinand was
soon to be put to the torture?'
"'I can save him from it,' replied Pierre Arbues.
"Paula breathed more freely.
"'My lord,' she exclaimed, 'I will be ready to die for you!'
"'No, not die, but live,' replied Pierre Arbues, enclosing the feeble
hands of Paula in his own.
"'Do you know,' he proceeded, 'that in accordance with the deposition of witnesses, Don Ferdinand, convicted of having been present at the sermons of the Lutherans, and of having embraced their
doctrine, is condemned in advance to the stake?'
"'But, you can absolve him, my lord!' exclaimed Paula, who was
again sinking into the anguish of uncertainty; 'you can save him, and
you will spare his life! Ferdinand is innocent, and his heart is pure
as an angel's.'
"'You alone can save him,' replied Pierre Arbues.
"'I! my lord; what can I do? tell me, I am ready; do you wish
me to die in his place?'
"'Silly girl, what do I want with your life? It were a pity you
should die,' he continued with increasing animation, as he laid his
brutal hand upon the neck of Paula!"
The judges started on the bench.
"'Oh! mercy, my lord?' exclaimed the poor girl, crossing her arms
upon her breast like a rampart; 'mercy for Ferdinand and mercy for
myself too, my lord! In the name of God, whose representative on
earth you are, be clement and forgive; pity a poor woman, who has
nothing left in the world, except him whom she loves. I have no
mother, my lord; I am an orphan girl, I have no other support on
which to lean, but Ferdinand-restore him to me, I implore youoh! restore him to me, my lord, and I will bless you, and we will
both bless you all our life long.'
"Paula's tears flowed in streams, her noble and dignified countenance, all desolate and bathed in tears, was surpassingly beautiful.Pierre Arbues was far from being affected by it. His breast was like
a foaming sea, filled with angry waves of passion. He eyed her as the
oF





326


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


savage lion does his prey. The poor girl fell on her knees before
this pitiless man.
"'My lord,' said she faintly, and clasping the knees of the inquisi
tor, which she bathed in her tears, 'my lord, have mercy, and give
me back my betrothed.'
"'Be mine,' said he in a gloomy voice, 'and I will spare Don
Ferdinand.'
" Paula became pale and cold as marble, and her eyes were covered
with the shade of death. She rose up slowly, stepped back a few
paces in order to go out, then stretched out her cold, pale hand towards the inquisitor, and exclaimed"'The curse of Heaven upon you! you may kill Don Ferdinand,
I will die with him.'
"'Ferdinand will be dead before the auto-da-f6,' said Pierre Arbues, 'he is young and feeble, he will not be able to endure the torture by water.'*
"Paula again uttered a piercing and frightful scream. She would
have torn this wretch to pieces had she been able, but the thought of
Ferdinand extinguished her rage, and left room in her soul for no
other feeling but fear: this horrible struggle overpowered her. Pierre
Arbues approached and led her back to a seat. She suffered herself
to be guided without resistance.
"'Nothing can save Ferdinand but my will,' said Pierre Arbues.
"Paula looked at him with her haggard and terrified eye. The
countenance of Pierre Arbues was pitiless as fate.
"'Shall he live, or shall he die?' he continued; 'speak or begone,
-and let the inquisition do the rest!'
" Paula heard no more, her reason had forsaken her. She stretched
out her arms like one who heaves the last sigh of agony, and her
heart ceased to beat."
Jose was silent. His voice had gradually become weaker, and an
Sicy sweat covered his marble brow.
The judges, notwithstanding their natural indifference, were filled
with astonishment and terror: they no longer thought of interrupting
the narrative of the prisoner, but anxiously awaited the close of this
horrible, drama.
Jose gradually rallied, and continued his recital in an enfeebled tone.
"A month afterwards, a young woman, pale, emaciated, bowed
down under the weight of incurable sorrow, was seated sadly at the
door of the prison of the holy office; it was Paula. A royal auto
da f& was to be celebrated that day.
"The bloody programme, published a month beforehand, had announced thirteen victims. Pierre Arbues had promised the young
woman that there should be only twelve, and that the thirteenth, who
should be given out as dead, should be restored to her the same evening, after the auto da f6. Paula was waiting.
"An immense crowd was hurrying towards the square; a sullen
* The reader has already seen the horrible details of this torture, in chapter
XXIX. They are, unfortunately, but too true. Should any one entertain a
doubt, he may read a longer and still more horrible account in the History of the
Inquisition! Will it be believed, this torture is in use to the present day in the
inquisition at Rome?





THE JUDGMENT OF MEN.


327


murmur of words pervaded the streets; the looks of the people were
expressive of astonishment and terror. Those pale figures under
their black vestures seemed to be accompanying the funeral procession of Spain.
"A few, pausing in the neighbourhood of the prison, cast a timid
look into the black depths of this frightful labyrinth, anxious to ascertain, whether among the condemned victims who were about to
appear, they might not recognise some beloved friend. Women,
hiding their faces under their veils, wept, stifling their sobs, for fear
of being heard; they were more happy than the men at least, for they
could weep; they were obliged to hide the deep mourning of the
soul which made their faces pale; and their brow so sad, a volcano
which enclosed so many stormy thoughts of indignation and revolt,
must be made smooth and calm like a blank page on which nothing
can be read; for the city was full of familiars, and the inquisition criminated acts, intentions and thoughts alike.
" At last, the gate of the prison opened like one of the mouths of
hell; the procession of the auto da f6 issued from the palace of the inquisition, and the condemned began their sad journey towards death.
"Then Paula rose from the stone on which she had been seated,
and approaching the jailer who had opened the gate, she implored him
to let her have a nearer view of the funeral procession. But the
jailer rudely repulsed her,-those who are unhappy must pay so
dear for the smallest favour! Paula then went back to her place, and
stretched out her neck in order to look. The first victim who appeared was an archbishop, a holy priest revered throughout Spain;
he walked slowly, wearing the gloomy coroza, and clothed in the san
benito. His step was firm; his eyes, full of resignation and faith, were
expressive of profound grief. He cast around him a long look, and
raised it towards heaven as if to testify against the iniquity of his
judges, then his head fell upon his breast, and his eloquent lips,
which had so often spoken the word of God, were expressive of bitter and sorrowful irony.
" After him came two nuns, young women, condemned to the
flames for having embraced the doctrine of Luther. These two women manifested heroic courage; they walked to meet death, as if they
had been going to a feast. Paula looked at them with sad compassion; they replied to her by an angelic smile, pointing towards heaven, as if they had wished to make her understand that all the victims of earth appealed from it to the tribunal of God.
"The fourth who was condemned was a young marrano convicted
of secretly professing the faith of his ancestors. A copy of the Koran,
an inheritance from his ancestors, which had been found in his house,
had been enough to deliver him to the flames.* He walked with
* The inquisition condemned not only those who practised Judaism, and heretics; the possession of a prohibited book, of a Bible, of a copy of the gospels in
the vernacular tongue, and even of an English book, was sufficient to send an
entire family to the stake, especially if these books belonged to a rich person, for
informers had nothing to fear from the inquisiticn. The real mission of the inquisition was not to extirpate heresy, but to rob the Christian world of the greatest
possible amount of gold for the profit of Rome, of the kings who protected it, and
for the benefit of the inquisitors. This accounts for the relentless cruelty of the
inquisition!





328


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


haughty disdain. His deep black eye, as it ran over the beautiful city
of Seville, where the Arabs had reigned, seemed to be making a ra
pid comparison between the epoch of the Moors and that of the in
quisition. Must not Spain have appeared to him like a young girl,
educated for a life of festivity, accustomed to harmonious nights full
of joy, to the caresses of the arts, of poesy, and of love, and who has
suddenly exchanged her festive apparel for a robe of sackcloth, her
nights of love for nights of lamentation and tears, and who has spread
over her mournful and pallid face, already livid as that of the dying,
the shroud which separates the dead from life?
" Oh! how the heart of this child of the Abencerrages must have
beat! How his African blood must have coursed in his burning veins,
he whose fathers had been kings! He had been subjected not only
to the thraldom of the body, but to that of the mind. His hour of
agony must have been fearful. He passed on."
"It is too bad! It is too bad!" exclaimed the associate judges.
"Let him proceed," said the president in a whisper, "it is the last
favour which is granted to the accused."
"Two other victims moved on silently," continued the young
Dominican with composure. "Paula, attentive and terrified, counted
them with inexpressible anguish. They walked slowly, like shadows
leaving a sepulchre; for the torture had broken their limbs, and they
had scarcely strength enough left to die. Paula counted them one by
one, eagerly looking into their faces, panting and overwhelmed, not
knowing whether she ought to hope or fear, notwithstanding the promise of Pierre Arbues; however, he had promised. The procession
moved on, Paula counted the twelfth victim. Then a deep sigh
burst from her breast; she gasped eagerly for breath; an enormous
load had been taken from her heart, her hope had not deceived her.
" But suddenly, a few steps behind the twelfth victim, appeared a
pale and livid spectre, whose dislocated bones had been wrenched
and broken by the torture. Two priests and two familiars supporting
him under his arms, helped him to drag himself onward towards the
place of execution. This man, who was not more than twenty-four
years of age, had been tortured in such a way, that the muscles of his
face were distended and enfeebled like those of an old man; his
forehead and cheeks were covered with wrinkles, and his large
black eye, feverish and sparkling in its wide socket, hollowed by
suffering, flashed with a strange glare, flickering and unsteady, as the
flame of a taper that is nearly extinguished, which rises and falls, and
bursts forth in brilliant and fitful jets of flame, in its efforts to resist
death. On first seeing this young man, Paula did not recognise him;
he was so much altered. But he, at the sight of the girl who had
loved him, stretched out his two emaciated and broken arms, and his
eyes expressed a sentiment of poignant and heart-rending grief and
tenderness. 'Paula! Paula!' murmured the unfortunate man in a
dying voice. Then he fell back motionless into the arms of the
familiar who supported him.
" A shriek of despair, hoarse and convulsive, proceeded from the
breast of Paula. She attempted to rush towards the victim, but the
shires threw themselves between her and him, and she could not
succeed in breaking through this living and impenetrable barrier.





THE JUDGMENT OF MEN.


329


" Then as if carried away by an invisible power, she darted across
the streets with the speed of a wounded lioness, crossed the streets
which separated her from the inquisitorial palace, and having come
before the great door, there, like a demented woman, she began to
cry out that she wished to see the grand inquisitor.
"They did not dare to hurt her, for they supposed that she was
deranged; and to her repeated entreaties, they contented themselves
by replying, that the inquisitor was already on the grand square with
the procession. After some minutes of fruitless effort, Paula accosted
a familiar whom she recognised. He was the same who had conducted her the first time to the inquisitor.
"'(Begone,' said this man in a low voice, 'or I will have you locked
up!'
"Paula raised towards heaven a look full of rage, then she ran
without stopping to the great square of Seville.
"When she arrived; long flames were rising towards the sky,
mingled with torrents of smoke.
"It was all over.
"The grand inquisitor was calm upon his throne, praying for the
soul of him, whose murderer he was.
"Then, Paula raising towards heaven her two arms, convulsive
and stiffened by unutterable despair, Paula, without looking round,
without thinking of the terrified and trembling crowd which gazed
at her with astonishment, raised her voice in a wail of horror and
lamentation:
"' Pierre Arbues,' she exclaimed, 'accursed wretch! Pierre Arbues,
beware of my vengeance!'
"But the mighty voice of the crowd drowned the voice of Paula;
those who surrounded her, drew aside to make room for her, taking
her to be a crazy woman."
Jose was silent; his bosom, violently oppressed, heaved under a
rapid and constant pulsation of the heart; his pale brow glowed with
a burning flush, and large drops of sweat ran down his face like glittering pearls. He appeared surpassingly beautiful.
"Well! what became of Paula?" inquired the president, carried
away by irresistible curiosity and interest.
" Paula has avenged herself," replied Jose in a stern voice, " it is
she, who has killed Pierre Arbues"" What does that mean?" inquired the president; " explain yourself;
what has the young woman, whose history you have just narrated,
to do with the Dominican, Jose?"
" My lord," resumed Jose, "have I not told you, that Paula had
sworn to have revenge?"
"Well?" inquired the judge.
"Six months afterwards," Jose proceeded, "a young man presented
himself before the convent of the Dominicans of Seville.  This
young man wished to become a priest. He was twenty years old,
and did not know a word of Latin; but he had intelligence, an indomitable will, and in less than three years, he had learned enough
Latin to be instructed in theology. Then, the first orders were conferred upon him, and he entered on his noviciate, subsequently, he
was made a priest and a professor of the order of Saint Dominic.
F 2                  42





330


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION


"Meanwhile, Pierre Arbues, the grand inquisitor of Seville, had
observed the novice, and by one of those whims so common among
men of a fantastic character, capricious and cruel, it became absolutely
necessary for him to have this young man constantly at his side.
He did nothing without consulting his favourite; and the novice had
infused so much cunning and address into his relations with the
grand inquisitor that the latter, fascinated and subdued, no longer
dared to have a will, which was not in accordance with Josie/s."
"Jose?" exclaimed the judges, with the utmost astonishment.
"Yes, Jos6!" proceeded the Dominican, "Jose", who had made himself the slave of Pierre Arbues in order to become his master. Jose,
who like the hand that stirs the fire, was constantly exciting the
wicked passions of Pierre Arbues in order to lead him to his ruin;
Jose, who made a monster of a cruel and licentious man, in order that
there might be no forgiveness for him either on earth or in heaven;
Jose, who after having rendered the name of Pierre Arbues odious to
all Andalusia, has at last smitten him-smitten him with a death blow
that he might have no time for repentance, and be damned to all eternity-Josie, in a word, who has avenged Paula!"
Whilst speaking these words the voice of the young monk was
raised with thrilling emphasis, his sparkling eyes were turned towards
heaven with a savage expression of joy.
The judges believed him to be deranged; they did not yet understand him.
"It was Jose then, and not Paula, who killed the inquisitor?" the
president asked as a final question.
"It was Jose" and it was Paula," replied the prisoner; "for Paula
and Jose are one and the same person.  Do you not understand,
that I have made myself a man and a monk in order to avenge myself?"'
" Sacrilege!" exclaimed all the judges at once, having at last comprehended this frightful mystery; "a twofold sacrilege, in having
profaned the holy name of a priest, and having assassinated a priest!"
" What I have done, I would do again," replied Paula with gloomy
excitement. " Has not Pierre Arbues profaned the mission of the
priesthood? Are not all your inquisitors, those vile butchers, stained
with luxury and murder, are they not all sacrilegious and impious
men? Oh! my lords, it is high time that the justice of the king
should pour light into these depths of darkness; for I tell you in truth,
and God is my witness that it is not in order to save my life, the
tribunals of the inquisition are abodes of infamy which ought to be
burned to the ground, and the inquisitors are monsters with whom
your prisons should be filled!"
"Enough! enough!" exclaimed the president, "prisoner, our patience is exhausted! If you are a woman, your crime is still greater;
but whether a woman or a man, you have merited death!"
"And death I demand!" exclaimed Paula, who since she had
avowed her sex, seemed to have assumed all the touching graces of
a woman.
The judges withdrew for a few minutes in order to deliberate.
Meanwhile, Paula, calm and composed, quietly awaited the result of
their deliberation. She had just developed the sad drama of her life;





THE JUDGMENT OF MEN.


331


and life now weighed upon her like a burden. When the judges returned, their countenance expressed fearful severity; still, an involuntary pity might be read upon their solemn features. The president arose, and without looking at the accused, he pronounced the
sentence in these words:
" Considering that the grand inquisitor has died a violent death;
' Considering that this death has been inflicted by an assassin, and
that this assassin has avowed the crime;
" Considering that the so called Paula, falsely designated by the
name of Jose, a Dominican monk, an officer of the inquisition, has
been guilty of sacrilege in order to succeed in the perpetration of
this crime;
" Considering that the prisoner has declared, confessed and avowed
the crimes with which she is charged, the court, which believes in
God the Father, in God the Son, and in God the Holy Ghost, three
holy and distinct persons, forming but one true God, has humbled
itself before our Lord, asking grace in order to dictate the sentence
which it must pronounce. By these means its conscience is set at rest.
"By these motives, the court condemns the so called Paula, accused and convicted of the crime of assassination and sacrilege on the
sacred person of Pierre Arbues, grand inquisitor of Seville, to the
penalty of death.
" And in view of the fact, that in the perpetration of this crime,
there has been long premeditation, the court, conformably to the laws
of the kingdom, condemns the said Paula to be broken alive on the
wheel, and then quartered; and on account of the parricide, to have the
right hand severed and burned by the hand of the executioner.
" After the execution of this sentence, the limbs of the criminal
shall be exposed on the main roads and abandoned as a prey to wild
beasts, with the prohibition of burial. Given at Seville, &c."
Paula listened to her sentence without trembling; but at the words,
"her limbs shall be exposed on the main roads with the prohibition
of burial," a profound feeling of disgust, of outraged modesty, and instinctive horror of abandonment even after death, for a moment made
her courage fail. She covered her eyes with her hand as if to hide
from them the horrible spectacle, which was represented to her in
thought; and when she stood up in order to be led back,to the chapel
of the prison in which she was tp pass the night, a convulsive trembling agitated her limbs; she could scarcely support herself. But as
she went out of the tribunal, she discovered in the crowd a tall, pale
old woman, who looked at her earnestly, with her streaming eyes, as
if to say to her: "You have deceived me, but I am here."
" Oh!" thought Paula, as she saw her, "I can die in peace, now;
living or dead, she will watch over me."
This woman was Juana. Having set out with Estevan and Dolores il obedience to Paula's injunction, at the end of two days'
journey, she had left her fellow travellers and returned to Seville,
anxious about the child whom she had nursed and to whom she had
devoted her whole life, following her through all the places and incidents of her incomparable vengeance; but not knowing the road,
Juana had lost her way; this was the reason why she had not reached
Seville until after the trial of Paula.





332


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


CHAPTER         XLVIII.
EN CAPILLA.
IT is a custom piously established in Spain, when a man is con.
demned to die, to let him pass forty-eight hours shut up in a dungeon:transformed into an illuminated chapel, which is called the capilla.
There, religion, under all its forms, offers its pious aid and its powerful consolations to him who is soon to die. Priests, relieving one
another from hour to hour, aid and comfort him, endeavouring to
fortify him by hope, against the horrors of a violent death. The
brotherhood of peace and charity, the tender mother of all whom the
executioner demands, endeavours assiduously to render their last hours
calm, by lavishing the utmost care and attention on their least caprice;
and, besides, the unhappy criminal is permitted to converse with his
relations and friends. In a word, all the consolations are afforded
which the relentless law permits, never transcending the limits
of its rights. In Spain, the law may at times condemn unjustly,
but it mingles with its necessary rigour, the alleviations of compassion; it condemns to death, but not to agony.
The chapel in which Jose was confined was a vaulted hall, supported by slender columns, whose capitals extending in delicate and
light leaves clustered on the top in heads of palm trees; it was Saracenic sculpture, a beautiful imitation of nature in Africa. Upon the
gloomy altar, which was hung in black, candles of green wax burned
on both sides of the crucifix. On the right of the altar, two arm
chairs were prepared; one for the sufferer, the other designed for the
monks who came to exhort him. On the ground, in a corner, might
be seen a large scalpel, some ropes and a huge St. Andrew's cross of
oak wood, on which a heavy iron club rested. These were the implements of death. Paula paid no attention to them. In the last
moment, which was about to close her life, still so young, a cruel
misgiving beset her. She had been piously educated. A feeling of
natural and insurmountable hatred, an unbridled desire of revenge,
had successively drawn her on to the profanation of a multitude of
sacred things, and last of all to murder, a crime which is an abomination
before God. This crime she had accomplished perseveringly, without
hesitation, without remorse; she had, it is true, killed a monster, polluted with murders, debauchery and rapine, but still, she now asked
with inexpressible terror, if the great and merciful God, who doubtless had received her beloved Ferdinand into his bosom, for whose
sake she had sacrificed her life, would not spurn her as unworthy of
the happiness of heaven. She knelt down on the bare floor of the
chapel and leaned her burning face on the marble of the altar. Her
soul, filled with anrguish, was the prey of a terrible doubt, she was
afraid that in another life, she might not see him, for whom she had
been willing to die: after so many tears, so many struggles, and so
much suffering, this thought was the source of fearful torture. At
this moment, a monk entered the chapel. Paula threw herself on
her knees, and told him, weeping, all her anguish. The monk corn




EN CAPILLA.


333


forted her, by speaking to her of the fearful punishment she was
about to undergo, exhorting her to forget her sacrilegious love for a
heretic, and to implore the mercy of God, and that of the martyred
lord Arbues, who from the heights of heaven would doubtless pardon her; then he spoke to her at length of pardon, ecstasy, beatitude.
Paula rose up in despair, she had knocked at a stone, and no answer had been returned to the anguish of her soul.
The bell tolled another hour, the monk withdrew like a sentry
who has performed his duty. Thus the exercises of the divine religion of the Saviour lose, by passing through stupid hands, all their
precious power and their angelic consolations.
"Oh! " said Paula, with bitterness and disgust, "I ought to have
remembered that these monks are brutes, living machines acting from
habit and not from conviction; the spirit from on high is not in them,
they are automata, matter alone is active in them."
"Oh! Lord, my God!" she continued, "thou hast been a martyr
to wicked priests and hypocrites; pardon me, for I too am their
victim. Thou who hast brought into the world a law of love and
hast taught only love, forgive me, my God. Love has made me
guilty."
Whilst saying these words, Paula shed burning and bitter tears;
her gentle form, bowed down upon the earth, was invested with a
graceful sorrow, impossible to describe. She had retained nothing of
her monkish vesture except her tunic of white wool; and as her hair
which had not been shorn for eight days, had grown slightly, her
countenance was greatly changed by it.
To see her thus, beautiful and delicate, and yet imposing from the
habit of command which she had assumed, it would have been difficult at the first glance to have discerned her sex.  It was Paula, and
yet, it was Jose still; a strange compound of beauty and strength, of
energy and tenderness.
This poor woman, artless and gentle, who, although so young, had
learned so much1 of life, was invested with a sad and affecting charm.
Prostrate on the steps of the altar, facing the instruments of torture
which on the next morning, were to break her limbs, she looked like
a frail flower, bending over the abyss, which is soon to engulf it, as
if to implore and move it to compassion.
But it was of little avail to address herself to all the things which
surrounded her, nothing could answer the wants of her soul, either
for the present or the future.
Then, like the traveller, who has lost his way and comes back to
the road, which he has already traversed, Paula took a retrospective
view; she slowly returped to her past life, carefully turning over its
pages, one by orp, in order that nothing might escape her.
In thus reading over the book of memory, she again saw herself a
child, fair and innocent, playing amid the flowering orange groves
of the Alhambra, that Moorish paradise, already dreaming in her ardent and lofty soul of the love of a noble and valiant cavalier, who
placed upon her brow a white virgin crown. Then she again beheld
those churches of Grenada, magnificent mosques converted into catholic temples by the pious Isabella; monuments of Christian poesy grafted





534


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


upon the poetry of the East. There she saw, passing before her, as
in a dream, all this phantasm of Roman worship, which in those days
had cradled her in gentle and holy emotions, the long ranks of monks
whose white heads were buried in clouds of incense, the stoles and
the capes broidered with gold, the white surplices of the deacons,
and the embroidered robe of the archdeacon, the chalices covered
with jewels, and the great golden suns in which the sacrament reposed, the archangels of massive silver with extended wings, the
shrines filled with relics, and the bouquets of gems, crowns offered
by the queens of Spain to the queen of Paradise. Thus she recogni'sed all the churches of Grenada, an oriental bazaar in which, under
a thousand forms, the riches of Mexico had been displayed.
By comparing her artless feelings at that time, her simple admiration of all these earthly wonders, with her present bitter skepticism, Paula understood why the clergy were so anxious at every
price, to prolong the ignorance of the people.
Then she asked herself, if it was not horribly criminal to employ
means so earthly as these, in order to inspire love and adoration for
the King of heaven.
But Paula, who had had opportunities to sound all these iniquities
of the souls of the priests to their lowest depth, well knew, that the
glory of God was the pretext and not the object of their miserable
juggleries.
Yet, she experienced a sweet and melting delight in calling to mind
her days of ignorance and artless abandonment to the faith with which
she had been inspired, her transports of joy and ecstasy, when, kneeling before a large image of Christ which shed tears during the period
of his passion,' it seemed to her as though she saw that Saviour himself weeping, whose touching sublime history had been narrated to
her.   These days, contrasted with her present life, threw      back
* Towards the middle of the last century, there was at Aurillac in the department of Cantal, a convent of Carmelites, who were in possession of a statue of
Magdalen which wept on the festival day of that saint. This same convent also
had a crucifix, which, during the passion week, shed copious tears. The secret
of these two miracles was revealed by a lay brother, sacristan of this convent, to
a pupil of the Jesuits, who has related it to us. The following is the way in
which these miracles were performed. The statue of the Magdalen was made
of hollow earthenware, and contained a chafing dish, on which, after having
lighted the fire, the monks fixed an apparatus in the form of an alembic, the
elongation of which reached to the head of the saint. This apparatus contained
water, which being reduced to vapour by the heat, was condensed at the head of
the statue, from which, by means of two small tubes, it fell upon a sponge, fixed
behind the eyes, which were pierced in the lower part with several small holes;
when once well saturated, this sponge emitted the super-abundant water through
the little holes in the eyes of the statue, which looked as though it were weeping natural tears.
As for the crucifix, it was simply fixed against a wall, behind which was a
vine. Every body knows that the vine weeps at the beginning of Spring, that
is to say about the close of Lent. Profiting by this observation, the monks had
made two branches of twigs freshly cut, pass behind the image through the
wall, taking care that the end of the twigs came in contact with the anterior
angles of the eyes of the crucifix, and thus produced the miraculous tears, which
the credulous people gathered up with great veneration, and in return for which
they never failed to deposit their offering on the silver plate, placed at the feet of
the image.





EN CAPILLA.


835


a gilded reflection, which illumined with a parting" ray her brow
already covered with a mortal shade.
Then she saw herself once more an orphan, adopted by that noble
family of Cazalla, so pious and so pure; she found herself again with
her gentle and beloved Ferdinand-but with this picture, so lovely in
the distance, were soon blended the dismal voices of the outraged dead,
of the persecuted and tortured living, her Ferdinand dragged to the
place of execution, and herselfOh! at this terrible recollection, her soul overflowed with bitterness, and she counted over hour by hour, and minute by minute, the
days which she had passed in this way, dragging her chain of slavery,
kissing the feet of the tiger whom she abhorred, veiling her eyes
swimming with tears with a hypocritic smile, her dejected brow
with a halo of joy, renouncing even prayer, through fear of profaning it, every hour inventing a new stratagem, plunging with
disgust into the abyss of sensuality and luxury in which the priests
of Christ lived, applauding their vices, sometimes pandering to
them, andc all this in order to assuage and extinguish the measureless
despair of her soul.-Then, at last, gentle, timid and shuddering
with fear, she armed her feeble hand with a dagger, and at the very
foot of the altar sacrificed him who had destroyed her happiness.
She saw him again before her, with haggard eyes and bleeding throat,
uttering those words in the last gasp of agony:
"God is just'""Yes, God is just!" exclaimed Paula, rising with an energetic
movement, "God is just, oh! he will pardon me"-Then with a cry
of anguish inexpressible, she proceeded, " Is not martyrdom a baptism, and shall not I accomplish mine upon this cross?"On turning round, Paula had observed the implements of her punishment, and far from being terrified at the sight of these frightful
objects, she experienced an unspeakable and cruel delight in calculating the horrible pangs which she would be obliged to undergo; for
the more terrible and intolerable they appeared to her, the stronger
was her confidence in God, that all this suffering, added to the long
tortures of her life, would suffice to expiate her sins, and that they
would be pardoned. Besides, Paula desired but one thing, to be
reunited to Ferdinand.
The door of the chapel opened, and two Spanish lords, members of
the order of Peace and Charity, inquired, with all possible courtesy,
whether the condemned needed any thing.
"Nothing for this life, gentlemen," replied Paula, with an angelic
smile; " but for the next""We will take care of that also." added the gentlemen, approaching Paula; "we will have prayers and masses offered for the repose
of your soul."
"Gentlemen," said Paula, "no prayers of priests, I implore you;
yours, yours alone, such as will not be venal and hypocritical--and
then_-  "
"Young woman," one of the lords abruptly said, "be more moderate in your remarks, I implore you; the priests are our spiritual
guides."
"I know them better than you do," said Paula in a decided tone,





336


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


"but thoughts are free, my lord, and since you wish to fulfil the last
wishes of a dying woman, take charge of this, and give it to the poorest girl in Spain as her marriage dowry." With these words, Paula
drew from her bosom a cross set in diamonds; it was a jewel of great
value which she had inherited from her mother. "You will do that,
my lord, will you not?" added she.
"I give you my word," replied the gentleman.
"Thank you, my lord, I depend upon you, it is the only property
which I have left, let it serve at least to make some one happy"----
"Is this all?" asked the brother of Peace and Charity.
"There is indeed one thing more," said Paula, with a degree of
hesitation.
"Speak, all that depends on us shall be granted you."
"When on your way here, my lord," replied she, "you must have
met a poor woman clothed in black, who was perhaps weeping under her veil, and looking towards the prison. That woman is my
mother, she who was my nurse. The favour of embracing those
whom they have loved, for the last time, is not denied to such as are
condemned, well! send for this woman, my lord, and ask permission
for her to come to me."
"Your wish shall be granted," replied the kind-hearted nobleman, and he immediately went out with the brother who had come
with him.
At this moment, a sacred priest of the order of the agonizing, replaced him who had received the confession of Paula.
He approached the young woman, and. continued the hackneyed
exhortations of his predecessor. One might have supposed, it was a
lesson learned by heart, which each of these monks came to repeat
in his turn. On their vacant or weary countenance, whilst performing this pious duty, the dryness and aridity of their soul was exposed in all its nakedness. These men generally had hearts of bronze
and health of iron.
Paula let him speak without answering him; she prayed inwardly,
and not with her lips, imploring the grand Dispenser of mercies; she
had no need of such an intercessor, he would have chilled her fervour
instead of animating it. She therefore remained mute and collected,
waiting for the performance of the gentleman's promise, whilst the
monk, conveniently established in his arm chair, had leaned his head
upon his bosom and had gently fallen asleep, whilst reciting his litanies.
Paula kept her eyes fixed upon the door; her soul could not be
diverted from the hope which she had conceived of seeing her nurse
for the last time. Her expectation was not in vain; the gentleman
soon returned, followed by this woman clothed in black, whom
Paula had described to him, and whom he had actually encountered
at the avenues of the prison.
On meeting again, Paula and her nurse spoke not a word; but the
condemned threw herself upon the bosom of her who had nursed her,
and there, for the first time in many years, she wept without constraint.
SOut of respect, for this last interview, the brothers of Peace and
Charity had withdrawn.
It was also customary for the priest to suffer the condemned to





THE PUNISHMENT OF THE WHEEL


337


converse freely with those who were permitted to visit him. The
agonizing monk, therefore, did not stir; at the arrival of Juana, he
half opened his eyes, and then went on reciting his prayers in a low
tone.
When Paula had poured into the bosom of her nurse all the tears
which had been gathering for such a length of time, she raised her
head, and fixing her large black eyes upon those of her old nurse,
she said to her with the utmost tenderness,
" Then you too wish to die?"
" Only after you," replied Juana.
" You are right," said Paula with bitter disdain of life, ' what
would you do here alone?"
"Not so?" said Juana, solemnly; as if for these two women, who
had lived solely on devotion and love, terrestrial life had been nothing
without that of the soul, and as though they had been created only
in order to live here below, like beings of another world in the pure
ecstasy of love.
Oh! happy dispositions, which proceeding from God, live in him
and return to him without ever being separated from one another!
For he who really lives solely in love, has his existence in God.
Then they remained in silence, side by side, their hands tenderly
locked in each other, enjoying the happiness of seeing one another
again, before their separation for a day.
They had nothing more to say to each other, the world had no
longer any existence for them; they were about to die and to meet
again. They had passed an hour together in this way, without
counting the minutes, when a shire entered the chapel to inform
them that it was time for them to separate.
Then only, the doubt which had beset her, returned to agitate the
spirit of Paula, and as her nurse extended her arms in order to clasp
her in a last embrace, she said to her with anguish, "4Will not God
receive me into his bosom and forgive me?"
"Poor victim!" replied Juana, '" be calm, we shall see each other
again."
At these words a heavenly ray shone upon the countenance of
Paula. She presented her lovely face to her adopted mother to kiss.
Jtana kissed her tenderly on the forehead, and left the chapel, saying
to her, "Only for a little while."  Paula remained absorbed in delightful meditation, which continued until day.
CHAPTER        XLIX.
THE PUNISHMENT OF THE WHEEL.
IT was six o'clock in the morning. A man entered the chapel
where Paula was. This man was the executioner. On seeing him,
the first impression which Paula experienced was of terror, the second of joy, she was going to die! In despite of herself, however,
at the aspect of the man who was going to torture her, she could not
2G                     43





838


338E 'i AMT.RMlES OF,TJI MI 'QtYSITION.


repress a sensation-of horror; an instinct of physical nature, which
yields only after affliction to the influence of moral sentiment.
"I am ready," said the young woman, rising up.
The executioner then approached, and placed upon the head of the
condemned a green cap adorned with a white cross. This cap had
the form of a Greek bonnet. Then, divesting Paula of her tunic of
white flannel, the executioner clothed her in a party coloured robe
of red and black. The black colour was that of the parricide, and the
red denoted sacrilege.
Paula suffered him to act with indifference: the vesture in which
she was to bid adieu to life was of no importance to her. When the
executioner had done, she asked*  Is this all?"
" All for the present," replied the man.
"When am I to die?"
"Not yet."
"Why not now?" said Paula, impatiently.
The executioner gazed at her with astonishment; he could not
conceive how a criminal should be impatient to die.
He left Paula alone, saying to her, " Perform your last acts of devotion." Paula threw herself upon her knees, and again breathed to
God her prayer, beseeching that she might be reunited to Ferdinand.
A priest then entered the chapel to exhort the prisoner for the
last time; but she gave him no answer: she continued imploring God
in secret, and when he insisted, she gently said to him,
"God has pardoned me; my mother has told me so."
The priest supposed that the terror of the punishment had dethroned her reason. At this moment they came to lead her out.
She uttered an exclamation of joy, and rushed towards the door; but
as her cup of sorrow was not yet full, they took her two hands,
which they tied with cords, as though it had been necessary to
drag her by force to the torture, which she so ardently demanded.
But the resignation of Paula was boundless, she was glad to suffer.
She left the chapel.
When, after having crossed the dark corridors of the prison, she
found herself in the street, the sun-light darted full upon her face of
beautiful paleness, with which, around her eyes and temples, sorne
bluish marks were blended.  Dazzled by this sudden brightness,
Paula closed her eyes for a moment. After having become accustomed to this bright light, she reopened them, and on gazing
around, she saw herself surrounded with soldiers, with pious people,
who with a taper in their hand accompanied her directly to the
place of execution, besides agonizing monks ranged in two rows, and
reciting in a piteous tone the prayers which precede the last moment
One of them constantly stood near the condemned, exhorting her
to die well.
Then, mingling with the agonizing monks the brotherhood of Peace
and Charity, the last friend of the condemned, accompanied the object of their care, one might almost have said of their worship: the
living antithesis of human law, this brotherhood was the faithful interpreter of the clemency of the divine Saviour.
The common people, always eager to witness horrible spectacles,





THE PUNISHMENT OF THE WHEEL.


339


thronged in crowds upon the steps of the criminal. Many of them
were surprised at the sight of a young and beautiful face which seemed
to belong either to a woman or an angel.
However, as the trial of Paula with closed doors had not been divulged, and as nothing of what had passed had been made known, except the act, that the assassin had been sentenced to die, every body
was ignorant of his real sex. They had figured to themselves a terrible and colossal man. The assassin of a grand inquisitor could not
be any thing but an extraordinary man, and here before their eyes was
only a frail being, pale, gentle and beautiful, an almost ideal creature.
During this sorrowful pilgrimage, Paula was the object of ardent
curiosity and also of incredible pity. The people, who still supposed
her to be a young monk, felt moved, despite of themselves, in favour
of so much youth, and the odious memory of Pierre Arbues increased
the disposition to favour his murderer still more.
Thus the procession arrived at the plaza mayor. Upon again beholding this place, where, the last time she had been in it on the
day of the auto da f6, Pierre Arbues had sacrificed so many victims,
the heart of Paula swelled with indignation: she turned her eyes towards the Quemadero, as though she were looking for the martyrs
who had there fallen on this burning arena.
It was there, too, that Ferdinand had fallen. This was the last
retrospect of Paula towards her earthly existence, which was now accomplished. She bowed her head upon her bosom and waited for
death to take her. Without fainting, she gazed upon the instruments
of torture and ascended the scaffold with a firm step. An agonizing
monk ascended it with her. When she had come there, she fell on
her knees, raising her eyes towards heaven, and from the depth of
her soul, she implored mercy for the last time. Then she rose up
and waited. At this moment, her eyes fell upon the crowd which
surrounded the scaffold, and among all those unknown faces she observed a white and gentle figure, which stood at the foot of her scaffold, like the mother of her Lord under the cross of the Saviour of
men. It was the gentle and courageous Juana.
In this trying moment, she was still desirous to fortify her presence,
and she had had the courage to coine and witness her execution. Paula
smiiled imperceptibly, and then she pointed towards heaven with a
look.
Then Juana drew her mantilla over her face, and raised it again
suddenly, as if to say to her once more in symbolic language, our separation is only for a day.
The priest who attended the sufferer then presented an ivory crucifix which he held in his hand for her to kiss. Paula piously
placed her lips on the sacred image.
Meanwhile, the priest gave her his blessing, and the people, enthusiastic at the sight of so touching a resignation, were excited in behalf of the criminal who was preparing to die with such pious composure. The executioner was about to commence. On the scaffold
there was a large cross of St. Andrew, an iron club, an axe and a block.
The executioner untied the hands of the condemned, took her right
hand by the wrist, laid it on the block, and prepared to tie it there.
" That is useless," said Paula, "proceed."





340


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


The executioner raised his axe. Paula followed every movement
with her eye; but quicker than thought the axe fell with a whizzing
sound, and that hand white and pale leaped upon the block, bathed
in torrents of blood, which streamed from the severed arteries. The
executioner had separated it from the arm by a single blow.
A prolonged cry of horror arose in the crowd. Paula alone had
not spoken a word; but her face had become still more pale, and a
slight nervous convulsion had seized her frame.
The executioner attempted to stanch the blood which escaped
from the wound, by means of linen cloths.
SLet it be," said Paula, "it will all be over so much the sooner."
She was perceptibly becoming paler, and notwithstanding her
boundless courage, the cruel pain which she experienced and the
great quantity of blood which was escaping from her mutilated arm,
was every moment making her more feeble. She could scarcely
stand. She turned her eyes towards the cross on which her torture
was to end, and in her inexpressible eagerness for repose, smiled
at the bed of pain which was at least to support her mangled body;
and addressing the executioner in an imploring tone, she said to him,
" Finish."The executioner, assisted by a servant, immediately raised her in
his brawny arms, stretched her upon the cross, being careful to
make each of her limbs correspond to each of its branches, so that
when placed in this manner, the body had the figure of an X. He
then tied the legs and arms of the victim, even the bleeding arm
which had been mutilated, and after these different operations had
been accomplished, this man, who must have been without bowels,
coolly raised his iron club as a living machine might have done.
The heavy bar fell down again with all the weight of the Herculean strength of this man upon a frail arm, which it broke as though
it had been glass. It was that which had already undergone the punishment of the parricide.
A dull, prolonged, involuntary groan died upon the lips of the
poor sufferer, like the last vibration of the brass upon a sonorous bell
after the hour has struck. A horrid thrill of pain pierced through
the marrow of Paula's bones. It was horrible. The crowd, mute
and mournful, shuddered as they gazed on this frightful drama.
Notwithstanding the bands which held them upon this cross of
agony, the limbs of Paula were agitated with frightful convulsions,
and although the day was hot, her teeth chattered as if she had been
cold. Her blood still flowed, and she was rapidly growing weaker.
Three blows of the ponderous club, like the first, completed the mutilation of this beautiful frame, formed for all the enjoyments of
life; and each time, the groans of Paula became more dull and indistinct.
At the last blow the groans were scarcely perceptible; the eyes
of the victim, already fixed and glazed, closed entirely; their long
lashes hung over her cheeks like a light shade; her forehead became
white and tinged with the colour of yellow ivory-her mouth contracted under her teeth as though in a last smile, and a slight convulsion heaved her bosom for the last time-then it was all over-The
blood ceased to flow from the exhausted arteries-Paula's sufferings









7


ii










THE PUNISHMENT OF THE WHEEL.'


'341


were ended. The executioner placed his hand upon the heart of the
victim; there was no more pulsation.
"She is dead, my father," said this man to the monk, who had
accompanied her to the scaffold.
"May God have mercy on her soul," replied the monk, turning
towards the people; "let us pray, my brethren, for the victim who
has just expired."
At these words, Juana, who all the time that this frightful torture
had lasted, had remained at the foot of the scaffold, stifling her sobs
and swallowing her tears, Juana sighed heavily, as though a fearful
load had been removed from her breast. Her child whom she had
not been able to save, had at least ceased to suffer.
The crowd had become silent; this execution had been so rapid,
the patient victim had manifested so much fortitude and resignation,
and had made so little attempt to excite the people in her favour, she
had shown such heroic courage, that these Spanish hearts, so readily
charmed by every exhibition of moral greatness, were carried away
with enthusiastic admiration for the parricidal monk. If they had
known that this monk was a woman, how much greater would have
been their admiration!
By the arrangements of justice, however, this secret remained still
unknown; it was feared that by divulging it, the real cause of the
death of Pierre Arbues would be surmised. Besides, the object of
the Roman Church was a different one, it wished to make a saint and
a martyr of the inquisitor.
The executioner and his assistant descended from the scaffold.The people slowly withdrew, conversing together in accordance with
their good common sense, about the extraordinary event of-an inquisitor put to death for having assassinated another inquisitor; they
still, of course, regarded Paula as an officer of the inquisition.
Soon none were left around the scaffold but the sentinels commissioned to watch the body until the hour, when the executioners should
come to quarter it. That was to be done the same evening, towards
night. Juana retired last of all, but she kept herself at a very short distance from the square, in the rear of a neighbouring church; her task
was not yet accomplished.
From time to time, some inquisitive persons drew near the scaffold, stood on tiptoe and gazed at the corpse of the victim, still beautiful notwithstanding so many incredible mutilations, but the sentinels were careful to order them to stand back, for they had been
warned to permit no one to come too near. Night came at length.
The plaza mayor was deserted, only a few gardufos crossed it from
time to time, silently, with naked feet, or shod with alpargatas, moving
with so light a step, that one would have said the ground had been
trodden by a bird. They passed along, as if by chance, and without design, not even attempting to approach the scaffold; but, in fact,
Athese men were on the watch to superintend the removal of the corpse
of Paula, after the executioner had quartered it.
She who had incessantly watched over this unhappy young woman,
during her lifetime, the noble and faithful Juana, still watched over
her mangled corpse; she had purchased with what money and jewels
were still at her disposal, the aid of these men, whom the allurement
2G2





342


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


of gain was always sufficient to seduce, and who, on account of their
intimate relations with the inquisition, were almost sure of impunity.
When the hour of ten had struck, the executioner, followed by an
assistant, returned to the place of death. He had in his hand a very
sharp scalpel, and his assistants bore pointed iron pikes. When they
had reached the scaffold, the executioner began by untying the body,
which had remained fastened upon the cross; it was still warm, and
the limbs had lost but little of their pliancy. The executioner tore
open the back of the tunic with which Paula was covered, and exposed the white and pure frame of enchanting beauty. Then,
by the light of a pine torch, whose flickering flame threw over the
pale flesh a glow of lively red, mingled with great black shadows,
the executioner began to dissect the body with incredible dexterity;
he thrust his scalpel into the muscles and the nerves, adroitly cut the
tendons, and after having perfectly, dislocated the bones, disjointed
them one after the other, completed the severing of the muscles, and
separated the limbs from the trunk.
This done, he dexterously removed the head and placed it by the
side of the limbs. Just as he finished this operation a major brother
(hermano major) of Peace and Charity drew near the scaffold and
claimed the trunk of the body in order to bury it. This was the privilege of the brotherhood, and they made no delay in availing themselves of it.
This trunk was piously deposited in a coffin of oak wood, and the
members of the fraternity, on taking possession of this precious booty
of charity, cast a look of regret upon the abandoned limbs which re
mained the prey of the executioner.
However, the body was not given up to the brotherhood of Peace
and Charity, except upon their oath not to reveal the sex of Paula. But
it was necessary that justice should have its course. The executioner
then removed the limbs and head, he reunited and bound them in a
linen sack, filled with bran, and still followed by his companions,
took the road leading to Cadiz, on the other side of the suburb of
Triana. When they had proceeded about half a league from Seville,
the executioners planted in the earth five iron pikes, and fastened
them firmly with a heavy hammer, then the executioner arranged
and with his own hand, stuck the limbs and head of Paula upon the
point of the pikes which were out of the ground, and left them thus
exposed to the gaze of passengers and the Voracity of wild beasts.
After doing this, the executioners retired; their task was entirely fulfilled. The gardufios had kept themselves concealed at some distance.
" Now," said they, when they saw that the executioners had withdrawn far enough, 6 it is our turn."
" Even so, and let us be quick about it," added one of the gardunos,
" so that the smoke does not surprise us in this adventure."
" Heaven preserve us from it! I would rather be caught carrying
off the mitre of the archbishop." At the same time, the two children
of the Gardufia drew near together to the pikes, on which the limbs
of Paula were exposed. One of these men held a large square piece of
white linen, by the four corners, whilst the other, removipg the limbs
and head of the victim one by one, deposited them in the linen cloth.
A few minutes were all that was required for this operation.





THE PUNISHMENT OF THE WHEEL.


343


Then, laden with their precious burden, the \gardunios resumed the
road to the Palacio, which fortunately was not fai off.
No one met them on their way, and their nocturnal expedition
remained perfectly secret.
Mandamiento awaited them in the council chamber.
"See, master," said they, on their arrival; "our task is done."
"Not yet," replied Mandamiento, "follow me," and he led them
to the vault in which they had burned the body of the former governor of Seville.
There Juana awaited them. A coffin covered with white silk was
in the midst of the cave, by the side of a grave, which they had dug.
On seeing the gardufos coming, Juana rose up. She went towards
them and took from their hands the mutilated limbs of her daughter;
then she said to Mandamiento,
" Suffer me to be left alone for a few moments; I will bury my
child with my own hands."
Mandamiento and the gardufios withdrew. Juana stretched upon
the ground the linen which contained the remains of Paula, those at
least, which the brotherhood of Peace and Charity had been unable
to bury. At the sight of that noble head which she had loved so
well, the courage of the aged mother seemed for a moment to abandon her. She bent over the cold and discoloured lips which had
sucked her milk when Paula was a child, and wept her last tears,
the tears of a mother; but her strong mind, full of faith, could not
long remain dejected; she gazed upon the dim eyes, bereft of sight,
and said to them, as she kissed them for the last time,
S "Mortal frame of my Paula's soul, return to the earth, and await
the eternal resurrection! Paula is -there no longer, Paula is in heaven,
and I will go and meet her there again."
Then she wiped away her tears, courageously deposited the limbs
stiffened in death, in the coffin which was waiting for them, covered
them with a large veil, and knelt down to pray at the foot of the
coffin. At the end of an hour, Mandamiento returned with his garduilos. Juana rose up and came towards him.
"Senior Mandamiento," said she, "one word; you have honestly
fulfilled your promises and I have also performed mine; but this is
not yet enough, and I wish to reward your zeal."
With these words, she took from her finger a jewelled ring of
great value, and gave it to the master of the Gardunia.
"Senora," said Mandamiento, dazzled by this rich present, "' what
can the Gardufna do in order to acknowledge your incomparable generosity?"
"Let me pray by the side of this coffin until to-morrow," said Juana, " to-morrow you will deposit it in the grave which is designed
to receive it."
"Let it be as your ladyship desires," replied Mandamiento.
"Let no one come here before to-morrow morning," added Juana.
Mandamiento bowed in token of consent. The nurse of Paula
was left alone. She passed the whole night in praying by the coffin.
The next morning, when the gardunios came to deposit it in the grave,
they found Juana bending over the remains of her daughter, her
hands clasped, and her head bowed down. They spoke to her, she





344


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


made no reply. One of them took her arm to arouse her, supposing
that she had fallen asleep, but Juana did not awake, and her body remained motionless and stiff as a stone. She had kept the promise
made to Paula. When Paula had been obliged to leave the world,
Juana had left it too, without a struggle, without effort, without
employing culpable means, merely from an overwhelming desire
to die.
" Master," said the gardunios to Mandamiento, " this woman is
dead, what shall we do with her body?"
" The coffin is large," replied the master," doubtless the last wish
of this lady was to be buried with this mutilated body; then put her
into the coffin, and let the same grave receive them."
Two women of the Garduia were called to bury Juana, and after
prayers and grotesque ceremonies, the coffin was lowered into the
tomb. Then they covered it over with earth.
The caverns of the Gardulia would eternally have kept the secret
of this strange funeral, if the master, according to the invariable custom of the brotherhood, had not recorded the fact in its mysterious
registers, which were brought to light after the lapse of centuries.
CHAPTER L.
FAREWELL.
IN one of those numerous posadas, (inns) scattered along the mole,
to which sailors came for refreshment, who flocked to the port of
Cadiz from all parts of the world, three persons were conversing in
the midst of a low hall. Around them, on coarse benches, some objects indispensable to a sea voyage, had been arranged, together with
two small portmanteaus and a woollen bag, closed with cords so as to
be easily carried by hand, and saved even in case of flight. The
three persons who occupied this room were the Count de Vargas, the
young countess, and Jean d'Avila.
For fifteen days, Estevan and Dolores, having arrived safe and
sound at Cadiz by the help of the Gardufla, were waiting for the execution of Jos6's promise. The apostle, whom they had preceded by
only a few days, waited with them, assisting them to support those
last moments of painful anxiety which precede the accomplishment
of a decisive epoch in life. Impatience, however, was beginning to
gain on them. Besides, notwithstanding their incognito and the precaution which the young married party had taken to wear the clothing
of the common people, Jean d'Avila was not at ease; he was afraid
that the inquisition would pursue them. The three friends had been
sitting for some minutes in silence; they seemed to be absorbed in
meditation.
"My father," at last said the young count, "it is almost twenty
days since we left Seville; the Dutch vessel on which I have engaged
our passage may set out at any moment, and I am afraid to expose
Dolores by remaining any longer in Spain. Do you think that Don





FAREWELL.


345


Jose will come to meet us as he promised? Is there not rather room
to fear."
"Oh! no, no," exclaimed the artless Dolores; Josh has the heart
of an angel, a martyr like ourselves; who knows," added she with
emotion, who knows what misfortune may have fallen on his young
head?  There was something fatal about him."
" I never trusted that Dominican altogether," replied Estevan.
"The inquisition conceals so many strange and terrible secrets,"
observed Jean d'Avila.
"But, my father, to come to the point," continued Estevan, "our
safety demands that we leave as soon as possible; ought I, in order
to fulfil a word given in exchange for an uncertain promise, compromit the safety of her who is dearer to me than life?"
"Two days more," said the countess, gently, "only two days, my
Estevan; if, after that time, Jos6 has not come-well! we will go,"
added she with a sigh of sorrow, as if she had paid a tribute of
tenderness and regret to her beloved Spain, at the moment of
leaving it.
At this moment, a mariner from the ship on which they were to
embark came to inform them that they would set sail the same evening.
"How, so soon?" exclaimed Dolores, earnestly.
"The wind is favourable, Sefora," replied the sailor.
That word cut short every difficulty. The wind is the king of
mariners. Dolores hung down her head sorrowfully, and said nothing.
" You see, my father," said Estevan, " it is impossible to wait any
longer, we must go, and go this very day."
"It is true," replied Jean d'Avila, affected by the sadness of Dolores;
"imperious necessity commands, we must obey.-After all," added
he, "it is doubtless the will of God."
"Well," said Estevan to the sailor, pointing to the two small portmanteaus, "take these and carry them on board. This evening, we
will repair to the ship."
The sailor obeyed and withdrew. Dolores drew the smaller
woollen bag towards her and passed its cords over her arm. This bag
contained the ashes of her father.
The weather was very hot; Estevan went out of the inn a moment,
in order to breathe the fresh air which arose from the sea. He walked
a few steps upon the mole, along the walls, which border the bay
on which the port of Cadiz is situated. This old citadel, this impregnable city, surrounded by a double belt of water and stone, presented a sad and mournful aspect. The sun darted his rays perpendicularly upon the burning pavement; the streets were deserted, and
nothing was to be heard beyond, except the clashing of the waves
beating against the foot of the walls with a sound, harmoniously monotonous, or the step of the sentinels on duty at the sea-port.
"This evening," said Estevan, at length, speaking to himself,
"this evening, I am going to leave Spain! oh! may Heaven be propitious to my native land!" he exclaimed, turning towards the north.
as if to cast a last look of love and inexpressible sadness upon that
beloved country. " Oh! that God would avert the scourge of his
44





346


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


displeasure, and restore new life to it. Come," said he, heaviDng a
deep sigh, " I have made my last sacrifice. I must fly from it, since
I can do nothing for my country."
Just as he had spoken these words, he saw coming towards him,
in the direction of the main road, five persons who wore the costume
of Sevillans. He then retraced his steps, and prudently returned
into the posada; for he trembled every moment, lest they should be
in pursuit of his party, and discover him before he had time to embark.
Scarcely, however, had he closed the door of the room in which
Dolores and Jean d'Avila were, than a loud knock was heard at the
door.
Estevan started and hlesitated for a moment.
"What is the matter?" said Dolores, astonished.
"Open the door, Sefnor Don Estevan," cried a voice from without,
which the three friends immediately recognised. It was Coco's.
"Jose6 has come!" exclaimed Dolores.
Estevan, recovering somewhat from his alarm, had opened the
door. It was not Jose, however; but Coco, his sister, Manofina and
the Serena, who had come from Seville, under the guidance of one
of the gardufios of the brotherhood of Cadiz, who had received Estevan and Dolores on their arrival, and had recommended them to the
mistress of the meson, where they were lodging. Great was the
surprise of Dolores, Estevan and Jean d'Avila.
"What have you come to Cadiz for, my children?" asked the
apostle.
"We are come in quest of Senior Don Estevan and the lady Dolores, to follow them and offer our services to them wherever they
may wish to go," replied the Serena.
"Thanks for your devotion," replied the young countess, deeply
affected; "it is not the first time that I experience it; but do you
know, my friends, that you are following poor exiles who will scarcely be able to support you?"
"We will work for their support," replied the poor woman in the
same breath.
"Working would be no trouble to us," rejoined Coco, "but, thank
Heaven, their highnesses will have no need of our poor help."
"And Don Jose! what has become of Don Jose?" anxiously inquired Dolores; "as yet, you have told me nothing about him, Coco."
At the name of Jos6, the alguazil hung down his head with an air
of deep dejection, Manofina stood speechless, and the two women began to weep.
"What is the matter? what has befallen him?" asked the Countess
de Vargas.
Then, with a sad voice, in accents broken by emotion, the faithful
alguazil related the terrible development of the tragedy which had
just taken place at Seville. Jean d'Avila, Estevan and D61lores listened in profound astonishment to this frightful story; and when
Coco, in his animated and picturesque language, began to sketch the
last moments of Jos6,
"Oh!" exclaimed the countess, all in tears. "I knew that Jos6 was
a martyr!"





FAREWELL.


347


"That is not all, Senora," rejoined Coco, drawing from his bosom
the portfolio which Paula had so carefully sealed on the day when
she left the inquisitorial palace, and which she had handed to Coco:
"that is not all; here is a deposit which Don Jose handed me for you.
Take it, Senora; it belongs to you."
" To me!" exclaimed Dolores, surprised.
"To you, my daughter," said Jean d'Avila, "since it is the legacy
of a dying man."
Dolores then took the portfolio with a trembling hand, opened it,
and gave it to Estevan. She scarcely understood the value of the
multitude of bits of paper covered with ciphers, the greater part
illegible, enclosed in the folds of morocco leather. More au fait in
matters of this kind, Estevan, after casting a rapid glance over them,
said to his wife,
"Noble Jos6! He was not willing that those whom he had
loved should suffer from poverty; there is a whole fortune, here,
Dolores."
"Poor Jos6," exclaimed the young woman, more affected by the
horrible death of their friend, and the affection which he had exhibited towards them, even when dying, than by the benefit which so
considerable a sum could afford in their present situation. At the
same time, she perceived in the portfolio a paper of a larger dimension than the bills of exchange, carefully folded and sealed. On the
envelope, Paula had traced the following lines in her own handwriting:
"To the Countess Dolores de Vargas, when she shall be in safety
out of her country."
"This must not be read yet," said Dolores, and she replaced the
sealed packet in the portfolio. The day had flown rapidly, the sun
was sinking in the horizon, bustle and life began to return in the city.
The sailor, who had already come once to warn the travellers, again
entered the posada.
" Senor," said he to Estevan, "a boat is waiting in the harbour to
take you to the vessel."
" Let us go," said Estevan, let us go, since it must be, it is better
too soon than too late."
Dolores then advanced towards Jean d'Avila, and in her gentle
and penetrating voice, whose charm was irresistible:
" My father," said she to him, "are you not going with us?"
" No," replied Jean d'Avila, "no, my daughter; I cannot go with
you: I do not belong, to myself, I belong to Spain. My poor and
afflicted friends have claims upon me, and it is to them that I must
return."
"At least, tell me, that you are sorry to part with us," replied the
young countess.
" Dolores," said Jean d'Avila, " at least, let me have the merit of
the sacrifice. I am a man, and my heart is accessible to sorrow and
affection; but before being a man, I am a minister of Jesus Christ;
the minister must govern the man. The unfortunate have need of
me, and I belong to those who are in distress."
"It is true," said she; "return to them, they cannot do without
you. You are the representative of your divine Master; who knows





348


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION,


how to change evil into good, whilst the inquisition turns the most
perfect happiness into misery."
" That is the very reason why I cannot follow you," replied Jean
d'Avila.
"My father," said she, "I dare not dissuade you from this sublime employment. Obey the voice from on high, but from afar let
your spirit watch over us: let us remain united in an eternal and sacred
friendship."
" Is not that the true spiritual communion describe e by the Godman?" replied the apostle; "yes, my daughter, in thought I shall
always be united to you."
" Oh!" said Dolores, " when far distant, it seems to me, I shall remain under the influence of your powerful protection."
"tYou will be under the eye and hand of God," replied Jean
d'Avila,: what have you to fear?"
The travellers, at this moment, went out of the posada. Jean
d'Avila proposed to accompany them as far as the ship. They embarked in two boats which awaited them on the shore; the sailors
plied their oars, and in a few minutes, they were at the side of the
Dutch vessel which was to carry them away, an enormous mass with
broad and rounded hull, a slow but indefatigable colossus, which
seemed to bid defiance to the tempest.
The ladder was thrown out, which was to help them to clamber
up the sides of the ship. Coco and his sister, Manofina, and the Serena, embarked first. Estevan and Dolores had remained in the first
boat with Jean d'Avila.
"Make haste, gentlemen," exclaimed the pilot; "the wind is freshening, we are about to unfurl the sails."
Estevan took Dolores by the hand to help her to ascend, Jean
d'Avila rose up.
"Farewell, my father," said the young countess to him, restraining a tear; "farewell-pray for us."
" Farewell, my daughter," replied the saint with deep emotion;
" farewell, never forget there is but one happiness on earth, that
which is enjoyed by pure and devoted hearts."'
" My father," replied Dolores in a whisper, " there is no happiness
for exiles."
She hurried up with a light and nimble step, and had soon reached
the deck of the ship.
"Farewell, my father," said Estevan in his turn: "if Spain ever
awakes from her lethargy, remember one of her children, who will
languish at a distance from her in inactivity and banishment."
" Estevan," replied Jean d'Avila, "the true children of God have
but one country-the world! and from whatever point of the globe a
bold and warm-hearted voice utters the eternal hymn of truth, it adds
to the edifice of social happiness. I have told you, a nation is not to
be regenerated by the sword, but by speech, and speech, that daughter
of the Holy Spirit, is sounding invisibly, but with startling power
to the ends of the earth. Go, be firm, immovable in the course in
which you are engaged, and remember, that in order to change the
face of the world, only twelve apostles were necessary, twelve men
of simple and humble heart, but animated with invincible faith.





PAREWELLo


349


Though at a distance you may still contribute to the regeneration of
Spain.
Estevan stepped in his turn over the ladder which separated him
from the deck. Every body was on board. The boat shoved off
from the vessel; that which contained Jean d'Avila withdrew rapidly,
urged on by the oars.  Leaning over the gunwale, Estevan and
Dolores made one more sign of farewell to their pious friend. Jean
d'Avila raised his right hand, and pointed towards heaven, as if to
say, " We shall meet again above."
There was an unusual bustle on the ship, the mariners unfurled the
sails, and flung to the wind the white canvass woven in phlegmatic
Holland. The colossus, a heavy mass, seemed to move of itself upon
the motionless wave, as if impatient to behold its native land once
more; a sullen murmur sounded through its broad sides, and it seemed
to partake of the life which was active in its bosom.
At the moment of their departure, the passengers maintained a
profound silence. Nothing was to be heard but the voice of the officers giving their orders in short and reverberating syllables, and the
eager steps of the sailors, eager in the performance of their manoeuvres, impatient to leave the land-the land where the sailor is overwhelmed with ennui.
Manofina and the serena, Coco and his sister, like true Andalusians,
faithful to their habits as Gitanos, had lain down upon the deck, and
were looking with humid eyes at the blue horizon in the distance,
all covered with gilded spangles. Estevan and Dolores, standing
near the main-mast, gazed with enthusiasm mingled with sadness,
upon the splendour of this magnificent evening. The sun descended
to the horizon, and, swimming in innumerable prismatic rays, resembled a huge opal in the midst of a casket of jewels of a thousand
colours.
From the point, at which they then were, the exiles admired Cadiz, the impregnable city, with its domes of stone, girt by the sea as
by a green belt, and prolonged towards the east by the Trocadero of
immortal memory. Then, beyond, was the land of Spain, the beautiful Valencia, Grenada, the beloved daughter of the Moors, Malaga,
with its delicious wines, and farther still in the distance, Seville, the
native place of Estevan and Dolores. All the time that the preparations for departure lasted, the two exiles stood silent and mournful,
their eyes fixed on that distant horizon full of exciting reminiscences
and ravishing reflections. The sorrows which they had experienced
vanished at this moment; they thought only of their love for that
beautiful Spain, which was on the point of vanishing for ever from
their eyes. Suddenly they started; Dolores leaned for support upon
the arm of Estevan. The anchor had just been weighed. The ship,
borne forward by its enormous weight, had bounded heavily upon
the water like a savage bull, and for some minutes, it quivered in a
gradual effort at equipoise, which constantly became weaker; then, at
last, it glided gently upon the unbroken sea, tracing a broad furrow
in its wake. The light waves, rising around its ample sides, advanced
and retired, forming a girdle of foam. The wind swelled the sails,
which answered its breath by a slight and almost harmonious
whistle; the prow ploughed, hissing through the bosom of the blue
2H





350


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


and sparkling sea, and by degrees, Cadiz was lost in the distance like
a black speck in the eyes of the passengers, who stood motionless on
the deck.
The sun had sunk in the vast abyss:-broad bands of purple and
gold extended like ribands of flame from one end to the other of this
vast horizon, and night slowly drew one by one her curtains of black
gauze over the face of the earth. The evening star sparkled in the
sky. Then Estevan looked at his companion.
Motionless and mute, her eyes invincibly fixed upon the imperceptible point which for her was called Seville, Dolores seemed
plunged in a religious and sublime ecstasy. Her forehead flushed
with the gilded reflection and the last purple rays of the sun, shone
in the lively light of the evening, like an antique bronze statue
sculptured by Phidias. Her dilated nostrils still breathed the pure
refreshing air, laden with the perfumes of orange groves and roses
which were wafted to her from the land-and her eager and quivering lips resembled the lips of the sibyl half opened for a sacred
song.
" Farewell!" she exclaimed at length, in a voice to which inspiration lent an almost superhuman charm and power; "farewell! mother
of heroes, lover of the poetic Iberian and the savage Goth, land beloved of Heaven, who in thy bosom hast ever been able to convert
the vilest metal into pure gold; farewell, thou, whose loins have
born the divine Pelagus and Alphonso, the noble, the wisest and
most philosophical of kings.)^
" A queen, who hast placed upon thy brow, the richest crowns of
the world, thou hast seen sparkling upon thy purple robe, the diamonds of Mexico and the palms of the desert.
" Every thing has conspired to contribute to thy-glory; the Goths
have given thee their boldness, their rude courage, their deathless
loyalty; the Moors, their ravishing poesy and the civilization which
imparts polished manners; from the blending of these two contrary
things, the divine religion of Christ has made Spain chivalric and
Christian, Spain, wise, every where victorious, Spain, the land of happiness and glory, which for all her children has ever had the heart of
a nurse and the bowels of a mother.
"0 sublime union of religion and philosophy! or rather, glorious
triumph of a consoling and maternal religion! Have we not seen
the proud descendants of the A bencerrages, a race of heroes, the humblest of whom had royal blood in his veins, sheltering themselves
under the laws of a mild, pious and tolerating queen?t
"Was it not tolerance, was it not mildness, which made the walls
of Grenada fall, after they had been shaken by the cruelty of
tyrants?"'
Night was falling more rapidly, a white veil spread over the vast
expanse of ocean, the blue sky was peopled with glittering stars, and
* It was Alphonso the Noble, or the Wise, who first gave to Spain a regular
code of laws, entitled, Las Siete partides.
This code, a large portion of which is still in force in Spain, is a monument of
the wisdom of this king, and of the uprightness of his counsellors; it does honour
to the Spanish character.
t Isabella of Castile, wife of Ferdinand of Aragon.





FAREWELL.


351


Cadiz, lost in the mist, had entirely disappeared. On the distant horizon, the shades of trees or mountains were thrown in black indentations, shapeless images, which became less and less, losing themselves
one by one in the invading darkness.
Dolores continued her song of inspiration, and in proportion as the
sounds of earth withdrew, the voice of the young woman swelled
like that of the wind in the silence of solitude.
" Spain! Spain!" she cried, "oh! how beautiful wast thou in the
days of thy spotless splendour, when thy children, free as brave,
had full liberty of speech, when the humblest Spaniard, equal to his
king by the imperishable love which bound together king and people,
was not afraid to complain of royal injustice, and to say to the king,
'you have done wrong,' and yet remained a faithful subject, a devoted
son!
" Oh! then it was well to pronounce the sacred name of country!
for the country was, in truth, the guardian of the happiness of all, and
it was pleasant to live in her bosom-then, there was support for the
weak, glory for the strong, justice for all; then Spain was truly free
and happy, for liberty is happiness.     Then the Spaniard, as he
daily ploughed the bosom of this fruitful land, could proudly say to
himself,
"For me, these harvests are ripening, for me, these vines will be covered with golden clusters, for me, or rather for all, for Spain formed
one great family of brothers.
"The tools of Rome, those insatiate vampires, had not yet come
by night to suck the generous blood of such as were asleep, so that
when day dawned nothing was left but corpses. Then, even those
who warred against each other, were noble and valiant, and they
could rely on their enemy as surely as on the tenderest friend.t
* It is proper to observe here, that at all times, and under all governments,
even under the combined despotism of the kiAgs and the cruelty of the inquisition, as often as national assemblies have taken place freely in Spain, Spaniards
have been found, who, throwing off the fetters with which their natural good sense
and philosophy were loaded, have risen above their age, have torn aside with a
bold hand, the veil which concealed errors and prejudices, and have made the
astonished people, and even the kings and inquisitors, hear the voice of reason,
and the eternal language of truth.
Thus the cortes of Aragon, of Castile, and Catalona, which assembled in 1510
-1512, in order to demand from the regent Ferdinand and the pope, the reformation of the inquisition, the Catholic junta which convened at Burgos in 1508 to
try the prisoners of the inquisition at Cordova, on the accession of the grand inquisitor, Ximends Cisneros, and the grand junta formed under Charles 1.. during
the ministry of the inquisitor Rocaberti, from 1695 to 1699; in order to put a stop
to the conflicts which took place every day between the inquisitors and the royal
judges, and from which serious inconvenience accrued, often impeding the administration of justice; these three bodies, at long intervals and under the influence of different events, all condemned the acts of the inquisition and of despotism. In all three assemblies, men were found, whose philosophical principles
and expanded ideas of human rights, would have done honour to the most
advanced philosophers of our century. What is to be inferred from all this'?
That God has implanted in the heart of man ideas of liberty and improvementthat these ideas, born with the human race, may have been stifled or restrained
within the sanctuary of the popular conscience, but that no despotism, no tortare,
will be able to extinguish them irretrievably.
j- The Spaniards have often been called traitors; this is perhaps the most unjust of all the accusations that foreigners have brought against them. The Spa




352


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


" Oh!" she proceeded, lowering her voice, for night had come at
last, and an icy shudder ran through all the nerves of the young woman; "oh! why are those haggard and scowling faces seen on this fer
tile soil, covered with riches by the lavish hand of the Eternal?Why that funeral shroud wrapped around the royal head of this oppressed and captive queen? Whose are those greedy hands with
vulture claws which press her breasts to exhaust and rend them? Her
paleness is deep-her debility complete-her flesh emaciated like one
in the death agony-her voice, so full and strong, no longer sounds
except at intervals in a long cry of agony broken by gloomy strains,
hoarse as the grating of the saw upon iron, sad as the sound of the
hammer, which nails a tomb.
" Spain! Spain! what has befallen thee?   What canker worm has
thus preyed upon thy heart, and changed thy powerful energy into
the collapse of death?-Courage!    From afar, dost thou not hear the
echo of the voice of thy triumphs?
"Thy dominion extends over the four quarters of the globe. A
victorious king is seated on the throne, which is watched eternally
by thy terrible lions, and the voice of thy renown goes every where,
repeating in distant realms, the magic words; Spain! Charles the
Fifth!
"Yes, but I hear thee answer in a voice of sorrow;
" The king does every thing for his glory, nothing for the
country; and whilst the world crowns Charles, I remain a slave-oppressed, and my voice is lost without echo, in the immense desert
of royal egotism!*
"When I say to myself, panting and broken down, anxious for a
moment of repose: Glory! liberty! philosophy! the answer is returned: Conquest! riches! despotism!
"Ignorance, with its black mantle, has veiled my face in darkness,
and the only light which is suffered to reach me is that of the murderous fagots which devour my entrails.t     Yet, I am  called great,
niards are so far from being traitors, that the only crime for which they never
forgive an enemy, and which keeps them from ever being reconciled to him, is
treachery. If there ever have been traitors in Spain, they have been no others
but monks, priests sold to Rome or to the inquisition, or familiars of the holy
office.
* Spanish historians are all agreed respecting the egotism and ambition of
Charles V. These traits of character are established by the dishonesty which he
manifested before the cortes of Castile, Aragon and Catalona, when, in 1510 and
1512, these bodies demanded of him in the name of oppressed Spain, the reformation of the inquisition, which he solemnly promised, but never performed.
t Spain might well say, that the flames consumed her entrails, when in the
space of three hundred and thirty-nine years, 34,658 Spaniards were burned alive
by the inquisition, and 18,049 burnt in effigy, without including 288,214, who
were condemned to the galleys or to perpetual punishment, and more than
200,000, who being placed under penances and condemned to wear the san benito
for a time or perpetually, were dishonoured even in their posterity.
These figures, which are but too eloquent accusers of the inquisition, are historical. For a recapitulation of the numbers sacrificed under each inquisitor, the
reader is referred to Llorente's History.
In the reign of Ferdinand VII., more than 100,000 persons suffered imprisonment or were sent to the galleys or into exile. To this fearful catalogue already
furnished, must be added an incalculable number of victims which the inquisition
sacrificed to its ambition in Sicily, Sardinia, Flanders, America, and the Indies





FAREWELL.


353


because in foreign lands I have warriors who reign in my name over
immense provinces, and because my flag waves over the seas of both
worlds; I am called strong, because I am patient and calm, and because care is taken, every day, to throw over my bleeding wounds
a mantle of pride and falsehood in order to conceal them, because my
long wails of agony are stifled under bolts!  Oh! to live, to live and
breathe for one single day the pure air of liberty! to live and walk
alone in, my strength towards the future!"'
1" Such is the language of Spain when reviving for a moment; but
at the sound of her plaintive voice, I see the vampires approaching in
the shade, push her back again into her damp tomb, whilst crouching
hideously upon her drained bosom, with their greedy teeth, they open
the veins in which a few drops of blood are still circulating.  Oh!
have pity, have pity on her!    Do not extinguish the last spark of
life!  Let her regain existence for a moment, give her time to repair
the loss of all the blood which has been drained from her!
"But, no! the vampires have no pity; their victim, crushed and
dying, has lost even the last breath, that appearance of life, which the
victories of Charles have given her.
' A spectre king succeeds the royal conqueror.
"This spectre reigns in night and chaos.  The vampires, his faithful satellites, range themselves in order around him, and with their
long hands they push back into the tomb the corpse of Spain.  And
Spain, wearied with the conflict, composes itself in a sleep which resembles death-the winding sheet which separates from life has been
thrown over her; and all the instruments of Rome in the torpor of
their cloistered life hover over this benumbed and almost insensible
body.   Over this motionless corpse, blood is poured-blood in
streams, and every day, thousands of funeral piles consume some
fragment of this body.  The body becomes a skeleton" Still the worst is not told!" The ashes, the fruitful ashes may yet be quickened.        The
dust awakes and again assumes the human form. Spain was only
asleep.
"But alas! this long sleep will last perhaps for centuries, and we
shall not see the happy days which are to dawn upon our country.
Besides the victims which the inquisition was able to reach, FIVE MILLIONS of the
inhabitants abandoned the fertile soil of Spain, in order to escape, by voluntary
exile, from the cruelty of the holy office. It is thus, that this noble country,
which in the time of the Moors numbered thirty-five millions of souls, has been
reduced in its population to ten millions. Is this the mission which Christ intrusted to his disciples, and they to the priests of the Roman church? Is it thus,
that the successors of the apostles obey the sublime precept of the Lord: " Increase and multiply?7r and that of Christ: "Love one another?" Well! Listen
to the Roman priests; they will tell you, that religion is no longer respected,
that it is trodden under foot, 'that the ministers of God are slandered.' Ah! answer those, who tell you so, as Jesus answered the Scribes and Pharisees: "Wo
to you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites; for you devour widows' houses, and for
a pretence make long prayers! Wo to you, Scribes and Pharisees, hypocrites,
for ye make clean the outside of the cup and the platter, but the inside is full of
extortion and excess!" Of what avail was it, that the pope in the sixteenth century gave orders to prosecute all the priests and monks, who should be guilty of
public scandal? The inquisition found means to be utterly ignorant of any such
scandals, and the priests and monks continued as licentious as ever.
H2,            45





854


THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION.


For us, exile is reserved, the bitter bread of banishment, and conflict,
eternal conflict; yet those, who at that day will be no more, will also
have performed their part in this great work.-They too will have
contributed to the regeneration of the world!"
Dolores was silent; the perspiration gushed from her forehead, and
her whole frame, agitated with a convulsive trembling, seemed ready
to faint away; she closed her eyes and suffered herself to glide down
at the feet of Estevan. Estevan took her in his arms, seated her on
a bale that was lying on the deck, and supported the fair head of Dolores on his breast. She, overwhelmed with emotion and fatigue,
slept on the bosom of him whom she loved.
At this moment they were entering on the broad sea; the wind,
freshening, swelled the sails of the ship with new force. The moon,
full and pale, showing her silvery face in the sky, poured her soft
light upon the lovely features of the young woman.    The sea
looked like a plate of polished silver, studded with little sparkling
mountains.
A solemn and religious silence reigned over this vast ocean solitude, and the ship, gliding over the water like a rapid arrow, bore
the exiled towards that distant land, where the aurora of liberty already shone.
Perhaps we may meet them there again, at some future day.


FIN IS.







BBr~ggs~llaa~lra~~9i~IIH~l~a~ic~m




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should be pleased to learn that every family in the United States had procured a copy.
B. B. WISN ER, D. D., Secretary of Am. Board of Com. for For. Missions.
WM. COGSWELL, D. D.,     "        " Education Society.
JOHN CODMAN, D. D., Pastor of Congregational Church, Dorchester.
Rev. HUBBARD WINSLOW,                " "       "    Bowdoin street, Dorchester.
Rev. SEWALL HARDING, Pastor of T. C. Church, Waltham.
Rev. J. H. FAIRCHILD, Pastor of Congregational Church, South Boston.
GARDINER SPRING, D. D., Pastor of Presbyterian Church, New Yodk city.
CYRUS MASON, D. D.,          "           "       "
THOS. M'AULEY, D. D.,                    "                "
JOHN WOODBRIDGE, D. D., "                "
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E. W. BALDWIN, D. D.,                  "         "               "
Rev. J. M. M'KREBS,          "     Presbyterian  "
Rev. ERSKINE MASON,                    "         "
Rev. J. S. SPENCER,          "                   "    Brooklyn.
EZRA STILES ELY, D. D., Stated Clerk rf Gen. Assem. of Presbyterian Church.
JOHN M'DOWELL, D. D., Permanent "          "               "
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H. HUMPHREY, D. D.,       "       Amherst College.
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J. WHEELER, D. D.,        "       University of Vermont, at Burlington.
J. M. MATTHEWS, D. D., "          New York City University.
GEORGE E. PIERCE, D. D., "        Western Reserve College, Ohio.
Rev. Dr. BROWN,           "       Jefferson College, Penn.
LEONARD WOODS, D. D., Professor of Theology, Andover Seminary.
THOS. H. SKINNER, D. D.,     "       Sac. Rhet.          *
Rev. RALPH EMERSON,          "       Eccl. Hist.  "      "
Rev. JOEL PARKER, Pastor of Presbyterian Church, New Orleans.
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N. S. S. BEAMAN, D. D., "    Presbyterian Church, Troy, N. Y.
MARK TUCKER, D. D.,"              "        "
Rev. E. N. KIRK,      "           "        "    Albany, N. Y.
Rev. E. B. EDWARDS, Editor of Quarterly Observer.
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Rev. ORIN FOWLER,              "        "          "   Fall River.
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Rev C. D. MALLORY, Pastor Baptist Church, Augusta, Ga.
Rev. S. M. NOEL,        "     "      "    Frankfort, Ky.
From the Professors at Princeton Theological Seminary.
The Comprehensive Commentary contains the whole of Henry's Exposition in a condensed form,
Scott's Practical Observations and Marginal References, and a large number of very valuable philological and critical notes, selected from various authors. The work appears to be executed with
judgment, fidelity, and care; and will furnish a rich treasure of scriptural knowledge to the
Biblical student, and to the teachers of Sabbath-Schools and Bible Classes.
A. ALEXANDER, D. D.
SAMUEL MILLER, D. D.
CHARLES HODGE, D. D.
2


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$Z~nr~n~&~a~'Ps~;~~gZb~T~'~naarr~~u~~nl~







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I


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_I


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EdWII89~Z~P*IIC~~IIII$~~~B'illJiSI~~BB~F







Bns~s~.~a~.9;n~;x~rrannra~'ro~~nr~ar~nna


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LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
LIPPINCOTT'S EDITION OF
BAGSTER S COMPREHENSIV YE BIBLEs
In order to develope the peculiar nature of the Comprehensive Bible, it will only be necessary
to embrace its more prominent features.
1st. The SACRED TEXT is that of the Authorized Version, and is printed from the edition corrected and improved by Dr. Blaney, which, from its accuracy, is considered the standard edition.
2d. The VARIOUS READINGS are faithfully printed from the edition of Dr. Blaney, inclusive
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4th. The NOTES are exclusively philological and explanatory, and are not tinctured with sentiments of any sect or party. They are selected from the most eminent Biblical critics and commentators.
It is hoped that this edition of the Holy Bible will be found to contain the essence of Biblical
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student has all the marginal readings, together with a rich selection of Philological, Critical, Historical, Geographical, and other valuable notes and remarks, which explain and illustrate the sacred
text. Besides the general introduction, containing valuable essays on the genuineness, authenticity,
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Arranged at the top of each page is the period in which the prominent events of sacred history
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Mr. Greenfield, the editor of this work, and for some time previous to his death the superintendent of the editorial department of the British and Foreign Bible Society, was a most extraordinary
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5


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-In do., with steel engravings, $10 00 to $15 00.--In do., clasps, &c., with plates and illuminations, $15 00 to $25 00.-In rich velvet, with gilt ornaments, $25 00 to $50 00.
Crown Octavo Bible,
Printed with large clear type, making a most convenient hand Bible for family use.
In neat plain binding, from 75 cents to $1 50. -In English Turkey morocco, gilt edges, $1 00 to
82 00. -In do., imitation, &c., 81 50 to $3 00.-In do., clasps, &c., $2 50 to $5 00.-In rich velvet,
with gilt ornaments, $5 00 to $10 00.
The Sunday-School Teacher's Polyglot Bible, with Maps, &c.,
In neat plain binding, from 60 cents to $1 00.- In imitation gilt edge, $1 00 to $1 50. -In Turkey,
super extra, $1 75 to 12 25.-In do. do., with clasps, $2 50 to $3 75.-In velvet, rich gilt ornaments, $3 50 to $8 00.
The Oxford 18mo., or Pew Bible,
In neat plain binding, from 50 cents to $1 00.-In imitation gilt edge, $1 00 to $1..-In Turkey,
super extra, 81 75 to $2 25.-In do. do., with clasps, $2 50 to $3 75.- In velvet, rich glt ornaments, $3 50 to $8 00.
Agate 32mo. Bible,
Printed with larger type than any other small or pocket edition extant.
In neat plain binding, from 50 cents to $1 00.- In tucks, or'pocket-book style, 75 cents to $1 00.In roan, imitation gilt edge, $1 00 to $1 50.-In Turkey, super extra, 81 00 to $2 00.-In do. do.,
gilt clasps, 82 50 to $3 50. -In velvet, with rich gilt ornaments, 83 00 to $7 00.
32mo. Diamond Pocket Bible;
The neatest, smallest, and cheapest edition of the Bible published.
In neat plain binding, from 30 to 50 cents. -In tucks, or pocket-book style, 60 cents to $1 00.In roan, imitation gilt edge, 75 cents to $1 25. -In Turkey, super extra, $1 00 to $1 50. -In do. do.,
gilt clasps, $1 50 to $2 00.-In velvet, with richly gilt ornaments, $2 50 to $6 00.
CONSTANTLY ON HAND,
A large assortment of BIBLES, bound in the most splendid and costly styles, with gold and silver
ornaments, suitable for presentation; ranging in price from $10 00 to $100 00.
A liberal discount made to Booksellers and Agents by the Publishers.
ENCYCLOPEDIA           OF   RELIGIOUS      KNOWLEDGE;
OR, DICTIONARY OF THE BIBLE, THEOLOGY, RELIGIOUS BIOGRAPHY, ALL RELIGIONS,
ECCLESIASTICAL HISTORY, AND MISSIONS.
Designed as a complete Book of Reference on all Religious Subjects, and Companion to the Bible;
forming a cheap and compact Library of Religious Knowledge. Edited by Rev. J. Newton Brown.
Illustrated by wood-cuts, maps, and engravinks on copper and steel. In one volume, royal 8vo.
Price, $4 00.
6


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I


LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
Lippincott's Standard Editions of
THE BOOK OF COMNON PRAYER,
IN   SIX    DIFFERENT          SIZES,
ILLUSTRATED WITH A NUMBER OF STEEL PLATES AND ILLUMINATIONSS
COMPREHENDING        THE   MOST   VARIED    AND    SPLENDID    ASSORTMENT      IN  THE
UNITED STATES.
THE ILLUMINATED OCTAVO PRAYER-BOOK,
Printed in seventeen different colours of ink, and illustrated with a number of Steel Plates and
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16mo.
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A  BEAUTIFUL         EDITION, WITH          LARGE     TYPE.
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extra, $1 75 to $3 00. Also, with clasps, velvet, &c. &c.
The Errors of         Modern      Infidelity    Illustrated     and    Refuted.
BY S. M. SCHIVIUCKER, A. MlV.
In one volume, 12mo.; cloth.         Just published.
We cannot but regard this work, in whatever light we view it in reference to its design, as one
of the most masterly productions of the age, and fitted to uproot one of the most fondly cherished
and dangerous of all ancient or modern errors. God must bless such a work, armed with his own
truth, and doing fierce and successful battle against black infidelity, which would bring His Majesty
and Word down to the tribunal of human reason, for condemnation and annihilation.-Alb. Spectator..1


7







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LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
CONSISTING OF
ANECDOTES      ILLUSTRATIVE OF THE CHARACTER OF MINISTERS OF RELIGION IN THE UNITED        STATES.
BY JOSEPH BELCHER, D. D.,
Editor of "The Complete Works of Andrew Fuller," "Robert Hall," &c.
"This very interesting and instructive collection of pleasing and solemn remembrances of many
pious men, illustrates the character of the day in which they lived, and defines the men more
clearly than very elaborate essays."--Baltimore American.
"We regard the collection as highly interesting, and judiciously made."- Presbyterian.
JOSEPHUS'S (FLAVIUS) WORKS,
FAMILY EDITION.
BY TH LAE LTE WILLIA1~ WHISTON, A. 1V.
FROM THE LAST LONDON EDITION, COMPLETE.
One volume, beautifully illustrated with Steel Plates, and the only readable edition
published in this country.
As a matter of course, every family in our country has a copy of the Holy Bible; and as the presumption is that the greater portion often consult its pages, we take the liberty of saying to all those
that do, that the perusal of the writings of Josephus will be found very interesting and instructive.
All those who wish to possess a beautiful and correct copy of this valuable work, would do well
to purchase this edition. It is for sale at all the principal bookstores in the United States, and by
country merchants generally in the Southern and Western States.
Also, the above work in two volumes.
BURDER'S VILLAGE SERMONS;
Or, 101 Plain and Short Discourses on the Principal Doctrines of the Gospel.
INTENDED FOR THE USE OF FAMILIES, SUNDAY-SCHOOLS, OR COMPANIES ASSEMBLED FOR RELIGIOUS INSTRUCTION IN COUNTRY VILLAGES.
BY G~EORGE BUTRDER.
To which is added to each Sermon, a Short Prayer, with some General Prayers for Families,
Schools, &c., at the end of the work.
COMPLETE        IN  ONE    VOLUME, OCTAVO.
These sermons, which are characterized by a beautiful simplicity, the entire absence of controversy, and a true evangelical spirit, have gone through many and large editions, and been translated
into several of the continental languages. "They have also been the honoured means not only of
converting many individuals, but also of introducing the Gospel into districts, and even into parish
churches, where before it was comparatively unknown."
"This work fully deserves the immortality it has attained."
This is a fine library edition of this invaluable work; and when we say that it should be found in
the possession of every family, we only reiterate the sentiments and sincere wishes of all who take
a deep interest in the eternal welfare of mankind.
FAMILY PRAYERS AND HYMNS,
ADAPTED TO FAMILY WORSHIP,
AND
TABLES      FOR    THE   REGULAR       READING       OF   THE   SCRIPTURES.
By Rev. S. C. WINCHESTER, A. M.,
Late Pastor of the Sixth Presbyterian Church, Philadelphia; and the Presbyterian Church at
Natchez, Miss.
One volume, 12mo.


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LIPPINCOTT, GRIAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
SPLENDID             LIBRARY          EDITIONS.
ILLUSTRATED STANDARD POETS.
ELEGANTLY PRINTED, ON FINE PAPER, AND UNIFORM IN SIZE AND
STYLE.
The following Editions of Standard British Poets are illustrated With numerous Steel
Engravings, and may be had in all varieties of binding.
BYRON'S WORKS.
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO.
INCLUDING ALL HIS SUPPRESSED AND ATTRIBUTED POEMS; WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL
ENGRAVINGS.
This edition has been carefully compared with the recent London edition of Mr. Murray, and
made complete by the addition of more than fifty pages of poems heretofore unpublished in England. Among these there are a number that have never appeared in any American edition; and
the publishers believe they are warranted in saying that this is the most complete edition of Lord
Byron's Poetical Works ever published in the United States.
&P |fMidl                      tnrb df Rlg. V                              anj3,
Complete in one volume, octavo; with seven beautiful Engravings.
This is a new and complete edition, with a splendid engraved likeness of Mrs. Hemans, on steel,
and contains all the Poems in the last London and American editions. With a Critical Preface by
Mr. Thatcher, of Boston.
"As no work in the English language can be commended with more confidence, it will argue bad
taste in a female in this country to be without a complete edition of the writings of one who was
an honour to her sex and to humanity, and whose productions, from first to last, contain no syllable
calculated to call a blush to the cheek of modesty and virtue. There is, moreover, in Mrs. Hemans's
poetry, a moral purity and a religious feeling which commend it, in an especial manner, to the discriminating reader. No parent or guardian will be under the necessity of imposing restrictions
with regard to the free perusal of every production emanating from this gifted woman. There
breathes throughout the whole a most eminent exemption from impropriety of thought or diction;
and there is at times a pensiveness of tone, a winning sadness in her more serious compositions,
which tells of a soul which has been lifted from the contemplation of terrestrial things, to divine
communings with beings of a purer world."
MILTON, YOUNG, GRAY,                       BEATTIE, AND               COLLINS'S
POETICAL WORKS.
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO.
WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS.
nmpt nia           bj'lmsun's fruh              nsa frtical %torkt.
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO.
Including two hundred and fifty Letters, and sundry Poems of Cowper, never before published in
this country; and of Thomson a new and interesting Memoir, and upwards of twenty
new Poems, for the first time printed from his own Manuscripts, taken from
a late Edition of the Aldine Poets, now publishing in London.
WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS.
The distinguished Professor Silliman, speaking of this edition, observes: "I am as much gratified
uy tie elegance and fine taste of your edition, as by the noble tribute of genius and moral excellence which these delightful authors have left for all future generations; and Cowper, especially,
is not less conspicuous as a true Christian, moralist and teacher, than as a poet of great power and
exquisite taste."
9. JA'


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LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
THE POETICAL WORKS OF ROGERS, CAMPBELL, MONTGOMERY,
LAMB, AND KIRKE WHITE.
COMPLETE         IN  ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO.
WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS.
The beauty, correctness, and convenience of this favourite edition of these standard authors are
so well known, that it is scarcely necessary to add a word in its favour. It is only necessary to say,
that the publishers have now issued an illustrated edition, which greatly enhances its former value.
The engravings are excellent and well selected. It is the best library edition extant.
CRABBE, HEBER, AND POLLOK'S POETICAL WORKS.
COMPLETE IN      ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO.
WITH SIX BEAUTIFUL ENGRAVINGS.
A writer in the Boston Traveller holds the following language with reference to these valuable
editions:" Mr. Editor: - I wish, without any idea of puffing, to say a word or two upon the ' Library of
English Poets' that is now published at Philadelphia, by Lippincott, Grambo & Co. It is certainly,
taking into consideration the elegant manner in which it is printed, and the reasonable price at
which it is afforded to purchasers, the best edition of the modern British Poets that has ever been
published in this country. Each volume is an octavo of about 500 pages, double columns, stereotyped, and accompanied with fine engravings and biographical sketches; and most of them are
reprinted from Galignani's French edition. As to its value, we need only mention that it contains
the entire works of Montgomery, Gray. Beattie, Collins, Byron, Cowper, Thomson, Milton, Young,
Rogers, Campbell, Lamb, Hemans, Heber, Kirke White, Crabbe, the Miscellaneous Works of Gold
smith, and other masters of the lyre. The publishers are doing a great service by their publication,
and their volumes are almost in as great demand as the fashionable novels of the day; and they
deserve to be so: for they are certainly printed in a style superior to that in which we have before
had the works of the English Poets."
No library can be considered complete without a copy of the above beautiful and cheap editions
of the English Poets; and persons ordering all or any of them, will please say Lippincott, Grambo
& Co.'s illustrated editions.
A COMPLETE
littiona         r of antimal                           otaitions:
COMPRISING TIE MOST EXCELLENT AND APPROPRIATE PASSAGES IN
THE OLD BRITISH POETS; WITH CHOICE AND COPIOUS SELECTIONS FROM THE BEST MODERN BRITISH AND
AMERICAN POETS.
EDITED BY SARAH JOSEPHA H-ALE.
As nightingales do upon glow-worms feed,
So poets live upon the living light
Of Nature and of Beauty.
Bailey's Festus.
Beautifully illustrated with Engravings. In one super-royal octavo volume, in various
bindings.
The publishers extract, from the many highly complimentary notices of the above valuable and
beautiful work, the following:
" We have at last a volume of Poetical Quotations worthy of the name. It contains nearly six
hundred octavo pages, carefully and tastefully selected from all the home and foreign authors of
celebrity. It is invaluable to a writer, while to the ordinary reader it presents every subject at a
glance." - Godey's Lady's Book.
" The plan or idea of Mrs. Hale's work is felicitous. It is one for which her fine taste, her orderly
habits of min'd, and her long occupation withiliterature, has given her peculiar facilities; and thoroughly has she accomplished her task in thevwork before us."- Sarlain's Magazine.
"It is a choice collection of poetical extracts from every English and American author worth
perusing, from the days of Chaucer to the present times." -Washington Union.
"There is nothing negative about this work; it is positively good."- Evening Bulletin.
-10





Lrsa~i~o~i~aPlsana~aPulrrsren~aarc~-awt Barm~ssa~-~h-~iPPlwss~---a~- -~aDl~nasma~mr;l~srw/`L~ ~,~=~,~w~ec~ul~
II -~ -


LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.


THE      DIAMOND             EDITION         OF BYRON.
THE POETICAL WORKS OF LORD BYRON,
'WITH A SKETCH OF HIS LIFE.
COMPLETE IN      ONE NEAT DUODECIMO VOLUME, WITH               STEEL PLATES.
The type of this edition is so perfect, and it is printed with so much care, on fine white paper,
that it can be read with as much ease as most of the larger editions. This work is to be had in
plain and superb binding, making a beautiful volume for a gift.
" The Poetical Works of Lord Byron, complete in one volume published by L., G. & Co., Philadelphia. We hazard nothing in saying that, take it altogether, this is the most elegant work ever
issued from the American press.
"'In a single volume, not larger than an ordinary duodecimo, the publishers have embraced the
whole of Lord Byron's Poems, usually printed in ten or twelve volumes; and,what is more remarkable, have done it with a type so clear and distinct, that, notwithstanding its necessarily small size,
it may be read with the utmost facility, even by failing eyes. The book is stereotyped; and never
have we seen a finer specimen of that art. Everything about it is perfect-the paper, the printing, the binding, all correspond with each other; and it is embellished with two fine engravings,
well worthy the companionship in which they are placed.
"'This will make a beautiful Christmas present.'
"We extract the above from Godey's Lady's Book. The notice itself, we are given to understand,
is written by Mrs. Hale.
" We have to add our commendation in favour of this beautiful volume, a copy of which has
been sent us by the publishers. The admirers of the noble hard will feel obliged to the enterprise
which has prompted the publishers to dare a competition with the numerous editions of his works
already in circulation; and we shall be surprised if this convenient travelling edition does not in a
great degree supersede the use of the large octavo works, which have little advantage in size and
openness of type, and are much inferior in the qualities of portability and lightness." -Intelligencer.
THE      DIAMOND             EDITION          OF MOORE.
(CORIRESPONDING      WITH    BYRON.)
THE POETICAL WORKS OF THOMAS MOORE,
COLLECTED BY HIMSELF.
COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME.
This work is published uniform with Byron, from the last London edition, and is the most complete printed in the country.
THE DIAMOND                   EDITION           OF SHAKSPEARE,
(COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME,)
INCLUDING A S~fETCH0I O HIS LIPE.
UNIFORM WITH BYRON AND MOORE.
THE ABOVE WORKS CAN BE HAD IN SEVERAL VARIETIES OF BINDING.
GOLDSMITH'S ANIMATED NATURE.
IN TWO VOLUMES, OCTAVO.
BEAUTIFULLY        ILLUSTRATED WITH 385 PLATES.
CONTAINING A HISTORY OF THE EARTH, ANIMALS, BIRDS, AND FISHES; FORMING
THE 'MOST COMPLETE NATURAL HISTORY EVER PUBLISHED.
This is a work that should be in the library of every family, having been written by one of the
most talented authors in the English language.
"Goldsmith can never be made obsolete while delicate genius, exquisite feeling, fine invention,
the most harmonious metre, and the happiest diction, are at all valued."
BIGLAND'S NATURAL HISTORY
Of Animals, Birds, Fishes, Reptiles, and Insects. Illustrated with numerous and beautiful Engravings. By JOHN BIGLAND, author of a " View of the World," " Letters on
Universal History," &c. Complete in 1 vol., 12mo.




11


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~PC~L~I~LPI~IS~D~~i~i~6~E~ik3~2~s9~a~ ~FRn~PL~L~~~J~S~~


LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
THE POWER AND PROGRESS OF THE UNITED STATES.
THE     UNITED       STATES; Its Power and Progress.
BY GUILLAUMh     E TELL POUSSIN,
LATE MINISTER OF THE REPUBLIC OF FRANCE TO THE UNITED STATES.
FIRST AMERICAN, FROM THE THIRD PARIS EDITION.
TRANSLATED FROM THE FRENCH BY EDMOND L. DU BARRY, M. D.,
SURGEON U. S. NAVY.
In one large octavo volume..
SCHOOLORAFT'S GREAT NATIONAL WORK ON THE INDIAN TRIBES OF
THE UNITED STATES,
WITH BEAUTIFUL AND ACCURATE COLOURED ILLUSTRATIONS.
HSTO RCAL AND STATISTICAL INFORMATION
RESPECTING THE
HISTORY, CONDITION AND PROSPECTS
OF THE
COLLECTED AND PREPARED UNDER THE DIRECTION OF THE BUREAU OF INDIAN
AFFATRS, PER ACT OF MARCH 3,1847,
BT   PZEN     RY  R. SCJ    OOLOR.A.PT, LL.D.
ILLUSTRATED BY S. EASTMAN, CAPT. U. S. A.
PUBLISHED BY AUTHORITY OF CONGRESS.
THE AMERICAN GARDENER'S CALENDAR,
ADAPTED TO THE CLIMATE AND SEASONS OF THE UNITED STATES.
Containing a complete account of all the work necessary to be done in the Kitchen Garden, Fruit
Garden, Orchard, Vineyard, Nrsery, Pleasure-Ground, Flower Garden, Green-house, Hot-house,
asd Forcing Frames, for every month in the year; with ample Practical Directions for performing
the same.
Also, general as well as minute instructions for laying out or erecting each and every of the above
departments, according to modern taste and the most approved plans; the Ornamental Planting of
Pleasure Grounds, in the ancient and modern style; the cultivation of Thorn Quicks, and other
plants suitable for Live Hedges, with the best methods of making them, &c. To which are annexed
catalogues of Kitchen Garden Plants and Herbs; Aromatic, Pot, and Sweet Herbs; Medicinal
Plants, and the most important Grapes, &c., used in rural economy; with the soil best adapted to
their cultivation. Together with a copious Index to the body of the work.
BY BERNARD M'MAHON.
Tenth Edition, greatly improved. In one volume, octavo.
THE PORTFOLIO OF A SOUTHERN MEDICAL STUDENT.
BY GEORGE M. WHARTON, M. D.
WITH NUMEROUS ILLUSTRATIONS BY CROOME.
One volume, 12mo.
12


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LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.


THE FARMERS AND PLANTER'S ENCYCLOPEDIA.
~y       Fmni~ts mrna dlmntafn              n (frqfriph      nd attnl 1nffirs.
BY CUTHBERT W. JOHNSON.
ADAPTED TO THE UNITED            STATES     BY  GOUVERNEUR      EMERSON.
Illustrated by seventeen beautiful Engravings of Cattle, Horses, Sheep, the varieties of Wheat,
Barley, Oats, Grasses, the Weeds of Agriculture, &c.; besides numerous Engravings on wood of the most important implements of Agriculture, &o.
This standard work contains the latest and best information upon all subjects connected with
farming, and appertaining to the country; treating of the great crops of grain, hay, cotton, hemp,
tobacco, rice, sugar, &c. &c.; of horses and mules; of cattle, with minute particulars relating to
cheese and butter-making; of fowls, including a description of capon-making, with drawings of the
instruments employed; of bees, and the Russian and other systems of managing bees and constructing hives. Long articles on the uses and preparation of bones, lime, guano, and all sorts of
animal, mineral, and vegetable substances employed as manures. Descriptions of the most approved
ploughs, harrows, threshers, and every other agricultural machine and implement; of fruit and
shade trees, forest trees, and shrubs; of weeds, and all kinds of flies, and destructive worms and
insects, and the best means of getting rid of them; together with a thousand other matters relating
to rural life, about which information is so constantly desired by all residents of the country.
IN  ONE LARGE OCTAVO VOLUME.
MASON'S           FARRIER-FARMERS' EDITION.
Price, 62        cents..
THE PRACTICAL FARRIER, FOR FARMERS:
COMPRISING A GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF THE NOBLE AND USEFUL ANIMAL.
T HE -H ORSE;;
WITH MODES OF MANAGEMENT IN ALL CASES, AND TREATMENT IN DISEASE.
TO WHICH IS ADDED,
A PRIZE ESSAY ON MULES: AND              AN APPENDIX,
Containing Recipes for Diseases of Horses, Oxen, Cows, Calves, Sheep, Dogs, Swine, &c. &c.
BY RAIlI            aDs        ASO~, Y. D8.,
Formerly of Surry County, Virginia.
In   one volume, 12mo.;,bound in                cloth, gilt.
MASON'S FARRIER AND STUD-BOOK-NEW EDITION.
THE GENTLEMAN'S NEW POCKET FARRIER:
COMPRISING A GENERAL DESCRIPTION OF THE NOBLE AND USEFUL ANIMAL,
THE -HO R.S E;
WITH MODES OF MANAGEMENT IN ALL CASES, AND TREATMENT IN DISEASE.
By r.IHARD c.     ASON, 1aRD.,
Formerly of Surry County, Virginia.
To which is added, A PRIZE ESSAY ON MULES; and AN APPEND1X, containing Recipes for
Diseases of Horses, Oxen, Cows, Calves, Shtep, Dogs, Swine, &c. &c.; with Annals
of the Turf, American Stud-Book, Rules for Training, Racing, &c.
WITH A SUPPLEMENT,
Comprising an Essay on Domestic Animals, especially the Horse; with Rema hks on Treatment and
Breeding; together with Trotting and Racing Tables. showing the best time on record at one,
two, three and four mile heats; Pedigrees of Winning Horses, since 1839, and of the most
celebrated Stallions and Mares; with useful Calving and Lambing Tables. By
J. S. SKINNER, Editor now of the Farmer's Library, New York, &c. &c.




1~
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I~n~LIC~II~C~mSSePIC~-~


LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
HINDS'S FARRIERY AND STUD-BOOK-NEW                                        EDITION.
FARRIERY,
TAUGHT ON A NEW AND EASY PLAN:
BEING
V 4~tatin nt tw 1m                   mna  rnt an  (rurikiton nf tt       3intnr;
With Instructions to the Shoeing Smith, Farrier, and Groom; preceded by a Popular Description of
the Animal Functions in Health, and how these are to be restored when disordered.
BY JOHN HINDS, VETERINARY SURGEON.
With considerable Additions and Improvements, particularly adapted to this country,
BY THOMAS M. SMITH,
Veterinary Surgeon, and Member of the London Veterinary Medical Society.
WITH A SUPPLEMENT, BY J. S. SKINNER.
The publishers have received numerous flattering notices of the great practical value of these
works. The distinguished editor of the American Farmer, speaking of them, observes:-"We
cannot too highly recommend these books, and therefore advise every owner of a horse to obtain
them."
"There are receipts in those books that show how Founder may be cured, and the traveller pursue his journey the next day, by giving a tablespoonful of alum. This was got from Dr. P. Thornton
of Montpelier, Rappahannock county, Virginia, as founded on his own observation in several cases."
"The constant demand for Mason's and Hinds's Farrier has induced the publishers, Messrs. Lipincott, Grambo & Co., to put forth new editions, with a 'Supplement' of 100 pages, by J. S. Skinner,
sq. We should have sought to sender an acceptable service to our agricultural readers, by giving
a chapter from the Supplement, 'On the IRelations between Man and the Domestic Animals, especially the Horse, and the Obligations they impose;' or the one on ' The Form of Animals;' but that
either one of them would overrun the space here allotted to such subjects."
" Lists of Medicines, and other articles which ought to be at hand about every training and livery
stable, and every Farmer's and Breeder's establishment, will be found in these valuable works."
TO CARPENTERS AND MECHANICS.
Just Published.
A NEW AND IMPROVED EDITION OF
THE CARPENTER'S NEW GUIDE,
BEING A COMPLETE BOOK OF LINES FOR
CARPEiNTRYi AND J~OINERBPY;
Treating fully on Practical Geometry, Saffit's Brick and Plaster Groins, Niches of every description,
Sky-lights, Lines for Roofs and Domes; with a great variety of Designs for Roofs,
Trussed Girders, Floors, Domes, Bridges, &c., Angle Bars for Shop
Fronts, &c., and Raking Mouldings.
ALSO,
Additional Plans for various Stair-Cases, with the Lines for producing the Face and Falling Moulds,
never before published, and greatly superior to those given in a former edition of this work.
BY    WILLIAM         JOHNSON, ARCHITECT,
OF PHILADELPHIA.
The whole founded on true Geometrical Principles; the Theory and Practice well explained and
fully exemplified, on eighty-three copper plates, including some Observations and Calculations on
the Strength of Timber.
BY   PETER       NICHOLSON,
Author of "The Carpenter and Joiner's Assistant," "The Student's Instructor to the Five
Orders," &c.
Thirteenth Edition. One volume, 4to., well bound.
14


---- `pl
--,- --------"--~MlLl~lkns~B~l~i~~







I~e~QL~PI~ZTt~I~@~




LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
A   WICTIONARY        OF   SELECT      AND    POPULAR        QUOTATIONS,
WHICH ARE IN DAILY USE.
TAKEN FROM THE LATIN, FRENCH, GREEK, SPANISH AND ITALIAN LANGUAGES.
Together with a copious Collection of Law Maxims and Law Terms, translated into
English, with Illustrations, Historical and Idiomatic.
NEW     AMERICAN          EDITION, CORRECTED, WITH                    ADDITIONS,
One volume, 12mo.
This volume comprises a copious collection of legal and other terms which are in common use,
with English translations and historical illustrations; and we should judge its author had surely
been to a great "Feast of Languages," and stole all the scraps. A work of this character should
have an extensive sale, as it entirely obviates a serious difficulty in which most readers are involved
by the frequent occurrence of Latin, Greek, and French passages, which we suppose are introduced
by authors for a mere show of learning-a difficulty very perplexing to readers in general This
"Dictionary of Quotations," concerning which too much cannot be said in its favour, effectually
removes the difficulty, and gives the reader an advantage over the author; for we believe a majority
are themselves ignorant of the meaning of the terms they employ. Very few truly learned authors
will insult their readers by introducing Latin or French quotations in their writings, when " plain
English" will do as well; but we will not enlarge on this point.
If the book is useful to those unacquainted with other languages, it is no less valuable to the
classically educated as a book of reference, and answers all the purposes of a Lexicon - indeed, on
many accounts, it is better. It saves the trouble of tumbling over the larger volumes, to which
every one, and especially those engaged in the legal profession, are very often subjected. It should
have a place in every library in the country.
RUSCHENBERGER'S                         NATURAL HISTORY,
COMPLETE, WITH             NEW     GLOSSARY.
~&t (lements of Matural littory,
EMBRACING           ZOOLOGY, BOTANY              AND     GEOLOGY:
FOR SCHOOLS, COLLEGES AND FAMILIES.
B"TY W. S. W. 3RU3TISOCE NSBERGfR,E1IM.D.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
WITH NEARLY ONE THOUSAND 1LLUSTRATIONS, AND A COPIOUS GLOSSARY.
Vol. I. contains Vertebrate Animals. Vol. II. contains Intervertebrate Animals, Botany, and Geology.
A Beautiful and Valuable Presentation Book.
THE POET'S OFFERING.
EDITED BY MRS. HALE.
With a Portrait of the Editress, a Splendid Illuminated Title-Page, and Twelve Beautiful Engravings by Sartain. Bound in rich Turkey Morocco, and Extra Cloth, Gilt Edge.
To those who vish to make a present that will never lose its value, this will be found the most
desirable Gift-Book ever published.
"We commend it to all who desire to present a friend with a volume not only very beautiful, but
of solid intrinsic value."-Washington Union.
"A perfect treasury of the thoughts and fancies of the best English and American Poets. The
paper and prinling are beautiful, and the binding rich, elegant, and substantial; the most sensible
and attractive of all the elegant gift-books we have seen."--EveniWl Bulletin.
" The publishers deserve the thanks of the public for so happy a thought, so well executed. The
engravings are by the best artists, and the other portions of the work correspond in elegance."Public Ledger.
"There is no book of selections so diversified and appropriate within our knowledge."-Pennsylv'n.
" It is one of the most valuable as well as elegant books ever published in this country." - Godey's
Lady's Book.
" It is the most beautiful and the most useful offering ever bestowed on the public. No individual
of literary taste will venture to be without it."- The City Item.
15






iPi~f~.~a~.~~Qb~E~'?Ae6~-~FHjl~l~







~~rmr~s~t~7nrrsmrm~ano~




LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.


THE YOUNG DOMINICAN;
OR, THE MYSTERIES OF THE INQUISITION,
AND OTHER SECRET SOCIETIES OF SPAIN.
BY M. V. DE FEREAL.
WITH HISTORICAL NOTES, BY M. MANUEL                    DE CUENDIAS,
TRANSLATED FROM, THE FRENCH.
ILLUSTRATED WITH TWENTY SPLENDID ENGRAVINGS BY FRENCH ARTISTS.
One volume, octavo.
SAY'S      POLITICAL         ECONOMY.
A TREATISE ON POLITICAL ECONOMY;
Or, The Production, Distribution and Consumption of Wealth.
BYT JEAN BAPTISTE SAY.
FIFTH    AMERICAN      EDITION, WITH      ADDITIONAL       NOTES,
BY C. C. BIDDLE, EsQ.
In one volume, octavo.
It would be beneficial to our country if all those who are aspiring to office, were required by their
constituents to be familiar with the pages of Say.
The distinguished biographer of the author, in noticing this work, observes "Happily for science,
he commenced that study which forms the basis of his admirable Treatise on Political Economy; a
work which not only improved under his hand with every successive edition, but has been translated
into most of the European languages."
The Editor of the North American Review, speaking of Say, observes, that "he is the most
popular, and perhaps the most able writer on Political Economy, since the time of Smith."
LA'URENCE STERNE'S WORKS,
WITH A LIFE OF THE AUTHOR:
WRITTEN BY HIMSELF.
WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS, ENGRAVED BY GILBERT AND GIHON,
FROM DESIGNS BY DARLEY.
One volume, octavo; cloth, gilt.
To commend or to criticise Sterne's Works, in this age of the world, would be all " wasteful and
extravagant excess." Uncle Toby--Corporal Trim- the Widow--Le Fevre -Poor Maria--the
Captive-even the Dead Ass,-this is all we have to say of Sterne; and in the memory of these
characters, histories, and sketches, a thousand follies and worse than follies are forgotten. The
volume is a very handsome one.
THE MEl.X IC.A-N:WAR AN,MD                       TS       EROES$
B E IN G
A COMPLETE HISTORY OF THE MEXICAN WAR,
EMBRACING ALL THE OPERATIONS UNDER GENERALS TAYLOR AND SCOTT.
WITH A BIOGRAPHY OF THE OFFICERS.
ALSO,
AN ACCOUNT OF THE CONQUEST OF CALIFORNIA AND NEW             MEXICO,
Under Gen. Kearny, Cols. Doniphan and Fremont. Together with Numerous Anecdotes of the
War, and Personal Adventures of the Officers. Illustrated with Accurate
Portraits, and other Beautiful Engravings.
In one volume, 12mo.


16


AJi~ia~llioadatb~F-~-----~---------~----







__ ~___~___ _ii_ I~ __


__


LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.


N'EW       AND      COMPLETE           COOK-BOOK.
THE PRACTICAL COOK-BOOK,
CONTAINING UPWARDS OF
ONE2 THOUSAND R &O5EIPTS,
Consisting of Directions for Selecting, Preparing, and Cooking all kinds of Meats, Fish. Poultry, and
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and numerous Preparations for Invalids.
BY MRS. BLISS.
In one volume, 12mo.
~4(    ~ity       Iltrri4t; nr, 4\ )t           terimw     failurat
BYT J. 1B. JOl,.
AUTHOR OF "WILD WESTERN SCENES," "THE WEST,,              CHANT," &c.
ILLUSTRATED WITH TEN ENGRAVINGS.
In one volume, 12mo.
CALIFORNIA AND OREGON;
OR, SIGHTS IN THE GOLD REGION, AND SCENES BY THE WAY,
BY THEODORE T. JOHNSON.
WITH NOTES, BY HON. SAMUEL R. THURSTON,
Delegate to Congress from that Territory.
With numerous Plates and Maps.
AUNT      PHILLIS'S         CABIN;
OR, SOUTHERN LIFE AS IT IS.
BY MRS. MARY H. EASTMAN.
PRICE, 50 AND 75 CENTS.
This volume presents a picture of Southern Life, taken at different points of view from the one
occupied by the authoress of "Uncle Tom's Cabin." The writer, being a native of the South, is familiar with the many varied aspects assumed by domestic servitude in that sunny region, and therefore feels competent to give pictures of " Southern Life, as it is."
Pledged to no clique or party, and free from the pressure of any and all extraneous influences,
she has written her book with a view to its truthfulness; and the public at the North, as well as
at the South, will find in "Aunt Phillis's Cabin" not the distorted picture of an interested painter,
but the faithful transcript of a Daguerreotypist.
WHAT IS CHURCH HISTORY?
A VINDICATION OF THE IDEA OF HISTORICAL DEVELOPMENTS.
BY PHILIP SCHAF.
TRANSLATED FROM THE GERMAN.
In one volume, 12mo.


17





Lg-Wa~~,n~~na &alcomQm~Y~~~ n *.~)TRWXI


LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.


DODD'S         LECTURES.
DISCOURSES TO YOUNG MEN.
ILLUSTRATED BY NUMEROUS HIGHLY INTERESTING ANECDOTES.
BY WILLIA1VC DODD, MLL. D.,
CHAPLAIN IN ORDINARY TO HIS MAJESTY GEORGE THE THIRD.
FIRST AMERICAN EDITION, WITH ENGRAVINGS.
One volume, 18mo.
THE IRIS:
AN ORIGINAL SOUVENIR.
With    Contributions from        the First Writers in       the Country.
EDITED BY PROF. JOHN S. HART.
With Splendid Illuminations and Steel Engravings. Bound in Turkey Morocco and rich Papier
Mache Binding.
IN ONE VOLUME, OCTAVO.
Its contents are entirely original. Among the contributors are names well known in the republic
of letters; such as Mr. Boker, Mr. Stoddard, Prof. Moffat, Edith May, Mrs. Sigourney, Caroline May,
Mrs. Kinney, Mrs. Butler, Mrs. Pease, Mrs. Swift, Mr. Van Bibber, Rev. Charles T. Brooks, Mrs.
Dorr, Erastus W. Ellsworth, Miss E. W. Barnes, Mrs. Williams, Mary Young, Dr. Gardette, Alice
Carey, Phebe Carey, Augusta Browne, Hamilton Browne, Caroline Eustis, Margaret Junkin, Maria
J. B. Browne, Miss Starr, Mrs. Brotherson, Kate Campbell, &c.
OR, HOLY THOUGHTS UPON SACRED SUBJECTS.
BY CLERGYMEN OF THE EPISCOPAL CHURCH.
EDITED BY THOMAS WYATT, A. M,
In one volume, 12mo.
WITH SEVEN BEAUTIFUL STEEL ENGRAVINdS.
The contents of this work are chiefly by clergymen of the Episcopal Church. Among the contributors will be found the names of the Right Rev. Bishop Potter, Bishop Hopkins, Bishop Smith,
Bishop Johns, and Bishop Doane; and the Rev. Drs. H. V. D. Johns, Coleman, and Butler; Rev. G.
T. Bedell, M'Cabe, Ogilsby, &c. The illustrations are rich and exquisitely wrought engravings upon
the following subjects:-"Samuel before Eli," "Peter and John healing the Lame Man," "The
Resurrection of Christ," "Joseph sold by his Brethren," "The Tables of the Law," "Christ's
Agony in the Garden," and " The Flight into Egypt." These subjects, with many others in prose
and verse, are ably treated throughout the work.
ANCIENT CHRISTIANITY EXEMPLIFIED,
In the-\Private, Domestic, Social9 and Civil Life of the Primitive
Christians, and in the Original Institutions, Officesq
Ordinances, and Rites of the Church.
BY REV. LYMAN COLEMAN, DD.D
In one volume 8vo.      Price $2 50.
_____                      _







I1IP~B~~"R~"~~-"~"~"-cl~~s~-~nraa~~~~-.r




LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
LONZ POWERS; Or, The Regulators.
A ROMANCE OF KENTUCKY.
FOUNDED ON FACTS.
BY JAI IES WEIR, ESQ.
IN TWO VOLUMES.
The scenes, characters, and incidents in these volumes have been copied from nature, and from
real life. They are represented as taking place at that period in the history of Kentucky, when
the Indian, driven, after many a hard-fought field, from his favourite hunting-ground, was succeeded
by a rude and unlettered population, interspersed with organized bands of desperadoes, scarcely
less savage than the red men they had displaced. The author possesses a vigorous and graphic
pen, and has produced a very interesting romance, which gives us a striking portrait of the times
he describes.
A  PRACTICAL TREATISE ON             BUSINESS;
OR, HOW TO GET, SAVE, SPEND, GIVE, LEND, AND BEQUEATH MONEY,
WITH AN INQUIRY INTO THE CHANCES OF SUCCESS AND CAUSES
OF FAILURE IN BUSINESS.
BY    EDWIN       T. FREEDLY.
Also, Prize Essays, Statistics, Miscellanies, and numerous private letters from successful and
distinguished business men.
12mo., cloth. Price One Dollar.
The object of this treatise is fourfold. First, the elevation of the business character, and to define
clearly the limits within which it is not only proper but obligatory to get money. Secondly, to lay
down the principles which must be observed to insure success, and what must be avoided to escape
failure. Thirdly, to give the mode of management in certain prominent pursuits adopted by the
most successful, from which men in all kinds of business may derive profitable hints. Fourthly, to
afford a work of solid interest to those who read without expectation of pecuniary benefit.
A MANUAL OF POLITENESS,
COMPRISING THE
PRINCIPLES      OF   ETIQUETTE     AND    RULES     OF BEHAVIOUR
IN GENTEEL SOCIETY, FOR PERSONS OF BOTH SEXES.
18mo., with Plates.
Book of Politeness.
THE GENTLEMAN AND LADY'S
BOOK    OF   POLITENESS      AND    PROPRIETY       OF  DEPORTMENT.
DEDICATED TO THE YOUTH OF BOTH SEXES.
BY II ADA3IME CELNART.
Translated from      the Sixth Paris Edition, Enlarged and Improved.
Fifth     American         Edition.
One volume, 18mo.
THE ANTEDILUVIANS; Or, The World Destroyed.
A NARRATIVE POEM, IN TEN BOOKS.
BY JAMES M'HIENRY, M.D.
One volume, 18mo.


~


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19Y


I---- --------- --.--- ~.~c;r~-.. --- -- -:~~-:-r-;--i,.. ~.--- -----~----~-`~--~~





2


LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
Bennett's (Rev. John) Letters to a Young Lady,
ON A VARIETY OF SUBJECTS CALCULATED TO IMPROVE THE HEART,
TO FORM THE MANNERS, AND ENLIGHTEN THE UNDERSTANDING.
" That our daughters may be as polished corners of the temple."
The publishers sincerely hope (for the happiness of mankind) that a copy of this valuable little
work will be found the companion of every young lady, as much of the happiness of every family
depends on the proper cultivation of the female mind.
THE DAUGHTER'S OWN BOOK:
OR, PRACTICAL HINTS FROM A FATHER TO HIS DAUGHTER.
One volume, 18mo.
This is one of the most practical and truly valuable treatises on the culture and discipline of the
female mind, which has hitherto been published in this country; and the publishers are very confident, from the great demand for this invaluable little work, that ere long it will be found in the
library of every young lady.
THE AMERICAN CHESTERFIELD:
Or, "Youth's Guide to the Way to Wealth, Honour, and Distinction," &c.      18mo.
CONTAINING ALSO A COMPLETE TREATISE ON THE ART OF CARVING.
"We most cordially recommend the American Chesterfield to general attention; but to young
persons particularly, as one of the best works of the kind that has ever been published in this
country. It cannot be too highly appreciated, nor its perusal be unproductive of satisfaction and
usefulness."
SENECA'S MORALS.
BY WAY OF ABSTRACT TO WHICH IS ADDED, A DISCOURSE UNDER
THE TITLE OF AN AFTER-THOUGHT.
BY   SIR    ROGER       L'ESTRANGE, KNT.
A new, fine edition; one volume, 18mo.
A copy of this valuable little work should be found in every family library.
NEW       SONG-BOOK.
(Jingdg         lfuttvu anh                    nutn ^ngslr;
BEING A CHOICE COLLECTION OF THE MOST FASHIONABLE SONGS, MANY OF WHICH
ARE ORIGINAL
In one volume, 18mo.
Great care was taken, in the selection, to admit no song that contained, nl the slightest degree,
any indelicate or improper allusions; and with great propriety it may claim the title of " The Parlour Song-Book, or Songster." The immortal Shakspeare observes"The man that hath not music in himself,
Nor is not moved with concord of sweet sounds,
Is fit for treasons, stratagems, and spoils."
ROBOTHAM'S POCKET FRENCH DICTIONARY,
CAREFULLY REVISED,
AND THE PRONUNCIATION OF ALL THE DIFFICULT WORDS ADDED.
20







~Al~sWWra~Pa2a~srPB~*~I~BL~I~~CW~.~C~;~I




LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
THE LIFE AND OPINIONS OF TRISTRAM                        SHANDY, GENTLEVAN.
COMPRISING THE HUMOROUS ADVENTURES OF
UNCLE TOBY AND CORPORAL TRIM.
BY L. STERN]I.
Beautifully      Illustrated by Darley.           Stitched.
A SENTIMENTAL JOURNEY.
BY L. STERINE.
Illustrated as above by Darley.               Stitched.
The beauties of this author are so well known, and his errors in style and expression so few and
far between, that one reads with renewed delight his delicate turns, &c.
THE LIFE OF GENERAL JACKSON,
WITH A LIKENESS OF THE OLD HERO.
One volume, 18mo.
LIFE OF PAUL JONES.
In one volume, 12mo.
WITH ONE HUNDRED ILLUSTRATIONS.
BY JAM1ES HAMILTON.
The work is compiled from his original journals and correspondence, and includes an account of
his services in the American Revolution, and in the war between the Russians and Turks in the
Black Sea. There is scarcely any Naval Hero, of any age, who combined in his character so much
of the adventurous, skilful and daring, as Paul Jones. The incidents of his life are almost as startling and absorbing as those of romance. His achievements during the American Revolution--the
fight between the Bon Homme Richard and Serapis, the most desperate naval action on record -
and the alarm into which, with so small a force, he threw the coasts of England and Scotland- are
matters comparatively well known to Americans; but the incidents of his subsequent career have
been veiled in obscurity, which is dissipated by tlus biography. A book like this, narrating the
actions of such a man, ought to meet with an extensive sale, and become as popular as Robinson
Crusoe in fiction, or Weems's Life of Marion and Washington, and similar books, in fact. It contafis 400 pages, has a handsome portrait and medallion likeness of Jones, and is illustrated with
numerous original wood engravings of naval scenes and distinguished men with whom he was
familiar.
THE E         REK EXILE;
Or, A Narrative of the Captivity and Escape of Christophorus Plato Castanis,
DURING THE MASSACRE ON THE ISLAND OF SCIO BY THE TURKS.
TOGETHER WITH VARIOUS ADVENTURES IN GREECE AND AMERICA.
SWRITTEN                   BY HIMSELF,
Author of an Essay on the Ancient and Modern Greek Languages; Interpretation of the Attributes
of the Principal Fabulous Deities; The Jewish Maiden of Scio's Citadel; and
the Greek Boy in the Sunday-SchooL
One volume, 12mo.
THE YOUNG CHORISTER;
A Collection of New and Beautiful Tunes, alapted to the use of Sabbath-Schools, from some of the
most distinguished composers; together with many of the author's compositions.
EDITED BY MINARD W. WILSON.
21


E~B~Fs~E~.-snraasama~8P~arxa~H~Pe~ursr~





1ý14    -                                                                           aff=.....   I,.       -...,,  --. I...

LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.


i


CAMP LIFE OF A VOLUNTEER,
A   Campaign in Mexico; Or, A Glimpse at Life in Camp.
BY "ONE WHO HAS SEEN THE ELEPHANT."
Xife of (tn ral 3aur                               rqy a)qlr,
COMPRISING A NARRATIVE OF EVENTS CONNECTED WITH HIS PROFESSIONAL
CAREER, AND AUTHENTIC INCIDENTS OF HIS EARLY YEARS.
BY J. REESE FRY AND R. T. CONRAD.
With an original and accurate Portrait, and eleven elegant Illustrations, by Darley,
In one handsome 12mo. volume.
"It is by far the fullest and most interesting biography of General Taylor that we have ever seen."
-Richmond (Whig) Chronicle.
" On the whole, we are satisfied that this volume is the most correct and comprehensive one yet
published." -Hunt's Merchants' Magazine.
" The superiority of this edition over the ephemeral publications of the day consists in fuller and
more authentic accounts of his family, his early life, and Indian wars. The narrative of his proceedings ic Mexico is drawn partly from reliable private letters, but chiefly from his own official
correspondence."
"It forms a cheap, substantial, and attractive volume, and one which should be read at the fireside of every family who desire a faithful and true life of tie Old General."
GENERAL TAYLOR AND HIS STAFF:
Comprising Memoirs of Generals Taylor, Worth, Wool, and Butler; Cols. May, Cross,Clay, Hardm,
Yell, Hays, and other distinguished Officers attached to General Taylor's
Army. Interspersed with
NUMEROUS          ANECDOTES           OF   THE    MEXICAN         WAR,
and Personal Adventures of the Officers. Compiled from Public Documents and Private Correspondence. With
ACCURATE PORTRAITS, AND OTHER BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS.
In one volume, 12mo.
GENERAL SCOTT AND HIS STAFF:
Comprising Memoirs of Generals Scott, Twiggs, Smith, Quitman, Shields, Pillow, Lane, Cadwalader,
Patterson, and Pierce; Cols. Childs, Riley, Harney, and Butler; and other
distinguished officers attached to General Scott's Army.
TOGETHER WITH
Notices of General Kearny, Col. Doniphan, Col. Fremont, and other officers distinguished in the
Conquest of California and New Mexico; and Personal Adventures of the officers. Compiled from Public Documents and Private Correspondence. With
AACCURATE PORTRAITS, AND OTHER                    BEAUTIFUL ILLUSTRATIONS.
In   one volume, 12mo.
THE FAMILY DENTIST,
INCLUDING THE SURGICAL, MEDICAL AND MECHANICAL TREATMENT
OF THE TEETH.
Illustrated with       thirty-one Engravings.
By CHARLES A. DU BOUCHET, M. D., Dental Surgeon.
In one volume, 18mo.
22











LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
MECHANICS FOR THE MILLWRIGHT, ENGINEER AND MACHINIST,
CIVIL    ENGINEER, AND           ARCHITECT:
CONTAINING
THE PRINCIPLES OF MECHANICS APPLIED TO MACHINERY
Of American models, Steam-Engines, Water-Works, Navigation, Bridge-building, &c. &c. By
FREDERICK OVERMIAN,
Author of "The Manufacture of Iron," and other scientific treatises.
Illustrated by 150 Engravings.          In one large 12mo. volume.
WILLIAMS'S             TRAVELLER'S              AND      TOURIST'S          GUIDE
Through the United States, Canada, &c.
This book will be found replete with information, not only to the traveller, but likewise to the
man of business. In its preparation, an entirely new plan has been adopted, which, we are convinced, needs only a trial to be fully appreciated.
Among its many valuable features, are tables showing at a glance the distance, fare, and time
occupied in travelling from the principal cities to the most important places in the Union; so that
the question frequently asked, without obtaining a satisfactory reply, is here answered in full.
Other tables show the distances from. New York, &c., to domestic and foreign ports, by sea; and
also, by way of comparison, from New York and Liverpool to the principal ports beyond and around
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a Map of the Island of Cuba, and Plan of the City and Harbor of Havana; and a Map of Niagara
River and Falls.
THE LEGISLATIVE GUIDE:
Containing directions for conducting business in the House of Representatives; the Senate of the
United States; the Joint Rules of both Houses; a Synopsis of Jefferson's Manual, and copious
Indices; together with a concise system of Rules of Order, based on the regulations of the
U. S. Congress. Designed to economise time, secure uniformity and despatch in conducting business in all secular meetings, and also in all religious, political, and
Legislative Assemblies.
BY JOSEPH BARTLETT BURLEIGI-, LL. D.
In one volume, 12mo.
This is considered by our Judges and Congressmen as decidedly the best work of the kind extant.
Every young man in the country should have a copy of this book.
THE INITIALS; A Story of Modern Life.
THREE VOLUMES OF THE LONDON EDITION COMPLETE IN ONE VOLUME 12MO.
A new novel, equal to "Jane Eyre."
WILD WESTERN SCENES:
A NARRATIVE OF ADVENTURES               IN  THE WESTERN        WILDERNESS.
Wherein the Exploits of Daniel Boone, the Great American Pioneer, are particularly described.
Also, Minute Accounts of Bear, Deer, and Buffalo Hunts - Desperate Conflicts with the
Savages- Fishing and Fowling Adventures- Encounters with Serpents, &c.
By LUKE SHORTFIELD, Author of "The Western Merchant."
BEAUTIFULLY ILLUSTRATED. One volume, 12mo.
POEMS OF THE PLEASURES:
Consisting of the PLEASURES OF IMAGINATION, by Akenside; the PLEASURES OF MEMORY,
by Samuel Rogers; the PLEASURES OF HOPE, by Campbell; and the PLEASURES OF
FRIENDSHIP, by M'Henry. With a Memoir of each Author, prepared expressly
for this work. 18mo.




i


~i~m~c~cP-~~r.-iontI          1AGUREMM~i~  Isamomm~







BaQ~Plr~pe~SB~n~~ I~--- -- __ I


LIPPINCOTT, GRAMBO & CO.'S PUBLICATIONS.
BALDWIN'S PRONOUNCING GAZETTEER.
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