AAntonia might well be excused for the excess of her terror. If in one European country more than another an infuriated mob is to be dreaded, that country, perhaps, is Spain. A people accustomed to find delight in seeing bulls tortured, horses gored to death, and men imperilled and often wounded or slain, are not likely, when their passions are roused, to be moved to pity, or to feel horror at deeds of blood. Religion, degraded into superstition or utterly cast aside, has little power to control. The commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," has been broken so often, that its breach has almost ceased to be regarded as a crime. The stoutest heart might have quailed at the sound of the savage roar of voices, and that of thundering blows on the ornamental grating which alone divided the mob from their prey.
Antonia might well be excused for the excess of her terror. If in one European country more than another an infuriated mob is to be dreaded, that country, perhaps, is Spain. A people accustomed to find delight in seeing bulls tortured, horses gored to death, and men imperilled and often wounded or slain, are not likely, when their passions are roused, to be moved to pity, or to feel horror at deeds of blood. Religion, degraded into superstition or utterly cast aside, has little power to control. The commandment, "Thou shalt not kill," has been broken so often, that its breach has almost ceased to be regarded as a crime. The stoutest heart might have quailed at the sound of the savage roar of voices, and that of thundering blows on the ornamental grating which alone divided the mob from their prey.
A little group stood together in the patio, whosemarble pavement was likely so soon to be stained with the blood of at least one victim. Lucius Lepine, with the generous spirit which makes the Englishman "strike as soon for a trampled foe as he would for a soul-dear friend," stood by the side of Aguilera, to protect his endangered guest. The Briton grasped his loaded pistol, the Spaniard was quite unarmed. A little behind them appeared Lopez de Rivadeo, a haggard, desperate man, clutching his dagger and clinching his teeth, as he watched the grating, which he every moment expected to give way under the clanging blows which were showered upon it. Near the governor stood Peter Passmore, flushed and snorting with excitement, and heartily wishing himself out of a country where an honest man could not take a morning drive without the risk of being baited like a wild beast. Diego completed the group; the chulo had attached himself to Alcala, and was resolved to stand by the cavalier to the last. Once the pale face of Inez had appeared at a door which led to the interior part of the dwelling, but she had retired at the urgent desire of her brother. "This is no place for ladies!" cried he.
"That bit of wrought iron will not hold out long under such battering," cried Passmore, addressing himself to Lopez; "why do you not hide yourself in some inner apartment?"
"Because I would rather make my last stand here, under the open sky, than be killed like a rat in a hole," hoarsely muttered the desperate man.
Cr—cr—cr—ash! down goes the grating, and over it rush the human wolves towards their victim.
"Back, back, ye men of Seville!" exclaimed Alcala, coming forward to meet the mob with that calm dignity which marked one born to command. "How dare ye thus force your way into the dwelling of a cavalier of Andalusia?" Alcala's stern eyes were fixed on the leader of the rioters, in whom he recognized one of the robbers with whom he had passed the previous night in prison. The bandit was taken aback by the unexpected meeting with that strange fellow-prisoner whom he had almost deemed a prophet inspired by Heaven.
"We seek not to harm you or yours, señor, but that wretch—"
"Is my guest, and as such shall be protected with my life!" cried Alcala. "What, my brave countrymen! will ye celebrate the birthday of your liberty with deeds of violence which would disgrace the heathen? When the eyes of Europe are upon them, will Spaniards show themselves unworthy of their freedom? I have heard in your streets the shout of 'Viva la Constitucion!' I hailed it as a sign that my countrymen coulddistinguish liberty from license, and that in Spain at least revolution meant not robbery and murder!"
Alcala had appealed to the self-respect of his hearers—that quality which appears to be inherent in Spaniards, and which, as history proves, can act as a curb even on the rage of their mobs. No one of the intruders rushed violently forward, although the only barrier between them and their prey was the firm will and dauntless courage of one unarmed individual. But a haggard, wild-looking man came a little in front of the rest, to act as the spokesman of all. Fierceness, almost resembling that of insanity, flashed from his sunken eyes, as, glaring on Rivadeo, the Spaniard brandished aloft his huge knife, and then addressed himself to Alcala.
"We must have justice, we must have revenge on a villain who for years has trampled the people under foot as the mire in the streets! Did ye know half his crimes, ye would not protect him. Look at me, señor!" A terrible tale of suffering was written on the speaker's haggard face and almost skeleton frame. "You have been for one night in that den of misery into which robbery, under the mask of justice, thrusts its victims; I have been there forseven years! And my crime was that I could not bribe yonder tyrant to give me back my birthright of freedom!Seven years!"repeated the man with energy, "rotting in a dungeon worse than the lair of a beast, whilst my wife and children were starving outside!"
A deep murmur of indignation rose from the listening crowd. The man went on with increasing fierceness of tone and gesture.
"Seven years! and every day of those years I breathed a deeper vow of vengeance. I am but one of many who have made that vow—"
"Yes, yes!" howled forth many threatening voices.
"And shall we not keep it?" exclaimed the deeply-wronged man.
"Yes, yes!" was more loudly repeated. "The tyrant is before us, shall we not strike! Vengeance is within reach, shall we not grasp it!"
"Hold, men of Seville!" exclaimed Alcala; "hear me but for a moment. There are those amongst you who listened last night in a dungeon to an offer of mercy from Heaven. To whom was that offer made? To all, from the criminal in ermine to the thief on the cross. By whom was that offer made? By Him who had power to crush His enemies—to annihilate or hurl them down into fire that shall never be quenched. Transgressors were before Him; did He strike? Vengeance was within His reach; did He grasp it? Did not the Deity take man'snature, that as Man He might die, not for His friends alone, but for His foes? Did He not purchase, at the price of His own life's blood, the right to extend free forgiveness even to the guiltiest of all?"
Again words that glowed with the fervour that warmed the heart of the speaker fell with strange power on men to whom pure and simple gospel truth was as a new revelation. Alcala felt that he was making some impression on his wild audience, and thus went on with his appeal to their nobler feelings:—
"Let me not speak to you in my own words, but in the words of the Lord of Life, who for our sakes underwent agony, shame, and death! It is He who says, even to the most deeply injured, the most cruelly oppressed amongst us all, 'Forgive, as ye have been forgiven.' The lips of Him who on the cross breathed a prayer for His own murderers, is now saying to our souls, 'Blessed are the merciful: for they shall obtain mercy.' Is there one man here who needs not that mercy—is there one here who without that mercy dare stand before the tribunal of God?"
There was a deep silence amongst the throng. After a brief pause, Alcala resumed speaking, but in a different tone.
"Return, my brave friends, to your homes, thankfulthat you have hands unstained with blood, and consciences not burdened by murder. We Spaniards have a nobler and more arduous task before us than that of slaying a defenceless foe. Our glorious land has long groaned under that worst form of bondage—the bondage which fetters the soul. We have been robbed of our noblest heritage—the heritage of the Word of Truth. Let us throw off our chains, and show ourselves men! The Moor was driven from our Andalusia by the prowess of our brave sires; let ours be a greater victory, a more glorious conquest than theirs. Let Spain rise from the dust of ages to be the champion of freedom and faith. Let us not rest till one of the fairest lands upon which the light of heaven shines becomes an example to the nations around her, and a blessing to all the world!"
"Viva Aguilera! viva la Spagna!" exclaimed Lucius Lepine, with an enthusiasm which was contagious. The mob caught up the words, and re-echoed the shout; the patio resounded with "Viva la Spagna! viva Aguilera!"—Diego's voice heard above all. Alcala was too much exhausted to speak more to the crowd, but he smiled and bowed his thanks; and the people, obeying his gesture, slowly and without confusion defiled again through the arched passage, and made their way back into the street.
"I never saw anything to equal that!" exclaimed the astonished Passmore, when he saw the last individual of the rabble disappear from the court. "Iron at white heat to be cooled down by a few brave words!"
"To God be the glory!" said Alcala.
TThe agony of suspense which had been suffered by the wretched Don Lopez whilst his life hung trembling in the balance was now shown by his vehement impatience to get out of Seville. The governor could hardly thank his preserver; he would taste no refreshment; he would not so much as sit down, so restless was he in his eager desire to escape. De Rivadeo was furious even at the brief delay which took place ere his daughter obeyed his reiterated call. Lopez would on no account stop to encounter the chance of a repetition of such an attack by the mob as that from which he had so narrowly escaped with life. Mr. Passmore's carriage was still at the entrance, and the manufacturer consented, though with no good grace, to take the fugitives to the nearest town, where they would be likely to get another conveyance to carry them to some port. Lopez deRivadeo must follow Queen Isabella into exile, as others, worthless as himself, already had done.
The agony of suspense which had been suffered by the wretched Don Lopez whilst his life hung trembling in the balance was now shown by his vehement impatience to get out of Seville. The governor could hardly thank his preserver; he would taste no refreshment; he would not so much as sit down, so restless was he in his eager desire to escape. De Rivadeo was furious even at the brief delay which took place ere his daughter obeyed his reiterated call. Lopez would on no account stop to encounter the chance of a repetition of such an attack by the mob as that from which he had so narrowly escaped with life. Mr. Passmore's carriage was still at the entrance, and the manufacturer consented, though with no good grace, to take the fugitives to the nearest town, where they would be likely to get another conveyance to carry them to some port. Lopez deRivadeo must follow Queen Isabella into exile, as others, worthless as himself, already had done.
Diego, who liked adventure, and whose intelligence might further the governor's escape, volunteered to take his seat beside Mr. Passmore's coachman, who had been so much frightened by the events of the morning that he could hardly manage the reins.
Just as these little arrangements had been concluded, Donna Antonia re-entered the patio, leaning on the arm of Inez, and followed by Teresa. The governor's daughter now wore a veil and mantilla; these, to a Spanish lady, needful articles of dress, had been given to Antonia by Inez, notwithstanding the angry expostulations of the old duenna. Teresa was indignant to see her mistress robbed, as she called it, of what she so ill could spare.
"My only comfort," muttered Teresa, as she hobbled after the ladies, "is that the mantilla has been worn till the silk will hardly hold together, and that the veil has more of neat darning on it than of the original lace."
Alcala came forward to hand Donna Antonia to the carriage; oppressed as he was with weakness and languor, the cavalier of Andalusia would not suffer another to take his place in doing the honours of his house to his unfortunate guests. This wasthe first day on which the proud beauty of Seville had met Don Alcala de Aguilera since that on which he had rashly risked his life for her sake. If any touch of womanly feeling was in Antonia's selfish bosom, that feeling must have been stirred now into remorse as she beheld her father's preserver. Alcala's pale features showed the sufferings which he had lately undergone: he looked like one newly risen from a sick-bed, with sunken cheek, colourless lip, and languid eye. As with graceful courtesy the cavalier proffered his wasted hand to the lady, on the minds of both Alcala and Antonia flashed back memory of the hour when that hand had been deemed unworthy to touch the white kid glove of the heiress—that hour when, like an empress, she had stepped into her galley on the glittering Guadalquivir.
Silently Alcala conducted Antonia through the arched way to the carriage which was to bear her from Seville. Not till she had placed her foot on the carriage-step did the cavalier utter a word.
"Farewell, señorita!" said Alcala. Antonia turned towards him, but in silence; the eyes of the two met—it was the last look that was ever to pass between them. Soon the motion of the rolling wheels separated Alcala and Antonia de Rivadeo for ever.
But for the support of Lucius's arm, Alcala couldhardly have walked back to the patio. He sank down wearily on the first seat that he reached, too much exhausted to do more than extend his hand, with a faint smile on his lips, to Inez, who knelt by his side.
"Bring wine, Teresa!" cried Inez, looking anxiously at the face of her brother.
"Wine!" exclaimed the old woman, stung into momentary forgetfulness of the presence of the English stranger—"wine!" she repeated bitterly, "when the last drop left in this ruined house was poured out for that proud woman; and there's not a cuarto in the coffer to buy more for the caballero if his life depended upon it! Woe, woe to the Aguileras!"
"Never say so!" cried Lucius Lepine, and the joy of being the bearer of good news seemed to the young man at that moment to outweigh all that he had gone through to procure it. "The Aguileras have a casket of golden plate and rich jewels safely buried near a palm-tree beside a wood, not two miles from Seville; they have only to dig it out and possess it. Donna Inez, the Englishman has kept his word."
"A casket of gold plate and jewels!" almost screamed out Teresa, who scarcely dared to believe her own ears; "you don't say it—you can't mean it!—what! the box with clamps of steel, the old señora's jewel-case, which I've handled many a day!"The wrinkled hand laid on the arm of Lucius was shaking with violent excitement.
"I do say it—I do mean it," replied Lucius, whose countenance was beaming with pleasure.
"But, my friend, how is this possible?" asked Alcala; "the miserable Chico—"
"Lies murdered by his own accomplices," said Lucius more gravely; "fearful retribution has overtaken the servant who robbed his master."
Lucius then recounted to his deeply interested hearers the tale of his night's adventures, dwelling as lightly as he could on what only related to himself. No one interrupted the narration, save Teresa, who could not refrain ever and anon from uttering some ejaculation, now of indignation, now of delight. When Lucius came to the account of burying the box near the palm-tree, the old duenna could restrain her feelings no longer. To the astonishment of the Englishman she suddenly flung herself at his feet, and clasped his knees in an ecstasy of gratitude, admiration, and joy!
"The blessing of all the saints be upon you, brave, noble Señor Inglesito!" exclaimed old Teresa, while tears streamed down her wrinkled face; "if you were as deep-dyed a heretic as Luther himself, I would bless you a thousand times over! You have saved a noble family from ruin!"
PPerhaps the proudest and happiest hour of Teresa's life was that in which she saw the treasure, the family heirlooms, in the hands of Alcala de Aguilera, as they were on the following day. Teresa clasped the steel-clamped box as if it had been a living child. Would she not burnish up the rusted metal till every hinge should shine as brightly as Aguilera's honour! The duenna handled the contents of the case with as much reverence as she might have shown to the hair of Santa Veronica! Every article in that jewel-box had its history for Teresa. That bracelet was a wedding-gift from a duchess to the mother of Alcala and Inez; that ring had been worn by a cavalier who had slain three Moors with his own right hand; that gold snuff-box was a gift from the Empress Catherine to an Aguilera then ambassador at the Russian Court; those medals were, every one ofthem, tokens of some gallant deed performed by one of the ancestors of Alcala. Teresa counted each pearl in the chaplet, and every link in the massive gold chain.
Perhaps the proudest and happiest hour of Teresa's life was that in which she saw the treasure, the family heirlooms, in the hands of Alcala de Aguilera, as they were on the following day. Teresa clasped the steel-clamped box as if it had been a living child. Would she not burnish up the rusted metal till every hinge should shine as brightly as Aguilera's honour! The duenna handled the contents of the case with as much reverence as she might have shown to the hair of Santa Veronica! Every article in that jewel-box had its history for Teresa. That bracelet was a wedding-gift from a duchess to the mother of Alcala and Inez; that ring had been worn by a cavalier who had slain three Moors with his own right hand; that gold snuff-box was a gift from the Empress Catherine to an Aguilera then ambassador at the Russian Court; those medals were, every one ofthem, tokens of some gallant deed performed by one of the ancestors of Alcala. Teresa counted each pearl in the chaplet, and every link in the massive gold chain.
Alcala and Inez watched with amusement the old duenna's delight.
"Nay, Teresa, lay not down that chain," said De Aguilera; "you have well earned some little acknowledgment of your long and faithful service. The very first use which we make of our newly-recovered property is to show our gratitude to her who in weal or woe has never forsaken our house."
"The chain—for me!" exclaimed the astonished duenna; "what could the like of me do with so costly an ornament as this?"
"Turn it into dollars," said Alcala quietly; but the Spanish cavalier could not help a flush rising to his cheek as he added, "as I am going to turn the goblet of gold."
Teresa looked aghast at such an unexpected announcement. She could scarcely believe that anything could induce Alcala to part with that splendid relic of family grandeur, embossed with the Aguilera arms—a goblet which had been touched by the lips of princes—a goblet which had been the most costly ornament of a table at which a hundred guests had sat down.
"Better part with anything than with that!" exclaimed the old servant, making a passionate protest against what seemed to her little short of sacrilege.
"I have talked the subject over with my sister," replied Aguilera; "neither of us would touch our grandmother's property during her lifetime, and the greater part of the gems are hers. Nor is this a time for disposing of jewels; for that we must wait for more quiet days. Gold always commands its value."
"But that goblet," expostulated Teresa—"that which was the pride of your house!"
"Teresa, I must have nothing more to do with pride," said Alcala gravely but kindly. "I have renounced the pride of life as one of those things which are inconsistent with the character of a Christian."
Inez saw that this was an argument incomprehensible to Teresa, and in her own gentle way the Spanish maiden brought forward others which had a far greater effect upon the old servant's mind. Donna Benita should now have the little pleasures which she could yet enjoy, and the comforts which she required; so many things had long been needed by the family which could now be procured by the sacrifice of one costly cup. Surely, suggested Inez,it was better to have food in an earthenware dish, than to sit hungry at a board laden with empty plate, albeit of gold.
Teresa drew a deep sigh; she could not gainsay her young lady's words, but she looked at the doomed goblet with tearful eyes, as a parent might look at a child from whom she was forced to part.
"Oh, señor," cried Teresa with emotion, "grant to me but one boon; it is but a small one—it will cost you no effort or loss—it is the first favour which your old servant ever has asked of her master."
"It will scarcely be denied," said Alcala.
"Before you sell that precious heirloom, bid to a banquet those two English señors who have seen you in your—your difficulties; the brave caballero who recovered your treasure, and the elder one whose"—Teresa could not bring herself to say, "whose salary you have stooped to earn," so she described Mr. Passmore as he whose head was bald with age.
Alcala could not altogether disappoint the earnestly expressed wish of his old retainer, or deny her the gratification of letting his late employer see some proof of the wealth once enjoyed by the family of his clerk. Teresa's "banquet" was, however, reduced to a simple evening collation, to which not a single guest but the two Englishmen was to be invited.Teresa would fain have had all the great and wealthy inhabitants of Seville bidden to a grand entertainment, and have had the goblet of gold pass down the length of a table thronged with as many guests as had found place at the wedding-feast of Don Pedro de Aguilera.
"Our poor Teresa thinks our newly-found treasure inexhaustible," said Inez with a happy smile to her brother, when the duenna had hurried off to make purchases of some of the innumerable articles which she had now discovered to be indispensable. "Of what are you thinking, my Alcala?" continued Inez, laying her hand caressingly on that of her brother, and looking up lovingly into his face, which wore an expression of deeper thought than usual.
"I was thinking, dearest, of another to us long-buried and newly-recovered treasure, even the written Word of God," replied Alcala. "This in itself is truly inexhaustible wealth. Our country, our beautiful Spain, basely robbed of that treasure, has for ages been poor indeed! But Heaven is restoring to us now that which is beyond all price, even the knowledge of gospel truth. May we Spaniards be given grace to hold fast to the end that doctrine for which so many martyrs have perished in the flames,—the doctrine of justification by faith!"
The attention of both Alcala and of his friendLucius being now earnestly directed to the subject of the evangelization of Spain, they found, with both pleasure and surprise, how many faithful labourers had been in the field before them. As in our own city, strangers might pass through hundreds of streets, marvel at the traffic of London, and wonder at its wealth, and yet be unaware all the time that, underground and out of sight, trains are rapidly bearing its merchant princes from place to place,—so those who had believed themselves well acquainted with Spain had lived in almost total ignorance of a great hidden work going on beneath the surface of society. Alcala and Lucius now heard for the first time of the band of Spanish reformers who had been receiving instruction from a Scotch minister[22]on the rock of Gibraltar. They now first heard of the gifted convert from Romanism, Jean Baptista Cabrera, gathering around him these his brethren, the hope of the infant Church, and organizing them to form a band of faithful confessors, who, in the name of the only Saviour, should bear the banner of the truth into Spain. Alcala found that arrangements for the revision of the Scriptures, the compilation of an evangelical creed, and the division of Spain into districts, for the better diffusion of religious knowledge, had actually been made under the shadow ofthe tyranny which had so long darkened the land of his birth. Cabrera's conference with other Spanish reformers had taken place in the spring of the same year of which the autumn saw the flight of Queen Isabella. I will quote from an account of this conference given in the work[23]to which I have so often referred in this little volume:—
"In this transaction we see the foundations laid of the Reformed Church of Spain. That glorious event took place under the flag of Great Britain. The day is well worthy of being noted; it was the 25th of April 1868. This was the birthday of that Church, and this day will long be a memorable one in the annals of Spain and in the annals of Christianity."
"Yes, the Lord Bishop of Cadiz had some cause to sound his cry of alarm!" exclaimed Lucius, after he and Alcala had been reading together a copy of the soul-stirring address of Cabrera. "The grand struggle between light and darkness has begun already, thank God! my own dear old country has furnished weapons for the warfare;" and the Englishman laid his hand on a complete Spanish Bible, which had been Aguilera's first purchase with the treasure so lately restored.
But though the hopeful Briton looked forward to a speedy and glorious termination to that warfare,Alcala revolved with some anxiety the difficulties which were likely to obstruct the progress of the evangelization of Spain. Isabella, that bigoted votary of Rome, no longer, indeed, bore sway; a priest-ridden government had fallen, and the Spanish people had shown little desire to uphold the Papal power; but all the political horizon was overspread with a dense mist of uncertainty regarding the future. Who would take the reins of government that had dropped from the hands of the Queen? Who would manage obstinate Juntas, control violent mobs, and guide the chariot of the State into anything resembling an orderly course? The eyes of Spain were turned towards her banished General Prim, that man who was, though but for a brief period, to play so important a part in her history. Prim would return to his country, would rise to be a ruler in the land from whence he had once been driven. His coming triumph was the perpetual theme of the exultant Diego, who now filled the place in Alcala's household which had been occupied by Chico. Alcala, too, foresaw that General Prim was likely to be the leader of the Spanish people: but was his accession to power an event to be desired or dreaded by those whose dearest object in life was the evangelization of Spain? Would Prim come to sustain the power of the Romish priesthood with thesupport of the secular arm? Would he, like his predecessors, regard Protestantism as a punishable crime? Was the circulation of the Scriptures to be prohibited, and a dungeon to be deemed the fittest place for the bold evangelist who should proclaim its life-giving truths? What was a subject of anxiety to De Aguilera was also a subject for fervent prayer. Earnestly he besought the Ruler of all the events of this changing scene to raise up a powerful protector for the infant Reformed Church of Spain.
FOOTNOTES:[22]The Rev. A. Sutherland.Vide"Daybreak in Spain."[23]"Daybreak in Spain."
[22]The Rev. A. Sutherland.Vide"Daybreak in Spain."
[22]The Rev. A. Sutherland.Vide"Daybreak in Spain."
[23]"Daybreak in Spain."
[23]"Daybreak in Spain."
IIt was with an expression of amusement and surprise on his heavy features that Mr. Passmore read a note inviting him to pass an evening at the house of Don Alcala de Aguilera, some little time after the events related in the preceding chapters. Peter Passmore turned the paper over with his thick, short fingers, and laughed aloud.
It was with an expression of amusement and surprise on his heavy features that Mr. Passmore read a note inviting him to pass an evening at the house of Don Alcala de Aguilera, some little time after the events related in the preceding chapters. Peter Passmore turned the paper over with his thick, short fingers, and laughed aloud.
"I shall take care to fortify myself by a good dinner beforehand—ho! ho! ho!—lest the entertainment prove as unsubstantial as the Barmecide's feast!" said the manufacturer to himself. "But there is something extraordinary after all in this Spanish clerk or caballero. If he's mad, 'there's method in his madness,' as Walter Scott would have said. It was frantic folly to stand the onslaught of a bull to please some silly señorita; scarcely better to get thrown into prison for the sake of reading abook. I thought Aguilera insane when he went forward to meet a mob that looked ready to dash out the brains of any man who stood in their way; but somehow or other this Quixote has contrived to get through all his adventures with credit, if not always with success. He subdued all those blood-thirsty ruffians with a few sentences uttered in his sonorous Spanish, better than a squad of their alguazils could have done with bludgeons and pikes. And certainly the dwelling of this Aguilera looks more fit to lodge a grandee of Spain than a clerk of the firm of Passmore and Perkins. A man has not time to look about him as he would at an exhibition when a set of howling ragamuffins are battering the door, and he expects soon to have his throat cut with their horrid long knives, but it seemed to me as if the place in which I stood was a palace. It might not answer our notions of English comfort, for we Islanders like to have a roof over our sitting-rooms, and don't care for gardens in the middle of 'em; and I confess to preferring a well-stuffed arm-chair to the finest seat carved in marble. But it gave an idea of grandeur. Well, well, I should like to see more of this Spanish palace, and I will certainly accept the invitation of Don Alcala de Aguilera, even at the risk of coming in for another adventure."
So, on the appointed evening, Mr. Passmore, dressed more carefully than usual, but wearing with indifferent grace his gay neck-tie and tight-fitting gloves, made his appearance in the patio of the house in the Calle de San José. Aguilera received his guest with the refined courtesy natural to Spanish gentlemen, and introduced him to Donna Inez.
The patio was lighted up for the occasion, if not with the brilliancy which Teresa desired, yet sufficiently well to display the beauty of the delicate Moorish architecture, the graceful columns and horse-shoe arches, the exquisite carving, and the rich hues of flowers clustering around the fountain, no longer silent, nor bearing the marks of decay. Passmore looked around him with admiration, but with something of the feeling of the boor in the story who found that the stranger to whom he had shown scant courtesy was a prince in disguise. Aguilera making up accounts at the desk, and Aguilera doing the honours of his noble mansion, seemed to the manufacturer to be two different beings. Peter Passmore was not at his ease, and all the less so because of his imperfect knowledge of the language of his entertainers. His Spanish was seldom correct and never fluent, and the manufacturer was not devoid of that shyness which belongs to our national character, and which makes the Briton fear to compromise himselfby committing some breach of etiquette in a foreign land, with whose customs he is but imperfectly acquainted. Passmore greatly missed his usual interpreter Lucius.
"I thought that I should have met Lepine here," Mr. Passmore observed to his host.
"I cannot imagine what detains my friend," said Alcala; "I have expected him here this last hour. Lepine never fails to keep an appointment."
"I never knew him late but once," observed Passmore, attempting to keep up conversation in his broken and most ungrammatical Spanish. "It was on the evening before you killed—I mean to say, when you were killed—no, that's not exactly the thing—I beg your pardon, señor, for bringing up so awkward a subject," stammered forth the clumsy Briton, seeing the cloud that for an instant passed over the bright happy face of Alcala's sister.
Diego now appeared with a tray covered with the fruits of Andalusia, and other elegant but inexpensive dainties. But Teresa would suffer no hands but her own to have the honour of bearing the goblet of gold, filled with the wine of Xeres. Proud as if she carried a monarch's orb and sceptre, the old retainer of the Aguileras brought in the family heirloom. Teresa was almost satisfied by the manufacturer's look of surprise, as, after taking a draught of thewine, he retained the goblet for some seconds in his hold, to examine before he returned it. Peter Passmore was more puzzled than ever by the late conduct of the possessor of such a magnificent piece of plate.
"Is that pure gold?" inquired Passmore, curiosity getting the better of politeness.
Alcala, by a slight movement of the head, gave an affirmative reply. Teresa was offended by the doubt implied by the question, and muttered to herself, "Does the Inglesito take it for a bit of his own worthless iron?"
"I suppose, Don Alcala de Aguilera," observed Passmore after a pause, "that you will scarcely care to take service again?" The question would, we may hope, have been more delicately put, but for the speaker's difficulty in expressing himself in Spanish.
This was too much for the endurance of Teresa; her indignation and disgust overcame even her sense of decorum.
"Take service!" she repeated, every wrinkle in her face appearing to quiver with passion; "is such a word spoken to the illustrious caballero, Don Alcala de Aguilera?"
Alcala quieted his retainer by a gesture of the hand; and then, turning to his late employer, thus calmly replied to his question,—
"I am assuredly going to take service, señor, butof a different kind from that to which you refer. I am preparing myself, with my friend's kind aid, for work in a sphere where I shall deem it an honour to hold the lowest place. I hope, ere long, to become a teacher where I have so lately become a learner, and to give myself to the ministry of the gospel in my native Andalusia."
Passmore but half understood the reply of the Spaniard, but he asked for no explanation of what might have been almost equally incomprehensible to the worldly man had it been spoken in English.
Lucius Lepine, breathless with the speed at which he had come, at this instant burst into the patio. The eagerness of his manner, the animation of his look, showed him to be the bearer of tidings, and at once riveted on the young Englishman the attention of all.
"Pardon me, señorita,——and you, Alcala," gasped forth the guest who had so unceremoniously rushed into the court; "I have earned forgiveness for my delay for the sake of the news which I bring. Prim is in Spain—"
Diego could not suppress a triumphant viva.
"He has met with the evangelist Cabrera at the town of Algeciras——"
With intense interest Alcala bent forward to listen, while the breathless narrator went on.
"Cabrera had an interview with the chief who is now the foremost man in the State—"
"What said the general?" asked Alcala, with mingled anxiety and hope.
"Prim said to Cabrera, 'Are you of those who were prosecuted by the late Government as being bad religionists?'—'We are,' replied our noble evangelist.—'Then I have to tell you,' said the chief, 'that you may enter Spain with your Bible under your arm.'"[24]
There was a loudervivafrom Diego. But Alcala did not speak; he had sunk on his knees, and was breathing forth from the depths of his soul a thanksgiving for the glorious sun of life and light that was rising upon his beloved Spain.
FOOTNOTES:[24]"Daybreak in Spain."
[24]"Daybreak in Spain."
[24]"Daybreak in Spain."
HHere closes my story, but not my work. The information which some writers might have put into a preface, I have purposely reserved, as the choicest part of my volume, for its conclusion.
Here closes my story, but not my work. The information which some writers might have put into a preface, I have purposely reserved, as the choicest part of my volume, for its conclusion.
I hope that A. L. O. E. may be pardoned for giving to the hero of her fiction the name actually borne by a noble Spanish evangelist now a standard-bearer of the gospel in Seville. Her tale has failed of its purpose if it has awakened no interest in the good work at this time going on in Seville, as well as in other cities of Spain. To give an idea of the nature and success of that work, and to place the true beside the fictitious Aguilera, she has but to transcribe from an "Occasional Paper," published in September 1873, by the Spanish Evangelical Mission.[25]This date is about five years later thanthat chosen for the preceding story, and belongs to a period when a fresh revolution had convulsed the country of Spain.
"Our missionary agents at Seville have been called to pass through a season of great anxiety and of considerable danger, in consequence of the insurrections which took place in June and July, and the subsequent siege of the city. Through the love and tender mercy of our Heavenly Father, our friends were preserved from all harm, as were also the churches, mission-houses, and schools."
An extract from a letter written by an English eye-witness of the alarming insurrection which took place in Seville in that eventful summer of 1873 then follows.
"A terrible scene took place. The people gathered in many thousands, and vociferously demanded the heads of the members of the Junta, who were at this moment prisoners in the Ayuntamiento. The Plaza Nueva, now Plaza de la Republica Federal, and the Plaza de San Francisco, were filled with people who savagely shouted, 'Que muera!' Several hundred volunteers had already formed a circle, expecting the prisoners to be shot. The governor tried in vain to appease the people, who, like so many hungry tigers, yelled for the livesof the unfortunate men. Then a heart-rending scene took place. The wives and children of the prisoners, pressing through the crowd, knelt in the midst of the circle, and begged the people to spare the lives of those who were so near and dear to them, the children imploring with tiny outstretched arms; but all in vain. 'Que muera!' (Let them die!) was the only response.
"Suddenly Aguilera, our evangelist, accompanied by a few friends, appeared on one of the balconies facing the Ayuntamiento, and gave a heart-stirring address to the people. He spoke so loudly that I could hear him distinctly on the other side of the Plaza. The crowd at first would not listen. Some said, 'He is a traitor!' others, 'He is a Protestant!' and many shouted, 'Shoot him!' But by degrees the shouts subsided, and the crowd soon became thoroughly moved by his earnest words, and broke forth into hearty cheers and cries of 'Let them live!' Thus did Señor Aguilera by his courageous conduct save the lives of the unhappy prisoners, who would otherwise have been sacrificed to the blood-thirsty mob."
In another letter,[26]written less than a month after the preceding, a Spanish missionary, the Rev. F. Palomares, gives details which can scarcely failto interest those who care for the progress of our Lord's kingdom in Spain.
"The events at Seville during the last few days have been most serious. We passed three days of greater anguish than we had ever before experienced. A barricade was erected in front of the door of San Basilio Church,[27]and a cannon was placed by the volunteers in the door of the schoolroom. On seeing these preparations, I had the English flag, and that of the Red Cross or hospital flag, hoisted on the church. I invited the neighbours, without distinction of religion or politics, to contribute bandages, medicines, and other necessaries for the wounded. This they did most willingly. A committee was formed to assist me in conveying the wounded, not only to our own hospital, but also to those that were in the vicinity of the fighting. All this was done with great risk to our lives, but our Lord Jesus Christ was with us on all occasions. At the same time I occupied myself in gathering under the roof of San Basilio the women and children, the sick and aged. By this means consolation and shelter were offered to more than fifteen hundred persons during the three days of danger, who left us with expressions of gratitude."
A few more touches from the pen of an Englishmissionary at Seville must be added to fill up the picture from real life now placed beside that which is the mere creation of fancy.
"Thanks be to the Keeper of Israel, and praises to His name, for His loving-kindness towards us in having kept us from all harm. The churches, houses, and schools connected with the Mission, although two of them are very near the scene of destruction, were not injured in the least. The June insurrection ended, comparatively speaking, pacifically; but that of July, I am sorry to say, was the cause of much bloodshed and loss of property. No one knows the precise number of the dead and wounded. The [Madrid] newspapers announce them to be about 800, but that is probably an exaggeration. The city had the appearance of a vast camp. Barricades were erected in all parts of it. On Sunday, July 27th, the Government troops could be seen advancing from the top of the Giralda. No one, excepting women and children, were allowed to leave the city.
"It was uncertain which part of the town the troops would attack, but the general opinion was they would attack the [Macarena] district in which San Basilio is situated; consequently many of the inhabitants of the adjacent quarters emigrated towards the cathedral and the river. I was at thattime at San Basilio, making arrangements with Señor Palomares for the reception of the wounded. The church was filled with women and children, who were invited to take shelter under the English and Red Cross flags. I could not help remarking to Señor Palomares that God would probably bring good out of this evil, by causing some of those bigoted Roman Catholic families, who were now sheltering themselves under the roof of a Protestant church, to take refuge under the blessings of the gospel, and so save their souls from everlasting destruction.
"The bombardment commenced at half-past two on Monday, and continued till Wednesday, when the troops succeeded in taking possession of the city.
"Señor Palomares, myself, and several members of the Red Cross went out on Tuesday evening to bring in some wounded; but we could not get beyond the barricade of San José, for the balls still rushed by. It was a sad scene to behold. The whole neighbourhood had been saturated with petroleum, and the pillars of smoke and fire were terrible: I have never witnessed in my life such a scene before. The disasters of Bourbaki's army, of which I was an eye-witness, seem to me less than what I beheld during the three days of the bombardment of Seville.
"It is most astonishing and worth while mentioning that, whilst the houses to the right and left, before and behind, our (Garci Perez) school are more or less damaged, it should have escaped without even a ball-mark; and that, whilst houses only a few yards distant were burned, and a large cork manufactory not more than ten yards from it was almost totally destroyed, it should have escaped without injury.
"Our schools were only discontinued for a few days, and they are now as well attended as before. May the Lord have mercy on poor Spain, and cause the light of His gospel to shine in her midst!"
Let the reader of these pages breathe a fervent "amen" to this prayer; nor let him content himself with this sign of sympathy with those who maintain so holy a cause. Men and money are needed; the conflict is going on at this moment, the battle is not yet decided. Such Spaniards as Cabrera and Aguilera still contend in their nobler Plaza de Toros with fierce bigotry and superstition: a formidable enemy is before them; but their weapon is the Word of God, and English friends, faithful and firm, stand at their side. When in eternity the ancient martyrs and the modern spiritual heroes of Spain remember in the mansions of peace and bliss the struggle in which they oncebore so noble a part, may my reader be able with humble joy to exclaim, "I was no idle spectator of the struggle! Such help as I could give I willingly gave, and I—even I—may now, while ascribing all glory to the God of hosts, join in the song of victory and the psalm of thanksgiving—for the triumphs of the Gospel in Spain!"
Another Occasional Paper, issued by the Spanish Church Mission whilst this volume was passing through the press, gives a cheering account of the progress of evangelical work in Seville. The number of children under religious tuition is a peculiarly encouraging feature of this work. Portions of Scripture, illuminated by English hands, are hung up not only in schools, but some of them in private houses, to the great annoyance of Romish priests. Though Spain is yet convulsed by civil war, and fierce bigotry has not ceased to oppose the truth, an Aguilera still holds his glorious post in Seville; and in the city where so many martyrs once died in flames kindled by the Inquisition, Spanish lips are now preaching the doctrine of justification by faith.