warning and advice.
On rushing from the apartment of his false and fickle mistress, Don Luisscarcely knew whither he was wandering. All his bright hopes andaspirations were crushed and blighted at the moment he expected to findthem realised. A weight was on his heart, from which he felt none couldrelieve him, and he believed that from henceforth the world for himcould have no happiness in store; but yet he recollected that he was aman, and he resolved not to sink tamely under his cruel fate.
Now we opine that romance writers would have made their heroes act verydifferently; they would either have thrown themselves, in despair, intothe Tagus, or flown to weary the live-long hours in deploring theirhapless lot, with groans and sighs, beneath the mournful shade of somesolitary grove; but Don Luis was of a very different character. In thefirst place, he was too brave, and too much in his senses, to quit theworld; and he had been taught, and believed, that he had no right togive up existence till summoned by a higher Power than his own will.Nor is suicide a crime at all common with his countrymen: they liveunder too bright a sky, and breathe too pure and elastic an atmosphere,to wish to change them for the gloomy, narrow tomb. Had he been of thatdisposition which delights to brood over grief in solitude, there wereno shady groves in the neighbourhood of Lisbon whither he could repairto indulge his propensity, if we except a few orange and oliveplantations, where he would most certainly have been accompanied by arabble of little boys, to wonder what he could be about, probablymistaking him for some actor rehearsing his part in a tragedy. Toreturn home was almost as bad; for he knew that he should be assailed bythe importunate, though kind, questions of his old domestics; and thoughhe had many relations and friends in the city who would be glad to seehim, he could not bring himself to call upon them.
Inaction, in the present state of his feelings, was dreadful to him,yet, as he mechanically bent his steps towards his home, he foundhimself there before he had made up his mind what course to pursue. Hewas encountered on the steps by Lucas, who observing his young master'sagitated countenance, comprehended at once that all was not as hewished. "These are sad times, senhor, sad times," said the old man,"and I fear you found Donna Theresa changed with them; but don't fret,senhor; come up stairs, and tell Anna all about it, and she will be ableto give you the best comfort; for she nursed you when you were a littlebaby, and knows how to treat you."
The major domo's garrulous tongue reminded Don Luis that such was thevery thing he wished to avoid, and he was about to rush out of thehouse, when another sentence of the old man's made him remain, "Oh!senhor, I forgot to tell you, that Ignacio d'Ozorio is here; he camewith a message from your most reverend cousin, the holy Father Jacintoda Costa, to the Senhor Conde, to say that he wished to see him onurgent business, not being aware that he had quitted Lisbon; and when heheard that you had arrived, he said he would remain to see you, andthat, perhaps, you would visit Father Jacinto instead of the Count."
"I will speak to Father Ignacio," said Don Luis; "where is he?"
"He awaits you in the drawing-room, senhor."
"Welcome back to Portugal, my son," said the Jesuit, in that calm, blandvoice, so universal among the members of his order. "I came here,expecting to find your respected parent, but, as he is absent, I feelconfident my superior will be glad to see you."
"I trust that my reverend cousin, Father Jacinto, is not unwell?" saidDon Luis.
"His health does not fail him, nor his mind, though the latter is sorelyvexed by the attacks which are daily made against our order, and whichrequire all his energy and talents to combat; but on that subject hewill speak to you."
"I will gladly accompany you, and am ready this instant to set out,"returned Don Luis.
"You know not, my son, the changes which have taken place during yourabsence; for it is now dangerous to be seen holding conversation withone of our order, so hated are we by the secretary of state, SebastiaoJoze de Carvalho. I will precede you, and announce your coming."
After the Jesuit had departed, Anna and Lucas did their utmost to detainDon Luis till he had eaten of the repast they had prepared; butdeclaring that he had no appetite, to pacify them, he begged them toreserve it till his return, and with hurried steps set out towards theconvent of which his cousin was the principal.
He had a considerable distance to traverse, through many narrow dirtystreets, up and down hill, till he reached the convent, situated in theupper part of the city. It was a plain and solid building of stone,suited to the unostentatious tastes and habits of its founders, whosegreat care is, to avoid show or pretensions of any sort. He wasreceived at the entrance by one of the lay members of the order, whoinformed him that the principal was at that moment engaged with astranger, and requesting him to wait for a short time, till he should beat liberty to receive him, and conducting him, through several passagesand corridors, to a small apartment appropriated to the guest who mightvisit any of the fathers, he there left him. If primitive simplicity,and want of all outward decoration, were marks of peculiar sanctity,this room might vie with any in holiness; for, except a few high-backedchairs, of some dark wood, and a table of the same colour, with writingmaterials, furniture there was none, the walls being simply whitewashed,and the ceiling of chestnut, a wood much used in Portugal, particularlyin monastic buildings.
Don Luis, being left alone, paced the room with hurried steps, halfrepenting that he had thus exposed himself--he knew not for how long atime--to the company of his own bitter and agitated thoughts. There wasnot an object within to draw off his attention; neither, at that moment,would a picture of Titian's, nor a statue from the hands of Praxiteles,have had sufficient charms to attract his observation. But at length hereached an open window, which looked into a garden filled withorange-trees loaded with their delicate-tinted flowers and rich fruit,round the roots of which the gardener had just allowed to flow a rill ofwater; and the grateful trees were exhaling their delicious odours, inreturn, as it were, for the benefit bestowed, scenting the air far andwide. So balmy was the air, so soothing the scent, that even his sadthoughts yielded to the soft influence of kind Nature's gifts,--acalmness stealing imperceptibly over his soul, and changing the wholecurrent of his thoughts. "How delightful would it be," he fancied, "torest, in a quiet seclusion like this, from all the cares and troubles ofthe world, free from the anxieties and disappointments of love, thefever of ambition, the intrigues of the Court, the scenes of strifewhich rage beyond its walls! Yet!--No, no," he exclaimed, after histhoughts had been quiescent for some time, "man was not formed for sucha life. How could I endure the seclusion and monotony of the cloister,the fasts and penances, the routine of worship, the separation from thegentler part of creation, false and fickle though they be?" he addedbitterly. "No, I am not formed for a life of seclusion and indolence."
How often he might have changed his opinion during the course of theensuing minutes, it is impossible to say, when the brother who conductedhim into the apartment again appeared, to inform him that the principalwas waiting to receive him. As he was passing through a long corridor,a person hastened by him, whose features a gleam of the evening sunlighted strongly up; but his conductor, taking no notice of thestranger, hurried him on till they reached the door of a chamber at thefurther end of the passage, knocking at which, a voice desired them toenter; and the brother, making a low reverence, retired. No sooner didthe occupant of the room, in which the young noble found himself,perceive him, than, with a bland and cordial manner, he rose from hisseat, and advanced to welcome him.
He was a man every way worthy of observation: his figure was tall anderect, the height of his appearance increased by the close-fitting, darkrobes of his order, although he had already passed the meridian of life,and age had sprinkled a few grey streaks amid his dark hair. Hisforehead was clear, pale, and lofty, his cheeks were sallow and sunk in,with scarcely any colour on his thin lips, which, when not speaking, hekept firmly closed. His nose was aquiline, delicate, and transparent;but his eyes were the most remarkable features of hi
s countenance,though they were sunk far in his head, of a grey tint, and of noconsiderable size; but it was their expression, and the bright searchingglances they threw around, full of intelligence, which made personsaddressing him feel that he could read every thought passing in theirminds; and few but acknowledged to themselves that they stood in thepresence of a superior being. His voice, too, was melodious, thoughpowerful and manly; his enunciation rapid and clear, with a perfectcommand of language. Such was the man whose unseen subtle influence wasfelt by all ranks and conditions of people. But there was anothergreater than he, though scarce his superior in mind or ambition, butwith greater boldness of execution, to whom, for a time, the force ofcircumstances gave the predominance,--an opportunity which he failed notto use to hurl his antagonist to destruction.
"Welcome, my son," he said, in a low, clear voice, as he led Don Luis toa chair opposite his own. "Welcome, my young relation, to the land ofyour nativity, though you come at a time of much anxiety and trouble. Ihad sent to your father to advise him of certain circumstances whichhave come to my knowledge, against which it is both his interest andmine to guard in our respective estates. When shall you see yourfather?"
"I propose to set out for the Quinta to-morrow," answered Don Luis.
"What! before you have seen your fair cousin, Donna Theresa d'Alorna?"returned the Jesuit. "But why do I ask?--you have seen her already, andthe blow has fallen which I feared awaited you. I was aware of yourlove for Donna Theresa, and that she at one time returned it, for yourinterests have ever been dear to me, Luis; but I have since discoveredthat she no longer regards you with affection; and I now know that herhand is irrevocably engaged to another. Had I known of your arrival, Iwould have saved you the bitter feelings of learning the truth from herown lips; for well do I know how ill in youth we can beardisappointment, which, in our more advanced age, when our passions arecooled and our judgment is matured, we consider but of little moment."
"Nor age, nor philosophy could blunt the feelings of one who has lovedas I have done," answered Don Luis, vehemently. "I dreamed not that youdivined my love for my cousin Theresa; but since you know it, (forotherwise I should not venture to speak to you on such a subject,) tellme, Father, have I no hopes? Has she not been forced to accept the handof another? If so, at all hazards, I will rescue her from destruction.None shall dare to tear her unwillingly from me."
"I can give you no hopes," answered the Priest, gravely. "She isengaged of her own freewill: nor can she ever be yours; but I speak, Iknow, to one of too superior an understanding to mourn for what he willsoon learn to consider at its true value, a glittering, a tempting, butan empty bauble. What matters the loss of the love of a sex ever falseand uncertain?"
"Say not so!" exclaimed Don Luis, interrupting him; "say not she isfalse--say not her sex is false! I alone am to blame for my ownwretchedness. I set my hopes of happiness on a cast, and have miserablyfailed; and now what more have I to expect or wish for, than a speedyend to my woes on the field of battle, or amid the ocean tempest?"
The Priest smiled, as he answered calmly, "Is love, then, the onlyobject of man's life? Are there not a hundred other occupations for themind? Is not ambition alone sufficient to employ his thoughts? Willnot power satisfy him? Does fame bring no satisfaction? Has wealth,and all that wealth can give, no allurements? Say not, then, becauseyou have suffered this first check in the prosperous current of yourexistence, that life has nought else in store for you. The antidoteswhich I propose are sufficient to make you soon smile at your presentfeelings as the effect of a youthful folly."
"You cannot convince my heart," answered the young man. "But should Iseek for consolation by the remedies you advise, at what can ambition inthis country aim? How can power be obtained? or how can I, with honour,seek for wealth?"
The Priest, smiling, again said, "You speak as one who knows not theworld. I mean not the outward, material world, the common machinerywhich moves the every-day actions of men: any coarse, ordinary being,with a little cunning and observation, may gain sufficient knowledge ofthat to accumulate wealth, and to guide his way free from danger amidthe throngs of his fellows. But I speak of the minds and passions, theinward and intricate workings of the souls of men; of that accurateknowledge of the past, and keen observation of the present, by which wecan foresee the future, thus to be able to determine exactly how mankindwill act in masses or as individuals, and stoically to look upon theworld as a vast chess-board, and its inhabitants as the chess-men, whomwe move without any volition of their own, as a player free from anypart or feeling with the senseless blocks; as well as to learn how togain a command over ourselves, and thus to soar above the passions, thefrailties, the vanities, and the folly of the common herd. Such is thetrue knowledge of the world to which a philosophical mind and dauntlesssoul may attain; and in such, my young friend, would I instruct you."
Don Luis remained silent with astonishment, while the priest keenlymarked the effect of his words. "Is this the man," he thought, "whom Ihave regarded as the humble priest and confessor--the meekly-piousminister of our holy faith? But how and where can this knowledge beattained?" he said, looking up; "what means have I of learning the loreyou speak of?"
"Have I not said that I would instruct you?" said the Priest. "Withinthe quiet precincts of these walls you may learn the first rudiments,and within the pale of our order you may become a master in thescience."
"What! can you advise me to give up my title, my name, and fortune, andto assume the gown of a priest?" exclaimed Don Luis, hurriedly. "Iexpected not such advice from you."
"I advise you to do nothing rashly," returned the Jesuit, calmly. "Butyet, let me ask you, what are rank and name but empty sounds, thoughoften encumbrances to their possessors? And for your fortune, I grieveto say, for your father's sake, that has greatly diminished of late, sothat, in truth, I ask you to give up but little, and offer you in returnpower and knowledge--the true science of the knowledge of mankind, forwith us alone does it exist. Do I say exists? Alas! I ought rather tosay existed; for, with some rare exceptions, how few are initiated intoits mysteries! Their dull, sensual minds are incapable of comprehendingthem; and they have thus failed, miserably failed, in all the ends forwhich our order was instituted, by men as superior to those of thepresent day as light to darkness. What a comprehensive, what a nobleand glorious conception was that of our great founder, and his immediatesuccessors, who even jet more improved and systematised his plans;--butof that I will speak anon. I now speak openly to you, my young cousin,more so than I would to any other not in our order; but I know that Imay trust to your honour not to divulge what I may say. I have likedyou from your earliest youth. I have watched anxiously over you, and Ihave seen in you qualities which I would wish to cultivate, to conductyou to high destinies; and I frankly confess that I seek to join you toour company, as one fully able to elevate it again to its formerstandard of power."
Few men can entirely withstand the influence of compliments addressed totheir mental superiority, and Don Luis was thus insensibly attracted tolisten to the conversation of the Father. "I fear that you would find Idid not answer your expectations," he at length said; "for I feel that Iam but dull of comprehension, nor can I even understand to what theknowledge you speak of could lead."
"Is not knowledge confessed by all philosophers to be power? and forwhat are all men striving through life but for power?" responded theJesuit. "For what purpose do kings make war but to increase theirpower? and yet their utmost aim is to rule over the sinews, the bones,the bodies of men, to extend their sway over the senseless earth whichthey call their own. But how far, how immeasurably superior is thepower at which we aim!--we would rule over the minds of men--we wouldbend their insane passions to our own will, and would make them, bythose means, the tools to work out our glorious projects. Hear me,then, and learn the sublime idea of our founder, which, had he and hisimmediate followers been succeeded by men equal to themselves, wouldlong ere this have
been realised. His aim--how superior to the ambitionand vaunted glory of any conqueror who has spread desolation over thefair face of the globe!--was to join all the kingdoms of the earth underone sceptre, and that sceptre swayed by our hands; ay, by the humblefriars of the order of the mystical Jesus; and yet, far different wouldit be from the power to which the Pontiff of Rome can ever hope toattain. Ah! you think such aims cannot be accomplished; yet, lookaround at every Court in Europe, and see how nearly we had oncesucceeded. Scarce a sovereign whose mind was not under our direction;and were it not for the dull, stultish understandings of those who havebeen admitted into our order, our success might have been complete. Butthey, alas! are beings so completely overwhelmed with the gross, sensualpassions of our nature, as to be utterly unable to comprehend the pure,esoterical principles of our faith; and ignorantly interpreting, withouta key to the mysteries, the words they find in that volume, neverwritten to meet the eye of the vulgar, they fail in all the great aimsof our existence as an order. In this country they have still moregreatly erred, and, instead of securing friends, they have raised upenemies. The whole body of the priesthood is against us; but theirunited efforts we might despise, had we not a deadly foe in the personof Sebastiao Joze de Carvalho, the minister of the king, whose dauntlesscourage, boundless ambition, and the unscrupulous means he employs, makehim more to be feared than any who have ever yet appeared in armsagainst us. So dull are those who are sent to work with me, that Icannot make them comprehend the means by which
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