The Spanish Brothers: A Tale of the Sixteenth Century

by Deborah Alcock

  V.

  Don Carlos forgets Himself

  "A fair face and a tender voice had made me mad and blind."--E. B.Browning

  Don Carlos Alvarez found Alcala, after his brother's departure,insupportably dull; moreover, he had now almost finished his brilliantuniversity career. As soon, therefore, as he could, he took his degreeas Licentiate of Theology. He then wrote to inform his uncle of thefact; adding that he would be glad to spend part of the interval thatmust elapse before his ordination at Seville, where he might attend thelectures of the celebrated Fray Constantino Ponce de la Fuente,Professor of Divinity in the College of Doctrine in that city. But, infact, a desire to fulfil his brother's last charge weighed more with himthan an eagerness for further instruction; especially as rumours thathis watchfulness was not unnecessary had reached his ears at Alcala.

  He received a prompt and kind invitation from his uncle to make hishouse his home for as long a period as he might desire. Now, althoughDon Manuel was highly pleased with the genius and industry of hisyounger nephew, the hospitality he extended to him was not altogetherdisinterested. He thought Carlos capable of rendering what he deemed anessential service to a member of his own family.

  That family consisted of a beautiful, gay, frivolous wife, three sons,two daughters, and his wife's orphan niece, Dona Beatriz de Lavella.The two elder sons were cast in their father's mould; which, to speaktruth, was rather that of a merchant than of a cavalier. Had he beenborn of simple parents in the flats of Holland or the back streets ofLondon, a vulgar Hans or Thomas, his tastes and capabilities might havebrought him honest wealth. But since he had the misfortune to be DonManuel Alvarez, of the bluest blood in Spain, he was taught to look onindustry as ineffably degrading, and trade and commerce scarcely lessso. Only one species of trade, one kind of commerce, was open to theneedy and avaricious, but proud grandee. Unhappily it was almost theonly kind that is really degrading--the traffic in public money, inplaces, and in taxes. "A sweeping rain leaving no food," such trafficwas, in truth. The Government was defrauded; the people, especially thepoorer classes, were cruelly oppressed. No one was enriched except thegreedy jobber, whose birth rendered him infinitely too proud to work,but by no means too proud to cheat and steal.

  Don Manuel the younger, and Don Balthazar Alvarez, were ready andlonging to tread in their father's footsteps. Of the two pale-faceddark-eyed sisters, Dona Inez and Dona Sancha, one was already married,and the other had also plans satisfactory to her parents. But theperson in the family who was not of it was the youngest son, DonGonsalvo. He was the representative, not of his father, but of hisgrandfather; as we so often see types of character reproduced in thethird generation. The first Conde de Nuera had been a wild soldier offortune in the Moorish wars, fierce and fiery, with strong unbridledpassions. At eighteen, Gonsalvo was his image; and there was scarcelyany mischief possible to a youth of fortune in a great city, into whichhe had not already found his way. For two years he continued toscandalize his family, and to vex the soul of his prudent and decorousfather.

  Suddenly, however, a change came over him. He reformed, became quietand regular in his conduct; gave himself up to study, makingextraordinary progress in a very short time; and even showed what thosearound him called "a pious disposition." But these hopeful appearancespassed as suddenly and as unaccountably as they came. After an intervalof less than a year, he returned to his former habits, and plunged evenmore madly than ever into all kinds of vice and dissipation.

  His father resolved to procure him a commission, and send him away tothe wars. But an accident frustrated his intentions. In those days,cavaliers of rank frequently sought the dangerous triumphs of thebull-ring. The part of matador was performed, not, as now, by hiredbravos of the lowest class, but often by scions of the most honourablehouses. Gonsalvo had more than once distinguished himself in the bloodyarena by courage and coolness. But he tempted his fate too often. Uponone occasion he was flung violently from his horse, and then gored bythe furious bull, whose rage had been excited to the utmost pitch by thecruel arts usually practised. He escaped with life, but remained acrippled invalid, apparently condemned for the rest of his days toinaction, weakness, and suffering.

  His father thought a good canonry would be a decent and comfortableprovision for him, and pressed him accordingly to enter the Church. Butthe invalided youth manifested an intense repugnance to the step; andDon Manuel hoped that the influence of Carlos would help to overcomethis feeling; believing that he would gladly endeavour to persuade hiscousin that no way of life was so pleasant or so easy as that which hehimself was about to adopt.

  The good nature of Carlos led him to fall heartily into his uncle'splans. He really pitied his cousin, moreover, and gladly gave himselfto the task of trying in every possible way to console and amuse him.But Gonsalvo rudely repelled all his efforts. In his eyes the destinedpriest was half a woman, with no knowledge of a man's aims or a man'spassions, and consequently no right to speak of them.

  "Turn priest!" he said to him one day; "I have as good a mind to turnTurk. Nay, cousin, I am not pious--you may present my orisons to OurLady with your own, if it so please you. Perhaps she may attend to thembetter than to those I offered before entering the bull-ring on thatunlucky day of St. Thomas."

  Carlos, though not particularly devout, was shocked by this language.

  "Take care, cousin," he said; "your words sound rather like blasphemy."

  "And yours sound like the words of what you are, half a priest already,"retorted Gonsalvo. "It is ever the priest's cry, if you displease him,'Open heresy!' 'Rank blasphemy!' And next, 'the Holy Office, and ayellow Sanbenito.' I marvel it did not occur to your sanctity to menaceme with that."

  The gentle-tempered Carlos did not answer; a forbearance which furtherexasperated Gonsalvo, who hated nothing so much as being, on account ofhis infirmities, borne with like a woman or a child. "But the saintshelp the Churchmen," he went on ironically. "Good simple souls, they donot know even their own business! Else they would smell heresy closeenough at hand. What doctrine does your Fray Constantino preach in thegreat Church every feast-day, since they made him canon-magistral?"

  "The most orthodox and Catholic doctrine, and no other," said Carlos,roused, in his turn, by the attack upon his teacher; though he did notgreatly care for his instructions, which turned principally uponsubjects about which he had learned little or nothing in the schools."But to hear thee discuss doctrine is to hear a blind man talking ofcolours."

  "If I be the blind man talking of colours, thou art the deaf prating ofmusic," retorted his cousin. "Come and tell me, if thou canst, what arethese doctrines of thy Fray Constantino; and wherein they differ fromthe Lutheran heresy? I wager my gold chain and medal against thy newvelvet cloak, that thou wouldst fall thyself into as many heresies bythe way as there are nuts in Barcelona."

  Allowing for Gonsalvo's angry exaggeration, there was some truth in hisassertion. Once out of the region of dialectic subtleties, the championof the schools would have become weak as another man. And he could nothave expounded Fray Constantino's preaching;--because he did notunderstand it.

  "What, cousin!" he exclaimed, affronted in his tenderest part, hisreputation as a theological scholar. "Dost thou take me for abarefooted friar or a village cura? Me, who only two months ago wascrowned victor in a debate upon the doctrines taught by RaymondusLullius!"

  But whatever chagrin Carlos may have felt at finding himself utterlyunable to influence Gonsalvo, was soon effectually banished by thedelight with which he watched the success of his diplomacy with DonaBeatriz.

  Beatriz was almost a child in years, and entirely a child in mind andcharacter. Hitherto, she had been studiously kept in the background,lest her brilliant beauty should throw her cousins into the shade.Indeed, she would probably have been consigned to a convent, had not herportion been too small to furnish the donative usually bestowed by thefriends of a novice
upon any really aristocratic establishment. "Andpity would it have been," thought Carlos, "that so fair a flower shouldwither in a convent garden."

  He made the most of the limited opportunities of intercourse which theceremonious manners of the time and country afforded, even to inmates ofthe same house. He would stand beside her chair, and watch the quickflush mount to her olive, delicately-rounded cheek, as he talkedeloquently of the absent Juan. He was never tired of relating storiesof Juan's prowess, Juan's generosity. In the last duel he fought, forinstance, the ball had passed through his cap and grazed his head. Buthe only smiled, and re-arranged his locks, remarking, while he did so,that with the addition of a gold chain and medal, the spoiled cap wouldbe as good, or better than ever. Then he would dilate on his kindnessto the vanquished; rejoicing in the effect produced, as a tribute aswell to his own eloquence as to his brother's merit. The occupation wastoo fascinating not to be resorted to once and again, even had he notpersuaded himself that he was fulfilling a sacred duty.

  Moreover, he soon discovered that the bright dark eyes which werebeginning to visit him nightly in his dreams, were pining all day for asight of that gay world from which their owner was jealously andselfishly excluded. So he managed to procure for Dona Beatriz many apleasure of the kind she most valued. He prevailed upon his aunt andcousins to bring her with them to places of public resort; and then hewas always at hand, with the reverence of a loyal cavalier, and thefreedom of a destined priest, to render her every quiet unobtrusiveservice in his power. At the theatre, at the dance, at the numerousChurch ceremonies, on the promenade, Dona Beatriz was his especialcharge.

  Amidst such occupations, pleasant weeks and months glided by almostunnoticed by him. Never before had he been so happy. "Alcala was wellenough," he thought; "but Seville is a thousand times better. All mylife heretofore seems to me only like a dream, now I am awake."

  Alas! he was not awake, but wrapped in a deep sleep, and cradling abright delusive vision. As yet he was not even "as those that dream,and know the while they dream." His slumber was too profound even forthis dim half-consciousness.

  No one suspected, any more than he suspected himself, the enchantmentthat was stealing over him. But every one remarked his frank, genialmanners, his cheerfulness, his good looks. Naturally, the name of Juandropped gradually more and more out of his conversation; as at the sametime the thought of Juan faded from his mind. His studies, too, wereneglected; his attendance upon the lectures of Fray Constantino becamelittle more than a formality; while "receiving Orders" seemed a remoteif not an uncertain contingency. In fact, he lived in the present, notcaring to look either at the past or the future.

  In the very midst of his intoxication, a slight incident affected himfor a moment with such a chill as we feel when, on a warm spring day,the sun passes suddenly behind a cloud.

  His cousin, Dona Inez, had been married more than a year to a wealthygentleman of Seville, Don Garcia Ramirez. Carlos, calling one morningat the lady's house with some unimportant message from Dona Beatriz,found her in great trouble on account of the sudden illness of her babe.

  "Shall I go and fetch a physician?" he asked, knowing well that Spanishservants can never be depended upon to make haste, however great theemergency may be.

  "You will do a great kindness, amigo mio," said the anxious youngmother.

  "But which shall I summon?" asked Carlos. "Our family physician, or DonGarcia's?"

  "Don Garcia's, by all means,--Dr. Cristobal Losada. I would not give agreen fig for any other in Seville. Do you know his dwelling?"

  "Yes. But should he be absent or engaged?"

  "I must have him. Him, and no other. Once before he saved my darling'slife. And if my poor brother would but consult him, it might farebetter with him. Go quickly, cousin, and fetch him, in Heaven's name."

  Carlos lost no time in complying; but on reaching the dwelling of thephysician, found that though the hour was early he had already goneforth. After leaving a message, he went to visit a friend in the Trianasuburb. He passed close by the Cathedral, with its hundred pinnacles,and that wonder of beauty, the old Moorish Giralda, soaring far up aboveit into the clear southern sky. It occurred to him that a few Aves saidwithin for the infant's recovery would be both a benefit to the childand a comfort to the mother. So he entered, and was making his way to agaudy tinselled Virgin and Babe, when, happening to glance towards adifferent part of the building, his eyes rested on the physician, withwhose person he was well acquainted, as he had often noticed him amongstFray Constantino's hearers. Losada was now pacing up and down one ofthe side aisles, in company with a gentleman of very distinguishedappearance.

  As Carlos drew nearer, it occurred to him that he had never seen thispersonage in any place of public resort, and for this reason, as well asfrom certain slight indications in his dress of fashions current in thenorth of Spain, he gathered that he was a stranger in Seville, who mightbe visiting the Cathedral from motives of curiosity. Before he came upthe two men paused in their walk, and turning their backs to him, stoodgazing thoughtfully at the hideous row of red and yellow Sanbenitos, orpenitential garments, that hung above them.

  "Surely," thought Carlos, "they might find better objects of attentionthan these ugly memorials of sin and shame, which bear witness thattheir late miserable wearers--Jews, Moors, blasphemers, orsorcerers,--have ended their dreary lives of penance, if not ofpenitence."

  The attention of the stranger seemed to be particularly attracted by oneof them, the largest of all. Indeed, Carlos himself had been struck byits unusual size; and upon one occasion he had even had the curiosity toread the inscription, which he remembered because it contained Juan'sfavourite name. Rodrigo. It was this: "Rodrigo Valer, a citizen ofLebrixa and Seville; an apostate and false apostle, who pretended to besent from God." And now, as he approached with light though hastyfootsteps, he distinctly heard Dr. Cristobal Losada, still looking atthe Sanbenito, say to his companion, "Yes, senor; and also the Conde deNuera, Don Juan Alvarez."

  Don Juan Alvarez! What possible tie could link his father's name withthe hideous thing they were gazing at? And what could the physicianknow about him of whom his own children knew so little? Carlos stoodamazed, and pale with sudden emotion.

  And thus the physician saw him, happening to turn at that moment. Hadhe not exerted all his presence of mind (and he possessed a great deal),he would himself have started visibly. The unexpected appearance of theperson of whom we speak is in itself disconcerting; but it deservesanother name when we are saying that of him or his which, if overheard,might endanger life, or what is more precious still than life. Losadawas equal to the occasion, however. The usual greetings having beenexchanged, he asked quietly whether Senor Don Carlos had come in searchof him, and hoped that he did not owe the honour to any indisposition inhis worship's noble family.

  Carlos felt it rather a relief, under the circumstances, to have to saythat his cousin's babe was alarmingly ill. "You will do us a greatfavour," he added, "by coming immediately. Dona Inez is very anxious."

  The physician promised compliance; and turning to his companion,respectfully apologized for leaving him abruptly.

  "A sick child's claim must not be postponed," said the stranger inreply. "Go, senor doctor, and God's blessing rest on your skill."

  Carlos was struck by the noble bearing and courteous manner of thestranger, who, in his turn, was interested by the young man's anxietyabout a sick babe. But with only a passing glance at the other, eachwent his different way, not dreaming that once again at least theirpaths were destined to cross.

  The strange mention of his father's name that he had overheard filledthe heart of Carlos with undefined uneasiness. He knew enough by thattime to feel his childish belief in his father's stainless virtue alittle shaken. What if a dreadful unexplained something, linking hisfate with that of a convicted heretic, were yet to be learned? Afterall, the accursed arts of magic and sorcery were not so far removed fromthe alch
emist's more legitimate labours, that a rash or presumptuousstudent might not very easily slide from one into the other. He hadreason to believe that his father had played with alchemy, if he had notseriously devoted himself to its study. Nay, the thought had sometimesflashed unbidden across his mind that the "El Dorado" found might afterall have been no other than the philosopher's stone. For he who hasattained the power of producing gold at will may surely be said, withoutany stretch of metaphor, to have discovered a golden country. But atthis period of his life the personal feelings of Carlos were so keen andabsorbing that almost everything, consciously or unconsciously, wasreferred to them. And thus it was that an intense wish sprang up in hisheart, that his father's secret might have descended to _him_.

  Vain wish! The gold he needed or desired must be procured from a lessinaccessible region than El Dorado, and without the aid of thephilosopher's stone.