Part 4 (1/2)
His physical nature at length gave way, though his courage did not fail him. He fainted. Death would have been a happy release, but his torturers took pains not to allow him that boon; restoratives were administered, and consciousness again returned. The surgeon who stood by, however, gave notice that he must not be subjected, for a time, to equal torture, or he would sink under it. He was therefore removed on a blood-besprinkled stretcher to another chamber, and the inquisitors proceeded with callous indifference to examine a fresh prisoner who was now brought forward.
The person who was next led before the inquisitors was of a character very different from that of Herezuelo. A glance at the rack made him tremble in every limb. The inquisitors saw immediately that he would afford them but little trouble, though, at the same time, that he might be made useful by his giving information regarding others. He might have pa.s.sed in the world in quiet times as an earnest true Christian, but now alarm for his personal safety overcame every other consideration. He at once incriminated himself, and was soon induced to bring d.a.m.natory accusations against his friends. When all the information which could thus be obtained from him was secured, he was dismissed, though still ignorant of the fate which awaited him--it might be, if victims were required, to be consigned to the flames, or perhaps to add to the sad band of penitents supposed to have recanted their errors. Such was the character of several of those accused of heresy, though by far the larger number of persons seized by the Inquisition gladly suffered death rather than deny the truth. And now another prisoner appears--a female. She is clothed in black from head to foot.
As the light from the lamp which hangs from the roof falls on her countenance, it is seen to be very pale, but not enough so to detract from the beauty of those young and fair features.
”Leonor de Cisneros, you are brought here accused of holding opinions which, if generally entertained, would be subversive of the opinions of our holy faith,” said the Inquisitor, in a peculiarly harsh voice.
”Have you become sensible of your errors? and are you prepared to recant them?”
”I hold to the doctrines which I have been taught from my earliest days, and which I find clearly set forth in the blessed Word of G.o.d. I am, therefore, not aware that I hold any errors,” answered Leonor, calmly.
”What do you mean by G.o.d's holy Word?” asked the Inquisitor.
”The Bible,” said Leonor, firmly.
”Are you aware that the Bible is prohibited to the laity, and that, were it not so, it is not susceptible of any private interpretation?” asked the Inquisitor.
”I am aware that without the aid of G.o.d's Holy Spirit, which when Christ ascended up on High, He promised to us as our Instructor and Enlightener, we cannot expect to read aright this blessed Gospel,” said Leonor. ”I am aware that in the Second Epistle of Saint Peter, 1st chapter, 20th verse, there is this expression--'Knowing this first, that no prophecy of the Scripture is of any private interpretation.' 21st, 'For the prophecy came not in old time by the will of man; but holy men of G.o.d spake as they were moved by the Holy Ghost.' I am aware, however, that the Greek word epilusis, which has been translated interpretation, means rather _impetus_, _impulse_; and therefore that the clear meaning is that no writer of the Scripture wrote according to his own mind or thoughts, but entirely as he was moved or impelled by the Holy Spirit. Therefore Peter in no respect contradicts his Lord, who says, addressing the people, 'Search the Scriptures; for in them ye think ye have eternal life: and they are they which speak of me.' Oh, my lords, what I have done--what thousands have done in Spain--has simply been to obey our loving Saviour in reading His holy Word, in striving to carry out His precepts by a.s.sembling ourselves together in prayer, by exhorting and comforting one another. If this be a crime, I am a criminal; but if not, why imprison us? why torture us? why kill us?”
She stretched out her hand as she spoke. Her youth and beauty, her pathetic look, the truth which came from her lips, might have moved hearts of stone, but nothing could move the demon-inspired minds of the Inquisitors of Spain--the base instruments of the Pope and his supporters, Valdes and Philip. They compressed their lips as Leonor spoke.
”You have disobeyed the Church,” answered the Inquisitor, with an unmoved countenance. ”Unless you recant your errors, your punishment is certain. It may be that you will see the wisdom of so doing, and follow the example of those you love best. Remove the woman.”
So ended the first trial of Leonor de Cisneros. The inquisitors consulted together how she should be treated. She was evidently not likely to change her opinions by argument; the Archbishop was unwilling to have her subjected to torture. He had made up his mind that her husband must die. He was too clever a heretic, even should he recant, to be allowed to live. He was not likely ever to recant. But Leonor, she must be won over; her life must be saved. Notwithstanding her knowledge of Scripture, the clear declaration she had made of Protestant principles, the Archbishop did not despair. He had seen many who, firm at first, had, after a few weeks' solitary confinement and scanty food, with occasional visits from friends desirous of saving them, completely recanted, and acknowledged their errors. He knew, too, the subtle arguments, the system of deception, the threats, the promises, the various artful methods of proceeding which could be brought to bear on a prisoner. Should these fail, he had other means in store by which he hoped to make her give up what he honestly thought her folly. How could a weak woman venture to set herself up in opposition to the Church?
Many others, to be sure, had ventured to do the same, but few had spoken as she had done, and several had at sight of the rack recanted, and given all the information required of them.
CHAPTER EIGHT.
THE STAKE.
It was midnight. Eighteen days had pa.s.sed since Antonio Herezuelo had been stretched on the rack. His lacerated flesh had healed, his stretched sinews had recovered somewhat of their original strength. His cheeks were still pale, his voice, when he spoke to himself, was hollow, his eye had lost its brightness, yet his mind retained much of its usual vigour; his spiritual life had never flagged nor had his faith grown dim. He was pacing slowly and still painfully up and down his cell, when the door silently opened, and a friar stood before him.
A harsh voice uttered these words: ”Antonio Herezuelo, I have come to announce to you that unless you renounce your errors, and are forthwith reconciled to the Church, you will to-morrow suffer the just punishment of your infidelity, your blasphemies, your crimes.”
”I have confessed myself to G.o.d, who can alone forgive sins, as a lost, undone sinner, though washed in the precious blood of Jesus, and redeemed through faith in His perfect and complete sacrifice. I have, therefore, become one of the Church of the first-born. I am reconciled to G.o.d, from whom I was once separated,” answered Herezuelo. ”What more would you have me do?”
”The Church knows nothing of the expressions you utter. Be reconciled to her; that is what you have to do, or you and your errors will be burnt together.”
”I cannot abandon the faith I hold, even to escape the cruel death you threaten,” answered the advocate.
”Prepare, then, obstinate heretic, to meet it!” answered the friar, savagely. ”Be a.s.sured that there will be no mitigation of your sentence unless you recant; and then, in her loving mercy and kindness, if you are reconciled and confess, you will enjoy the privilege of being strangled before the flames reach your body.”
A scornful smile came over the features of the prisoner.
”A gracious boon, forsooth! And this Church calls itself after the name of the gentle, loving Saviour, who went about doing acts of kindness and mercy, and saving from physical suffering all who came to Him desiring to be cured!”
”I came not to bandy words with you,” cried the monk; ”the flames which you will feel to-morrow will give you a foretaste of those you will have to endure throughout eternity as the consequence of your obduracy.”
”Our blessed Lord says, 'I say unto you, My friends, be not afraid of them which kill the body, and after that have no more than that they can do. But I will forewarn you whom ye shall fear: Fear Him, which after He hath killed hath power to cast into h.e.l.l; yea, I say unto you, fear Him.'” Herezuelo spoke these words calmly, and added, ”Now, friar, I own that you and those you serve can kill my body, but you can do no more: my soul is in the keeping of my loving Saviour; neither the powers of earth nor h.e.l.l can prevail against it; therefore I am fearless.”
With a curse, the friar turned and left the cell. Herezuelo sought strength in prayer for the fiery trial he was to go through. ”It will endure but for a few minutes, and oh, then the eternity of bliss which will follow!” he e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.ed. ”Why should I fear? why should I tremble?
My trust is in G.o.d.”
Ere the sun, rising in a cloudless sky, gilded the spires of the numerous churches of Valladolid, on the 21st of May, 1559, their bells began to toll solemnly, and crowds to a.s.semble in vast numbers in the streets. It was Trinity Sunday; but it was not because it was the Sabbath that the citizens were so early afoot, but there was to be a grand spectacle, looked for with almost the same eagerness as a bull-fight. The first grand _auto-da-fe_ of Protestants was to take place that day, and all the people were eager to gaze at it--most of them for the sake of seeing so many lost and abandoned monsters put out of the world.