Part 5 (1/2)
Those condemned to death, either by fire or strangulation, were now formed into a melancholy procession, each person accompanied as before by familiars and monks, the latter disturbing the last moments of their yellow-robed victims by their senseless exhortations. Thus they proceeded slowly through the gates, accompanied by nearly all those who had witnessed the first part of the proceedings; the eager crowd making their observations on the appearance and bearing of the sufferers, many of the more brutal mocking and jeering, especially as they caught sight of the two princ.i.p.al martyrs. It might have seemed strange to them that of all the human beings collected they should have appeared the calmest, though the look of agony which arose on Herezuelo's brow at the sight of his wife had not yet left it.
Arrived at the spot where the stakes were erected and the f.a.ggots piled up, further efforts were made to induce Cazalla and Herezuelo to recant.
The former, seeing his brother Augustine not at the stake, but among those who were to be strangled before being burned, signified his sorrow by an expressive motion of his hands. The latter remained firm as before, unmoved by all the exhortations of the priests and monks. Even when instigated by his tempters, the unhappy Doctor Augustine Cazalla urged him to be reconciled to the Church of Rome, he turned on him a look of sorrow and compa.s.sion, mingled with contempt, which at once silenced the recreant from the truth. Herezuelo's calmness seemed to excite the rage and all the evil pa.s.sions of the priests and soldiers.
They cursed and swore and reviled him in every possible way. ”Ah! ah!
in a short time, in spite of your bold looks, you will be in h.e.l.l with your a.s.sociate, Luther,” they shouted. To these and similar expressions he made no sign of complaints--only turning his eyes to that blue sky to which his beautified spirit was about to wing its flight towards the martyr's crown of glory awaiting him in the realms of the blessed.
The f.a.ggots were lighted, the flames ascended, when one of the soldiers, enraged at his constancy, plunged his lance into his body, and thus saved him from the pangs he might otherwise have had to suffer. His fellow-martyr died with equal firmness, and the other victims were strangled before their bodies were cast into the flames. With them at the same time were also cast the bones and effigy of Dona Leonor de Vibero, which had appeared at the _auto_. This was done because at her house the Protestants had frequently a.s.sembled for prayer and praise.
In a short time, of the fourteen human beings who had dragged their tortured, lacerated limbs to the spot, a few ashes alone remained. Such was the termination of the first great _auto-da-fe_ of Protestants in Spain.
There was yet another spectacle to be witnessed that day. It was to see the house of Dona Leonor de Vibero, the mother of the Cazallas, razed to the ground, and the place on which it stood sown with salt. On the spot a pillar, with an inscription stating the cause of its demolition, was immediately afterwards erected, and stood till the commencement of the present century.
It is easy to conceive how Dona Leonor de Cisneros had been induced apparently to abandon the faith to which she had so long adhered.
Falsehoods and devices of all sorts had been employed to induce her to make her peace with Rome. Every argument which sophistry could invent had been brought forward to shake her belief. There was a rack, with other fearful tortures, and the stake, on the one hand, and forgiveness and reconciliation with the Church on the other--ay, and a happy life with her Antonio. When at last the inquisitors found her stubborn, they did not hesitate to a.s.sure her that she had less wisdom than her husband, who had lately--convinced that the Protestant cause was lost in Spain--agreed heartily to conform to the faith of Rome, and to be reconciled to the Church. A rigid course of penance was prescribed for her, and after its performance she was told that she would be set free, and allowed to join her husband, who, as had been some others, would be banished the kingdom, though possibly a milder punishment might be awarded him.
Could it be possible that her husband would abjure his principles? Her faith wavered. If she remained obstinate, he might, she was a.s.sured, be brought out to witness her death. She was meditating on these things in her solitary cell when the door opened, and the Archbishop Munebrega stood before her. He spoke to her gently and kindly, as an old family friend. He would urge her to take his advice, and conform at once.
Long she thought on the subject, but she could not pray for guidance.
Why? Her conscience revolted against the act she contemplated. In a husky voice she told the Archbishop that she would yield.
”We will endeavour, then, to induce the advocate Herezuelo to yield also, lovely Leonor,” said the Archbishop, taking her hand and pressing it to his lips.
”Why, you told me that my husband had already yielded!” exclaimed Leonor, scarcely conscious of the act.
”I surely could not have said so, as I am not cognisant of the fact,”
answered Munebrega blandly. ”Be a.s.sured that for your sake I will endeavour to win him over to the truth.” Much more was urged by the Archbishop, but poor Leonor's mind was in too great a whirl to understand the meaning of what he said. Cruel indeed was the conflict going on within her. ”For the sake of appearances you will have to undergo some penances; but I will take care that they shall be as light as possible, that your health may be in no way injured,” he remarked; and with a treacherous smile the tempter left her.
No words can describe the unhappy Leonor's feelings at seeing her husband among those condemned to the stake. It had been hoped by Munebrega, from the position in which she was placed, that she would not have discovered him. The effect has been described. On being conducted back to the convent to which she had been removed, she at once refused to continue the penances which had been prescribed. No persuasions could make her alter her determination; and therefore, as an obstinate heretic, she was returned to a cell in the Inquisition. Munebrega was soon in her presence. He reminded her that she was a widow and helpless--that he had the power of setting her at liberty. He entreated her on his knees once more to recant--to preserve her life--not to allow her beauty to be marred by a long imprisonment. She turned from him with loathing. Munebrega well knew the importance of caution. His chief and brother inquisitors were very indifferent what means were made use of (even the most abominable), provided they contributed to bring about the objects they had in view; but they would allow no private interests to be gratified. Day after day Munebrega visited the unhappy lady. His protestations, his arguments, every subject he introduced, only tended to strengthen her resolution. ”Get thee behind me, Satan,”
was her daily e.j.a.c.u.l.a.t.i.o.n when he appeared. She did not trust to her own strength, but hourly sought strength and grace from above to withstand all the trials and temptations to which she was exposed. Like Peter, she had fallen once; severe was the lesson she had learned. Like Peter's repentance, hers had been deep and truly sincere. No longer did she trust to herself. Munebrega at last retired, gnas.h.i.+ng his teeth at having been foiled by a weak woman, utterly incapable of comprehending the mighty power which had been fighting on her side against him. He now allowed other persons to attempt to move her.
Among others, her former admirer, Don Francisco de Vivers, was induced to visit her. He was still unmarried. What arguments he used it is not necessary to state. He was not hardened to the craft of the priests, and he left the prison abashed and confused. He visited her again more than once, and the idea was entertained by the inquisitors that he was moving her obdurate heart. At length, however, he was missing from Valladolid, and some of his friends feared, from some words that he had let drop, that he had offended the inquisitors, and was immured in their prisons.
It would be impossible to imagine, much less to describe, the cruelties practised on Leonor de Cisneros; and yet there were many hundreds of delicately-nurtured females and hidalgos of high rank suffering as she was physically in the numerous prisons of the Inquisition throughout Spain--many shut up in loathsome dungeons, destined never again to see the light of day.
Numerous _autos-da-fe_ succeeded each other for the purpose of stamping out Protestant principles from Spain. The second celebrated at Valladolid took place on the 8th of October, 1559, for the purpose of celebrating the return of Philip the Second, husband of Queen Mary of England, who was employed at that time in burning her own bishops and other subjects for the same cause. King Philip was himself present, enjoying the spectacle, with his unhappy son Carlos, his sister, the Prince of Parma, three amba.s.sadors from France, and a numerous a.s.sembly of prelates and n.o.bility of both s.e.xes.
The Inquisitor-General, Valdes, advancing to the bed of state, administered the same oath which had been taken by Don Carlos and the Queen of Portugal. Philip took it without hesitation, and, rising from his seat, drew his sword, in token of his determination to use it in support of the Holy Office.
A similar group to that before described, clothed in yellow garments covered with pictures of flames and devils, stood on the platform before the King and his court. The most n.o.ble-looking and highest in rank was Don Carlos de Seso, the upturning flames on whose robe showed that he was doomed to the stake. With him was Domingo de Roxas, Pedro de Cazalla, parish priest of Pedroso, who was destined to share the fate of his family. Dona Isabella de Castilla, wife of Don Carlos de Seso, was there, and her niece, Dona Catalina--condemned to lose all their property, to wear the san-benito, and to be imprisoned for life. There were also three nuns of San Belem; one of them, Dona Mariana de Guevara, was condemned to be strangled and then thrown into the flames; she was highly born, and even connected with Valdes, the Chief Inquisitor, but he could not save her from the consequences of her opinions. His subordinates resisted the applications he was said to have made on her behalf as an interference with their jurisdiction, and a proof of partiality and weakness unworthy of one of those whose office required him to be insensible to the feelings of nature and friends.h.i.+p.
The death of Don Carlos de Seso was worthy of his life; though gagged on the platform and on the way to execution, the instrument was removed when he was bound to the stake by the friars, who stood round exhorting him to confess. He replied in a loud voice, ”I could demonstrate to you, unhappy men, that you ruin yourselves by not imitating my example; but there is no time. Executioners, light the pile which is to consume me.” These were his last words. The order was instantly obeyed, and, looking up, he died without a groan.
Another martyr was Juan Sanchez. Entrapped in the Low Countries by the emissaries of the Inquisition, he was brought a prisoner to Valladolid, and condemned to the stake. The cords which bound him having rapidly been consumed, he leaped unconsciously on to the stage where the friars were confessing some who had recanted at the last moment. The friars immediately collected round him, and urged him to retract his errors.
Looking at the unhappy penitents who were risking their salvation to escape a few moments' suffering, and then at the n.o.ble De Seso, standing unmoved amid the rising flames, he walked deliberately back to the stake, exclaiming, ”I will die like De Seso.” More fuel was brought, and he was quickly in the joy of his Lord.
Numbers bore testimony to ”the truth as it is in Jesus” by dying fearlessly like De Seso. At the same time, eight females, of irreproachable character, some of them of high rank, were burned alive; among them Maria Gomez, who so nearly betrayed the Protestants during a sudden fit of insanity. Having recovered her senses she returned to the Protestant faith, and soon was brought before the Inquisitors. She suffered with her three daughters and a sister. So hardened had the populace become by similar scenes, that not a single expression of sympathy escaped them as they thus witnessed the destruction of a whole family. Year after year pa.s.sed away, and the same horrors continued to be enacted; the b.l.o.o.d.y-minded inquisitors being hounded on to their work of death by the bigot king; that king who, it has truly been said, was busily engaged in making Spain what she in a few years became, the lowest and least influential among the nations of Europe; while as truly was Elizabeth, by her wise measures, laying the foundation of England's greatness and power.
CHAPTER NINE.
FREEDOM.