CHAPTER V.
Father Christopher perceived immediately, from the countenances of Lucyand her mother, that some evil had occurred. "Is all well with you?"said he. Lucy replied by a flood of tears. "Quiet yourself, poor child,"continued he; "and do you," turning to Agnes, "tell me what is thematter." Whilst the good dame proceeded with the melancholy relation, heexperienced a variety of painful emotions. The story being done, heburied his face in his hands, and exclaimed, "Oh, blessed God! howlong?"--He then turned to Lucy; "Poor child! God has, indeed, visitedyou," said he.
"You will not abandon us, father?" said Lucy, sobbing.
"Abandon you!" replied he. "How should I dare ask the protectionof Almighty God for myself, if I abandoned _you_! You, sodefenceless!--you, whom he has confided to me! Take courage! He willassist you--His eye beholds you--He can even make use of a feebleinstrument like myself to confound a ----. Let us think what can bedone."
Thus saying, he grasped his beard and chin with his hand, as if toconcentrate more completely the powers of his mind. But the more clearlyhe perceived the pressing nature of the case, the more uncertain anddangerous appeared every mode of meeting it. To endeavour to make DonAbbondio sensible of a failure in duty? This appeared hopeless; fear wasmore powerful with him than either shame or duty. To inform the cardinalarchbishop, and invoke his authority? That would require time; and, inthe meanwhile, what was to be done? To resist Don Roderick? How?Impossible! The affair being one of a private nature, he would not besustained by the brethren of his order: he would, perhaps, be raising astorm against himself; and, what was worse, by a useless attempt renderthe condition of Lucy more hopeless and deplorable. After manyreflections he came to the conclusion to go to Don Roderick himself, andto endeavour by prayers and representations of the punishments of thewicked in another state, to win him from his infamous purpose. At leasthe might at the interview discover something of his intentions, anddetermine his measures accordingly. At this moment Renzo, who, as thereader will readily imagine, could not long be absent at so interestinga crisis, appeared at the door of the room; the father raised his headand bowed to him affectionately, and with a look of intense pity.
"Have they told you, father?" enquired he, with a troubled voice.
"Yes, my son; and on that account I am here."
"What do you say of the villain?"
"What do I say of _him_? I say to _you_, dear Renzo, that you mustconfide in God, and He will not abandon you."
"Blessed words!" exclaimed the youth: "you are not one of those whowrong the poor. But the curate and this doctor----"
"Do not torment yourself uselessly: I am but a poor friar; but I repeatto you that which I have already said to Lucy and her mother--poor as Iam, I will never abandon you."
"Oh! you are not like the friends of the world--rascals--when I was inprosperity, abundant in protestations; ready to shed their blood for me,to sustain me against the devil! Had I an enemy, they would soon put itout of his power to molest me! And now, to see them withdrawthemselves!" He was interrupted in his vituperations by the dark shadewhich passed over the countenance of his auditor; he perceived theblunder he had made, and attempting to remedy it, became perplexed andconfused. "I would say--I did not at all intend--that is, I meant tosay----"
"What did you mean to say? You have already begun to mar my undertaking.It is well that thou art undeceived in time. What! thou didst seekfriends! and what friends! they could not have aided thee, had they beenwilling. And thou didst not apply to the only friend who can and willprotect thee;--dost thou not know that God is the friend of all whotrust in Him? dost thou not know that to spread the talons does littlegood to the weak? and even if----" at these words he grasped forciblyRenzo's arm; his countenance, without losing his wonted authority,displayed an affecting remorse; his eyes were fixed on the ground; andhis voice became slow and sepulchral: "and even if that little should begained, how terribly awful! Renzo, will you confide in me?--that Ishould say in me! a worm of the dust! will you not confide in God?"
"Oh! yes!" replied Renzo; "He only is the Lord."
"Promise me, then, that you will not meet or provoke any one; that youwill suffer yourself to be guided by me."
"I promise," said Renzo.
Lucy drew a long breath, as if relieved from a weight, and Agnes wasloud in applauses.
"Listen, my children," resumed Father Christopher: "I will go myselfto-day to speak to this man: if God touches his heart through my words,well; if not, _He_ will provide some other remedy. In the mean time keepyourselves quiet and retired; this evening, or to-morrow at the latest,you shall see me again." Having said this, he departed amidst thanks andblessings.
He arrived at the convent in time to perform his daily duty in thechoir, dined, and then pursued his way towards the den of the wild beasthe had undertaken to tame.
The palace of Don Roderick stood by itself, on the summit of one of thepromontories that skirt the coast; it was three or four miles distantfrom the village; at the foot of the promontory nearest the lake, therewas a cluster of decayed cottages inhabited by peasantry belonging toDon Roderick. This was the little capital of his little kingdom. As youcast a glance within their walls, you beheld suspended to them variouskinds of arms, with spades, mattocks, and pouches of powder, blendedpromiscuously. The persons within appeared robust and strong, with adaring and insulting expression of countenance, and wearing a long lockof hair on the head, which was covered with net-work. The aged, that hadlost their teeth, seemed ready to show their gums at the slightest call:masculine women, with sinewy arms, seemed disposed to use them with asmuch indifference as their tongues; the very children exhibited the samedaring recklessness as the parent stock. Friar Christopher passedthrough the hamlet, ascending a winding path which conducted him to thelittle esplanade in the front of the castle. The door was shut, whichwas a sign that the chief was dining and did not wish to be disturbed.The few windows that looked on the road were small and decayed by time;they were, however, secured by large iron bars; and the lowest of themwere more than ten feet from the ground. A profound silence reignedwithin, and a traveller might have believed the mansion deserted, butfor the appearance of four animals, two alive and two dead, in front ofthe castle. Two large vultures, with their wings expanded, were nailedeach at the posts of the gate; and two bravoes, extended at full lengthon the benches on either side, were keeping guard until their mastershould have finished his repast. The father stopped, as if willing alsoto wait. "Father, father, come on," said one, "we do not make thecapuchins wait here; we are the friends of the convent; I have beenwithin its walls when the air on the outside of them was not verywholesome for me; it was well the fathers did not refuse me admittance."So saying, he gave two strokes with the knocker: at the sound, the howlsof mastiffs were heard from within; and in a few moments there appearedan aged domestic. On seeing the father, he bowed reverently, quieted theanimals with his voice, introduced the guest into a narrow court, andclosed the gate. Then escorting him into a saloon, and regarding himwith an astonished and respectful look, said, "Is not this--the FatherChristopher of Pescarenico?"
"The same."
"And here!"
"As you see, good man."
"It must be to do good," continued he, murmuring between his teeth;"good can be done every where." He then guided him through two or threedark halls, and led the way to the banqueting room: here was heard aconfused noise of plates, and knives and forks, and discordant voices.Whilst Father Christopher was urging the domestic to suffer him toremain in some other apartment until the dinner should be finished, thedoor opened. A certain Count Attilio, a cousin of the noble host, (ofwhom we have already spoken, without giving his name,) was seatedopposite: when he saw the bald head and habit of the father, andperceived his motion to withdraw, "Ho! father," cried he, "you sha'n'tescape us; reverend father, forward, forward!" Don Roderick secondedsomewhat unwillingly this boisterous command, as he felt somepresentiment of the object of his visit. "Come, father, come in," saidh
e. Seeing there was no retreating, Father Christopher advanced,saluting the nobleman and his guests.
An honest man is generally fearless and undaunted in presence of thewicked; nevertheless, the father, with the testimony of a goodconscience and a firm conviction of the justice of his cause, with amixture of horror and compassion for Don Roderick, felt a degree ofembarrassment in approaching him. He was seated at table, surrounded byguests; on his right was Count Attilio, his colleague in libertinism,who had come from Milan to visit him. To the left was seated, withrespectful submissiveness, tempered, however, with conscious security,the _podesta_ of the place,--he whose duty it was, according to theproclamation, to cause justice to be done to Renzo Tramaglino, and toinflict the allotted penalty on Don Roderick. Nearly opposite to the_podesta_ sat our learned Doctor _Azzecca Garbugli_, with his black capand his red nose; and over against him two obscure guests, of whom ourstory says nothing beyond a general mention of their toad-eatingqualities.
"Give a seat to the father," said Don Roderick. A servant presented achair, and the good father apologised for having come at so inopportunean hour. "I would speak with you alone on an affair of importance,"added he, in a low tone, to Don Roderick.
"Very well, father, it shall be so," replied he; "but in the meanwhilebring the father something to drink."
Father Christopher would have refused, but Don Roderick, raising hisvoice above the tumult of the table, cried, "No, by Bacchus, you shallnot do me this wrong; a capuchin shall never leave this house withouthaving tasted my wine, nor an insolent creditor without having tastedthe wood of my forests." These words produced a universal laugh, andinterrupted for a moment the question which was hotly agitated betweenthe guests. A servant brought the wine, of which Father Christopherpartook, feeling the necessity of propitiating the host.
"The authority of Tasso is against you, respected Signor _Podesta_,"resumed aloud the Count Attilio: "this great man was well acquaintedwith the laws of knighthood, and he makes the messenger of Argantes,before carrying the defiance of the Christian knights, ask permissionfrom the pious Bouillon."
"But that," replied vociferously the _podesta_, "that is poeticallicence merely: an ambassador is in his nature inviolable, by the law ofnations, _jure gentium_; and moreover, the ambassador, not having spokenin his own name, but merely presented the challenge in writing----"
"But when will you comprehend that this ambassador was a daring fool,who did not know the first----"
"With the good leave of our guests," interrupted Don Roderick, who didnot wish the argument to proceed farther, "we will refer it to theFather Christopher, and submit to his decision."
"Agreed," said Count Attilio, amused at submitting a question ofknighthood to a capuchin; whilst the _podesta_ muttered between histeeth, "Folly!"
"But, from what I have comprehended," said the father, "it is a subjectof which I have no knowledge."
"As usual, modest excuses from the father," said Don Roderick; "but wewill not accept them. Come, come, we know well that you came not intothe world with a cowl on your head; you know something of its ways.Well, how stands the argument?"
"The facts are these," said the Count Attilio----
"Let me tell, who am neutral, cousin," resumed Don Roderick. "This isthe story: a Spanish knight sent a challenge to a Milanese knight; thebearer, not finding him at home, presented it to his brother, who,having read it, struck the bearer many blows. The question is----"
"It was well done; he was perfectly right," cried Count Attilio.
"There was no right about it," exclaimed the _podesta_. "To beat anambassador--a man whose person is sacred! Father, do _you_ think thiswas an action becoming a knight?"
"Yes, sir; of a knight," cried the count, "I think I know what belongsto a knight. Oh! if it had been an affair of fists, that would havebeen quite another thing, but a cudgel soils no one's hands."
"I am not speaking of this, Sir Count; I am speaking of the _laws_ ofknighthood. But tell me, I pray you, if the messengers that the ancientRomans sent to bear defiance to other nations, asked permission todeliver the message; find, if you can, a writer who relates that suchmessenger was ever cudgelled."
"What have the ancient Romans to do with us? a people well enough insome things, but in others, far, far behind. But according to the lawsof modern knighthood, I maintain that a messenger, who dared place inthe hands of a knight a challenge without having previously askedpermission, is a rash fool who deserves to be cudgelled."
"But answer me this question----"
"No, no, no."
"But hear me. To strike an unarmed person is an act of treachery._Atqui_ the messenger _de quo_ was without arms. _Ergo_----"
"Gently, gently, Signor _Podesta_."
"How? gently."
"Gently, I tell you; I concede that under other circumstances this mighthave been called an act of treachery, but to strike a low fellow! Itwould have been a fine thing truly, to say to him, as you would to agentleman, Be on your guard! And you, Sir Doctor, instead of sittingthere grinning your approbation of my opinion, why do you not aid me toconvince this gentleman?"
"I," replied the doctor in confusion; "I enjoy this learned dispute, andam thankful for the opportunity of listening to a war of wit soagreeable. And moreover, I am not competent to give an opinion; his mostillustrious lordship has appointed a judge--the father."
"True," said Don Roderick; "but how can the judge speak when thedisputants will not keep silence?"
"I am dumb," said the Count Attilio. The _podesta_ made a sign that hewould be quiet.
"Well! father! at last!" said Don Roderick, with comic gravity.
"I have already said, that I do not comprehend----"
"No excuses! we must have your opinion."
"If it must be so," replied the father, "I should humbly think there wasno necessity for challenges, nor bearers, nor blows."
The guests looked in wonder at each other.
"Oh! how ridiculous!" said the Count Attilio. "Pardon me, father; butthis is exceedingly ridiculous. It is plain you know nothing of theworld."
"He?" said Don Roderick; "he knows as much of it as you do, cousin. Isit not so, father?"
Father Christopher made no reply; but to himself he said, "submitthyself to every insult for the sake of those for whom thou art here."
"It may be so," said the count; "but the father----how is the fathercalled?"
"Father Christopher," replied more than one.
"But, Father Christopher, your reverend worship, with your maxims youwould turn the world upside down--without challenges! without blows!Farewell, the point of honour! Impunity to ruffians! Happily, the thingis impossible."
"Stop, doctor," cried Don Roderick, wishing to divert the dispute fromthe original antagonists. "You are a good man for an argument; what haveyou to say to the father?"
"Indeed," replied the doctor, brandishing his fork in the air--"indeed Icannot understand how the Father Christopher should not remember thathis judgment, though of just weight in the pulpit, is worth nothing--Ispeak with great submission--on a question of knighthood. But perhaps hehas been merely jesting, to relieve himself from embarrassment."
The father not replying to this, Don Roderick made an effort to changethe subject.
"Apropos," said he, "I understand there is a report at Milan of anaccommodation."
There was at this time a contest regarding the succession to the dukedomof Mantua, of which, at the death of Vincenzo Gonzaga, who died withoutmale issue, the Duke de Nevers, his nearest relation, had obtainedpossession. Louis XIII., or rather the Cardinal de Richelieu, wished tosustain him there; Philip IV., or rather the Count d'Olivares, commonlycalled the Count Duke, opposed him. The dukedom was then a fief of theempire, and the two parties employed intrigue and importunity at thecourt of the Emperor Ferdinand II. The object of one was to obtain theinvestiture of the new duke; of the other, the denial of his claim, andalso assistance to oblige him to relinquish it.
"I rather think,"
said the Count Attilio, "that the thing will bearranged satisfactorily. I have reasons----"
"Do not believe it, count, do not believe it," added the _podesta_; "Ihave an opportunity of knowing, because the Spanish keeper of thecastle, who is my friend, and who is the son of a dependant of the CountDuke, is informed of every thing."
"I tell you I have discoursed on the subject daily at Milan; and I knowfrom good authority that the pope, exceedingly interested as he is forpeace, has made propositions----"
"That may be, the thing is in order; his Holiness does his duty; a popeshould always endeavour to make peace between Christian princes; but theCount Duke has his own policy, and----"
"And, and, and, do you know, Signor _Podesta_, how much thought theemperor now gives to it? Do you believe there is no place but Mantua inthe world! There are many things to provide for, signor, mind. Do youknow, for instance, how far the emperor can trust this Prince ofValdistano, or di Vallistai, as they call him; and if----"
"His name, in the German language," interrupted the magistrate, "isWallenstein, as I have heard it uttered many times by the Spanish keeperof the castle. But be of good courage----"
"Do you dare teach me," replied the count. Here Don Roderick whisperedto him to cease contradiction, as there would be no end to it. Heobeyed; and the _podesta_, like a vessel unimpeded by shoals, continuedwith full sails the course of his eloquence. "Wallenstein gives me butlittle anxiety; because the Count Duke has his eye every where; and ifWallenstein carries matters with a high hand, he will soon set himright. He has his eye every where, I say, and unlimited power; and if itis his policy that the Signor Duke of Nevers should not take root inMantua, he will never flourish there, be assured. It makes me laugh tosee the Signor Cardinal de Richelieu contend with an Olivares. The CountDuke, gentlemen," pursued he, with the wind still in his favour, andmuch wondering at not meeting with opposition, "the Count Duke is an oldfox--speaking with due respect--who would make any one lose his track:when he appears to go to the right, it would be safest to follow him tothe left: no one can boast of knowing his designs; they who are toexecute them, they who write the despatches, know nothing of them. Ispeak from authority, for the keeper of the castle deigns to confide inme. The Count Duke knows well enough how the pot boils in all the courtsin Europe; and these politicians have hardly laid a plan, but he beginsto frustrate it. That poor man, the Cardinal Richelieu, attempts anddissembles, toils and strives; and what does it all produce? When he hasdug the mine, he finds a countermine already prepared by the CountDuke----"
None can tell when the magistrate would have cast anchor, if DonRoderick had not interrupted him. "Signor _Podesta_," said he, "and you,gentlemen, a bumper to the Count Duke, and you shall then judge if thewine is worthy of the personage." The _podesta_ bowed low in gratitudefor an honour he considered as paid to himself in part for his eloquentharangue.
"May Don Gaspero Guzman, Count de Olivares, Duke of St. Lucar, live athousand years!" said he, raising his glass.
"May he live a thousand years!" exclaimed all the company.
"Help the father," said Don Roderick.
"Excuse me," replied he, "I could not----"
"How!" said Don Roderick; "will you not drink to the Count Duke? Wouldyou have us believe that you hold to the Navarre party?"
This was the contemptuous term applied to the French interest at thetime of Henry IV.
There was no reply to be made to this, and the father was obliged totaste the wine. All the guests were loud in its praise, except thedoctor, who had kept silence. "Eh! doctor," asked Don Roderick, "whatthink _you_ of it?"
"I think," replied the doctor, withdrawing his ruddy and shining nosefrom the glass, "that this is the Olivares of wines: there is not aliquor resembling it in all the twenty-two kingdoms of the king ourmaster, whom God protect! I maintain that the dinners of the mostillustrious Signor Don Roderick exceed the suppers of Heliogabalus, andthat scarcity is banished for ever from this palace, where reigns aperpetual and splendid abundance."
"Well said! bravo! bravo!" exclaimed with one voice the guests; but theword _scarcity_, which the doctor had accidentally uttered, suggested anew and painful subject. All spoke at once:--"There is no famine," saidone, "it is the speculators who----"
"And the bakers, who conceal the grain. Hang them!"
"That is right; hang them, without mercy."
"Upon fair trial," cried the magistrate.
"What trial?" cried Attilio, more loudly; "summary justice, I say. Takea few of them who are known to be the richest and most avaricious, andhang them."
"Yes, hang them! hang them! and there will be grain scattered inabundance."
Thus the party continued absorbing the wine, whose praises, mixed withsentences of economical jurisprudence, formed the burthen of theconversation; so that the loudest and most frequent words were, _Nectar,and hang 'em_.
Don Roderick had, from time to time, during this confusion, looked atthe father: perceiving him calmly, but firmly, awaiting his leisure forthe interview which had been promised him, he relinquished the hope ofwearying him by its postponement. To send away a capuchin, withoutgiving him an audience, was not according to his policy; and since itcould not be avoided, he resolved to meet it at once: he rose from thetable, excused himself to his guests, and saying proudly, "At yourservice, father," led the way to another room.