University of Virginia Library

SCENE XI.

A Street.
Enter Two Gentlemen, meeting.
FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Save you, brave Cavalier!

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
The like to you, sir.
I scarce need ask where you have been to-day—
All Badajoz was at the market-place.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
You mean the Act of Faith? I was too late:
Will you vouchsafe me some relation of it?

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
I've seen a larger muster for the stake:
But never was the public interest
Excited to so vehement a pitch.
Men did not care for Jews or heretics,
Though some of both descriptions were produced.
The leading victim was the Graduate,
Whose monstrous deed in blowing up the church,
Whereby a thousand lives and more were lost,
Stands yet unequalled for atrocity.
Faith, sir! the Inquisition had hard work
To guard him from his dungeon to the pile.
When he came forth, from twenty thousand throats
There rose so horrid and so fierce a yell
That I was fain to hold my tingling ears.
Mothers, whose sons had perished in the church,
Howled curses at him: old men shook their fists
With palsied vehemence; and there were some
Who carried naked daggers in their hands,
And would have hacked him piecemeal.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
And no wonder—
'Twas a most horrid and unnatural deed;
My young remembrance cannot parallel
A fellow to it.

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
Yet was he quite calm:
A little pale, perhaps, but noway moved
By all their hooting. When he reached the pile,
He craved permission of the Inquisitor,
To say a word or two. That being granted,
He turned him straightway to the raging crowd,
Which, at his gesture, stilled itself awhile,
And spoke in parables.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
How mean you, sir?
Did he confess his guilt?

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
In faith, not he!
His speech was worse than any commination.
He curs'd the city, and he curs'd the church;
He curs'd the houses, and he curs'd their stones.
He cursed, in short, in such miraculous wise,
That nothing was exempted from his ban.
Then, sir, indeed the people's wrath was roused,
And a whole storm of cats came tumbling in,
Combined with baser missiles. I was fain,
Not wishing to be wholly singular,
To add my contribution to the rest.
Yet he curs'd on, till the Familiars gagged him—
Bound him unto the stake, and so he died.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
You tell the story very pleasantly.
Were there no more of note in the procession?

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
There was a fellow, too, an Anabaptist,
Or something of the sort, from the Low Countries,
Rejoicing in the name of Teufelsdröckh.
I do not know for what particular sin
He stood condemned; but it was noised abroad
That, in all ways, he was a heretic.
Six times the Inquisition held debate
Upon his tenets, and vouchsafed him speech,
Whereof he largely did avail himself.
But they could coin no meaning from his words,
Further than this, that he most earnestly
Denounced all systems, human and divine.
And so, because the weaker sort of men
Are oft misled by babbling, as the bees
Hive at the clash of cymbals, it was deemed
A duty to remove him. He, too, spoke.
But never in your life, sir, did you hear
Such hideous jargon! The distracting screech
Of waggon-wheels ungreased was music to it;
And as for meaning—wiser heads than mine
Could find no trace of it. 'Twas a tirade
About fire-horses, jötuns, windbags, owls,
Choctaws and horse-hair, shams and flunkeyism,
Unwisdoms, Tithes, and Unveracities.
'Faith, when I heard him railing in crank terms,
And dislocating language in his howl
At Phantasm Captains, Hair-and-leather Popes,
Terrestrial Law-words, Lords, and Law-bringers,—
I almost wished the Graduate back again:
His style of cursing had some flavour in't;
The other's was most tedious. By and by,
The crowd grew restive; and no wonder, sir;
For the effect of his discourse was such,
That one poor wench miscarried in affright.
I did not tarry longer.

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Your narration
Makes me regret less heartily the chance
That kept me from the show. Is there naught else
Talked of in Badajoz?

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
Why, yes, sir—much,
And of strange import: but the cautious lip
Dares not, as yet, give utterance to its thought
In the full measure. Death hath been amongst us,
Not striking at the old, but at the young,
In most unusual fashion. Three young men,
All in strong health, untainted by disease,
Died in a tavern. Marry, sir—'tis thought
Their cups were spiced. But a few days ago,
Our most aspiring poet, Haverillo,
Fell from St Simeon's column—no one knows
What took him to its top;—another life,
I hear, was lost in his abrupt descent,
But no one could identify the corpse.
Then there's a Priest amissing—these are things
Portentous in themselves, and very strange.
Further, there's some slight scandal noised abroad
About the niece of an Inquisitor—
I name no names—who may have been, perchance,
Somewhat too credulous. 'Tis a strange world!
Are you acquainted with Firmilian?

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
But slightly, sir: I've held a bet or so
With him upon the bull-fights. Why d'ye ask?

SECOND GENTLEMAN.
Because (in confidence), I think 'twere wise
To close your book with him. I heard it said,
Not many days ago, that his old uncle,
The Dean of Salamanca, had expired,
And left him all his wealth. Heaven bless you, sir—
I have a turn for genealogy,
And, by my reckoning, he is no more kin
To the old Dean than to the Holy Pope!
I may be wrong, you know—but in such matters
'Tis prudent to be sure. There are reports,
On which I shall not dwell, which make me think
Firmilian is not safe. You understand me?

FIRST GENTLEMAN.
Your kindly hint hath found a ready way
To a most anxious bosom! Let us go
Towards the Prado. I've a little tale
To tell you of that same Firmilian.

[Exeunt.