University of Virginia Library

1. CHAPTER I.

A profligate king and a discontented people, bad counsellors and ambitious
subjects, are each of them enough for the overthrow of any kingdom. They were
all combined for the overthrow of the Gothic monarchy. Roderick—it was already
the prophecy of the seers, who were numerous in Spain at this period—was destined
to be the last king of the Visigoths. The signs of evil in the land were numerous.
Commotions in the city, rebellions in the mountain—marvels in the heavens, and
tremors in the earth—betokened the coming changes to the uninformed and superstitious.
To the more thoughtful and the better taught, the actual condition of things
spoke for themselves. The day was at hand—a day of blood, carnage, and singular
moral not less than political revolution—in the dawn of which—a dawn preceding a
long and disastrous night—a moon, according to the prophecy, should give light in
place of the sun, and by its baleful and unnatural lustre, the land of the Christian
was to suffer through long and successive ages of blight and eclipse. But, as if it
were not enough that these changes should be effected by the ordinary tendency of
events, the men high in place and unapproachable in power, those who were most
to be injured by such revolutions, madly contributed to their promotion; and, wholly
blind in the desperate wilfulness of his sin, Roderick himself, like another Nero,
bore the torch which was to fire his kingdom and consume his power. He gave a
loose rein to his own lusts, when his toil should have been to check the lusts of
those around him; and thus precipitated, by his madness, the madness of those whom
it was his true policy and becoming duty only to restrain and guide. But Providence
had willed the destruction of the Goth. His closest counsellors were his
secret enemies, and had commerce with his foes. From them he imbibed an
unhappy and unwise distrust of those who were his truest friends. Oppas, one of
the two archbishops of the kingdom, had insinuated himself into the blind king's
confidence, not by the wisdom and virtue of his counsels, but by adroit appeals to
his moods and desires. He was not too proud to serve his monarch as a creature,
when he found that the vanity of Roderick did not permit him to esteem a counsellor;
and, by a thousand successful but unbecoming acts, he found that favor in the
bosom of his prince, which enabled him to mislead, and in the end to destroy him.

In his secret chamber the archbishop now meditated other plans, not merely for
confirming his empire over the mind of Roderick, but for misleading him to his ruin.

It was his aim to make his master as unpopular with the priesthood and nobility as
Roderick had made himself with his people. He had already done much toward
these objects. He had secretly persuaded the king, not by any direct charge, but by
dishonest and adroit insinuations, to distrust and consequently to offend many of his
best nobles, whose absence from court, and retirement to their several castles, had
been the necessary result of these operations. Their removal from his own path
was not less an object with Oppas than the misunderstanding which it was his aim
to occasion between them and their sovereign. But he had not been able utterly to
banish from the court the good and the sensible. There were some few who still
held their ground, solicitous to serve their monarch and their country, regardless of
self, and who bore patiently the hourly injustice, the cold and scornful slight, and
sharp rebuke, to which their perseverance continued to expose them. Failing to
drive them away, Oppas changed his means of attack, and now labored industriously
to misrepresent their purposes, and undermine their reputation.

To affect the priesthood was a leading object with the archbishop; and, unfortunately
for Roderick, the indifference of the king, openly expressed, upon all matters
of religion, contributed in no small degree to facilitate the labors of the conspirator.
Roderick, at a very early period, had thrown aside the mask which he had worn
upon coming to the throne. He had then deemed it advisable to conciliate the nobles
and the priesthood, and he had greatly succeeded with both of these powerful castes.
He had raised the standard of rebellion against his predecessor, Witiza, in defence of
the privileges of the former, which had been assailed in his father's person; and the
priesthood was readily persuaded to regard their cause as identical with that of the
nobles, when they remembered that Witiza had yielded but little deference to their
power, which he sought to circumscribe, and, on one occasion, had even bid defiance
to the head of the Roman church, threatening, in reply to rebukes from the
papal chair, to reward his soldiers for the conquest of Rome itself, out of its own
treasury. Having the power of these two classes, Roderick had succeeded in his
rebellion. His usurpation was made legal; and, for a brief season, all parties were
apparently satisfied with his elevation. But, too soon for his own security, the
reckless usurper threw aside the friendly disguises which had gained him so much.
With the consciousness of power, came the confidence, too readily acquired by
princes, in its stability; and Roderick now gave himself but little care to conciliate
any class or character. He yielded himself up to the vices of his predecessors and
of the times. He adopted all the effeminacies of the voluptuous Greek and the debased
Roman; and the nobles who resisted his pretensions to absolute sway, and
the priesthood which rebuked them, equally became the objects of his anger or his
scorn.

It was the policy of Oppas, connected as he was with the growing conspiracy
against Roderick, to foment the discontents of these classes, while stimulating the
king with every counsel to continue and increase their provocations. In this labor
of sin he was indefatigable; yet, though he employed numberless agents, who were
always busy, the archbishop was adroit enough in his machinations, not only to
escape detection, but even to avoid suspicion. It may be that there were some of
the nobles who saw into his secret soul, and conjectured his base purposes; but so
carefully did he conduct his game, and so great was his seeming influence with the
king, that none was able to show cause of suspicion, and but few would have dared,
having the proper evidence, to have declared against him.

Still, though at present thus secure, the time was approaching when he felt that
it would be necessary to practice all his address to avoid the jealous scrutiny and
apprehension of the king himself He was aware that an outbreak was at hand,

when his nephews, the two princes Egiza and Pelayo, would lift the standard of
revolt in the Asturias; and he well knew that nothing then but shows of the most
devoted loyalty would suffice to protect him from suspicion. This difficulty was
before him now; and alone, at midnight, in his chamber, the archbishop revolved
the matter in his mind. While he mused, a private signal reached his ear. He
rose instantly, and admitted one who seemed to have been expected. The stranger
was one of those upon whom the arts of Oppas had been practiced in part already.
Something, however, was yet to be done, to the completion of his purposes. The
person who entered, and who now seated himself so confidently yet unobtrusively
in the presence of the archbishop, was a priest, and one who had a great influence
among his fellows, being endowed with the popular gift of eloquence in a wonderful
degree, and being at the same time one of the four persons, chosen for their venerable
appearance and known wisdom and sanctity, to be keepers of that famous and
strange fabric in Toledo, which was known as the House of Hercules.

This `house,' so called, was one of the greatest supposed wonders in all Spain,
and was regarded by the people of the country—the natives being understood, and
not the Goths—with a feeling of superstitious fear and veneration, which made it
an object of national care and consideration. It was a mountain, in which there
was a cavern and many secret and subterranean passages. Many were the strange
stories told concerning it; and, in that time of marvels and general superstition, when
religion was only dawning as it were upon mankind, and all was twilight and
shadow in the spiritual world, the popular story was the source of a most prevalent
faith among the people. It was said of this cavern that it had been the work of
Hercules, who, when he first came into Spain, raised it there in the course of a single
night, building it on the inside of the most costly materials, and leaving a written
prediction, which was contained within its walls, concerning the future destinies of
the nation. Wo and nameless miseries were denounced against that person who
should endeavor to obtain possession of the secret which it concealed; and such had
been the fear inspired by the denunciation, that the monarchs of that country, reckless
and vicious as in every other respect they may have been, had never once dared
to penetrate the sanctuary; but, in respect of the prediction, or perhaps with a due
regard to the popular superstition, they had each of them, previous to the time of
Roderick, affixed a heavy lock to its gate of entrance, that it might be the more readily
recognized as a place sealed up against idle curiosity or an improper thirst to
know that which the due progress of events would necessarily reveal. At this
day, it matters little to inquire the source and secret of this superstition. The
probability is that it was one of the thousand arts of that venerable power, known
to all nations and ages, which seeks to maintain its sovereignty by practicing upon
the credulity of the weak and unsuspecting. The House of Hercules was in the
possession of the Gothic priesthood. It gave them at all times a certain, and perhaps
supreme command over the fears and the feelings of the Spanish people. It
was confided to their direction, and a selection of four persons from their body were
appointed to keep it. It does not appear that these four persons were kept from the
knowledge which was denied by the monarchs of Spain—arbitrary though they
might be in all things else—to themselves and their subjects. They had each of
them, up to the time of Roderick, placed an additional lock upon its gate, the better
to secure its secrets. That duty was yet to be performed by the reigning sovereign.
But Oppas resolved that Roderick should not perform this duty. He resolved that
this should be one of the appointed modes which the king should employ by which
to offend the priesthood. This, however, was a secret resolve of his own mind, to be
pursued with cautiousness. While he spoke with the venerable Romano, who, by

the way, was the chief of the four keepers of the House of Hercules, and who was
himself both straight-forward and simple in all his purposes, Oppas suffered nothing
of his internal schemes to be seen or conjectured; but he strove rather, though still
with the view to the promotion of his own evil objects, to insist as strenuously as
his brethren upon the performance of this duty by the king.

“It was bad enough, Romano,” he proceeded, “bad enough that king Roderick
should permit the accursed Hebrew, because of his gold, to fester in the kingdom, a
stink as he is in the nostrils of Heaven and Holy Church; but what was to be
looked for at the hands of one who has a countenance and a hand for the heretic
Arian? Doth he not hold terms with the heathen, and those who are the known
enemies of Holy Church? Doth he give heed to prescribed rites and the blessed
ordinances? He makes no confession; though well I know he hath a bosom full
of black and uncleanly thoughts which should bring down his proud knees day and
night, at rise and set of sun, in humility before the altar, if he dreamed of, or dreaded,
the wrath which is in store for him, and which hourly gathers increase. What
cares he for my exhortings, or for thy eloquence, Romano, which might move any
other heart than his? His neck is stiffened, and his heart hardened, like that of
Pharaoh. God forbid that he provoke Heaven's wrath too far: God forbid that we
be called upon to avenge his ordinances!”

“Yet, my lord bishop, I would say God's will be done!” said the other. “If it
be so that Roderick shall still farther continue to defy Holy Church, and give so
little heed to her messengers, I trow not what we shall do to avoid the duty which
shall be assigned us. I would not that Roderick should continue blind; I would
that he should come to a knowledge of his danger; and therefore, father bishop, I
would have thee say—”

“I have said, Romano—I do say,” replied Oppas, interrupting him. “It is the
counsel for ever on my lips, and I have warned him as one that had been sent; but
his thoughts are of the world and its pleasures only. He thinks but of wine and
wassail; the voluptuous woman is his master; and the prayers and preachings of
the church avail nothing. The servant of God must speak, having more fire on his
tongue than I, ere Roderick shall be brought to hear.”

“Could I but be brought to speak with him in private, father bishop—”

“Would he suffer it?” said Oppas, quickly. “Alas! Romano, I fear that Roderick
is one upon whom a mark is set for destruction. For what saith the blessed
St. Cyprian? `What shall be hoped of the king that is wilful and heareth not—
that hath sin in his eye, yet seeth not—that shuts his ears against the word that is
spoken, and laughs at the teacher? He shall perish; and man can not save him!'
Is it not so with Roderick, my brother? Thou shalt see for thyself, Romano.
Thou wilt soon go to demand of him, that, as in all time aforepast, he do as the
kings of Spain have ever done, and place a new lock upon the gate of the House of
Hercules—”

“Thou dost not think him wilful to refuse?” demanded the priest, quickly.

“Heaven send him better wisdom, my brother,” said Oppas, with much outward
piety; “but I greatly fear me that he will. He hath too little reverence for the
church to heed thy requisition; and the mystery of Hercules will be to him but a
blinding superstition, which he doth affect to hate and to despise!”

“Now, out upon his profane thought, if such be a part of it!” exclaimed the
pious Romano, with a holy horror. “What doth he know of the mystery of Hercules,
that he should despise it? What is it to all the kings of the earth, who are
but mean and mortal things, that they should presume to fathom the Incomprehensible,
and declare what is worthless and what is good?”

“Alas! my brother; it is because the kings of the earth are mortal, that they so
presume. It is their ignorance which breeds their presumption, Romano. Roderick
is one of them, and he challenges danger as a thing that can touch him not; and he
has learned to look upon the messenger of death as a summoner for subjects only,
and not for those who sway. This is the woful blindness of which St. Cyprian
has told us: it is the blindness of Roderick, Romano.”

“But wherefore, my lord bishop, should Roderick withhold himself from this
duty, which the kings of the Goth have ever been prompt before to perform?” demanded
Romano.

“I say not, brother, of a certainty that he will, but I greatly fear it, as I know
the nature that is within him. It is enough that none have ever done so before of
the Gothic kings that Roderick will be bold to do it. It is a boast with him that he
may dare when others would dread—that he can do what other kings may not even
think.”

“But the people, lord bishop, the people of Spain—who have been taught to hold
the mystery of Hercules as their pledge of safety—will they forget the prophecy,
which says that Spain shall be lost by the king who shall unfold the mystery; will
they suffer Roderick, in his blind impiety, to do such rashness? Assuredly they
will not, lord Oppas!”

“Alas, Romano, of what is it thou speakest? The people of Spain!—where are
they—who are they? Roderick will have no let to his mood from any, and our
good argument shall yield him none; and if the will so prompt him, he will search
deep into the sacred mystery, in despite of the prophecy which denounces wo to the
monarch who shall fathom it.”

“It must not be!” cried the stern Romano; “the mystery must not be unlocked,
my father. We were lost if it be so. The denunciation is terrible against the monarch,
and against the people, and against the land, if it shall be opened. Better
that we should perish first, my father!”

“Or he, the wrong-doer!” said the archbishop, in a low but inquiring tone, while
he laid his hand upon the arm of his companion. “What says the prophecy, Romano?
`Spain shall be lost to the king that shall penetrate the House of Hercules,
and seize the mystery thereof?' There is a meaning in this for each ear, Romano.
Truly may Spain be lost to the monarch, yet Spain may not be lost to herself. She
may be lost to the tyrant, Romano, but not to the people: she may be lost to the
Arian, and to the Manichean, and to the profligate, my brother; but, if her sons be
true, and the fathers of her church be true, she will never be lost to the banners of
the blessed Jesus. Seest thou not, my brother?”

“I apprehend thee,” replied Romano. “It is true, as thou sayest; but though
the evil fall only on the wrong-doer, and the loss of Spain be only to her present
ruler, yet would I not that the mystery should be laid open to the impious and profane
eye, my lord bishop. The holy things of the church are not for the contemplation
of the Arian. His finger must not touch, his eye must not see, his tongue
must not defame, the relics which are given to our keeping. The trust is sacred,
and we should keep it so, or consecrate the sacrifice which gives it up to the sacrilegious
ruler with our blood, my father!”

“Thou hast spoken like one, my brother Romano, to whom the gates of Heaven
have already been unlocked!” said the archbishop, with an air of the profoundest
reverence. “Thou hast spoken boldly of our duties, and, as thou sayest, it shall
be so. The martyrdom of the saints will be a kindred sacrifice with the profanation
which thou speakest of; and God give us strength, my brother, to bear his cross
meekly, but fearlessly, whenever the earthly ruler shall so decree in his tyrannical

dictation. But let us hope for better things, Romano. Let us hope that Roderick
may not be thus wicked—that he may do with thee and thy trust as the kings of
Spain have ever done before, and place upon the mystery of Hercules the lock which
thou shalt bear him. It is the only lock, my brother,” continued the archbishop,
and speaking with increased significance of tone and manner; “it is the only lock
which should bind him to his church, my brother; and should he reject its ties, Romano”—

He paused with the inquiry, and looked in the face of Romano, as if seeking for
an answer from him. The eye of the zealot glared with an unspeakable fury, which
was a sufficient answer. His reply in words, though full of meaning, had not the
same emphasis of expression which distinguished his look.

“If the lock binds him not to the church, my lord Oppas, then is the church not
bound unto him. It is with the church to bind and to unloose, to bruise and to heal,
to slay as well as to save!”

“My brother, the truth is living within thee!” exclaimed the archbishop, with
well-affected enthusiasm; “truly is thy lip touched with the live coal from off the
altar, and thou speakest with the voice of Isaiah. Thou hast said what I have
thought, but what I could not so well or so boldly have said. The church has all
the powers which thou hast named; and the positive command to use them in his
holy cause has come from God himself. But though we shrink not from their use,
my brother, we must use them wisely, not precipitately. Roderick must do this
wrong ere we so punish. Let us not idly prejudge him, with the blind wilfulness
of children. True, he hath already done much, and left much undone, for which
he merits sore punishment from the church; and I fear me that, in his heart, he is
an Arian—though his lip, when he first came to the throne, had freely enough spoken
otherwise. But I will not judge him, nor shouldst thou, my brother. Better
that we should be thought slow in our duty and lukewarm in our love for the
church, than that we should minister to error by premature judgment.”

Romano evidently listened with impatience to this long and hypocritical harangue
of the archbishop. Not that he knew or suspected his hypocrisy. No! He gave
his superior only too much credit for his indulgence to a heretic, as Romano had
already learned to consider Roderick, through the artful tutoring of Oppas; and was
only impatient to launch forth in anticipation the thunders of the church upon one
whom he was now well-assured would soon render them necessary. His reply was
marked by this spirit, and gave the archbishop only another opportunity the better
to practice upon the fanatic.

“I dare not think with you, my lord Oppas, in this matter. To be slow in our
duty is to refuse its performance—and to be lukewarm in our love for the church, is
to pursue the blessed Jesus with a deadly hate; for he that is slow is overtaken by
the enemy, and he that is lukewarm is won over by his arts.”

“Thou art right in what thou sayest, my brother; but thou errest when thinking
that I would counsel either sloth or lukewarmness. I said that it were better we
should seem slow and lukewarm in the eyes of the rash and headstrong, than that
we should go madly forward to do injustice in our judgment, though it be upon one
like king Roderick, of whom there is but too much cause for believing that he
looks kindly upon Arianism, even if he has not the accursed sin already in his
bosom.”

“And that is enough for judgment!” said Romano. “He that is not with me is
against me, and he who lifteth not spear and sword in my behalf doth arm the enemy
to my undoing. The blessed scriptures are full of precept; and we may not
pause to denounce judgment upon the backslider!”

“No, surely, that we must not, good Romano, when the church is in danger.
But—”

“And is not the church in danger? What greater danger than when the king
which it hath chosen for its protection, heeds not its prayer for safety?” was the
demand of the impatient zealot, who, in his sacred fury, did not hesitate to interrupt
his superior.

“But we know not that he will refuse, Romano!” said the archbishop, willing
now to soothe in some degree the devil he had raised, as he was satisfied of its readiness,
when the proper time should arrive, for the execution of its intended purposes.
“But we know not that he will refuse, Romano; we must await the season
and the summons. It is enough for us, my brother, that we understand our solemn
duties to God's holy church, and shall not be ignorant of the performances required
at our hands in the hour of our Saviour's need. When we know the path and feel
the duty, it is easy for the appointed to go therein; and I trust when the hour
cometh, Romano, that I may be but as firm as thee!”

Romano grasped the extended hand of Oppas, while a scowl of the fiercest enthusiasm
overspread his pale and thin features. The flatteries of the archbishop made
him already thirst for that martyrdom which he now imagined was at hand, and a
secret prayer revolved in his mind, having its origin in the selfish ambition which
possessed him at that moment, that Roderick might refuse the application from the
keepers of the House of Hercules, that he might be the first victim in a cause which
must embalm his memory certainly in the odor if not in the actual enjoyment of
sanctity.

“Let us await patiently the hour, my brother. Thou needest not fear to wait
for thou canst not be tempted. Thou art strong to do and to obey; and the church
will call its servant, perchance, when thou lookest not to hear such a call, but never
when thou art unprepared. Thou hast but to remember, as I said to thee erewhile,
that the prophecy of the ancient house thou keepest hath a meaning for either ear;
and though Spain may be lost to the king, it does not follow thence that she will be
lost to herself, or to the church. It is for such as thee, Romano, that the church
will reserve its highest duties. She may call upon thee to save her, Romano; but
whether she call upon thee, or upon me, or upon any more worthy and devoted of
the brotherhood, it is my prayer that we may be always ready, with girded loins and
unshrinking hearts, to do her bidding!”

“Amen!” said the other, crossing himself devoutly as he spoke, and preparing
to retire. Enough had been said for his purpose, and, too good a politician to risk
all by saying more, Oppas did not seek any longer to detain him. Contenting himself
with repeating a few of the heads of the preceding dialogue—such as he conceived
the best calculated to confirm the zealot in these views of the powers of the
church, and the propriety of employing them, even upon refractory princes, in cases
of extreme danger to its authority—he then suffered him to depart. Romano retired
to the House of Hercules, prepared to work according to the feelings and principles
laid down by his superior, and which that wily intriguer well knew he would soon
enough diffuse among his brethren.