The Mystic Temple [pp. 553]

1871.] TILE iIIYSTIC TEMZP1E. 553
But, in spite of his restless suspicion, Philip II. was most grossly outraged, and most daringly betrayed, by those in whom he had the greatest confidence.
The portrait of his private secretary, Antonio Perez, that hangs in
the anteroom of the Escurial Library, reminds us of one of the most
terrible dramas that was ever enacted at this court. Perez was presented to the king by Ruy Gomez de Silva, the husband of the beautiful and gifted Princess Eboli, who, prompted by ambition, listened to
the overtures of the king, while she at the same time carried on a
love-intrigue with his secretary. Perez soon became the favorite and
confidant of the king; the most secret correspondence passed through
his hands; it was he who deciphered the reports of the spies the king
had placed about his half-brother, John of Austria, and discussed
them with the royal murderer. One of these spies, Escovedo, was
really devoted to John, and thought to frustrate Philip's designs by
furnishing him with false reports regarding his brother, while he
wrote to the pope and to the Duke de Guise in John's interest. But
the letter to the duke fell into the hands of Perez and the king. Escovedo was quietly summoned to court, where he was received in the
most cordial manner, and detained from day to day under one pretext
or another. He had a presentiment of the danger he was in; only one
means of escape presented itself: he had proofs of the relation that
existed between the princess and the secretary, and threatened to produce them unless Perez aided him to escape. But Perez had already
received this command from the king:
"Have the man killed when and by whom you will. Only let it
be done secretly and quickly. I will have it so."
One evening Escovedo fell by the hands of hired assassins. "A
deed," says Antonio Perez, "I was compelled to do, but for which
Heaven severely punished me."
Escovedo's family demanded an investigation. Suspicion pointed
to Perez and the Princess Eboli, of whose relations Escovedo had
spoken rather imprudently. Perez was lost when the king, through
tale-bearers, learned how he had been deceived by him and his mistress; but the king matured his plans slowly and secretly. So practised was he in deceit, that he scarcely evinced any coldness toward
the princess, and on the very evening that Perez was arrested he had
worked with his royal master until a later hour than usual. The
princess's arrest followed on the same evening, and as she was taken
to prison, the king stood near her house, in disguise, to witness the
scene. In reply to Perez's prayers that he would intercede for him,
the king wrote: "I trust all will end well; in the mean time, be on
your guard." Philip pretended that he would take steps to appease
Perez's enemies; begged him in the mean time to observe the strictest silence, while he hastened to institute proceedings against his
victim for some trifling misdemeanors, which were exaggerated to the
gravity of state offences. The secretary finally comprehended his
situation. He fled, and sought safety in a church; but Philip's hirelings dragged him forth, thrust him again into prison, and then arrested
his wife. At the moment when they were about to lay the unfortunate Antonio on the rack, he received another letter from the king, in
which his majesty bade him be of good cheer, conjured him not to say
any thing about the murder of Escovedo, and promised that all should
yet be well. But Antonio made a full statement of the facts concerning the assassination, and threatened to produce letters that would
fully prove the king's complicity.
Finally, Antonio's faithful and heroic wife succeeded in effecting
his escape. He went to Saragossa, in Aragon, where the authority
of the king was less absolute than in the other provinces. It would
seem that Philip could not conceal his chagrin at the escape of Perez,
for the court-fool is reported to have said to him: "Why are you so
sad, sire? Antonio Perez has fled, and everybody is glad. You, too,
ought to be glad." The king replied by ordering Antonio's wife and
children to be thrown into a dungeon.
The people of Aragon armed themselves to defend the refugee,
and neither persuasion nor threats could turn them from their purpose. When his estates were confiscated, the people voluntarily
furnished him with the means to live, and, when he was arrested by
the inquisitors, he was forcibly released by the populace, who threatened to burn the inquisitorial palace. But, finally, Perez was compelled to fly before an armed force that Philip sent against him, and
take refuge in the mountains, from where, after a short time, he fled
to France. He was kindly received by Henry IV., and later was the
honored guest of Elizabeth of England. Two professional assassins,
whom Philip employed to follow him, were executed in London, and
another met the same fate in Paris. Perez tells us further that the
king gave a clever and beautiful courtesan eighty thousand reals and
six splendid horses, that she might attract Perez, and then deliver
him into the hands of the Spanish emissaries. But, when she came
to know the refugee personally, she was so much pleased with him
that she forgot her promises to Philip, and discovered the whole conspiracy to her intended victim.
Thus all the attempts of the king to silence his former confidant
and witness of his dark deeds, failed.
Antonio Perez devoted the remainder of his days to the writing
of his celebrated memoirs, which have made him the Tacitus of the
Spanish Tiberius.
Court etiquette fixed the time and length of the king's sojourn in
Aranjuez, as well as in the Escurial: in the former, the month after
Easter; in the latter, the month of October. This custom was first
deviated from by the last Hapsburger, who sat upon the Spanish
throne, Carlos II., the fanatic, for the simple reason that his majesty
had not always the wherewithal to defray the expense of changing
his residence. The vast kingdom of Charles V. and Philip II. was
even then reduced to a beggarly condition. "It is," said a contemporaneous writer, "no longer dying, but dead; it already lies on its
bier, and only awaits the grave-digger."
THE MYSTIC TEMPLE.
AR down in the shadowy valley,
Where the spirits and phantom-shades loom,
Stands a weird, fantastical temple
In the mystical midnight and gloom.
It sends forth a purplelike lustre,
Poured out from its porphyry halls
Abroad through the blue-litten windows,
Set in its adamant walls.
And the legion of musical zephyrs,
That throng through its wide-open door,
Go out with incense and starlight
Through Life to Eternity's shore.
'Tis said, by people who've witnessed
Its soft candelabrian light,
There's a sanctified Spirit that frequents
This labyrinth temple at night.
He comes in the silence of midnight,
When the moon has begun its decline,
And lights with the essence of noontide
The cresset that hangs o'er the shrine.
There's none of its radiance that slumbers
In the midst of the draperies' fold:
It goes upward, straight through the skylight,
All tinted with purple and gold.
The voice of his footsteps awakens,
Far up in the vibrating dome,
Sweet echoes that never cease sounding
This side of their heavenly home.
When the Spirit has finished his mission,
And passed from the sill of the door,
A demon comes up from the cloisters,
And quenches the light evermore.
The walls of the temple may crumble,
And the light on the turrets may die;
But a lamp on the altar is gleaming,
That's again to be lighted on high.
BURGESS SITH'
1871.]
TEH.M YS TIC TEMPL.E.
553