Caesar or Nothing by Pio Baroja

P >> Pio Baroja >> Caesar or Nothing

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22

On passing Hyères, as the train turned away from the shore, running
inland, grim snowy mountains began for some while to be visible, and the
sun vanished among the clouds; but when the train came out once more
toward the sea, near San Rafael, suddenly,--as if a theatrical effect
had been arranged,--the Mediterranean appeared, blue, flooded with
sunshine, full of lights and reflections. The sky stretched radiant
above the sea, without a cloud, without a shred of vapour.

"How marvellous! How beautiful!" Laura again exclaimed, contemplating
the landscape with emotion. "These blessed countries where the sun is!"

"They have no other drawback, than that the men who inhabit them are a
trifle vague," said Caesar.

"Bah!"

The air had grown milder; on the surface of the sea patterns of silver
foam, formed by the beating of the waves, widened themselves out; the
sun's reflection on the restless waters made shining spots and rays,
flaming swords that dazzled the eye.

The train seemed to puff joyfully at submerging itself in this bland and
voluptuous atmosphere; the palm-trees of Cannes came surging up like a
promise of felicity, and the Côte d'Azur began to show its luminous and
splendid beauty.

Caesar, tired of so much light, took a book from his pocket: _The
Speculator's Manual_ of Proudhon, and set to reading it attentively and
to marking the passages that struck him as interesting.

THE ENGLISHMAN AND HIS WIFE

Laura, when she was not watching the landscape, was looking at those who
came and went in the corridor.

"The Englishman is lying in wait," Laura observed.

"What Englishman?" asked Caesar.

"The son of the lord."

"Ah, yes."

Caesar kept on reading, and Laura continued to watch the landscape which
hurried by outside the window. After a while she exclaimed:

"O Lord, what hideous things!"

"What things?"

"Those war-ships."

Caesar looked where his sister pointed. In a roadstead brilliant with
sunlight he saw two men-of-war, black and full of cannons.

"That's the way one ought to be to face life, armed to the teeth,"
exclaimed Caesar.

"Why?" asked Laura.

"Because life is hard, and you have to be as hard as it is in order to
win."

"You don't consider yourself hard enough?"

"No."

"Well, I think you are. You are like those rough, pointed rocks on the
shore, and I am like the sea.... They throw me off and I come back."
"That is because, perhaps, when you get down to it, nothing makes any
real difference to you."

"Oh, _bambino!_" exclaimed Laura, taking Caesar's hand with affectionate
irony. "You always have to be so cruel to your mamma."

Caesar burst into laughter, and kept Laura's hand between both of his.

"The Englishman feels sad looking at us," he said. "He doesn't dream
that I am your brother."

"Open the door, I will tell him to come in."

Caesar did so, and Laura invited the young Englishman to enter.

"My brother Caesar," she said, introducing them, "Archibaldo Marchmont."

They both bowed, and Marchmont said to Laura in French:

"You are very cruel, Marchesa."

"Why?"

"Because you run away from us people who admire and like you. My wife
asked me to present her to you. Would you like her to come?"

"Oh, no! She mustn't disturb herself. I will go to her."

"Assuredly not. One moment."

Marchmont went out into the corridor and presented his wife to Laura and
to Caesar.

An animated conversation sprang up among them, interrupted by Laura's
exclamations of delight on passing one or another of the wonderful views
along the Riviera.

"You are a Latin, Marchesa, eh?" said Marchmont.

"Altogether. This is our sea. Every time I look at it, it enchants me."

"You are going to stop at Nice?"

"No, my brother and I are on our way to Rome."

"But Nice will be magnificent...."

"Yes, that's true; but we have made up our minds to go to Rome to visit
our uncle, the Cardinal."

The Englishman made a gesture of annoyance, which did not go unperceived
by his wife or by Laura. On arriving at Nice, the Englishman and his
Yankee wife got out, after promising that they would be in Rome before
many days.

Laura and Caesar remained alone and chatted about their
fellow-travellers. According to Laura, the couple did not get along well
and they were going to separate.

IN ITALY

In the middle of the afternoon they arrived at Ventimiglia and changed
trains.

"Are we in Italy now?" said Caesar.

"Yes."

"It seems untidier than France."

"Yes; but more charming."

The train kept stopping at almost all the little towns along the route.
In a third-class car somebody was playing an accordeon. It was Sunday.
In the towns they saw people in their holiday clothes, gathered in the
square and before the cafés and the eating-places. On the roads little
two-wheeled carriages passed quickly by.

It began to grow dark; in the hamlets situated on the seashore fishermen
were mending their nets. Others were hauling up the boats to run them
on to the beach, and children were playing about bare-footed and
half-naked.

The landscape looked like a theatre-scene, the setting for a romantic
play. They were getting near Genoa, running along by beaches. It was
growing dark; the sea came right up to the track; in the starry,
tranquil night only the monotonous music of the waves was to be heard.

Laura was humming Neapolitan songs. Caesar looked at the landscape
indifferently.

On reaching Genoa they had supper and changed trains.

"I am going to lie down awhile," said Laura.

"So am I."

Laura took off her hat, her white cape, and her jacket.

"Good-night, _bambino_," she said.

"Good-night. Shall I turn down the light?"

"As you like." Caesar turned down the light and stretched himself out.
He couldn't sleep in trains and he got deep into a combination of
fantastical plans and ideas. When they stopped at stations and the noise
of the moving train was gone from the silence of the night, Caesar could
hear Laura's gentle breathing.

A little before dawn, Caesar, tired of not sleeping, got up and started
to take a walk in the corridor. It was raining; on the horizon, below
the black, starless sky, a vague clarity began to appear. Caesar took
out his Proudhon book and immersed himself in it.

When it began to be day they were already getting near Rome. The train
was running through a flat, treeless plain of swampy aspect, covered
with green grass; from time to time there was a poor hut, a hay-stack,
on the uninhabited, monotonous stretch.

The grey sky kept on resolving itself into a rain which, at the impulse
of gusts of wind, traced oblique lines in the air.

Laura had waked and was in the dressing-room. A little later she came
out, fresh and hearty, without the least sign of fatigue.

They began to see the yellowish walls of Rome, and certain big edifices
blackened by the wet. A moment more and the train stopped.

"It's not worth the trouble to take a cab," said Laura. "The hotel is
here, just a step."

They gave a porter orders to attend to the luggage. Laura took her
brother's arm, they went out on the Piazza Esedra, and entered the
hotel.

II

AN EXTRAORDINARY FAMILY

_JUAN GUILLÉN_

The Valencian family of Guillén was really fecund in men of energy and
cleverness. It is true that with the exception of Father Francisco
Guillén and of his nephew Juan Fort, none of them became known; but in
spite of the fact that the members of this family lived in obscurity in
a humble sphere, they performed deeds of unheard-of valour, daring, and
impertinence.

Juan Guillén, the first of the Guilléns whose memory is preserved, was a
highwayman of Villanueva.

What motives for vengeance Juan Guillén had against the Peyró family is
not known. The old folk of the period, two or three who are still alive,
always say that these Peyrós devoted themselves to usury; and there is
some talk of a certain sister of Juan Guillén's, ruined by one of the
Peyrós, whom they made disappear from the town.

Whatever the motive was, the fact is that one day Peyró, the father, and
his eldest son were found, full of bullet holes, in an orange orchard.

Juan Guillén was arrested; in court he affirmed his innocence with great
tenacity; but after he had been sentenced to ten years' imprisonment, he
said that there were still two Peyrós left to kill, whom he would put
off until he got out of prison.

As it turned out, Guillén was set free after six years and returned to
Villanueva. The two threatened Peyrós did their utmost to keep away from
the revengeful Guillén; but it did not work. Juan Guillén killed one
of the Peyrós while he was watering the flowers in the balcony of his
house. The other took refuge in a remote farm-house rented to peasants
in his confidence. This man, who was very crafty, always took great
precautions about all the people that came there, and never forgot to
close the doors and windows at night.

One morning he was found in bed with his head shot to pieces by a
blunderbuss. No doubt death overtook him while he slept. It was said
that Guillén had got in down the chimney, and going close to where Peyró
lay asleep, had fired the blunderbuss right against him. Then he had
gone tranquilly out by the door, without anybody's daring to stop him.

These two last deaths did not cause Guillén any trouble with the law.
All the witnesses in the suit testified in his favour. When the trial
was over, Guillén arranged to stay and live tranquilly in Villanueva.

There was a highwayman in the town, who levied small sums on the farms
for cleaning young sneak-thieves out of the country, and for escorting
rich persons when they travelled; Guillén requested him to give up his
job and he did not offer the least resistance.

Juan Guillén married a peasant-girl, bought a truck-garden, and a
wine-cave, had several children, and was one of the most respectable
highwaymen in the district. He was the terror of the country,
particularly to evil-doers; for him there were neither scruples nor
perils; might was always right; his only limitation his blunderbuss.

To live in a continual state of war seemed to him a natural condition.
Half in earnest, half in jest, it is told of the truck-gardeners of
Valencia that the father always says to his wife or his daughter, when
he is going to have an interview with somebody:

"Bring me my pistol, sweetheart, I am going out to talk to a man."

To Guillén it seemed indispensable that he should carry his blunderbuss
when discussing an affair with anybody.

Juan's energy did not diminish with age; he kept on being as barbarous
and brutal as when he was young. His barbarity did not prevent his being
very fine and polite, because he was under the conviction that his life
was a well-nigh exemplary life.

TENDER-HEARTED VICENTA

Of the highwayman's children, the eldest son studied for the priesthood,
and the youngest daughter, Vicenta, got ruined.

"I should prefer to have her a man and in the penitentiary," Guillén
used to say. Which was not at all strange, because for the highwayman
the penitentiary was like a school of determination and manhood.

Vicenta, the highwayman's youngest daughter, was a blond girl, noisy
and restless, of a violent character that was proof against advice,
reprimands, and beatings.

Vicenta had various beaux, all gentlemen, in spite of her father's
opposition and his cane. None of these young gentlemen beaux dared to
carry the girl off to Valencia, which was what she wanted, for fear of
the highwayman and his blunderbuss.

So she made arrangements with an old woman, a semi-Celestina who turned
up in town, and in her company ran off to Valencia.

The father roared like a wounded lion and swore by all the saints in
heaven to take a terrible revenge; he went to the capital several times
with the intention of dragging his daughter back home bodily; but he
could not find her.

Vicenta Guillén, who was known in Valencia,--for what reason is not
evident,--as the Tender-hearted, had her ups and her downs, rich lovers
and poor, and was distinguished by her boldness and her spirit of
adventure. It was said of her that she had taken part, dressed as a man,
in several popular disturbances.

THE MONK

While the Tender-hearted was leading a life of scandal, her brother,
Francisco, was studying in the College of the Escolapians in the
village, and afterwards entered the Seminary at Tortosa. He did not
distinguish himself there by his intelligence or by his good conduct;
but by force of time and recommendations he succeeded in getting
ordained and saying mass at Villanueva. His father's restless blood
boiled in him: he was a rowdy, brutal and quarrelsome. As life in the
village was uncomfortable for him, he went to America, ready to change
his profession. He could not have found wide prospects among the laity,
for after a few months he took the vows, and ten or twelve years later
he returned to Spain, the Superior of his Order, and went to a monastery
in the province of Castellón.

Francisco Guillén had changed his name, and was now called Fray José de
Calasanz de Villanueva.

If Fray José de Calasanz, on his return from America, had not learned
much theology, at any rate he had learned more about life than in the
early years of his priesthood, and had turned into a cunning hypocrite.
His passions were of extraordinary violence, and despite his ability in
concealing them, he could not altogether hide his underlying barbarity.

His name figured several times, in a scandalous manner, along with the
name of a certain farmer's wife, who was a bit weak in the head.

These pieces of gossip, though they gave him a bad reputation with the
town people, did not prevent him from advancing in his career, for
pretty soon, and no one quite knew for what reason, he was found to have
acquired importance and to wield influence of decisive weight, not only
in the Order, but among the whole clerical element of the city.

At the same time that Father José de Calasanz was becoming so
successful, the Tender-hearted took to the path of virtue and got
married at Valencia to the proprietor of a little grocery shop in a lane
near the market, his name being Antonio Fort.

The Tender-hearted, once married, wrote to her brother to get him to
make her father forgive her. The monk persuaded the old bandit, and the
Tender-hearted went to Villanueva to receive the paternal pardon. The
Tender-hearted, being married, lived an apparently retired and
devout life. Her husband was a poor devil of not much weight. The
Tender-hearted gave a great impetus to the shop. After she began to run
the establishment there was always a great influx of priests and monks
recommended by her brother.

Some of them used to gather in the back-shop toward dusk for
a _tertulia_, and it was said that one of the members of the
_tertulia_,--a youthful little priest from Murcia,--had an understanding
with the landlady.

The priests' _tertulia_ at Fort's shop was a well-spring of riches and
prosperity for the business. The little nuns of such-and-such a convent
advised the ladies they knew to buy chocolate and sweets at Fort's; the
friars of another convent gave them an order for sugar or cinnamon, and
cash poured into the drawer.

The Tender-hearted had three children: Juan, Jerónimo, and Isabel.

When the two elder were of an age to begin their education, Father José
de Calasanz made a visit in Valencia.

Father José had a powerful influence among the clergy, and he offered
his support to his sister in case she found it well to dedicate one of
her sons to the church.

The Tender-hearted, who beginning to have great ambitions, considered
that of her two sons, Juan, the elder, was the more serious and
diligent, and she did not vacillate about sacrificing him to her
ambitions.

JUAN FORT

Juan Fort was a boy of energy, very decided, although not very
intelligent. His uncle, Fray José de Calasanz, when he knew him, grew
fond of him. Fray José enjoyed great esteem in the Order that is
called,--nobody knows whether it is in irony,--the Seraphic Order. Fray
José consulted several competent persons and they advised him to send
his nephew to study outside of Spain. It is known that among her
ministers the Church prefers men without a country. Catholicism means
universality, and the real Catholic has no other country than his
religion, no other capital but Rome.

Juan Fort, snatched from among his comrades and from the bosom of his
family, went weeping in his uncle's company to France, and entered the
convent of Mont-de-Marson to pursue his studies.

In this convent he made his monastic novitiate, and like all the
individuals of that Order, changed his name, being called from then on,
Father Vicente de Valencia.

From Mont-de-Marson he passed to Toulouse, and when two years were up,
he made a short stay in the monastery where his uncle was prior, and
went to Rome.

When the Tender-hearted went to embrace her son, on his passage through
Valencia, she could see that his affection for her had vanished. As
happens with nearly all the young men that enter a religious Order, Juan
Fort felt a deep antipathy for his family and for his native town.

The young Father Vicente de Valencia entered the convent of Aracceli at
Rome, and continued his studies there.

This was at the beginning of Leo XIII's pontificate. At that epoch
certain naïve elements in the Eternal City tried to initiate anti-Jesuit
politics inside the Church. Liberals and Ultramontanists struggled in
the darkness, in the periodicals, and in the universities.

It was a phenomenon of this struggle,--which seems paradoxical,--that
the partisans of tradition were the most liberal, and the partisans of
Modernism the Ultramontanists. The lesser clergy and certain Cardinals
felt vaguely liberal, and were searching for that something Christian,
which, as people say, still remains in Catholicism. On the other hand,
the Congregations, and above all the Jesuits, gave the note of radical
Ultramontanism.

The sons of Loyola had solved the culinary problem of making a
meat-stew without meat; the Jesuits were making their Company the most
anti-Christian of the Societies in the silent partnership.

In Rome the prime defender of Ultramontanism had been the Abbé Perrone,
an eloquent professor, whom the pressure of the traditional theologians
obliged to read, before giving a lecture, a chapter of Saint Thomas on
the point in question. Perrone, after offering, with gnashing of teeth,
this tribute to tradition, used to say proudly: "And now, let us forget
these old saws and get along."

Father Vicente de Valencia enrolled himself among the supporters of the
Perronean Ultramontanism, and became, as was natural, considering his
character, a furious authoritarian. This sombre man, whose vocation was
repugnant to him, who had not the least religious feeling, who could
perhaps have been a good soldier, took a long time to make himself
perfectly at home in monastic life, struggled against the chains that
chafed him, rebelled inwardly, and at last, not only did not succeed in
breaking his fetters, but even considered them his one happiness.

Little by little he dominated his rebelliousness, and he made himself a
great worker and a tireless intriguer.

The fruits of his will were great, greater than those of his intellect.

Father Vicente wrote a theological treatise in Latin, rather uncouth,
so the intellectual said, and which had the sole distinction of
representing the most rabid of reactionary tendencies.

_The Theological Commentaries of Father Vicente de Valencia_ did not
attract the attention of the men who follow the sport of occupying
themselves with such things, whether or no; the presses did not groan
printing criticisms of the book; but the Society of Jesus took note of
the author and assisted Fort with all its power.

A fanatic and a man of mediocre intelligence, that monk might perhaps be
a considerable force in the hands of the Society.

A short while after the publication of his _Commentaries_, Father
Vicente accompanied the general of his Order on a canonical visit to
the monasteries in Spain, France, and Italy; later he was appointed
successively Visitor General for Spain, Consultor of the monastic
province of Valencia, Definer of the Order, and a voting councillor in
the government of the Order.

The news of these honours reached the Fort family in vague form; the
haughty monk gave no account of his successes. He considered himself to
be without a country and without a family.

THE CARDINAL'S NEPHEW AND NIECE

The Tender-hearted died without having the consolation of seeing her
son again; Jerónimo Fort, the youngest child, became head of the shop,
Isabel married a soldier, Carlos Moncada, with whom she went to live in
Madrid.

Isabel Fort lived there a long time without remembering her monk
brother, until she learned, to her great surprise, that they had made
him a Cardinal.

Father Vicente left off calling himself that and changed into Cardinal
Fort. The darkness that surrounded him turned to light, and his figure
stood out strongly.

"Cardinale Forte," they called him in Rome. He was known to be one of
the persons that guided the Vatican camarilla, and one of those who
impelled Leo XIII to rectify the slightly liberal policy of the first
years of his pontificate.

Cardinal Fort filled high posts. He was a Consultor in the Congregation
of Bishops and Regulars, afterwards in that of Rites and in that of the
Holy Office, and on special occasions was confessor to Leo XIII.

Certainly having a Cardinal in the family is something that makes a
showing; and Isabel, as soon as she knew it, wrote by the advice of the
family, to her brother, so as to renew relations with him.

The Cardinal replied, expressing interest in her husband and her
children. Isabel sent him their pictures, and phrases of affection were
cordially interchanged.

After that they kept on writing to each other, and in one letter the
Cardinal invited Isabel to come to Rome. She hesitated; but her
husband convinced her that she ought to accept the invitation. They all
of them went, and the Cardinal received them very affectionately.

Juan Fort was living at that time in a monastery, like the other monks.
He enjoyed an enormous influence in Rome and in Spain. Isabel wanted her
husband promoted, and the Cardinal obtained that in a moment.

Then Fort talked to his sister of the propriety of dedicating Caesar to
the Church. He would enter the College of Nobles, then he would pass to
the Nunciature, and in a short while he would be a potentate.

Doña Isabel told this to her husband; but the idea didn't please him.
They talked among themselves, they discussed it, and the small boy, then
twelve years old, settled the question himself, saying that he would
kill himself rather than be a priest or a monk, because he was a
Republican.

The Cardinal was not enthusiastic over this rebellious youngster who
dared to speak out what he, in his childhood, would not have been bold
enough to insinuate; but if Caesar did not appeal to him, on the other
hand he was very much taken with Laura's beauty and charm.

The Moncada family returned to Spain after spending some months in Rome.
Two years later Doña Isabel's husband died, and she, recalling the
offers of her brother, the Cardinal, left Caesar in an Escolapian
college in Madrid, and went to Rome, taking Laura with her.

The Cardinal, in the meanwhile, had changed his position and his
domicile; he was now living in the Palazzo Altemps in the Via di S.
Apellinare, and leading a more sumptuous life.

They reproached him in Rome for his exclusiveness and at the same time
for his tendency to ostentation. They said that if he was silent about
himself, it was not through modesty, but because that is the best method
to arrive at being a candidate for the tiara.

They added that he was very fond of showing himself in his red robes,
and in fine carriages, and this ostentatious taste was explained among
the Italians by saying: "It's simple enough; he is Spanish."

Publicly it was said that he was a great theologian, but privately he
was considered a strong man, although of mediocre intelligence.

"A Fort is always strong," they said of him, making a pun on his name.
"He is one of the Spanish Eminences who rule the Pope," a great English
periodical stated, referring to him.

On receiving his sister and his niece, the Cardinal put all his
influence with the Black Party in play so that they should be accepted
by the aristocratic society of Rome. He achieved that without much
difficulty. Laura and her mother were naturaly distinguished and
tactful, and they succeeded in forming a circle.

The Cardinal felt proud of his family; and accompanying the two women
gave him occasion for visiting many people.

Roman slander calumniated Fort, assuming him to be having a love affair
with his niece. Juan Fort showed an affection for Laura which seemed
unheard of by those that knew him.

The Cardinal was a man of exuberant pride, and he knew how to control
himself. He felt a great fondness for Laura; but if there was anything
more in this fondness than tranquil fatherly affection, if there was any
passion, only he knew it; the fire lurked very deep in his overshaded
soul.

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22