The Duchess of Trajetto Part 19

CHAPTER XVIII.

A BETTER LIFE.

You may have seen an old print of t.i.tus's Arch, in the foreground of which is an Italian lady of quality, with hoop, lappets, and fan, sailing to church, attended by her gentleman-usher. A stately man-servant in advance clears the way, two ladies-in-waiting follow their mistress at a respectful distance, and two or three more menials close the procession.

Something in this style did Giulia go to the cathedral. As she was returning from it one evening, accompanied by Valdes, her heart was full, and, after one or two ineffectual beginnings she said--[15]

[15] Vide "Alfabeto Christiano."

"I have so much confidence in our friendship, Signor Valdes, that I feel as if I could speak to you on some subjects even more freely than to a confessor. If you are not pre-engaged, therefore, I would gladly tell you what is on my mind. Do I importune you?"

"On the contrary, Signora," said Valdes, "I am honoured by your commands, and you well know there is no one I love better to serve."

"A truce, then, with compliments of every kind. I want to open to you my whole heart, for I am sure you will pity me. I am a prey to such constant dissatisfaction with myself and with everything around me, as cannot be described. I neither know what I wish, nor with what I should be contented. Hence, I cannot conceive anything that could be offered me capable of appeasing this inquietude and removing my confusion of mind.

Many years have I felt thus: and of late you have given me reason to hope that if I would give ear to the preaching of Ochino I should be tranquillised. Alas, I find it quite otherwise! And though I admit that the fault may be mine rather than his, yet the disappointment is so bitter, that tears frequently come into my eyes through not knowing what to do with myself, nor what to lean upon."

Saying which, her tone was so sad, and she looked so troubled, that the humane Valdes was filled with compa.s.sion.

"Say freely, Signora," said he, "whatever you wish to ask of me; and be a.s.sured that I will always expend in your service all that I know and am able to do."

"Tell me, then," said Giulia, "from what cause you believe this state of mind to spring, and how, if possible, it can be remedied, or whether it must be borne."

"You must first make me one promise," said Valdes.

"What can that be?" inquired the d.u.c.h.ess.

"If I show you the way by which you may be relieved from your disquietude, you must promise to walk in it."

"Of course. Gladly!"

"Be very attentive, then, Signora, to what I am about to say. You know it is written that man is made 'in the image and likeness of G.o.d.' And you will also remember that St. Paul counsels the Corinthians to put off the old man with his deeds, that is, the sinful nature we have all inherited since the fall, and be clothed with the new man, who is created 'in the image and likeness of G.o.d.' From this it appears, that in such a degree as man retains in himself the image and likeness of G.o.d, in the same degree he apprehends and appreciates spiritual things in a spiritual life and conversation. Recognise this, and you will all at once perceive whence your disorder and disquietude of mind arise; because you will see that your soul is striving for rest.i.tution to the image of G.o.d, of which at present it is deprived. The remedy is in your own hands."

"In my hands?"

"Yes! Because as soon as you determine to renew and restore within yourself the image and likeness of G.o.d, you will find peace, quiet, and repose."

Giulia drew a deep breath, and then said--

"How must I do this?"

"By withdrawing your affections from vain and transitory things, and fixing them on those which are spiritual and eternal. Your spirit thus finding its proper aliment, will always be content and cheerful, and here in this present life will begin to taste of that felicity which it expects to enjoy for ever in the life eternal. To this happiness only the real Christian can attain."

"As for that," said the d.u.c.h.ess, "I know many persons who have as much, and perhaps more, cancelled the image of G.o.d than I have, who are yet perfectly content and happy."

"Such persons," returned Valdes, "have low and vulgar minds, and can therefore suffice themselves with mean and frivolous objects that could never satisfy a refined and generous nature like yours.... I am not at all sorry that you should be troubled in the way you have described, because it shows that the preaching of the Gospel is producing its first effect on you.... There is nothing in this world that could give me so much pleasure as to see you walking in the path of life, for I hold it for certain that, once in complete union with G.o.d, you would outstrip many who are now saints in heaven."

"I desire to do so," said she, softly.

"Then why don't you do what you desire?" rejoined Valdes.

"Because I don't know how."

"Force, force, Signora! force is the one thing wanting. 'The kingdom of heaven suffereth violence, and the violent take it by force.'"

"Lead me by the hand, then," said she, "instructing me in those footsteps by which I believe you have walked."

"You want me," said Valdes, "to show you some royal and ladylike road by which you may get to G.o.d without turning away from the world. But, lady, no such compromise can be made. Have you ever crossed a running stream?"

"Yes, many times."

"Do you not remember how your head swam if you looked at the flowing water, but how steady it was if you fixed your eyes on the opposite sh.o.r.e? Thus, with G.o.d and the world, endeavour to keep the view of your soul fixed and nailed with Christ on the cross. And if at any time, through want of care, your eyes are diverted to the things of this world, return, return, Signora, as quickly as possible, to fix them on Christ crucified; and all will be well. You know the human heart is naturally inclined to love. It must either love G.o.d and all things for G.o.d, or it must love itself and all things for itself. He who loves G.o.d, performs everything he does for Him. And thus, if he loves anything besides G.o.d, he loves it for the sake of G.o.d, and because G.o.d wills it so. And then his good works please and are acceptable to G.o.d, because they spring from love. Agreeable to this is what St. Augustine says--'Good works follow in them who are already justified, and do not go before in him who has to be justified.' You know how you yourself estimate what a person does in your affairs when you know you owe not his good services to the affection he bears you, but to some other motive."

This dialogue, which had been begun in the open air, was now being carried on in the d.u.c.h.ess's parlour. She sat in a high-backed, richly carved chair, looking out through the balconied window, on the bay of Naples, with streaks of summer lightning now and then illumining the sky, and the lurid fires of Vesuvius glowing in the distance. Valdes sat on a stool a little apart.

"Since you wish me," said she, after a pause, "to make the love of G.o.d my prime motive, and, next to it, the love of my neighbour,--well then, I will do so!--but mention, if it please you, some rule by which I may know and understand what it is I ought to do; because I wish to give myself up to the love of G.o.d, even so much so as to deprive myself of your favour, and that of a hundred others like you."

"No, Signora, no! you can never do that!" said Valdes, fervently: and he then sketched out for her the outline of a Christian life, not circ.u.mscribed within slavish bounds, but capable of adaptation to time and place, s.e.x and degree, based only on the immutable principle of loving G.o.d above and in all things, and one's neighbour even as one's self. It was a memorable evening for Giulia. Her cheeks were wet with tears, but they were the sweetest she had ever shed. They took no note of time, but prolonged the interview till night.

When they parted, she said to him:

"I shall never forget this conversation!"

"And I," said he, deeply moved, "shall remember it always."

"Oh, that I could preserve every word you have spoken! Do you think you could commit the substance to writing?"

"Undoubtedly, if you wish it."

"I do wish it, most earnestly. And pray for me, pray for me, dear friend, that your words may not only sink into my heart, but take root in it, and bring forth fruit abundantly."

"I will, indeed, Signora; but, above all, fail not to pray for yourself, that the love of G.o.d may abound in you yet more and more."

"Never knew I till now what that love was! I have heard tell a thousand times of this going out of a person's self to enter into G.o.d, but never, in all I have heard, was it made comprehensible."

"You are so much the more under obligation to love G.o.d, since He has preserved you so long in this world as to come to know this which till now you have not understood."

"You are right. May it please G.o.d that I know how to profit by it."

She gave him her hand. He kissed it with the utmost reverence: then, raising his eyes heavenwards, uttered a short, fervent prayer for her confirmation in the knowledge and love of G.o.d.

When he was gone, she covered her eyes with her hand, and tears slowly trickled down her cheeks. Almost unconsciously, she sank on her knees and murmured----

"O, my G.o.d! teach me to be what Thou wouldst have me to be, and then enable me to do what Thou wouldst have me to do! Form in me Thine own image and likeness, for Christ's sake!"

A strange calm and sweet peace took possession of her soul.

When Valdes presented himself to her, a few days afterwards, he brought her his ma.n.u.script version of the substance of their dialogue, written in his native Spanish, which was nearly as familiar to her as Italian, seeing that it was continually spoken by Vittoria Colonna and others of her familiar acquaintance. The faithfulness with which he had recalled the vivacity of her rejoinders showed how deeply they had interested him, and if his own speeches were less closely reported, it was chiefly because he had taken the opportunity of extending them even at the price of weakening their spirit.