considered in some degree as privileged persons in the Court of Philip II., and were able to speak with freedom to that monarch, whom few could venture to approach without fear and trembling.* But what a skilful court-preacher may have succeeded in doing by help of a little well-applied flattery, Brother Francis obtained by his simple integrity and honesty of purpose, and was allowed to converse on very familiar terms with royalty. At last he sought the king's permission to put on the Carmelite Friar's frock. The prudent sovereign discouraged it as a token of vanity or ambition in a peasant, and because the rule of a Religious Order would interfere with his charitable labours. But after some delay, he gave his consent, when the poor petitioner was now sixty-two years of age, and he himself was upwards of seventy, having entered upon the last year of his life, in 1598.

Philip III. had known him from childhood, as he had been admitted to amuse the children in the royal palace with his talk and humour of drollery mixed with piety. In the last years of his life the good LayBrother was often to be seen at Valladolid, where he was received by Queen Margaret somewhat after the fashion with which Sancho was received by the Duchess, sitting at a little table in her presence at a short distance from her own, with his frugal repast of milk and vegetables prepared for him. "My dear

* "En cuya presencia se turbaban todos que hablaban.”. Altuna, 434.

Elder Brother," he would say to the pious king, "be a friend to the poor when I am gone; for this is the road by which God will bring you to heaven."

(79.) This tone of familiar equality with the great was in him the natural expression of his right-aiming simplicity of character. The rustic neglect had its charm, and he could converse on the same free and easy terms even with the grave Archbishop Ribera. He had come one day to the prelate's palace in Valencia, hungry and faint, and was introduced to a room where the owner of it was sitting conversing with two heads of religious houses. Seating himself on a stool, he said, “ Father, the poor ass wants provender." The Archbishop having enquired what he would have, called one of his pages, and bade him prepare the bread and cheese and radishes which Brother Francis had desired, in an adjoining apartment, and come and tell him when it was ready. When this was done, the Archbishop in a low voice privately intimated to his guest that he would find his luncheon all right in the room where he had caused the table to be spread for him. "No, no, Father," said Brother Francis, "there is no harm in eating when one is hungry; there is no need to do it in secret; let me have the luncheon here." Juan de Ribera at once yielded the point, and the three religious prelates sate by, much edified at the composure with which he took his refection in their presence.

At another time he was calling on the Duke of

Medina Celi, the head of the La Cerda family, a nobleman who had royal blood in his veins. The duke was ill in bed, but admitted Brother Francis, whom no kind-hearted person would refuse to see. He began as with the Archbishop: "My good brother, I want food." The duke had a little table spread for him in the chamber. When he had refreshed himself, he said, "Now let me take a little rest, it may be managed here, as there is room for us both." Without further ceremony, he laid himself down on a vacant portion of the bed; and the good-natured duke afterwards spoke of it as if he thought he had entertained an angel unawares.*

(80.) If, however, he was acceptable to the rich, he was still more popular with the poor. In the later years of his life this popularity had its inconveniences. It was not always safe for him to walk through a crowd. The villagers in many places, hearing of his approach, would provide themselves with knives and scissors to cut off little pieces of his habit, which they coveted as memorials of such a holy person. The same thing had sometimes happened to St. Teresa or some of her female friends, but probably not to the same extent. The good man resisted all he could, and grudged the necessity of having so often to apply to the convent tailors for a new suit. On one occasion the brothers of the house at Pastrana, finding the country-people pressing round, took preJoseph de Jes. M. 253.

*

cautions to prevent any who carried cutting instruments from coming near him; but one of them with great devotion threw himself on his knees to ask his blessing, and, not liking to lose the keepsake which he sought, took the hem of his frock between his teeth, and bit a great piece out of it. "Brother," said the sufferer with a smile, "do you take it for a sweetmeat? Or do you mean to give it for a breastknot to your bonny bride ?”*

(81.) "The path of life," said Juan de la Cruz, "requires little anxiety or busy enquiry for its discovery: it asks for self-denial, renunciation of one's own will, rather than much knowledge." It would be hard to deny that such men as honest Brother Francis were indefatigable in pursuing this path of life. It would be hard to deny that there were many remarkable and holy-minded persons in this religious movement, which produced a lasting effect on the Church of Spain. We may acknowledge this bright side of things at this period of Spanish history, while we do not conceal the grave errors which prevailed within and without the convent walls. As to the pious king, his gifts to such charitable works abounded everywhere. He founded colleges and convents at Madrid, at Salamanca, at Alicante, and increased the endowments of many more. Six new Episcopal sees were established by him in South America, leaving the number there thirty-six.+ There were four in the

* Joseph de Jes. M. 120, 121.

+ Davila, Grandezas, 473.

Philippine Islands, and eight in the East Indies and other Portuguese colonies, now subject to the Spanish Crown.* He built the Mausoleum at the Escorial; and devoted 700,000 ducats to the Royal Convent of the Incarnation at Madrid, in pious completion of the designs of Queen Margaret, whose death in 1611 had left this cherished object, destined for Nuns of the Barefooted Order of St. Austin, unfinished. +

(82.) If there was a favourable side of religious society, there is also something to be said for the old nobility. There were certainly among them men, who entitled themselves to the praise of the Son of Sirach, as "leaders of the people by their counsels;" and many more, who were "rich men furnished with ability, living peaceably in their habitations." Those who had been to Salamanca were usually good Latin scholars, and sometimes picked up a little Greek.‡ To easy composition in verse they sometimes added the art of music.§ "Good learning," says Don Quixote, "and polite literature, appear as well in a knight of the cloak and sword, and are as much a grace and honour to him, as a mitre to a bishop, or a counsellor's gown to a learned lawyer." Their loyalty was worthy of all admiration. However turbulent the

time, whatever feuds there might be among themselves, whatever provocations they were under from the misgovernment of their sovereigns, it was never in the

*Davila, Grandezas, 506. Don Quixote, part ii. c. 16.

+ Ibid. 57, 291.

? Lopez de Haro, i. 387.