ted, by the tremendous statements promulgated
by Perez as his justification, founded on unimpeachable writings in his
possession, to drop and relinquish all legal proceedings.
The bitterness of the cup of woe, however, it had still been in the
power of the fierce despot otherwise to deepen. Infuriated by the flight
of Perez, the king caused the wife, then pregnant, and the children of
the fugitive, to be arrested and cast into the public prison, dragging
them "on the day when it is usual to pardon the very worst of criminals,
at the very hour of the procession of the penitents on Holy Thursday,
with a reckless disregard of custom and decency, among the crosses and
all the corteges of this solemnity, in order that there might be no lack
of witnesses for this glorious action." These words we have cited from a
famous narrative subsequently published by Perez in England, from which
we are also tempted to extract, in relation to the same occurrence, the
following passage, full of that energetic eloquence which contributed,
among other causes, to win over general commiseration to the writer:--
"'The crime committed by a wife who aids her husband to escape from
prison, martyred as he had been for so many years, and reduced to
such a miserable condition, is justified by all law--natural,
divine and human--and by the laws of Spain in particular. Saul,
pursuing David, respected Michal, though she was his daughter, and
had even saved her husband from the effects of his wrath.
Law--common, civil, and canonical--absolves woman from whatever she
does to defend her husband. The special law of Count Fernan
Gonzales leaves her free; the voice and the unanimous decree of all
nations exalt and glorify her. If, when her children are in her
house, in their chamber, or their cradle, it be proved that they
are strangers to every thing, by that alone, and by their age,
which excludes them from such confidences, how much more must that
child be a stranger to all, which the mother bore in her bosom, and
which they thus made a prisoner before its birth? Even before it
could be guilty, it was already punished; and its life and soul
were endangered, like one of its brothers who lost both when they
seized his mother a second time, near the port of Lisbon.' He
finishes with these noble and avenging threats:--'But let them not
be deceived; wherever th
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