except, indeed, it were exalted at the expense of his other excellent
qualities, and particularly his charity to the poor."
Carlos heartily acquiesced, and added some instances of the physician's
kindness to those who could not recompense him again. They were new to
his companion, who listened with interest.
During this conversation supper was laid. As the principal guest had
brought his own provisions with him, it was a comfortable and plentiful
repast. Carlos, ere he sat down, left the room to re-arrange his
dress, and found opportunity to ask the innkeeper if he knew the noble
strangers name.
"His Excellency is a great noble from Castile," returned mine host,
with an air of much importance. "His name, as I am informed, is Don
Carlos de Seso; and his illustrious lady, Doña Isabella, is of the
blood royal."
"Where does he reside?"
"His gentlemen tell me, principally at one of his fine estates in the
north, Villamediana they call it. He is also corregidor[6] of Toro.
He has been visiting Seville upon business of importance, and is now
returning home."
[6] Mayor.
Pleased to be the guest of such a man (for in fact he was his guest),
Carlos took his seat at the table, and thoroughly enjoyed the meal. An
hour's intercourse with a man who had read and travelled much, but had
thought much more, was a rare treat to him. Moreover, De Seso showed
him all that fine courtesy which a youth so highly appreciates from a
senior, giving careful attention to every observation he hazarded, and
manifestly bringing the best of his powers to bear on his own share of
the conversation.
He spoke of Fray Constantino's preaching, with an enthusiasm that made
Carlos regret that he had been hitherto such an inattentive hearer.
"Have you seen a little treatise by the Fray, entitled 'The Confession
of a Sinner'?" he asked.
Carlos having answered in the negative, his new friend drew a tract
from the pocket of his doublet, and gave it to him to read while he
wrote a letter.
Carlos, after the manner of eager, rapid readers, plunged at once into
the heart of the matter, disdaining beginnings.
Almost the first words upon which his eyes fell arrested his attention
and drew him irresistibly onwards. "Such has been the pride of man,"
he read, "that he aimed at being God; but so great was thy compassion
towards him in his fallen state, that thou abasedst thyself to become
not only of the rank of men, but a true man, and the least of men,
taking upon thee the form of a servant, that thou mightest set me at
liberty, and that by means of thy grace, wisdom, and righteousness,
man might obtain more than he had lost by his ignorance and pride....
Wast thou not chastised for the iniquity of others? Has not thy blood
sufficient virtue to wash out the sins of all the human race? Are not
thy treasures more able to enrich me than all the debt of Adam to
impoverish me? Lord, although I had been the only person alive, or the
only sinner in the world, thou wouldst not have failed to die for me.
O my Saviour, I would say, and say it with truth, that I individually
stand in need of those blessings which thou hast given to all. What
though the guilt of all had been mine? thy death is all mine. Even
though I had committed all the sins of all, yet would I continue to
trust thee, and to assure myself that thy sacrifice and pardon is all
mine, though it belong to all."
So far he read in silence, then the tract fell from his hand, and an
involuntary exclamation broke from his lips--"Passing strange!"
De Seso paused, pen in hand, and looked up surprised. "What find you
'passing strange,' señor?" he asked.
"That he--that Fray Constantino should have felt precisely what--what
he describes here."
"That such a holy man should feel so deeply his own utter sinfulness?
But you are doubtless aware that the holiest saints in all ages have
shared this experience. St. Augustine, for instance, with whose
writings so ripe a theological scholar is doubtless well acquainted."
"Such," returned Carlos, "are not worse than others; but they know what
they are as others do not."
"True. Tried by the standard of God's perfect law, the purest life must
appear a miserable failure. We may call the marble of our churches and
dwellings white, until we see God's snow, pure and fresh from heaven,
upon it."
"Ay, señor," said Carlos, with joyful eagerness; "but the Hand that
points out the stains can cleanse them. No snow is half so pure as the
linen clean and white which is the righteousness of saints."
It was De Seso's turn to be astonished now. In the look that, half
leaning over the table, he bent upon the eager face of Carlos, surprise
and emotion blended. For a moment their eyes met with a flash, like
that which flint strikes from steel, of mutual intelligence and
sympathy. But it passed again as quickly. De Seso said, "I suspect
that I see in you, Señor Don Carlos, one of those admirable scholars
who have devoted their talents to the study of that sacred language in
which the words of the holy apostles are handed down to us. You are a
Grecian?"
Carlos shook his head. "Greek is but little studied at Complutum now,"
he said, "and I confined myself to the usual theological course."
"In which, I have heard, your success has been brilliant. But it is a
sore disgrace to us, and a heavy loss to the youth of our nation, that
the language of St. John and St. Paul should be deemed unworthy of
their attention."
"Your Excellency is aware that it was otherwise in former years,"
returned Carlos. "Perhaps the present neglect is owing to the suspicion
of heresy which, truly or falsely, has attached itself to most of the
accomplished Greek scholars of our time."
"A miserable misapprehension; the growth of monkish ignorance and envy,
and popular superstition. Heresy is a convenient stigma with which men
ofttimes brand as evil the good they are incapable of comprehending."
"Most true, señor. Even Fray Constantino has not escaped."
"His crime has been, that he has sought to turn the minds of men from
outward acts and ceremonies to the great spiritual truths of which
these are the symbols. To the vulgar, Religion is nothing but a series
of shows and postures."
"Yes," answered Carlos; "but the heart that loves God, and truly
believes in our Lord and Saviour, is taught to put such in their
proper place. 'These ought ye to have done, and not to leave the other
undone.'"
"Señor Don Carlos," said De Seso, with surprise he could no longer
suppress, "you are evidently a devout and earnest student of the
Scriptures."
"I search the Scriptures; in them I think I have eternal life. And they
testify of Christ," promptly responded the less cautious youth.
"I perceive that you do not quote the Vulgate."
Carlos smiled. "No, señor. To a man of your enlightened views I am
not afraid to acknowledge the truth. I have seen--nay, why should I
hesitate?--I possess a rare treasure--the New Testament of our Lord and
Saviour Jesus Christ in our own noble Castilian tongue."
Even through the calm and dignified deportment of his companion Carlos
could perceive the thrill that this communication caused. There was
a pause; then he said softly, "And your treasure is also mine." The
low quiet words came from even greater depths of feeling than the
eager tremulous tones of Carlos. For _his_ convictions, slowly reached
and dearly purchased, were "built below" the region of the soul that
passions agitate,--
"Based on the crystalline sea
Of thought and its eternity."
The heart of Carlos glowed with sudden ardent love towards the man
who shared his treasure, and, he doubted not, his faith also. He
could joyfully have embraced him on the spot. But the force of habit
and the sensitive reserve of his character checked this impetuous
demonstrativeness. He only said, with a look that was worth an embrace,
"I knew it. Your Excellency spoke as one who held our Lord and his
truth in honour."
"_Ella es pues honor a vosotros que creeis._"[7]
[7] Unto you who believe he is precious," or "an honour."
It would have been hard to begin a verse that Carlos could not at this
time have instantly completed. He went on: "_Mas para los que no creen,
la piedra que los edificatores reprobaron_."[8]
[8] "But unto those that believe not, the stone that the builders
reject."
"A sorrowful truth," said De Seso, "which my young friend must needs
bear in mind. His Word, like himself, is rejected by the many. Its very
mention may expose to obloquy and danger."
"Only another instance, señor, of those lamentable prejudices about
heresy about which we spoke anon. I am aware that there are those that
would brand me (_me_, a scholar too!) with the odious name of heretic,
merely for reading God's Word in my own tongue. But how utterly absurd
the charge! The blessed Book has but confirmed my faith in all the
doctrines of our holy Mother Church."
"Has it?" said De Seso, quietly, perhaps a little drily.
"Most assuredly, señor," Carlos rejoined, with warmth. "In fact I never
understood, or, I may say, truly believed those holy verities until
now. Beginning with the Credo itself, and the orthodox Catholic faith
in our Lord's divinity and atonement."
Here their conversation was interrupted by the entrance of the
attendants, who removed supper, replenished the lamp, and heaped fresh
chestnut logs on the fire. But as soon as the room was cleared they
returned eagerly to subjects so interesting to both.
"Our salvation rests," said De Seso, "upon the great cardinal truths
you have named. By the faith which receives into your heart the
atonement of Christ as a work done for you, you are justified."
"I am forgiven, and I shall be justified."
"Pardon me, señor; Scripture teaches that your justification is already
complete. Therefore, _being justified by faith_, we have peace with
God."
"But that cannot surely be the apostle's meaning," said Carlos, "Ay de
mi! I know too well that I am not yet completely justified. Far from
it; evil thoughts throng my heart; and not with heart alone, but with
lips, eyes, hands, I transgress daily."
"Yet, you see, peace can only be consequent on justification. And peace
you have."
Carlos looked perplexed. Misled by the teaching of his Church, he
confused justification with sanctification; consequently he could
not legitimately enjoy the peace that ought to flow from the one as
a complete and finished work, because the other necessarily remained
imperfect.
De Seso explained that the word justify is never used in Scripture in
its derivative sense, to _make_ righteous; but always in its common and
universally accepted sense, to _account_ or _declare_ righteous. Quite
easily and naturally he glided into the teacher's place, whilst Carlos
gladly took that of the learner; not, indeed, without astonishment at
the layman's skill in divinity, but with too intense an interest in
what he said to waste much thought upon his manner of saying it.
Hitherto he had been like an unlearned man, who, without guide or
companion, explores the trackless shores of a newly-discovered land.
Should such an one meet in his course a scientific explorer, who has
mapped and named every mountain, rock, and bay, who has traced out
the coast-line, and can tell what lies beyond the white hills in the
distance, it is easy to understand the eagerness with which he would
listen to his narrative, and the intentness with which he would bend
over the chart in which the scene of his own journeyings lies portrayed.
Thus De Seso not only taught Carlos the true meaning of Scripture
terms, and the connection of Scripture truths with each other; he also
made clear to him the facts of his own experience, and gave names to
them for him.
"I think I understand now," said Carlos after a lengthened
conversation, in which, moving from point to point, he had suggested
many doubts and not a few objections, and these in turn had been taken
up and answered by his friend. "God be thanked, there is no more
condemnation, no more punishment for us. Nothing, either in act or
suffering, can be added to the work of Christ, which is complete."
"Ay, now you have grasped the truth which is the source of our joy and
strength."
"It must then be our sanctification which suffering promotes, both in
this life and in purgatory."
"All God's dealings with us in this life are meant to promote our
sanctification. Joy may do it, by his grace, as well as sorrow. It is
written, not alone, 'He humbled thee and suffered thee to hunger,' but
also, 'He fed thee with manna, to teach the secret of life in him, from
him, and by him.'"
"But suffering is purifying--like fire."
"Not in itself. Criminals released from the galleys usually come forth
hardened in their crimes by the lash and the oar."
Having said this, De Seso rose and extinguished the expiring lamp,
while Carlos remained thoughtfully gazing into the fire. "Señor,"
he said, after a long pause, during which the stream of thought ran
continuously underground, to reappear consequently in an unexpected
place--"Señor, do you think God's Word, which solves so many mysteries,
can answer every question for us?"
"Scarcely. Some questions we may ask, of which the answers, in our
present state, would be beyond our comprehension. And others may
indeed be answered there, but we may miss the answers, because through
weakness of faith we are not yet able to receive them."
"For instance?"
"I had rather not name an instance--at present," said De Seso, and
Carlos thought his face had a sorrowful look as he gazed at it in the
firelight.
"I would not willingly miss anything my Lord meant to teach. I desire
to know _all_ his will, and to follow it," Carlos rejoined earnestly.
"It may be that you know not what you desire. Still, name any question
you wish; and I will tell you freely whether in my judgment God's Word
contains an answer."
Carlos stated the difficulty suggested by the inquiry of Dolores. Who
can tell the exact moment when his bark leaves the gently-flowing river
for the great deep ocean? That of Carlos, on the instant when he put
this question, was met by the first wave of the mighty sea upon which
he was to be tossed by many a storm. But he did not know it.
"I agree with you as to the silence of God's Word about purgatory,"
returned his friend; and for some time both gazed into the fire without
speaking.
"This and similar discoveries have sometimes given me, I own, a feeling
of blank disappointment, and even of terror," said Carlos at length.
For with him it was one of those rare hours in which a man can bear
to translate into words the "dark misgivings" of the soul, usually
unacknowledged even to himself.
"I cannot say," was the answer, "that the thought of passing through
the gate of death into the immediate presence of my glorified Lord
affects me with 'blank disappointment' or 'terror.'"
"How?--What do you say?" cried Carlos, starting visibly.
"'Absent from the body, present with the Lord.' 'To depart and to be
with Christ is far better.'"
"But it was San Pablo, the great apostle and martyr, who said that. For
us,--we have the Church's teaching," Carlos rejoined in quick, anxious
tones.
"Nevertheless, I venture to think that, in the face of all you have
learned from God's Word, you will find it a task somewhat of the
hardest to prove purgatory."
"Not at all," said Carlos; and immediately he bounded into the
arena of controversy, laid his lance in rest, and began an animated
tilting-match with his new friend, who was willing (of course, thought
Carlos, for argument's sake alone, and as an intellectual exercise) to
personate a Lutheran antagonist.
But not a few doughty champions have met the stern reality of a bloody
death in the mimic warfare of the tilting-field. At every turn Carlos
found himself answered, baffled, confounded. Yet, how could he, how
dared he, acknowledge defeat, even to himself, when with the imperilled
doctrine so much else must fall? What would become of private masses,
indulgences, prayers for the dead? Nay, what would become of the
infallibility of Mother Church herself?
So he fought desperately. Fear, ever increasing, quickened his
preceptions, baptized his lips with eloquence, made his sense acute
and his memory retentive. Driven at last from the ground of Scripture
and reason, he took his stand upon that of scholastic divinity. Using
the weapons with which he had been taught to play so deftly for once
in terrible earnest, he spun clever syllogisms, in which he hoped to
entangle his adversary. But De Seso caught the flimsy webs in the naked
hand of his strong sense, and crushed them to atoms.
Then Carlos knew that the battle was lost. "I can say no more," he
acknowledged, sorrowfully bowing his head.
"And what I have said--is it not in accordance with the Word of God?"
With a cry of dismay on his lips, Carlos turned and looked at him--"God
help us! Are we then Lutherans?"
"It may be Christ is asking another question--Are we amongst those who
follow him _whithersoever_ he goeth?"
"Oh, not _there_--not to _that_!" cried Carlos, rising in his agitation
and beginning to pace the room. "I abhor heresy--I eschew the thought.
From my cradle I have done so. Anywhere but that!"
Pausing at last in his walk before the place where De Seso sat, he
asked, "And you, señor, have you considered whither this would lead?"
"I have. I do not ask thee to follow. But this I say: if Christ bids
any man leave the ship and come to him upon these dark and stormy
waters, he will stretch out his own right hand to uphold and sustain
him."
"To leave the ship--his Church? That would be leaving him. And leaving
him, I am lost, soul and body--lost--lost!"
"Fear not. At his feet, clinging to him, soul of man was never lost
yet."
"I will cleave to him, and to the Church too."
"Still, if one must be forsaken, let not that one be Christ."
"Never, _never_--so help me God!" After a pause he added, as if
speaking to himself, "Lord, to whom shall we go? Thou hast the words of
eternal life."
He stood motionless, wrapt in thought; while De Seso rose softly, and
going to the window, put aside the rude shutter that had been fastened
across it.
"The night is bright," said Carlos dreamily. "The moon must have risen."
"That is daylight you see," returned his companion with a smile. "Time
for wayfarers to seek rest in sleep."
"Prayer is better than sleep."
"True, and we who own the same precious faith can well unite in prayer."
With the willing consent of Carlos, his new friend laid their common
desires and perplexities before God. The prayer was in itself a
revelation to him; he forgot even to wonder that it came from the lips
of a layman. For De Seso spoke as one accustomed to converse with the
Unseen, and to enter by faith to the inner sanctuary, the very presence
of God himself. And Carlos found that it was good thus to draw nigh
to God. He felt his troubled soul returning to its rest, to its quiet
confidence in Him who, he knew, would guide him by his counsel, and
afterwards receive him into glory.
When they rose, instinctively their right hands sought each other, and
were locked in that strong grasp which is sometimes worth more than an
embrace.
"We have confidence each in the other," said De Seso, "so that we need
exchange no pledge of faithfulness or secrecy."
Carlos bowed his head. "Pray for me, señor," he said. "Pray that God,
who sent you here to teach me, may in his own time complete the work he
has begun."
Then both lay down in their cloaks; one to sleep, the other to ponder
and pray.
In the morning each went his several way. And never was it given to
Carlos, in this world, to look upon that face or to grasp that hand
again.
He who had thus crossed his path, as it were for a moment, was perhaps
the noblest of all the heroic band of Spanish martyrs, that forlorn
hope of Christ's army, who fought and fell "where Satan's seat was."
His high birth and lofty station, his distinguished abilities, even
those more superficial graces of person and manner which are not
without their strong fascination, were all--like the precious ointment
with the odour of which the house was filled--consecrated to the
service of the Lord for whom he lived and died. The eye of imagination
lingers with special and reverential love upon that grand calm figure.
But our simple story leads us far away amongst other scenes and other
characters. We must now turn to a different part of the wide missionary
harvest-field, in which the lowly muleteer Juliano Hernandez, and the
great noble Don Carlos de Seso, were both labouring. Was their labour
in vain?
XIII.
Seville.
"There is a multitude around,
Responsive to my prayer;
I hear the voice of my desire
Resounding everywhere."
A.L. WARING.
Don Carlos felt surprised, on returning to Seville, to find the circle
in which he had been wont to move exactly as he left it. His absence
appeared to him a great deal longer than it really was. Moreover,
there lurked in his mind an undefined idea that a period so fraught
with momentous change to him could not have passed without change over
the heads of others. But the worldly only seemed more worldly, the
frivolous more frivolous, the vain more vain than ever.
Around the presence of Doña Beatriz there still hung a sweet dangerous
fascination, against which he struggled, and, in the strength of his
new and mighty principle of action, struggled successfully. Still, for
the sake of his own peace, he longed to find some fair pretext for
making his home elsewhere than beneath his uncle's roof.
One great pleasure awaited his return--a letter from Juan. It was the
second he had received; the first having merely told of his brother's
safe arrival at the headquarters of the royal army at Cambray. Don
Juan had obtained his commission just in time for active service in
the brief war between France and Spain that immediately followed the
accession of Philip II. And now, though he said not much of his own
exploits, it was evident that he had already begun to distinguish
himself by the prompt and energetic courage which was a part of his
character. Moreover, a signal piece of good fortune had fallen to his
lot. The Spaniards were then engaged in the siege of St. Quentin.
Before the works were quite completed, the French General--the
celebrated Admiral Coligny--managed to throw himself into the town
by a brilliant and desperate _coup-de-main_. Many of his heroic band
were killed or taken prisoners, however; and amongst the latter was a
gentleman of rank and fortune, a member of the admiral's suite, who
surrendered his sword into the hands of young Don Juan Alvarez.
Juan was delighted with his prize, as he well might be. Not only was
the distinction an honourable one for so young a soldier; but the
ransom he might hope to receive would serve very materially to smooth
his pathway to the attainment of his dearest wishes.
Carlos was now able to share his brother's joy with unselfish sympathy.
With a peculiar kind of pleasure, not quite unmixed with superstition,
he recalled Juan's boyish words, more than once repeated, "When I go
to the wars, I shall make some great prince or duke my prisoner." They
had found a fair, if not exactly literal, fulfilment, and that so early
in his career. And a belief that had grown up with him from childhood
was strengthened thereby. Juan would surely accomplish everything upon
which his heart was set. Certainly he would find his father--if that
father should prove to be after all in the land of the living.
Carlos was warmly welcomed back by his relatives--at least by all of
them save one. To a mild temper and amiable disposition he united the
great advantage of rivalling no man, and interfering with no man's
career. At the same time, he had a well-defined and honourable career
of his own, in which he bid fair to be successful; so that he was
not despised, but regarded as a credit to the family. The solitary
exception to the favourable sentiments he inspired was found in the
bitter disdain which Gonsalvo, with scarcely any attempt at disguise,
exhibited towards him.