XII.

The Light Divided from the Darkness.

"I felt and feel, whate'er befalls,

The footsteps of thy life in mine."--Tennyson

In the glorious autumn weather, Don Carlos rode joyfully through cork

and chestnut groves, across bare brown plains, and amidst gardens of

pale olives and golden orange globes shining through dark glossy leaves.

He had long ago sent back to Seville the guard with which his uncle had

furnished him, so that his only companion was a country youth, trained

by Diego to act as his servant. But although he passed through the very

district afterwards immortalized by the adventures of the renowned Don

Quixote, no adventure fell to his lot. Unless it may count for an

adventure that near the termination of his journey the weather suddenly

changed, and torrents of rain, accompanied by unusual cold, drove him to

seek shelter.

"Ride on quickly, Jorge," he said to his attendant, "for I remember

there is a venta[#] by the roadside not far off. A poor place truly,

where we are little likely to find a supper. But we shall find a roof to

shelter us and fire to warm us, and these at present are our most

pressing needs."

[#] An inn.

Arrived at the venta, they were surprised to see the lazy landlord so

far stirred out of his usual apathy as to busy himself in trying to

secure the fastening of the outer door, that it might not swing

backwards and forwards in the wind, to the great discomfort of all

within the house. The proud indifferent Spaniard looked calmly up from

his task, and remarked that he would do all in his power to accommodate

his worship. "But unfortunately, senor and your Excellency, a _very_

great and principal nobleman has just arrived here, with a most

distinguished train of fine caballeros--his lordship's gentlemen and

servants; and kitchen, hall, and chamber are as full of them as a hive

is full of bees."

This was evil news to Carlos. Proud, sensitive, and shy, there could be

nothing more foreign to his character than to throw himself into the

society of a person who, though really only his equal in rank, was so

much his superior in all that lends rank its charm in the eyes of the

vulgar. "We had better push on to Ecija," said he to his reluctant

attendant, bravely turning his face to the storm, and making up his mind

to ten miles more in drenching rain.

At that moment, however, a tall figure emerged from the inner door,

opening into the long room behind the stable and kitchen, that formed

the only tolerable accommodation the one-storied venta afforded.

"Surely, senor, you do not intend to go further in this storm," said the

nobleman, whose fine thoughtful countenance Carlos could not but fancy

that he had seen before.

"It is not far to Ecija, senor," returned Carlos, bowing. "And 'First

come first served,' is an excellent proverb."

"The first-comer has certainly one privilege which I am not disposed to

waive--that of hospitably welcoming the second. Do me the favour to come

in, senor. You will find an excellent fire."

Carlos could not decline an invitation so courteously given. He was soon

seated by the wood fire that blazed on the hearth of the inner room,

exchanging compliments, in true Spanish fashion, with the nobleman who

had welcomed him so kindly.

Though no one could doubt for an instant the stranger's possession of

the pure "sangre azul,"[#] yet his manners were more frank and easy and

less ceremonious than those to which Carlos had been accustomed in the

exclusive and privileged class of Seville society---a fact accounted for

by the discovery, afterwards made, that he was born and educated in

Italy.

[#] "Blue blood"

"I have the pleasure of recognizing Don Carlos Alvarez de Santillanos y

Menaya," said he. "I hope the babe about whom his worship showed such

amiable anxiety recovered from its indisposition?"

This then was the personage whom Carlos had seen in such close

conversation with the physician Losada. The association of ideas

immediately brought back the mysterious remark about his father he had

overheard on that occasion. Putting that aside, however, for the

present, he answered, "Perfectly, I thank your grace. We attribute the

recovery mainly to the skill and care of the excellent Dr. Cristobal

Losada."

"A gentleman whose medical skill cannot be praised too highly, 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

stranger's 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, Dona 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[#] of Toro. He

has been visiting Seville upon business of importance, and is now

returning home."

[#] 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,' senor?" 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, senor," said Carlos, wild 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, Senor 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, senor. 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.'"

"Senor 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, senor. 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._"[#]

[#] "Unto you who believes 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_."[#]

[#] "But unto them 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, senor, 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, senor," 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, senor; 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. "Senor," he said,

after a long pause, during which the stream of thought ran continuously

underground, to reappear consequently in an unexpected place--"Senor, 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, senor, 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, senor," 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?