Transcribed from the 1896 John Murray edition by David Price, email
ccx074@pglaf.org
[Picture: Seville]
THE BIBLE IN SPAIN;
OR, THE JOURNEYS, ADVENTURES, AND
IMPRISONMENTS OF AN ENGLISHMAN
IN AN ATTEMPT TO CIRCULATE
THE SCRIPTURES IN
THE PENINSULA.
BY
GEORGE BORROW.
* * * * *
_A NEW EDITION_, _WITH NOTES AND A GLOSSARY_,
BY ULICK RALPH BURKE, M.A.,
AUTHOR OF “A HISTORY OF SPAIN,” ETC.
* * * * *
_IN TWO VOLUMES_.
VOL. I.
* * * * *
WITH MAP AND ENGRAVINGS.
* * * * *
LONDON:
JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.
1896.
* * * * *
LONDON:
PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,
STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.
PREFACE.
It is very seldom that the preface of a work is read; indeed, of late
years most books have been sent into the world without any. I deem it,
however, advisable to write a preface, and to this I humbly call the
attention of the courteous reader, as its perusal will not a little tend
to the proper understanding and appreciation of these volumes.
The work now offered to the public, and which is styled _The Bible in
Spain_, consists of a narrative of what occurred to me during a residence
in that country, to which I was sent by the Bible Society, as its agent,
for the purpose of printing and circulating the Scriptures. It
comprehends, however, certain journeys and adventures in Portugal, and
leaves me at last in “the land of the _Corahai_,” to which region, after
having undergone considerable buffeting in Spain, I found it expedient to
retire for a season.
It is very probable that had I visited Spain from mere curiosity, or with
a view of passing a year or two agreeably, I should never have attempted
to give any detailed account of my proceedings, or of what I heard and
saw. I am no tourist, no writer of books of travels; but I went there on
a somewhat remarkable errand, which necessarily led me into strange
situations and positions, involved me in difficulties and perplexities,
and brought me into contact with people of all descriptions and grades;
so that, upon the whole, I flatter myself that a narrative of such a
pilgrimage may not be wholly uninteresting to the public, more especially
as the subject is not trite; for, though various books have been
published about Spain, I believe that the present is the only one in
existence which treats of missionary labour in that country.
Many things, it is true, will be found in the following volume which have
little connexion with religion, or religious enterprise; I offer,
however, no apology for introducing them. I was, as I may say, from
first to last adrift in Spain, the land of old renown, the land of wonder
and mystery, with better opportunities of becoming acquainted with its
strange secrets and peculiarities than, perhaps, ever yet were afforded
to any individual, certainly to a foreigner; and if in many instances I
have introduced scenes and characters perhaps unprecedented in a work of
this description, I have only to observe, that, during my sojourn in
Spain, I was so unavoidably mixed up with such, that I could scarcely
have given a faithful narrative of what befell me had I not brought them
forward in the manner in which I have done.
It is worthy of remark, that, called suddenly and unexpectedly “to
undertake the adventure of Spain,” I was not altogether unprepared for
such an enterprise. In the day-dreams of my boyhood, Spain always bore a
considerable share, and I took a particular interest in her, without any
presentiment that I should, at a future time, be called upon to take a
part, however humble, in her strange dramas; which interest, at a very
early period, led me to acquire her noble language, and to make myself
acquainted with her literature (scarcely worthy of the language), her
history, and traditions; so that when I entered Spain for the first time
I felt more at home than I should otherwise have done.
In Spain I passed five years, which, if not the most eventful, were, I
have no hesitation in saying, the most happy years of my existence. Of
Spain at the present time, now that the day-dream has vanished never,
alas! to return, I entertain the warmest admiration: she is the most
magnificent country in the world, probably the most fertile, and
certainly with the finest climate. Whether her children are worthy of
their mother, is another question, which I shall not attempt to answer;
but content myself with observing that, amongst much that is lamentable
and reprehensible, I have found much that is noble and to be admired:
much stern heroic virtue; much savage and horrible crime; of low vulgar
vice very little, at least amongst the great body of the Spanish nation,
with which my mission lay; for it will be as well here to observe that I
advance no claim to an intimate acquaintance with the Spanish nobility,
from whom I kept as remote as circumstances would permit me; _en
revanche_, however, I have had the honour to live on familiar terms with
the peasants, shepherds, and muleteers of Spain, whose bread and
_bacallao_ I have eaten; who always treated me with kindness and
courtesy, and to whom I have not unfrequently been indebted for shelter
and protection.
“The generous bearing of Francisco Gonzales, and the high deeds of
Ruy Diaz the Cid, are still sung amongst the fastnesses of the Sierra
Morena.” {0a}
I believe that no stronger argument can be brought forward in proof of
the natural vigour and resources of Spain, and the sterling character of
her population, than the fact that, at the present day, she is still a
powerful and unexhausted country, and her children still, to a certain
extent, a high-minded and great people. Yes, notwithstanding the misrule
of the brutal and sensual Austrian, the doting Bourbon, and, above all,
the spiritual tyranny of the court of Rome, Spain can still maintain her
own, fight her own combat, and Spaniards are not yet fanatic slaves and
crouching beggars. This is saying much, very much: she has undergone far
more than Naples had ever to bear, and yet the fate of Naples has not
been hers. There is still valour in Asturia, generosity in Aragon,
probity in Old Castile, and the peasant women of La Mancha can still
afford to place a silver fork and a snowy napkin beside the plate of
their guest. Yes, in spite of Austrian, Bourbon, and Rome, there is
still a wide gulf between Spain and Naples.
Strange as it may sound, Spain is not a fanatic country. {0b} I know
something about her, and declare that she is not, nor has ever been:
Spain never changes. It is true that, for nearly two centuries, she was
the she-butcher, _La Verduga_, of malignant Rome; the chosen instrument
for carrying into effect the atrocious projects of that power; yet
fanaticism was not the spring which impelled her to the work of butchery:
another feeling, in her the predominant one, was worked upon—her fatal
pride. It was by humouring her pride that she was induced to waste her
precious blood and treasure in the Low Country wars, to launch the
Armada, and to many other equally insane actions. Love of Rome had ever
slight influence over her policy; but, flattered by the title of
_Gonfaloniera of the Vicar of Jesus_, and eager to prove herself not
unworthy of the same, she shut her eyes, and rushed upon her own
destruction with the cry of “Charge, Spain!”
But the arms of Spain became powerless abroad, and she retired within
herself. She ceased to be the tool of the vengeance and cruelty of Rome.
She was not cast aside, however. No! though she could no longer wield
the sword with success against the Lutherans, she might still be turned
to some account. She had still gold and silver, and she was still the
land of the vine and olive. Ceasing to be the butcher, she became the
banker of Rome; and the poor Spaniards, who always esteem it a privilege
to pay another person’s reckoning, were for a long time happy in being
permitted to minister to the grasping cupidity of Rome, who, during the
last century, probably extracted from Spain more treasure than from all
the rest of Christendom.
But wars came into the land. Napoleon and his fierce Franks invaded
Spain; plunder and devastation ensued, the effects of which will probably
be felt for ages. Spain could no longer pay pence to Peter so freely as
of yore, and from that period she became contemptible in the eyes of
Rome, who has no respect for a nation, save so far as it can minister to
her cruelty or avarice. The Spaniard was still willing to pay, as far as
his means would allow, but he was soon given to understand that he was a
degraded being,—a barbarian; nay, a beggar. Now you may draw the last
_cuarto_ from a Spaniard, provided you will concede to him the title of
cavalier, and rich man, for the old leaven still works as powerfully as
in the time of the first Philip; {0c} but you must never hint that he is
poor, or that his blood is inferior to your own. And the old peasant, on
being informed in what slight estimation he was held, replied, “If I am a
beast, a barbarian, and a beggar withal, I am sorry for it; but, as there
is no remedy, I shall spend these four bushels of barley, which I had
reserved to alleviate the misery of the holy father, in procuring bull
spectacles, and other convenient diversions, for the queen my wife, and
the young princes my children. Beggar! _carajo_! The water of my
village is better than the wine of Rome.”
I see that in a late pastoral letter directed to the Spaniards, the
father of Rome complains bitterly of the treatment which he has received
in Spain at the hands of naughty men. “My cathedrals are let down,” he
says, “my priests are insulted, and the revenues of my bishops are
curtailed.” He consoles himself, however, with the idea, that this is
the effect of the malice of a few, and that the generality of the nation
love him, especially the peasantry, the innocent peasantry, who shed
tears when they think of the sufferings of their Pope and their religion.
Undeceive yourself, _Batuschca_, undeceive yourself! Spain was ready to
fight for you so long as she could increase her own glory by doing so;
but she took no pleasure in losing battle after battle on your account.
She had no objection to pay money into your coffers in the shape of alms,
expecting, however, that the same would be received with the gratitude
and humility which become those who accept charity. Finding, however,
that you were neither humble nor grateful; suspecting, moreover, that you
held Austria in higher esteem than herself, even as a banker, she
shrugged up her shoulders, and uttered a sentence somewhat similar to
that which I have already put into the mouth of one of her children,
“These four bushels of barley,” etc.
It is truly surprising what little interest the great body of the Spanish
nation took in the late struggle; and yet it has been called by some, who
ought to know better, a war of religion and principle. It was generally
supposed that Biscay was the stronghold of Carlism, and that the
inhabitants were fanatically attached to their religion, which they
apprehended was in danger. The truth is, that the Basques cared nothing
for Carlos or Rome, and merely took up arms to defend certain rights and
privileges of their own. {0d} For the dwarfish brother of Ferdinand they
always exhibited supreme contempt, which his character, a compound of
imbecility, cowardice, and cruelty, well merited. If they made use of
his name, it was merely as a _cri de guerre_. Much the same may be said
with respect to his Spanish partisans, at least those who appeared in the
field for him. These, however, were of a widely different character from
the Basques, who were brave soldiers and honest men. The Spanish armies
of Don Carlos were composed entirely of thieves and assassins, chiefly
Valencians and Manchegans, who, marshalled under two cutthroats, Cabrera
and Palillos, took advantage of the distracted state of the country to
plunder and massacre the honest part of the community. With respect to
the Queen Regent Christina, of whom the less said the better, the reins
of government fell into her hands on the decease of her husband, and with
them the command of the soldiery. The respectable part of the Spanish
nation, and more especially the honourable and toil-worn peasantry,
loathed and execrated both factions. Oft when I was sharing at nightfall
the frugal fare of the villager of Old or New Castile, on hearing the
distant shot of the _Cristino_ soldier or Carlist bandit, he would invoke
curses on the heads of the two pretenders, not forgetting the holy father
and the goddess of Rome, _Maria Santísima_. Then, with the tiger energy
of the Spaniard when roused, he would start up and exclaim, “_Vamos_,
_Don Jorge_ to the plain, to the plain! I wish to enlist with you, and
to learn the law of the English. To the plain, therefore, to the plain
to-morrow, to circulate the gospel of Inglaterra.”
Amongst the peasantry of Spain I found my sturdiest supporters; and yet
the holy father supposes that the Spanish labourers are friends and
lovers of his. Undeceive yourself, _Batuschca_!
But to return to the present work: it is devoted to an account of what
befell me in Spain whilst engaged in distributing the Scripture. With
respect to my poor labours, I wish here to observe that I accomplished
but very little, and that I lay claim to no brilliant successes and
triumphs; indeed, I was sent into Spain more to explore the country, and
to ascertain how far the minds of the people were prepared to receive the
truths of Christianity, than for any other object; I obtained, however,
through the assistance of kind friends, permission from the Spanish
government to print an edition of the sacred volume at Madrid, which I
subsequently circulated in that capital and in the provinces.
During my sojourn in Spain there were others who wrought good service in
the Gospel cause, and of whose efforts it were unjust to be silent in a
work of this description. Base is the heart which would refuse merit its
meed; and, however insignificant may be the value of any eulogium which
can flow from a pen like mine, I cannot refrain from mentioning with
respect and esteem a few names connected with Gospel enterprise. A
zealous Irish gentleman, of the name of Graydon, {0e} exerted himself
with indefatigable diligence in diffusing the light of Scripture in the
province of Catalonia, and along the southern shores of Spain; whilst two
missionaries from Gibraltar, Messrs. Rule {0f} and Lyon, {0g} during one
entire year, preached Evangelic truth in a church at Cadiz. So much
success attended the efforts of these two last, brave disciples of the
immortal Wesley, that there is every reason for supposing that, had they
not been silenced, and eventually banished from the country, by the
pseudo-liberal faction of the _Moderados_, not only Cadiz, but the
greater part of Andalusia, would by this time have confessed the pure
doctrines of the Gospel, and have discarded for ever the last relics of
Popish superstition.
More immediately connected with the Bible Society and myself, I am most
happy to take this opportunity of speaking of Luis de Usoz y Rio, {0h}
the scion of an ancient and honourable family of Old Castile, my
coadjutor whilst editing the Spanish New Testament at Madrid. Throughout
my residence in Spain I experienced every mark of friendship from this
gentleman, who, during the periods of my absence in the provinces, and my
numerous and long journeys, cheerfully supplied my place at Madrid, and
exerted himself to the utmost in forwarding the views of the Bible
Society, influenced by no other motive than a hope that its efforts would
eventually contribute to the peace, happiness, and civilization of his
native land.
In conclusion, I beg leave to state that I am fully aware of the various
faults and inaccuracies of the present work. It is founded on certain
journals which I kept during my stay in Spain, and numerous letters
written to my friends in England, which they had subsequently the
kindness to restore; the greater part, however, consisting of
descriptions of scenery, sketches of character, etc., has been supplied
from memory. In various instances I have omitted the names of places,
which I have either forgotten, or of whose orthography I am uncertain.
The work, as it at present exists, was written in a solitary hamlet in a
remote part of England, where I had neither books to consult, nor friends
of whose opinion or advice I could occasionally avail myself, and under
all the disadvantages which arise from enfeebled health. I have,
however, on a recent occasion, experienced too much of the lenity and
generosity of the public, both of Britain and America, to shrink from
again exposing myself to its gaze; and trust that, if in the present
volumes it find but little to admire, it will give me credit for good
spirit, and for setting down nought in malice.
_Nov._ 26, 1842.
CONTENTS OF VOL. I.
INTRODUCTION BY THE EDITORS [i]
PAGE
CHAPTER I.
Man overboard—The Tagus—Foreign 1
Languages—Gesticulation—Streets of Lisbon—The
Aqueduct—Bible tolerated in Portugal—Cintra—Don
Sebastian—John de Castro—Conversation with a
Priest—Colhares—Mafra—Its Palace—The Schoolmaster—The
Portuguese—Their Ignorance of Scripture—Rural
Priesthood—The Alemtejo
CHAPTER II.
Boatmen of the Tagus—Dangers of the Stream—Aldea 17
Gallega—The Hostelry—Robbers—Sabocha—Adventure of a
Muleteer—Estalagem de Ladrões—Don Geronimo—Vendas
Novas—Royal Residence—Swine of the Alemtejo—Monte
Moro—Swayne Vonved—Singular Goatherd—Children of the
Fields—Infidels and Sadducees
CHAPTER III.
Shopkeeper at Evora—Spanish Contrabandistas—Lion and 33
Unicorn—The Fountain—Trust in the Almighty—Distribution of
Tracts—Library at Evora—Manuscript—The Bible as a
Guide—The Infamous Mary—The Man of Palmella—The Charm—The
Monkish System—Sunday—Volney—An Auto-da-Fé—Men from
Spain—Reading of a Tract—New Arrival—The Herb Rosemary
CHAPTER IV.
Vexatious Delays—Drunken Driver—The Murdered Mule—The 48
Lamentation—Adventure on the Heath—Fear of
Darkness—Portuguese Fidalgo—The Escort—Return to Lisbon
CHAPTER V.
The College—The Rector—Shibboleth—National 59
Prejudices—Youthful Sports—Jews of Lisbon—Bad Faith—Crime
and Superstition
CHAPTER VI.
Cold of Portugal—Extortion prevented—Sensation of 71
Loneliness—The Dog—The Convent—Enchanting
Landscape—Moorish Fortresses—Prayer for the Sick
CHAPTER VII.
The Druid’s Stone—The Young Spaniard—Ruffianly 82
Soldiers—Evils of War—Estremoz—The Brawl—Ruined
Watch-tower—Glimpse of Spain—Old Times and New
CHAPTER VIII.
Elvas—Extraordinary Longevity—The English 94
Nation—Portuguese
Ingratitude—Illiberality—Fortifications—Spanish
Beggar—Badajoz—The Custom-House
CHAPTER IX.
Badajoz—Antonio the Gypsy—Antonio’s Proposal—The Proposal 105
accepted—Gypsy Breakfast—Departure from Badajoz—The Gypsy
Donkey—Merida—The Ruined Wall—The Crone—The Land of the
Moor—The Black Men—Life in the Desert—The Supper
CHAPTER X.
The Gypsy’s Granddaughter—Proposed Marriage—The 122
Alguazil—The Assault—Speedy Trot—Arrival at Trujillo—Night
and Rain—The Forest—The Bivouac—Mount and
Away!—Jaraicejo—The National—The Cavalier Balmerson—Among
the Thickets—Serious Discourse—What is Truth?—Unexpected
Intelligence
CHAPTER XI.
The Pass of Mirabete—Wolves and Shepherds—Female 145
Subtlety—Death by Wolves—The Mystery solved—The
Mountains—The Dark Hour—The Traveller of the
Night—Abarbenel—Hoarded Treasure—Force of Gold—The
Archbishop—Arrival at Madrid
CHAPTER XII.
Lodging at Madrid—My Hostess—British 162
Ambassador—Mendizabal—Baltasar—Duties of a National—Young
Blood—The Execution—Population of Madrid—The Higher
Orders—The Lower Classes—The Bull-fighter—The Crabbed
Gitano
CHAPTER XIII.
Intrigues at Court—Quesada and Galiano—Dissolution of the 179
Cortes—The Secretary—Aragonese Pertinacity—The Council of
Trent—The Asturian—The Three Thieves—Benedict Mol—The Men
of Lucerne—The Treasure
CHAPTER XIV.
State of Spain—Isturitz—Revolution of the Granja—The 194
Disturbance—Signs of Mischief—Newspaper
Reporters—Quesada’s Onslaught—The Closing Scene—Flight of
the Moderados—The Coffee Bowl
CHAPTER XV.
The Steamer—Cape Finisterre—The Storm—Arrival at Cadiz—The 208
New Testament—Seville—Italica—The Amphitheatre—The
Prisoners—The Encounter—Baron Taylor—The Street and Desert
CHAPTER XVI.
Departure for Cordova—Carmona—German Colonies—Language—The 223
Sluggish Horse—Nocturnal Welcome—Carlist Landlord—Good
Advice—Gomez—The Old Genoese—The Two Opinions
CHAPTER XVII.
Cordova—Moors of Barbary—The English—An Old Priest—The 233
Roman Breviary—The Dovecote—The Holy
Office—Judaism—Desecration of Dovecotes—The Innkeeper’s
Proposal
CHAPTER XVIII.
Departure from Cordova—The Contrabandista—Jewish 252
Cunning—Arrival at Madrid
CHAPTER XIX.
Arrival at Madrid—Maria Diaz—Printing of the Testament—My 256
Project—Andalusian Steed—Servant Wanted—An
Application—Antonio Buchini—General Cordova—Principles of
Honour
CHAPTER XX.
Illness—Nocturnal Visit—A Master Mind—The 270
Whisper—Salamanca—Irish Hospitality—Spanish Soldiers—The
Scriptures advertised
CHAPTER XXI.
Departure from Salamanca—Reception at Pitiegua—The 280
Dilemma—Sudden Inspiration—The Good Presbyter—Combat of
Quadrupeds—Irish Christians—Plains of Spain—The
Catalans—The Fatal Pool—Valladolid—Circulation of the
Scriptures—Philippine Missions—English College—A
Conversation—The Gaoleress
CHAPTER XXII.
Dueñas—Children of Egypt—Jockeyism—The Baggage Pony—The 303
Fall—Palencia—Carlist Priests—The Look-out—Priestly
Sincerity—Leon—Antonio alarmed—Heat and Dust
CHAPTER XXIII.
Astorga—The Inn—The Maragatos—Habits of the Maragatos—The 319
Statue
CHAPTER XXIV.
Departure from Astorga—The Venta—The By-path—Narrow 326
Escape—The Cup of Water—Sun and Shade—Bembibre—Convent of
the Rocks—Sunset—Cacabelos—Midnight Adventure—Villafranca
CHAPTER XXV.
Villafranca—The Pass—Gallegan Simplicity—The Frontier 343
Guard—The Horse-shoe—Gallegan Peculiarities—A Word on
Language—The Courier—Wretched Cabins—Host and
Guests—Andalusians
CHAPTER XXVI.
Lugo—The Baths—A Family History—Miguelets—The Three 358
Heads—A Farrier—English Squadron—Sale of
Testaments—Corunna—The Recognition—Luigi Piozzi—The
Speculation—A Blank Prospect—John Moore
CHAPTER XXVII.
Compostella—Rey Romero—The Treasure-seeker—Hopeful 377
Project—The Church of Refuge—Hidden Riches—The
Canon—Spirit of Localism—The Leper—Bones of Saint James
CHAPTER XXVIII.
Skippers of Padron—Caldas de los Reyes—Pontevedra—The 392
Notary Public—Insane Barber—An Introduction—Gallegan
Language—Afternoon Ride—Vigo—The Stranger—Jews of the
Desert—Bay of Vigo—Sudden Interruption—The Governor
LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.
VOL. I.
PAGE
SEVILLE _Frontispiece_
INTERIOR OF THE MOSQUE, CORDOVA _To face_ 238
INTRODUCTION.
PART I.
When George Borrow, in the month of November, 1835, steamed up the Tagus
on his adventurous journey to distribute the Bible in Spain, the
political situation throughout the Peninsula was so complicated and so
extraordinary, that a brief review of the events of the few years
immediately preceding his arrival will be necessary to enable any one but
a specially instructed reader to appreciate, or even to understand, his
position and his adventures.
When Ferdinand VII. was restored to his kingdom by the British arms in
1814, Spain was still governed by the Cortes elected under the Liberal
Constitution of 1812.
Ferdinand, having sworn many oaths to maintain this Constitution and
Parliamentary Institutions in the country, no sooner found himself firmly
seated on the throne, than, encouraged by the clergy within his
dominions, and by the Holy Alliance in Northern Europe, he issued an
edict dissolving the Cortes, and reviving the old absolutism with all the
old abuses in Spain.
The nobles were once again exempted from taxation; the monasteries were
restored; the Jesuits returned to Spain; the Inquisition was formally
re-established; all Liberal politicians were persecuted to the death.
For six years this royalist reign of terror—more dreadful by far than the
_Terreur blanche_ in contemporary France—was continued, until at length,
the great American colonies having asserted their independence, {2} the
standard of revolt was raised in Spain by Riego and Quiroga, two officers
in command of an expedition which was just about to sail from Cadiz to
renew the war against the colonists in South America in January, 1820.
The success of this political revolution was prompt and complete. In
March the king gave way, and once more accepted the Constitution of 1812;
and an administration of moderate reformers was formed under Martinez de
la Rosa, a well-known man of letters, and was generally acceptable to the
country.
After much intrigue and factious opposition, both on the part of the
extreme Royalists and the extreme Radicals, the election of Riego to the
Presidency of the Cortes in 1822 marked the extreme limit of the triumph
of the Liberal party in Spain.
The Congress of Verona in October, 1822; the growing pretensions of the
Holy Alliance; the mission of the Duke of Wellington, with George
Canning’s protest against the armed intervention of any of the Powers in
the domestic affairs of the Peninsula; and the ultimate invasion of Spain
by a French army of 100,000 men under the Duc d’Angoulême, eldest son of
the Comte d’Artois, afterwards Charles X., in April, 1823;—these things
belong as much to European as to Spanish history, and need only be
referred to in passing.
The French army, as may be supposed, met with no serious opposition.
Madrid was easily occupied before the end of May. Cadiz, maintaining a
brief but honourable resistance, yielded to a bombardment in September;
and Ferdinand VII., reinvested with absolute power over his subjects by
foreign artillery and foreign bayonets in October, 1823, immediately
unswore all his oaths, and restored all the old tyranny and abuses in
Spain. Riego was at once put to death. All Liberals and even
_moderados_ were exposed to a sanguinary and relentless persecution. The
leaders and their richer and more important partisans were as a rule able
to make good their flight, in many cases to England; but their humbler
followers paid the penalty of their liberalism with their lives. The
French army of occupation remained in Spain for four years—1823–1827—and
Cadiz was not evacuated until 1828.
In September, 1824, Charles X. succeeded the more liberal Louis XVIII. on
the throne of France, and George Canning, unable to compel or persuade
the French to leave the Spanish people to themselves in Spain, “called a
new world into existence to restore the balance in the old,” and
recognized the independence of the Spanish American colonies.
In 1829 Ferdinand VII. married, as his fourth wife, Maria Christina of
Naples, a sister of the Duchesse de Berri; {3} and on October 10, 1830,
the queen gave birth to a daughter, who was christened Isabella,
afterwards so well known as Isabel II. of Spain. {4a} The king, her
father, immediately issued a Pragmatic Sanction, declaring the Salic law
to be of no effect in Spain; and the young princess was accordingly
recognized as heir-apparent to the crown. A formal protest was made by
King Ferdinand’s younger brother, Don Carlos, who found himself thus
excluded from the succession, against this decree, and who soon
afterwards quitted Spain.
On Michaelmas Day, 1833, Ferdinand VII. died, and his daughter Isabella
was immediately proclaimed queen, as Isabel II., with her mother Doña
Cristina as regent, {4b} of Spain throughout Spain.
Don Carlos, who had taken refuge in Portugal, found himself unable to
cross the frontier, and was constrained to make his way from Lisbon by
sea to London, and thence by way of France into the Basque provinces,
where he arrived in September, 1834. Thus were founded the Carlist and
the _Cristino_ parties; and on the side of the former were at once ranged
all the Basques, and the representatives of the absolutist and
ultra-clerical party throughout Spain.
Don Carlos himself, unable to cross the frontier, {4c} made his way from
Portugal to England, and thence through France (May, 1834), where his
pretensions were not unfavourably regarded, into Northern Spain
(September, 1834). Mendizabal, a Cadiz Jew of much financial skill, who
had acquired great experience and some consideration in England during
his exile from 1823 to 1833, became Prime Minister of the Regency.
PART II.
On the outbreak of hostilities in the north-west, the most capable
commander on the side of the Carlists was the Basque, Tomás
Zumalacarregui. Born at Ormastegui, in Guipuzcoa, in 1788, he had served
in the Spanish army from 1808 to 1831 without finding any special favour
or advancement from king or Cortes. Dismissed the service in 1831, he
emerged from his retirement on the death of Ferdinand VII. in 1833, and,
openly attaching himself to the Carlist fortunes, he took the field
against the queen’s troops at the head of some eight hundred partisans.
So great was his zeal and energy, and so popular was Zumalacarregui
himself in his native Guipuzcoa, that in less than a year this little
force had grown in his hands into an army of over thirty-five thousand
men, superior not only in fighting qualities, but even in discipline, to
any of the queen’s forces, fairly armed, and well supplied with food and
clothing.
But in spite of his commanding qualities, which made him indispensable to
the Carlist cause, the success of the blunt and robust soldier excited
the jealousy, not only of his subordinate commanders, and of the priests
and women who had so great an influence at the court of Don Carlos, but
even of the Pretender himself.
The only general who may be compared with Zumalacarregui on the Carlist
side was born at Tortosa, at the mouth of the Ebro, as late as December,
1806, and was thus nearly twenty years younger than the Basque commander.
Cabrera was destined for the priesthood, and actually received the
_tonsura_ in 1825, but in 1833 he quitted the convent of the
_Trinitarios_ at Tortosa and joined the Carlist army near the historic
mountain fortress of Morella in November, 1833; and in less than twelve
months he had been appointed a colonel in the Carlist army in Aragon.
On the side of the Constitutionalists there was no display of military
talent, or even of capacity. Rodil, Amildez, Mina, Valdez, followed each
other without advantage to the queen’s cause, and in spite of all the
advantages incident to a regular government, with command of the capital
and all the departments, little or no advantage was gained by the
Constitutional forces for long after the first outbreak of hostilities.
The war, however, was carried on by both _Cristinos_ and Carlists with
the utmost savagery.
The wholesale massacre of wounded and prisoners by both the _Cristino_
and Carlist generals aroused the indignation of every civilized
community, and especially in England, where an uneasy sense of
responsibility for the atrocities which were committed was natural in
view of the fact that the government had taken to some extent an official
part in the war, and that English regiments were soon to be exposed to
the cruelties against which the whole of Europe was protesting. The
pressure of public opinion in England, indeed, was so strong that at
length Lord Eliot was despatched to Spain to negotiate a convention
between the belligerents which would ensure the ordinary laws of
civilized warfare being obeyed. It was a difficult task. {7a}
But by the exertions of Lord Eliot and Colonel Wylde of the Royal
Artillery, who was serving as a kind of military _attaché_ at the
head-quarters of the queen’s forces, a convention, known as the “Eliot
Convention,” was at length signed by Zumalacarregui at or near Logroño,
on April 27 and 28, 1835.
The convention, as might have been supposed, was in practice regarded by
neither party, and was evaded when not actually set at nought. It was
said not to apply to any part of Spain but the Basque provinces, nor to
any troops enlisted after its signature in April; but the massacre of
prisoners was possibly not so systematically carried out after the
agreement as it had been before. But, strangest of all, as soon as the
news of the signature of this convention became known at Madrid, the
utmost indignation was expressed, not only by the populace of Madrid, but
in the Cortes. An attempt was made to kill Señor Martinez de la Rosa in
the streets by an armed mob, and the ministry was compelled to resign.
Count Toreno was then called to the supreme power on June 7, with
Mendizabal as finance minister.
Meanwhile the military skill of Zumalacarregui in the Basque provinces,
and of Cabrera in the east of Spain, had alone prolonged the struggle
during 1834 and 1835; but the death of Zumalacarregui from a wound
received in action near Bilbao in June, 1835, was a serious blow to the
hopes of the Pretender, although there are good grounds for supposing
that the bold general’s end was hastened by poison administered by his
own partisans. {8}
In the month of April of this same year, 1835, Lord Palmerston, who,
after a brief retirement from office in 1834, was once more Foreign
Secretary in London, had sanctioned the enlisting of an army of ten
thousand men in England, which, under the command of Colonel, afterwards
Sir de Lacy Evans, landed at San Sebastian in August to assist the
government of the regency to put down the Carlists in the northwest.
There was already a British Auxiliary Contingent attached to the Spanish
army, and the British Naval Squadron, under Lord John Hay, assisted the
_Cristinos_ on the coast between Bilbao and Santander.
But neither the native nor the British supporters of the regent were at
this time successful in the Basque provinces. Bilbao was for many months
besieged, and was at length relieved only in the month of December, 1836,
by the English forces co-operating with Espartero, who was created, for
his share in the victory, Count of Luchana.
The ministry of Count Toreno had lasted only from June to September
(1835), when Mendizabal assumed the chief direction of affairs; and it
was just two months later (November, 1835) that George Borrow first set
foot on the soil of the Peninsula.
Mendizabal continued to be Prime Minister until May, 1836, when he was
succeeded by a coalition ministry of Isturitz, Galiano and the Duke of
Rivas (see text, p. 181), under whose administration took place the
military riots at Madrid (August 11, 12), which were most bravely
repressed by General Quesada, the commandant of the city, as so
graphically recorded by Borrow (pp. 202–205). Yet Quesada’s valour was
of no avail. The decree of La Granja, of August 13 and 14, extorted from
the fears of the queen regent by actual threats of military violence, was
followed by the precipitate flight of Isturitz and Galiano to France, and
of the Duke of Rivas to Gibraltar, and the assumption of power by Señor
Calatrava, with Mendizabal as Minister of Finance. Quesada was murdered,
as is said and sung on p. 206 of the text.
If the _Cristino_ cause had made but little progress in 1836, there was
even less encouragement to be found in the result of the military
operations in the earlier part of 1837. General Evans was defeated at
Hernani, near San Sebastian, in March, and although Lord John Hay with
his English mariners took Irun, Don Carlos was allowed to march almost
unopposed upon the capital. On September 12, he found himself within
four leagues of Madrid, and had it not been for his own poltroonery and
the jealousy and incompetence of those by whom he was surrounded, he
might have ridden into the Puerta del Sol on the next day as King of
Spain. But, _dis aliter visum_ and all undefeated, he turned his back
upon La Corte, and marched northwards with no apparent reason or policy,
closely pressed by the new commander-in-chief of the _Cristino_ forces, a
man whose name is distinguished above that of any of his fellows in the
contemporary history of his country.
Baldomero Espartero, the son of a village wheelwright in La Mancha, was
born in 1792. Destined, like Cabrera, for the priesthood, he took up
arms on the French invasion in 1808, and at the conclusion of the War of
Independence in 1814 obtained a military position in Peru, in which he
had an opportunity of distinguishing himself. After the capitulation of
Ayacucho, when the independence of Peru was finally recognized, Espartero
returned to Spain, and after some ten years of uneventful but honoured
service in the home army he found himself, in 1833, entrusted with an
important command in the queen’s army. Indolent and yet ambitious,
dilatory and yet vigorous when opportunity offered, loyal and yet
politically untrustworthy, Espartero flourished in the troublous times in
which he found himself, and made a name for himself both in camp and
court; and having, as we have seen, been created Count of Luchana on the
relief of Bilbao, he had taken the place of Señor Calatrava as Prime
Minister in August, 1837, and was succeeded in the following October by
Don José Maria Perez, who in turn gave place to Ofalia on November 30
(see text, vol. ii. pp. 100, 121), when Espartero returned to Madrid as
Minister of War.
Cabrera meanwhile was ravaging Aragon and Valencia, and continued not
only absolutely to disregard the Eliot Convention, and to massacre all
the military prisoners that surrendered to him, but to put to death the
women and even the children that fell into his hands.
But with the war in Aragon and Catalonia, the readers of Borrow’s _Bible
in Spain_ have happily no need further to concern themselves.
The British legion, which, after two years’ evil fortune was at length
becoming a force of some military value, was broken up and sent back to
London at the expense of the British treasury, though a remnant elected
to remain in the Peninsula, which did good service until the close of the
year as the “British Auxiliary Brigade.”
In the spring of 1838 Espartero once more assumed the command of the
queen’s army with the title of captain-general, and gained an indecisive
victory over the Carlists at Peñacerrada, between Logroño and Vitoria, in
June, 1838; while Cabrera was able to repulse the queen’s forces who
sought to drive him from the strong position he had taken up at Aragon.
The ministry resigned in August, and the Duke of Frias presided over a
short-lived cabinet, for in December, 1838, a new ministry was formed
under Señor Perez de Castro; and Espartero, at length assuming the
offensive with some vigour, was enabled, by the treachery of the Carlist
general Maroto, to march unopposed into Orduña, the ancient capital of
Biscay, in May, 1839.
After this practical victory Espartero was hailed as the saviour of his
country, and received the title of Duque de la Victoria. Dissension soon
completed what treachery had so well begun.
Even among the strong partisan officials of Don Carlos there were three
parties, viz. _Marotistas_, men whose professed object was to force Don
Carlos to leave Spain, and to bring about a marriage between his son and
the young queen, which, combined with a modified constitution, might
pacify Spain; secondly, a party headed by Villa Real and Marco del Pont,
having for its object the establishment of Don Carlos on the throne, with
powers limited by a permanent Cortes; and thirdly, the bigoted Absolutist
party, headed by Cabrera and Teijeiro.
In all these circumstances it was not surprising that the abandonment of
Orduña in May should have been followed, after a good deal of intrigue
and very little fighting, by the Convention of Vergara on the last day of
August.
Don Carlos immediately fled to France, and was housed by the French
government at Bourges, where he continued to hold his court, and the war
in North-Western Spain was at an end.
Cabrera, however, would have nothing to say to the Convention of Vergara,
and the spring of 1840 saw Espartero at the head of a powerful force
before the celebrated fortress of Morella, which surrendered in May.
Cabrera was finally defeated by Espartero at Lerida in the following
July, and Spain at length enjoyed a desolate peace.
NOTE.
Before Mr. Burke had seen any part of this edition in print, he was
suddenly summoned to South America, as mentioned in his note (i. 190),
and accepted my suggestion that I should revise and correct the proofs.
His death shortly after leaving England has deprived me of a valued
friend, and the book of the advantage of his final revision. While fully
sensible of the disadvantages which this must involve, I hope that the
errors thus caused will not prove so grave or so numerous as seriously to
detract from the value of the edition. My best thanks are due to the
many friends who have helped me, especially in the preparation of the
Glossary, which has considerably outgrown the original draft.
HERBERT W. GREENE.
MAGDALEN COLLEGE, OXFORD,
_November_, 1895.
BORROW’S JOURNEYS IN THE PENINSULA.
1.—Nov. 1835. [Belem] (11th Nov.), Lisbon (12th), Cintra, [Colhares,
Mafra], Aldea Gallega (6th Dec.), [Pegões], Vendas Novas, Monte Moro,
Evora (9th–17th); returns to Lisbon (19th), where he remains about a
fortnight.
Aldea Gallega, [Pegões], Vendas Novas, Monte Moro, Arroyolos, Estremoz,
Elvas, Badajoz (5th Jan. 1836), where he remains three weeks. Merida,
where he remains three days. Trujillo, Jaraicejo, [Mirabete],
Oropesa(?), Talavera, Madrid (about 5th Feb.).
2.—Nov. 1836. Falmouth (7th Nov.), Finisterre (11th), Lisbon (13th),
Cadiz (starts on 24th), San Lucar, [Bonanza], Seville, where he remains
about a fortnight. Alcalá de Guadaira, Carmona, [Moncloa, Cuesta del
Espinal], Cordova (on third day from Seville), where he remains some
time. Andujar, Bailen, Carolina (on third day from Cordova), [Despeña
Perros], Aranjuez (25th Dec.), Madrid (26th).
3.—May, 1837. Madrid (about 15th), Guadarrama, Peñaranda, Salamanca (on
third day from Madrid), where he remains till 10th June. [Pitiegua,
Pedroso], Medina del Campo, Valladolid, where he remains about ten days.
Dueñas, Palencia, [Cisneros], Sahagun or [Calzada], Leon (21st), where he
remains about ten days. Astorga, where he remains three days. Manzanal,
Bembibre, [Cacabelos], Villafranca, [Fuencebadon], Nogales, Lugo, where
he remains a week. [Castellanos], Betanzos, Corunna, where he remains
about a fortnight. Santiago (early in Aug.), where he remains about a
fortnight. Padron, Caldas de Reyes, Pontevedra, Vigo, where he remains a
few days. Padron, [Los Angeles], Noyo, Corcuvion, [Duyo], Finisterre,
Corcuvion, whence he returns to Santiago and Corunna. Ferrol, where he
remains about a week. [Novales], Santa Marta, [Coisa Doiro], Viveiro,
Foz, Rivadeo, Castro Pol, Navias, [Baralla], Luarca, Caneiro, [Soto
Luino, Muros], Veles (? Aviles), Gijon, Oviedo, where he remains about a
week. Villa Viciosa, Colunga, Ribida de Sella (= Riba de Sella), Llanes,
[Santo Colombo], San Vicente, Santillana, Santander, where he remains
some days. [Montaneda], Oñas, Burgos, Valladolid, Guadarrama, Madrid
(some time after 12th Sept.). Hence visits Toledo, and, in 1838,
[Leganez, Villa Seca, Vargas, Cobeja, Mocejon, Villaluenga, Yuncler],
{14a} Aranjuez, Ocaña, returning to Madrid. Hence visits La Granja (=
San Ildefonso). Segovia, [Abades], Labajos, Arevalo, Martin Muñoz,
[Villallos], returning to Madrid.
4.—Dec. 1838. Cadiz (31st), Seville, where he remains about a fortnight.
Manzanares, Madrid. Hence visits [Cobeña] and other villages to the east
of Madrid. Victoriano (see ch. xlvi.) visits [Caramanchel], Alcalá de
Henares, [Fuente la Higuera], Guadalajara. Borrow visits Naval Carnero
(about the middle of March, 1830). Leaves Madrid for Seville (about the
middle of April). Leaves Seville (31st July) for Cadiz, thence by sea to
Gibraltar, whence, on 8th Aug., he sets sail for Tangier, landing next
day.
NOTE.—Places enclosed in square brackets are not marked on the map.
[Picture: Map of Spain with Borrow’s journeys marked]
CHAPTER I.
Man overboard—The Tagus—Foreign Languages—Gesticulation—Streets of
Lisbon—The Aqueduct—Bible tolerated in Portugal—Cintra—Don Sebastian—John
de Castro—Conversation with a Priest—Colhares—Mafra—Its Palace—The
Schoolmaster—The Portuguese—Their Ignorance of Scripture—Rural
Priesthood—The Alemtejo.
On the morning of November 10, 1835, {1} I found myself off the coast of
Galicia, whose lofty mountains, gilded by the rising sun, presented a
magnificent appearance. I was bound for Lisbon; we passed Cape
Finisterre, and, standing farther out to sea, speedily lost sight of
land. On the morning of the 11th the sea was very rough, and a
remarkable circumstance occurred. I was on the forecastle, discoursing
with two of the sailors: one of them, who had but just left his hammock,
said, “I have had a strange dream, which I do not much like; for,”
continued he, pointing up to the mast, “I dreamt that I fell into the sea
from the cross-trees.” He was heard to say this by several of the crew
besides myself. A moment after the captain of the vessel, perceiving
that the squall was increasing, ordered the topsails to be taken in,
whereupon this man, with several others, instantly ran aloft; the yard
was in the act of being hauled down, when a sudden gust of wind whirled
it round with violence, and a man was struck down from the cross-trees
into the sea, which was working like yeast below. In a short time he
emerged; I saw his head on the crest of a billow, and instantly
recognized in the unfortunate man the sailor who, a few moments before,
had related his dream. I shall never forget the look of agony he cast
whilst the steamer hurried past him. The alarm was given, and everything
was in confusion; it was two minutes at least before the vessel was
stopped, by which time the man was a considerable way astern: I still,
however, kept my eye upon him, and could see that he was struggling
gallantly with the waves. A boat was at length lowered, but the rudder
was unfortunately not at hand, and only two oars could be procured, with
which the men could make but little progress in so rough a sea. They did
their best, however, and had arrived within ten yards of the man, who
still struggled for his life, when I lost sight of him; and the men, on
their return, said that they saw him below the water, at glimpses,
sinking deeper and deeper, his arms stretched out and his body apparently
stiff, but that they found it impossible to save him. Presently after,
the sea, as if satisfied with the prey which it had acquired, became
comparatively calm. The poor fellow who perished in this singular manner
was a fine young man of twenty-seven, the only son of a widowed mother;
he was the best sailor on board, and was beloved by all who were
acquainted with him. This event occurred on the 11th of November, 1835;
the vessel was the _London Merchant_ steamship. Truly wonderful are the
ways of Providence!
That same night we entered the Tagus, and dropped anchor before the old
tower of Belem; {3a} early the next morning we weighed, and, proceeding
onward about a league, we again anchored at a short distance from the
_Caesodré_, {3b} or principal quay of Lisbon. Here we lay for some hours
beside the enormous black hulk of the _Rainha Nao_, a man-of-war which in
old times so captivated the eye of Nelson, that he would fain have
procured it for his native country. She was, long subsequently, the
admiral’s ship of the Miguelite squadron, and had been captured by the
gallant Napier {3c} about three years previous to the time of which I am
speaking.
The _Rainha Nao_ is said to have caused him more trouble than all the
other vessels of the enemy; and some assert that, had the others defended
themselves with half the fury which the old vixen queen displayed, the
result of the battle which decided the fate of Portugal would have been
widely different.
I found disembarkation at Lisbon to be a matter of considerable vexation;
the custom-house officers were exceedingly uncivil, and examined every
article of my little baggage with most provoking minuteness.
My first impression on landing in the Peninsula was by no means a
favourable one; and I had scarcely pressed the soil one hour before I
heartily wished myself back in Russia, a country which I had quitted
about one month previous, and where I had left cherished friends and warm
affections.
After having submitted to much ill usage and robbery at the custom-house,
I proceeded in quest of a lodging, and at last found one, but dirty and
expensive. The next day I hired a servant, a Portuguese, it being my
invariable custom, on arriving in a country, to avail myself of the
services of a native, chiefly with the view of perfecting myself in the
language; and, being already acquainted with most of the principal
languages and dialects of the east and the west, I am soon able to make
myself quite intelligible to the inhabitants. In about a fortnight I
found myself conversing in Portuguese with considerable fluency.
Those who wish to make themselves understood by a foreigner in his own
language should speak with much noise and vociferation, opening their
mouths wide. Is it surprising that the English are, in general, the
worst linguists in the world, seeing that they pursue a system
diametrically opposite? For example, when they attempt to speak
Spanish—the most sonorous tongue in existence—they scarcely open their
lips, and, putting their hands in their pockets, fumble lazily, instead
of applying them to the indispensable office of gesticulation. Well may
the poor Spaniards exclaim, _These English talk so crabbedly_, _that
Satan himself would not be able to understand them_.
Lisbon is a huge ruinous city, still exhibiting, in almost every
direction, the vestiges of that terrific visitation of God, the
earthquake, which shattered it some eighty years ago. It stands on seven
hills, the loftiest of which is occupied by the castle of Saint George,
which is the boldest and most prominent object to the eye, whilst
surveying the city from the Tagus. The most frequented and busy parts of
the city are those comprised within the valley to the north of this
elevation.
Here you find the Plaza of the Inquisition, the principal square in
Lisbon, {5} from which run parallel, towards the river, three or four
streets, amongst which are those of the gold and silver, so designated
from being inhabited by smiths cunning in the working of those metals;
they are, upon the whole, very magnificent. The houses are huge, and as
high as castles. Immense pillars defend the causeway at intervals,
producing, however, rather a cumbrous effect. These streets are quite
level, and are well paved, in which respect they differ from all the
others in Lisbon. The most singular street, however, of all is that of
the _Alecrim_, or Rosemary, which debouches on the _Caesodré_. It is
very precipitous, and is occupied on either side by the palaces of the
principal Portuguese nobility, massive and frowning, but grand and
picturesque edifices, with here and there a hanging garden, overlooking
the street at a great height.
With all its ruin and desolation, Lisbon is unquestionably the most
remarkable city in the Peninsula, and, perhaps, in the south of Europe.
It is not my intention to enter into minute details concerning it; I
shall content myself with remarking that it is quite as much deserving
the attention of the artist as even Rome itself. True it is that, though
it abounds with churches, it has no gigantic cathedral, like St. Peter’s,
to attract the eye and fill it with wonder, yet I boldly say that there
is no monument of man’s labour and skill, pertaining either to ancient or
modern Rome, for whatever purpose designed, which can rival the
water-works of Lisbon; I mean the stupendous aqueduct whose principal
arches cross the valley to the north-east of Lisbon, and which discharges
its little runnel of cool and delicious water into the rocky cistern
within that beautiful edifice called the Mother of the Waters, from
whence all Lisbon is supplied with the crystal lymph, though the source
is seven leagues distant. Let travellers devote one entire morning to
inspecting the _Arcos_ and the _Mai das agoas_, after which they may
repair to the English church and cemetery, Père-la-Chaise in miniature,
where, if they be of England, they may well be excused if they kiss the
cold tomb, as I did, of the author of “Amelia,” {6a} the most singular
genius which their island ever produced, whose works it has long been the
fashion to abuse in public and to read in secret. In the same cemetery
rest the mortal remains of Doddridge, another English author of a
different stamp, but justly admired and esteemed. {6b} I had not
intended, on disembarking, to remain long in Lisbon, nor indeed in
Portugal; my destination was Spain, whither I shortly proposed to direct
my steps, it being the intention of the Bible Society to attempt to
commence operations in that country, the object of which should be the
distribution of the word of God, for Spain had hitherto been a region
barred against the admission of the Bible; not so Portugal, where, since
the revolution, the Bible had been permitted both to be introduced and
circulated. Little, however, had been accomplished; therefore, finding
myself in the country, I determined, if possible, to effect something in
the way of distribution, but first of all to make myself acquainted as to
how far the people were disposed to receive the Bible, and whether the
state of education in general would permit them to turn it to much
account. I had plenty of Bibles and Testaments at my disposal, but could
the people read them, or would they? A friend of the Society to whom I
was recommended was absent from Lisbon at the period of my arrival; this
I regretted, as he could have afforded me several useful hints. In
order, however, that no time might be lost, I determined not to wait for
his arrival, but at once proceed to gather the best information I could
upon those points to which I have already alluded. I determined to
commence my researches at some slight distance from Lisbon, being well
aware of the erroneous ideas that I must form of the Portuguese in
general, should I judge of their character and opinions from what I saw
and heard in a city so much subjected to foreign intercourse.
My first excursion was to Cintra. {7b} If there be any place in the
world entitled to the appellation of an enchanted region, it is surely
Cintra; Tivoli {8a} is a beautiful and picturesque place, but it quickly
fades from the mind of those who have seen the Portuguese Paradise. When
speaking of Cintra, it must not for a moment be supposed that nothing
more is meant than the little town or city; by Cintra must be understood
the entire region, town, palace, _quintas_, forests, crags, Moorish ruin,
which suddenly burst on the view on rounding the side of a bleak, savage,
and sterile-looking mountain. Nothing is more sullen and uninviting than
the south-western aspect of the stony wall which, on the side of Lisbon,
seems to shield Cintra from the eye of the world, but the other side is a
mingled scene of fairy beauty, artificial elegance, savage grandeur,
domes, turrets, enormous trees, flowers, and waterfalls, such as is met
with nowhere else beneath the sun. Oh! there are strange and wonderful
objects at Cintra, and strange and wonderful recollections attached to
them. The ruin on that lofty peak, and which covers part of the side of
that precipitous steep, was once the principal stronghold of the
Lusitanian Moors, and thither, long after they had disappeared, at a
particular moon of every year, were wont to repair wild _santons_ of
Maugrabie, to pray at the tomb of a famous _Sidi_, who slumbers amongst
the rocks. That grey palace witnessed the assemblage of the last Cortes
held by the boy-king Sebastian, {8b} ere he departed on his romantic
expedition against the Moors, who so well avenged their insulted faith
and country at Alcazar-quibir; {9a} and in that low shady _quinta_,
embowered amongst those tall _alcornoques_, once dwelt John de Castro,
{9b} the strange old viceroy of Goa, who pawned the hairs of his dead
son’s beard to raise money to repair the ruined wall of a fortress
threatened by the heathen of Ind; those crumbling stones which stand
before the portal, deeply graven, not with “runes,” but things equally
dark, Sanscrit rhymes from the Vedas, were brought by him from Goa, the
most brilliant scene of his glory, before Portugal had become a base
kingdom; and down that dingle, on an abrupt rocky promontory, stand the
ruined halls of the English millionaire, {9c} who there nursed the
wayward fancies of a mind as wild, rich, and variegated as the scenes
around. Yes, wonderful are the objects which meet the eye at Cintra, and
wonderful are the recollections attached to them.
The town of Cintra contains about eight hundred inhabitants. The morning
subsequent to my arrival, as I was about to ascend the mountain for the
purpose of examining the Moorish ruins, I observed a person advancing
towards me whom I judged by his dress to be an ecclesiastic; he was in
fact one of the three priests of the place. I instantly accosted him,
and had no reason to regret doing so; I found him affable and
communicative.
After praising the beauty of the surrounding scenery, I made some inquiry
as to the state of education amongst the people under his care. He
answered that he was sorry to say that they were in a state of great
ignorance, very few of the common people being able either to read or
write; that with respect to schools, there was but one in the place,
where four or five children were taught the alphabet, but that even this
was at present closed. He informed me, however, that there was a school
at Colhares, about a league distant. Amongst other things, he said that
nothing more surprised him than to see Englishmen, the most learned and
intelligent people in the world, visiting a place like Cintra, where
there was no literature, science, nor anything of utility (_coisa que
presta_). I suspect that there was some covert satire in the last speech
of the worthy priest; I was, however, Jesuit enough to appear to receive
it as a high compliment, and, taking off my hat, departed with an
infinity of bows.
That same day I visited Colhares, a romantic village on the side of the
mountain of Cintra, to the northwest. Seeing some peasants collected
round a smithy, I inquired about the school, whereupon one of the men
instantly conducted me thither. I went upstairs into a small apartment,
where I found the master with about a dozen pupils standing in a row; I
saw but one stool in the room, and to that, after having embraced me, he
conducted me with great civility. After some discourse, he showed me the
books which he used for the instruction of the children; they were
spelling-books, much of the same kind as those used in the village
schools in England. Upon my asking him whether it was his practice to
place the Scriptures in the hands of the children, he informed me that
long before they had acquired sufficient intelligence to understand them
they were removed by their parents, in order that they might assist in
the labours of the field, and that the parents in general were by no
means solicitous that their children should learn anything, as they
considered the time occupied in learning as so much squandered away. He
said that, though the schools were nominally supported by the government,
it was rarely that the schoolmasters could obtain their salaries, on
which account many had of late resigned their employments. He told me
that he had a copy of the New Testament in his possession, which I
desired to see; but on examining it I discovered that it was only the
Epistles by Pereira, {11} with copious notes. I asked him whether he
considered that there was harm in reading the Scriptures without notes:
he replied that there was certainly no harm in it, but that simple
people, without the help of notes, could derive but little benefit from
Scripture, as the greatest part would be unintelligible to them;
whereupon I shook hands with him, and, on departing, said that there was
no part of Scripture so difficult to understand as those very notes which
were intended to elucidate it, and that it would never have been written
if not calculated of itself to illume the minds of all classes of
mankind.
In a day or two I made an excursion to Mafra, distant about three leagues
from Cintra. The principal part of the way lay over steep hills,
somewhat dangerous for horses; however, I reached the place in safety.
Mafra {12} is a large village in the neighbourhood of an immense
building, intended to serve as a convent and palace, and which is built
somewhat after the fashion of the Escurial. In this edifice exists the
finest library in Portugal, containing books on all sciences and in all
languages, and well suited to the size and grandeur of the edifice which
contains it. There were no monks, however, to take care of it, as in
former times; they had been driven forth, some to beg their bread, some
to serve under the banners of Don Carlos, in Spain, and many, as I was
informed, to prowl about as banditti. I found the place abandoned to two
or three menials, and exhibiting an aspect of solitude and desolation
truly appalling. Whilst I was viewing the cloisters, a fine
intelligent-looking lad came up and asked (I suppose in the hope of
obtaining a trifle) whether I would permit him to show me the village
church, which he informed me was well worth seeing; I said no, but added,
that if he would show me the village school I should feel much obliged to
him. He looked at me with astonishment, and assured me that there was
nothing to be seen at the school, which did not contain more than half a
dozen boys, and that he himself was one of the number. On my telling
him, however, that he should show me no other place, he at length
unwillingly attended me. On the way I learned from him that the
schoolmaster was one of the friars who had lately been expelled from the
convent, that he was a very learned man, and spoke French and Greek. We
passed a stone cross, and the boy bent his head and crossed himself with
much devotion. I mention this circumstance, as it was the first instance
of the kind which I had observed amongst the Portuguese since my arrival.
When near the house where the schoolmaster resided, he pointed it out to
me, and then hid himself behind a wall, where he awaited my return.
On stepping over the threshold I was confronted by a short, stout man,
between sixty and seventy years of age, dressed in a blue jerkin and grey
trousers, without shirt or waistcoat. He looked at me sternly, and
inquired in the French language what was my pleasure. I apologized for
intruding upon him, and stated that, being informed he occupied the
situation of schoolmaster, I had come to pay my respects to him and to
beg permission to ask a few questions respecting the seminary. He
answered, that whoever told me he was a schoolmaster lied, for that he
was a friar of the convent, and nothing else. “It is not, then, true,”
said I, “that all the convents have been broken up and the monks
dismissed?” “Yes, yes,” said he with a sigh, “it is true; it is but too
true.” He then was silent for a minute, and, his better nature
overcoming his angry feelings, he produced a snuff-box and offered it to
me. The snuff-box is the olive-branch of the Portuguese, and he who
wishes to be on good terms with them must never refuse to dip his finger
and thumb into it when offered. I took, therefore, a huge pinch, though
I detest the dust, and we were soon on the best possible terms. He was
eager to obtain news, especially from Lisbon and Spain. I told him that
the officers of the troops at Lisbon had, the day before I left that
place, gone in a body to the queen, and insisted upon her either
receiving their swords or dismissing her Ministers; whereupon he rubbed
his hands, and said that he was sure matters would not remain tranquil at
Lisbon. On my saying, however, that I thought the affairs of Don Carlos
were on the decline (this was shortly after the death of Zumalacarregui),
{14b} he frowned, and cried that it could not possibly be, for that God
was too just to suffer it. I felt for the poor man who had been driven
out of his home in the noble convent close by, and from a state of
affluence and comfort reduced in his old age to indigence and misery, for
his present dwelling scarcely seemed to contain an article of furniture.
I tried twice or thrice to induce him to converse about the school, but
he either avoided the subject or said shortly that he knew nothing about
it. On my leaving him, the boy came from his hiding-place and rejoined
me; he said that he had hidden himself through fear of his master’s
knowing that he had brought me to him, for that he was unwilling that any
stranger should know that he was a schoolmaster.
I asked the boy whether he or his parents were acquainted with the
Scripture, and ever read it; he did not, however, seem to understand me.
I must here observe that the boy was fifteen years of age, that he was in
many respects very intelligent, and had some knowledge of the Latin
language; nevertheless he knew not the Scripture even by name, and I have
no doubt, from what I subsequently observed, that at least two-thirds of
his countrymen are on that important point no wiser than himself. At the
doors of village inns, at the hearths of the rustics, in the fields where
they labour, at the stone fountains by the wayside where they water their
cattle, I have questioned the lower class of the children of Portugal
about the Scripture, the Bible, the Old and New Testament, and in no one
instance have they known what I was alluding to, or could return me a
rational answer, though on all other matters their replies were sensible
enough; indeed, nothing surprised me more than the free and unembarrassed
manner in which the Portuguese peasantry sustain a conversation, and the
purity of the language in which they express their thoughts, and yet few
of them can read or write; whereas the peasantry of England, whose
education is in general much superior, are in their conversation coarse
and dull almost to brutality, and absurdly ungrammatical in their
language, though the English tongue is upon the whole more simple in its
structure than the Portuguese.
On my return to Lisbon I found our friend ---, who received me very
kindly. The next ten days were exceedingly rainy, which prevented me
from making any excursions into the country: during this time I saw our
friend frequently, and had long conversations with him concerning the
best means of distributing the Gospel. He thought we could do no better
for the present than put part of our stock into the hands of the
booksellers of Lisbon, and at the same time employ colporteurs to hawk
the books about the streets, receiving a certain profit on every copy
they sold. This plan was agreed upon, and forthwith put in practice, and
with some success. I had thoughts of sending colporteurs into the
neighbouring villages, but to this our friend objected. He thought the
attempt dangerous, as it was very possible that the rural priesthood, who
still possessed much influence in their own districts, and who were for
the most part decided enemies to the spread of the Gospel, might cause
the men employed to be assassinated or ill-treated.
I determined, however, ere leaving Portugal, to establish depôts of
Bibles in one or two of the provincial towns. I wished to visit the
Alemtejo, which I had heard was a very benighted region. The Alemtejo
{16} means the province beyond the Tagus. This province is not beautiful
and picturesque, like most other parts of Portugal; there are few hills
and mountains. The greater part consists of heaths broken by knolls, and
gloomy dingles, and forests of stunted pine; these places are infested
with banditti. The principal city is Evora, one of the most ancient in
Portugal, and formerly the seat of a branch of the Inquisition yet more
cruel and baneful than the terrible one of Lisbon. Evora lies about
sixty miles from Lisbon, and to Evora I determined on going with twenty
Testaments and two Bibles. How I fared there will presently be seen.