Shopkeeper at Evora—Spanish Contrabandistas—Lion and 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.
Evora is a small city, walled, but not regularly fortified, and could not
sustain a siege of a day. It has five gates; before that to the
south-west is the principal promenade of its inhabitants; the fair on St.
John’s Day is likewise held there; the houses are in general very
ancient, and many of them unoccupied. It contains about five thousand
inhabitants, though twice that number would be by no means
disproportionate to its size. The two principal edifices are the See, or
cathedral, {33a} and the convent of San Francisco, in the square before
the latter of which was situated the _posada_ where I had taken up my
abode. A large barrack for cavalry stands on the right-hand side on
entering the south-west gate. To the southeast, at the distance of six
leagues, is to be seen a blue chain of hills, the highest of which is
called Serra Dorso; {33b} it is picturesquely beautiful, and contains
within its recesses wolves and wild boars in numbers. About a league and
a half on the other side of this hill is Estremoz.
I passed the day succeeding my arrival principally in examining the town
and its environs, and, as I strolled about, entered into conversation
with various people that I met. Several of these were of the middle
class, shopkeepers and professional men; they were all
Constitutionalists, or pretended to be so, but had very little to say
except a few commonplace remarks on the way of living of the friars,
their hypocrisy and laziness. I endeavoured to obtain some information
respecting the state of instruction in the place, and from their answers
was led to believe that it must be at the lowest ebb, for it seemed that
there was neither book-shop nor school. When I spoke of religion, they
exhibited the utmost apathy for the subject, and, making their bows, left
me as soon as possible.
Having a letter of introduction to a person who kept a shop in the
market-place, I went thither and delivered it to him as he stood behind
his counter. In the course of conversation I found that he had been much
persecuted whilst the old system was in its vigour, and that he
entertained a hearty aversion for it. I told him that the ignorance of
the people in religious matters had served to nurse that system, and that
the surest way to prevent its return was to enlighten their minds. I
added that I had brought a small stock of Bibles and Testaments to Evora,
which I wished to leave for sale in the hands of some respectable
merchant, and that if he were anxious to help to lay the axe to the root
of superstition and tyranny, he could not do so more effectually than by
undertaking the charge of these books. He declared his willingness to do
so, and I went away determined to entrust to him half of my stock. I
returned to the hostelry, and sat down on a log of wood on the hearth
within the immense chimney in the common apartment; two surly-looking men
were on their knees on the stones. Before them was a large heap of
pieces of old iron, brass, and copper; they were assorting it, and
stowing it away in various bags. They were Spanish contrabandists of the
lowest class, and earned a miserable livelihood by smuggling such rubbish
from Portugal into Spain. Not a word proceeded from their lips, and when
I addressed them in their native language, they returned no other answer
than a kind of growl. They looked as dirty and rusty as the iron in
which they trafficked; their four miserable donkeys were in the stable in
the rear.
The woman of the house and her daughter were exceedingly civil to me, and
coming near crouched down, asking various questions about England. A man
dressed somewhat like an English sailor, who sat on the other side of the
hearth confronting me, said, “I hate the English, for they are not
baptized, and have not the law,” meaning the law of God. I laughed, and
told him that according to the law of England, no one who was unbaptized
could be buried in consecrated ground; whereupon he said, “Then you are
stricter than we.” He then said, “What is meant by the lion and the
unicorn which I saw the other day on the coat-of-arms over the door of
the English consul at St. Ubes?” {35} I said they were the arms of
England! “Yes,” he replied, “but what do they represent?” I said I did
not know. “Then,” said he, “you do not know the secrets of your own
house.” I said, “Suppose I were to tell you that they represent the Lion
of Bethlehem and the horned monster of the flaming pit in combat, as to
which should obtain the mastery in England, what would you say?” He
replied, “I should say that you gave a fair answer.” This man and myself
became great friends. He came from Palmella, not far from St. Ubes; he
had several mules and horses with him, and dealt in corn and barley. I
again walked out and roamed in the environs of the town.
About half a mile from the southern wall is a stone fountain, where the
muleteers and other people who visit the town are accustomed to water
their horses. I sat down by it, and there I remained about two hours,
entering into conversation with every one who halted at the fountain; and
I will here observe, that during the time of my sojourn at Evora, I
repeated my visit every day, and remained there the same time; and by
following this plan, I believe that I spoke to at least two hundred of
the children of Portugal upon matters relating to their eternal welfare.
I found that very few of those whom I addressed had received any species
of literary education, none of them had seen the Bible, and not more than
half a dozen had the slightest inkling of what the holy book consisted.
I found that most of them were bigoted Papists and Miguelites at heart.
I therefore, when they told me they were Christians, denied the
possibility of their being so, as they were ignorant of Christ and his
commandments, and placed their hope of salvation on outward forms and
superstitious observances, which were the invention of Satan, who wished
to keep them in darkness that at last they might stumble into the pit
which he had dug for them. I said repeatedly that the Pope, whom they
revered, was an arch deceiver, and the head minister of Satan here on
earth, and that the monks and friars, whose absence they so deplored, and
to whom they had been accustomed to confess themselves, were his
subordinate agents. When called upon for proofs, I invariably cited the
ignorance of my auditors respecting the Scriptures, and said that if
their spiritual guides had been really ministers of Christ, they would
not have permitted their flocks to remain unacquainted with his word.
Since this occurred, I have been frequently surprised that I experienced
no insult and ill-treatment from the people, whose superstitions I was
thus attacking; but I really experienced none, and am inclined to believe
that the utter fearlessness which I displayed, trusting in the protection
of the Almighty, may have been the cause. When threatened by danger, the
best policy is to fix your eye steadily upon it, and it will in general
vanish like the morning mist before the sun; whereas, if you quail before
it, it is sure to become more imminent. I have fervent hope that the
words of my mouth sank deep into the hearts of some of my auditors, as I
observed many of them depart musing and pensive. I occasionally
distributed tracts amongst them; for although they themselves were unable
to turn them to much account, I thought that by their means they might
become of service at some future time, and fall into the hands of others,
to whom they might be of eternal interest. Many a book which is
abandoned to the waters is wafted to some remote shore, and there proves
a blessing and a comfort to millions, who are ignorant from whence it
came.
The next day, which was Friday, I called at the house of my friend Don
Geronimo Azveto. I did not find him there, but was directed to the See,
or episcopal palace, in an apartment of which I found him, writing, with
another gentleman, to whom he introduced me; it was the governor of
Evora, who welcomed me with every mark of kindness and affability. After
some discourse, we went out together to examine an ancient edifice, which
was reported to have served, in bygone times, as a temple to Diana. Part
of it was evidently of Roman architecture, for there was no mistaking the
beautiful light pillars which supported a dome, under which the
sacrifices to the most captivating and poetical divinity of the heathen
theocracy had probably been made; but the original space between the
pillars had been filled up with rubbish of a modern date, and the rest of
the building was apparently of the architecture of the latter end of the
Middle Ages. It was situated at one end of the building which had once
been the seat of the Inquisition, and had served, before the erection of
the present See, as the residence of the bishop.
Within the See, where the governor now resides, is a superb library,
occupying an immense vaulted room, like the aisle of a cathedral; and in
a side apartment is a collection of paintings by Portuguese artists,
chiefly portraits, amongst which is that of Don Sebastian. {38} I
sincerely hope it did not do him justice, for it represents him in the
shape of an awkward lad of about eighteen, with a bloated booby face with
staring eyes, and a ruff round a short apoplectic neck.
I was shown several beautifully illuminated missals and other
manuscripts, but the one which most arrested my attention, I scarcely
need say why, was that which bore the following title:—
“_Forma sive ordinatio Capelle illustrissimi et xianissimi principis
Henrici Sexti Regis Anglie et Francie am dm̃ Hibernie descripta
serenissiō principi Alfonso Regi Portugalie illustri per humilem
servitorem sm̃ Willm. Sav. Decanū capelle supradicte_.” {39}
It seemed a voice from the olden times of my dear native land! This
library and picture-gallery had been formed by one of the latter bishops,
a person of much learning and piety.
In the evening I dined with Don Geronimo and his brother; the latter soon
left us to attend to his military duties. My friend and myself had now
much conversation of considerable interest; he lamented the deplorable
state of ignorance in which his countrymen existed at present. He said
that his friend the governor and himself were endeavouring to establish a
school in the vicinity, and that they had made application to the
government for the use of an empty convent, called the _Espinheiro_, or
thorn-tree, at about a league’s distance, and that they had little doubt
of their request being complied with. I had before told him who I was;
and after expressing joy at the plan which he had in contemplation, I now
urged him in the most pressing manner to use all his influence to make
the knowledge of the Scripture the basis of the education which the
children were to receive, and added, that half the Bibles and Testaments
which I had brought with me to Evora were heartily at his service. He
instantly gave me his hand, said he accepted my offer with the greatest
pleasure, and would do all in his power to forward my views, which were
in many respects his own. I now told him that I did not come to Portugal
with the view of propagating the dogmas of any particular sect, but with
the hope of introducing the Bible, which is the well-head of all that is
useful and conducive to the happiness of society; that I cared not what
people called themselves, provided they followed the Bible as a guide,
for that where the Scriptures were read, neither priestcraft nor tyranny
could long exist; and instanced the case of my own country, the cause of
whose freedom and prosperity was the Bible, and that only, as the last
persecutor of this book, the bloody and infamous Mary, was the last
tyrant who had sat on the throne of England. We did not part till the
night was considerably advanced; and the next morning I sent him the
books, in the firm and confident hope that a bright and glorious morning
was about to rise over the night which had so long cast its dreary
shadows over the regions of the Alemtejo.
The day after this interesting event, which was Saturday, I had more
conversation with the man from Palmella. I asked him if in his journeys
he had never been attacked by robbers; he answered no, for that he
generally travelled in company with others. “However,” said he, “were I
alone, I should have little fear, for I am well protected.” I said that
I supposed he carried arms with him. “No other arms than this,” said he,
pulling out one of those long desperate-looking knives, of English
manufacture, with which every Portuguese peasant is usually furnished.
This knife serves for many purposes, and I should consider it a far more
efficient weapon than a dagger. “But,” said he, “I do not place much
confidence in the knife.” I then inquired in what rested his hope of
protection. “In this,” said he; and, unbuttoning his waistcoat, he
showed me a small bag, attached to his neck by a silken string. “In this
bag is an _oraçam_, {41} or prayer, written by a person of power, and as
long as I carry it about with me, no ill can befall me.” Curiosity is
the leading feature of my character, and I instantly said, with
eagerness, that I should feel great pleasure in being permitted to read
the prayer. “Well,” he replied, “you are my friend, and I would do for
you what I would for few others; I will show it you.” He then asked for
my penknife, and, having unripped the bag, took out a large piece of
paper closely folded up. I hurried to my apartment and commenced the
examination of it. It was scrawled over in a very illegible hand, and
was moreover much stained with perspiration, so that I had considerable
difficulty in making myself master of its contents; but I at last
accomplished the following literal translation of the charm, which was
written in bad Portuguese, but which struck me at the time as being one
of the most remarkable compositions that had ever come to my knowledge.
THE CHARM.
“Just Judge and divine Son of the Virgin Maria, who wast born in
Bethlehem, a Nazarene, and wast crucified in the midst of all Jewry,
I beseech thee, O Lord, by thy sixth day, that the body of me be not
caught, nor put to death by the hands of justice at all; peace be
with you, the peace of Christ, may I receive peace, may you receive
peace, said God to his disciples. If the accursed justice should
distrust me, or have its eyes on me, in order to take me or to rob
me, may its eyes not see me, may its mouth not speak to me, may it
have ears which may not hear me, may it have hands which may not
seize me, may it have feet which may not overtake me; for may I be
armed with the arms of St. George, covered with the cloak of Abraham,
and shipped in the ark of Noah, so that it can neither see me, nor
hear me, nor draw the blood from my body. I also adjure thee, O
Lord, by those three blessed crosses, by those three blessed
chalices, by those three blessed clergymen, by those three
consecrated hosts, that thou give me that sweet company which thou
gavest to the Virgin Maria, from the gates of Bethlehem to the
portals of Jerusalem, that I may go and come with pleasure and joy
with Jesus Christ, the Son of the Virgin Maria, the prolific yet
nevertheless the eternal virgin.”
The woman of the house and her daughter had similar bags attached to
their necks, containing charms, which, they said, prevented the witches
having power to harm them. The belief in witchcraft is very prevalent
amongst the peasantry of the Alemtejo, and I believe of other provinces
of Portugal. This is one of the relics of the monkish system, the aim of
which, in all countries where it has existed, seems to have been to besot
the minds of the people, that they might be more easily misled. All
these charms were fabrications of the monks, who had sold them to their
infatuated confessants. The monks of the Greek and Syrian churches
likewise deal in this ware, which they know to be poison, but which they
would rather vend than the wholesome balm of the Gospel, because it
brings them a large price, and fosters the delusion which enables them to
live a life of luxury.
The Sunday morning was fine, and the plain before the church of the
convent of San Francisco was crowded with people hastening to or
returning from the Mass. After having performed my morning devotion, and
breakfasted, I went down to the kitchen; the girl Geronima was seated by
the fire. I inquired if she had heard Mass? She replied in the
negative, and that she did not intend to hear it. Upon my inquiring her
motive for absenting herself, she replied, that since the friars had been
expelled from their churches and convents she had ceased to attend Mass,
or to confess herself; for that the government priests had no spiritual
power, and consequently she never troubled them. She said the friars
were holy men and charitable; for that every morning those of the convent
over the way fed forty poor persons with the relics of the meals of the
preceding day, but that now these people were allowed to starve. I
replied, that the friars, who lived on the fat of the land, could well
afford to bestow a few bones upon their poor, and that their doing so was
merely a part of their policy, by which they hoped to secure to
themselves friends in time of need. The girl then observed, that, as it
was Sunday, I should perhaps like to see some books, and without waiting
for a reply she produced them. They consisted principally of popular
stories, with lives and miracles of saints, but amongst them was a
translation of Volney’s _Ruins of Empires_. I expressed a wish to know
how she came possessed of this book. She said that a young man, a great
Constitutionalist, had given it to her some months previous, and had
pressed her much to read it, for that it was one of the best books in the
world. I replied, that the author of it was an emissary of Satan, and an
enemy of Jesus Christ and the souls of mankind; that it was written with
the sole aim of bringing all religion into contempt, and that it
inculcated the doctrine that there was no future state, nor reward for
the righteous, nor punishment for the wicked. She made no reply, but,
going into another room, returned with her apron full of dry sticks and
brushwood, all which she piled upon the fire, and produced a bright
blaze. She then took the book from my hand and placed it upon the
flaming pile; then, sitting down, took her rosary out of her pocket, and
told her beads till the volume was consumed. This was an _auto-da-fé_
{44} in the best sense of the word.
On the Monday and Tuesday I paid my usual visits to the fountain, and
likewise rode about the neighbourhood on a mule, for the purpose of
circulating tracts. I dropped a great many in the favourite walks of the
people of Evora, as I felt rather dubious of their accepting them had I
proffered them with my own hand, whereas, should they be observed lying
on the ground, I thought that curiosity might cause them to be picked up
and examined. I likewise, on the Tuesday evening, paid a farewell visit
to my friend Azveto, as it was my intention to leave Evora on the
Thursday following and return to Lisbon; in which view I had engaged a
calash of a man who informed me that he had served as a soldier in the
_grande armée_ of Napoleon, and been present in the Russian campaign. He
looked the very image of a drunkard. His face was covered with
carbuncles, and his breath impregnated with the fumes of strong waters.
He wished much to converse with me in French, in the speaking of which
language it seemed he prided himself; but I refused, and told him to
speak the language of the country, or I would hold no discourse with him.
Wednesday was stormy, with occasional rain. On coming down, I found that
my friend from Palmella had departed; but several _contrabandistas_ had
arrived from Spain. They were mostly fine fellows, and, unlike the two I
had seen the preceding week, who were of much lower degree, were chatty
and communicative; they spoke their native language, and no other, and
seemed to hold the Portuguese in great contempt. The magnificent tones
of the Spanish sounded to great advantage amidst the shrill squeaking
dialect of Portugal. I was soon in deep conversation with them, and was
much pleased to find that all of them could read. I presented the
eldest, a man of about fifty years of age, with a tract in Spanish. He
examined it for some time with great attention; he then rose from his
seat, and, going into the middle of the apartment, began reading it
aloud, slowly and emphatically. His companions gathered around him, and
every now and then expressed their approbation of what they heard. The
reader occasionally called upon me to explain passages which, as they
referred to particular texts of Scripture, he did not exactly understand,
for not one of the party had ever seen either the Old or New Testament.
He continued reading for upwards of an hour, until he had finished the
tract; and, at its conclusion, the whole party were clamorous for similar
ones, with which I was happy to be able to supply them.
Most of these men spoke of priestcraft and the monkish system with the
utmost abhorrence, and said that they should prefer death to submitting
again to the yoke which had formerly galled their necks. I questioned
them very particularly respecting the opinion of their neighbours and
acquaintances on this point, and they assured me that in their part of
the Spanish frontier all were of the same mind, and that they cared as
little for the Pope and his monks as they did for Don Carlos; for the
latter was a dwarf, (_chicotito_), and a tyrant, and the others were
plunderers and robbers. I told them they must beware of confounding
religion with priestcraft, and that in their abhorrence of the latter
they must not forget that there is a God and a Christ to whom they must
look for salvation, and whose word it was incumbent upon them to study on
every occasion; whereupon they all expressed a devout belief in Christ
and the Virgin.
These men, though in many respects more enlightened than the surrounding
peasantry, were in others as much in the dark; they believed in
witchcraft and in the efficacy of particular charms. The night was very
stormy, and at about nine we heard a galloping towards the door, and then
a loud knocking. It was opened, and in rushed a wild-looking man,
mounted on a donkey; he wore a ragged jacket of sheepskin, called in
Spanish _zamarra_, with breeches of the same as far down as his knees;
his legs were bare. Around his _sombrero_, or shadowy hat, was tied a
large quantity of the herb which in English is called rosemary, in
Spanish _romero_, and in the rustic language of Portugal _alecrim_, {47}
which last is a word of Scandinavian origin (_ellegren_), signifying the
elfin plant, and was probably carried into the south by the Vandals. The
man seemed frantic with terror, and said that the witches had been
pursuing him and hovering over his head for the last two leagues. He
came from the Spanish frontier with meal and other articles. He said
that his wife was following him, and would soon arrive, and in about a
quarter of an hour she made her appearance, dripping with rain, and also
mounted on a donkey.
I asked my friends the _contrabandistas_ why he wore the rosemary in his
hat; whereupon they told me that it was good against witches and the
mischances on the road. I had no time to argue against this
superstition, for, as the chaise was to be ready at five the next
morning, I wished to make the most of the short time which I could devote
to sleep.