Illness—Nocturnal Visit—A Master Mind—The Whisper—Salamanca—Irish
Hospitality—Spanish Soldiers—The Scriptures advertised.
But I am anxious to enter upon the narrative of my journey, and shall
therefore abstain from relating to my readers a great many circumstances
which occurred previously to my leaving Madrid on this expedition. About
the middle of May I had got everything in readiness, and I bade farewell
to my friends. Salamanca was the first place which I intended to visit.
Some days previous to my departure I was very much indisposed, owing to
the state of the weather, for violent and biting winds had long
prevailed. I had been attacked with a severe cold, which terminated in a
disagreeable cough, which the many remedies I successively tried seemed
unable to subdue. I had made preparations for departing on a particular
day, but, owing to the state of my health, I was apprehensive that I
should be compelled to defer my journey for a time. The last day of my
stay in Madrid, finding myself scarcely able to stand, I was fain to
submit to a somewhat desperate experiment, and by the advice of the
barber-surgeon who visited me, I determined to be bled. Late on the
night of that same day he took from me sixteen ounces of blood, and
having received his fee left me, wishing me a pleasant journey, and
assuring me, upon his reputation, that by noon the next day I should be
perfectly recovered.
A few minutes after his departure, whilst I was sitting alone, meditating
on the journey which I was about to undertake, and on the rickety state
of my health, I heard a loud knock at the street door of the house, on
the third floor of which I was lodged. In another minute Mr. S---, {271}
of the British embassy, entered my apartment. After a little
conversation, he informed me that Mr. Villiers had desired him to wait
upon me to communicate a resolution which he had come to. Being
apprehensive that, alone and unassisted, I should experience great
difficulty in propagating the Gospel of God to any considerable extent in
Spain, he was bent upon exerting to the utmost his own credit and
influence to further my views, which he himself considered, if carried
into proper effect, extremely well calculated to operate beneficially on
the political and moral state of the country. To this end it was his
intention to purchase a very considerable number of copies of the New
Testament, and to dispatch them forthwith to the various British consuls
established in different parts of Spain, with strict and positive orders
to employ all the means which their official situation should afford them
to circulate the books in question, and to assure their being noticed.
They were, moreover, to be charged to afford me, whenever I should appear
in their respective districts, all the protection, encouragement, and
assistance which I should stand in need of. I was of course much
rejoiced on receiving this information, for, though I had long been aware
that Mr. Villiers was at all times willing to assist me, he having
frequently given me sufficient proof, I could never expect that he would
come forward in so noble, and, to say the least of it, considering his
high diplomatic situation, so bold and decided a manner. I believe that
this was the first instance of a British ambassador having made the cause
of the Bible Society a national one, or indeed of having favoured it
directly or indirectly. What renders the case of Mr. Villiers more
remarkable is that, on my first arrival at Madrid, I found him by no
means well disposed towards the Society. The Holy Spirit had probably
illumined his mind on this point. I hoped that by his means our
institution would shortly possess many agents in Spain, who, with far
more power and better opportunities than I myself could ever expect to
possess, would scatter abroad the seed of the Gospel, and make of a
barren and thirsty wilderness a green and smiling corn-field.
A word or two about the gentleman who paid me this nocturnal visit.
Though he has probably long since forgotten the humble circulator of the
Bible in Spain, I still bear in mind numerous acts of kindness which I
experienced at his hands. Endowed with an intellect of the highest
order, master of the lore of all Europe, profoundly versed in the ancient
tongues and speaking most of the modern dialects with remarkable
facility—possessed, moreover, of a thorough knowledge of mankind—he
brought with him into the diplomatic career advantages such as few, even
the most highly gifted, can boast of. During his sojourn in Spain he
performed many eminent services for the government which employed him;
services which, I believe, it had sufficient discernment to see, and
gratitude to reward. He had to encounter, however, the full brunt of the
low and stupid malignity of the party who, shortly after the time of
which I am speaking, usurped the management of the affairs of Spain.
This party, whose foolish manœuvres he was continually discomfiting,
feared and hated him as its evil genius, taking every opportunity of
showering on his head calumnies the most improbable and absurd. Amongst
other things, he was accused of having acted as an agent to the English
government in the affair of La Granja, bringing about that revolution by
bribing the mutinous soldiers, and more particularly the notorious
Sergeant Garcia. Such an accusation will of course merely extract a
smile from those who are at all acquainted with the English character,
and the general line of conduct pursued by the English government. It
was a charge, however, universally believed in Spain, and was even
preferred in print by a certain journal, the official organ of the silly
Duke of Frias, one of the many prime ministers of the _moderado_ party
who followed each other in rapid succession towards the latter period of
the Carlist and _Cristino_ struggle. But when did a calumnious report
ever fall to the ground in Spain by the weight of its own absurdity?
Unhappy land! not until the pure light of the Gospel has illumined thee,
wilt thou learn that the greatest of all gifts is charity!
The next day verified the prediction of the Spanish surgeon; I had to a
considerable degree lost my cough and fever, though, owing to the loss of
blood, I was somewhat feeble. Precisely at twelve o’clock the horses
were led forth before the door of my lodging in the Calle de Santiago,
and I prepared to mount; but my black _entero_ of Andalusia would not
permit me to approach his side, and, whenever I made the attempt,
commenced wheeling round with great rapidity.
“_C’est un mauvais signe_, _mon maître_,” said Antonio, who, dressed in a
green jerkin, a _montero_ cap, and booted and spurred, stood ready to
attend me, holding by the bridle the horse which I had purchased from the
_contrabandista_. “It is a bad sign, and in my country they would defer
the journey till to-morrow.”
“Are there whisperers in your country?” I demanded; and taking the horse
by the mane, I performed the ceremony after the most approved fashion.
The animal stood still, and I mounted the saddle, exclaiming—
“The _Romany chal_ {274a} to his horse did cry,
As he placed the bit in his horse’s jaw,
‘Kosko gry! Romany gry!
Muk man kistur tute knaw.’” {274b}
We then rode forth from Madrid by the gate of San Vicente, directing our
course to the lofty mountains which separate Old from New Castile. That
night we rested at Guadarrama, a large village at their foot, distant
from Madrid about seven leagues. Rising early on the following morning,
we ascended the pass and entered into Old Castile.
After crossing the mountains, the route to Salamanca lies almost entirely
over sandy and arid plains, interspersed here and there with thin and
scanty groves of pine. No adventure worth relating occurred during this
journey. We sold a few Testaments in the villages through which we
passed, more especially at Peñaranda. About noon of the third day, on
reaching the brow of a hillock, we saw a huge dome before us, upon which
the fierce rays of the sun striking, produced the appearance of burnished
gold. It belonged to the cathedral of Salamanca, and we flattered
ourselves that we were already at our journey’s end; we were deceived,
however, being still four leagues distant from the town, whose churches
and convents, towering up in gigantic masses, can be distinguished at an
immense distance, flattering the traveller with an idea of propinquity
which does not in reality exist. It was not till long after nightfall
that we arrived at the city gate, which we found closed and guarded, in
apprehension of a Carlist attack; and having obtained admission with some
difficulty, we led our horses along dark, silent, and deserted streets,
till we found an individual who directed us to a large, gloomy, and
comfortless _posada_, that of the Bull, which we, however, subsequently
found was the best which the town afforded.
A melancholy town is Salamanca; the days of its collegiate glory are long
since past by, never more to return: a circumstance, however, which is
little to be regretted; for what benefit did the world ever derive from
scholastic philosophy? And for that alone was Salamanca ever famous.
Its halls are now almost silent, and grass is growing in its courts,
which were once daily thronged by at least eight thousand students; a
number to which, at the present day, the entire population of the city
does not amount. Yet, with all its melancholy, what an interesting, nay,
what a magnificent place is Salamanca! How glorious are its churches,
how stupendous are its deserted convents, and with what sublime but
sullen grandeur do its huge and crumbling walls, which crown the
precipitous bank of the Tormes, look down upon the lovely river and its
venerable bridge!
What a pity that, of the many rivers of Spain, scarcely one is navigable!
The beautiful but shallow Tormes, instead of proving a source of blessing
and wealth to this part of Castile, is of no further utility than to turn
the wheels of various small water mills, standing upon weirs of stone,
which at certain distances traverse the river.
My sojourn at Salamanca was rendered particularly pleasant by the kind
attentions and continual acts of hospitality which I experienced from the
inmates of the Irish College, to the rector of which I bore a letter of
recommendation from my kind and excellent friend Mr. O’Shea, the
celebrated banker of Madrid. It will be long before I forget these
Irish, more especially their head, Dr. Gartland, a genuine scion of the
good Hibernian tree, an accomplished scholar, and a courteous and
high-minded gentleman. Though fully aware who I was, he held out the
hand of friendship to the wandering heretic missionary, although by so
doing he exposed himself to the rancorous remarks of the narrow-minded
native clergy, who, in their ugly shovel hats and long cloaks, glared at
me askance as I passed by their whispering groups beneath the _piazzas_
of the _Plaza_. But when did the fear of consequences cause an Irishman
to shrink from the exercise of the duties of hospitality? However
attached to his religion—and who is so attached to the Romish creed as
the Irishman?—I am convinced that not all the authority of the Pope or
the Cardinals would induce him to close his doors on Luther himself, were
that respectable personage at present alive and in need of food and
refuge.
Honour to Ireland and her “hundred thousand welcomes!” {277a} Her fields
have long been the greenest in the world; her daughters the fairest; her
sons the bravest and most eloquent. May they never cease to be so!
The _posada_ where I had put up was a good specimen of the old Spanish
inn, being much the same as those described in the time of Philip the
Third or Fourth. The rooms were many and large, floored with either
brick or stone, generally with an alcove at the end, in which stood a
wretched flock bed. Behind the house was a court, and in the rear of
this a stable, full of horses, ponies, mules, _machos_, and donkeys, for
there was no lack of guests, who, however, for the most part slept in the
stable with their _caballerias_, being either _arrieros_ or small
peddling merchants who travelled the country with coarse cloth or linen.
Opposite to my room in the corridor lodged a wounded officer, who had
just arrived from San Sebastian on a galled broken-kneed pony: he was an
Estrimenian, {277b} and was returning to his own village to be cured. He
was attended by three broken soldiers, lame or maimed, and unfit for
service: they told me that they were of the same village as his worship,
and on that account he permitted them to travel with him. They slept
amongst the litter, and throughout the day lounged about the house
smoking paper cigars. I never saw them eating, though they frequently
went to a dark cool corner, where stood a _bota_ or kind of water
pitcher, which they held about six inches from their black filmy lips,
permitting the liquid to trickle down their throats. They said they had
no pay, and were quite destitute of money, that _su merced_ the officer
occasionally gave them a piece of bread, but that he himself was poor and
had only a few dollars. Brave guests for an inn, thought I; yet, to the
honour of Spain be it spoken, it is one of the few countries in Europe
where poverty is never insulted nor looked upon with contempt. Even at
an inn, the poor man is never spurned from the door, and if not
harboured, is at least dismissed with fair words, and consigned to the
mercies of God and his mother. This is as it should be. I laugh at the
bigotry and prejudices of Spain; I abhor the cruelty and ferocity which
have cast a stain of eternal infamy on her history; but I will say for
the Spaniards, that in their social intercourse no people in the world
exhibit a juster feeling of what is due to the dignity of human nature,
or better understand the behaviour which it behoves a man to adopt
towards his fellow beings. I have said that it is one of the few
countries in Europe where poverty is not treated with contempt, and I may
add, where the wealthy are not blindly idolized. In Spain the very
beggar does not feel himself a degraded being, for he kisses no one’s
feet, and knows not what it is to be cuffed or spit upon; and in Spain
the duke or the marquis can scarcely entertain a very overweening opinion
of his own consequence, as he finds no one, with perhaps the exception of
his French valet, to fawn upon or flatter him.
During my stay at Salamanca I took measures that the word of God might
become generally known in his celebrated city. The principal bookseller
of the town, Blanco, a man of great wealth and respectability, consented
to become my agent here, and I in consequence deposited in his shop a
certain number of New Testaments. He was the proprietor of a small
printing-press, where the official bulletin of the place was published.
For this bulletin I prepared an advertisement of the work, in which,
amongst other things, I said that the New Testament was the only guide to
salvation; I also spoke of the Bible Society, and the great pecuniary
sacrifices which it was making with the view of proclaiming Christ
crucified, and of making his doctrine known. This step will perhaps be
considered by some as too bold, but I was not aware that I could take any
more calculated to arouse the attention of the people—a considerable
point. I also ordered numbers of the same advertisement to be struck off
in the shape of bills, which I caused to be stuck up in various parts of
the town. I had great hope that by means of these a considerable number
of New Testaments would be sold. I intended to repeat this experiment in
Valladolid, Leon, St. Jago, {279} and all the principal towns which I
visited, and to distribute them likewise as I rode along. The children
of Spain would thus be brought to know that such a work as the New
Testament is in existence, a fact of which not five in one hundred were
then aware, notwithstanding their so frequently repeated boasts of their
Catholicity and Christianity.