Return to Spain—Seville—A Hoary Persecutor—Manchegan Prophetess—Antonio’s
Dream.
On December 31, 1838, I again visited Spain for the third time. After
staying a day or two at Cadiz, I repaired to Seville, from which place I
proposed starting for Madrid with the mail post. Here I tarried about a
fortnight, enjoying the delicious climate of this terrestrial paradise,
and the balmy breezes of the Andalusian winter, even as I had done two
years previously. Before leaving Seville I visited the bookseller, my
correspondent, who informed me that seventy-six copies of the hundred
Testaments entrusted to his care had been placed in embargo by the
government last summer, and that they were at the present time in
possession of the ecclesiastical governor; whereupon I determined to
visit this functionary also, with the view of making inquiries concerning
the property.
He lived in a large house in the _Pajaria_, or straw-market. He was a
very old man, between seventy and eighty, and, like the generality of
those who wear the sacerdotal habit in this city, was a fierce
persecuting Papist. I imagine that he scarcely believed his ears when
his two grand-nephews, beautiful black-haired boys who were playing in
the courtyard, ran to inform him that an Englishman was waiting to speak
with him, as it is probable that I was the first heretic who ever
ventured into his habitation. I found him in a vaulted room, seated on a
lofty chair, with two sinister-looking secretaries, also in sacerdotal
habits, employed in writing at a table before him. He brought powerfully
to my mind the grim old inquisitor who persuaded Philip the Second to
slay his own son {215} as an enemy to the Church.
He rose as I entered, and gazed upon me with a countenance dark with
suspicion and dissatisfaction. He at last condescended to point me to a
sofa, and I proceeded to state to him my business. He became much
agitated when I mentioned the Testaments to him; but I no sooner spoke of
the Bible Society and told him who I was, than he could contain himself
no longer: with a stammering tongue, and with eyes flashing fire like hot
coals, he proceeded to rail against the society and myself, saying that
the aims of the first were atrocious, and that, as to myself, he was
surprised that, being once lodged in the prison of Madrid, I had ever
been permitted to quit it; adding, that it was disgraceful in the
government to allow a person of my character to roam about an innocent
and peaceful country, corrupting the minds of the ignorant and
unsuspicious. Far from allowing myself to be disconcerted by his rude
behaviour, I replied to him with all possible politeness, and assured him
that in this instance he had no reason to alarm himself, as my sole
motive in claiming the books in question was to avail myself of an
opportunity which at present presented itself, of sending them out of the
country, which, indeed, I had been commanded to do by an official notice.
But nothing would soothe him, and he informed me that he should not
deliver up the books on any condition, save by a positive order of the
government. As the matter was by no means an affair of consequence, I
thought it wise not to persist, and also prudent to take my leave before
he requested me. I was followed even down into the street by his niece
and grand-nephews, who, during the whole of the conversation, had
listened at the door of the apartment and heard every word.
In passing through La Mancha, we stayed for four hours at Manzanares, a
large village. I was standing in the market-place conversing with a
curate, when a frightful ragged object presented itself; it was a girl
about eighteen or nineteen, perfectly blind, a white film being spread
over her huge staring eyes. Her countenance was as yellow as that of a
Mulatto. I thought at first that she was a gypsy, and addressing myself
to her, inquired in _Gitano_ if she were of that race. She understood
me, but shaking her head, replied, that she was something better than a
_Gitana_, and could speak something better than that jargon of witches:
whereupon she commenced asking me several questions in exceedingly good
Latin. I was of course very much surprised, but, summoning all my
Latinity, I called her Manchegan Prophetess, and, expressing my
admiration for her learning, begged to be informed by what means she
became possessed of it. I must here observe that a crowd instantly
gathered around us, who, though they understood not one word of our
discourse, at every sentence of the girl shouted applause, proud in the
possession of a prophetess who could answer the Englishman.
She informed me that she was born blind, and that a Jesuit priest had
taken compassion on her when she was a child, and had taught her the holy
language, in order that the attention and hearts of Christians might be
more easily turned towards her. I soon discovered that he had taught her
something more than Latin, for upon telling her that I was an Englishman,
she said that she had always loved Britain, which was once the nursery of
saints and sages; for example, Bede and Alcuin, Columbus and Thomas of
Canterbury; but, she added, those times had gone by since the
reappearance of Semiramis (Elizabeth). Her Latin was truly excellent,
and when I, like a genuine Goth, spoke of Anglia and Terra Vandalica
(Andalusia), {217} she corrected me by saying, that in her language those
places were called Britannia and Terra Betica. When we had finished our
discourse, a gathering was made for the prophetess, the very poorest
contributing something.
After travelling four days and nights, we arrived at Madrid without
having experienced the slightest accident, though it is but just to
observe, and always with gratitude to the Almighty, that the next mail
was stopped. A singular incident befell me immediately after my arrival.
On entering the arch of the _posada_ called La Reyna, where I intended to
put up, I found myself encircled in a person’s arms, and on turning round
in amazement, beheld my Greek servant, Antonio. He was haggard and
ill-dressed, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets.
As soon as we were alone he informed me that since my departure he had
undergone great misery and destitution, having, during the whole period,
been unable to find a master in need of his services, so that he was
brought nearly to the verge of desperation; but that on the night
immediately preceding my arrival he had a dream, in which he saw me,
mounted on a black horse, ride up to the gate of the _posada_, and that
on that account he had been waiting there during the greater part of the
day. I do not pretend to offer an opinion concerning this narrative,
which is beyond the reach of my philosophy, and shall content myself with
observing, that only two individuals in Madrid were aware of my arrival
in Spain. I was very glad to receive him again into my service, as,
notwithstanding his faults, he had in many instances proved of no slight
assistance to me in my wanderings and Biblical labours.
I was soon settled in my former lodgings, when one of my first cares was
to pay a visit to Lord Clarendon. {218} Amongst other things, he
informed me that he had received an official notice from the government,
stating the seizure of the New Testaments at Ocaña, the circumstances
relating to which I have described on a former occasion, and informing
him that unless steps were instantly taken to remove them from the
country, they would be destroyed at Toledo, to which place they had been
conveyed. I replied that I should give myself no trouble about the
matter; and that if the authorities of Toledo, civil or ecclesiastic,
determined upon burning these books, my only hope was that they would
commit them to the flames with all possible publicity, as by so doing
they would but manifest their own hellish rancour and their hostility to
the Word of God.
Being eager to resume my labours, I had no sooner arrived at Madrid than
I wrote to Lopez at Villa Seca, for the purpose of learning whether he
was inclined to co-operate in the work, as on former occasions. In reply
he informed me that he was busily employed in his agricultural pursuits:
to supply his place, however, he sent over an elderly villager,
Victoriano Lopez by name, a distant relation of his own.
What is a missionary in the heart of Spain without a horse? Which
consideration induced me now to purchase an Arabian of high caste, which
had been brought from Algiers by an officer of the French legion. The
name of this steed, the best, I believe, that ever issued from the
desert, was Sidi Habismilk. {219}