Work of Distribution resumed—Adventure at Cobeña—Power of the
Clergy—Rural Authorities—Fuente la Higuera—Victoriano’s Mishap—Village
Prison—The Rope—Antonio’s Errand—Antonio at Mass.
In my last chapter I stated that, immediately after my arrival at Madrid,
I proceeded to get everything in readiness for commencing operations in
the neighbourhood: and I soon entered upon my labours in reality.
Considerable success attended my feeble efforts in the good cause, for
which at present, after the lapse of some years, I still look back with
gratitude to the Almighty.
All the villages within the distance of four leagues to the east of
Madrid were visited in less than a fortnight, and Testaments to the
number of nearly two hundred disposed of. These villages for the most
part are very small, some of them consisting of not more than a dozen
houses, or I should rather say miserable cabins. I left Antonio, my
Greek, to superintend matters in Madrid, and proceeded with Victoriano,
the peasant, from Villa Seca, in the direction which I have already
mentioned. We, however, soon parted company and pursued different
routes.
The first village at which I made an attempt was Cobeña, about three
leagues from Madrid. I was dressed in the fashion of the peasants in the
neighbourhood of Segovia, in Old Castile, namely, I had on my head a
species of leather helmet or _montera_, with a jacket and trousers of the
same material. I had the appearance of a person between sixty and
seventy years of age, and drove before me a _borrico_ with a sack of
Testaments lying across its back. On nearing the village, I met a
genteel-looking young woman leading a little boy by the hand. As I was
about to pass her, with the customary salutation of _vaya usted con
Dios_, she stopped, and, after looking at me for a moment, she said,
“Uncle, {221a} what is that you have got on your _borrico_? Is it soap?”
“Yes,” I replied; “it is soap to wash souls clean.”
She demanded what I meant; whereupon I told her that I carried cheap and
godly books for sale. On her requesting to see one, I produced a copy
from my pocket and handed it to her. She instantly commenced reading
with a loud voice, and continued so for at least ten minutes,
occasionally exclaiming, “_Que lectura tan bonita_, _que lectura tan
linda_!” {221b} At last, on my informing her that I was in a hurry, and
could not wait any longer, she said, “True, true,” and asked me the price
of the book; I told her “But three _reals_,” whereupon she said, that
though what I asked was very little, it was more than she could afford to
give, as there was little or no money in those parts. I said I was sorry
for it, but that I could not dispose of the books for less than I had
demanded, and accordingly, resuming it, wished her farewell, and left
her. I had not, however, proceeded thirty yards, when the boy came
running behind me, shouting, out of breath, “Stop, uncle, the book, the
book!” Upon overtaking me, he delivered the three _reals_ in copper, and
seizing the Testament, ran back to her, who I suppose was his sister,
flourishing the book over his head with great glee.
On arriving at the village, I directed my steps to a house, around the
door of which I saw several people gathered, chiefly women. On my
displaying my books, their curiosity was instantly aroused, and every
person had speedily one in his hand, many reading aloud; however, after
waiting nearly an hour, I had disposed of but one copy, all complaining
bitterly of the distress of the times, and the almost total want of
money, though, at the same time, they acknowledged that the books were
wonderfully cheap, and appeared to be very good and Christian-like. I
was about to gather up my merchandise and depart, when on a sudden the
curate of the place made his appearance. After having examined the books
for some time with considerable attention, he asked me the price of a
copy, and upon my informing him that it was three _reals_, he replied
that the binding was worth more, and that he was much afraid that I had
stolen the books, and that it was perhaps his duty to send me to prison
as a suspicious character; but added, that the books were good books,
however they might be obtained, and concluded by purchasing two copies.
The poor people no sooner heard their curate recommend the volumes, than
all were eager to secure one, and hurried here and there for the purpose
of procuring money, so that between twenty and thirty copies were sold
almost in an instant. This adventure not only affords an instance of the
power still possessed by the Spanish clergy over the minds of the people,
but proves that such influence is not always exerted in a manner
favourable to the maintenance of ignorance and superstition.
In another village, on my showing a Testament to a woman, she said that
she had a child at school for whom she should like to purchase one, but
that she must first know whether the book was calculated to be of service
to him. She then went away, and presently returned with the
schoolmaster, followed by all the children under his care; she then,
showing the schoolmaster a book, inquired if it would answer for her son.
The schoolmaster called her a simpleton for asking such a question, and
said that he knew the book well, and there was not its equal in the
world. {223} He instantly purchased five copies for his pupils,
regretting that he had no more money, “for if I had,” said he, “I would
buy the whole cargo.” Upon hearing this, the woman purchased four
copies, namely, one for her living son, another for her _deceased
husband_, a third for herself, and a fourth for her brother, whom she
said she was expecting home that night from Madrid.
In this manner we proceeded; not, however, with uniform success. In some
villages the people were so poor and needy that they had literally no
money; even in these, however, we managed to dispose of a few copies in
exchange for barley or refreshments. On entering one very small hamlet,
Victoriano was stopped by the curate, who, on learning what he carried,
told him, that unless he instantly departed, he would cause him to be
imprisoned, and would write to Madrid in order to give information of
what was going on. The excursion lasted about eight days. Immediately
after my return, I despatched Victoriano to Caramanchel, {224a} a village
at a short distance from Madrid, the only one towards the west which had
not been visited last year. He stayed there about an hour, and disposed
of twelve copies, and then returned, as he was exceedingly timid, and was
afraid of being met by the thieves who swarm on that road in the evening.
Shortly after these events, a circumstance occurred which will, perhaps,
cause the English reader to smile, whilst, at the same time, it will not
fail to prove interesting, as affording an example of the feeling
prevalent in some of the lone villages of Spain with respect to
innovation and all that savours thereof, and the strange acts which are
sometimes committed by the rural authorities and the priests, without the
slightest fear of being called to account; for as they live quite apart
from the rest of the world, they know no people greater than themselves,
and scarcely dream of a higher power than their own. {224b}
I was about to make an excursion to Guadalajara, and the villages of
Alcarria, about seven leagues distant from Madrid; indeed, I merely
awaited the return of Victoriano to sally forth; I having despatched him
in that direction with a few Testaments, as a kind of explorer, in order
that, from his report as to the disposition manifested by the people for
purchasing, I might form a tolerably accurate opinion as to the number of
copies which it might be necessary to carry with me. However, I heard
nothing of him for a fortnight, at the end of which period a letter was
brought to me by a peasant, dated from the prison of Fuente la Higuera, a
village eight leagues from Madrid, in the _campiña_ of Alcalá: {225} this
letter, written by Victoriano, gave me to understand that he had been
already eight days imprisoned, and that unless I could find some means to
extricate him, there was every probability of his remaining in durance
until he should perish with hunger, which he had no doubt would occur as
soon as his money was exhausted. From what I afterwards learned, it
appeared that, after passing the town of Alcalá, he had commenced
distributing, and with considerable success. His entire stock consisted
of sixty-one Testaments, twenty-five of which he sold without the
slightest difficulty or interruption in the single village of Arganza;
the poor labourers showering blessings on his head for providing them
with such good books at an easy price.
Not more than eighteen of his books remained, when he turned off the
high-road towards Fuente la Higuera. This place was already tolerably
well known to him, he having visited it of old, when he travelled the
country in the capacity of a vender of _cacharras_, or earthen pans. He
subsequently stated that he felt some misgiving whilst on the way, as the
village had invariably borne a bad reputation. On his arrival, after
having put up his _caballejo_, or little pony, at a _posada_, he
proceeded to the _alcalde_ for the purpose of asking permission to sell
the books, which that dignitary immediately granted. He now entered a
house and sold a copy, and likewise a second. Emboldened by success, he
entered a third, which, it appeared, belonged to the barber-surgeon of
the village. This personage, having just completed his dinner, was
seated in an armchair within his doorway, when Victoriano made his
appearance. He was a man about thirty-five, of a savage truculent
countenance. On Victoriano’s offering him a Testament, he took it in his
hand to examine it; but no sooner did his eyes glance over the title-page
than he burst out into a loud laugh, exclaiming, “_Ha_, _ha_, _Don Jorge
Borrow_, the English heretic, we have encountered you at last. Glory to
the Virgin and the Saints! We have long been expecting you here, and at
length you are arrived.” He then inquired the price of the book, and on
being told three _reals_, he flung down two, and rushed out of the house
with the Testament in his hand.
Victoriano now became alarmed, and determined upon leaving the place as
soon as possible. He therefore hurried back to the _posada_, and having
paid for the barley which his pony had consumed, went into the stable,
and placing the packsaddle on the animal’s back, was about to lead it
forth, when the _alcalde_ of the village, the surgeon, and twelve other
men, some of whom were armed with muskets, suddenly presented themselves.
They instantly made Victoriano prisoner; and, after seizing the books and
laying an embargo on the pony, proceeded, amidst much abuse, to drag the
captive to what they denominated their prison, a low damp apartment with
a little grated window, where they locked him up and left him. At the
expiration of three-quarters of an hour they again appeared, and
conducted him to the house of the curate, where they sat down in
conclave; the curate, who was a man stone blind, presiding, whilst the
sacristan officiated as secretary. The surgeon having stated his
accusation against the prisoner—namely, that he had detected him in the
act of selling a version of the Scriptures in the vulgar tongue—the
curate proceeded to examine Victoriano, asking him his name and place of
residence; to which he replied that his name was Victoriano Lopez, and
that he was a native of Villa Seca, in the Sagra of Toledo. The curate
then demanded what religion he professed? and whether he was a Mahometan
or freemason? and received for answer that he was a Roman Catholic. I
must here state that Victoriano, though sufficiently shrewd in his way,
was a poor old labourer of sixty-four; and until that moment had never
heard either of Mahometans or freemasons. The curate becoming now
incensed, called him a _tunante_, or scoundrel, and added, “You have sold
your soul to a heretic; we have long been aware of your proceedings, and
those of your master. You are the same Lopez whom he last year rescued
from the prison of Villallos, in the province of Avila; I sincerely hope
that he will attempt to do the same thing here.” “Yes, yes,” shouted the
rest of the conclave, “let him but venture here, and we will shed his
heart’s blood on our stones.” In this manner they went on for nearly
half an hour. At last they broke up the meeting, and conducted
Victoriano once more to his prison.
During his confinement he lived tolerably well, being in possession of
money. His meals were sent him twice a day from the _posada_, where his
pony remained in embargo. Once or twice he asked permission of the
_alcalde_, who visited him every night and morning with his armed guard,
to purchase pen and paper, in order that he might write to Madrid; but
this favour was peremptorily refused him, and all the inhabitants of the
village were forbidden under terrible penalties to afford him the means
of writing, or to convey any message from him beyond the precincts of the
place, and two boys were stationed before the window of his cell for the
purpose of watching everything which might be conveyed to him.
It happened one day that Victoriano, being in need of a pillow, sent word
to the people of the _posada_ to send him his _alforjas_, or saddle-bags,
which they did. In these bags there chanced to be a kind of rope, or, as
it is called in Spanish, _soga_, with which he was in the habit of
fastening his satchel to the pony’s back. The urchins seeing an end of
this rope, hanging from the _alforjas_, instantly ran to the _alcalde_ to
give him information. Late at evening, the _alcalde_ again visited the
prisoner at the head of his twelve men as usual. “_Buenos noches_,”
{228a} said the _alcalde_. “_Buenas noches tenga usted_,” {228b} replied
Victoriano. “For what purpose did you send for the _soga_ this
afternoon?” demanded the functionary. “I sent for no _soga_,” said the
prisoner; “I sent for my _alforjas_ to serve as a pillow, and it was sent
in them by chance.” “You are a false, malicious knave,” retorted the
_alcalde_; “you intend to hang yourself, and by so doing ruin us all, as
your death would be laid at our door. Give me the _soga_.” No greater
insult can be offered to a Spaniard than to tax him with an intention of
committing suicide. Poor Victoriano flew into a violent rage; and, after
calling the _alcalde_ several very uncivil names, he pulled the _soga_
from his bags, flung it at his head, and told him to take it home and use
it for his own neck.
At length the people of the _posada_ took pity on the prisoner,
perceiving that he was very harshly treated for no crime at all; they
therefore determined to afford him an opportunity of informing his
friends of his situation, and accordingly sent him a pen and inkhorn,
concealed in a loaf of bread, and a piece of writing-paper, pretending
that the latter was intended for cigars. So Victoriano wrote the letter:
but now ensued the difficulty of sending it to its destination, as no
person in the village dare have carried it for any reward. The good
people, however, persuaded a disbanded soldier from another village, who
chanced to be at Fuente la Higuera in quest of work, to charge himself
with it, assuring him that I would pay him well for his trouble. The
man, watching his opportunity, received the letter from Victoriano at the
window: and it was he who, after travelling on foot all night, delivered
it to me in safety at Madrid.
I was now relieved from my anxiety, and had no fears for the result. I
instantly went to a friend who is in possession of large estates about
Guadalajara, in which province Fuenta la Higuera is situated, who
furnished me with letters to the civil governor of Guadalajara and all
the principal authorities; these I delivered to Antonio, whom, at his own
request, I despatched on the errand of the prisoner’s liberation. He
first directed his course to Fuente la Higuera, where, entering the
_alcalde’s_ house, he boldly told him what he had come about. The
_alcalde_, expecting that I was at hand, with an army of Englishmen, for
the purpose of rescuing the prisoner, became greatly alarmed, and
instantly despatched his wife to summon his twelve men: however, on
Antonio’s assuring him that there was no intention of having recourse to
violence, he became more tranquil. In a short time Antonio was summoned
before the conclave and its blind sacerdotal president. They at first
attempted to frighten him by assuming a loud bullying tone, and talking
of the necessity of killing all strangers, and especially the detested
_Don Jorge_ and his dependents. Antonio, however, who was not a person
apt to allow himself to be easily terrified, scoffed at their threats,
and, showing them his letters to the authorities of Guadalajara, said
that he should proceed there on the morrow and denounce their lawless
conduct; adding that he was a Turkish subject, and that should they dare
to offer him the slightest incivility, he would write to the Sublime
Porte, in comparison with whom the best kings in the world were but
worms, and who would not fail to avenge the wrongs of any of his
children, however distant, in a manner too terrible to be mentioned. He
then returned to his _posada_. The conclave now proceeded to deliberate
amongst themselves, and at last determined to send their prisoner on the
morrow to Guadalajara, and deliver him into the hands of the civil
governor.
Nevertheless, in order to keep up a semblance of authority, they that
night placed two men armed at the door of the _posada_ where Antonio was
lodged, as if he himself was a prisoner. These men, as often as the
clock struck the hour, shouted, “_Ave Maria_! Death to the heretics!”
Early in the morning the _alcalde_ presented himself at the _posada_; but
before entering he made an oration at the door to the people in the
street, saying, amongst other things, “Brethren, these are the fellows
who have come to rob us of our religion.” He then went in to Antonio’s
apartment, and after saluting him with great politeness, said, that as a
royal or high Mass was about to be celebrated that morning, he had come
to invite him to go to church with him. Whereupon Antonio, though by no
means a Mass-goer, rose and accompanied him, and remained two hours, as
he told me, on his knees on the cold stones, to his great discomfort; the
eyes of the whole congregation being fixed upon him during the time.
After Mass and breakfast, he departed for Guadalajara, Victoriano having
been already despatched under a guard. On his arrival, he presented his
letters to the individuals for whom they were intended. The civil
governor was convulsed with merriment on hearing Antonio’s account of the
adventure. Victoriano was set at liberty, and the books were placed in
embargo at Guadalajara; the governor stating, however, that though it was
his duty to detain them at present, they should be sent to me whenever I
chose to claim them: he, moreover, said that he would do his best to
cause the authorities of Fuente la Higuera to be severely punished, as in
the whole affair they had acted in the most cruel, tyrannical manner, for
which they had no authority. Thus terminated this affair: one of those
little accidents which chequer missionary life in Spain.