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The Bible in Spain

G >> George Borrow >> The Bible in Spain



Transcribed from the 1908 Cassell and Company edition by David
Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk.




THE BIBLE IN SPAIN--GEORGE BORROW




AUTHOR'S 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 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 daydreams 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 daydream
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 bacalao 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." {0}


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 Astruria; 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. 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; 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 becomes 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. 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 cut-throats, 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 toilworn 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 Christino 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 Santissima. 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
Ingalaterra."

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, 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 and Lyon, 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, 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 civilisation 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 finds but little to admire, it will give me
credit for good spirit, and for setting down nought in malice.


Nov. 26, 1842.



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 the tenth of November, 1835, 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 eleventh 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 recognised 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 eleventh 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; early the next morning we weighed, and,
proceeding onward about a league, we again anchored at a short
distance from the Caesodre, 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 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 provocating
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, 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 Alemcrin, or
Rosemary, which debouches on the Caesodre. 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 streets 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, Pere-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, 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. 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.

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