The Bible in Spain

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I have visited most of the principal capitals of the world, but
upon the whole none has ever so interested me as this city of
Madrid, in which I now found myself. I will not dwell upon its
streets, its edifices, its public squares, its fountains, though
some of these are remarkable enough: but Petersburg has finer
streets, Paris and Edinburgh more stately edifices, London far
nobler squares, whilst Shiraz can boast of more costly fountains,
though not cooler waters. But the population! Within a mud wall,
scarcely one league and a half in circuit, are contained two
hundred thousand human beings, certainly forming the most
extraordinary vital mass to be found in the entire world; and be it
always remembered that this mass is strictly Spanish. The
population of Constantinople is extraordinary enough, but to form
it twenty nations have contributed; Greeks, Armenians, Persians,
Poles, Jews, the latter, by the by, of Spanish origin, and speaking
amongst themselves the old Spanish language; but the huge
population of Madrid, with the exception of a sprinkling of
foreigners, chiefly French tailors, glove-makers and peruquiers, is
strictly Spanish, though a considerable portion are not natives of
the place. Here are no colonies of Germans, as at Saint
Petersburg; no English factories, as at Lisbon; no multitudes of
insolent Yankees lounging through the streets as at the Havannah,
with an air which seems to say, the land is our own whenever we
choose to take it; but a population which, however strange and
wild, and composed of various elements, is Spanish, and will remain
so as long as the city itself shall exist. Hail, ye aguadores of
Asturia! who, in your dress of coarse duffel and leathern skull-
caps, are seen seated in hundreds by the fountain sides, upon your
empty water-casks, or staggering with them filled to the topmost
stories of lofty houses. Hail, ye caleseros of Valencia! who,
lolling lazily against your vehicles, rasp tobacco for your paper
cigars whilst waiting for a fare. Hail to you, beggars of La
Mancha! men and women, who, wrapped in coarse blankets, demand
charity indifferently at the gate of the palace or the prison.
Hail to you, valets from the mountains, mayordomos and secretaries
from Biscay and Guipuscoa, toreros from Andalusia, riposteros from
Galicia, shopkeepers from Catalonia! Hail to ye, Castilians,
Estremenians and Aragonese, of whatever calling! And lastly,
genuine sons of the capital, rabble of Madrid, ye twenty thousand
manolos, whose terrible knifes, on the second morning of May,
worked such grim havoc amongst the legions of Murat!

And the higher orders--the ladies and gentlemen, the cavaliers and
senoras; shall I pass them by in silence? The truth is I have
little to say about them; I mingled but little in their society,
and what I saw of them by no means tended to exalt them in my
imagination. I am not one of those who, wherever they go, make it
a constant practice to disparage the higher orders, and to exalt
the populace at their expense. There are many capitals in which
the high aristocracy, the lords and ladies, the sons and daughters
of nobility, constitute the most remarkable and the most
interesting part of the population. This is the case at Vienna,
and more especially at London. Who can rival the English
aristocrat in lofty stature, in dignified bearing, in strength of
hand, and valour of heart? Who rides a nobler horse? Who has a
firmer seat? And who more lovely than his wife, or sister, or
daughter? But with respect to the Spanish aristocracy, the ladies
and gentlemen, the cavaliers and senoras, I believe the less that
is said of them on the points to which I have just alluded the
better. I confess, however, that I know little about them; they
have, perhaps, their admirers, and to the pens of such I leave
their panegyric. Le Sage has described them as they were nearly
two centuries ago. His description is anything but captivating,
and I do not think that they have improved since the period of the
sketches of the immortal Frenchman. I would sooner talk of the
lower class, not only of Madrid but of all Spain. The Spaniard of
the lower class has much more interest for me, whether manolo,
labourer, or muleteer. He is not a common being; he is an
extraordinary man. He has not, it is true, the amiability and
generosity of the Russian mujik, who will give his only rouble
rather than the stranger shall want; nor his placid courage, which
renders him insensible to fear, and at the command of his Tsar,
sends him singing to certain death. {6} There is more hardness and
less self-devotion in the disposition of the Spaniard; he
possesses, however, a spirit of proud independence, which it is
impossible but to admire. He is ignorant, of course; but it is
singular that I have invariably found amongst the low and slightly
educated classes far more liberality of sentiment than amongst the
upper. It has long been the fashion to talk of the bigotry of the
Spaniards, and their mean jealousy of foreigners. This is true to
a certain extent: but it chiefly holds good with respect to the
upper classes. If foreign valour or talent has never received its
proper meed in Spain, the great body of the Spaniards are certainly
not in fault. I have heard Wellington calumniated in this proud
scene of his triumphs, but never by the old soldiers of Aragon and
the Asturias, who assisted to vanquish the French at Salamanca and
the Pyrenees. I have heard the manner of riding of an English
jockey criticized, but it was by the idiotic heir of Medina Celi,
and not by a picador of the Madrilenian bull ring.

Apropos of bull-fighters:- Shortly after my arrival, I one day
entered a low tavern in a neighbourhood notorious for robbery and
murder, and in which for the last two hours I had been wandering on
a voyage of discovery. I was fatigued, and required refreshment.
I found the place thronged with people, who had all the appearance
of ruffians. I saluted them, upon which they made way for me to
the bar, taking off their sombreros with great ceremony. I emptied
a glass of val de penas, and was about to pay for it and depart,
when a horrible looking fellow, dressed in a buff jerkin, leather
breeches, and jackboots, which came half way up his thighs, and
having on his head a white hat, the rims of which were at least a
yard and a half in circumference, pushed through the crowd, and
confronting me, roared:-

"Otra copita! vamos Inglesito: Otra copita!"

"Thank you, my good sir, you are very kind, you appear to know me,
but I have not the honour of knowing you."

"Not know me!" replied the being. "I am Sevilla, the torero. I
know you well; you are the friend of Baltasarito, the national, who
is a friend of mine, and a very good subject."

Then turning to the company, he said in a sonorous tone, laying a
strong emphasis on the last syllable of every word, according to
the custom of the gente rufianesca throughout Spain:

"Cavaliers, and strong men, this cavalier is the friend of a friend
of mine. Es mucho hombre. There is none like him in Spain. He
speaks the crabbed Gitano though he is an Inglesito."

"We do not believe it," replied several grave voices. "It is not
possible."

"It is not possible, say you? I tell you it is. Come forward,
Balseiro, you who have been in prison all your life, and are always
boasting that you can speak the crabbed Gitano, though I say you
know nothing of it--come forward and speak to his worship in the
crabbed Gitano."

A low, slight, but active figure stepped forward. He was in his
shirt sleeves, and wore a montero cap; his features were handsome,
but they were those of a demon.

He spoke a few words in the broken Gypsy slang of the prison,
inquiring of me whether I had ever been in the condemned cell, and
whether I knew what a Gitana {7} was?

"Vamos Inglesito," shouted Sevilla in a voice of thunder; "answer
the monro in the crabbed Gitano."

I answered the robber, for such he was, and one, too, whose name
will live for many a year in the ruffian histories of Madrid; I
answered him in a speech of some length, in the dialect of the
Estremenian Gypsies.

"I believe it is the crabbed Gitano," muttered Balseiro. "It is
either that or English, for I understand not a word of it."

"Did I not say to you," cried the bull-fighter, "that you knew
nothing of the crabbed Gitano? But this Inglesito does. I
understood all he said. Vaya, there is none like him for the
crabbed Gitano. He is a good ginete, too; next to myself, there is
none like him, only he rides with stirrup leathers too short.
Inglesito, if you have need of money, I will lend you my purse.
All I have is at your service, and that is not a little; I have
just gained four thousand chules by the lottery. Courage,
Englishman! Another cup. I will pay all. I, Sevilla!"

And he clapped his hand repeatedly on his breast, reiterating "I,
Sevilla! I--"

CHAPTER XIII

Intrigues at Court--Quesada and Galiano--Dissolution of the Cortes-
-The Secretary--Aragonese Pertinacity--The Council of Trent--The
Asturian--The Three Thieves--Benedict Mol--The Men of Lucerne--The
Treasure

Mendizabal had told me to call upon him again at the end of three
months, giving me hopes that he would not then oppose himself to
the publication of the New Testament; before, however, the three
months had elapsed, he had fallen into disgrace, and had ceased to
be prime minister.

An intrigue had been formed against him, at the head of which were
two quondam friends of his, and fellow-townsmen, Gaditanians,
Isturitz and Alcala Galiano; both of them had been egregious
liberals in their day, and indeed principal members of those cortes
which, on the Angouleme invasion, had hurried Ferdinand from Madrid
to Cadiz, and kept him prisoner there until that impregnable town
thought proper to surrender, and both of them had been subsequently
refugees in England, where they had spent a considerable number of
years.

These gentlemen, however, finding themselves about this time
exceedingly poor, and not seeing any immediate prospect of
advantage from supporting Mendizabal; considering themselves,
moreover, quite as good men as he, and as capable of governing
Spain in the present emergency; determined to secede from the party
of their friend, whom they had hitherto supported, and to set up
for themselves.

They therefore formed an opposition to Mendizabal in the cortes;
the members of this opposition assumed the name of moderados, in
contradistinction to Mendizabal and his followers, who were ultra
liberals. The moderados were encouraged by the Queen Regent
Christina, who aimed at a little more power than the liberals were
disposed to allow her, and who had a personal dislike to the
minister. They were likewise encouraged by Cordova, who at that
time commanded the army, and was displeased with Mendizabal,
inasmuch as the latter did not supply the pecuniary demands of the
general with sufficient alacrity, though it is said that the
greater part of what was sent for the payment of the troops was not
devoted to that purpose, but, was invested in the French funds in
the name and for the use and behoof of the said Cordova.

It is, however, by no means my intention to write an account of the
political events which were passing around me at this period;
suffice it to say, that Mendizabal finding himself thwarted in all
his projects by the regent and the general, the former of whom
would adopt no measure which he recommended, whilst the latter
remained inactive and refused to engage the enemy, which by this
time had recovered from the check caused by the death of
Zumalacarregui, and was making considerable progress, resigned and
left the field for the time open to his adversaries, though he
possessed an immense majority in the cortes, and had the voice of
the nation, at least the liberal part of it, in his favour.

Thereupon, Isturitz became head of the cabinet, Galiano minister of
marine, and a certain Duke of Rivas minister of the interior.
These were the heads of the moderado government, but as they were
by no means popular at Madrid, and feared the nationals, they
associated with themselves one who hated the latter body and feared
nothing, a man of the name of Quesada, a very stupid individual,
but a great fighter, who, at one period of his life, had commanded
a legion or body of men called the Army of the Faith, whose
exploits both on the French and Spanish side of the Pyrenees are
too well known to require recapitulation. This person was made
captain general of Madrid.

By far the most clever member of this government was Galiano, whose
acquaintance I had formed shortly after my arrival. He was a man
of considerable literature, and particularly well versed in that of
his own country. He was, moreover, a fluent, elegant, and forcible
speaker, and was to the moderado party within the cortes what
Quesada was without, namely, their horses and chariots. Why he was
made minister of marine is difficult to say, as Spain did not
possess any; perhaps, however, from his knowledge of the English
language, which he spoke and wrote nearly as well as his own
tongue, having indeed during his sojourn in England chiefly
supported himself by writing for reviews and journals, an
honourable occupation, but to which few foreign exiles in England
would be qualified to devote themselves.

He was a very small and irritable man, and a bitter enemy to every
person who stood in the way of his advancement. He hated
Mendizabal with undisguised rancour, and never spoke of him but in
terms of unmeasured contempt. "I am afraid that I shall have some
difficulty in inducing Mendizabal to give me permission to print
the Testament," said I to him one day. "Mendizabal is a jackass,"
replied Galiano. "Caligula made his horse consul, which I suppose
induced Lord--to send over this huge burro of the Stock Exchange to
be our minister."

It would be very ungrateful on my part were I not to confess my
great obligations to Galiano, who assisted me to the utmost of his
power in the business which had brought me to Spain. Shortly after
the ministry was formed, I went to him and said, "that now or never
was the time to mike an effort in my behalf." "I will do so," said
he, in a waspish tone; for he always spoke waspishly whether to
friend or foe; "but you must have patience for a few days, we are
very much occupied at present. We have been outvoted in the
cortes, and this afternoon we intend to dissolve them. It is
believed that the rascals will refuse to depart, but Quesada will
stand at the door ready to turn them out, should they prove
refractory. Come along, and you will perhaps see a funcion."

After an hour's debate, the cortes were dissolved without it being
necessary to call in the aid of the redoubtable Quesada, and
Galiano forthwith gave me a letter to his colleague the Duke of
Rivas, in whose department he told me was vested the power either
of giving or refusing the permission to print the book in question.
The duke was a very handsome young man, of about thirty, an
Andalusian by birth, like his two colleagues. He had published
several works, tragedies, I believe, and enjoyed a certain kind of
literary reputation. He received me with the greatest affability;
and having heard what I had to say, he replied with a most
captivating bow, and a genuine Andalusian grimace: "Go to my
secretary; go to my secretary--el hara por usted el gusio." So I
went to the secretary, whose name was Oliban, an Aragonese, who was
not handsome, and whose manners were neither elegant nor affable.
"You want permission to print the Testament?" "I do," said I.
"And you have come to His Excellency about it," continued Oliban.
"Very true," I replied. "I suppose you intend to print it without
notes." "Yes." "Then His Excellency cannot give you permission,"
said the Aragonese secretary: "it was determined by the Council of
Trent that no part of the Scripture should be printed in any
Christian country without the notes of the church." "How many
years was that ago?" I demanded. "I do not know how many years ago
it was," said Oliban; "but such was the decree of the Council of
Trent." "Is Spain at present governed according to the decrees of
the Council of Trent?" I inquired. "In some points she is,"
answered the Aragonese, "and this is one. But tell me who are you?
Are you known to the British minister?" "O yes, and he takes a
great interest in the matter." "Does he?" said Oliban; "that
indeed alters the case: if you can show me that His Excellency
takes in interest in this business, I certainly shall not oppose
myself to it."

The British minister performed all I could wish, and much more than
I could expect; he had an interview with the Duke of Rivas, with
whom he had much discourse upon my affair: the duke was all smiles
and courtesy. He moreover wrote a private letter to the duke,
which he advised me to present when I next paid him a visit, and,
to crown all, he wrote a letter directed to myself, in which he did
me the honour to say that he had a regard for me, and that nothing
would afford him greater pleasure than to hear that I had obtained
the permission which I was seeking. So I went to the duke, and
delivered the letter. He was ten times more kind and affable than
before: he read the letter, smiled most sweetly, and then, as if
seized with sudden enthusiasm, he extended his arms in a manner
almost theatrical, exclaiming, "Al secretario, el hara por usted el
gusto." Away I hurried to the secretary, who received me with all
the coolness of an icicle: I related to him the words of his
principal, and then put into his hand the letter of the British
minister to myself. The secretary read it very deliberately, and
then said that it was evident His Excellency did take an interest
in the matter. He then asked me my name, and taking a sheet of
paper, sat down as if for the purpose of writing the permission. I
was in ecstasy--all of a sudden, however, he stopped, lifted up his
head, seemed to consider a moment, and then putting his pen behind
his ear, he said, "Amongst the decrees of the Council of Trent is
one to the effect" . . . .

"Oh dear!" said I.

"A singular person is this Oliban," said I to Galiano; "you cannot
imagine what trouble he gives me: he is continually talking about
the Council of Trent."

"I wish he was in the Trent up to the middle," said Galiano, who,
as I have observed already, spoke excellent English; "I wish he was
there for talking such nonsense. However," said he, "we must not
offend Oliban, he is one of us, and has done us much service; he
is, moreover, a very clever man, but he is an Aragonese, and when
one of that nation once gets an idea into his head, it is the most
difficult thing in the world to dislodge it; however, we will go to
him; he is an old friend of mine, and I have no doubt but that we
shall be able to make him listen to reason." So the next day I
called upon Galiano, at his marine or admiralty office (what shall
I call it?), and from thence we proceeded to the bureau of the
interior, a magnificent edifice, which had formerly been the casa
of the Inquisition, where we had an interview with Oliban, whom
Galiano took aside to the window, and there held with him a long
conversation, which, as they spoke in whispers, and the room was
immensely large, I did not hear. At length Galiano came to me and
said, "There is some difficulty with respect to this business of
yours, but I have told Oliban that you are a friend of mine, and he
says that that is sufficient; remain with him now, and he will do
anything to oblige you; your affair is settled--farewell";
whereupon he departed and I remained with Oliban, who proceeded
forthwith to write something, which having concluded, he took out a
box of cigars, and having lighted one and offered me another, which
I declined as I do not smoke, he placed his feet against the table,
and thus proceeded to address me, speaking in the French language.

"It is with great pleasure that I see you in this capital, and, I
may say, upon this business. I consider it a disgrace to Spain
that there is no edition of the Gospel in circulation, at least
such a one as would be within the reach of all classes of society,
the highest or poorest; one unencumbered with notes and
commentaries, human devices, swelling it to an unwieldy bulk. I
have no doubt that such an edition as you propose to print, would
have a most beneficial influence on the minds of the people, who,
between ourselves, know nothing of pure religion; how should they?
seeing that the Gospel has always been sedulously kept from them,
just as if civilization could exist where the light of the Gospel
beameth not. The moral regeneration of Spain depends upon the free
circulation of the Scriptures; to which alone England, your own
happy country, is indebted for its high state of civilization, and
the unmatched prosperity which it at present enjoys; all this I
admit, in fact, reason compels me to do so, but--"

"Now for it," thought I.

"But"--and then he began to talk once more of the wearisome Council
of Trent, and I found that his writing in the paper, the offer of
the cigar, and the long and prosy harangue were--what shall I call
it?--mere [Greek text].

By this time the spring was far advanced, the sides though not the
tops of the Guadarama hills had long since lost their snows; the
trees of the Prado had donned their full foliage, and all the
Campina in the neighbourhood of Madrid smiled and was happy: the
summer heats had not commenced, and the weather was truly
delicious.

Towards the west, at the foot of the hill on which stands Madrid,
is a canal running parallel with the Manzanares for some leagues,
from which it is separated by pleasant and fertile meadows. The
banks of this canal, which was begun by Carlos Tercero, and has
never been completed, are planted with beautiful trees, and form
the most delightful walk in the neighbourhood of the capital. Here
I would loiter for hours looking at the shoals of gold and silver
fish which basked on the surface of the green sunny waters, or
listening, not to the warbling of birds--for Spain is not the land
of feathered choristers--but to the prattle of the narangero or man
who sold oranges and water by a little deserted watch tower just
opposite the wooden bridge that crosses the canal, which situation
he had chosen as favourable for his trade, and there had placed his
stall. He was an Asturian by birth, about fifty years of age, and
about five feet high. As I purchased freely of his fruit, he soon
conceived a great friendship for me, and told me his history; it
contained, however, nothing very remarkable, the leading incident
being an adventure which had befallen him amidst the mountains of
Granada, where, falling into the hands of certain Gypsies, they
stripped him naked, and then dismissed him with a sound cudgelling.
"I have wandered throughout Spain," said he, "and I have come to
the conclusion that there are but two places worth living in,
Malaga and Madrid. At Malaga everything is very cheap, and there
is such an abundance of fish, that I have frequently seen them
piled in heaps on the sea-shore: and as for Madrid, money is
always stirring at the Corte, and I never go supperless to bed; my
only care is to sell my oranges, and my only hope that when I die I
shall be buried yonder."

And he pointed across the Manzanares, where, on the declivity of a
gentle hill, at about a league's distance, shone brightly in the
sunshine the white walls of the Campo Santo, or common burying
ground of Madrid.

He was a fellow of infinite drollery, and, though he could scarcely
read or write, by no means ignorant of the ways of the world; his
knowledge of individuals was curious and extensive, few people
passing his stall with whose names, character, and history he was
not acquainted. "Those two gentry," said he, pointing to a
magnificently dressed cavalier and lady, who had dismounted from a
carriage, and arm in arm were coming across the wooden bridge,
followed by two attendants; "those gentry are the Infante Francisco
Paulo, and his wife the Neapolitana, sister of our Christina; he is
a very good subject, but as for his wife--vaya--the veriest scold
in Madrid; she can say carrajo with the most ill-conditioned
carrier of La Mancha, giving the true emphasis and genuine
pronunciation. Don't take off your hat to her, amigo--she has
neither formality nor politeness--I once saluted her, and she took
no more notice of me than if I had not been what I am, an Asturian
and a gentleman, of better blood than herself. Good day, Senor Don
Francisco. Que tal (how goes it)? very fine weather this--vaya su
merced con Dios. Those three fellows who just stopped to drink
water are great thieves, true sons of the prison; I am always civil
to them, for it would not do to be on ill terms; they pay me or
not, just as they think proper. I have been in some trouble on
their account: about a year ago they robbed a man a little farther
on beyond the second bridge. By the way, I counsel you, brother,
not to go there, as I believe you often do--it is a dangerous
place. They robbed a gentleman and ill-treated him, but his
brother, who was an escribano, was soon upon their trail, and had
them arrested; but he wanted someone to identify them, and it
chanced that they had stopped to drink water at my stall, just as
they did now. This the escribano heard of, and forthwith had me
away to the prison to confront me with them. I knew them well
enough, but I had learnt in my travels when to close my eyes and
when to open them; so I told the escribano that I could not say
that I had ever seen them before. He was in a great rage and
threatened to imprison me; I told him he might and that I cared
not. Vaya, I was not going to expose myself to the resentment of
those three and to that of their friends; I live too near the Hay
Market for that. Good day, my young masters.--Murcian oranges, as
you see; the genuine dragon's blood. Water sweet and cold. Those
two boys are the children of Gabiria, comptroller of the queen's
household, and the richest man in Madrid; they are nice boys, and
buy much fruit. It is said their father loves them more than all
his possessions. The old woman who is lying beneath yon tree is
the Tia Lucilla; she has committed murders, and as she owes me
money, I hope one day to see her executed. This man was of the
Walloon guard;--Senor Don Benito Mol, how do you do?"