The Bible in Spain

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"The Rommany Chal to his horse did cry,
As he placed the bit in his horse's jaw;
Kosko gry! Rommany gry!
Muk man kistur tute knaw."

We then rode forth from Madrid by the gate of San Vincente,
directing our course to the lofty mountains which separate Old from
New Castile. That night we rested at Guadarama, 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 Penaranda.
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 in 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!" 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, 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 spitten 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 this 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, 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.

CHAPTER XXI

Departure from Salamanca--Reception at Pitiegua--The Dilemma--
Sudden Inspiration--The Good Presbyter--Combat of Quadrupeds--Irish
Christians--Plains of Spain--The Catalans--The Fatal Pool--
Valladolid--Circulation of the Scriptures--Philippine Missions--
English College--A Conversation--The Gaoleress.

On Saturday, the tenth of June, I left Salamanca for Valladolid.
As the village where we intended to rest was only five leagues
distant, we did not sally forth till midday was past. There was a
haze in the heavens which overcast the sun, nearly hiding his
countenance from our view. My friend, Mr. Patrick Cantwell, of the
Irish College, was kind enough to ride with me part of the way. He
was mounted on a most sorry-looking hired mule, which, I expected
would be unable to keep pace with the spirited horses of myself and
man, for he seemed to be twin brother of the mule of Gil Perez, on
which his nephew made his celebrated journey from Oviedo to
Penaflor. I was, however, very much mistaken. The creature on
being mounted instantly set off at that rapid walk which I have so
often admired in Spanish mules, and which no horse can emulate.
Our more stately animals were speedily left in the rear, and we
were continually obliged to break into a trot to follow the
singular quadruped, who, ever and anon, would lift his head high in
the air, curl up his lip, and show his yellow teeth, as if he were
laughing at us, as perhaps he was. It chanced that none of us was
well acquainted with the road; indeed, I could see nothing which
was fairly entitled to that appellation. The way from Salamanca to
Valladolid is amongst a medley of bridle-paths and drift-ways,
where discrimination is very difficult. It was not long before we
were bewildered, and travelled over more ground than was strictly
necessary. However, as men and women frequently passed on donkeys
and little ponies, we were not too proud to be set right by them,
and by dint of diligent inquiry we at length arrived at Pitiegua,
four leagues from Salamanca, a small village, containing about
fifty families, consisting of mud huts, and situated in the midst
of dusty plains, where corn was growing in abundance. We asked for
the house of the cura, an old man whom I had seen the day before at
the Irish College, and who, on being informed that I was about to
depart for Valladolid, had exacted from me a promise that I would
not pass through his village without paying him a visit and
partaking of his hospitality.

A woman directed us to a cottage somewhat superior in appearance to
those contiguous. It had a small portico, which, if I remember
well, was overgrown with a vine. We knocked loud and long at the
door, but received no answer; the voice of man was silent, and not
even a dog barked. The truth was, that the old curate was taking
his siesta, and so were his whole family, which consisted of one
ancient female and a cat. The good man was at last disturbed by
our noise and vociferation, for we were hungry, and consequently
impatient. Leaping from his couch, he came running to the door in
great hurry and confusion, and perceiving us, he made many
apologies for being asleep at a period when, he said, he ought to
have been on the lookout for his invited guest. He embraced me
very affectionately and conducted me into his parlour, an apartment
of tolerable size, hung round with shelves, which were crowded with
books. At one end there was a kind of table or desk covered with
black leather, with a large easy chair, into which he pushed me, as
I, with the true eagerness of a bibliomaniac, was about to inspect
his shelves; saying, with considerable vehemence, that there was
nothing there worthy of the attention of an Englishman, for that
his whole stock consisted of breviaries and dry Catholic treatises
on divinity.

His care now was to furnish us with refreshments. In a twinkling,
with the assistance of his old attendant, he placed on the table
several plates of cakes and confectionery, and a number of large
uncouth glass bottles, which I thought bore a strong resemblance to
those of Schiedam, and indeed they were the very same. "There,"
said he, rubbing his hands; "I thank God that it is in my power to
treat you in a way which will be agreeable to you. In those
bottles there is Hollands thirty years old"; and producing two
large tumblers, he continued, "fill, my friends, and drink, drink
it every drop if you please, for it is of little use to myself, who
seldom drink aught but water. I know that you islanders love it,
and cannot live without it; therefore, since it does you good, I am
only sorry that there is no more."

Observing that we contented ourselves with merely tasting it, he
looked at us with astonishment, and inquired the reason of our not
drinking. We told him that we seldom drank ardent spirits; and I
added, that as for myself, I seldom tasted even wine, but like
himself, was content with the use of water. He appeared somewhat
incredulous, but told us to do exactly what we pleased, and to ask
for what was agreeable to us. We told him that we had not dined,
and should be glad of some substantial refreshment. "I am afraid,"
said he, "that I have nothing in the house which will suit you;
however, we will go and see."

Thereupon he led us through a small yard at the back part of his
house, which might have been called a garden, or orchard, if it had
displayed either trees or flowers; but it produced nothing but
grass, which was growing in luxuriance. At one end was a large
pigeon-house, which we all entered: "for," said the curate, "if we
could find some nice delicate pigeons they would afford you an
excellent dinner." We were, however, disappointed; for after
rummaging the nests, we only found very young ones, unfitted for
our purpose. The good man became very melancholy, and said he had
some misgivings that we should have to depart dinnerless. Leaving
the pigeon-house, he conducted us to a place where there were
several skeps of bees, round which multitudes of the busy insects
were hovering, filling the air with their music. "Next to my
fellow creatures," said he, "there is nothing which I love so
dearly as these bees; it is one of my delights to sit watching
them, and listening to their murmur." We next went to several
unfurnished rooms, fronting the yard, in one of which were hanging
several flitches of bacon, beneath which he stopped, and looking
up, gazed intently upon them. We told him that if he had nothing
better to offer, we should be very glad to eat some slices of this
bacon, especially if some eggs were added. "To tell the truth,"
said he, "I have nothing better, and if you can content yourselves
with such fare I shall be very happy; as for eggs you can have as
many as you wish, and perfectly fresh, for my hens lay every day."

So, after every thing was prepared and arranged to our
satisfaction, we sat down to dine on the bacon and eggs, in a small
room, not the one to which he had ushered us at first, but on the
other side of the doorway. The good curate, though he ate nothing,
having taken his meal long before, sat at the head of the table,
and the repast was enlivened by his chat. "There, my friends,"
said he, "where you are now seated, once sat Wellington and
Crawford, after they had beat the French at Arapiles, and rescued
us from the thraldom of those wicked people. I never respected my
house so much as I have done since they honoured it with their
presence. They were heroes, and one was a demigod." He then burst
into a most eloquent panegyric of El Gran Lord, as he termed him,
which I should be very happy to translate, were my pen capable of
rendering into English the robust thundering sentences of his
powerful Castilian. I had till then considered him a plain
uninformed old man, almost simple, and as incapable of much emotion
as a tortoise within its shell; but he had become at once inspired:
his eyes were replete with a bright fire, and every muscle of his
face was quivering. The little silk skull-cap which he wore,
according to the custom of the Catholic clergy, moved up and down
with his agitation, and I soon saw that I was in the presence of
one of those remarkable men who so frequently spring up in the
bosom of the Romish church, and who to a child-like simplicity
unite immense energy and power of mind,--equally adapted to guide a
scanty flock of ignorant rustics in some obscure village in Italy
or Spain, as to convert millions of heathens on the shores of
Japan, China, and Paraguay.

He was a thin spare man, of about sixty-five, and was dressed in a
black cloak of very coarse materials, nor were his other garments
of superior quality. This plainness, however, in the appearance of
his outward man was by no means the result of poverty; quite the
contrary. The benefice was a very plentiful one, and placed at his
disposal annually a sum of at least eight hundred dollars, of which
the eighth part was more than sufficient to defray the expenses of
his house and himself; the rest was devoted entirely to the purest
acts of charity. He fed the hungry wanderer, and dispatched him
singing on his way, with meat in his wallet and a peseta in his
purse, and his parishioners, when in need of money, had only to
repair to his study and were sure of an immediate supply. He was,
indeed, the banker of the village, and what he lent he neither
expected nor wished to be returned. Though under the necessity of
making frequent journeys to Salamanca, he kept no mule, but
contented himself with an ass, borrowed from the neighbouring
miller. "I once kept a mule," said he, "but some years since it
was removed without my permission by a traveller whom I had housed
for the night: for in that alcove I keep two clean beds for the
use of the wayfaring, and I shall be very much pleased if yourself
and friend will occupy them, and tarry with me till the morning."

But I was eager to continue my journey, and my friend was no less
anxious to return to Salamanca. Upon taking leave of the
hospitable curate, I presented him with a copy of the New
Testament. He received it without uttering a single word, and
placed it on one of the shelves of his study; but I observed him
nodding significantly to the Irish student, perhaps as much as to
say, "Your friend loses no opportunity of propagating his book";
for he was well aware who I was. I shall not speedily forget the
truly good presbyter, Anthonio Garcia de Aguilar, Cura of Pitiegua.

We reached Pedroso shortly before nightfall. It was a small
village containing about thirty houses, and intersected by a
rivulet, or as it is called a regata. On its banks women and
maidens were washing their linen and singing couplets; the church
stood lone and solitary on the farther side. We inquired for the
posada, and were shown a cottage differing nothing from the rest in
general appearance. We called at the door in vain, as it is not
the custom of Castile for the people of these halting places to go
out to welcome their visitors: at last we dismounted and entered
the house, demanding of a sullen-looking woman where we were to
place the horses. She said there was a stable within the house,
but we could not put the animals there as it contained malos machos
(savage mules) belonging to two travellers who would certainly
fight with our horses, and then there would be a funcion, which
would tear the house down. She then pointed to an outhouse across
the way, saying that we could stable them there. We entered this
place, which we found full of filth and swine, with a door without
a lock. I thought of the fate of the cura's mule, and was
unwilling to trust the horses in such a place, abandoning them to
the mercy of any robber in the neighbourhood. I therefore entered
the house, and said resolutely, that I was determined to place them
in the stable. Two men were squatted on the ground, with an
immense bowl of stewed hare before them, on which they were
supping; these were the travelling merchants, the masters of the
mutes. I passed on to the stable, one of the men saying softly,
"Yes, yes, go in and see what will befall." I had no sooner
entered the stable than I heard a horrid discordant cry, something
between a bray and a yell, and the largest of the machos, tearing
his head from the manger to which he was fastened, his eyes
shooting flames, and breathing a whirlwind from his nostrils, flung
himself on my stallion. The horse, as savage as himself, reared on
his hind legs, and after the fashion of an English pugilist, repaid
the other with a pat on the forehead, which nearly felled him. A
combat instantly ensued, and I thought that the words of the sullen
woman would be verified by the house being torn to pieces. It
ended by my seizing the mute by the halter, at the risk of my
limbs, and hanging upon him with all my weight, whilst Antonio,
with much difficulty, removed the horse. The man who had been
standing at the entrance now came forward, saying, "This would not
have happened if you had taken good advice." Upon my stating to
him the unreasonableness of expecting that I would risk horses in a
place where they would probably be stolen before the morning, he
replied, "True, true, you have perhaps done right." He then
refastened his macho, adding for additional security a piece of
whipcord, which he said rendered escape impossible.

After supper I roamed about the village. I addressed two or three
labourers whom I found standing at their doors; they appeared,
however, exceedingly reserved, and with a gruff "buenas noches"
turned into their houses without inviting me to enter. I at last
found my way to the church porch, where I continued some time in
meditation. At last I bethought myself of retiring to rest; before
departing, however, I took out and affixed to the porch of the
church an advertisement to the effect that the New Testament was to
be purchased at Salamanca. On returning to the house, I found the
two travelling merchants enjoying profound slumber on various
mantas or mule-cloths stretched on the floor. "You are a French
merchant, I suppose, Caballero," said a man, who it seemed was the
master of the house, and whom I had not before seen. "You are a
French merchant, I suppose, and are on the way to the fair of
Medina." "I am neither Frenchman nor merchant," I replied, "and
though I purpose passing through Medina, it is not with the view of
attending the fair." "Then you are one of the Irish Christians
from Salamanca, Caballero," said the man; "I hear you come from
that town." "Why do you call them Irish Christians?" I replied.
"Are there pagans in their country?" "We call them Christians,"
said the man, "to distinguish them from the Irish English, who are
worse than pagans, who are Jews and heretics." I made no answer,
but passed on to the room which had been prepared for me, and from
which, the door being ajar, I heard the following conversation
passing between the innkeeper and his wife:-

Innkeeper.--Muger, it appears to me that we have evil guests in the
house.

Wife.--You mean the last comers, the Caballero and his servant.
Yes, I never saw worse countenances in my life.

Innkeeper.--I do not like the servant, and still less the master.
He has neither formality nor politeness: he tells me that he is
not French, and when I spoke to him of the Irish Christians, he did
not seem to belong to them. I more than suspect that he is a
heretic or a Jew at least.

Wife.--Perhaps they are both. Maria Santissima! what shall we do
to purify the house when they are gone?

Innkeeper.--O, as for that matter, we must of course charge it in
the cuenta.

I slept soundly, and rather late in the morning arose and
breakfasted, and paid the bill, in which, by its extravagance, I
found the purification had not been forgotten. The travelling
merchants had departed at daybreak. We now led forth the horses,
and mounted; there were several people at the door staring at us.
"What is the meaning of this?" said I to Antonio.