The Bible in Spain

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My first excursion was to Cintra. If there be any place in the
world entitled to the appellation of an enchanted region, it is
surely Cintra; Tivoli is a beautiful and picturesque place, but it
quickly fades from the mind of those who have seen the Portuguese
Paradise. When speaking of Cintra, it must not for a moment be
supposed that nothing more is meant than the little town or city;
by Cintra must be understood the entire region, town, palace,
quintas, forests, crags, Moorish ruin, which suddenly burst on the
view on rounding the side of a bleak, savage, and sterile-looking
mountain. Nothing is more sullen and uninviting than the south-
western aspect of the stony wall which, on the side of Lisbon,
seems to shield Cintra from the eye of the world, but the other
side is a mingled scene of fairy beauty, artificial elegance,
savage grandeur, domes, turrets, enormous trees, flowers and
waterfalls, such as is met with nowhere else beneath the sun. Oh!
there are strange and wonderful objects at Cintra, and strange and
wonderful recollections attached to them. The ruin on that lofty
peak, and which covers part of the side of that precipitous steep,
was once the principal stronghold of the Lusitanian Moors, and
thither, long after they had disappeared, at a particular moon of
every year, were wont to repair wild santons of Maugrabie, to pray
at the tomb of a famous Sidi, who slumbers amongst the rocks. That
grey palace witnessed the assemblage of the last cortes held by the
boy king Sebastian, ere he departed on his romantic expedition
against the Moors, who so well avenged their insulted faith and
country at Alcazarquibir, and in that low shady quinta, embowered
amongst those tall alcornoques, once dwelt John de Castro, the
strange old viceroy of Goa, who pawned the hairs of his dead son's
beard to raise money to repair the ruined wall of a fortress
threatened by the heathen of Ind; those crumbling stones which
stand before the portal, deeply graven, not with "runes," but
things equally dark, Sanscrit rhymes from the Vedas, were brought
by him from Goa, the most brilliant scene of his glory, before
Portugal had become a base kingdom; and down that dingle, on an
abrupt rocky promontory, stand the ruined halls of the English
Millionaire, who there nursed the wayward fancies of a mind as
wild, rich, and variegated as the scenes around. Yes, wonderful
are the objects which meet the eye at Cintra, and wonderful are the
recollections attached to them.

The town of Cintra contains about eight hundred inhabitants. The
morning subsequent to my arrival, as I was about to ascend the
mountain for the purpose of examining the Moorish ruins, I observed
a person advancing towards me whom I judged by his dress to be an
ecclesiastic; he was in fact one of the three priests of the place.
I instantly accosted him, and had no reason to regret doing so; I
found him affable and communicative.

After praising the beauty of the surrounding scenery, I made some
inquiry as to the state of education amongst the people under his
care. He answered, that he was sorry to say that they were in a
state of great ignorance, very few of the common people being able
either to read or write; that with respect to schools, there was
but one in the place, where four or five children were taught the
alphabet, but that even this was at present closed; he informed me,
however, that there was a school at Colhares, about a league
distant. Amongst other things, he said that nothing more surprised
him than to see Englishmen, the most learned and intelligent people
in the world, visiting a place like Cintra, where there was no
literature, science, nor anything of utility (coisa que presta). I
suspect that there was some covert satire in the last speech of the
worthy priest; I was, however, Jesuit enough to appear to receive
it as a high compliment, and, taking off my hat, departed with an
infinity of bows.

That same day I visited Colhares, a romantic village on the side of
the mountain of Cintra, to the north-west. Seeing some peasants
collected round a smithy, I inquired about the school, whereupon
one of the men instantly conducted me thither. I went upstairs
into a small apartment, where I found the master with about a dozen
pupils standing in a row; I saw but one stool in the room, and to
that, after having embraced me, he conducted me with great
civility. After some discourse, he showed me the books which he
used for the instruction of the children; they were spelling books,
much of the same kind as those used in the village schools in
England. Upon my asking him whether it was his practice to place
the Scriptures in the hands of the children, he informed me that
long before they had acquired sufficient intelligence to understand
them they were removed by their parents, in order that they might
assist in the labours of the field, and that the parents in general
were by no means solicitous that their children should learn
anything, as they considered the time occupied in learning as so
much squandered away. He said, that though the schools were
nominally supported by the government, it was rarely that the
schoolmasters could obtain their salaries, on which account many
had of late resigned their employments. He told me that he had a
copy of the New Testament in his possession, which I desired to
see, but on examining it I discovered that it was only the epistles
by Pereira, with copious notes. I asked him whether he considered
that there was harm in reading the Scriptures without notes: he
replied that there was certainly no harm in it, but that simple
people, without the help of notes, could derive but little benefit
from Scripture, as the greatest part would be unintelligible to
them; whereupon I shook hands with him, and on departing said that
there was no part of Scripture so difficult to understand as those
very notes which were intended to elucidate it, and that it would
never have been written if not calculated of itself to illume the
minds of all classes of mankind.

In a day or two I made an excursion to Mafra, distant about three
leagues from Cintra; the principal part of the way lay over steep
hills, somewhat dangerous for horses; however, I reached the place
in safety.

Mafra is a large village in the neighbourhood of an immense
building, intended to serve as a convent and palace, and which is
built somewhat after the fashion of the Escurial. In this edifice
exists the finest library in Portugal, containing books on all
sciences and in all languages, and well suited to the size and
grandeur of the edifice which contains it. There were no monks,
however, to take care of it, as in former times; they had been
driven forth, some to beg their bread, some to serve under the
banners of Don Carlos, in Spain, and many, as I was informed, to
prowl about as banditti. I found the place abandoned to two or
three menials, and exhibiting an aspect of solitude and desolation
truly appalling. Whilst I was viewing the cloisters, a fine
intelligent-looking lad came up and asked (I suppose in the hope of
obtaining a trifle) whether I would permit him to show me the
village church, which he informed me was well worth seeing; I said
no, but added, that it he would show me the village school I should
feel much obliged to him. He looked at me with astonishment, and
assured me that there was nothing to be seen at the school, which
did not contain more than half a dozen boys, and that he himself
was one of the number. On my telling him, however, that he should
show me no other place, he at length unwillingly attended me. On
the way I learned from him that the schoolmaster was one of the
friars who had lately been expelled from the convent, that he was a
very learned man, and spoke French and Greek. We passed a stone
cross, and the boy bent his head and crossed himself with much
devotion. I mention this circumstance, as it was the first
instance of the kind which I had observed amongst the Portuguese
since my arrival. When near the house where the schoolmaster
resided, he pointed it out to me, and then hid himself behind a
wall, where he awaited my return.

On stepping over the threshold I was confronted by a short stout
man, between sixty and seventy years of age, dressed in a blue
jerkin and grey trousers, without shirt or waistcoat; he looked at
me sternly, and enquired in the French language what was my
pleasure. I apologised for intruding upon him, and stated that,
being informed he occupied the situation of schoolmaster, I had
come to pay my respects to him and to beg permission to ask a few
questions respecting the seminary. He answered that whoever told
me he was a schoolmaster lied, for that he was a friar of the
convent and nothing else. "It is not then true," said I, "that all
the convents have been broken up and the monks dismissed?" "Yes,
yes," said he with a sigh, "it is true; it is but too true." He
then was silent for a minute, and his better nature overcoming his
angry feelings, he produced a snuff-box and offered it to me. The
snuff-box is the olive-branch of the Portuguese, and he who wishes
to be on good terms with them must never refuse to dip his finger
and thumb into it when offered. I took therefore a huge pinch,
though I detest the dust, and we were soon on the best possible
terms. He was eager to obtain news, especially from Lisbon and
Spain. I told him that the officers of the troops at Lisbon had,
the day before I left that place, gone in a body to the queen and
insisted upon her either receiving their swords or dismissing her
ministers; whereupon he rubbed his hands and said that he was sure
matters would not remain tranquil at Lisbon. On my saying,
however, that I thought the affairs of Don Carlos were on the
decline (this was shortly after the death of Zumalacarregui), he
frowned, and cried that it could not possibly be, for that God was
too just to suffer it. I felt for the poor man who had been driven
out of his home in the noble convent close by, and from a state of
affluence and comfort reduced in his old age to indigence and
misery, for his present dwelling scarcely seemed to contain an
article of furniture. I tried twice or thrice to induce him to
converse about the school, but he either avoided the subject or
said shortly that he knew nothing about it. On my leaving him, the
boy came from his hiding-place and rejoined me; he said that he had
hidden himself through fear of his master's knowing that he had
brought me to him, for that he was unwilling that any stranger
should know that he was a schoolmaster.

I asked the boy whether he or his parents were acquainted with the
Scripture and ever read it; he did not, however, seem to understand
me. I must here observe that the boy was fifteen years of age,
that he was in many respects very intelligent, and had some
knowledge of the Latin language; nevertheless he knew not the
Scripture even by name, and I have no doubt, from what I
subsequently observed, that at least two-thirds of his countrymen
are on that important point no wiser than himself. At the doors of
village inns, at the hearths of the rustics, in the fields where
they labour, at the stone fountains by the wayside where they water
their cattle, I have questioned the lower class of the children of
Portugal about the Scripture, the Bible, the Old and New Testament,
and in no one instance have they known what I was alluding to, or
could return me a rational answer, though on all other matters
their replies were sensible enough; indeed, nothing surprised me
more than the free and unembarrassed manner in which the Portuguese
peasantry sustain a conversation, and the purity of the language in
which they express their thoughts, and yet few of them can read or
write; whereas the peasantry of England, whose education is in
general much superior, are in their conversation coarse and dull
almost to brutality, and absurdly ungrammatical in their language,
though the English tongue is upon the whole more simple in its
structure than the Portuguese.

On my return to Lisbon I found our friend -, who received me very
kindly. The next ten days were exceedingly rainy, which prevented
me from making any excursions into the country: during this time I
saw our friend frequently, and had long conversations with him
concerning the best means of distributing the gospel. He thought
we could do no better for the present than put part of our stock
into the hands of the booksellers of Lisbon, and at the same time
employ colporteurs to hawk the books about the streets, receiving a
certain profit off every copy they sold. This plan was agreed upon
and forthwith put in practice, and with some success. I had
thought of sending colporteurs into the neighbouring villages, but
to this our friend objected. He thought the attempt dangerous, as
it was very possible that the rural priesthood, who still possessed
much influence in their own districts, and who were for the most
part decided enemies to the spread of the gospel, might cause the
men employed to be assassinated or ill-treated.

I determined, however, ere leaving Portugal, to establish depots of
Bibles in one or two of the provincial towns. I wished to visit
the Alemtejo, which I had heard was a very benighted region. The
Alemtejo means the province beyond the Tagus. This province is not
beautiful and picturesque, like most other parts of Portugal:
there are few hills and mountains, the greater part consists of
heaths broken by knolls, and gloomy dingles, and forests of stunted
pine; these places are infested with banditti. The principal city
is Evora, one of the most ancient in Portugal, and formerly the
seat of a branch of the Inquisition, yet more cruel and baneful
than the terrible one of Lisbon. Evora lies about sixty miles from
Lisbon, and to Evora I determined on going with twenty Testaments
and two Bibles. How I fared there will presently be seen.

CHAPTER II

Boatmen of the Tagus--Dangers of the Stream--Aldea Gallega--The
Hostelry--Robbers--Sabocha--Adventure of a Muleteer--Estalagem de
Ladroes--Don Geronimo--Vendas Novas--Royal Residence--Swine of the
Alemtejo--Monto Moro--Swayne Vonved--Singular Goatherd--Children of
the Fields--Infidels and Sadducees.

On the afternoon of the sixth of December I set out for Evora,
accompanied by my servant. I had been informed that the tide would
serve for the regular passage-boats, or felouks, as they are
called, at about four o'clock, but on reaching the side of the
Tagus opposite to Aldea Gallega, between which place and Lisbon the
boats ply, I found that the tide would not permit them to start
before eight o'clock. Had I waited for them I should have probably
landed at Aldea Gallega about midnight, and I felt little
inclination to make my entree in the Alemtejo at that hour;
therefore, as I saw small boats which can push off at any time
lying near in abundance, I determined upon hiring one of them for
the passage, though the expense would be thus considerably
increased. I soon agreed with a wild-looking lad, who told me that
he was in part owner of one of the boats, to take me over. I was
not aware of the danger in crossing the Tagus at its broadest part,
which is opposite Aldea Gallega, at any time, but especially at
close of day in the winter season, or I should certainly not have
ventured. The lad and his comrade, a miserable looking object,
whose only clothing, notwithstanding the season, was a tattered
jerkin and trousers, rowed until we had advanced about half a mile
from the land; they then set up a large sail, and the lad, who
seemed to direct everything and to be the principal, took the helm
and steered. The evening was now setting in; the sun was not far
from its bourne in the horizon, the air was very cold, the wind was
rising, and the waves of the noble Tagus began to be crested with
foam. I told the boy that it was scarcely possible for the boat to
carry so much sail without upsetting, upon which he laughed, and
began to gabble in a most incoherent manner. He had the most harsh
and rapid articulation that has ever come under my observation in
any human being; it was the scream of the hyena blended with the
bark of the terrier, though it was by no means an index of his
disposition, which I soon found to be light, merry, and anything
but malevolent, for when I, in order to show him that I cared
little about him, began to hum "Eu que sou Contrabandista," he
laughed heartily and said, clapping me on the shoulder, that he
would not drown us if he could help it. The other poor fellow
seemed by no means averse to go to the bottom; he sat at the fore
part of the boat looking the image of famine, and only smiled when
the waters broke over the weather side and soaked his scanty
habiliments. In a little time I had made up my mind that our last
hour was come; the wind was getting higher, the short dangerous
waves were more foamy, the boat was frequently on its beam, and the
water came over the lee side in torrents; but still the wild lad at
the helm held on laughing and chattering, and occasionally yelling
out part of the Miguelite air, "Quando el Rey chegou" the singing
of which in Lisbon is imprisonment.

The stream was against us, but the wind was in our favour, and we
sprang along at a wonderful rate, and I saw that our only chance of
escape was in speedily passing the farther bank of the Tagus where
the bight or bay at the extremity of which stands Aldea Gallega
commences, for we should not then have to battle with the waves of
the stream, which the adverse wind lashed into fury. It was the
will of the Almighty to permit us speedily to gain this shelter,
but not before the boat was nearly filled with water, and we were
all wet to the skin. At about seven o'clock in the evening we
reached Aldea Gallega, shivering with cold and in a most deplorable
plight.

Aldea Gallega, or the Galician Village (for the two words are
Spanish, and have that signification), it a place containing, I
should think, about four thousand inhabitants. It was pitchy dark
when we landed, but rockets soon began to fly about in all
directions, illuming the air far and wide. As we passed along the
dirty unpaved street which leads to the Largo, or square in which
the inn is situated, a horrible uproar of drums and voices assailed
our ears. On inquiring the cause of all this bustle, I was
informed that it was the eve of the Conception of the Virgin.

As it was not the custom of the people at the inn to furnish
provisions for the guests, I wandered about in search of food; and
at last seeing some soldiers eating and drinking in a species of
wine-house, I went in and asked the people to let me have some
supper, and in a short time they furnished me with a tolerable
meal, for which, however, they charged three crowns.

Having engaged with a person for mules to carry us to Evora, which
were to be ready at five next morning, I soon retired to bed, my
servant sleeping in the same apartment, which was the only one in
the house vacant. I closed not my eyes during the whole night.
Beneath us was a stable, in which some almocreves, or carriers,
slept with their mules; at our back, in the yard, was a pigsty.
How could I sleep? The hogs grunted, the mules screamed, and the
almocreves snored most horribly. I heard the village clock strike
the hours until midnight, and from midnight till four in the
morning, when I sprang up and began to dress, and despatched my
servant to hasten the man with the mules, for I was heartily tired
of the place and wanted to leave it. An old man, bony and hale,
accompanied by a barefooted lad, brought the beasts, which were
tolerably good. He was the proprietor of them, and intended, with
the lad, who was his nephew, to accompany us to Evora.

When we started, the moon was shining brightly, and the morning was
piercingly cold. We soon entered on a sandy hollow way, emerging
from which we passed by a strange-looking and large edifice,
standing on a high bleak sand-hill on our left. We were speedily
overtaken by five or six men on horseback, riding at a rapid pace,
each with a long gun slung at his saddle, the muzzle depending
about two feet below the horse's belly. I inquired of the old man
what was the reason of this warlike array. He answered, that the
roads were very bad (meaning that they abounded with robbers), and
that they went armed in this manner for their defence; they soon
turned off to the right towards Palmella.

We reached a sandy plain studded with stunted pine; the road was
little more than a footpath, and as we proceeded, the trees
thickened and became a wood, which extended for two leagues, with
clear spaces at intervals, in which herds of cattle and sheep were
feeding; the bells attached to their necks were ringing lowly and
monotonously. The sun was just beginning to show itself; but the
morning was misty and dreary, which, together with the aspect of
desolation which the country exhibited, had an unfavourable effect
on my spirits. I got down and walked, entering into conversation
with the old man. He seemed to have but one theme, "the robbers,"
and the atrocities they were in the habit of practising in the very
spots we were passing. The tales he told were truly horrible, and
to avoid them I mounted again, and rode on considerably in front.

In about an hour and a half we emerged from the forest, and entered
upon a savage, wild, broken ground, covered with mato, or
brushwood. The mules stopped to drink at a shallow pool, and on
looking to the right I saw a ruined wall. This, the guide informed
me, was the remains of Vendas Velhas, or the Old Inn, formerly the
haunt of the celebrated robber Sabocha. This Sabocha, it seems,
had, some sixteen years ago, a band of about forty ruffians at his
command, who infested these wilds, and supported themselves by
plunder. For a considerable time Sabocha pursued his atrocious
trade unsuspected, and many an unfortunate traveller was murdered
in the dead of night at the solitary inn by the wood-side, which he
kept; indeed, a more fit situation for plunder and murder I never
saw. The gang were in the habit of watering their horses at the
pool, and perhaps of washing therein their hands stained with the
blood of their victims; the lieutenant of the troop was the brother
of Sabocha, a fellow of great strength and ferocity, particularly
famous for the skill he possessed in darting a long knife, with
which he was in the habit of transfixing his opponents. Sabocha's
connection with the gang at length became known, and he fled, with
the greater part of his associates, across the Tagus to the
northern provinces. Himself and his brothers eventually lost their
lives on the road to Coimbra, in an engagement with the military.
His house was razed by order of the government.

The ruins are still frequently visited by banditti, who eat and
drink amidst them, and look out for prey, as the place commands a
view of the road. The old man assured me, that about two months
previous, on returning to Aldea Gallega with his mules from
accompanying some travellers, he had been knocked down, stripped
naked, and all his money taken from him, by a fellow whom he
believed came from this murderers' nest. He said that he was an
exceedingly powerful young man, with immense moustaches and
whiskers, and was armed with an espingarda, or musket. About ten
days subsequently he saw the robber at Vendas Novas, where we
should pass the night. The fellow on recognising him took him
aside, and, with horrid imprecations, threatened that he should
never be permitted to return home if he attempted to discover him;
he therefore held his peace, as there was little to be gained and
everything to be risked in apprehending him, as he would have been
speedily set at liberty for want of evidence to criminate him, and
then he would not have failed to have had his revenge, or would
have been anticipated therein by his comrades.

I dismounted and went up to the place, and saw the vestiges of a
fire and a broken bottle. The sons of plunder had been there very
lately. I left a New Testament and some tracts amongst the ruins,
and hastened away.

The sun had dispelled the mists and was beaming very hot; we rode
on for about an hour, when I heard the neighing of a horse in our
rear, and our guide said there was a party of horsemen behind; our
mules were good, and they did not overtake us for at least twenty
minutes. The headmost rider was a gentleman in a fashionable
travelling dress; a little way behind were an officer, two
soldiers, and a boy in livery. I heard the principal horseman, on
overtaking my servant, inquiring who I was, and whether French or
English. He was told I was an English gentleman, travelling. He
then asked whether I understood Portuguese; the man said I
understood it, but he believed that I spoke French and Italian
better. The gentleman then spurred on his horse and accosted me,
not in Portuguese, nor in French or Italian, but in the purest
English that I ever heard spoken by a foreigner; it had, indeed,
nothing of foreign accent or pronunciation in it; and had I not
known, by the countenance of the speaker, that he was no
Englishman, (for there is a peculiarity in the countenance, as
everybody knows, which, though it cannot be described, is sure to
betray the Englishman), I should have concluded that I was in
company with a countryman. We continued discoursing until we
arrived at Pegoens.