The Bible in Spain

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[Greek verse]

And in this manner, mon maitre, I left the house of the Count of--
."

Myself.--And a fine account you have given of yourself; by your own
confession, your behaviour was most atrocious. Were it not for the
many marks of courage and fidelity which you have exhibited in my
service, I would from this moment hold no farther communication
with you.

Antonio.--Mais qu' est ce que vous voudriez, mon maitre? Am I not
a Greek, full of honour and sensibility? Would you have the cooks
of Sceira and Stambul submit to be insulted here in Spain by the
sons of counts rushing into the temple with manchets of bread.
Non, non, mon maitre, you are too noble to require that, and what
is more, TOO JUST. But we will talk of other things. Mon maitre,
I came not alone; there is one now waiting in the corridor anxious
to speak to you.

Myself.--Who is it?

Antonio.--One whom you have met, mon maitre, in various and strange
places.

Myself.--But who is it?

Antonio.--One who will come to a strange end, FOR SO IT IS WRITTEN.
The most extraordinary of all the Swiss, he of Saint James,--Der
schatz graber.

Myself.--Not Benedict Mol?

"Yaw, mein lieber herr," said Benedict, pushing open the door which
stood ajar; "it is myself. I met Herr Anton in the street, and
hearing that you were in this place, I came with him to visit you."

Myself.--And in the name of all that is singular, how is it that I
see you in Madrid again? I thought that by this time you were
returned to your own country.

Benedict.--Fear not, lieber herr, I shall return thither in good
time; but not on foot, but with mules and coach. The schatz is
still yonder, waiting to be dug up, and now I have better hope than
ever: plenty of friends, plenty of money. See you not how I am
dressed, lieber herr?

And verily his habiliments were of a much more respectable
appearance than any which he had sported on former occasions. His
coat and pantaloons, which were of light green, were nearly new.
On his head he still wore an Andalusian hat, but the present one
was neither old nor shabby, but fresh and glossy, and of immense
altitude of cone: whilst in his hand, instead of the ragged staff
which I had observed at Saint James and Oviedo, he now carried a
huge bamboo rattan, surmounted by the grim head of either a bear or
lion, curiously cut out of pewter.

"You have all the appearance of a treasure seeker returned from a
successful expedition," I exclaimed.

"Or rather," interrupted Antonio, "of one who has ceased to trade
on his own bottom, and now goes seeking treasures at the cost and
expense of others."

I questioned the Swiss minutely concerning his adventures since I
last saw him, when I left him at Oviedo to pursue my route to
Santander. From his answers I gathered that he had followed me to
the latter place; he was, however, a long time in performing the
journey, being weak from hunger and privation. At Santander he
could hear no tidings of me, and by this time the trifle which he
had received from me was completely exhausted. He now thought of
making his way into France, but was afraid to venture through the
disturbed provinces, lest he should fall into the hands of the
Carlists, who he conceived might shoot him as a spy. No one
relieving him at Santander, he departed and begged his way till he
found himself in some part of Aragon, but where he scarcely knew.
"My misery was so great," said Bennet, "that I nearly lost my
senses. Oh, the horror of wandering about the savage hills and
wide plains of Spain, without money and without hope! Sometimes I
became desperate, when I found myself amongst rocks and barrancos,
perhaps after having tasted no food from sunrise to sunset, and
then I would raise my staff towards the sky and shake it, crying,
lieber herr Gott, ach lieber herr Gott, you must help me now or
never; if you tarry, I am lost; you must help me now, now! And
once when I was raving in this manner, methought I heard a voice,
nay I am sure I heard it, sounding from the hollow of a rock, clear
and strong; and it cried, 'Der schatz, der schatz, it is not yet
dug up; to Madrid, to Madrid. The way to the schatz is through
Madrid.' And then the thought of the schatz once more rushed into
my mind, and I reflected how happy I might be, could I but dig up
the schatz. No more begging, then, no more wandering amidst horrid
mountains and deserts; so I brandished my staff, and my body and my
limbs became full of new and surprising strength, and I strode
forward, and was not long before I reached the high road; and then
I begged and bettled as I best could, until I reached Madrid."

"And what has befallen you since you reached Madrid?" I inquired.
"Did you find the treasure in the streets?"

On a sudden Bennet became reserved and taciturn, which the more
surprised me, as, up to the present moment, he had at all times
been remarkably communicative with respect to his affairs and
prospects. From what I could learn from his broken hints and
innuendoes, it appeared that, since his arrival at Madrid, he had
fallen into the hands of certain people who had treated him with
kindness, and provided him with both money and clothes; not from
disinterested motives, however, but having an eye to the treasure.
"They expect great things from me," said the Swiss; "and perhaps,
after all, it would have been more profitable to have dug up the
treasure without their assistance, always provided that were
possible." Who his new friends were, he either knew not or would
not tell me, save that they were people in power. He said
something about Queen Christina and an oath which he had taken in
the presence of a bishop on the crucifix and "the four Evangiles."
I thought that his head was turned, and forbore questioning. Just
before taking his departure, he observed "Lieber herr, pardon me
for not being quite frank towards you, to whom I owe so much, but I
dare not; I am not now my own man. It is, moreover, an evil thing
at all times to say a word about treasure before you have secured
it. There was once a man in my own country, who dug deep into the
earth until he arrived at a copper vessel which contained a schatz.
Seizing it by the handle, he merely exclaimed in his transport, 'I
have it'; that was enough, however: down sank the kettle, though
the handle remained in his grasp. That was all he ever got for his
trouble and digging. Farewell, lieber herr, I shall speedily be
sent back to Saint James to dig up the schatz; but I will visit you
ere I go--farewell."

CHAPTER XLII

Liberation from Prison--The Apology--Human Nature--The Greek's
Return--Church of Rome--Light of Scripture--Archbishop of Toledo--
An Interview--Stones of Price--A Resolution--The Foreign Language--
Benedict's Farewell--Treasure Hunt at Compostella--Truth and
Fiction.

I remained about three weeks in the prison of Madrid, and then left
it. If I had possessed any pride, or harboured any rancour against
the party who had consigned me to durance, the manner in which I
was restored to liberty would no doubt have been highly gratifying
to those evil passions; the government having acknowledged, by a
document transmitted to Sir George, that I had been incarcerated on
insufficient grounds, and that no stigma attached itself to me from
the imprisonment I had undergone; at the same time agreeing to
defray all the expenses to which I had been subjected throughout
the progress of this affair.

It moreover expressed its willingness to dismiss the individual
owing to whose information I had been first arrested, namely, the
corchete or police officer who had visited me in my apartments in
the Calle de Santiago, and behaved himself in the manner which I
have described in a former chapter. I declined, however, to avail
myself of this condescension of the government, more especially as
I was informed that the individual in question had a wife and
family, who, if he were disgraced, would be at once reduced to
want. I moreover considered that, in what he had done and said, he
had probably only obeyed some private orders which he had received;
I therefore freely forgave him, and if he does not retain his
situation at the present moment, it is certainly no fault of mine.

I likewise refused to accept any compensation for my expenses,
which were considerable. It is probable that many persons in my
situation would have acted very differently in this respect, and I
am far from saying that herein I acted discreetly or laudably; but
I was averse to receive money from people such as those of which
the Spanish government was composed, people whom I confess I
heartily despised, and I was unwilling to afford them an
opportunity of saying that after they had imprisoned an Englishman
unjustly, and without a cause, he condescended to receive money at
their hands. In a word, I confess my own weakness; I was willing
that they should continue my debtors, and have little doubt that
they had not the slightest objection to remain so; they kept their
money, and probably laughed in their sleeves at my want of common
sense.

The heaviest loss which resulted from my confinement, and for which
no indemnification could be either offered or received, was in the
death of my affectionate and faithful Basque Francisco, who having
attended me during the whole time of my imprisonment, caught the
pestilential typhus or gaol fever, which was then raging in the
Carcel de la Corte, of which he expired within a few days
subsequent to my liberation. His death occurred late one evening;
the next morning as I was lying in bed ruminating on my loss, and
wondering of what nation my next servant would be, I heard a noise
which seemed to be that of a person employed vigorously in cleaning
boots or shoes, and at intervals a strange discordant voice singing
snatches of a song in some unknown language: wondering who it
could be, I rang the bell.

"Did you ring, mon maitre," said Antonio, appearing at the door
with one of his arms deeply buried in a boot.

"I certainly did ring," said I, "but I scarcely expected that you
would have answered the summons."

"Mais pourquoi non, mon maitre?" cried Antonio. "Who should serve
you now but myself? N'est pas que le sieur Francois est mort? And
did I not say, as soon as I heard of his departure, I shall return
to my functions chez mon maitre, Monsieur Georges?"

"I suppose you had no other employment, and on that account you
came."

"Au contraire, mon maitre," replied the Greek, "I had just engaged
myself at the house of the Duke of Frias, from whom I was to
receive ten dollars per month more than I shall accept from your
worship; but on hearing that you were without a domestic, I
forthwith told the Duke, though it was late at night, that he would
not suit me, and here I am."

"I shall not receive you in this manner," said I; "return to the
Duke, apologize for your behaviour, request your dismission in a
regular way; and then if his grace is willing to part with you, as
will most probably be the case, I shall be happy to avail myself of
your services."

It is reasonable to expect that after having been subjected to an
imprisonment which my enemies themselves admitted to be unjust, I
should in future experience more liberal treatment at their hands
than that which they had hitherto adopted towards me. The sole
object of my ambition at this time was to procure toleration for
the sale of the Gospel in this unhappy and distracted kingdom, and
to have attained this end I would not only have consented to twenty
such imprisonments in succession, as that which I had undergone,
but would gladly have sacrificed life itself. I soon perceived,
however, that I was likely to gain nothing by my incarceration; on
the contrary, I had become an object of personal dislike to the
government since the termination of this affair, which it was
probable I had never been before; their pride and vanity were
humbled by the concessions which they had been obliged to make in
order to avoid a rupture with England. This dislike they were now
determined to gratify, by thwarting my views as much as possible.
I had an interview with Ofalia on the subject uppermost in my mind:
I found him morose and snappish. "It will be for your interest to
be still," said he; "beware! you have already thrown the whole
corte into confusion; beware, I repeat; another time you may not
escape so easily." "Perhaps not," I replied, "and perhaps I do not
wish it; it is a pleasant thing to be persecuted for the Gospel's
sake. I now take the liberty of inquiring whether, if I attempt to
circulate the word of God, I am to be interrupted." "Of course,"
exclaimed Ofalia; "the church forbids such circulation." "I shall
make the attempt, however," I exclaimed. "Do you mean what you
say?" demanded Ofalia, arching his eyebrows and elongating his
mouth. "Yes," I continued, "I shall make the attempt in every
village in Spain to which I can penetrate."

Throughout my residence in Spain the clergy were the party from
which I experienced the strongest opposition; and it was at their
instigation that the government originally adopted those measures
which prevented any extensive circulation of the sacred volume
through the land. I shall not detain the course of my narrative
with reflections as to the state of a church, which, though it
pretends to be founded on Scripture, would yet keep the light of
Scripture from all mankind, if possible. But Rome is fully aware
that she is not a Christian church, and having no desire to become
so, she acts prudently in keeping from the eyes of her followers
the page which would reveal to them the truths of Christianity.
Her agents and minions throughout Spain exerted themselves to the
utmost to render my humble labours abortive, and to vilify the work
which I was attempting to disseminate. All the ignorant and
fanatical clergy (the great majority) were opposed to it, and all
those who were anxious to keep on good terms with the court of Rome
were loud in their cry against it. There was, however, one section
of the clergy, a small one, it is true, rather favourably disposed
towards the circulation of the Gospel though by no means inclined
to make any particular sacrifice for the accomplishment of such an
end: these were such as professed liberalism, which is supposed to
mean a disposition to adopt any reform both in civil and church
matters, which may be deemed conducive to the weal of the country.
Not a few amongst the Spanish clergy were supporters of this
principle, or at least declared themselves so, some doubtless for
their own advancement, hoping to turn the spirit of the times to
their own personal profit; others, it is to be hoped, from
conviction, and a pure love of the principle itself. Amongst these
were to be found, at the time of which I am speaking, several
bishops. It is worthy of remark, however, that of all these not
one but owed his office, not to the Pope, who disowned them one and
all, but to the Queen Regent, the professed head of liberalism
throughout all Spain. It is not, therefore, surprising that men
thus circumstanced should feel rather disposed than not to
countenance any measure or scheme at all calculated to favour the
advancement of liberalism; and surely such an one was a circulation
of the Scriptures. I derived but little assistance from their good
will, however, supposing that they entertained some, as they never
took any decided stand nor lifted up their voices in a bold and
positive manner, denouncing the conduct of those who would withhold
the light of Scripture from the world. At one time I hoped by
their instrumentality to accomplish much in Spain in the Gospel
cause; but I was soon undeceived, and became convinced that
reliance on what they would effect, was like placing the hand on a
staff of reed which will only lacerate the flesh. More than once
some of them sent messages to me, expressive of their esteem, and
assuring me how much the cause of the Gospel was dear to their
hearts. I even received an intimation that a visit from me would
be agreeable to the Archbishop of Toledo, the Primate of Spain.

Of this personage I can say but little, his early history being
entirely unknown to me. At the death of Ferdinand, I believe, he
was Bishop of Mallorca, a small insignificant see, of very scanty
revenues, which perhaps he had no objection to exchange for one
more wealthy; it is probable, however, that had he proved a devoted
servant of the Pope, and consequently a supporter of legitimacy, he
would have continued to the day of his death to fill the episcopal
chair of Mallorca; but he was said to be a liberal, and the Queen
Regent thought fit to bestow upon him the dignity of Archbishop of
Toledo, by which he became the head of the Spanish church. The
Pope, it is true, had refused to ratify the nomination, on which
account all good Catholics were still bound to consider him as
Bishop of Mallorca, and not as Primate of Spain. He however
received the revenues belonging to the see, which, though only a
shadow of what they originally were, were still considerable, and
lived in the primate's palace at Madrid, so that if he were not
archbishop de jure, he was what many people would have considered
much better, archbishop de facto.

Hearing that this personage was a personal friend of Ofalia, who
was said to entertain a very high regard for him, I determined upon
paying him a visit, and accordingly one morning betook myself to
the palace in which he resided. I experienced no difficulty in
obtaining an interview, being forthwith conducted to his presence
by a common kind of footman, an Asturian, I believe, whom I found
seated on a stone bench in the entrance hall. When I was
introduced the Archbishop was alone, seated behind a table in a
large apartment, a kind of drawing-room; he was plainly dressed, in
a black cassock and silken cap; on his finger, however, glittered a
superb amethyst, the lustre of which was truly dazzling. He rose
for a moment as I advanced, and motioned me to a chair with his
hand. He might be about sixty years of age; his figure was very
tall, but he stooped considerably, evidently from feebleness, and
the pallid hue of ill health overspread his emaciated features.
When he had reseated himself, he dropped his head, and appeared to
be looking on the table before him.

"I suppose your lordship knows who I am?" said I, at last breaking
silence.

The Archbishop bent his head towards the right shoulder, in a
somewhat equivocal manner, but said nothing.

"I am he whom the Manolos of Madrid call Don Jorgito el Ingles; I
am just come out of prison, whither I was sent for circulating my
Lord's Gospel in this kingdom of Spain?"

The Archbishop made the same equivocal motion with his head, but
still said nothing.

"I was informed that your lordship was desirous of seeing me, and
on that account I have paid you this visit."

"I did not send for you," said the Archbishop, suddenly raising his
head with a startled look.

"Perhaps not: I was, however, given to understand that my presence
would be agreeable; but as that does not seem to be the case, I
will leave."

"Since you are come, I am very glad to see you."

"I am very glad to hear it," said I, reseating myself; "and since I
am here, we may as well talk of an all-important matter, the
circulation of the Scripture. Does your lordship see any way by
which an end so desirable might be brought about?"

"No," said the Archbishop faintly.

"Does not your lordship think that a knowledge of the Scripture
would work inestimable benefit in these realms?"

"I don't know."

"Is it probable that the government may be induced to consent to
the circulation?"

"How should I know?" and the Archbishop looked me in the face.

I looked in the face of the Archbishop; there was an expression of
helplessness in it, which almost amounted to dotage. "Dear me,"
thought I, "whom have I come to on an errand like mine? Poor man,
you are not fitted to play the part of Martin Luther, and least of
all in Spain. I wonder why your friends selected you to be
Archbishop of Toledo; they thought perhaps that you would do
neither good nor harm, and made choice of you, as they sometimes do
primates in my own country, for your incapacity. You do not seem
very happy in your present situation; no very easy stall this of
yours. You were more comfortable, I trow, when you were the poor
Bishop of Mallorca; could enjoy your puchera then without fear that
the salt would turn out sublimate. No fear then of being smothered
in your bed. A siesta is a pleasant thing when one is not subject
to be disturbed by 'the sudden fear.' I wonder whether they have
poisoned you already," I continued, half aloud, as I kept my eyes
fixed on his countenance, which methought was becoming ghastly.

"Did you speak, Don Jorge?" demanded the Archbishop.

"That is a fine brilliant on your lordship's hand," said I.

"You are fond of brilliants, Don Jorge," said the Archbishop, his
features brightening up; "vaya! so am I; they are pretty things.
Do you understand them?"

"I do," said I, "and I never saw a finer brilliant than your own,
one excepted; it belonged to an acquaintance of mine, a Tartar
Khan. He did not bear it on his finger, however; it stood in the
frontlet of his horse, where it shone like a star. He called it
Daoud Scharr, which, being interpreted, meaneth light of war."

"Vaya!" said the Archbishop, "how very extraordinary; I am glad you
are fond of brilliants, Don Jorge. Speaking of horses, reminds me
that I have frequently seen you on horseback. Vaya! how you ride;
it is dangerous to be in your way."

"Is your lordship fond of equestrian exercise?"

"By no means, Don Jorge; I do not like horses; it is not the
practice of the church to ride on horseback. We prefer mules:
they are the quieter animals; I fear horses, they kick so
violently."

"The kick of a horse is death," said I, "if it touches a vital
part. I am not, however, of your lordship's opinion with respect
to mules: a good ginete may retain his seat on a horse however
vicious, but a mule--vaya! when a false mule tira por detras, I do
not believe that the Father of the Church himself could keep the
saddle a moment, however sharp his bit."

As I was going away, I said, "And with respect to the Gospel, your
lordship; what am I to understand?"

"No se," said the Archbishop, again bending his head towards the
right shoulder, whilst his features resumed their former vacant
expression. And thus terminated my interview with the Archbishop
of Toledo.

"It appears to me," said I to Maria Diaz, on returning home; "it
appears to me, Marequita mia, that if the Gospel in Spain is to
wait for toleration until these liberal bishops and archbishops
come forward boldly in its behalf, it will have to tarry a
considerable time."

"I am much of your worship's opinion," answered Maria; "a fine
thing, truly, it would be to wait till they exerted themselves in
its behalf. Ca! the idea makes me smile: was your worship ever
innocent enough to suppose that they cared one tittle about the
Gospel or its cause? Vaya! they are true priests, and had only
self-interest in view in their advances to you. The Holy Father
disowns them, and they would now fain, by awaking his fears and
jealousy, bring him to some terms; but let him once acknowledge
them and see whether they would admit you to their palaces or hold
any intercourse with you: 'Forth with the fellow,' they would say;
'vaya! is he not a Lutheran? Is he not an enemy to the Church? A
la horca, a la horca!' I know this family better than you do, Don
Jorge."

"It is useless tarrying," said I; "nothing, however, can be done in
Madrid. I cannot sell the work at the despacho, and I have just
received intelligence that all the copies exposed for sale in the
libraries in the different parts of Spain which I visited, have
been sequestrated by order of the government. My resolution is
taken: I shall mount my horses, which are neighing in the stable,
and betake myself to the villages and plains of dusty Spain. Al
campo, al campo: 'Ride forth because of the word of righteousness,
and thy right hand shall show thee terrible things.' I will ride
forth, Maria."

"Your worship can do no better; and allow me here to tell you, that
for every single book you might sell in a despacho in the city, you
may dispose of one hundred amongst the villages, always provided
you offer them cheap: for in the country money is rather scant.
Vaya! should I not know? am I not a villager myself, a villana from
the Sagra? Ride forth, therefore; your horses are neighing in the
stall, as your worship says, and you might almost have added that
the Senor Antonio is neighing in the house. He says he has nothing
to do, on which account he is once more dissatisfied and unsettled.
He finds fault with everything, but more particularly with myself.
This morning I saluted him, and he made me no reply, but twisted
his mouth in a manner very uncommon in this land of Spain."