The Bible in Spain

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The upper part of Andalusia was becoming rapidly nearly as bad as
La Mancha. The last time the mail had passed, it was attacked at
the defile of La Rumblar by six mounted robbers; it was guarded by
an escort of as many soldiers, but the former suddenly galloped
from behind a solitary venda, and dashed the soldiers to the
ground, who were taken quite by surprise, the hoofs of the robbers'
horses making no noise on account of the sandy nature of the
ground. The soldiers were instantly disarmed and bound to olive
trees, with the exception of two, who escaped amongst the rocks;
they were then mocked and tormented by the robbers, or rather
fiends, for nearly half an hour, when they were shot; the head of
the corporal who commanded being blown to fragments with a
blunderbuss. The robbers then burned the coach, which they
accomplished by igniting the letters by means of the tow with which
they light their cigars. The life of the courier was saved by one
of them, who had formerly been his postillion; he was, however,
robbed and stripped. As we passed by the scene of the butchery,
the poor fellow wept, and, though a Spaniard, cursed Spain and the
Spaniards, saying that he intended shortly to pass over to the
Moreria, to confess Mahomet, and to learn the law of the Moors, for
that any country and religion were better than his own. He pointed
to the tree where the corporal had been tied; though much rain had
fallen since, the ground around was still saturated with blood, and
a dog was gnawing a piece of the unfortunate wretch's skull. A
friar travelled with us the whole way from Madrid to Seville; he
was of the missionaries, and was going to the Philippine islands,
to conquer (para conquistar), for such was his word, by which I
suppose he meant preaching to the Indians. During the whole
journey he exhibited every symptom of the most abject fear, which
operated upon him so that he became deadly sick, and we were
obliged to stop twice in the road and lay him amongst the green
corn. He said that if he fell into the hands of the factious, he
was a lost priest, for that they would first make him say mass, and
then blow him up with gunpowder. He had been professor of
philosophy, as he told me, in one of the convents (I think it was
San Thomas) of Madrid before their suppression, but appeared to be
grossly ignorant of the Scriptures, which he confounded with the
works of Virgil.

We stopped at Manzanares as usual; it was Sunday morning, and the
market-place was crowded with people. I was recognised in a
moment, and twenty pair of legs instantly hurried away in quest of
the prophetess, who presently made her appearance in the house to
which we had retired to breakfast. After many greetings on both
sides, she proceeded, in her Latin, to give me an account of all
that had occurred in the village since I had last been there, and
of the atrocities of the factious in the neighbourhood. I asked
her to breakfast, and introduced her to the friar, whom she
addressed in this manner: "Anne Domine Reverendissime facis adhuc
sacrificium?" But the friar did not understand her, and waxing
angry, anathematized her for a witch, and bade her begone. She
was, however, not to be disconcerted, and commenced singing, in
extemporary Castilian verse, the praises of friars and religious
houses in general. On departing I gave her a peseta, upon which
she burst into tears, and intreated that I would write to her if I
reached Seville in safety.

We did arrive at Seville in safety, and I took leave of the friar,
telling him that I hoped to meet him again at Philippi. As it was
my intention to remain at Seville for some months, I determined to
hire a house, in which I conceived I could live with more privacy,
and at the same time more economically than in a posada. It was
not long before I found one in every respect suited to me. It was
situated in the Plazuela de la Pila Seca, a retired part of the
city, in the neighbourhood of the cathedral, and at a short
distance from the gate of Xeres; and in this house, on the arrival
of Antonio and the horses, which occurred within a few days, I took
up my abode.

I was now once more in beautiful Seville and had soon ample time
and leisure to enjoy its delights and those of the surrounding
country; unfortunately, at the time of my arrival, and indeed for
the next ensuing fortnight, the heaven of Andalusia, in general so
glorious, was overcast with black clouds, which discharged
tremendous showers of rain, such as few of the Sevillians,
according to their own account, had ever seen before. This
extraordinary weather had wrought no little damage in the
neighbourhood, causing the Guadalquivir, which, during the rainy
season, is a rapid and furious stream, to overflow its banks and to
threaten an inundation. It is true that intervals were occurring
when the sun made his appearance from his cloudy tabernacle, and
with his golden rays caused everything around to smile, enticing
the butterfly forth from the bush, and the lizard from the hollow
tree, and I invariably availed myself of these intervals to take a
hasty promenade.

O how pleasant it is, especially in springtide, to stray along the
shores of the Guadalquivir. Not far from the city, down the river,
lies a grove called Las Delicias, or the Delights. It consists of
trees of various kinds, but more especially of poplars and elms,
and is traversed by long shady walks. This grove is the favourite
promenade of the Sevillians, and there one occasionally sees
assembled whatever the town produces of beauty or gallantry. There
wander the black-eyed Andalusian dames and damsels, clad in their
graceful silken mantillas; and there gallops the Andalusian
cavalier, on his long-tailed thick-maned steed of Moorish ancestry.
As the sun is descending, it is enchanting to glance back from this
place in the direction of the city; the prospect is inexpressibly
beautiful. Yonder in the distance, high and enormous, stands the
Golden Tower, now used as a toll-house, but the principal bulwark
of the city in the time of the Moors. It stands on the shore of
the river, like a giant keeping watch, and is the first edifice
which attracts the eye of the voyager as he moves up the stream to
Seville. On the other side, opposite the tower, stands the noble
Augustine convent, the ornament of the faubourg of Triana, whilst
between the two edifices rolls the broad Guadalquivir, bearing on
its bosom a flotilla of barks from Catalonia and Valencia. Farther
up is seen the bridge of boats which traverses the water. The
principal object of this prospect, however, is the Golden Tower,
where the beams of the setting sun seem to be concentrated as in a
focus, so that it appears built of pure gold, and probably from
that circumstance received the name which it now bears. Cold, cold
must the heart be which can remain insensible to the beauties of
this magic scene, to do justice to which the pencil of Claude
himself were barely equal. Often have I shed tears of rapture
whilst I beheld it, and listened to the thrush and the nightingale
piping forth their melodious songs in the woods, and inhaled the
breeze laden with the perfume of the thousand orange gardens of
Seville:

"Kennst du das land wo die citronem bluhen?"

The interior of Seville scarcely corresponds with the exterior:
the streets are narrow, badly paved, and full of misery and
beggary. The houses are for the most part built in the Moorish
fashion, with a quadrangular patio or court in the centre, where
stands a marble fountain, constantly distilling limpid water.
These courts, during the time of the summer heats, are covered over
with a canvas awning, and beneath this the family sit during the
greater part of the day. In many, especially those belonging to
the houses of the wealthy, are to be found shrubs, orange trees,
and all kinds of flowers, and perhaps a small aviary, so that no
situation can be conceived more delicious than to lie here in the
shade, hearkening to the song of the birds and the voice of the
fountain.

Nothing is more calculated to interest the stranger as he wanders
through Seville, than a view of these courts obtained from the
streets, through the iron-grated door. Oft have I stopped to
observe them, and as often sighed that my fate did not permit me to
reside in such an Eden for the remainder of my days. On a former
occasion, I have spoken of the cathedral of Seville, but only in a
brief and cursory manner. It is perhaps the most magnificent
cathedral in all Spain, and though not so regular in its
architecture as those of Toledo and Burgos, is far more worthy of
admiration when considered as a whole. It is utterly impossible to
wander through the long aisles, and to raise one's eyes to the
richly inlaid roof, supported by colossal pillars, without
experiencing sensations of sacred awe, and deep astonishment. It
is true that the interior, like those of the generality of the
Spanish cathedrals, is somewhat dark and gloomy; yet it loses
nothing by this gloom, which, on the contrary, rather increases the
solemnity of the effect. Notre Dame of Paris is a noble building,
yet to him who has seen the Spanish cathedrals, and particularly
this of Seville, it almost appears trivial and mean, and more like
a town-hall than a temple of the Eternal. The Parisian cathedral
is entirely destitute of that solemn darkness and gloomy pomp which
so abound in the Sevillian, and is thus destitute of the principal
requisite to a cathedral.

In most of the chapels are to be found some of the very best
pictures of the Spanish school; and in particular many of the
masterpieces of Murillo, a native of Seville. Of all the pictures
of this extraordinary man, one of the least celebrated is that
which has always wrought on me the most profound impression. I
allude to the Guardian Angel (Angel de la Guardia), a small picture
which stands at the bottom of the church, and looks up the
principal aisle. The angel, holding a flaming sword in his right
hand, is conducting the child. This child is, in my opinion, the
most wonderful of all the creations of Murillo; the form is that of
an infant about five years of age, and the expression of the
countenance is quite infantine, but the tread--it is the tread of a
conqueror, of a God, of the Creator of the universe; and the
earthly globe appears to tremble beneath its majesty.

The service of the cathedral is in general well attended,
especially when it is known that a sermon is to be preached. All
these sermons are extemporaneous; some of them are edifying and
faithful to the Scriptures. I have often listened to them with
pleasure, though I was much surprised to remark, that when the
preachers quoted from the Bible, their quotations were almost
invariably taken from the apocryphal writings. There is in general
no lack of worshippers at the principal shrines--women for the most
part--many of whom appear to be animated with the most fervent
devotion.

I had flattered myself, previous to my departure from Madrid, that
I should experience but little difficulty in the circulation of the
Gospel in Andalusia, at least for a time, as the field was new, and
myself and the object of my mission less known and dreaded than in
New Castile. It appeared, however, that the government at Madrid
had fulfilled its threat, transmitting orders throughout Spain for
the seizure of my books wherever found. The Testaments that
arrived from Madrid were seized at the custom-house, to which place
all goods on their arrival, even from the interior, are carried, in
order that a duty be imposed upon them. Through the management of
Antonio, however, I procured one of the two chests, whilst the
other was sent down to San Lucar, to be embarked for a foreign land
as soon as I could make arrangements for that purpose.

I did not permit myself to be discouraged by this slight
contretemps, although I heartily regretted the loss of the books
which had been seized, and which I could no longer hope to
circulate in these parts, where they were so much wanted; but I
consoled myself with the reflection, that I had still several
hundred at my disposal, from the distribution of which, if it
pleased the Lord, a blessed harvest might still proceed.

I did not commence operations for some time, for I was in a strange
place, and scarcely knew what course to pursue. I had no one to
assist me but poor Antonio, who was as ignorant of the place as
myself. Providence, however, soon sent me a coadjutor, in rather a
singular manner. I was standing in the courtyard of the Reyna
Posada, where I occasionally dined, when a man, singularly dressed
and gigantically tall, entered. My curiosity was excited, and I
inquired of the master of the house who he was. He informed me
that he was a foreigner, who had resided a considerable time in
Seville, and he believed a Greek. Upon hearing this, I instantly
went up to the stranger, and accosted him in the Greek language, in
which, though I speak it very ill, I can make myself understood.
He replied in the same idiom, and, flattered by the interest which
I, a foreigner, expressed for his nation, was not slow in
communicating to me his history. He told me that his name was
Dionysius, that he was a native of Cephalonia, and had been
educated for the church, which, not suiting his temper, he had
abandoned, in order to follow the profession of the sea, for which
he had an early inclination. That after many adventures and
changes of fortune, he found himself one morning on the coast of
Spain, a shipwrecked mariner, and that, ashamed to return to his
own country in poverty and distress, he had remained in the
Peninsula, residing chiefly at Seville, where he now carried on a
small trade in books. He said that he was of the Greek religion,
to which he professed strong attachment, and soon discovering that
I was a Protestant, spoke with unbounded abhorrence of the papal
system; nay of its followers in general, whom he called Latins, and
whom he charged with the ruin of his own country, inasmuch as they
sold it to the Turk. It instantly struck me, that this individual
would be an excellent assistant in the work which had brought me to
Seville, namely, the propagation of the eternal Gospel, and
accordingly, after some more conversation, in which he exhibited
considerable learning, I explained myself to him. He entered into
my views with eagerness, and in the sequel I had no reason to
regret my confidence, he having disposed of a considerable number
of New Testaments, and even contrived to send a certain number of
copies to two small towns at some distance from Seville.

Another helper in the circulation of the Gospel I found in an aged
professor of music, who, with much stiffness and ceremoniousness,
united much that was excellent and admirable. This venerable
individual, only three days after I had made his acquaintance,
brought me the price of six Testaments and a Gypsy Gospel, which he
had sold under the heat of an Andalusian sun. What was his motive?
A Christian one truly. He said that his unfortunate countrymen,
who were then robbing and murdering each other, might probably be
rendered better by the reading of the Gospel, but could never be
injured. Adding, that many a man had been reformed by the
Scriptures, but that no one ever yet became a thief or assassin
from its perusal.

But my most extraordinary agent, was one whom I occasionally
employed in circulating the Scriptures amongst the lower classes.
I might have turned the services of this individual to far greater
account had the quantity of books at my disposal been greater; but
they were now diminishing rapidly, and as I had no hopes of a fresh
supply, I was almost tempted to be niggard of the few which
remained. This agent was a Greek bricklayer, by name Johannes
Chrysostom, who had been introduced to me by Dionysius. He was a
native of the Morea, but had been upwards of thirty-five years in
Spain, so that he had almost entirely lost his native language.
Nevertheless, his attachment to his own country was so strong that
he considered whatever was not Greek as utterly barbarous and bad.
Though entirely destitute of education, he had, by his strength of
character, and by a kind of rude eloquence which he possessed,
obtained such a mastery over the minds of the labouring classes of
Seville, that they assented to almost everything he said,
notwithstanding the shocks which their prejudices were continually
receiving. So that, although he was a foreigner, he could at any
time have become the Massaniello of Seville. A more honest
creature I never saw, and I soon found that if I employed him,
notwithstanding his eccentricities, I might entertain perfect
confidence that his actions would be no disparagement to the book
he vended.

We were continually pressed for Bibles, which of course we could
not supply. Testaments were held in comparatively little esteem.
I had by this time made the discovery of a fact which it would have
been well had I been aware of three years before; but we live and
learn. I mean the inexpediency of printing Testaments, and
Testaments alone, for Catholic countries. The reason is plain:
the Catholic, unused to Scripture reading, finds a thousand things
which he cannot possibly understand in the New Testament, the
foundation of which is the Old. "Search the Scriptures, for they
bear witness of me," may well be applied to this point. It may be
replied, that New Testaments separate are in great demand, and of
infinite utility in England, but England, thanks be to the Lord, is
not a papal country; and though an English labourer may read a
Testament, and derive from it the most blessed fruit, it does not
follow that a Spanish or Italian peasant will enjoy similar
success, as he will find many dark things with which the other is
well acquainted, and competent to understand, being versed in the
Bible history from his childhood. I confess, however, that in my
summer campaign of the preceding year, I could not have
accomplished with Bibles what Providence permitted me to effect
with Testaments, the former being far too bulky for rural journeys.

CHAPTER XLIX

The Solitary House--The Dehesa--Johannes Chrysostom--Manuel--
Bookselling at Seville--Dionysius and the Priests--Athens and Rome-
-Proselytism--Seizure of Testaments--Departure from Seville.

I have already stated, that I had hired an empty house in Seville,
wherein I proposed to reside for some months. It stood in a
solitary situation, occupying one side of a small square. It was
built quite in the beautiful taste of Andalusia, with a court paved
with small slabs of white and blue marble. In the middle of this
court was a fountain well supplied with the crystal lymph, the
murmur of which, as it fell from its slender pillar into an
octangular basin, might be heard in every apartment. The house
itself was large and spacious, consisting of two stories, and
containing room sufficient for at least ten times the number of
inmates which now occupied it. I generally kept during the day in
the lower apartments, on account of the refreshing coolness which
pervaded them. In one of these was an immense stone water-trough,
ever overflowing with water from the fountain, in which I immersed
myself every morning. Such were the premises to which, after
having provided myself with a few indispensable articles of
furniture, I now retreated with Antonio and my two horses.

I was fortunate in the possession of these quadrupeds, inasmuch as
it afforded me an opportunity of enjoying to a greater extent the
beauties of the surrounding country. I know of few things in this
life more delicious than a ride in the spring or summer season in
the neighbourhood of Seville. My favourite one was in the
direction of Xerez, over the wide Dehesa, as it is called, which
extends from Seville to the gates of the former town, a distance of
nearly fifty miles, with scarcely a town or village intervening.
The ground is irregular and broken, and is for the most part
covered with that species of brushwood called carrasco, amongst
which winds a bridle-path, by no means well defined, chiefly
trodden by the arrieros, with their long train of mules and
borricos. It is here that the balmy air of beautiful Andalusia is
to be inhaled in full perfection. Aromatic herbs and flowers are
growing in abundance, diffusing their perfume around. Here dark
and gloomy cares are dispelled as if by magic from the bosom, as
the eyes wander over the prospect, lighted by unequalled sunshine,
in which gaily-painted butterflies wanton, and green and golden
Salamanquesas lie extended, enjoying the luxurious warmth, and
occasionally startling the traveller, by springing up and making
off with portentous speed to the nearest coverts, whence they stare
upon him with their sharp and lustrous eyes. I repeat, that it is
impossible to continue melancholy in regions like these, and the
ancient Greeks and Romans were right in making them the site of
their Elysian fields. Most beautiful they are even in their
present desolation, for the hand of man has not cultivated them
since the fatal era of the expulsion of the Moors, which drained
Andalusia of at least two thirds of its population.

Every evening it was my custom to ride along the Dedesa, until the
topmost towers of Seville were no longer in sight. I then turned
about, and pressing my knees against the sides of Sidi Habismilk,
my Arabian, the fleet creature, to whom spur or lash had never been
applied, would set off in the direction of the town with the speed
of a whirlwind, seeming in his headlong course to devour the ground
of the waste, until he had left it behind, then dashing through the
elm-covered road of the Delicias, his thundering hoofs were soon
heard beneath the vaulted archway of the Puerta de Xerez, and in
another moment he would stand stone still before the door of my
solitary house in the little silent square of the Pila Seca.

It is eight o'clock at night, I am returned from the Dehesa, and am
standing on the sotea, or flat roof of my house, enjoying the cool
breeze. Johannes Chrysostom has just arrived from his labour. I
have not spoken to him, but I hear him below in the courtyard,
detailing to Antonio the progress he has made in the last two days.
He speaks barbarous Greek, plentifully interlarded with Spanish
words; but I gather from his discourse, that he has already sold
twelve Testaments among his fellow labourers. I hear copper coin
falling on the pavement, and Antonio, who is not of a very
Christian temper, reproving him for not having brought the proceeds
of the sale in silver. He now asks for fifteen more, as he says
the demand is becoming great, and that he shall have no difficulty
in disposing of them in the course of the morrow, whilst pursuing
his occupations. Antonio goes to fetch them, and he now stands
alone by the marble fountain, singing a wild song, which I believe
to be a hymn of his beloved Greek church. Behold one of the
helpers which the Lord has sent me in my Gospel labours on the
shores of the Guadalquivir.

I lived in the greatest retirement during the whole time that I
passed at Seville, spending the greater part of each day in study,
or in that half-dreamy state of inactivity which is the natural
effect of the influence of a warm climate. There was little in the
character of the people around to induce me to enter much into
society. The higher class of the Andalusians are probably upon the
whole the most vain and foolish of human beings, with a taste for
nothing but sensual amusements, foppery in dress, and ribald
discourse. Their insolence is only equalled by their meanness, and
their prodigality by their avarice. The lower classes are a shade
or two better than their superiors in station: little, it is true,
can be said for the tone of their morality; they are overreaching,
quarrelsome, and revengeful, but they are upon the whole more
courteous, and certainly not more ignorant.

The Andalusians are in general held in the lowest estimation by the
rest of the Spaniards, even those in opulent circumstances finding
some difficulty at Madrid in procuring admission into respectable
society, where, if they find their way, they are invariably the
objects of ridicule, from the absurd airs and grimaces in which
they indulge,--their tendency to boasting and exaggeration, their
curious accent, and the incorrect manner in which they speak and
pronounce the Castilian language.

In a word, the Andalusians, in all estimable traits of character,
are as far below the other Spaniards as the country which they
inhabit is superior in beauty and fertility to the other provinces
of Spain.

Yet let it not for a moment be supposed that I have any intention
of asserting, that excellent and estimable individuals are not to
be found amongst the Andalusians; it was amongst THEM that I myself
discovered one, whom I have no hesitation in asserting to be the
most extraordinary character that has ever come within my sphere of
knowledge; but this was no scion of a noble or knightly house, "no
wearer of soft clothing," no sleek highly-perfumed personage, none
of the romanticos who walk in languishing attitudes about the
streets of Seville, with long black hair hanging upon their
shoulders in luxuriant curls; but one of those whom the proud and
unfeeling style the dregs of the populace, a haggard, houseless,
penniless man, in rags and tatters: I allude to Manuel, the--what
shall I call him?--seller of lottery tickets, driver of death
carts, or poet laureate in Gypsy songs? I wonder whether thou art
still living, my friend Manuel; thou gentleman of Nature's forming-
-honest, pure-minded, humble, yet dignified being! Art thou still
wandering through the courts of beautiful Safacoro, or on the banks
of the Len Baro, thine eyes fixed in vacancy, and thy mind striving
to recall some half-forgotten couplet of Luis Lobo; or art thou
gone to thy long rest, out beyond the Xeres gate within the wall of
the Campo Santo, to which in times of pest and sickness thou wast
wont to carry so many, Gypsy and Gentile, in thy cart of the
tinkling bell? Oft in the reunions of the lettered and learned in
this land of universal literature, when weary of the display of
pedantry and egotism, have I recurred with yearning to our Gypsy
recitations at the old house in the Pila Seca. Oft, when sickened
by the high-wrought professions of those who bear the cross in
gilded chariots, have I thought on thee, thy calm faith, without
pretence,--thy patience in poverty, and fortitude in affliction;
and as oft, when thinking of my speedily approaching end, have I
wished that I might meet thee once again, and that thy hands might
help to bear me to "the dead man's acre" yonder on the sunny plain,
O Manuel!