The Bible in Spain

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My principal visitor was Dionysius, who seldom failed to make his
appearance every forenoon: the poor fellow came for sympathy and
conversation. It is difficult to imagine a situation more forlorn
and isolated than that of this man,--a Greek at Seville, with
scarcely a single acquaintance, and depending for subsistence on
the miserable pittance to be derived from selling a few books, for
the most part hawked about from door to door. "What could have
first induced you to commence bookselling in Seville?" said I to
him, as he arrived one sultry day, heated and fatigued, with a
small bundle of books secured together by a leather strap.

Dionysius.--For want of a better employment, Kyrie, I have adopted
this most unprofitable and despised one. Oft have I regretted not
having been bred up as a shoe-maker, or having learnt in my youth
some other useful handicraft, for gladly would I follow it now.
Such, at least, would procure me the respect of my fellow-creatures
inasmuch as they needed me; but now all avoid me and look upon me
with contempt; for what have I to offer in this place that any one
cares about? Books in Seville! where no one reads, or at least
nothing but new romances, translated from the French, and
obscenity. Books! Would I were a Gypsy and could trim donkeys,
for then I were at least independent and were more respected than I
am at present.

Myself.--Of what kind of books does your stock in trade consist?

Dionysius.--Of those not likely to suit the Seville market, Kyrie;
books of sterling and intrinsic value; many of them in ancient
Greek, which I picked up upon the dissolution of the convents, when
the contents of the libraries were hurled into the courtyards, and
there sold by the arrobe. I thought at first that I was about to
make a fortune, and in fact my books would be so in any other
place; but here I have offered an Elzevir for half a dollar in
vain. I should starve were it not for the strangers who
occasionally purchase of me.

Myself.--Seville is a large cathedral city, abounding with priests
and canons; surely one of these occasionally visit you to make
purchases of classic works, and books connected with ecclesiastical
literature.

Dionysius.--If you think so, Kyrie, you know little respecting the
ecclesiastics of Seville. I am acquainted with many of them, and
can assure you that a tribe of beings can scarcely be found with a
more confirmed aversion to intellectual pursuits of every kind.
Their reading is confined to newspapers, which they take up in the
hope of seeing that their friend Don Carlos is at length reinstated
at Madrid; but they prefer their chocolate and biscuits, and nap
before dinner, to the wisdom of Plato and the eloquence of Tully.
They occasionally visit me, but it is only to pass away a heavy
hour in chattering nonsense. Once on a time, three of them came,
in the hope of making me a convert to their Latin superstition.
"Signior Donatio," said they, (for so they called me,) "how is it
that an unprejudiced person like yourself, a man really with some
pretension to knowledge, can still cling to this absurd religion of
yours? Surely, after having resided so many years in a civilised
country like this of Spain, it is high time to abandon your half-
pagan form of worship, and to enter the bosom of the church; now
pray be advised, and you shall be none the worse for it." "Thank
you, gentlemen," I replied, "for the interest you take in my
welfare; I am always open to conviction; let us proceed to discuss
the subject. What are the points of my religion which do not meet
your approbation? You are of course well acquainted with all our
dogmas and ceremonies." "We know nothing about your religion,
Signior Donatio, save that it is a very absurd one, and therefore
it is incumbent upon you, as an unprejudiced and well-informed man,
to renounce it." "But, gentlemen, if you know nothing of my
religion, why call it absurd? Surely it is not the part of
unprejudiced people to disparage that of which they are ignorant."
"But, Signior Donatio, it is not the Catholic Apostolic Roman
religion, is it?" "It may be, gentlemen, for what you appear to
know of it; for your information, however, I will tell you that it
is not; it is the Greek Apostolic religion. I do not call it
catholic, for it is absurd to call that catholic which is not
universally acknowledged." "But, Signior Donatio, does not the
matter speak for itself? What can a set of ignorant Greek
barbarians know about religion? If they set aside the authority of
Rome, whence should they derive any rational ideas of religion?
whence should they get the gospel?" "The Gospel, gentlemen? Allow
me to show you a book, here it is, what is your opinion of it?"
"Signior Donatio, what does this mean? What characters of the
devil are these, are they Moorish? Who is able to understand
them?" "I suppose your worships, being Roman priests, know
something of Latin; if you inspect the title-page to the bottom,
you will find, in the language of your own church, the Gospel of
our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ,' in the original Greek, of which
your vulgate is merely a translation, and not a very correct one.
With respect to the barbarism of Greece, it appears that you are
not aware that Athens was a city, and a famed one, centuries before
the first mud cabin of Rome was thatched, and the Gypsy vagabonds
who first peopled it, had escaped from the hands of justice."
"Signior Donatio, you are an ignorant heretic, and insolent withal,
WHAT NONSENSE IS THIS! . . . ." But I will not weary your ears,
Kyrie, with all the absurdities which the poor Latin Papas poured
into mine; the burden of their song being invariably, WHAT NONSENSE
IS THIS! which was certainly applicable enough to what they
themselves were saying. Seeing, however, that I was more than
their match in religious controversy, they fell foul of my country.
"Spain is a better country than Greece," said one. "You never
tasted bread before you came to Spain," cried another. "And little
enough since," thought I. "You never before saw such a city as
Seville," said the third. But then ensued the best part of the
comedy: my visitors chanced to be natives of three different
places; one was of Seville, another of Utrera, and the third of
Miguel Turra, a miserable village in La Mancha. At the mention of
Seville, the other two instantly began to sing the praises of their
respective places of birth; this brought on comparisons, and a
violent dispute was the consequence. Much abuse passed between
them, whilst I stood by, shrugged my shoulders, and said tipotas.
{21} At last, as they were leaving the house, I said, "Who would
have thought, gentlemen, that the polemics of the Greek and Latin
churches were so closely connected with the comparative merits of
Seville, Utrera, and Miguel Turra?"

Myself.--Is the spirit of proselytism very prevalent here? Of what
description of people do their converts generally consist?

Dionysius.--I will tell you, Kyrie: the generality of their
converts consist of German or English Protestant adventurers, who
come here to settle, and in course of time take to themselves wives
from among the Spanish, prior to which it is necessary to become
members of the Latin church. A few are vagabond Jews, from
Gibraltar or Tangier, who have fled for their crimes into Spain,
and who renounce their faith to escape from starvation. These
gentry, however, it is necessary to pay, on which account the
priests procure for them padrinos or godfathers; these generally
consist of rich devotees over whom the priests have influence, and
who esteem it a glory and a meritorious act to assist in bringing
back lost souls to the church. The neophyte allows himself to be
convinced on the promise of a peseta a day, which is generally paid
by the godfathers for the first year, but seldom for a longer
period. About forty years ago, however, they made a somewhat
notable convert. A civil war arose in Morocco, caused by the
separate pretensions of two brothers to the throne. One of these
being worsted, fled over to Spain, imploring the protection of
Charles the Fourth. He soon became an object of particular
attention to the priests, who were not slow in converting him, and
induced Charles to settle upon him a pension of a dollar per day.
He died some few years since in Seville, a despised vagabond. He
left behind him a son, who is at present a notary, and outwardly
very devout, but a greater hypocrite and picaroon does not exist.
I would you could see his face, Kyrie, it is that of Judas
Iscariot. I think you would say so, for you are a physiognomist.
He lives next door to me, and notwithstanding his pretensions to
religion, is permitted to remain in a state of great poverty.

And now nothing farther for the present about Dionysius.

About the middle of July our work was concluded at Seville, and for
the very efficient reason, that I had no more Testaments to sell;
somewhat more than two hundred having been circulated since my
arrival.

About ten days before the time of which I am speaking, I was
visited by various alguazils, accompanied by a kind of headborough,
who made a small seizure of Testaments and Gypsy Gospels, which
happened to be lying about. This visit was far from being
disagreeable to me, as I considered it to be a very satisfactory
proof of the effect of our exertions in Seville. I cannot help
here relating an anecdote--A day or two subsequent, having occasion
to call at the house of the headborough respecting my passport, I
found him lying on his bed, for it was the hour of siesta, reading
intently one of the Testaments which he had taken away, all of
which, if he had obeyed his orders, would have been deposited in
the office of the civil governor. So intently, indeed, was he
engaged in reading, that he did not at first observe my entrance;
when he did, however, he sprang up in great confusion, and locked
the book up in his cabinet, whereupon I smiled, and told him to be
under no alarm, as I was glad to see him so usefully employed.
Recovering himself, he said that he had read the book nearly
through, and that he had found no harm in it, but, on the contrary,
everything to praise. Adding, he believed that the clergy must be
possessed with devils (endemoniados) to persecute it in the manner
they did.

It was Sunday when the seizure was made, and I happened to be
reading the Liturgy. One of the alguazils, when going away, made
an observation respecting the very different manner in which the
Protestants and Catholics keep the Sabbath; the former being in
their own houses reading good books, and the latter abroad in the
bull-ring, seeing the wild bulls tear out the gory bowels of the
poor horses. The bull amphitheatre at Seville is the finest in all
Spain, and is invariably on a Sunday (the only day on which it is
open) filled with applauding multitudes.

I now made preparations for leaving Seville for a few months, my
destination being the coast of Barbary. Antonio, who did not wish
to leave Spain, in which were his wife and children, returned to
Madrid, rejoicing in a handsome gratuity with which I presented
him. As it was my intention to return to Seville, I left my house
and horses in charge of a friend in whom I could confide, and
departed. The reasons which induced me to visit Barbary will be
seen in the following chapters.

CHAPTER L

Night on the Guadalquivir--Gospel Light--Bonanza--Strand of San
Lucar--Andalusian Scenery--History of a Chest--Cosas de los
Ingleses--The Two Gypsies--The Driver--The Red Nightcap--The Steam
Boat--Christian Language.

On the night of the 31st of July I departed from Seville upon my
expendition, going on board one of the steamers which ply on the
Guadalquivir between Seville and Cadiz.

It was my intention to stop at San Lucar, for the purpose of
recovering the chest of Testaments which had been placed in embargo
there, until such time as they could be removed from the kingdom of
Spain. These Testaments I intended for distribution amongst the
Christians whom I hoped to meet on the shores of Barbary. San
Lucar is about fifteen leagues distant from Seville, at the
entrance of the bay of Cadiz, where the yellow waters of the
Guadalquivir unite with the brine. The steamer shot from the
little quay, or wharf, at about half-past nine, and then arose a
loud cry,--it was the voices of those on board and on shore wishing
farewell to their friends. Amongst the tumult I thought I could
distinguish the accents of some friends of my own who had
accompanied me to the bank, and I instantly raised my own voice
louder than all. The night was very dark, so much so, indeed, that
as we passed along we could scarcely distinguish the trees which
cover the eastern shore of the river until it takes its first turn.
A calmazo had reigned during the day at Seville, by which is meant,
exceedingly sultry weather, unenlivened by the slightest breeze.
The night likewise was calm and sultry. As I had frequently made
the voyage of the Guadalquivir, ascending and descending this
celebrated river, I felt nothing of that restlessness and curiosity
which people experience in a strange place, whether in light or
darkness, and being acquainted with none of the other passengers,
who were talking on the deck, I thought my best plan would be to
retire to the cabin and enjoy some rest, if possible. The cabin
was solitary and tolerably cool, all its windows on either side
being open for the admission of air. Flinging myself on one of the
cushioned benches, I was soon asleep, in which state I continued
for about two hours, when I was aroused by the curious biting of a
thousand bugs, which compelled me to seek the deck, where, wrapping
myself in my cloak, I again fell asleep. It was near daybreak when
I awoke; we were then about two leagues from San Lucar. I arose
and looked towards the east, watching the gradual progress of dawn,
first the dull light, then the streak, then the tinge, then the
bright flush, till at last the golden disk of that orb which giveth
day emerged from the abyss of immensity, and in a moment the whole
prospect was covered with brightness and glory. The land smiled,
the waters sparkled, the birds sang, and men arose from their
resting places and rejoiced: for it was day, and the sun was gone
forth on the errand of its Creator, the diffusion of light and
gladness, and the dispelling of darkness and sorrow.

"Behold the morning sun
Begins his glorious way;
His beams through all the nations run,
And life and light convey.

"But where the Gospel comes,
It spreads diviner light;
It calls dead sinners from their tombs,
And gives the blind their sight."

We now stopped before Bonanza: this is properly speaking the port
of San Lucar, although it is half a league distant from the latter
place. It is called Bonanza on account of its good anchorage, and
its being secured from the boisterous winds of the ocean; its
literal meaning is "fair weather." It consists of several large
white buildings, principally government store-houses, and is
inhabited by the coast-guard, dependents on the custom-house, and a
few fishermen. A boat came off to receive those passengers whose
destination was San Lucar, and to bring on board about half a dozen
who were bound for Cadiz: I entered with the rest. A young
Spaniard of very diminutive stature addressed some questions to me
in French as to what I thought of the scenery and climate of
Andalusia. I replied that I admired both, which evidently gave him
great pleasure. The boatman now came demanding two reals for
conveying me on shore. I had no small money, and offered him a
dollar to change. He said that it was impossible. I asked him
what was to be done; whereupon he replied uncivilly that he knew
not, but could not lose time, and expected to be paid instantly.
The young Spaniard, observing my embarrassment, took out two reals
and paid the fellow. I thanked him heartily for this act of
civility, for which I felt really grateful; as there are few
situations more unpleasant than to be in a crowd in want of change,
whilst you are importuned by people for payment. A loose character
once told me that it was far preferable to be without money at all,
as you then knew what course to take. I subsequently met the young
Spaniard at Cadiz, and repaid him with thanks.

A few cabriolets were waiting near the wharf, in order to convey us
to San Lucar. I ascended one, and we proceeded slowly along the
Playa or strand. This place is famous in the ancient novels of
Spain, of that class called Picaresque, or those devoted to the
adventures of notorious scoundrels, the father of which, as also of
all others of the same kind, in whatever language, is Lazarillo de
Tormes. Cervantes himself has immortalized this strand in the most
amusing of his smaller tales, La Ilustre Fregona. In a word, the
strand of San Lucar in ancient times, if not in modern, was a
rendezvous for ruffians, contrabandistas, and vagabonds of every,
description, who nested there in wooden sheds, which have now
vanished. San Lucar itself was always noted for the thievish
propensities of its inhabitants--the worst in all Andalusia. The
roguish innkeeper in Don Quixote perfected his education at San
Lucar. All these recollections crowded into my mind as we
proceeded along the strand, which was beautifully gilded by the
Andalusian sun. We at last arrived nearly opposite to San Lucar,
which stands at some distance from the water side. Here a lively
spectacle presented itself to us: the shore was covered with a
multitude of females either dressing or undressing themselves,
while (I speak within bounds) hundreds were in the water sporting
and playing; some were close by the beach, stretched at their full
length on the sand and pebbles, allowing the little billows to dash
over their heads and bosoms; whilst others were swimming boldly out
into the firth. There was a confused hubbub of female cries, thin
shrieks and shrill laughter; couplets likewise were being sung, on
what subject it is easy to guess, for we were in sunny Andalusia,
and what can its black-eyed daughters think, speak, or sing of but
amor, amor, which now sounded from the land and the waters.
Farther on along the beach we perceived likewise a crowd of men
bathing; we passed not by them, but turned to the left up an alley
or avenue which leads to San Lucar, and which may be a quarter of a
mile long. The view from hence was truly magnificent; before us
lay the town, occupying the side and top of a tolerably high hill,
extending from east to west. It appeared to be of considerable
size, and I was subsequently informed that it contained at least
twenty thousand inhabitants. Several immense edifices and walls
towered up in a style of grandeur, which can be but feebly
described by words; but the principal object was an ancient castle
towards the left. The houses were all white, and would have shone
brilliantly in the sun had it been higher, but at this early hour
they lay comparatively in shade. The tout ensemble was very
Moorish and oriental, and indeed in ancient times San Lucar was a
celebrated stronghold of the Moors, and next to Almeria, the most
frequented of their commercial places in Spain. Everything,
indeed, in these parts of Andalusia, is perfectly oriental. Behold
the heavens, as cloudless and as brightly azure as those of Ind;
the fiery sun which tans the fairest cheek in a moment, and which
fills the air with flickering flame; and O, remark the scenery and
the vegetable productions. The alley up which we were moving was
planted on each side with that remarkable tree or plant, for I know
not which to call it, the giant aloe, which is called in Spanish,
pita, and in Moorish, gursean. It rises here to a height almost as
magnificent as on the African shore. Need I say that the stem,
which springs up from the middle of the bush of green blades, which
shoot out from the root on all sides, is as high as a palm-tree;
and need I say, that those blades, which are of an immense
thickness at the root, are at the tip sharper than the point of a
spear, and would inflict a terrible wound on any animal which might
inadvertently rush against them?

One of the first houses at San Lucar was the posada at which we
stopped. It confronted, with some others, the avenue up which we
had come. As it was still early, I betook myself to rest for a few
hours, at the end of which time I went out to visit Mr. Phillipi,
the British vice-consul, who was already acquainted with me by
name, as I had been recommended to him in a letter from a relation
of his at Seville. Mr. Phillipi was at home in his counting-house,
and received me with much kindness and civility. I told him the
motive of my visit to San Lucar, and requested his assistance
towards obtaining the books from the custom-house, in order to
transport them out of the country, as I was very well acquainted
with the difficulties which every one has to encounter in Spain,
who has any business to transact with the government authorities.
He assured me that he should be most happy to assist me, and
accordingly despatched with me to the custom-house his head clerk,
a person well known and much respected at San Lucar.

It may be as well here at once to give the history of these books,
which might otherwise tend to embarrass the narrative. They
consisted of a chest of Testaments in Spanish, and a small box of
Saint Luke's Gospel in the Gitano or language of the Spanish
Gypsies. I obtained them from the custom-house at San Lucar, with
a pass for that of Cadiz. At Cadiz I was occupied two days, and
also a person whom I employed, in going through all the
formalities, and in procuring the necessary papers. The expense
was great, as money was demanded at every step I had to take,
though I was simply complying in this instance with the orders of
the Spanish government in removing prohibited books from Spain.
The farce did not end until my arrival at Gibraltar, where I paid
the Spanish consul a dollar for certifying on the back of the pass,
which I had to return to Cadiz, that the books were arrived at the
former place. It is true that he never saw the books nor inquired
about them, but he received the money, for which he alone seemed to
be anxious.

Whilst at the custom-house of San Lucar I was asked one or two
questions respecting the books contained in the chests: this
afforded me some opportunity of speaking of the New Testaments and
the Bible Society. What I said excited attention, and presently
all the officers and dependents of the house, great and small, were
gathered around me, from the governor to the porter. As it was
necessary to open the boxes to inspect their contents, we all
proceeded to the courtyard, where, holding a Testament in my hand,
I recommended my discourse. I scarcely know what I said; for I was
much agitated, and hurried away by my feelings, when I bethought me
of the manner in which the word of God was persecuted in this
unhappy kingdom. My words evidently made impression, and to my
astonishment every person present pressed me for a copy. I sold
several within the walls of the custom-house. The object, however,
of most attention was the Gypsy Gospel, which was minutely examined
amidst smiles and exclamations of surprise; an individual every now
and then crying, "Cosas de los Ingleses." A bystander asked me
whether I could speak the Gitano language. I replied that I could
not only speak it, but write it, and instantly made a speech of
about five minutes in the Gypsy tongue, which I had no sooner
concluded than all clapped their hands and simultaneously shouted,
"Cosas de Ingalaterra," "Cosas de los Ingleses." I disposed of
several copies of the Gypsy Gospel likewise, and having now settled
the business which had brought me to the custom-house, I saluted my
new friends and departed with my books.

I now revisited Mr. Phillipi, who, upon learning that it was my
intention to proceed to Cadiz next morning by the steamer, which
would touch at Bonanza at four o'clock, despatched the chests and
my little luggage to the latter place, where he likewise advised me
to sleep, in order that I might be in readiness to embark at that
early hour. He then introduced me to his family, his wife an
English woman, and his daughter an amiable and beautiful girl of
about eighteen years of age, whom I had previously seen at Seville;
three or four other ladies from Seville were likewise there on a
visit, and for the purpose of sea-bathing. After a few words in
English between the lady of the house and myself, we all commenced
chatting in Spanish, which seemed to be the only language
understood or cared for by the rest of the company; indeed, who
would be so unreasonable as to expect Spanish females to speak any
language but their own, which, flexible and harmonious as it is,
(far more so I think than any other,) seemed at times quite
inadequate to express the wild sallies of their luxuriant
imagination. Two hours fled rapidly away in discourse, interrupted
occasionally by music and song, when I bade farewell to this
delightful society, and strolled out to view the town.