The Churches Which I Allude To, Were
Those Of San Gines And Santo Cruz.
Now I humbly conceive that this
fact alone is more than equivalent to all the expense which the
Society
Had incurred in the efforts which it had been making to
introduce the Gospel into Spain; but be this as it may, I am
certain that it amply recompensed me for all the anxiety and
unhappiness which I had undergone. I now felt that whenever I
should be compelled to discontinue my labours in the Peninsula, I
should retire without the slightest murmur, my heart being filled
with gratitude to the Lord for having permitted me, useless vessel
as I was, to see at least some of the seed springing up, which
during two years I had been casting on the stony ground of the
interior of Spain.
When I recollected the difficulties which had encompassed our path,
I could sometimes hardly credit all that the Almighty had permitted
us to accomplish within the last year. A large edition of the New
Testament had been almost entirely disposed of in the very centre
of Spain, in spite of the opposition and the furious cry of the
sanguinary priesthood and the edicts of a deceitful government, and
a spirit of religious inquiry excited, which I had fervent hope
would sooner or later lead to blessed and most important results.
Till of late the name most abhorred and dreaded in these parts of
Spain, was that of Martin Luther, who was in general considered as
a species of demon, a cousin-german to Belial and Beelzebub, who,
under the guise of a man, wrote and preached blasphemy against the
Highest; yet, now strange to say, this once abominated personage
was spoken of with no slight degree of respect. People with Bibles
in their hands not unfrequently visited me, inquiring with much
earnestness, and with no slight degree of simplicity, for the
writings of the great Doctor Martin, whom, indeed, some supposed to
be still alive.
It will be as well here to observe, that of all the names connected
with the Reformation, that of Luther is the only one known in
Spain; and let me add, that no controversial writings but his are
likely to be esteemed as possessing the slightest weight or
authority, however great their intrinsic merit may be. The common
description of tracts, written with the view of exposing the errors
of popery, are therefore not calculated to prove of much benefit in
Spain, though it is probable that much good might be accomplished
by well-executed translations of judicious selections from the
works of Luther.
CHAPTER XLVIII
Projected Journey - A Scene of Blood - The Friar - Seville - Beauties
of Seville - Orange Trees and Flowers - Murillo - The Guardian Angel -
Dionysius - My Coadjutors - Demand for the Bible.
By the middle of April I had sold as many Testaments as I thought
Madrid would bear; I therefore called in my people, for I was
afraid to overstock the market, and to bring the book into contempt
by making it too common. I had, indeed, by this time, barely a
thousand copies remaining of the edition which I had printed two
years previously; and with respect to Bibles, every copy was by
this time disposed of, though there was still a great demand for
them, which, of course, I was unable to satisfy.
With the remaining copies of the Testament, I now determined to
betake myself to Seville, where little had hitherto been effected
in the way of circulation: my preparations were soon made. The
roads were at this time in a highly dangerous state, on which
account I thought to go along with a convoy, which was about to
start for Andalusia. Two days, however, before its departure,
understanding that the number of people who likewise proposed to
avail themselves of it was likely to be very great, and reflecting
on the slowness of this way of travelling, and moreover the insults
to which civilians were frequently subjected from the soldiers and
petty officers, I determined to risk the journey with the mail.
This resolutions I carried into effect. Antonio, whom I had
resolved to take with me, and my two horses, departed with the
convoy, whilst in a few days I followed with the mail courier. We
travelled all the way without the slightest accident, my usual
wonderful good fortune accompanying us. I might well call it
wonderful, for I was running into the den of the lion; the whole of
La Mancha, with the exception of a few fortified places, being once
more in the hands of Palillos and his banditti, who, whenever it
pleased them, stopped the courier, burnt the vehicle and letters,
murdered the paltry escort, and carried away any chance passenger
to the mountains, where an enormous ransom was demanded, the
alternative being four shots through the head, as the Spaniards
say.
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.
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