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.
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