第199章

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 Ithought 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 Ihad 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.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 Isuppose 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 Ihad 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: "ANNEDOMINE 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.