He answered that whoever told me he was a schoolmaster lied, for that he was a friar of the convent and nothing else."It is not then true," said I, "that all the convents have been broken up and the monks dismissed?" "Yes, yes," said he with a sigh, "it is true; it is but too true." He then was silent for a minute, and his better nature overcoming his angry feelings, he produced a snuffbox and offered it to me.The snuff-box is the olive-branch of the Portuguese, and he who wishes to be on good terms with them must never refuse to dip his finger and thumb into it when offered.I took therefore a huge pinch, though I detest the dust, and we were soon on the best possible terms.He was eager to obtain news, especially from Lisbon and Spain.I told him that the officers of the troops at Lisbon had, the day before I left that place, gone in a body to the queen and insisted upon her either receiving their swords or dismissing her ministers; whereupon he rubbed his hands and said that he was sure matters would not remain tranquil at Lisbon.On my saying, however, that I thought the affairs of Don Carlos were on the decline (this was shortly after the death of Zumalacarregui), he frowned, and cried that it could not possibly be, for that God was too just to suffer it.Ifelt for the poor man who had been driven out of his home in the noble convent close by, and from a state of affluence and comfort reduced in his old age to indigence and misery, for his present dwelling scarcely seemed to contain an article of furniture.I tried twice or thrice to induce him to converse about the school, but he either avoided the subject or said shortly that he knew nothing about it.On my leaving him, the boy came from his hiding-place and rejoined me; he said that he had hidden himself through fear of his master's knowing that he had brought me to him, for that he was unwilling that any stranger should know that he was a schoolmaster.
I asked the boy whether he or his parents were acquainted with the Scripture and ever read it; he did not, however, seem to understand me.I must here observe that the boy was fifteen years of age, that he was in many respects very intelligent, and had some knowledge of the Latin language; nevertheless he knew not the Scripture even by name, and I have no doubt, from what I subsequently observed, that at least two-thirds of his countrymen are on that important point no wiser than himself.
At the doors of village inns, at the hearths of the rustics, in the fields where they labour, at the stone fountains by the wayside where they water their cattle, I have questioned the lower class of the children of Portugal about the Scripture, the Bible, the Old and New Testament, and in no one instance have they known what I was alluding to, or could return me a rational answer, though on all other matters their replies were sensible enough; indeed, nothing surprised me more than the free and unembarrassed manner in which the Portuguese peasantry sustain a conversation, and the purity of the language in which they express their thoughts, and yet few of them can read or write; whereas the peasantry of England, whose education is in general much superior, are in their conversation coarse and dull almost to brutality, and absurdly ungrammatical in their language, though the English tongue is upon the whole more simple in its structure than the Portuguese.
On my return to Lisbon I found our friend -, who received me very kindly.The next ten days were exceedingly rainy, which prevented me from making any excursions into the country:
during this time I saw our friend frequently, and had long conversations with him concerning the best means of distributing the gospel.He thought we could do no better for the present than put part of our stock into the hands of the booksellers of Lisbon, and at the same time employ colporteurs to hawk the books about the streets, receiving a certain profit off every copy they sold.This plan was agreed upon and forthwith put in practice, and with some success.I had thought of sending colporteurs into the neighbouring villages, but to this our friend objected.He thought the attempt dangerous, as it was very possible that the rural priesthood, who still possessed much influence in their own districts, and who were for the most part decided enemies to the spread of the gospel, might cause the men employed to be assassinated or ill-treated.
I determined, however, ere leaving Portugal, to establish depots of Bibles in one or two of the provincial towns.Iwished to visit the Alemtejo, which I had heard was a very benighted region.The Alemtejo means the province beyond the Tagus.This province is not beautiful and picturesque, like most other parts of Portugal: there are few hills and mountains, the greater part consists of heaths broken by knolls, and gloomy dingles, and forests of stunted pine; these places are infested with banditti.The principal city is Evora, one of the most ancient in Portugal, and formerly the seat of a branch of the Inquisition, yet more cruel and baneful than the terrible one of Lisbon.Evora lies about sixty miles from Lisbon, and to Evora I determined on going with twenty Testaments and two Bibles.How I fared there will presently be seen.
