The Bible In Spain; Or, The Journeys, Adventures, And Imprisonments Of An Englishman, In An Attempt To Circulate The Scriptures In The Peninsula
By GEORGE BORROW
AUTHOR'S PREFACE
It is very seldom that the preface of a work is read; indeed, of
late years, most books have been sent into the world without any.
I deem it, however, advisable to write a preface, and to this I
humbly call the attention of the courteous reader, as its perusal
will not a little tend to the proper understanding and appreciation
of these volumes.
The work now offered to the public, and which is styled The Bible
in Spain, consists of a narrative of what occurred to me during a
residence in that country, to which I was sent by the Bible
Society, as its agent for the purpose of printing and circulating
the Scriptures. It comprehends, however, certain journeys and
adventures in Portugal, and leaves me at last in "the land of the
Corahai," to which region, after having undergone considerable
buffeting in Spain, I found it expedient to retire for a season.
It is very probable that had I visited Spain from mere curiosity,
or with a view of passing a year or two agreeably, I should never
have attempted to give any detailed account of my proceedings, or
of what I heard and saw. I am no tourist, no writer of books of
travels; but I went there on a somewhat remarkable errand, which
necessarily led me into strange situations and positions, involved
me in difficulties and perplexities, and brought me into contact
with people of all descriptions and grades; so that, upon the
whole, I flatter myself that a narrative of such a pilgrimage may
not be wholly uninteresting to the public, more especially as the
subject is not trite; for though various books have been published
about Spain, I believe that the present is the only one in
existence which treats of missionary labour in that country.
Many things, it is true, will be found in the following volume
which have little connexion with religion or religious enterprise;
I offer, however, no apology for introducing them. I was, as I may
say, from first to last adrift in Spain, the land of old renown,
the land of wonder and mystery, with better opportunities of
becoming acquainted with its strange secrets and peculiarities than
perhaps ever yet were afforded to any individual, certainly to a
foreigner; and if in many instances I have introduced scenes and
characters perhaps unprecedented in a work of this description, I
have only to observe, that, during my sojourn in Spain, I was so
unavoidably mixed up with such, that I could scarcely have given a
faithful narrative of what befell me had I not brought them forward
in the manner which I have done.
It is worthy of remark that, called suddenly and unexpectedly "to
undertake the adventure of Spain," I was not altogether unprepared
for such an enterprise. In the daydreams of my boyhood, Spain
always bore a considerable share, and I took a particular interest
in her, without any presentiment that I should at a future time be
called upon to take a part, however humble, in her strange dramas;
which interest, at a very early period, led me to acquire her noble
language, and to make myself acquainted with her literature
(scarcely worthy of the language), her history and traditions; so
that when I entered Spain for the first time I felt more at home
than I should otherwise have done.
In Spain I passed five years, which, if not the most eventful,
were, I have no hesitation in saying, the most happy years of my
existence. Of Spain, at the present time, now that the daydream
has vanished, never, alas! to return, I entertain the warmest
admiration: she is the most magnificent country in the world,
probably the most fertile, and certainly with the finest climate.
Whether her children are worthy of their mother, is another
question, which I shall not attempt to answer; but content myself
with observing, that, amongst much that is lamentable and
reprehensible, I have found much that is noble and to be admired;
much stern heroic virtue; much savage and horrible crime; of low
vulgar vice very little, at least amongst the great body of the
Spanish nation, with which my mission lay; for it will be as well
here to observe, that I advance no claim to an intimate
acquaintance with the Spanish nobility, from whom I kept as remote
as circumstances would permit me; en revanche, however, I have had
the honour to live on familiar terms with the peasants, shepherds,
and muleteers of Spain, whose bread and bacalao I have eaten; who
always treated me with kindness and courtesy, and to whom I have
not unfrequently been indebted for shelter and protection.
"The generous bearing of Francisco Gonzales, and the high deeds of
Ruy Diaz the Cid, are still sung amongst the fastnesses of the
Sierra Morena." {0}
I believe that no stronger argument can be brought forward in proof
of the natural vigour and resources of Spain, and the sterling
character of her population, than the fact that, at the present
day, she is still a powerful and unexhausted country, and her
children still, to a certain extent, a high-minded and great
people. Yes, notwithstanding the misrule of the brutal and sensual
Austrian, the doting Bourbon, and, above all, the spiritual tyranny
of the court of Rome, Spain can still maintain her own, fight her
own combat, and Spaniards are not yet fanatic slaves and crouching
beggars. This is saying much, very much: she has undergone far
more than Naples had ever to bear, and yet the fate of Naples has
not been hers. There is still valour in Astruria; generosity in
Aragon; probity in Old Castile; and the peasant women of La Mancha
can still afford to place a silver fork and a snowy napkin beside
the plate of their guest.
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