"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.
"I was informed that your lordship was desirous of seeing me, and on that account I have paid you this visit.""I did not send for you," said the Archbishop, suddenly raising his head with a startled look.
"Perhaps not: I was, however, given to understand that my presence would be agreeable; but as that does not seem to be the case, I will leave.""Since you are come, I am very glad to see you.""I am very glad to hear it," said I, reseating myself;"and since I am here, we may as well talk of an all-important matter, the circulation of the Scripture.Does your lordship see any way by which an end so desirable might be brought about?""No," said the Archbishop faintly.
"Does not your lordship think that a knowledge of the Scripture would work inestimable benefit in these realms?""I don't know."
"Is it probable that the government may be induced to consent to the circulation?""How should I know?" and the Archbishop looked me in the face.
I looked in the face of the Archbishop; there was an expression of helplessness in it, which almost amounted to dotage."Dear me," thought I, "whom have I come to on an errand like mine? Poor man, you are not fitted to play the part of Martin Luther, and least of all in Spain.I wonder why your friends selected you to be Archbishop of Toledo; they thought perhaps that you would do neither good nor harm, and made choice of you, as they sometimes do primates in my own country, for your incapacity.You do not seem very happy in your present situation; no very easy stall this of yours.You were more comfortable, I trow, when you were the poor Bishop of Mallorca; could enjoy your puchera then without fear that the salt would turn out sublimate.No fear then of being smothered in your bed.A siesta is a pleasant thing when one is not subject to be disturbed by `the sudden fear.' I wonder whether they have poisoned you already," I continued, half aloud, as Ikept my eyes fixed on his countenance, which methought was becoming ghastly.
"Did you speak, Don Jorge?" demanded the Archbishop.
"That is a fine brilliant on your lordship's hand," said I.
"You are fond of brilliants, Don Jorge," said the Archbishop, his features brightening up; "vaya! so am I; they are pretty things.Do you understand them?""I do," said I, "and I never saw a finer brilliant than your own, one excepted; it belonged to an acquaintance of mine, a Tartar Khan.He did not bear it on his finger, however; it stood in the frontlet of his horse, where it shone like a star.
He called it Daoud Scharr, which, being interpreted, meaneth LIGHT OF WAR.""Vaya!" said the Archbishop, "how very extra-ordinary; Iam glad you are fond of brilliants, Don Jorge.Speaking of horses, reminds me that I have frequently seen you on horseback.Vaya! how you ride; it is dangerous to be in your way.""Is your lordship fond of equestrian exercise?""By no means, Don Jorge; I do not like horses; it is not the practice of the church to ride on horseback.We prefer mules: they are the quieter animals; I fear horses, they kick so violently.""The kick of a horse is death," said I, "if it touches a vital part.I am not, however, of your lordship's opinion with respect to mules: a good ginete may retain his seat on a horse however vicious, but a mule - vaya! when a false mule TIRA PORDETRAS, I do not believe that the Father of the Church himself could keep the saddle a moment, however sharp his bit."As I was going away, I said, "And with respect to the Gospel, your lordship; what am I to understand?""NO SE," said the Archbishop, again bending his head towards the right shoulder, whilst his features resumed their former vacant expression.And thus terminated my interview with the Archbishop of Toledo.
"It appears to me," said I to Maria Diaz, on returning home; "it appears to me, Marequita mia, that if the Gospel in Spain is to wait for toleration until these liberal bishops and archbishops come forward boldly in its behalf, it will have to tarry a considerable time.""I am much of your worship's opinion," answered Maria; "a fine thing, truly, it would be to wait till they exerted themselves in its behalf.Ca! the idea makes me smile: was your worship ever innocent enough to suppose that they cared one tittle about the Gospel or its cause? Vaya! they are true priests, and had only self-interest in view in their advances to you.The Holy Father disowns them, and they would now fain, by awaking his fears and jealousy, bring him to some terms; but let him once acknowledge them and see whether they would admit you to their palaces or hold any intercourse with you: `Forth with the fellow,' they would say; `vaya! is he not a Lutheran?
Is he not an enemy to the Church? A LA HORCA, A LA HORCA!' Iknow this family better than you do, Don Jorge.""It is useless tarrying," said I; "nothing, however, can be done in Madrid.I cannot sell the work at the despacho, and I have just received intelligence that all the copies exposed for sale in the libraries in the different parts of Spain which I visited, have been sequestrated by order of the government.
