The Bible in Spain: Or, the Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of an Englishman, in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the PeninsulaBorrow, George
Religion
The Bible in Spain: Or, the Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of an Englishman, in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the Peninsula
Borrow, George
Borrow, George, 1803-1881 -- Travel -- Spain; Spain -- Description and travel; Spain -- History -- 19th century
We entered a dark stone apartment, at one corner of which was a kind of
window occupied by a turning table, at which articles were received into
the convent or delivered out. He rang the bell, and, without saying a
word, retired, leaving me rather perplexed; but presently I heard, though
the speaker was invisible, a soft feminine voice demanding who I was, and
what I wanted. I replied that I was an Englishman travelling into Spain,
and that passing through Monte Moro I had ascended the hill for the
purpose of seeing the ruins. The voice then said, “I suppose you are a
military man going to fight against the king, like the rest of your
countrymen.” “No,” said I, “I am not a military man, but a Christian,
and I go not to shed blood but to endeavour to introduce the gospel of
Christ into a country where it is not known;” whereupon there was a
stifled titter. I then inquired if there were any copies of the Holy
Scriptures in the convent, but the friendly voice could give me no
information on that point, and I scarcely believe that its possessor
understood the purport of my question. It informed me, that the office
of lady abbess of the house was an annual one, and that every year there
was a fresh superior; on my inquiring whether the nuns did not frequently
find the time exceedingly heavy on their hands, it stated that, when they
had nothing better to do, they employed themselves in making cheesecakes,
which were disposed of in the neighbourhood. I thanked the voice for its
communications, and walked away. Whilst proceeding under the wall of the
house towards the south-west, I heard a fresh and louder tittering above
my head, and looking up, saw three or four windows crowded with dusky
faces, and black waving hair; these belonged to the nuns, anxious to
obtain a view of the stranger. After kissing my hand repeatedly, I moved
on, and soon arrived at the south-west end of this mountain of
curiosities. There I found the remains of a large building, which seemed
to have been originally erected in the shape of a cross. A tower at its
eastern entrance was still entire; the western side was quite in ruins,
and stood on the verge of the hill overlooking the valley, at the bottom
of which ran the stream I have spoken of on a former occasion.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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