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CHAPTER XXXIV.
GLAD TIDINGS

It was with an expression of amusement and surprise on his heavy features that Mr. Passmore read a note inviting him to pass an evening at the house of Don Alcala de Aguilera, some little time after the events related in the preceding chapters. Peter Passmore turned the paper over with his thick, short fingers, and laughed aloud.

"I shall take care to fortify myself by a good dinner beforehand – ho! ho! ho! – lest the entertainment prove as unsubstantial as the Barmecide's feast!" said the manufacturer to himself. "But there is something extraordinary after all in this Spanish clerk or caballero. If he's mad, 'there's method in his madness,' as Walter Scott would have said. It was frantic folly to stand the onslaught of a bull to please some silly señorita; scarcely better to get thrown into prison for the sake of reading a book. I thought Aguilera insane when he went forward to meet a mob that looked ready to dash out the brains of any man who stood in their way; but somehow or other this Quixote has contrived to get through all his adventures with credit, if not always with success. He subdued all those blood-thirsty ruffians with a few sentences uttered in his sonorous Spanish, better than a squad of their alguazils could have done with bludgeons and pikes. And certainly the dwelling of this Aguilera looks more fit to lodge a grandee of Spain than a clerk of the firm of Passmore and Perkins. A man has not time to look about him as he would at an exhibition when a set of howling ragamuffins are battering the door, and he expects soon to have his throat cut with their horrid long knives, but it seemed to me as if the place in which I stood was a palace. It might not answer our notions of English comfort, for we Islanders like to have a roof over our sitting-rooms, and don't care for gardens in the middle of 'em; and I confess to preferring a well-stuffed arm-chair to the finest seat carved in marble. But it gave an idea of grandeur. Well, well, I should like to see more of this Spanish palace, and I will certainly accept the invitation of Don Alcala de Aguilera, even at the risk of coming in for another adventure."

So, on the appointed evening, Mr. Passmore, dressed more carefully than usual, but wearing with indifferent grace his gay neck-tie and tight-fitting gloves, made his appearance in the patio of the house in the Calle de San José. Aguilera received his guest with the refined courtesy natural to Spanish gentlemen, and introduced him to Donna Inez.

The patio was lighted up for the occasion, if not with the brilliancy which Teresa desired, yet sufficiently well to display the beauty of the delicate Moorish architecture, the graceful columns and horse-shoe arches, the exquisite carving, and the rich hues of flowers clustering around the fountain, no longer silent, nor bearing the marks of decay. Passmore looked around him with admiration, but with something of the feeling of the boor in the story who found that the stranger to whom he had shown scant courtesy was a prince in disguise. Aguilera making up accounts at the desk, and Aguilera doing the honours of his noble mansion, seemed to the manufacturer to be two different beings. Peter Passmore was not at his ease, and all the less so because of his imperfect knowledge of the language of his entertainers. His Spanish was seldom correct and never fluent, and the manufacturer was not devoid of that shyness which belongs to our national character, and which makes the Briton fear to compromise himself by committing some breach of etiquette in a foreign land, with whose customs he is but imperfectly acquainted. Passmore greatly missed his usual interpreter Lucius.

"I thought that I should have met Lepine here," Mr. Passmore observed to his host.

"I cannot imagine what detains my friend," said Alcala; "I have expected him here this last hour. Lepine never fails to keep an appointment."

"I never knew him late but once," observed Passmore, attempting to keep up conversation in his broken and most ungrammatical Spanish. "It was on the evening before you killed – I mean to say, when you were killed – no, that's not exactly the thing – I beg your pardon, señor, for bringing up so awkward a subject," stammered forth the clumsy Briton, seeing the cloud that for an instant passed over the bright happy face of Alcala's sister.

Diego now appeared with a tray covered with the fruits of Andalusia, and other elegant but inexpensive dainties. But Teresa would suffer no hands but her own to have the honour of bearing the goblet of gold, filled with the wine of Xeres. Proud as if she carried a monarch's orb and sceptre, the old retainer of the Aguileras brought in the family heirloom. Teresa was almost satisfied by the manufacturer's look of surprise, as, after taking a draught of the wine, he retained the goblet for some seconds in his hold, to examine before he returned it. Peter Passmore was more puzzled than ever by the late conduct of the possessor of such a magnificent piece of plate.

"Is that pure gold?" inquired Passmore, curiosity getting the better of politeness.

Alcala, by a slight movement of the head, gave an affirmative reply. Teresa was offended by the doubt implied by the question, and muttered to herself, "Does the Inglesito take it for a bit of his own worthless iron?"

"I suppose, Don Alcala de Aguilera," observed Passmore after a pause, "that you will scarcely care to take service again?" The question would, we may hope, have been more delicately put, but for the speaker's difficulty in expressing himself in Spanish.

This was too much for the endurance of Teresa; her indignation and disgust overcame even her sense of decorum.

"Take service!" she repeated, every wrinkle in her face appearing to quiver with passion; "is such a word spoken to the illustrious caballero, Don Alcala de Aguilera?"

Alcala quieted his retainer by a gesture of the hand; and then, turning to his late employer, thus calmly replied to his question, —

"I am assuredly going to take service, señor, but of a different kind from that to which you refer. I am preparing myself, with my friend's kind aid, for work in a sphere where I shall deem it an honour to hold the lowest place. I hope, ere long, to become a teacher where I have so lately become a learner, and to give myself to the ministry of the gospel in my native Andalusia."

Passmore but half understood the reply of the Spaniard, but he asked for no explanation of what might have been almost equally incomprehensible to the worldly man had it been spoken in English.

Lucius Lepine, breathless with the speed at which he had come, at this instant burst into the patio. The eagerness of his manner, the animation of his look, showed him to be the bearer of tidings, and at once riveted on the young Englishman the attention of all.

"Pardon me, señorita, – and you, Alcala," gasped forth the guest who had so unceremoniously rushed into the court; "I have earned forgiveness for my delay for the sake of the news which I bring. Prim is in Spain – "

Diego could not suppress a triumphant viva.

"He has met with the evangelist Cabrera at the town of Algeciras – "

With intense interest Alcala bent forward to listen, while the breathless narrator went on.

"Cabrera had an interview with the chief who is now the foremost man in the State – "

"What said the general?" asked Alcala, with mingled anxiety and hope.

"Prim said to Cabrera, 'Are you of those who were prosecuted by the late Government as being bad religionists?' – 'We are,' replied our noble evangelist. – 'Then I have to tell you,' said the chief, 'that you may enter Spain with your Bible under your arm.'"²⁴

There was a louder viva from Diego. But Alcala did not speak; he had sunk on his knees, and was breathing forth from the depths of his soul a thanksgiving for the glorious sun of life and light that was rising upon his beloved Spain.

CHAPTER XXXV.
FICTION AND TRUTH

Here closes my story, but not my work. The information which some writers might have put into a preface, I have purposely reserved, as the choicest part of my volume, for its conclusion.

I hope that A. L. O. E. may be pardoned for giving to the hero of her fiction the name actually borne by a noble Spanish evangelist now a standard-bearer of the gospel in Seville. Her tale has failed of its purpose if it has awakened no interest in the good work at this time going on in Seville, as well as in other cities of Spain. To give an idea of the nature and success of that work, and to place the true beside the fictitious Aguilera, she has but to transcribe from an "Occasional Paper," published in September 1873, by the Spanish Evangelical Mission.²⁵ This date is about five years later than that chosen for the preceding story, and belongs to a period when a fresh revolution had convulsed the country of Spain.

"Our missionary agents at Seville have been called to pass through a season of great anxiety and of considerable danger, in consequence of the insurrections which took place in June and July, and the subsequent siege of the city. Through the love and tender mercy of our Heavenly Father, our friends were preserved from all harm, as were also the churches, mission-houses, and schools."

An extract from a letter written by an English eye-witness of the alarming insurrection which took place in Seville in that eventful summer of 1873 then follows.

"A terrible scene took place. The people gathered in many thousands, and vociferously demanded the heads of the members of the Junta, who were at this moment prisoners in the Ayuntamiento. The Plaza Nueva, now Plaza de la Republica Federal, and the Plaza de San Francisco, were filled with people who savagely shouted, 'Que muera!' Several hundred volunteers had already formed a circle, expecting the prisoners to be shot. The governor tried in vain to appease the people, who, like so many hungry tigers, yelled for the lives of the unfortunate men. Then a heart-rending scene took place. The wives and children of the prisoners, pressing through the crowd, knelt in the midst of the circle, and begged the people to spare the lives of those who were so near and dear to them, the children imploring with tiny outstretched arms; but all in vain. 'Que muera!' (Let them die!) was the only response.

"Suddenly Aguilera, our evangelist, accompanied by a few friends, appeared on one of the balconies facing the Ayuntamiento, and gave a heart-stirring address to the people. He spoke so loudly that I could hear him distinctly on the other side of the Plaza. The crowd at first would not listen. Some said, 'He is a traitor!' others, 'He is a Protestant!' and many shouted, 'Shoot him!' But by degrees the shouts subsided, and the crowd soon became thoroughly moved by his earnest words, and broke forth into hearty cheers and cries of 'Let them live!' Thus did Señor Aguilera by his courageous conduct save the lives of the unhappy prisoners, who would otherwise have been sacrificed to the blood-thirsty mob."

In another letter,²⁶ written less than a month after the preceding, a Spanish missionary, the Rev. F. Palomares, gives details which can scarcely fail to interest those who care for the progress of our Lord's kingdom in Spain.

"The events at Seville during the last few days have been most serious. We passed three days of greater anguish than we had ever before experienced. A barricade was erected in front of the door of San Basilio Church,²⁷ and a cannon was placed by the volunteers in the door of the schoolroom. On seeing these preparations, I had the English flag, and that of the Red Cross or hospital flag, hoisted on the church. I invited the neighbours, without distinction of religion or politics, to contribute bandages, medicines, and other necessaries for the wounded. This they did most willingly. A committee was formed to assist me in conveying the wounded, not only to our own hospital, but also to those that were in the vicinity of the fighting. All this was done with great risk to our lives, but our Lord Jesus Christ was with us on all occasions. At the same time I occupied myself in gathering under the roof of San Basilio the women and children, the sick and aged. By this means consolation and shelter were offered to more than fifteen hundred persons during the three days of danger, who left us with expressions of gratitude."

A few more touches from the pen of an English missionary at Seville must be added to fill up the picture from real life now placed beside that which is the mere creation of fancy.

"Thanks be to the Keeper of Israel, and praises to His name, for His loving-kindness towards us in having kept us from all harm. The churches, houses, and schools connected with the Mission, although two of them are very near the scene of destruction, were not injured in the least. The June insurrection ended, comparatively speaking, pacifically; but that of July, I am sorry to say, was the cause of much bloodshed and loss of property. No one knows the precise number of the dead and wounded. The [Madrid] newspapers announce them to be about 800, but that is probably an exaggeration. The city had the appearance of a vast camp. Barricades were erected in all parts of it. On Sunday, July 27th, the Government troops could be seen advancing from the top of the Giralda. No one, excepting women and children, were allowed to leave the city.

"It was uncertain which part of the town the troops would attack, but the general opinion was they would attack the [Macarena] district in which San Basilio is situated; consequently many of the inhabitants of the adjacent quarters emigrated towards the cathedral and the river. I was at that time at San Basilio, making arrangements with Señor Palomares for the reception of the wounded. The church was filled with women and children, who were invited to take shelter under the English and Red Cross flags. I could not help remarking to Señor Palomares that God would probably bring good out of this evil, by causing some of those bigoted Roman Catholic families, who were now sheltering themselves under the roof of a Protestant church, to take refuge under the blessings of the gospel, and so save their souls from everlasting destruction.

"The bombardment commenced at half-past two on Monday, and continued till Wednesday, when the troops succeeded in taking possession of the city.

"Señor Palomares, myself, and several members of the Red Cross went out on Tuesday evening to bring in some wounded; but we could not get beyond the barricade of San José, for the balls still rushed by. It was a sad scene to behold. The whole neighbourhood had been saturated with petroleum, and the pillars of smoke and fire were terrible: I have never witnessed in my life such a scene before. The disasters of Bourbaki's army, of which I was an eye-witness, seem to me less than what I beheld during the three days of the bombardment of Seville.

"It is most astonishing and worth while mentioning that, whilst the houses to the right and left, before and behind, our (Garci Perez) school are more or less damaged, it should have escaped without even a ball-mark; and that, whilst houses only a few yards distant were burned, and a large cork manufactory not more than ten yards from it was almost totally destroyed, it should have escaped without injury.

"Our schools were only discontinued for a few days, and they are now as well attended as before. May the Lord have mercy on poor Spain, and cause the light of His gospel to shine in her midst!"

Let the reader of these pages breathe a fervent "amen" to this prayer; nor let him content himself with this sign of sympathy with those who maintain so holy a cause. Men and money are needed; the conflict is going on at this moment, the battle is not yet decided. Such Spaniards as Cabrera and Aguilera still contend in their nobler Plaza de Toros with fierce bigotry and superstition: a formidable enemy is before them; but their weapon is the Word of God, and English friends, faithful and firm, stand at their side. When in eternity the ancient martyrs and the modern spiritual heroes of Spain remember in the mansions of peace and bliss the struggle in which they once bore so noble a part, may my reader be able with humble joy to exclaim, "I was no idle spectator of the struggle! Such help as I could give I willingly gave, and I – even I – may now, while ascribing all glory to the God of hosts, join in the song of victory and the psalm of thanksgiving – for the triumphs of the Gospel in Spain!"

Another Occasional Paper, issued by the Spanish Church Mission whilst this volume was passing through the press, gives a cheering account of the progress of evangelical work in Seville. The number of children under religious tuition is a peculiarly encouraging feature of this work. Portions of Scripture, illuminated by English hands, are hung up not only in schools, but some of them in private houses, to the great annoyance of Romish priests. Though Spain is yet convulsed by civil war, and fierce bigotry has not ceased to oppose the truth, an Aguilera still holds his glorious post in Seville; and in the city where so many martyrs once died in flames kindled by the Inquisition, Spanish lips are now preaching the doctrine of justification by faith.