Lodging at Madrid - My Hostess - British Ambassador -Mendizabal - Baltasar - Duties of a National - Young Blood -The Execution - Population of Madrid - The Higher Orders -The Lower Classes - The Bull-fighter - The Crabbed Gitano.
It was the commencement of February when I reached Madrid.After staying a few days at a posada, I removed to a lodging which I engaged at No.3, in the Calle de la Zarza, a dark dirty street, which, however, was close to the Puerta del Sol, the most central point of Madrid, into which four or five of the principal streets debouche, and which is, at all times of the year, the great place of assemblage for the idlers of the capital, poor or rich.
It was rather a singular house in which I had taken up my abode.I occupied the front part of the first floor; my apartments consisted of an immense parlour, and a small chamber on one side in which I slept; the parlour, notwithstanding its size, contained very little furniture: a few chairs, a table, and a species of sofa, constituted the whole.It was very cold and airy, owing to the draughts which poured in from three large windows, and from sundry doors.The mistress of the house, attended by her two daughters, ushered me in."Did you ever see a more magnificent apartment?" demanded the former;"is it not fit for a king's son? Last winter it was occupied by the great General Espartero."The hostess was an exceedingly fat woman, a native of Valladolid, in Old Castile."Have you any other family," Idemanded, "besides these daughters?" "Two sons," she replied;"one of them an officer in the army, father of this urchin,"pointing to a wicked but clever looking boy of about twelve, who at that moment bounded into the room; "the other is the most celebrated national in Madrid: he is a tailor by trade, and his name is Baltasar.He has much influence with the other nationals, on account of the liberality of his opinions, and a word from him is sufficient to bring them all out armed and furious to the Puerta del Sol.He is, however, at present confined to his bed, for he is very dissipated and fond of the company of bull-fighters and people still worse."As my principal motive for visiting the Spanish capital was the hope of obtaining permission from the government to print the New Testament in the Castilian language, for circulation in Spain, I lost no time, upon my arrival, in taking what I considered to be the necessary steps.
I was an entire stranger at Madrid, and bore no letters of introduction to any persons of influence, who might have assisted me in this undertaking, so that, notwithstanding Ientertained a hope of success, relying on the assistance of the Almighty, this hope was not at all times very vivid, but was frequently overcast with the clouds of despondency.
Mendizabal was at this time prime minister of Spain, and was considered as a man of almost unbounded power, in whose hands were placed the destinies of the country.I therefore considered that if I could by any means induce him to favour my views, I should have no reason to fear interruption from other quarters, and I determined upon applying to him.
Before talking this step, however, I deemed it advisable to wait upon Mr.Villiers, the British ambassador at Madrid;and with the freedom permitted to a British subject, to ask his advice in this affair.I was received with great kindness, and enjoyed a conversation with him on various subjects before Iintroduced the matter which I had most at heart.He said that if I wished for an interview with Mendizabal, he would endeavour to procure me one, but, at the same time, told me frankly that he could not hope that any good would arise from it, as he knew him to be violently prejudiced against the British and Foreign Bible Society, and was far more likely to discountenance than encourage any efforts which they might be disposed to make for introducing the Gospel into Spain.I, however, remained resolute in my desire to make the trial, and before I left him, obtained a letter of introduction to Mendizabal.
Early one morning I repaired to the palace, in a wing of which was the office of the Prime Minister; it was bitterly cold, and the Guadarama, of which there is a noble view from the palace-plain, was covered with snow.For at least three hours I remained shivering with cold in an ante-room, with several other aspirants for an interview with the man of power.
At last his private secretary made his appearance, and after putting various questions to the others, addressed himself to me, asking who I was and what I wanted.I told him that I was an Englishman, and the bearer of a letter from the British Minister."If you have no objection, I will myself deliver it to His Excellency," said he; whereupon I handed it to him and he withdrew.Several individuals were admitted before me; at last, however, my own turn came, and I was ushered into the presence of Mendizabal.
He stood behind a table covered with papers, on which his eyes were intently fixed.He took not the slightest notice when I entered, and I had leisure enough to survey him: he was a huge athletic man, somewhat taller than myself, who measure six feet two without my shoes; his complexion was florid, his features fine and regular, his nose quite aquiline, and his teeth splendidly white: though scarcely fifty years of age, his hair was remarkably grey; he was dressed in a rich morning gown, with a gold chain round his neck, and morocco slippers on his feet.
His secretary, a fine intellectual looking man, who, as Iwas subsequently informed, had acquired a name both in English and Spanish literature, stood at one end of the table with papers in his hands.
After I had been standing about a quarter of an hour, Mendizabal suddenly lifted up a pair of sharp eyes, and fixed them upon me with a peculiarly scrutinizing glance.
"I have seen a glance very similar to that amongst the Beni Israel," thought I to myself....