My daughter was my companion, and had been studying Spanish to render me assistance. We travelled through France on our way to the north-east of Spain.
We halted at Lyons: in the neighbourhood of it persecution occurred in the second century; but unlike what obtained in Spain three hundred years ago, it was not the persecution of one class of Christians by another, but the persecution of the Church by a heathen world. We find embedded in the Ecclesiastical History by Eusebius a document giving an account of sufferings by believers at that time who were in the neighbourhood of Lyons. Vienne, with its glass houses and metal foundries, coalpits and smoke, is now passed by travellers, without any interest; but in the second century it took precedence of Lyons, and had a flourishing Church, a member of which—Blandina, a maiden slave—suffered death as the penalty of her faith. [315]
We tarried a night at Lyons, drove round the city, saw the cathedral and other buildings, and ascended a hill on which stands the church of Notre Dame de Fourvières, covered and crowded with ex-votive offerings, in return for miraculous cures by the Virgin. From the elevation views are caught of extensive scenery. Thence we proceeded to Arles, rich in Roman remains, including a magnificent amphitheatre. The cathedral of St. Trophimus said to have been one of St. Paul’s disciples, is an interesting specimen of twelfth or thirteenth century architecture. Thence we proceeded to Narbonne, a quaint old town, of importance in Roman times, with ramparts still of some interest, and quaint streets, through which we had an evening’s ramble. The cathedral of St. Just is an unfinished edifice of the thirteenth century, with some good tracery in the windows. The city is distant from the sea only about eight miles. Thence we proceeded to Perpignan, and, entering Spain, reached our destination at Figueras, where we were kindly welcomed by our friends, [316] who are engaged in evangelistic work amongst Roman Catholic Spaniards.
Figueras is a considerable town, which greatly interested us. It was the day before Good Friday that we arrived, and we were much amused by a number of boys with wooden mallets vehemently beating the pavement, which was explained to us as a custom indicative of hatred to the Jews for having crucified our Lord; what the Jews had to do with Figueras I could not make out. In the evening there was a procession through the streets of a truly magnificent description. It consisted of the gentry in the town, attired in antique Spanish costumes, and presented an imposing spectacle. Ladies personated the Virgin Mary and other Scripture characters, and numerous candles carried by attendants made a splendid illumination. On the following day, Good Friday, we had a drive into the country, where we saw and heard of what went on in the way of missionary work conducted by our zealous friends. In the evening we visited a neighbouring church which was illuminated, and crowded with people engaged in religious service. After this, we saw in the streets a long procession, including penitents, who were fettered with chains.
From Figueras we travelled to Barcelona, a city rich in commercial enterprise and wealth, the streets crowded with people and enlivened by carriages of grandees and wealthy merchants, as well as by vehicles employed in humble traffic. The cathedral is a noble edifice, in which we attended Divine worship on Easter Sunday. A priest with difficulty made his way through a densely-crowded congregation to the altar steps, where he knelt and prayed, and then mounted a temporary pulpit. As soon as he opened his lips, all eyes were turned towards him. His voice was marvellous and his attitudes were graceful; sometimes he was persuasive, then indignant, always earnest; women wept, tears ran down men’s cheeks. The sermon was on our Lord’s resurrection. He insisted on our duty to remember Christ—“the Way, the Truth, and the Life”; and he showed the effect of this on the hearts and lives of believers. He dwelt on the duty of repentance, and urged people to come to Christ. In a touching manner he referred to his own experience, and exhorted the congregation to believe, pray, and obey the Gospel; saying over and over again, “Haber fè, fè, fè”—“Have faith, faith, faith.”
I met with signs of Protestant work going on in Barcelona, and a gentleman residing there at the time, told me of what the British and Foreign Bible Society was doing in Spain. He gave it, as his opinion, that it exceeded other instrumentalities in the efficiency of its service. I find it stated by a Spanish author, that Barcelona abounds in mendicancy, and I have, as I write, a woodcut before me representing a pitiable crowd of beggars at one of the cathedral doors. [318]
Next to Barcelona, we visited Tarragona, travelling there by rail. Tarragona is situated on an eminence commanding a fine view of the Mediterranean, and I was much interested in the architecture of the cathedral, a building of the eleventh century, fully described by Street in his work on “The Gothic Architecture of Spain.”
Whilst tarrying at Tarragona, I made an excursion to Poblet, rarely visited by English, though frequented by French and German travellers. This place is distinguished by monastic remains of extraordinary magnificence. You wander amongst courts, cloisters, and dormitories, through stately halls, which once boasted of a magnificent library rich in MSS.; through a palace appropriated for the use of royal and noble visitants; and through a stately church with a nave of seven bays. The architectural grandeur of the whole is amazing; I was surprised to learn that it is so rarely seen by our countrymen. Kings and nobles were brought there for interment, and in that respect it vies with our Westminster Abbey. At Poblet shattered tombs may still be seen; and few, if any, but Spaniards of purest blood, were permitted to sleep within the monastic walls. A marble slab may be seen covering the remains of an Englishman, described in the Spanish guide book as “Felipe de, Marquése de Malbursi y de Cacharloch,” etc. Wharton was the English name of this well-known personage, who was made Knight of the Garter by James II. He had become a Roman Catholic, but his father was a distinguished English Nonconformist.
Our next destination was Valencia, to which city we travelled by rail, enchanted as we approached it, by beautiful scenery which one does not find abundant in Spain. Augustus Hare breaks out rather rapturously respecting his approach: “Day broke in time to show us the first vision of tall palms, with their feathery foliage, rising black against one of Tennyson’s ‘daffodil skies,’ which above, still deep blue, was filled with stars.” The groves and gardens appeared to me very beautiful; and the soil is so fertile, that lucerne is sown fifteen times in the course of a year. Valencia has battlemented walls; and its arched gate, the Puerta de Sarranos, reminds one of old English barbicans. It is an Oriental kind of place, and has charmingly arched entrances for light—agimes,—i.e., openings by which the sun enters. The city is full of memories, connected with the Cid, which I have not space to introduce; but I may mention that precursors of the Reformation entered the city in 1350,—under the name of Beghards, who figure rather prominently in the religious history of that period.
The Cathedral of Valencia is a noble edifice, and has one magnificent entrance of richly decorated Gothic. There is, in the Colegio del Patriarca, a ceremony every week on Friday, which attracts a number of people. It consists in letting down an altar piece by concealed machinery; and then, by withdrawing a curtain, there is disclosed a large picture of our Saviour on the Cross. Those who assemble to witness this ceremony, are required to appear in mourning. I explored the city from end to end, and found it by no means so uninteresting as some represent it.