I again walked out in the environs of the town.About half a mile from the southern wall is a stone fountain,where the muleteers and other people approaching the town are accustomed to water their cattle.I sat down by it,and there I remained about two hours,entering into discourse with every one who halted at the fountain;and I will here observe that during the time of my sojourn at Evora I repeated my visit every day,and remained there about the same time,and by following this plan I believe that I spoke to near two hundred of the children of Portugal upon matters connected with their eternal welfare.Of those whom I addressed I found very few had received any species of literary education;none of them had seen the Bible,and not more than half a dozen had the slightest knowledge of what the Holy Book consisted.I found that most of them were bigoted Romanists and Miguelites at heart.When they told me they were Christians,I denied the possibility of their being so,as they were ignorant of Christ and His commandments,and rested their hope of salvation in outward forms and superstitious observances which were the inventions of Satan,who wished to keep them in darkness in order that at last they might stumble into the pit which he had digged for them.I said repeatedly that the Pope whom they revered was a deceiver and the prime minister of Satan here on earth,and that the monks and friars,to whom they had been accustomed to confess themselves,and whose absence they so deplored,were his subordinate agents.When called upon for proofs,I invariably cited the ignorance of my hearers respecting the Scripture,and said that if their spiritual guides had been really ministers of Christ they would not have permitted their flocks to remain unacquainted with His word.Since this occasion Ihave been frequently surprised that I received no insult or ill-treatment from the people whose superstitions I was thus attacking,but I really experienced none;and am inclined to believe that the utter fearlessness which I displayed,trusting in the protection of the Almighty,may have been the cause.When threatened by danger the best policy is to fix your eye steadily upon it,and it will in general vanish like the morning mist before the sun;whereas if you quail before it,it becomes more imminent.I have fervent hope that the words which I uttered sunk deep into the hearts of some of my hearers,as I observed many of them depart musing and pensive.
I occasionally distributed tracts among them,for although they themselves were unable to turn them to much account,I thought that by their means they might become of service at some future time,and might fall into the hands of others to whom they might be instruments of regeneration;as many a book which is cast on the waters is wafted to some remote shore,and there proves a blessing and a comfort to millions who are ignorant from whence it came.
The next day,which was Friday,I called at the house of my friend Azveto;I did not find him there,but was directed to the Episcopal Palace,in an apartment of which I found him writing with another gentleman,to whom he introduced me.It was the Governor of Evora,who welcomed me with every mark of kindness and affability.After some discourse we went out together to examine an ancient edifice,which was reported to have served in ancient times as a temple to Diana.Part of it was evidently of Roman architecture,for there was no mistaking the beautiful light pillars which supported a dome,under which the sacrifices to the most captivating and poetical divinity of the heathen Theocracy had probably been made;but the original space between the pillars had been filled up with rubbish of a modern date,and the rest of the building was apparently of the architecture of the latter end of the middle ages.It is situated at one end of the building which was once the seat of the Inquisition,and I was informed that before the erection of the present See,it served as the residence of the Bishop.
Within the See,where the Governor now resides,is a superb library,occupying an immense vaulted room,like the aisle of a cathedral,and in a side apartment is a collection of pictures by Portuguese artists,chiefly portraits,amongst which is that of Don Sebastian.I hope it did not do him justice;for it represents him in the shape of an awkward lad,of about eighteen,with staring eyes and a bloated booby face,and wearing a ruff round a short apoplectic neck.
I was shown several beautifully illuminated missals and other manuscripts,but the one which most arrested my attention,Iscarcely need say why,bore the following title:-FORMA SIVE ORDINATIO CAPELLI ILLUSTRISSIMI ET XTIANISSIMI PRINCIPISHENRICI SEXTI REGIS ANGLIE ET FRANCIE AM DIU HIBERNIE DESCIPTASERENISSIO PRINCIPI ALFONSO REGI PORTUGALIE ILLUSTRI PER HUMILEMSERVITOREM SM WILLM SAV DECANUM CAPELLI SUPRADICTI.
It seemed a voice from the olden times of my dear native land.
This library and picture-gallery had been formed by one of the latter Bishops,a person of commendable learning and piety.
