diff options
Diffstat (limited to '35676-0.txt')
| -rw-r--r-- | 35676-0.txt | 13914 |
1 files changed, 13914 insertions, 0 deletions
diff --git a/35676-0.txt b/35676-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..f66b3ea --- /dev/null +++ b/35676-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,13914 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, The Bible in Spain - Vol. 2 [of 2], by George +Borrow, Edited by Ulick Ralph Burke + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: The Bible in Spain - Vol. 2 [of 2] + + +Author: George Borrow + +Editor: Ulick Ralph Burke + +Editor: Herbert W. Greene + +Release Date: March 25, 2011 [eBook #35676] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: UTF-8 + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BIBLE IN SPAIN - VOL. 2 [OF +2]*** + + +Transcribed from the 1896 John Murray edition by David Price, email +ccx074@pglaf.org + + [Picture: Toledo] + + + + + + THE BIBLE IN SPAIN; + + + OR, THE JOURNEYS, ADVENTURES, AND + IMPRISONMENTS OF AN ENGLISHMAN + IN AN ATTEMPT TO CIRCULATE + THE SCRIPTURES IN + THE PENINSULA + + BY + GEORGE BORROW. + + * * * * * + + _A NEW EDITION_, _WITH NOTES AND A GLOSSARY_, + BY ULICK RALPH BURKE, M.A., + AUTHOR OF “A HISTORY OF SPAIN,” ETC. + + * * * * * + + _IN TWO VOLUMES_. + VOL. II. + + * * * * * + + WITH MAP AND ENGRAVINGS. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: + JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET. + 1896. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: + PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, + STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. + + + + +CONTENTS OF VOL. II. + + PAGE + CHAPTER XXIX. +Arrival at Padron—Projected Enterprise—The Alquilador—Breach 1 +of Promise—An Odd Companion—A Plain Story—Rugged Paths—The +Desertion—The Pony—A Dialogue—Unpleasant Situation—The +Estadea—Benighted—The Hut—The Traveller’s Pillow + CHAPTER XXX. +Autumnal Morning—The World’s End—Corcuvion—Duyo—The Cape—A 20 +Whale—The Outer Bay—The Arrest—The Fisher-Magistrate—Calros +Rey—Hard of Belief—Where is your Passport?—The Beach—A Mighty +Liberal—The Handmaid—The Grand Baintham—Eccentric +Book—Hospitality + CHAPTER XXXI. +Corunna—Crossing the Bay—Ferrol—The Dock-yard—Where are we 41 +now?—Greek Ambassador—Lantern-Light—The +Ravine—Viveiro—Evening—Marsh and Quagmire—Fair Words and Fair +Money—The Leathern Girth—Eyes of Lynx—The Knavish Guide + CHAPTER XXXII. +Martin of Rivadeo—The Factious Mare—Asturians—Luarca—The 57 +Seven Bellotas—Hermits—The Asturian’s Tale—Strange Guests—The +Big Servant—Batuschca + CHAPTER XXXIII. +Oviedo—The Ten Gentlemen—The Swiss again—Modest Request—The 70 +Robbers—Episcopal Benevolence—The Cathedral—Portrait of +Feijoo + CHAPTER XXXIV. +Departure from Oviedo—Villa Viciosa—The Young Man of the 82 +Inn—Antonio’s Tale—The General and his Family—Woful +Tidings—To-morrow we die—San Vicente—Santander—An +Harangue—Flinter the Irishman + CHAPTER XXXV. +Departure from Santander—The Night Alarm—The Black Pass 95 + CHAPTER XXXVI. +State of Affairs at Madrid—The New Ministry—Pope of Rome—The 99 +Bookseller of Toledo—Sword-blades—Houses of Toledo—The +Forlorn Gypsy—Proceedings at Madrid—Another Servant + CHAPTER XXXVII. +Euscarra—Basque not Irish—Sanscrit and Tartar Dialects—A 111 +Vowel Language—Popular Poetry—The Basques—Their +Persons—Basque Women + CHAPTER XXXVIII. +The Prohibition—Gospel Persecuted—Charge of Sorcery—Ofalia 121 + CHAPTER XXXIX. +The Two Gospels—The Alguazil—The Warrant—The Good Maria—The 127 +Arrest—Sent to Prison—Reflections—The Reception—The Prison +Room—Redress demanded + CHAPTER XL. +Ofalia—The Juez—Carcel de la Corte—Sunday in Prison—Robber 141 +Dress—Father and Son—Characteristic Behaviour—The +Frenchman—Prison Allowance—Valley of the Shadow—Pure +Castilian—Balseiro—The Cave—Robber Glory + CHAPTER XLI. +Maria Diaz—Priestly Vituperation—Antonio’s Visit—Antonio at 159 +Service—A Scene—Benedict Mol—Wandering in Spain—The Four +Evangelien + CHAPTER XLII. +Liberation from Prison—The Apology—Human Nature—The Greek’s 169 +Return—Church of Rome—Light of Scripture—Archbishop of +Toledo—An Interview—Stones of Price—A Resolution—The Foreign +Language—Benedict’s Farewell—Treasure Hunt at +Compostella—Truth and Fiction + CHAPTER XLIII. +Villa Seca—Moorish House—The Puchera—The Rustic 185 +Council—Polite Ceremonial—The Flower of Spain—The Bridge of +Azeca—The Ruined Castle—Taking the Field—Demand for the +Word—The Old Peasant—The Curate and Blacksmith—Cheapness of +the Scriptures + CHAPTER XLIV. +Aranjuez—A Warning—A Night Adventure—A Fresh 202 +Expedition—Segovia—Abades—Factious Curas—Lopez in +Prison—Rescue of Lopez + CHAPTER XLV. +Return to Spain—Seville—A Hoary Persecutor—Manchegan 214 +Prophetess—Antonio’s Dream + CHAPTER XLVI. +Work of Distribution resumed—Adventure at Cobeña—Power of the 220 +Clergy—Rural Authorities—Fuente la Higuera—Victoriano’s +Mishap—Village Prison—The Rope—Antonio’s Errand—Antonio at +Mass + CHAPTER XLVII. +Termination of our Rural Labours—Alarm of the Clergy—A New 232 +Experiment—Success at Madrid—Goblin-Alguazil—Staff of +Office—The Corregidor—An Explanation—The Pope in England—New +Testament expounded—Works of Luther + CHAPTER XLVIII. +Projected Journey—A Scene of Blood—The Friar—Seville—Beauties 245 +of Seville—Orange Trees and Flowers—Murillo—The Guardian +Angel—Dionysius—My Coadjutors—Demand for the Bible + CHAPTER XLIX. +The Solitary House—The Dehesa—Johannes 258 +Chrysostom—Manuel—Bookselling at Seville—Dionysius and the +Priests—Athens and Rome—Proselytism—Seizure of +Testaments—Departure from Seville + CHAPTER L. +Night on the Guadalquivir—Gospel Light—Bonanza—Strand of San 271 +Lucar—Andalusian Scenery—History of a Chest—Cosas de los +Ingleses—The Two Gypsies—The Driver—The Red Nightcap—The +Steam-Boat—Christian Language + CHAPTER LI. +Cadiz—The Fortifications—The Consul-General—Characteristic 286 +Anecdote—Catalan Steamer—Trafalgar—Alonzo Guzman—Gibil +Muza—Orestes Frigate—The Hostile Lion—Works of the +Creator—Lizard of the Rock—The Concourse—Queen of the +Waters—Broken Prayer + CHAPTER LII. +The Jolly Hosteler—Aspirants for Glory—A 305 +Portrait—Hamáles—Solomons—An Expedition—The Yeoman +Soldier—The Excavations—The Pull by the Skirt—Judah and his +Father—Judah’s Pilgrimage—The Bushy Beard—The False +Moors—Judah and the King’s Son—Premature Old Age + CHAPTER LIII. +Genoese Mariners—Saint Michael’s Cave—Midnight Abysses—Young 326 +American—A Slave Proprietor—The Fairy Man—Infidelity + CHAPTER LIV. +Again on Board—The Strange Visage—The Haji—Setting Sail—The 335 +Two Jews—American Vessel—Tangier—Adun Oulem—The Struggle—The +Forbidden Thing + CHAPTER LV. +The Mole—The Two Moors—Djmah of Tangier—House of God—British 348 +Consul—Curious Spectacle—The Moorish House—Joanna Correa—Ave +Maria + CHAPTER LVI. +The Mahasni—Sin Samani—The Bazaar—Moorish Saints—See the 359 +Ayana!—The Prickly Fig—Jewish Graves—The Place of +Carcases—The Stable Boy—Horses of the Moslem—Dar-dwag + CHAPTER LVII. +Strange Trio—The Mulatto—The Peace-offering—Moors of 373 +Granada—Vive la Guadeloupe—The Moors—Pascual Fava—Blind +Algerine—The Retreat +GLOSSARY 385 + +LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS. + + VOL. II. +TOLEDO. _Etched by_ MANESSE _Frontispiece_ +SEGOVIA. _From a Sketch by_ A. H. HALLAM MURRAY _To face_ 210 + + _Engraved by_ MANESSE + +CHAPTER XXIX. + + +Arrival at Padron—Projected Enterprise—The Alquilador—Breach of +Promise—An Odd Companion—A Plain Story—Rugged Paths—The Desertion—The +Pony—A Dialogue—Unpleasant Situation—The Estadea—Benighted—The Hut—The +Traveller’s Pillow. + +I arrived at Padron late in the evening, on my return from Pontevedra and +Vigo. It was my intention at this place to send my servant and horses +forward to Santiago, and to hire a guide to Cape Finisterre. It would be +difficult to assign any plausible reason for the ardent desire which I +entertained to visit this place; but I remembered that last year I had +escaped almost by a miracle from shipwreck and death on the rocky sides +of this extreme point of the Old World, and I thought that to convey the +Gospel to a place so wild and remote might perhaps be considered an +acceptable pilgrimage in the eyes of my Maker. True it is that but one +copy remained of those which I had brought with me on this last journey; +but this reflection, far from discouraging me in my projected enterprise, +produced the contrary effect, as I called to mind that, ever since the +Lord revealed Himself to man, it has seemed good to Him to accomplish the +greatest ends by apparently the most insufficient means; and I reflected +that this one copy might serve as an instrument for more good than the +four thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine copies of the edition of +Madrid. + +I was aware that my own horses were quite incompetent to reach +Finisterre, as the roads or paths lie through stony ravines, and over +rough and shaggy hills, and therefore determined to leave them behind +with Antonio, whom I was unwilling to expose to the fatigues of such a +journey. I lost no time in sending for an _alquilador_, or person who +lets out horses, and informing him of my intention. He said he had an +excellent mountain pony at my disposal, and that he himself would +accompany me; but at the same time observed, that it was a terrible +journey for man and horse, and that he expected to be paid accordingly. +I consented to give him what he demanded, but on the express condition +that he would perform his promise of attending me himself, as I was +unwilling to trust myself four or five days amongst the hills with any +low fellow of the town whom he might select, and who it was very possible +might play me some evil turn. He replied by the term invariably used by +the Spaniards when they see doubt or distrust exhibited: “_No tenga usted +cuidado_, {2} I will go myself.” Having thus arranged the matter +perfectly satisfactorily, as I thought, I partook of a slight supper, and +shortly afterwards retired to repose. + +I had requested the _alquilador_ to call me the next morning at three +o’clock; he, however, did not make his appearance till five, having, I +suppose, overslept himself, which was indeed my own case. I arose in a +hurry, dressed, put a few things in a bag, not forgetting the Testament, +which I had resolved to present to the inhabitants of Finisterre. I then +sallied forth and saw my friend the _alquilador_, who was holding by the +bridle the pony or _jaca_ which was destined to carry me in my +expedition. It was a beautiful little animal, apparently strong and full +of life, without one single white hair in its whole body, which was black +as the plumage of the crow. + +Behind it stood a strange-looking figure of the biped species, to whom, +however, at the moment, I paid little attention, but of whom I shall have +plenty to say in the sequel. + +Having asked the horse-lender whether he was ready to proceed, and being +answered in the affirmative, I bade adieu to Antonio, and putting the +pony in motion, we hastened out of the town, taking at first the road +which leads towards Santiago. Observing that the figure which I have +previously alluded to was following close at our heels, I asked the +_alquilador_ who it was, and the reason of its following us; to which he +replied that it was a servant of his, who would proceed a little way with +us and then return. So on we went at a rapid rate, till we were within a +quarter of a mile of the Convent of the Esclavitud, a little beyond which +he had informed me that we should have to turn off from the high-road; +but here he suddenly stopped short, and in a moment we were all at a +standstill. I questioned the guide as to the reason of this, but +received no answer. The fellow’s eyes were directed to the ground, and +he seemed to be counting with the most intense solicitude the prints of +the hoofs of the oxen, mules, and horses in the dust of the road. I +repeated my demand in a louder voice; when, after a considerable pause, +he somewhat elevated his eyes, without, however, looking me in the face, +and said that he believed that I entertained the idea that he himself was +to guide me to Finisterre, which if I did, he was very sorry for, the +thing being quite impossible, as he was perfectly ignorant of the way, +and, moreover, incapable of performing such a journey over rough and +difficult ground, as he was no longer the man he had been; and, over and +above all that, he was engaged that day to accompany a gentleman to +Pontevedra, who was at that moment expecting him. “But,” continued he, +“as I am always desirous of behaving like a _caballero_ to everybody, I +have taken measures to prevent your being disappointed. This person,” +pointing to the figure, “I have engaged to accompany you. He is a most +trustworthy person, and is well acquainted with the route to Finisterre, +having been thither several times with this very _jaca_ on which you are +mounted. He will, besides, be an agreeable companion to you on the way, +as he speaks French and English very well, and has been all over the +world.” The fellow ceased speaking at last; and I was so struck with his +craft, impudence, and villany, that some time elapsed before I could find +an answer. I then reproached him in the bitterest terms for his breach +of promise, and said that I was much tempted to return to the town +instantly, complain of him to the _alcalde_, and have him punished at any +expense. To which he replied, “Sir Cavalier, by so doing you will be +nothing nearer Finisterre, to which you seem so eager to get. Take my +advice, spur on the _jaca_, for you see it is getting late, and it is +twelve long leagues from hence to Corcuvion, where you must pass the +night; and from thence to Finisterre is no trifle. As for the man, _no +tenga usted cuidado_, he is the best guide in Galicia, speaks English and +French, and will bear you pleasant company.” + +By this time I had reflected that by returning to Padron I should indeed +be only wasting time, and that by endeavouring to have the fellow +punished no benefit would accrue to me; moreover, as he seemed to be a +scoundrel in every sense of the word, I might as well proceed in the +company of any person as in his. I therefore signified my intention of +proceeding, and told him to go back, in the Lord’s name, and repent of +his sins. But having gained one point, he thought he had best attempt +another; so placing himself about a yard before the _jaca_, he said that +the price which I had agreed to pay him for the loan of his horse (which, +by-the-by, was the full sum he had demanded) was by no means sufficient, +and that before I proceeded I must promise him two dollars more, adding +that he was either drunk or mad when he had made such a bargain. I was +now thoroughly incensed, and without a moment’s reflection, spurred the +_jaca_, which flung him down in the dust, and passed over him. Looking +back at the distance of a hundred yards, I saw him standing in the same +place, his hat on the ground, gazing after us, and crossing himself most +devoutly. His servant, or whatever he was, far from offering any +assistance to his principal, no sooner saw the _jaca _in motion than he +ran on by its side, without word or comment, further than striking +himself lustily on the thigh with his right palm. We soon passed the +Esclavitud, and presently afterwards turned to the left into a stony +broken path leading to fields of maize. We passed by several +farm-houses, and at last arrived at a dingle, the sides of which were +plentifully overgrown with dwarf oaks, and which slanted down to a small +dark river shaded with trees, which we crossed by a rude bridge. By this +time I had had sufficient time to scan my odd companion from head to +foot. His utmost height, had he made the most of himself, might perhaps +have amounted to five feet one inch; but he seemed somewhat inclined to +stoop. Nature had gifted him with an immense head, and placed it clean +upon his shoulders, for amongst the items of his composition it did not +appear that a neck had been included. Arms long and brawny swung at his +sides, and the whole of his frame was as strong built and powerful as a +wrestler’s; his body was supported by a pair of short but very nimble +legs. His face was very long, and would have borne some slight +resemblance to a human countenance had the nose been more visible, for +its place seemed to have been entirely occupied by a wry mouth and large +staring eyes. His dress consisted of three articles: an old and tattered +hat of the Portuguese kind, broad at the crown and narrow at the eaves, +something which appeared to be a shirt, and dirty canvas trousers. +Willing to enter into conversation with him, and remembering that the +_alquilador_ had informed me that he spoke languages, I asked him, in +English, if he had always acted in the capacity of guide. Whereupon he +turned his eyes with a singular expression upon my face, gave a loud +laugh, a long leap, and clapped his hands thrice above his head. +Perceiving that he did not understand me, I repeated my demand in French, +and was again answered by the laugh, leap, and clapping. At last he +said, in broken Spanish, “Master mine, speak Spanish in God’s name, and I +can understand you, and still better if you speak Gallegan, but I can +promise no more. I heard what the _alquilador_ told you, but he is the +greatest _embustero_ in the whole land, and deceived you then as he did +when he promised to accompany you. I serve him for my sins; but it was +an evil hour when I left the deep sea and turned guide.” He then +informed me that he was a native of Padron, and a mariner by profession, +having spent the greater part of his life in the Spanish navy, in which +service he had visited Cuba and many parts of the Spanish Americas, +adding, “when my master told you that I should bear you pleasant company +by the way, it was the only word of truth that has come from his mouth +for a month; and long before you reach Finisterre you will have rejoiced +that the servant, and not the master, went with you: he is dull and +heavy, but I am what you see.” He then gave two or three first-rate +somersaults, again laughed loudly, and clapped his hands. “You would +scarcely think,” he continued, “that I drove that little pony yesterday, +heavily laden, all the way from Corunna. We arrived at Padron at two +o’clock this morning; but we are nevertheless both willing and able to +undertake a fresh journey. _No tenga usted cuidado_, as my master said, +no one ever complains of that pony or of me.” In this kind of discourse +we proceeded a considerable way through a very picturesque country, until +we reached a beautiful village at the skirt of a mountain. “This +village,” said my guide, “is called Los Angeles, because its church was +built long since by the angels; they placed a beam of gold beneath it, +which they brought down from heaven, and which was once a rafter of God’s +own house. It runs all the way under the ground from hence to the +cathedral of Compostella.” + +Passing through the village, which he likewise informed me possessed +baths, and was much visited by the people of Santiago, we shaped our +course to the north-west, and by so doing doubled a mountain which rose +majestically over our heads, its top crowned with bare and broken rocks, +whilst on our right, on the other side of a spacious valley, was a high +range connected with the mountains to the northward of Saint James. On +the summit of this range rose high embattled towers, which my guide +informed me were those of Altamira, an ancient and ruined castle, +formerly the principal residence in this province of the counts of that +name. Turning now due west, we were soon at the bottom of a steep and +rugged pass, which led to more elevated regions. The ascent cost us +nearly half an hour, and the difficulties of the ground were such that I +more than once congratulated myself on having left my own horses behind, +and being mounted on the gallant little pony, which, accustomed to such +paths, scrambled bravely forward, and eventually brought us in safety to +the top of the ascent. + +Here we entered a Gallegan cabin, or _choza_, for the purpose of +refreshing the animal and ourselves. The quadruped ate some maize, +whilst we two bipeds regaled ourselves on some _broa_ and _aguardiente_, +which a woman whom we found in the hut placed before us. I walked out +for a few minutes to observe the aspect of the country, and on my return +found my guide fast asleep on the bench where I had left him. He sat +bolt upright, his back supported against the wall, and his legs +pendulous, within three inches of the ground, being too short to reach +it. I remained gazing upon him for at least five minutes, whilst he +enjoyed slumbers seemingly as quiet and profound as those of death +itself. His face brought powerfully to my mind some of those uncouth +visages of saints and abbots which are occasionally seen in the niches of +the walls of ruined convents. There was not the slightest gleam of +vitality in his countenance, which for colour and rigidity might have +been of stone, and which was as rude and battered as one of the stone +heads at Icolmkill, which have braved the winds of twelve hundred years. +I continued gazing on his face till I became almost alarmed, concluding +that life might have departed from its harassed and fatigued tenement. +On my shaking him rather roughly by the shoulder he slowly awoke, opening +his eyes with a stare, and then closing them again. For a few moments he +was evidently unconscious of where he was. On my shouting to him, +however, and inquiring whether he intended to sleep all day, instead of +conducting me to Finisterre, he dropped upon his legs, snatched up his +hat, which lay on the table, and instantly ran out of the door, +exclaiming, “Yes, yes, I remember; follow me, captain, and I will lead +you to Finisterre in no time.” I looked after him, and perceived that he +was hurrying at a considerable pace in the direction in which we had +hitherto been proceeding. “Stop,” said I, “stop! will you leave me here +with the pony? Stop; we have not paid the reckoning. Stop!” He, +however, never turned his head for a moment, and in less than a minute +was out of sight. The pony, which was tied to a crib at one end of the +cabin, began now to neigh terrifically, to plunge, and to erect its tail +and mane in a most singular manner. It tore and strained at the halter +till I was apprehensive that strangulation would ensue. “Woman,” I +exclaimed, “where are you, and what is the meaning of all this?” But the +hostess had likewise disappeared, and though I ran about the _choza_, +shouting myself hoarse, no answer was returned. The pony still continued +to scream and to strain at the halter more violently than ever. “Am I +beset with lunatics?” I cried, and flinging down a _peseta_ on the table, +unloosed the halter, and attempted to introduce the bit into the mouth of +the animal. This, however, I found impossible to effect. Released from +the halter, the pony made at once for the door, in spite of all the +efforts which I could make to detain it. “If you abandon me,” said I, “I +am in a pretty situation; but there is a remedy for everything!” with +which words I sprang into the saddle, and in a moment more the creature +was bearing me at a rapid gallop in the direction, as I supposed, of +Finisterre. My position, however diverting to the reader, was rather +critical to myself. I was on the back of a spirited animal, over which I +had no control, dashing along a dangerous and unknown path. I could not +discover the slightest vestige of my guide, nor did I pass any one from +whom I could derive any information. Indeed, the speed of the animal was +so great, that even in the event of my meeting or overtaking a passenger, +I could scarcely have hoped to exchange a word with him. “Is the pony +trained to this work?” said I, mentally. “Is he carrying me to some den +of banditti, where my throat will be cut, or does he follow his master by +instinct?” Both of these suspicions I, however, soon abandoned. The +pony’s speed relaxed; he appeared to have lost the road. He looked about +uneasily: at last, coming to a sandy spot, he put his nostrils to the +ground, and then suddenly flung himself down, and wallowed in true pony +fashion. I was not hurt, and instantly made use of this opportunity to +slip the bit into his mouth, which previously had been dangling beneath +his neck; I then remounted in quest of the road. + +This I soon found, and continued my way for a considerable time. The +path lay over a moor, patched with heath and furze, and here and there +strewn with large stones, or rather rocks. The sun had risen high in the +firmament, and burned fiercely. I passed several people, men and women, +who gazed at me with surprise, wondering, probably, what a person of my +appearance could be about, without a guide, in so strange a place. I +inquired of two females whom I met whether they had seen my guide; but +they either did not or would not understand me, and, exchanging a few +words with each other in one of the hundred dialects of the Gallegan, +passed on. Having crossed the moor, I came rather abruptly upon a +convent, overhanging a deep ravine, at the bottom of which brawled a +rapid stream. + +It was a beautiful and picturesque spot: the sides of the ravine were +thickly clothed with wood, and on the other side a tall black hill +uplifted itself. The edifice was large, and apparently deserted. +Passing by it, I presently reached a small village, as deserted, to all +appearance, as the convent, for I saw not a single individual, nor so +much as a dog to welcome me with his bark. I proceeded, however, until I +reached a fountain, the waters of which gushed from a stone pillar into a +trough. Seated upon this last, his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon +the neighbouring mountain, I beheld a figure which still frequently +recurs to my thoughts, especially when asleep and oppressed by the +nightmare. This figure was my runaway guide. + +_Myself_.—Good day to you, my gentleman. The weather is hot, and yonder +water appears delicious. I am almost tempted to dismount and regale +myself with a slight draught. + +_Guide_.—Your worship can do no better. The day is, as you say, hot; you +can do no better than drink a little of this water. I have myself just +drunk. I would not, however, advise you to give that pony any; it +appears heated and blown. + +_Myself_.—It may well be so. I have been galloping at least two leagues +in pursuit of a fellow who engaged to guide me to Finisterre, but who +deserted me in a most singular manner; so much so, that I almost believe +him to be a thief, and no true man. You do not happen to have seen him? + +_Guide_.—What kind of a man might he be? + +_Myself_.—A short, thick fellow, very much like yourself, with a hump +upon his back, and, excuse me, of a very ill-favoured countenance. + +_Guide_.—Ha, ha! I know him. He ran with me to this fountain, where he +has just left me. That man, Sir Cavalier, is no thief. If he is +anything at all, he is a _Nuveiro_ {12}—a fellow who rides upon the +clouds, and is occasionally whisked away by a gust of wind. Should you +ever travel with that man again, never allow him more than one glass of +anise at a time, or he will infallibly mount into the clouds and leave +you, and then he will ride and run till he comes to a water-brook, or +knocks his head against a fountain—then one draught, and he is himself +again. So you are going to Finisterre, Sir Cavalier. Now it is singular +enough, that a cavalier much of your appearance engaged me to conduct him +there this morning; I, however, lost him on the way; so it appears to me +our best plan to travel together until you find your own guide and I find +my own master. + +It might be about two o’clock in the afternoon that we reached a long and +ruinous bridge, seemingly of great antiquity, and which, as I was +informed by my guide, was called the bridge of Don Alonzo. It crossed a +species of creek, or rather frith, for the sea was at no considerable +distance, and the small town of Noyo lay at our right. “When we have +crossed that bridge, captain,” said my guide, “we shall be in an unknown +country, for I have never been farther than Noyo, and as for Finisterre, +so far from having been there, I never heard of such a place; and though +I have inquired of two or three people since we have been upon this +expedition, they know as little about it as I do. Taking all things, +however, into consideration, it appears to me that the best thing we can +do is to push forward to Corcuvion, which is five mad leagues from hence, +and which we may perhaps reach ere nightfall, if we can find the way or +get any one to direct us; for, as I told you before, I know nothing about +it.” “To fine hands have I confided myself,” said I: “however, we had +best, as you say, push forward to Corcuvion, where, peradventure, we may +hear something of Finisterre, and find a guide to conduct us.” +Whereupon, with a hop, skip, and a jump, he again set forward at a rapid +pace, stopping occasionally at a _choza_, for the purpose, I suppose, of +making inquiries, though I understood scarcely anything of the jargon in +which he addressed the people, and in which they answered him. + +We were soon in an extremely wild and hilly country, scrambling up and +down ravines, wading brooks, and scratching our hands and faces with +brambles, on which grew a plentiful crop of wild mulberries, to gather +some of which we occasionally made a stop. Owing to the roughness of the +way, we made no great progress. The pony followed close at the back of +the guide, so near, indeed, that its nose almost touched his shoulder. +The country grew wilder and wilder, and, since we had passed a +water-mill, we had lost all trace of human habitation. The mill stood at +the bottom of a valley shaded by large trees, and its wheels were turning +with a dismal and monotonous noise. “Do you think we shall reach +Corcuvion tonight?” said I to the guide, as we emerged from this valley +to a savage moor, which appeared of almost boundless extent. + +_Guide_.—I do not, I do not. We shall in no manner reach Corcuvion +to-night, and I by no means like the appearance of this moor. The sun is +rapidly sinking, and then, if there come on a haze, we shall meet the +_Estadéa_. + +_Myself_.—What do you mean by the _Estadéa_? + +_Guide_.—What do I mean by the _Estadéa_? My master asks me what I mean +by the _Estadinha_. {14} I have met the _Estadinha_ but once, and it was +upon a moor something like this. I was in company with several women, +and a thick haze came on, and suddenly a thousand lights shone above our +heads in the haze, and there was a wild cry, and the women fell to the +ground screaming, ‘_Estadéa_! _Estadéa_!’ and I myself fell to the +ground crying out, ‘_Estadinha_!’ The _Estadéa_ are the spirits of the +dead which ride upon the haze, bearing candles in their hands. I tell +you frankly, my master, that if we meet the assembly of the souls, I +shall leave you at once, and then I shall run and run till I drown myself +in the sea, somewhere about Muros. We shall not reach Corcuvion this +night; my only hope is that we may find some _choza_ upon these moors, +where we may hide our heads from the _Estadinha_.” + +The night overtook us ere we had traversed the moor; there was, however, +no haze, to the great joy of my guide, and a corner of the moon partially +illumined our steps. Our situation, however, was dreary enough: we were +upon the wildest heath of the wildest province of Spain, ignorant of our +way, and directing our course we scarcely knew whither, for my guide +repeatedly declared to me that he did not believe that such a place as +Finisterre existed, or if it did exist, it was some bleak mountain +pointed out in a map. When I reflected on the character of this guide, I +derived but little comfort or encouragement: he was at best evidently +half-witted, and was by his own confession occasionally seized with +paroxysms which differed from madness in no essential respect; his wild +escapade in the morning of nearly three leagues, without any apparent +cause, and lastly his superstitious and frantic fears of meeting the +souls of the dead upon this heath, in which event he intended, as he +himself said, to desert me and make for the sea, operated rather +powerfully upon my nerves. I likewise considered that it was quite +possible that we might be in the route neither of Finisterre nor +Corcuvion, and I therefore determined to enter the first cabin at which +we should arrive, in preference to running the risk of breaking our necks +by tumbling down some pit or precipice. No cabin, however, appeared in +sight: the moor seemed interminable, and we wandered on until the moon +disappeared, and we were left in almost total darkness. + +At length we arrived at the foot of a steep ascent, up which a rough and +broken pathway appeared to lead. “Can this be our way?” said I to the +guide. + +“There appears to be no other for us, captain,” replied the man; “let us +ascend it by all means, and when we are at the top, if the sea be in the +neighbourhood we shall see it.” + +I then dismounted, for to ride up such a pass in such darkness would have +been madness. We clambered up in a line, first the guide, next the pony, +with his nose as usual on his master’s shoulder, of whom he seemed +passionately fond, and I bringing up the rear, with my left hand grasping +the animal’s tail. We had many a stumble, and more than one fall: once, +indeed, we were all rolling down the side of the hill together. In about +twenty minutes we reached the summit, and looked around us, but no sea +was visible: a black moor, indistinctly seen, seemed to spread on every +side. + +“We shall have to take up our quarters here till morning,” said I. + +Suddenly my guide seized me by the hand. “There is _lúme_, _senhor_,” +said he; “there is _lúme_.” I looked in the direction in which he +pointed, and after straining my eyes for some time, imagined that I +perceived, far below and at some distance, a faint glow. “That is +_lúme_,” shouted the guide, “and it proceeds from the chimney of a +_choza_.” + +On descending the eminence, we roamed about for a considerable time, +until we at last found ourselves in the midst of about six or eight black +huts. “Knock at the door of one of these,” said I to the guide, “and +inquire of the people whether they can shelter us for the night.” He did +so, and a man presently made his appearance, bearing in his hand a +lighted firebrand. + +“Can you shelter a _Cavalheiro_ from the night and the _Estadéa_?” said +my guide. + +“From both, I thank God,” said the man, who was an athletic figure, +without shoes and stockings, and who, upon the whole, put me much in mind +of a Munster peasant from the bogs. “Pray enter, gentlemen, we can +accommodate you both and your _cavalgadura_ besides.” + +We entered the _choza_, which consisted of three compartments; in the +first we found straw, in the second cattle and ponies, and in the third +the family, consisting of the father and mother of the man who admitted +us, and his wife and children. + +“You are a Catalan, sir Cavalier, and are going to your countrymen at +Corcuvion,” said the man in tolerable Spanish. “Ah, you are brave +people, you Catalans, and fine establishments you have on the Gallegan +shores; pity that you take all the money out of the country.” + +Now, under all circumstances, I had not the slightest objection to pass +for a Catalan; and I rather rejoiced that these wild people should +suppose that I had powerful friends and countrymen in the neighbourhood +who were, perhaps, expecting me. I therefore favoured their mistake, and +began with a harsh Catalan accent to talk of the fish of Galicia, and the +high duties on salt. The eye of my guide was upon me for an instant, +with a singular expression, half serious, half droll; he, however, said +nothing, but slapped his thigh as usual, and with a spring nearly touched +the roof of the cabin with his grotesque head. Upon inquiry, I +discovered that we were still two long leagues distant from Corcuvion, +and that the road lay over moor and hill, and was hard to find. Our host +now demanded whether we were hungry, and, upon being answered in the +affirmative, produced about a dozen eggs and some bacon. Whilst our +supper was cooking, a long conversation ensued between my guide and the +family, but as it was carried on in Gallegan, I tried in vain to +understand it. I believe, however, that it principally related to +witches and witchcraft, as the _Estadéa_ was frequently mentioned. After +supper I demanded where I could rest: whereupon the host pointed to a +trapdoor in the roof, saying that above there was a loft where I could +sleep by myself, and have clean straw. For curiosity’s sake, I asked +whether there was such a thing as a bed in the cabin. + +“No,” replied the man; “nor nearer than Corcuvion. I never entered one +in my life, nor any one of my family; we sleep around the hearth, or +among the straw with the cattle.” + +I was too old a traveller to complain, but forthwith ascended by a ladder +into a species of loft, tolerably large and nearly empty, where I placed +my cloak beneath my head, and lay down on the boards, which I preferred +to the straw, for more reasons than one. I heard the people below +talking in Gallegan for a considerable time, and could see the gleams of +the fire through the interstices of the floor. The voices, however, +gradually died away, the fire sank low and could no longer be +distinguished. I dozed, started, dozed again, and dropped finally into a +profound sleep, from which I was only roused by the crowing of the second +cock. + + + + +CHAPTER XXX. + + +Autumnal Morning—The World’s End—Corcuvion—Duyo—The Cape—A Whale—The +Outer Bay—The Arrest—The Fisher-Magistrate—Calros Rey—Hard of +Belief—Where is your Passport?—The Beach—A mighty Liberal—The +Handmaid—The Grand Baintham—Eccentric Book—Hospitality. + +It was a beautiful autumnal morning when we left the _choza_ and pursued +our way to Corcuvion. I satisfied our host by presenting him with a +couple of _pesetas_, and he requested as a favour, that if on our return +we passed that way, and were overtaken by the night, we would again take +up our abode beneath his roof. This I promised, at the same time +determining to do my best to guard against the contingency; as sleeping +in the loft of a Gallegan hut, though preferable to passing the night on +a moor or mountain, is anything but desirable. + +So we again started at a rapid pace along rough bridle-ways and +footpaths, amidst furze and brushwood. In about an hour we obtained a +view of the sea, and, directed by a lad whom we found on the moor +employed in tending a few miserable sheep, we bent our course to the +north-west, and at length reached the brow of an eminence, where we +stopped for some time to survey the prospect before us. + +It was not without reason that the Latins gave the name of _Finis terræ_ +to this district. We had arrived exactly at such a place as in my +boyhood I had pictured to myself as the termination of the world, beyond +which there was a wild sea, or abyss, or chaos. I now saw far before me +an immense ocean, and below me a long and irregular line of lofty and +precipitous coast. Certainly in the whole world there is no bolder coast +than the Gallegan shore, from the debouchement of the Minho to Cape +Finisterre. It consists of a granite wall of savage mountains, for the +most part serrated at the top, and occasionally broken, where bays and +firths like those of Vigo and Pontevedra intervene, running deep into the +land. These bays and firths are invariably of an immense depth, and +sufficiently capacious to shelter the navies of the proudest maritime +nations. + +There is an air of stern and savage grandeur in everything around, which +strongly captivates the imagination. This savage coast is the first +glimpse of Spain which the voyager from the north catches, or he who has +ploughed his way across the wide Atlantic: and well does it seem to +realize all his visions of this strange land. “Yes,” he exclaims, “this +is indeed Spain—stern, flinty Spain—land emblematic of those spirits to +which she has given birth. From what land but that before me could have +proceeded those portentous beings who astounded the Old World and filled +the New with horror and blood. Alva and Philip, Cortez and Pizarro—stern +colossal spectres looming through the gloom of bygone years, like yonder +granite mountains through the haze, upon the eye of the mariner. Yes, +yonder is indeed Spain; flinty, indomitable Spain; land emblematic of its +sons!” + +As for myself, when I viewed that wide ocean and its savage shore, I +cried, “Such is the grave, and such are its terrific sides; those moors +and wilds, over which I have passed, are the rough and dreary journey of +life. Cheered with hope, we struggle along through all the difficulties +of moor, bog, and mountain, to arrive at—what? The grave and its dreary +sides. Oh, may hope not desert us in the last hour—hope in the Redeemer +and in God!” + +We descended from the eminence, and again lost sight of the sea amidst +ravines and dingles, amongst which patches of pine were occasionally +seen. Continuing to descend, we at last came, not to the sea, but to the +extremity of a long narrow firth, where stood a village or hamlet; whilst +at a small distance, on the western side of the firth, appeared one +considerably larger, which was indeed almost entitled to the appellation +of town. This last was Corcuvion; the first, if I forget not, was called +Ria de Silla. We hastened on to Corcuvion, where I bade my guide make +inquiries respecting Finisterre. He entered the door of a wine-house, +from which proceeded much noise and vociferation, and presently returned, +informing me that the village of Finisterre was distant about a league +and a half. A man, evidently in a state of intoxication, followed him to +the door. “Are you bound for Finisterre, _Cavalheiros_?” he shouted. + +“Yes, my friend,” I replied, “we are going thither.” + +“Then you are going amongst a _fato de borrachos_,” {22} he answered. +“Take care that they do not play you a trick.” + +We passed on, and, striking across a sandy peninsula at the back of the +town, soon reached the shore of an immense bay, the north-westernmost end +of which was formed by the far-famed cape of Finisterre, which we now saw +before us stretching far into the sea. + +Along a beach of dazzling white sand we advanced towards the cape, the +bourne of our journey. The sun was shining brightly, and every object +was illumined by his beams. The sea lay before us like a vast mirror, +and the waves which broke upon the shore were so tiny as scarcely to +produce a murmur. On we sped along the deep winding bay, overhung by +gigantic hills and mountains. Strange recollections began to throng upon +my mind. It was upon this beach that, according to the tradition of all +ancient Christendom, Saint James, the patron saint of Spain, preached the +Gospel to the heathen Spaniards. Upon this beach had once stood an +immense commercial city, the proudest in all Spain. This now desolate +bay had once resounded with the voices of myriads, when the keels and +commerce of all the then known world were wafted to Duyo. {23} + +“What is the name of this village?” said I to a woman, as we passed by +five or six ruinous houses at the bend of the bay, ere we entered upon +the peninsula of Finisterre. + +“This is no village,” said the Gallegan, “this is no village, Sir +Cavalier; this is a city, this is Duyo.” + +So much for the glory of the world! These huts were all that the roaring +sea and the tooth of time had left of Duyo, the great city! Onward now +to Finisterre. + +It was mid-day when we reached the village of Finisterre, consisting of +about one hundred houses, and built on the southern side of the +peninsula, just before it rises into the huge bluff head which is called +the Cape. We sought in vain for an inn or _venta_, where we might stable +our beast; at one moment we thought that we had found one, and had even +tied the animal to the manger. Upon our going out, however, he was +instantly untied and driven forth into the street. The few people whom +we saw appeared to gaze upon us in a singular manner. We, however, took +little notice of these circumstances, and proceeded along the straggling +street until we found shelter in the house of a Castilian shopkeeper, +whom some chance had brought to this corner of Galicia—this end of the +world. Our first care was to feed the animal, who now began to exhibit +considerable symptoms of fatigue. We then requested some refreshment for +ourselves; and in about an hour, a tolerably savoury fish, weighing about +three pounds, and fresh from the bay, was prepared for us by an old woman +who appeared to officiate as housekeeper. Having finished our meal, I +and my uncouth companion went forth, and prepared to ascend the mountain. + +We stopped to examine a small dismantled fort or battery facing the bay, +and, whilst engaged in this examination, it more than once occurred to me +that we were ourselves the objects of scrutiny and investigation; indeed, +I caught a glimpse of more than one countenance peering upon us through +the holes and chasms of the walls. We now commenced ascending +Finisterre; and, making numerous and long _détours_, we wound our way up +its flinty sides. The sun had reached the top of heaven, whence he +showered upon us perpendicularly his brightest and fiercest rays. My +boots were torn, my feet cut, and the perspiration streamed from my brow. +To my guide, however, the ascent appeared to be neither toilsome nor +difficult. The heat of the day for him had no terrors, no moisture was +wrung from his tanned countenance; he drew not one short breath; and +hopped upon the stones and rocks with all the provoking agility of a +mountain goat. Before we had accomplished one-half of the ascent, I felt +myself quite exhausted. I reeled and staggered. “Cheer up, master mine; +be of good cheer, and have no care,” said the guide. “Yonder I see a +wall of stones; lie down beneath it in the shade.” He put his long and +strong arm round my waist, and, though his stature compared with mine was +that of a dwarf, he supported me as if I had been a child to a rude wall +which seemed to traverse the greater part of the hill, and served +probably as a kind of boundary. It was difficult to find a shady spot: +at last he perceived a small chasm, perhaps scooped by some shepherd as a +couch in which to enjoy his _siesta_. In this he laid me gently down, +and, taking off his enormous hat, commenced fanning me with great +assiduity. By degrees I revived, and, after having rested for a +considerable time, I again attempted the ascent, which, with the +assistance of my guide, I at length accomplished. + +We were now standing at a great altitude between two bays, the wilderness +of waters before us. Of all the ten thousand barks which annually plough +those seas in sight of that old cape, not one was to be descried. It was +a blue shiny waste, broken by no object save the black head of a +spermaceti whale, which would occasionally show itself at the top, +casting up thin jets of brine. The principal bay, that of Finisterre, as +far as the entrance, was beautifully variegated by an immense shoal of +_sardinhas_, on whose extreme skirts the monster was probably feasting. +From the other side of the cape we looked down upon a smaller bay, the +shore of which was overhung by rocks of various and grotesque shapes; +this is called the outer bay, or, in the language of the country, _Praia +do mar de fora_: {26} a fearful place in seasons of wind and tempest, +when the long swell of the Atlantic pouring in is broken into surf and +foam by the sunken rocks with which it abounds. Even on the calmest day +there is a rumbling and a hollow roar in that bay which fill the heart +with uneasy sensations. + +On all sides there was grandeur and sublimity. After gazing from the +summit of the cape for nearly an hour, we descended. + +On reaching the house where we had taken up our temporary habitation, we +perceived that the portal was occupied by several men, some of whom were +reclining on the floor drinking wine out of small earthen pans, which are +much used in this part of Galicia. With a civil salutation I passed on, +and ascended the staircase to the room in which we had taken our repast. +Here there was a rude and dirty bed, on which I flung myself, exhausted +with fatigue. I determined to take a little repose, and in the evening +to call the people of the place together, to read a few chapters of the +Scripture, and then to address them with a little Christian exhortation. +I was soon asleep, but my slumbers were by no means tranquil. I thought +I was surrounded with difficulties of various kinds, amongst rocks and +ravines, vainly endeavouring to extricate myself; uncouth visages showed +themselves amidst the trees and in the hollows, thrusting out cloven +tongues, and uttering angry cries. I looked around for my guide, but +could not find him; methought, however, that I heard his voice down a +deep dingle. He appeared to be talking of me. How long I might have +continued in these wild dreams I know not. I was suddenly, however, +seized roughly by the shoulder, and nearly dragged from the bed. I +looked up in amazement, and by the light of the descending sun I beheld +hanging over me a wild and uncouth figure; it was that of an elderly man, +built as strong as a giant, with much beard and whisker, and huge bushy +eyebrows, dressed in the habiliments of a fisherman; in his hand was a +rusty musket. + +_Myself_.—Who are you, and what do you want? + +_Figure_.—Who I am matters but little. Get up and follow me; it is you I +want. + +_Myself_.—By what authority do you thus presume to interfere with me? + +_Figure_.—By the authority of the _justicia_ of Finisterre. Follow me +peaceably, Calros, or it will be the worse for you. + +“Calros,” said I, “what does the person mean?” I thought it, however, +most prudent to obey his command, and followed him down the staircase. +The shop and the portal were now thronged with the inhabitants of +Finisterre, men, women, and children; the latter for the most part in a +state of nudity, and with bodies wet and dripping, having been probably +summoned in haste from their gambols in the brine. Through this crowd +the figure whom I have attempted to describe pushed his way with an air +of authority. + +On arriving in the street, he laid his heavy hand upon my arm, not +roughly, however. “It is Calros! it is Calros!” said a hundred voices; +“he has come to Finisterre at last, and the _justicia_ have now got hold +of him.” Wondering what all this could mean, I attended my strange +conductor down the street. As we proceeded, the crowd increased every +moment, following and vociferating. Even the sick were brought to the +doors to obtain a view of what was going forward, and a glance at the +redoubtable Calros. I was particularly struck by the eagerness displayed +by one man, a cripple, who, in spite of the entreaties of his wife, mixed +with the crowd, and having lost his crutch, hopped forward on one leg, +exclaiming, “_Carracho_! _tambien voy yo_!” {28} + +We at last reached a house of rather larger size than the rest; my guide, +having led me into a long low room, placed me in the middle of the floor, +and then hurrying to the door, he endeavoured to repulse the crowd who +strove to enter with us. This he effected, though not without +considerable difficulty, being once or twice compelled to have recourse +to the butt of his musket to drive back unauthorized intruders. I now +looked round the room. It was rather scantily furnished: I could see +nothing but some tubs and barrels, the mast of a boat, and a sail or two. +Seated upon the tubs were three or four men coarsely dressed, like +fishermen or shipwrights. The principal personage was a surly +ill-tempered looking fellow of about thirty-five, whom eventually I +discovered to be the _alcalde_ of Finisterre, and lord of the house in +which we now were. In a corner I caught a glimpse of my guide, who was +evidently in durance, two stout fishermen standing before him, one with a +musket and the other with a boat-hook. After I had looked about me for a +minute, the _alcalde_, giving his whiskers a twist, thus addressed me:— + +“Who are you, where is your passport, and what brings you to Finisterre?” + +_Myself_.—I am an Englishman. Here is my passport, and I came to see +Finisterre. + +This reply seemed to discomfit them for a moment. They looked at each +other, then at my passport. At length the _alcalde_, striking it with +his finger, bellowed forth: + +“This is no Spanish passport; it appears to be written in French.” + +_Myself_.—I have already told you that I am a foreigner. I of course +carry a foreign passport. + +_Alcalde_.—Then you mean to assert that you are not _Calros Rey_. + +_Myself_.—I never heard before of such a king, nor indeed of such a name. + +_Alcalde_.—Hark to the fellow! he has the audacity to say that he has +never heard of Calros the pretender, who calls himself king. + +_Myself_.—If you mean by Calros, the pretender Don Carlos, all I can +reply is, that you can scarcely be serious. You might as well assert +that yonder poor fellow, my guide, whom I see you have made prisoner, is +his nephew, the _Infante_ Don Sebastian. {29} + +_Alcalde_.—See, you have betrayed yourself; that is the very person we +suppose him to be. + +_Myself_.—It is true that they are both hunchbacks. But how can I be +like Don Carlos? I have nothing the appearance of a Spaniard, and am +nearly a foot taller than the pretender. + +_Alcalde_.—That makes no difference; you of course carry many waistcoats +about you, by means of which you disguise yourself, and appear tall or +low according to your pleasure. + +This last was so conclusive an argument that I had of course nothing to +reply to it. The _alcalde_ looked around him in triumph, as if he had +made some notable discovery. “Yes, it is Calros; it is Calros,” said the +crowd at the door. “It will be as well to have these men shot +instantly,” continued the _alcalde_; “if they are not the two pretenders, +they are at any rate two of the factious.” + +“I am by no means certain that they are either one or the other,” said a +gruff voice. + +The _justicia_ of Finisterre turned their eyes in the direction from +which these words proceeded, and so did I. Our glances rested upon the +figure who held watch at the door. He had planted the barrel of his +musket on the floor, and was now leaning his chin against the butt. + +“I am by no means certain that they are either one or the other,” +repeated he, advancing forward. “I have been examining this man,” +pointing to myself, “and listening whilst he spoke, and it appears to me +that after all he may prove an Englishman; he has their very look and +voice. Who knows the English better than Antonio de la Trava, and who +has a better right? Has he not sailed in their ships; has he not eaten +their biscuit; and did he not stand by Nelson when he was shot dead?” + +Here the _alcalde_ became violently incensed. “He is no more an +Englishman than yourself,” he exclaimed; “if he were an Englishman would +he have come in this manner, skulking across the land? Not so, I trow. +He would have come in a ship, recommended to some of us, or to the +Catalans. He would have come to trade—to buy; but nobody knows him in +Finisterre, nor does he know anybody, and the first thing, moreover, that +he does when he reaches this place is to inspect the fort, and to ascend +the mountain, where, no doubt, he has been marking out a camp. What +brings him to Finisterre, if he is neither Calros nor a _bribon_ of a +_faccioso_?” + +I felt that there was a good deal of justice in some of these remarks, +and I was aware, for the first time, that I had indeed committed a great +imprudence in coming to this wild place, and among these barbarous +people, without being able to assign any motive which could appear at all +valid in their eyes. I endeavoured to convince the _alcalde_ that I had +come across the country for the purpose of making myself acquainted with +the many remarkable objects which it contained, and of obtaining +information respecting the character and condition of the inhabitants. +He could understand no such motives. “What did you ascend the mountain +for?” “To see prospects.” “_Disparate_! I have lived at Finisterre +forty years, and never ascended that mountain. I would not do it in a +day like this for two ounces of gold. You went to take altitudes, and to +mark out a camp.” I had, however, a staunch friend in old Antonio, who +insisted, from his knowledge of the English, that all I said might very +possibly be true. “The English,” said he, “have more money than they +know what to do with, and on that account they wander all over the world, +paying dearly for what no other people care a groat for.” He then +proceeded, notwithstanding the frowns of the _alcalde_, to examine me in +the English language. His own entire knowledge of this tongue was +confined to two words—_knife_ and _fork_, which words I rendered into +Spanish by their equivalents, and was forthwith pronounced an Englishman +by the old fellow, who, brandishing his musket, exclaimed:— + +“This man is not Calros; he is what he declares himself to be, an +Englishman, and whosoever seeks to injure him shall have to do with +Antonio de la Trava, _el valiente de Finisterra_.” No person sought to +impugn this verdict, and it was at length determined that I should be +sent to Corcuvion, to be examined by the _alcalde mayor_ of the district. +“But,” said the _alcalde_ of Finisterre, “what is to be done with the +other fellow? He at least is no Englishman. Bring him forward, and let +us hear what he has to say for himself. Now, fellow, who are you, and +what is your master?” + +_Guide_.—I am Sebastianillo, a poor broken mariner of Padron, and my +master for the present is the gentleman whom you see, the most valiant +and wealthy of all the English. He has two ships at Vigo laden with +riches. I told you so when you first seized me up there in our _posada_. + +_Alcalde_.—Where is your passport? + +_Guide_.—I have no passport. Who would think of bringing a passport to +such a place as this, where I don’t suppose there are two individuals who +can read? I have no passport; my master’s passport of course includes +me. + +_Alcalde_.—It does not. And since you have no passport, and have +confessed that your name is Sebastian, you shall be shot. Antonio de la +Trava, do you and the musketeers lead this Sebastianillo forth, and shoot +him before the door. + +_Antonio de la Trava_.—With much pleasure, _Señor Alcalde_, since you +order it. With respect to this fellow, I shall not trouble myself to +interfere. He at least is no Englishman. He has more the look of a +wizard or _nuveiro_; one of those devils who raise storms and sink +launches. Moreover, he says he is from Padron, and those of that place +are all thieves and drunkards. They once played me a trick, and I would +gladly be at the shooting of the whole _pueblo_. + +I now interfered, and said that if they shot the guide they must shoot me +too; expatiating at the same time on the cruelty and barbarity of taking +away the life of a poor unfortunate fellow who, as might be seen at the +first glance, was only half-witted; adding, moreover, that if any person +was guilty in this case it was myself, as the other could only be +considered in the light of a servant acting under my orders. + +“The safest plan, after all,” said the _alcalde_, “appears to be to send +you both prisoners to Corcuvion, where the head _alcalde_ can dispose of +you as he thinks proper. You must, however, pay for your escort; for it +is not to be supposed that the housekeepers of Finisterre have nothing +else to do than to ramble about the country with every chance fellow who +finds his way to this town.” “As for that matter,” said Antonio, “I will +take charge of them both. I am the _valiente_ of Finisterre, and fear no +two men living. Moreover, I am sure that the captain here will make it +worth my while, else he is no Englishman. Therefore let us be quick, and +set out for Corcuvion at once, as it is getting late. First of all, +however, captain, I must search you and your baggage. You have no arms, +of course? But it is best to make all sure.” + +Long ere it was dark I found myself again on the pony, in company with my +guide, wending our way along the beach in the direction of Corcuvion. +Antonio de la Trava tramped heavily on before, his musket on his +shoulder. + +_Myself_.—Are you not afraid, Antonio, to be thus alone with two +prisoners, one of whom is on horseback? If we were to try, I think we +could overpower you. + +_Antonio de la Trava_.—I am the _valiente de Finisterra_, and I fear no +odds. + +_Myself_.—Why do you call yourself the _valiente_ of Finisterre? + +_Antonio de la Trava_.—The whole district call me so. When the French +came to Finisterre and demolished the fort, three perished by my hand. I +stood on the mountain, up where I saw you scrambling to-day. I continued +firing at the enemy, until three detached themselves in pursuit of me. +The fools! two perished amongst the rocks by the fire of this musket, and +as for the third, I beat his head to pieces with the stock. It is on +that account that they call me the _valiente_ of Finisterre. + +_Myself_.—How came you to serve with the English fleet? I think I heard +you say that you were present when Nelson fell. + +_Antonio de la Trava_.—I was captured by your countrymen, captain; and as +I had been a sailor from my childhood, they were glad of my services. I +was nine months with them, and assisted at Trafalgar. I saw the English +admiral die. You have something of his face, and your voice, when you +spoke, sounded in my ears like his own. I love the English, and on that +account I saved you. Think not that I would toil along these sands with +you if you were one of my own countrymen. Here we are at Duyo, captain. +Shall we refresh? + +We did refresh, or rather Antonio de la Trava refreshed, swallowing pan +after pan of wine, with a thirst which seemed unquenchable. “That man +was a greater wizard than myself,” whispered Sebastian, my guide, “who +told us that the drunkards of Finisterre would play us a trick.” At +length the old hero of the Cape slowly rose, saying that we must hasten +on to Corcuvion, or the night would overtake us by the way. + +“What kind of person is the _alcalde_ to whom you are conducting me?” +said I. + +“Oh, very different from him of Finisterre,” replied Antonio. “This is a +young _Señorito_, lately arrived from Madrid. He is not even a Gallegan. +He is a mighty liberal, and it is owing chiefly to his orders that we +have lately been so much on the alert. It is said that the Carlists are +meditating a descent on these parts of Galicia. Let them only come to +Finisterre; we are liberals there to a man, and the old _valiente_ is +ready to play the same part as in the time of the French. But, as I was +telling you before, the _alcalde_ to whom I am conducting you is a young +man, and very learned, and, if he thinks proper, he can speak English to +you, even better than myself, notwithstanding I was a friend of Nelson, +and fought by his side at Trafalgar.” + +It was dark night before we reached Corcuvion. Antonio again stopped to +refresh at a wine-shop, after which he conducted us to the house of the +_alcalde_. His steps were by this time not particularly steady, and on +arriving at the gate of the house, he stumbled over the threshold and +fell. He got up with an oath, and instantly commenced thundering at the +door with the stock of his musket. “Who is it?” at length demanded a +soft female voice in Gallegan. “The _valiente_ of Finisterre,” replied +Antonio; whereupon the gate was unlocked, and we beheld before us a very +pretty female with a candle in her hand. “What brings you here so late, +Antonio?” she inquired. “I bring two prisoners, _mi pulida_,” replied +Antonio. “_Ave Maria_!” she exclaimed. “I hope they will do no harm.” +“I will answer for one,” replied the old man; “but as for the other, he +is a _nuveiro_, and has sunk more ships than all his brethren in Galicia. +But be not afraid, my beauty,” he continued, as the female made the sign +of the cross: “first lock the gate, and then show me the way to the +_alcalde_. I have much to tell him.” The gate was locked, and bidding +us stay below in the court-yard, Antonio followed the young woman up a +stone stair, whilst we remained in darkness below. + +After the lapse of about a quarter of an hour we again saw the candle +gleam upon the staircase, and the young female appeared. Coming up to +me, she advanced the candle to my features, on which she gazed very +intently. After a long scrutiny she went to my guide, and having +surveyed him still more fixedly, she turned to me, and said, in her best +Spanish, “_Señor_ Cavalier, I congratulate you on your servant. He is +the best-looking _mozo_ in all Galicia. _Vaya_! if he had but a coat to +his back, and did not go barefoot, I would accept him at once as a +_novio_; but I have unfortunately made a vow never to marry a poor man, +but only one who has got a heavy purse and can buy me fine clothes. So +you are a Carlist, I suppose? _Vaya_! I do not like you the worse for +that. But, being so, how went you to Finisterre, where they are all +_Cristinos_ and _negros_? Why did you not go to my village? None would +have meddled with you there. Those of my village are of a different +stamp to the drunkards of Finisterre. Those of my village never +interfere with honest people. _Vaya_! how I hate that drunkard of +Finisterre who brought you; he is so old and ugly; were it not for the +love which I bear to the _Señor Alcalde_, I would at once unlock the gate +and bid you go forth, you and your servant, _el buen mozo_”. {37} + +Antonio now descended. “Follow me,” said he; “his worship the _alcalde_ +will be ready to receive you in a moment.” Sebastian and myself followed +him upstairs to a room, where, seated behind a table, we beheld a young +man of low stature, but handsome features, and very fashionably dressed. +He appeared to be inditing a letter, which, when he had concluded, he +delivered to a secretary to be transcribed. He then looked at me for a +moment fixedly, and the following conversation ensued between us:— + +_Alcalde_.—I see that you are an Englishman, and my friend Antonio here +informs me that you have been arrested at Finisterre. + +_Myself_.—He tells you true; and but for him I believe that I should have +fallen by the hands of those savage fishermen. + +_Alcalde_.—The inhabitants of Finisterre are brave, and are all liberals. +Allow me to look at your passport? Yes, all in form. Truly it was very +ridiculous that they should have arrested you as a Carlist. + +_Myself_.—Not only as a Carlist, but as Don Carlos himself. + +_Alcalde_.—Oh! most ridiculous; mistake a countryman of the grand +Baintham for such a Goth! + +_Myself_.—Excuse me, sir, you speak of the grand somebody. + +_Alcalde_.—The grand Baintham. He who has invented laws for all the +world. I hope shortly to see them adopted in this unhappy country of +ours. + +_Myself_.—Oh! you mean Jeremy Bentham. Yes! a very remarkable man in his +way. + +_Alcalde_.—In his way! in all ways. The most universal genius which the +world ever produced:—a Solon, a Plato, and a Lope de Vega. + +_Myself_.—I have never read his writings. I have no doubt that he was a +Solon; and as you say, a Plato. I should scarcely have thought, however, +that he could be ranked as a poet with Lope de Vega. + +_Alcalde_.—How surprising! I see, indeed, that you know nothing of his +writings, though an Englishman. Now, here am I, a simple _alcalde_ of +Galicia, yet I possess all the writings of Baintham on that shelf, and I +study them day and night. + +_Myself_.—You doubtless, sir, possess the English language. + +_Alcalde_.—I do. I mean that part of it which is contained in the +writings of Baintham. I am most truly glad to see a countryman of his in +these Gothic wildernesses. I understand and appreciate your motives for +visiting them: excuse the incivility and rudeness which you have +experienced. But we will endeavour to make you reparation. You are this +moment free: but it is late; I must find you a lodging for the night. I +know one close by which will just suit you. Let us repair thither this +moment. Stay, I think I see a book in your hand. + +_Myself_.—The New Testament. + +_Alcalde_.—What book is that? + +_Myself_.—A portion of the sacred writings, the Bible. + +_Alcalde_.—Why do you carry such a book with you? + +_Myself_.—One of my principal motives in visiting Finisterre was to carry +this book to that wild place. + +_Alcalde_.—Ha, ha! how very singular. Yes, I remember. I have heard +that the English highly prize this eccentric book. How very singular +that the countrymen of the grand Baintham should set any value upon that +old monkish book! + +It was now late at night, and my new friend attended me to the lodging +which he had destined for me, and which was at the house of a respectable +old female, where I found a clean and comfortable room. On the way I +slipped a gratuity into the hand of Antonio, and on my arrival, formally, +and in the presence of the _alcalde_, presented him with the Testament, +which I requested he would carry back to Finisterre, and keep in +remembrance of the Englishman in whose behalf he had so effectually +interposed. + +_Antonio_.—I will do so, your worship, and when the winds blow from the +north-west, preventing our launches from putting to sea, I will read your +present. Farewell, my captain, and when you next come to Finisterre, I +hope it will be in a valiant English bark, with plenty of contraband on +board, and not across the country on a pony, in company with _nuveiros_ +and men of Padron. + +Presently arrived the handmaid of the _alcalde_ with a basket, which she +took into the kitchen, where she prepared an excellent supper for her +master’s friend. On its being served up the _alcalde_ bade me farewell, +having first demanded whether he could in any way forward my plans. + +“I return to Saint James to-morrow,” I replied, “and I sincerely hope +that some occasion will occur which will enable me to acquaint the world +with the hospitality which I have experienced from so accomplished a +scholar as the _Alcalde_ of Corcuvion.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXI. + + +Corunna—Crossing the Bay—Ferrol—The Dock-yard—Where are we now?—Greek +Ambassador—Lantern-Light—The Ravine—Viveiro—Evening—Marsh and +Quagmire—Fair Words and Fair Money—The Leathern Girth—Eyes of Lynx—The +Knavish Guide. + +From Corcuvion I returned to St. James and Corunna, and now began to make +preparation for directing my course to the Asturias. In the first place +I parted with my Andalusian horse, which I considered unfit for the long +and mountainous journey I was about to undertake, his constitution having +become much debilitated from his Gallegan travels. Owing to horses being +exceedingly scarce at Corunna, I had no difficulty in disposing of him at +a far higher price than he originally cost me. A young and wealthy +merchant of Corunna, who was a national guardsman, became enamoured of +his glossy skin and long mane and tail. For my own part, I was glad to +part with him for more reasons than one; he was both vicious and savage, +and was continually getting me into scrapes in the stables of the +_posadas_ where we slept or baited. An old Castilian peasant, whose pony +he had maltreated, once said to me, “Sir Cavalier, if you have any love +or respect for yourself, get rid, I beseech you, of that beast, who is +capable of proving the ruin of a kingdom.” So I left him behind at +Corunna, where I subsequently learned that he became glandered and died. +Peace to his memory! + +From Corunna I crossed the bay to Ferrol, whilst Antonio with our +remaining horse followed by land, a rather toilsome and circuitous +journey, although the distance by water is scarcely three leagues. I was +very sea-sick during the passage, and lay almost senseless at the bottom +of the small launch in which I had embarked, and which was crowded with +people. The wind was adverse, and the water rough. We could make no +sail, but were impelled along by the oars of five or six stout mariners, +who sang all the while Gallegan ditties. Suddenly the sea appeared to +have become quite smooth, and my sickness at once deserted me. I rose +upon my feet and looked around. We were in one of the strangest places +imaginable. A long and narrow passage overhung on either side by a +stupendous barrier of black and threatening rocks. The line of the coast +was here divided by a natural cleft, yet so straight and regular that it +seemed not the work of chance but design. The water was dark and sullen, +and of immense depth. This passage, which is about a mile in length, is +the entrance to a broad basin, at whose farther extremity stands the town +of Ferrol. + +Sadness came upon me as soon as I entered this place. Grass was growing +in the streets, and misery and distress stared me in the face on every +side. Ferrol is the grand naval arsenal of Spain, and has shared in the +ruin of the once splendid Spanish navy: it is no longer thronged with +those thousand shipwrights who prepared for sea the tremendous +three-deckers and long frigates, the greater part of which were destroyed +at Trafalgar. Only a few ill-paid and half-starved workmen still linger +about, scarcely sufficient to repair any _guarda costa_ {43a} which may +put in dismantled by the fire of some English smuggling schooner from +Gibraltar. Half the inhabitants of Ferrol {43b} beg their bread; and +amongst these, as it is said, are not unfrequently found retired naval +officers, many of them maimed or otherwise wounded, who are left to pine +in indigence: their pensions or salaries having been allowed to run three +or four years in arrear, owing to the exigencies of the times. A crowd +of importunate beggars followed me to the _posada_, and even attempted to +penetrate to the apartment to which I was conducted. “Who are you?” said +I to a woman who flung herself at my feet, and who bore in her +countenance evident marks of former gentility. “A widow, sir,” she +replied, in very good French; “a widow of a brave officer, once admiral +of this port.” The misery and degradation of modern Spain are nowhere so +strikingly manifested as at Ferrol. + +Yet even here there is still much to admire. Notwithstanding its present +state of desolation, it contains some good streets, and abounds with +handsome houses. The _alameda_ is planted with nearly a thousand elms, +of which almost all are magnificent trees, and the poor Ferrolese, with +the genuine spirit of localism so prevalent in Spain, boast that their +town contains a better public walk than Madrid, of whose _prado_, when +they compare the two, they speak in terms of unmitigated contempt. At +one end of this _alameda_ stands the church, the only one in Ferrol. To +this church I repaired the day after my arrival, which was Sunday. I +found it quite insufficient to contain the number of worshippers who, +chiefly from the country, not only crowded the interior, but, bareheaded, +were upon their knees before the door to a considerable distance down the +walk. + +Parallel with the _alameda_ extends the wall of the naval arsenal and +dock. I spent several hours in walking about these places, to visit +which it is necessary to procure a written permission from the +captain-general of Ferrol. They filled me with astonishment. I have +seen the royal dock-yards of Russia and England, but, for grandeur of +design and costliness of execution, they cannot for a moment compare with +these wonderful monuments of the bygone naval pomp of Spain. I shall not +attempt to describe them, but content myself with observing that the +oblong basin, which is surrounded with a granite mole, is capacious +enough to permit a hundred first-rates to lie conveniently in ordinary: +but instead of such a force, I saw only a sixty-gun frigate and two brigs +lying in this basin; and to this inconsiderable number of vessels is the +present war marine of Spain reduced. + +I waited for the arrival of Antonio two or three days at Ferrol, and +still he came not: late one evening, however, as I was looking down the +street, I perceived him advancing, leading our only horse by the bridle. +He informed me that, at about three leagues from Corunna, the heat of the +weather and the flies had so distressed the animal that it had fallen +down in a kind of fit, from which it had been only relieved by copious +bleeding, on which account he had been compelled to halt for a day upon +the road. The horse was evidently in a very feeble state; and had a +strange rattling in its throat, which alarmed me at first. I, however, +administered some remedies, and in a few days deemed him sufficiently +recovered to proceed. + +We accordingly started from Ferrol, having first hired a pony for myself, +and a guide who was to attend us as far as Rivadeo, {45} twenty leagues +from Ferrol, and on the confines of the Asturias. The day at first was +fine, but ere we reached Novales, a distance of three leagues, the sky +became overcast, and a mist descended, accompanied by a drizzling rain. +The country through which we passed was very picturesque. At about two +in the afternoon we could descry through the mist the small fishing-town +of Santa Marta on our left, with its beautiful bay. Travelling along the +summit of a line of hills, we presently entered a chestnut forest, which +appeared to be without limit: the rain still descended, and kept up a +ceaseless pattering among the broad green leaves. “This is the +commencement of the autumnal rains,” said the guide. “Many is the +wetting that you will get, my masters, before you reach Oviedo.” “Have +you ever been as far as Oviedo?” I demanded. “No,” he replied, “and once +only to Rivadeo, the place to which I am now conducting you, and I tell +you frankly that we shall soon be in wildernesses where the way is hard +to find, especially at night, and amidst rain and waters. I wish I were +fairly back to Ferrol, for I like not this route, which is the worst in +Galicia, in more respects than one; but where my master’s pony goes, +there must I go too; such is the life of us guides.” I shrugged my +shoulders at this intelligence, which was by no means cheering, but made +no answer. At length, about nightfall, we emerged from the forest, and +presently descended into a deep valley at the foot of lofty hills. + +“Where are we now?” I demanded of the guide, as we crossed a rude bridge +at the bottom of the valley, down which a rivulet swollen by the rain +foamed and roared. “In the valley of Coisa Doiro,” {46} he replied; “and +it is my advice that we stay here for the night and do not venture among +those hills, through which lies the path to Viveiro; for as soon as we +get there, _adios_! I shall be bewildered, which will prove the +destruction of us all.” “Is there a village nigh?” “Yes, the village is +right before us, and we shall be there in a moment.” We soon reached the +village, which stood amongst some tall trees at the entrance of a pass +which led up amongst the hills. Antonio dismounted, and entered two or +three of the cabins, but presently came to me, saying, “We cannot stay +here, _mon maître_, without being devoured by vermin; we had better be +amongst the hills than in this place. There is neither fire nor light in +these cabins, and the rain is streaming through the roofs.” The guide, +however, refused to proceed. “I could scarcely find my way amongst those +hills by daylight,” he cried surlily, “much less at night, ’midst storm +and _bretima_.” We procured some wine and maize bread from one of the +cottages. Whilst we were partaking of these, Antonio said, “_Mon +maître_, the best thing we can do in our present situation is to hire +some fellow of this village to conduct us through the hills to Viveiro. +There are no beds in this place, and if we lie down in the litter in our +damp clothes we shall catch a tertian of Galicia. {47} Our present guide +is of no service; we must therefore find another to do his duty.” +Without waiting for a reply, he flung down the crust of _broa_ which he +was munching and disappeared. I subsequently learned that he went to the +cottage of the _alcalde_, and demanded, in the queen’s name, a guide for +the Greek ambassador, who was benighted on his way to the Asturias. In +about ten minutes I again saw him, attended by the local functionary, +who, to my surprise, made me a profound bow, and stood bare-headed in the +rain. “His excellency,” shouted Antonio, “is in need of a guide to +Viveiro. People of our description are not compelled to pay for any +service which they may require; however, as his excellency has bowels of +compassion, he is willing to give three _pesetas_ to any competent person +who will accompany him to Viveiro, and as much bread and wine as he can +eat and drink on his arrival.” “His excellency shall be served,” said +the alcalde; “however, as the way is long and the path is bad, and there +is much _bretima_ amongst the hills, it appears to me that, besides the +bread and wine, his excellency can do no less than offer four pesetas to +the guide who may be willing to accompany him to Viveiro; and I know no +one better than my own son-in-law, Juanito.” “Content, _Señor Alcalde_,” +I replied; “produce the guide, and the extra _peseta_ shall be +forthcoming in due season.” + +Soon appeared Juanito with a lantern in his hand. We instantly set +forward. The two guides began conversing in Gallegan. “_Mon maître_,” +said Antonio, “this new scoundrel is asking the old one what he thinks we +have got in our portmanteaus.” Then, without awaiting my answer, he +shouted, “Pistols, ye barbarians! Pistols, as you shall learn to your +cost, if you do not cease speaking in that gibberish and converse in +Castilian.” The Gallegans were silent, and presently the first guide +dropped behind, whilst the other with the lantern moved before. “Keep in +the rear,” said Antonio to the former, “and at a distance: know one +thing, moreover, that I can see behind as well as before. _Mon maître_,” +said he to me, “I don’t suppose these fellows will attempt to do us any +harm, more especially as they do not know each other; it is well, +however, to separate them, for this is a time and place which might tempt +any one to commit robbery and murder too.” + +The rain still continued to fall uninterruptedly, the path was rugged and +precipitous, and the night was so dark that we could only see +indistinctly the hills which surrounded us. Once or twice our guide +seemed to have lost his way: he stopped, muttered to himself, raised his +lantern on high, and would then walk slowly and hesitatingly forward. In +this manner we proceeded for three or four hours, when I asked the guide +how far we were from Viveiro. “I do not know exactly where we are, your +worship,” he replied, “though I believe we are in the route. We can +scarcely, however, be less than two mad leagues from Viveiro.” “Then we +shall not arrive there before morning,” interrupted Antonio, “for a mad +league of Galicia means at least two of Castile; and perhaps we are +doomed never to arrive there, if the way thither leads down this +precipice.” As he spoke, the guide seemed to descend into the bowels of +the earth. “Stop,” said I; “where are you going?” “To Viveiro, +_Senhor_,” replied the fellow: “this is the way to Viveiro; there is no +other. I now know where we are.” The light of the lantern shone upon +the dark red features of the guide, who had turned round to reply, as he +stood some yards down the side of a dingle or ravine overgrown with thick +trees, beneath whose leafy branches a frightfully steep path descended. +I dismounted from the pony, and delivering the bridle to the other guide, +said, “Here is your master’s horse; if you please you may lead him down +that abyss, but as for myself I wash my hands of the matter.” The +fellow, without a word of reply, vaulted into the saddle, and with a +_vamos_, _Perico_! {49} to the pony, impelled the creature to the +descent. “Come, _Senhor_,” said he with the lantern, “there is no time +to be lost; my light will be presently extinguished, and this is the +worst bit in the whole road.” I thought it very probable that he was +about to lead us to some den of cut-throats, where we might be +sacrificed; but, taking courage, I seized our own horse by the bridle, +and followed the fellow down the ravine amidst rocks and brambles. The +descent lasted nearly ten minutes, and ere we had entirely accomplished +it, the light in the lantern went out, and we remained in nearly total +darkness. + +Encouraged, however, by the guide, who assured us there was no danger, we +at length reached the bottom of the ravine; here we encountered a rill of +water, through which we were compelled to wade as high as the knee. In +the midst of the water I looked up and caught a glimpse of the heavens +through the branches of the trees, which all around clothed the shelving +sides of the ravine, and completely embowered the channel of the stream: +to a place more strange and replete with gloom and horror no benighted +traveller ever found his way. After a short pause we commenced scaling +the opposite bank, which we did not find so steep as the other, and a few +minutes’ exertion brought us to the top. + +Shortly afterwards the rain abated, and the moon arising, cast a dim +light through the watery mists. The way had become less precipitous, and +in about two hours we descended to the shore of an extensive creek, along +which we proceeded till we reached a spot where many boats and barges lay +with their keels upward upon the sand. Presently we beheld before us the +walls of Viveiro, upon which the moon was shedding its sickly lustre. We +entered by a lofty and seemingly ruinous archway, and the guide conducted +us at once to the _posada_. + +Every person in Viveiro appeared to be buried in profound slumber; not so +much as a dog saluted us with his bark. After much knocking we were +admitted into the _posada_, a large and dilapidated edifice. We had +scarcely housed ourselves and horses when the rain began to fall with yet +more violence than before, attended with much thunder and lightning. +Antonio and I, exhausted with fatigue, betook ourselves to flock beds in +a ruinous chamber, into which the rain penetrated through many a cranny, +whilst the guides ate bread and drank wine till the morning. + +When I arose I was gladdened by the sight of a fine day. Antonio +forthwith prepared a savoury breakfast of stewed fowl, of which we stood +in much need after the ten-league journey of the preceding day over the +ways which I have attempted to describe. I then walked out to view the +town, which consists of little more than one long street, on the side of +a steep mountain thickly clad with forest and fruit-trees. At about ten +we continued our journey, accompanied by our first guide, the other +having returned to Coisa Doiro some hours previously. + +Our route throughout this day was almost constantly within sight of the +shores of the Cantabrian sea, whose windings we followed. The country +was barren, and in many parts covered with huge stones: cultivated spots, +however, were to be seen, where vines were growing. We met with but few +human habitations. We, however, journeyed on cheerfully, for the sun was +once more shining in full brightness, gilding the wild moors, and shining +upon the waters of the distant sea, which lay in unruffled calmness. + +At evening fall we were in the neighbourhood of the shore, with a range +of wood-covered hills on our right. Our guide led us towards a creek +bordered by a marsh, but he soon stopped, and declared that he did not +know whither he was conducting us. + +“_Mon maître_,” said Antonio, “let us be our own guides; it is, as you +see, of no use to depend upon this fellow, whose whole science consists +in leading people into quagmires.” + +We therefore turned aside, and proceeded along the marsh for a +considerable distance, till we reached a narrow path which led us into a +thick wood, where we soon became completely bewildered. On a sudden, +after wandering about a considerable time, we heard the noise of water, +and presently the clack of a wheel. Following the sound, we arrived at a +low stone mill, built over a brook; here we stopped and shouted, but no +answer was returned. “The place is deserted,” said Antonio; “here, +however, is a path, which, if we follow it, will doubtless lead us to +some human habitation. So we went along the path, which, in about ten +minutes, brought us to the door of a cabin, in which we saw lights. +Antonio dismounted and opened the door: “Is there any one here who can +conduct us to Rivadeo?” he demanded. + +“_Senhor_,” answered a voice, “Rivadeo is more than five leagues from +here, and, moreover, there is a river to cross.” + +“Then to the next village,” continued Antonio. + +“I am a _vecino_ of the next village, which is on the way to Rivadeo,” +said another voice, “and I will lead you thither, if you will give me +fair words, and, what is better, fair money.” + +A man now came forth, holding in his hand a large stick. He strode +sturdily before us, and in less than half an hour led us out of the wood. +In another half-hour he brought us to a group of cabins situated near the +sea; he pointed to one of these, and having received a _peseta_, bade us +farewell. + +The people of the cottage willingly consented to receive us for the +night; it was much more cleanly and commodious than the wretched huts of +the Gallegan peasantry in general. The ground floor consisted of a +keeping room and stable, whilst above was a long loft, in which were some +neat and comfortable flock beds. I observed several masts and sails of +boats. The family consisted of two brothers, with their wives and +families. One was a fisherman; but the other, who appeared to be the +principal person, informed me that he had resided for many years in +service at Madrid, and, having amassed a small sum, he had at length +returned to his native village, where he had purchased some land, which +he farmed. All the family used the Castilian language in their common +discourse, and on inquiry I learned that the Gallegan was not much spoken +in that neighbourhood. I have forgotten the name of this village, which +is situated on the estuary of the Foz, which rolls down from Mondonedo. +In the morning we crossed this estuary in a large boat, with our horses, +and about noon arrived at Rivadeo. + +“Now, your worship,” said the guide, who had accompanied us from Ferrol, +“I have brought you as far as I bargained, and a hard journey it has +been: I therefore hope you will suffer Perico and myself to remain here +to-night at your expense, and to-morrow we will go back; at present we +are both sorely tired.” + +“I never mounted a better pony than Perico,” said I, “and never met with +a worse guide than yourself. You appear to be perfectly ignorant of the +country, and have done nothing but bring us into difficulties. You may, +however, stay here for the night, as you say you are tired, and to-morrow +you may return to Ferrol, where I counsel you to adopt some other trade.” +This was said at the door of the _posada_ of Rivadeo. + +“Shall I lead the horses to a stable?” said the fellow. + +“As you please,” said I. + +Antonio looked after him for a moment, as he was leading the animals +away, and then, shaking his head, followed slowly after. In about a +quarter of an hour he returned, laden with the furniture of our own +horse, and with a smile upon his countenance. “_Mon maître_,” said he, +“I have throughout the journey had a bad opinion of this fellow, and now +I have detected him: his motive in requesting permission to stay was a +desire to purloin something from us. He was very officious in the stable +about our horse, and I now miss the new leathern girth which secured the +saddle, and which I observed him looking at frequently on the road. He +has by this time doubtless hid it somewhere; we are quite secure of him, +however, for he has not yet received the hire for the pony, nor the +gratuity for himself.” + +The guide returned just as he had concluded speaking. Dishonesty is +always suspicious. The fellow cast a glance upon us, and probably +beholding in our countenances something which he did not like, he +suddenly said, “Give me the horse-hire and my own _propina_, for Perico +and I wish to be off instantly.” + +“How is this?” said I; “I thought you and Perico were both fatigued, and +wished to rest here for the night: you have soon recovered from your +weariness.” + +“I have thought over the matter,” said the fellow, “and my master will be +angry if I loiter here: pay up, therefore, and let us go.” + +“Certainly,” said I, “if you wish it. Is the horse furniture all right?” + +“Quite so,” said he; “I delivered it all to your servant.” + +“It is all here,” said Antonio, “with the exception of the leathern +girth.” + +“I have not got it,” said the guide. + +“Of course not,” said I. “Let us proceed to the stable; we shall perhaps +find it there.” + +To the stable we went, which we searched through: no girth, however, was +forthcoming. “He has got it buckled round his middle beneath his +pantaloons, _mon maître_,” said Antonio, whose eyes were moving about +like those of a lynx; “I saw the protuberance as he stooped down. +However, let us take no notice: he is here surrounded by his countrymen, +who, if we were to seize him, might perhaps take his part. As I said +before, he is in our power, as we have not paid him.” + +The fellow now began to talk in Gallegan to the bystanders (several +persons having collected), wishing the _Denho_ to take him if he knew +anything of the missing property. Nobody, however, seemed inclined to +take his part; and those who listened only shrugged their shoulders. We +returned to the portal of the _posada_, the fellow following us, +clamouring for the horse-hire and _propina_. We made him no answer, and +at length he went away, threatening to apply to the _justicia_; in about +ten minutes, however, he came running back with the girth in his hand. +“I have just found it,” said he, “in the street: your servant dropped +it.” + +I took the leather and proceeded very deliberately to count out the sum +to which the horse-hire amounted, and having delivered it to him in the +presence of witnesses, I said, “During the whole journey you have been of +no service to us whatever; nevertheless, you have fared like ourselves, +and have had all you could desire to eat and drink. I intended, on your +leaving us, to present you, moreover, with a _propina_ of two dollars; +but since, notwithstanding our kind treatment, you endeavoured to pillage +us, I will not give you a _cuarto_: go, therefore, about your business.” + +All the audience expressed their satisfaction at this sentence, and told +him that he had been rightly-served, and that he was a disgrace to +Galicia. Two or three women crossed themselves, and asked him if he was +not afraid that the _Denho_, whom he had invoked, would take him away. +At last, a respectable-looking man said to him, “Are you not ashamed to +have attempted to rob two innocent strangers?” + +“Strangers!” roared the fellow, who was by this time foaming with rage, +“innocent strangers, _carracho_! they know more of Spain and Galicia, +too, than the whole of us. Oh, _Denho_, that servant is no man, but a +wizard, a _nuveiro_.—Where is Perico?” + +He mounted Perico, and proceeded forthwith to another _posada_. The +tale, however, of his dishonesty had gone before him, and no person would +house him; whereupon he returned on his steps, and seeing me looking out +of the window of the house, he gave a savage shout, and shaking his fist +at me, galloped out of the town, the people pursuing him with hootings +and revilings. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXII. + + +Martin of Rivadeo—The Factious Mare—Asturians—Luarca—The Seven +Bellotas—Hermits—The Asturian’s Tale—Strange Guests—The Big +Servant—Batuschca. + +“What may your business be?” said I to a short, thick, merry-faced fellow +in a velveteen jerkin and canvas pantaloons, who made his way into my +apartment in the dusk of the evening. + +“I am Martin of Rivadeo, your worship,” replied the man, “an _alquilador_ +by profession. I am told that you want a horse for your journey into the +Asturias to-morrow, and of course a guide: now, if that be the case, I +counsel you to hire myself and mare.” + +“I am become tired of guides,” I replied; “so much so that I was thinking +of purchasing a pony, and proceeding without any guide at all. The last +which we had was an infamous character.” + +“So I have been told, your worship, and it was well for the _bribon_ that +I was not in Rivadeo when the affair to which you allude occurred. But +he was gone with the pony Perico before I came back, or I would have bled +the fellow to a certainty with my knife. He is a disgrace to the +profession, which is one of the most honourable and ancient in the world. +Perico himself must have been ashamed of him, for Perico, though a pony, +is a gentleman, one of many capacities, and well known upon the roads. +He is only inferior to my mare.” + +“Are you well acquainted with the road to Oviedo?” I demanded. + +“I am not, your worship; that is, no farther than Luarca, {58a} which is +the first day’s journey. I do not wish to deceive you, therefore let me +go with you no farther than that place; though perhaps I might serve for +the whole journey, for though I am unacquainted with the country, I have +a tongue in my head, and nimble feet to run and ask questions. I will, +however, answer for myself no farther than Luarca, where you can please +yourselves. Your being strangers is what makes me wish to accompany you, +for I like the conversation of strangers, from whom I am sure to gain +information both entertaining and profitable. I wish, moreover, to +convince you that we guides of Galicia are not all thieves, which I am +sure you will not suppose if you only permit me to accompany you as far +as Luarca.” + +I was so much struck with the fellow’s good humour and frankness, and +more especially by the originality of character displayed in almost every +sentence which he uttered, that I readily engaged him to guide us to +Luarca; whereupon he left me, promising to be ready with his mare at +eight next morning. + +Rivadeo is one of the principal seaports of Galicia, and is admirably +situated for commerce, on a deep firth, into which the river Mirando +{58b} debouches. It contains many magnificent buildings, and an +extensive square or _plaza_, which is planted with trees. I observed +several vessels in the harbour; and the population, which is rather +numerous, exhibited none of those marks of misery and dejection which I +had lately observed among the Ferrolese. + +On the morrow Martin of Rivadeo made his appearance at the appointed hour +with his mare. It was a lean haggard animal, not much larger than a +pony; it had good points, however, and was very clean in its hinder legs, +and Martin insisted that it was the best animal of its kind in all Spain. +“It is a factious mare,” said he, “and I believe an Alavese. When the +Carlists came here it fell lame, and they left it behind, and I purchased +it for a dollar. It is not lame now, however, as you shall soon see.” + +We had now reached the firth which divides Galicia from the Asturias. A +kind of barge was lying about two yards from the side of the quay, +waiting to take us over. Towards this Martin led his mare, and giving an +encouraging shout, the creature without any hesitation sprang over the +intervening space into the barge. “I told you she was a _facciosa_,” +said Martin; “none but a factious animal would have taken such a leap.” + +We all embarked in the barge and crossed over the firth, which is in this +place nearly a mile broad, to Castro Pol, {59} the first town in the +Asturias. I now mounted the factious mare, whilst Antonio followed on my +own horse. Martin led the way, exchanging jests with every person whom +he met on the road, and occasionally enlivening the way with an +extemporaneous song. + +We were now in the Asturias, and about noon we reached Navias, a small +fishing-town, situate on a _ria_ or firth: in the neighbourhood are +ragged mountains called the Sierra de Buron, which stand in the shape of +a semicircle. We saw a small vessel in the harbour, which we +subsequently learned was from the Basque provinces, come for a cargo of +cider or _sagadua_, the beverage so dearly loved by the Basques. As we +passed along the narrow street, Antonio was hailed with an “_Ola_!” from +a species of shop in which three men, apparently shoemakers, were seated. +He stopped for some time to converse with them, and when he joined us at +the _posada_ where we halted, I asked him who they were: “_Mon maître_,” +said he, “_ce sont des messieurs de ma connoissance_. I have been +fellow-servant at different times with all three; and I tell you +beforehand, that we shall scarcely pass through a village in this country +where I shall not find an acquaintance. All the Asturians, at some +period of their lives, make a journey to Madrid, where, if they can +obtain a situation, they remain until they have scraped up sufficient to +turn to advantage in their own country; and as I have served in all the +great houses in Madrid, I am acquainted with the greatest part of them. +I have nothing to say against the Asturians, save that they are close and +penurious whilst at service; but they are not thieves, neither at home +nor abroad, and though we must have our wits about us in their country, I +have heard we may travel from one end of it to the other without the +slightest fear of being either robbed or ill-treated, which is not the +case in Galicia, where we were always in danger of having our throats +cut.” + +Leaving Navias, we proceeded through a wild desolate country, till we +reached the pass of Baralla, which lies up the side of a huge wall of +rocks, which at a distance appear of a light green colour, though +perfectly bare of herbage or plants of any description. + +“This pass,” said Martin of Rivadeo, “bears a very evil reputation, and I +should not like to travel it after sunset. It is not infested by +robbers, but by things much worse, the _duendes_ of two friars of Saint +Francis. It is said that in the old time, long before the convents were +suppressed, two friars of the order of Saint Francis left their convent +to beg. It chanced that they were very successful, but as they were +returning at nightfall by this pass, they had a quarrel about what they +had collected, each insisting that he had done his duty better than the +other; at last, from high words they fell to abuse, and from abuse to +blows. What do you think these demons of friars did? They took off +their cloaks, and at the end of each they made a knot, in which they +placed a large stone, and with these they thrashed and belaboured each +other till both fell dead. Master, I know not which are the worst +plagues, friars, curates, or sparrows: + + ‘May the Lord God preserve us from evil birds three: + From all friars and curates and sparrows that be; + For the sparrows eat up all the corn that we sow, + The friars drink down all the wine that we grow, + Whilst the curates have all the fair dames at their nod: + From these three evil curses preserve us, Lord God.’” + +In about two hours from this time we reached Luarca, the situation of +which is most singular. It stands in a deep hollow, whose sides are so +precipitous that it is impossible to descry the town until you stand just +above it. At the northern extremity of this hollow is a small harbour, +the sea entering by a narrow cleft. We found a large and comfortable +_posada_, and by the advice of Martin, made inquiry for a fresh guide and +horse; we were informed, however, that all the horses of the place were +absent, and that if we waited for their return, we must tarry for two +days. “I had a presentiment,” said Martin, “when we entered Luarca, that +we were not doomed to part at present. You must now hire my mare and me +as far as Gijon, {62a} from whence there is a conveyance to Oviedo. To +tell you the truth, I am by no means sorry that the guides are absent, +for I am pleased with your company, as I make no doubt you are with mine. +I will now go and write a letter to my wife at Rivadeo, informing her +that she must not expect to see me back for several days.” He then went +out of the room, singing the following stanza:— + + “A handless man a letter did write, + A dumb dictated it word for word: + The person who read it had lost his sight, + And deaf was he who listened and heard.” {62b} + +Early the next morning we emerged from the hollow of Luarca; about an +hour’s riding brought us to Caneiro, a deep and romantic valley of rocks, +shaded by tall chestnut trees. Through the midst of this valley rushes a +rapid stream, which we crossed in a boat. “There is not such a stream +for trout in all the Asturias,” said the ferryman. “Look down into the +waters and observe the large stones over which it flows; now in the +proper season, and in fine weather, you cannot see those stones for the +multitudes of fish which cover them.” + +Leaving the valley behind us, we entered into a wild and dreary country, +stony and mountainous. The day was dull and gloomy, and all around +looked sad and melancholy. “Are we in the way for Gijon and Oviedo?” +demanded Martin of an ancient female, who stood at the door of a cottage. + +“For Gijon and Oviedo!” replied the crone; “many is the weary step you +will have to make before you reach Gijon and Oviedo. You must first of +all crack the _bellotas_: you are just below them.” + +“What does she mean by cracking the _bellotas_?” demanded I of Martin of +Rivadeo. + +“Did your worship never hear of the seven _bellotas_?” replied our guide. +“I can scarcely tell you what they are, as I have never seen them; I +believe they are seven hills which we have to cross, and are called +_bellotas_ from some resemblance to acorns which it is fancied they bear. +I have often heard of these acorns, and am not sorry that I have now an +opportunity of seeing them, though it is said that they are rather hard +things for horses to digest.” + +The Asturian mountains in this part rise to a considerable altitude. +They consist for the most part of dark granite, covered here and there +with a thin layer of earth. They approach very near to the sea, to which +they slope down in broken ridges, between which are deep and precipitous +defiles, each with its rivulet, the tribute of the hills to the salt +flood. The road traverses these defiles. There are seven of them, which +are called, in the language of the country, _Las siete bellotas_. Of all +these the most terrible is the midmost, down which rolls an impetuous +torrent. At the upper end of it rises a precipitous wall of rock, black +as soot, to the height of several hundred yards; its top, as we passed, +was enveloped with a veil of _bretima_. From this gorge branch off, on +either side, small dingles or glens, some of them so overgrown with trees +and copsewood, that the eye is unable to penetrate the obscurity beyond a +few yards. + +“Fine places would some of these dingles prove for hermitages,” said I to +Martin of Rivadeo. “Holy men might lead a happy life there on roots and +water, and pass many years absorbed in heavenly contemplation without +ever being disturbed by the noise and turmoil of the world.” + +“True, your worship,” replied Martin; “and perhaps on that very account +there are no hermitages in the _barrancos_ of the seven _bellotas_. Our +hermits had little inclination for roots and water, and had no kind of +objection to be occasionally disturbed in their meditations. _Vaya_! I +never yet saw a hermitage that was not hard by some rich town or village, +or was not a regular resort for all the idle people in the neighbourhood. +Hermits are not fond of living in dingles, amongst wolves and foxes; for +how in that case could they dispose of their poultry? A hermit of my +acquaintance left, when he died, a fortune of seven hundred dollars to +his niece, the greatest part of which he scraped up by fattening +turkeys.” + +At the top of this _bellota_ we found a wretched _venta_, where we +refreshed ourselves, and then continued our journey. Late in the +afternoon we cleared the last of these difficult passes. The wind began +now to rise, bearing on its wings a drizzling rain. We passed by Soto +Luino, and shaping our course through a wild but picturesque country, we +found ourselves about nightfall at the foot of a steep hill, up which led +a narrow bridle-way, amidst a grove of lofty trees. Long before we had +reached the top it had become quite dark, and the rain had increased +considerably. We stumbled along in the obscurity, leading our horses, +which were occasionally down on their knees, owing to the slipperiness of +the path. At last we accomplished the ascent in safety, and pushing +briskly forward, we found ourselves in about half an hour at the entrance +of Muros, a large village situated just on the declivity of the farther +side of the hill. + +A blazing fire in the _posada_ soon dried our wet garments, and in some +degree recompensed us for the fatigues which we had undergone in +scrambling up the _bellotas_. A rather singular place was this same +_posada_ of Muros. It was a large rambling house, with a spacious +kitchen, or common room, on the ground floor. Above stairs was a large +dining apartment, with an immense oak table, and furnished with cumbrous +leathern chairs with high backs, apparently three centuries old at least. +Communicating with this apartment was a wooden gallery, open to the air, +which led to a small chamber, in which I was destined to sleep, and which +contained an old-fashioned tester-bed with curtains. It was just one of +those inns which romance writers are so fond of introducing in their +descriptions, especially when the scene of adventure lies in Spain. The +host was a talkative Asturian. + +The wind still howled, and the rain descended in torrents. I sat before +the fire in a very drowsy state, from which I was presently aroused by +the conversation of the host. “_Señor_,” said he, “it is now three years +since I beheld foreigners in my house. I remember it was about this time +of the year, and just such a night as this, that two men on horseback +arrived here. What was singular, they came without any guide. Two more +strange-looking individuals I never yet beheld with eye-sight. I shall +never forget them. The one was as tall as a giant, with much tawny +moustache, like the coat of a badger, growing about his mouth. He had a +huge ruddy face, and looked dull and stupid, as he no doubt was, for when +I spoke to him he did not seem to understand, and answered in a jabber, +_valgame Dios_! {66} so wild and strange, that I remained staring at him +with mouth and eyes open. The other was neither tall nor red-faced, nor +had he hair about his mouth, and indeed he had very little upon his head. +He was very diminutive, and looked like a _jorobado_; but, _valgame +Dios_! such eyes, like wild cats’, so sharp and full of malice. He spoke +as good Spanish as I myself do, and yet he was no Spaniard. Spaniard +never looked like that man. He was dressed in a _zamarra_, with much +silver and embroidery, and wore an Andalusian hat, and I soon found that +he was master, and that the other was servant. + +“_Valgame Dios_! what an evil disposition had that same foreign +_jorobado_! and yet he had much grace, much humour, and said occasionally +to me such comical things, that I was fit to die of laughter. So he sat +down to supper in the room above, and I may as well tell you here, that +he slept in the same chamber where your worship will sleep to-night, and +his servant waited behind his chair. Well, I had curiosity, so I sat +myself down at the table too, without asking leave. Why should I? I was +in my own house, and an Asturian is fit company for a king, and is often +of better blood. Oh, what a strange supper was that. If the servant +made the slightest mistake in helping him, up would start the _jorobado_, +jump upon his chair, and seizing the big giant by the hair, would cuff +him on both sides of his face till I was afraid his teeth would have +fallen out. The giant, however, did not seem to care about it much. He +was used to it, I suppose. _Valgame Dios_! if he had been a Spaniard he +would not have submitted to it so patiently. But what surprised me most +was, that after beating his servant the master would sit down, and the +next moment would begin conversing and laughing with him as if nothing +had happened, and the giant also would laugh and converse with his +master, for all the world as if he had not been beaten. + +“You may well suppose, _Señor_, that I understood nothing of their +discourse, for it was all in that strange unchristian tongue in which the +giant answered me when I spoke to him; the sound of it is still ringing +in my ears. It was nothing like other languages. Not like Bascuen, {67} +not like the language in which your worship speaks to my namesake +_Signor_ Antonio here. _Valgame Dios_! I can compare it to nothing but +the sound a person makes when he rinses his mouth with water. There is +one word which I think I still remember, for it was continually +proceeding from the giant’s lips, but his master never used it. + +“But the strangest part of the story is yet to be told. The supper was +ended, and the night was rather advanced; the rain still beat against the +windows, even as it does at this moment. Suddenly the _jorobado_ pulled +out his watch. _Valgame Dios_! such a watch! I will tell you one thing, +_Señor_, that I could purchase all the Asturias, and Muros besides, with +the brilliants which shone about the sides of that same watch; the room +wanted no lamp, I trow, so great was the splendour which they cast. So +the _jorobado_ looked at his watch, and then said to me, ‘I shall go to +rest.’ He then took the lamp, and went through the gallery to his room, +followed by his big servant. Well, _Señor_, I cleared away the things, +and then waited below for the servant, for whom I had prepared a +comfortable bed, close by my own. _Señor_, I waited patiently for an +hour, till at last my patience was exhausted, and I ascended to the +supper apartment, and passed through the gallery till I came to the door +of the strange guest. _Señor_, what do you think I saw at the door?” + +“How should I know?” I replied. “His riding-boots, perhaps.” + +“No, _Señor_, I did not see his riding-boots; but, stretched on the floor +with his head against the door, so that it was impossible to open it +without disturbing him, lay the big servant fast asleep, his immense legs +reaching nearly the whole length of the gallery. I crossed myself, as +well I might, for the wind was howling even as it is now, and the rain +was rushing down into the gallery in torrents; yet there lay the big +servant fast asleep, without any covering, without any pillow, not even a +log, stretched out before his master’s door. + +“_Señor_, I got little rest that night, for I said to myself, I have evil +wizards in my house, folks who are not human. Once or twice I went up +and peeped into the gallery, but there still lay the big servant fast +asleep; so I crossed myself, and returned to my bed again.” + +“Well,” said I, “and what occurred next day?” + +“Nothing particular occurred next day: the _jorobado_ came down and said +comical things to me in good Spanish; and the big servant came down, but +whatever he said, and he did not say much, I understood not, for it was +in that disastrous jabber. They stayed with me throughout the day till +after supper-time, and then the _jorobado_ gave me a gold ounce, and +mounting their horses, they both departed as strangely as they had come, +in the dark night, I know not whither.” + +“Is that all?” I demanded. + +“No, _Señor_, it is not all; for I was right in supposing them evil +_brujos_: the very next day an express arrived, and a great search was +made after them, and I was arrested for having harboured them. This +occurred just after the present wars had commenced. It was said they +were spies and emissaries of I don’t know what nation, and that they had +been in all parts of the Asturias, holding conferences with some of the +disaffected. They escaped, however, and were never heard of more, though +the animals which they rode were found without their riders, wandering +amongst the hills; they were common ponies, and were of no value. As for +the _brujos_, it is believed that they embarked in some small vessel +which was lying concealed in one of the _rias_ of the coast.” + +_Myself_.—What was the word which you continually heard proceeding from +the lips of the big servant, and which you think you can remember? + +_Host_.—_Señor_, it is now three years since I heard it, and at times I +can remember it, and at others not; sometimes I have started up in my +sleep repeating it. Stay, _Señor_, I have it now at the point of my +tongue: it was _Patusca_. + +_Myself_.—_Batuschca_, you mean; the men were Russians. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIII. + + +Oviedo—The Ten Gentlemen—The Swiss again—Modest Request—The +Robbers—Episcopal Benevolence—The Cathedral—Portrait of Feijoo. + +I must now take a considerable stride in my journey, no less than from +Muros to Oviedo, contenting myself with observing, that we proceeded from +Muros to Velez, {70} and from thence to Gijon, where our guide Martin +bade us farewell, and returned with his mare to Rivadeo. The honest +fellow did not part without many expressions of regret; indeed he even +expressed a desire that I should take him and his mare into my service. +“For,” said he, “I have a great desire to run through all Spain, and even +the world: and I am sure I shall never have a better opportunity than by +attaching myself to your worship’s skirts.” On my reminding him, +however, of his wife and family, for he had both, he said, “True, true, I +had forgotten them: happy the guide whose only wife and family are a mare +and foal.” + +Oviedo is about three leagues from Gijon. Antonio rode the horse, whilst +I proceeded thither in a kind of diligence which runs daily between the +two towns. The road is good, but mountainous. I arrived safely at the +capital of the Asturias, although at a rather unpropitious season, for +the din of war was at the gate, and there was the cry of the captains and +the shouting. {71} Castile, at the time of which I am writing, was in +the hands of the Carlists, who had captured and plundered Valladolid in +much the same manner as they had Segovia some time before. They were +every day expected to march on Oviedo, in which case they might perhaps +have experienced some resistance, a considerable body of troops being +stationed there, who had erected some redoubts, and strongly fortified +several of the convents, especially that of Santa Clara de la Vega. All +minds were in a state of feverish anxiety and suspense, more especially +as no intelligence arrived from Madrid, which by the last accounts was +said to be occupied by the bands of Cabrera and Palillos. + +So it came to pass that one night I found myself in the ancient town of +Oviedo, in a very large, scantily furnished, and remote room in an +ancient _posada_, formerly a palace of the counts of Santa Cruz. It was +past ten, and the rain was descending in torrents. I was writing, but +suddenly ceased on hearing numerous footsteps ascending the creaking +stairs which led to my apartment. The door was flung open, and in walked +nine men of tall stature, marshalled by a little hunchbacked personage. +They were all muffled in the long cloaks of Spain, but I instantly knew +by their demeanour that they were _caballeros_, or gentlemen. They +placed themselves in a rank before the table where I was sitting. +Suddenly and simultaneously they all flung back their cloaks, and I +perceived that every one bore a book in his hand; a book which I knew +full well. After a pause, which I was unable to break, for I sat lost in +astonishment, and almost conceived myself to be visited by apparitions, +the hunchback, advancing somewhat before the rest, said in soft silvery +tones, “_Señor_ Cavalier, was it you who brought this book to the +Asturias?” I now supposed that they were the civil authorities of the +place come to take me into custody, and, rising from my seat, I +exclaimed, “It certainly was I, and it is my glory to have done so. The +book is the New Testament of God: I wish it was in my power to bring a +million.” “I heartily wish so too,” said the little personage with a +sigh. “Be under no apprehension, Sir Cavalier; these gentlemen are my +friends. We have just purchased these books in the shop where you placed +them for sale, and have taken the liberty of calling upon you, in order +to return you our thanks for the treasure you have brought us. I hope +you can furnish us with the Old Testament also.” I replied, that I was +sorry to inform him that at present it was entirely out of my power to +comply with his wish, as I had no Old Testaments in my possession, but +did not despair of procuring some speedily from England. He then asked +me a great many questions concerning my biblical travels in Spain, and my +success, and the views entertained by the Society with respect to Spain, +adding, that he hoped we should pay particular attention to the Asturias, +which he assured me was the best ground in the Peninsula for our labour. +After about half an hour’s conversation, he suddenly said, in the English +language, “Good night, sir,” wrapped his cloak around him, and walked out +as he had come. His companions, who had hitherto not uttered a word, all +repeated, “Good night, sir,” and, adjusting their cloaks, followed him. + +In order to explain this strange scene, I must state, that in the morning +I had visited the petty bookseller of the place, Longoria, and having +arranged preliminaries with him, I sent him in the evening a package of +forty Testaments, all I possessed, with some advertisements. At the time +he assured me that, though he was willing to undertake the sale, there +was, nevertheless, not a prospect of success, as a whole month had +elapsed since he had sold a book of any description, on account of the +uncertainty of the times, and the poverty which pervaded the land; I +therefore felt much dispirited. This incident, however, admonished me +not to be cast down when things look gloomiest, as the hand of the Lord +is generally then most busy: that men may learn to perceive, that +whatever good is accomplished is not their work, but His. + +Two or three days after this adventure, I was once more seated in my +large scantily-furnished room; it was about ten, of a dark melancholy +morning, and the autumnal rain was again falling. I had just +breakfasted, and was about to sit down to my journal, when the door was +flung open and in bounded Antonio. + +“_Mon maître_,” said he, quite breathless, “who do you think has +arrived?” + +“The Pretender, I suppose,” said I, in some trepidation; “if so, we are +prisoners.” + +“Bah, bah!” said Antonio, “it is not the Pretender, but one worth twenty +of him; it is the Swiss of Saint James.” + +“Benedict Mol, the Swiss!” said I. “What! has he found the treasure? +But how did he come? How is he dressed?” + +“_Mon maître_,” said Antonio, “he came on foot, if we may judge by his +shoes, through which his toes are sticking; and as for his dress, he is +in most villanous apparel.” + +“There must be some mystery in this,” said I. “Where is he at present?” + +“Below, _mon maître_,” replied Antonio; “he came in quest of us. But I +no sooner saw him, than I hurried away to let you know.” + +In a few minutes Benedict Mol found his way upstairs. He was, as Antonio +had remarked, in most villanous apparel, and nearly barefooted; his old +Andalusian hat was dripping with rain. + +“_Och_, _lieber Herr_,” said Benedict, “how rejoiced I am to see you +again! Oh, the sight of your countenance almost repays me for all the +miseries I have undergone since I parted with you at Saint James.” + +_Myself_.—I can scarcely believe that I really see you here at Oviedo. +What motive can have induced you to come to such an out-of-the-way place +from such an immense distance? + +_Benedict_.—_Lieber Herr_, I will sit down and tell you all that has +befallen me. Some few days after I saw you last, the _canonigo_ +persuaded me to go to the captain-general to apply for permission to +disinter the _Schatz_, and also to crave assistance. So I saw the +captain-general, who at first received me very kindly, asked me several +questions, and told me to come again. So I continued visiting him till +he would see me no longer, and, do what I might, I could not obtain a +glance of him. The canon now became impatient, more especially as he had +given me a few _pesetas_ out of the charities of the church. He +frequently called me a _bribon_ and impostor. At last, one morning I +went to him, and said that I proposed to return to Madrid, in order to +lay the matter before the government, and requested that he would give me +a certificate to the effect that I had performed a pilgrimage to Saint +James, which I imagined would be of assistance to me upon the way, as it +would enable me to beg with some colour of authority. He no sooner heard +this request, than, without saying a word or allowing me a moment to put +myself on my defence, he sprang upon me like a tiger, clasping my throat +so hard that I thought he would have strangled me. I am a Swiss, +however, and a man of Lucerne, and when I had recovered myself a little, +I had no difficulty in flinging him off; I then threatened him with my +staff and went away. He followed me to the gate with the most horrid +curses, saying, that if I presumed to return again, he would have me +thrown at once into prison as a thief and a heretic. So I went in quest +of yourself, _lieber Herr_, but they told me that you were departed for +Corunna; I then set out for Corunna after you. + +_Myself_.—And what befell you on the road? + +_Benedict_.—I will tell you: about half-way between Saint James and +Corunna, as I was walking along, thinking of the _Schatz_, I heard a loud +galloping, and looking around me I saw two men on horseback coming across +the field with the swiftness of the wind, and making directly for me. +“_Lieber Gott_,” said I, “these are thieves, these are factious;” and so +they were. They came up to me in a moment and bade me stand; so I flung +down my staff, took off my hat, and saluted them. “Good day, +_caballeros_,” said I to them. “Good day, countryman,” said they to me, +and then we stood staring at each other for more than a minute. _Lieber +Himmel_, {75} I never saw such robbers; so finely dressed, so well armed, +and mounted so bravely on two fiery little _hakkas_, {76} that looked as +if they could have taken wing and flown up into the clouds! So we +continued staring at each other, till at last one asked me who I was, +whence I came, and where I was going. “Gentlemen,” said I, “I am a +Swiss; I have been to Saint James to perform a religious vow, and am now +returning to my own country.” I said not a word about the treasure, for +I was afraid that they would have shot me at once, conceiving that I +carried part of it about me. “Have you any money?” they demanded. +“Gentlemen,” I replied, “you see how I travel on foot, with my shoes torn +to pieces; I should not do so if I had money. I will not deceive you, +however; I have a _peseta_ and a few _cuartos_;” and thereupon I took out +what I had and offered it to them. “Fellow,” said they, “we are +_caballeros_ of Galicia, and do not take _pesetas_, much less _cuartos_. +Of what opinion are you? Are you for the queen?” “No, gentlemen,” said +I, “I am not for the queen; but, at the same time, allow me to tell you +that I am not for the king either. I know nothing about the matter; I am +a Swiss, and fight neither for nor against anybody unless I am paid.” +This made them laugh, and then they questioned me about Saint James, and +the troops there, and the captain-general; and not to disoblige them, I +told them all I knew, and much more. Then one of them, who looked the +fiercest and most determined, took his trombone in his hand, and pointing +it at me, said, “Had you been a Spaniard, we should have blown your head +to shivers, for we should have thought you a spy; but we see you are a +foreigner, and believe what you have said. Take, therefore, this +_peseta_ and go your way; but beware that you tell nobody anything about +us, for if you do, _carracho_!” He then discharged his trombone just +over my head, so that for a moment I thought myself shot; and then with +an awful shout, they both galloped away, their horses leaping over the +_barrancos_, as if possessed with many devils. + +_Myself_.—And what happened to you on your arrival at Corunna? + +_Benedict_.—When I arrived at Corunna, I inquired after yourself, _lieber +Herr_, and they informed me that, only the day before my arrival, you had +departed for Oviedo: and when I heard that, my heart died within me, for +I was now at the far end of Galicia, without a friend to help me. For a +day or two I knew not what to do; at last I determined to make for the +frontier of France, passing through Oviedo in the way, where I hoped to +see you, and ask counsel of you. So I begged and bettled among the +Germans of Corunna. I, however, got very little from them, only a few +_cuarts_, less than the thieves had given me on the road from Saint +James, and with these I departed for the Asturias by the way of +Mondonedo. _Och_, what a town is that, full of canons, priests, and +_pfaffen_, all of them more Carlist than Carlos himself. + +One day I went to the bishop’s palace and spoke to him, telling him I was +a pilgrim from Saint James, and requesting assistance. He told me, +however, that he could not relieve me, and as for my being a pilgrim from +Saint James, he was glad of it, and hoped that it would be of service to +my soul. So I left Mondonedo, and got amongst the wild mountains, +begging and bettling at the door of every _choza_ that I passed; telling +all I saw that I was a pilgrim from Saint James, and showing my passport +in proof that I had been there. _Lieber Herr_, no person gave me a +_cuart_, nor even a piece of _broa_, and both Gallegans and Asturians +laughed at Saint James, and told me that his name was no longer a +passport in Spain. I should have starved if I had not sometimes plucked +an ear or two out of the maize fields; I likewise gathered grapes from +the _parras_ and berries from the brambles, and in this manner I +subsisted till I arrived at the _bellotas_, where I slaughtered a stray +kid which I met, and devoured part of the flesh raw, so great was my +hunger. It made me, however, very ill; and for two days I lay in a +_barranco_ half dead and unable to help myself; it was a mercy that I was +not devoured by the wolves. I then struck across the country for Oviedo: +how I reached it I do not know; I was like one walking in a dream. Last +night I slept in an empty hog-sty about two leagues from here, and ere I +left it, I fell down on my knees and prayed to God that I might find you, +_lieber Herr_, for you were my last hope. + +_Myself_.—And what do you propose to do at present? + +_Benedict_.—What can I say, _lieber Herr_? I know not what to do. I +will be guided in everything by your counsel. + +_Myself_.—I shall remain at Oviedo a few days longer, during which time +you can lodge at this _posada_, and endeavour to recover from the fatigue +of your disastrous journeys; perhaps before I depart, we may hit on some +plan to extricate you from your present difficulties. + +Oviedo contains about fifteen thousand inhabitants. It is picturesquely +situated between two mountains, Morcin and Naranco; the former is very +high and rugged, and during the greater part of the year is covered with +snow; the sides of the latter are cultivated and planted with vines. The +principal ornament of the town is the cathedral, {79a} the tower of which +is exceedingly lofty, and is perhaps one of the purest specimens of +Gothic architecture at present in existence. The interior of the +cathedral is neat and appropriate, but simple and unadorned. I observed +but one picture, the Conversion of Saint Paul. One of the chapels is a +cemetery, in which rest the bones of eleven Gothic kings; to whose souls +be peace. + +I bore a letter of recommendation from Corunna to a merchant of Oviedo. +This person received me very courteously, and generally devoted some +portion of every day to showing me the remarkable things of Oviedo. + +One morning he thus addressed me: “You have doubtless heard of Feijoo, +{79b} the celebrated philosophic monk of the order of Saint Benedict, +whose writings have so much tended to remove the popular fallacies and +superstitions so long cherished in Spain; he is buried in one of our +convents, where he passed a considerable portion of his life. Come with +me and I will show you his portrait. Carlos Tercero, {80} our great +king, sent his own painter from Madrid to execute it. It is now in the +possession of a friend of mine, Don Ramon Valdez, an advocate.” + +Thereupon he led me to the house of Don Ramon Valdez, who very politely +exhibited the portrait of Feijoo. It was circular in shape, about a foot +in diameter, and was surrounded by a little brass frame, something like +the rim of a barber’s basin. The countenance was large and massive, but +fine, the eyebrows knit, the eyes sharp and penetrating, nose aquiline. +On the head was a silken skull-cap; the collar of the coat or vest was +just perceptible. The painting was decidedly good, and struck me as +being one of the very best specimens of modern Spanish art which I had +hitherto seen. + +A day or two after this I said to Benedict Mol, “To-morrow I start from +hence for Santander. It is therefore high time that you decide upon some +course, whether to return to Madrid or to make the best of your way to +France, and from thence proceed to your own country.” + +“_Lieber Herr_,” said Benedict, “I will follow you to Santander by short +journeys, for I am unable to make long ones amongst these hills; and when +I am there, peradventure I may find some means of passing into France. +It is a great comfort, in my horrible journeys, to think that I am +travelling over the ground which yourself have trodden, and to hope that +I am proceeding to rejoin you once more. This hope kept me alive in the +_bellotas_, and without it I should never have reached Oviedo. I will +quit Spain as soon as possible, and betake me to Lucerne, though it is a +hard thing to leave the _Schatz_ behind me in the land of the Gallegans.” + +Thereupon I presented him with a few dollars. + +“A strange man is this Benedict,” said Antonio to me next morning, as, +accompanied by a guide, we sallied forth from Oviedo; “a strange man, +_mon maître_, is this same Benedict. A strange life has he led, and a +strange death he will die,—it is written on his countenance. That he +will leave Spain I do not believe, or if he leave it, it will be only to +return, for he is bewitched about this treasure. Last night he sent for +a _sorcière_ whom he consulted in my presence: and she told him that he +was doomed to possess it, but that first of all he must cross water. She +cautioned him likewise against an enemy, which he supposes must be the +canon of Saint James. I have often heard people speak of the avidity of +the Swiss for money, and here is a proof of it. I would not undergo what +Benedict has suffered in these last journeys of his to possess all the +treasures in Spain.” + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIV. + + +Departure from Oviedo—Villa Viciosa—The Young Man of the Inn—Antonio’s +Tale—The General and his Family—Woful Tidings—To-morrow we die—San +Vicente—Santander—An Harangue—Flinter the Irishman. + +So we left Oviedo and directed our course towards Santander. The man who +accompanied us as guide, and from whom I hired the pony on which I rode, +had been recommended to me by my friend the merchant of Oviedo. He +proved, however, a lazy, indolent fellow; he was generally loitering two +or three hundred yards in our rear, and instead of enlivening the way +with song and tale, like our late guide, Martin of Rivadeo, he scarcely +ever opened his lips, save to tell us not to go so fast, or that I should +burst his pony if I spurred him so. He was thievish withal, and though +he had engaged to make the journey _seco_, {82} that is, to defray the +charges of himself and beast, he contrived throughout to keep both at our +expense. When journeying in Spain, it is invariably the cheapest plan to +agree to maintain the guide and his horse or mule, for by so doing the +hire is diminished at least one-third, and the bills upon the road are +seldom increased; whereas, in the other case, he pockets the difference, +and yet goes shot free, and at the expense of the traveller, through the +connivance of the innkeepers, who have a kind of fellow-feeling with the +guides. + +Late in the afternoon we reached Villa Viciosa, a small dirty town, at +the distance of eight leagues from Oviedo: it stands beside a creek which +communicates with the Bay of Biscay. It is sometimes called La Capital +de las Avellanas, or the Capital of the Filberts, from the immense +quantity of this fruit which is grown in the neighbourhood; and the +greatest part of which is exported to England. As we drew nigh we +overtook numerous carts laden with _avellanas_ proceeding in the +direction of the town. I was informed that several small English vessels +were lying in the harbour. Singular as it may seem, however, +notwithstanding we were in the Capital of the Avellanas, it was with the +utmost difficulty that I procured a scanty handful for my dessert, and of +these more than one-half were decayed. The people of the house informed +me that the nuts were intended for exportation, and that they never +dreamt either of partaking of them themselves or of offering them to +their guests. + +At an early hour on the following day we reached Colunga, a beautiful +village on a rising ground, thickly planted with chestnut trees. It is +celebrated, at least in the Asturias, as being the birthplace of +Arguëlles, the father of the Spanish constitution. + +As we dismounted at the door of the _posada_, where we intended to +refresh ourselves, a person who was leaning out of an upper window +uttered an exclamation and disappeared. We were yet at the door, when +the same individual came running forth and cast himself on the neck of +Antonio. He was a good-looking young man, apparently about +five-and-twenty, genteelly dressed, with a _montero_ cap on his head. +Antonio looked at him for a moment, and then with an “_Ah_, _Monsieur_, +_est ce bien vous_?” shook him affectionately by the hand. The stranger +then motioned him to follow him, and they forthwith proceeded to the room +above. + +Wondering what this could mean, I sat down to my morning repast. Nearly +an hour elapsed, and still Antonio did not make his appearance. Through +the boards, however, which composed the ceiling of the kitchen where I +sat, I could hear the voices of himself and his acquaintance, and thought +that I could occasionally distinguish the sound of broken sobs and +groans. At last there was a long pause. I became impatient, and was +about to summon Antonio, when he made his appearance, but unaccompanied +by the stranger. “What, in the name of all that is singular,” I +demanded, “have you been about? Who is that man?” “_Mon maître_,” said +Antonio, “_c’est un monsieur de ma connaissance_. With your permission I +will now take a mouthful, and as we journey along I will tell you all +that I know of him.” + +“_Monsieur_,” said Antonio, as we rode out of Colunga, “you are anxious +to know the history of the gentleman whom you saw embrace me at the inn. +Know, _mon maître_, that these Carlist and _Cristino_ wars have been the +cause of much misery and misfortune in this country; but a being so +thoroughly unfortunate as that poor young gentleman of the inn, I do not +believe is to be found in Spain, and his misfortunes proceed entirely +from the spirit of party and faction which for some time past has been so +prevalent. + +“_Mon maître_, as I have often told you, I have lived in many houses and +served many masters, and it chanced that about ten years ago I served the +father of this gentleman, who was then a mere boy. It was a very high +family, for _monsieur_ the father was a general in the army, and a man of +large possessions. The family consisted of the general, his lady, and +two sons; the youngest of whom is the person you have just seen, the +other was several years older. _Pardieu_! I felt myself very +comfortable in that house, and every individual of the family had all +kind of complaisance for me. It is singular enough, that though I have +been turned out of so many families, I was never turned out of that; and +though I left it thrice, it was of my own free will. I became +dissatisfied with the other servants, or with the dog or the cat. The +last time I left was on account of the quail which was hung out of the +window of _madame_, and which waked me in the morning with its call. _Eh +bien_, _mon maître_, things went on in this way during the three years +that I continued in the family, out and in; at the end of which time it +was determined that the young gentleman should travel, and it was +proposed that I should attend him as valet. This I wished very much to +do. However, _par malheur_, I was at this time very much dissatisfied +with _madame_ his mother about the quail, and insisted that before I +accompanied him the bird should be slaughtered for the kitchen. To this +_madame_ would by no means consent; and even the young gentleman, who had +always taken my part on other occasions, said that I was unreasonable: so +I left the house in a huff, and never entered it again. + +“_Eh bien_, _mon maître_, the young gentleman went upon his travels, and +continued abroad several years; and from the time of his departure until +we met him at Colunga, I have not set eyes upon, nor indeed heard of him. +I have heard enough, however, of his family; of _monsieur_ the father, of +_madame_, and of the brother, who was an officer of cavalry. A short +time before the troubles, I mean before the death of Ferdinand, +_monsieur_ the father was appointed captain-general of Corunna. Now +_monsieur_, though a good master, was rather a proud man, and fond of +discipline, and all that kind of thing, and of obedience. He was, +moreover, no friend to the populace, to the _canaille_, and he had a +particular aversion to the nationals. So, when Ferdinand died, it was +whispered about at Corunna that the general was no liberal, and that he +was a better friend to Carlos than Christina. _Eh bien_, it chanced that +there was a grand _fête_, or festival, at Corunna, on the water, and the +nationals were there, and the soldiers. And I know not how it befell, +but there was an _émeute_, and the nationals laid hands on _monsieur_ the +general, and tying a rope round his neck, flung him overboard from the +barge in which he was, and then dragged him astern about the harbour +until he was drowned. They then went to his house, and pillaged it, and +so ill-treated _madame_, who at that time happened to be _enceinte_, that +in a few hours she expired. + +“I tell you what, _mon maître_, when I heard of the misfortune of +_madame_ and the general, you would scarcely believe it, but I actually +shed tears, and was sorry that I had parted with them in unkindness on +account of that pernicious quail. + +“_Eh bien_, _mon maître_, _nous poursuivrons notre histoire_. The eldest +son, as I told you before, was a cavalry officer, and a man of +resolution, and when he heard of the death of his father and mother, he +vowed revenge. Poor fellow! So what does he do but desert, with two or +three discontented spirits of his troop, and going to the frontier of +Galicia, he raised a small faction, and proclaimed Don Carlos. For some +little time he did considerable damage to the liberals, burning and +destroying their possessions, and putting to death several nationals that +fell into his hands. However, this did not last long; his faction was +soon dispersed, and he himself taken and hanged, and his head stuck on a +pole. + +“_Nous sommes déjà presque au bout_. When we arrived at the inn, the +young man took me above, as you saw, and there for some time he could do +nothing but weep and sob. His story is soon told:—he returned from his +travels, and the first intelligence which awaited him on his arrival in +Spain was, that his father was drowned, his mother dead, and his brother +hanged, and, moreover, all the possessions of his family confiscated. +This was not all: wherever he went, he found himself considered in the +light of a factious and discontented person, and was frequently assailed +by the nationals with blows of sabres and cudgels. He applied to his +relations, and some of these, who were of the Carlist persuasion, advised +him to betake himself to the army of Don Carlos, and the Pretender +himself, who was a friend of his father, and remembered the services of +his brother, offered to give him a command in his army. But, _mon +maître_, as I told you before, he was a pacific young gentleman, and as +mild as a lamb, and hated the idea of shedding blood. He was, moreover, +not of the Carlist opinion, for during his studies he had read books +written a long time ago by countrymen of mine, all about republics and +liberties, and the rights of man, so that he was much more inclined to +the liberal than the Carlist system; he therefore declined the offer of +Don Carlos, whereupon all his relations deserted him, whilst the liberals +hunted him from one place to another like a wild beast. At last, he sold +some little property which still remained to him, and with the proceeds +he came to this remote place of Colunga, where no one knew him, and where +he has been residing for several months, in a most melancholy manner, +with no other amusement than that which he derives from a book or two, or +occasionally hunting a leveret with his spaniel. + +“He asked me for counsel, but I had none to give him, and could only weep +with him. At last he said, ‘Dear Antonio, I see there is no remedy. You +say your master is below; beg him, I pray, to stay till tomorrow, and we +will send for the maidens of the neighbourhood, and for a violin and +bagpipe, and we will dance and cast away care for a moment.’ And then he +said something in old Greek, which I scarcely understood, but which I +think was equivalent to, ‘Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow +we die!’ + +“_Eh bien_, _mon maître_, I told him that you were a serious gentleman, +who never took any amusement, and that you were in a hurry. Whereupon he +wept again, and embraced me, and bade me farewell. And now, _mon +maître_, I have told you the history of the young man of the inn.” + +We slept at Ribida de Sella, and the next day at noon arrived at Llanes. +Our route lay between the coast and an immense range of mountains, which +rose up like huge ramparts at about a league’s distance from the sea. +The ground over which we passed was tolerably level, and seemingly well +cultivated. There was no lack of vines and trees, whilst at short +intervals rose the _cortijos_ of the proprietors—square stone buildings +surrounded with an outer wall. Llanes is an old town, formerly of +considerable strength. In its neighbourhood is the convent of San +Cilorio, one of the largest monastic edifices in all Spain. It is now +deserted, and stands alone and desolate upon one of the peninsulas of the +Cantabrian shore. Leaving Llanes, we soon entered one of the most dreary +and barren regions imaginable, a region of rock and stone, where neither +grass nor trees were to be seen. Night overtook us in these places. We +wandered on, however, until we reached a small village, termed Santo +Colombo. Here we passed the night, in the house of a carabineer of the +revenue, a tall athletic figure, who met us at the gate, armed with a +gun. He was a Castilian, and with all that ceremonious formality and +grave politeness for which his countrymen were at one time so celebrated. +He chid his wife for conversing with her handmaid about the concerns of +the house before us. “Barbara,” said he, “this is not conversation +calculated to interest the strange cavaliers; hold your peace, or go +aside with the _muchacha_.” In the morning he refused any remuneration +for his hospitality, “I am a _caballero_,” said he, “even as yourselves. +It is not my custom to admit people into my house for the sake of lucre. +I received you because you were benighted and the _posada_ distant.” + +Rising early in the morning, we pursued our way through a country equally +stony and dreary as that which we had entered upon the preceding day. In +about four hours we reached San Vicente, a large and dilapidated town, +chiefly inhabited by miserable fishermen. It retains, however, many +remarkable relics of former magnificence: the bridge, which bestrides the +broad and deep firth on which stands the town, has no less than +thirty-two arches, and is built of grey granite. It is very ancient, and +in some parts in so ruinous a condition as to be dangerous. + +Leaving San Vicente behind us, we travelled for some leagues on the +seashore, crossing occasionally a narrow inlet or firth. The country at +last began to improve, and in the neighbourhood of Santillana was both +beautiful and fertile. About a league before we reached the country of +Gil Blas we passed through an extensive wood, in which were rocks and +precipices; it was exactly such a place as that in which the cave of +Rolando was situated, as described in the novel. The wood has an evil +name, and our guide informed us that robberies were occasionally +committed in it. No adventure, however, befell us, and we reached +Santillana at about six in the evening. + +We did not enter the town, but halted at a large _venta_, or _posada_, at +the entrance, before which stood an immense ash tree. We had scarcely +housed ourselves when a tremendous storm of rain and wind commenced, +accompanied with thunder and lightning, which continued without much +interruption for several hours, and the effects of which were visible in +our journey of the following day, the streams over which we passed being +much swollen, and several trees lying uptorn by the wayside. Santillana +contains four thousand inhabitants, and is six short leagues’ distance +from Santander, where we arrived early the next day. + +Nothing could exhibit a stronger contrast to the desolate tracts and the +half-ruined towns through which we had lately passed, than the bustle and +activity of Santander, which, though it stands on the confines of the +Basque provinces, the stronghold of the Pretender, is almost the only +city in Spain which has not suffered by the Carlist wars. Till the close +of the last century it was little better than an obscure fishing town, +but it has of late years almost entirely engrossed the commerce of the +Spanish transatlantic possessions, especially of the Havannah. The +consequence of which has been, that whilst Santander has rapidly +increased in wealth and magnificence, both Corunna and Cadiz have been as +rapidly hastening to decay. At present it possesses a noble quay, on +which stands a line of stately edifices, far exceeding in splendour the +palaces of the aristocracy of Madrid. These are built in the French +style, and are chiefly occupied by the merchants. The population of +Santander is estimated at sixty thousand souls. + +On the day of my arrival I dined at the _table-d’hôte_ of the principal +inn, kept by a Genoese. The company was very miscellaneous—French, +Germans, and Spaniards, all speaking in their respective languages, +whilst at the ends of the table, confronting each other, sat two Catalan +merchants, one of whom weighed nearly twenty stone, grunting across the +board in their harsh dialect. Long, however, before dinner was concluded +the conversation was entirely engrossed and the attention of all present +directed to an individual who sat on one side of the bulky Catalan. He +was a thin man of about the middle height, with a remarkably red face, +and something in his eyes which, if not a squint, bore a striking +resemblance to it. He was dressed in a blue military frock, and seemed +to take much more pleasure in haranguing than in the fare which was set +before him. He spoke perfectly good Spanish, yet his voice betrayed +something of a foreign accent. For a long time he descanted with immense +volubility on war and all its circumstances, freely criticizing the +conduct of the generals, both Carlist and _Cristinos_, in the present +struggle, till at last he exclaimed, “Had I but twenty thousand men +allowed me by the government, I would bring the war to a conclusion in +six months.” + +“Pardon me, sir,” said a Spaniard who sat at the table, “the curiosity +which induces me to request the favour of your distinguished name.” + +“I am Flinter,” replied the individual in the military frock, “a name +which is in the mouth of every man, woman, and child in Spain. I am +Flinter {92} the Irishman, just escaped from the Basque provinces and the +claws of Don Carlos. On the decease of Ferdinand, I declared for +Isabella, esteeming it the duty of every good cavalier and Irishman in +the Spanish service to do so. You have all heard of my exploits, and +permit me to tell you they would have been yet more glorious had not +jealousy been at work and cramped my means. Two years ago I was +despatched to Estremadura, to organize the militias. The bands of Gomez +and Cabrera entered the province, and spread devastation around. They +found me, however, at my post; and had I been properly seconded by those +under my command, the two rebels would never have returned to their +master to boast of their success. I stood behind my intrenchments. A +man advanced and summoned us to surrender. ‘Who are you?’ I demanded. +‘I am Cabrera,’ he replied; ‘and I am Flinter,’ I retorted flourishing my +sabre; ‘retire to your battalions, or you will forthwith die the death.’ +He was awed, and did as I commanded. In an hour we surrendered. I was +led a prisoner to the Basque provinces; and the Carlists rejoiced in the +capture they had made, for the name of Flinter had long sounded amongst +the Carlist ranks. I was flung into a loathsome dungeon, where I +remained twenty months. I was cold; I was naked; but I did not on that +account despond—my spirit was too indomitable for such weakness. My +keeper at last pitied my misfortunes. He said that ‘it grieved him to +see so valiant a man perish in inglorious confinement.’ We laid a plan +to escape together; disguises were provided, and we made the attempt. We +passed unobserved till we arrived at the Carlist lines above Bilbao: +there we were stopped. My presence of mind, however, did not desert me. +I was disguised as a carman, as a Catalan, and the coolness of my answers +deceived my interrogators. We were permitted to pass, and soon were safe +within the walls of Bilbao. There was an illumination that night in the +town, for the lion had burst his toils, Flinter had escaped, and was once +more returned to reanimate a drooping cause. I have just arrived at +Santander, on my way to Madrid, where I intend to ask of the government a +command, with twenty thousand men.” + +Poor Flinter! a braver heart and a more gasconading mouth were surely +never united in the same body. He proceeded to Madrid, and through the +influence of the British ambassador, who was his friend, he obtained the +command of a small division, with which he contrived to surprise and +defeat, in the neighbourhood of Toledo, a body of the Carlists, commanded +by Orejita, whose numbers more than trebled his own. In reward for this +exploit he was persecuted by the government, which, at that time, was the +_moderado_ or _juste milieu_, with the most relentless animosity; the +prime minister, Ofalia, supporting with all his influence numerous and +ridiculous accusations of plunder and robbery brought against the too +successful general by the Carlist canons of Toledo. He was likewise +charged with a dereliction of duty, in having permitted, after the battle +of Valdepeñas, which he likewise won in the most gallant manner, the +Carlist force to take possession of the mines of Almaden, although the +government, who were bent on his ruin, had done all in their power to +prevent him from following up his successes, by denying him the slightest +supplies and reinforcements. The fruits of victory thus wrested from +him, his hopes blighted, a morbid melancholy seized upon the Irishman; he +resigned his command, and, in less than ten months from the period when I +saw him at Santander, afforded his dastardly and malignant enemies a +triumph which satisfied even them, by cutting his own throat with a +razor. + +Ardent spirits of foreign climes, who hope to distinguish yourselves in +the service of Spain, and to earn honours and rewards, remember the fate +of Columbus, and of another as brave and as ardent—Flinter! + + + + +CHAPTER XXXV. + + +Departure from Santander—The Night Alarm—The Black Pass. + +I had ordered two hundred Testaments to be sent to Santander from Madrid: +I found, however, to my great sorrow, that they had not arrived, and I +supposed that they had either been seized on the way by the Carlists, or +that my letter had miscarried. I then thought of applying to England for +a supply, but I abandoned the idea for two reasons. In the first place, +I should have to remain idly loitering, at least a month, before I could +receive them, at a place where every article was excessively dear; and, +secondly, I was very unwell, and unable to procure medical advice at +Santander. Ever since I left Corunna, I had been afflicted with a +terrible dysentery, and latterly with an ophthalmia, the result of the +other malady. I therefore determined on returning to Madrid. To effect +this, however, seemed no very easy task. Parties of the army of Don +Carlos, which, in a partial degree, had been routed in Castile, were +hovering about the country through which I should have to pass, more +especially in that part called “The Mountains,” so that all communication +had ceased between Santander and the southern districts. Nevertheless, I +determined to trust as usual in the Almighty, and to risk the danger. I +purchased, therefore, a small horse, and sallied forth with Antonio. + +Before departing, however, I entered into conference with the booksellers +as to what they should do in the event of my finding an opportunity of +sending them a stock of Testaments from Madrid; and, having arranged +matters to my satisfaction, I committed myself to Providence. I will not +dwell long on this journey of three hundred miles. We were in the midst +of the fire, yet, strange to say, escaped without a hair of our heads +being singed. Robberies, murders, and all kinds of atrocities were +perpetrated before, behind, and on both sides of us; but not so much as a +dog barked at us, though in one instance a plan had been laid to +intercept us. About four leagues from Santander, whilst we were baiting +our horses at a village hostelry, I saw a fellow run off after having +held a whispering conversation with a boy who was dealing out barley to +us. I instantly inquired of the latter what the man had said to him, but +only obtained an evasive answer. It appeared afterwards that the +conversation was about ourselves. Two or three leagues farther there was +an inn and village where we had proposed staying, and indeed had +expressed our intention of doing so; but on arriving there, finding that +the sun was still far from its bourne, I determined to proceed farther, +expecting to meet with a resting-place at the distance of a league; +though I was mistaken, as we found none until we reached Montaneda, nine +leagues and a half from Santander, where was stationed a small detachment +of soldiers. At the dead of night, we were aroused from our sleep by a +cry that the “factious” were not far off. A messenger had arrived from +the _alcalde_ of the village where we had previously intended staying, +who stated that a party of Carlists had just surprised that place, and +were searching for an English spy, whom they supposed to be at the inn. +The officer commanding the soldiers, upon hearing this, not deeming his +own situation a safe one, instantly drew off his men, falling back on a +stronger party stationed in a fortified village near at hand. As for +ourselves, we saddled our horses and continued our way in the dark. Had +the Carlists succeeded in apprehending me, I should instantly have been +shot, and my body cast on the rocks to feed the vultures and wolves. But +“it was not so written,” said Antonio, who, like many of his countrymen, +was a fatalist. The next night we had another singular escape: we had +arrived near the entrance of a horrible pass called “_El puerto de la +puente de las tablas_,” or the pass of the bridge of planks, which wound +through a black and frightful mountain, on the farther side of which was +the town of Oñas, where we meant to tarry for the night. The sun had set +about a quarter of an hour. Suddenly a man, with his face covered with +blood, rushed out of the pass. “Turn back, sir,” he said, “in the name +of God; there are murderers in that pass; they have just robbed me of my +mule, and all I possess, and I have hardly escaped with life from their +hands!” I scarcely know why, but I made him no answer, and proceeded; +indeed I was so weary and unwell that I cared not what became of me. We +entered; the rocks rose perpendicularly, right and left, entirely +intercepting the scanty twilight, so that the darkness of the grave, or +rather the blackness of the valley of the shadow of death, reigned around +us, and we knew not where we went, but trusted to the instinct of the +horses, who moved on with their heads close to the ground. The only +sound which we heard was the plash of a stream, which tumbled down the +pass. I expected every moment to feel a knife at my throat, but “_it was +not so written_.” We threaded the pass without meeting a human being, +and within three-quarters of an hour after the time we entered it, we +found ourselves within the _posada_ of the town of Oñas, which was filled +with troops and armed peasants expecting an attack from the grand Carlist +army, which was near at hand. + +Well, we reached Burgos in safety; {98} we reached Valladolid in safety; +we passed the Guadarrama in safety; and were at length safely housed in +Madrid. People said we had been very lucky; Antonio said, “It was so +written;” but I say, Glory be to the Lord for His mercies vouchsafed to +us. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVI. + + +State of Affairs at Madrid—The New Ministry—Pope of Rome—The Bookseller +of Toledo—Sword-blades—Houses of Toledo—The Forlorn Gypsy—Proceedings at +Madrid—Another Servant. + +During my journey in the northern provinces of Spain, which occupied a +considerable portion of the year 1837, I had accomplished but a slight +portion of what I proposed to myself to effect in the outset. +Insignificant are the results of man’s labours compared with the swelling +ideas of his presumption; something, however, had been effected by the +journey which I had just concluded. The New Testament of Christ was now +enjoying a quiet sale in the principal towns of the north, and I had +secured the friendly interest and co-operation of the booksellers of +those parts, particularly of him the most considerable of them all, old +Rey of Compostella. I had, moreover, disposed of a considerable number +of Testaments with my own hands, to private individuals, entirely of the +lower classes, namely, muleteers, carmen, _contrabandistas_, etc., so +that upon the whole I had abundant cause for gratitude and thanksgiving. + +I did not find our affairs in a very prosperous state at Madrid, few +copies having been sold in the booksellers’ shops; yet what could be +rationally expected during these latter times? Don Carlos, with a large +army, had been at the gates; plunder and massacre had been expected; so +that people were too much occupied in forming plans to secure their lives +and property to give much attention to reading of any description. + +The enemy, however, had now retired to his strongholds in Alava and +Guipuzcoa. I hoped that brighter days were dawning, and that the work, +under my own superintendence, would, with God’s blessing, prosper in the +capital of Spain. How far the result corresponded with my expectations +will be seen in the sequel. + +During my absence in the north, a total change of ministers had occurred. +The liberal party had been ousted from the cabinet, and in their place +had entered individuals attached to the _moderado_ or court party: +unfortunately, however, for my prospects, they consisted of persons with +whom I had no acquaintance whatever, and with whom my former friends, +Galiano and Isturitz, had little or no influence. These gentlemen were +now regularly laid on the shelf, and their political career appeared to +be terminated for ever. {100} + +From the present ministry I could expect but little; they consisted of +men the greater part of whom had been either courtiers or employés of the +deceased King Ferdinand, who were friends to absolutism, and by no means +inclined to do or to favour anything calculated to give offence to the +court of Rome, which they were anxious to conciliate, hoping that +eventually it might be induced to recognize the young queen, not as the +constitutional but as the absolute Queen Isabella the Second. + +Such was the party which continued in power throughout the remainder of +my sojourn in Spain, and which persecuted me less from rancour and malice +than from policy. It was not until the conclusion of the war of the +succession that it lost the ascendency, when it sank to the ground with +its patroness the queen-mother, before the dictatorship of Espartero. + +The first step which I took after my return to Madrid, towards +circulating the Scriptures, was a very bold one. It was neither more nor +less than the establishment of a shop for the sale of Testaments. This +shop was situated in the Calle del Principe, a respectable and +well-frequented street in the neighbourhood of the Square of Cervantes. +I furnished it handsomely with glass cases and chandeliers, and procured +an acute Gallegan of the name of Pepe Calzado, to superintend the +business, who gave me weekly a faithful account of the copies sold. + +“How strangely times alter,” said I, the second day subsequent to the +opening of my establishment, as I stood on the opposite side of the +street, leaning against the wall with folded arms, surveying my shop, on +the windows of which were painted in large yellow characters, _Despacho +de la Sociedad Bíblica y Estrangera_; {101} “how strangely times alter! +Here have I been during the last eight months running about old Popish +Spain, distributing Testaments, as agent of what the Papists call an +heretical society, and have neither been stoned nor burnt; and here am I +now in the capital, doing that which one would think were enough to cause +all the dead inquisitors and officials buried within the circuit of the +walls to rise from their graves and cry abomination; and yet no one +interferes with me. Pope of Rome! Pope of Rome! look to thyself. That +shop may be closed; but oh! what a sign of the times, that it has been +permitted to exist for one day. It appears to me, my Father, that the +days of your sway are numbered in Spain; that you will not be permitted +much longer to plunder her, to scoff at her, and to scourge her with +scorpions, as in bygone periods. See I not the hand on the wall? See I +not in yonder letters a ‘_Mene_, _Mene_, _Tekel_, _Upharsin_’? Look to +thyself, _Batuschca_.” + +And I remained for two hours, leaning against the wall, staring at the +shop. + +A short time after the establishment of the _despacho_ at Madrid, I once +more mounted the saddle, and, attended by Antonio, rode over to Toledo, +for the purpose of circulating the Scriptures, sending beforehand by a +muleteer a cargo of one hundred Testaments. I instantly addressed myself +to the principal bookseller of the place, whom, from the circumstance of +his living in a town so abounding with canons, priests, and ex-friars as +Toledo, I expected to find a Carlist, or a _servil_ at least. I was +never more mistaken in my life: on entering the shop, which was very +large and commodious, I beheld a stout athletic man, dressed in a kind of +cavalry uniform, with a helmet on his head, and an immense sabre in his +hand. This was the bookseller himself, who, I soon found, was an officer +in the national cavalry. Upon learning who I was, he shook me heartily +by the hand, and said that nothing would give him greater pleasure than +taking charge of the books, which he would endeavour to circulate to the +utmost of his ability. + +“Will not your doing so bring you into odium with the clergy?” + +“_Ca_!” {103a} said he; “who cares? I am rich, and so was my father +before me. I do not depend on them; they cannot hate me more than they +do already, for I make no secret of my opinions. I have just returned +from an expedition,” said he; “my brother nationals and myself have, for +the last three days, been occupied in hunting down the factious and +thieves of the neighbourhood; we have killed three and brought in several +prisoners. Who cares for the cowardly priests? I am a liberal, _Don +Jorge_, and a friend of your countryman, Flinter. Many is the Carlist +guerilla-curate and robber-friar whom I have assisted him to catch. I am +rejoiced to hear that he has just been appointed captain-general of +Toledo; there will be fine doings here when he arrives, _Don Jorge_. We +will make the clergy shake between us, I assure you.” + +Toledo was formerly the capital of Spain. Its population at present is +barely fifteen thousand souls, though, in the time of the Romans, and +also during the Middle Ages, it is said to have amounted to between two +and three hundred thousand. It is situated about twelve leagues, or +forty miles, westward {103b} of Madrid, and is built upon a steep rocky +hill, round which flows the Tagus, on all sides but the north. It still +possesses a great many remarkable edifices, notwithstanding that it has +long since fallen into decay. Its cathedral is the most magnificent of +Spain, and is the see of the primate. In the tower of this cathedral is +the famous bell of Toledo, the largest in the world with the exception of +the monster bell of Moscow, which I have also seen. It weighs 1543 +_arrobas_, or 37,032 pounds. It has, however, a disagreeable sound, +owing to a cleft in its side. Toledo could once boast the finest +pictures in Spain, but many were stolen or destroyed by the French during +the Peninsular war, and still more have lately been removed by order of +the government. Perhaps the most remarkable one still remains; I allude +to that which represents the burial of the Count of Orgas, the +masterpiece of Domenico, {104} the Greek, a most extraordinary genius, +some of whose productions possess merit of a very high order. The +picture in question is in the little parish church of San Tomé, at the +bottom of the aisle, on the left side of the altar. Could it be +purchased, I should say it would be cheap at five thousand pounds. + +Amongst the many remarkable things which meet the eye of the curious +observer at Toledo, is the manufactory of arms, where are wrought the +swords, spears, and other weapons intended for the army, with the +exception of firearms, which mostly come from abroad. + +In old times, as is well known, the sword-blades of Toledo were held in +great estimation, and were transmitted as merchandise throughout +Christendom. The present manufactory, or _fabrica_, as it is called, is +a handsome modern edifice, situated without the wall of the city, on a +plain contiguous to the river, with which it communicates by a small +canal. It is said that the water and the sand of the Tagus are essential +for the proper tempering of the swords. I asked some of the principal +workmen whether, at the present day, they could manufacture weapons of +equal value to those of former days, and whether the secret had been +lost. + +“_Ca_!” said they, “the swords of Toledo were never so good as those +which we are daily making. It is ridiculous enough to see strangers +coming here to purchase old swords, the greater part of which are mere +rubbish, and never made at Toledo, yet for such they will give a large +price, whilst they would grudge two dollars for this jewel, which was +made but yesterday;” thereupon putting into my hand a middle-sized +rapier. “Your worship,” said they, “seems to have a strong arm; prove +its temper against the stone wall—thrust boldly and fear not.” + +I _have_ a strong arm, and dashed the point with my utmost force against +the solid granite: my arm was numbed to the shoulder from the violence of +the concussion, and continued so for nearly a week, but the sword +appeared not to be at all blunted, or to have suffered in any respect. + +“A better sword than that,” said an ancient workman, a native of Old +Castile, “never transfixed Moor out yonder on the _sagra_.” + +During my stay at Toledo, I lodged at the Posada de los Caballeros, which +signifies the inn of the gentlemen, which name, in some respects, it +certainly well deserved, for there are many palaces far less magnificent +than this inn of Toledo. By magnificence it must not be supposed, +however, that I allude to costliness of furniture or any kind of luxury +which pervaded the culinary department. The rooms were as empty as those +of Spanish inns generally are, and the fare, though good in its kind, was +plain and homely; but I have seldom seen a more imposing edifice. It was +of immense size, consisting of several stories, and was built something +in the Moorish taste, with a quadrangular court in the centre, beneath +which was an immense _algibe_ or tank, serving as a reservoir for +rain-water. All the houses in Toledo are supplied with tanks of this +description, into which the waters in the rainy season flow from the +roofs through pipes. No other water is used for drinking; that of the +Tagus, not being considered salubrious, is only used for purposes of +cleanliness, being conveyed up the steep narrow streets on donkeys, in +large stone jars. The city, standing on a rocky mountain, has no wells. +As for the rain-water, it deposits a sediment in the tank, and becomes +very sweet and potable: these tanks are cleaned out twice every year. +During the summer, at which time the heat in this part of Spain is +intense, the families spend the greater part of the day in the courts, +which are overhung with a linen awning, the heat of the atmosphere being +tempered by the coolness arising from the tank below, which answers the +same purpose as the fountain in the southern provinces of Spain. + +I spent about a week at Toledo, during which time several copies of the +Testament were disposed of in the shop of my friend the bookseller. +Several priests took it up from the _mostrador_ on which it lay, examined +it, but made no remarks; none of them purchased it. My friend showed me +through his house, almost every apartment of which was lined from roof to +floor with books, many of which were highly valuable. He told me that he +possessed the best collection in Spain of the ancient literature of the +country. He was, however, less proud of his library than his stud; +finding that I had some acquaintance with horses, his liking for me and +also his respect considerably increased. “All I have,” said he, “is at +your service; I see you are a man after my own heart. When you are +disposed to ride out upon the _sagra_, you have only to apply to my +groom, who will forthwith saddle you my famed Cordovese _entero_; I +purchased him from the stables at Aranjuez, when the royal stud was +broken up. There is but one other man to whom I would lend him, and that +man is Flinter.” + +At Toledo I met with a forlorn gypsy woman and her son, a lad of about +fourteen years of age; she was not a native of the place, but had come +from La Mancha, her husband having been cast into the prison of Toledo on +a charge of mule-stealing: the crime had been proved against him, and in +a few days he was to depart for Malaga, with the chain of galley-slaves. +He was quite destitute of money, and his wife was now in Toledo, earning +a few _cuartos_ by telling fortunes about the streets, to support him in +prison. She told me that it was her intention to follow him to Malaga, +where she hoped to be able to effect his escape. What an instance of +conjugal affection! and yet the affection here was all on one side, as is +too frequently the case. Her husband was a worthless scoundrel, who had +previously abandoned her and betaken himself to Madrid, where he had long +lived in concubinage with the notorious she-thug Aurora, {107} at whose +instigation he had committed the robbery for which he was now held in +durance. “Should your husband escape from Malaga, in what direction will +he fly?” I demanded. + +“To the _chim_ of the _Corahai_, my son; to the land of the Moors, to be +a soldier of the Moorish king.” + +“And what will become of yourself?” I inquired; “think you that he will +take you with him?” + +“He will leave me on the shore, my son; and as soon as he has crossed the +black _pawnee_, he will forget me and never think of me more.” + +“And knowing his ingratitude, why should you give yourself so much +trouble about him?” + +“Am I not his _romí_, my son; and am I not bound by the law of the +_Calés_ to assist him to the last? Should he return from the land of the +_Corahai_ at the end of a hundred years, and should find me alive, and +should say, ‘I am hungry, little wife; go forth and steal or tell +_baji_,’ I must do it, for he is the _rom_ and I the _romí_.” + +On my return to Madrid, I found the _despacho_ still open. Various +Testaments had been sold, though the number was by no means considerable: +the work had to labour under great disadvantage, from the ignorance of +the people at large with respect to its tenor and contents. It was no +wonder, then, that little interest was felt respecting it. To call, +however, public attention to the _despacho_, I printed three thousand +advertisements on paper, yellow, blue, and crimson, with which I almost +covered the sides of the streets, and, besides this, inserted an account +of it in all the journals and periodicals: the consequence was, that in a +short time almost every person in Madrid was aware of its existence. +Such exertions in London or Paris would probably have ensured the sale of +the entire edition of the New Testament within a few days. In Madrid, +however, the result was not quite so flattering; for after the +establishment had been open an entire month, the copies disposed of +barely amounted to one hundred. + +These proceedings of mine did not fail to cause a great sensation: the +priests and their partisans were teeming with malice and fury, which, for +some time, however, they thought proper to exhibit only in words; it +being their opinion that I was favoured by the ambassador and by the +British government; but there was no attempt, however atrocious, that +might not be expected from their malignity; and were it right and seemly +for me, the most insignificant of worms, to make such a comparison, I +might say, like Paul at Ephesus, I was fighting with wild beasts. + +On the last day of the year 1837, my servant Antonio thus addressed me: +“_Mon maître_, it is necessary that I leave you for a time. Ever since +we have returned from our journeys, I have become unsettled and +dissatisfied with the house, the furniture, and with Doña Marequita. I +have therefore engaged myself as cook in the house of the Count of ---, +where I am to receive four dollars per month less than what your worship +gives me. I am fond of change, though it be for the worse. _Adieu_, +_mon maître_; may you be as well served as you deserve. Should you +chance, however, to have any pressing need _de mes soins_, send for me +without hesitation, and I will at once give my new master warning, if I +am still with him, and come to you.” + +Thus I was deprived for a time of the services of Antonio. I continued +for a few days without a domestic, at the end of which time I hired a +certain Cantabrian or Basque, a native of the village of Hernani, in +Guipuzcoa, who was strongly recommended to me. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVII. + + +Euscarra—Basque not Irish—Sanscrit and Tartar Dialects—A Vowel +Language—Popular Poetry—The Basques—Their Persons—Basque Women. + +I now entered upon the year 1838, perhaps the most eventful of all those +which I passed in Spain. The _despacho_ still continued open, with a +somewhat increasing sale. Having at this time little of particular +moment with which to occupy myself, I committed to the press two works, +which for some time past had been in the course of preparation. These +were the Gospel of St. Luke in the Spanish gypsy and the Euscarra +languages. {111a} + +With respect to the gypsy Gospel, I have little to say, having already +spoken of it in a former work; {111b} it was translated by myself, +together with the greater part of the New Testament, during my long +intercourse with the Spanish gypsies. Concerning the Luke in Euscarra, +however, it will be as well to be more particular, and to avail myself of +the present opportunity to say a few words concerning the language in +which it was written, and the people for whom it was intended. + +The Euscarra, then, is the proper term for a certain speech or language, +supposed to have been at one time prevalent throughout Spain, but which +is at present confined to certain districts, both on the French and +Spanish side of the Pyrenees, which are laved by the waters of the +Cantabrian Gulf, or Bay of Biscay. This language is commonly known as +the Basque, or Biscayan, which words are mere modifications of the word +Euscarra, the consonant B having been prefixed for the sake of euphony. +Much that is vague, erroneous, and hypothetical has been said and written +concerning this tongue. The Basques assert that it was not only the +original language of Spain, but also of the world, and that from it all +other languages are derived; but the Basques are a very ignorant people, +and know nothing of the philosophy of language. Very little importance, +therefore, need be attached to any opinion of theirs on such a subject. +A few amongst them, however, who affect some degree of learning, contend +that it is neither more nor less than a dialect of the Phœnician, and +that the Basques are the descendants of a Phœnician colony, established +at the foot of the Pyrenees at a very remote period. Of this theory, or +rather conjecture, as it is unsubstantiated by the slightest proof, it is +needless to take further notice than to observe that, provided the +Phœnician language, as many of the _truly learned_ have supposed, and +almost proved, was a dialect of the Hebrew, or closely allied to it, it +were as unreasonable to suppose that the Basque is derived from it as +that the Kamschatkan and Cherokee are dialects of the Greek and Latin. + +There is, however, another opinion with respect to the Basque which +deserves more especial notice, from the circumstance of its being +extensively entertained amongst the _literati_ of various countries of +Europe, more especially England. I allude to the Celtic origin of this +tongue, and its close connexion with the most cultivated of all the +Celtic dialects—the Irish. People who pretend to be well conversant with +the subject, have even gone so far as to assert, that so little +difference exists between the Basque and Irish tongues, that individuals +of the two nations, when they meet together, find no difficulty in +understanding each other, with no other means of communication than their +respective languages; in a word, that there is scarcely a greater +difference between the two than between the French and the Spanish +Basque. Such similarity, however, though so strongly insisted upon, by +no means exists in fact; and perhaps in the whole of Europe it would be +difficult to discover two languages which exhibit fewer points of mutual +resemblance than the Basque and Irish. + +The Irish, like most other European languages, is a dialect of the +Sanscrit, a _remote_ one, as may well be supposed; the corner of the +western world in which it is still preserved being, of all countries in +Europe, the most distant from the proper home of the parent tongue. It +is still, however, a dialect of that venerable and most original speech, +not so closely resembling it, it is true, as the English, Danish, and +those which belong to what is called the Gothic family, and far less than +those of the Sclavonian; for the nearer we approach to the East, in equal +degree the assimilation of languages to this parent stock becomes more +clear and distinct; but still a dialect, agreeing with the Sanscrit in +structure, in the arrangement of words, and in many instances in the +words themselves, which, however modified, may still be recognized as +Sanscrit. But what is the Basque, and to what family does it properly +pertain? + +To two great Asiatic languages all the dialects spoken at present in +Europe may be traced. These two, if not now spoken, still exist in +books, and are, moreover, the languages of two of the principal religions +of the East. I allude to the Tibetian and Sanscrit—the sacred languages +of the followers of Buddh and Bramah. These tongues, though they possess +many words in common, which is easily to be accounted for by their close +proximity, are properly distinct, being widely different in structure. +In what this difference consists, I have neither time nor inclination to +state; suffice it to say, that the Celtic, Gothic, and Sclavonian +dialects in Europe belong to the Sanscrit family, even as in the East the +Persian, and to a less degree the Arabic, Hebrew, etc.; {114} whilst to +the Tibetian or Tartar family in Asia pertain the Mandchou and Mongolian, +the Calmuc and the Turkish of the Caspian sea; and in Europe, the +Hungarian and the Basque _partially_. + +Indeed, this latter language is a strange anomaly, so that upon the whole +it is less difficult to say what it is not, than what it is. It abounds +with Sanscrit words to such a degree that its surface seems strewn with +them. Yet would it be wrong to term it a Sanscrit dialect, for in the +collocation of these words the Tartar form is most decidedly observable. +A considerable proportion of Tartar words is likewise to be found in this +language, though perhaps not in equal numbers to the terms derived from +the Sanscrit. Of these Tartar etymons I shall at present content myself +with citing one, though, if necessary, it were easy to adduce hundreds. +This word is _Jauna_, or, as it is pronounced, _Khauna_—a word in +constant use amongst the Basques, and which is the _Khan_ of the Mongols +and Mandchous, and of the same signification—_Lord_. + +Having closely examined the subject in all its various bearings, and +having weighed what is to be said on one side against what is to be +advanced on the other, I am inclined to rank the Basque rather amongst +the Tartar than the Sanscrit dialects. Whoever should have an +opportunity of comparing the enunciation of the Basques and Tartars +would, from that alone, even if he understood them not, come to the +conclusion that their respective languages were formed on the same +principles. In both occur periods seemingly interminable, during which +the voice gradually ascends to a climax, and then gradually sinks down. + +I have spoken of the surprising number of Sanscrit words contained in the +Basque language, specimens of some of which will be found below. It is +remarkable enough, that in the greater part of the derivatives from the +Sanscrit, the Basque has dropped the initial consonant, so that the word +commences with a vowel. The Basque, indeed, may be said to be almost a +vowel language, the number of consonants employed being comparatively +few; perhaps eight words out of ten commence and terminate with a vowel, +owing to which it is a language to the highest degree soft and melodious, +far excelling in this respect any other language in Europe, not even +excepting the Italian. Here follow a few specimens of Basque words with +the Sanscrit roots in juxtaposition:— + + + + BASQUE. SANSCRIT. +Ardoa {116a} Sandhána _Wine_. +Arratsa Ratri _Night_. +Beguia Akshi _Eye_. +Choria Chiria {116a} _Bird_. +Chacurra Cucura _Dog_. +Erreguiña Rani _Queen_. +{116a} +Icusi Iksha _To see_. +Iru Treya _Three_. +Jan (Khan) Khana _To eat_. +Uria {116a} Puri _City_. +Urruti Dura _Far_. + +Such is the tongue in which I brought out Saint Luke’s Gospel at Madrid. +The translation I procured originally from a Basque physician of the name +of Oteiza. {116b} Previous to being sent to the press, the version had +lain nearly two years in my possession, during which time, and +particularly during my travels, I lost no opportunity of submitting it to +the inspection of those who were considered competent scholars in the +Euscarra. It did not entirely please me; but it was in vain to seek for +a better translation. + +In my early youth I had obtained a slight acquaintance with the Euscarra, +as it exists in books. This acquaintance I considerably increased during +my stay in Spain, and, by occasionally mingling with Basques, was enabled +to understand the spoken language to a certain extent, and even to speak +it, but always with considerable hesitation; for to speak Basque, even +tolerably, it is necessary to have lived in the country from a very early +period. So great are the difficulties attending it, and so strange are +its peculiarities, that it is very rare to find a foreigner possessed of +any considerable skill in the oral language, and the Spaniards consider +the obstacles so formidable that they have a proverb to the effect that +Satan once lived seven years in Biscay, and then departed, finding +himself unable either to understand or to make himself understood. + +There are few inducements to the study of this language. In the first +place, the acquisition of it is by no means necessary even to those who +reside in the countries where it is spoken, the Spanish being generally +understood throughout the Basque provinces pertaining to Spain, and the +French in those pertaining to France. + +In the second place, neither dialect is in possession of any peculiar +literature capable of repaying the toil of the student. There are +various books extant both in French and Spanish Basque, {117} but these +consist entirely of Popish devotion, and are for the most part +translations. + +It will, perhaps, here be asked whether the Basques do not possess +popular poetry, like most other nations, however small and +inconsiderable. They have certainly no lack of songs, ballads, and +stanzas, but of a character by no means entitled to the appellation of +poetry. I have noted down from recitation, a considerable portion of +what they call their poetry, but the only tolerable specimen of verse +which I ever discovered amongst them was the following stanza, which, +after all, is not entitled to very high praise:— + + “Ichasoa urac aundi, + Estu ondoric agueri— + Pasaco ninsaqueni andic + Maitea icustea gatic.” {118a} + +_i.e._ “The waters of the sea are vast, and their bottom cannot be seen; +but over them I will pass, that I may behold my love.” + +The Basques are a singing rather than a poetical people. Notwithstanding +the facility with which their tongue lends itself to the composition of +verse, they have never produced among them a poet with the slightest +pretensions to reputation; but their voices are singularly sweet, and +they are known to excel in musical composition. It is the opinion of a +certain author, the Abbé D’Iharce, {118b} who has written about them, +that they derived the name _Cantabri_, by which they are known to the +Romans, from _Khantor-ber_, signifying sweet singers. They possess much +music of their own, some of which is said to be exceedingly ancient. Of +this music specimens were published at Donostian (San Sebastian) in the +year 1826, edited by a certain Juan Ignacio Iztueta. {118c} These +consist of wild and thrilling marches, to the sound of which it is +believed that the ancient Basques were in the habit of descending from +their mountains to combat with the Romans, and subsequently with the +Moors. Whilst listening to them it is easy to suppose one’s self in the +close vicinity of some desperate encounter. We seem to hear the charge +of cavalry on the sounding plain, the clash of swords, and the rushing of +men down the gorges of hills. This music is accompanied with words, but +such words! Nothing can be imagined more stupid, commonplace, and +uninteresting. So far from being martial, they relate to everyday +incidents, and appear to have no connexion whatever with the music. They +are evidently of modern date. + +In person the Basques are of the middle size, and are active and +athletic. They are in general of fair complexions and handsome features, +and in appearance bear no slight resemblance to certain Tartar tribes of +the Caucasus. Their bravery is unquestionable, and they are considered +as the best soldiery belonging to the Spanish crown: a fact highly +corroborative of the supposition that they are of Tartar origin, the +Tartars being of all races the most warlike, and amongst whom the most +remarkable conquerors have been produced. They are faithful and honest, +and capable of much disinterested attachment; kind and hospitable to +strangers; all of which points are far from being at variance with the +Tartar character. But they are somewhat dull, and their capacities are +by no means of a high order, and in these respects they again resemble +the Tartars. + +No people on earth are prouder than the Basques, but theirs is a kind of +republican pride. They have no nobility amongst them, and no one will +acknowledge a superior. The poorest carman is as proud as the governor +of Tolosa. “He is more powerful than I,” he will say, “but I am of as +good blood; perhaps hereafter I may become a governor myself.” They +abhor servitude, at least out of their own country; and though +circumstances frequently oblige them to seek masters, it is very rare to +find them filling the places of common domestics; they are stewards, +secretaries, accountants, etc. True it is, that it was my own fortune to +obtain a Basque domestic; but then he always treated me more as an equal +than a master, would sit down in my presence, give me his advice unasked, +and enter into conversation with me at all times and occasions. Did I +check him? Certainly not! For in that case he would have left me, and a +more faithful creature I never knew. His fate was a mournful one, as +will appear in the sequel. + +I have said that the Basques abhor servitude, and are rarely to be found +serving as domestics amongst the Spaniards. I allude, however, merely to +the males. The females, on the contrary, have no objection whatever to +enter houses as servants. Women, indeed, amongst the Basques are not +looked upon with all the esteem which they deserve, and are considered as +fitted for little else than to perform menial offices, even as in the +East, where they are viewed in the light of servants and slaves. The +Basque females differ widely in character from the men; they are quick +and vivacious, and have in general much more talent. They are famous for +their skill as cooks, and in most respectable houses of Madrid a Biscayan +female may be found in the kitchen, queen supreme of the culinary +department. {120} + + + + +CHAPTER XXXVIII. + + +The Prohibition—Gospel Persecuted—Charge of Sorcery—Ofalia. + +About the middle of January {121a} a swoop was made upon me by my +enemies, in the shape of a peremptory prohibition from the political +governor of Madrid to sell any more New Testaments. This measure by no +means took me by surprise, as I had for some time previously been +expecting something of the kind, on account of the political sentiments +of the ministers then in power. I forthwith paid a visit to Sir George +Villiers, informing him of what had occurred. He promised to do all he +could to cause the prohibition to be withdrawn. Unfortunately, at this +time he had not much influence, having opposed with all his might the +entrance of the _moderado_ {121b} ministry to power, and the nomination +of Ofalia {121c} to the presidency of the cabinet. I however, never lost +confidence in the Almighty, in whose cause I was engaged. + +Matters were going on very well before this check. The demand for +Testaments was becoming considerable, so much so that the clergy were +alarmed, and this step was the consequence. But they had previously +recourse to another, well worthy of them; they attempted to act upon my +fears. One of the ruffians of Madrid, called _Manolos_, came up to me +one night, in a dark street, and told me that unless I discontinued +selling my “Jewish books,” I should have a knife “_nailed in my heart_;” +but I told him to go home, say his prayers, and tell his employers that I +pitied them; whereupon he turned away with an oath. A few days after, I +received an order to send two copies of the Testament to the office of +the political governor, with which I complied, and in less than +twenty-four hours an _alguazil_ arrived at the shop with a notice +prohibiting the further sale of the work. + +One circumstance rejoiced me. Singular as it may appear, the authorities +took no measures to cause my little _despacho_ to be closed, and I +received no prohibition respecting the sale of any work but the New +Testament, and as the Gospel of Saint Luke, in Romany and Basque, would +within a short time be ready for delivery, I hoped to carry on matters in +a small way till better times should arrive. + +I was advised to erase from the shop windows the words “_Despacho_ of the +British and Foreign Bible Society.” This, however, I refused to do. +Those words had tended very much to call attention, which was my grand +object. Had I attempted to conduct things in an underhand manner, I +should, at the time of which I am speaking, scarcely have sold thirty +copies in Madrid, instead of nearly three hundred. People who know me +not, may be disposed to call me rash; but I am far from being so, as I +never adopt a venturous course when any other is open to me. I am not, +however, a person to be terrified by any danger, when I see that braving +it is the only way to achieve an object. + +The booksellers were unwilling to sell my work; I was compelled to +establish a shop of my own. Every shop in Madrid has a name. What name +could I give it but the true one? I was not ashamed of my cause or my +colours. I hoisted them, and fought beneath them, not without success. + +The priestly party in Madrid, in the mean time, spared no effort to +vilify me. They started a publication called _The Friend of the +Christian Religion_, in which a stupid but furious attack upon me +appeared, which I, however, treated with the contempt it deserved. But +not satisfied with this, they endeavoured to incite the populace against +me, by telling them that I was a sorcerer, and a companion of gypsies and +witches, and their agents even called me so in the streets. That I was +an associate of gypsies and fortune-tellers I do not deny. Why should I +be ashamed of their company when my Master mingled with publicans and +thieves? Many of the gypsy race came frequently to visit me; received +instruction, and heard parts of the Gospel read to them in their own +language, and when they were hungry and faint, I gave them to eat and +drink. This might be deemed sorcery in Spain, but I am not without hope +that it will be otherwise estimated in England; and had I perished at +this period, I think there are some who would have been disposed to +acknowledge that I had not lived altogether in vain (always as an +instrument of the “Most Highest”), having been permitted to turn one of +the most valuable books of God into the speech of the most degraded of +His creatures. + +In the mean time I endeavoured to enter into negotiations with the +ministry for the purpose of obtaining permission to sell the New +Testament in Madrid, and the nullification of the prohibition. I +experienced, however, great opposition, which I was unable to surmount. +Several of the ultra-popish bishops, then resident in Madrid, had +denounced the Bible, the Bible Society, and myself. Nevertheless, +notwithstanding their powerful and united efforts, they were unable to +effect their principal object, namely, my expulsion from Madrid and +Spain. The Count Ofalia, notwithstanding he had permitted himself to be +made the instrument, to a certain extent, of these people, would not +consent to be pushed to such a length. Throughout this affair I cannot +find words sufficiently strong to do justice to the zeal and interest +which Sir George Villiers displayed in the cause of the Testament. He +had various interviews with Ofalia on the subject, and in these he +expressed to him his sense of the injustice and tyranny which had been +practised in this instance towards his countryman. + +Ofalia had been moved by these remonstrances, and more than once promised +to do all in his power to oblige Sir George; but then the bishops again +beset him, and playing upon his political if not religious fears, +prevented him from acting a just, honest, and honourable part. At the +desire of Sir George Villiers, I drew up a brief account of the Bible +Society, and an exposition of its views, especially in respect to Spain, +which he presented with his own hand to the Count. I shall not trouble +the reader by inserting this memorial, but content myself with observing, +that I made no attempts to flatter and cajole, but expressed myself +honestly and frankly, as a Christian ought. Ofalia, on reading it, said, +“What a pity that this is a Protestant society, and that all its members +are not Catholics!” + +A few days subsequently, to my great astonishment, he sent a message to +me by a friend, requesting that I would send him a copy of my gypsy +Gospel. I may as well here state, that the fame of this work, though not +yet published, had already spread like wildfire through Madrid, and every +person was passionately eager to possess a copy: indeed, several grandees +of Spain sent messages with similar requests, all of which I however +denied. I instantly resolved to take advantage of this overture on the +part of Count Ofalia, and to call on him myself. I therefore caused a +copy of the Gospel to be handsomely bound, and proceeding to the palace, +was instantly admitted to him. He was a dusky, diminutive person, +between fifty and sixty years of age, with false hair and teeth, but +exceedingly gentlemanly manners. He received me with great affability, +and thanked me for my present; but on my proceeding to speak of the New +Testament, he told me that the subject was surrounded with difficulties, +and that the great body of the clergy had taken up the matter against me; +he conjured me, however, to be patient and peaceable, in which case he +said he would endeavour to devise some plan to satisfy me. Amongst other +things, he observed that the bishops hated a sectarian more than an +atheist. Whereupon I replied, that, like the Pharisees of old, they +cared more for the gold of the temple than the temple itself. Throughout +the whole of our interview he evidently laboured under great fear, and +was continually looking behind and around him, seemingly in dread of +being overheard, which brought to my mind an expression of a friend of +mine, that if there be any truth in metempsychosis, the soul of Count +Ofalia must have originally belonged to a mouse. We parted in kindness, +and I went away, wondering by what strange chance this poor man had +become prime minister of a country like Spain. + + + + +CHAPTER XXXIX. + + +The Two Gospels—The Alguazil—The Warrant—The Good Maria—The Arrest—Sent +to Prison—Reflections—The Reception—The Prison Room—Redress demanded. + +At length the Gospel of Saint Luke in the gypsy language was in a state +of readiness. I therefore deposited a certain number of copies in the +_despacho_, and announced them for sale. The Basque, which was by this +time also printed, was likewise advertised. For this last work there was +little demand. Not so, however, for the gypsy Luke, of which I could +easily have disposed of the whole edition in less than a fortnight. +Long, however, before this period had expired the clergy were up in arms. +“Sorcery!” said one bishop. “There is more in this than we can dive +into,” exclaimed a second. “He will convert all Spain by means of the +gypsy language,” cried a third. And then came the usual chorus on such +occasions, of _Que infamia_! _Que picardia_! At last, having consulted +together, away they hurried to their tool the _corregidor_ or, according +to the modern term, the _gefe politico_ {127} of Madrid. I have +forgotten the name of this worthy, of whom I had myself no personal +knowledge whatever. Judging from his actions, however, and from common +report, I should say that he was a stupid, wrong-headed creature, savage +withal—a _mélange_ of _borrico_, mule, and wolf. Having an inveterate +antipathy to all foreigners, he lent a willing ear to the complaint of my +accusers, and forthwith gave orders to make a seizure of all the copies +of the gypsy Gospel which could be found in the _despacho_. The +consequence was, that a numerous body of _alguazils_ directed their steps +to the Calle del Principe; some thirty copies of the book in question +were pounced upon, and about the same number of Saint Luke in Basque. +With this spoil these satellites returned in triumph to the _gefatura +politica_, where they divided the copies of the gypsy volume amongst +themselves, selling subsequently the greater number at a large price, the +book being in the greatest demand, and thus becoming unintentionally +agents of an heretical society. But every one must live by his trade, +say these people, and they lose no opportunity of making their words +good, by disposing to the best advantage of any booty which falls into +their hands. As no person cared about the Basque Gospel, it was safely +stowed away, with other unmarketable captures, in the warehouses of the +office. + +The gypsy Gospels had now been seized, at least as many as were exposed +for sale in the _despacho_. The _corregidor_ and his friends, however, +were of opinion that many more might be obtained by means of a little +management. Fellows, therefore, hangers on of the police-office, were +daily despatched to the shop in all kinds of disguises, inquiring, with +great seeming anxiety, for “gypsy books,” and offering high prices for +copies. They, however, returned to their employers empty-handed. My +Gallegan was on his guard, informing all who made inquiries, that books +of no description would be sold at the establishment for the present. +Which was in truth the case, as I had given him particular orders to sell +no more under any pretence whatever. + +I got no credit, however, for my frank dealing. The _corregidor_ and his +confederates could not persuade themselves but that, by some means +mysterious and unknown to them, I was daily selling hundreds of these +gypsy books, which were to revolutionize the country, and annihilate the +power of the Father of Rome. A plan was therefore resolved upon, by +means of which they hoped to have an opportunity of placing me in a +position which would incapacitate me for some time from taking any active +measures to circulate the Scriptures, either in gypsy or in any other +language. + +It was on the morning of the first of May, {129a} [1838,] if I forget +not, that an unknown individual made his appearance in my apartment as I +was seated at breakfast; he was a mean-looking fellow, about the middle +stature, with a countenance on which knave was written in legible +characters. The hostess ushered him in, and then withdrew. I did not +like the appearance of my visitor, but assuming some degree of courtesy, +I requested him to sit down, and demanded his business. “I come from his +excellency the political {129b} chief of Madrid,” he replied, “and my +business is to inform you that his excellency is perfectly aware of your +proceedings, and is at any time able to prove that you are still +disposing of in secret those evil books which you have been forbidden to +sell.” “Is he so?” I replied; “pray let him do so forthwith; but what +need of giving me information?” “Perhaps,” continued the fellow, “you +think his worship has no witnesses; know, however, that he has many, and +respectable ones too.” “Doubtless,” I replied, “and from the +respectability of your own appearance, you are perhaps one of them. But +you are occupying my time unprofitably; begone, therefore, and tell +whoever sent you, that I have by no means a high opinion of his wisdom.” +“I shall go when I please,” retorted the fellow; “do you know to whom you +are speaking? Are you aware that if I think fit I can search your +apartment, yes, even below your bed? What have we here,” he continued, +and commenced with his stick poking a heap of papers which lay upon a +chair; “what have we here? Are these also papers of the gypsies?” I +instantly determined upon submitting no longer to this behaviour, and +taking the fellow by the arm, led him out of the apartment; and then, +still holding him, conducted him downstairs from the third floor in which +I lived, into the street, looking him steadfastly in the face the whole +while. + +The fellow had left his _sombrero_ on the table, which I despatched to +him by the landlady, who delivered it into his hand as he stood in the +street staring with distended eyes at the balcony of my apartment. + +“A _trampa_ has been laid for you, _Don Jorge_,” said Maria Diaz, when +she had re-ascended from the street; “that _corchete_ came here with no +other intention than to have a dispute with you. Out of every word you +have said he will make a long history, as is the custom with these +people; indeed, he said, as I handed him his hat, that ere twenty-four +hours were over, you should see the inside of the prison of Madrid.” + +In effect, during the course of the morning, I was told that a warrant +had been issued for my apprehension. The prospect of incarceration, +however, did not fill me with much dismay; an adventurous life and +inveterate habits of wandering having long familiarized me to situations +of every kind, so much so as to feel myself quite as comfortable in a +prison as in the gilded chambers of palaces; indeed, more so, as in the +former place I can always add to my store of useful information, whereas +in the latter, ennui frequently assails me. I had, moreover, been +thinking for some time past of paying a visit to the prison, partly in +the hope of being able to say a few words of Christian instruction to the +criminals, and partly with the view of making certain investigations in +the robber language of Spain, a subject about which I had long felt much +curiosity; indeed, I had already made application for admittance into the +Carcel de la Corte, {131} but had found the matter surrounded with +difficulties, as my friend Ofalia would have said. I rather rejoiced, +then, in the opportunity which was now about to present itself of +entering the prison, not in the character of a visitor for an hour, but +as a martyr, and as one suffering in the holy cause of religion. I was +determined, however, to disappoint my enemies for that day at least, and +to render null the threat of the _alguazil_, that I should be imprisoned +within twenty-four hours. I therefore took up my abode for the rest of +the day in a celebrated French tavern in the Calle del Caballero de +Gracia, which, as it was one of the most fashionable and public places in +Madrid, I naturally concluded was one of the last where the _corregidor_ +would think of seeking me. + +About ten at night, Maria Diaz, to whom I had communicated the place of +my retreat, arrived with her son, Juan Lopez. “_O_, _señor_,” said she, +on seeing me, “they are already in quest of you; the _alcalde_ of the +_barrio_, with a large _comitiva_ of _alguazils_ and such-like people, +have just been at our house with a warrant for your imprisonment from the +_corregidor_. They searched the whole house, and were much disappointed +at not finding you. Woe is me, what will they do when they catch you?” +“Be under no apprehensions, good Maria,” said I; “you forget that I am an +Englishman, and so it seems does the _corregidor_. Whenever he catches +me, depend upon it he will be glad enough to let me go. For the present, +however, we will permit him to follow his own course, for the spirit of +folly seems to have seized him.” + +I slept at the tavern, and in the forenoon of the following day repaired +to the Embassy, where I had an interview with Sir George, to whom I +related every circumstance of the affair. He said that he could scarcely +believe that the _corregidor_ entertained any serious intentions of +imprisoning me; in the first place, because I had committed no offence; +and in the second, because I was not under the jurisdiction of that +functionary, but under that of the captain-general, who was alone +empowered to decide upon matters which relate to foreigners, and before +whom I must be brought in the presence of the consul of my nation. +“However,” said he, “there is no knowing to what length these jacks in +office may go. I therefore advise you, if you are under any +apprehension, to remain as my guest at the Embassy for a few days, for +here you will be quite safe.” I assured him that I was under no +apprehension whatever, having long been accustomed to adventures of this +kind. From the apartment of Sir George I proceeded to that of the first +secretary of embassy, Mr. Southern, with whom I entered into +conversation. I had scarcely been there a minute when my servant +Francisco rushed in, much out of breath, and in violent agitation, +exclaiming in Basque, “_Niri jauna_, the _alguaziloac_, and the +_corchetoac_, and all the other _lapurrac_ {133} are again at the house. +They seem half mad, and not being able to find you, are searching your +papers, thinking, I suppose, that you are hid among them.” Mr. Southern +here interrupting him, inquired of me what all this meant. Whereupon I +told him, saying at the same time, that it was my intention to proceed at +once to my lodgings. “But perhaps these fellows will arrest you,” said +Mr. S., “before we can interfere.” “I must take my chance as to that,” I +replied, and presently afterwards departed. + +Ere, however, I had reached the middle of the street of Alcalá, two +fellows came up to me, and telling me that I was their prisoner, +commanded me to follow them to the office of the _corregidor_. They +were, in fact, _alguazils_, who, suspecting that I might enter or come +out of the Embassy, had stationed themselves in the neighbourhood. I +instantly turned round to Francisco, and told him in Basque to return to +the Embassy, and to relate there to the secretary what had just occurred. +The poor fellow set off like lightning, turning half round, however, to +shake his fist, and to vent a Basque execration at the two _lapurrac_, as +he called the _alguazils_. + +They conducted me to the _gefatura_, or office of the _corregidor_, where +they ushered me into a large room, and motioned me to sit down on a +wooden bench. They then stationed themselves on each side of me. There +were at least twenty people in the apartment beside ourselves, evidently +from their appearance officials of the establishment. They were all well +dressed, for the most part in the French fashion, in round hats, coats, +and pantaloons, and yet they looked what in reality they were, Spanish +_alguazils_, spies, and informers: and Gil Blas, could he have waked from +his sleep of two centuries, would, notwithstanding the change of fashion, +have had no difficulty in recognizing them. They glanced at me as they +stood lounging about the room; then gathered themselves together in a +circle and began conversing in whispers. I heard one of them say, “He +understands the seven gypsy jargons.” {134a} Then presently another, +evidently from his language an Andalusian, said, “_Es muy diestro_, +{134b} and can ride a horse and dart a knife full as well as if he came +from my own country.” Thereupon they all turned round and regarded me +with a species of interest, evidently mingled with respect, which most +assuredly they would not have exhibited had they conceived that I was +merely an honest man bearing witness in a righteous cause. + +I waited patiently on the bench at least one hour, expecting every moment +to be summoned before my lord the _corregidor_. I suppose, however, that +I was not deemed worthy of being permitted to see so exalted a personage, +for at the end of that time, an elderly man—one, however, of the +_alguazil_ genus—came into the room and advanced directly towards me. +“Stand up,” said he. I obeyed. “What is your name?” he demanded. I +told him. “Then,” he replied, exhibiting a paper which he held in his +hand, “_señor_, it is the will of his excellency the _corregidor_, that +you be forthwith sent to prison.” + +He looked at me steadfastly as he spoke, perhaps expecting that I should +sink into the earth at the formidable name of prison; I, however, only +smiled. He then delivered the paper, which I suppose was the warrant for +my committal, into the hand of one of my two captors, and obeying a sign +which they made, I followed them. + +I subsequently learned that the secretary of legation, Mr. Southern, had +been despatched by Sir George, as soon as the latter had obtained +information of my arrest, and had been waiting at the office during the +greater part of the time that I was there. He had demanded an audience +of the _corregidor_, in which he had intended to have remonstrated with +him, and pointed out to him the danger to which he was subjecting himself +by the rash step which he was taking. The sullen functionary, however, +had refused to see him, thinking, perhaps, that to listen to reason would +be a dereliction of dignity; by this conduct, however, he most +effectually served me, as no person, after such a specimen of +uncalled-for insolence, felt disposed to question the violence and +injustice which had been practised towards me. + +The _alguazils_ conducted me across the Plaza Mayor to the Carcel de la +Corte, or prison of the court, as it is called. Whilst going across the +square, I remembered that this was the place where, in “the good old +times,” the Inquisition of Spain was in the habit of holding its solemn +_Autos da fé_, and I cast my eye to the balcony of the city hall, where +at the most solemn of them all, the last of the Austrian line in Spain +sat, and after some thirty heretics, of both sexes, had been burnt by +fours and by fives, wiped his face, perspiring with heat, and black with +smoke, and calmly inquired, “_No hay mas_?” {136} for which exemplary +proof of patience he was much applauded by his priests and confessors, +who subsequently poisoned him. “And here am I,” thought I, “who have +done more to wound Popery than all the poor Christian martyrs that ever +suffered in this accursed square, merely sent to prison, from which I am +sure to be liberated in a few days, with credit and applause. Pope of +Rome! I believe you to be as malicious as ever, but you are sadly +deficient in power. You are become paralytic, _Batuschca_, and your club +has degenerated to a crutch.” + +We arrived at the prison, which stands in a narrow street not far from +the great square. We entered a dusky passage, at the end of which was a +wicket door. My conductors knocked, a fierce visage peered through the +wicket; there was an exchange of words, and in a few moments I found +myself within the prison of Madrid, in a kind of corridor which +overlooked at a considerable altitude what appeared to be a court, from +which arose a hubbub of voices, and occasionally wild shouts and cries. +Within the corridor, which served as a kind of office, were several +people; one of them sat behind a desk, and to him the _alguazils_ went +up, and after discoursing with him some time in low tones, delivered the +warrant into his hands. He perused it with attention, then rising he +advanced to me. What a figure! He was about forty years of age, and his +height might have amounted to some six feet two inches, had he not been +curved much after the fashion of the letter S. No weazel ever appeared +lanker, and he looked as if a breath of air would have been sufficient to +blow him away. His face might certainly have been called handsome, had +it not been for its extraordinary and portentous meagreness; his nose was +like an eagle’s bill, his teeth white as ivory, his eyes black—oh, how +black!—and fraught with a strange expression; his skin was dark, and the +hair of his head like the plumage of the raven. A deep quiet smile dwelt +continually on his features; but with all the quiet it was a cruel smile, +such a one as would have graced the countenance of a Nero. “_Mais en +revanche personne n’étoit plus honnête_”. “_Caballero_,” said he, “allow +me to introduce myself to you as the _alcayde_ of this prison. I +perceive by this paper that I am to have the honour of your company for a +time, a short time doubtless, beneath this roof; I hope you will banish +every apprehension from your mind. I am charged to treat you with all +the respect which is due to the illustrious nation to which you belong, +and which a cavalier of such exalted category as yourself is entitled to +expect. A needless charge, it is true, as I should only have been too +happy of my own accord to have afforded you every comfort and attention. +_Caballero_, you will rather consider yourself here as a guest than a +prisoner; you will be permitted to roam over every part of this house +whenever you think proper. You will find matters here not altogether +below the attention of a philosophic mind. Pray issue whatever commands +you may think fit to the turnkeys and officials, even as if they were +your own servants, I will now have the honour of conducting you to your +apartment—the only one at present unoccupied. We invariably reserve it +for cavaliers of distinction. I am happy to say that my orders are again +in consonance with my inclination. No charge whatever will be made for +it to you, though the daily hire of it is not unfrequently an ounce of +gold. I entreat you, therefore, to follow me, cavalier, who am at all +times and seasons the most obedient and devoted of your servants.” Here +he took off his hat and bowed profoundly. + +Such was the speech of the _alcayde_ of the prison of Madrid; a speech +delivered in pure sonorous Castilian, with calmness, gravity, and almost +with dignity; a speech which would have done honour to a gentleman of +high birth, to Monsieur Bassompierre, of the Old Bastile, receiving an +Italian prince, or the High Constable of the Tower an English duke +attainted of high treason. Now, who in the name of wonder was this +_alcayde_? + +One of the greatest rascals in all Spain. A fellow who had more than +once, by his grasping cupidity, and by his curtailment of the miserable +rations of the prisoners, caused an insurrection in the court below, only +to be repressed by bloodshed, and by summoning military aid; a fellow of +low birth, who, only five years previous, had been _drummer_ to a band of +royalist volunteers! + +But Spain is the land of extraordinary characters. + +I followed the _alcayde_ to the end of the corridor, where was a massive +grated door, on each side of which sat a grim fellow of a turnkey. The +door was opened, and turning to the right we proceeded down another +corridor, in which were many people walking about, whom I subsequently +discovered to be prisoners like myself, but for political offences. At +the end of this corridor, which extended the whole length of the _patio_, +we turned into another, and the first apartment in this was the one +destined for myself. It was large and lofty, but totally destitute of +every species of furniture with the exception of a huge wooden pitcher, +intended to hold my daily allowance of water. “_Caballero_,” said the +_alcayde_, “the apartment is without furniture, as you see. It is +already the third hour of the _tarde_, I therefore advise you to lose no +time in sending to your lodgings for a bed and whatever you may stand in +need of; the _llavero_ shall do your bidding. _Caballero_, adieu, till I +see you again.” + +I followed his advice, and, writing a note in pencil to Maria Diaz, I +despatched it by the _llavero_, and then, sitting down on the wooden +pitcher, I fell into a reverie, which continued for a considerable time. + +Night arrived, and so did Maria Diaz, attended by two porters and +Francisco, all loaded with furniture. A lamp was lighted, charcoal was +kindled in the _brasero_, and the prison gloom was to a certain degree +dispelled. + +I now left my seat on the pitcher, and sitting down on a chair, proceeded +to despatch some wine and viands, which my good hostess had not forgotten +to bring with her. Suddenly Mr. Southern entered. He laughed heartily +at finding me engaged in the manner I have described. “B---,” said he, +“you are the man to get through the world, for you appear to take all +things coolly, and as matters of course. That, however, which most +surprises me with respect to you is, your having so many friends; here +you are in prison, surrounded by people ministering to your comforts. +Your very servant is your friend, instead of being your worst enemy, as +is usually the case. That Basque of yours is a noble fellow. I shall +never forget how he spoke for you, when he came running to the Embassy to +inform us of your arrest. He interested both Sir George and myself in +the highest degree: should you ever wish to part with him, I hope you +will give me the refusal of his services. But now to other matters.” He +then informed me that Sir George had already sent in an official note to +Ofalia, demanding redress for such a wanton outrage on the person of a +British subject. “You must remain in prison,” said he, “to-night, but +depend upon it that to-morrow, if you are disposed, you may quit in +triumph.” “I am by no means disposed for any such thing,” I replied. +“They have put me in prison for their pleasure, and I intend to remain +here for my own.” “If the confinement is not irksome to you,” said Mr. +Southern, “I think, indeed, it will be your wisest plan; the government +have committed themselves sadly with regard to you; and, to speak +plainly, we are by no means sorry for it. They have on more than one +occasion treated ourselves very cavalierly, and we have now, if you +continue firm, an excellent opportunity of humbling their insolence. I +will instantly acquaint Sir George with your determination, and you shall +hear from us early on the morrow.” He then bade me farewell; and +flinging myself on my bed, I was soon asleep in the prison of Madrid. + + + + +CHAPTER XL. + + +Ofalia—The Juez—Carcel de la Corte—Sunday in Prison—Robber Dress—Father +and Son—Characteristic Behaviour—The Frenchman—Prison Allowance—Valley of +the Shadow—Pure Castilian—Balseiro—The Cave—Robber Glory. + +Ofalia quickly perceived that the imprisonment of a British subject in a +manner so illegal as that which had attended my own was likely to be +followed by rather serious consequences. Whether he himself had at all +encouraged the _corregidor_ in his behaviour towards me, it is impossible +to say; the probability is that he had not: the latter, however, was an +officer of his own appointing, for whose actions himself and the +government were to a certain extent responsible. Sir George had already +made a very strong remonstrance upon the subject, and had even gone so +far as to state in an official note that he should desist from all +farther communication with the Spanish government until full and ample +reparation had been afforded me for the violence to which I had been +subjected. Ofalia’s reply was, that immediate measures should be taken +for my liberation, and that it would be my own fault if I remained in +prison. He forthwith ordered a _juez de la primera instancia_, {141} a +kind of solicitor-general, to wait upon me, who was instructed to hear my +account of the affair, and then to dismiss me with an admonition to be +cautious for the future. My friends of the Embassy, however, had advised +me how to act in such a case. Accordingly, when the _juez_ on the second +night of my imprisonment made his appearance at the prison, and summoned +me before him, I went, but on his proceeding to question me, I absolutely +refused to answer. “I deny your right to put any questions to me,” said +I; “I entertain, however, no feelings of disrespect to the government or +to yourself, _Caballero Juez_; but I have been illegally imprisoned. So +accomplished a jurist as yourself cannot fail to be aware that, according +to the laws of Spain, I, as a foreigner, could not be committed to prison +for the offence with which I had been charged, without previously being +conducted before the captain-general of this royal city, whose duty it is +to protect foreigners, and see that the laws of hospitality are not +violated in their persons. + +_Juez_.—Come, come, _Don Jorge_, I see what you are aiming at; but listen +to reason: I will not now speak to you as a _juez_, but as a friend who +wishes you well, and who entertains a profound reverence for the British +nation. This is a foolish affair altogether; I will not deny that the +political chief acted somewhat hastily on the information of a person not +perhaps altogether worthy of credit. No great damage, however, has been +done to you, and to a man of the world like yourself, a little adventure +of this kind is rather calculated to afford amusement than anything else. +Now be advised, forget what has happened; you know that it is the part +and duty of a Christian to forgive. So, _Don Jorge_, I advise you to +leave this place forthwith; I dare say you are getting tired of it. You +are this moment free to depart; repair at once to your lodgings, where I +promise you that no one shall be permitted to interrupt you for the +future. It is getting late, and the prison doors will speedily be closed +for the night. _Vamos_, _Don Jorge_, _á la casa_, _á la posada_! {143a} + +_Myself_.—“But Paul said unto them, they have beaten us openly +uncondemned, being Romans, and have cast us into prison; and now do they +thrust us out privily? Nay, verily: but let them come themselves and +fetch us out.” {143b} + +I then bowed to the _juez_, who shrugged his shoulders and took snuff. +On leaving the apartment I turned to the _alcayde_, who stood at the +door: “Take notice,” said I, “that I will not quit this prison till I +have received full satisfaction for being sent hither uncondemned. You +may expel me if you please, but any attempt to do so shall be resisted +with all the bodily strength of which I am possessed.” + +“Your worship is right,” said the _alcayde_, with a bow, but in a low +voice. + +Sir George, on hearing of this affair, sent me a letter in which he +highly commended my resolution not to leave the prison for the present, +at the same time begging me to let him know if there were anything that +he could send me from the Embassy to render my situation more tolerable. + +I will now leave for the present my own immediate affairs, and proceed to +give some account of the prison of Madrid and its inmates. + +The Carcel de la Corte, where I now was, though the principal prison of +Madrid, is one which certainly in no respect does credit to the capital +of Spain. Whether it was originally intended for the purpose to which it +is at present applied, I have no opportunity of knowing. The chances, +however, are, that it was not; indeed it was not till of late years that +the practice of building edifices expressly intended and suited for the +incarceration of culprits came at all into vogue. Castles, convents, and +deserted palaces, have in all countries, at different times, been +converted into prisons, which practice still holds good upon the greater +part of the continent, and more particularly in Spain and Italy, which +accounts to a certain extent for the insecurity of the prisons, and the +misery, want of cleanliness, and unhealthiness which in general pervade +them. + +I shall not attempt to enter into a particular description of the prison +of Madrid; indeed it would be quite impossible to describe so irregular +and rambling an edifice. Its principal features consisted of two courts, +the one behind the other: intended for the great body of the prisoners to +take air and recreation in. Three large vaulted dungeons, or +_calabozos_, occupied three sides of this court, immediately below the +corridors of which I have already spoken. These dungeons were roomy +enough to contain respectively from one hundred to one hundred and fifty +prisoners, who were at night secured therein with lock and bar, but +during the day were permitted to roam about the courts as they thought +fit. The second court was considerably larger than the first, though it +contained but two dungeons, horribly filthy and disgusting places; this +second court being used for the reception of the lower grades of thieves. +Of the two dungeons one was, if possible, yet more horrible than the +other; it was called the _gallineria_, or chicken-coop, and within it +every night were pent up the young fry of the prison, wretched boys from +seven to fifteen years of age, the greater part almost in a state of +nudity. The common bed of all the inmates of these dungeons was the +ground, between which and their bodies nothing intervened, save +occasionally a _manta_ or horse-cloth, or perhaps a small mattress; this +latter luxury was, however, of exceedingly rare occurrence. + +Besides the _calabozos_ connected with the courts were other dungeons in +various parts of the prison; some of them quite dark, intended for the +reception of those whom it might be deemed expedient to treat with +peculiar severity. There was likewise a ward set apart for females. +Connected with the principal corridor were many small apartments, where +resided prisoners confined for debt or for political offences. And, +lastly, there was a small _capilla_, or chapel, in which prisoners cast +for death passed the last three days of their existence in company of +their ghostly advisers. + +I shall not soon forget my first Sunday in prison, Sunday is the gala day +of the prison, at least of that of Madrid, and whatever robber finery is +to be found within it is sure to be exhibited on that day of holiness. +There is not a set of people in the world more vain than robbers in +general, more fond of cutting a figure whenever they have an opportunity, +and of attracting the eyes of their fellow-creatures by the gallantry of +their appearance. The famous Sheppard of olden times delighted in +sporting a suit of Genoese velvet, and when he appeared in public +generally wore a silver-hilted sword at his side; whilst Vaux and +Hayward, heroes of a later day, were the best dressed men on the _pavé_ +of London. Many of the Italian bandits go splendidly decorated, and the +very gypsy robber has a feeling for the charms of dress; the cap alone of +the Haram Pasha, or leader of the cannibal gypsy band which infested +Hungary towards the conclusion of the last century, was adorned with gold +and jewels to the value of four thousand guilders. Observe, ye vain and +frivolous, how vanity and crime harmonize! The Spanish robbers are as +fond of this species of display as their brethren of other lands, and, +whether in prison or out of it, are never so happy as when, decked out in +a profusion of white linen, they can loll in the sun, or walk jauntily up +and down. + +Snow-white linen, indeed, constitutes the principal feature in the robber +foppery of Spain. Neither coat nor jacket is worn over the shirt, the +sleeves of which are wide and flowing, only a waistcoat of green or blue +silk with an abundance of silver buttons, which are intended more for +show than use, as the vest is seldom buttoned. Then there are wide +trousers, something after the Turkish fashion; around the waist is a +crimson _faja_, or girdle, and about the head is tied a gaudily coloured +handkerchief from the loom of Barcelona; light pumps and silk stockings +complete the robber’s array. This dress is picturesque enough, and well +adapted to the fine sunshiny weather of the Peninsula; there is a dash of +effeminacy about it, however, hardly in keeping with the robber’s +desperate trade. It must not, however, be supposed that it is every +robber who can indulge in all this luxury; there are various grades of +thieves, some poor enough, with scarcely a rag to cover them. Perhaps in +the crowded prison of Madrid there were not more than twenty who +exhibited the dress which I have attempted to describe above; these were +_jente de reputacion_, {146} tip-top thieves, mostly young fellows, who, +though they had no money of their own, were supported in prison by their +_majas_ and _amigas_, {147a} females of a certain class, who form +friendships with robbers, and whose glory and delight it is to administer +to the vanity of these fellows with the wages of their own shame and +abasement. These females supplied their _cortejos_ with the snowy linen, +washed, perhaps, by their own hands in the waters of the Manzanares, for +the display of the Sunday, when they would themselves make their +appearance, dressed _à la maja_, and from the corridors would gaze with +admiring eyes upon the robbers vapouring about in the court below. + +Amongst those of the snowy linen who most particularly attracted my +attention, were a father and son; the former was a tall athletic figure +of about thirty, by profession a housebreaker, and celebrated throughout +Madrid for the peculiar dexterity which he exhibited in his calling. He +was now in prison for a rather atrocious murder committed in the dead of +night, in a house at Caramanchel, {147b} in which his only accomplice was +his son, a child under seven years of age. “The apple,” as the Danes +say, “had not fallen far from the tree;” the imp was in every respect the +counterpart of the father, though in miniature. He, too, wore the robber +shirt-sleeves, the robber waistcoat with the silver buttons, the robber +kerchief round his brow, and, ridiculous enough, a long Manchegan knife +in the crimson _faja_. He was evidently the pride of the ruffian father, +who took all imaginable care of this chick of the gallows, would dandle +him on his knee, and would occasionally take the cigar from his own +moustached lips and insert it in the urchin’s mouth. The boy was the pet +of the court, for the father was one of the _valientes_ of the prison, +and those who feared his prowess, and wished to pay their court to him, +were always fondling the child. What an enigma is this world of ours! +How dark and mysterious are the sources of what is called crime and +virtue! If that infant wretch become eventually a murderer like his +father, is he to blame? Fondled by robbers, already dressed as a robber, +born of a robber, whose own history was perhaps similar. Is it right? . . . + +Oh, man, man, seek not to dive into the mystery of moral good and evil; +confess thyself a worm, cast thyself on the earth, and murmur with thy +lips in the dust, Jesus, Jesus! + +What most surprised me with respect to the prisoners was their good +behaviour; I call it good when all things are taken into consideration, +and when I compare it with that of the general class of prisoners in +foreign lands. They had their occasional bursts of wild gaiety, their +occasional quarrels, which they were in the habit of settling in a corner +of the interior court with their long knives; {148} the result not +unfrequently being death, or a dreadful gash in the face or the abdomen; +but, upon the whole, their conduct was infinitely superior to what might +have been expected from the inmates of such a place. Yet this was not +the result of coercion, or any particular care which was exercised over +them; for perhaps in no part of the world are prisoners so left to +themselves and so utterly neglected as in Spain: the authorities having +no farther anxiety about them than to prevent their escape; not the +slightest attention being paid to their moral conduct, and not a thought +bestowed upon their health, comfort, or mental improvement, whilst within +the walls. Yet in this prison of Madrid, and I may say in Spanish +prisons in general, for I have been an inmate of more than one, {149} the +ears of the visitor are never shocked with horrid blasphemy and +obscenity, as in those of some other countries, and more particularly in +civilized France; nor are his eyes outraged and himself insulted, as he +would assuredly be, were he to look down upon the courts from the +galleries of the Bicêtre. And yet in this prison of Madrid were some of +the most desperate characters in Spain; ruffians who had committed acts +of cruelty and atrocity sufficient to make the flesh shudder. But +gravity and sedateness are the leading characteristics of the Spaniards, +and the very robber, except in those moments when he is engaged in his +occupation, and then no one is more sanguinary, pitiless, and wolfishly +eager for booty, is a being who can be courteous and affable, and who +takes pleasure in conducting himself with sobriety and decorum. + +Happily, perhaps, for me, that my acquaintance with the ruffians of Spain +commenced and ended in the towns about which I wandered, and in the +prisons into which I was cast for the Gospel’s sake, and that, +notwithstanding my long and frequent journeys, I never came in contact +with them on the road or in the _despoblado_. + +The most ill-conditioned being in the prison was a Frenchman, though +probably the most remarkable. He was about sixty years of age, of the +middle stature, but thin and meagre, like most of his countrymen; he had +a villanously formed head, according to all the rules of craniology, and +his features were full of evil expression. He wore no hat, and his +clothes, though in appearance nearly new, were of the coarsest +description. He generally kept aloof from the rest, and would stand for +hours together leaning against the walls with his arms folded, glaring +sullenly on what was passing before him. He was not one of the professed +_valientes_, for his age prevented his assuming so distinguished a +character, and yet all the rest appeared to hold him in a certain awe: +perhaps they feared his tongue, which he occasionally exerted in pouring +forth withering curses upon those who incurred his displeasure. He spoke +perfectly good Spanish, and to my great surprise excellent Basque, in +which he was in the habit of conversing with Francisco, who, lolling from +the window of my apartment, would exchange jests and witticisms with the +prisoners in the court below, with whom he was a great favourite. + +One day when I was in the _patio_, to which I had free admission whenever +I pleased, by permission of the _alcayde_, I went up to the Frenchman, +who stood in his usual posture, leaning against the wall, and offered him +a cigar. I do not smoke myself, but it will never do to mix among the +lower classes of Spain unless you have a cigar to present occasionally. +The man glared at me ferociously for a moment, and appeared to be on the +point of refusing my offer with perhaps a hideous execration. I repeated +it, however, pressing my hand against my heart, whereupon suddenly the +grim features relaxed, and with a genuine French grimace, and a low bow, +he accepted the cigar, exclaiming, “_Ah_, _monsieur_, _pardon_, _mais +c’est faire trop d’honneur à un pauvre diable comme moi_.” + +“Not at all,” said I, “we are both fellow-prisoners in a foreign land, +and being so we ought to countenance each other. I hope that whenever I +have need of your co-operation in this prison you will afford it me.” + +“_Ah_, _monsieur_,” exclaimed the Frenchman in rapture, “_vous avez bien +raison_; _il faut que les étrangers se donnent la main dans ce . . . pays +de barbares_. _Tenez_,” he added in a whisper, “if you have any plan for +escaping, and require my assistance, I have an arm and a knife at your +service: you may trust me, and that is more than you could any of these +_sacrées gens ici_,” glancing fiercely round at his fellow-prisoners. + +“You appear to be no friend to Spain and the Spaniards,” said I. “I +conclude that you have experienced injustice at their hands. For what +have they immured you in this place?” + +“_Pour rien du tout_, _c’est à dire pour une bagatelle_; but what can you +expect from such animals? For what are you imprisoned? Did I not hear +say for gypsyism and sorcery?” + +“Perhaps you are here for your opinions?” + +“_Ah_, _mon Dieu_, _non_; _je ne suis pas homme à semblable betise_. I +have no opinions. _Je faisois . . . mais ce n’importe_; _je me trouve +ici_, _où je crève de faim_.” + +“I am sorry to see a brave man in such a distressed condition,” said I; +“have you nothing to subsist upon beyond the prison allowance? Have you +no friends?” + +“Friends in this country? You mock me; here one has no friends, unless +one buy them. I am bursting with hunger. Since I have been here I have +sold the clothes off my back, that I might eat, for the prison allowance +will not support nature, and of half of that we are robbed by the _Batu_, +as they called the barbarian of a governor. _Les haillons_ which now +cover me were given by two or three devotees who sometimes visit here. I +would sell them if they would fetch aught. I have not a _sou_, and for +want of a few crowns I shall be garroted within a month unless I can +escape, though, as I told you before, I have done nothing, a mere +bagatelle; but the worst crimes in Spain are poverty and misery.” + +“I have heard you speak Basque; are you from French Biscay?” + +“I am from Bordeaux, _monsieur_; but I have lived much on the Landes and +in Biscay, _travaillant à mon métier_. I see by your look that you wish +to know my history. I shall not tell it you. It contains nothing that +is remarkable. See, I have smoked out your cigar; you may give me +another, and add a dollar if you please, _nous sommes crevés ici de +faim_. I would not say as much to a Spaniard, but I have a respect for +your countrymen; I know much of them; I have met them at Maida and the +other place.” {152} + +“Nothing remarkable in his history!” Why, or I greatly err, one chapter +of his life, had it been written, would have unfolded more of the wild +and wonderful than fifty volumes of what are in general called adventures +and hairbreadth escapes by land and sea. A soldier! what a tale could +that man have told of marches and retreats, of battles lost and won, +towns sacked, convents plundered! perhaps he had seen the flames of +Moscow ascending to the clouds, and had “tried his strength with nature +in the wintry desert,” pelted by the snowstorm, and bitten by the +tremendous cold of Russia. And what could he mean by plying his trade in +Biscay and Landes, but that he had been a robber in those wild regions, +of which the latter is more infamous for brigandage and crime than any +other part of the French territory? Nothing remarkable in his history! +then what history in the world contains aught that is remarkable? + +I gave him the cigar and dollar. He received them, and then once more +folding his arms, leaned back against the wall, and appeared to sink +gradually into one of his reveries. I looked him in the face and spoke +to him, but he did not seem either to hear or see me. His mind was +perhaps wandering in that dreadful valley of the shadow, into which the +children of earth, whilst living, occasionally find their way: that +dreadful region where there is no water, where hope dwelleth not, where +nothing lives but the undying worm. This valley is the facsimile of +hell, and he who has entered it has experienced here on earth for a time +what the spirits of the condemned are doomed to suffer through ages +without end. + +He was executed about a month from this time. The bagatelle for which he +was confined was robbery and murder by the following strange device. In +concert with two others, he hired a large house in an unfrequented part +of the town, to which place he would order tradesmen to convey valuable +articles, which were to be paid for on delivery; those who attended paid +for their credulity with the loss of their lives and property. Two or +three had fallen into the snare. I wished much to have had some private +conversation with this desperate man, and in consequence begged of the +_alcayde_ to allow him to dine with me in my own apartment; whereupon +Monsieur Bassompierre, for so I will take the liberty of calling the +governor, his real name having escaped my memory, took off his hat, and, +with his usual smile and bow, replied in purest Castilian, “English +cavalier, and I hope I may add friend, pardon me, that it is quite out of +my power to gratify your request, founded, I have no doubt, on the most +admirable sentiments of philosophy. Any of the other gentlemen beneath +my care shall, at any time you desire it, be permitted to wait upon you +in your apartment. I will even go so far as to cause their irons, if +irons they wear, to be knocked off in order that they may partake of your +refection with that comfort which is seemly and convenient: but to the +gentleman in question I must object; he is the most evil disposed of the +whole of this family, and would most assuredly breed a _funcion_ either +in your apartment or in the corridor, by an attempt to escape. Cavalier, +_me pesa_, {154} but I cannot accede to your request. But with respect +to any other gentleman, I shall be most happy, even Balseiro, who, though +strange things are told of him, still knows how to comport himself, and +in whose behaviour there is something both of formality and politeness, +shall this day share your hospitality if you desire it, cavalier.” + +Of Balseiro I have already had occasion to speak in the former part of +this narrative. He was now confined in an upper story of the prison, in +a strong room, with several other malefactors. He had been found guilty +of aiding and assisting one Pepe Candelas, a thief of no inconsiderable +renown, in a desperate robbery perpetrated in open daylight upon no less +a personage than the queen’s milliner, a Frenchwoman, whom they bound in +her own shop, from which they took goods and money to the amount of five +or six thousand dollars. Candelas had already expiated his crime on the +scaffold, but Balseiro, who was said to be by far the worst ruffian of +the two, had by dint of money, an ally which his comrade did not possess, +contrived to save his own life; the punishment of death, to which he was +originally sentenced, having been commuted to twenty years’ hard labour +in the _presidio_ of Malaga. I visited this worthy, and conversed with +him for some time through the wicket of the dungeon. He recognized me, +and reminded me of the victory which I had once obtained over him, in the +trial of our respective skill in the crabbed _Gitano_, at which Sevilla +the bull-fighter was umpire. + +Upon my telling him that I was sorry to see him in such a situation, he +replied that it was an affair of no manner of consequence, as within six +weeks he should be conducted to the _presidio_, from which, with the +assistance of a few ounces distributed amongst the guards, he could at +any time escape. “But whither would you flee?” I demanded. “Can I not +flee to the land of the Moors,” replied Balseiro, “or to the English in +the camp of Gibraltar; or, if I prefer it, cannot I return to this +_foro_, and live as I have hitherto done, _choring_ the _gachos_; {155} +what is to hinder me? Madrid is large, and Balseiro has plenty of +friends, especially among the _lumias_,” he added, with a smile. I spoke +to him of his ill-fated accomplice Candelas; whereupon his face assumed a +horrible expression. “I hope he is in torment,” exclaimed the robber. +The friendship of the unrighteous is never of long duration; the two +worthies had, it seems, quarrelled in prison; Candelas having accused the +other of bad faith and an undue appropriation to his own use of the +_corpus delicti_ in various robberies which they had committed in +company. + +I cannot refrain from relating the subsequent history of this Balseiro. +Shortly after my own liberation, too impatient to wait until the +_presidio_ should afford him a chance of regaining his liberty, he, in +company with some other convicts, broke through the roof of the prison +and escaped. He instantly resumed his former habits, committing several +daring robberies, both within and without the walls of Madrid. I now +come to his last, I may call it his master crime, a singular piece of +atrocious villany. Dissatisfied with the proceeds of street robbery and +house-breaking, he determined upon a bold stroke, by which he hoped to +acquire money sufficient to support him in some foreign land in luxury +and splendour. + +There was a certain comptroller of the queen’s household, by name +Gabiria, {156} a Basque by birth, and a man of immense possessions: this +individual had two sons, handsome boys, between twelve and fourteen years +of age, whom I had frequently seen, and indeed conversed with, in my +walks on the bank of the Manzanares, which was their favourite promenade. +These children, at the time of which I am speaking, were receiving their +education at a certain seminary in Madrid. Balseiro, being well +acquainted with the father’s affection for his children, determined to +make it subservient to his own rapacity. He formed a plan, which was +neither more nor less than to steal the children, and not to restore them +to their parent until he had received an enormous ransom. This plan was +partly carried into execution: two associates of Balseiro, well dressed, +drove up to the door of the seminary where the children were, and, by +means of a forged letter, purporting to be written by the father, induced +the schoolmaster to permit the boys to accompany them for a country +jaunt, as they pretended. About five leagues from Madrid Balseiro had a +cave, in a wild unfrequented spot between the Escurial and a village +called Torre Lodones: to this cave the children were conducted, where +they remained in durance under the custody of the two accomplices; +Balseiro in the mean time remaining in Madrid for the purpose of +conducting negociations with the father. The father, however, was a man +of considerable energy, and instead of acceding to the terms of the +ruffian, communicated in a letter, instantly took the most vigorous +measures for the recovery of his children. Horse and foot were sent out +to scour the country, and in less than a week the children were found +near the cave, having been abandoned by their keepers, who had taken +fright on hearing of the decided measures which had been resorted to; +they were, however, speedily arrested and identified by the boys as their +ravishers. Balseiro, perceiving that Madrid was becoming too hot to hold +him, attempted to escape, but whether to the camp of Gibraltar or to the +land of the Moor, I know not; he was recognized, however, at a village in +the neighbourhood of Madrid, and being apprehended, was forthwith +conducted to the capital, where he shortly after terminated his existence +on the scaffold, with his two associates; Gabiria and his children being +present at the ghastly scene, which they surveyed from a chariot at their +ease. + +Such was the end of Balseiro, of whom I should certainly not have said so +much, but for the affair of the crabbed _Gitano_. Poor wretch! he +acquired that species of immortality which is the object of the +aspirations of many a Spanish thief, whilst vapouring about in the +_patio_, dressed in the snowy linen; the rape of the children of Gabiria +made him at once the pet of the fraternity. A celebrated robber, with +whom I was subsequently imprisoned at Seville, spoke his eulogy in the +following manner:— + +“Balseiro was a very good subject, and an honest man. He was the head of +our family, _Don Jorge_; we shall never see his like again; pity that he +did not sack the _parné_, and escape to the camp of the Moor, _Don +Jorge_.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLI. + + +Maria Diaz—Priestly Vituperation—Antonio’s Visit—Antonio at Service—A +Scene—Benedict Mol—Wandering in Spain—The Four Evangelien. + +“Well,” said I to Maria Diaz, on the third morning after my imprisonment, +“what do the people of Madrid say to this affair of mine?” + +“I do not know what the people of Madrid in general say about it, +probably they do not take much interest in it; indeed, imprisonments at +the present time are such common matters, that people seem to be quite +indifferent to them; the priests, however, are in no slight commotion, +and confess that they have committed an imprudent thing in causing you to +be arrested by their friend the _corregidor_ of Madrid.” + +“How is that?” I inquired. “Are they afraid that their friend will be +punished?” + + “Not so, _señor_,” replied Maria; “slight grief indeed would it cause +them, however great the trouble in which he had involved himself on their +account; for this description of people have no affection, and would not +care if all their friends were hanged, provided they themselves escaped. +But they say that they have acted imprudently in sending you to prison, +inasmuch as by so doing they have given you an opportunity of carrying a +plan of yours into execution. ‘This fellow is a _bribon_,’ say they, +‘and has commenced tampering with the prisoners; they have taught him +their language, which he already speaks as well as if he were a son of +the prison. As soon as he comes out he will publish a thieves’ Gospel, +which will be a still more dangerous affair than the gypsy one, for the +gypsies are few, but the thieves! woe is us; we shall all be +Lutheranized. What infamy, what rascality! It was a trick of his own. +He was always eager to get into prison, and now, in evil hour, we have +sent him there, _el bribonazo_; there will be no safety for Spain until +he is hanged; he ought to be sent to the four hells, where at his leisure +he might translate his fatal gospels into the language of the demons.’” + +“I but said three words to the _alcayde_ of the prison,” said I, +“relative to the jargon used by the children of the prison.” + +“Three words! _Don Jorge_; and what may not be made out of three words? +You have lived amongst us to little purpose if you think we require more +than three words to build a system with. Those three words about the +thieves and their tongue were quite sufficient to cause it to be reported +throughout Madrid that you had tampered with the thieves, had learnt +their language, and had written a book which was to overturn Spain, open +to the English the gates of Cadiz, give Mendizabal all the church plate +and jewels, and to Don Martin Luther the archiepiscopal palace of +Toledo.” + +Late in the afternoon of rather a gloomy day, as I was sitting in the +apartment which the _alcayde_ had allotted me, I heard a rap at the door. +“Who is that?” I exclaimed. “_C’est moi_, _mon maître_,” cried a +well-known voice, and presently in walked Antonio Buchini, dressed in the +same style as when I first introduced him to the reader, namely, in a +handsome but rather faded French surtout, vest, and pantaloons, with a +diminutive hat in one hand, and holding in the other a long and slender +cane. + +“_Bon jour_, _mon maître_,” said the Greek; then, glancing around the +apartment, he continued, “I am glad to find you so well lodged. If I +remember right, _mon maître_, we have slept in worse places during our +wanderings in Galicia and Castile.” + +“You are quite right, Antonio,” I replied; “I am very comfortable. Well, +this is kind of you to visit your ancient master, more especially now he +is in the toils; I hope, however, that by so doing you will not offend +your present employer. His dinner hour must be at hand; why are you not +in the kitchen?” + +“Of what employer are you speaking, _mon maître_?” demanded Antonio. + +“Of whom should I speak but Count ---, to serve whom you abandoned me, +being tempted by an offer of a monthly salary less by four dollars than +that which I was giving you?” + +“Your worship brings an affair to my remembrance which I had long since +forgotten. I have at present no other master than yourself, _Monsieur +Georges_, for I shall always consider you as my master, though I may not +enjoy the felicity of waiting upon you.” + +“You have left the Count, then,” said I, “after remaining three days in +the house, according to your usual practice.” + +“Not three hours, _mon maître_,” replied Antonio; “but I will tell you +the circumstances. Soon after I left you I repaired to the house of +_Monsieur le Comte_; I entered the kitchen, and looked about me. I +cannot say that I had much reason to be dissatisfied with what I saw: the +kitchen was large and commodious, and everything appeared neat and in its +proper place, and the domestics civil and courteous; yet, I know not how +it was, the idea at once rushed into my mind that the house was by no +means suited to me, and that I was not destined to stay there long; so, +hanging my haversack upon a nail, and sitting down on the dresser, I +commenced singing a Greek song, as I am in the habit of doing when +dissatisfied. The domestics came about me, asking questions. I made +them no answer, however, and continued singing till the hour for +preparing the dinner drew nigh, when I suddenly sprang on the floor, and +was not long in thrusting them all out of the kitchen, telling them that +they had no business there at such a season. I then at once entered upon +my functions. I exerted myself, _mon maître_—I exerted myself, and was +preparing a repast which would have done me honour; there was, indeed, +some company expected that day, and I therefore determined to show my +employer that nothing was beyond the capacity of his Greek cook. _Eh +bien_, _mon maître_, all was going on remarkably well, and I felt almost +reconciled to my new situation, when who should rush into the kitchen but +_le fils de la maison_, my young master, an ugly urchin of thirteen years +or thereabouts. He bore in his hand a manchet of bread, which, after +prying about for a moment, he proceeded to dip in the pan where some +delicate woodcocks were in the course of preparation. You know, _mon +maître_, how sensitive I am on certain points, for I am no Spaniard, but +a Greek, and have principles of honour. Without a moment’s hesitation I +took my young master by the shoulders, and hurrying him to the door, +dismissed him in the manner which he deserved. Squalling loudly, he +hurried away to the upper part of the house. I continued my labours, but +ere three minutes had elapsed, I heard a dreadful confusion above stairs, +_on faisoit une horrible tintamarre_, and I could occasionally +distinguish oaths and execrations. Presently doors were flung open, and +there was an awful rushing downstairs, a gallopade. It was my lord the +count, his lady, and my young master, followed by a regular bevy of women +and _filles de chambre_. Far in advance of all, however, was my lord +with a drawn sword in his hand, shouting, ‘Where is the wretch who has +dishonoured my son, where is he? He shall die forthwith.’ I know not +how it was, _mon maître_, but I just then chanced to spill a large bowl +of _garbanzos_, which were intended for the _puchera_ of the following +day. They were uncooked, and were as hard as marbles; these I dashed +upon the floor, and the greater part of them fell just about the doorway. +_Eh bien_, _mon maître_, in another moment in bounded the count, his eyes +sparkling like coals, and, as I have already said, with a rapier in his +hand. ‘_Tenez_, _gueux enragé_,’ he screamed, making a desperate lunge at +me; but ere the words were out of his mouth, his foot slipping on the +pease, he fell forward with great violence at his full length, and his +weapon flew out of his hand, _comme une flêche_. You should have heard +the outcry which ensued—there was a terrible confusion: the count lay +upon the floor to all appearance stunned. I took no notice, however, +continuing busily employed. They at last raised him up, and assisted him +till he came to himself, though very pale and much shaken. He asked for +his sword: all eyes were now turned upon me, and I saw that a general +attack was meditated. Suddenly I took a large _casserole_ from the fire +in which various eggs were frying; this I held out at arm’s length, +peering at it along my arm as if I were curiously inspecting it, my right +foot advanced and the other thrown back as far as possible. All stood +still, imagining, doubtless, that I was about to perform some grand +operation, and so I was: for suddenly the sinister leg advancing, with +one rapid _coup de pied_, I sent the _casserole_ and its contents flying +over my head, so that they struck the wall far behind me. This was to +let them know that I had broken my staff and had shaken the dust off my +feet; so casting upon the count the peculiar glance of the Sceirote cooks +when they feel themselves insulted, and extending my mouth on either side +nearly as far as the ears, I took down my haversack and departed, singing +as I went the song of the ancient Demos, who, when dying, asked for his +supper, and water wherewith to lave his hands— + + Ό ἤλιος ἐβασίλευε, κἰ ὁ Δημος διατάζει, + Σύρτε, παιδιά μου, ’σ τὸ νερὸν ψωμὶ νὰ φάτ' ὰπόψε. {164} + +And in this manner, _mon maître_, I left the house of the Count of ---.” + +_Myself_.—And a fine account you have given of yourself; by your own +confession, your behaviour was most atrocious. Were it not for the many +marks of courage and fidelity which you have exhibited in my service, I +would from this moment hold no further communication with you. + +_Antonio_.—_Mais qu’est ce que vous voudriez_, _mon maître_? Am I not a +Greek, full of honour and sensibility? Would you have the cooks of +Sceira and Stambul submit to be insulted here in Spain by the sons of +counts rushing into the temple with manchets of bread? _Non_, _non_, +_mon maître_, you are too noble to require that, and what is more, _too +just_. But we will talk of other things. _Mon maître_, I came not +alone, there is one now waiting in the corridor anxious to speak to you. + +_Myself_.—Who is it? + +_Antonio_.—One whom you have met, _mon maître_, in various and strange +places. + +_Myself_.—But who is it? + +_Antonio_.—One who will come to a strange end, _for so it is written_. +The most extraordinary of all the Swiss, he of Saint James—_Der Schatz +Gräber_. {165} + +_Myself_.—Not Benedict Mol? + +“_Yaw_, _mein lieber Herr_,” said Benedict, pushing open the door which +stood ajar; “it is myself. I met _Herr Anton_ in the street, and hearing +that you were in this place, I came with him to visit you.” + +_Myself_.—And in the name of all that is singular, how is it that I see +you in Madrid again? I thought that by this time you were returned to +your own country. + +_Benedict_.—Fear not, _lieber Herr_, I shall return thither in good time; +but not on foot, but with mules and coach. The _Schatz_ is still yonder, +waiting to be dug up, and now I have better hope than ever; plenty of +friends, plenty of money. See you not how I am dressed, _lieber Herr_? + +And verily his habiliments were of a much more respectable appearance +than any which he had sported on former occasions. His coat and +pantaloons, which were of light green, were nearly new. On his head he +still wore an Andalusian hat, but the present one was neither old nor +shabby, but fresh and glossy, and of immense altitude of cone; whilst in +his hand, instead of the ragged staff which I had observed at Saint James +and Oviedo, he now carried a huge bamboo rattan, surmounted by the grim +head of either a bear or lion, curiously cut out of pewter. + +“You have all the appearance of a treasure-seeker returned from a +successful expedition,” I exclaimed. + +“Or rather,” interrupted Antonio, “of one who has ceased to trade on his +own bottom, and now goes seeking treasures at the cost and expense of +others.” + +I questioned the Swiss minutely concerning his adventures since I last +saw him, when I left him at Oviedo to pursue my route to Santander. From +his answers I gathered that he had followed me to the latter place; he +was, however, a long time in performing the journey, being weak from +hunger and privation. At Santander he could hear no tidings of me, and +by this time the trifle which he had received from me was completely +exhausted. He now thought of making his way into France, but was afraid +to venture through the disturbed provinces, lest he should fall into the +hands of the Carlists, who he conceived might shoot him as a spy. No one +relieving him at Santander, he departed and begged his way till he found +himself in some part of Aragon, but where he scarcely knew. “My misery +was so great,” said Benedict, “that I nearly lost my senses. Oh, the +horror of wandering about the savage hills and wide plains of Spain, +without money and without hope! Sometimes I became desperate, when I +found myself amongst rocks and _barrancos_, perhaps after having tasted +no food from sunrise to sunset; and then I would raise my staff towards +the sky and shake it, crying, _Lieber Herr Gott_, _ach lieber Herr Gott_, +you must help me now or never; if you tarry I am lost; you must help me +now, now! And once, when I was raving in this manner, methought I heard +a voice—nay, I am sure I heard it—sounding from the hollow of a rock, +clear and strong; and it cried, ‘_Der Schatz_, _der Schatz_, it is not +yet dug up; to Madrid, to Madrid. The way to the _Schatz_ is through +Madrid.’ And then the thought of the _Schatz_ once more rushed into my +mind, and I reflected how happy I might be, could I but dig up the +_Schatz_. No more begging then; no more wandering amidst horrid +mountains and deserts; so I brandished my staff, and my body and my limbs +became full of new and surprising strength, and I strode forward, and was +not long before I reached the high road; and then I begged and bettled as +I best could, until I reached Madrid.” + +“And what has befallen you since you reached Madrid?” I inquired. “Did +you find the treasure in the streets?” + +On a sudden Benedict became reserved and taciturn, which the more +surprised me, as, up to the present moment, he had at all times been +remarkably communicative with respect to his affairs and prospects. From +what I could learn from his broken hints and innuendos, it appeared that, +since his arrival at Madrid, he had fallen into the hands of certain +people who had treated him with kindness, and provided him both with +money and clothes; not from disinterested motives, however, but having an +eye to the treasure. “They expect great things from me,” said the Swiss; +“and perhaps, after all, it would have been more profitable to have dug +up the treasure without their assistance, always provided that were +possible.” Who his new friends were he either knew not or would not tell +me, save that they were people in power. He said something about Queen +Christina and an oath which he had taken in the presence of a bishop on +the crucifix and the four _Evangelien_. I thought that his head was +turned, and forbore questioning. Just before taking his departure, he +observed, “_Lieber Herr_, pardon me for not being quite frank towards +you, to whom I owe so much, but I dare not; I am not now my own man. It +is, moreover, an evil thing at all times to say a word about treasure +before you have secured it. There was once a man in my own country who +dug deep into the earth until he arrived at a copper vessel which +contained a _Schatz_. Seizing it by the handle, he merely exclaimed in +his transport, ‘I have it!’ that was enough, however: down sank the +kettle, though the handle remained in his grasp. That was all he ever +got for his trouble and digging. Farewell, _lieber Herr_, I shall +speedily be sent back to Saint James to dig up the _Schatz_; but I will +visit you ere I go—farewell.” + + + + +CHAPTER XLII. + + +Liberation from Prison—The Apology—Human Nature—The Greek’s Return—Church +of Rome—Light of Scripture—Archbishop of Toledo—An Interview—Stones of +Price—A Resolution—The Foreign Language—Benedict’s Farewell—Treasure Hunt +at Compostella—Truth and Fiction. + +I remained about three weeks in the prison of Madrid, and then left it. +If I had possessed any pride, or harboured any rancour against the party +who had consigned me to durance, the manner in which I was restored to +liberty would no doubt have been highly gratifying to those evil +passions; the government having acknowledged, by a document transmitted +to Sir George, that I had been incarcerated on insufficient grounds, and +that no stigma attached itself to me from the imprisonment I had +undergone; at the same time agreeing to defray all the expenses to which +I had been subjected throughout the progress of this affair. + +It moreover expressed its willingness to dismiss the individual owing to +whose information I had been first arrested, namely, the _corchete_, or +police officer, who had visited me in my apartments in the Calle de +Santiago, and behaved himself in the manner which I have described in a +former chapter. I declined, however, to avail myself of this +condescension of the government, more especially as I was informed that +the individual in question had a wife and family, who, if he were +disgraced, would be at once reduced to want. I moreover considered that, +in what he had done and said, he had probably only obeyed some private +orders which he had received; I therefore freely forgave him, and if he +does not retain his situation at the present moment, it is certainly no +fault of mine. + +I likewise refused to accept any compensation for my expenses, which were +considerable. It is probable that many persons in my situation would +have acted very differently in this respect, and I am far from saying +that herein I acted discreetly or laudably; but I was averse to receive +money from people such as those of which the Spanish Government was +composed, people whom I confess I heartily despised, and I was unwilling +to afford them an opportunity of saying that after they had imprisoned an +Englishman unjustly, and without a cause, he condescended to receive +money at their hands. In a word, I confess my own weakness; I was +willing that they should continue my debtors, and have little doubt that +they had not the slightest objection to remain so: they kept their money, +and probably laughed in their sleeves at my want of common sense. + +The heaviest loss which resulted from my confinement, and for which no +indemnification could be either offered or received, was in the death of +my affectionate and faithful Basque Francisco, who, having attended me +during the whole time of my imprisonment, caught the pestilential typhus +or gaol fever, which was then raging in the Carcel de la Corte, of which +he expired within a few days subsequent to my liberation. {170} His +death occurred late one evening. The next morning, as I was lying in bed +ruminating on my loss, and wondering of what nation my next servant would +be, I heard a noise which seemed to be that of a person employed +vigorously in cleaning boots or shoes, and at intervals a strange +discordant voice singing snatches of a song in some unknown language: +wondering who it could be, I rang the bell. + +“Did you ring, _mon maître_?” said Antonio, appearing at the door with +one of his arms deeply buried in a boot. + +“I certainly did ring,” said I, “but I scarcely expected that you would +have answered the summons.” + +“_Mais pourquoi non_, _mon maître_?” cried Antonio. “Who should serve +you now but myself? _N’est pas que le sieur François est mort_? And did +I not say, as soon as I heard of his departure, I shall return to my +functions _chez mon maître_, _Monsieur Georges_?” + +“I suppose you had no other employment, and on that account you came.” + +“_Au contraire_, _mon maître_,” replied the Greek, “I had just engaged +myself at the house of the Duke of Frias, {171} from whom I was to +receive ten dollars per month more than I shall accept from your worship; +but on hearing that you were without a domestic, I forthwith told the +duke, though it was late at night, that he would not suit me; and here I +am.” + +“I shall not receive you in this manner,” said I; “return to the duke, +apologize for your behaviour, request your dismission in a regular way; +and then, if his grace is willing to part with you, as will most probably +be the case, I shall be happy to avail myself of your services.” + +It is reasonable to expect that after having been subjected to an +imprisonment which my enemies themselves admitted to be unjust, I should +in future experience more liberal treatment at their hands than that +which they had hitherto adopted towards me. The sole object of my +ambition at this time was to procure toleration for the sale of the +Gospel in this unhappy and distracted kingdom, and to have attained this +end I would not only have consented to twenty such imprisonments in +succession as that which I had undergone, but would gladly have +sacrificed life itself. I soon perceived, however, that I was likely to +gain nothing by my incarceration; on the contrary, I had become an object +of personal dislike to the government since the termination of this +affair, which it was probable I had never been before; their pride and +vanity were humbled by the concessions which they had been obliged to +make in order to avoid a rupture with England. This dislike they were +now determined to gratify, by thwarting my views as much as possible. I +had an interview with Ofalia on the subject uppermost in my mind; I found +him morose and snappish. “It will be for your interest to be still,” +said he; “beware! you have already thrown the whole _corte_ into +confusion; beware, I repeat; another time you may not escape so easily.” +“Perhaps not,” I replied, “and perhaps I do not wish it; it is a pleasant +thing to be persecuted for the Gospel’s sake. I now take the liberty of +inquiring whether, if I attempt to circulate the Word of God, I am to be +interrupted.” “Of course,” exclaimed Ofalia; “the Church forbids such +circulation.” “I shall make the attempt, however,” I exclaimed. “Do you +mean what you say?” demanded Ofalia, arching his eyebrows and elongating +his mouth. “Yes,” I continued, “I shall make the attempt in every +village in Spain to which I can penetrate.” + +Throughout my residence in Spain the clergy were the party from which I +experienced the strongest opposition; and it was at their instigation +that the government originally adopted those measures which prevented any +extensive circulation of the sacred volume through the land. I shall not +detain the course of my narrative with reflections as to the state of a +Church, which, though it pretends to be founded on Scripture, would yet +keep the light of Scripture from all mankind, if possible. But Rome is +fully aware that she is not a Christian Church, and having no desire to +become so, she acts prudently in keeping from the eyes of her followers +the page which would reveal to them the truths of Christianity. Her +agents and minions throughout Spain exerted themselves to the utmost to +render my humble labours abortive, and to vilify the work which I was +attempting to disseminate. All the ignorant and fanatical clergy (the +great majority) were opposed to it, and all those who were anxious to +keep on good terms with the court of Rome were loud in their cry against +it. There was, however, one section of the clergy, a small one, it is +true, rather favourably disposed towards the circulation of the Gospel, +though by no means inclined to make any particular sacrifice for the +accomplishment of such an end: these were such as professed liberalism, +which is supposed to mean a disposition to adopt any reform, both in +civil and Church matters, which may be deemed conducive to the weal of +the country. Not a few amongst the Spanish clergy were supporters of +this principle, or at least declared themselves so; some doubtless for +their own advancement, hoping to turn the spirit of the times to their +own personal profit: others, it is to be hoped, from conviction, and a +pure love of the principle itself. Amongst these were to be found, at +the time of which I am speaking, several bishops. It is worthy of +remark, however, that of all these not one but owed his office, not to +the Pope, who disowned them one and all, but to the Queen Regent, the +professed head of liberalism throughout all Spain. It is not, therefore, +surprising that men thus circumstanced should feel rather disposed than +not to countenance any measure or scheme at all calculated to favour the +advancement of liberalism; and surely such an one was the circulation of +the Scriptures. I derived but little assistance from their good will, +however, supposing that they entertained some, as they never took any +decided stand, nor lifted up their voices in a bold and positive manner, +denouncing the conduct of those who would withhold the light of Scripture +from the world. At one time I hoped by their instrumentality to +accomplish much in Spain in the Gospel cause; but I was soon undeceived, +and became convinced that reliance on what they would effect was like +placing the hand on a staff of reed, which will only lacerate the flesh. +More than once some of them sent messages to me, expressive of their +esteem, and assuring me how much the cause of the Gospel was dear to +their hearts. I even received an intimation that a visit from me would +be agreeable to the Archbishop of Toledo, the Primate of Spain. + +Of this personage I can say but little, his early history being entirely +unknown to me. At the death of Ferdinand, I believe, he was Bishop of +Mallorca, a small insignificant see, of very scanty revenues, which +perhaps he had no objection to exchange for one more wealthy. It is +probable, however, that had he proved a devoted servant of the Pope, and +consequently a supporter of legitimacy, he would have continued to the +day of his death to fill the episcopal chair of Mallorca; but he was said +to be a liberal, and the Queen Regent thought fit to bestow upon him the +dignity of Archbishop of Toledo, by which he became the head of the +Spanish Church. The Pope, it is true, had refused to ratify the +nomination, on which account all good Catholics were still bound to +consider him as Bishop of Mallorca, and not as Primate of Spain. He, +however, received the revenues belonging to the see, which, though only a +shadow of what they originally were, were still considerable, and lived +in the primate’s palace at Madrid, so that if he were not archbishop _de +jure_, he was what many people would have considered much better, +archbishop _de facto_. {175} + +Hearing that this personage was a personal friend of Ofalia, who was said +to entertain a very high regard for him, I determined upon paying him a +visit, and accordingly one morning betook myself to the palace in which +he resided. I experienced no difficulty in obtaining an interview, being +forthwith conducted to his presence by a common kind of footman, an +Asturian, I believe, whom I found seated on a stone bench in the +entrance-hall. When I was introduced, the archbishop was alone, seated +behind a table in a large apartment, a kind of drawing-room; he was +plainly dressed, in a black cassock and silken cap; on his finger, +however, glittered a superb amethyst, the lustre of which was truly +dazzling. He rose for a moment as I advanced, and motioned me to a chair +with his hand. He might be about sixty years of age; his figure was very +tall, but he stooped considerably, evidently from feebleness, and the +pallid hue of ill-health overspread his emaciated features. When he had +reseated himself, he dropped his head, and appeared to be looking on the +table before him. + +“I suppose your lordship knows who I am?” said I, at last breaking +silence. + +The archbishop bent his head towards the right shoulder, in a somewhat +equivocal manner, but said nothing. + +“I am he whom the _Manolos_ of Madrid call _Don Jorgito el Ingles_; I am +just come out of prison, whither I was sent for circulating my Lord’s +Gospel in this kingdom of Spain.” + +The archbishop made the same equivocal motion with his head, but still +said nothing. + +“I was informed that your lordship was desirous of seeing me, and on that +account I have paid you this visit.” + +“I did not send for you,” said the archbishop, suddenly, raising his head +with a startled look. + +“Perhaps not: I was, however, given to understand that my presence would +be agreeable; but as that does not seem to be the case, I will leave.” + +“Since you are come, I am very glad to see you.” + +“I am very glad to hear it,” said I, reseating myself; “and since I am +here, we may as well talk of an all-important matter, the circulation of +the Scripture. Does your lordship see any way by which an end so +desirable might be brought about?” + +“No,” said the archbishop, faintly. + +“Does not your lordship think that a knowledge of the Scripture would +work inestimable benefit in these realms?” + +“I don’t know.” + +“Is it probable that the government may be induced to consent to the +circulation?” + +“How should I know?” and the archbishop looked me in the face. + +I looked in the face of the archbishop; there was an expression of +helplessness in it, which almost amounted to dotage. “Dear me,” thought +I, “whom have I come to on an errand like mine? Poor man! you are not +fitted to play the part of Martin Luther, and least of all in Spain. I +wonder why your friends selected you to be Archbishop of Toledo; they +thought perhaps that you would do neither good nor harm, and made choice +of you, as they sometimes do primates in my own country, for your +incapacity. You do not seem very happy in your present situation; no +very easy stall this of yours. You were more comfortable, I trow, when +you were the poor Bishop of Mallorca; could enjoy your _puchera_ then +without fear that the salt would turn out sublimate. No fear then of +being smothered in your bed. A _siesta_ is a pleasant thing when one is +not subject to be disturbed by ‘the sudden fear.’ I wonder whether they +have poisoned you already,” I continued, half aloud, as I kept my eyes +fixed on his countenance, which methought was becoming ghastly. + +“Did you speak, _Don Jorge_?” demanded the archbishop. + +“That is a fine brilliant on your lordship’s hand,” said I. + +“You are fond of brilliants, _Don Jorge_,” said the archbishop, his +features brightening up; “_vaya_! so am I; they are pretty things. Do +you understand them?” + +“I do,” said I, “and I never saw a finer brilliant than your own, one +excepted; it belonged to an acquaintance of mine, a Tartar Khan. He did +not bear it on his finger, however; it stood in the frontlet of his +horse, where it shone like a star. He called it _Daoud Scharr_, which, +being interpreted, meaneth _light of war_.” + +“_Vaya_!” said the archbishop, “how very extraordinary! I am glad you +are fond of brilliants, _Don Jorge_. Speaking of horses, reminds me that +I have frequently seen you on horseback. _Vaya_! how you ride! It is +dangerous to be in your way.” + +“Is your lordship fond of equestrian exercise?” + +“By no means, _Don Jorge_; I do not like horses. It is not the practice +of the Church to ride on horseback. We prefer mules; they are the +quieter animals. I fear horses, they kick so violently.” + +“The kick of a horse is death,” said I, “if it touches a vital part. I +am not, however, of your lordship’s opinion with respect to mules: a good +_ginete_ may retain his seat on a horse however vicious, but a +mule—_vaya_! when a false mule _tira por detras_, {178a} I do not believe +that the Father of the Church himself could keep the saddle a moment, +however sharp his bit.” + +As I was going away, I said, “And with respect to the Gospel, your +lordship, what am I to understand?” + +“_No sé_,” {178b} said the archbishop, again bending his head towards the +right shoulder, whilst his features resumed their former vacant +expression. And thus terminated my interview with the Archbishop of +Toledo. + +“It appears to me,” said I to Maria Diaz, on returning home; “it appears +to me, _Marequita mia_, that if the Gospel in Spain is to wait for +toleration until these liberal bishops and archbishops come forward +boldly in its behalf, it will have to tarry a considerable time.” + +“I am much of your worship’s opinion,” answered Maria; “a fine thing, +truly, it would be to wait till they exerted themselves in its behalf. +_Ca_! {179a} the idea makes me smile. Was your worship ever innocent +enough to suppose that they cared one tittle about the Gospel or its +cause? _Vaya_! they are true priests, and had only self-interest in view +in their advances to you. The Holy Father disowns them, and they would +now fain, by awaking his fears and jealousy, bring him to some terms; but +let him once acknowledge them, and see whether they would admit you to +their palaces or hold any intercourse with you! ‘Forth with the fellow!’ +they would say; ‘_vaya_! is he not a Lutheran? Is he not an enemy to the +Church? _Á la horca_, _á la horca_!’ {179b} I know this family better +than you do, _Don Jorge_.” + +“It is useless tarrying,” said I; “nothing, however, can be done in +Madrid. I cannot sell the work at the _despacho_, and I have just +received intelligence that all the copies exposed for sale in the +libraries in the different parts of Spain which I have visited have been +sequestrated by order of the government. My resolution is taken: I shall +mount my horses, which are neighing in the stable, and betake myself to +the villages and plains of dusty Spain. _Al campo_, _al campo_: {180a} +‘Ride forth, because of the word of righteousness, and thy right hand +shall show thee terrible things. {180b} I will ride forth, Maria.” + +“Your worship can do no better; and allow me here to tell you, that for +every single book you might sell in a _despacho_ in the city, you may +dispose of one hundred amongst the villages, always provided you offer +them cheap; for in the country money is rather scant. _Vaya_! should I +not know? am I not a villager myself, a _villana_ from the Sagra? Ride +forth, therefore: your horses are neighing in the stall, as your worship +says, and you might almost have added that the _Señor_ Antonio is +neighing in the house. He says he has nothing to do, on which account he +is once more dissatisfied and unsettled. He finds fault with everything, +but more particularly with myself. This morning I saluted him, and he +made me no reply, but twisted his mouth in a manner very uncommon in this +land of Spain.” + +“A thought strikes me,” said I; “you have mentioned the Sagra; why should +not I commence my labours amongst the villages of that district?” + +“Your worship can do no better,” replied Maria; “the harvest is just over +there, and you will find the people comparatively unemployed, with +leisure to attend and listen to you; and if you follow my advice, you +will establish yourself at Villa Seca, in the house of my fathers, where +at present lives my lord and husband. Go, therefore, to Villa Seca in +the first place, and from thence you can sally forth with the _Señor_ +Antonio upon your excursions. Peradventure, my husband will accompany +you; and if so, you will find him highly useful. The people of Villa +Seca are civil and courteous, your worship; when they address a +foreigner, they speak to him at the top of their voice and in Gallegan.” + +“In Gallegan!” I exclaimed. + +“They all understand a few words of Gallegan, which they have acquired +from the mountaineers, who occasionally assist them in cutting the +harvest, and as Gallegan is the only foreign language they know, they +deem it but polite to address a foreigner in that tongue. _Vaya_! it is +not a bad village, that of Villa Seca, nor are the people; the only +ill-conditioned person living there is his reverence the curate.” + +I was not long in making preparations for my enterprise. A considerable +stock of Testaments were sent forward by an _arriero_, I myself followed +the next day. Before my departure, however, I received a visit from +Benedict Mol. + +“I am come to bid you farewell, _lieber Herr_; tomorrow I return to +Compostella.” + +“On what errand?” + +“To dig up the _Schatz_, _lieber Herr_. For what else should I go? For +what have I lived until now, but that I may dig up the _Schatz_ in the +end?” + +“You might have lived for something better,” I exclaimed. “I wish you +success, however. But on what grounds do you hope? Have you obtained +permission to dig? Surely you remember your former trials in Galicia?” + +“I have not forgotten them, _lieber Herr_, nor the journey to Oviedo, nor +‘the seven acorns,’ nor the fight with death in the _barranco_. But I +must accomplish my destiny. I go now to Galicia, as is becoming a Swiss, +at the expense of the government, with coach and mule, I mean in the +_galera_. I am to have all the help I require, so that I can dig down to +the earth’s centre if I think fit. I—but I must not tell your worship, +for I am sworn on ‘the four _Evangelien_,’ not to tell.” + +“Well, Benedict, I have nothing to say, save that I hope you will succeed +in your digging.” + +“Thank you, _lieber Herr_, thank you; and now farewell. Succeed! I +shall succeed!” Here he stopped short, started, and looking upon me with +an expression of countenance almost wild, he exclaimed, “_Heiliger Gott_! +I forgot one thing. Suppose I should not find the treasure after all!” + +“Very rationally said; pity, though, that you did not think of that +contingency till now. I tell you, my friend, that you have engaged in a +most desperate undertaking. It is true that you may find a treasure. +The chances are, however, a hundred to one that you do not, and in that +event what will be your situation? You will be looked upon as an +impostor, and the consequences may be horrible to you. Remember where +you are, and amongst whom you are. The Spaniards are a credulous people, +but let them once suspect that they have been imposed upon, and above all +laughed at, and their thirst for vengeance knows no limit. Think not +that your innocence will avail you. That you are no impostor I feel +convinced; but they would never believe it. It is not too late. Return +your fine clothes and magic rattan to those from whom you had them. Put +on your old garments, grasp your ragged staff, and come with me to the +Sagra, to assist in circulating the illustrious Gospel amongst the +rustics on the Tagus’ bank.” + +Benedict mused for a moment, then, shaking his head, he cried, “No, no, I +must accomplish my destiny. The _Schatz_ is not yet dug up. So said the +voice in the _barranco_. To-morrow to Compostella. I shall find it—the +_Schatz_—it is still there—it _must_ be there.” + +He went, and I never saw him more. What I heard, however, was +extraordinary enough. It appeared that the government had listened to +his tale, and had been so struck with Benedict’s exaggerated description +of the buried treasure, that they imagined that, by a little trouble and +outlay, gold and diamonds might be dug up at Saint James sufficient to +enrich themselves and to pay off the national debt of Spain. The Swiss +returned to Compostella “like a duke,” to use his own words. The affair, +which had at first been kept a profound secret, was speedily divulged. +It was, indeed, resolved that the investigation, which involved +consequences of so much importance, should take place in a manner the +most public and imposing. A solemn festival was drawing nigh, and it was +deemed expedient that the search should take place upon that day. The +day arrived. All the bells in Compostella pealed. The whole populace +thronged from their houses, a thousand troops were drawn up in the +square, the expectation of all was wound up to the highest pitch. A +procession directed its course to the church of San Roque; at its head +was the captain-general and the Swiss, brandishing in his hand the magic +rattan; close behind walked the _meiga_, the Gallegan witch-wife, by whom +the treasure-seeker had been originally guided in the search; numerous +masons brought up the rear, bearing implements to break up the ground. +The procession enters the church, they pass through it in solemn march, +they find themselves in a vaulted passage. The Swiss looks around. “Dig +here,” said he suddenly. “Yes, dig here,” said the _meiga_. The masons +labour, the floor is broken up,—a horrible and fetid odour arises. . . . + +Enough; no treasure was found, and my warning to the unfortunate Swiss +turned out but too prophetic. He was forthwith seized and flung into the +horrid prison of Saint James, amidst the execrations of thousands, who +would have gladly torn him limb from limb. + +The affair did not terminate here. The political opponents of the +government did not allow so favourable an opportunity to escape for +launching the shafts of ridicule. The _moderados_ were taunted in the +cortes for their avarice and credulity, whilst the liberal press wafted +on its wings through Spain the story of the treasure-hunt at Saint James. + +“After all, it was a _trampa_ of _Don Jorge’s_,” said one of my enemies. +“That fellow is at the bottom of half the _picardias_ which happen in +Spain.” + +Eager to learn the fate of the Swiss, I wrote to my old friend Rey +Romero, at Compostella. In his answer he states: “I saw the Swiss in +prison, to which place he sent for me, craving my assistance, for the +sake of the friendship which I bore to you. But how could I help him? +He was speedily after removed from Saint James, I know not whither. It +is said that he disappeared on the road.” + +Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. Where in the whole cycle of +romance shall we find anything more wild, grotesque, and sad, than the +easily authenticated history of Benedict Mol, the treasure-digger of +Saint James? + + + + +CHAPTER XLIII. + + +Villa Seca—Moorish House—The Puchera—The Rustic Council—Polite +Ceremonial—The Flower of Spain—The Bridge of Azeca—The Ruined +Castle—Taking the Field—Demand for the Word—The Old Peasant—The Curate +and Blacksmith—Cheapness of the Scriptures. + +It was one of the most fiercely hot days in which I ever braved the sun, +when I arrived at Villa Seca. The heat in the shade must have amounted +at least to one hundred degrees, and the entire atmosphere seemed to +consist of flickering flame. At a place called Leganez, six leagues from +Madrid, and about half way to Toledo, we diverged from the highway, +bending our course seemingly towards the south-east. We rode over what +are called plains in Spain, but which, in any other part of the world, +would be called undulating and broken ground. The crops of corn and +barley had already disappeared, the last vestiges discoverable being here +and there a few sheaves, which the labourers were occupied in removing to +their garners in the villages. The country could scarcely be called +beautiful, being perfectly naked, exhibiting neither trees nor verdure. +It was not, however, without its pretensions to grandeur and +magnificence, like every part of Spain. The most prominent objects were +two huge calcareous hills, or rather one cleft in twain, which towered up +on high; the summit of the nearest being surmounted by the ruins of an +ancient castle, that of Villaluenga. About an hour past noon we reached +Villa Seca. + +We found it a large village, containing about seven hundred inhabitants, +and surrounded by a mud wall. A _plaza_, or market-place, stood in the +midst, one side of which is occupied by what is called a palace, a clumsy +quadrangular building of two stories, belonging to some noble family, the +lords of the neighbouring soil. It was deserted, however; being only +occupied by a kind of steward, who stored up in its chambers the grain +which he received as rent from the tenants and _villanos_ who farmed the +surrounding district. + +The village stands at the distance of about a quarter of a league from +the bank of the Tagus, which even here, in the heart of Spain, is a +beautiful stream, not navigable, however, on account of the sand-banks, +which in many places assume the appearance of small islands, and are +covered with trees and brushwood. The village derives its supply of +water entirely from the river, having none of its own—such, at least, as +is potable—the water of its wells being all brackish, on which account it +is probably termed Villa Seca, which signifies “the dry hamlet.” The +inhabitants are said to have been originally Moors; certain it is, that +various customs are observable here highly favourable to such a +supposition. Amongst others, a very curious one: it is deemed infamous +for a woman of Villa Seca to go across the market-place, or to be seen +there, though they have no hesitation in showing themselves in the +streets and lanes. A deep-rooted hostility exists between the +inhabitants of this place and those of a neighbouring village, called +Vargas; they rarely speak when they meet, and never intermarry. There is +a vague tradition that the people of the latter place are old Christians, +and it is highly probable that these neighbours were originally of widely +different blood; those of Villa Seca being of particularly dark +complexions, whilst the indwellers of Vargas are light and fair. Thus +the old feud between Moor and Christian is still kept up in the +nineteenth century in Spain. + +Drenched in perspiration, which fell from our brows like rain, we arrived +at the door of Juan Lopez, the husband of Maria Diaz. Having heard of +our intention to pay him a visit, he was expecting us, and cordially +welcomed us to his habitation, which, like a genuine Moorish house, +consisted only of one story. It was amply large, however, with a court +and stable. All the apartments were deliciously cool. The floors were +of brick or stone; and the narrow and trellised windows, which were +without glass, scarcely permitted a ray of sun to penetrate into the +interior. + +A _puchera_ had been prepared in expectation of our arrival; the heat had +not taken away my appetite, and it was not long before I did full justice +to this the standard dish of Spain. Whilst I ate, Lopez played upon the +guitar, singing occasionally snatches of Andalusian songs. He was a +short, merry-faced, active fellow, whom I had frequently seen at Madrid, +and was a good specimen of the Spanish _labrador_, or yeoman. Though far +from possessing the ability and intellect of his wife, Maria Diaz, he was +by no means deficient in shrewdness and understanding. He was, moreover, +honest and disinterested, and performed good service in the Gospel cause, +as will presently appear. + +When the repast was concluded, Lopez thus addressed me:—“_Señor Don +Jorge_, your arrival in our village has already caused a sensation; more +especially as these are times of war and tumult, and every person is +afraid of another, and we dwell here close on the confines of the +factious country: for, as you well know, the greater part of La Mancha is +in the hands of the _Carlinos_ and thieves, parties of whom frequently +show themselves on the other side of the river; on which account the +_alcalde_ of this city, with the other grave and notable people thereof, +are desirous of seeing your worship, and conversing with you, and of +examining your passport.” “It is well,” said I; “let us forthwith pay a +visit to these worthy people.” Whereupon he conducted me across the +_plaza_, to the house of the _alcalde_, where I found the rustic +dignitary seated in the passage, enjoying the refreshing coolness of a +draught of air which rushed through. He was an elderly man, of about +sixty, with nothing remarkable in his appearance or his features, which +latter were placid and good-humoured. There were several people with +him, amongst whom was the surgeon of the place, a tall and immensely +bulky man, an Alavese by birth, from the town of Vitoria. There was also +a red fiery-faced individual, with a nose very much turned on one side, +who was the blacksmith of the village, and was called in general _El +Tuerto_, {188} from the circumstance of his having but one eye. Making +the assembly a low bow, I pulled out my passport, and thus addressed +them:— + +“Grave men and cavaliers of this city of Villa Seca, as I am a stranger, +of whom it is not possible that you should know anything, I have deemed +it my duty to present myself before you, and to tell you who I am. Know, +then, that I am an Englishman of good blood and fathers, travelling in +these countries for my own profit and diversion, and for that of other +people also. I have now found my way to Villa Seca, where I propose to +stay some time, doing that which may be deemed convenient; sometimes +riding across the plain, and sometimes bathing myself in the waters of +the river, which are reported to be of advantage in times of heat. I +therefore beg that, during my sojourn in this capital, I may enjoy such +countenance and protection from its governors as they are in the habit of +affording to those who are of quiet and well-ordered life, and are +disposed to be buxom and obedient to the customs and laws of the +republic.” + +“He speaks well,” said the _alcalde_, glancing around. + +“Yes, he speaks well,” said the bulky Alavese; “there is no denying it.” + +“I never heard any one speak better,” cried the blacksmith, starting up +from a stool on which he was seated. “_Vaya_! he is a big man and a fair +complexioned, like myself. I like him, and have a horse that will just +suit him; one that is the flower of Spain, and is eight inches above the +mark.” + +I then, with another bow, presented my passport to the _alcalde_, who, +with a gentle motion of his hand, appeared to decline taking it, at the +same time saying, “It is not necessary.” “Oh, not at all,” exclaimed the +surgeon. “The housekeepers of Villa Seca know how to comport themselves +with formality,” observed the blacksmith. “They would be very loth to +harbour any suspicion against a cavalier so courteous and well spoken.” +Knowing, however, that this refusal amounted to nothing, and that it +merely formed part of a polite ceremonial, I proffered the passport a +second time, whereupon it was instantly taken, and in a moment the eyes +of all present were bent upon it with intense curiosity. It was examined +from top to bottom, and turned round repeatedly, and though it is not +probable that an individual present understood a word of it, it being +written in French, it gave nevertheless universal satisfaction; and when +the _alcalde_, carefully folding it up, returned it to me, they all +observed that they had never seen a better passport in their lives, or +one which spake in higher terms of the bearer. + +Who was it said that “Cervantes sneered Spain’s chivalry away”? {190} I +know not; and the author of such a line scarcely deserves to be +remembered. How the rage for scribbling tempts people at the present day +to write about lands and nations of which they know nothing, or worse +than nothing! _Vaya_! It is not from having seen a bull-fight at +Seville or Madrid, or having spent a handful of ounces at a _posada_ in +either of those places, kept perhaps by a Genoese or a Frenchman, that +you are competent to write about such a people as the Spaniards, and to +tell the world how they think, how they speak, and how they act. Spain’s +chivalry sneered away! Why, there is every probability that the great +body of the Spanish nation speak, think, and live precisely as their +forefathers did six centuries ago. + +In the evening the blacksmith, or, as he would be called in Spanish, _El +Herrador_, made his appearance at the door of Lopez on horseback. +“_Vamos_, _Don Jorge_,” he shouted. “Come with me, if your worship is +disposed for a ride. I am going to bathe my horse in the Tagus, by the +bridge of Azeca.” I instantly saddled my _jaca Cordovesa_, and joining +him, we rode out of the village, directing our course across the plain +towards the river. “Did you ever see such a horse as this of mine, _Don +Jorge_?” he demanded. “Is he not a jewel—an _alhaja_?” And in truth the +horse was a noble and gallant creature, in height at least sixteen hands, +broad-chested, but of clean and elegant limbs. His neck was superbly +arched, and his head towered on high like that of a swan. In colour he +was a bright chestnut, save his flowing mane and tail, which were almost +black. I expressed my admiration; whereupon the _herrador_, in high +spirits, pressed his heels to the creature’s sides, and flinging the +bridle on its neck, speeded over the plain with prodigious swiftness, +shouting the old Spanish cry, _Cierra_! I attempted to keep up with him, +but had not a chance. “I call him the flower of Spain,” said the +_herrador_, rejoining me. “Purchase him, _Don Jorge_; his price is but +three thousand _reals_. {192} I would not sell him for double that sum, +but the Carlist thieves have their eyes upon him, and I am apprehensive +that they will some day make a dash across the river and break into Villa +Seca, all to get possession of my horse, ‘The Flower of Spain.’” + +It may be as well to observe here, that, within a month from this period, +my friend the _herrador_, not being able to find a regular purchaser for +his steed, entered into negociations with the aforesaid thieves +respecting him, and finally disposed of the animal to their leader, +receiving not the three thousand _reals_ he demanded, but an entire herd +of horned cattle, probably driven from the plains of La Mancha. For this +transaction, which was neither more nor less than high treason, he was +cast into the prison of Toledo, where, however, he did not continue long; +for during a short visit to Villa Seca, which I made in the spring of the +following year, I found him _alcalde_ of that “republic.” + +We arrived at the bridge of Azeca, which is about half a league from +Villa Seca: close beside it is a large water-mill, standing upon a dam +which crosses the river. Dismounting from his steed, the _herrador_ +proceeded to divest it of the saddle, then causing it to enter the +mill-pool, he led it by means of a cord to a particular spot, where the +water reached halfway up its neck, then fastening the cord to a post on +the bank, he left the animal standing in the pool. I thought I could do +no better than follow his example; and, accordingly, procuring a rope +from the mill, I led my own horse into the water. “It will refresh their +blood, _Don Jorge_,”, said the _herrador_; “let us leave them there for +an hour, whilst we go and divert ourselves.” + +Near the bridge, on the side of the river on which we were, was a kind of +guard-house, where were three carbineers of the revenue, who collected +the tolls of the bridge. We entered into conversation with them: “Is not +this a dangerous position of yours,” said I to one of them, who was a +Catalan, “close beside the factious country? Surely it would not be +difficult for a body of the _Carlinos_ or bandits to dash across the +bridge and make prisoners of you all.” + +“It would be easy enough at any moment, cavalier,” replied the Catalan; +“we are, however, all in the hands of God, and he has preserved us +hitherto, and perhaps still will. True it is that one of our number, for +there were four of us originally, fell the other day into the hands of +the _canaille_. He had wandered across the bridge amongst the thickets +with his gun in search of a hare or rabbit, when three or four of them +fell upon him and put him to death in a manner too horrible to relate. +But patience! every man who lives must die. I shall not sleep the worse +to-night because I may chance to be hacked by the knives of these +_malvados_ to-morrow. Cavalier, I am from Barcelona, and have seen there +mariners of your nation; this is not so good a country as Barcelona. +_Paciencia_! Cavalier, if you will step into our house, I will give you +a glass of water; we have some that is cool, for we dug a deep hole in +the earth and buried there our pitcher; it is cool, as I told you, but +the water of Castile is not like that of Catalonia.” + +The moon had arisen when we mounted our horses to return to the village, +and the rays of the beauteous luminary danced merrily on the rushing +waters of the Tagus, silvered the plain over which we were passing, and +bathed in a flood of brightness the bold sides of the calcareous hill of +Villaluenga and the antique ruins which crowned its brow. “Why is that +the Castle of Villaluenga?” I demanded. + +“From a village of that name, which stands on the other side of the hill, +_Don Jorge_,” replied the _herrador_. “_Vaya_! it is a strange place, +that castle: some say it was built by the Moors in the old times, and +some by the Christians when they first laid siege to Toledo. It is not +inhabited now, save by rabbits, which breed there in abundance amongst +the long grass and broken stones, and by eagles and vultures, which build +on the tops of the towers. I occasionally go there with my gun to shoot +a rabbit. On a fine day you may descry both Toledo and Madrid from its +walls. I cannot say I like the place, it is so dreary and melancholy. +The hill on which it stands is all of chalk, and is very difficult of +ascent. I heard my grandame say that once, when she was a girl, a cloud +of smoke burst from that hill, and that flames of fire were seen, just as +if it contained a volcano, as perhaps it does, _Don Jorge_.” + +The grand work of Scripture circulation soon commenced in the Sagra. +Notwithstanding the heat of the weather, I rode about in all directions. +It was well that heat agrees with my constitution, otherwise it would +have been impossible to effect anything in this season, when the very +_arrieros_ frequently fall dead from their mules, smitten by a +sun-stroke. I had an excellent assistant in Antonio, who, disregarding +the heat like myself, and afraid of nothing, visited several villages +with remarkable success. “_Mon maître_,” said he, “I wish to show you +that nothing is beyond my capacity.” But he who put the labours of us +both to shame, was my host, Juan Lopez, whom it had pleased the Lord to +render favourable to the cause. “_Don Jorge_,” said he, “_yo quiero +engancharme con usted_; {195a} I am a liberal, and a foe to superstition; +I will take the field, and, if necessary, will follow you to the end of +the world: _Viva Inglaterra_; _viva el Evangelio_.” Thus saying, he put +a large bundle of Testaments into a satchel, and, springing upon the +crupper of his grey donkey, he cried, “_Arrhé_! _burra_!” {195b} and +hastened away. I sat down to my journal. + +Ere I had finished writing I heard the voice of the _burra_ in the +courtyard, and going out, I found my host returned. He had disposed of +his whole cargo of twenty Testaments at the village of Vargas, distant +from Villa Seca about a league. Eight poor harvest-men, who were +refreshing themselves at the door of a wine-house, purchased each a copy, +whilst the village schoolmaster secured the rest for the little ones +beneath his care, lamenting, at the same time, the great difficulty he +had long experienced in obtaining religious books, owing to their +scarcity and extravagant price. Many other persons were also anxious to +purchase Testaments, but Lopez was unable to supply them: at his +departure they requested him to return within a few days. + +I was aware that I was playing rather a daring game, and that it was very +possible that, when I least expected it, I might be seized, tied to the +tail of a mule, and dragged either to the prison of Toledo or Madrid. +Yet such a prospect did not discourage me in the least, but rather urged +me to persevere; for, at this time, without the slightest wish to magnify +myself, I could say that I was eager to lay down my life for the cause, +and whether a bandit’s bullet or the gaol fever brought my career to a +close, was a matter of indifference to me; I was not then a stricken man: +“Ride on, because of the word of righteousness,” was my cry. + +The news of the arrival of the book of life soon spread like wildfire +through the villages of the Sagra of Toledo, and wherever my people and +myself directed our course we found the inhabitants disposed to receive +our merchandise; it was even called for where not exhibited. One night +as I was bathing myself and horse in the Tagus, a knot of people gathered +on the bank, crying, “Come out of the water, Englishman, and give us +books; we have got our money in our hands.” The poor creatures then held +out their hands, filled with _cuartos_, a copper coin of the value of a +farthing, but unfortunately I had no Testaments to give them. Antonio, +however, who was at a short distance, having exhibited one, it was +instantly torn from his hands by the people, and a scuffle ensued to +obtain possession of it. It very frequently occurred that the poor +labourers in the neighbourhood, being eager to obtain Testaments, and +having no money to offer us in exchange, brought various articles to our +habitation as equivalents; for example, rabbits, fruit, and barley; and I +made a point never to disappoint them, as such articles were of utility +either for our own consumption or that of the horses. + +In Villa Seca there was a school in which fifty-seven children were +taught the first rudiments of education. One morning the schoolmaster, a +tall slim figure of about sixty, bearing on his head one of the peaked +hats of Andalusia, and wrapped, notwithstanding the excessive heat of the +weather, in a long cloak, made his appearance, and having seated himself, +requested to be shown one of our books. Having delivered it to him, he +remained examining it for nearly an hour, without uttering a word. At +last he laid it down with a sigh, and said that he should be very happy +to purchase some of these books for his school, but from their +appearance, especially from the quality of the paper and binding, he was +apprehensive that to pay for them would exceed the means of the parents +of his pupils, as they were almost destitute of money, being poor +labourers. He then commenced blaming the government, which, he said, +established schools without affording the necessary books, adding that in +his school there were but two books for the use of all his pupils, and +these, he confessed, contained but little good. I asked him what he +considered the Testaments were worth? He said, “_Señor_ Cavalier, to +speak frankly, I have in other times paid twelve _reals_ for books +inferior to yours in every respect; but I assure you that my poor pupils +would be utterly unable to pay the half of that sum.” I replied, “I will +sell you as many as you please for three _reals_ each. I am acquainted +with the poverty of the land, and my friends and myself, in affording the +people the means of spiritual instruction, have no wish to curtail their +scanty bread.” He replied, “_Bendito sea Dios_!” {197} and could +scarcely believe his ears. He instantly purchased a dozen, expending, as +he said, all the money he possessed, with the exception of a few +_cuartos_. The introduction of the Word of God into the country schools +of Spain is therefore begun, and I humbly hope that it will prove one of +those events which the Bible Society, after the lapse of years, will have +most reason to remember with joy and gratitude to the Almighty. + +An old peasant is reading in the portico. Eighty-four years have passed +over his head, and he is almost entirely deaf; nevertheless he is reading +aloud the second of Matthew: three days since he bespoke a Testament, but +not being able to raise the money, he has not redeemed it until the +present moment. He has just brought thirty farthings. As I survey the +silvery hair which overshadows his sun-burnt countenance, the words of +the song occurred to me, “Lord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in +peace, according to thy word: for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.” + +I experienced much grave kindness and simple hospitality from the good +people of Villa Seca during my sojourn amongst them. I had at this time +so won their hearts by the “formality” of my behaviour and language, that +I firmly believe they would have resisted to the knife any attempt which +might have been made to arrest or otherwise maltreat me. He who wishes +to become acquainted with the genuine Spaniard must seek him not in +seaports and large towns, but in lone and remote villages, like those of +the Sagra. There he will find all that gravity of deportment and +chivalry of disposition which Cervantes is said to have sneered away; +{198} and there he will hear, in everyday conversation, those grandiose +expressions, which, when met with in the romances of chivalry, are +scoffed at as ridiculous exaggerations. + +I had one enemy in the village—it was the curate. + +“The fellow is a heretic and a scoundrel,” said he one day in the +conclave. “He never enters the church, and is poisoning the minds of the +people with his Lutheran books. Let him be bound and sent to Toledo, or +turned out of the village at least.” + +“I will have nothing of the kind,” said the _alcalde_, who was said to be +a Carlist. “If he has his opinions, I have mine too. He has conducted +himself with politeness. Why should I interfere with him? He has been +courteous to my daughter, and has presented her with a volume. _Que +viva_! and with respect to his being a Lutheran, I have heard say that +amongst the Lutherans there are sons of as good fathers as here. He +appears to me a _caballero_. He speaks well.” + +“There is no denying it,” said the surgeon. + +“Who speaks _so_ well?” shouted the _herrador_. “And who has more +formality? _Vaya_! did he not praise my horse, ‘The Flower of Spain’? +Did he not say that in the whole of _Inglaterra_ there was not a better? +Did he not assure me, moreover, that if he were to remain in Spain he +would purchase it, giving me my own price? Turn him out, indeed! Is he +not of my own blood, is he not fair-complexioned? Who shall turn him out +when I, ‘the one-eyed,’ say no?” + +In connexion with the circulation of the Scriptures I will now relate an +anecdote not altogether divested of singularity. I have already spoken +of the water-mill by the bridge of Azeca. I had formed acquaintance with +the tenant of this mill, who was known in the neighbourhood by the name +of Don Antero. One day, taking me into a retired place, he asked me, to +my great astonishment, whether I would sell him a thousand Testaments at +the price at which I was disposing of them to the peasantry; saying, if I +would consent he would pay me immediately. In fact, he put his hand into +his pocket, and pulled it out filled with gold ounces. I asked him what +was his reason for wishing to make so considerable a purchase. Whereupon +he informed me that he had a relation in Toledo whom he wished to +establish, and that he was of opinion that his best plan would be to hire +him a shop there and furnish it with Testaments. I told him that he must +think of nothing of the kind, as probably the books would be seized on +the first attempt to introduce them into Toledo, as the priests and +canons were much averse to their distribution. + +He was not disconcerted, however, and said his relation could travel, as +I myself was doing, and dispose of them to the peasants with profit to +himself. I confess I was inclined at first to accept his offer, but at +length declined it, as I did not wish to expose a poor man to the risk of +losing money, goods, and perhaps liberty and life. I was likewise averse +to the books being offered to the peasantry at an advanced price, being +aware that they could not afford it, and the books, by such an attempt, +would lose a considerable part of that influence which they then enjoyed; +for their cheapness struck the minds of the people, and they considered +it almost as much in the light of a miracle as the Jews the manna which +dropped from heaven at the time they were famishing, or the spring which +suddenly gushed from the flinty rock to assuage their thirst in the +wilderness. + +At this time a peasant was continually passing and repassing between +Villa Seca and Madrid, bringing us cargoes of Testaments on a _borrico_. +We continued our labours until the greater part of the villages of the +Sagra were well supplied with books, more especially those of Vargas, +Coveja, Mocejon, Villaluenga, Villa Seca, and Yuncler. {201} Hearing at +last that our proceedings were known at Toledo, and were causing +considerable alarm, we returned to Madrid. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIV. + + +Aranjuez—A Warning—A Night Adventure—A Fresh +Expedition—Segovia—Abades—Factious Curas—Lopez in Prison—Rescue of Lopez. + +The success which had attended our efforts in the Sagra of Toledo +speedily urged me on to a new enterprise. I now determined to direct my +course to La Mancha, and to distribute the Word amongst the villages of +that province. Lopez, who had already performed such important services +in the Sagra, had accompanied us to Madrid, and was eager to take part in +this new expedition. We determined in the first place to proceed to +Aranjuez, where we hoped to obtain some information which might prove of +utility in the further regulation of our movements; Aranjuez being but a +slight distance from the frontier of La Mancha, and the high-road into +that province passing directly through it. We accordingly sallied forth +from Madrid, selling from twenty to forty Testaments in every village +which lay in our way, until we arrived at Aranjuez, to which place we had +forwarded a large supply of books. + +A lovely spot is Aranjuez, {202} though in desolation: here the Tagus +flows through a delicious valley, perhaps the most fertile in Spain; and +here upsprang, in Spain’s better days, a little city, with a small but +beautiful palace, shaded by enormous trees, where royalty delighted to +forget its cares. Here Ferdinand the Seventh spent his latter days, +surrounded by lovely _señoras_ and Andalusian bull-fighters; but, as the +German Schiller has it in one of his tragedies— + + “The happy days in fair Aranjuez + Are past and gone.” {203} + +When the sensual king went to his dread account, royalty deserted it, and +it soon fell into decay. Intriguing courtiers no longer crowd its halls; +its spacious circus, where Manchegan bulls once roared in rage and agony, +is now closed, and the light tinkling of guitars is no longer heard +amidst its groves and gardens. + +At Aranjuez I made a sojourn of three days, during which time Antonio, +Lopez, and myself visited every house in the town. We found a vast deal +of poverty and ignorance amongst the inhabitants, and experienced some +opposition: nevertheless it pleased the Almighty to permit us to dispose +of about eighty Testaments, which were purchased entirely by the very +poor people; those in easier circumstances paying no attention to the +Word of God, but rather turning it to scoff and ridicule. + +One circumstance was very gratifying and cheering to me, namely, the +ocular proof which I possessed that the books which I disposed of were +read, and with attention, by those to whom I sold them; and that many +others participated in their benefit. In the streets of Aranjuez, and +beneath the mighty cedars and gigantic elms and plantains which compose +its noble woods, I have frequently seen groups assembled listening to +individuals who, with the New Testament in their hands, were reading +aloud the comfortable words of salvation. + +It is probable that, had I remained a longer period at Aranjuez, I might +have sold many more of these Divine books, but I was eager to gain La +Mancha and its sandy plains, and to conceal myself for a season amongst +its solitary villages, for I was apprehensive that a storm was gathering +around me; but when once through Ocaña, the frontier town, I knew well +that I should have nothing to fear from the Spanish authorities, as their +power ceased there, the rest of La Mancha being almost entirely in the +hands of the Carlists, and overrun by small parties of banditti, from +whom, however, I trusted that the Lord would preserve me. I therefore +departed for Ocaña, {204} distant three leagues from Aranjuez. + +I started with Antonio at six in the evening, having early in the morning +sent forward Lopez with between two and three hundred Testaments. We +left the highroad, and proceeded by a shorter way through wild hills and +over very broken and precipitous ground. Being well mounted, we found +ourselves just after sunset opposite Ocaña, which stands on a steep hill. +A deep valley lay between us and the town: we descended, and came to a +small bridge, which traverses a rivulet at the bottom of the valley, at a +very small distance from a kind of suburb. We crossed the bridge, and +were passing by a deserted house on our left hand, when a man appeared +from under the porch. + +What I am about to state will seem incomprehensible, but a singular +history and a singular people are connected with it: the man placed +himself before my horse so as to bar the way, and said, “_Schophon_,” +which, in the Hebrew tongue, signifies a rabbit. {205} I knew this word +to be one of the Jewish countersigns, and asked the man if he had +anything to communicate? He said, “You must not enter the town, for a +net is prepared for you. The _corregidor_ of Toledo, on whom may all +evil light, in order to give pleasure to the priests of Maria, in whose +face I spit, has ordered all the _alcaldes_ of these parts, and the +_escribanos_ and the _corchetes_ to lay hands on you wherever they may +find you, and to send you, and your books, and all that pertains to you +to Toledo. Your servant was seized this morning in the town above, as he +was selling the writings in the streets, and they are now awaiting your +arrival in the _posada_; but I knew you from the accounts of my brethren, +and I have been waiting here four hours to give you warning in order that +your horse may turn his tail to your enemies, and neigh in derision of +them. Fear nothing for your servant, for he is known to the _alcalde_, +and will be set at liberty; but do you flee, and may God attend you.” +Having said this, he hurried towards the town. + +I hesitated not a moment to take his advice, knowing full well that, as +my books had been taken possession of, I could do no more in that +quarter. We turned back in the direction of Aranjuez, the horses, +notwithstanding the nature of the ground, galloping at full speed; but +our adventures were not over. Midway, and about half a league from the +village of Antigola, we saw close to us on our left hand three men on a +low bank. As far as the darkness would permit us to distinguish, they +were naked, but each bore in his hand a long gun. These were _rateros_, +or the common assassins and robbers of the roads. We halted and cried +out, “Who goes there?” They replied, “What’s that to you? pass by.” +Their drift was to fire at us from a position from which it would be +impossible to miss. We shouted, “If you do not instantly pass to the +right side of the road we will tread you down beneath the horses’ hoofs.” +They hesitated and then obeyed, for all assassins are dastards, and the +least show of resolution daunts them. As we galloped past, one cried, +with an obscene oath, “Shall we fire?” But another said, “No, no! +there’s danger.” We reached Aranjuez, where early next morning Lopez +rejoined us, and we returned to Madrid. + +I am sorry to state that two hundred Testaments were seized at Ocaña, +from whence, after being sealed up, they were despatched to Toledo. +Lopez informed me, that in two hours he could have sold them all, the +demand was so great. As it was, twenty-seven were disposed of in less +than ten minutes. + +“Ride on, because of the word of righteousness.” Notwithstanding the +check which we had experienced at Ocaña, we were far from being +discouraged, and forthwith prepared ourselves for another expedition. As +we returned from Aranjuez to Madrid, my eyes had frequently glanced +towards the mighty wall of mountains dividing the two Castiles, and I +said to myself, “Would it not be well to cross those hills, and commence +operations on the other side, even in Old Castile? There I am unknown, +and intelligence of my proceedings can scarcely have been transmitted +thither. Peradventure the enemy is asleep, and before he has roused +himself, I may have sown much of the precious seed amongst the villages +of the Old Castilians. To Castile, therefore, to _Castilla la Vieja_!” +Accordingly, on the day after my arrival, I despatched several cargoes of +books to various places which I proposed to visit, and sent forward Lopez +and his donkey, well laden, with directions to meet me on a particular +day beneath a particular arch of the aqueduct of Segovia. I likewise +gave him orders to engage any persons willing to co-operate with us in +the circulation of the Scriptures, and who might be likely to prove of +utility in the enterprise. A more useful assistant than Lopez in an +expedition of this kind it was impossible to have. He was not only well +acquainted with the country, but had friends, and even connexions on the +other side of the hills, in whose houses he assured me that we should at +all times find a hearty welcome. He departed in high spirits, +exclaiming, “Be of good cheer, _Don Jorge_; before we return we will have +disposed of every copy of your evangelic library. Down with the friars! +Down with superstition! _Viva Inglaterra_, _viva el Evangelio_!” + +In a few days I followed with Antonio. We ascended the mountains by the +pass called Peña Cerrada, which lies about three leagues to the eastward +of that of Guadarrama. It is very unfrequented, the high road between +the two Castiles passing through Guadarrama. It has, moreover, an evil +name, being, according to common report, infested with banditti. The sun +was just setting when we reached the top of the hills, and entered a +thick and gloomy pine forest, which entirely covers the mountains on the +side of Old Castile. The descent soon became so rapid and precipitous, +that we were fain to dismount from our horses and to drive them before +us. Into the woods we plunged deeper and deeper still; night-birds soon +began to hoot and cry, and millions of crickets commenced their shrill +chirping above, below, and around us. Occasionally, amidst the trees at +a distance, we could see blazes, as if from immense fires. “They are +those of the charcoal-burners, _mon maître_,” said Antonio; “we will not +go near them, however, for they are savage people, and half bandits. +Many is the traveller whom they have robbed and murdered in these horrid +wildernesses.” + +It was blackest night when we arrived at the foot of the mountains; we +were still, however, amidst woods and pine forests, which extended for +leagues in every direction. “We shall scarcely reach Segovia to-night, +_mon maître_,” said Antonio. And so indeed it proved, for we became +bewildered, and at last arrived where two roads branched off in different +directions: we took not the left-hand road, which would have conducted us +to Segovia, but turned to the right, in the direction of La Granja, where +we arrived at midnight. + +We found the desolation of La Granja {208} far greater than that of +Aranjuez; both had suffered from the absence of royalty, but the former +to a degree which was truly appalling. Nine-tenths of the inhabitants +had left this place, which, until the late military revolution, had been +the favourite residence of Christina. So great is the solitude of La +Granja, that wild boars from the neighbouring forests, and especially +from the beautiful pine-covered mountain which rises like a cone directly +behind the palace, frequently find their way into the streets and +squares, and whet their tusks against the pillars of the porticos. + +“Ride on, because of the word of righteousness.” After a stay of +twenty-four hours at La Granja, we proceeded to Segovia. The day had +arrived on which I had appointed to meet Lopez. I repaired to the +aqueduct, and sat down beneath the hundred and seventh arch, where I +waited the greater part of the day, but he came not, whereupon I arose +and went into the city. + +At Segovia I tarried two days in the house of a friend; still I could +hear nothing of Lopez. At last, by the greatest chance in the world, I +heard from a peasant that there were men in the neighbourhood of Abades +selling books. + +Abades is about three leagues distant from Segovia, and upon receiving +this intelligence, I instantly departed for the former place, with three +donkeys laden with Testaments. I reached Abades at nightfall, and found +Lopez, with two peasants whom he had engaged, in the house of the surgeon +of the place, where I also took up my residence. He had already disposed +of a considerable number of Testaments in the neighbourhood, and had that +day commenced selling at Abades itself. He had, however, been +interrupted by two of the three _curas_ of the village, who, with horrid +curses, denounced the work, threatening eternal condemnation to Lopez for +selling it, and to any person who should purchase it; whereupon Lopez, +terrified, forbore until I should arrive. The third _cura_, however, +exerted himself to the utmost to persuade the people to provide +themselves with Testaments, telling them that his brethren were +hypocrites and false guides, who, by keeping them in ignorance of the +word and will of Christ, were leading them to the abyss. Upon receiving +this information, I instantly sallied forth to the market-place, and that +same night succeeded in disposing of upwards of thirty Testaments. The +next morning the house was entered by the two factious _curas_; but upon +my rising to confront them, they retreated, and I heard no more of them, +except that they publicly cursed me in the church more than once, an +event which, as no ill resulted from it, gave me little concern. + +I will not detail the events of the next week; suffice it to say that, +arranging my forces in the most advantageous way, I succeeded, by God’s +assistance, in disposing of from five to six hundred Testaments amongst +the villages from one to seven leagues’ distance from Abades. At the +expiration of that period I received information that my proceedings were +known in Segovia, in which province Abades is situated, and that an order +was about to be sent to the _alcalde_ to seize all books in my +possession. Whereupon, notwithstanding that it was late in the evening, +I decamped with all my people, and upwards of three hundred Testaments, +having a few hours previously received a fresh supply from Madrid. That +night we passed in the fields, and next morning proceeded to Labajos, a +village on the high-road from Madrid to Valladolid. In this place we +offered no books for sale, but contented ourselves with supplying the +neighbouring villages with the Word of God; we likewise sold it in the +highways. + + [Picture: Segovia] + +We had not been at Labajos a week, during which time we were remarkably +successful, when the Carlist chieftain, Balmaseda, {211a} at the head of +his cavalry, made his desperate inroad into the southern part of Old +Castile, dashing down like an avalanche from the pine-woods of Soria. I +was present at all the horrors which ensued,—the sack of Arrevalo, and +the forcible entry into Martin Muñoz. Amidst these terrible scenes we +continued our labours. Suddenly I lost Lopez for three days, and +suffered dreadful anxiety on his account, imagining that he had been shot +by the Carlists; at last I heard that he was in prison at Villallos, +three leagues distant. The steps which I took to rescue him will be +found detailed in a communication, which I deemed it my duty to transmit +to Lord William Hervey, who, in the absence of Sir George Villiers, +{211b} now become Earl of Clarendon, fulfilled the duties of minister at +Madrid:— + + “Labajos, Province of Segovia, + “August 23rd, 1838. + + “MY LORD, + + “I beg leave to call your attention to the following facts. On the + 21st inst. I received information that a person in my employ, of the + name of Juan Lopez, had been thrown into the prison of Villallos, in + the province of Avila, by order of the _cura_ of that place. The + crime with which he was charged was selling the New Testament. I was + at that time at Labajos, in the province of Segovia, and the division + of the factious chieftain Balmaseda was in the immediate + neighbourhood. On the 22nd, I mounted my horse and rode to + Villallos, a distance of three leagues. On my arrival there, I found + that Lopez had been removed from the prison to a private house. An + order had arrived from the _corregidor_ of Avila, commanding that the + person of Lopez should be set at liberty, and that the books which + had been found in his possession should be alone detained. + Nevertheless, in direct opposition to this order (a copy of which I + herewith transmit), the _alcalde_ of Villallos, at the instigation of + the _cura_, refused to permit the said Lopez to quit the place, + either to proceed to Avila or in any other direction. It had been + hinted to Lopez that as the factious were expected, it was intended + on their arrival to denounce him to them as a liberal, and to cause + him to be sacrificed. Taking these circumstances into consideration, + I deemed it my duty, as a Christian and a gentleman, to rescue my + unfortunate servant from such lawless hands, and in consequence, + defying opposition, I bore him off, though entirely unarmed, through + a crowd of at least one hundred peasants. On leaving the place I + shouted, ‘_Viva Isabel Segunda_.’ + + “As it is my belief that the _cura_ of Villallos is a person capable + of any infamy, I beg leave humbly to intreat your Lordship to cause a + copy of the above narration to be forwarded to the Spanish + Government. + + “I have the honour to remain, + + “My Lord, + “Your Lordship’s most obedient, + “GEORGE BORROW. + + “To the Right Honourable + “LORD WILLIAM HERVEY.” + +After the rescue of Lopez we proceeded in the work of distribution. +Suddenly, however, the symptoms of an approaching illness came over me, +which compelled us to return in all haste to Madrid. Arrived there, I +was attacked by a fever which confined me to my bed for several weeks; +occasional fits of delirium came over me, during one of which I imagined +myself in the market-place of Martin Muñoz, engaged in deadly struggle +with the chieftain Balmaseda. + +The fever had scarcely departed, when a profound melancholy took +possession of me, which entirely disqualified me for active exertion. +Change of scene and air was recommended; I therefore returned to England. +{213} + + + + +CHAPTER XLV. + + +Return to Spain—Seville—A Hoary Persecutor—Manchegan Prophetess—Antonio’s +Dream. + +On December 31, 1838, I again visited Spain for the third time. After +staying a day or two at Cadiz, I repaired to Seville, from which place I +proposed starting for Madrid with the mail post. Here I tarried about a +fortnight, enjoying the delicious climate of this terrestrial paradise, +and the balmy breezes of the Andalusian winter, even as I had done two +years previously. Before leaving Seville I visited the bookseller, my +correspondent, who informed me that seventy-six copies of the hundred +Testaments entrusted to his care had been placed in embargo by the +government last summer, and that they were at the present time in +possession of the ecclesiastical governor; whereupon I determined to +visit this functionary also, with the view of making inquiries concerning +the property. + +He lived in a large house in the _Pajaria_, or straw-market. He was a +very old man, between seventy and eighty, and, like the generality of +those who wear the sacerdotal habit in this city, was a fierce +persecuting Papist. I imagine that he scarcely believed his ears when +his two grand-nephews, beautiful black-haired boys who were playing in +the courtyard, ran to inform him that an Englishman was waiting to speak +with him, as it is probable that I was the first heretic who ever +ventured into his habitation. I found him in a vaulted room, seated on a +lofty chair, with two sinister-looking secretaries, also in sacerdotal +habits, employed in writing at a table before him. He brought powerfully +to my mind the grim old inquisitor who persuaded Philip the Second to +slay his own son {215} as an enemy to the Church. + +He rose as I entered, and gazed upon me with a countenance dark with +suspicion and dissatisfaction. He at last condescended to point me to a +sofa, and I proceeded to state to him my business. He became much +agitated when I mentioned the Testaments to him; but I no sooner spoke of +the Bible Society and told him who I was, than he could contain himself +no longer: with a stammering tongue, and with eyes flashing fire like hot +coals, he proceeded to rail against the society and myself, saying that +the aims of the first were atrocious, and that, as to myself, he was +surprised that, being once lodged in the prison of Madrid, I had ever +been permitted to quit it; adding, that it was disgraceful in the +government to allow a person of my character to roam about an innocent +and peaceful country, corrupting the minds of the ignorant and +unsuspicious. Far from allowing myself to be disconcerted by his rude +behaviour, I replied to him with all possible politeness, and assured him +that in this instance he had no reason to alarm himself, as my sole +motive in claiming the books in question was to avail myself of an +opportunity which at present presented itself, of sending them out of the +country, which, indeed, I had been commanded to do by an official notice. +But nothing would soothe him, and he informed me that he should not +deliver up the books on any condition, save by a positive order of the +government. As the matter was by no means an affair of consequence, I +thought it wise not to persist, and also prudent to take my leave before +he requested me. I was followed even down into the street by his niece +and grand-nephews, who, during the whole of the conversation, had +listened at the door of the apartment and heard every word. + +In passing through La Mancha, we stayed for four hours at Manzanares, a +large village. I was standing in the market-place conversing with a +curate, when a frightful ragged object presented itself; it was a girl +about eighteen or nineteen, perfectly blind, a white film being spread +over her huge staring eyes. Her countenance was as yellow as that of a +Mulatto. I thought at first that she was a gypsy, and addressing myself +to her, inquired in _Gitano_ if she were of that race. She understood +me, but shaking her head, replied, that she was something better than a +_Gitana_, and could speak something better than that jargon of witches: +whereupon she commenced asking me several questions in exceedingly good +Latin. I was of course very much surprised, but, summoning all my +Latinity, I called her Manchegan Prophetess, and, expressing my +admiration for her learning, begged to be informed by what means she +became possessed of it. I must here observe that a crowd instantly +gathered around us, who, though they understood not one word of our +discourse, at every sentence of the girl shouted applause, proud in the +possession of a prophetess who could answer the Englishman. + +She informed me that she was born blind, and that a Jesuit priest had +taken compassion on her when she was a child, and had taught her the holy +language, in order that the attention and hearts of Christians might be +more easily turned towards her. I soon discovered that he had taught her +something more than Latin, for upon telling her that I was an Englishman, +she said that she had always loved Britain, which was once the nursery of +saints and sages; for example, Bede and Alcuin, Columbus and Thomas of +Canterbury; but, she added, those times had gone by since the +reappearance of Semiramis (Elizabeth). Her Latin was truly excellent, +and when I, like a genuine Goth, spoke of Anglia and Terra Vandalica +(Andalusia), {217} she corrected me by saying, that in her language those +places were called Britannia and Terra Betica. When we had finished our +discourse, a gathering was made for the prophetess, the very poorest +contributing something. + +After travelling four days and nights, we arrived at Madrid without +having experienced the slightest accident, though it is but just to +observe, and always with gratitude to the Almighty, that the next mail +was stopped. A singular incident befell me immediately after my arrival. +On entering the arch of the _posada_ called La Reyna, where I intended to +put up, I found myself encircled in a person’s arms, and on turning round +in amazement, beheld my Greek servant, Antonio. He was haggard and +ill-dressed, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets. + +As soon as we were alone he informed me that since my departure he had +undergone great misery and destitution, having, during the whole period, +been unable to find a master in need of his services, so that he was +brought nearly to the verge of desperation; but that on the night +immediately preceding my arrival he had a dream, in which he saw me, +mounted on a black horse, ride up to the gate of the _posada_, and that +on that account he had been waiting there during the greater part of the +day. I do not pretend to offer an opinion concerning this narrative, +which is beyond the reach of my philosophy, and shall content myself with +observing, that only two individuals in Madrid were aware of my arrival +in Spain. I was very glad to receive him again into my service, as, +notwithstanding his faults, he had in many instances proved of no slight +assistance to me in my wanderings and Biblical labours. + +I was soon settled in my former lodgings, when one of my first cares was +to pay a visit to Lord Clarendon. {218} Amongst other things, he +informed me that he had received an official notice from the government, +stating the seizure of the New Testaments at Ocaña, the circumstances +relating to which I have described on a former occasion, and informing +him that unless steps were instantly taken to remove them from the +country, they would be destroyed at Toledo, to which place they had been +conveyed. I replied that I should give myself no trouble about the +matter; and that if the authorities of Toledo, civil or ecclesiastic, +determined upon burning these books, my only hope was that they would +commit them to the flames with all possible publicity, as by so doing +they would but manifest their own hellish rancour and their hostility to +the Word of God. + +Being eager to resume my labours, I had no sooner arrived at Madrid than +I wrote to Lopez at Villa Seca, for the purpose of learning whether he +was inclined to co-operate in the work, as on former occasions. In reply +he informed me that he was busily employed in his agricultural pursuits: +to supply his place, however, he sent over an elderly villager, +Victoriano Lopez by name, a distant relation of his own. + +What is a missionary in the heart of Spain without a horse? Which +consideration induced me now to purchase an Arabian of high caste, which +had been brought from Algiers by an officer of the French legion. The +name of this steed, the best, I believe, that ever issued from the +desert, was Sidi Habismilk. {219} + + + + +CHAPTER XLVI. + + +Work of Distribution resumed—Adventure at Cobeña—Power of the +Clergy—Rural Authorities—Fuente la Higuera—Victoriano’s Mishap—Village +Prison—The Rope—Antonio’s Errand—Antonio at Mass. + +In my last chapter I stated that, immediately after my arrival at Madrid, +I proceeded to get everything in readiness for commencing operations in +the neighbourhood: and I soon entered upon my labours in reality. +Considerable success attended my feeble efforts in the good cause, for +which at present, after the lapse of some years, I still look back with +gratitude to the Almighty. + +All the villages within the distance of four leagues to the east of +Madrid were visited in less than a fortnight, and Testaments to the +number of nearly two hundred disposed of. These villages for the most +part are very small, some of them consisting of not more than a dozen +houses, or I should rather say miserable cabins. I left Antonio, my +Greek, to superintend matters in Madrid, and proceeded with Victoriano, +the peasant, from Villa Seca, in the direction which I have already +mentioned. We, however, soon parted company and pursued different +routes. + +The first village at which I made an attempt was Cobeña, about three +leagues from Madrid. I was dressed in the fashion of the peasants in the +neighbourhood of Segovia, in Old Castile, namely, I had on my head a +species of leather helmet or _montera_, with a jacket and trousers of the +same material. I had the appearance of a person between sixty and +seventy years of age, and drove before me a _borrico_ with a sack of +Testaments lying across its back. On nearing the village, I met a +genteel-looking young woman leading a little boy by the hand. As I was +about to pass her, with the customary salutation of _vaya usted con +Dios_, she stopped, and, after looking at me for a moment, she said, +“Uncle, {221a} what is that you have got on your _borrico_? Is it soap?” + +“Yes,” I replied; “it is soap to wash souls clean.” + +She demanded what I meant; whereupon I told her that I carried cheap and +godly books for sale. On her requesting to see one, I produced a copy +from my pocket and handed it to her. She instantly commenced reading +with a loud voice, and continued so for at least ten minutes, +occasionally exclaiming, “_Que lectura tan bonita_, _que lectura tan +linda_!” {221b} At last, on my informing her that I was in a hurry, and +could not wait any longer, she said, “True, true,” and asked me the price +of the book; I told her “But three _reals_,” whereupon she said, that +though what I asked was very little, it was more than she could afford to +give, as there was little or no money in those parts. I said I was sorry +for it, but that I could not dispose of the books for less than I had +demanded, and accordingly, resuming it, wished her farewell, and left +her. I had not, however, proceeded thirty yards, when the boy came +running behind me, shouting, out of breath, “Stop, uncle, the book, the +book!” Upon overtaking me, he delivered the three _reals_ in copper, and +seizing the Testament, ran back to her, who I suppose was his sister, +flourishing the book over his head with great glee. + +On arriving at the village, I directed my steps to a house, around the +door of which I saw several people gathered, chiefly women. On my +displaying my books, their curiosity was instantly aroused, and every +person had speedily one in his hand, many reading aloud; however, after +waiting nearly an hour, I had disposed of but one copy, all complaining +bitterly of the distress of the times, and the almost total want of +money, though, at the same time, they acknowledged that the books were +wonderfully cheap, and appeared to be very good and Christian-like. I +was about to gather up my merchandise and depart, when on a sudden the +curate of the place made his appearance. After having examined the books +for some time with considerable attention, he asked me the price of a +copy, and upon my informing him that it was three _reals_, he replied +that the binding was worth more, and that he was much afraid that I had +stolen the books, and that it was perhaps his duty to send me to prison +as a suspicious character; but added, that the books were good books, +however they might be obtained, and concluded by purchasing two copies. +The poor people no sooner heard their curate recommend the volumes, than +all were eager to secure one, and hurried here and there for the purpose +of procuring money, so that between twenty and thirty copies were sold +almost in an instant. This adventure not only affords an instance of the +power still possessed by the Spanish clergy over the minds of the people, +but proves that such influence is not always exerted in a manner +favourable to the maintenance of ignorance and superstition. + +In another village, on my showing a Testament to a woman, she said that +she had a child at school for whom she should like to purchase one, but +that she must first know whether the book was calculated to be of service +to him. She then went away, and presently returned with the +schoolmaster, followed by all the children under his care; she then, +showing the schoolmaster a book, inquired if it would answer for her son. +The schoolmaster called her a simpleton for asking such a question, and +said that he knew the book well, and there was not its equal in the +world. {223} He instantly purchased five copies for his pupils, +regretting that he had no more money, “for if I had,” said he, “I would +buy the whole cargo.” Upon hearing this, the woman purchased four +copies, namely, one for her living son, another for her _deceased +husband_, a third for herself, and a fourth for her brother, whom she +said she was expecting home that night from Madrid. + +In this manner we proceeded; not, however, with uniform success. In some +villages the people were so poor and needy that they had literally no +money; even in these, however, we managed to dispose of a few copies in +exchange for barley or refreshments. On entering one very small hamlet, +Victoriano was stopped by the curate, who, on learning what he carried, +told him, that unless he instantly departed, he would cause him to be +imprisoned, and would write to Madrid in order to give information of +what was going on. The excursion lasted about eight days. Immediately +after my return, I despatched Victoriano to Caramanchel, {224a} a village +at a short distance from Madrid, the only one towards the west which had +not been visited last year. He stayed there about an hour, and disposed +of twelve copies, and then returned, as he was exceedingly timid, and was +afraid of being met by the thieves who swarm on that road in the evening. + +Shortly after these events, a circumstance occurred which will, perhaps, +cause the English reader to smile, whilst, at the same time, it will not +fail to prove interesting, as affording an example of the feeling +prevalent in some of the lone villages of Spain with respect to +innovation and all that savours thereof, and the strange acts which are +sometimes committed by the rural authorities and the priests, without the +slightest fear of being called to account; for as they live quite apart +from the rest of the world, they know no people greater than themselves, +and scarcely dream of a higher power than their own. {224b} + +I was about to make an excursion to Guadalajara, and the villages of +Alcarria, about seven leagues distant from Madrid; indeed, I merely +awaited the return of Victoriano to sally forth; I having despatched him +in that direction with a few Testaments, as a kind of explorer, in order +that, from his report as to the disposition manifested by the people for +purchasing, I might form a tolerably accurate opinion as to the number of +copies which it might be necessary to carry with me. However, I heard +nothing of him for a fortnight, at the end of which period a letter was +brought to me by a peasant, dated from the prison of Fuente la Higuera, a +village eight leagues from Madrid, in the _campiña_ of Alcalá: {225} this +letter, written by Victoriano, gave me to understand that he had been +already eight days imprisoned, and that unless I could find some means to +extricate him, there was every probability of his remaining in durance +until he should perish with hunger, which he had no doubt would occur as +soon as his money was exhausted. From what I afterwards learned, it +appeared that, after passing the town of Alcalá, he had commenced +distributing, and with considerable success. His entire stock consisted +of sixty-one Testaments, twenty-five of which he sold without the +slightest difficulty or interruption in the single village of Arganza; +the poor labourers showering blessings on his head for providing them +with such good books at an easy price. + +Not more than eighteen of his books remained, when he turned off the +high-road towards Fuente la Higuera. This place was already tolerably +well known to him, he having visited it of old, when he travelled the +country in the capacity of a vender of _cacharras_, or earthen pans. He +subsequently stated that he felt some misgiving whilst on the way, as the +village had invariably borne a bad reputation. On his arrival, after +having put up his _caballejo_, or little pony, at a _posada_, he +proceeded to the _alcalde_ for the purpose of asking permission to sell +the books, which that dignitary immediately granted. He now entered a +house and sold a copy, and likewise a second. Emboldened by success, he +entered a third, which, it appeared, belonged to the barber-surgeon of +the village. This personage, having just completed his dinner, was +seated in an armchair within his doorway, when Victoriano made his +appearance. He was a man about thirty-five, of a savage truculent +countenance. On Victoriano’s offering him a Testament, he took it in his +hand to examine it; but no sooner did his eyes glance over the title-page +than he burst out into a loud laugh, exclaiming, “_Ha_, _ha_, _Don Jorge +Borrow_, the English heretic, we have encountered you at last. Glory to +the Virgin and the Saints! We have long been expecting you here, and at +length you are arrived.” He then inquired the price of the book, and on +being told three _reals_, he flung down two, and rushed out of the house +with the Testament in his hand. + +Victoriano now became alarmed, and determined upon leaving the place as +soon as possible. He therefore hurried back to the _posada_, and having +paid for the barley which his pony had consumed, went into the stable, +and placing the packsaddle on the animal’s back, was about to lead it +forth, when the _alcalde_ of the village, the surgeon, and twelve other +men, some of whom were armed with muskets, suddenly presented themselves. +They instantly made Victoriano prisoner; and, after seizing the books and +laying an embargo on the pony, proceeded, amidst much abuse, to drag the +captive to what they denominated their prison, a low damp apartment with +a little grated window, where they locked him up and left him. At the +expiration of three-quarters of an hour they again appeared, and +conducted him to the house of the curate, where they sat down in +conclave; the curate, who was a man stone blind, presiding, whilst the +sacristan officiated as secretary. The surgeon having stated his +accusation against the prisoner—namely, that he had detected him in the +act of selling a version of the Scriptures in the vulgar tongue—the +curate proceeded to examine Victoriano, asking him his name and place of +residence; to which he replied that his name was Victoriano Lopez, and +that he was a native of Villa Seca, in the Sagra of Toledo. The curate +then demanded what religion he professed? and whether he was a Mahometan +or freemason? and received for answer that he was a Roman Catholic. I +must here state that Victoriano, though sufficiently shrewd in his way, +was a poor old labourer of sixty-four; and until that moment had never +heard either of Mahometans or freemasons. The curate becoming now +incensed, called him a _tunante_, or scoundrel, and added, “You have sold +your soul to a heretic; we have long been aware of your proceedings, and +those of your master. You are the same Lopez whom he last year rescued +from the prison of Villallos, in the province of Avila; I sincerely hope +that he will attempt to do the same thing here.” “Yes, yes,” shouted the +rest of the conclave, “let him but venture here, and we will shed his +heart’s blood on our stones.” In this manner they went on for nearly +half an hour. At last they broke up the meeting, and conducted +Victoriano once more to his prison. + +During his confinement he lived tolerably well, being in possession of +money. His meals were sent him twice a day from the _posada_, where his +pony remained in embargo. Once or twice he asked permission of the +_alcalde_, who visited him every night and morning with his armed guard, +to purchase pen and paper, in order that he might write to Madrid; but +this favour was peremptorily refused him, and all the inhabitants of the +village were forbidden under terrible penalties to afford him the means +of writing, or to convey any message from him beyond the precincts of the +place, and two boys were stationed before the window of his cell for the +purpose of watching everything which might be conveyed to him. + +It happened one day that Victoriano, being in need of a pillow, sent word +to the people of the _posada_ to send him his _alforjas_, or saddle-bags, +which they did. In these bags there chanced to be a kind of rope, or, as +it is called in Spanish, _soga_, with which he was in the habit of +fastening his satchel to the pony’s back. The urchins seeing an end of +this rope, hanging from the _alforjas_, instantly ran to the _alcalde_ to +give him information. Late at evening, the _alcalde_ again visited the +prisoner at the head of his twelve men as usual. “_Buenos noches_,” +{228a} said the _alcalde_. “_Buenas noches tenga usted_,” {228b} replied +Victoriano. “For what purpose did you send for the _soga_ this +afternoon?” demanded the functionary. “I sent for no _soga_,” said the +prisoner; “I sent for my _alforjas_ to serve as a pillow, and it was sent +in them by chance.” “You are a false, malicious knave,” retorted the +_alcalde_; “you intend to hang yourself, and by so doing ruin us all, as +your death would be laid at our door. Give me the _soga_.” No greater +insult can be offered to a Spaniard than to tax him with an intention of +committing suicide. Poor Victoriano flew into a violent rage; and, after +calling the _alcalde_ several very uncivil names, he pulled the _soga_ +from his bags, flung it at his head, and told him to take it home and use +it for his own neck. + +At length the people of the _posada_ took pity on the prisoner, +perceiving that he was very harshly treated for no crime at all; they +therefore determined to afford him an opportunity of informing his +friends of his situation, and accordingly sent him a pen and inkhorn, +concealed in a loaf of bread, and a piece of writing-paper, pretending +that the latter was intended for cigars. So Victoriano wrote the letter: +but now ensued the difficulty of sending it to its destination, as no +person in the village dare have carried it for any reward. The good +people, however, persuaded a disbanded soldier from another village, who +chanced to be at Fuente la Higuera in quest of work, to charge himself +with it, assuring him that I would pay him well for his trouble. The +man, watching his opportunity, received the letter from Victoriano at the +window: and it was he who, after travelling on foot all night, delivered +it to me in safety at Madrid. + +I was now relieved from my anxiety, and had no fears for the result. I +instantly went to a friend who is in possession of large estates about +Guadalajara, in which province Fuenta la Higuera is situated, who +furnished me with letters to the civil governor of Guadalajara and all +the principal authorities; these I delivered to Antonio, whom, at his own +request, I despatched on the errand of the prisoner’s liberation. He +first directed his course to Fuente la Higuera, where, entering the +_alcalde’s_ house, he boldly told him what he had come about. The +_alcalde_, expecting that I was at hand, with an army of Englishmen, for +the purpose of rescuing the prisoner, became greatly alarmed, and +instantly despatched his wife to summon his twelve men: however, on +Antonio’s assuring him that there was no intention of having recourse to +violence, he became more tranquil. In a short time Antonio was summoned +before the conclave and its blind sacerdotal president. They at first +attempted to frighten him by assuming a loud bullying tone, and talking +of the necessity of killing all strangers, and especially the detested +_Don Jorge_ and his dependents. Antonio, however, who was not a person +apt to allow himself to be easily terrified, scoffed at their threats, +and, showing them his letters to the authorities of Guadalajara, said +that he should proceed there on the morrow and denounce their lawless +conduct; adding that he was a Turkish subject, and that should they dare +to offer him the slightest incivility, he would write to the Sublime +Porte, in comparison with whom the best kings in the world were but +worms, and who would not fail to avenge the wrongs of any of his +children, however distant, in a manner too terrible to be mentioned. He +then returned to his _posada_. The conclave now proceeded to deliberate +amongst themselves, and at last determined to send their prisoner on the +morrow to Guadalajara, and deliver him into the hands of the civil +governor. + +Nevertheless, in order to keep up a semblance of authority, they that +night placed two men armed at the door of the _posada_ where Antonio was +lodged, as if he himself was a prisoner. These men, as often as the +clock struck the hour, shouted, “_Ave Maria_! Death to the heretics!” +Early in the morning the _alcalde_ presented himself at the _posada_; but +before entering he made an oration at the door to the people in the +street, saying, amongst other things, “Brethren, these are the fellows +who have come to rob us of our religion.” He then went in to Antonio’s +apartment, and after saluting him with great politeness, said, that as a +royal or high Mass was about to be celebrated that morning, he had come +to invite him to go to church with him. Whereupon Antonio, though by no +means a Mass-goer, rose and accompanied him, and remained two hours, as +he told me, on his knees on the cold stones, to his great discomfort; the +eyes of the whole congregation being fixed upon him during the time. + +After Mass and breakfast, he departed for Guadalajara, Victoriano having +been already despatched under a guard. On his arrival, he presented his +letters to the individuals for whom they were intended. The civil +governor was convulsed with merriment on hearing Antonio’s account of the +adventure. Victoriano was set at liberty, and the books were placed in +embargo at Guadalajara; the governor stating, however, that though it was +his duty to detain them at present, they should be sent to me whenever I +chose to claim them: he, moreover, said that he would do his best to +cause the authorities of Fuente la Higuera to be severely punished, as in +the whole affair they had acted in the most cruel, tyrannical manner, for +which they had no authority. Thus terminated this affair: one of those +little accidents which chequer missionary life in Spain. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVII. + + +Termination of our Rural Labours—Alarm of the Clergy—A New +Experiment—Success at Madrid—Goblin-Alguazil—Staff of Office—The +Corregidor—An Explanation—The Pope in England—New Testament +expounded—Works of Luther. + +We proceeded in our task of distributing the Scriptures with various +success, until the middle of March, when I determined upon starting for +Talavera, for the purpose of seeing what it was possible to accomplish in +that town and the neighbourhood. I accordingly bent my course in that +direction, accompanied by Antonio and Victoriano. On our way thither we +stopped at Naval Carnero, a large village five leagues to the west of +Madrid, where I remained three days, sending forth Victoriano to the +circumjacent hamlets with small cargoes of Testaments. Providence, +however, which had hitherto so remarkably favoured us in these rural +excursions, now withdrew from us its support, and brought them to a +sudden termination: for in whatever place the sacred writings were +offered for sale, they were forthwith seized by persons who appeared to +be upon the watch; which events compelled me to alter my intention of +proceeding to Talavera, and to return forthwith to Madrid. + +I subsequently learned that our proceedings on the other side of Madrid +having caused alarm amongst the heads of the clergy, they had made a +formal complaint to the government, who immediately sent orders to all +the _alcaldes_ of the villages, great and small, in New Castile, to seize +the New Testament wherever it might be exposed for sale; but, at the same +time, enjoining them to be particularly careful not to detain or maltreat +the person or persons who might be attempting to vend it. An exact +description of myself accompanied these orders; and the authorities, both +civil and military, were exhorted to be on their guard against me and my +arts and machinations; for, as the document stated, I was to-day in one +place, and tomorrow at twenty leagues’ distance. + +I was not much discouraged by this blow, which, indeed, did not come +entirely unexpected. I, however, determined to change the sphere of +action, and not expose the sacred volume to seizure at every step which I +should take to circulate it. In my late attempts I had directed my +attention exclusively to the villages and small towns, in which it was +quite easy for the government to frustrate my efforts by means of +circulars to the local authorities, who would, of course, be on the +alert, and whose vigilance it would be impossible to baffle, as every +novelty which occurs in a small place is forthwith bruited about. But +the case would be widely different amongst the crowds of the capital, +where I could pursue my labours with comparative secrecy. My present +plan was to abandon the rural districts, and to offer the sacred volume +at Madrid, from house to house, at the same low price as in the country. +This plan I forthwith put into execution. + +Having an extensive acquaintance amongst the lower orders, I selected +eight intelligent individuals to co-operate with me, amongst whom were +five women. All these I supplied with Testaments, and then sent them +forth to all the parishes in Madrid. The result of their efforts more +than answered my expectations. In less than fifteen days after my return +from Naval Carnero, nearly six hundred copies of the life and words of +Him of Nazareth had been sold in the streets and alleys of Madrid: a fact +which I hope I may be permitted to mention with gladness and with decent +triumph in the Lord. + +One of the richest streets is the Calle Montera, where reside the +principal merchants and shopkeepers of Madrid. It is, in fact, the +street of commerce, in which respect, and in being a favourite promenade, +it corresponds with the far-famed Nefsky {234} of Saint Petersburg. +Every house in this street was supplied with its Testament, and the same +might be said with respect to the Puerta del Sol. Nay, in some +instances, every individual in the house, man and child, manservant and +maid-servant, was furnished with a copy. My Greek, Antonio, made +wonderful exertions in this quarter; and it is but justice to say that, +but for his instrumentality, on many occasions, I might have been by no +means able to give so favourable an account of the spread of “the Bible +in Spain.” There was a time when I was in the habit of saying “dark +Madrid,” an expression which, I thank God, I could now drop. It were +scarcely just to call a city “dark,” in which thirteen hundred Testaments +at least were in circulation, and in daily use. + +It was now that I turned to account a supply of Bibles which I had +received from Barcelona, in sheets, at the commencement of the preceding +year. The demand for the entire Scriptures was great; indeed far greater +than I could answer, as the books were disposed of faster than they could +be bound by the man whom I employed for that purpose. Eight-and-twenty +copies were bespoken and paid for before delivery. Many of these Bibles +found their way into the best houses in Madrid. The Marquis of --- had a +large family, but every individual of it, old and young, was in +possession of a Bible, and likewise a Testament, which, strange to say, +were recommended by the chaplain of the house. One of my most zealous +agents in the propagation of the Bible was an ecclesiastic. He never +walked out without carrying one beneath his gown, which he offered to the +first person he met whom he thought likely to purchase. Another +excellent assistant was an elderly gentleman of Navarre, enormously rich, +who was continually purchasing copies on his own account, which he, as I +was told, sent into his native province, for distribution amongst his +friends and the poor. + +On a certain night I had retired to rest rather more early than usual, +being slightly indisposed. I soon fell asleep, and had continued so for +some hours, when I was suddenly aroused by the opening of the door of the +small apartment in which I lay. I started up, and beheld Maria Diaz, +with a lamp in her hand, enter the room. I observed that her features, +which were in general peculiarly calm and placid, wore a somewhat +startled expression. “What is the hour, and what brings you here?” I +demanded. + +“_Señor_,” said she, closing the door, and coming up to the bedside, “it +is close upon midnight; but a messenger belonging to the police has just +entered the house, and demanded to see you. I told him that it was +impossible, for that your worship was in bed. Whereupon he sneezed in my +face, and said that he would see you if you were in your coffin. He has +all the look of a goblin, and has thrown me into a tremor. I am far from +being a timid person, as you are aware, _Don Jorge_; but I confess that I +never cast my eyes on these wretches of the police, but my heart dies +away within me! I know them but too well, and what they are capable of.” + +“Pooh,” said I, “be under no apprehension; let him come in, I fear him +not, whether he be _alguazil_ or hobgoblin. {236} Stand, however, at the +doorway, that you may be a witness of what takes place, as it is more +than probable that he comes at this unseasonable hour to create a +disturbance, that he may have an opportunity of making an unfavourable +report to his principals, like the fellow on the former occasion.” + +The hostess left the apartment, and I heard her say a word or two to some +one in the passage, whereupon there was a loud sneeze, and in a moment +after a singular figure appeared at the doorway. It was that of a very +old man, with long white hair, which escaped from beneath the eaves of an +exceedingly high-peaked hat. He stooped considerably, and moved along +with a shambling gait. I could not see much of his face, which, as the +landlady stood behind him with the lamp, was consequently in deep shadow. +I could observe, however, that his eyes sparkled like those of a ferret. +He advanced to the foot of the bed, in which I was still lying, wondering +what this strange visit could mean; and there he stood gazing at me for a +minute, at least, without uttering a syllable. Suddenly, however, he +protruded a spare skinny hand from the cloak in which it had hitherto +been enveloped, and pointed with a short staff, tipped with metal, in the +direction of my face, as if he were commencing an exorcism. He appeared +to be about to speak, but his words, if he intended any, were stifled in +their birth by a sudden sternutation which escaped him, and which was so +violent that the hostess started back, exclaiming, “_Ave Maria +purísima_!” and nearly dropped the lamp in her alarm. + +“My good person,” said I, “what do you mean by this foolish hobgoblinry? +If you have anything to communicate do so at once, and go about your +business. I am unwell, and you are depriving me of my repose.” + +“By the virtue of this staff,” said the old man, “and the authority which +it gives me to do and say that which is convenient, I do command, order, +and summon you to appear to-morrow, at the eleventh hour, at the office +of my lord the _corregidor_ of this village of Madrid, {237} in order +that, standing before him humbly, and with befitting reverence, you may +listen to whatever he may have to say, or, if necessary, may yield +yourself up to receive the castigation of any crimes which you may have +committed, whether trivial or enormous. _Tenez_, _compère_,” he added, +in most villanous French, “_voilà mon affaire_; _voilà ce que je viens +vous dire_.” + +Thereupon he glared at me for a moment, nodded his head twice, and +replacing his staff beneath his cloak, shambled out of the room, and with +a valedictory sneeze in the passage left the house. + +Precisely at eleven on the following day I attended at the office of the +_corregidor_. He was not the individual whose anger I had incurred on a +former occasion, and who had thought proper to imprison me, but another +person, I believe a Catalan, whose name I have also forgotten. Indeed, +these civil employments were at this period given to-day and taken away +tomorrow, so that the person who held one of them for a month might +consider himself a functionary of long standing. I was not kept waiting +a moment, but as soon as I had announced myself, was forthwith ushered +into the presence of the _corregidor_—a good-looking, portly, and +well-dressed personage, seemingly about fifty. He was writing at a desk +when I entered, but almost immediately arose and came towards me. He +looked me full in the face, and I, nothing abashed, kept my eyes fixed +upon his. He had, perhaps, expected a less independent bearing, and that +I should have quaked and crouched before him; but now, conceiving himself +bearded in his own den, his old Spanish leaven was forthwith stirred up. +He plucked his whiskers fiercely. “_Escuchad_,” said he, casting upon me +a ferocious glance, “I wish to ask you a question.” + +“Before I answer any question of your excellency,” said I, “I shall take +the liberty of putting one myself. What law or reason is there that I, a +peaceable individual and a foreigner, should have my rest disturbed by +_duendes_ and hobgoblins sent at midnight to summon me to appear at +public offices like a criminal?” + +“You do not speak the truth,” shouted the _corregidor_; “the person sent +to summon you was neither _duende_ nor hobgoblin, but one of the most +ancient and respectable officers of this _casa_, and so far from being +despatched at midnight, it wanted twenty-five minutes to that hour by my +own watch when he left this office, and as your lodging is not distant, +he must have arrived there at least ten minutes before midnight, so that +you are by no means accurate, and are found wanting in regard to truth.” + +“A distinction without a difference,” I replied. “For my own part, if I +am to be disturbed in my sleep, it is of little consequence whether at +midnight or ten minutes before that time; and with respect to your +messenger, although he might not be a hobgoblin, he had all the +appearance of one, and assuredly answered the purpose, by frightening the +woman of the house almost into fits by his hideous grimaces and sneezing +convulsions.” + +_Corregidor_.—You are a—I know not what. Do you know that I have the +power to imprison you? + +_Myself_.—You have twenty _alguazils_ at your beck and call, and have of +course the power, and so had your predecessor, who nearly lost his +situation by imprisoning me; but you know full well that you have not the +right, as I am not under your jurisdiction, but that of the +captain-general. If I have obeyed your summons, it was simply because I +had a curiosity to know what you wanted with me, and from no other motive +whatever. As for imprisoning me, I beg leave to assure you, that you +have my full consent to do so; the most polite society in Madrid is to be +found in the prison, and as I am at present compiling a vocabulary of the +language of the Madrilenian thieves, I should have, in being imprisoned, +an excellent opportunity of completing it. There is much to be learnt +even in the prison, for, as the gypsies say, “The dog that trots about +finds a bone.” {240} + +_Corregidor_.—Your words are not those of a _caballero_. Do you forget +where you are, and in whose presence? Is this a fitting place to talk of +thieves and gypsies in? + +_Myself_.—Really I know of no place more fitting, unless it be the +prison. But we are wasting time, and I am anxious to know for what I +have been summoned; whether for crimes trivial or enormous, as the +messenger said. + +It was a long time before I could obtain the required information from +the incensed _corregidor_; at last, however, it came. It appeared that a +box of Testaments, which I had despatched to Naval Carnero, had been +seized by the local authorities, and having been detained there for some +time, was at last sent back to Madrid, intended, as it now appeared, for +the hands of the _corregidor_. One day as it was lying at the +waggon-office, Antonio chanced to enter on some business of his own and +recognized the box, which he instantly claimed as my property, and having +paid the carriage, removed it to my warehouse. He had considered the +matter as of so little importance, that he had not as yet mentioned it to +me. The poor _corregidor_, however, had no doubt that it was a deep-laid +scheme to plunder and insult him. And now, working himself up into +almost a frenzy of excitement, he stamped on the ground, exclaiming, +“_Que picardia_! _Que infamia_!” + +The old system, thought I, of prejudging people, and imputing to them +motives and actions of which they never dreamed. I then told him frankly +that I was entirely ignorant of the circumstance by which he had felt +himself aggrieved; but that if, upon inquiry, I found that the chest had +actually been removed by my servant from the office to which it had been +forwarded, I would cause it forthwith to be restored, although it was my +own property. “I have plenty more Testaments,” said I, “and can afford +to lose fifty or a hundred. I am a man of peace, and wish not to have +any dispute with the authorities for the sake of an old chest and a cargo +of books, whose united value would scarcely amount to forty dollars.” + +He looked at me for a moment, as if in doubt of my sincerity, then, again +plucking his whiskers, he forthwith proceeded to attack me in another +quarter: “_Pero que infamia_, _que picardia_! to come into Spain for the +purpose of overturning the religion of the country. What would you say +if the Spaniards were to go to England and attempt to overturn the +Lutheranism established there?” + +“They would be most heartily welcome,” I replied; “more especially if +they would attempt to do so by circulating the Bible, the book of +Christians, even as the English are doing in Spain. But your excellency +is not perhaps aware that the Pope has a fair field and fair play in +England, and is permitted to make as many converts from Lutheranism every +day in the week as are disposed to go over to him. He cannot boast, +however, of much success; the people are too fond of light to embrace +darkness, and would smile at the idea of exchanging their Gospel +privileges for the superstitious ceremonies and observances of the Church +of Rome.” + +On my repeating my promise that the books and chest should be forthwith +restored, the _corregidor_ declared himself satisfied, and all of a +sudden became excessively polite and condescending: he even went so far +as to say that he left it entirely with myself, whether to return the +books or not; “and,” continued he, “before you go, I wish to tell you +that my private opinion is, that it is highly advisable in all countries +to allow full and perfect tolerance in religious matters, and to permit +every religious system to stand or fall according to its own merits.” + +Such were the concluding words of the _corregidor_ of Madrid, which, +whether they expressed his private opinion or not, were certainly +grounded on sense and reason. I saluted him respectfully and retired, +and forthwith performed my promise with regard to the books; and thus +terminated this affair. + +It almost appeared to me at this time that a religious reform was +commencing in Spain; indeed, matters had of late come to my knowledge, +which, had they been prophesied only a year before, I should have +experienced much difficulty in believing. + +The reader will be surprised when I state that, in two churches of +Madrid, the New Testament was regularly expounded every Sunday evening, +by the respective curates, to about twenty children who attended, and who +were all provided with copies of the society’s edition of Madrid, 1837. +{242a} The churches which I allude to were those of San Gines and Santa +Cruz. {242b} Now, I humbly conceive that this fact alone is more than +equivalent to all the expense which the society had incurred in the +efforts which it had been making to introduce the Gospel into Spain; but +be this as it may, I am certain that it amply recompensed me for all the +anxiety and unhappiness which I had undergone. I now felt that whenever +I should be compelled to discontinue my labours in the Peninsula, I +should retire without the slightest murmur, my heart being filled with +gratitude to the Lord for having permitted me, useless vessel as I was, +to see at least some of the seed springing up, which during two years I +had been casting on the stony ground of the interior of Spain. + +When I recollected the difficulties which had encompassed our path, I +could sometimes hardly credit all that the Almighty had permitted us to +accomplish within the last year. A large edition of the New Testament +had been almost entirely disposed of in the very centre of Spain, in +spite of the opposition and the furious cry of the sanguinary priesthood +and the edicts of a deceitful government, and a spirit of religious +inquiry excited, which I had fervent hope would sooner or later lead to +blessed and most important results. Till of late the name most abhorred +and dreaded in these parts of Spain was that of Martin Luther, who was in +general considered as a species of demon, a cousin-german to Belial and +Beelzebub, who, under the disguise of a man, wrote and preached blasphemy +against the Highest; yet now, strange to say, this once abominated +personage was spoken of with no slight degree of respect. People with +Bibles in their hands not unfrequently visited me, inquiring with much +earnestness, and with no slight degree of simplicity, for the writings of +the great Doctor Martin, whom, indeed, some supposed to be still alive. + +It will be as well here to observe, that of all the names connected with +the Reformation, that of Luther is the only one known in Spain; and let +me add, that no controversial writings but his are likely to be esteemed +as possessing the slightest weight or authority, however great their +intrinsic merit may be. The common description of tracts, written with +the view of exposing the errors of Popery, are therefore not calculated +to prove of much benefit in Spain, though it is probable that much good +might be accomplished by well executed translations of judicious +selections from the works of Luther. + + + + +CHAPTER XLVIII. + + +Projected Journey—A Scene of Blood—The Friar—Seville—Beauties of +Seville—Orange Trees and Flowers—Murillo—The Guardian Angel—Dionysius—My +Coadjutors—Demand for the Bible. + +By the middle of April I had sold as many Testaments as I thought Madrid +would bear: I therefore called in my people, for I was afraid to +overstock the market, and to bring the book into contempt by making it +too common. I had, indeed, by this time, barely a thousand copies +remaining of the edition which I had printed two years previously; and +with respect to Bibles, every copy was by this time disposed of, though +there was still a great demand for them, which, of course, I was unable +to satisfy. + +With the remaining copies of the Testament, I now determined to betake +myself to Seville, where little had hitherto been effected in the way of +circulation: my preparations were soon made. The roads were at this time +in a highly dangerous state, on which account I thought to go along with +a convoy, which was about to start for Andalusia. Two days, however, +before its departure, understanding that the number of people who +likewise proposed to avail themselves of it was likely to be very great, +and reflecting on the slowness of this way of travelling, and moreover +the insults to which civilians were frequently subjected from the +soldiers and petty officers, I determined to risk the journey with the +mail. This resolution I carried into effect. Antonio, whom I had +resolved to take with me, and my two horses, departed with the convoy, +whilst in a few days I followed with the mail courier. We travelled all +the way without the slightest accident, my usual wonderful good fortune +accompanying us. I might well call it wonderful, for I was running into +the den of a lion; the whole of La Mancha, with the exception of a few +fortified places, being once more in the hands of Palillos and his +banditti, who, whenever it pleased them, stopped the courier, burnt the +vehicle and letters, murdered the paltry escort, and carried away any +chance passenger to the mountains, where an enormous ransom was demanded, +the alternative being four shots through the head, as the Spaniards say. + +The upper part of Andalusia was becoming rapidly nearly as bad as La +Mancha. The last time the mail had passed, it was attacked at the defile +of La Rumblar {246} by six mounted robbers; it was guarded by an escort +of as many soldiers, but the former suddenly galloped from behind a +solitary _venta_, and dashed the soldiers to the ground, who were taken +quite by surprise, the hoofs of the robbers’ horses making no noise on +account of the sandy nature of the ground. The soldiers were instantly +disarmed and bound to olive trees, with the exception of two, who escaped +amongst the rocks; they were then mocked and tormented by the robbers, or +rather fiends, for nearly half an hour, when they were shot; the head of +the corporal who commanded being blown to fragments with a blunderbuss. +The robbers then burned the coach, which they accomplished by igniting +the letters by means of the tow with which they light their cigars. The +life of the courier was saved by one of them, who had formerly been his +postilion; he was, however, robbed and stripped. As we passed by the +scene of the butchery, the poor fellow wept, and, though a Spaniard, +cursed Spain and the Spaniards, saying that he intended shortly to pass +over to the Moreria, to confess Mahomet, and to learn the law of the +Moors, for that any country and religion were better than his own. He +pointed to the tree where the corporal had been tied; though much rain +had fallen since, the ground around was still saturated with blood, and a +dog was gnawing a piece of the unfortunate wretch’s skull. A friar +travelled with us the whole way from Madrid to Seville; he was of the +missionaries, and was going to the Philippine Islands, to conquer (_para +conquistar_), for such was his word, by which I suppose he meant +preaching to the Indians. During the whole journey he exhibited every +symptom of the most abject fear, which operated upon him so that he +became deadly sick, and we were obliged to stop twice in the road, and +lay him amongst the green corn. He said that if he fell into the hands +of the factious, he was a lost priest, for that they would first make him +say Mass, and then blow him up with gunpowder. He had been professor of +philosophy, as he told me, in one of the convents (I think it was San +Tomas) of Madrid before their suppression, but appeared to be grossly +ignorant of the Scriptures, which he confounded with the works of Virgil. + +We stopped at Manzanares as usual; it was Sunday morning, and the +market-place was crowded with people. I was recognized in a moment, and +twenty pair of legs instantly hurried away in quest of the prophetess, +who presently made her appearance in the house to which we had retired to +breakfast. After many greetings on both sides, she proceeded, in her +Latin, to give me an account of all that had occurred in the village +since I had last been there, and of the atrocities of the factious in the +neighbourhood. I asked her to breakfast, and introduced her to the +friar, whom she addressed in this manner: “_Anne Domine Reverendissime +facis adhuc sacrificium_?” {248} But the friar did not understand her, +and, waxing angry, anathematized her for a witch, and bade her begone. +She was, however, not to be disconcerted, and commenced singing, in +extemporary Castilian verse, the praises of friars and religious houses +in general. On departing I gave her a _peseta_, upon which she burst +into tears, and entreated that I would write to her if I reached Seville +in safety. + +We did arrive at Seville in safety, and I took leave of the friar, +telling him that I hoped to meet him again at Philippi. As it was my +intention to remain at Seville for some months, I determined to hire a +house, in which I conceived I could live with more privacy, and at the +same time more economically, than in a _posada_. It was not long before +I found one in every respect suited to me. It was situated in the +Plazuela de la Pila Seca, a retired part of the city in the neighbourhood +of the cathedral, and at a short distance from the gate of Xeres; and in +this house, on the arrival of Antonio and the horses, which occurred +within a few days, I took up my abode. + +I was now once more in beautiful Seville, and had soon ample time and +leisure to enjoy its delights and those of the surrounding country. +Unfortunately, at the time of my arrival, and indeed for the next ensuing +fortnight, the heaven of Andalusia, in general so glorious, was overcast +with black clouds, which discharged tremendous showers of rain, such as +few of the Sevillians, according to their own account, had ever seen +before. This extraordinary weather had wrought no little damage in the +neighbourhood, causing the Guadalquivir, which, during the rainy season, +is a rapid and furious stream, to overflow its banks, and to threaten an +inundation. It is true that intervals were occurring when the sun made +his appearance from his cloudy tabernacle, and with his golden rays +caused everything around to smile, enticing the butterfly forth from the +bush, and the lizard from the hollow tree, and I invariably availed +myself of these intervals to take a hasty promenade. + +Oh how pleasant it is, especially in springtide, to stray along the +shores of the Guadalquivir! Not far from the city, down the river, lies +a grove called _Las Delicias_, or “The Delights.” It consists of trees +of various kinds, but more especially of poplars and elms, and is +traversed by long shady walks. This grove is the favourite promenade of +the Sevillians, and there one occasionally sees assembled whatever the +town produces of beauty or gallantry. There wander the black-eyed +Andalusian dames and damsels, clad in their graceful silken _mantillas_; +and there gallops the Andalusian cavalier, on his long-tailed thick-maned +steed of Moorish ancestry. As the sun is descending, it is enchanting to +glance back from this place in the direction of the city; the prospect is +inexpressibly beautiful. Yonder in the distance, high and enormous, +stands the Golden Tower, now used as a toll-house, but the principal +bulwark of the city in the time of the Moors. It stands on the shore of +the river, like a giant keeping watch, and is the first edifice which +attracts the eye of the voyager as he moves up the stream to Seville. On +the other side, opposite the tower, stands the noble Augustine convent, +the ornament of the _faubourg_ of Triana, whilst between the two edifices +rolls the broad Guadalquivir, bearing on its bosom a flotilla of barks +from Catalonia and Valencia. Further up is seen the bridge of boats, +which traverses the water. The principal object of this prospect, +however, is the Golden Tower, where the beams of the setting sun seem to +be concentrated as in a focus, so that it appears built of pure gold, and +probably from that circumstance received the name which it now bears. +Cold, cold must the heart be which can remain insensible to the beauties +of this magic scene, to do justice to which the pencil of Claude himself +were barely equal. Often have I shed tears of rapture whilst I beheld +it, and listened to the thrush and the nightingale piping forth their +melodious songs in the woods, and inhaled the breeze laden with the +perfume of the thousand orange gardens of Seville: + + “Kennst du das Land wo die Citronen blühen?” {251a} + +The interior of Seville scarcely corresponds with the exterior; the +streets are narrow, badly paved, and full of misery and beggary. The +houses are, for the most part, built in the Moorish fashion, with a +quadrangular _patio_, or court, in the centre, where stands a marble +fountain, constantly distilling limpid water. These courts, during the +time of the summer heats, are covered over with a canvas awning, and +beneath this the family sit during the greater part of the day. In many, +especially those belonging to the houses of the wealthy, are to be found +shrubs, orange trees, and all kinds of flowers, and perhaps a small +aviary, so that no situation can be conceived more delicious than to lie +here in the shade, hearkening to the song of the birds and the voice of +the fountain. + +Nothing is more calculated to interest the stranger as he wanders through +Seville, than a view of these courts, obtained from the street through +the iron-grated door. Oft have I stopped to observe them, and as often +sighed that my fate did not permit me to reside in such an Eden for the +remainder of my days. On a former occasion I have spoken of the +cathedral of Seville, but only in a brief and cursory manner. {251b} It +is, perhaps, the most magnificent cathedral in all Spain, and though not +so regular in its architecture as those of Toledo and Burgos, is far more +worthy of admiration when considered as a whole. It is utterly +impossible to wander through the long aisles, and to raise one’s eyes to +the richly inlaid roof, supported by colossal pillars, without +experiencing sensations of sacred awe and deep astonishment. It is true +that the interior, like those of the generality of the Spanish +cathedrals, is somewhat dark and gloomy; yet it loses nothing by this +gloom, which, on the contrary, rather increases the solemnity of the +effect. Notre Dame of Paris is a noble building, yet to him who has seen +the Spanish cathedrals, and particularly this of Seville, it almost +appears trivial and mean, and more like a town-hall than a temple of the +Eternal. The Parisian cathedral is entirely destitute of that solemn +darkness and gloomy pomp which so abound in the Sevillian, and is thus +destitute of the principal requisite to a cathedral. + +In most of the chapels are to be found some of the very best pictures of +the Spanish school; and, in particular, many of the master-pieces of +Murillo, a native of Seville. Of all the pictures of this extraordinary +man, one of the least celebrated is that which has always wrought on me +the most profound impression. I allude to the Guardian Angel, _El Angel +de la Guardia_, a small picture which stands at the bottom of the church, +and looks up the principal aisle. The angel, holding a flaming sword in +his right hand, is conducting the child: this child is, in my opinion, +the most wonderful of all the creations of Murillo; the form is that of +an infant about five years of age, and the expression of the countenance +is quite infantine, but the tread—it is the tread of a conqueror, of a +God, of the Creator of the universe; and the earthly globe appears to +tremble beneath its majesty. + +The service of the cathedral is in general well attended, especially when +it is known that a sermon is to be preached. All these sermons are +extemporaneous; some of them are edifying, and faithful to the +Scriptures. I have often listened to them with pleasure, though I was +much surprised to remark, that when the preachers quoted from the Bible, +their quotations were almost invariably taken from the apocryphal +writings. There is in general no lack of worshippers at the principal +shrines—women for the most part—many of whom appear to be animated with +the most fervent devotion. + +I had flattered myself, previous to my departure from Madrid, that I +should experience but little difficulty in the circulation of the Gospel +in Andalusia, at least for a time, as the field was new, and myself and +the object of my mission less known and dreaded than in New Castile. It +appeared, however, that the government at Madrid had fulfilled its +threat, transmitting orders throughout Spain for the seizure of my books +wherever found. The Testaments that arrived from Madrid were seized at +the custom-house, to which place all goods on their arrival, even from +the interior, are carried, in order that a duty be imposed upon them. +Through the management of Antonio, however, I procured one of the two +chests, whilst the other was sent down to San Lucar, to be embarked for a +foreign land as soon as I could make arrangements for that purpose. + +I did not permit myself to be discouraged by this slight _contretemps_, +although I heartily regretted the loss of the books which had been +seized, and which I could no longer hope to circulate in these parts, +where they were so much wanted; but I consoled myself with the +reflection, that I had still several hundred at my disposal, from the +distribution of which, if it pleased the Lord, a blessed harvest might +still proceed. + +I did not commence operations for some time, for I was in a strange +place, and scarcely knew what course to pursue. I had no one to assist +me but poor Antonio, who was as ignorant of the place as myself. +Providence, however, soon sent me a coadjutor in rather a singular +manner. I was standing in the courtyard of the Reyna Posada, where I +occasionally dined, when a man, singularly dressed and gigantically tall, +entered. My curiosity was excited, and I inquired of the master of the +house who he was. He informed me that he was a foreigner, who had +resided a considerable time in Seville, and he believed a Greek. Upon +hearing this, I instantly went up to the stranger, and accosted him in +the Greek language, in which, though I speak it very ill, I can make +myself understood. He replied in the same idiom, and, flattered by the +interest which I, a foreigner, expressed for his nation, was not slow in +communicating to me his history. He told me that his name was Dionysius, +that he was a native of Cephalonia, and had been educated for the Church, +which, not suiting his temper, he had abandoned, in order to follow the +profession of the sea, for which he had an early inclination. That after +many adventures and changes of fortune, he found himself one morning on +the coast of Spain, a shipwrecked mariner, and that, ashamed to return to +his own country in poverty and distress, he had remained in the +Peninsula, residing chiefly in Seville, where he now carried on a small +trade in books. He said that he was of the Greek religion, to which he +professed strong attachment, and, soon discovering that I was a +Protestant, spoke with unbounded abhorrence of the papal system; nay, of +its followers in general, whom he called Latins, and whom he charged with +the ruin of his own country, inasmuch as they sold it to the Turk. It +instantly struck me, that this individual would be an excellent assistant +in the work which had brought me to Seville, namely, the propagation of +the eternal Gospel; and, accordingly, after some more conversation, in +which he exhibited considerable learning, I explained myself to him. He +entered into my views with eagerness, and, in the sequel, I had no reason +to regret my confidence, he having disposed of a considerable number of +New Testaments, and even contrived to send a certain number of copies to +two small towns at some distance from Seville. + +Another helper in the circulation of the Gospel I found in an aged +professor of music, who, with much stiffness and ceremoniousness, united +much that was excellent and admirable. This venerable individual, only +three days after I had made his acquaintance, brought me the price of six +Testaments and a Gypsy Gospel, which he had sold under the heat of an +Andalusian sun. What was his motive? A Christian one truly. He said +that his unfortunate countrymen, who were then robbing and murdering each +other, might probably be rendered better by the reading of the Gospel, +but could never be injured. Adding, that many a man had been reformed by +the Scriptures, but that no one ever yet became a thief or assassin from +its perusal. + +But my most extraordinary agent was one whom I occasionally employed in +circulating the Scriptures amongst the lower classes. I might have +turned the services of this individual to far greater account had the +quantity of books at my disposal been greater; but they were now +diminishing rapidly, and as I had no hopes of a fresh supply, I was +almost tempted to be niggard of the few which remained. This agent was a +Greek bricklayer, by name Johannes Chrysostom, who had been introduced to +me by Dionysius. He was a native of the Morea, but had been upwards of +thirty-five years in Spain, so that he had almost entirely lost his +native language. Nevertheless, his attachment to his own country was so +strong that he considered whatever was not Greek as utterly barbarous and +bad. Though entirely destitute of education, he had, by his strength of +character and by a kind of rude eloquence which he possessed, obtained +such a mastery over the minds of the labouring classes of Seville, that +they assented to almost everything he said, notwithstanding the shocks +which their prejudices were continually receiving. So that, although he +was a foreigner, he could at any time have become the Masaniello {256} of +Seville. A more honest creature I never saw, and I soon found that if I +employed him, notwithstanding his eccentricities, I might entertain +perfect confidence that his actions would be no disparagement to the book +he vended. + +We were continually pressed for Bibles, which of course we could not +supply. Testaments were held in comparatively little esteem. I had by +this time made the discovery of a fact which it would have been well had +I been aware of three years before: but we live and learn. I mean the +inexpediency of printing Testaments, and Testaments _alone_, for Catholic +countries. The reason is plain: the Catholic, unused to Scripture +reading, finds a thousand things which he cannot possibly understand in +the New Testament, the foundation of which is the Old. “Search the +Scriptures, for they bear witness of me,” may well be applied to this +point. It may be replied, that New Testaments separate are in great +demand and of infinite utility in England; but England, thanks be to the +Lord, is not a papal country; and though an English labourer may read a +Testament, and derive from it the most blessed fruit, it does not follow +that a Spanish or Italian peasant will enjoy similar success, as he will +find many dark things with which the other is well acquainted, and +competent to understand, being versed in the Bible history from his +childhood. I confess, however, that in my summer campaign of the +preceding year, I could not have accomplished with Bibles what Providence +permitted me to effect with Testaments, the former being far too bulky +for rural journeys. + + + + +CHAPTER XLIX. + + +The Solitary House—The Dehesa—Johannes Chrysostom—Manuel—Bookselling at +Seville—Dionysius and the Priests—Athens and Rome—Proselytism—Seizure of +Testaments—Departure from Seville. + +I have already stated that I had hired an empty house in Seville, wherein +I purposed to reside for some months. It stood in a solitary situation, +occupying one side of a small square. It was built quite in the +beautiful taste of Andalusia, with a court paved with small slabs of +white and blue marble. In the middle of this court was a fountain well +supplied with the crystal lymph, the murmur of which, as it fell from its +slender pillar into an octangular basin, might be heard in every +apartment. The house itself was large and spacious, consisting of two +stories, and containing room sufficient for at least ten times the number +of inmates which now occupied it. I generally kept during the day in the +lower apartments, on account of the refreshing coolness which pervaded +them. In one of these was an immense stone water-trough, ever +overflowing with water from the fountain, in which I immersed myself +every morning. Such were the premises to which, after having provided +myself with a few indispensable articles of furniture, I now retreated +with Antonio and my two horses. + +I was fortunate in the possession of these quadrupeds, inasmuch as it +afforded me an opportunity of enjoying to a greater extent the beauties +of the surrounding country. I know of few things in this life more +delicious than a ride in the spring or summer season in the neighbourhood +of Seville. My favourite one was in the direction of Xeres, over the +wide Dehesa, as it is called, which extends from Seville to the gates of +the former town, a distance of nearly fifty miles, with scarcely a town +or village intervening. The ground is irregular and broken, and is for +the most part covered with that species of brushwood called _carrasco_, +amongst which winds a bridle-path, by no means well defined, chiefly +trodden by the _arrieros_, with their long trains of mules and +_borricos_. It is here that the balmy air of beautiful Andalusia is to +be inhaled in full perfection. Aromatic herbs and flowers are growing in +abundance, diffusing their perfume around. Here dark and gloomy cares +are dispelled as if by magic from the bosom, as the eyes wander over the +prospect, lighted by unequalled sunshine, in which gaily painted +butterflies wanton, and green and golden _salamanquesas_ lie extended, +enjoying the luxurious warmth, and occasionally startling the traveller, +by springing up and making off with portentous speed to the nearest +coverts, whence they stare upon him with their sharp and lustrous eyes. +I repeat, that it is impossible to continue melancholy in regions like +these, and the ancient Greeks and Romans were right in making them the +site of their Elysian fields. Most beautiful they are, even in their +present desolation, for the hand of man has not cultivated them since the +fatal era of the expulsion of the Moors, which drained Andalusia of at +least two-thirds of its population. + +Every evening it was my custom to ride along the Dehesa, until the +topmost towers of Seville were no longer in sight. I then turned about, +and pressing my knees against the sides of Sidi Habismilk, my Arabian, +the fleet creature, to whom spur or lash had never been applied, would +set off in the direction of the town with the speed of a whirlwind, +seeming in his headlong course to devour the ground of the waste, until +he had left it behind, then dashing through the elm-covered road of the +Delicias, his thundering hoofs were soon heard beneath the vaulted +archway of the Puerta de Xeres, and in another moment he would stand +stone-still before the door of my solitary house in the little silent +square of the Pila Seca. + +It is eight o’clock at night, I am returned from the Dehesa, and am +standing on the _sotea_, or flat roof of my house, enjoying the cool +breeze. Johannes Chrysostom has just arrived from his labour. I have +not spoken to him, but I hear him below in the courtyard, detailing to +Antonio the progress he has made in the last two days. He speaks +barbarous Greek, plentifully interlarded with Spanish words; but I gather +from his discourse, that he has already sold twelve Testaments among his +fellow-labourers. I hear copper coin falling on the pavement, and +Antonio, who is not of a very Christian temper, reproving him for not +having brought the proceeds of the sale in silver. He now asks for +fifteen more, as he says the demand is becoming great, and that he shall +have no difficulty in disposing of them in the course of the morrow, +whilst pursuing his occupations. Antonio goes to fetch them, and he now +stands alone by the marble fountain, singing a wild song, which I believe +to be a hymn of his beloved Greek Church. Behold one of the helpers +which the Lord has sent me in my Gospel labours on the shores of the +Guadalquivir. + +I lived in the greatest retirement during the whole time that I passed at +Seville, spending the greater part of each day in study, or in that half +dreamy state of inactivity which is the natural effect of the influence +of a warm climate. There was little in the character of the people +around to induce me to enter much into society. The higher class of the +Andalusians are probably upon the whole the most vain and foolish of +human beings, with a taste for nothing but sensual amusements, foppery in +dress, and ribald discourse. Their insolence is only equalled by their +meanness, and their prodigality by their avarice. The lower classes are +a shade or two better than their superiors in station: little, it is +true, can be said for the tone of their morality; they are overreaching, +quarrelsome, and revengeful, but they are upon the whole more courteous, +and certainly not more ignorant. + +The Andalusians are in general held in the lowest estimation by the rest +of the Spaniards, even those in opulent circumstances finding some +difficulty at Madrid in procuring admission into respectable society, +where, if they find their way, they are invariably the objects of +ridicule, from the absurd airs and grimaces in which they indulge,—their +tendency to boasting and exaggeration, their curious accent, and the +incorrect manner in which they speak and pronounce the Castilian +language. {261} + +In a word, the Andalusians, in all estimable traits of character, are as +far below the other Spaniards as the country which they inhabit is +superior in beauty and fertility to the other provinces of Spain. + +Yet let it not for a moment be supposed that I have any intention of +asserting, that excellent and estimable individuals are not to be found +amongst the Andalusians; it was amongst _them_ that I myself discovered +one, whom I have no hesitation in asserting to be the most extraordinary +character that has ever come within the sphere of my knowledge; but this +was no scion of a noble or knightly house, “no wearer of soft clothing,” +no sleek highly perfumed personage, none of the romanticos who walk in +languishing attitudes about the streets of Seville, with long black hair +hanging upon their shoulders in luxuriant curls: but one of those whom +the proud and unfeeling style the dregs of the populace, a haggard, +houseless, penniless man, in rags and tatters. I allude to Manuel, +the—what shall I call him?—seller of lottery tickets, driver of death +carts, or poet laureate in gypsy songs? I wonder whether thou art still +living, my friend Manuel; thou gentleman of nature’s forming—honest, +pure-minded, humble, yet dignified being! Art thou still wandering +through the courts of beautiful Safacoro, or on the banks of the Len +Baro, {262} thine eyes fixed in vacancy, and thy mind striving to recall +some half-forgotten couplet of Luis Lobo; or art thou gone to thy long +rest, out beyond the Xeres gate within the wall of the Campo Santo, to +which, in times of pest and sickness, thou wast wont to carry so many, +gypsy and Gentile, in thy cart of the tinkling bell? Oft in the +_réunions_ of the lettered and learned in this land of universal +literature, when weary of the display of pedantry and egotism, have I +recurred with yearning to our gypsy recitations at the old house in the +Pila Seca. Oft, when sickened by the high-wrought professions of those +who bear the cross in gilded chariots, have I thought on thee, thy calm +faith, without pretence,—thy patience in poverty, and fortitude in +affliction; and as oft, when thinking of my speedily approaching end, +have I wished that I might meet thee once again, and that thy hands might +help to bear me to “the dead man’s acre” yonder on the sunny plain, O +Manuel! {263} + +My principal visitor was Dionysius, who seldom failed to make his +appearance every forenoon: the poor fellow came for sympathy and +conversation. It is difficult to imagine a situation more forlorn and +isolated than that of this man,—a Greek at Seville, with scarcely a +single acquaintance, and depending for subsistence on the miserable +pittance to be derived from selling a few books, for the most part hawked +about from door to door. “What could have first induced you to commence +bookselling in Seville?” said I to him, as he arrived one sultry day, +heated and fatigued, with a small bundle of books secured together by a +leather strap. + +_Dionysius_.—For want of a better employment, _Kyrie_, {264a} I have +adopted this most unprofitable and despised one. Oft have I regretted +not having been bred up as a shoemaker, or having learnt in my youth some +other useful handicraft, for gladly would I follow it now. Such, at +least, would procure me the respect of my fellow-creatures, inasmuch as +they needed me; but now all avoid me and look upon me with contempt; for +what have I to offer in this place that any one cares about? Books in +Seville! where no one reads, or at least nothing but new romances, +translated from the French, and obscenity. Books! Would I were a gypsy +and could trim donkeys, for then I were at least independent and were +more respected than I am at present. + +_Myself_.—Of what kind of books does your stock-in-trade consist? + +_Dionysius_.—Of those not likely to suit the Seville market, _Kyrie_; +books of sterling and intrinsic value; many of them in ancient Greek, +which I picked up upon the dissolution of the convents, when the contents +of the libraries were hurled into the courtyards, and there sold by the +_arroba_. I thought at first that I was about to make a fortune, and in +fact my books would be so in any other place; but here I have offered an +Elzevir {264b} for half a dollar in vain. I should starve were it not +for the strangers who occasionally purchase of me. + +_Myself_.—Seville is a large cathedral city, abounding with priests and +canons; surely some of these occasionally visit you to make purchases of +classic works and books connected with ecclesiastical literature. + +_Dionysius_.—If you think so, _Kyrie_, you know little respecting the +ecclesiastics of Seville. I am acquainted with many of them, and can +assure you that a tribe of beings can scarcely be found with a more +confirmed aversion to intellectual pursuits of every kind. Their reading +is confined to newspapers, which they take up in the hope of seeing that +their friend Don Carlos is at length reinstated at Madrid; but they +prefer their chocolate and biscuits, and nap before dinner, to the wisdom +of Plato and the eloquence of Tully. They occasionally visit me, but it +is only to pass away a heavy hour in chattering nonsense. Once on a time +three of them came, in the hope of making me a convert to their Latin +superstition. “_Signor Donatio_,” said they (for so they called me), +“how is it that an unprejudiced person like yourself, a man really with +some pretension to knowledge, can still cling to this absurd religion of +yours? Surely, after having resided so many years in a civilized country +like this of Spain, it is high time to abandon your half-pagan form of +worship, and to enter the bosom of the Church; now pray be advised, and +you shall be none the worse for it.” “Thank you, gentlemen,” I replied, +“for the interest you take in my welfare; I am always open to conviction; +let us proceed to discuss the subject. What are the points of my +religion which do not meet your approbation? You are of course well +acquainted with all our dogmas and ceremonies.” “We know nothing about +your religion, _Signor Donatio_, save that it is a very absurd one, and +therefore it is incumbent upon you, as an unprejudiced and well-informed +man, to renounce it.” “But, gentlemen, if you know nothing of my +religion, why call it absurd? Surely it is not the part of unprejudiced +people to disparage that of which they are ignorant.” “But, _Signor +Donatio_, it is not the Catholic Apostolic Roman religion, is it?” “It +may be, gentlemen, for what you appear to know of it; for your +information, however, I will tell you that it is not; it is the Greek +Apostolic religion. I do not call it catholic, for it is absurd to call +that catholic which is not universally acknowledged.” “But, _Signor +Donatio_, does not the matter speak for itself? What can a set of +ignorant Greek barbarians know about religion? If they set aside the +authority of Rome, whence should they derive any rational ideas of +religion? whence should they get the Gospel?” “The Gospel, gentlemen? +Allow me to show you a book. Here it is; what is your opinion of it?” +“_Signor Donati_, what does this mean? What characters of the devil are +these, are they Moorish? Who is able to understand them?” “I suppose +your worships, being Roman priests, know something of Latin; if you +inspect the title-page to the bottom, you will find, in the language of +your own Church, ‘the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, in the +original Greek,’ of which your Vulgate is merely a translation, and not a +very correct one. With respect to the barbarism of Greece, it appears +that you are not aware that Athens was a city, and a famed one, centuries +before the first mud cabin of Rome was thatched, and the gypsy vagabonds +who first peopled it had escaped from the hands of justice.” “_Signor +Donatio_, you are an ignorant heretic, and insolent withal: _what +nonsense is this_! . . .” But I will not weary your ears, _Kyrie_, with +all the absurdities which the poor Latin _Papas_ {266} poured into mine; +the burden of their song being invariably, _what nonsense is this_! which +was certainly applicable enough to what they themselves were saying. +Seeing, however, that I was more than their match in religious +controversy, they fell foul of my country. “Spain is a better country +than Greece,” said one. “You never tasted bread before you came to +Spain,” cried another. “And little enough since,” thought I. “You never +before saw such a city as Seville,” said the third. But then ensued the +best part of the comedy: my visitors chanced to be natives of three +different places; one was of Seville, another of Utrera, and the third of +Miguel Turra, a miserable village in La Mancha. At the mention of +Seville, the other two instantly began to sing the praises of their +respective places of birth; this brought on comparisons, and a violent +dispute was the consequence. Much abuse passed between them, whilst I +stood by, shrugged my shoulders, and said _tipotas_. {267} At last, as +they were leaving the house, I said, “Who would have thought, gentlemen, +that the polemics of the Greek and Latin Churches were so closely +connected with the comparative merits of Seville, Utrera, and Miguel +Turra?” + +_Myself_.—Is the spirit of proselytism very prevalent here? Of what +description of people do their converts generally consist? + +_Dionysius_.—I will tell you, _Kyrie_; the generality of their converts +consist of German or English Protestant adventurers, who come here to +settle, and in course of time take to themselves wives from amongst the +Spanish, prior to which it is necessary to become members of the Latin +Church. A few are vagabond Jews, from Gibraltar or Tangier, who have +fled for their crimes into Spain, and who renounce their faith to escape +from starvation. These gentry, however, it is necessary to pay, on which +account the priests procure for them _padrinos_, or godfathers; these +generally consist of rich devotees over whom the priests have influence, +and who esteem it a glory and a meritorious act to assist in bringing +back lost souls to the Church. The neophyte allows himself to be +convinced on the promise of a _peseta_ a day, which is generally paid by +the godfathers for the first year, but seldom for a longer period. About +forty years ago, however, they made a somewhat notable convert. A civil +war arose in Morocco, caused by the separate pretensions of two brothers +to the throne. One of these being worsted, fled over to Spain, imploring +the protection of Charles IV. He soon became an object of particular +attention to the priests, who were not slow in converting him, and +induced Charles to settle upon him a pension of a dollar per day. He +died some few years since in Seville, a despised vagabond. He left +behind him a son, who is at present a notary, and outwardly very devout, +but a greater hypocrite and _picaron_ does not exist. I would you could +see his face, _Kyrie_, it is that of Judas Iscariot. I think you would +say so, for you are a physiognomist. He lives next door to me, and +notwithstanding his pretensions to religion, is permitted to remain in a +state of great poverty. + +And now nothing further for the present about Dionysius. + +About the middle of July our work was concluded at Seville, and for the +very efficient reason that I had no more Testaments to sell; somewhat +more than two hundred having been circulated since my arrival. + +About ten days before the time of which I am speaking, I was visited by +various _alguazils_, accompanied by a kind of headborough, who made a +small seizure of Testaments and gypsy Gospels, which happened to be lying +about. This visit was far from being disagreeable to me, as I considered +it to be a very satisfactory proof of the effect of our exertions in +Seville. I cannot help here relating an anecdote:—A day or two +subsequent, having occasion to call at the house of the headborough +respecting my passport, I found him lying on his bed, for it was the hour +of _siesta_, reading intently one of the Testaments which he had taken +away, all of which, if he had obeyed his orders, would have been +deposited in the office of the civil governor. So intently, indeed, was +he engaged in reading, that he did not at first observe my entrance; when +he did, however, he sprang up in great confusion, and locked the book up +in his cabinet, whereupon I smiled, and told him to be under no alarm, as +I was glad to see him so usefully employed. Recovering himself, he said +that he had read the book nearly through, and that he had found no harm +in it, but, on the contrary, everything to praise. Adding, he believed +that the clergy must be possessed with devils (_endemoniados_) to +persecute it in the manner they did. + +It was Sunday when the seizure was made, and I happened to be reading the +Liturgy. One of the _alguazils_, when going away, made an observation +respecting the very different manner in which the Protestants and +Catholics keep the Sabbath; the former being in their own houses reading +good books, and the latter abroad in the bull-ring, seeing the wild bulls +tear out the gory bowels of the poor horses. The bull amphitheatre at +Seville is the finest in all Spain, and is invariably on a Sunday (the +only day on which it is open) filled with applauding multitudes. + +I now made preparations for leaving Seville for a few months, my +destination being the coast of Barbary. Antonio, who did not wish to +leave Spain, in which were his wife and children, returned to Madrid, +rejoicing in a handsome gratuity with which I presented him. As it was +my intention to return to Seville, I left my house and horses in the +charge of a friend in whom I could confide, and departed. + +The reasons which induced me to visit Barbary will be seen in the +following chapters. + + + + +CHAPTER L. + + +Night on the Guadalquivir—Gospel Light—Bonanza—Strand of San +Lucar—Andalusian Scenery—History of a Chest—Cosas de los Ingleses—The Two +Gypsies—The Driver—The Red Nightcap—The Steam-Boat—Christian Language. + +On the night of the 31st of July I departed from Seville upon my +expedition, going on board one of the steamers which ply on the +Guadalquivir between Seville and Cadiz. + +It was my intention to stop at San Lucar, for the purpose of recovering +the chest of Testaments which had been placed in embargo there, until +such time as they could be removed from the kingdom of Spain. These +Testaments I intended for distribution amongst the Christians whom I +hoped to meet on the shores of Barbary. San Lucar is about fifteen +leagues distant from Seville, at the entrance of the bay of Cadiz, where +the yellow waters of the Guadalquivir unite with the brine. The steamer +shot from the little quay, or wharf, at about half-past nine, and then +arose a loud cry—it was the voices of those on board and on shore wishing +farewell to their friends. Amongst the tumult I thought I could +distinguish the accents of some friends of my own who had accompanied me +to the bank, and I instantly raised my own voice louder than all. The +night was very dark, so much so, indeed, that as we passed along we could +scarcely distinguish the trees which cover the eastern shore of the river +until it takes its first turn. A _calmazo_ had reigned during the day at +Seville, by which is meant exceedingly sultry weather, unenlivened by the +slightest breeze. The night likewise was calm and sultry. As I had +frequently made the voyage of the Guadalquivir, ascending and descending +this celebrated river, I felt nothing of that restlessness and curiosity +which people experience in a strange place, whether in light or darkness, +and being acquainted with none of the other passengers, who were talking +on the deck, I thought my best plan would be to retire to the cabin and +enjoy some rest, if possible. The cabin was solitary and tolerably cool, +all its windows on either side being open for the admission of air. +Flinging myself on one of the cushioned benches, I was soon asleep, in +which state I continued for about two hours, when I was aroused by the +furious biting of a thousand bugs, which compelled me to seek the deck, +where, wrapping myself in my cloak, I again fell asleep. It was near +daybreak when I awoke; we were then about two leagues from San Lucar. I +arose and looked towards the east, watching the gradual progress of dawn, +first the dull light, then the streak, then the tinge, then the bright +blush, till at last the golden disk of that orb which giveth day emerged +from the abyss of immensity, and in a moment the whole prospect was +covered with brightness and glory. The land smiled, the waters sparkled, +the birds sang, and men arose from their resting-places and rejoiced: for +it was day, and the sun was gone forth on the errand of its Creator, the +diffusion of light and gladness, and the dispelling of darkness and +sorrow. + + “Behold the morning sun + Begins his glorious way; + His beams through all the nations run, + And life and light convey. + + “But where the Gospel comes, + It spreads diviner light; + It calls dead sinners from their tombs, + And gives the blind their sight.” + +We now stopped before Bonanza: this is, properly speaking, the port of +San Lucar, although it is half a league distant from the latter place. +It is called Bonanza on account of its good anchorage, and its being +secured from the boisterous winds of the ocean; its literal meaning is +“fair weather.” {273} It consists of several large white buildings, +principally government store-houses, and is inhabited by the coastguard, +dependents on the custom-house, and a few fishermen. A boat came off to +receive those passengers whose destination was San Lucar, and to bring on +board about half a dozen who were bound for Cadiz: I entered with the +rest. A young Spaniard of very diminutive stature addressed some +questions to me in French as to what I thought of the scenery and climate +of Andalusia. I replied that I admired both, which evidently gave him +great pleasure. The boatman now came demanding two _reals_ for conveying +me on shore. I had no small money, and offered him a dollar to change. +He said that it was impossible. I asked him what was to be done: +whereupon he replied, uncivilly, that he knew not, but could not lose +time, and expected to be paid instantly. The young Spaniard, observing +my embarrassment, took out two _reals_ and paid the fellow. I thanked +him heartily for this act of civility, for which I felt really grateful; +as there are few situations more unpleasant than to be in a crowd in want +of change, whilst you are importuned by people for payment. A loose +character once told me that it was far preferable to be without money at +all, as you then knew what course to take. I subsequently met the young +Spaniard at Cadiz, and repaid him, with thanks. + +A few cabriolets were waiting near the wharf, in order to convey us to +San Lucar. I ascended one, and we proceeded slowly along the _playa_ or +strand. This place is famous in the ancient novels of Spain, of that +class called Picaresque, or those devoted to the adventures of notorious +scoundrels, the father of which, as also of others of the same kind, in +whatever language, is _Lazarillo de Tormes_. Cervantes himself has +immortalized this strand in the most amusing of his smaller tales, _La +Ilustre Fregona_. {274} In a word, the strand of San Lucar in ancient +times, if not in modern, was a rendezvous for ruffians, +_contrabandistas_, and vagabonds of every description, who nested there +in wooden sheds, which have now vanished. San Lucar itself was always +noted for the thievish propensities of its inhabitants—the worst in all +Andalusia. The roguish innkeeper in Don Quixote perfected his education +at San Lucar. All these recollections crowded into my mind as we +proceeded along the strand, which was beautifully gilded by the +Andalusian sun. We at last arrived nearly opposite to San Lucar, which +stands at some distance from the waterside. Here a lively spectacle +presented itself to us: the shore was covered with a multitude of females +either dressing or undressing themselves, while (I speak within bounds) +hundreds were in the water, sporting and playing: some were close by the +beach, stretched at their full length on the sand and pebbles, allowing +the little billows to dash over their heads and bosoms; whilst others +were swimming boldly out into the firth. There was a confused hubbub of +female cries, thin shrieks, and shrill laughter; couplets likewise were +being sung, on what subject it is easy to guess—for we were in sunny +Andalusia, and what can its black-eyed daughters think, speak, or sing of +but _amor_, _amor_, which now sounded from the land and the waters? +Further on along the beach we perceived likewise a crowd of men bathing; +we passed not by them, but turned to the left up an alley or avenue which +leads to San Lucar, and which may be a quarter of a mile long. The view +from hence was truly magnificent: before us lay the town, occupying the +side and top of a tolerably high hill, extending from east to west. It +appeared to be of considerable size; and I was subsequently informed that +it contained at least twenty thousand inhabitants. Several immense +edifices and walls towered up in a style of grandeur which can be but +feebly described by words; but the principal object was an ancient castle +towards the left. The houses were all white, and would have shone +brilliantly in the sun had it been higher; but at this early hour they +lay comparatively in shade. The _tout ensemble_ was very Moorish and +Oriental; and, indeed, in ancient times San Lucar was a celebrated +stronghold of the Moors, and, next to Almeria, the most frequented of the +commercial places in Spain. Everything, indeed, in these parts of +Andalusia is perfectly Oriental. Behold the heavens, as cloudless and as +brightly azure as those of Ind; the fiery sun which tans the fairest +cheek in a moment, and which fills the air with flickering flame; and oh! +remark the scenery and the vegetable productions. The alley up which we +were moving was planted on each side with that remarkable tree or plant, +for I know not which to call it, the giant aloe, which is called in +Spanish, _pita_, and in Moorish, _gurséan_. It rises here to a height +almost as magnificent as on the African shore. Need I say that the stem, +which springs up from the middle of the bush of green blades, which shoot +out from the root on all sides, is as high as a palm-tree; and need I say +that those blades, which are of an immense thickness at the root, are at +the tip sharper than the point of a spear, and would inflict a terrible +wound on any animal which might inadvertently rush against them? + +One of the first houses at San Lucar was the _posada_ at which we +stopped. It confronted, with some others, the avenue up which we had +come. As it was still early, I betook myself to rest for a few hours, at +the end of which time I went out to visit Mr. Phillipi, the British +vice-consul, who was already acquainted with me by name, as I had been +recommended to him in a letter from a relation of his at Seville. Mr. +Phillipi was at home in his counting-house, and received me with much +kindness and civility. I told him the motive of my visit to San Lucar, +and requested his assistance towards obtaining the books from the +custom-house, in order to transport them out of the country, as I was +very well acquainted with the difficulties which every one has to +encounter in Spain who has any business to transact with the government +authorities. He assured me that he should be most happy to assist me; +and, accordingly, despatched with me to the custom-house his head clerk, +a person well known and much respected at San Lucar. + +It may be as well here at once to give the history of these books, which +might otherwise tend to embarrass the narrative. They consisted of a +chest of Testaments in Spanish, and a small box of Saint Luke’s Gospel in +the _Gitano_ language of the Spanish gypsies. I obtained them from the +custom-house at San Lucar, with a pass for that of Cadiz. At Cadiz I was +occupied two days, and also a person whom I employed, in going through +all the formalities, and in procuring the necessary papers. The expense +was great, as money was demanded at every step I had to take, though I +was simply complying, in this instance, with the orders of the Spanish +government in removing prohibited books from Spain. The farce did not +end until my arrival at Gibraltar, where I paid the Spanish consul a +dollar for certifying on the back of the pass, which I had to return to +Cadiz, that the books were arrived at the former place. It is true that +he never saw the books, nor inquired about them; but he received the +money, for which he alone seemed to be anxious. + +Whilst at the custom-house of San Lucar I was asked one or two questions +respecting the books contained in the chests: this afforded me some +opportunity of speaking of the New Testament and the Bible Society. What +I said excited attention; and presently all the officers and dependents +of the house, great and small, were gathered around me, from the governor +to the porter. As it was necessary to open the boxes to inspect their +contents, we all proceeded to the courtyard, where, holding a Testament +in my hand, I recommenced my discourse. I scarcely know what I said; for +I was much agitated, and hurried away by my feelings, when I bethought me +of the manner in which the Word of God was persecuted in this unhappy +kingdom. My words evidently made impression, and to my astonishment +every person present pressed me for a copy. I sold several within the +walls of the custom-house. The object, however, of most attention was +the gypsy Gospel, which was minutely examined amidst smiles and +exclamations of surprise; an individual every now and then crying, +“_Cosas de los Ingleses_.” A bystander asked me whether I could speak +the _Gitano_ language. I replied that I could not only speak it, but +write it, and instantly made a speech of about five minutes in the gypsy +tongue, which I had no sooner concluded than all clapped their hands and +simultaneously shouted, “_Cosas de Inglaterra_,” “_Cosas de los +Ingleses_.” I disposed of several copies of the gypsy Gospel likewise, +and having now settled the business which had brought me to the +custom-house, I saluted my new friends and departed with my books. + +I now revisited Mr. Phillipi, who, upon learning that it was my intention +to proceed to Cadiz next morning by the steamer, which would touch at +Bonanza at four o’clock, despatched the chests and my little luggage to +the latter place, where he likewise advised me to sleep, in order that I +might be in readiness to embark at that early hour. He then introduced +me to his family, his wife an English woman, and his daughter an amiable +and beautiful girl of about eighteen years of age, whom I had previously +seen at Seville; three or four other ladies from Seville were likewise +there on a visit, and for the purpose of sea-bathing. After a few words +in English between the lady of the house and myself, we all commenced +chatting in Spanish, which seemed to be the only language understood or +cared for by the rest of the company; indeed, who would be so +unreasonable as to expect Spanish females to speak any language but their +own, which, flexible and harmonious as it is (far more so, I think, than +any other), seems at times quite inadequate to express the wild sallies +of their luxuriant imagination. Two hours fled rapidly away in +discourse, interrupted occasionally by music and song, when I bade +farewell to this delightful society, and strolled out to view the town. + +It was now past noon, and the heat was exceedingly fierce: I saw scarcely +a living being in the streets, the stones of which burnt my feet through +the soles of my boots. I passed through the square of the Constitution, +which presents nothing particular to the eye of the stranger, and +ascended the hill to obtain a nearer view of the castle. It is a strong +heavy edifice of stone, with round towers, and, though deserted, appears +to be still in a tolerable state of preservation. I became tired of +gazing, and was retracing my steps, when I was accosted by two gypsies, +who by some means had heard of my arrival. We exchanged some words in +_Gitano_, but they appeared to be very ignorant of the dialect, and +utterly unable to maintain a conversation in it. They were clamorous for +a _gabicote_, or book in the gypsy tongue. I refused it them, saying +that they could turn it to no profitable account; but finding that they +could read, I promised them each a Testament in Spanish. This offer, +however, they refused with disdain, saying that they cared for nothing +written in the language of the _Busné_ or Gentiles. They then persisted +in their demand, to which I at last yielded, being unable to resist their +importunity; whereupon they accompanied me to the inn, and received what +they so ardently desired. + +In the evening I was visited by Mr. Phillipi, who informed me that he had +ordered a cabriolet to call for me at the inn at eleven at night, for the +purpose of conveying me to Bonanza, and that a person there, who kept a +small wine-house, and to whom the chests and other things had been +forwarded, would receive me for the night, though it was probable that I +should have to sleep on the floor. We then walked to the beach, where +there were a great number of bathers, all men. Amongst them were some +good swimmers; two, in particular, were out at a great distance in the +firth of the Guadalquivir, I should say at least a mile; their heads +could just be descried with the telescope. I was told that they were +friars. I wondered at what period of their lives they had acquired their +dexterity at natation. I hoped it was not at a time when, according to +their vows, they should have lived for prayer, fasting, and mortification +alone. Swimming is a noble exercise, but it certainly does not tend to +mortify either the flesh or the spirit. As it was becoming dusk, we +returned to the town, when my friend bade me a kind farewell. I then +retired to my apartment, and passed some hours in meditation. + +It was night, ten o’clock;—eleven o’clock, and the cabriolet was at the +door. I got in, and we proceeded down the avenue and along the shore, +which was quite deserted. The waves sounded mournfully; everything +seemed to have changed since the morning. I even thought that the +horse’s feet sounded differently as it trotted slowly over the moist firm +sand. The driver, however, was by no means mournful, nor inclined to be +silent long: he soon commenced asking me an infinity of questions as to +whence I came and whither I was bound. Having given him what answers I +thought most proper, I, in return, asked him whether he was not afraid to +drive along that beach, which had always borne so bad a character, at so +unseasonable an hour. Whereupon he looked around him, and seeing no +person, he raised a shout of derision, and said that a fellow with his +whiskers feared not all the thieves that ever walked the _playa_, and +that no dozen men in San Lucar dare to waylay any traveller whom they +knew to be beneath his protection. He was a good specimen of the +Andalusian braggart. We soon saw a light or two shining dimly before us; +they proceeded from a few barks and small vessels stranded on the sand +close below Bonanza: amongst them I distinguished two or three dusky +figures. We were now at our journey’s end, and stopped before the door +of the place where I was to lodge for the night. The driver, +dismounting, knocked loud and long, until the door was opened by an +exceedingly stout man of about sixty years of age; he held a dim light in +his hand, and was dressed in a red nightcap and dirty striped shirt. He +admitted us, without a word, into a very large long room with a clay +floor. A species of counter stood on one side near the door; behind it +stood a barrel or two, and against the wall, on shelves, many bottles of +various sizes. The smell of liquors and wine was very powerful. I +settled with the driver and gave him a gratuity, whereupon he asked me +for something to drink to my safe journey. I told him he could call for +whatever he pleased: whereupon he demanded a glass of _aguardiente_, +which the master of the house, who had stationed himself behind the +counter, handed him without saying a word. The fellow drank it off at +once, but made a great many wry faces after having swallowed it, and, +coughing, said that he made no doubt it was good liquor, as it burnt his +throat terribly. He then embraced me, went out, mounted his cabriolet, +and drove off. + +The old man with the red nightcap now moved slowly to the door, which he +bolted and otherwise secured; he then drew forward two benches, which he +placed together, and pointed to them as if to intimate to me that there +was my bed: he then blew out the candle and retired deeper into the +apartment, where I heard him lay himself down sighing and snorting. +There was now no further light than what proceeded from a small earthen +pan on the floor, filled with water and oil, on which floated a small +piece of card with a lighted wick in the middle, which simple species of +lamp is called _mariposa_. {282} I now laid my carpet-bag on the bench +as a pillow, and flung myself down. I should have been asleep instantly, +but he of the red nightcap now commenced snoring awfully, which brought +to my mind that I had not yet commended myself to my Friend and Redeemer: +I therefore prayed, and then sank to repose. + +I was awakened more than once during the night by cats, and I believe +rats, leaping upon my body. At the last of these interruptions I arose, +and, approaching the _mariposa_, looked at my watch; it was half-past +three o’clock. I opened the door and looked out; whereupon some +fishermen entered, clamouring for their morning draught: the old man was +soon on his feet serving them. One of the men said to me, that if I was +going by the steamer, I had better order my things to the wharf without +delay, as he had heard the vessel coming down the river. I despatched my +luggage, and then demanded of the red nightcap what I owed him. He +replied, “_Un real_.” These were the only two words which I heard +proceed from his mouth: he was certainly addicted to silence, and perhaps +to philosophy, neither of which are much practised in Andalusia. I now +hurried to the wharf. The steamer was not yet arrived, but I heard its +thunder up the river every moment becoming more distinct: there were mist +and darkness upon the face of the waters, and I felt awe as I listened to +the approach of the invisible monster booming through the stillness of +the night. It came at last in sight, plashed its way forward, stopped, +and I was soon on board. It was the _Peninsula_, the best boat on the +Guadalquivir. + +What a wonderful production of art is a steamboat! and yet why should we +call it wonderful, if we consider its history? More than five hundred +years have elapsed since the idea of making one first originated; but it +was not until the close of the last century that the first, worthy of the +name, made its appearance on a Scottish river. + +During this long period of time, acute minds and skilful hands were +occasionally busied in attempting to remove those imperfections in the +machinery which alone prevented a vessel being made capable of propelling +itself against wind and tide. All these attempts were successively +abandoned in despair, yet scarcely one was made which was perfectly +fruitless; each inventor leaving behind him some monument of his labour, +of which those who succeeded him took advantage, until at last a +fortunate thought or two, and a few more perfect arrangements, were all +that were wanting. The time arrived, and now, at length, the very +Atlantic is crossed by haughty steamers. Much has been said of the +utility of steam in spreading abroad civilization, and I think justly. +When the first steam-vessels were seen on the Guadalquivir, about ten +years ago, the Sevillians ran to the banks of the river, crying “sorcery, +sorcery,” which idea was not a little favoured by the speculation being +an English one, and the boats, which were English built, being provided +with English engineers, as, indeed, they still are; no Spaniard having +been found capable of understanding the machinery. They soon, however, +became accustomed to them, and the boats are in general crowded with +passengers. Fanatic and vain as the Sevillians still are, and bigoted as +they remain to their own customs, they know that good, in one instance at +least, can proceed from a foreign land, and that land a land of heretics; +inveterate prejudice has been shaken, and we will hope that this is the +dawn of their civilization. + +Whilst passing over the bay of Cadiz, I was reclining on one of the +benches on the deck, when the captain walked by in company with another +man; they stopped a short distance from me, and I heard the captain ask +the other, in a low voice, how many languages he spoke; he replied, “Only +one.” “That one,” said the captain, “is of course the Christian;” by +which name the Spaniards style their own language, in contradistinction +to all others. “That fellow,” continued the captain, “who is lying on +the deck, can speak Christian too, when it serves his purpose, but he +speaks others, which are by no means Christian: he can talk English, and +I myself have heard him chatter in _Gitano_ with the gypsies of Triana; +he is now going amongst the Moors, and when he arrives in their country +you will hear him, should you be there, converse as fluently in their +gibberish as in _Cristiano_, nay, better, for he is no Christian himself. +He has been several times on board my vessel already, but I do not like +him, as I consider that he carries something about with him which is not +good.” + +This worthy person, on my coming aboard the boat, had shaken me by the +hand and expressed his joy at seeing me again. + + + + +CHAPTER LI. + + +Cadiz—The Fortifications—The Consul-General—Characteristic +Anecdote—Catalan Steamer—Trafalgar—Alonzo Guzman—Gibil Muza—Orestes +Frigate—The Hostile Lion—Works of the Creator—Lizard of the Rock—The +Concourse—Queen of the Waters—Broken Prayer. + +Cadiz stands, as is well known, upon a long narrow neck of land +stretching out into the ocean, from whose bosom the town appears to rise, +the salt waters laving its walls on all sides save the east, where a +sandy isthmus connects it with the coast of Spain. The town, as it +exists at the present day, is of modern construction, and very unlike any +other town which is to be found in the Peninsula, being built with great +regularity and symmetry. The streets are numerous, and intersect each +other, for the most part at right angles. They are very narrow in +comparison to the height of the houses, so that they are almost +impervious to the rays of the sun, except when at its midday altitude. +The principal street, however, is an exception, it being of some width. +This street, in which stands the Bolsa, or exchange, and which contains +the houses of the chief merchants and nobility, is the grand resort of +loungers as well as men of business during the early part of the day, and +in that respect resembles the Puerta del Sol at Madrid. It is connected +with the great square, which, though not of very considerable extent, has +many pretensions to magnificence, it being surrounded with large imposing +houses, and planted with fine trees, with marble seats below them for the +accommodation of the public. There are few public edifices worthy of +much attention: the chief church, indeed, might be considered a fine +monument of labour in some other countries; but in Spain, the land of +noble and gigantic cathedrals, it can be styled nothing more than a +decent place of worship; it is still in an unfinished state. There is a +public walk, or _alameda_, on the northern ramparts, which is generally +thronged in summer evenings: the green of its trees, when viewed from the +bay, affords an agreeable relief to the eye, dazzled with the glare of +the white buildings, for Cadiz is also a bright city. It was once the +wealthiest place in all Spain, but its prosperity has of late years sadly +diminished, and its inhabitants are continually lamenting its ruined +trade; on which account many are daily abandoning it for Seville, where +living at least is cheaper. There is still, however, much life and +bustle in the streets, which are adorned with many splendid shops, +several of which are in the style of Paris and London. The present +population is said to amount to eighty thousand souls. + +It is not without reason that Cadiz has been called a strong town: the +fortifications on the land side, which were partly the work of the French +during the sway of Napoleon, are perfectly admirable, and seem +impregnable: towards the sea it is defended as much by nature as by art, +water and sunken rocks being no contemptible bulwarks. The defences of +the town, however, except the landward ones, afford melancholy proofs of +Spanish apathy and neglect, even when allowance is made for the present +peculiarly unhappy circumstances of the country. Scarcely a gun, except +a few dismounted ones, is to be seen on the fortifications, which are +rapidly falling to decay, so that this insulated stronghold is at present +almost at the mercy of any foreign nation which, upon any pretence, or +none at all, should seek to tear it from the grasp of its present +legitimate possessors, and convert it into a foreign colony. + +A few hours after my arrival, I waited upon Mr. B---, {288} the British +consul-general at Cadiz. His house, which is the corner one at the +entrance of the _alameda_, commands a noble prospect of the bay, and is +very large and magnificent. I had, of course, long been acquainted with +Mr. B--- by reputation; I knew that for several years he had filled, with +advantage to his native country, and with honour to himself, the +distinguished and highly responsible situation which he holds in Spain. +I knew, likewise, that he was a good and pious Christian, and, moreover, +the firm and enlightened friend of the Bible Society. Of all this I was +aware, but I had never yet enjoyed the advantage of being personally +acquainted with him. I saw him now for the first time, and was much +struck with his appearance. He is a tall, athletic, finely built man, +seemingly about forty-five or fifty; there is much dignity in his +countenance, which is, however, softened by an expression of good humour +truly engaging. His manner is frank and affable in the extreme. I am +not going to enter into minute details of our interview, which was to me +a very interesting one. He knew already the leading parts of my history +since my arrival in Spain, and made several comments upon it, which +displayed his intimate knowledge of the situation of the country as +regards ecclesiastical matters, and the state of opinion respecting +religious innovation. + +I was pleased to find that his ideas in many points accorded with my own, +and we were both decidedly of opinion that, notwithstanding the great +persecution and outcry which had lately been raised against the Gospel, +the battle was by no means lost, and that the holy cause might yet +triumph in Spain, if zeal united with discretion and Christian humility +were displayed by those called upon to uphold it. + +During the greater part of this and the following day, I was much +occupied at the custom-house, endeavouring to obtain the documents +necessary for the exportation of the Testaments. On the afternoon of +Saturday I dined with Mr. B--- and his family—an interesting group—his +lady, his beautiful daughters, and his son, a fine intelligent young man. +Early the next morning a steamer, the _Balear_, was to quit Cadiz for +Marseilles, touching on the way at Algeziras, Gibraltar, and various +other ports of Spain. I had engaged my passage on board her as far as +Gibraltar, having nothing further to detain me at Cadiz; my business with +the custom-house having been brought at last to a termination, though I +believe I should never have got through it but for the kind assistance of +Mr. B---. I quitted this excellent man and my other charming friends at +a late hour with regret. I believe that I carried with me their very +best wishes; and, in whatever part of the world I, a poor wanderer in the +Gospel’s cause, may chance to be, I shall not unfrequently offer up +sincere prayers for their happiness and well-being. + +Before taking leave of Cadiz I shall relate an anecdote of the British +consul, characteristic of him and the happy manner in which he contrives +to execute the most disagreeable duties of his situation. I was in +conversation with him in a parlour of his house, when we were interrupted +by the entrance of two very unexpected visitors: they were the captain of +a Liverpool merchant-vessel and one of the crew. The latter was a rough +sailor, a Welshman, who could only express himself in very imperfect +English. They looked unutterable dislike and defiance at each other. It +appeared that the latter had refused to work, and insisted on leaving the +ship, and his master had in consequence brought him before the consul, in +order that, if he persisted, the consequences might be detailed to him, +which would be the forfeiture of his wages and clothes. This was done; +but the fellow became more and more dogged, refusing ever to tread the +same deck again with his captain, who, he said, had called him “Greek, +lazy lubberly Greek,” which he would not bear. The word Greek rankled in +the sailor’s mind, and stung him to the very core. Mr. B---, who seemed +to be perfectly acquainted with the character of Welshmen in general—who +are proverbially obstinate when opposition is offered to them—and who saw +at once that the dispute had arisen on foolish and trivial grounds, now +told the man, with a smile, that he would inform him of a way by which he +might gain the weather-gage of every one of them, consul, and captain, +and all, and secure his wages and clothes; which was by merely going on +board a brig-of-war of her Majesty, which was then lying in the bay. The +fellow said he was aware of this, and intended to do so. His grim +features, however, instantly relaxed in some degree, and he looked more +humanely upon his captain. Mr. B--- then, addressing himself to the +latter, made some observations on the impropriety of using the word Greek +to a British sailor: not forgetting at the same time to speak of the +absolute necessity of obedience and discipline on board every ship. His +words produced such an effect, that in a very little time the sailor held +out his hand towards his captain, and expressed his willingness to go on +board with him and perform his duty, adding, that the captain, upon the +whole, was the best man in the world. So they departed mutually pleased; +the consul making both of them promise to attend divine service at his +house on the following day. + +Sunday morning came, and I was on board the steamer by six o’clock. As I +ascended the side, the harsh sound of the Catalan dialect assailed my +ears. In fact, the vessel was Catalan built, and the captain and crew +were of that nation; the greater part of the passengers already on board, +or who subsequently arrived, appeared to be Catalans, and seemed to vie +with each other in producing disagreeable sounds. A burly merchant, +however, with a red face, peaked chin, sharp eyes, and hooked nose, +clearly bore off the palm; he conversed with astonishing eagerness on +seemingly the most indifferent subjects, or rather on no subject at all; +his voice would have sounded exactly like a coffee-mill but for a vile +nasal twang: he poured forth his Catalan incessantly till we arrived at +Gibraltar. Such people are never sea-sick, though they frequently +produce or aggravate the malady in others. We did not get under way +until past eight o’clock, for we waited for the Governor of Algeziras, +and started instantly on his coming on board. He was a tall, thin, rigid +figure of about seventy, with a long, grave, wrinkled countenance; in a +word, the very image of an old Spanish grandee. We stood out of the bay, +rounding the lofty lighthouse, which stands on a ledge of rocks, and then +bent our course to the south, in the direction of the Straits. It was a +glorious morning, a blue sunny sky and blue sunny ocean; or rather, as my +friend Oehlenschlæger {292a} has observed on a similar occasion, there +appeared two skies and two suns, one above and one below. + +Our progress was rather slow, notwithstanding the fineness of the +weather, probably owing to the tide being against us. In about two hours +we passed the Castle of Santa Petra, and at noon were in sight of +Trafalgar. The wind now freshened, and was dead ahead; on which account +we hugged closely to the coast, in order to avoid as much as possible the +strong heavy sea which was pouring down from the Straits. We passed +within a very short distance of the Cape, a bold bluff foreland, but not +of any considerable height. + +It is impossible for an Englishman to pass by this place—the scene of the +most celebrated naval action on record—without emotion. Here it was that +the united navies of France and Spain were annihilated by a far inferior +force; but that force was British, and was directed by one of the most +remarkable men of the age, and perhaps the greatest hero of any time. +{292b} Huge fragments of wreck still frequently emerge from the watery +gulf whose billows chafe the rocky sides of Trafalgar: they are relics of +the enormous ships which were burnt and sunk on that terrible day, when +the heroic champion of Britain concluded his work and died. I never +heard but one individual venture to say a word in disparagement of +Nelson’s glory: it was a pert American, {293a} who observed, that the +British admiral was much overrated. “Can that individual be overrated,” +replied a stranger, “whose every thought was bent on his country’s +honour, who scarcely ever fought without leaving a piece of his body in +the fray, and who, not to speak of minor triumphs, was victorious, in two +such actions as Aboukir and Trafalgar?” + +We were now soon in sight of the Moorish coast, Cape Spartel appearing +dimly through mist and vapour on our right. A regular Levanter {293b} +had now come on, and the vessel pitched and tossed to a very considerable +degree. Most of the passengers were seasick; the governor, however, and +myself held out manfully: we sat on a bench together, and entered into +conversation respecting the Moors and their country. Torquemada himself +could not have spoken of both with more abhorrence. He informed me that +he had been frequently in several of the principal Moorish towns of the +coast, which he described as heaps of ruins: the Moors themselves he +called _Caffres_ {293c} and wild beasts. He observed that he had never +been even at Tangier, where the people were most civilized, without +experiencing some insult, so great was the abhorrence of the Moors to +anything in the shape of a Christian. He added, however, that they +treated the English with comparative civility, and that they had a saying +among them to the effect that Englishman and Mahometan were one and the +same: he then looked particularly grave for a moment, and, crossing +himself, was silent. I guessed what was passing in his mind:— + + “From heretic boors, + And Turkish Moors, + Star of the sea, + Gentle Marie, + Deliver me!” + +At about three we were passing Tarifa, so frequently mentioned in the +history of Moors and Christians. Who has not heard of Alonzo Guzman the +Faithful, {294} who allowed his only son to be crucified before the walls +of the town rather than submit to the ignominy of delivering up the keys +to the Moorish monarch, who, with a host which is said to have amounted +to nearly half a million of men, had landed on the shores of Andalusia, +and threatened to bring all Spain once more beneath the Moslem yoke? +Certainly if there be a land and a spot where the name of that good +patriot is not sometimes mentioned and sung, that land, that spot, is +modern Spain and modern Tarifa. I have heard the ballad of Alonzo Guzman +chanted in Danish, by a hind in the wilds of Jutland; but once speaking +of “the Faithful” to some inhabitants of Tarifa, they replied that they +had never heard of Guzman the Faithful of Tarifa, but were acquainted +with Alonzo Guzman, _el tuerto_, and that he was one of the most +villanous _arrieros_ on the Cadiz road. + +The voyage of these narrow seas can scarcely fail to be interesting to +the most apathetic individual, from the nature of the scenery which +presents itself to the eye on either side. The coasts are exceedingly +high and bold, especially that of Spain, which seems to overcrow the +Moorish; but opposite to Tarifa, the African continent, rounding towards +the south-west, assumes an air of sublimity and grandeur. A hoary +mountain is seen uplifting its summits above the clouds: it is Mount +Abyla, or, as it is called in the Moorish tongue, Gibil Muza, or the hill +of Muza, from the circumstance of its containing the sepulchre of a +prophet of that name. {295} This is one of the two excrescences of +nature on which the Old World bestowed the title of the Pillars of +Hercules. Its skirts and sides occupy the Moorish coast for many leagues +in more than one direction, but the broad aspect of its steep and +stupendous front is turned full towards that part of the European +continent where Gibraltar lies like a huge monster stretching far into +the brine. Of the two hills, or pillars, the most remarkable, when +viewed from afar, is the African one, Gibil Muza. It is the tallest and +bulkiest, and is visible at a greater distance; but scan them both from +near, and you feel that all your wonder is engrossed by the European +column. Gibil Muza is an immense shapeless mass, a wilderness of rocks, +with here and there a few trees and shrubs nodding from the clefts of its +precipices; it is uninhabited, save by wolves, wild swine, and chattering +monkeys, on which last account it is called by the Spaniards, _Montaña de +las Monas_, {296a} whilst, on the contrary, Gibraltar, not to speak of +the strange city which covers part of it, a city inhabited by men of all +nations and tongues, its batteries and excavations, all of them miracles +of art, is the most singular-looking mountain in the world—a mountain +which can neither be described by pen nor pencil, and at which the eye is +never satiated with gazing. + +It was near sunset, and we were crossing the bay of Gibraltar. We had +stopped at Algeziras, on the Spanish side, for the purpose of landing the +old governor and his suite, and delivering and receiving letters. + +Algeziras is an ancient Moorish town, as the name denotes, which is an +Arabic word, and signifies “the place of the islands.” {296b} It is +situated at the water’s edge, with a lofty range of mountains in the +rear. It seemed a sad deserted place, as far as I could judge at the +distance of half a mile. In the harbour, however, lay a Spanish frigate +and French war brig. As we passed the former, some of the Spaniards on +board our steamer became boastful at the expense of the English. It +appeared that, a few weeks before, an English vessel, suspected to be a +contraband trader, was seen by this frigate hovering about a bay on the +Andalusian coast, in company with an English frigate, the _Orestes_. The +Spaniard dogged them for some time, till one morning, observing that the +_Orestes_ had disappeared, he hoisted English colours, and made a signal +to the trader to bear down; the latter, deceived by the British ensign, +and supposing that the Spaniard was the friendly _Orestes_, instantly +drew near, was fired at and boarded, and, proving in effect to be a +contraband trader, she was carried into port and delivered over to the +Spanish authorities. In a few days the captain of the _Orestes_ hearing +of this, and incensed at the unwarrantable use made of the British flag, +sent a boat on board the frigate, demanding that the vessel should be +instantly restored, as, if she was not, he would retake her by force; +adding, that he had forty cannons on board. The captain of the Spanish +frigate returned for answer, that the trader was in the hands of the +officers of the customs, and was no longer at his disposal; that the +captain of the _Orestes_, however, could do what he pleased, and that if +he had forty guns, he himself had forty-four; whereupon the _Orestes_ +thought proper to bear away. Such at least was the Spanish account, as +related by the journals. Observing the Spaniards to be in great glee at +the idea of one of their nation having frightened away the Englishman, I +exclaimed, “Gentlemen, all of you who suppose that an English sea-captain +has been deterred from attacking a Spaniard, from an apprehension of a +superior force of four guns, remember, if you please, the fate of the +_Santísima Trinidad_, and be pleased also not to forget that we are +almost within cannon’s sound of Trafalgar.” + +It was near sunset, I repeat, and we were crossing the bay of Gibraltar. +I stood on the prow of the vessel, with my eyes intently fixed on the +mountain fortress, which, though I had seen it several times before, +filled my mind with admiration and interest. Viewed from this situation, +it certainly, if it resembles any animate object in nature, has something +of the appearance of a terrible couchant lion, whose stupendous head +menaces Spain. Had I been dreaming, I should almost have concluded it to +be the genius of Africa, in the shape of its most puissant monster, who +had bounded over the sea from the clime of sand and sun, bent on the +destruction of the rival continent, more especially as the hue of its +stony sides, its crest and chine, is tawny even as that of the hide of +the desert king. A hostile lion has it almost invariably proved to +Spain, at least since it first began to play a part in history, which was +at the time when Tarik seized and fortified it. {298} It has for the +most part been in the hands of foreigners: first the swarthy and turbaned +Moor possessed it, and it is now tenanted by a fair-haired race from a +distant isle. Though a part of Spain, it seems to disavow the connexion, +and at the end of a long narrow sandy isthmus, almost level with the sea, +raising its blasted and perpendicular brow to denounce the crimes which +deformed the history of that fair and majestic land. + +It was near sunset, I say it for the third time, and we were crossing the +bay of Gibraltar. Bay! it seemed no bay, but an inland sea, surrounded +on all sides by enchanted barriers, so strange, so wonderful was the +aspect of its coasts. Before us lay the impregnable hill; on our right +the African continent, with its grey Gibil Muza, and the crag of Ceuta, +to which last a solitary bark seemed steering its way; behind us the town +we had just quitted, with its mountain wall; on our left the coast of +Spain. The surface of the water was unruffled by a wave, and as we +rapidly glided on, the strange object which we were approaching became +momentarily more distinct and visible. There, at the base of the +mountain, and covering a small portion of its side, lay the city, with +its ramparts garnished with black guns, pointing significantly at its +moles and harbours; above, seemingly on every crag which could be made +available for the purpose of defence or destruction, peered batteries, +pale and sepulchral looking, as if ominous of the fate which awaited any +intrusive foe; whilst east and west towards Africa and Spain, on the +extreme points, rose castles, towers, or _atalayas_, which overcrowed the +whole, and all the circumjacent region, whether land or sea. Mighty and +threatening appeared the fortifications, and doubtless, viewed in any +other situation, would have alone occupied the mind and engrossed its +wonder; but the hill, the wondrous hill was everywhere about them, +beneath them, or above them, overpowering their effect as a spectacle. +Who, when he beholds the enormous elephant, with his brandished trunk, +dashing impetuously to the war, sees the castle which he bears, or fears +the javelins of those whom he carries, however skilful and warlike they +may be? Never does God appear so great and powerful as when the works of +his hands stand in contrast with the labours of man. Survey the +Escurial; it is a proud work, but wonder if you can when you see the +mountain mocking it behind; survey that boast of Moorish kings, survey +Granada from its plain, and wonder if you can, for you see the Alpujarras +mocking it from behind. Oh, what are the works of man compared with +those of the Lord? Even as man is compared with his Creator. Man builds +pyramids, and God builds pyramids; the pyramids of man are heaps of +shingles, tiny hillocks on a sandy plain; the pyramids of the Lord are +Andes and Indian hills. Man builds walls, and so does his Master; but +the walls of God are the black precipices of Gibraltar and Horneel, +eternal, indestructible, and not to be scaled; whilst those of man can be +climbed, can be broken by the wave, or shattered by the lightning or the +powder blast. Would man display his power and grandeur to advantage, let +him flee far from the hills; for the broad pennants of God, even his +clouds, float upon the tops of the hills, and the majesty of God is most +manifest among the hills. Call Gibraltar the hill of Tarik or Hercules, +if you will; but gaze upon it for a moment, and you will call it the hill +of God. Tarik and the old giant may have built upon it; but not all the +dark race of whom Tarik was one, nor all the giants of old renown of whom +the other was one, could have built up its crags or chiselled the +enormous mass to its present shape. + +We dropped anchor not far from the Mole. As we expected every moment to +hear the evening gun, after which no person is permitted to enter the +town, I was in trepidation lest I should be obliged to pass the night on +board the dirty Catalan steamer, which, as I had no occasion to proceed +further in her, I was in great haste to quit. A boat now drew nigh, with +two individuals at the stern, one of whom, standing up, demanded, in an +authoritative voice, the name of the vessel, her destination, and cargo. +Upon being answered, they came on board. After some conversation with +the captain, they were about to depart, when I inquired whether I could +accompany them on shore. The person I addressed was a tall young man, +with a fustian frock-coat. He had a long face, long nose, and wide +mouth, with large restless eyes. There was a grin on his countenance +which seemed permanent, and, had it not been for his bronzed complexion, +I should have declared him to be a cockney, and nothing else. He was, +however, no such thing, but what is called “a rock lizard,” {301} that +is, a person born at Gibraltar of English parents. Upon hearing my +question, which was in Spanish, he grinned more than ever, and inquired, +in a strange accent, whether I was a son of Gibraltar. I replied that I +had not that honour, but that I was a British subject. Whereupon he said +that he should make no difficulty in taking me ashore. We entered the +boat, which was rapidly rowed toward the land by four Genoese sailors. +My two companions chattered in their strange Spanish, he of the fustian +occasionally turning his countenance full upon me, the last grin +appearing even more hideous than the preceding ones. We soon reached the +quay, where my name was noted down by a person who demanded my passport, +and I was then permitted to advance. + +It was now dusk, and I lost no time in crossing the drawbridge and +entering the long low archway which, passing under the rampart, +communicates with the town. Beneath this archway paced, with measured +tread, tall red-coated sentinels with shouldered guns. There was no +stopping, no sauntering in these men. There was no laughter, no exchange +of light conversation with the passers-by, but their bearing was that of +British soldiers, conscious of the duties of their station. What a +difference between them and the listless loiterers who stand at guard at +the gate of a Spanish garrisoned town! + +I now proceeded up the principal street, which runs with a gentle ascent +along the base of the hill. Accustomed for some months past to the +melancholy silence of Seville, I was almost deafened by the noise and +bustle which reigned around. It was Sunday night, and of course no +business was going on, but there were throngs of people passing up and +down. Here was a military guard proceeding along; here walked a group of +officers, there a knot of soldiers stood talking and laughing. The +greater part of the civilians appeared to be Spaniards, but there was a +large sprinkling of Jews in the dress of those of Barbary, and here and +there a turbaned Moor. There were gangs of sailors likewise, Genoese, +judging from the patois which they were speaking, though I occasionally +distinguished the sound of _tou logou sas_, {302} by which I knew there +were Greeks at hand, and twice or thrice caught a glimpse of the red cap +and blue silken petticoats of the mariner from the Romaic isles. On +still I hurried, till I arrived at a well-known hostelry, close by a kind +of square, in which stands the little exchange of Gibraltar. Into this I +ran and demanded lodging, receiving a cheerful welcome from the genius of +the place, who stood behind the bar, and whom I shall perhaps have +occasion subsequently to describe. All the lower rooms were filled with +men of the rock, burly men in general, with swarthy complexions and +English features, with white hats, white jean jerkins, and white jean +pantaloons. They were smoking pipes and cigars, and drinking porter, +wine, and various other fluids, and conversing in the rock Spanish, or +rock English, as the fit took them. Dense was the smoke of tobacco, and +great the din of voices, and I was glad to hasten upstairs to an +unoccupied apartment, where I was served with some refreshment, of which +I stood much in need. + +I was soon disturbed by the sound of martial music close below my +windows. I went down and stood at the door. A military band was +marshalled upon the little square before the exchange. It was preparing +to beat the retreat. After the prelude, which was admirably executed, +the tall leader gave a flourish with his stick, and strode forward up the +street, followed by the whole company of noble-looking fellows and a +crowd of admiring listeners. The cymbals clashed, the horns screamed, +and the kettle-drum emitted its deep awful note, till the old rock echoed +again, and the hanging terraces of the town rang with the stirring noise— + + “Dub-a-dub, dub-a-dub—thus go the drums, + Tantara, tantara, the Englishman comes.” + +O England! long, long may it be ere the sun of thy glory sink beneath the +wave of darkness! Though gloomy and portentous clouds are now gathering +rapidly around thee, still, still may it please the Almighty to disperse +them, and to grant thee a futurity longer in duration, and still brighter +in renown, than thy past! Or if thy doom be at hand, may that doom be a +noble one, and worthy of her who has been styled the Old Queen of the +waters! May thou sink, if thou dost sink, amidst blood and flame, with a +mighty noise, causing more than one nation to participate in thy +downfall! Of all fates, may it please the Lord to preserve thee from a +disgraceful and a slow decay; becoming, ere extinct, a scorn and a +mockery for those selfsame foes who now, though they envy and abhor thee, +still fear thee, nay, even against their will, honour and respect thee! + +Arouse thee, whilst yet there is time, and prepare thee for the combat of +life and death! Cast from thee the foul scurf which now encrusts thy +robust limbs, which deadens their force, and makes them heavy and +powerless! Cast from thee thy false philosophers, who would fain decry +what, next to the love of God, has hitherto been deemed most sacred, the +love of the mother land! Cast from thee thy false patriots, who, under +the pretext of redressing the wrongs of the poor and weak, seek to +promote internal discord, so that thou mayest become only terrible to +thyself! And remove from thee the false prophets, who have seen vanity +and divined lies; who have daubed thy wall with untempered mortar, that +it may fall; who see visions of peace where there is no peace; who have +strengthened the hands of the wicked, and made the heart of the righteous +sad. Oh, do this, and fear not the result; for either shall thy end be a +majestic and an enviable one, or God shall perpetuate thy reign upon the +waters, thou Old Queen! + +The above was part of a broken prayer for my native land, which, after my +usual thanksgiving, I breathed to the Almighty ere retiring to rest that +Sunday night at Gibraltar. + + + + +CHAPTER LII. + + +The Jolly Hosteler—Aspirants for Glory—A Portrait—Hamáles—Solomons—An +Expedition—The Yeoman Soldier—The Excavations—The Pull by the Skirt—Judah +and his Father—Judah’s Pilgrimage—The Bushy Beard—The False Moors—Judah +and the King’s Son—Premature Old Age. + +Perhaps it would have been impossible to have chosen a situation more +adapted for studying at my ease Gibraltar and its inhabitants, than that +which I found myself occupying about ten o’clock on the following +morning. Seated on a small bench just opposite the bar, close by the +door, in the passage of the hostelry at which I had taken up my temporary +abode, I enjoyed a view of the square of the exchange and all that was +going on there, and, by merely raising my eyes, could gaze at my leisure +on the stupendous hill which towers above the town to an altitude of some +thousand feet. I could likewise observe every person who entered or left +the house, which is one of great resort, being situated in the most +frequented place of the principal thoroughfare of the town. My eyes were +busy, and so were my ears. Close beside me stood my excellent friend +Griffiths, the jolly hosteler, of whom I take the present opportunity of +saying a few words, though I dare say he has been frequently described +before, and by far better pens. Let those who know him not figure to +themselves a man of about fifty, at least six feet in height, and +weighing some eighteen stone, an exceedingly florid countenance and good +features, eyes full of quickness and shrewdness, but at the same time +beaming with good nature. He wears white pantaloons, white frock, and +white hat, and is, indeed, all white, with the exception of his polished +Wellingtons and rubicund face. He carries a whip beneath his arm, which +adds wonderfully to the knowingness of his appearance, which is rather +more that of a gentleman who keeps an inn on the Newmarket road, “purely +for the love of travellers, and the money which they carry about them,” +than of a native of the rock. Nevertheless, he will tell you himself +that he is a rock lizard; and you will scarcely doubt it when, besides +his English, which is broad and vernacular, you hear him speak Spanish, +ay, and Genoese too, when necessary, and it is no child’s play to speak +the latter, which I myself could never master. He is a good judge of +horseflesh, and occasionally sells a “bit of a blood,” or a Barbary +steed, to a young hand, though he has no objection to do business with an +old one; for there is not a thin, crouching, liver-faced, lynx-eyed Jew +of Fez capable of outwitting him in a bargain, or cheating him out of one +single pound of the fifty thousand sterling which he possesses; and yet +ever bear in mind that he is a good-natured fellow to those who are +disposed to behave honourably to him, and know likewise that he will lend +you money, if you are a gentleman, and are in need of it; but depend upon +it, if he refuse you, there is something not altogether right about you, +for Griffiths knows _his world_, and is not to be made a fool of. + +There was a prodigious quantity of porter consumed in my presence during +the short hour that I sat on the bench of that hostelry of the rock. The +passage before the bar was frequently filled with officers, who lounged +in for a refreshment which the sultry heat of the weather rendered +necessary, or at least inviting; whilst not a few came galloping up to +the door on small Barbary horses, which are to be found in great +abundance at Gibraltar. All seemed to be on the best of terms with the +host, with whom they occasionally discussed the merits of particular +steeds, and whose jokes they invariably received with unbounded +approbation. There was much in the demeanour and appearance of these +young men, for the greater part were quite young, which was highly +interesting and agreeable. Indeed, I believe it may be said of English +officers in general, that in personal appearance, and in polished +manners, they bear the palm from those of the same class over the world. +True it is, that the officers of the royal guard of Russia, especially of +the three noble regiments styled the _Priberjensky_, _Simeonsky_, and +_Finlansky polks_, {307} might fearlessly enter into competition in +almost all points with the flower of the British army; but it must be +remembered, that those regiments are officered by the choicest specimens +of the Sclavonian nobility, young men selected expressly for the +splendour of their persons, and for the superiority of their mental +endowments; whilst, probably, amongst all the fair-haired Anglo-Saxon +youths whom I now saw gathered near me, there was not a single one of +noble ancestry, nor of proud and haughty name; and certainly, so far from +having been selected to flatter the pride and add to the pomp of a +despot, they had been taken indiscriminately from a mass of ardent +aspirants for military glory, and sent on their country’s service to a +remote and unhealthy colony. Nevertheless, they were such as their +country might be proud of, for gallant boys they looked, with courage on +their brows, beauty and health on their cheeks, and intelligence in their +hazel eyes. + +Who is he who now stops before the door without entering, and addresses a +question to my host, who advances with a respectful salute? He is no +common man, or his appearance belies him strangely. His dress is simple +enough; a Spanish hat, with a peaked crown and broad shadowy brim—the +veritable _sombrero_—jean pantaloons and blue hussar jacket;—but how well +that dress becomes one of the most noble-looking figures I ever beheld! +I gazed upon him with strange respect and admiration as he stood +benignantly smiling and joking in good Spanish with an impudent rock +rascal, who held in his hand a huge _bogamante_, or coarse carrion +lobster, which he would fain have persuaded him to purchase. He was +almost gigantically tall, towering nearly three inches above the burly +host himself, yet athletically symmetrical, and straight as the pine-tree +of Dovrefeld. He must have counted eleven lustres, which cast an air of +mature dignity over a countenance which seemed to have been chiselled by +some Grecian sculptor, and yet his hair was black as the plume of the +Norwegian raven, and so was the moustache which curled above his +well-formed lip. In the garb of Greece, and in the camp before Troy, I +should have taken him for Agamemnon. “Is that man a general?” said I to +a short queer-looking personage, who sat by my side, intently studying a +newspaper. “That gentleman,” he whispered in a lisping accent, “is, sir, +the Lieutenant-Governor of Gibraltar.” {309} + +On either side outside the door, squatting on the ground, or leaning +indolently against the walls, were some half-dozen men of very singular +appearance. Their principal garment was a kind of blue gown, something +resembling the blouse worn by the peasants of the north of France, but +not so long; it was compressed around their waists by a leathern girdle, +and depended about halfway down their thighs. Their legs were bare, so +that I had an opportunity of observing the calves, which appeared +unnaturally large. Upon the head they wore small skull-caps of black +wool. I asked the most athletic of these men, a dark-visaged fellow of +forty, who they were. He answered, _humáles_. This word I knew to be +Arabic, in which tongue it signifies a porter; and, indeed, the next +moment, I saw a similar fellow staggering across the square under an +immense burden, almost sufficient to have broken the back of a camel. On +again addressing my swarthy friend, and inquiring whence he came, he +replied, that he was born at Mogadore, in Barbary, but had passed the +greatest part of his life at Gibraltar. He added, that he was the +_capataz_, or head man, of the _hamáles_ near the door. I now addressed +him in the Arabic of the East, though with scarcely the hope of being +understood, more especially as he had been so long from his own country. +He, however, answered very pertinently, his lips quivering with eagerness +and his eyes sparkling with joy, though it was easy to perceive that the +Arabic, or rather the Moorish, was not the language in which he was +accustomed either to think or speak. His companions all gathered round +and listened with avidity, occasionally exclaiming, when anything was +said which they approved of: “_Wakhud rajil shereef hada_, _min beled del +scharki_.” {310} At last I produced the shekel, which I invariably carry +about me as a pocket-piece, and asked the _capataz_ whether he had ever +seen that money before. He surveyed the censer and olive-branch for a +considerable time, and evidently knew not what to make of it. At length +he fell to inspecting the characters round about it on both sides, and +giving a cry, exclaimed to the other _hamáles_: “Brothers, brothers, +these are the letters of Solomon. This silver is blessed. We must kiss +this money.” He then put it upon his head, pressed it to his eyes, and +finally kissed it with enthusiasm, as did successively all his brethren. +Then regaining it, he returned it to me, with a low reverence. Griffiths +subsequently informed me that the fellow refused to work during all the +rest of the day, and did nothing but smile, laugh, and talk to himself. + +“Allow me to offer you a glass of bitters, sir,” said the queer-looking +personage before mentioned; he was a corpulent man, very short, and his +legs particularly so. His dress consisted of a greasy snuff-coloured +coat, dirty white trousers, and dirtier stockings. On his head he wore a +rusty silk hat, the eaves of which had a tendency to turn up before and +behind. I had observed that, during my conversation with the _hamáles_, +he had several times uplifted his eyes from the newspaper, and on the +production of the shekel had grinned very significantly, and had +inspected it when in the hand of the _capataz_. “Allow me to offer you a +glass of bitters,” said he; “I guessed you was one of our people before +you spoke to the _hamáles_. Sir, it does my heart good to see a +gentleman of your appearance not above speaking to his poor brethren. It +is what I do myself not unfrequently, and I hope God will blot out my +name, and that is Solomons, when I despise them. I do not pretend to +much Arabic myself, yet I understood you tolerably well, and I liked your +discourse much. You must have a great deal of _shillam eidri_, +nevertheless you startled me when you asked the _hamál_ if he ever read +the _Torah_; of course you meant with the _meforshim_; poor as he is, I +do not believe him _becoresh_ enough to read the _Torah_ without the +commentators. So help me, sir, I believe you to be a Salamancan Jew; I +am told there are still some of the old families to be found there. Ever +at Tudela, sir? not very far from Salamanca, I believe; one of my own +kindred once lived there: a great traveller, sir, like yourself; went +over all the world to look for the Jews—went to the top of Sinai. +Anything that I can do for you at Gibraltar, sir? Any commission? will +execute it as reasonably, and more expeditiously than any one else. My +name is Solomons. I am tolerably well known at Gibraltar; yes, sir, and +in the Crooked Friars, and, for that matter, in the Neuen Stein Steg, +{311} at Hamburg; so help me, sir, I think I once saw your face at the +fair at Bremen. Speak German, sir? though of course you do. Allow me, +sir, to offer you a glass of bitters. I wish, sir, they were _mayim +hayim_ {312a} for your sake, I do indeed, sir, I wish they were living +waters. Now, sir, do give me your opinion as to this matter (lowering +his voice and striking the newspaper). Do you not think it is very hard +that one _Yudken_ should betray the other? When I put my little secret +_beyad peluni_ {312b}—you understand me, sir? when I entrust my poor +secret to the custody of an individual, and that individual a Jew, a +_Yudken_, sir, I do not wish to be blown, indeed, I do not expect it. In +a word, what do you think of the _gold dust robbery_, and what will be +done to those unfortunate people, who I see are convicted?” + +That same day I made inquiry respecting the means of transferring myself +to Tangier, having no wish to prolong my stay at Gibraltar, where, though +it is an exceedingly interesting place to an observant traveller, I had +no particular business to detain me. In the evening I was visited by a +Jew, a native of Barbary, who informed me that he was secretary to the +master of a small Genoese bark which plied between Tangier and Gibraltar. +Upon his assuring me that the vessel would infallibly start for the +former place on the following evening, I agreed with him for my passage. +He said that as the wind was blowing from the Levant quarter, the voyage +would be a speedy one. Being desirous now of disposing to the most +advantage of the short time which I expected to remain at Gibraltar, I +determined upon visiting the excavations, which I had as yet never seen, +on the following morning, and accordingly sent for, and easily obtained, +the necessary permission. + +About six on Tuesday morning, I started on this expedition, attended by a +very intelligent good-looking lad of the Jewish persuasion, one of two +brothers who officiated at the inn in the capacity of _valets de place_. + +The morning was dim and hazy, yet sultry to a degree. We ascended a +precipitous street, and, proceeding in an easterly direction, soon +arrived in the vicinity of what is generally known by the name of the +Moorish Castle, a large tower, but so battered by the cannon balls +discharged against it in the famous siege, that it is at present little +better than a ruin. Hundreds of round holes are to be seen in its sides, +in which, as it is said, the shot are still embedded. Here, at a species +of hut, we were joined by an artillery sergeant, who was to be our guide. +After saluting us, he led the way to a huge rock, where he unlocked a +gate at the entrance of a dark vaulted passage which passed under it, +emerging from which passage we found ourselves in a steep path, or rather +staircase, with walls on either side. + +We proceeded very leisurely, for hurry in such a situation would have +been of little avail, as we should have lost our breath in a minute’s +time. The soldier, perfectly well acquainted with the locality, stalked +along with measured steps, his eyes turned to the ground. + +I looked fully as much at that man as at the strange place where we now +were, and which was every moment becoming stranger. He was a fine +specimen of the yeoman turned soldier; indeed, the corps to which he +belonged consists almost entirely of that class. There he paces along, +tall, strong, ruddy, and chestnut-haired, an Englishman every inch; +behold him pacing along, sober, silent, and civil, a genuine English +soldier. I prize the sturdy Scot, I love the daring and impetuous +Irishman; I admire all the various races which constitute the population +of the British isles; yet I must say that, upon the whole, none are so +well adapted to ply the soldier’s hardy trade as the rural sons of old +England, so strong, so cool, yet, at the same time, animated with so much +hidden fire. Turn to the history of England and you will at once +perceive of what such men are capable: even at Hastings, in the grey old +time, under almost every disadvantage, weakened by a recent and terrible +conflict, without discipline, comparatively speaking, and uncouthly +armed, they all but vanquished the Norman chivalry. Trace their deeds in +France, which they twice subdued; and even follow them to Spain, where +they twanged the yew and raised the battle-axe, and left behind them a +name of glory at Ingles Mendi, {314} a name that shall last till fire +consumes the Cantabrian hills. And, oh, in modern times, trace the deeds +of these gallant men all over the world, and especially in France and +Spain, and admire them, even as I did that sober, silent, soldier-like +man who was showing me the wonders of a foreign mountain fortress, +wrested by his countrymen from a powerful and proud nation more than a +century before, and of which he was now a trusty and efficient guardian. + +We arrived close to the stupendous precipice, which rises abruptly above +the isthmus called the neutral ground, staring gauntly and horridly at +Spain, and immediately entered the excavations. They consist of +galleries scooped in the living rock at the distance of some twelve feet +from the outside, behind which they run the whole breadth of the hill in +this direction. In these galleries, at short distances, are ragged +yawning apertures, all formed by the hand of man, where stand the cannon +upon neat slightly raised pavements of small flint stones, each with its +pyramid of bullets on one side, and on the other a box, in which is +stowed the gear which the gunner requires in the exercise of his craft. +Everything was in its place, everything in the nicest English order, +everything ready to scathe and overwhelm in a few moments the proudest +and most numerous host which might appear marching in hostile array +against this singular fortress on the land side. + +There is not much variety in these places, one cavern and one gun +resembling the other. As for the guns, they are not of large calibre, +indeed, such are not needed here, where a pebble discharged from so great +an altitude, would be fraught with death. On descending a shaft, +however, I observed, in one cave of special importance, two enormous +carronades looking with peculiar wickedness and malignity down a shelving +rock, which perhaps, although not without tremendous difficulty, might be +scaled. The mere wind of one of these huge guns would be sufficient to +topple over a thousand men. What sensations of dread and horror must be +awakened in the breast of a foe when this hollow rock, in the day of +siege, emits its flame, smoke, and thundering wind from a thousand +yawning holes; horror not inferior to that felt by the peasant of the +neighbourhood when Mongibello {316} belches forth from all its orifices +its sulphureous fires. + +Emerging from the excavations, we proceeded to view various batteries. I +asked the sergeant whether his companions and himself were dexterous at +the use of the guns. He replied that these cannons were to them what the +fowling-piece is to the fowler, that they handled them as easily, and, he +believed, pointed them with more precision, as they seldom or never +missed an object within range of the shot. This man never spoke until he +was addressed, and then the answers which he gave were replete with good +sense, and in general well worded. After our excursion, which lasted at +least two hours, I made him a small present, and took leave with a hearty +shake of the hand. + +In the evening I prepared to go on board the vessel bound for Tangier, +trusting in what the Jewish secretary had told me as to its sailing. +Meeting him, however, accidentally in the street, he informed me that it +would not start until the following morning, advising me at the same time +to be on board at an early hour. I now roamed about the streets until +night was beginning to set in, and becoming weary, I was just about to +direct my steps to the inn, when I felt myself gently pulled by the +skirt. I was amidst a concourse of people who were gathered around some +Irish soldiers who were disputing, and I paid no attention; but I was +pulled again more forcibly than before, and I heard myself addressed in a +language which I had half forgotten, and which I scarcely expected ever +to hear again. I looked round, and lo! a tall figure stood close to me +and gazed in my face with anxious inquiring eyes. On its head was the +_kauk_ or furred cap of Jerusalem; depending from its shoulders, and +almost trailing on the ground, was a broad blue mantle, whilst _kandrisa_ +or Turkish trousers enveloped its nether limbs. I gazed on the figure as +wistfully as it gazed upon me. At first the features appeared perfectly +strange, and I was about to exclaim, “I know you not,” when one or two +lineaments struck me, and I cried, though somewhat hesitatingly, “Surely +this is Judah Lib.” + +I was in a steamer in the Baltic in the year ’34, if I mistake not. +There was a drizzling rain and a high sea, when I observed a young man of +about two and twenty leaning in a melancholy attitude against the side of +the vessel. By his countenance I knew him to be one of the Hebrew race, +nevertheless there was something very singular in his appearance, +something which is rarely found amongst that people, a certain air of +nobleness which highly interested me. I approached him, and in a few +minutes we were in earnest conversation. He spoke Polish and Jewish +German indiscriminately. The story which he related to me was highly +extraordinary, yet I yielded implicit credit to all his words, which came +from his mouth with an air of sincerity which precluded doubt; and, +moreover, he could have no motive for deceiving me. One idea, one +object, engrossed him entirely: “My father,” said he, in language which +strongly marked his race, “was a native of Galatia, a Jew of high caste, +a learned man, for he knew Zohar, {318} and he was likewise skilled in +medicine. When I was a child of some eight years, he left Galatia, and +taking his wife, who was my mother, and myself with him, he bent his way +unto the East, even to Jerusalem; there he established himself as a +merchant, for he was acquainted with trade and the arts of getting money. +He was much respected by the Rabbins of Jerusalem, for he was a Polish +man, and he knew more Zohar and more secrets than the wisest of them. He +made frequent journeys, and was absent for weeks and for months, but he +never exceeded six moons. My father loved me, and he taught me part of +what he knew in the moments of his leisure. I assisted him in his trade, +but he took me not with him in his journeys. We had a shop at Jerusalem, +even a shop of commerce, where we sold the goods of the Nazarene, and my +mother and myself, and even a little sister who was born shortly after +our arrival at Jerusalem, all assisted my father in his commerce. At +length it came to pass, that on a particular time he told us that he was +going on a journey, and he embraced us and bade us farewell, and he +departed, whilst we continued at Jerusalem attending to the business. We +awaited his return, but months passed, even six months, and he came not, +and we wondered; and months passed, even other six passed, but still he +came not, nor did we hear any tidings of him, and our hearts were filled +with heaviness and sorrow. But when years, even two years, were expired, +I said to my mother, ‘I will go and seek my father;’ and she said, ‘Do +so,’ and she gave me her blessing, and I kissed my little sister, and I +went forth as far as Egypt, and there I heard tidings of my father, for +people told me he had been there, and they named the time, and they said +that he had passed from thence to the land of the Turk; so I myself +followed to the land of the Turk, even unto Constantinople. And when I +arrived there I again heard of my father, for he was well known amongst +the Jews, and they told me the time of his being there, and they added +that he had speculated and prospered, and departed from Constantinople, +but whither he went they knew not. So I reasoned within myself and said, +perhaps he may have gone to the land of his fathers, even unto Galatia, +to visit his kindred; so I determined to go there myself, and I went, and +I found our kindred, and I made myself known to them, and they rejoiced +to see me: but when I asked them for my father, they shook their heads +and could give me no intelligence; and they would fain have had me tarry +with them, but I would not, for the thought of my father was working +strong within me, and I could not rest. So I departed and went to +another country, even unto Russia, and I went deep into that country, +even as far as Kazan, and of all I met, whether Jew, or Russ, or Tartar, +I inquired for my father: but no one knew him, nor had heard of him. So +I turned back, and here thou seest me; and I now purpose going through +all Germany and France, nay, through all the world, until I have received +intelligence of my father, for I cannot rest until I know what is become +of my father, for the thought of him burneth in my brain like fire, even +like the fire of _Jehinnim_.” + +Such was the individual whom I now saw again, after a lapse of five +years, in the street of Gibraltar, in the dusk of the evening. “Yes,” he +replied, “I am Judah, surnamed the _Lib_. Thou didst not recognize me, +but I knew thee at once. I should have known thee amongst a million, and +not a day has passed since I last saw thee, but I have thought on thee.” +I was about to reply, but he pulled me out of the crowd and led me into a +shop where, squatted on the floor, sat six or seven Jews cutting leather; +he said something to them which I did not understand, whereupon they +bowed their heads and followed their occupation, without taking any +notice of us. A singular figure had followed us to the door: it was a +man dressed in exceedingly shabby European garments, which exhibited +nevertheless the cut of a fashionable tailor. He seemed about fifty; his +face, which was very broad, was of a deep bronze colour; the features +were rugged, but exceedingly manly, and, notwithstanding they were those +of a Jew, exhibited no marks of cunning, but, on the contrary, much +simplicity and good nature. His form was above the middle height, and +tremendously athletic, the arms and back were literally those of a +Hercules squeezed into a modern surtout; the lower part of his face was +covered with a bushy beard, which depended halfway down his breast. This +figure remained at the door, his eyes fixed upon myself and Judah. + +The first inquiry which I now addressed was, “Have you heard of your +father?” + +“I have,” he replied. “When we parted, I proceeded through many lands, +and wherever I went I inquired of the people respecting my father, but +still they shook their heads, until I arrived at the land of Tunis; and +there I went to the head Rabbi, and he told me that he knew my father +well, and that he had been there, even at Tunis, and he named the time, +and he said that from thence he departed for the land of Fez; and he +spoke much of my father and of his learning, and he mentioned the Zohar, +even that dark book which my father loved so well; and he spoke yet more +of my father’s wealth and his speculations, in all of which it seems he +had thriven. So I departed, and I mounted a ship, and I went into the +land of Barbary, even unto Fez, and when I arrived there I heard much +intelligence of my father, but it was intelligence which perhaps was +worse than ignorance. For the Jews told me that my father had been +there, and had speculated and had thriven, and that from thence he +departed for Tafilaltz, which is the country of which the emperor, even +Muley Abderrahman, is a native; and there he was still prosperous, and +his wealth in gold and silver was very great; and he wished to go to a +not far distant town, and he engaged certain Moors, two in number, to +accompany him and defend him and his treasures: and the Moors were strong +men, even _makhasniah_, or soldiers; and they made a covenant with my +father, and they gave him their right hands, and they swore to spill +their blood rather than his should be shed. And my father was +encouraged, and he waxed bold, and he departed with them, even with the +two false Moors. And when they arrived in the uninhabited place, they +smote my father, and they prevailed against him, and they poured out his +blood in the way, and they robbed him of all he had, of his silks and his +merchandise, and of the gold and silver which he had made in his +speculations, and they went to their own village, and there they sat +themselves down and bought lands and houses, and they rejoiced and they +triumphed, and they made a merit of their deed, saying, ‘We have killed +an infidel, even an accursed Jew;’ and these things were notorious in +Fez. And when I heard these tidings my heart was sad, and I became like +a child, and I wept; but the fire of _Jehinnim_ burned no longer in my +brain, for I now knew what was become of my father. At last I took +comfort, and I reasoned with myself, saying, ‘Would it not be wise to go +unto the Moorish king and demand of him vengeance for my father’s death, +and that the spoilers be despoiled, and the treasure, even my father’s +treasure, be wrested from their hands and delivered up to me who am his +son?’ And the king of the Moors was not at that time in Fez, but was +absent in his wars; and I arose and followed him, even unto Arbat, {322} +which is a seaport, and when I arrived there, lo! I found him not, but +his son was there, and men said unto me, that to speak unto the son was +to speak unto the king, even Muley Abderrahman; so I went in unto the +king’s son, and I kneeled before him, and I lifted up my voice, and I +said unto him what I had to say, and he looked courteously upon me and +said, ‘Truly thy tale is a sorrowful one, and it maketh me sad; and what +thou askest, that will I grant, and thy father’s death shall be avenged, +and the spoilers shall be despoiled; and I will write thee a letter with +my own hand unto the Pasha, even the Pasha of Tafilaltz, and I will +enjoin him to make inquiry into thy matter, and that letter thou shalt +thyself carry and deliver unto him.’ And when I heard these words, my +heart died within my bosom for very fear, and I replied, ‘Not so, my +lord; it is good that thou write a letter unto the Pasha, even unto the +Pasha of Tafilaltz, but that letter will I not take, neither will I go to +Tafilaltz, for no sooner should I arrive there, and my errand be known, +than the Moors would arise and put me to death, either privily or +publicly, for are not the murderers of my father Moors; and am I aught +but a Jew, though I be a Polish man?’ And he looked benignantly, and he +said, ‘Truly, thou speakest wisely; I will write the letter, but thou +shalt not take it, for I will send it by other hands; therefore set thy +heart at rest, and doubt not that, if thy tale be true, thy father’s +death shall be avenged, and the treasure, or the value thereof, be +recovered and given up to thee; tell me, therefore, where wilt thou abide +till then?’ And I said unto him, ‘My lord, I will go into the land of +Suz and will tarry there.’ And he replied, ‘Do so, and thou shalt hear +speedily from me.’ So I arose and departed, and went into the land of +Suz, even unto Swirah, which the Nazarenes call Mogadore; and I waited +with a troubled heart for intelligence from the son of the Moorish king, +but no intelligence came, and never since that day have I heard from him, +and it is now three years since I was in his presence. And I sat me down +at Mogadore, and I married a wife, a daughter of our nation, and I wrote +to my mother, even to Jerusalem, and she sent me money, and with that I +entered into commerce, even as my father had done, and I speculated, and +I was not successful in my speculations, and I speedily lost all I had. +And now I am come to Gibraltar to speculate on the account of another, a +merchant of Mogadore, but I like not my occupation; he has deceived me; I +am going back, when I shall again seek the presence of the Moorish king, +and demand that the treasure of my father be taken from the spoilers and +delivered up to me, even to me his son.” + +I listened with mute attention to the singular tale of this singular man, +and when he had concluded I remained a considerable time without saying a +word. At last he inquired what had brought me to Gibraltar. I told him +that I was merely a passer through on my way to Tangier, for which place +I expected to sail the following morning. Whereupon he observed, that in +the course of a week or two he expected to be there also, when he hoped +that we should meet, as he had much more to tell me. “And peradventure,” +he added, “you can afford me counsel which will be profitable, for you +are a person of experience, versed in the ways of many nations; and when +I look in your countenance, heaven seems to open to me, for I think I see +the countenance of a friend, even of a brother.” He then bade me +farewell, and departed; the strange bearded man, who during our +conversation had remained patiently waiting at the door, following him. +I remarked that there was less wildness in his look than on the former +occasion, but, at the same time, more melancholy, and his features were +wrinkled like those of an aged man, though he had not yet passed the +prime of youth. + + + + +CHAPTER LIII. + + +Genoese Mariners—Saint Michael’s Cave—Midnight Abysses—Young American—A +Slave Proprietor—The Fairy Man—Infidelity. + +Throughout the whole of that night it blew very hard, but, as the wind +was in the Levant quarter, I had no apprehension of being detained longer +at Gibraltar on that account. I went on board the vessel at an early +hour, when I found the crew engaged in hauling the anchor close, and +making other preparations for sailing. They informed me that we should +probably start in an hour. That time, however, passed, and we still +remained where we were, and the captain continued on shore. We formed +one of a small flotilla of Genoese barks, the crews of which seemed in +their leisure moments to have no better means of amusing themselves than +the exchange of abusive language: a furious fusilade of this kind +presently commenced, in which the mate of our vessel particularly +distinguished himself; he was a grey-haired Genoese of sixty. Though not +able to speak their patois, I understood much of what was said. It was +truly shocking, and as they shouted it forth, judging from their violent +gestures and distorted features, you would have concluded them to be +bitter enemies. They were, however, nothing of the kind, but excellent +friends all the time, and indeed very good-humoured fellows at bottom. +Oh, the infirmities of human nature! When will man learn to become truly +Christian? + +I am upon the whole very fond of the Genoese; they have, it is true, much +ribaldry and many vices, but they are a brave and chivalrous people, and +have ever been so, and from them I have never experienced aught but +kindness and hospitality. + +After the lapse of another two hours, the Jew secretary arrived and said +something to the old mate, who grumbled much; then coming up to me, he +took off his hat and informed me that we were not to start that day, +saying at the same time that it was a shame to lose such a noble wind, +which would carry us to Tangier in three hours. “Patience,” said I, and +went on shore. + +I now strolled towards St. Michael’s cave, in company with the Jewish lad +whom I have before mentioned. + +The way thither does not lie in the same direction as that which leads to +the excavations; these confront Spain, whilst the cave yawns in the face +of Africa. It lies nearly at the top of the mountain, several hundred +yards above the sea. We passed by the public walks, where there are +noble trees, and also by many small houses, situated delightfully in +gardens, and occupied by the officers of the garrison. It is wrong to +suppose Gibraltar a mere naked barren rock; it is not without its +beautiful spots—spots such as these, looking cool and refreshing, with +bright green foliage. The path soon became very steep, and we left +behind us the dwellings of man. The gale of the preceding night had +entirely ceased, and not a breath of air was stirring; the midday sun +shone in all its fierce glory, and the crags up which we clambered were +not unfrequently watered with the perspiration drops which rained from +our temples: at length we arrived at the cavern. + +The mouth is a yawning cleft in the side of the mountain, about twelve +feet high and as many wide; within there is a very rapid, precipitous +descent for some fifty yards, where the cavern terminates in an abyss +which leads to unknown depths. The most remarkable object is a natural +column, which rises up something like the trunk of an enormous oak, as if +for the purpose of supporting the roof; it stands at a short distance +from the entrance, and gives a certain air of wildness and singularity to +that part of the cavern which is visible, which it would otherwise not +possess. The floor is exceedingly slippery, consisting of soil which the +continual drippings from the roof have saturated, so that no slight +precaution is necessary for him who treads it. It is very dangerous to +enter this place without a guide well acquainted with it, as, besides the +black pit at the extremity, holes which have never been fathomed present +themselves here and there, falling into which the adventurer would be +dashed to pieces. Whatever men may please to say of this cave, one thing +it seems to tell to all who approach it, namely, that the hand of man has +never been busy about it. There is many a cave of nature’s forming, old +as the earth on which we exist, which nevertheless exhibits indications +that man has turned it to some account, and that it has been subjected +more or less to his modifying power. Not so this cave of Gibraltar, for, +judging from its appearance, there is not the slightest reason for +supposing that it ever served for aught else than a den for foul night +birds, reptiles, and beasts of prey. It has been stated by some to have +been used in the days of paganism as a temple to the god Hercules, who, +according to the ancient tradition, raised the singular mass of crags now +called Gibraltar, and the mountain which confronts it on the African +shores, as columns which should say to all succeeding times that he had +been there, and had advanced no further. Sufficient to observe, that +there is nothing within the cave which would authorize the adoption of +such an opinion, not even a platform on which an altar could have stood, +whilst a narrow path passes before it, leading to the summit of the +mountain. As I have myself never penetrated into its depths, I can of +course not pretend to describe them. Numerous have been the individuals +who, instigated by curiosity, have ventured down to immense depths, +hoping to discover an end, and indeed scarcely a week passes without +similar attempts being made either by the officers or soldiers of the +garrison, all of which have proved perfectly abortive. No termination +has ever been reached, nor any discoveries made to repay the labour and +frightful danger incurred; precipice succeeds precipice, and abyss +succeeds abyss, in apparently endless succession, with ledges at +intervals, which afford the adventurers opportunities for resting +themselves and affixing their rope-ladders for the purpose of descending +yet further. What is, however, most mortifying and perplexing, is to +observe that these abysses are not only before, but behind you, and on +every side; indeed, close within the entrance of the cave, on the right, +there is a gulf almost equally dark and full as threatening as that which +exists at the nether end, and perhaps contains within itself as many +gulfs and horrid caverns branching off in all directions. Indeed, from +what I have heard, I have come to the opinion that the whole hill of +Gibraltar is honeycombed, and I have little doubt that, were it cleft +asunder, its interior would be found full of such abysses of Erebus as +those to which Saint Michael’s cave conducts. Many valuable lives are +lost every year in these horrible places; and only a few weeks before my +visit, two sergeants, brothers, had perished in the gulf on the right +hand side of the cave, having, when at a great depth, slipped down a +precipice. The body of one of these adventurous men is even now rotting +in the bowels of the mountain, preyed upon by its blind and noisome +worms; that of his brother was extricated. Immediately after this +horrible accident, a gate was placed before the mouth of the cave, to +prevent individuals, and especially the reckless soldiers, from indulging +in their extravagant curiosity. The lock, however, was speedily forced, +and at the period of my arrival the gate swung idly upon its hinges. + +As I left the place, I thought that perhaps similar to this was the cave +of Horeb, where dwelt Elijah, when he heard the still small voice, after +the great and strong wind which rent the mountains and brake in pieces +the rocks before the Lord; the cave to the entrance of which he went out +and stood with his face wrapped in his mantle, when he heard the voice +say unto him, “What doest thou here, Elijah?” {330} + +And what am I doing here, I inquired of myself, as, vexed at my +detention, I descended into the town. + +That afternoon I dined in the company of a young American, a native of +South Carolina. I had frequently seen him before, as he had been staying +for some time at the inn previous to my arrival at Gibraltar. His +appearance was remarkable: he was low of stature, and exceedingly +slightly made; his features were pale, but very well formed; he had a +magnificent head of crispy black hair, and as superb a pair of whiskers +of the same colour as I ever beheld. He wore a white hat, with broad +brim and particularly shallow crown, and was dressed in a light yellow +gingham frock, striped with black, and ample trousers of calico. In a +word, his appearance was altogether queer and singular. On my return +from my ramble to the cave, I found that he had himself just descended +from the mountain, having since a very early hour been absent exploring +its wonders. + +A man of the rock asked him how he liked the excavations. “Liked them?” +said he; “you might just as well ask a person who has just seen the +Niagara Falls how he liked them—like is not the word, mister.” The heat +was suffocating, as it almost invariably is in the town of Gibraltar, +where rarely a breath of air is to be felt, as it is sheltered from all +winds. This led another individual to inquire of him whether he did not +think it exceedingly hot? “Hot, sir?” he replied, “not at all; fine +cotton-gathering weather as a man could wish for. We couldn’t beat it in +South Carolina, sir.” “You live in South Carolina, sir—I hope, sir, you +are not a slave proprietor,” said the short, fat Jewish personage in the +snuff-coloured coat, who had offered me the bitters on a previous +occasion; “it is a terrible thing to make slaves of poor people, simply +because they happen to be black; don’t you think so, sir?” “Think so, +sir?—no, sir, I don’t think so—I glory in being a slave proprietor; have +four hundred black niggers on my estate—own estate, sir, near +Charleston—flog half a dozen of them before breakfast, merely for +exercise. Niggers only made to be flogged, sir; try to escape sometimes; +set the bloodhounds in their trail, catch them in a twinkling; used to +hang themselves formerly—the niggers thought that a sure way to return to +their own country and get clear of me; soon put a stop to that; told them +that if any more hanged themselves I’d hang myself too, follow close +behind them, and flog them in their own country ten times worse than in +mine. What do you think of that, friend?” It was easy to perceive that +there was more of fun than malice in this eccentric little fellow, for +his large grey eyes were sparkling with good humour whilst he poured out +these wild things. He was exceedingly free of his money; and a dirty +Irish woman, a soldier’s wife, having entered with a basketful of small +boxes and trinkets, made of portions of the rock of Gibraltar, he +purchased the greater part of her ware, giving her for every article the +price (by no means inconsiderable) which she demanded. He had glanced at +me several times, and at last I saw him stoop down and whisper something +to the Jew, who replied in an undertone, though with considerable +earnestness, “Oh dear no, sir; perfectly mistaken, sir; is no American, +sir; from Salamanca, sir—the gentleman is a Salamancan Spaniard.” The +waiter at length informed us that he had laid the table, and that perhaps +it would be agreeable to us to dine together: we instantly assented. I +found my new acquaintance in many respects a most agreeable companion: he +soon told me his history. He was a planter, and, from what he hinted, +just come to his property. He was part owner of a large vessel which +traded between Charleston and Gibraltar, and the yellow fever having just +broken out at the former place, he had determined to take a trip (his +first) to Europe in this ship; having, as he said, already visited every +state in the Union, and seen all that was to be seen there. He described +to me, in a very naïve and original manner, his sensations on passing by +Tarifa, which was the first walled town he had ever seen. I related to +him the history of that place, to which he listened with great attention. +He made divers attempts to learn from me who I was, all of which I +evaded, though he seemed fully convinced that I was an American; and, +amongst other things, asked me whether my father had not been American +consul at Seville. What, however, most perplexed him was my +understanding Moorish and Gaelic, which he had heard me speak +respectively to the _hamáles_ and the Irish woman, the latter of whom, as +he said, had told him that I was a fairy man. At last he introduced the +subject of religion, and spoke with much contempt of revelation, avowing +himself a deist: he was evidently very anxious to hear my opinion, but +here again I evaded him, and contented myself with asking him whether he +had ever read the Bible. He said he had not, but that he was well +acquainted with the writings of Volney and Mirabeau. I made no answer, +whereupon he added, that it was by no means his habit to introduce such +subjects, and that there were very few persons to whom he would speak so +unreservedly, but that I had very much interested him, though our +acquaintance had been short. I replied, that he would scarcely have +spoken at Boston in the manner that I had just heard him, and that it was +easy to perceive that he was not a New Englander. “I assure you,” said +he, “I should as little have thought of speaking so at Charleston, for if +I held such conversation there, I should soon have had to speak to +myself.” + +Had I known less of deists than it has been my fortune to know, I should +perhaps have endeavoured to convince this young man of the erroneousness +of the ideas which he had adopted; but I was aware of all that he would +have urged in reply, and, as the believer has no carnal arguments to +address to carnal reason upon this subject, I thought it best to avoid +disputation, which I felt sure would lead to no profitable result. Faith +is the free gift of God, and I do not believe that ever yet was an +infidel converted by means of after-dinner polemics. This was the last +evening of my sojourn in Gibraltar. + + + + +CHAPTER LIV. + + +Again on Board—The Strange Visage—The Haji—Setting Sail—The Two +Jews—American Vessel—Tangier—Adun Oulem—The Struggle—The Forbidden Thing. + +On Thursday, the 8th of August, I was again on board the Genoese bark, at +as early an hour as on the previous morning. After waiting, however, two +or three hours without any preparation being made for departing, I was +about to return to the shore once more, but the old Genoese mate advised +me to stay, assuring me that he had no doubt of our sailing speedily, as +all the cargo was on board, and we had nothing further to detain us. I +was reposing myself in the little cabin, when I heard a boat strike +against the side of the vessel, and some people come on board. Presently +a face peered in at the opening, strange and wild. I was half asleep, +and at first imagined I was dreaming, for the face seemed more like that +of a goat or an ogre than of a human being; its long beard almost +touching my face as I lay extended in a kind of berth. Starting up, +however, I recognized the singular-looking Jew whom I had seen in the +company of Judah Lib. He recognized me also, and nodding, bent his huge +features into a smile. I arose and went upon deck, where I found him in +company with another Jew, a young man in the dress of Barbary. They had +just arrived in the boat. I asked my friend of the beard who he was, +from whence he came, and where he was going? He answered, in broken +Portuguese, that he was returning from Lisbon, where he had been on +business, to Mogadore, of which place he was a native. He then looked me +in the face and smiled, and taking out a book from his pocket, in Hebrew +characters, fell to reading it; whereupon a Spanish sailor on board +observed that with such a beard and book he must needs be a _sabio_, or +sage. His companion was from Mequinez, and spoke only Arabic. + +A large boat now drew nigh, the stern of which was filled with Moors; +there might be about twelve, and the greater part evidently consisted of +persons of distinction, as they were dressed in all the pomp and +gallantry of the East, with snow-white turbans, _jabadores_ of green silk +or scarlet cloth, and _bedeyas_ rich with gold galloon. Some of them +were exceedingly fine men, and two amongst them, youths, were strikingly +handsome, and, so far from exhibiting the dark swarthy countenance of +Moors in general, their complexions were of a delicate red and white. +The principal personage, and to whom all the rest paid much deference, +was a tall athletic man of about forty. He wore a vest of white quilted +cotton, and white _kandrisa_, whilst gracefully wound round his body, and +swathing the upper part of his head, was the _haik_, or white flannel +wrapping plaid, always held in so much estimation by the Moors from the +earliest period of their history. His legs were bare, and his feet only +protected from the ground by yellow slippers. He displayed no further +ornament than one large gold earring, from which depended a pearl, +evidently of great price. A noble black beard, about a foot in length, +touched his muscular breast. His features were good, with the exception +of the eyes, which were somewhat small; their expression, however, was +evil; their glances were sullen; and malignity and ill-nature were +painted in every lineament of his countenance, which seemed never to have +been brightened with a smile. The Spanish sailor, of whom I have already +had occasion to speak, informed me in a whisper, that he was a +_santurron_, {337} or big saint, and was so far back on his way from +Mecca, adding, that he was a merchant of immense wealth. It soon +appeared that the other Moors had merely attended him on board through +friendly politeness, as they all successively came to bid him adieu, with +the exception of two blacks, who were his attendants. I observed that +these blacks, when the Moors presented them their hands at departing, +invariably made an effort to press them to their lips, which effort was +as uniformly foiled, the Moors in every instance, by a speedy and +graceful movement, drawing back their hand locked in that of the black, +which they pressed against their own heart; as much as to say, “though a +negro and a slave you are a Moslem, and being so, you are our +brother—Allah knows no distinctions.” The boatman now went up to the +_haji_, demanding payment, stating, at the same time, that he had been on +board three times on his account, conveying his luggage. The sum which +he demanded appeared exorbitant to the _haji_, who, forgetting that he +was a saint, and fresh from Mecca, fumed outrageously, and in broken +Spanish called the boatman thief. If there be any term of reproach which +stings a Spaniard (and such was the boatman) more than another, it is +that one; and the fellow no sooner heard it applied to himself, than, +with eyes sparkling with fury, he put his fist to the _haji’s_ nose, and +repaid the one opprobrious name by at least ten others equally bad or +worse. He would perhaps have proceeded to acts of violence had he not +been pulled away by the other Moors, who led him aside, and I suppose +either said or gave him something which pacified him, as he soon got into +his boat, and returned with them on shore. The captain now arrived with +his Jewish secretary, and orders were given for setting sail. + +At a little past twelve we were steering out of the bay of Gibraltar. +The wind was in the right quarter, but for some time we did not make much +progress, lying almost becalmed beneath the lee of the hill; by degrees, +however, our progress became brisker, and in about an hour we found +ourselves careering smartly towards Tarifa. + +The Jew secretary stood at the helm, and indeed appeared to be the person +who commanded the vessel, and who issued out all the necessary orders, +which were executed under the superintendence of the old Genoese mate. I +now put some questions to the _haji_, but he looked at me askance with +his sullen eye, pouted with his lip, and remained silent; as much as to +say, “Speak not to me, I am holier than thou.” I found his negroes, +however, far more conversable. One of them was old and ugly, the other +about twenty, and as well-looking as it is possible for a negro to be. +His colour was perfect ebony, his features exceedingly well-formed and +delicate, with the exception of the lips, which were too full. The shape +of his eyes was peculiar; they were rather oblong than round, like those +of an Egyptian figure. Their expression was thoughtful and meditative. +In every respect he differed from his companion, even in colour (though +both were negroes), and was evidently a scion of some little-known and +superior race. As he sat beneath the mast gazing at the sea, I thought +he was misplaced, and that he would have appeared to more advantage +amidst boundless sands, and beneath a date-tree, and then he might have +well represented a _Jin_. I asked him from whence he came; he replied +that he was a native of Fez, but that he had never known his parents. He +had been brought up, he added, in the family of his present master, whom +he had followed in the greater part of his travels, and with whom he had +thrice visited Mecca. I asked him if he liked being a slave? Whereupon +he replied, that he was a slave no longer, having been made free for some +time past, on account of his faithful services, as had likewise his +companion. He would have told me much more, but the _haji_ called him +away, and otherwise employed him, probably to prevent his being +contaminated by me. + +Thus, avoided by the Moslems, I betook myself to the Jews, whom I found +nowise backward in cultivating an intimacy. The sage of the beard told +me his history, which in some respects reminded me of that of Judah Lib, +as it seemed that, a year or two previous, he had quitted Mogadore in +pursuit of his son, who had betaken himself to Portugal. On the arrival, +however, of the father at Lisbon, he discovered that the fugitive had, a +few days before, shipped himself for the Brazils. Unlike Judah in quest +of his father, he now became weary, and discontinued the pursuit. The +younger Jew from Mequinez was exceedingly gay and lively as soon as he +perceived that I was capable of understanding him, and made me smile by +his humorous account of Christian life, as he had observed it at +Gibraltar, where he had made a stay of about a month. He then spoke of +Mequinez, which, he said, was a _Jennut_, or Paradise, compared with +which Gibraltar was a sty of hogs. So great, so universal is the love of +country. I soon saw that both these people believed me to be of their +own nation: indeed, the young one, who was much the most familiar, taxed +me with being so, and spoke of the infamy of denying my own blood. +Shortly before our arrival off Tarifa, universal hunger seemed to prevail +amongst us. The _haji_ and his negroes produced their store, and feasted +on roast fowls, the Jews ate grapes and bread, myself bread and cheese, +whilst the crew prepared a mess of anchovies. Two of them speedily came +with a large portion, which they presented to me with the kindness of +brothers: I made no hesitation in accepting their present, and found the +anchovies delicious. As I sat between the Jews, I offered them some, but +they turned away their heads with disgust, and cried, _Haloof_. They at +the same time, however, shook me by the hand, and, uninvited, took a +small portion of my bread. I had a bottle of Cognac, which I had brought +with me as a preventive to sea-sickness, and I presented it to them; but +this they also refused, exclaiming, _Harám_. I said nothing. + +We were now close to the lighthouse of Tarifa, and turning the head of +the bark towards the west, we made directly for the coast of Africa. The +wind was now blowing very fresh, and as we had it almost in our poop, we +sprang along at a tremendous rate, the huge latine sails threatening +every moment to drive us beneath the billows, which an adverse tide +raised up against us. Whilst scudding along in this manner, we passed +close under the stern of a large vessel bearing American colours; she was +tacking up the straits, and slowly winning her way against the impetuous +Levanter. As we passed under her, I observed the poop crowded with +people gazing at us; indeed, we must have offered a singular spectacle to +those on board, who, like my young American friend at Gibraltar, were +visiting the Old World for the first time. At the helm stood the Jew; +his whole figure enveloped in a gabardine, the cowl of which, raised +above his head, gave him almost the appearance of a spectre in its +shroud; whilst upon the deck, mixed with Europeans in various kinds of +dresses, all of them picturesque with the exception of my own, trod the +turbaned Moors, the _haik_ of the _haji_ flapping loosely in the wind. +The view they obtained of us, however, could have been but momentary, as +we bounded past them literally with the speed of a racehorse, so that in +about an hour’s time we were not more than a mile’s distance from the +foreland on which stands the fortress Alminàr, and which constitutes the +boundary point of the bay of Tangier towards the east. There the wind +dropped and our progress was again slow. + +For a considerable time Tangier had appeared in sight. Shortly after +standing away from Tarifa, we had descried it in the far distance, when +it showed like a white dove brooding on its nest. The sun was setting +behind the town when we dropped anchor in its harbour, amidst half a +dozen barks and felouks about the size of our own, the only vessels which +we saw. There stood Tangier before us, and a picturesque town it was, +occupying the sides and top of two hills, one of which, bold and bluff, +projects into the sea where the coast takes a sudden and abrupt turn. +Frowning and battlemented were its walls, either perched on the top of +precipitous rocks, whose base was washed by the salt billows, or rising +from the narrow strand which separates the hill from the ocean. + +Yonder are two or three tiers of batteries, displaying heavy guns, which +command the harbour; above them you see the terraces of the town rising +in succession like steps for giants. But all is white, perfectly white, +so that the whole seems cut out of an immense chalk rock, though true it +is that you behold here and there tall green trees springing up from +amidst the whiteness: perhaps they belong to Moorish gardens, and beneath +them even now peradventure is reclining many a dark-eyed Leila, akin to +the _houris_. Right before you is a high tower, or minaret, not white +but curiously painted, which belongs to the principal mosque of Tangier; +a black banner waves upon it, for it is the feast of Ashor. A noble +beach of white sand fringes the bay from the town to the foreland of +Alminàr. To the east rise prodigious hills and mountains: they are Gibil +Muza and his chain; and yon tall fellow is the peak of Tetuan; the grey +mists of evening are enveloping their sides. Such was Tangier, such its +vicinity, as it appeared to me whilst gazing from the Genoese bark. + +A boat was now lowered from the vessel, in which the captain, who was +charged with the mail from Gibraltar, the Jew secretary, and the _haji_ +and his attendant negroes departed for the shore. I would have gone with +them, but I was told that I could not land that night, as ere my passport +and bill of health could be examined, the gates would be closed; so I +remained on board with the crew and the two Jews. The former prepared +their supper, which consisted simply of pickled _tomates_, {343a} the +other provisions having been consumed. The old Genoese brought me a +portion, apologizing at the same time for the plainness of the fare. I +accepted it with thanks, and told him that a million better men than +myself had a worse supper. I never ate with more appetite. As the night +advanced, the Jews sang Hebrew hymns, and when they had concluded, +demanded of me why I was silent, so I lifted up my voice and chanted +_Adun Oulem_. {343b} + +Darkness had now fallen over land and sea: not a sound was heard save +occasionally the distant barking of a dog from the shore, or some +plaintive Genoese ditty, which arose from a neighbouring bark. The town +seemed buried in silence and gloom, no light, not even that of a taper, +could be descried. Turning our eyes in the direction of Spain, however, +we perceived a magnificent conflagration, seemingly enveloping the side +and head of one of the lofty mountains northward of Tarifa. The blaze +was redly reflected in the waters of the strait; either the brushwood was +burning or the _carboneros_ were plying their dusky toil. The Jews now +complained of weariness, and the younger, uncording a small mattress, +spread it on the deck and sought repose. The sage descended into the +cabin, but he had scarcely time to lie down ere the old mate, darting +forward, dived in after him, and pulled him out by the heels, for it was +very shallow, and the descent was effected by not more than two or three +steps. After accomplishing this, he called him many opprobrious names, +and threatened him with his foot, as he lay sprawling on the deck. +“Think you,” said he, “who are a dog and a Jew, and pay as a dog and a +Jew; think you to sleep in the cabin? Undeceive yourself, beast: that +cabin shall be slept in by none to-night but this Christian _caballero_.” +The sage made no reply, but arose from the deck and stroked his beard, +whilst the old Genoese proceeded in his Philippic. Had the Jew been +disposed, he could have strangled the insulter in a moment, or crushed +him to death in his brawny arms, as I never remember to have seen a +figure so powerful and muscular; but he was evidently slow to anger, and +long-suffering. Not a resentful word escaped him, and his features +retained their usual expression of benignant placidity. + +I now assured the mate that I had not the slightest objection to the +Jew’s sharing the cabin with me, but rather wished it, as there was room +for us both and for more. “Excuse me, Sir Cavalier,” replied the +Genoese, “but I swear to permit no such thing; you are young, and do not +know this _canaille_ as I do, who have been backward and forward to this +coast for twenty years. If the beast is cold, let him sleep below the +hatches as I and the rest shall, but that cabin he shall not enter.” +Observing that he was obstinate, I retired, and in a few minutes was in a +sound sleep, which lasted till daybreak. Twice or thrice, indeed, I +thought that a struggle was taking place near me; but I was so +overpowered with weariness, or “sleep drunken,” as the Germans call it, +that I was unable to arouse myself sufficiently to discover what was +going on. The truth is, that three times during the night, the sage, +feeling himself uncomfortable in the open air by the side of his +companion, penetrated into the cabin, and was as many times dragged out +by his relentless old enemy, who, suspecting his intentions, kept his eye +upon him throughout the night. + +About five I arose: the sun was shining brightly and gloriously upon +town, bay, and mountain; the crew were already employed upon deck +repairing a sail which had been shivered in the wind of the preceding +day. The Jews sat disconsolate on the poop; they complained much of the +cold they had suffered in their exposed situation. Over the left eye of +the sage I observed a bloody cut, which he informed me he had received +from the old Genoese after he had dragged him out of the cabin for the +last time. I now produced my bottle of Cognac, begging that the crew +would partake of it as a slight return for their hospitality. They +thanked me, and the bottle went its round; it was last in the hands of +the old mate, who, after looking for a moment at the sage, raised it to +his mouth, where he kept it a considerable time longer than any of his +companions, after which he returned it to me with a low bow. The sage +now inquired what the bottle contained. I told him Cognac, or +_aguardiente_, whereupon with some eagerness he begged that I would allow +him to take a draught. “How is this?” said I; “yesterday you told me +that it was a forbidden thing, an abomination.” “Yesterday,” said he, “I +was not aware that it was brandy; I thought it was wine, which assuredly +is an abomination, and a forbidden thing.” “Is it forbidden in the +_Torah_?” I inquired. “Is it forbidden in the law of God?” “I know +not,” said he; “but one thing I know, that the sages have forbidden it.” +“Sages like yourself,” cried I with warmth; “sages like yourself, with +long beards and short understandings; the use of both drinks is +permitted, but more danger lurks in this bottle than in a tun of wine. +Well said my Lord the Nazarene, ‘ye strain at a gnat, and swallow a +camel;’ but as you are cold and shivering, take the bottle and revive +yourself with a small portion of its contents.” He put it to his lips +and found not a single drop. The old Genoese grinned. + +“_Bestia_,” said he, “I saw by your looks that you wished to drink of +that bottle, and I said within me, even though I suffocate, yet will I +not leave one drop of the _aguardiente_ of the Christian Cavalier to be +wasted on that Jew, on whose head may evil lightnings fall.” + +“Now, Sir Cavalier,” he continued, “you can go ashore: these two sailors +shall row you to the Mole, and convey your baggage where you think +proper; may the Virgin bless you wherever you go.” + + + + +CHAPTER LV. + + +The Mole—The Two Moors—Djmah of Tangier—House of God—British +Consul—Curious Spectacle—The Moorish House—Joanna Correa—Ave Maria. + +So we rowed to the Mole, and landed. This Mole consists at present of +nothing more than an immense number of large loose stones, which run +about five hundred yards into the bay; they are part of the ruins of a +magnificent pier which the English, who were the last foreign nation +which held Tangier, destroyed when they evacuated the place. {348} The +Moors have never attempted to repair it: the surf at high water breaks +over it with great fury. I found it a difficult task to pick my way over +the slippery stones, and should once or twice have fallen but for the +kindness of the Genoese mariners. At last we reached the beach, and were +proceeding towards the gate of the town, when two persons, Moors, came up +to us. I almost started at sight of the first: he was a huge old +barbarian with a white uncombed beard, dirty turban, _haik_, and +trousers, naked legs, and immense splay feet, the heels of which stood +out a couple of inches at least behind his rusty black slippers. + +“That is the captain of the port,” said one of the Genoese; “pay him +respect.” I accordingly doffed my hat and cried, “_Sba alkheir a sidi_.” +{349} “Are you Englishmans?” shouted the old grisly giant. +“Englishmans, my lord,” I replied, and, advancing, presented him my hand, +which he nearly wrung off with his tremendous gripe. The other Moor now +addressed me in a jargon composed of English, Spanish, and Arabic. A +queer-looking personage was he also, but very different in most respects +from his companion, being shorter by a head at least, and less complete +by one eye, for the left orb of vision was closed, leaving him, as the +Spaniards style it, _tuerto_; he, however, far outshone the other in +cleanliness of turban, _haik_, and trousers. From what he jabbered to +me, I collected that he was the English consul’s _mahasni_, or soldier; +that the consul, being aware of my arrival, had despatched him to conduct +me to his house. He then motioned me to follow him, which I did, the old +port-captain attending us to the gate, when he turned aside into a +building, which I judged to be a kind of custom-house from the bales and +boxes of every description piled up before it. We passed the gate and +proceeded up a steep and winding ascent. On our left was a battery full +of guns, pointing to the sea, and on our right a massive wall, seemingly +in part cut out of the hill: a little higher up we arrived at an opening +where stood the mosque which I have already mentioned. As I gazed upon +the tower I said to myself, “Surely we have here a younger sister of the +Giralda of Seville.” + +I know not whether the resemblance between the two edifices has been +observed by any other individual; and perhaps there are those who would +assert that no resemblance exists, especially if, in forming an opinion, +they were much swayed by size and colour: the hue of the Giralda is red, +or rather vermilion, whilst that which predominates in the Djmah of +Tangier is green, the bricks of which it is built being of that colour; +though between them, at certain intervals, are placed others of a light +red tinge, so that the tower is beautifully variegated. With respect to +size, standing beside the giant witch of Seville, the Tangerine Djmah +would show like a ten-year sapling in the vicinity of the cedar of +Lebanon, whose trunk the tempests of five hundred years have worn. And +yet I will assert that the towers in other respects are one and the same, +and that the same mind and the same design are manifested in both; the +same shape do they exhibit, and the same marks have they on their walls, +even those mysterious arches graven on the superfice of the bricks, +emblematic of I know not what. The two structures may, without any +violence, be said to stand in the same relation to each other as the +ancient and modern Moors. The Giralda is the world’s wonder, and the old +Moor was all but the world’s conqueror. The modern Moor is scarcely +known, and who ever heard of the tower of Tangier? Yet examine it +attentively, and you will find in that tower much, very much, to admire, +and certainly, if opportunity enable you to consider the modern Moor +minutely, you will discover in him, and in his actions, amongst much that +is wild, uncouth, and barbarous, not a little capable of amply rewarding +laborious investigation. + +As we passed the mosque I stopped for a moment before the door, and +looked in upon the interior: I saw nothing but a quadrangular court paved +with painted tiles and exposed to the sky; on all sides were arched +_piazzas_, and in the middle was a fountain, at which several Moors were +performing their ablutions. I looked around for the abominable thing and +found it not; the besetting sin of the pseudo-Christian Church did not +stare me in the face in every corner. “Come here,” said I, “Papist, and +take a lesson; here is a house of God, in externals at least, such as a +house of God should be: four walls, a fountain, and the eternal firmament +above, which mirrors His glory. Dost thou build such houses to the God +who has said, ‘Thou shalt make to thyself no graven image’? Fool, thy +walls are stuck with idols; thou callest a stone thy Father, and a piece +of rotting wood the Queen of Heaven. Fool, thou knowest not even the +Ancient of Days, and the very Moor can instruct thee. He at least knows +the Ancient of Days who has said, ‘Thou shalt have no other gods but +me.’” + +And as I said these words I heard a cry like the roaring of a lion, and +an awful voice in the distance exclaim, “_Kapul Udbagh_.” {351} + +We now turned to the left through a passage which passed under the tower, +and had scarcely proceeded a few steps, when I heard a prodigious hubbub +of infantine voices: I listened for a moment, and distinguished verses of +the Koran; it was a school. Another lesson for thee, Papist. Thou +callest thyself a Christian, yet the book of Christ thou persecutest; +thou huntest it even to the seashore, compelling it to seek refuge upon +the billows of the sea. Fool, learn a lesson from the Moor, who teaches +his child to repeat with its first accents the most important portions of +the book of his law, and considers himself wise or foolish, according as +he is versed in or ignorant of that book; whilst thou, blind slave, +knowest not what the book of thy own law contains, nor wishest to know: +yet art thou not to be judged by thy own law? Idol-monger, learn +consistency from the Moor: he says that he shall be judged after his own +law, and therefore he prizes and gets by heart the entire book of his +law. + +We were now at the consul’s house, a large roomy habitation, built in the +English style. The soldier led me through a court into a large hall hung +with the skins of all kinds of ferocious animals, from the kingly lion to +the snarling jackal. Here I was received by a Jew domestic, who +conducted me at once to the consul, who was in his library. He received +me with the utmost frankness and genuine kindness, and informed me that, +having received a letter from his excellent friend Mr. B---, in which I +was strongly recommended, he had already engaged me a lodging in the +house of a Spanish woman, who was, however, a British subject, and with +whom he believed that I should find myself as comfortable as it was +possible to be in such a place as Tangier. He then inquired if I had any +particular motive for visiting the place, and I informed him without +hesitation that I came with the intention of distributing a certain +number of copies of the New Testament in the Spanish language amongst the +Christian residents of the place. He smiled, and advised me to proceed +with considerable caution, which I promised to do. We then discoursed on +other subjects, and it was not long before I perceived that I was in the +company of a most accomplished scholar, especially in the Greek and Latin +classics; he appeared likewise to be thoroughly acquainted with the +Barbary empire and with the Moorish character. + +After half an hour’s conversation, exceedingly agreeable and instructive +to myself, I expressed a wish to proceed to my lodging; whereupon he rang +the bell, and, the same Jewish domestic entering who had introduced me, +he said to him in the English language, “Take this gentleman to the house +of Joanna Correa, the Mahonese widow, and enjoin her, in my name, to take +care of him and attend to his comforts; by doing which she will confirm +me in the good opinion which I at present entertain of her, and will +increase my disposition to befriend her.” + +So, attended by the Jew, I now bent my steps to the lodging prepared for +me. Having ascended the street in which the house of the consul was +situated, we entered a small square which stands about half way up the +hill. This, my companion informed me, was the _soc_, or market-place. A +curious spectacle here presented itself. All round the square were small +wooden booths, which very much resembled large boxes turned on their +sides, the lid being supported above by a string. Before each of these +boxes was a species of counter, or rather one long counter ran in front +of the whole line, upon which were raisins, dates, and small barrels of +sugar, soap, and butter, and various other articles. Within each box, in +front of the counter, and about three feet from the ground, sat a human +being, with a blanket on its shoulders, a dirty turban on its head, and +ragged trousers, which descended as far as the knee, though in some +instances, I believe, these were entirely dispensed with. In its hand it +held a stick, to the end of which was affixed a bunch of palm leaves, +which it waved incessantly as a fan, for the purpose of scaring from its +goods the million flies which, engendered by the Barbary sun, endeavoured +to settle upon them. Behind it, and on either side, were piles of the +same kind of goods. _Shrit hinai_, _shrit hinai_, {354} was continually +proceeding from its mouth. Such are the grocers of Tangier, such their +shops. + +In the middle of the _soc_, upon the stones, were pyramids of melons and +_sandias_, and also baskets filled with other kinds of fruit, exposed for +sale, whilst round cakes of bread were lying here and there upon the +stones, beside which sat on their hams the wildest-looking beings that +the most extravagant imagination ever conceived, the head covered with an +enormous straw hat, at least two yards in circumference, the eaves of +which, flapping down, completely concealed the face, whilst the form was +swathed in a blanket, from which occasionally were thrust skinny arms and +fingers. These were Moorish women, who were, I believe, in all +instances, old and ugly, judging from the countenances of which I caught +a glimpse as they lifted the eaves of their hats to gaze on me as I +passed, or to curse me for stamping on their bread. The whole _soc_ was +full of people, and there was abundance of bustle, screaming, and +vociferation, and as the sun, though the hour was still early, was +shining with the greatest brilliancy, I thought that I had scarcely ever +witnessed a livelier scene. + +Crossing the _soc_, we entered a narrow street with the same kind of +box-shops on each side, some of which, however, were either unoccupied or +not yet opened, the lid being closed. We almost immediately turned to +the left, up a street somewhat similar, and my guide presently entered +the door of a low house which stood at the corner of a little alley, and +which he informed me was the abode of Joanna Correa. We soon stood in +the midst of this habitation. I say the midst, as all the Moorish houses +are built with a small court in the middle. This one was not more than +ten feet square. It was open at the top, and around it on three sides +were apartments: on the fourth a small staircase, which communicated with +the upper story, half of which consisted of a terrace looking down into +the court, over the low walls of which you enjoyed a prospect of the sea +and a considerable part of the town. The rest of the story was taken up +by a long room, destined for myself, and which opened upon the terrace by +a pair of folding-doors. At either end of this apartment stood a bed, +extending transversely from wall to wall, the canopy touching the +ceiling. A table and two or three chairs completed the furniture. + +I was so occupied in inspecting the house of Joanna Correa, that at first +I paid little attention to that lady herself. She now, however, came up +upon the terrace where my guide and myself were standing. She was a +woman about five and forty, with regular features, which had once been +handsome, but had received considerable injury from time, and perhaps +more from trouble. Two of her front teeth had disappeared, but she still +had fine black hair. As I looked upon her countenance, I said within +myself, if there be truth in physiognomy, thou art good and gentle, O +Joanna; and, indeed, the kindness I experienced from her during the six +weeks which I spent beneath her roof would have made me a convert to that +science had I doubted in it before. I believe no warmer and more +affectionate heart ever beat in human bosom than in that of Joanna +Correa, the Mahonese widow, and it was indexed by features beaming with +benevolence and good nature, though somewhat clouded with melancholy. + +She informed me that she had been married to a Genoese, the master of a +felouk which passed between Gibraltar and Tangier, who had been dead +about four years, leaving her with a family of four children, the eldest +of which was a lad of thirteen; that she had experienced great difficulty +in providing for her family and herself since the death of her husband, +but that Providence had raised her up a few excellent friends, especially +the British consul; that besides letting lodgings to such travellers as +myself, she made bread which was in high esteem with the Moors, and that +she was likewise in partnership in the sale of liquors with an old +Genoese. She added that this last person lived below in one of the +apartments; that he was a man of great ability and much learning, but +that she believed he was occasionally somewhat touched here, pointing +with her finger to her forehead, and she therefore hoped that I would not +be offended at anything extraordinary in his language or behaviour. She +then left me, as she said, to give orders for my breakfast; whereupon the +Jewish domestic, who had accompanied me from the consul, finding that I +was established in the house, departed. + +I speedily sat down to breakfast in an apartment on the left side of the +little _wustuddur_; the fare was excellent: tea, fried fish, eggs, and +grapes, not forgetting the celebrated bread of Joanna Correa. I was +waited upon by a tall Jewish youth of about twenty years, who informed me +that his name was Hayim Ben Attar, {357a} that he was a native of Fez, +from whence his parents brought him at a very early age to Tangier, where +he had passed the greater part of his life principally in the service of +Joanna Correa, waiting upon those who, like myself, lodged in the house. +I had completed my meal, and was seated in the little court, when I heard +in the apartment opposite to that in which I had breakfasted several +sighs, which were succeeded by as many groans, and then came _Ave Maria_, +_gratiâ plena_, _ora pro me_, {357b} and finally a croaking voice +chanted— + + “Gentem auferte perfidam + Credentium de finibus, + Ut Christo laudes debitas + Persolvamus alacriter.” {357c} + +“That is the old Genoese,” whispered Hayim Ben Attar, “praying to his +God, which he always does with particular devotion when he happens to +have gone to bed the preceding evening rather in liquor. He has in his +room a picture of _Maria Buckra_, before which he generally burns a +taper, and on her account he will never permit me to enter his apartment. +He once caught me looking at her, and I thought he would have killed me; +and since then he always keeps his chamber locked, and carries the key in +his pocket when he goes out. He hates both Jew and Moor, and says that +he is now living amongst them for his sins.” + +“They do not place tapers before pictures,” said I, and strolled forth to +see the wonders of the land. + + + + +CHAPTER LVI. + + +The Mahasni—Sin Samani—The Bazaar—Moorish Saints—See the Ayana!—The +Prickly Fig—Jewish Graves—The Place of Carcases—The Stable Boy—Horses of +the Moslem—Dar-dwag. + +I was standing in the market-place, a spectator of much the same scene as +I have already described, when a Moor came up to me and attempted to +utter a few words in Spanish. He was a tall elderly man, with sharp but +rather whimsical features, and might have been called good looking, had +he not been one-eyed, a very common deformity in this country. {359} His +body was swathed in an immense _haik_. Finding that I could understand +Moorish, he instantly began talking with immense volubility, and I soon +learnt that he was a _mahasni_. He expatiated diffusely on the beauties +of Tangier, of which he said he was a native, and at last exclaimed, +“Come, my sultan, come, my lord, and I will show you many things which +will gladden your eyes, and fill your heart with sunshine; it were a +shame in me, who have the advantage of being a son of Tangier, to permit +a stranger, who comes from an island in the great sea, as you tell me you +do, for the purpose of seeing this blessed land, to stand here in the +_soc_ with no one to guide him. By Allah, it shall not be so. Make room +for my sultan, make room for my lord,” he continued, pushing his way +through a crowd of men and children who had gathered round us; “it is his +highness’ pleasure to go with me. This way, my lord, this way;” and he +led the way up the hill, walking at a tremendous rate, and talking still +faster. “This street,” said he, “is the Siarrin, and its like is not to +be found in Tangier; observe how broad it is, even half the breadth of +the _soc_ itself; here are the shops of the most considerable merchants, +where are sold precious articles of all kinds. Observe those two men, +they are Algerines and good Moslems; they fled from Zair {360} when the +Nazarenes conquered it, not by force of fighting, not by valour, as you +may well suppose, but by gold; the Nazarenes only conquer by gold. The +Moor is good, the Moor is strong, who so good and strong? but he fights +not with gold, and therefore he lost Zair. + +“Observe you those men seated on the benches by those portals; they are +_mokhasniah_, they are my brethren. See their _haiks_ how white, see +their turbans how white. Oh that you could see their swords in the day +of war, for bright, bright are their swords! Now they bear no swords. +Wherefore should they? is there not peace in the land? See you him in +the shop opposite? That is the Pasha of Tangier, that is the Hamed Sin +Samani, the under Pasha of Tangier; the elder Pasha, my lord, is away on +a journey; may Allah send him a safe return. Yes, that is Hamed; he sits +in his _hanutz_ as were he nought more than a merchant, yet life and +death are in his hands. There he dispenses justice, even as he dispenses +the essence of the rose and cochineal, and powder of cannon and sulphur; +and these two last he sells on the account of Abderrahman, my lord and +sultan, for none can sell powder and the sulphur dust in his land but the +sultan. Should you wish to purchase _attar del nuar_, {361} should you +wish to purchase the essence of the rose, you must go to the _hanutz_ of +Sin Samani, for there only you will get it pure: you must receive it from +no common Moor, but only from Hamed. May Allah bless Hamed. The +_makhasniah_, my brethren, wait to do his orders, for wherever sits the +Pasha, there is a hall of judgment. See, now we are opposite the bazaar; +beneath yon gate is the court of the bazaar; what will you not find in +that bazaar? Silks from Fez you will find there: and if you wish for +_sibat_, if you wish for slippers for your feet, you must seek them +there, and there also are sold curious things from the towns of the +Nazarenes. Those large houses on our left are habitations of Nazarene +consuls; you have seen many such in your own land, therefore why should +you stay to look at them? Do you not admire this street of the Siarrin? +Whatever enters or goes out of Tangier by the land passes through this +street. Oh, the riches that pass through this street! Behold those +camels, what a long train; twenty, thirty, a whole _cafila_ descending +the street. _Wullah_! I know those camels, I know the driver. Good +day, O Sidi Hassim, in how many days from Fez? And now we are arrived at +the wall, and we must pass under this gate. This gate is called Bab del +Faz; we are now in the Soc de Barra.” + +The Soc de Barra is an open place beyond the upper wall of Tangier, on +the side of the hill. The ground is irregular and steep; there are, +however, some tolerably level spots. In this place, every Thursday {362} +and Sunday morning, a species of mart is held, on which account it is +called Soc de Barra, or the outward market-place. Here and there, near +the town ditch, are subterranean pits, with small orifices, about the +circumference of a chimney, which are generally covered with a large +stone, or stuffed with straw. These pits are granaries, in which wheat, +barley, and other species of grain intended for sale are stored. On one +side are two or three rude huts, or rather sheds, beneath which keep +watch the guardians of the corn. It is very dangerous to pass over this +hill at night, after the town gates are closed, as at that time numerous +large and ferocious dogs are let loose, who would to a certainty pull +down, and perhaps destroy, any stranger who should draw nigh. Halfway up +the hill are seen four white walls, inclosing a spot about ten feet +square, where rest the bones of Sidi Mokhfidh, a saint of celebrity, who +died some fifteen years ago. Here terminates the _soc_; the remainder of +the hill is called El Kawar, or the place of graves, being the common +burying-ground of Tangier; the resting-places of the dead are severally +distinguished by a few stones arranged so as to form an oblong circle. +Near Mokhfidh sleeps Sidi Gali; but the principal saint of Tangier lies +interred on the top of the hill, in the centre of a small plain. A +beautiful chapel or mosque, with vaulted roof, is erected there in his +honour, which is in general adorned with banners of various dyes. The +name of this saint is Mohammed _el Haji_, and his memory is held in the +utmost veneration in Tangier and its vicinity. His death occurred at the +commencement of the present century. + +These details I either gathered at the time or on subsequent occasions. +On the north side of the _soc_, close by the town, is a wall with a gate. +“Come,” said the old _mahasni_, giving a flourish with his hand; “come, +and I will show you the garden of a Nazarene consul.” I followed him +through the gate, and found myself in a spacious garden laid out in the +European taste, and planted with lemon and pear trees, and various kinds +of aromatic shrubs. It was, however, evident that the owner chiefly +prided himself on his flowers, of which there were numerous beds. There +was a handsome summer-house, and art seemed to have exhausted itself in +making the place complete. + +One thing was wanting, and its absence was strangely remarkable in a +garden at this time of the year; scarcely a leaf was to be seen. The +direst of all the plagues which devastated Egypt was now busy in this +part of Africa—the locust was at work, and in no place more fiercely than +in the particular spot where I was now standing. All around looked +blasted. The trees were brown and bald as in winter. Nothing green save +the fruits, especially the grapes, huge clusters of which were depending +from the _parras_; for the locust touches not the fruit whilst a single +leaf remains to be devoured. As we passed along the walks, these +horrible insects flew against us in every direction, and perished by +hundreds beneath our feet. “See the _ayanas_,” said the old _mahasni_, +“and hear them eating. Powerful is the _ayana_, more powerful than the +sultan or the consul. Should the sultan send all his _makhasniah_ +against the _ayana_, should he send me with them, the _ayana_ would say, +‘Ha! ha!’ Powerful is the _ayana_! He fears not the consul. A few +weeks ago the consul said, ‘I am stronger than the _ayana_, and I will +extirpate him from the land.’ So he shouted through the city, ‘O +Tangerines! speed forth to fight the _ayana_,—destroy him in the egg; for +know that whosoever shall bring me one pound weight of the eggs of the +_ayana_, unto him will I give five _reals_ of Spain; there shall be no +_ayanas_ this year.’ So all Tangier rushed forth to fight the _ayana_, +and to collect the eggs which the _ayana_ had laid to hatch beneath the +sand on the sides of the hills, and in the roads, and in the plains. And +my own child, who is seven years old, went forth to fight the _ayana_, +and he alone collected eggs to the weight of five pounds, eggs which the +_ayana_ had placed beneath the sand, and he carried them to the consul, +and the consul paid the price. And hundreds carried eggs to the consul, +more or less, and the consul paid them the price, and in less than three +days the treasure chest of the consul was exhausted. And then he cried, +‘Desist, O Tangerines! perhaps we have destroyed the _ayana_, perhaps we +have destroyed them all!’ Ha! ha! Look around you, and beneath you, and +above you, and tell me whether the consul has destroyed the _ayana_. Oh, +powerful is the _ayana_! More powerful than the consul, more powerful +than the sultan and all his armies.” {364} + +It will be as well to observe here, that within a week from this time all +the locusts had disappeared, no one knew how—only a few stragglers +remained. But for this providential deliverance, the fields and gardens +in the vicinity of Tangier would have been totally devastated. These +insects were of an immense size, and of a loathly appearance. + +We now passed over the _soc_ to the opposite side, where stand the huts +of the guardians. Here a species of lane presents itself, which descends +to the seashore; it is deep and precipitous, and resembles a gully or +ravine. The banks on either side are covered with the tree which bears +the prickly fig, called in Moorish, _Kermous del Inde_. {365} There is +something wild and grotesque in the appearance of this tree or plant, for +I know not which to call it. Its stem, though frequently of the +thickness of a man’s body, has no head, but divides itself, at a short +distance from the ground, into many crooked branches, which shoot in all +directions, and bear green and uncouth leaves, about half an inch in +thickness, and which, if they resemble anything, present the appearance +of the fore fins of a seal, and consist of multitudinous fibres. The +fruit, which somewhat resembles a pear, has a rough tegument covered with +minute prickles, which instantly enter the hand which touches them, +however slightly, and are very difficult to extract. I never remember to +have seen vegetation in ranker luxuriance than that which these fig-trees +exhibited, nor upon the whole a more singular spot. “Follow me,” said +the _mahasni_, “and I will show you something which you will like to +see.” So he turned to the left, leading the way by a narrow path up the +steep bank, till we reached the summit of a hillock, separated by a deep +ditch from the wall of Tangier. The ground was thickly covered with the +trees already described, which spread their strange arms along the +surface, and whose thick leaves crushed beneath our feet as we walked +along. Amongst them I observed a large number of stone slabs lying +horizontally; they were rudely scrawled over with odd characters, which +stooped down to inspect. “Are you _talib_ enough read those signs?” +exclaimed the old Moor. “They are letters of the accursed Jews; this is +their _mearrah_, as they call it, and here they inter their dead. Fools, +they trust in Muza, when they might believe in Mohammed, and therefore +their dead shall burn everlastingly in _Jehinnim_. See, my sultan, how +fat is the soil of this _mearrah_ of the Jews; see what _kermous_ grow +here. When I was a boy I often came to the _mearrah_ of the Jews to eat +_kermous_ in the season of their ripeness. The Moslem boys of Tangier +love the _kermous_ of the _mearrah_ of the Jews; but the Jews will not +gather them. They say that the waters of the springs which nourish the +roots of these trees pass among the bodies of their dead, and for that +reason it is an abomination to taste of these fruits. Be this true, or +be it not, one thing is certain, in whatever manner nourished, good are +the _kermous_ which grow in the _mearrah_ of the Jews.” + +We returned to the lane by the same path by which we had come: as we were +descending it he said, “Know, my sultan, that the name of the place where +we now are, and which you say you like much, is Dar-sinah. {367a} You +will ask me why it bears that name, as you see neither house nor man, +neither Moslem, Nazarene, nor Jew, only our two selves; I will tell you, +my sultan, for who can tell you better than myself? Learn, I pray you, +that Tangier was not always what it is now, nor did it occupy always the +place which it does now. It stood yonder (pointing to the east) on those +hills above the shore, and ruins of houses are still to be seen there, +and the spot is called Old Tangier. So in the old time, as I have heard +say, this Dar-sinah was a street, whether without or within the wall +matters not, and there resided men of all trades; smiths of gold, and +silver, and iron, and tin, and artificers of all kinds. You had only to +go to the Dar-sinah if you wished for any thing wrought, and there +instantly you would find a master of the particular craft. My sultan +tells me he likes the look of Dar-sinah at the present day; truly I know +not why, especially as the _kermous_ are not yet in their ripeness, nor +fit to eat. If he likes Dar-sinah now, how would my sultan have liked it +in the old time, when it was filled with gold and silver, and iron and +tin, and was noisy with the hammers, and the masters and the cunning men? +We are now arrived at the _Chali del Bahar_. {367b} Take care, my +sultan, we tread upon bones.” + +We had emerged from the Dar-sinah, and the seashore was before us; on a +sudden we found ourselves amongst a multitude of bones of all kinds of +animals, and seemingly of all dates; some being blanched with time and +exposure to sun and wind, whilst to others the flesh still partly clung; +whole carcases were here, horses, asses, and even the uncouth remains of +a camel. Gaunt dogs were busy here, growling, tearing, and gnawing; +amongst whom, unintimidated, stalked the carrion vulture, fiercely +battening and even disputing with the brutes the garbage; whilst the crow +hovered overhead, and croaked wistfully, or occasionally perched upon +some upturned rib bone. “See,” said the _mahasni_, “the _kawar_ of the +animals. My sultan has seen the _kawar_ of the Moslems and the _mearrah_ +of the Jews; and he sees here the _kawar_ of the animals. All the +animals which die in Tangier by the hand of God—horse, dog, or camel—are +brought to this spot, and here they putrefy or are devoured by the birds +of the heaven or the wild creatures that prowl on the _chali_. Come, my +sultan, it is not good to remain long in this place.” + +We were preparing to leave the spot, when we heard a galloping down the +Dar-sinah, and presently a horse and rider darted at full speed from the +mouth of the lane and appeared upon the strand: the horseman, when he saw +us, pulled up his steed with much difficulty, and joined us. The horse +was small but beautiful, a sorrel with long mane and tail; had he been +hoodwinked he might perhaps have been mistaken for a Cordovese _jaca_; he +was broad-chested, and rotund in his hind quarters, and possessed much of +the plumpness and sleekness which distinguish that breed, but looking in +his eyes you would have been undeceived in a moment; a wild savage fire +darted from the restless orbs, and so far from exhibiting the docility of +the other noble and loyal animal, he occasionally plunged desperately, +and could scarcely be restrained by a strong curb and powerful arm from +resuming his former head-long course. The rider was a youth, apparently +about eighteen, dressed as a European, with a _montero_ cap on his head: +he was athletically built, but with lengthy limbs, his feet, for he rode +without stirrups or saddle, reaching almost to the ground; his complexion +was almost as dark as that of a Mulatto; his features very handsome, the +eyes particularly so, but filled with an expression which was bold and +bad; and there was a disgusting look of sensuality about the mouth. He +addressed a few words to the _mahasni_, with whom he seemed to be well +acquainted, inquiring who I was. The old man answered, “O Jew, my sultan +understands our speech, thou hadst better address thyself to him.” The +lad then spoke to me in Arabic, but almost instantly dropping that +language, proceeded to discourse in tolerable French. “I suppose you are +French,” said he with much familiarity; “shall you stay long in Tangier?” +Having received an answer, he proceeded, “as you are an Englishman, you +are doubtless fond of horses; know, therefore, whenever you are disposed +for a ride, I will accompany you, and procure you horses. My name is +Ephraim Fragey: I am stable-boy to the Neapolitan consul, who prizes +himself upon possessing the best horses in Tangier; you shall mount any +you please. Would you like to try this little _aoud_?” I thanked him, +but declined his offer for the present, asking him at the same time how +he had acquired the French language, and why he, a Jew, did not appear in +the dress of his brethren? “I am in the service of a consul,” said he, +“and my master obtained permission that I might dress myself in this +manner; and as to speaking French, I have been to Marseilles and Naples, +to which last place I conveyed horses, presents from the sultan. Besides +French, I can speak Italian.” He then dismounted, and holding the horse +firmly by the bridle with one hand, proceeded to undress himself, which +having accomplished, he mounted the animal and rode into the water. The +skin of his body was much akin in colour to that of a frog or toad, but +the frame was that of a young Titan. The horse took to the water with +great unwillingness, and at a small distance from the shore commenced +struggling with his rider, whom he twice dashed from his back; the lad, +however, clung to the bridle, and detained the animal. All his efforts, +however, being unavailing to ride him deeper in, he fell to washing him +strenuously with his hands, then leading him out, he dressed himself and +returned by the way he came. + +“Good are the horses of the Moslems,” said my old friend; “where will you +find such? They will descend rocky mountains at full speed and neither +trip nor fall; but you must be cautious with the horses of the Moslems, +and treat them with kindness, for the horses of the Moslems are proud, +and they like not being slaves. When they are young and first mounted, +jerk not their mouths with your bit, for be sure if you do they will kill +you; sooner or later, you will perish beneath their feet. Good are our +horses, and good our riders, yea, very good are the Moslems at mounting +the horse; who are like them? I once saw a Frank rider compete with a +Moslem on this beach, and at first the Frank rider had it all his own +way, and he passed the Moslem, but the course was long, very long, and +the horse of the Frank rider, which was a Frank also, panted; but the +horse of the Moslem panted not, for he was a Moslem also, and the Moslem +rider at last gave a cry and the horse sprang forward and he overtook the +Frank horse, and then the Moslem rider stood up in his saddle. How did +he stand? Truly he stood on his head, and these eyes saw him; he stood +on his head in the saddle as he passed the Frank rider; and he cried ha! +ha! as he passed the Frank rider; and the Moslem horse cried ha! ha! as +he passed the Frank breed, and the Frank lost by a far distance. Good +are the Franks; good their horses; but better are the Moslems, and better +are the horses of the Moslems.” + +We now directed our steps towards the town, but not by the path we came: +turning to the left under the hill of the _mearrah_, and along the +strand, we soon came to a rudely-paved way with a steep ascent, which +wound beneath the wall of the town to a gate, before which, on one side, +were various little pits like graves, filled with water or lime. “This +is Dar-dwag,” said the _mahasni_; “this is the house of the bark, and to +this house are brought the hides; all those which are prepared for use in +Tangier are brought to this house, and here they are cured with lime, and +bran, and bark, and herbs. And in this Dar-dwag there are one hundred +and forty pits; I have counted them myself; and there were more which +have now ceased to be, for the place is very ancient. And these pits are +hired not by one, nor by two, but by many people, and whosoever list can +rent one of these pits and cure the hides which he may need; but the +owner of all is one man, and his name is Cado Ableque. And now my sultan +has seen the house of the bark, and I will show him nothing more this +day; for to-day is _Youm al Jumal_, {372} and the gates will be presently +shut whilst the Moslems perform their devotions. So I will accompany my +sultan to the guest house, and there I will leave him for the present.” + +We accordingly passed through a gate, and ascending a street found +ourselves before the mosque where I had stood in the morning; in another +minute or two we were at the door of Joanna Correa. I now offered my +kind guide a piece of silver as a remuneration for his trouble, whereupon +he drew himself up and said— + +“The silver of my sultan I will not take, for I consider that I have done +nothing to deserve it. We have not yet visited all the wonderful things +of this blessed town. On a future day I will conduct my sultan to the +castle of the governor, and to other places which my sultan will be glad +to see; and when we have seen all we can, and my sultan is content with +me, if at any time he see me in the _soc_ of a morning, with my basket in +my hand, and he see nothing in that basket, then is my sultan at liberty +as a friend to put grapes in my basket, or bread in my basket, or fish or +meat in my basket. That will I not refuse of my sultan, when I shall +have done more for him than I have now. But the silver of my sultan will +I not take now nor at any time.” He then waved his hand gently, and +departed. + + + + +CHAPTER LVII. + + +Strange Trio—The Mulatto—The Peace-offering—Moors of Granada—Vive la +Guadeloupe—The Moors—Pascual Fava—Blind Algerine—The Retreat. + +Three men were seated in the _wustuddur_ of Joanna Correa, when I +entered; singular-looking men they all were, though perhaps three were +never gathered together more unlike to each other in all points. The +first on whom I cast my eye was a man about sixty, dressed in a grey +kerseymere coat with short lappets, yellow waistcoat, and wide coarse +canvas trousers; upon his head was a very broad dirty straw hat, and in +his hand he held a thick cane with ivory handle; his eyes were bleared +and squinting, his face rubicund, and his nose much carbuncled. Beside +him sat a good-looking black, who perhaps appeared more negro than he +really was, from the circumstance of his being dressed in spotless white +jean—jerkin, waistcoat, and pantaloons being all of that material: his +head gear consisted of a blue _montero_ cap. His eyes sparkled like +diamonds, and there was an indescribable expression of good humour and +fun upon his countenance. The third man was a Mulatto, and by far the +most remarkable personage of the group: he might be between thirty and +forty; his body was very long, and, though uncouthly put together, +exhibited every mark of strength and vigour; it was cased in a _ferioul_ +of red wool, a kind of garment which descends below the hips. His long, +muscular, and hairy arms were naked from the elbow, where the sleeves of +the _ferioul_ terminate; his under limbs were short in comparison with +his body and arms; his legs were bare, but he wore blue _kandrisa_ as far +as the knee; every feature of his face was ugly, exceedingly and bitterly +ugly, and one of his eyes was sightless, being covered with a white film. +By his side on the ground was a large barrel, seemingly a water-cask, +which he occasionally seized with a finger and thumb, and waved over his +head as if it had been a quart pot. Such was the trio who now occupied +the _wustuddur_ of Joanna Correa: and I had scarcely time to remark what +I have just recorded, when that good lady entered from a back court with +her handmaid Johár, or the pearl, an ugly fat Jewish girl with an immense +mole on her cheek. + +“_Que Dios remate tu nombre_,” exclaimed the Mulatto; “may Allah blot out +your name, Joanna, and may he likewise blot out that of your maid Johár. +It is more than fifteen minutes that I have been seated here, after +having poured out into the _tinaja_ the water which I brought from the +fountain, and during all that time I have waited in vain for one single +word of civility from yourself or from Johár. _Usted no tiene modo_, you +have no manner with you, nor more has Johár. This is the only house in +Tangier where I am not received with fitting love and respect, and yet I +have done more for you than for any other person. Have I not filled your +_tinaja_ with water when other people have gone without a drop? When +even the consul and the interpreter of the consul had no water to slake +their thirst, have you not had enough to wash your _wustuddur_? And what +is my return? When I arrive in the heat of the day, I have not one kind +word spoken to me, nor so much as a glass of _makhiah_ offered to me; +must I tell you all that I do for you, Joanna? Truly I must, for you +have no manner with you. Do I not come every morning just at the third +hour; and do I not knock at your door; and do you not arise and let me +in, and then do I not knead your bread in your presence, whilst you lie +in bed, and because I knead it is not yours the best bread in Tangier? +For am I not the strongest man in Tangier, and the most noble also?” +Here he brandished his barrel over his head, and his face looked almost +demoniacal. “Hear me, Joanna,” he continued, “you know that I am the +strongest man in Tangier, and I tell you again for the thousandth time, +that I am the most noble. Who are the consuls? Who is the Pasha? They +are Pashas and consuls now, but who were their fathers? I know not, nor +do they. But do I not know who _my_ fathers; were? Were they not Moors +of Garnata (_Granada_), {375} and is it not on that account that I am the +strongest man in Tangier? Yes, I am of the old Moors of Garnata, and my +family has lived here, as is well known, since Garnata was lost to the +Nazarenes, and now I am the only one of my family of the blood of the old +Moors in all this land, and on that account I am of nobler blood than the +sultan, for the sultan is not of the blood of the Moors of Garnata. Do +you laugh, Joanna? Does your maid Johár laugh? Am I not Hammin Widdir, +_el hombre mas valido de Tanger_? {376a} And is it not true that I am of +the blood of the Moors of Garnata? Deny it, and I will kill you both, +you and your maid Johár.” + +“You have been eating _hsheesh_ and _majoon_, Hammin,” said Joanna +Correa, “and the _Shaitán_ has entered into you, as he but too frequently +does. I have been busy, and so has Johár, or we should have spoken to +you before; however, _ma ydoorshee_, {376b} I know how to pacify you now +and at all times; will you take some gin-bitters, or a glass of common +_makhiah_?” + +“May you burst, O Joanna,” said the Mulatto, “and may Johár also burst; I +mean, may you both live many years, and know neither pain nor sorrow. I +will take the gin-bitters, O Joanna, because they are stronger than the +_makhiah_, which always appears to me like water; and I like not water, +though I carry it. Many thanks to you, Joanna; here is health to you, +Joanna, and to this good company.” + +She had handed him a large tumbler filled to the brim; he put it to his +nostrils, snuffed in the flavour, and then, applying it to his mouth, +removed it not whilst one drop of the fluid remained. His features +gradually relaxed from their former angry expression, and looking +particularly amiable at Joanna, he at last said— + +“I hope that within a little time, O Joanna, you will be persuaded that I +am the strongest man in Tangier, and that I am sprung from the blood of +the Moors of Garnata, as then you will no longer refuse to take me for a +husband, you and your maid Johár, and to become Moors. What a glory to +you, after having been married to a _Genoui_, and given birth to +_Genouillos_, to receive for husband a Moor like me, and to bear him +children of the blood of Garnata! What a glory, too, for Johár!—how much +better than to marry a vile Jew, even like Hayim Ben Attar, or your cook +Sabia, both of whom I could strangle with two fingers, for am I not +Hammin Widdir, _Moro de Garnata_, _el hombre mas valido de Tanger_?” He +then shouldered his barrel and departed. + +“Is that Mulatto really what he pretends to be?” said I to Joanna; “is he +a descendant of the Moors of Granada?” + +“He always talks about the Moors of Granada, when he is mad with _majoon_ +or _aguardiente_,” interrupted, in bad French, the old man whom I have +before described, and in the same croaking voice which I had heard +chanting in the morning. “Nevertheless it may be true, and if he had not +heard something of the kind from his parents, he would never have +imagined such a thing, for he is too stupid. As I said before, it is by +no means impossible: many of the families of Granada settled down here +when their town was taken by the Christians, but the greater part went to +Tunis. When I was there, I lodged in the house of a Moor who called +himself Zegri, {378} and was always talking of Granada and the things +which his forefathers had done there. He would moreover sit for hours +singing romances of which I understood not one word, praised be the +Mother of God, but which he said all related to his family: there were +hundreds of that name in Tunis, therefore why should not this Hammin, +this drunken water-carrier, be a Moor of Granada also? He is ugly enough +to be emperor of all the Moors. Oh, the accursed _canaille_! I have +lived amongst them for my sins these eight years, at Oran and here. +_Monsieur_, do you not consider it to be a hard case for an old man like +myself, who am a Christian, to live amongst a race who know not God, nor +Christ, nor anything holy?” + +“What do you mean?” said I, “by asserting that the Moors know not God? +There is no people in the world who entertain sublimer notions of the +uncreated eternal God than the Moors, and no people have ever shown +themselves more zealous for His honour and glory: their very zeal for the +glory of God has been and is the chief obstacle to their becoming +Christians. They are afraid of compromising His dignity by supposing +that He ever condescended to become man. And with respect to Christ, +their ideas even of Him are much more just than those of the Papists; +they say He is a mighty prophet, whilst, according to the others, He is +either a piece of bread, or a helpless infant. In many points of +religion the Moors are wrong, dreadfully wrong; but are the Papists less +so? And one of their practices sets them immeasurably below the Moors in +the eyes of any unprejudiced person: they bow down to idols, Christian +idols if you like, but idols still, things graven of wood, and stone, and +brass; and from these things, which can neither hear, nor speak, nor +feel, they ask and expect to obtain favours.” + +“_Vive la France_, _Vive la Guadeloupe_!” said the black, with a good +French accent. “In France and in Guadeloupe there is no superstition, +and they pay as much regard to the Bible as to the Koran; I am now +learning to read, in order that I may understand the writings of +Voltaire, who, as I am told, has proved that both the one and the other +were written with the sole intention of deceiving mankind. _O_, _vive la +France_! where will you find such an enlightened country as France; and +where will you find such a plentiful country as France? Only one in the +world, and that is Guadeloupe. Is it not so, Monsieur Pascual? Were you +ever at Marseilles? _Ah quel bon pays est celui-là pour les vivres_, +_pour les petits poulets_, _pour les poulardes_, _pour les perdrix_, +_pour les perdreaux_, _pour les alouettes_, _pour les bécasses_, _pour +les bécassines_, _enfin_, _pour tout_.” + +“Pray, sir, are you a cook?” demanded I. + +“_Monsieur_, _je le suis pour vous rendre service_, _mon nom c’est +Gérard_, _et j’ai l’honneur d’être chef de cuisine chez monsieur le +consul Hollandois_. _A present je prie permission de vous saluer_; _il +faut que j’aille à la maison pour faire le diner de mon maître_.” + +At four I went to dine with the British consul. Two other English +gentlemen were present, who had arrived at Tangier from Gibraltar about +ten days previously for a short excursion, and were now detained longer +than they wished by the Levant wind. They had already visited the +principal towns in Spain, and proposed spending the winter either at +Cadiz or Seville. One of them, Mr. ---, struck me as being one of the +most remarkable men I had ever conversed with: he travelled not for +diversion nor instigated by curiosity, but merely with the hope of doing +spiritual good, chiefly by conversation. The consul soon asked me what I +thought of the Moors and their country. I told him that what I had +hitherto seen of both highly pleased me. He said that were I to live +amongst them ten years, as he had done, he believed I should entertain a +very different opinion; that no people in the world were more false and +cruel; that their government was one of the vilest description, with +which it was next to an impossibility for any foreign power to hold +amicable relations, as it invariably acted with bad faith, and set at +nought the most solemn treaties. That British property and interests +were every day subjected to ruin and spoliation, and British subjects +exposed to unheard-of vexations, without the slightest hope of redress +being offered, save recourse was had to force, the only argument to which +the Moors were accessible. He added, that towards the end of the +preceding year an atrocious murder had been perpetrated in Tangier: a +Genoese family of three individuals had perished, all of whom were +British subjects, and entitled to the protection of the British flag. +The murderers were known, and the principal one was even now in prison +for the fact; yet all attempts to bring him to condign punishment had +hitherto proved abortive, as he was a Moor, and his victims Christians. +Finally, he cautioned me not to take walks beyond the wall unaccompanied +by a soldier, whom he offered to provide for me should I desire it, as +otherwise I incurred great risk of being ill-treated by the Moors of the +interior, whom I might meet, or perhaps murdered; and he instanced the +case of a British officer who not long since had been murdered on the +beach for no other reason than being a Nazarene, and appearing in a +Nazarene dress. He at length introduced the subject of the Gospel, and I +was pleased to learn that, during his residence in Tangier, he had +distributed a considerable quantity of Bibles amongst the natives in the +Arabic language, and that many of the learned men, or _talibs_, had read +the holy volume with great interest, and that by this distribution, +which, it is true, was effected with much caution, no angry or unpleasant +feeling had been excited. He finally asked whether I had come with the +intention of circulating the Scripture amongst the Moors. + +I replied that I had no opportunity of doing so, as I had not one single +copy either in the Arabic language or character. That the few Testaments +which were in my possession were in the Spanish language, and were +intended for circulation amongst the Christians of Tangier, to whom they +might be serviceable, as they all understood the language. + +It was night, and I was seated in the _wustuddur_ of Joanna Correa, in +company with Pascual Fava, the Genoese. The old man’s favourite subject +of discourse appeared to be religion, and he professed unbounded love for +the Saviour, and the deepest sense of gratitude for his miraculous +atonement for the sins of mankind. I should have listened to him with +pleasure had he not smelt very strongly of liquor, and by certain +incoherences of language and wildness of manner given indications of +being in some degree the worse for it. Suddenly two figures appeared +beneath the doorway; one was that of a bareheaded and bare-legged Moorish +boy of about ten years of age, dressed in a _gelaba_. He guided by the +hand an old man, whom I at once recognized as one of the Algerines, the +good Moslems of whom the old _mahasni_ had spoken in terms of praise in +the morning whilst we ascended the street of the Siarrin. He was very +short of stature and dirty in his dress; the lower part of his face was +covered with a stubbly white beard; before his eyes he wore a large pair +of spectacles, from which he evidently received but little benefit, as he +required the assistance of the guide at every step. The two advanced a +little way into the _wustuddur_, and there stopped. Pascual Fava no +sooner beheld them, than assuming a jovial air he started nimbly up, and +leaning on his stick, for he had a bent leg, limped to a cupboard, out of +which he took a bottle and poured out a glass of wine, singing in the +broken kind of Spanish used by the Moors of the coast— + + “Argelino, + Moro fino, + No beber vino, + Ni comer tocino.” {382} + +He then handed the wine to the old Moor, who drank it off, and then, led +by the boy, made for the door without saying a word. + +“_Hade mushe halal_,” {383a} said I to him with a loud voice. + +“_Cul shee halal_,” {383b} said the old Moor, turning his sightless and +spectacled eyes in the direction from which my voice reached him. “Of +everything which God has given, it is lawful for the children of God to +partake.” + +“Who is that old man?” said I to Pascual Fava, after the blind and the +leader of the blind had departed. “Who is he!” said Pascual; “who is he! +He is a merchant now, and keeps a shop in the Siarrin, but there was a +time when no bloodier pirate sailed out of Algier. That old blind wretch +has cut more throats than he has hairs in his beard. Before the French +took the place he was the _rais_ or captain of a frigate, and many was +the poor Sardinian vessel which fell into his hands. After that affair +he fled to Tangier, and it is said that he brought with him a great part +of the booty which he had amassed in former times. Many other Algerines +came hither also, or to Tetuan, but he is the strangest guest of them +all. He keeps occasionally very extraordinary company for a Moor, and is +rather over-intimate with the Jews. Well, that’s no business of mine; +only let him look to himself. If the Moors should once suspect him, it +were all over with him. Moors and Jews, Jews and Moors! Oh my poor +sins, my poor sins, that brought me to live amongst them!— + + “‘Ave maris stella, + Dei Mater alma, + Atque semper virgo, + Felix cœli porta!’” {383c} + +He was proceeding in this manner when I was startled by the sound of a +musket. + +“That is the retreat,” said Pascual Fava. “It is fired every night in +the _soc_ at half-past eight, and it is the signal for suspending all +business, and shutting up. I am now going to close the doors, and +whosoever knocks, I shall not admit them till I know their voice. Since +the murder of the poor Genoese last year, we have all been particularly +cautious.” + +Thus had passed Friday, the sacred day of the Moslems, and the first +which I had spent in Tangier. I observed that the Moors followed their +occupations as if the day had nothing particular in it. Between twelve +and one, the hour of prayer in the mosque, the gates of the town were +closed, and no one permitted either to enter or go out. There is a +tradition current amongst them, that on this day, and at this hour, their +eternal enemies, the Nazarenes, will arrive to take possession of their +country; on which account they hold themselves prepared against a +surprisal. + + + + +GLOSSARY. + + +In the following pages a translation only has been given, as a rule, of +the Romany words, but references have been added which will enable _los +del aficion_ to acquire fuller knowledge elsewhere. It is only right to +state that for any philological theories advanced in this part of the +Glossary the late Mr. Burke is not responsible.—H. W. G. + + LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS. + +A. Ascoli, Zigeunerisches. 1865. +F. Francisque-Michel, Le Pays Basque. 1857. +G. Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society. 1888–1892. +Gr. Groome, In Gipsy Tents. 1880. +H. Hidalgo, Romances de Germanía. 1779. +J. Jimenez, Vocabulario del Dialecto Jitano. 1853. +Lel. Leland, The Gypsies. +LL. Borrow, Romano Lavo-Lil. 1888. +M. Miklosich, Ueber die Mundarten und die Wanderungen der + Zigeuner Europa’s. 1872–1880. +McR. MacRitchie, The Gypsies of India. 1886. +P. Pott, Die Zigeuner in Europa und Asien. 1844–5. +Pp. Paspati, Etudes sur les Tchinghianés ou Bohémiens de + l’Empire Ottoman. 1870. +R. De Rochas, Les Parias de France et d’Espagne. 1876. +S. Smith, Tent Life with English Gypsies in Norway. 1873. +SC. Smart and Crofton, The Dialect of the English Gypsies. +W. Wlislocki, Die Sprache der transsilvanischen Zigeuner. + 1884. +Z. Borrow, The Zincali, 3rd edit. 1843. + +A. _Arab._ O! _A sidi_, “_O my lord_!” + +Á. _Span._ and _Port._ To. + +ABAJAR. _Span_. To descend. + +ACÁNA. _Rom._ Now. P. ii. 124; A. 21; W. 70. + +ADUANA. _Span._ The custom-house. Fr. _la douane_, from Arab. _diwán_; +either as a council or as an account-book. + +ADUN. _Hebr._ Lord; _Adon_. + +AFICION. _Span._ Affection. _Los del aficion_, “those of the +predilection,” persons addicted to the gypsies and their language. Z. +ii. 58. + +AFRANCESADO. _Span._ Frenchified. + +AGOA. _Port._ Water. Span. _agua_. + +AGUADOR. _Span._ A water-carrier. + +AGUARDIENTE. _Span._ _Agua ardiente_, fire-water; coarse native spirit; +Spanish brandy. + +ALAMEDA. _Span._ A public promenade in or near a town, planted with +trees. Lit. a place of poplars, from Span. _álamo_, a poplar. + +ALCAHUETE. _Span._ A spy; a pimp. Arab. _al ḳawwād_. + +ALCALÁ. _Span._ The fort. Arab, _al-ḳal‘ah_. + +ALCALDE. _Span._ The mayor or chief magistrate of a town or village. +Arab. _al ḳádi_, the judge. + +ALCALDE MAYOR. The chief magistrate of a district. + +ALCAYDE. _Span._ A governor of a castle or fortress. Arab. _al ḳáid_, +the general. In more modern parlance, the governor of a prison, a +jailer. + +ALCAZAR. _Span._ A castle; palace; a fortress. Arab. _al ḳaṣr_. + +ALCORNOQUE. _Span._ The cork tree, _Quercus suber_. + +ALDEA. _Span_. and _Port._ A village. + +ALECRIM. _Port._ Rosemary. A word said to be of Arabic origin, perhaps +_al karím_, a precious thing. The Spanish _romero_, or pilgrim flower +(see note, i. 47). The English word is said to be derived from _ros +marinus_, dew of the sea. + +ALEM. _Port._ Beyond. _Alemtejo_, the district beyond the Tagus. + +ALFANDEGA. _Port._ Custom-house. The Arab. _funduḳ_, a large house. + +ALFORJAS, LAS. _Span._ Saddle-bags. Arab. _al khurj_. + +ALGIBE. _Span._ A vaulted subterranean cistern for storing water. +Arab. _jubb_, a reservoir. + +ALGUACIL or ALGUAZIL. _Span._ A constable, or peace-officer. Arab. _al +wazir_, the vizier, governor, deputy, or minister. + +ALHAJA. _Span._ Any precious article, a jewel. Probably from the Arab, +_al-hadja_. + +ALHAMA. Stated by Borrow (i. 394) to be a Moorish word, meaning “warm +baths.” Apparently the Arab, _al ḥammām_. + +ALKHEIR. _Arab._ Of good. + +ALMA. _Span._ and _Port._ Soul. + +ALMOCREVES. _Port._ Muleteers or carriers. A word of Arabic origin, +_al mukāri_, like the Spanish _arriero._ + +ALQUILADOR. _Span. and Port._ A letter on hire of anything, especially +of horses. _Alquilar_, in Spanish, signifies to give or lend on hire. +_Alquiler_, to take or borrow for reward. The converse, _inquiler_. + +ALTO. _Span._ and _Port._ High. + +AMIGA. _Span._ and _Port._ A mistress, or concubine. Lit. a female +friend. + +AMIGO. _Span._ and _Port._ A friend. + +ANCIÑA ANCIÑACO. _Basque_. The ancient of the ancient. + +ANDALOU. _Rom._ An Andalusian. + +ANDRÉ. _Rom._ In. P. ii. 56. + +ANISE-BRANDY. _Eng._ A cordial, something like the French _anisette_. +The anise (_Pimpinella anisum_) is largely cultivated in Spain, where it +is known as _anis_. The seed is dried and exported, the aniseed of the +English cake-makers. + +AOUD. _Arab._ According to Borrow, a stallion. It is the Moorish +‘_aud_ = horse. + +AQUEL. _Span._ That. + +ARCO. _Span._ and _Port._ A bow, an arch. + +ARDOA. Guipuzcoan and Biscayan for _arno_,_ arnoa_, wine, the final _a_ +being the definite article. + +ARGELINO. _Span._ A native of Algiers. + +ARMADA. _Span._ and _Port._ A fleet, or navy. + +AROMÁLI. _Rom._ Truly. _Arromales_ = _caramba_. J. + +ARRIERO. _Span._ Muleteer; one who cries _arrhé_ or _harré_, Arabic +“Gee up!” The older form of _Harriero_, given in the Dictionary of the +Spanish Academy, more clearly preserves this etymology. + +ARROBA. _Span._ and _Port._ A weight equal to about 25 lbs. English. +Arab, _ar ruba_‘, a quarter. + +ARROYO. _Span._ A brook, stream. + +ARTESANO. _Span._ Artisan, workman. + +ASHOR. _Hebr._ Jewish feast of the tenth (day), ‘_āsor_. It is really +the Arabic ‘_ashūrā_. + +ATAJO. _Span._ A short cut, material or moral; an expedient of any +kind. Lit. a tying; _atar_, to tie. + +ATALAYA. _Span._ A watch-tower. Port. _atalaia_. A word of Arabic +origin; _aṭ-ṭalí‘ah_, a view. + +ATTAR. _Arab._ Essence. More correctly, ‘_aṭar_. Frequently in +combination. The Eng. _otto_. + +AUSLANDRA. _Milan._ The meaning of this word is given by Borrow himself +as “to roam about in a dissipated manner.” It is obviously the Germ. +_Ausland_, “a foreign country,” made into an Italian verb. On the +authority of the native of Como, whom Borrow met at Cerrig y Drudion, it +was considered a vulgar word, even in the _gergo_ of the Milanese, and +that it is so may be proved by a reference to Cherubini, _Vocabolario +Milanese-Italiano_, s.v. _Slándra_, _Slandrà_. + +AUTO DA FÉ. _Port._ Span. _auto de fé_. Execution of persons condemned +by the Inquisition. + +AVELLANA. _Span._ A filbert. + +AYANA. _Arab._ According to Borrow, a locust. It is not an ordinary +Arabic word, possibly of some North African dialect. + +AZABACHE. _Span._ Jet. The Arab, _as-sabaj_. + +AZABACHERIA. _Span._ Jet-market. + +AZINHEIRA. _Port._ The holm-oak. + +AZUMBRE. _Span._ A measure for liquids, the eighth of an _arroba_, +equal to about half a gallon. From the Arab. _ath-thumn_ = the eighth. + + * * * * * + +BAB. _Arab._ Gate. _Bab del Faz_, gate of Fez. + +BACALHÃO. _Port._ (In _Span._ BACALLAO or ABADEJO). Salt cod, commonly +imported from the Newfoundland coast. + +BAHAR. _Arab._ Sea. + +BAHI or BAJI. _Rom._ Fortune. _Penar baji_, _decir la buena ventura_, +to tell fortunes. According to Borrow, the Sanscrit and Persian _baḥkt_. + +BAKH, BOK. _Rom._ Luck. _Kosko bakh_, “Good luck to you!” P. ii. 398; +A. 47; M. vii. 14. + +BALAD. _Arab._ Land. Also _beled_. + +BALICHÓ. _Rom._ A hog. P. ii. 420; A. 54; M. vii. 15. + +BAR. _Aram._ Son. + +BAR. _Rom._ A stone. P. ii. 409; M. vii. 16. + +BAR LACHÍ. _Rom._ The loadstone; a gypsy charm or talisman. Lit. “the +good stone.” See LACHÓ. + +BARIA. _Rom._ Used by Borrow in ch. x., and given in Z. ii. 147, as +_Germanía_, or thieves’ slang, for a gold _onza_ (q.v.). Cf. _varia_ = +weight. A. 12. It is also the plural of _bar_, used by English gypsies +for a sovereign. The correct Gitano for _onza_ is _jara_. + +BARIBÚ, BARIBUTRE, BARIBUSTRE. _Rom._ Plenty, much. P. ii. 400; M. +vii. 17. + +BARO. _Rom._ Great. _Len Baro_ = the great river, the Guadalquivir. +_Hokkano Baro_ = the great trick. See HOK. P. ii. 411; A. 59; M. vii. +17. + +BARRA. _Arab._ Outside; out of the town. See SOC. + +BARRAGANERIA. _Span._ Concubinage. See note, i. 157. + +BARRANCO, BARRANCA. _Span._ A fissure in a hill, a deep cleft, made by +the action of water; a precipice. + +BARRETE. _Span._ A helmet, cap. + +BARRIO. _Span._ One of the quarters or districts into which a large +town is divided. Fr. _quartier_. + +BATU, BATO. _Rom._ Father. Perhaps from the Russ. _batuschca_, q.v. +In thieves’ slang, a prison governor or jailer. P. ii. 430; F. 145; G. +i. 61; J. + +BATUSCHCA, BATUSHKA. _Russ._ Little father. A term of endearment or +familiar address, something like the Span. _tio_, uncle. + +BEBER. _Span._ and _Port._ To drink. + +BECORESH. _Hebr._ I.e. _Epikores_ = Epicurus, selected by Jewish +writers as a type of insolent atheism. + +BEDEYA. _Arab._ An open waistcoat. More correctly, _bad‘iyya_. + +BELAD. _Hebr._ In the power of. + +BELED. _Arab._ Country. Also _balad_. + +BELLOTA. _Span._ An acorn. The Portuguese _bolota_; Arab, _balūt_. + +BEN, plur. BENI. _Hebr._ and _Arab._ Son. + +BENDITO. _Span._ and _Port._ Blessed, praised. + +BENG, BENGUE, BENGUI. _Rom._ The devil; also any demon, or evil spirit. +P. ii. 407; M. vii. 19. As to the meaning, frog or toad, see G. i. 118. + +BERAKA. _Hebr._ A blessing. + +BESTI, BESTIS. _Rom._ A seat, chair, or saddle. P. ii. 428; M. vii. +20. Borrow, however, seems to use it as a slang form of the following. + +BESTIA. _Span._ An animal. “You brute!” + +BIRDOCHE. _Rom._ Used by Borrow in ch. ix. for a stage-coach or +_galera_, q.v. It is probably connected with _bedo_, _berdo_, a cart. +Z. ii. * 17. Eng. Rom. _vardo_. See P. ii. 80; A. 68; M. viii. 96. + +BOCA. _Span._ and _Port._ Mouth. + +BODA, BODAS. _Span._ and _Port._ Marriage, a wedding. + +BOGAMANTE, BOGAVANTE. _Span._ The slang name for a large lobster; orig. +the stroke-oar of a galley; _bogar_ = to row, _avante_ = in front. + +BOHÉMIEN. _Fr._ A gypsy. + +BOLOTA. _Port._ (_Span._ BELLOTA.) An acorn. + +BOLSA. _Span._ and _Port._ (1) A purse. (2) The Exchange. + +BOMBARDÓ. _Rom._ A lion. Used also of the gulf usually called the Gulf +of Lyons, but in French La Golfe du Lion, or “Gulf of the Lion,” from its +stormy water. Lyons on the Rhone may have given the English, but +certainly not the French, name to the bay. P. ii. 432. + +BONANZA. _Span._ Fair weather. See note, ii. 273. + +BONITO. _Span._ and _Port._ Pretty. + +BORRACHO. _Span._ and _Port._ A drunkard. _Borracha_ is a wine-skin, +or leathern bottle. Hence Shakespeare’s _Borachio_. + +BORRICO. _Span._ Dimin. of _Burro_, an ass. + +BOTA. _Span._ A leather wine-bottle or bag; usually made of the skin of +a pig for storing purposes, of goatskin for travelling. A glass bottle +is called _frasco_ or _botella_. + +BRASERO. _Span._ Brazier; brass or copper pan to hold live coals. + +BRETIMA, BRETEMA, BRETOMA. _Gal._ A low-lying mist or fog. When thick +and damp it is called—also in Galician—_mexona_. + +BRIBON, BRIBONAZO. _Span._ A vagrant, vagabond, or impostor. The +termination in _bribonazo_ does not express action, as in such words as +_calmazo_, q.v., but augmentation. + +BRIBONERIA. _Span._ Knavery, rascality. + +BROA. _Port._ and _Gal._ BARONA. _Span._ and _Gal._ BRONA. _Gal._ A +bread made of a mixture of maize (2 parts), rye (4), millet (1), and +panic-grass (1). + +BROTOBORO. _Rom._ First. Grk. πρῶτος. _Brotorbo_, J. + +BRUJO or BRUXO. _Span._, _Port._, and _Gal._ A sorcerer, or wizard. + +BUCKRA. _Arab._ _Bikr_, a virgin; used (ii. 357) for the Blessed Virgin +Mary. + +BUENO. _Span._ Good. _Buenas noches_, “good night.” + +BUFA. _Rom._ A manger, crib. P. ii. 433. + +BUL, BULLÁTI. _Rom._ The _anus_. P. ii. 422. + +BURRA. _Span._ and _Port._ Jackass; she-ass. + +BUSNÓ. _Rom._ A man who is not a gypsy, a Gentile. P. ii. 434; Pp. +172; M. vii. 26. + + * * * * * + +CA. _Span._ An abbreviated form of CARAJO, _q.v._ + +CABALGADURA. _Span._ A sumpter horse or mule; beast of burden. + +CABALLEJO, or CABALLUELO. _Span._ Pony. + +CABALLERIA. _Span._ Is used either of a single horse, mule, or ass used +for riding, as the Fr. _monture_, or for a number of such beasts +together. The word in the plural also signifies chivalry or knighthood. + +CABALLERO. _Span._ Lit. a cavalier, but constantly used either as a +mode of polite address, “Sir,” or in speaking of a gentleman, whether +mounted or on foot. + +CABAÑA. _Span._ (1) A shepherd’s hut or cabin. (2) A flock, or +assemblage of flocks, of sheep, under the charge of a _mayoral_, driven +to and from the wild pasture lands of Estremadura. See note, i. 146. + +CACHARRO. _Span._ A coarse earthen pan or pot. + +CACHAS. _Rom._ Shears, scissors. Z. i. 244; P. ii. 99; _cachais_, R. +295. + +CACHIMANI. _Rom._ A wine-shop, or tavern. _Cachiman_, J. See P. ii. +117; M. i. 19. + +CAES. _Port._ A wharf. + +CAFILA, rather ḲĀFILAH. _Arab._ A caravan. + +CALABOZO. _Span._ Dungeon or underground cell. _Calabozero_, the +keeper thereof; turnkey. + +CALASH. _Eng._ A two-wheeled carriage with a hood; a buggy. Span. +_calesa_; Port. _caleça_; Fr. _calèche_. + +CALDAS. _Span._ and _Port._ Warm Baths. Used most frequently in +combination as a place name; e.g. Caldas de Reyes, called by Borrow (i. +394) Caldas de los Reyes, in Galicia. + +CALÉS. _Rom._ Plur. of CALÓ, CALORÓ. A gypsy; lit. a black and dark +man. See CALÓ. + +CALESERO. _Span._ (1) The driver of a _calesa_. (2) The driver of any +carriage or cart. + +CALLAR. _Span._ To be silent. _Calla boca_, “Hold your tongue!” + +CALLARDÓ, GALLARDÓ. _Rom._ A black man, mulatto. See CALÓ. + +CALLE. _Span._ A street. + +CALLEE, CALLÍ. _Rom._ Fem. of CALÓ, _q.v._ + +CALLICASTE. _Rom._ (1) Yesterday. (2) Tomorrow. So in English Rom. +_cóllico_, _káliko_. P. ii. 107; LL. 7. + +CALMAZO. _Span._ A calm at sea. Lit. an “attack” or “stroke” of calm, +such being the force of the termination _azo_; as _puñal_, a poignard; +_puñalazo_, the blow of a poignard. + +CALÓ, CALORÓ. _Rom._ One of the _kalo rat_, or black blood; a gypsy. +P. ii. 106; A. 44; M. vii. 71; G. i. 178. + +CAMARERA. _Span._ A lady’s maid, chambermaid. + +CAMPIÑA. _Span._ The open country, the fields. Dimin. of CAMPO. + +CAMPO. _Span._ and _Port._ The country. In the mouths of +English-speaking Argentines it has become “the camp,” conveying no idea +whatever of the Anglo-Indian “camp,” or “marching” with tents, or +“camping out.” + +CAMPO SANTO. _Span._, _Port._, and _Ital._ A churchyard, cemetery. + +CANALLIS. See JARA CANALLIS. + +CANDORY, plur. CANDORÉ. _Rom._ Christian. P. ii. 125; McR. 46. + +CANÓNIGO. _Span._ A canon or prebendary of a cathedral. + +CAPATAZ. _Span._ and _Port._ Not _capitaz_. A head man; overseer; +ganger; steward on a farm. From Lat. _caput_. + +CAPILLA. _Span._ A chapel. + +CAPITULAR. _Span._ Belonging to the chapter. _Sala capitular_, +chapter-house. + +CARAJO. _Span._ “The great oath of Spain, which ought never to be +written or pronounced in full, practically forms the foundation of the +language of the lower orders; it is a most ancient remnant of the phallic +abjuration of the evil eye, the dreaded fascination which still perplexes +the minds of Orientals, and is not banished from Spanish and Neapolitan +superstitions. The word terminates in _ajo_, on which stress is laid; +the _j_ is pronounced with a most Arabic guttural aspiration. The word +_ajo_ means also garlic, which is quite as often in Spanish mouths, and +is exactly what Hotspur liked—a ‘mouth-filling oath,’ energetic and +Michael Angelesque.”—Ford’s _Spain_, Introd. p. 35. For “the evil eye,” +see; Z. i. 138. + +CARALS. Catalan for CARAJO, _q.v._ + +CARAMBA. _Span._ A polite modification of the grosser CARAJO, _q.v._ + +CARBONERO. _Span._ A charcoal-burner; also a collier. + +CARCEL. _Span._ A prison. + +CARCELERO, CARCELERA. _Span._ A male or female jailer; or the latter +may be merely the wife of a jailer. + +CARLINO, CARLISTA. _Span._ A partisan of Don Carlos. + +CARLO. _Rom._ Heart. P. ii. 125. It also means “throat,” the only +meaning in English Rom. P. ii. 96; A. 66; Pp. 299; SC. 91. + +CARRACHO. _Gal._ A tick, or small parasite found on dogs and cattle. +_Carracha_ is a somewhat similar pest of the human body. The word, which +is not Spanish, is used by Borrow as an expletive, instead of the coarser +CARAJO, _q.v._ + +CARRASCAL. _Span._ and _Port._ A plantation or grove of the following. + +CARRASCO. _Span._ and _Port._ The _ilex_, or evergreen oak. + +CARRETA. _Span._ and _Port._ A long and narrow cart. + +CARRETERA. _Span._ A high-road. Fr. _voie carrossable_. + +CARRONADE. _O. Eng._ A short cannon of large bore, usually carried on +board ship. The word has nothing to do with cannon, but is derived from +the Scotch town of Carron, in Stirlingshire, where these pieces were +first made in 1779. They were not used after 1852, and the name is +obsolete. + +CARTA. _Span._ and _Port._ A letter. + +CASA. _Span._ and _Port._ House. + +CASPITA. _Span._ “Wonderful!” Milder than CARAMBA, _q.v._ + +CASTELLANO. _Span._ A Castilian. _Hablar Castellano_, to talk Spanish. + +CASTUMBA. _Rom._ Castile. + +CAVALGADURA. _Gal._ See CABALGADURA. + +CAVALHEIRO. _Port._ See CABALLERO. + +CÉAD. _Irish_. A hundred. + +CERRADA. _Span._ and _Port._ Closed, concealed, dark. + +CERRO. _Span._ and _Port._ A hill, hillock. + +CHABÍ. _Rom._ A girl. See CHABÓ. + +CHABÓ, CHABÉ, CHABORÓ. _Rom._ A boy, youth, fellow. P. ii. 181; A. 51; +Pp. 528; M. vii. 30; McR. 100. Possibly the origin of the English slang, +“chap.” + +CHACHIPÉ. _Rom._ The truth. P. i. 138; ii. 178; A. 29; Pp. 523; M. +vii. 27. + +CHAI. _Rom._ Irreg. plur. of CHABÓ, _q.v._ Chaps; used commonly for +gypsies. + +CHAL. _Rom._ A lad, boy, fellow; possibly the same as chiel, childe. +_Rómano-chal_, a gypsy. McR. 98. + +CHALI DEL BAHAR. _Arab._ _Bahar_ is “the sea” in Arabic; _shát_ is “the +shore.” _Chali_ is possibly a misprint for this. + +CHALAN. _Span._ A jockey or horse-dealer. + +CHARDÍ, CHÁTI. _Rom._ A fair. I cannot find this word except in Borrow +(Z. ii. * 36), though J. gives _chandí_. Borrow derives it from Hind, +_chhetr_ = field. If so it is perhaps connected with _char_, _chor_ = +grass. P. ii. 198; Pp. 529; M. vii. 29. Can it be the Persian +_chatrí_—canopy, tent? + +CHARIPÉ, CHERIPEN. _Rom._ Bed, or bedstead. Hind. _charpoy_ = that +which has four feet or legs. Borrow (Z. ii.* 37) wrongly suggests the +Grk. κρεββάτι, though giving, as elsewhere (LL. 100), the right +derivation. P. ii. 203; M. vii. 32. + +CHEGAR. _Port._ To arrive, land. + +CHENOURAIN. Synagogues. From _shanūra_, an Algerian or low Arabic word. + +CHI, CHICHÍ. _Rom._ Nothing. P. ii. 176; M. vii. 31. + +CHIBADO. _Rom._ Put into. From _chibar_, a word used in many senses. +P. ii. 184. + +CHICA. _Span._ Little girl. Properly the fem. of the adj. _chico_, +which is also used commonly for a boy, especially as a mode of address, +or to call attention, _hé_, _chico_! + +CHICOTITO. _Span._ Dimin. of _chico_. A little fellow, dwarf. + +CHIM. _Rom._ Kingdom, country. P. ii. 295; M. viii. 82; Z. ii. * 38; +and J. + +CHINDOMAR. _Rom._ A butcher. From _chinar_ = to cut. P. ii. 208; Pp. +538; M. vii. 33. + +CHINEL. _Rom._ A man of official position or rank. Especially an +_alguacil_. Russ. _chin_, rank. P. ii. 204. + +CHINOBARÓ. _Rom._ A head official. Compounded of CHIN and BARO, _q.v._ + +CHIPE. _Rom._ Tongue, speech. P. ii. 216; M. vii. 31; SC. 64. + +CHIRIA. Borrow gives this as Sanscrit for “bird,” but I cannot find his +authority. The Rom. word is _cziriklo_, _chiriclo_. See P. ii. 199. + +CHOR. _Rom._ _Subs._ a thief; _verb_, to steal. P. ii. 200; A. 46; Pp. +545–6; M. vii. 36. + +CHOZA. _Span._ A hut or small cottage. According to Dozy and Engelmann +it is the Arab. _khas_. + +CHULÍ, plur. CHULÉ. _Rom._ A dollar. Span. _peso fuerte_. Borrow uses +the word in his gypsy St. Luke, xv. 8, etc. P. ii. 205, has “_Chuli_ = +_Groschen_,” and suggests a connexion with _tchulo_ = thick. It is +tempting to compare the English slang “a thick ’un” = a sovereign. + +CHULÍ, CHURÍ. _Rom._ A knife. Hind. _churi_. P. ii. 210; Pp. 550; M. +vii. 39. The form with L is only found in Spanish. Pott suggests that +it is a corruption of _cuchillo_. In Z. ii. 148 it is given as +_Germanía_, or thieves’ slang, and is probably their alteration of the +correct _churí_. + +CHUQUEL. _Rom._ A dog. P. ii. 213; A. 64; Pp. 553; M. vii. 51; Z. ii. +* 132. + +CIERRA! _Span._ “Close!” The war-cry of the Castilian chivalry; more +fully, _Santiago_! _y cierra España_! + +CIERTO. _Span._ Sure, certain. + +CIERVO. _Span._ A stag. + +COCAL. _Rom._ A bone. P. ii. 92; A. 52; Pp. 289; M. vii. 85. + +COISA, COUSA. _Port._ A thing. + +COLEGIO. _Span._ A college. + +COMER. _Span._ and _Port._ To eat. + +COMITIVA. _Span._ and _Port._ Suite, following, company. + +COMMERCIO. _Port._ Commerce. _Span. comercio_. + +COMPANHEIRO. _Port._ Companion, comrade. + +COMPRAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To buy. + +COMUNERO. _Span._ A member or partisan of the Communities of Castile. +See Burke’s _Hist. of Spain_, ii. 316. + +CON. _Span._ With. + +CONCIUDADANO. _Span._ A fellow-citizen. + +CONDE. _Span._ and _Port._ A count, or earl. Lat. _comes_. A title at +one time greater than that of duke in Spain. See Burke’s _Hist. of +Spain_, i. 148. + +CONDENADO. _Span._ Condemned, damned. + +CONQUISTAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To conquer. + +CONSTITUCION. _Span._ Constitution; the constitution of 1812. + +CONTRABANDISTA. _Span_ and _Port._ A smuggler. + +CONVERSACION. _Span._ Conversation. As an interjection, “Folly! +rubbish!” + +COPITA. _Span._ A wine-glass, or small drinking-cup; dimin. of _copa_. + +COPLA. _Span._ and _Port._ A couplet, or a few lines of poetry. The +original Spanish of the lines quoted ii. 62 is as follows— + + “Un manco escribió una carta; + Un siego {395} la está mirando; + Un mudo la está leyendo; + Y un sordo la está escuchando.” + + (Rodriguez Marin, _Cantos Populares Españoles_, tom. iv. p. 364, No. + 7434.) + +CORAHAI or CORAJAI. _Rom._ The Moors of Northern Africa. P. ii. 127; +A. 27; Pp. 320; M. vii. 64. + +CORAHANÓ, fem. CORAHANÍ. _Rom._ A Moor. See CORAHAI. + +CORCHETE. _Span._ and _Port._ A catchpoll. Lit. a clasp; _corchetes_ +are “hooks and eyes.” + +CORÇO. _Gal._ A stag, or deer. + +CORDOVES. _Span._ Of or belonging to Cordova. + +CORREGIDOR. _Span._ A municipal magistrate. Orig. a _co-regidor_, or +joint administrator of the law; not, as Midshipman Easy and the Boatswain +decided, a _corrector_, though the word also has that signification in +Spanish. As regards the magistrate, the second _r_ is superfluous and +etymologically deceptive. + +CORRIDA. _Span._ and _Port._ A racecourse; bull-fight. + +CORTAMANGA. The word is not given in any dictionary that I have +consulted. Borrow evidently alludes to a vulgar and obscene gesture, +usually called _un corte de mangas_. It is made by bringing down the +right hand on the left forearm, and raising the left forearm, with the +middle finger of the left hand raised and the other fingers bent. It is +not under _corte_ or _manga_ either in Covarrubia or the 1730 edit. of +the _Dic. Acad. Esp._, or more recent ones, probably on account of its +indecent signification. I have never seen it written. The finger part +of the business is of course as old as the Romans, and survives still in +Italy. + +CORTE. _Span._ and _Port._ The king’s court; more particularly the city +where the court resides—thus the capital. Applied colloquially and in +commercial correspondence to Madrid, Lisbon, Rio Janeiro, etc. + +CORTEJO. _Span._ and _Port._ A lover. Orig. courtesy or homage. +_Cortejar_ = to do homage to. + +CORTES. _Span._ and _Port._ The estates of the realm, parliament. + +CORTIJO. _Span._ Farmhouse. + +COSAS. _Span._ Things. “_Cosas de España_,” “_Cosas de Inglaterra_,” +“_Cosas de los Ingleses_.” Colloquially equivalent to our, “How +Spanish!” “Quite English!” + +CRALLIS. _Rom._ King. The Slavonian _kral_. P. ii. 123; Pp. 296; M. +vii. 87. + +CREER. _Span._ To believe. _Yo lo creo_, “I believe you, my boy!” +“You bet!” + +CRIA. _Span._ and _Port._ A brood. + +CRISCOTE. _Rom._ A book. See GABICOTE. + +CRISTIANO. _Span._ Christian. Used in Spain for the Spanish language. + +CRISTINO. _Span._ A partisan of Queen Christina. + +CRUZ. _Span._ and _Port._ A cross; also the withers of a horse or mule. + +CRUZADO. _Span._ and _Port._ A coin worth about six shillings. See +Burke’s _Hist. of Spain_, ii. 286. + +CUADRILLA. _Span._ A band. + +CUARTO. _Span._ A copper coin of the value of four maravedis, or about +one English farthing. Lit. the fourth part of anything. + +CUENTA. _Span._ Bill, reckoning. + +CUESTA. _Span._ A hill, or mount. + +CUIDADO. _Span._ and _Port._ Care, anxiety. The Andalusians and +Gitanos say _cuidao_. + +CUL. _Arab._ Every, all. + +CURA. _Span._ and _Port._ Parish priest. Fr. _curé_; _not_ a “curate.” +The writer usually known as _El Cura de Fruime_ (i. 401) was D. Diego +Antonio Zernadas de Castro, born at Santiago in 1698. He wrote various +works in verse and prose, a complete edition of which, in seven volumes, +was published by Ibarra (Madrid, 1778–81), and was followed by another, +in three volumes, in 1783–9–90. A biography of the author, by D. +Fernando Fulgosio, appeared in the _Revista de España_, _tomos_ 27, 28 +(1872). There was another _Cura de Fruime_, D. Antonio Francisco de +Castro, who was also a poet, and who died in 1836. + +CURELAR. _Rom._ To do business. P. ii. 111; Pp. 281; M. vii. 88. + +CURELÓ. _Rom._ Trouble, pain. P. ii. 115. See CURELAR. + +CURIOSO. _Span._ and _Port._ Inquiring, curious. + + * * * * * + +DADAS. _Span._ and _Port._ Given. From _dar_. + +DAI. _Rom._ Mother. P. ii. 309; Pp. 194; M. vii. 40. + +DAOUD. _Arab._ Light. Arab. _ḍau_. _Daoud Scharr_ = _ḍau ash-sharr_, +light of mischief. + +DAR. _Arab._ A house; often found in composition as _Dar-sinah_, _Dar +ṣinā_‘_ah_ (ii. 367), the house of the arts, or handicrafts; _Dar-dwag_, +_Dar dabbagh_ (ii. 371), the house of the bark, or tannery. + +DEHESA. _Span._ Pasture; applied more particularly to large open tracts +of country where the cattle can roam at large. + +DEMONIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Demon, devil. + +DENHO. _Gal._ The devil; used familiarly, “the deuce.” + +DESEMBARCAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To disembark. + +DESESPERADO. _Span._ and _Port._ Desperate; a desperado. + +DESHONESTO. _Span._ and _Port._ Not “dishonest,” but “immodest, +lascivious.” + +DESPACHO. _Span._ An office; a _depôt_. Used also of certain shops, +such as the bakers, tobacco-sellers, and others. + +DESPOBLADO. _Span._ Desert, or waste lands. Lit. depopulated; the true +history is seen in the etymology. The word is applied to uncultivated +desert, or uninhabited parts of the country, grazed for the most part by +half wild sheep or cattle. + +DESPUES. _Span._ Afterwards. _Hasta despues_, “Au revoir.” + +DETRAS. _Span._ Behind. See TIRAR. + +DIESTRO. _Span._ Skilful, dexterous; as a substantive, a performer at a +bull-feast, also a fencer. + +DIOS. _Span._ God. + +DISPARATE. _Span._ and _Port._ A blunder, or extravagance. As an +interjection, “Stuff and nonsense!” + +DJMAH. The name of a tower in Tangier. Apparently the Arab. _Jami_’ = +mosque. + +DOIRO. _Port._ Of gold, _de oiro_ or _ouro_. + +DON, DOÑA. _Span._ DOM, DONA. _Port._ Lord; lady. + +DONOSTIAN. _Basque_. San Sebastian. + +DORSO. _Span._ and _Port._ The back. + +DOSTA. _Rom._ Enough! Span. _basta_! P. ii. 308; M. vii. 45. + +DOUBLOON. _Eng._ A gold coin. _Span. doblon_. See Burke’s _Hist. of +Spain_, ii. 284. + +DRAO. _Rom._ Poison. P. ii. 316; Pp. 215; M. vii. 45. + +DROMÁLIS. _Rom._ Carriers, muleteers, men of the road. P. ii. 319. +See DRUN. + +DRUN, DROM. _Rom._ A road. Grk. δρόμος. P. ii. 318; Pp. 215; M. vii. +46. + +DRUNGRUJE, better DRONGRUGI or DRUNJI. _Rom._ The king’s highway; also +a bridle-path. See DRUN. + +DUENDE. _Span._ and _Port._ A ghost, or hobgoblin. In _Germanía_, or +thieves’ slang = the watch, patrol. + +DUFFEL. _O. Eng._ A coarse woollen cloth, said to have been first made +at Duffel, near Amsterdam. + +DUROTUNÓ. A shepherd. Probably connected with _dur_ = far, P. ii. 317; +M. vii. 48. It is worth noticing that we find _Gorotuné_ = a native of +Estremadura, which looks like a pun, P. i. 54, so too J., who has also +_oroturné_ = a mountaineer, which suits the idea. + +DWAG. See DAR. + + * * * * * + +E, Es. _Rom._ Genitive, sing. and plur., of the article _O_. + +E. _Port._ And. + +EIDRI. See SHILLAM. + +ELLEGREN. Stated by Borrow to be a Scand. word, meaning “elfin plant,” +but the dictionaries do not give it. _Elle_, however, in composition = +fairy, in Danish; and _gren_ = bough, in Danish, Norse, and Swedish. + +EMBÉO. _Rom._ A book. P. ii. 62. + +EMBUSTERO. _Span._ Impostor, cheat, schemer; from _embuste_, a deceit, +false or fraudulent scheme, snare. + +ENCINA. _Span._ An oak. + +ENDEMONIADO. _Span._ Possessed by the devil. + +ENGANCHAR. _Span._ To enlist as a soldier. Prim. to hook; _gancho_, a +hook. + +ENSAYO. _Span._ An essay, attempt. + +ENTENDER. _Span._ To understand. + +ENTERO. _Span._ An _entire_ horse, or stallion. As an adjective, +entire, perfect, complete. + +ERRATE. _Rom._ A respectful appellation of the gypsy race, used by them +of their own race. From Rom. _rat_, blood; the people of the same blood; +our blood relations. P. ii. 272; Pp. 457; M. viii. 56. + +ERRAY. _Rom._ Gentleman. More commonly, _rai_; in Eng. Rom., _rye_. +P. ii. 264; Pp. 453; M. viii. 54. + +ERREGUIÑA. _Basque._ Queen. Borrow is mistaken in connecting this word +with Sanscrit. It is simply the Lat. _regina_. + +ERUDITO. _Span._ and _Port._ Learned. + +ESCAPADO. _Span._ and _Port._ Escaped, a runaway. + +ESCLIVITUD. _Span._ Slavery. + +ESCOCÉS. _Span._ Scotch. + +ESCONDIDO. _Span._ and _Port._ _Adj._ hidden. + +ESCOPETA. _Span._ and _Port._ A gun. + +ESCRIBANO. _Span._ A notary, or his clerk. Lit. a writer. + +ESCUCHAR. _Span._ To listen. _Escuchad_! “Listen!” + +ESCUELA. _Span._ A school. + +ESO. _Span._ That. _Que es eso_? “What’s that?” + +ESPAÑA. _Span._ Spain. See i. 341. + +ESPAÑOL. Spanish. + +ESPINAL, ESPINAR. _Span._ A thorny thicket; place of thorns. + +ESPINGARDA. _Span._ and _Port._ A musket. + +ESPINHEIRO. _Port._ A thorn-tree. + +ESTADEA. _Port._ ESTADAIÑA. _Gal._ Dimin. ESTADINHA. (1) A skeleton, +or death’s-head; a nocturnal procession of the spirits of the dead. (2) +A witches’ “sabbath;” for which last the Galician _compaña_ is also used. + +ESTALAGEM. _Port._ An inn. + +ESTAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To be. + +ESTARIPEL. _Rom._ A prison. P. ii. 246; Pp. 146. SC. 141. + +ESTRANGERO. _Span._ Strange, foreign. + +ESTREMOU. _Rom._ ESTREMEÑO. _Span._ An inhabitant of the province of +Estremadura. + +EUSCARRA. Basque. Used by Borrow (ch. xxxvii.) for the Basque name of +their own tongue; more commonly, _Escualdun_, _Escualdunac_; a word in +any case of very uncertain origin. See Burke’s _Hist. of Spain_, vol. i. +App. I., THE BASQUES. + +EXEMPLO. _Span._ and _Port._ Example, pattern. _Por exemplo_, for +instance. + +EXTENDERSE. _Span._ To extend, stretch. + + * * * * * + +FABRICA. _Span._ and _Port._ Manufactory. + +FACCIOSO. _Span._ As an adjective, factious; more often used by Borrow +as a substantive, with the special signification, in the years 1830–1840, +of a disaffected or factious person; a rebel; a Carlist. + +FÁILTE. _Irish_. Welcomes. + +FAJA, FAXA. _Span._ and _Port._ A thick waist-band, usually of silk, +often red, and a characteristic portion of the dress of a great majority +of Spaniards. The Indian _kamarband_. From the Lat. _fascia_, a girth, +or band. + +FANGO. _Span._ Mire, mud. + +FAROL. _Span._ and _Port._ Strictly speaking, a lantern; used by Borrow +for FARO, a lighthouse. They are, of course, equally the ancient Grk. +φάρος. + +FATO. _Port._ A herd; a multitude. Span. _hato_. + +FELOUK, FELOQUE. _Eng._ A boat, felucca. Arab. _faluka_, _falak_ = +ship. + +FERIOUL. _Arab._ A sort of shawl thrown over the shoulders. Arab. +_farwāl_. + +FIDALGO. _Port._ A gentleman. The Spanish hidalgo = _filius alicujus_, +the son of some one. + +FILIMICHA. _Rom._ The gallows. Found in Borrow, and J.; Pott, ii. 394, +simply quotes it from the former. + +FINO. _Span._ and _Port._ Fine, excellent, sharp. + +FONDA. _Span._ Hotel. According to Diez, from Latin _funda_, a sling, +or a purse, which has also given the French _bourse_ and Spanish _bolsa_, +an assembly of paying persons. See POSADA. + +FORA. _Port._ and _Gal._ Outside, without. + +FORO, FOROS. _Rom._ City, or town. P. ii. 393; Pp. 234; M. vii. 53. + +FORTE. _Port._ Strong. + +FREGONA. _Span._ A scullery maid. + +FRIOLERA. _Span._ A trifle. Lat. _futilitas_. + +FUENTE. _Span._ A fount, spring. + +FUERON. _Span._ They were. From _ser_. + +FUEROS. _Span._ Local privileges. + +FUNCION. _Span._ A solemnity; festival; public assemblage of people to +do or see some important act. In military language, an action; then +colloquially, “a row.” The barbarous English adaptation, _function_, is +convenient, and is rapidly gaining ground. + + * * * * * + +GABARDINE. _O. Eng._ A long coat, or cloak, usually applied to the +distinctive dress worn by the Jews under compulsion. Said to be from the +Spanish and Old French _gaban_, a great coarse cloak with a hood, a word +itself supposed to be connected with _capa_. + +GABICOTE. _Rom._ Book. Borrow seems the only authority for this word. +J. has _gascote_. P. ii. 145. + +GABINÉ. _Rom._ A Frenchman. P. i. 54, ii. 145. + +GACHAPLA. _Rom._ A couplet, in poetry. Span. _copla_. P. ii. 41. + +GACHÓ. _Rom._ Any one who is not a gypsy; the same as Rom. _busnó_. P. +ii. 129; Pp. 235; M. vii. 53; McR. 93. + +GALERA. _Span._ A long cart without springs; the sides are lined with +matting, while beneath hangs a loose open net, as under the _calesinas_ +of Naples, in which lies and barks a horrid dog, who keeps a cerberus +watch over iron pots and sieves, and suchlike gypsy utensils, and who is +never to be conciliated.—Ford’s _Spain_, Introd. p. 37. + +GALLEGO. _Span._ and _Port._ Galician; usually Anglicized by Borrow as +Gallegan. The Roman _Gallaeci_ or _Callaeci_. + +GALLINERIA. _Span._ A hen-coop; a place for keeping _gallinas_, or +chickens. + +GALOOT (_Galūth_). _Hebr._ Bondage, captivity. “The galoot of sin.” +In the slang of the United States the word means “a simpleton.” + +GARBANZOS. _Span._ Chick-pease (_Cicer arietinum_). The invariable +vegetable in every _olla_ and _puchero_. + +GARLOCHIN. _Rom._ Heart. See CARLO. + +GARNATA. _Arab._ Granada. See MELEGRANA. + +GARROTE. _Span._ and _Port._ The death penalty by strangulation, in +which an iron collar fixed to a post is tightened by a screw and receives +the neck of the culprit, which is broken by a sharp turn given by the +executioner. _Garrote_ also means a cudgel, or heavy walking-stick; and +the tourniquet used by surgeons. It is a word of strange and uncertain +etymology, and is said to be connected with Span. _garra_, a claw, Fr. +_jarret_, a thigh, and other apparently incongruous words. + +GAZPACHO. A dish in the nature of a vegetable salad very popular in +Spain, made of bread, onions, potatoes, tomatoes, garlic, _garbanzos_ or +chick-peas, with oil and seasoning of various kinds. The etymology is +uncertain. + +GEFATURA. _Span._ Office of the following. + +GEFE. _Span._ Chief. _Gefe politico_ = _corregidor_, _q.v._ + +GELABA. _Arab._ A long cloak. Arab. _jilbāb_. + +GENIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Genius; spirit. + +GENOUI, dimin. GENOUILLOS. Moor. A Genoese, Genoese children. + +GENTE, JENTE. _Span._ and _Port._ People. + +GERMANÍA. _Span._ According to the dictionaries, the dialect or mode of +speech used by gypsies, thieves, and ruffians, to prevent their being +understood, in which they give special meanings to ordinary words (e.g. +_aguila_, eagle = a clever thief), or invent words of their own (e.g. +_almifor_ = horse). No doubt _Germanía_ contains gypsy words, but it is +no more identical with Romany than are the Fr. _Argot_ or the Eng. +_Cant_. See Z. ii. 129. + +GIBIL. _Arab._ A hill. + +GINETE. _Span._ A good horseman. _À la gineta_, in the Moorish style +(of riding). Diez, strangely enough, would derive this Arab or Moorish +word from the Grk. μυμνήτης, a naked or light-armed foot soldier. It is +really derived from the proper name Zeneta, a Berber tribe who furnished +the finest horsemen to the Spanish Moors (Cron. Alfonso X., fo. 6 d, an. +1263). In Catalan the word has become _janetz_. Our English word +“jennet” may be derived from the same source. + +GIRAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To turn round. + +GITANA. _Thieves’ slang_. Twelve ounces of bread. See i. 177. + +GITANO. _Span._ A gypsy. A corrupted form of _Egiptiano_, an Egyptian. +R. 269; McR. 109. See ZINCALO. + +GODO. _Span._ and _Port._ A Goth; Gothic. + +GOH. _Pers._ Mountain. More correctly, _koh_. + +GONFALONIERA. _Ital._ Standard-bearer. + +GRĀ, GRAS, GRASTE, GRY. _Rom._ A horse. P. ii. 145; A. 33; Pp. 249; M. +vii. 58. + +GRACIA. _Span._ GRATIA. _Lat._ Grace. + +GRANJA. _Span._ A grange, farm. _La Granja_, the royal palace at San +Ildefonso. + +GRECO. _Ital._ GRIEGO. _Span._ Greek. + +GUAPO, GUAPITO. _Span._ and _Port._ Gay, neat, clever, elegant, +gallant. + +GUARDACOSTAS. _Span._ A revenue cutter. + +GUARDIA. _Span._ A guard, watch. + +GUERILLA. _Span._ Lit. little war. Irregular warfare to which the +Spaniards have ever been so much addicted. The _guerrillero_ is the +irregular soldier, or armed _paisano_, who wages this little war. + +GUERRA. _Span._ War. + +GUISSAN. _Basque_. According to. It is an adaptation of the Fr. +_guise_, Span. _guisa_. The regular Basque words are _arabera_, +_araura_. Aizquibel, Basque-Spanish Dict., gives the form _gisara_. + +GURSÉAN. _Moor._ The giant aloe. Span. _pita_. _Apud_ Borrow, ii. +276. + +GUSTO. _Span._ (1) Taste, lit. or fig. (2) Fancy, caprice, wish. + + * * * * * + +HABER. _Span._ To have. _Hay_, there are. _No hay mas_? Are there no +more? + +HABLA. _Span._ Speech. + +HABLAR. _Span._ To speak. Lat. _fabulare_. + +HACER. _Span._ To do, make. _El hará el gusto por V_, He will do what +you want. + +HADA, HADE. _Arab._ This. + +HAIK. _Arab._ A white cloth worn over the head by the Moors. + +HAIMAS. _Arab._ Tents. More correctly, _ḥaimat_, plur. _ḥiyām_. + +HAJI. _Arab._, _Turk._, and _Grk._ One who having made the _haj_, or +pilgrimage, to Mecca, is entitled to wear a green turban and assume the +title of _haji_. But the same title, strange to say, is assumed by +orthodox Christians who have made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem; and _Haji +Yanco_ is quite as common a title or mode of address in the Levant as +_Haji Ibrahím_. + +HALAL. _Arab._ Lawful. + +HALOOF. _Berber_. Hog’s flesh. More correctly, _ḥalluf_. + +HAMAL. _Arab._ Porter, carrier. More correctly, _ḥammāl_. + +HANUTZ. _Arab._ Shop. More correctly, _ḥanūt_. + +HARĀM. _Arab._ and _Hebr._ Forbidden. Akin to this is _harem_. + +HASTA. _Span._ Until. See DESPUES. + +HATO. _Span._ A herd, a multitude. Port. _fato_. + +HAX WEIB, HAX. _Germ._ A witch. A wrong form of _Hexe Weib_ or _Hexe_, +a witch, or female wizard. + +HAYIM. _Hebr._ Living. More correctly, _hayyim_. + +HELLER. _Germ._ A copper coin in use in Germany previous to 1848; in +value about one farthing. + +HERENCIA. _Span._ Heritage, inheritance. + +HERRADOR. _Span._ A blacksmith. + +HIDALGO. _Span._ See FIDALGO. + +HIGUERA. _Span._ A fig-tree. + +HIJO. _Span._ A son. Lat. _filius_. + +HINAI. _Arab._ Here. + +HOK. _Rom._ Deceit, falsehood, fraud. _Hokka_, to lie; _hokkawar_, to +cheat. _Hokkano_, in Eng. Rom., a lie. P. ii. 160; A. 37; Pp. 317; M. +vii. 63. _Hokkano baro_, the great trick. See Z. i. 310; LL. 244; Lel. +352; Gr. 357. + +HOMBRE. _Span._ HOMME. _Fr._ A man + +HORCA. _Span._ The gallows. + +HORNO. _Span._ Oven. + +HOURIS. _Arab._ The women of the Moslem Paradise. Plural of the Arab, +_ḥawrá_ = black-eyed. + +HSHEESH. _Arab._ I.e. _ḥashish_, a preparation of hemp. + +HUÁJE. _Arab._ Things. _Huáje del Mselmeen_, more correctly, _ḥawāij +el Muslimīn_, things of the Moslems. + +HUESO. _Span._ A bone. + +HUNDUNAR, JUNDUNAR. _Rom._ A soldier. P. ii. 172; R. 294. J. gives +_jundo_, _jundonal_. + + * * * * * + +ICHASOA. _Basque_. The sea. The verse quoted by Borrow (ii. 118) more +accurately runs thus— + + “Ichasoa urac handi. + (The iea—the water—large) + Eztu ondoric aguerri— + (There is not—any bottom—manifest) + Pasaco ninsaqueni andic + (To pass—I could be able—thence) + Maitea icustea gatic.” + (The beloved—the seeing, _i.e._ to see—for). + +INFAMIA. _Span._ and _Port._ Infamy. + +INFANTE. _Span._ and _Port._ Prince. + +INGLATERRA. _Span._ England. + +INGLES. _Span._ English. _Inglesito_! “My little Englishman!” + +INQUISICION. _Span._ The Inquisition. + +INSHALLAH. _Arab._ Please God! + +INSTANCIA. _Span._ and _Port._ Instance, prosecution. See note, ii. +141. + + * * * * * + +JABADOR. Apparently a Hispanized form of the African Arabic _jabdali_ = +a gold-embroidered waistcoat. + +JACA, or HACA. _Span._ A pony, or small riding horse. + +JARA CANALLIS. _Rom._ The only authority I have succeeded in finding +for this word is Z. ii. * 61. “_Jaracañales_, guards, officers of the +revenue.” It may possibly be derived from the Bohemian gypsy _xáro_, +Hungarian _háro_ = sabre, and the Span._ canalla_, but I have no reason +to suppose that the word _xáro_ or _háro_ was known to the gypsies of +Spain. + +JARGON. _Eng._ Originally a Fr. word, meaning any unintelligible sound, +as that of birds, then applied to the strange speech of the _Gueux_; and +so to any unknown tongue. Borrow himself says of the gypsies, “when +wishing to praise the proficiency of any individual in their tongue, they +are in the habit of saying, ‘He understands the seven jargons’” (Z. ii. +125). Frampton Boswell is recorded (G. i. 374) to have stated that +Romany was not one of “the seven languages,” “but,” adds Mr. Hinde +Groome, “what he meant thereby, goodness alone knows.” The historian +Mazaris (A.D. 1416) states that at that time the Peloponnesus was +inhabited by seven principal nations, one of which was that of the +Egyptians. These “Egyptians” are held by M. Bataillard to have been +gypsies (_ib._ iii. 154), and I would suggest that we have here the +origin of “the seven jargons.” The number seven seems to be in a special +way connected with the children of Roma. For other instances see Leland, +_English Gypsies_, p. 218; Gr. 171. + +JAUN, JAUNA. _Basque_. Lord, the lord. + +JAUNGVICOA. _Basque_. The Lord God. _Jaun_ = man, sir, lord; _Gincoa_ +or _Jincoa_ = God. + +JEHINNIM. _Arab._ and _Hebr._ Hell. + +JENNUT. _Arab._ Paradise. Usually written, _jannat_. + +JENTE. _Span._ See GENTE. + +JIN. _Arab._ In classic English, _genie_ (Arabic and Persian _jinn_), a +class of spirits lower than the angels. + +JOHÁR. _Arab._ A pearl. + +JOJABAR, JONJABAR. _Rom._ To deceive. From _jojána_, deceit. See HOK. + +JORGE, dimin. JORGITO. _Span._ George. + +JOROBADO. _Span._ A hunchback. The verb _jorobar_ means “to worry.” + +JUEZ. _Span._ A judge. + +JUMAL. _Arab._ Friday. More correctly, _jum_‘_a_. + +JUNTA. _Span._ and _Port._ An assembly, meeting, council, governing +body. + +JUNTUNÓ. _Rom._ A listener, spy, sneak. From _junar_, _junelar_, to +listen. P. ii. 221; Pp. 497; M. viii. 75. + +JUSTICIA. _Span._ A legal tribunal, or the magistrate or magistrates +who constitute it. _Absol_, justice. + + * * * * * + +KAFIR. _Arab._ Not a Moslem. + +KANDRISA. According to Borrow, Turkish trousers. Possibly the same as +the African Arabic _ḳan dūra_ = long shirt, _toga talaris_. + +KAPUL UDBAGH. According to Borrow = “There is no God but one.” + +KAUK. _Hebr._ The furred cap of Jerusalem, according to Borrow. We may +perhaps compare _ḳūḳa_, stated by Redhouse in his _Turkish Diet_, to be a +peculiar plumed head-dress worn by field-officers of the Janissaries. + +KAWAR. _Arab._ An uncommon word, meaning, no doubt, a cemetery, being a +corrupt form of _ḳabr_, a tomb. + +KEBIR. _Arab._ Great. + +KER, QUER. _Rom._ A house. P. ii. 153; Pp. 279; M. vii. 79; G. i. 178. + +KERMOUS DEL INDE. _Arab._ A fruit; the prickly pear. + +KISTUR, KESTER. _Rom._ To ride. P. ii. 122; SC. refer to _uklistó_, +Pp. 560; A. 14; M. viii. 89. Borrow derives it from the Wallachian +_keleri_. Perhaps from the Grk. κέλης. + +KJÆMPE. _Scand._ A champion. Cf. “Kempion the kingis son” in the +ballad that bears his name. + +KNAW. _Rom._ Now. P. ii. 124; Pp. 130; M. vii. 5. + +KOSKO, KOOSHTO. _Rom._ Good. P. ii. 157. This is an Eng. Rom. word. +Continental gypsies use _latchó_, _mishtó_. + +KYRIE. Grk. Κύριε, sir, my lord. + + * * * * * + +LABRADOR. _Span._ Cultivator, rustic, peasant. _Labrar_, to till the +ground. + +LÁCHA. _Rom._ Maidenhead, virginity. Z. ii. 7; P. ii. 331; Pp. 325; M. +viii. 4. + +LACHIPÉ. _Rom._ Silk. I cannot explain this word, unless it is +connected with the following. + +LACHÓ, fem. LACHÍ. _Rom._ Good. P. ii. 329; A. 49; Pp. 328; M. viii. +4. + +LADRÕES. _Port._ Plur. of _ladrão_, a thief. Lat. _latro_. + +LALORÉ. _Rom._ The Portuguese. LALORÓ, the red land. Eng. Rom. +_Lotto_ (cf. _Jackanapes_, p. 28). P. i. 54, ii. 338; Pp. 328, 339; M. +viii. 8. + +LAPURRAC. _Basque_. The thieves. + +LARGO. _Port._ A square, or public place in a town. + +LECTURA. _Span._ Reading. + +LEN. _Rom._ A river. _Len baro_, the great river; _Wady al Kebir_, the +Guadalquivir. P. ii. 336; Pp. 333; M. viii. 6. + +LEVANTARSE. _Span._ and _Port._ To raise one’s self, rise. + +LE. _Span._ To him. + +LI, LIL. _Rom._ Paper; a letter, passport, book. P. ii. 329, 339; A. +48; Pp. 334; M. viii. 7. + +LIB. _Hebr._ Heart. More correctly, _leb_. + +LICEO. _Span._ School, college. + +LILIPENDI. _Rom._ A simpleton. Akin to LILÓ, _q.v._ + +LILÓ, fem. LILÍ. _Rom._ Foolish, mad. P. ii. 340. + +LIMOSNA, dimin. LIMOSNITA. _Span._ Alms, charity. + +LINDO. _Span._ and _Port._ Beautiful, pretty. + +LIRI. _Rom._ Law. P. ii. 340. + +LLAVERO. _Span._ Turnkey. + +LOCO. _Span._ Mad. + +LOMBO. _Port._ Loin. + +LONDONÉ. _Rom._ An Englishman; lit. a Londoner. So B., but it is +probably plural. P. i. 54. + +LONGANIZERO. _Span._ Sausage-maker. + +LONTRA. _Port._ Otter. Span. _nutria_. “L” for “N” is characteristic. + +LOOR. _Old Span._ Praise. + +LUME. _Port._ Light. + +LUMIA. _Rom._ A harlot. P. ii. 334; Pp. 342; M. viii. 9; G. i. 178. + + * * * * * + +MA. _Arab._ Not. + +MACHO, MACHA. _Span._ A mule, male or female. Considering that, even +in Spanish, _macho_ did, and does, signify a male animal of any +kind—being an abbreviation of the Latin _masculus_—_macha_, a she-mule, +is rather a strange word! + +MADRILATI. _Rom._ Madrid. Also _Adalí_, J. In thieves’ slang also +_Gao_ (= _gav_, a town), Z. ii. * 54. But H. gives _gao_ = _piojo_ (a +louse). + +MAHA. _Sanscr._ Great. Persian _mih_. + +MAHASNI, plur. MAKHASNIAH. _Arab._ Soldiers. More correctly, men of +the garrison; defenders. + +MAI. _Port._ Mother. + +MAILLA. _Rom._ A she-ass. P. ii. 454. Apparently only found in Eng. +Romany. + +MAJARÓ. _Rom._ Holy. P. ii. 462. + +MAJO, MAJA. Dandy; fancy man or girl. _Majo_, scarcely to be rendered +in any foreign language, is a word of more general signification than +_manolo_, q.v. The one is a dandy, or smart fellow, all over Spain; the +other is used only of a certain class in Madrid. + +MAJOON. I cannot find this word, but it is apparently the name of some +intoxicating substance, and is probably connected with the Arabic +_majnūn_ = possessed by a _jinn_, mad. + +MAKHIAH. _Arab._ Brandy made of figs. More correctly, _ma’iyya_. + +MALO. _Span._ Bad, wicked. + +MALVADO. _Span._ and _Port._ Malicious, evil disposed. + +MAN. _Rom._ Me. P. i. 229; Pp. 66; M. xi. 22. + +MANOLO. _Span._ _Manolo_ is a somewhat difficult word to translate. It +is applied to the flash or fancy man and his _manola_ in Madrid only; a +class fond of pleasure, of fine clothes, of bull-fights, and of sunshine, +with a code of honour of their own; men and women rather picturesque than +exemplary, and eminently racy of the soil. + +MANRÓ. _Rom._ Bread or corn. Estremadura is thus called _Chim del +Manró_, “The Land of Corn.” P. ii. 440; Pp. 350; M. viii. 12. Given as +_marron_, G. i. 177. + +MANTA. _Span._ and _Port._ A woollen blanket. _Á manta de Dios_ = +copiously. The word has nothing to do with the national _cloak_ of +Spain, which is _la capa_. + +MANTILLA. _Span._ The characteristic headdress of Spanish ladies, of +black silk or lace, drawn over the back of the head and shoulders. +Dimin. of _manta_. + +MAR. _Span._ and _Port._ Sea. + +MARAVEDÍ. _Span._ A coin of various weights and values. See Burke’s +_History of Spain_, ii. 282. + +MAREQUITA. _Span._ Dimin. of Maria. + +MARIPOSA. _Span._ A butterfly; a night light. + +MAS. _Span._ More. + +MATADOR. _Span._ and _Port._ (1) A slayer, murderer. (2) The man who +kills the bull. See note, i. 170. + +MATO. _Port._ A forest; or more exactly, a wild country, full of bushes +and thickets. + +MAUGHRABIE. _Arab._ A Borrovian adaptation of the Arabic _Al Maghrib_, +the west, signifying Mauretania, or North-Western Africa. + +MAYIM. _Hebr._ Waters. + +MAYOR. _Span._ and _Port._ Greater. + +MAYORDOMO. _Span._ and _Port._ House steward, or major-domo. + +MEARRAH. _Hebr._ and _Arab._ Cemetery. Lit. a cave. Hebr. _m_‘_arah_, +Arab. _maghārah._ + +MECLIS, MEKLIS. _Eng. Rom._ Leave off! have done! “‘_Meklis_,’ said +Mrs. Chikno, ‘pray drop all that, sister’” (_The Romany Rye_, ch. v.). +P. ii. 112, 434; Pp. 369; M. viii. 19. + +MEDICO. _Span._ and _Port._ A physician. + +MEFORSHIM. _Hebr._ The commentators. More correctly, _m_’_fár_’_shim_. + +MEIGA. _Port._ and _Gal._ A female sharper, fortune-teller, or +sorceress. The adjective _meigo_, in Spanish _mego_, has the +signification of gentle, kind, mild. + +MELEGRANA. _Rom._ Granada. From the Ital. _melagrana_, a pomegranate; +Span. _granada_. See note, 375. + +MENDI. _Basque_. A mountain. See note to Ingles Mendi, ii. 314. + +MERCADO. _Span._ and _Port._ A market, or market-place. + +MERCED. _Span._ (1) Favour, grace, mercy. (2) A day labourer’s pay, or +wages. (3) In combination, _vuestra merced_, your worship, your honour, +etc.; written V. or Vd. and pronounced _usted_. + +MESUNA. _Rom._ A wayside inn, or _posada_, q.v. P. ii. 43, 463. + +MEZQUITA. _Span._ A mosque. + +MÍLA. _Irish_. A thousand. + +MILAGRO. _Span._ A miracle. + +MIN. _Rom._ My, mine. P. i. 237; Pp. 69; M. xi. 30. + +MIN. _Arab._ From. + +MIRAR. _Span._ To look. + +MISERIA. _Span._ and _Port._ Misery, wretchedness; also niggardliness, +stinginess. + +MODERADO. _Span._ and _Port._ Moderate. The name assumed by the more +royalist members of the _Cristino_ party. See i. 180. + +MODO. _Span._ and _Port._ (1) Measure; (2) courtesy, urbanity. _V. no +tiene modo_, “You’ve got no manners.” + +MOIDORE. _O. Eng._ Portuguese _moeda d’ouro_ = golden money, was a gold +piece of the value of about twenty-six shillings. + +MONA. _Span._ and _Port._ A she-monkey. + +MONRÓ. _Rom._ A friend; in thieves’ slang, an adult. Z. ii. 149; P. +ii. 453; M. viii. 18. + +MONTANA. _Span._ A hill, mountain. + +MONTE. _Span._ and _Port._ A hill, mountain. + +MONTERA. _Span._ A hunting-cap, a Montero cap. + +MONTERO. _Span._ A hunter; originally, a mountaineer. + +MORO. _Span._ Moorish. + +MOSTRADOR. _Span._ The counter, of a shop. + +MOZO. _Span._ A youth, or lad; _moza_, a girl. + +MSELMEEN. _Arab._ Moslems. See HUÁJE. + +MUCHACHO, MUCHACHA. _Spn._ Boy; girl. + +MUCHO. _Span._ Much. + +MUGER, MUJER. _Span._ Woman; wife. + +MUJIK, MUZHIK. _Russ._ A peasant. It may be added that their popular +song, “Come, let us cut the cabbage” (i. 175), is not, as might be +supposed, an exhortation to horticultural pursuits. “To cut the cabbage” +is a slang expression among the Slavs for killing a Turk, in allusion to +the green turbans worn by the descendants of the prophet. + +MUK. _Rom._ Let, allow. See MECLIS. + +MUNDO. _Span._ and _Port._ World. + +MUSHEE. _Arab._ I.e. _ma_ = not, _shee_ = thing. + +MUY. _Span._ Very, much. + + * * * * * + +NACIONAL. _Span._ and _Port._ A Nationalist; a member of the National +Guard. + +NADA. _Span._ and _Port._ Nothing. + +NAHI. _Rom._ Translated by Borrow, lost. If so, perhaps connected with +_najabar_, to lose. P. ii. 324; Pp. 381; M. viii. 23. Possibly, +however, it is only a negative = is not. P. i. 319; A. 70. + +NAO. _Port._ Ship. + +NARANGERO. _Span._ An orange-seller. + +NAVA. _Span._ A plain. + +NDUI. _Hebr._ A kind of hell, or purgatory, according to Borrow, who +puts the word into the mouth of his Lisbon Jews. It is, apparently, the +Hebr. _niddui_ = ban, excommunication. + +NEFSKY. _Russ._ Of the Neva. + +NEGRO. _Span._ and _Port._ (1) Black; (2) a negro, or African; (3) the +nickname given by the Basque Carlists to the _Cristinos_, or +Constitutionalists, 1833–1839. + +NICABAR. _Rom._ To take away, steal, destroy. P. ii. 326; Pp. 390; M. +viii. 25. + +NIRI. _Basque_. My, mine. + +NOCHE. _Span._ Night. + +NOMBRE. _Span._ Name. + +NOVILLO. _Span._ A young bull. See note, i. 361. + +NOVIO. _Span._ Bridegroom, betrothed. + +NUAR. _Arab._ Flowers. More correctly, _nawār_. + +NUESTRO. _Span._ Our. + +NUVEIRO. This word is neither Castilian, Galician, nor Portuguese; but +is a made-up or fancy word, from the Portuguese _nuvem_, a cloud; a cloud +man, or supernatural being. + + * * * * * + +O. _Rom._ The. + +Ó. _Span._ Or. + +OBISPO. _Span._ Bishop. + +OJALATEROS. _Span._ “Waiters upon Providence.” A burlesque word. See +note, i. 169. + +ONZA. _Span._ A coin of the value of about £3 6_s._ 8_d._; lit. an +_ounce_ of gold. Also known as the _doblon de à_ 8; Anglicized as “piece +of eight.” + +ORAÇAM, ORAÇÃO. _Port._ A prayer. + +OTRO. _Span._ Other. _No hay otro en el mundo_, “There’s none like it +in the world.” + +OULEM. _Hebr._ Of the world. Arab. ‘_olam_. + + * * * * * + +PACHÍ. _Rom._ Modesty, honour, virginity. P. ii. 347. + +PACIENCIA. _Span._ and _Port._ Patience. + +PAÇO. _Port._ The Court. + +PADRE. _Span._ and _Port._ Father. + +PADRINO. _Span._ (1) Sponsor, godfather; (2) second—in a duel. + +PADRON. _Span._ Patron, landlord. + +PAHAN. _Phœn._ A rabbit. + +PAISANO. _Span._ and _Port._ A countryman; _not_ a peasant, but a man +of the same country as another; a compatriot. As the conventional answer +to the challenge, “_Quien vive_?” by a Spanish sentry, it means +“Civilian.” + +PAJANDI. _Rom._ A guitar. According to Borrow, lit. “the thing that is +touched or played upon.” P. ii. 369, 426. + +PAJARIA. _Span._ Straw-market. The place where straw is _kept_ is +PAJAR. + +PAL. Rom. See PLAN. + +PALABRA. _Span._ A word. + +PALOMAR. _Span._ A dovecote. + +PAN. _Span._ Bread. + +PANHAGIA. _Grk._ Lit. All-holy. The Virgin Mary. + +PANÍ. See PAWNEE. + +PAÑUELO. _Span._ A handkerchief. Lit. a little cloth. + +PAPAS. _Grk._ A priest (παπᾶς). + +PARA. _Span._ and _Port._ For. + +PARNÓ. _Rom._ White. P. ii. 359; Pp. 410; M. viii. 32. + +PARNÉ. White, or silver money; thence, as in the case of Fr. _argent_, +money in general. See PARNÓ. + +PARRA. _Span._ Festoons of vines; the trellis or stakes upon which +these festoons are trained. + +PARUGAR. _Rom._ To barter, swop, chaffer. P. ii. 354; Pp. 412; M. +viii. 33. + +PASTELEROS. _Span._ Pastrycooks. + +PASTESAS. _Rom._ The hands. _Ustilar á pastesas_ is to steal “with the +hands,” or by any sleight of hand. Z. i. 315. The usual Span. gypsy +word is _ba_, J.; _bas_, Z. i. 522. Both are doubtless variations of the +more common _vast_. P. ii. 86; Pp. 573; M. viii. 94; SC. 151. + +PASTOR. _Span._ and _Port._ Shepherd. + +PATIO. _Span._ and _Port._ The court of a house; either the open space +round which Spanish houses are so commonly built, or an open court in +front of it. + +PATRON. See PADRON. + +PAWNEE, PANÍ. _Rom._ Water. Hind. _paní_. The one special word known +to all gypsies wherever found, even in Brazil. P. ii. 343; Pp. 405; M. +viii. 31; G. i. 61. + +PELUNI. _Arab._ Of another. See ii. 313. + +PENAR, PENELAR. _Rom._ To speak, say. P. ii. 386; Pp. 421; M. viii. +41. + +PEÑA. _Span._ A rock. + +PEPTNDORIO. _Rom._ Antonio; proper name. + +PERICO. _Span._ A small parrot. + +PERO. _Span._ But + +PERRO. _Span._ A dog. + +PESAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To afflict, distress. Lit. to weigh. _Me +peso_, “I’m very sorry.” + +PESETA. _Span._ A Spanish coin, representing, down to 1870, two silver +reals or four reals _vellon_, but since 1870 the standard or unit of +value in Spanish finance, is nearly equal to the French _franc_, and, +like it, divided for purposes of account, into 100 _centimos_. + +PETULENGRO, PETALENGRO. _Eng. Rom._ A shoeing smith. See note on i. +204; P. ii. 348; Pp. 427; M. viii. 37; SC. 13, 121; and, generally, +Lavengro and The Romany Rye. + +PFAFFEN. _Germ._ Monks; a contemptuous term for clerics generally, +whether regular or secular. + +PIAZZA. _Ital._ An open square in a town, surrounded by colonnades. In +modern American parlance the word is often used for a veranda, in which +sense Borrow apparently uses it, i. 276. + +PICADOR. _Span._ and _Port._ A riding-master, bull-fighter. See note, +i. 170, and TORERO. + +PICARDIA. _Span._ and _Port._ Knavishness; from _picaro_, a rogue, +knave, or loafer. The English adjective _picaresque_ is conventionally +applied to a certain class of Spanish story of low life and sharp +practice relieved by humour. + +PÍCARO. _Span._ and _Port._ Rogue, knave. + +PICARON. _Span._ Augmentative (_on_) of _pícaro_, a great scamp. + +PICA. _Span._ and _Port._ Peak, summit. + +PILA. _Span._ A water-trough. + +PINAR, PINAL. _Span._ Grove or wood of pine trees. + +PINRÓ, PINDRÓ, plur. PINDRÉ. _Rom._ Foot; _en pindré_, on foot P. ii. +351; Pp. 433; M. viii. 47; A. 33. + +PIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Pious. + +PIRAR, PIRELAR. _Rom._ To go, walk. P. ii. 382; Pp. 436; M. viii. 42. + +PITA. _Span._ The aloe (_Agave americana_). + +PLULÍ. _Rom._ A widow. P. ii. 377; Pp. 439; M. viii. 43. + +PLAKO or PLACO. _Rom._ Tobacco. Russ. _prâk_ = powder. P. ii. 361; +Pp. 445; M. viii. 52. A gypsy model at Granada gave it as _prajo_ in +1876, “L” and “R” being often interchanged by the peasants thereabouts. +G. i. 177 and J. has _polvo_ = _praco_. + +PLAN, PLANORÓ, PLAL. _Rom._ Brother, comrade. Eng. Rom. _pal_. P. ii. +383; A. 79; Pp. 445; M. viii. 43. + +PLAYA. _Span._ The strand. + +PLAZA. _Span._ A square or open space in a town. Ital. _piazza_, q.v. + +PLAZUELA. _Span._ Dimin. of PLAZA. + +POBLACION. _Span._ (1) Population; (2) act of populating; (3) a town. + +POBRECITA. _Span._ “Poor thing!” Dimin. of _pobre_, poor. + +POLITICO. _Span._ and _Port._ Political, civil. See note, ii. 127. + +POLK. _Russ._ A regiment. + +POQUITO. _Span._ Dimin. of _poco_. Small, little. + +POR. _Span._ and _Port._ For. + +PORQUE. _Span._ and _Port._ Because. + +POSADA. _Span._ “A lodging; from _posar_, to sit down or lodge, hence +lodging-house, tavern, or small hotel. The genuine Spanish town inn is +called the _posada_, as being meant to mean a house of repose after the +pains of travel. Strictly speaking, the keeper is only bound to provide +lodging, salt, and the power of cooking whatever the traveller brings +with him or can procure out-of-doors, and in this it differs from the +_fonda_, in which meats and drinks are furnished.”—Ford, _Gatherings from +Spain_, ch. xv. + +POSADERO. _Span._ Innkeeper. + +POSTA. _Span._ and _Port._ Post, post-house. _Casa de las Postas_, +General Post-office. + +PRAÇA. _Port._ Square, place. + +PRADO. _Span._ and _Port._ A lawn or meadow. The great promenade at +Madrid. + +PRAIA. _Gal._ Seashore, strand. + +PRESIDIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Place of imprisonment, penitentiary; +prim. a fortress, or the garrison thereof. + +PRESTAR. _Port._ To be of use. + +PRIMERO. _Span._ First. + +PRINCIPE. _Span._ and _Port._ PRINCEPS. _Lat._ Prince. + +PROPINA. _Span._ Lat. _propinare_. Drink-money; _pour boire_, a tip. + +PUCHERA or PUCHERO. _Span._ A stew; prim. the pot in which the stew is +made, which, as in the case of the _olla_, has come to signify the +contents. The _puchero_ is more used in the north, the _olla_ in the +south of the Peninsula. The combination _olla podrida_ is now at least +never heard in Spain. + +PUEBLO. _Span._ A small town, or village. _El pueblo_, the common +people. + +PUENTE. _Span._ A bridge. + +PUERTA. _Span._ Door, gate. _Puerta del Sol_, Gate of the Sun. The +central point of Madrid. + +PUERTO. _Span._ A bay, or port; also a pass in the mountains. + +PULIDO. _Span._ Neat, delicate, charming. + + * * * * * + +QUATRO. _Span._ and _Port._ Four. + +QUE. _Span._ and _Port._ What, that. + +QUER. _Rom._ A house. See KER. + +QUIEN. _Span._ Who. + +QUIERO. _Span._ I wish. + +QUINTA. _Span._ and _Port._ A country house. + + * * * * * + +RABBI. _Hebr._ Master. + +RAINHA. _Port._ Queen. + +RAIS. _Arab._ Chief; captain of a ship. + +RAJIL. _Arab._ Man. + +RANDADO._ Rom._ Written. From _randar_, P. ii. 276. + +RATERO. _Span._ Mean, scoundrelly. + +RAYA. _Span._ Border, boundary, or frontier. + +REAL. _Span._ and _Port._ Royal. + +REAL. _Span._ and _Port._ A coin or unit of value. The Spanish plural +is _reales_; the Portuguese, _reis_ or _rees_. The Spanish real is worth +about 2½_d._ English; the Portuguese only 1/20_d._, one thousand reis +making the Portuguese dollar, or piece of mil reis, hence called a +_milrei_ or _milreis_. + +REGATA. _Span._ A small channel, or, conduit. + +REJA. _Span._ The iron grating before a window looking on to the street +of a town. The recognized trysting-place of a lover and his mistress. + +RELACION. _Span._ Relation, story. + +REMATAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To end, finish. _Que Dios remate tu +nombre_! “May God blot out your name!” + +RENDER. _Span._ and _Port._ To yield, surrender. + +REPAÑI. _Rom._ Brandy. This word, given in 1876 (_v._ PLAKO), is +derived by Pott from _repañi_ (_repañó_, J.), a radish, the connexion +being the sharp taste of both (ii. 274). Remembering the “fire-water” of +the Indians, the _aguardiente_ of Spain and Portugal, and the _tattopani_ +of the Eng. gypsies, I am tempted to suggest another explanation. J. +gives _ardiente_ = _carí_, and _aguardiente_ = _pañicarí_. Now _car_ (P. +ii. 125) or _jar_ (_ib._ 171) = heat. Change the order of the words and +_caripañi_ might shorten into _repañí_. + +REPOSTERO. _Span._ The butler, or majordomo, in a great house. The +_reposteria_ is the plate-room, storeroom, or pantry. + +REPUTACION. _Span._ Reputation. _Gente de reputacion_, “swells,” +“swagger people.” + +REQUISO. _Span._ Requisitioning (from _requerir_). A technical word; +the authority that requisitions private property, horses, etc., for the +use of the national army in time of war. + +REYNA. _Span._ Queen. + +RIA. _Span._ and _Port._ An estuary, as the mouth of a river. More +particularly applied to the numerous bays on the Galician and Asturian +coasts of Northwest Spain. + +RO, ROM. _Rom._ A husband; a married gypsy. _Roma_, the husbands, is +the generic name of the gypsy nation, or Romany. P. ii. 275; A. 56; Pp. +462; M. viii. 58; McR. 91. + +ROMERO. _Span._ Rosemary. + +ROMI. _Rom._ A married gypsywoman; fem. of _rom_, a husband; a married +gypsy. + +ROQUE. _Span._ and _Port._ The “rook,” or “castle,” at chess. Pers. +_rukh_. The same word is used for the fabulous bird of immense size so +often mentioned in Oriental tales. + +ROUBLE. _Russ._ A kind of Russian money, either silver or paper. Its +present value is about two shillings. + +RUAH. Arab, and _Hebr._ Spirit. Used throughout the Old Test, to +denote the Spirit of God, the Holy Spirit. + +RUFIANESCO. _Span._ Ruffian, criminal. + +RUNE. _Eng._ (1) A letter of the ancient Scandinavian alphabet, usually +carved on stone. (2) A short mystic sentence of Scandinavian origin. +Norse and Danish _rune_, Swed. _runa_. + + * * * * * + +SABIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Learned. King Alfonso X. was surnamed _El +Sabio_, which is sometimes erroneously rendered “The Wise.” _Sabio_ is, +rather, “erudite;” and the king was undoubtedly the most learned man of +his time, though his government was not always by any means wise. + +SACRO. _Span._ and _Port._ Sacred. + +SAFACORO. _Rom._ The city of Seville. P. ii. 248. J. gives +_Sevillano_ = _Safacorano_. + +SAGADUA, SAGARDUA. _Basque_. Cider; _i.e._ the strong or Spanish cider, +called in French Basque _charnoa_ or _sharnoa_, as distinguished from the +weak cider which is made from apples rotted in water. A probable +etymology is _sagar_ = apple; _arno_ = wine. + +SAGRA. _Span._ The name of certain districts in Spain, especially of +one lying north of Toledo. The word is probably derived from the Arab +_ṣaḥra_ = a plain. See note, i. 257. + +SALAMANQUESA. _Span._ A salamander, or, star-lizard; otherwise called +_salamandra_. + +SANDIA. _Span._ A water-melon. + +SANTIGUO. _Span._ The action of crossing one’s self. _Santiguar_ is +“to make the sign of the cross.” + +SANTO. _Span._ and _Port._ Sainted, holy. _La Santa Casa_, the +Inquisition. + +SANTON. _Span._ A great saint; more especially applied to Moslem +recluses. Also, a hypocrite. + +SANTURRON. _Span._ A great saint; usually, a great hypocrite. + +SARDINHA. _Port._ and _Gal._ A sardine. Borrow’s friends, _la gente +rufianesca_, have a quaint name for a galley-slave, _apaleador de +sardinas_, a sardine-beater. H. 155. + +SBA. _Arab._ Morning. More correctly, _ṣabāḥ_. + +SCHARKI. _Arab._ The East. + +SCHARR. See DAOUD. + +SCHOPHON. _Heb._ _Shâphân_ (שׁפן) A quadruped which chews the cud like +a hare (Lev. xi. 5; Deut. xiv. 7); which lives gregariously on rocks, and +is remarkable for its cunning (Ps. civ. 18; Prov. xxx. 26). The Rabbins +render _coney_, or _rabbit_; more correctly the LXX. in three places +χοιρογρύλλιος, _i.e._ an animal resembling the _marmot_. + +SÉ. _Span._ I know; from _saber_. + +SEA. _Span._ May he be; from _ser_. + +SECO. _Span._ and _Port._ Dry. See ii. 82. + +SECRETARIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Secretary. + +SEGUN. _Span._ According to. + +SEGUNDO. _Span._ and _Port._ Second. + +SENHOR, SENHORA. _Port._ SEÑOR, SEÑORA. _Span._ Gentleman, lady. + +SEÑORITO, SEÑORITA. _Span._ Dimin. of the above. + +SEO. _Span._ A cathedral church. + +SEREKA. _Arab._ A theft. More correctly, _sarika_. + +SERRA. _Port._ A high range of mountains; the Spanish sierra. + +SERRADOR. _Span._ and _Port._ A sawyer. Although according to some +authorities this was the real name of the person mentioned in i. 138, +233, it seems that he was really a sawyer, by name José Miralles, born in +Valencia, on the borders of Aragon. He served under _El Fraile_ (The +Friar), a Guerilla chief in the Napoleonic wars, and was rather the rival +than the lieutenant of Cabrera, who imprisoned him, on which occasion he +broke both his legs in a vain attempt to escape. He subsequently took +part in the rising at Maeztrazgo, in 1844, and died in the campaign of +that year, while serving under General Villalonga. + +SERRANIA. _Span._ and _Port._ District or country of _sierras_, or +mountain ridges. + +SERVIL. _Span._ and _Port._ Servile. Applied, as a substantive, as a +party nickname to the Royalists on the outbreak of the first civil war in +1820. + +SESÓ (fem. SESÍ, plur. SESÉ, also = Spain). _Rom._ A Spaniard. In +Spanish the word signifies “brain,” P. ii. 249. + +SHAITÁN. _Arab._ Satan, the devil. + +SHEE. _Arab._ Thing. + +SHEKEL. _Hebr._ A Hebrew coin of uncertain value. The word itself +means merely “a weight.” + +SHEM. _Hebr._ Name. + +SHEM HAMPHORASH. _Hebr._ The separated, reserved, or special Name, i.e. +_Yahweh_. Always transliterated _Adonai_. Lord (a word which itself, +perhaps, contains the Span. _Don_), whence Κύριος, _Dominus_, and the +LORD, have found their way into translations of the Old Testament. Our +English “Jehovah” contains the forbidden consonants of _Yahweh_ and the +vowel points of _Adonai_. + +SHEREEF. _Arab._ Noble. + +SHILLAM EIDRI. Apparently meant for _lashon ivri_ = the Hebrew tongue. + +SHOOB. Borrovian for the Russian _shuba_, a fur cloak or pelisse. The +word has made its way into Eng. Rom. as _shooba_, a gown. + +SHRIT. Apparently for the Arabic _ishtari_ = buy. + +SIBAT. _Arab._ Slippers. More correctly, _sabbāt_. + +SIDI. _Arab._ My lord. More usually written _Said_ or _Sayyid_, the +same as the more familiar Cid. The fem. _Sitti_ = my lady, is familiar +to every lady who has visited North Africa. + +SIERRAS. _Span._ Lit. saws; applied to mountain ranges, from their +serrated outline. + +SIESTA. _Span._ Lat. _sexta_ (_hora_), noon. Noontide or afternoon +sleep. _Sext_ is one of the canonical hours of the Catholic Church. + +SIETE. _Span._ Seven. + +SIGLO. _Span._ Century, age. + +SIGNOR, SIGNORE. _Ital._ Sir. + +SIN. _Span._ Without. + +SINAH. See DAR. + +SINAR. _Rom._ To be. _Sin_, he is; _sinava_, I was. P. ii. 250; Pp. +255; M. vii. 66. + +SŌC. _Arab._ A market. More correctly, _sūḳ_. _Soc de barra_ = outer +market. + +SOCIEDAD. _Span._ Society. + +SOGA. _Span._ A rope; a well-rope; a halter for beasts; the halter for +hanging a man. + +SOLABARRI. _Rom._ Bridle. P. ii. 239; Pp. 487; M. viii. 69. + +SOMBRERO. _Span._ A hat; that which gives _sombra_, or shade. + +SON. _Span._ They are; from _ser_. + +SONACAI. _Rom._ Gold. P. ii. 227; Pp. 481; M. viii. 68. + +SOPA. _Span._ (1) Soup. (2) The entire dinner. + +SOTEA. _Port._ Flat roof; balcony; platform. + +SOU. _Port._ SOY. _Span._ I am; from _ser_. + +SOWANEE. _Rom._ A sorceress. Used by Borrow, i. 122, for the more +correct _chuajañi_, Eng. Rom. _chovihoni_. P. ii. 190; Pp. 549; M. vii. +37. + +SU. _Span._ SUUS. _Lat._ His. + +SVEND. _Dan._ Swain. + + * * * * * + +TABLA. _Span._ A board, or plank. + +TAL. _Span._ and _Port._ Such. _Que tal_? “How goes it?” + +TALIB. _Arab._ Learned, Lit. “a seeker,” used in some countries for “a +devotee.” More correctly, _ṭālib_. + +TAMBIEN. _Span._ Also, likewise, as well. + +TAN. _Span._ So. + +TARDE. _Span._ and _Port._ Afternoon, evening. + +TEATRO. _Span._ Theatre. + +TEBLEQUE. _Rom._ God the Saviour, Jesus. P. ii. 312; J. + +TENER. _Span._ To take, hold, have. See MODO. _Tuvose_, it was held, +or, thought. + +TERELAR._ Rom._ To have, hold. P. ii, 294; A. 41; Pp. 512; M. viii. +79. + +TERREIRO. _Port._ A parade, promenade. + +TERTULIA. _Span._ An assembly, conversazione. + +TINAJA. _Span._ A large earthen jar. + +TINTO. _Span._ and _Port._ Coloured. _Vino tinto_, red wine. + +TIO, TIA. _Span._ Uncle; aunt. Applied in common life as a term of +familiar address to any one, not related to the speaker. Something like +the Old English _gaffer_ and _gammer_. + +TIPOTAS. _Grk._ Nothing (πίποτε). + +TIRAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To throw, remove, shoot. _Tirar por +detras_, to kick out behind. + +TOCINO. _Span._ Bacon, pork. + +TODO. _Span._ and _Port._ All. + +TOMA. _Span._ Lit. take; as an interjection, “Come!” “Look here!” + +TOMATE. _Span._ The tomato (_Lycopersicum esculentum_). + +TONSURA. _Span._ and _Port._ (1) A cutting, of hair or wool. (2) The +first of the ecclesiastical orders. + +TORAH, or THORAH. _Hebr._ The books of the Law; the Pentateuch. + +TOREADOR. See TORERO. + +TORERO. _Span._ A professional bull-fighter. These are of three +classes—the _picadores_, or horsemen; the _bandarilleros_, or placers of +_banderillos_; and the _matador_, or _espada_. Each company, or +_cuadrilla_, of fighters consists of a _matador_, chief of the band, +three _bandarilleros_, and two _picadores_. There is also usually a +_sobresaliente_ (or understudy) _de espada_, in case of accidents; and a +certain number of _chulos_, or men with cloaks, complete the personnel of +the ring. + +TRADUCIDO. _Span._ Translated. From _traducir_. + +TRAER. _Span._ To bear, carry. + +TRAGUILLO. _Span._ Dim. of _trago_. A draught, drink. + +TRAMPA. _Span._ and _Port._ A trap, snare. + +TRINIDAD. _Span._ Trinity. + +TSADIK. _Hebr._ Righteous. Hence Tsadok, the leader of the Sadducees, +derived his name. + +TUCUE. _Rom._ Thee, with thee. See TUTE. + +TUERTO. _Span._ One-eyed. + +TUNANTE. _Span._ and _Port._ Truant; lazy scoundrel. + +TUTE. _Rom._ Thou, thee. P. i. 229; Pp. 66; M. viii. 87. + +TUVOSE. See TENER. + + * * * * * + +UNDEVEL, UNDEBEL. _Rom._ God. According to Borrow, the first syllable +of the word is the _Om_ of the Brahmins and Indian Buddhists, one of the +names of the Deity. Pott, however, denies this, ii. 75, 311; A. 285 Pp. +205; M. vii. 42; G. i. 177. + +URIA. _Basque_. City. So translated by Borrow, but I cannot find the +word. The correct Basque is _iri_ or _hiri_. + +USTED. _Span._ Contracted form of _vuestra merced_, your worship; used +for “you;” now written simply Vd or V. + +USTILAR. _Rom._ To take, take up, steal. Z. ii. * 118; J. Cf. +_ostilar_, to steal. P. ii. 72, 246. See PASTESAS. + +VALDEPEÑAS. _Span._ The red wine made in the neighbourhood of that +town, in die heart of La Mancha. It is about the best in Spain. + +VALER. _Span._ To be worth, prevail, protect. _Valgame Dios_! “May +God protect me!” “S’help me!” + +VALIDO. _Span._ and _Port._ Powerful, respected. See note, ii. 376. + +VALIENTE._ Span._ (1) As an adjective, strong or valiant. (2) As a +substantive, in a less honourable sense, as “cock of the walk,” or bully. + +VAMOS, or VAMONOS. _Span._ “Let us go!” “Come along!” + +VÁSTACO. _Span._ Stem, bud, shoot. + +VAYA. _Span._ A very common interjection or expression, “Come!” “Get +along!” “Let it go!” Imper. of _ir_, to go. + +VECINO. _Span._ An inhabitant; as an adjective, neighbouring. + +VEGA. _Span._ A meadow or plain; an open tract of level and fruitful +ground, more particularly applied to the country around Granada; +generally an alluvial tract formed by the bend of a river or expansion of +a valley. + +VELHO. _Port._ Old. + +VENTA. _Span._ VENDA. _Port._ Strictly speaking, an isolated country +inn, or house of reception on the road; and if it be not of physical +entertainment, it is at least one of moral, and accordingly figures in +prominent characters in all the personal narratives and travels in Spain. +The _venta_ is inferior in rank to the _posada_, q.v. The original +meaning of the word is “sale.” + +VERDADERO. _Span._ True. + +VERDUGO, VERDUGA. _Span._ and _Port._ Said of an exceedingly cruel +person. Prim. a switch, then a flogger, or executioner. + +VIAJE. _Span._ A voyage. + +VID. _Span._ Vine. + +VIEJO. _Span._ Old; an old man. + +VILLA. _Span._ A town; greater than an _aldea_ or village, less than a +_ciudad_ or city. + +VILLANO, VILLANA. _Span._ Countryman, peasant; country girl or woman. + +VINO. _Span._ Wine. + +VIRGEN. _Span._ VIRGO. _Lat._ Virgin. + +VISE. _Nor. Dan._ A ballad. + +VISÉ. _Fr._ Endorsed, or furnished with the official visa. As commonly +applied to passports, neither the verb nor the substantive has any exact +equivalent in English. + +VIVER. _Span._ and _Port._ To live. _Que viva_! “Long life to him!” + +VOSSÉ, or VOSSEM. _Port._ _Vossa mercé_, your worship; you. Gal. +_vusté_; Span. _usted_. See note, i. 89. + +VOY. _Span._ I am going; from _ir_. + + * * * * * + +WADY. _Arab._ River. _Wady al kebir_ = the great river, the +Guadalquivir. + +WAKHUD. _Arab._ A, the article. More correctly, _waḥid_. + +WULLAH. _Arab._ “By God!” + +WUSTUDDUR. _Arab._ Home; abode. Lit. the middle of the houses. See +DAR. + + * * * * * + +Y. _Span._ And. + +YAW. Borrovian for the Germ. _ja_ = yes. + +YDOORSHEE. _Arab._ It signifies; lit. it hurts. + +YERBA. _Span._ (1) Grass. (2) Poison. + +YESCA. _Span._ Under. + +YO. _Span._ I. + +YOUM. _Arab._ A day. + +YUDKEN. _Germ._ A little Jew; more correctly, _Jüdchen_. + + * * * * * + +ZAMARRA. _Span._ A sheepskin coat, the woolly side turned inwards; from +the Basque _echamarra_ (having the same signification), usually worn by +shepherds. The French _chamarrer_, to deck out, or bedizen, is said to +be a word of kindred origin. + +ZARZA. _Span._ A bramble. + +ZINCALO. plur. ZINCALI. _Span. Rom._ Gypsy. P. ii. 259; M. viii. 65. + +ZOHAR. _Hebr._ Brilliancy. See note, ii. 318. + + + + +INDEX. + + +Abades, ii. 209 + +Abyla, Mount (Gibil Muza), ii. 295 + +Aguilar, Antonio Garcia de, i. 282–286 + +Alcalá de Guadaira, i. 223 + +Aldea Gallega, i. 19, 58, 71 + +Alemtejo, i. 16, 72 + +Algeziras, ii. 296 + +Andalusia, Desert of, i. 224 + +Andalusians, The, ii. 261 + +Andujar, i. 253 + +Antigola, ii. 206 + +Antonio, the gypsy, i. 106 + +Antonio Buchini, i. 265; ii. 161, 171, 217 + +Aranjuez, 1. 254; ii. 202 + +Arroyolos, i. 84 + +Astorga, i. 318 + +Asturias, The, ii. 59 + +Azeca, Bridge of, 11. 192 + +Azido, Jozé Dias, i. 74 + + * * * * * + +Badajoz, i. 96, 105 + +Bailen, i. 253 + +Balmaseda, ii. 211 + +Balseiro, i. 177; ii. 154 + +Baltasar, the National, i. 167, 206 + +Baralla Pass, ii. 60 + +Basques, The, and their language, ii. 112 _et seq._ + +Beckford, William, i. 9 + +Bembibre, i. 333 + +Benedict Mol, i. 190, 382, 385; ii. 73, 165, 181 + +Bermudez, Cean, i. 266 + +Betanzos, i. 364 + +Bilbao, ii. 93 + +Bonanza, i. 214; ii. 273 + +Borrego, Don Andrés, i. 259 + +Brackenbury, John (Consul at Cadiz), ii. 288 + +Buchini, Antonio, i. 265; ii. 161, 171, 217 + +Burgos, ii. 98 + + * * * * * + +Cabrera, General, i. 233 + +Cacabelos, i. 338 + +Cadiz, i. 212; ii. 286 + +Caldas de Reyes, i. 394 + +Calzado, Pepe, ii. 101 + +Caneiro, ii. 62 + +Cantwell, Patrick, i. 280 + +Carmona, i. 224 + +Carolina, i. 253 + +Castro, John de, i. 9 + +Castro Pol, ii. 59 + +Christina, Queen Regent, i. 197 + +Chrysostom, Johannes, ii. 256 + +Cintra, i. 7 + +Clarendon, Lord, i. 164, 271; ii. 121, 124, 218 + +Cobeña, ii. 221 + +Coisa Doiro, ii. 46 + +Colhares, i. 10 + +Colunga, ii. 83 + +Compostella, i. 192, 377; ii. 183 + +Contrabandistas, Spanish, ii. 35, 45 + +Corcuvion, ii. 35 + +Cordova, i. 229, 238 + +Cordova, General, i, 180, 267 + +Correa, Joanna, ii. 355 + +Corunna, i. 367; ii. 41 + +Cuesta del Espinal, i. 228 + + * * * * * + +D’Almeida, J. Ferreira, i. 98 + +D’Azveto, Don Geronimo, i. 25, 38 + +Dehesa, The, ii. 259 + +Despeñaperros Pass, i. 254 + +Diaz, Maria, i. 256; ii. 130, 159 + +Dionysius, ii. 263 + +Doddridge, Dr. P., i. 6 + +Dueñas, i. 303 + +Duero (Douro), i. 293 + +Duyo, ii. 23 + + * * * * * + +Elvas, i. 94 + +Estremadura, i. 146 + +Estremoz, i. 87 + +Evora, i. 16, 33 + +Execution of criminals, i. 171 + + * * * * * + +Fava, Pascual, ii. 381 + +Ferrol, ii. 42 + +Feyjoo, Benito, ii. 79 + +Fielding, Henry, i. 6 + +Finisterre, Cape, i. 209; ii. 21, 24 + +Flinter, G. D. (the Irishman), ii. 92 + +Fragey, Ephraim, ii. 369 + +Fuencebadon Pass, i. 344 + + * * * * * + +Galiano, Alcala, i. 179, 181, 195 + +Galicia, i, 1, 347; ii. 59 + +Gallegan language, i. 351 + +Garcia, Sergeant, i. 197, 273 + +Gartland, Dr., i. 276 + +Gibraltar, ii. 300 + +Gijon, ii. 70 + +Gomez, i. 194, 212, 218, 233 + +Guadalquivir, i. 214; ii. 249, 272 + +Guadarrama Mountains, i. 151 + +Guadiana River, i. 102 + +Gypsies, Spanish, i. 105 + + * * * * * + +Hervey, Lord William, ii. 211 + +Hirias, Archbishop (Toledo), ii. 174 + + * * * * * + +Isturitz, Don Francis Xavier de, i. 179, 181, 196 + + * * * * * + +Jaraicejo, i. 135 + +Judaism, i. 67, 247 + + * * * * * + +Labajos, i. 210 + +La Granja, i. 197; ii. 208 + +La Mancha, i. 254 + +Lariategui, i. 262, 295 + +Las Batuecas, i. 152 + +Leganez, ii. 185 + +Leon, i. 315 + +Leyden, Dr. John, i. 76 + +Lib, Judah, ii. 317 + +Lisbon, i. 3, 15, 58, 66, 212 + +Llanes, ii. 88 + +Los Angeles, ii. 7 + +Luarca, ii. 61 + +Lugo, i. 354, 358 + +Luigi Piozzi, ii. 370 + + * * * * * + +Madrid, i. 162, 173, 256, 270; ii. 99, 121, 217, 334 + +Mafra, i. 12 + +Manzanal, i. 327 + +Manzanares, ii. 216, 248 + +Maragatos, The, i. 321 + +Medina del Campo, i. 291 + +Mendizabal, Juan Alvarez y, i. 164 + +Merida, i. 114, 125 + +Miguelets, The, i. 363 + +Mirabete Pass, i. 145 + +Mol, Benedict, i. 190, 382, 385; ii. 73, 165, 181 + +Moncloa, i. 225 + +Montaneda, ii. 96 + +Monte Almo, i. 29 + +Monte Moro, i. 28, 53, 75 + +Monte Moro Novo, i. 87 + +Montes, Francisco, i. 170 + +Moore, Sir John, i. 374 + +Moors, The, i. 116, 239 + +Munoz, i. 198 + +Muros, ii. 65 + + * * * * * + +Naval Carnero, ii. 232 + +Navias, ii. 59 + +New Castile, i. 150 + +Nogales, i. 350 + +Novales, ii. 45 + +Noyo, ii. 13 + + * * * * * + +Ocaña, ii. 204 + +Ofalia, Count, ii. 121, 124, 141 + +Old Castile, i. 274; Plains of, i. 290 + +Oliban, the secretary, i. 183, 195 + +Oñas, ii. 98 + +Oropesa, i. 150 + +Oviedo, ii. 70 + + * * * * * + +Padron, i. 392; ii. 1 + +Palencia, i. 309 + +Pascual Fava, ii. 381 + +Pedroso, i. 286 + +Pegões, 1. 24, 74 + +Peña Cerrada Pass, ii. 207 + +Peñaranda, i. 275 + +Petulengres, i. 204 + +Philippi, Mr., ii. 276, 278 + +Pico Sacro, i. 377 + +Piozzi, Luigi, i. 370 + +Pitiegua, i. 281 + +Pontevedra, i. 395 + +Portuguese Jews, i. 409 + +Puerto de Lumbreras, ii. 246 + + * * * * * + +Quesada, i. 181, 199, 202 + + * * * * * + +Rey Romero, i. 380 + +Ribida de Sella, ii. 88 + +Rivadeo, ii. 53 + +Rivas, Duke of, i. 183 + + * * * * * + +Sabocha, the robber, i. 21 + +Sagra of Toledo, The, i. 257, ii. 194 + +Saint James of Compostella, i. 192, 377 + +Salamanca, i. 275 + +Sanchez, Antonio, i. 170 + +San Lucar, i. 214; ii. 274 + +San Martin de Duyo, ii. 23 + +Santa Colombo, ii. 89 + +Santa Marta, ii. 45 + +Santander, ii. 90 + +Santi Ponce, i. 217 + +Santillana, ii. 90 + +San Vicente, ii. 89 + +Scio, Padre Filipe, i. 259 + +Segovia, ii. 209 + +Serra Dorso, i. 33, 87 + +Sevilla Francesco, i. 170, 176 + +Seville, i. 215; ii. 214, 248 + +Sierra de Buron, ii. 60 + +Sierra de Ronda, i. 215 + +Sierra Morena, i. 241 + +Soto Luino, ii. 64 + +Southern, Mr., i. 271; ii. 133, 135, 139 + + * * * * * + +Tagus, The, i. 3, 18, 145 + +Talavera, i. 155 + +Tangier, ii. 342 + +Tarifa, ii. 294, 341 + +Taylor, Baron, i. 220 + +Toledo, ii. 102–107 + +Tormes River, i. 276 + +Toro, i. 300 + +Trafalgar Bay, ii. 292 + +Triana, i. 216 + +Trujillo, i. 130 + + * * * * * + +Valladolid, i. 294 + +Vargas, ii. 187, 195 + +Vendas Novas, i. 27, 55, 74 + +Vendas Velhas, i. 21 + +Villa del Padron, i. 392; ii. 1 + +Villafranca, i. 341 + +Villa Seca, ii. 185 + +Villa Viciosa, ii. 83 + +Vigo, i. 403 + +Villiers, Sir George. _See_ Clarendon, Lord + +Viveiro, ii. 50 + + * * * * * + +Zariategui, i. 262, 295 + + * * * * * + + THE END. + + * * * * * + + LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED, + STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS. + + + + +Footnotes + + +{2} See note, vol. i. p. 120. + +{12} A fanciful word of Portuguese etymology from _nuvem_, cloud = the +cloud-man. + +{14} _Inha_, when affixed to words, serves as a diminutive. It is much +in use amongst the Gallegans. It is pronounced _ínia_, the Portuguese +and Galician _nh_ being equivalent to the Spanish _ñ_. + +{22} “Flock of drunkards.” _Fato_, in Gal. as in Port. = a herd or +flock. Span. _hato_. + +{23} San Martin de Duyo, a village, according to Madoz, of sixty houses. +There are no remains of the ancient Duyo. + +{26} Galician; lit. the shore of the outer sea. + +{28} “By God! I am going too.” + +{29} Who served as a subordinate general in the Carlist armies. + +{37} “The good lad.” + +{43a} In Spanish, _guardacostas_. + +{43b} More correctly, _el Ferrol_ or _farol_, the lighthouse. Nothing +can more strikingly give the lie to the conventional taunt that Spain has +made no progress in recent years than the condition of the modern town of +el Ferrol compared with the description in the text. It is now a +flourishing and remarkably clean town of over 23,000 inhabitants, with an +arsenal not only magnificent in its construction, but filled with every +modern appliance, employing daily some 4000 skilled workmen, whose club +(_el liceo de los artesanos_) might serve as a model for similar +institutions in more “advanced” countries. It comprises a library, +recreation-room, casino, sick fund, benefit society, and school; and +lectures and evening parties, dramatic entertainments, and classes for +scientific students, are all to be found within its walls. + +{45} A little town charmingly situated on a little bay at the mouth of +the river Eo, which divides Galicia from Asturias, famous for oysters and +salmon. + +{46} Signifying in Portugese or Galician, “A thing of gold.” + +{47} Tertian ague, or intermittent three-day fever. + +{49} “Come along, my little Parrot!” + +{58a} A town on the sea-coast about half-way between Rivadeo and Aviles. + +{58b} Query. See note, p. 45. + +{59} On the right bank of the Eo, over against Rivadeo. + +{62a} The port of Oviedo. + +{62b} See the Glossary, _s.v._ COPLA. + +{66} “God bless me!” + +{67} I.e. _Bascuence_, or _Vascuence_, the Basque language. + +{70} Query, Aviles? + +{71} Job xxxix. 25: “. . . the thunder of the captains, and the +shouting.” + +{75} “Good heavens!” + +{76} I.e. _jacas_. + +{79a} The cathedral at Oviedo is one of the oldest and most interesting +foundations in Spain. The first stone was laid by Alfonso II. in 802; +the greater part of the existing edifice is of the fourteenth century. + +But the great glory of Oviedo, entitling it to rank as second among the +holy cities of Christian Spain, is the Camara Santa, and the relics +therein contained (see Burke’s _History of Spain_ vol. i. pp. 122–124, +140, 141, 147–150, 165, 275; vol. ii. pp. 8–11; and Murray’s _Handbook_, +sub. _Oviedo_). + +{79b} Benito Feyjoo was born in 1676, and having assumed the Benedictine +habit early in life, settled at length in a convent of his order at +Oviedo, where he lived for hard on fifty years. He died in 1764. + +A strange mixture of a devout Catholic and a scientific innovator, he was +an earnest student of Bacon, Newton, Pascal, Leibnitz, and others, whose +opinions he embodied in his own works. Learned, judicious, and diligent +rather than a man of genius, he was original at least as regards his +conceptions of the nature and limits of scientific research in Spain. He +kept on good terms with the Inquisition, while he continued to publish in +his _Teatro Critico_ and his _Cartas Eruditas y Curiosas_ all that the +Inquisitors would desire to remain unread; attacked the dialectics and +metaphysics then taught everywhere in Spain; maintained Bacon’s system of +induction in the physical sciences; ridiculed the general opinion as +regards eclipses, comets, magic, and divination; and laid down canons of +historical criticism which would exclude many of the most cherished +traditions of his country and his Church. The best edition of his works +is that by Campomanes, the minister of the enlightened Charles III., with +a Life of the author. 16 vols. Madrid, 1778. + +{80} Charles III. of Spain (1759–1788), the most enlightened of the +Bourbon kings. + +{82} Literally, _dry_. + +{92} George Dawson Flinter began life in an English West India regiment, +served in the Spanish American forces, and afterwards obtained a +commission in the Spanish army. In 1833, on the outbreak of the civil +war, he declared for Isabella, and served with considerable distinction +in the constitutional army. A prisoner in 1836, he was entrusted with a +high command at Toledo in 1837, but having failed to satisfy the Cortes +in an engagement in September, 1838, he cut his throat (see _Gentl. +Mag._, 1838, vol. ii. p. 553, and Duncan, _The English in Spain_, pp. 13, +189). + +{98} There is still a fairly frequented high-road from Santander to +Burgos, inasmuch as the railway from Santander to Madrid takes a more +westerly route through Palencia, the actual junction with the main line +from Irun being at Venta de Baños, a new creation of the railway not even +mentioned in the guidebooks a few years ago, and now one of the most +important stations in Spain. + +Yet in railway matters Spain has still some progress to make. From +Santander to Burgos _viâ_ Venta de Baños is just 120 English miles; but +the time occupied in the journey by train in this year 1895 is just +seventeen hours, the traveller having to leave Santander at 1 p.m. in +order to reach Burgos at 6 o’clock the following morning! + +{100} See Introduction. + +{101} “_Office of the Biblical and Foreign Society_,” rather an odd +rendering of the original title! + +{103a} The briefest of all abbreviations and modifications of the +objectionable _Carajo_. + +{103b} Rather south-south-west. + +{104} Domenico Theotocoupoulis, a Greek or Byzantine who settled at +Toledo in 1577. He is said to have been a pupil of Titian. The picture +so highly praised in the text is said by Professor Justi to be in “his +worst manner,” and is indeed a very stiff performance. There are many of +_El Greco’s_ pictures in Italy, where his work is often assigned to +Bassano, Paul Veronese, and Titian. His acknowledged masterpiece is the +Christ on Mount Calvary in the cathedral of Toledo. _El Greco_ died in +1625, after an uninterrupted residence of nearly forty years in Spain. + +{107} See _The Zincali_, part. ii. chap. vi. + +{111a} Borrow’s translation of St. Luke into Spanish gypsy was published +with the following title: _Embéo e Majaró Lucas_. _Brotoboro randado +andré la chipe griega_, _acána chibado andré o Romanó ó chipe es Zincales +de Sesé_. (No place) 1837. A new edition was published five and thirty +years later by the British and Foreign Bible Society, as _Criscote e +Majaró Lucas chibado andré o Romano ó chipe es Zincales de Sesé_. +Lundra, 1872. Both these works are now out of print, but I have had the +advantage of seeing a copy of each in the library of the Society in Queen +Victoria Street. + +{111b} _The Zincali_, part ii. ch. viii. + +{114} Modern linguistic science is so entirely at variance with these +theories that it is difficult to add a note at once modest, instructive, +or of reasonable length. On the whole it is perhaps better to leave the +chapter entirely alone. + +{116a} See the Glossary. + +{116b} _Evangelioa San Lucasen Guissan_. _El Evangelio Segun S. Lucas_. +_Traducido al vascuence_. _Madrid_: _Imprenta de la Compañia +Tipografica_. 1838. + +{117} See _Proverbes Basques suivis des Poésies Basques_, by Arnauld +Oihenart, 1847. + +{118a} See F. Michel, _Le Pays Basque_, p. 213, and the Glossary, _s.v._ +ICHASOA. + +{118b} No one who has ever read the work of this _Abbé_ would ever think +of citing it as a serious authority. It is entitled, _L’histoire des +Cantabres par l’Abbé d’Iharce de Bidassouet_. Paris, 1825. Basque, +according to the author, was the primæval language; _Noah_ being still +the Basque for _wine_ is an etymological record of the patriarch’s +unhappy inebriety! + +{118c} This work is entitled, _Euscaldun anciña anciñaco_, _etc._ +_Donostian_, 1826, by Juan Ignacio de Iztueta, with an Introduction in +Spanish, and many Basque songs with musical notation, but without +accompaniment. + +{120} See further as to the Basques, Burke’s _History of Spain_, vol. i. +App. I. + +{121a} 1838. + +{121b} See _ante_, p. 100, and Introduction. + +{121c} Ofalia was prime minister from November 30, 1837, to August, +1838, when he was succeeded by the Duke of Frias. + +{127} The mayor or chief magistrate. _Politico_ is here used in the old +sense of civic, πολιτικὸς, of the πόλις; _gefe_, now spelt _jefe_ = +chief. + +{129a} In _The Zincali_, part ii. ch. iv., Borrow places his +imprisonment in March. + +{129b} Rather _civic_; see note on p. 127. + +{131} “The city prison.” _La Corte_ is the _capital_, as well as the +_court_. + +{133} “My master! the constables, and the catchpolls, and all the other +thieves . . . ” + +{134a} See the Glossary, _s.v._ JARGON. + +{134b} “He is very skilful.” + +{136} “Are there no more?” + +{141} More like the French _Juge d’Instruction_. + +{143a} “Come along, Sir George; to your house, to your lodgings!” + +{143b} Acts xvi. 37. + +{146} People of renown. + +{147a} “Mashes” and mistresses. _Majo_ is a word of more general +signification than _manolo_. The one is a dandy, or smart fellow, all +over Spain; the other is used only of a certain class in Madrid. + +{147b} More correctly, _Carabanchel_ or _Carabancheles_, two villages a +few miles south of Madrid. + +{148} This in prison! + +{149} _E.g._ in the citadel of Pampeluna. See _Journal of the Gypsy +Lore Society_, i. 152. + +{152} Perhaps Waterloo.—[Note by Borrow.] + +{154} “It distresses me.” + +{155} Robbing the natives. + +{156} See chap. xiii. + +{164} The sun was setting, and Demos commands. “Bring water, my +children, that ye may eat bread this evening.” Borrow has translated +this song in the _Targum _(_v._ p. 343). + +{165} The treasure-digger. + +{170} See _The Zincali_, part ii. chap. iv. + +{171} The duke became prime minister in August, 1838. + +{175} In Gams’ _Series Episcoporum_, the standard authority on the +subject, the archiepiscopal see of Toledo is noted as _vacant_ from 1836 +to 1847. Nor is any hint given of how the duties of the office were +performed. Don Antonio Perez Hirias figures only as Bishop of Mallorca, +or Majorca, from December, 1825, to December, 1847. + +{178a} Kicks from behind. + +{178b} “I do not know.” + +{179a} See note, p. 103. + +{179b} “To the gallows! To the gallows!” + +{180a} “To the country! To the country!” + +{180b} “Ride on, because of the word of truth, of meekness, and +righteousness” (Ps. xlv. 5, P.B.V.). + +{188} A nickname, unhappily too commonly justified in Southern Spain, +where ophthalmia and oculists are equally dangerous. + +It is remarkable how many of the great men in Spanish history, however, +have been distinguished by this blemish: Hannibal, Viriatus, Táric, Abdur +Rahman I., and Don Juan el Tuerto in the reign of Alfonso XI. + +{190} Byron, _Don Juan_, xiii. 11. Borrow probably knew well enough +where the lines came from. _Don Juan_ had not been published more than +fifteen years at the time, and was in the zenith of its popularity. But +Byron and his ways were alike odious to the rough manliness of Borrow +(see _Lavengro_, ch. xxxix.), and, in good truth, however much the poet +“deserves to be remembered,” it is certainly not for this line, which +contains as many _suggestiones falsi_ as may be packed into one line. +Yet the “sneer” is not in the original, but in Borrow’s misquotation; +Byron wrote “smiled.” The idea of the poet having spent a handful of +gold ounces in a Genoese posada at Seville and at a bull-fight at Madrid, +that he might be competent to tell the world that Cervantes sneered +Spain’s chivalry away, is superlatively Borrovian—and delicious. The +entire passage runs thus— + + “Cervantes smiled Spain’s chivalry away; + A single laugh demolish’d the right arm + Of his own country;—seldom since that day + Has Spain had heroes.” + +{192} About thirty pounds, at the exchange of the day. + +{195a} “I wish to enlist with you.” + +{195b} “_Gee up_, donkey!” From this _arrhé_, of Arabic origin, is +derived the word _arriero_, a muleteer. + +{197} “Blessed be God!” + +{198} See note, _ante_, p. 190. + +{201} See vol. i. p. 257. + +{202} Aranjuez, the Roman _Ara Jovis_, was, until the absorption of the +great military order by the Crown under Isabella and Ferdinand, a +favourite residence of the Grand Masters of Santiago. + +{203} “Die schönen Tage in Aranjuez +Sind nun zu Ende.” + + The opening lines of _Don Carlos_. + +{204} An exceedingly ancient town, celebrated in the days before the +Roman dominion. + +{205} See Glossary, _sub. verb_. SCHOPHON. As to rabbits in Spain, see +note, vol. i. p. 25. + +{208} The modern La Granja or San Ildefonso is, in the season, anything +but desolate: the beautiful, if somewhat over-elaborate gardens, are +admirably kept up, and the general atmosphere of the plain is bright and +cheerful, though the Court of to-day prefers the sea-breezes of Biscay to +the air of the Guadarrama, when Madrid becomes, as it does, well-nigh +uninhabitable in summer. + +{211a} A particular scoundrel. His massacre of prisoners, November 9, +1838, was remarkable for its atrocity, when massacre was of daily +occurrence. See Duncan, _The English in Spain_, pp. 247, 248. + +{211b} See note, vol. i. p. 164. + +{213} August 31, 1838. + +{215} Don Carlos, who probably died a natural death in 1568. + +{217} The etymology of Andalusia is somewhat of a _crux_; the various +authorities are collected and reviewed in an appendix to Burke’s _History +of Spain_, vol. i. p. 379. The true etymology may be Vandalusia, the +abiding-place of the Vandals, though they abode in Southern Spain but a +very short time; but the word certainly came into the Spanish through the +Arabic, and not through the Latin, long years after Latin was a spoken +language. The young lady was quite right in speaking of it as _Betica_ +or _Bœtica_; though the _Terra_ would be superfluous, if not incorrect. + +{218} He had succeeded to that title on the death of his uncle, December +22, 1838. + +{219} _I.e._ “My Lord the Sustainer of the Kingdom.” See preface to +_The Zincali_, second edition. + +{221a} _Tio_. A common method of address, conveying no reference to +real relationship. So the Boers in South Africa speak of “Oom (uncle) +Paul.” + +{221b} “What beautiful, what charming reading!” + +{223} _No hay otro en el mundo_. + +{224a} See note on p. 147. + +{224b} Κατὰ τὸν τόπον καὶ ὁ τρόπος, as Antonio said.—[Note by Borrow]. +_I.e._ “As is the place, such is the character (of the people).” + +{225} Alcalá de Henares. See note, vol. i. p. 223. + +{228a} “Good night!” + +{228b} “Good night to you!” + +{234} Or _Nevski_ = of the Neva; as we have a Thames Street. + +{236} Spanish, _duende_. See p. 238. Oddly enough in _Germanía_, or +thieves’ slang, _duende_ = _ronda_, a night patrol. + +{237} Madrid is not a city or _ciudad_, but only the chief of _villas_. + +{240} In Romany, _Chuquel sos pirela cocal terela_. + +{242a} _El Nuevo Testamento Traducido al Español de la Vulgata Latino +por el Rmo. P. Phelipe Scio de S. Miguel de las Escuelas Pias Obispo +Electo de Segovia_. _Madrid_. _Imprenta á cargo de D. Joaquin de la +Barrera_. 1837. + +{242b} The church of San Gines is in the Calle del Arenal; the chapel of +Santa Cruz in the Concepcion Jerónima. + +{246} This is a curious slip; the spelling is found in the first and all +subsequent editions. The true name of the defile—it is between Velez el +Rubio and Lorca—is, as might be supposed, _La Rambla_, but the narrowest +part of the pass is known as the _Puerto de Lumbreras_ (the Pass of +Illumination), and from _Rambla_ and _Lumbrera_ Borrow or the printer of +1843 evolved the strange compound _Rumblar_! + +{248} This would naturally mean, “Most reverend sir, art thou still +saying, or, dost thou still say Mass?” which seems somewhat irrelevant. +Possibly what “the prophetess” meant to ask was, “Most reverend sir, hast +thou yet said Mass?” + +{251a} “Knowest thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom?” The song of +Mignon in Goethe’s _Wilhelm Meister_, introduced in the opera of _Faust_. + +{251b} See note, vol. i. p. 216. + +{256} Born at Amalfi, 1623, a simple fisherman. He headed the rebellion +of the Neapolitans against the Spanish viceroy, in 1647. His success as +a leader led to a revulsion of popular feeling, and he was executed or +murdered within a few days of his greatest triumph. + +{261} Chiefly in their pronunciation of the characteristic G and Z of +the Castilian as S instead of TH. The South-American Spaniards, so +largely recruited from Andalusia, maintain the same sibilation, which is +about as offensive to a true Castilian as the dropping of an H is to an +educated Englishman. + +{262} Safacoro is the Romany name for Seville; and Len Baro for the +great river, _arabicé_ Wady al Kebir, the Guadalquivir. See Glossary. + +{263} For further information about Manuel and Luis Lobo, who compiled a +manuscript collection of the pseudo-gypsy writings of _los del aficion_, +or those addicted to the _Gitanos_ and their language, see _The Zincali_, +part iii. chap. ii. + +{264a} Κύριε, voc. of κύριος, the usual mode of address, “sir.” + +{264b} The name of a famous family of Dutch printers (1594–1680). + +{266} Priests. Greek, παπᾶς; not Spanish, in which language _Papa_ +means the Pope (of Rome). + +{267} Τίποτε = nothing at all. + +{273} The secondary signification of “prosperity” or “good fortune” is +more familiar to English ears; the word having come to us by way of the +Spanish, American, and Californian mining camps. + +{274} “The Illustrious Scullion.” + +{282} Lit. a butterfly. + +{288} This was Mr. John Brackenbury. + +{292a} The great Danish poet, born in 1779, died 1850; see _ante_, note, +vol. i. p. 29. + +{292b} October 21, 1805. + +{293a} It is an American in our own day, Captain Mahan, U.S.N., who has +called attention, in his masterly _influence of Sea Power upon History_, +to the transcendent importance of the battle of Trafalgar, hardly +realized by the most patriotic Englishman, who had well-nigh forgotten +Trafalgar in celebrating the more attractive glories of Waterloo. + +{293b} Storm of east wind; wind from the Levant. + +{293c} I.e. _Kafirs_, the Arabic term of reproach, signifying an +unbeliever; one who is _not a Moslem_! + +{294} The title formally granted to this Alonzo Perez de Guzman, under +the sign-manual of King Sancho the Bravo, was that of “The Good.” His +son was not crucified, but stabbed to death by the Infante Don John, with +the knife that had been flung over the battlements of the city by the +poor lad’s father, A.D. 1294 (see _Documentos Ineditos para la Historia +de España_, tom. xxxix. pp. 1–397). + +{295} Rather of Muza, the commander-in-chief of the army that conquered +Gothic Spain in 711. Tarifa similarly perpetuates the memory of one of +his lieutenants, Tárif; and Gibraltar is Gibil Tarik, after Tarik, his +second in command (see Burke’s _History of Spain_, vol. i. pp. 110–120). + +{296a} The hill of the baboons. + +{296b} Rather, “The Island;” _Al Jezirah_. + +{298} According to Don Pascual de Gayangos, Thursday, April 30, 711. + +{301} In more modern slang, “a rock scorpion.” + +{302} Του λόγου σας, a polite locution in modern Greek, signifying +“you,” “your good self, _or_, selves.” + +{307} More correctly, the _Preobazhenski_, _Semeonovski_, and +_Findlandski polks_. The first is a very crack regiment, and was formed +by Peter the Great in 1682. In 1692 it took part in the capture of Azov +(Toll, “Nastolny Slovar,” _Encyclop._ tom. iii.). + +{309} This would have been General Sir A. Woodford, K.C.B., G.C.M.G. + +{310} “A holy man this, from the kingdoms of the East.” + +{311} A street in West Hamburg, near the port and the notorious +_Heiligegeist_, frequented by a low class of Jews and seafaring men. + +{312a} The living waters. + +{312b} Into the hands of some one else—_manû alicujus_. _Peluni_ is the +Fulaneh of the Arabs, the Don Fulano of the Spaniards; Mr. So-and-So; +Monsieur Chose. + +{314} _I.e._ “The Hill of the English,” near Vitoria. Here, in the year +1367, Don Tello, with a force of six thousand knights, cut to pieces a +body of four hundred men-at-arms and archers, under the command of Sir +Thomas Felton, Seneschal of Guienne, and his brother Sir William. See +Froissart, i. chap. 239; Ayala, _Cronicas de los Reyes de Castilla_, i. +p. 446; Mérimée, _Histoire de Don Pèdre Ier_, p. 486. + +{316} The popular name for _Etna_—an etymology most suggestive, _Mons_ +(Latin) and _gibil_ (Arabic) each signifying “a mountain.” + +{318} The book Zohar (Hebrew, “Brilliancy”) is, next to the canonical +Scripture, one of the ablest books in Hebrew literature, having been +written by the Rabbi Simeon bar Jochaï, “The Great Light” and “Spark of +Moses,” early in the second century of our era. The mysteries contained +in the Zohar are said to have been communicated to Jochaï during his +twelve years’ seclusion in a cave; and they are specially revered by a +sect of modern Jews known as Zoharites, or Sabbathians, from their +founder Sabbataï Zevi, who was born at Smyrna in 1625, and claimed to be +the true Messiah, but who, to save himself from death as an impostor, +embraced the faith of Islám at Adrianople, and died a Moslem in 1676. +Yet a hundred years later another Zoharite pretender, Jankiev Lejbovicz, +who acquired the name of Jacob Frank, of Offenbach, near Frankfort, and +died only in 1792, made himself famous in Germany. The Zoharites were +Cabalistic, as opposed to Talmudic, in their theology or theosophy, and +in later times have claimed to have much in common with Christianity.—See +M. J. Mayers (of Yarmouth), _A Brief Account of the Zoharite Jews_ +(Cambridge, 1826); and Graetz, _History of the Jews_, vol. v. pp. 125, +289. + +{322} Rabat. + +{330} 1 Kings xix. 11–13. + +{337} _On_ as a termination is usually indicative of size without +admiration, bigness rather than greatness, as in the Italian _one_. + +{343a} The tomato was hardly known in England in 1839, and was not +common for forty years after, so Borrow may be excused for giving the +word in its Spanish form. The plant was introduced into Spain from Peru +in the sixteenth century. + +{343b} “Lord of the World.” _Adun_ or _Adon_ is the well-known Hebrew +word for Lord, and is said to be the origin of the Spanish title _Don_. +_Oulem_ is the Arab ‘_Olam_. The following lines are the first poem in +the _Targum_, a collection of translations by Borrow from thirty +languages, printed at St. Petersburg in 1835:— + + “Reigned the universe’s Master, ere were earthly things begun: + When his mandate all created Ruler was the name he won; + And alone he’ll rule tremendous when all things are past and gone, + He no equal has, nor consort, he, the singular and lone, + Has no end and no beginning; his the sceptre, might and throne. + He’s my God and living Saviour, rock to whom in need I run; + He’s my banner and my refuge, fount of weal when called upon; + In his hand I place my spirit at nightfall and rise of sun, + And therewith my body also; God’s my God—I fear no one.” + +{348} In 1684, on the familiar official plea of “economy.” + +{349} “Good morning, O my lord.” + +{351} “There is no God but one.” + +{354} “Buy here, buy here.” + +{357a} This youth followed Borrow to England, where he was introduced to +Mr. Petulengro as a _pal_, but rejected by him as “no Roman.” See _The +Zincali_, Preface to Second Edition. + +{357b} “Hail, Mary, full of grace, pray for me.” + +{357c} “Remove the faithless race from the borders of the believers, +that we may gladly pay due praises to Christ.” + +{359} This has been already alluded to as regards Southern Spain. + +{360} Algiers. + +{361} Essence of white flowers. The Arabic _attar_ = essence is well +known in combination as _otto_ or _attar_ of roses. _Nuar_ is a form of +_Nawār_ = flowers. + +{362} This was still market-day in 1892. + +{364} Nowhere has the destruction of locusts been undertaken in a more +systematic manner, or carried to greater perfection than in the island of +Cyprus, where a special tax is levied by the British Government to defray +the expenses of what is called “the war.” The system is the invention of +a Cypriote gentleman, Mr. Mattei. + +{365} More commonly known as the prickly pear (_Opuntia vulgaris_). + +{367a} The house of the trades [Borrow], or rather “of the handicrafts.” + +{367b} Seashore. See the Glossary. + +{372} Friday. + +{375} The etymology of Granada is doubtful. Before the invasion of +Spain by the Arabs, a small town of Phœnician origin, known as Karnattah, +existed near Illiberis (Elvira), and probably on the site of the more +modern city of Granada. The syllable _Kar_ would, in Phœnician, signify +“a town.” The meaning of _nattah_ is unknown (Gayangos, i. 347; Casiri, +_Bib. Ar. Hisp. Esc._, ii. 251; Conde, _Hist. Dom._, i. pp. 37–51). The +supposition that the city owes its name to its resemblance to a ripe +pomegranate (_granada_) is clearly inadmissible. As in the case of Leon, +the device was adopted in consequence of its appropriateness to an +existing name—although the modern city of Granada is probably not older +than 1020. The Arabic word, moreover, for a pomegranate is _romàn_; and +Soto de Roma, the name of the Duke of Wellington’s estate in Andalusia, +means “the wood of the pomegranates;” and an _ensalada romana_ is not a +Roman, but a pomegranate salad (see Pedaza, _Hist. Eccl. de Granada_ +[1618], fol. 21, 22; Romey, _Hist._, i. 474, 475).—Burke’s _Hist. of +Spain_, vol. i. p. 116. + +{376a} The most powerful, or the most respected, man in Tangier. Power +and respect are usually enjoyed by the same individual in the East. + +{376b} “It does not signify.” + +{378} See note, vol. i. p. 240. + +{382} “Algerine, +Moor so keen, +No drink wine, +No taste swine.” + +{383a} “That is not lawful.” + +{383b} “Everything is lawful.” + +{383c} “Hail, star of the sea, benign Mother of God, and for ever +virgin, blessed gate of heaven.” + +{395} Andalusian for _ciego_. + + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE BIBLE IN SPAIN - VOL. 2 [OF 2]*** + + +******* This file should be named 35676-0.txt or 35676-0.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +http://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/3/5/6/7/35676 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. If you +do not charge anything for copies of this eBook, complying with the +rules is very easy. You may use this eBook for nearly any purpose +such as creation of derivative works, reports, performances and +research. They may be modified and printed and given away--you may do +practically ANYTHING with public domain eBooks. Redistribution is +subject to the trademark license, especially commercial +redistribution. + + + +*** START: FULL LICENSE *** + +THE FULL PROJECT GUTENBERG LICENSE +PLEASE READ THIS BEFORE YOU DISTRIBUTE OR USE THIS WORK + +To protect the Project Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting the free +distribution of electronic works, by using or distributing this work +(or any other work associated in any way with the phrase "Project +Gutenberg"), you agree to comply with all the terms of the Full Project +Gutenberg-tm License (available with this file or online at +http://www.gutenberg.org/license). + + +Section 1. General Terms of Use and Redistributing Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic works + +1.A. By reading or using any part of this Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work, you indicate that you have read, understand, agree to +and accept all the terms of this license and intellectual property +(trademark/copyright) agreement. If you do not agree to abide by all +the terms of this agreement, you must cease using and return or destroy +all copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in your possession. +If you paid a fee for obtaining a copy of or access to a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work and you do not agree to be bound by the +terms of this agreement, you may obtain a refund from the person or +entity to whom you paid the fee as set forth in paragraph 1.E.8. + +1.B. "Project Gutenberg" is a registered trademark. It may only be +used on or associated in any way with an electronic work by people who +agree to be bound by the terms of this agreement. There are a few +things that you can do with most Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works +even without complying with the full terms of this agreement. See +paragraph 1.C below. There are a lot of things you can do with Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works if you follow the terms of this agreement +and help preserve free future access to Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. See paragraph 1.E below. + +1.C. The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation ("the Foundation" +or PGLAF), owns a compilation copyright in the collection of Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic works. Nearly all the individual works in the +collection are in the public domain in the United States. If an +individual work is in the public domain in the United States and you are +located in the United States, we do not claim a right to prevent you from +copying, distributing, performing, displaying or creating derivative +works based on the work as long as all references to Project Gutenberg +are removed. Of course, we hope that you will support the Project +Gutenberg-tm mission of promoting free access to electronic works by +freely sharing Project Gutenberg-tm works in compliance with the terms of +this agreement for keeping the Project Gutenberg-tm name associated with +the work. You can easily comply with the terms of this agreement by +keeping this work in the same format with its attached full Project +Gutenberg-tm License when you share it without charge with others. + +1.D. The copyright laws of the place where you are located also govern +what you can do with this work. Copyright laws in most countries are in +a constant state of change. If you are outside the United States, check +the laws of your country in addition to the terms of this agreement +before downloading, copying, displaying, performing, distributing or +creating derivative works based on this work or any other Project +Gutenberg-tm work. The Foundation makes no representations concerning +the copyright status of any work in any country outside the United +States. + +1.E. Unless you have removed all references to Project Gutenberg: + +1.E.1. The following sentence, with active links to, or other immediate +access to, the full Project Gutenberg-tm License must appear prominently +whenever any copy of a Project Gutenberg-tm work (any work on which the +phrase "Project Gutenberg" appears, or with which the phrase "Project +Gutenberg" is associated) is accessed, displayed, performed, viewed, +copied or distributed: + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + +1.E.2. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is derived +from the public domain (does not contain a notice indicating that it is +posted with permission of the copyright holder), the work can be copied +and distributed to anyone in the United States without paying any fees +or charges. If you are redistributing or providing access to a work +with the phrase "Project Gutenberg" associated with or appearing on the +work, you must comply either with the requirements of paragraphs 1.E.1 +through 1.E.7 or obtain permission for the use of the work and the +Project Gutenberg-tm trademark as set forth in paragraphs 1.E.8 or +1.E.9. + +1.E.3. If an individual Project Gutenberg-tm electronic work is posted +with the permission of the copyright holder, your use and distribution +must comply with both paragraphs 1.E.1 through 1.E.7 and any additional +terms imposed by the copyright holder. Additional terms will be linked +to the Project Gutenberg-tm License for all works posted with the +permission of the copyright holder found at the beginning of this work. + +1.E.4. Do not unlink or detach or remove the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License terms from this work, or any files containing a part of this +work or any other work associated with Project Gutenberg-tm. + +1.E.5. Do not copy, display, perform, distribute or redistribute this +electronic work, or any part of this electronic work, without +prominently displaying the sentence set forth in paragraph 1.E.1 with +active links or immediate access to the full terms of the Project +Gutenberg-tm License. + +1.E.6. You may convert to and distribute this work in any binary, +compressed, marked up, nonproprietary or proprietary form, including any +word processing or hypertext form. However, if you provide access to or +distribute copies of a Project Gutenberg-tm work in a format other than +"Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other format used in the official version +posted on the official Project Gutenberg-tm web site (www.gutenberg.org), +you must, at no additional cost, fee or expense to the user, provide a +copy, a means of exporting a copy, or a means of obtaining a copy upon +request, of the work in its original "Plain Vanilla ASCII" or other +form. Any alternate format must include the full Project Gutenberg-tm +License as specified in paragraph 1.E.1. + +1.E.7. Do not charge a fee for access to, viewing, displaying, +performing, copying or distributing any Project Gutenberg-tm works +unless you comply with paragraph 1.E.8 or 1.E.9. + +1.E.8. You may charge a reasonable fee for copies of or providing +access to or distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works provided +that + +- You pay a royalty fee of 20% of the gross profits you derive from + the use of Project Gutenberg-tm works calculated using the method + you already use to calculate your applicable taxes. The fee is + owed to the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark, but he + has agreed to donate royalties under this paragraph to the + Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation. Royalty payments + must be paid within 60 days following each date on which you + prepare (or are legally required to prepare) your periodic tax + returns. Royalty payments should be clearly marked as such and + sent to the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation at the + address specified in Section 4, "Information about donations to + the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation." + +- You provide a full refund of any money paid by a user who notifies + you in writing (or by e-mail) within 30 days of receipt that s/he + does not agree to the terms of the full Project Gutenberg-tm + License. You must require such a user to return or + destroy all copies of the works possessed in a physical medium + and discontinue all use of and all access to other copies of + Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +- You provide, in accordance with paragraph 1.F.3, a full refund of any + money paid for a work or a replacement copy, if a defect in the + electronic work is discovered and reported to you within 90 days + of receipt of the work. + +- You comply with all other terms of this agreement for free + distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm works. + +1.E.9. If you wish to charge a fee or distribute a Project Gutenberg-tm +electronic work or group of works on different terms than are set +forth in this agreement, you must obtain permission in writing from +both the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation and Michael +Hart, the owner of the Project Gutenberg-tm trademark. Contact the +Foundation as set forth in Section 3 below. + +1.F. + +1.F.1. Project Gutenberg volunteers and employees expend considerable +effort to identify, do copyright research on, transcribe and proofread +public domain works in creating the Project Gutenberg-tm +collection. Despite these efforts, Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works, and the medium on which they may be stored, may contain +"Defects," such as, but not limited to, incomplete, inaccurate or +corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other intellectual +property infringement, a defective or damaged disk or other medium, a +computer virus, or computer codes that damage or cannot be read by +your equipment. + +1.F.2. LIMITED WARRANTY, DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES - Except for the "Right +of Replacement or Refund" described in paragraph 1.F.3, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation, the owner of the Project +Gutenberg-tm trademark, and any other party distributing a Project +Gutenberg-tm electronic work under this agreement, disclaim all +liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including legal +fees. YOU AGREE THAT YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE, STRICT +LIABILITY, BREACH OF WARRANTY OR BREACH OF CONTRACT EXCEPT THOSE +PROVIDED IN PARAGRAPH 1.F.3. YOU AGREE THAT THE FOUNDATION, THE +TRADEMARK OWNER, AND ANY DISTRIBUTOR UNDER THIS AGREEMENT WILL NOT BE +LIABLE TO YOU FOR ACTUAL, DIRECT, INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE OR +INCIDENTAL DAMAGES EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE POSSIBILITY OF SUCH +DAMAGE. + +1.F.3. LIMITED RIGHT OF REPLACEMENT OR REFUND - If you discover a +defect in this electronic work within 90 days of receiving it, you can +receive a refund of the money (if any) you paid for it by sending a +written explanation to the person you received the work from. If you +received the work on a physical medium, you must return the medium with +your written explanation. The person or entity that provided you with +the defective work may elect to provide a replacement copy in lieu of a +refund. If you received the work electronically, the person or entity +providing it to you may choose to give you a second opportunity to +receive the work electronically in lieu of a refund. If the second copy +is also defective, you may demand a refund in writing without further +opportunities to fix the problem. + +1.F.4. Except for the limited right of replacement or refund set forth +in paragraph 1.F.3, this work is provided to you 'AS-IS', WITH NO OTHER +WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO +WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTIBILITY OR FITNESS FOR ANY PURPOSE. + +1.F.5. Some states do not allow disclaimers of certain implied +warranties or the exclusion or limitation of certain types of damages. +If any disclaimer or limitation set forth in this agreement violates the +law of the state applicable to this agreement, the agreement shall be +interpreted to make the maximum disclaimer or limitation permitted by +the applicable state law. The invalidity or unenforceability of any +provision of this agreement shall not void the remaining provisions. + +1.F.6. INDEMNITY - You agree to indemnify and hold the Foundation, the +trademark owner, any agent or employee of the Foundation, anyone +providing copies of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works in accordance +with this agreement, and any volunteers associated with the production, +promotion and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works, +harmless from all liability, costs and expenses, including legal fees, +that arise directly or indirectly from any of the following which you do +or cause to occur: (a) distribution of this or any Project Gutenberg-tm +work, (b) alteration, modification, or additions or deletions to any +Project Gutenberg-tm work, and (c) any Defect you cause. + + +Section 2. Information about the Mission of Project Gutenberg-tm + +Project Gutenberg-tm is synonymous with the free distribution of +electronic works in formats readable by the widest variety of computers +including obsolete, old, middle-aged and new computers. It exists +because of the efforts of hundreds of volunteers and donations from +people in all walks of life. + +Volunteers and financial support to provide volunteers with the +assistance they need are critical to reaching Project Gutenberg-tm's +goals and ensuring that the Project Gutenberg-tm collection will +remain freely available for generations to come. In 2001, the Project +Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation was created to provide a secure +and permanent future for Project Gutenberg-tm and future generations. +To learn more about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation +and how your efforts and donations can help, see Sections 3 and 4 +and the Foundation web page at http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/pglaf. + + +Section 3. Information about the Project Gutenberg Literary Archive +Foundation + +The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation is a non profit +501(c)(3) educational corporation organized under the laws of the +state of Mississippi and granted tax exempt status by the Internal +Revenue Service. The Foundation's EIN or federal tax identification +number is 64-6221541. Contributions to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation are tax deductible to the full extent +permitted by U.S. federal laws and your state's laws. + +The Foundation's principal office is located at 4557 Melan Dr. S. +Fairbanks, AK, 99712., but its volunteers and employees are scattered +throughout numerous locations. Its business office is located at +809 North 1500 West, Salt Lake City, UT 84116, (801) 596-1887, email +business@pglaf.org. Email contact links and up to date contact +information can be found at the Foundation's web site and official +page at http://www.gutenberg.org/about/contact + +For additional contact information: + Dr. Gregory B. Newby + Chief Executive and Director + gbnewby@pglaf.org + +Section 4. Information about Donations to the Project Gutenberg +Literary Archive Foundation + +Project Gutenberg-tm depends upon and cannot survive without wide +spread public support and donations to carry out its mission of +increasing the number of public domain and licensed works that can be +freely distributed in machine readable form accessible by the widest +array of equipment including outdated equipment. Many small donations +($1 to $5,000) are particularly important to maintaining tax exempt +status with the IRS. + +The Foundation is committed to complying with the laws regulating +charities and charitable donations in all 50 states of the United +States. Compliance requirements are not uniform and it takes a +considerable effort, much paperwork and many fees to meet and keep up +with these requirements. We do not solicit donations in locations +where we have not received written confirmation of compliance. To +SEND DONATIONS or determine the status of compliance for any +particular state visit http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + +While we cannot and do not solicit contributions from states where we +have not met the solicitation requirements, we know of no prohibition +against accepting unsolicited donations from donors in such states who +approach us with offers to donate. + +International donations are gratefully accepted, but we cannot make +any statements concerning tax treatment of donations received from +outside the United States. U.S. laws alone swamp our small staff. + +Please check the Project Gutenberg Web pages for current donation +methods and addresses. Donations are accepted in a number of other +ways including checks, online payments and credit card donations. +To donate, please visit: +http://www.gutenberg.org/fundraising/donate + + +Section 5. General Information About Project Gutenberg-tm electronic +works. + +Professor Michael S. Hart is the originator of the Project Gutenberg-tm +concept of a library of electronic works that could be freely shared +with anyone. For thirty years, he produced and distributed Project +Gutenberg-tm eBooks with only a loose network of volunteer support. + +Project Gutenberg-tm eBooks are often created from several printed +editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the U.S. +unless a copyright notice is included. Thus, we do not necessarily +keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition. + +Most people start at our Web site which has the main PG search facility: + + http://www.gutenberg.org + +This Web site includes information about Project Gutenberg-tm, +including how to make donations to the Project Gutenberg Literary +Archive Foundation, how to help produce our new eBooks, and how to +subscribe to our email newsletter to hear about new eBooks. + |