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Title: The Bible in Spain

Author: George Borrow

Release Date: January, 1996  [EBook #415]
[Yes, we are more than one year ahead of schedule]
[This file was first posted on December 15, 1995]
[Most recently updated: April 25, 2002]

Edition: 10

Language: English

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*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE BIBLE IN SPAIN ***




Transcribed from the 1908 Cassell and Company edition by David
Price, email ccx074@coventry.ac.uk.




THE BIBLE IN SPAIN--GEORGE BORROW




AUTHOR'S PREFACE



It is very seldom that the preface of a work is read; indeed, of
late years, most books have been sent into the world without any.
I deem it, however, advisable to write a preface, and to this I
humbly call the attention of the courteous reader, as its perusal
will not a little tend to the proper understanding and appreciation
of these volumes.

The work now offered to the public, and which is styled The Bible
in Spain, consists of a narrative of what occurred to me during a
residence in that country, to which I was sent by the Bible
Society, as its agent for the purpose of printing and circulating
the Scriptures.  It comprehends, however, certain journeys and
adventures in Portugal, and leaves me at last in "the land of the
Corahai," to which region, after having undergone considerable
buffeting in Spain, I found it expedient to retire for a season.

It is very probable that had I visited Spain from mere curiosity,
or with a view of passing a year or two agreeably, I should never
have attempted to give any detailed account of my proceedings, or
of what I heard and saw.  I am no tourist, no writer of books of
travels; but I went there on a somewhat remarkable errand, which
necessarily led me into strange situations and positions, involved
me in difficulties and perplexities, and brought me into contact
with people of all descriptions and grades; so that, upon the
whole, I flatter myself that a narrative of such a pilgrimage may
not be wholly uninteresting to the public, more especially as the
subject is not trite; for though various books have been published
about Spain, I believe that the present is the only one in
existence which treats of missionary labour in that country.

Many things, it is true, will be found in the following volume
which have little connexion with religion or religious enterprise;
I offer, however, no apology for introducing them.  I was, as I may
say, from first to last adrift in Spain, the land of old renown,
the land of wonder and mystery, with better opportunities of
becoming acquainted with its strange secrets and peculiarities than
perhaps ever yet were afforded to any individual, certainly to a
foreigner; and if in many instances I have introduced scenes and
characters perhaps unprecedented in a work of this description, I
have only to observe, that, during my sojourn in Spain, I was so
unavoidably mixed up with such, that I could scarcely have given a
faithful narrative of what befell me had I not brought them forward
in the manner which I have done.

It is worthy of remark that, called suddenly and unexpectedly "to
undertake the adventure of Spain," I was not altogether unprepared
for such an enterprise.  In the daydreams of my boyhood, Spain
always bore a considerable share, and I took a particular interest
in her, without any presentiment that I should at a future time be
called upon to take a part, however humble, in her strange dramas;
which interest, at a very early period, led me to acquire her noble
language, and to make myself acquainted with her literature
(scarcely worthy of the language), her history and traditions; so
that when I entered Spain for the first time I felt more at home
than I should otherwise have done.

In Spain I passed five years, which, if not the most eventful,
were, I have no hesitation in saying, the most happy years of my
existence.  Of Spain, at the present time, now that the daydream
has vanished, never, alas! to return, I entertain the warmest
admiration:  she is the most magnificent country in the world,
probably the most fertile, and certainly with the finest climate.
Whether her children are worthy of their mother, is another
question, which I shall not attempt to answer; but content myself
with observing, that, amongst much that is lamentable and
reprehensible, I have found much that is noble and to be admired;
much stern heroic virtue; much savage and horrible crime; of low
vulgar vice very little, at least amongst the great body of the
Spanish nation, with which my mission lay; for it will be as well
here to observe, that I advance no claim to an intimate
acquaintance with the Spanish nobility, from whom I kept as remote
as circumstances would permit me; en revanche, however, I have had
the honour to live on familiar terms with the peasants, shepherds,
and muleteers of Spain, whose bread and bacalao I have eaten; who
always treated me with kindness and courtesy, and to whom I have
not unfrequently been indebted for shelter and protection.


"The generous bearing of Francisco Gonzales, and the high deeds of
Ruy Diaz the Cid, are still sung amongst the fastnesses of the
Sierra Morena." {0}


I believe that no stronger argument can be brought forward in proof
of the natural vigour and resources of Spain, and the sterling
character of her population, than the fact that, at the present
day, she is still a powerful and unexhausted country, and her
children still, to a certain extent, a high-minded and great
people.  Yes, notwithstanding the misrule of the brutal and sensual
Austrian, the doting Bourbon, and, above all, the spiritual tyranny
of the court of Rome, Spain can still maintain her own, fight her
own combat, and Spaniards are not yet fanatic slaves and crouching
beggars.  This is saying much, very much:  she has undergone far
more than Naples had ever to bear, and yet the fate of Naples has
not been hers.  There is still valour in Astruria; generosity in
Aragon; probity in Old Castile; and the peasant women of La Mancha
can still afford to place a silver fork and a snowy napkin beside
the plate of their guest.  Yes, in spite of Austrian, Bourbon, and
Rome, there is still a wide gulf between Spain and Naples.

Strange as it may sound, Spain is not a fanatic country.  I know
something about her, and declare that she is not, nor has ever
been; Spain never changes.  It is true that, for nearly two
centuries, she was the she-butcher, La Verduga, of malignant Rome;
the chosen instrument for carrying into effect the atrocious
projects of that power; yet fanaticism was not the spring which
impelled her to the work of butchery; another feeling, in her the
predominant one, was worked upon--her fatal pride.  It was by
humouring her pride that she was induced to waste her precious
blood and treasure in the Low Country wars, to launch the Armada,
and to many other equally insane actions.  Love of Rome had ever
slight influence over her policy; but flattered by the title of
Gonfaloniera of the Vicar of Jesus, and eager to prove herself not
unworthy of the same, she shut her eyes and rushed upon her own
destruction with the cry of "Charge, Spain."

But the arms of Spain became powerless abroad, and she retired
within herself.  She ceased to be the tool of the vengeance and
cruelty of Rome.  She was not cast aside, however.  No! though she
could no longer wield the sword with success against the Lutherans,
she might still be turned to some account.  She had still gold and
silver, and she was still the land of the vine and olive.  Ceasing
to be the butcher, she became the banker of Rome; and the poor
Spaniards, who always esteem it a privilege to pay another person's
reckoning, were for a long time happy in being permitted to
minister to the grasping cupidity of Rome, who during the last
century, probably extracted from Spain more treasure than from all
the rest of Christendom.

But wars came into the land.  Napoleon and his fierce Franks
invaded Spain; plunder and devastation ensued, the effects of which
will probably be felt for ages.  Spain could no longer pay pence to
Peter so freely as of yore, and from that period she became
contemptible in the eyes of Rome, who has no respect for a nation,
save so far as it can minister to her cruelty or avarice.  The
Spaniard was still willing to pay, as far as his means would allow,
but he was soon given to understand that he was a degraded being,--
a barbarian; nay, a beggar.  Now, you may draw the last cuarto from
a Spaniard, provided you will concede to him the title of cavalier,
and rich man, for the old leaven still works as powerfully as in
the time of the first Philip; but you must never hint that he is
poor, or that his blood is inferior to your own.  And the old
peasant, on being informed in what slight estimation he was held,
replied, "If I am a beast, a barbarian, and a beggar withal, I am
sorry for it; but as there is no remedy, I shall spend these four
bushels of barley, which I had reserved to alleviate the misery of
the holy father, in procuring bull spectacles, and other convenient
diversions, for the queen my wife, and the young princes my
children.  Beggar! carajo!  The water of my village is better than
the wine of Rome."

I see that in a late pastoral letter directed to the Spaniards, the
father of Rome complains bitterly of the treatment which he has
received in Spain at the hands of naughty men.  "My cathedrals are
let down," he says, "my priests are insulted, and the revenues of
my bishops are curtailed."  He consoles himself, however, with the
idea that this is the effect of the malice of a few, and that the
generality of the nation love him, especially the peasantry, the
innocent peasantry, who shed tears when they think of the
sufferings of their pope and their religion.  Undeceive yourself,
Batuschca, undeceive yourself!  Spain was ready to fight for you so
long as she could increase her own glory by doing so; but she took
no pleasure in losing battle after battle on your account.  She had
no objection to pay money into your coffers in the shape of alms,
expecting, however, that the same would be received with the
gratitude and humility which becomes those who accept charity.
Finding, however, that you were neither humble nor grateful;
suspecting, moreover, that you held Austria in higher esteem than
herself, even as a banker, she shrugged up her shoulders, and
uttered a sentence somewhat similar to that which I have already
put into the mouth of one of her children, "These four bushels of
barley," etc.

It is truly surprising what little interest the great body of the
Spanish nation took in the late struggle, and yet it has been
called, by some who ought to know better, a war of religion and
principle.  It was generally supposed that Biscay was the
stronghold of Carlism, and that the inhabitants were fanatically
attached to their religion, which they apprehended was in danger.
The truth is, that the Basques cared nothing for Carlos or Rome,
and merely took up arms to defend certain rights and privileges of
their own.  For the dwarfish brother of Ferdinand they always
exhibited supreme contempt, which his character, a compound of
imbecility, cowardice, and cruelty, well merited.  If they made use
of his name, it was merely as a cri de guerre.  Much the same may
be said with respect to his Spanish partisans, at least those who
appeared in the field for him.  These, however, were of a widely
different character from the Basques, who were brave soldiers and
honest men.  The Spanish armies of Don Carlos were composed
entirely of thieves and assassins, chiefly Valencians and
Manchegans, who, marshalled under two cut-throats, Cabrera and
Palillos, took advantage of the distracted state of the country to
plunder and massacre the honest part of the community.  With
respect to the Queen Regent Christina, of whom the less said the
better, the reins of government fell into her hands on the decease
of her husband, and with them the command of the soldiery.  The
respectable part of the Spanish nation, and more especially the
honourable and toilworn peasantry, loathed and execrated both
factions.  Oft when I was sharing at nightfall the frugal fare of
the villager of Old or New Castile, on hearing the distant shot of
the Christino soldier or Carlist bandit, he would invoke curses on
the heads of the two pretenders, not forgetting the holy father and
the goddess of Rome, Maria Santissima.  Then, with the tiger energy
of the Spaniard when roused, he would start up and exclaim:
"Vamos, Don Jorge, to the plain, to the plain!  I wish to enlist
with you, and to learn the law of the English.  To the plain,
therefore, to the plain to-morrow, to circulate the gospel of
Ingalaterra."

Amongst the peasantry of Spain I found my sturdiest supporters:
and yet the holy father supposes that the Spanish labourers are
friends and lovers of his.  Undeceive yourself, Batuschca!

But to return to the present work:  it is devoted to an account of
what befell me in Spain whilst engaged in distributing the
Scripture.  With respect to my poor labours, I wish here to
observe, that I accomplished but very little, and that I lay claim
to no brilliant successes and triumphs; indeed I was sent into
Spain more to explore the country, and to ascertain how far the
minds of the people were prepared to receive the truths of
Christianity, than for any other object; I obtained, however,
through the assistance of kind friends, permission from the Spanish
government to print an edition of the sacred volume at Madrid,
which I subsequently circulated in that capital and in the
provinces.

During my sojourn in Spain, there were others who wrought good
service in the Gospel cause, and of whose efforts it were unjust to
be silent in a work of this description.  Base is the heart which
would refuse merit its meed, and, however insignificant may be the
value of any eulogium which can flow from a pen like mine, I cannot
refrain from mentioning with respect and esteem a few names
connected with Gospel enterprise.  A zealous Irish gentleman, of
the name of Graydon, exerted himself with indefatigable diligence
in diffusing the light of Scripture in the province of Catalonia,
and along the southern shores of Spain; whilst two missionaries
from Gibraltar, Messrs. Rule and Lyon, during one entire year,
preached Evangelic truth in a Church at Cadiz.  So much success
attended the efforts of these two last brave disciples of the
immortal Wesley, that there is every reason for supposing that, had
they not been silenced and eventually banished from the country by
the pseudo-liberal faction of the Moderados, not only Cadiz, but
the greater part of Andalusia, would by this time have confessed
the pure doctrines of the Gospel, and have discarded for ever the
last relics of popish superstition.

More immediately connected with the Bible Society and myself, I am
most happy to take this opportunity of speaking of Luis de Usoz y
Rio, the scion of an ancient and honourable family of Old Castile,
my coadjutor whilst editing the Spanish New Testament at Madrid.
Throughout my residence in Spain, I experienced every mark of
friendship from this gentleman, who, during the periods of my
absence in the provinces, and my numerous and long journeys,
cheerfully supplied my place at Madrid, and exerted himself to the
utmost in forwarding the views of the Bible Society, influenced by
no other motive than a hope that its efforts would eventually
contribute to the peace, happiness, and civilisation of his native
land.

In conclusion, I beg leave to state that I am fully aware of the
various faults and inaccuracies of the present work.  It is founded
on certain journals which I kept during my stay in Spain, and
numerous letters written to my friends in England, which they had
subsequently the kindness to restore:  the greater part, however,
consisting of descriptions of scenery, sketches of character, etc.,
has been supplied from memory.  In various instances I have omitted
the names of places, which I have either forgotten, or of whose
orthography I am uncertain.  The work, as it at present exists, was
written in a solitary hamlet in a remote part of England, where I
had neither books to consult, nor friends of whose opinion or
advice I could occasionally avail myself, and under all the
disadvantages which arise from enfeebled health; I have, however,
on a recent occasion, experienced too much of the lenity and
generosity of the public, both of Britain and America, to shrink
from again exposing myself to its gaze, and trust that, if in the
present volumes it finds but little to admire, it will give me
credit for good spirit, and for setting down nought in malice.


Nov. 26, 1842.



CHAPTER I



Man Overboard--The Tagus--Foreign Languages--Gesticulation--Streets
of Lisbon--The Aqueduct--Bible tolerated in Portugal--Cintra--Don
Sebastian--John de Castro--Conversation with a Priest--Colhares--
Mafra--Its Palace--The Schoolmaster--The Portuguese--Their
Ignorance of Scripture--Rural Priesthood--The Alemtejo.

On the morning of the tenth of November, 1835, I found myself off
the coast of Galicia, whose lofty mountains, gilded by the rising
sun, presented a magnificent appearance.  I was bound for Lisbon;
we passed Cape Finisterre, and standing farther out to sea,
speedily lost sight of land.  On the morning of the eleventh the
sea was very rough, and a remarkable circumstance occurred.  I was
on the forecastle, discoursing with two of the sailors:  one of
them, who had but just left his hammock, said, "I have had a
strange dream, which I do not much like, for," continued he,
pointing up to the mast, "I dreamt that I fell into the sea from
the cross-trees."  He was heard to say this by several of the crew
besides myself.  A moment after, the captain of the vessel
perceiving that the squall was increasing, ordered the topsails to
be taken in, whereupon this man with several others instantly ran
aloft; the yard was in the act of being hauled down, when a sudden
gust of wind whirled it round with violence, and a man was struck
down from the cross-trees into the sea, which was working like
yeast below.  In a short time he emerged; I saw his head on the
crest of a billow, and instantly recognised in the unfortunate man
the sailor who a few moments before had related his dream.  I shall
never forget the look of agony he cast whilst the steamer hurried
past him.  The alarm was given, and everything was in confusion; it
was two minutes at least before the vessel was stopped, by which
time the man was a considerable way astern; I still, however, kept
my eye upon him, and could see that he was struggling gallantly
with the waves.  A boat was at length lowered, but the rudder was
unfortunately not at hand, and only two oars could be procured,
with which the men could make but little progress in so rough a
sea.  They did their best, however, and had arrived within ten
yards of the man, who still struggled for his life, when I lost
sight of him, and the men on their return said that they saw him
below the water, at glimpses, sinking deeper and deeper, his arms
stretched out and his body apparently stiff, but that they found it
impossible to save him; presently after, the sea, as if satisfied
with the prey which it had acquired, became comparatively calm.
The poor fellow who perished in this singular manner was a fine
young man of twenty-seven, the only son of a widowed mother; he was
the best sailor on board, and was beloved by all who were
acquainted with him.  This event occurred on the eleventh of
November, 1835; the vessel was the London Merchant steamship.
Truly wonderful are the ways of Providence!

That same night we entered the Tagus, and dropped anchor before the
old tower of Belem; early the next morning we weighed, and,
proceeding onward about a league, we again anchored at a short
distance from the Caesodre, or principal quay of Lisbon.  Here we
lay for some hours beside the enormous black hulk of the Rainha
Nao, a man-of-war, which in old times so captivated the eye of
Nelson, that he would fain have procured it for his native country.
She was, long subsequently, the admiral's ship of the Miguelite
squadron, and had been captured by the gallant Napier about three
years previous to the time of which I am speaking.

The Rainha Nao is said to have caused him more trouble than all the
other vessels of the enemy; and some assert that, had the others
defended themselves with half the fury which the old vixen queen
displayed, the result of the battle which decided the fate of
Portugal would have been widely different.

I found disembarkation at Lisbon to be a matter of considerable
vexation; the custom-house officers were exceedingly uncivil, and
examined every article of my little baggage with most provocating
minuteness.

My first impression on landing in the Peninsula was by no means a
favourable one; and I had scarcely pressed the soil one hour before
I heartily wished myself back in Russia, a country which I had
quitted about one month previous, and where I had left cherished
friends and warm affections.

After having submitted to much ill-usage and robbery at the custom-
house, I proceeded in quest of a lodging, and at last found one,
but dirty and expensive.  The next day I hired a servant, a
Portuguese, it being my invariable custom on arriving in a country
to avail myself of the services of a native; chiefly with the view
of perfecting myself in the language; and being already acquainted
with most of the principal languages and dialects of the east and
the west, I am soon able to make myself quite intelligible to the
inhabitants.  In about a fortnight I found myself conversing in
Portuguese with considerable fluency.

Those who wish to make themselves understood by a foreigner in his
own language, should speak with much noise and vociferation,
opening their mouths wide.  Is it surprising that the English are,
in general, the worst linguists in the world, seeing that they
pursue a system diametrically opposite?  For example, when they
attempt to speak Spanish, the most sonorous tongue in existence,
they scarcely open their lips, and putting their hands in their
pockets, fumble lazily, instead of applying them to the
indispensable office of gesticulation.  Well may the poor Spaniards
exclaim, THESE ENGLISH TALK SO CRABBEDLY, THAT SATAN HIMSELF WOULD
NOT BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THEM.

Lisbon is a huge ruinous city, still exhibiting in almost every
direction the vestiges of that terrific visitation of God, the
earthquake which shattered it some eighty years ago.  It stands on
seven hills, the loftiest of which is occupied by the castle of
Saint George, which is the boldest and most prominent object to the
eye, whilst surveying the city from the Tagus.  The most frequented
and busy parts of the city are those comprised within the valley to
the north of this elevation.

Here you find the Plaza of the Inquisition, the principal square in
Lisbon, from which run parallel towards the river three or four
streets, amongst which are those of the gold and silver, so
designated from being inhabited by smiths cunning in the working of
those metals; they are upon the whole very magnificent; the houses
are huge and as high as castles; immense pillars defend the
causeway at intervals, producing, however, rather a cumbrous
effect.  These streets are quite level, and are well paved, in
which respect they differ from all the others in Lisbon.  The most
singular street, however, of all is that of the Alemcrin, or
Rosemary, which debouches on the Caesodre.  It is very precipitous,
and is occupied on either side by the palaces of the principal
Portuguese nobility, massive and frowning, but grand and
picturesque, edifices, with here and there a hanging garden,
overlooking the streets at a great height.

With all its ruin and desolation, Lisbon is unquestionably the most
remarkable city in the Peninsula, and, perhaps, in the south of
Europe.  It is not my intention to enter into minute details
concerning it; I shall content myself with remarking, that it is
quite as much deserving the attention of the artist as even Rome
itself.  True it is that though it abounds with churches it has no
gigantic cathedral, like St. Peter's, to attract the eye and fill
it with wonder, yet I boldly say that there is no monument of man's
labour and skill, pertaining either to ancient or modern Rome, for
whatever purpose designed, which can rival the water-works of
Lisbon; I mean the stupendous aqueduct whose principal arches cross
the valley to the north-east of Lisbon, and which discharges its
little runnel of cool and delicious water into the rocky cistern
within that beautiful edifice called the Mother of the Waters, from
whence all Lisbon is supplied with the crystal lymph, though the
source is seven leagues distant.  Let travellers devote one entire
morning to inspecting the Arcos and the Mai das Agoas, after which
they may repair to the English church and cemetery, Pere-la-chaise
in miniature, where, if they be of England, they may well be
excused if they kiss the cold tomb, as I did, of the author of
Amelia, the most singular genius which their island ever produced,
whose works it has long been the fashion to abuse in public and to
read in secret.  In the same cemetery rest the mortal remains of
Doddridge, another English author of a different stamp, but justly
admired and esteemed.  I had not intended, on disembarking, to
remain long in Lisbon, nor indeed in Portugal; my destination was
Spain, whither I shortly proposed to direct my steps, it being the
intention of the Bible Society to attempt to commence operations in
that country, the object of which should be the distribution of the
Word of God, for Spain had hitherto been a region barred against
the admission of the Bible; not so Portugal, where, since the
revolution, the Bible had been permitted both to be introduced and
circulated.  Little, however, had been accomplished; therefore,
finding myself in the country, I determined, if possible, to effect
something in the way of distribution, but first of all to make
myself acquainted as to how far the people were disposed to receive
the Bible, and whether the state of education in general would
permit them to turn it to much account.  I had plenty of Bibles and
Testaments at my disposal, but could the people read them, or would
they?  A friend of the Society to whom I was recommended was absent
from Lisbon at the period of my arrival; this I regretted, as he
could have afforded me several useful hints.  In order, however,
that no time might be lost, I determined not to wait for his
arrival, but at once proceed to gather the best information I could
upon those points to which I have already alluded.  I determined to
commence my researches at some slight distance from Lisbon, being
well aware of the erroneous ideas that I must form of the
Portuguese in general, should I judge of their character and
opinions from what I saw and heard in a city so much subjected to
foreign intercourse.

My first excursion was to Cintra.  If there be any place in the
world entitled to the appellation of an enchanted region, it is
surely Cintra; Tivoli is a beautiful and picturesque place, but it
quickly fades from the mind of those who have seen the Portuguese
Paradise.  When speaking of Cintra, it must not for a moment be
supposed that nothing more is meant than the little town or city;
by Cintra must be understood the entire region, town, palace,
quintas, forests, crags, Moorish ruin, which suddenly burst on the
view on rounding the side of a bleak, savage, and sterile-looking
mountain.  Nothing is more sullen and uninviting than the south-
western aspect of the stony wall which, on the side of Lisbon,
seems to shield Cintra from the eye of the world, but the other
side is a mingled scene of fairy beauty, artificial elegance,
savage grandeur, domes, turrets, enormous trees, flowers and
waterfalls, such as is met with nowhere else beneath the sun.  Oh!
there are strange and wonderful objects at Cintra, and strange and
wonderful recollections attached to them.  The ruin on that lofty
peak, and which covers part of the side of that precipitous steep,
was once the principal stronghold of the Lusitanian Moors, and
thither, long after they had disappeared, at a particular moon of
every year, were wont to repair wild santons of Maugrabie, to pray
at the tomb of a famous Sidi, who slumbers amongst the rocks.  That
grey palace witnessed the assemblage of the last cortes held by the
boy king Sebastian, ere he departed on his romantic expedition
against the Moors, who so well avenged their insulted faith and
country at Alcazarquibir, and in that low shady quinta, embowered
amongst those tall alcornoques, once dwelt John de Castro, the
strange old viceroy of Goa, who pawned the hairs of his dead son's
beard to raise money to repair the ruined wall of a fortress
threatened by the heathen of Ind; those crumbling stones which
stand before the portal, deeply graven, not with "runes," but
things equally dark, Sanscrit rhymes from the Vedas, were brought
by him from Goa, the most brilliant scene of his glory, before
Portugal had become a base kingdom; and down that dingle, on an
abrupt rocky promontory, stand the ruined halls of the English
Millionaire, who there nursed the wayward fancies of a mind as
wild, rich, and variegated as the scenes around.  Yes, wonderful
are the objects which meet the eye at Cintra, and wonderful are the
recollections attached to them.

The town of Cintra contains about eight hundred inhabitants.  The
morning subsequent to my arrival, as I was about to ascend the
mountain for the purpose of examining the Moorish ruins, I observed
a person advancing towards me whom I judged by his dress to be an
ecclesiastic; he was in fact one of the three priests of the place.
I instantly accosted him, and had no reason to regret doing so; I
found him affable and communicative.

After praising the beauty of the surrounding scenery, I made some
inquiry as to the state of education amongst the people under his
care.  He answered, that he was sorry to say that they were in a
state of great ignorance, very few of the common people being able
either to read or write; that with respect to schools, there was
but one in the place, where four or five children were taught the
alphabet, but that even this was at present closed; he informed me,
however, that there was a school at Colhares, about a league
distant.  Amongst other things, he said that nothing more surprised
him than to see Englishmen, the most learned and intelligent people
in the world, visiting a place like Cintra, where there was no
literature, science, nor anything of utility (coisa que presta).  I
suspect that there was some covert satire in the last speech of the
worthy priest; I was, however, Jesuit enough to appear to receive
it as a high compliment, and, taking off my hat, departed with an
infinity of bows.

That same day I visited Colhares, a romantic village on the side of
the mountain of Cintra, to the north-west.  Seeing some peasants
collected round a smithy, I inquired about the school, whereupon
one of the men instantly conducted me thither.  I went upstairs
into a small apartment, where I found the master with about a dozen
pupils standing in a row; I saw but one stool in the room, and to
that, after having embraced me, he conducted me with great
civility.  After some discourse, he showed me the books which he
used for the instruction of the children; they were spelling books,
much of the same kind as those used in the village schools in
England.  Upon my asking him whether it was his practice to place
the Scriptures in the hands of the children, he informed me that
long before they had acquired sufficient intelligence to understand
them they were removed by their parents, in order that they might
assist in the labours of the field, and that the parents in general
were by no means solicitous that their children should learn
anything, as they considered the time occupied in learning as so
much squandered away.  He said, that though the schools were
nominally supported by the government, it was rarely that the
schoolmasters could obtain their salaries, on which account many
had of late resigned their employments.  He told me that he had a
copy of the New Testament in his possession, which I desired to
see, but on examining it I discovered that it was only the epistles
by Pereira, with copious notes.  I asked him whether he considered
that there was harm in reading the Scriptures without notes:  he
replied that there was certainly no harm in it, but that simple
people, without the help of notes, could derive but little benefit
from Scripture, as the greatest part would be unintelligible to
them; whereupon I shook hands with him, and on departing said that
there was no part of Scripture so difficult to understand as those
very notes which were intended to elucidate it, and that it would
never have been written if not calculated of itself to illume the
minds of all classes of mankind.

In a day or two I made an excursion to Mafra, distant about three
leagues from Cintra; the principal part of the way lay over steep
hills, somewhat dangerous for horses; however, I reached the place
in safety.

Mafra is a large village in the neighbourhood of an immense
building, intended to serve as a convent and palace, and which is
built somewhat after the fashion of the Escurial.  In this edifice
exists the finest library in Portugal, containing books on all
sciences and in all languages, and well suited to the size and
grandeur of the edifice which contains it.  There were no monks,
however, to take care of it, as in former times; they had been
driven forth, some to beg their bread, some to serve under the
banners of Don Carlos, in Spain, and many, as I was informed, to
prowl about as banditti.  I found the place abandoned to two or
three menials, and exhibiting an aspect of solitude and desolation
truly appalling.  Whilst I was viewing the cloisters, a fine
intelligent-looking lad came up and asked (I suppose in the hope of
obtaining a trifle) whether I would permit him to show me the
village church, which he informed me was well worth seeing; I said
no, but added, that it he would show me the village school I should
feel much obliged to him.  He looked at me with astonishment, and
assured me that there was nothing to be seen at the school, which
did not contain more than half a dozen boys, and that he himself
was one of the number.  On my telling him, however, that he should
show me no other place, he at length unwillingly attended me.  On
the way I learned from him that the schoolmaster was one of the
friars who had lately been expelled from the convent, that he was a
very learned man, and spoke French and Greek.  We passed a stone
cross, and the boy bent his head and crossed himself with much
devotion.  I mention this circumstance, as it was the first
instance of the kind which I had observed amongst the Portuguese
since my arrival.  When near the house where the schoolmaster
resided, he pointed it out to me, and then hid himself behind a
wall, where he awaited my return.

On stepping over the threshold I was confronted by a short stout
man, between sixty and seventy years of age, dressed in a blue
jerkin and grey trousers, without shirt or waistcoat; he looked at
me sternly, and enquired in the French language what was my
pleasure.  I apologised for intruding upon him, and stated that,
being informed he occupied the situation of schoolmaster, I had
come to pay my respects to him and to beg permission to ask a few
questions respecting the seminary.  He answered that whoever told
me he was a schoolmaster lied, for that he was a friar of the
convent and nothing else.  "It is not then true," said I, "that all
the convents have been broken up and the monks dismissed?"  "Yes,
yes," said he with a sigh, "it is true; it is but too true."  He
then was silent for a minute, and his better nature overcoming his
angry feelings, he produced a snuff-box and offered it to me.  The
snuff-box is the olive-branch of the Portuguese, and he who wishes
to be on good terms with them must never refuse to dip his finger
and thumb into it when offered.  I took therefore a huge pinch,
though I detest the dust, and we were soon on the best possible
terms.  He was eager to obtain news, especially from Lisbon and
Spain.  I told him that the officers of the troops at Lisbon had,
the day before I left that place, gone in a body to the queen and
insisted upon her either receiving their swords or dismissing her
ministers; whereupon he rubbed his hands and said that he was sure
matters would not remain tranquil at Lisbon.  On my saying,
however, that I thought the affairs of Don Carlos were on the
decline (this was shortly after the death of Zumalacarregui), he
frowned, and cried that it could not possibly be, for that God was
too just to suffer it.  I felt for the poor man who had been driven
out of his home in the noble convent close by, and from a state of
affluence and comfort reduced in his old age to indigence and
misery, for his present dwelling scarcely seemed to contain an
article of furniture.  I tried twice or thrice to induce him to
converse about the school, but he either avoided the subject or
said shortly that he knew nothing about it.  On my leaving him, the
boy came from his hiding-place and rejoined me; he said that he had
hidden himself through fear of his master's knowing that he had
brought me to him, for that he was unwilling that any stranger
should know that he was a schoolmaster.

I asked the boy whether he or his parents were acquainted with the
Scripture and ever read it; he did not, however, seem to understand
me.  I must here observe that the boy was fifteen years of age,
that he was in many respects very intelligent, and had some
knowledge of the Latin language; nevertheless he knew not the
Scripture even by name, and I have no doubt, from what I
subsequently observed, that at least two-thirds of his countrymen
are on that important point no wiser than himself.  At the doors of
village inns, at the hearths of the rustics, in the fields where
they labour, at the stone fountains by the wayside where they water
their cattle, I have questioned the lower class of the children of
Portugal about the Scripture, the Bible, the Old and New Testament,
and in no one instance have they known what I was alluding to, or
could return me a rational answer, though on all other matters
their replies were sensible enough; indeed, nothing surprised me
more than the free and unembarrassed manner in which the Portuguese
peasantry sustain a conversation, and the purity of the language in
which they express their thoughts, and yet few of them can read or
write; whereas the peasantry of England, whose education is in
general much superior, are in their conversation coarse and dull
almost to brutality, and absurdly ungrammatical in their language,
though the English tongue is upon the whole more simple in its
structure than the Portuguese.

On my return to Lisbon I found our friend -, who received me very
kindly.  The next ten days were exceedingly rainy, which prevented
me from making any excursions into the country:  during this time I
saw our friend frequently, and had long conversations with him
concerning the best means of distributing the gospel.  He thought
we could do no better for the present than put part of our stock
into the hands of the booksellers of Lisbon, and at the same time
employ colporteurs to hawk the books about the streets, receiving a
certain profit off every copy they sold.  This plan was agreed upon
and forthwith put in practice, and with some success.  I had
thought of sending colporteurs into the neighbouring villages, but
to this our friend objected.  He thought the attempt dangerous, as
it was very possible that the rural priesthood, who still possessed
much influence in their own districts, and who were for the most
part decided enemies to the spread of the gospel, might cause the
men employed to be assassinated or ill-treated.

I determined, however, ere leaving Portugal, to establish depots of
Bibles in one or two of the provincial towns.  I wished to visit
the Alemtejo, which I had heard was a very benighted region.  The
Alemtejo means the province beyond the Tagus.  This province is not
beautiful and picturesque, like most other parts of Portugal:
there are few hills and mountains, the greater part consists of
heaths broken by knolls, and gloomy dingles, and forests of stunted
pine; these places are infested with banditti.  The principal city
is Evora, one of the most ancient in Portugal, and formerly the
seat of a branch of the Inquisition, yet more cruel and baneful
than the terrible one of Lisbon.  Evora lies about sixty miles from
Lisbon, and to Evora I determined on going with twenty Testaments
and two Bibles.  How I fared there will presently be seen.



CHAPTER II



Boatmen of the Tagus--Dangers of the Stream--Aldea Gallega--The
Hostelry--Robbers--Sabocha--Adventure of a Muleteer--Estalagem de
Ladroes--Don Geronimo--Vendas Novas--Royal Residence--Swine of the
Alemtejo--Monto Moro--Swayne Vonved--Singular Goatherd--Children of
the Fields--Infidels and Sadducees.

On the afternoon of the sixth of December I set out for Evora,
accompanied by my servant.  I had been informed that the tide would
serve for the regular passage-boats, or felouks, as they are
called, at about four o'clock, but on reaching the side of the
Tagus opposite to Aldea Gallega, between which place and Lisbon the
boats ply, I found that the tide would not permit them to start
before eight o'clock.  Had I waited for them I should have probably
landed at Aldea Gallega about midnight, and I felt little
inclination to make my entree in the Alemtejo at that hour;
therefore, as I saw small boats which can push off at any time
lying near in abundance, I determined upon hiring one of them for
the passage, though the expense would be thus considerably
increased.  I soon agreed with a wild-looking lad, who told me that
he was in part owner of one of the boats, to take me over.  I was
not aware of the danger in crossing the Tagus at its broadest part,
which is opposite Aldea Gallega, at any time, but especially at
close of day in the winter season, or I should certainly not have
ventured.  The lad and his comrade, a miserable looking object,
whose only clothing, notwithstanding the season, was a tattered
jerkin and trousers, rowed until we had advanced about half a mile
from the land; they then set up a large sail, and the lad, who
seemed to direct everything and to be the principal, took the helm
and steered.  The evening was now setting in; the sun was not far
from its bourne in the horizon, the air was very cold, the wind was
rising, and the waves of the noble Tagus began to be crested with
foam.  I told the boy that it was scarcely possible for the boat to
carry so much sail without upsetting, upon which he laughed, and
began to gabble in a most incoherent manner.  He had the most harsh
and rapid articulation that has ever come under my observation in
any human being; it was the scream of the hyena blended with the
bark of the terrier, though it was by no means an index of his
disposition, which I soon found to be light, merry, and anything
but malevolent, for when I, in order to show him that I cared
little about him, began to hum "Eu que sou Contrabandista," he
laughed heartily and said, clapping me on the shoulder, that he
would not drown us if he could help it.  The other poor fellow
seemed by no means averse to go to the bottom; he sat at the fore
part of the boat looking the image of famine, and only smiled when
the waters broke over the weather side and soaked his scanty
habiliments.  In a little time I had made up my mind that our last
hour was come; the wind was getting higher, the short dangerous
waves were more foamy, the boat was frequently on its beam, and the
water came over the lee side in torrents; but still the wild lad at
the helm held on laughing and chattering, and occasionally yelling
out part of the Miguelite air, "Quando el Rey chegou" the singing
of which in Lisbon is imprisonment.

The stream was against us, but the wind was in our favour, and we
sprang along at a wonderful rate, and I saw that our only chance of
escape was in speedily passing the farther bank of the Tagus where
the bight or bay at the extremity of which stands Aldea Gallega
commences, for we should not then have to battle with the waves of
the stream, which the adverse wind lashed into fury.  It was the
will of the Almighty to permit us speedily to gain this shelter,
but not before the boat was nearly filled with water, and we were
all wet to the skin.  At about seven o'clock in the evening we
reached Aldea Gallega, shivering with cold and in a most deplorable
plight.

Aldea Gallega, or the Galician Village (for the two words are
Spanish, and have that signification), it a place containing, I
should think, about four thousand inhabitants.  It was pitchy dark
when we landed, but rockets soon began to fly about in all
directions, illuming the air far and wide.  As we passed along the
dirty unpaved street which leads to the Largo, or square in which
the inn is situated, a horrible uproar of drums and voices assailed
our ears.  On inquiring the cause of all this bustle, I was
informed that it was the eve of the Conception of the Virgin.

As it was not the custom of the people at the inn to furnish
provisions for the guests, I wandered about in search of food; and
at last seeing some soldiers eating and drinking in a species of
wine-house, I went in and asked the people to let me have some
supper, and in a short time they furnished me with a tolerable
meal, for which, however, they charged three crowns.

Having engaged with a person for mules to carry us to Evora, which
were to be ready at five next morning, I soon retired to bed, my
servant sleeping in the same apartment, which was the only one in
the house vacant.  I closed not my eyes during the whole night.
Beneath us was a stable, in which some almocreves, or carriers,
slept with their mules; at our back, in the yard, was a pigsty.
How could I sleep?  The hogs grunted, the mules screamed, and the
almocreves snored most horribly.  I heard the village clock strike
the hours until midnight, and from midnight till four in the
morning, when I sprang up and began to dress, and despatched my
servant to hasten the man with the mules, for I was heartily tired
of the place and wanted to leave it.  An old man, bony and hale,
accompanied by a barefooted lad, brought the beasts, which were
tolerably good.  He was the proprietor of them, and intended, with
the lad, who was his nephew, to accompany us to Evora.

When we started, the moon was shining brightly, and the morning was
piercingly cold.  We soon entered on a sandy hollow way, emerging
from which we passed by a strange-looking and large edifice,
standing on a high bleak sand-hill on our left.  We were speedily
overtaken by five or six men on horseback, riding at a rapid pace,
each with a long gun slung at his saddle, the muzzle depending
about two feet below the horse's belly.  I inquired of the old man
what was the reason of this warlike array.  He answered, that the
roads were very bad (meaning that they abounded with robbers), and
that they went armed in this manner for their defence; they soon
turned off to the right towards Palmella.

We reached a sandy plain studded with stunted pine; the road was
little more than a footpath, and as we proceeded, the trees
thickened and became a wood, which extended for two leagues, with
clear spaces at intervals, in which herds of cattle and sheep were
feeding; the bells attached to their necks were ringing lowly and
monotonously.  The sun was just beginning to show itself; but the
morning was misty and dreary, which, together with the aspect of
desolation which the country exhibited, had an unfavourable effect
on my spirits.  I got down and walked, entering into conversation
with the old man.  He seemed to have but one theme, "the robbers,"
and the atrocities they were in the habit of practising in the very
spots we were passing.  The tales he told were truly horrible, and
to avoid them I mounted again, and rode on considerably in front.

In about an hour and a half we emerged from the forest, and entered
upon a savage, wild, broken ground, covered with mato, or
brushwood.  The mules stopped to drink at a shallow pool, and on
looking to the right I saw a ruined wall.  This, the guide informed
me, was the remains of Vendas Velhas, or the Old Inn, formerly the
haunt of the celebrated robber Sabocha.  This Sabocha, it seems,
had, some sixteen years ago, a band of about forty ruffians at his
command, who infested these wilds, and supported themselves by
plunder.  For a considerable time Sabocha pursued his atrocious
trade unsuspected, and many an unfortunate traveller was murdered
in the dead of night at the solitary inn by the wood-side, which he
kept; indeed, a more fit situation for plunder and murder I never
saw.  The gang were in the habit of watering their horses at the
pool, and perhaps of washing therein their hands stained with the
blood of their victims; the lieutenant of the troop was the brother
of Sabocha, a fellow of great strength and ferocity, particularly
famous for the skill he possessed in darting a long knife, with
which he was in the habit of transfixing his opponents.  Sabocha's
connection with the gang at length became known, and he fled, with
the greater part of his associates, across the Tagus to the
northern provinces.  Himself and his brothers eventually lost their
lives on the road to Coimbra, in an engagement with the military.
His house was razed by order of the government.

The ruins are still frequently visited by banditti, who eat and
drink amidst them, and look out for prey, as the place commands a
view of the road.  The old man assured me, that about two months
previous, on returning to Aldea Gallega with his mules from
accompanying some travellers, he had been knocked down, stripped
naked, and all his money taken from him, by a fellow whom he
believed came from this murderers' nest.  He said that he was an
exceedingly powerful young man, with immense moustaches and
whiskers, and was armed with an espingarda, or musket.  About ten
days subsequently he saw the robber at Vendas Novas, where we
should pass the night.  The fellow on recognising him took him
aside, and, with horrid imprecations, threatened that he should
never be permitted to return home if he attempted to discover him;
he therefore held his peace, as there was little to be gained and
everything to be risked in apprehending him, as he would have been
speedily set at liberty for want of evidence to criminate him, and
then he would not have failed to have had his revenge, or would
have been anticipated therein by his comrades.

I dismounted and went up to the place, and saw the vestiges of a
fire and a broken bottle.  The sons of plunder had been there very
lately.  I left a New Testament and some tracts amongst the ruins,
and hastened away.

The sun had dispelled the mists and was beaming very hot; we rode
on for about an hour, when I heard the neighing of a horse in our
rear, and our guide said there was a party of horsemen behind; our
mules were good, and they did not overtake us for at least twenty
minutes.  The headmost rider was a gentleman in a fashionable
travelling dress; a little way behind were an officer, two
soldiers, and a boy in livery.  I heard the principal horseman, on
overtaking my servant, inquiring who I was, and whether French or
English.  He was told I was an English gentleman, travelling.  He
then asked whether I understood Portuguese; the man said I
understood it, but he believed that I spoke French and Italian
better.  The gentleman then spurred on his horse and accosted me,
not in Portuguese, nor in French or Italian, but in the purest
English that I ever heard spoken by a foreigner; it had, indeed,
nothing of foreign accent or pronunciation in it; and had I not
known, by the countenance of the speaker, that he was no
Englishman, (for there is a peculiarity in the countenance, as
everybody knows, which, though it cannot be described, is sure to
betray the Englishman), I should have concluded that I was in
company with a countryman.  We continued discoursing until we
arrived at Pegoens.

Pegoens consists of about two or three houses and an inn; there is
likewise a species of barrack, where half a dozen soldiers are
stationed.  In the whole of Portugal there is no place of worse
reputation, and the inn is nick-named Estalagem de Ladroes, or the
hostelry of thieves; for it is there that the banditti of the
wilderness, which extends around it on every side for leagues, are
in the habit of coming and spending the money, the fruits of their
criminal daring; there they dance and sing, eat fricasseed rabbits
and olives, and drink the muddy but strong wine of the Alemtejo.
An enormous fire, fed by the trunk of a cork tree, was blazing in a
niche on the left hand on entering the spacious kitchen.  Close by
it, seething, were several large jars, which emitted no
disagreeable odour, and reminded me that I had not broken my fast,
although it was now nearly one o'clock, and I had ridden five
leagues.  Several wild-looking men, who if they were not banditti
might easily be mistaken for such, were seated on logs about the
fire.  I asked them some unimportant questions, to which they
replied with readiness and civility, and one of them, who said he
could read, accepted a tract which I offered him.

My new friend, who had been bespeaking dinner, or rather breakfast,
now, with great civility, invited me to partake of it, and at the
same time introduced me to the officer who accompanied him, and who
was his brother, and also spoke English, though not so well as
himself.  I found I had become acquainted with Don Geronimo Joze
D'Azveto, secretary to the government at Evora; his brother
belonged to a regiment of hussars, whose headquarters were at
Evora, but which had outlying parties along the road,--for example,
the place where we were stopping.

Rabbits at Pegoens seem to be a standard article of food, being
produced in abundance on the moors around.  We had one fried, the
gravy of which was delicious, and afterwards a roasted one, which
was brought up on a dish entire; the hostess, having first washed
her hands, proceeded to tear the animal to pieces, which having
accomplished, she poured over the fragments a sweet sauce.  I ate
heartily of both dishes, particularly of the last; owing, perhaps,
to the novel and curious manner in which it was served up.
Excellent figs, from the Algarves, and apples concluded our repast,
which we ate in a little side room with a mud floor, which sent
such a piercing chill into my system, as prevented me from deriving
that pleasure from my fare and my agreeable companions that I
should have otherwise experienced.

Don Geronimo had been educated in England, in which country he
passed his boyhood, which in a certain degree accounted for his
proficiency in the English language, the idiom and pronunciation of
which can only be acquired by residing in the country at that
period of one's life.  He had also fled thither shortly after the
usurpation of the throne of Portugal by Don Miguel, and from thence
had departed to the Brazils, where he had devoted himself to the
service of Don Pedro, and had followed him in the expedition which
terminated in the downfall of the usurper and the establishment of
the constitutional government in Portugal.  Our conversation rolled
chiefly on literary and political subjects, and my acquaintance
with the writings of the most celebrated authors of Portugal was
hailed with surprise and delight; for nothing is more gratifying to
a Portuguese than to observe a foreigner taking an interest in the
literature of his nation, of which, in many respects, he is justly
proud.

At about two o'clock we were once more in the saddle, and pursued
our way in company through a country exactly resembling that which
we had previously been traversing, rugged and broken, with here and
there a clump of pines.  The afternoon was exceedingly fine, and
the bright rays of the sun relieved the desolation of the scene.
Having advanced about two leagues, we caught sight of a large
edifice towering majestically in the distance, which I learnt was a
royal palace standing at the farther extremity of Vendas Novas, the
village in which we were to pass the night; it was considerably
more than a league from us, yet, seen through the clear transparent
atmosphere of Portugal it appeared much nearer.

Before reaching it we passed by a stone cross, on the pedestal of
which was an inscription commemorating a horrible murder of a
native of Lisbon, which had occurred on that spot; it looked
ancient, and was covered with moss, and the greater part of the
inscription was illegible, at least it was to me, who could not
bestow much time on its deciphering.  Having arrived at Vendas
Novas, and bespoken supper, my new friend and myself strolled forth
to view the palace; it was built by the late king of Portugal, and
presents little that is remarkable in its exterior; it is a long
edifice with wings, and is only two stories high, though it can be
seen afar off, from being situated on elevated ground; it has
fifteen windows in the upper, and twelve in the lower story, with a
paltry-looking door, something like that of a barn, to which you
ascend by one single step; the interior corresponds with the
exterior, offering nothing which can gratify curiosity, if we
except the kitchens, which are indeed magnificent, and so large
that food enough might be cooked in them, at one time, to serve as
a repast for all the inhabitants of the Alemtejo.

I passed the night with great comfort in a clean bed, remote from
all those noises so rife in a Portuguese inn, and the next morning
at six we again set out on our journey, which we hoped to terminate
before sunset, as Evora is but ten leagues from Vendas Novas.  The
preceding morning had been cold, but the present one was far
colder, so much so, that just before sunrise I could no longer
support it on horseback, and therefore dismounting, ran and walked
until we reached a few houses at the termination of these desolate
moors.  It was in one of these houses that the commissioners of Don
Pedro and Miguel met, and it was there agreed that the latter
should resign the crown in favour of Donna Maria, for Evora was the
last stronghold of the usurper, and the moors of the Alemtejo the
last area of the combats which so long agitated unhappy Portugal.
I therefore gazed on the miserable huts with considerable interest,
and did not fail to scatter in the neighbourhood several of the
precious little tracts with which, together with a small quantity
of Testaments, my carpet bag was provided.

The country began to improve; the savage heaths were left behind,
and we saw hills and dales, cork trees, and azinheiras, on the last
of which trees grows that kind of sweet acorn called bolotas, which
is pleasant as a chestnut, and which supplies in winter the
principal food on which the numerous swine of the Alemtejo subsist.
Gallant swine they are, with short legs and portly bodies of a
black or dark red colour; and for the excellence of their flesh I
can vouch, having frequently luxuriated upon it in the course of my
wanderings in this province; the lombo, or loin, when broiled on
the live embers, is delicious, especially when eaten with olives.

We were now in sight of Monte Moro, which, as the name denotes, was
once a fortress of the Moors; it is a high steep hill, on the
summit and sides of which are ruined walls and towers; at its
western side is a deep ravine or valley, through which a small
stream rushes, traversed by a stone bridge; farther down there is a
ford, over which we passed and ascended to the town, which,
commencing near the northern base, passes over the lower ridge
towards the north-east.  The town is exceedingly picturesque, and
many of the houses are very ancient, and built in the Moorish
fashion.  I wished much to examine the relics of Moorish sway on
the upper part of the mountain, but time pressed, and the short
period of our stay at this place did not permit me to gratify my
inclination.

Monte Moro is the head of a range of hills which cross this part of
the Alemtejo, and from hence they fork east and south-east, towards
the former of which directions lies the direct road to Elvas,
Badajos, and Madrid; and towards the latter that to Evora.  A
beautiful mountain, covered to the top with cork trees, is the
third of the chain which skirts the way in the direction of Elvas.
It is called Monte Almo; a brook brawls at its base, and as I
passed it the sun was shining gloriously on the green herbage on
which flocks of goats were feeding, with their bells ringing
merrily, so that the tout ensemble resembled a fairy scene; and
that nothing might be wanted to complete the picture, I here met a
man, a goatherd, beneath an azinheira, whose appearance recalled to
my mind the Brute Carle, mentioned in the Danish ballad of Swayne
Vonved:-


"A wild swine on his shoulders he kept,
And upon his bosom a black bear slept;
And about his fingers with hair o'erhung,
The squirrel sported and weasel clung."


Upon the shoulder of the goatherd was a beast, which he told me was
a lontra, or otter, which he had lately caught in the neighbouring
brook; it had a string round its neck which was attached to his
arm.  At his left side was a bag, from the top of which peered the
heads of two or three singular-looking animals, and at his right
was squatted the sullen cub of a wolf, which he was endeavouring to
tame; his whole appearance was to the last degree savage and wild.
After a little conversation such as those who meet on the road
frequently hold, I asked him if he could read, but he made me no
answer.  I then inquired if he knew anything of God or Jesus
Christ; he looked me fixedly in the face for a moment, and then
turned his countenance towards the sun, which was beginning to sink
in the west, nodded to it, and then again looked fixedly upon me.
I believe that I understood the mute reply; which probably was,
that it was God who made that glorious light which illumes and
gladdens all creation; and gratified with that belief, I left him
and hastened after my companions, who were by this time a
considerable way in advance.

I have always found in the disposition of the children of the
fields a more determined tendency to religion and piety than
amongst the inhabitants of towns and cities, and the reason is
obvious, they are less acquainted with the works of man's hands
than with those of God; their occupations, too, which are simple,
and requiring less of ingenuity and skill than those which engage
the attention of the other portion of their fellow-creatures, are
less favourable to the engendering of self-conceit and sufficiency
so utterly at variance with that lowliness of spirit which
constitutes the best foundation of piety.  The sneerers and
scoffers at religion do not spring from amongst the simple children
of nature, but are the excrescences of overwrought refinement, and
though their baneful influence has indeed penetrated to the country
and corrupted man there, the source and fountainhead was amongst
crowded houses, where nature is scarcely known.  I am not one of
those who look for perfection amongst the rural population of any
country; perfection is not to be found amongst the children of the
fall, wherever their abodes may happen to be; but, until the heart
discredits the existence of a God, there is still hope for the soul
of the possessor, however stained with crime he may be, for even
Simon the magician was converted; but when the heart is once
steeled with infidelity, infidelity confirmed by carnal wisdom, an
exuberance of the grace of God is required to melt it, which is
seldom manifested; for we read in the blessed book that the
Pharisee and the wizard became receptacles of grace, but where is
there mention made of the conversion of the sneering Sadducee, and
is the modern infidel aught but a Sadducee of later date?

It was dark night before we reached Evora, and having taken leave
of my friends, who kindly requested me to consider their house my
home, I and my servant went to the Largo de San Francisco, in which
the muleteer informed me was the best hostelry of the town.  We
rode into the kitchen, at the extreme end of which was the stable,
as is customary in Portugal.  The house was kept by an aged gypsy-
like female and her daughter, a fine blooming girl about eighteen
years of age.  The house was large; in the upper storey was a very
long room, like a granary, which extended nearly the whole length
of the house; the farther part was partitioned off and formed a
chamber tolerably comfortable but very cold, and the floor was of
tiles, as was also that of the large room in which the muleteers
were accustomed to sleep on the furniture of the mules.  After
supper I went to bed, and having offered up my devotions to Him who
had protected me through a dangerous journey, I slept soundly till
the morning.



CHAPTER III



Shopkeeper at Evora--Spanish Contrabandistas--Lion and Unicorn--The
Fountain--Trust in the Almighty--Distribution of Tracts--Library at
Evora--Manuscript--The Bible as a Guide--The Infamous Mary--The Man
of Palmella--The Charm--The Monkish System--Sunday--Volney--An
Auto-Da-Fe--Men from Spain--Reading of a Tract--New Arrival--The
Herb Rosemary.

Evora is a small city, walled, but not regularly fortified, and
could not sustain a siege of a day.  It has five gates; before that
to the south-west is the principal promenade of its inhabitants:
the fair on St. John's day is likewise held there; the houses are
in general very ancient, and many of them unoccupied.  It contains
about five thousand inhabitants, though twice that number would be
by no means disproportionate to its size.  The two principal
edifices are the See, or cathedral, and the convent of San
Francisco, in the square before the latter of which was situated
the posada where I had taken up my abode.  A large barrack for
cavalry stands on the right-hand side, on entering the south-west
gate.  To the south-east, at the distance of six leagues, is to be
seen a blue chain of hills, the highest of which is called Serra
Dorso; it is picturesquely beautiful, and contains within its
recesses wolves and wild boars in numbers.  About a league and a
half on the other side of this hill is Estremos.

I passed the day succeeding my arrival principally in examining the
town and its environs, and, as I strolled about, entering into
conversation with various people that I met; several of these were
of the middle class, shopkeepers and professional men; they were
all Constitutionalists, or pretended to be so, but had very little
to say except a few commonplace remarks on the way of living of the
friars, their hypocrisy and laziness.  I endeavoured to obtain some
information respecting the state of instruction in the place, and
from their answers was led to believe that it must be at the lowest
ebb, for it seemed that there was neither book-shop nor school.
When I spoke of religion, they exhibited the utmost apathy for the
subject, and making their bows left me as soon as possible.

Having a letter of introduction to a person who kept a shop in the
market-place, I went thither and delivered it to him as he stood
behind his counter.  In the course of conversation, I found that he
had been much persecuted whilst the old system was in its vigour,
and that he entertained a hearty aversion for it.  I told him that
the ignorance of the people in religious matters had served to
nurse that system, and that the surest way to prevent its return
was to enlighten their minds:  I added that I had brought a small
stock of Bibles and Testaments to Evora, which I wished to leave
for sale in the hands of some respectable merchant, and that it he
were anxious to help to lay the axe to the root of superstition and
tyranny, he could not do so more effectually than by undertaking
the charge of these books.  He declared his willingness to do so,
and I went away determined to entrust to him half of my stock.  I
returned to the hostelry, and sat down on a log of wood on the
hearth within the immense chimney in the common apartment; two
surly looking men were on their knees on the stones; before them
was a large heap of pieces of old iron, brass, and copper; they
were assorting it, and stowing it away in various bags.  They were
Spanish contrabandistas of the lowest class, and earned a miserable
livelihood by smuggling such rubbish from Portugal into Spain.  Not
a word proceeded from their lips, and when I addressed them in
their native language, they returned no other answer than a kind of
growl.  They looked as dirty and rusty as the iron in which they
trafficked; their four miserable donkeys were in the stable in the
rear.

The woman of the house and her daughter were exceedingly civil to
me, and coming near crouched down, asking various questions about
England.  A man dressed somewhat like an English sailor, who sat on
the other side of the hearth confronting me, said, "I hate the
English, for they are not baptized, and have not the law," meaning
the law of God.  I laughed, and told him that according to the law
of England, no one who was unbaptized could be buried in
consecrated ground; whereupon he said, "Then you are stricter than
we."  He then said, "What is meant by the lion and the unicorn
which I saw the other day on the coat of arms over the door of the
English consul at St. Ubes?"  I said they were the arms of England!
"Yes," he replied, "but what do they represent?"  I said I did not
know.  "Then," said he, "you do not know the secrets of your own
house."  I said, "Suppose I were to tell you that they represent
the Lion of Bethlehem, and the horned monster of the flaming pit in
combat, as to which should obtain the mastery in England, what
would you say?"  He replied, "I should say that you gave a fair
answer."  This man and myself became great friends; he came from
Palmella, not far from St. Ubes; he had several mules and horses
with him, and dealt in corn and barley.  I again walked out and
roamed in the environs of the town.

About half a mile from the southern wall is a stone fountain, where
the muleteers and other people who visit the town are accustomed to
water their horses.  I sat down by it, and there I remained about
two hours, entering into conversation with every one who halted at
the fountain; and I will here observe, that during the time of my
sojourn at Evora, I repeated my visit every day, and remained there
the same time; and by following this plan, I believe that I spoke
to at least two hundred of the children of Portugal upon matters
relating to their eternal welfare.  I found that very few of those
whom I addressed had received any species of literary education,
none of them had seen the Bible, and not more than half a dozen had
the slightest inkling of what the holy book consisted.  I found
that most of them were bigoted Papists and Miguelites at heart.  I
therefore, when they told me they were Christians, denied the
possibility of their being so, as they were ignorant of Christ and
His commandments, and placed their hope of salvation on outward
forms and superstitious observances, which were the invention of
Satan, who wished to keep them in darkness that at last they might
stumble into the pit which he had dug for them.  I said repeatedly
that the Pope, whom they revered, was an arch deceiver, and the
head minister of Satan here on earth, and that the monks and
friars, whose absence they so deplored, and to whom they had been
accustomed to confess themselves, were his subordinate agents.
When called upon for proofs, I invariably cited the ignorance of my
auditors respecting the Scriptures, and said that if their
spiritual guides had been really ministers of Christ, they would
not have permitted their flocks to remain unacquainted with His
Word.

Since this occurred, I have been frequently surprised that I
experienced no insult and ill-treatment from the people, whose
superstitions I was thus attacking; but I really experienced none,
and am inclined to believe that the utter fearlessness which I
displayed, trusting in the Protection of the Almighty, may have
been the cause.  When threatened by danger, the best policy is to
fix your eye steadily upon it, and it will in general vanish like
the morning mist before the sun; whereas, if you quail before it,
it is sure to become more imminent.  I have fervent hope that the
words of my mouth sank deep into the hearts of some of my auditors,
as I observed many of them depart musing and pensive.  I
occasionally distributed tracts amongst them; for although they
themselves were unable to turn them to much account, I thought that
by their means they might become of service at some future time,
and fall into the hands of others, to whom they might be of eternal
interest.  Many a book which is abandoned to the waters is wafted
to some remote shore, and there proves a blessing and a comfort to
millions, who are ignorant from whence it came.

The next day, which was Friday, I called at the house of my friend
Don Geronimo Azveto.  I did not find him there, but was directed to
the see, or episcopal palace, in an apartment of which I found him,
writing, with another gentleman, to whom he introduced me; it was
the governor of Evora, who welcomed me with every mark of kindness
and affability.  After some discourse, we went out together to
examine an ancient edifice, which was reported to have served, in
bygone times, as a temple to Diana.  Part of it was evidently of
Roman architecture, for there was no mistaking the beautiful light
pillars which supported a dome, under which the sacrifices to the
most captivating and poetical divinity of the heathen theocracy had
probably been made; but the original space between the pillars had
been filled up with rubbish of a modern date, and the rest of the
building was apparently of the architecture of the latter end of
the Middle Ages.  It was situated at one end of the building which
had once been the seat of the Inquisition, and had served, before
the erection of the present see, as the residence of the bishop.

Within the see, where the governor now resides, is a superb
library, occupying an immense vaulted room, like the aisle of a
cathedral, and in a side apartment is a collection of paintings by
Portuguese artists, chiefly portraits, amongst which is that of Don
Sebastian.  I sincerely hope it did not do him justice, for it
represents him in the shape of an awkward lad of about eighteen,
with a bloated booby face with staring eyes, and a ruff round a
short apoplectic neck.

I was shown several beautifully illuminated missals and other
manuscripts; but the one which most arrested my attention, I
scarcely need say why, was that which bore the following title:-


"Forma sive ordinatio Capelli illustrissimi et xianissimi principis
Henvici Sexti Regis Anglie et Francie am dm Hibernie descripta
serenissio principi Alfonso Regi Portugalie illustri per humilem
servitorem sm Willm. Sav. Decanu capelle supradicte."


It seemed a voice from the olden times of my dear native land!
This library and picture gallery had been formed by one of the
latter bishops, a person of much learning and piety.

In the evening I dined with Don Geronimo and his brother; the
latter soon left us to attend to his military duties.  My friend
and myself had now much conversation of considerable interest; he
lamented the deplorable state of ignorance in which his countrymen
existed at present.  He said that his friend the governor and
himself were endeavouring to establish a school in the vicinity,
and that they had made application to the government for the use of
an empty convent, called the Espinheiro, or thorn tree, at about a
league's distance, and that they had little doubt of their request
being complied with.  I had before told him who I was, and after
expressing joy at the plan which he had in contemplation, I now
urged him in the most pressing manner to use all his influence to
make the knowledge of the Scripture the basis of the education
which the children were to receive, and added, that half the Bibles
and Testaments which I had brought with me to Evora were heartily
at his service; he instantly gave me his hand, said he accepted my
offer with the greatest pleasure, and would do all in his power to
forward my views, which were in many respects his own.  I now told
him that I did not come to Portugal with the view of propagating
the dogmas of any particular sect, but with the hope of introducing
the Bible, which is the well-head of all that is useful and
conducive to the happiness of society,--that I cared not what
people called themselves, provided they followed the Bible as a
guide; for that where the Scriptures were read, neither priestcraft
nor tyranny could long exist, and instanced the case of my own
country, the cause of whose freedom and prosperity was the Bible,
and that only, as the last persecutor of this book, the bloody and
infamous Mary, was the last tyrant who had sat on the throne of
England.  We did not part till the night was considerably advanced,
and the next morning I sent him the books, in the firm and
confident hope that a bright and glorious morning was about to rise
over the night which had so long cast its dreary shadows over the
regions of the Alemtejo.

The day after this interesting event, which was Saturday, I had
more conversation with the man from Palmella.  I asked him if in
his journeys he had never been attacked by robbers; he answered no,
for that he generally travelled in company with others.  "However,"
said he, "were I alone I should have little fear, for I am well
protected."  I said that I supposed he carried arms with him.  "No
other arms than this," said he, pulling out one of those long
desperate looking knives, of English manufacture, with which every
Portuguese peasant is usually furnished.  This knife serves for
many purposes, and I should consider it a far more efficient weapon
than a dagger.  "But," said he, "I do not place much confidence in
the knife."  I then inquired in what rested his hope of protection.
"In this," said he:  and unbuttoning his waistcoat, he showed me a
small bag, attached to his neck by a silken string.  "In this bag
is an oracam, or prayer, written by a person of power, and as long
as I carry it about with me, no ill can befall me."  Curiosity is
the leading feature of my character, and I instantly said, with
eagerness, that I should feel great pleasure in being permitted to
read the prayer.  "Well," he replied, "you are my friend, and I
would do for you what I would for few others, I will show it you."
He then asked for my penknife, and having unripped the bag, took
out a large piece of paper closely folded up.  I hurried to my
apartment and commenced the examination of it.  It was scrawled
over in a very illegible hand, and was moreover much stained with
perspiration, so that I had considerable difficulty in making
myself master of its contents, but I at last accomplished the
following literal translation of the charm, which was written in
bad Portuguese, but which struck me at the time as being one of the
most remarkable compositions that had ever come to my knowledge.


THE CHARM


"Just Judge and divine Son of the Virgin Maria, who wast born in
Bethlehem, a Nazarene, and wast crucified in the midst of all
Jewry, I beseech thee, O Lord, by thy sixth day, that the body of
me be not caught, nor put to death by the hands of justice at all;
peace be with you, the peace of Christ, may I receive peace, may
you receive peace, said God to his disciples.  If the accursed
justice should distrust me, or have its eyes on me, in order to
take me or to rob me, may its eyes not see me, may its mouth not
speak to me, may it have ears which may not hear me, may it have
hands which may not seize me, may it have feet which may not
overtake me; for may I be armed with the arms of St. George,
covered with the cloak of Abraham, and shipped in the ark of Noah,
so that it can neither see me, nor hear me, nor draw the blood from
my body.  I also adjure thee, O Lord, by those three blessed
crosses, by those three blessed chalices, by those three blessed
clergymen, by those three consecrated hosts, that thou give me that
sweet company which thou gavest to the Virgin Maria, from the gates
of Bethlehem to the portals of Jerusalem, that I may go and come
with pleasure and joy with Jesus Christ, the Son of the Virgin
Maria, the prolific yet nevertheless the eternal virgin."


The woman of the house and her daughter had similar bags attached
to their necks, containing charms, which, they said, prevented the
witches having power to harm them.  The belief in witchcraft is
very prevalent amongst the peasantry of the Alemtejo, and I believe
of other provinces of Portugal.  This is one of the relies of the
monkish system, the aim of which, in all countries where it has
existed, seems to have been to beset the minds of the people, that
they might be more easily misled.  All these charms were
fabrications of the monks, who had sold them to their infatuated
confessants.  The monks of the Greek and Syrian churches likewise
deal in this ware, which they know to be poison, but which they
would rather vend than the wholesome balm of the gospel, because it
brings them a large price, and fosters the delusion which enables
them to live a life of luxury.

The Sunday morning was fine, and the plain before the church of the
convent of San Francisco was crowded with people hastening to or
returning from the mass.  After having performed my morning
devotion, and breakfasted, I went down to the kitchen; the girl
Geronima was seated by the fire.  I inquired if she had heard mass?
She replied in the negative, and that she did not intend to hear
it.  Upon my inquiring her motive for absenting herself, she
replied, that since the friars had been expelled from their
churches and convents she had ceased to attend mass, or to confess
herself; for that the government priests had no spiritual power,
and consequently she never troubled them.  She said the friars were
holy men and charitable; for that every morning those of the
convent over the way fed forty poor persons with the relics of the
meals of the preceding day, but that now these people were allowed
to starve.  I replied, that the friars, who lived on the fat of the
land, could well afford to bestow a few bones upon their poor, and
that their doing so was merely a part of their policy, by which
they hoped to secure to themselves friends in time of need.  The
girl then observed, that as it was Sunday, I should perhaps like to
see some books, and without waiting for a reply she produced them.
They consisted principally of popular stories, with lives and
miracles of saints, but amongst them was a translation of Volney's
Ruins of Empires.  I expressed a wish to know how she became
possessed of this book.  She said that a young man, a great
Constitutionalist, had given it to her some months previous, and
had pressed her much to read it, for that it was one of the best
books in the world.  I replied, that the author of it was an
emissary of Satan, and an enemy of Jesus Christ and the souls of
mankind; that it was written with the sole aim of bringing all
religion into contempt, and that it inculcated the doctrine that
there was no future state, nor reward for the righteous nor
punishment for the wicked.  She made no reply, but going into
another room, returned with her apron full of dry sticks and
brushwood, all which she piled upon the fire, and produced a bright
blaze.  She then took the book from my hand and placed it upon the
flaming pile; then sitting down, took her rosary out of her pocket
and told her beads till the volume was consumed.  This was an auto
da fe in the best sense of the word.

On the Monday and Tuesday I paid my usual visits to the fountain,
and likewise rode about the neighbourhood on a mule, for the
purpose of circulating tracts.  I dropped a great many in the
favourite walks of the people of Evora, as I felt rather dubious of
their accepting them had I proffered them with my own hand,
whereas, should they be observed lying on the ground, I thought
that curiosity might cause them to be picked up and examined.  I
likewise, on the Tuesday evening, paid a farewell visit to my
friend Azveto, as it was my intention to leave Evora on the
Thursday following and return to Lisbon; in which view I had
engaged a calash of a man who informed me that he had served as a
soldier in the grande armee of Napoleon, and been present in the
Russian campaign.  He looked the very image of a drunkard.  His
face was covered with carbuncles, and his breath impregnated with
the fumes of strong waters.  He wished much to converse with me in
French, in the speaking of which language it seemed he prided
himself, but I refused, and told him to speak the language of the
country, or I would hold no discourse with him.

Wednesday was stormy, with occasional rain.  On coming down, I
found that my friend from Palmella had departed:  but several
contrabandistas had arrived from Spain.  They were mostly fine
fellows, and unlike the two I had seen the preceding week, who were
of much lower degree, were chatty and communicative; they spoke
their native language, and no other, and seemed to hold the
Portuguese in great contempt.  The magnificent tones of the Spanish
sounded to great advantage amidst the shrill squeaking dialect of
Portugal.  I was soon in deep conversation with them, and was much
pleased to find that all of them could read.  I presented the
eldest, a man of about fifty years of age, with a tract in Spanish.
He examined it for some time with great attention; he then rose
from his seat, and going into the middle of the apartment, began
reading it aloud, slowly and emphatically; his companions gathered
around him, and every now and then expressed their approbation of
what they heard.  The reader occasionally called upon me to explain
passages which, as they referred to particular texts of Scripture,
he did not exactly understand, for not one of the party had ever
seen either the Old or New Testament.

He continued reading for upwards of an hour, until he had finished
the tract; and, at its conclusion, the whole party were clamorous
for similar ones, with which I was happy to be able to supply them.

Most of these men spoke of priestcraft and the monkish system with
the utmost abhorrence, and said that they should prefer death to
submitting again to the yoke which had formerly galled their necks.
I questioned them very particularly respecting the opinion of their
neighbours and acquaintances on this point, and they assured me
that in their part of the Spanish frontier all were of the same
mind, and that they cared as little for the Pope and his monks as
they did for Don Carlos; for the latter was a dwarf (chicotito) and
a tyrant, and the others were plunderers and robbers.  I told them
they must beware of confounding religion with priestcraft, and that
in their abhorrence of the latter they must not forget that there
is a God and a Christ to whom they must look for salvation, and
whose word it was incumbent upon them to study on every occasion;
whereupon they all expressed a devout belief in Christ and the
Virgin.

These men, though in many respects more enlightened than the
surrounding peasantry, were in others as much in the dark; they
believed in witchcraft and in the efficacy of particular charms.
The night was very stormy, and at about nine we heard a galloping
towards the door, and then a loud knocking; it was opened, and in
rushed a wild-looking man mounted on a donkey; he wore a ragged
jacket of sheepskin, called in Spanish zamarra, with breeches of
the same as far down as his knees; his legs were bare.  Around his
sombrero, or shadowy hat, was tied a large quantity of the herb
which in English is called rosemary, in Spanish romero, and in the
rustic language of Portugal, alecrim; which last is a word of
Scandinavian origin (ellegren), signifying the elfin plant, and was
probably carried into the south by the Vandals.  The man seemed
frantic with terror, and said that the witches had been pursuing
him and hovering over his head for the last two leagues.  He came
from the Spanish frontier with meal and other articles; he said
that his wife was following him and would soon arrive, and in about
a quarter of an hour she made her appearance, dripping with rain,
and also mounted on a donkey.

I asked my friends the contrabandistas why he wore the rosemary in
his hat; whereupon they told me that it was good against witches
and the mischances on the road.  I had no time to argue against
this superstition, for, as the chaise was to be ready at five the
next morning, I wished to make the most of the short time which I
could devote to sleep.



CHAPTER IV



Vexatious Delays--Drunken Driver--The Murdered Mule--The
Lamentation--Adventure on the Heath--Fear of Darkness--Portuguese
Fidalgo--The Escort--Return to Lisbon.

I rose at four, and after having taken some refreshment, I
descended and found the strange man and his wife sleeping in the
chimney corner by the fire, which was still burning; they soon
awoke and began preparing their breakfast, which consisted of salt
sardinhas, broiled upon the embers.  In the meantime the woman sang
snatches of the beautiful hymn, very common in Spain, which
commences thus:-


"Once of old upon a mountain, shepherds overcome with sleep,
Near to Bethlem's holy tower, kept at dead of night their sheep;
Round about the trunk they nodded of a huge ignited oak,
Whence the crackling flame ascending bright and clear the darkness
broke."


On hearing that I was about to depart, she said, "You shall have
some of my husband's rosemary, which will keep you from danger, and
prevent any misfortune occurring."  I was foolish enough to permit
her to put some of it in my hat; and the man having by this time
arrived with his mules, I bade farewell to my friendly hostesses,
and entered the chaise with my servant.

I remarked at the time, that the mules which drew us were the
finest I had ever seen; the largest could be little short of
sixteen hands high; and the fellow told me in his bad French that
he loved them better than his wife and children.  We turned round
the corner of the convent and proceeded down the street which leads
to the south-western gate.  The driver now stopped before the door
of a large house, and having alighted, said that it was yet very
early, and that he was afraid to venture forth, as it was very
probable we should be robbed, and himself murdered, as the robbers
who resided in the town would be apprehensive of his discovering
them, but that the family who lived in this house were going to
Lisbon, and would depart in about a quarter of an hour, when we
might avail ourselves of an escort of soldiers which they would
take with them, and in their company we should run no danger.  I
told him I had no fear, and commanded him to drive on; but he said
he would not, and left us in the street.  We waited an hour, when
two carriages came to the door of the house, but it seems the
family were not yet ready, whereupon the coachman likewise got down
and went away.  At the expiration of about half an hour the family
came out, and when their luggage had been arranged they called for
the coachman, but he was nowhere to be found.  Search was made for
him, but ineffectually, and an hour more was spent before another
driver could be procured; but the escort had not yet made its
appearance, and it was not before a servant had been twice
despatched to the barracks that it arrived.  At last everything was
ready, and they drove off.

All this time I had seen nothing of our own coachman, and I fully
expected that he had abandoned us altogether.  In a few minutes I
saw him staggering up the street in a state of intoxication,
attempting to sing the Marseillois hymn.  I said nothing to him,
but sat observing him.  He stood for some time staring at the mules
and talking incoherent nonsense in French.  At last he said, "I am
not so drunk but I can ride," and proceeded to lead his mules
towards the gate.  When out of the town he made several ineffectual
attempts to mount the smallest mule which bore the saddle; he at
length succeeded, and instantly commenced spurring at a furious
rate down the road.  We arrived at a place where a narrow rocky
path branched off, by taking which we should avoid a considerable
circuit round the city wall, which otherwise it would be necessary
to make before we could reach the road to Lisbon, which lay at the
north-east; he now said, "I shall take this path, for by so doing
we shall overtake the family in a minute"; so into the path we
went; it was scarcely wide enough to admit the carriage, and
exceedingly steep and broken; we proceeded; ascending and
descending, the wheels cracked, and the motion was so violent that
we were in danger of being cast out as from a sling.  I saw that if
we remained in the carriage it must be broken in pieces, as our
weight must insure its destruction.  I called to him in Portuguese
to stop, but he flogged and spurred the beasts the more.  My man
now entreated me for God's sake to speak to him in French, for, if
anything would pacify him, that would.  I did so, and entreated him
to let us dismount and walk, till we had cleared this dangerous
way.  The result justified Antonio's anticipation.  He instantly
stopped and said, "Sir, you are master, you have only to command
and I shall obey."  We dismounted and walked on till we reached the
great road, when we once more seated ourselves.

The family were about a quarter of a mile in advance, and we were
no sooner reseated, than he lashed the mules into full gallop for
the purpose of overtaking it; his cloak had fallen from his
shoulder, and, in endeavouring to readjust it, he dropped the
string from his hand by which he guided the large mule, it became
entangled in the legs of the poor animal, which fell heavily on its
neck, it struggled for a moment, and then lay stretched across the
way, the shafts over its body.  I was pitched forward into the
dirt, and the drunken driver fell upon the murdered mule.

I was in a great rage, and cried, "You drunken renegade, who are
ashamed to speak the language of your own country, you have broken
the staff of your existence, and may now starve."  "Paciencia,"
said he, and began kicking the head of the mule, in order to make
it rise; but I pushed him down, and taking his knife, which had
fallen from his pocket, cut the bands by which it was attached to
the carriage, but life had fled, and the film of death had begun to
cover its eyes.

The fellow, in the recklessness of intoxication, seemed at first
disposed to make light of his loss, saying, "The mule is dead, it
was God's will that she should die, what more can be said?
Paciencia."  Meanwhile, I despatched Antonio to the town for the
purpose of hiring mules, and, having taken my baggage from the
chaise, waited on the roadside until he should arrive.

The fumes of the liquor began now to depart from the fellow's
brain; he clasped his hands and exclaimed, "Blessed Virgin, what is
to become of me?  How am I to support myself?  Where am I to get
another mule!  For my mule, my best mule is dead, she fell upon the
road, and died of a sudden!  I have been in France, and in other
countries, and have seen beasts of all kinds, but such a mule as
that I have never seen; but she is dead--my mule is dead--she fell
upon the road and died of a sudden!"  He continued in this strain
for a considerable time, and the burden of his lamentation was
always, "My mule is dead, she fell upon the road, and died of a
sudden."  At length he took the collar from the creature's neck,
and put it upon the other, which with some difficulty he placed in
the shafts.

A beautiful boy of about thirteen now came from the direction of
the town, running along the road with the velocity of a hare:  he
stopped before the dead mule and burst into tears:  it was the
man's son, who had heard of the accident from Antonio.  This was
too much for the poor fellow:  he ran up to the boy, and said,
"Don't cry, our bread is gone, but it is God's will; the mule is
dead!"  He then flung himself on the ground, uttering fearful
cries.  "I could have borne my loss," said he, "but when I saw my
child cry, I became a fool."  I gave him two or three crowns, and
added some words of comfort; assuring him I had no doubt that, if
he abandoned drink, the Almighty God would take compassion on him
and repair his loss.  At length he became more composed, and
placing my baggage in the chaise, we returned to the town, where I
found two excellent riding mules awaiting my arrival at the inn.  I
did not see the Spanish woman, or I should have told her of the
little efficacy of rosemary in this instance.

I have known several drunkards amongst the Portuguese, but, without
one exception, they have been individuals who, having travelled
abroad, like this fellow, have returned with a contempt for their
own country, and polluted with the worst vices of the lands which
they have visited.

I would strongly advise any of my countrymen who may chance to read
these lines, that, if their fate lead them into Spain or Portugal,
they avoid hiring as domestics, or being connected with,
individuals of the lower classes who speak any other language than
their own, as the probability is that they are heartless thieves
and drunkards.  These gentry are invariably saying all they can in
dispraise of their native land; and it is my opinion, grounded upon
experience, that an individual who is capable of such baseness
would not hesitate at the perpetration of any villainy, for next to
the love of God, the love of country is the best preventive of
crime.  He who is proud of his country, will be particularly
cautious not to do anything which is calculated to disgrace it.

We now journeyed towards Lisbon, and reached Monte Moro about two
o'clock.  After taking such refreshment as the place afforded, we
pursued our way till we were within a quarter of a league of the
huts which stand on the edge of the savage wilderness we had before
crossed.  Here we were overtaken by a horseman; he was a powerful,
middle-sized man, and was mounted on a noble Spanish horse.  He had
a broad, slouching sombrero on his head, and wore a jerkin of blue
cloth, with large bosses of silver for buttons, and clasps of the
same metal; he had breeches of yellow leather, and immense
jackboots:  at his saddle was slung a formidable gun.  He inquired
if I intended to pass the night at Vendas Novas, and on my replying
in the affirmative, he said that he would avail himself of our
company.  He now looked towards the sun, whose disk was rapidly
sinking beneath the horizon, and entreated us to spur on and make
the most of its light, for that the moor was a horrible place in
the dusk.  He placed himself at our head, and we trotted briskly
on, the boy or muleteer who attended us running behind without
exhibiting the slightest symptom of fatigue.

We entered upon the moor, and had advanced about a mile when dark
night fell around us; we were in a wild path, with high brushwood
on either side, when the rider said that he could not confront the
darkness, and begged me to ride on before, and he would follow
after:  I could hear him trembling.  I asked the reason of his
terror, and he replied that at one time darkness was the same thing
to him as day, but that of late years he dreaded it, especially in
wild places.  I complied with his request, but I was ignorant of
the way, and as I could scarcely see my hand, was continually going
wrong.  This made the man impatient, and he again placed himself at
our head.  We proceeded so for a considerable way, when he again
stopped, and said that the power of the darkness was too much for
him.  His horse seemed to be infected with the same panic, for it
shook in every limb.  I now told him to call on the name of the
Lord Jesus, who was able to turn the darkness into light, but he
gave a terrible shout, and, brandishing his gun aloft, discharged
it in the air.  His horse sprang forward at full speed, and my
mule, which was one of the swiftest of its kind, took fright and
followed at the heels of the charger.  Antonio and the boy were
left behind.  On we flew like a whirlwind, the hoofs of the animals
illuming the path with the sparks of fire they struck from the
stones.  I knew not whither we were going, but the dumb creatures
were acquainted with the way, and soon brought us to Vendas Novas,
where we were rejoined by our companions.

I thought this man was a coward, but I did him injustice, for
during the day he was as brave as a lion, and feared no one.  About
five years since, he had overcome two robbers who had attacked him
on the moors, and, after tying their hands behind them, had
delivered them up to justice; but at night the rustling of a leaf
filled him with terror.  I have known similar instances of the kind
in persons of otherwise extraordinary resolution.  For myself, I
confess I am not a person of extraordinary resolution, but the
dangers of the night daunt me no more than those of midday.  The
man in question was a farmer from Evora, and a person of
considerable wealth.

I found the inn at Vendas Novas thronged with people, and had some
difficulty in obtaining accommodation and refreshment.  It was
occupied by the family of a certain Fidalgo, from Estremoz; he was
on the way to Lisbon, conveying a large sum of money, as was said--
probably the rents of his estates.  He had with him a body guard of
four-and-twenty of his dependants, each armed with a rifle; they
consisted of his swineherds, shepherds, cowherds, and hunters, and
were commanded by two youths, his son and nephew, the latter of
whom was in regimentals; nevertheless, notwithstanding the number
of his troop, it appeared that the Fidalgo laboured under
considerable apprehension of being despoiled upon the waste which
lay between Vendas Novas and Pegoens, as he had just requested a
guard of four soldiers from the officer who commanded a detachment
stationed here:  there were many females in his company, who, I was
told, were his illegitimate daughters--for he bore an infamous
moral character, and was represented to me as a staunch friend of
Don Miguel.  It was not long before he came up to me and my new
acquaintance, as we sat by the kitchen fire:  he was a tall man of
about sixty, but stooped much.  His countenance was by no means
pleasing:  he had a long hooked nose, small twinkling cunning eyes,
and, what I liked worst of all, a continual sneering smile, which I
firmly believe to be the index of a treacherous and malignant
heart.  He addressed me in Spanish, which, as he resided not far
from the frontier, he spoke with fluency, but contrary to my usual
practice, I was reserved and silent.

On the following morning I rose at seven, and found that the party
from Estremoz had started several hours previously.  I breakfasted
with my acquaintance of the preceding night, and we set out to
accomplish what remained of our journey.  The sun had now arisen;
and all his fears had left him--he breathed defiance against all
the robbers of the Alemtejo.  When we had advanced about a league,
the boy who attended us said he saw heads of men amongst the
brushwood.  Our cavalier instantly seized his gun, and causing his
horse to make two or three lofty bounds, held it in one hand, the
muzzle pointed in the direction indicated, but the heads did not
again make their appearance, and it was probably but a false alarm.

We resumed our way, and the conversation turned, as might be
expected, upon robbers.  My companion, who seemed to be acquainted
with every inch of ground over which we passed, had a legend to
tell of every dingle and every pine-clump.  We reached a slight
eminence, on the top of which grew three stately pines:  about half
a league farther on was another similar one:  these two eminences
commanded a view of the road from Pegoens and Vendas Novas, so that
all people going and coming could be descried, whilst yet at a
distance.  My friend told me that these heights were favourite
stations of robbers.  Some two years since, a band of six mounted
banditti remained there three days, and plundered whomsoever
approached from either quarter:  their horses, saddled and bridled,
stood picqueted at the foot of the trees, and two scouts, one for
each eminence, continually sat in the topmost branches and gave
notice of the approach of travellers:  when at a proper distance
the robbers below sprang upon their horses, and putting them to
full gallop, made at their prey, shouting Rendete, Picaro! Rendete,
Picaro! (Surrender, scoundrel, surrender!)  We, however, passed
unmolested, and, about a quarter of a mile before we reached
Pegoens, overtook the family of the Fidalgo.

Had they been conveying the wealth of Ind through the deserts of
Arabia, they could not have travelled with more precaution.  The
nephew, with drawn sabre, rode in front; pistols at his holsters,
and the usual Spanish gun slung at his saddle.  Behind him tramped
six men in a rank, with muskets shouldered, and each of them wore
at his girdle a hatchet, which was probably intended to cleave the
thieves to the brisket should they venture to come to close
quarters.  There were six vehicles, two of them calashes, in which
latter rode the Fidalgo and his daughters; the others were covered
carts, and seemed to be filled with household furniture; each of
these vehicles had an armed rustic on either side; and the son, a
lad about sixteen, brought up the rear with a squad equal to that
of his cousin in the van.  The soldiers, who by good fortune were
light horse, and admirably mounted, were galloping about in all
directions, for the purpose of driving the enemy from cover, should
they happen to be lurking in the neighbourhood.

I could not help thinking as I passed by, that this martial array
was very injudicious, for though it was calculated to awe
plunderers, it was likewise calculated to allure them, as it seemed
to hint that immense wealth was passing through their territories.
I do not know how the soldiers and rustics would have behaved in
case of an attack; but am inclined to believe that if three such
men as Richard Turpin had suddenly galloped forth from behind one
of the bush-covered knolls, neither the numbers nor resistance
opposed to them would have prevented them from bearing away the
contents of the strong box jingling in their saddlebags.

From this moment nothing worthy of relating occurred till our
arrival at Aldea Gallega, where we passed the night, and next
morning at three o'clock embarked in the passage-boat for Lisbon,
where we arrived at eight--and thus terminates my first wandering
in the Alemtejo.



CHAPTER V



The College--The Rector--Shibboleth--National Prejudices--Youthful
Sports--Jews of Lisbon--Bad Faith--Crime and Superstition--Strange
Proposal.

One afternoon Antonio said to me, "It has struck me, Senhor, that
your worship would like to see the college of the English--."  "By
all means," I replied, "pray conduct me thither."  So he led me
through various streets until we stopped before the gate of a large
building in one of the most elevated situations in Lisbon; upon our
ringing, a kind of porter presently made his appearance, and
demanded our business.  Antonio explained it to him.  He hesitated
for a moment; but presently, bidding us enter, conducted us to a
large gloomy-looking stone hall, where, begging us to be seated, he
left us.  We were soon joined by a venerable personage, seemingly
about seventy, in a kind of flowing robe or surplice, with a
collegiate cap upon his head.  Notwithstanding his age there was a
ruddy tinge upon his features, which were perfectly English.
Coming slowly up he addressed me in the English tongue, requesting
to know how he could serve me.  I informed him that I was an
English traveller, and should be happy to be permitted to inspect
the college, provided it were customary to show it to strangers.
He informed me that there could be no objection to accede to my
request, but that I came at rather an unfortunate moment, it being
the hour of refection.  I apologised, and was preparing to retire,
but he begged me to remain, as, in a few minutes, the refection
would be over, when the principals of the college would do
themselves the pleasure of waiting on me.

We sat down on the stone bench, when he commenced surveying me
attentively for some time, and then cast his eyes on Antonio.
"Whom have we here?" said he to the latter; "surely your features
are not unknown to me."  "Probably not, your reverence," replied
Antonio, getting up and bowing most profoundly.  "I lived in the
family of the Countess -, at Cintra, when your venerability was her
spiritual guide."  "True, true," said the old gentleman, sighing,
"I remember you now.  Ah, Antonio, things are strangely changed
since then.  A new government--a new system--a new religion, I may
say."  Then looking again at me, he demanded whither I was
journeying?  "I am going to Spain," said I, "and have stopped at
Lisbon by the way."  "Spain, Spain!" said the old man; "surely you
have chosen a strange time to visit Spain; there is much
bloodshedding in Spain at present, and violent wars and tumults."
"I consider the cause of Don Carlos as already crushed," I replied;
"he has lost the only general capable of leading his armies to
Madrid.  Zumalacarregui, his Cid, has fallen."  "Do not flatter
yourself; I beg your pardon, but do not think, young man, that the
Lord will permit the powers of darkness to triumph so easily; the
cause of Don Carlos is not lost; its success did not depend on the
life of a frail worm like him whom you have mentioned."  We
continued in discourse some little time, when he arose, saying that
by this time he believed the refection was concluded.

He had scarcely left me five minutes when three individuals entered
the stone hall, and advanced slowly towards me;--the principals of
the college, said I to myself! and so indeed they were.  The first
of these gentlemen, and to whom the other two appeared to pay
considerable deference, was a thin spare person, somewhat above the
middle height; his complexion was very pale, his features emaciated
but fine, his eyes dark and sparkling; he might be about fifty--the
other two were men in the prime of life.  One was of rather low
stature; his features were dark, and wore that pinched and
mortified expression so frequently to be observed in the
countenance of the English -:  the other was a bluff, ruddy, and
rather good-looking young man; all three were dressed alike in the
usual college cap and silk gown.  Coming up, the eldest of the
three took me by the hand and thus addressed me in clear silvery
tones:-

"Welcome, Sir, to our poor house; we are always happy to see in it
a countryman from our beloved native land; it will afford us
extreme satisfaction to show you over it; it is true that
satisfaction is considerably diminished by the reflection that it
possesses nothing worthy of the attention of a traveller; there is
nothing curious pertaining to it save perhaps its economy, and that
as we walk about we will explain to you.  Permit us, first of all,
to introduce ourselves to you; I am rector of this poor English
house of refuge; this gentleman is our professor of humanity, and
this (pointing to the ruddy personage) is our professor of polite
learning, Hebrew, and Syriac."

Myself.--I humbly salute you all; excuse me if I inquire who was
the venerable gentleman who put himself to the inconvenience of
staying with me whilst I was awaiting your leisure.

Rector.--O! a most admirable personage, our almoner, our chaplain;
he came into this country before any of us were born, and here he
has continued ever since.  Now let us ascend that we may show you
our poor house:  but how is this, my dear Sir, how is it that I see
you standing uncovered in our cold damp hall?

Myself.--I can easily explain that to you; it is a custom which has
become quite natural to me.  I am just arrived from Russia, where I
have spent some years.  A Russian invariably takes off his hat
whenever he enters beneath a roof, whether it pertain to hut, shop,
or palace.  To omit doing so would be considered as a mark of
brutality and barbarism, and for the following reason:  in every
apartment of a Russian house there is a small picture of the Virgin
stuck up in a corner, just below the ceiling--the hat is taken off
out of respect to her.

Quick glances of intelligence were exchanged by the three
gentlemen.  I had stumbled upon their shibboleth, and proclaimed
myself an Ephraimite, and not of Gilead.  I have no doubt that up
to that moment they had considered me as one of themselves--a
member, and perhaps a priest, of their own ancient, grand, and
imposing religion, for such it is, I must confess--an error into
which it was natural that they should fall.  What motives could a
Protestant have for intruding upon their privacy?  What interest
could he take in inspecting the economy of their establishment?  So
far, however, from relaxing in their attention after this
discovery, their politeness visibly increased, though, perhaps, a
scrutinizing observer might have detected a shade of less
cordiality in their manner.

Rector.--Beneath the ceiling in every apartment?  I think I
understood you so.  How delightful--how truly interesting; a
picture of the BLESSED Virgin beneath the ceiling in every
apartment of a Russian house!  Truly, this intelligence is as
unexpected as it is delightful.  I shall from this moment entertain
a much higher opinion of the Russians than hitherto--most truly an
example worthy of imitation.  I wish sincerely that it was our own
practice to place an IMAGE of the BLESSED Virgin beneath the
ceiling in every corner of our houses.  What say you, our professor
of humanity?  What say you to the information so obligingly
communicated to us by this excellent gentleman?

Humanity Professor.--It is, indeed, most delightful, most cheering,
I may say; but I confess that I was not altogether unprepared for
it.  The adoration of the Blessed Virgin is becoming every day more
extended in countries where it has hitherto been unknown or
forgotten.  Dr. W-, when he passed through Lisbon, gave me some
most interesting details with respect to the labours of the
propaganda in India.  Even England, our own beloved country. . . .


My obliging friends showed me all over their "poor house," it
certainly did not appear a very rich one; it was spacious, and
rather dilapidated.  The library was small, and possessed nothing
remarkable; the view, however, from the roof, over the greater part
of Lisbon and the Tagus, was very grand and noble; but I did not
visit this place in the hope of seeing busts, or books, or fine
prospects,--I visited this strange old house to converse with its
inmates, for my favourite, I might say, my only study, is man.  I
found these gentlemen much what I had anticipated, for this was not
the first time that I had visited an English--establishment in a
foreign land.  They were full of amiability and courtesy to their
heretic countryman, and though the advancement of their religion
was with them an object of paramount importance, I soon found that,
with ludicrous inconsistency, they cherished, to a wonderful
degree, national prejudices almost extinct in the mother land, even
to the disparagement of those of their own darling faith.  I spoke
of the English -, of their high respectability, and of the loyalty
which they had uniformly displayed to their sovereign, though of a
different religion, and by whom they had been not unfrequently
subjected to much oppression and injustice.

Rector.--My dear Sir, I am rejoiced to hear you; I see that you are
well acquainted with the great body of those of our faith in
England.  They are as you have well described them, a most
respectable and loyal body; from loyalty, indeed, they never
swerved, and though they have been accused of plots and
conspiracies, it is now well known that such had no real existence,
but were merely calumnies invented by their religious enemies.
During the civil wars the English--cheerfully shed their blood and
squandered their fortunes in the cause of the unfortunate martyr,
notwithstanding that he never favoured them, and invariably looked
upon them with suspicion.  At present the English--are the most
devoted subjects to our gracious sovereign.  I should be happy if I
could say as much for our Irish brethren; but their conduct has
been--oh! detestable.  Yet what can you expect?  The true--blush
for them.  A certain person is a disgrace to the church of which he
pretends to be a servant.  Where does he find in our canons
sanction for his proceedings, his undutiful expressions towards one
who is his sovereign by divine right, and who can do no wrong?  And
above all, where does he find authority for inflaming the passions
of a vile mob against a nation intended by nature and by position
to command them?

Myself.--I believe there is an Irish college in this city?

Rector.--I believe there is; but it does not flourish, there are
few or no pupils.  Oh!

I looked through a window, at a great height, and saw about twenty
or thirty fine lads sporting in a court below.  "This is as it
should be," said I; "those boys will not make worse priests from a
little early devotion to trap-ball and cudgel playing.  I dislike a
staid, serious, puritanic education, as I firmly believe that it
encourages vice and hypocrisy."

We then went into the Rector's room, where, above a crucifix, was
hanging a small portrait.

Myself.--That was a great and portentous man, honest withal.  I
believe the body of which he was the founder, and which has been so
much decried, has effected infinitely more good than it has caused
harm.

Rector.--What do I hear?  You an Englishman, and a Protestant, and
yet an admirer of Ignatius Loyola?

Myself.--I will say nothing with respect to the doctrine of the
Jesuits, for, as you have observed, I am a Protestant:  but I am
ready to assert that there are no people in the world better
qualified, upon the whole, to be intrusted with the education of
youth.  Their moral system and discipline are truly admirable.
Their pupils, in after life, are seldom vicious and licentious
characters, and are in general men of learning, science, and
possessed of every elegant accomplishment.  I execrate the conduct
of the liberals of Madrid in murdering last year the helpless
fathers, by whose care and instruction two of the finest minds of
Spain have been evolved--the two ornaments of the liberal cause and
modern literature of Spain, for such are Toreno and Martinez de la
Rosa. . . .

Gathered in small clusters about the pillars at the lower
extremities of the gold and silver streets in Lisbon, may be
observed, about noon in every day, certain strange looking men,
whose appearance is neither Portuguese nor European.  Their dress
generally consists of a red cap, with a blue silken tassel at the
top of it, a blue tunic girded at the waist with a red sash, and
wide linen pantaloons or trousers.  He who passes by these groups
generally hears them conversing in broken Spanish or Portuguese,
and occasionally in a harsh guttural language, which the oriental
traveller knows to be the Arabic, or a dialect thereof.  These
people are the Jews of Lisbon.  Into the midst of one of these
groups I one day introduced myself, and pronounced a beraka, or
blessing.  I have lived in different parts of the world, much
amongst the Hebrew race, and am well acquainted with their ways and
phraseology.  I was rather anxious to become acquainted with the
state of the Portuguese Jews, and I had now an opportunity.  "The
man is a powerful rabbi," said a voice in Arabic; "it behoves us to
treat him kindly."  They welcomed me.  I favoured their mistake,
and in a few days I knew all that related to them and their traffic
in Lisbon.

I found them a vile, infamous rabble, about two hundred in number.
With a few exceptions, they consist of escapados from the Barbary
shore, from Tetuan, from Tangier, but principally from Mogadore;
fellows who have fled to a foreign land from the punishment due to
their misdeeds.  Their manner of life in Lisbon is worthy of such a
goodly assemblage of amis reunis.  The generality of them pretend
to work in gold and silver, and keep small peddling shops; they,
however, principally depend for their livelihood on an extensive
traffic in stolen goods which they carry on.  It is said that there
is honour amongst thieves, but this is certainly not the case with
the Jews of Lisbon, for they are so greedy and avaricious, that
they are constantly quarrelling about their ill-gotten gain, the
result being that they frequently ruin each other.  Their mutual
jealousy is truly extraordinary.  If one, by cheating and roguery,
gains a cruzado in the presence of another, the latter instantly
says I cry halves, and if the first refuse he is instantly
threatened with an information.  The manner in which they cheat
each other has, with all its infamy, occasionally something
extremely droll and ludicrous.  I was one day in the shop of a
Swiri, or Jew of Mogadore, when a Jew from Gibraltar entered, with
a Portuguese female, who held in her hand a mantle, richly
embroidered with gold.

Gibraltar Jew (speaking in broken Arabic).--Good-day, O Swiri; God
has favoured me this day; here is a bargain by which we shall both
gain.  I have bought this mantle of the woman almost for nothing,
for it is stolen; but I am poor, as you know, I have not a cruzado;
pay her therefore the price, that we may then forthwith sell the
mantle and divide the gain.

Swiri.--Willingly, brother of Gibraltar; I will pay the woman for
the mantle; it does not appear a bad one.

Thereupon he flung two cruzados to the woman, who forthwith left
the shop.

Gibraltar Jew.--Thanks, brother Swirl, this is very kind of you;
now let us go and sell the mantle, the gold alone is well worth a
moidore; but I am poor and have nothing to eat, give me, therefore,
the half of that sum and keep the mantle; I shall be content.

Swiri.--May Allah blot out your name, you thief.  What mean you by
asking me for money?  I bought the mantle of the woman and paid for
it.  I know nothing of you.  Go out of my doors, dog of a Nazarene,
if not I will pay you with a kick.

The dispute was referred to one of the sabios, or priests; but the
sabio, who was also from Mogadore, at once took the part of the
Swiri, and decided that the other should have nothing.  Whereupon
the Gibraltar Jew cursed the sabio, his father, mother, and all his
family.  The sabio replied, "I put you in ndui," a kind of
purgatory or hell.  "I put you in seven nduis," retorted the
incensed Jew, over whom, however, superstitious fear speedily
prevailed; he faltered, became pale, and dropping his voice,
retreated, trembling in every limb.

The Jews have two synagogues in Lisbon, both are small; one is,
however, tolerably well furnished, it has its reading desk, and in
the middle there is a rather handsome chandelier; the other is
little better than a sty, filthy to a degree, without ornament of
any kind.  The congregation of this last are thieves to a man; no
Jew of the slightest respectability ever enters it.

How well do superstition and crime go hand in hand.  These wretched
beings break the eternal commandments of their Maker without
scruple; but they will not partake of the beast of the uncloven
foot, and the fish which has no scales.  They pay no regard to the
denunciations of holy prophets against the children of sin, but
they quake at the sound of a dark cabalistic word, pronounced by
one perhaps their equal, or superior, in villainy, as if God would
delegate the exercise of his power to the workers of iniquity.

I was one day sauntering on the Caesodre, when a Jew, with whom I
had previously exchanged a word or two, came up and addressed me.

Jew.--The blessing of God upon you, brother; I know you to be a
wise and powerful man, and I have conceived much regard for you; it
is on that account that I wish to put you in the way of gaining
much money.  Come with me, and I will conduct you to a place where
there are forty chests of tea.  It is a sereka (a robbery), and the
thieves are willing to dispose of it for a trifle, for there is
search being made, and they are in much fear.  I can raise one half
of what they demand, do you supply the other, we will then divide
it, each shall go his own way and dispose of his portion.

Myself.--Wherefore, O son of Arbat, do you propose this to me, who
am a stranger?  Surely you are mad.  Have you not your own people
about you whom you know, and in whom you can confide?

Jew.--It is because I know our people here that I do not confide in
them; we are in the galoot of sin.  Were I to confide in my
brethren there would be a dispute, and perhaps they would rob me,
and few of them have any money.  Were I to apply to the sabio he
might consent, but when I ask for my portion he would put me in
ndui!  You I do not fear; you are good and would do me no harm,
unless I attempted to deceive you, and that I dare not do, for I
know you are powerful.  Come with me, master, for I wish to gain
something, that I may return to Arbat, where I have children . . .

Such are Jews in Lisbon.



CHAPTER VI



Cold of Portugal--Extortion prevented--Sensation of Loneliness--The
Dog--The Convent--Enchanting Landscape--Moorish Fortresses--Prayer
for the Sick.

About a fortnight after my return from Evora, having made the
necessary preparations, I set out on my journey for Badajoz, from
which town I intended to take the diligence to Madrid.  Badajoz
lies about a hundred miles distant from Lisbon, and is the
principal frontier town of Spain in the direction of the Alemtejo.
To reach this place, it was necessary to retravel the road as far
as Monte More, which I had already passed in my excursion to Evora;
I had therefore very little pleasure to anticipate from novelty of
scenery.  Moreover, in this journey I should be a solitary
traveller, with no other companion than the muleteer, as it was my
intention to take my servant no farther than Aldea Gallega, for
which place I started at four in the afternoon.  Warned by former
experience, I did not now embark in a small boat, but in one of the
regular passage felouks, in which we reached Aldea Gallega, after a
voyage of six hours; for the boat was heavy, there was no wind to
propel it, and the crew were obliged to ply their huge oars the
whole way.  In a word, this passage was the reverse of the first,--
safe in every respect,--but so sluggish and tiresome, that I a
hundred times wished myself again under the guidance of the wild
lad, galloping before the hurricane over the foaming billows.  From
eight till ten the cold was truly terrible, and though I was
closely wrapped in an excellent fur "shoob," with which I had
braved the frosts of Russian winters, I shivered in every limb, and
was far more rejoiced when I again set my foot on the Alemtejo,
than when I landed for the first time, after having escaped the
horrors of the tempest.

I took up my quarters for the night at a house to which my friend
who feared the darkness had introduced me on my return from Evora,
and where, though I paid mercilessly dear for everything, the
accommodation was superior to that of the common inn in the square.
My first care now was to inquire for mules to convey myself and
baggage to Elvas, from whence there are but three short leagues to
the Spanish town of Badajoz.  The people of the house informed me
that they had an excellent pair at my disposal, but when I inquired
the price, they were not ashamed to demand four moidores.  I
offered them three, which was too much, but which, however, they
did not accept, for knowing me to be an Englishman, they thought
they had an excellent opportunity to practise imposition, not
imagining that a person so rich as an Englishman MUST be, would go
out in a cold night for the sake of obtaining a reasonable bargain.
They were, however, much mistaken, as I told them that rather than
encourage them in their knavery, I should be content to return to
Lisbon; whereupon they dropped their demand to three and a half,
but I made them no answer, and going out with Antonio, proceeded to
the house of the old man who had accompanied us to Evora.  We
knocked a considerable time, for he was in bed; at length he arose
and admitted us, but on hearing our object, he said that his mules
were again gone to Evora, under the charge of the boy, for the
purpose of transporting some articles of merchandise.  He, however,
recommended us to a person in the neighbourhood who kept mules for
hire, and there Antonio engaged two fine beasts for two moidores
and a half.  I say he engaged them, for I stood aloof and spoke
not, and the proprietor, who exhibited them, and who stood half-
dressed, with a lamp in his hand and shivering with cold, was not
aware that they were intended for a foreigner till the agreement
was made, and he had received a part of the sum in earnest.  I
returned to the inn well pleased, and having taken some refreshment
went to rest, paying little attention to the people, who glanced
daggers at me from their small Jewish eyes.

At five the next morning the mules were at the door; a lad of some
nineteen or twenty years of age attended them; he was short but
exceedingly strong built, and possessed the largest head which I
ever beheld upon mortal shoulders; neck he had none, at least I
could discern nothing which could be entitled to that name.  His
features were hideously ugly, and upon addressing him I discovered
that he was an idiot.  Such was my intended companion in a journey
of nearly a hundred miles, which would occupy four days, and which
lay over the most savage and ill noted track in the whole kingdom.
I took leave of my servant almost with tears, for he had always
served me with the greatest fidelity, and had exhibited an
assiduity and a wish to please which afforded me the utmost
satisfaction.

We started, my uncouth guide sitting tailor-fashion on the sumpter
mule upon the baggage.  The moon had just gone down, and the
morning was pitchy dark, and, as usual, piercingly cold.  He soon
entered the dismal wood, which I had already traversed, and through
which we wended our way for some time, slowly and mournfully.  Not
a sound was to be heard save the trampling of the animals, not a
breath of air moved the leafless branches, no animal stirred in the
thickets, no bird, not even the owl, flew over our heads, all
seemed desolate and dead, and during my many and far wanderings, I
never experienced a greater sensation of loneliness, and a greater
desire for conversation and an exchange of ideas than then.  To
speak to the idiot was useless, for though competent to show the
road, with which he was well acquainted, he had no other answer
than an uncouth laugh to any question put to him.  Thus situated,
like many other persons when human comfort is not at hand, I turned
my heart to God, and began to commune with Him, the result of which
was that my mind soon became quieted and comforted.

We passed on our way uninterrupted; no thieves showed themselves,
nor indeed did we see a single individual until we arrived at
Pegoens, and from thence to Vendas Novas our fortune was the same.
I was welcomed with great kindness by the people of the hostelry of
the latter place, who were well acquainted with me on account of my
having twice passed the night under their roof.  The name of the
keeper of this is, or was, Joze Dias Azido, and unlike the
generality of those of the same profession as himself in Portugal,
he is an honest man, and a stranger and foreigner who takes up his
quarters at his inn, may rest assured that he will not be most
unmercifully pillaged and cheated when the hour of reckoning shall
arrive, as he will not be charged a single re more than a native
Portuguese on a similar occasion.  I paid at this place exactly one
half of the sum which was demanded from me at Arroyolos, where I
passed the ensuing night, and where the accommodation was in every
respect inferior.

At twelve next day we arrived at Monte More, and, as I was not
pressed for time, I determined upon viewing the ruins which cover
the top and middle part of the stately hill which towers above the
town.  Having ordered some refreshment at the inn where we
dismounted, I ascended till I arrived at a large wall or rampart,
which, at a certain altitude embraces the whole hill.  I crossed a
rude bridge of stones, which bestrides a small hollow or trench;
and passing by a large tower, entered through a portal into the
enclosed part of the hill.  On the left hand stood a church, in
good preservation, and still devoted to the purposes of religion,
but which I could not enter, as the door was locked, and I saw no
one at hand to open it.

I soon found that my curiosity had led me to a most extraordinary
place, which quite beggars the scanty powers of description with
which I am gifted.  I stumbled on amongst ruined walls, and at one
time found I was treading over vaults, as I suddenly started back
from a yawning orifice into which my next step, as I strolled
musing along, would have precipitated me.  I proceeded for a
considerable way by the eastern wall, till I heard a tremendous
bark, and presently an immense dog, such as those which guard the
flocks in the neighbourhood against the wolves, came bounding to
attack me "with eyes that glowed and fangs that grinned."  Had I
retreated, or had recourse to any other mode of defence than that
which I invariably practise under such circumstances, he would
probably have worried me; but I stooped till my chin nearly touched
my knee, and looked him full in the eyes, and as John Leyden says,
in the noblest ballad which the Land of Heather has produced:-


"The hound he yowled and back he fled,
As struck with fairy charm."


It is a fact known to many people, and I believe it has been
frequently stated, that no large and fierce dog or animal of any
kind, with the exception of the bull, which shuts its eyes and
rushes blindly forward, will venture to attack an individual who
confronts it with a firm and motionless countenance.  I say large
and fierce, for it is much easier to repel a bloodhound or bear of
Finland in this manner than a dunghill cur or a terrier, against
which a stick or a stone is a much more certain defence.  This will
astonish no one who considers that the calm reproving glance of
reason, which allays the excesses of the mighty and courageous in
our own species, has seldom any other effect than to add to the
insolence of the feeble and foolish, who become placid as doves
upon the infliction of chastisements, which if attempted to be
applied to the former would only serve to render them more
terrible, and like gunpowder cast on a flame, cause them in mad
desperation to scatter destruction around them.

The barking of the dog brought out from a kind of alley an elderly
man, whom I supposed to be his master, and of whom I made some
inquiries respecting the place.  The man was civil, and informed me
that he served as a soldier in the British army, under the "great
lord," during the Peninsular war.  He said that there was a convent
of nuns a little farther on, which he would show me, and thereupon
led the way to the south-east part of the wall, where stood a large
dilapidated edifice.

We entered a dark stone apartment, at one corner of which was a
kind of window occupied by a turning table, at which articles were
received into the convent or delivered out.  He rang the bell, and,
without saying a word, retired, leaving me rather perplexed; but
presently I heard, though the speaker was invisible, a soft
feminine voice demanding who I was, and what I wanted.  I replied
that I was an Englishman travelling into Spain, and that passing
through Monte Moro I had ascended the hill for the purpose of
seeing the ruins.  The voice then said, "I suppose you are a
military man going to fight against the king, like the rest of your
countrymen."  "No," said I, "I am not a military man, but a
Christian, and I go not to shed blood but to endeavour to introduce
the gospel of Christ into a country where it is not known;"
whereupon there was a stifled titter, I then inquired if there were
any copies of the Holy Scriptures in the convent, but the friendly
voice could give me no information on that point, and I scarcely
believe that its possessor understood the purport of my question.
It informed me, that the office of lady abbess of the house was an
annual one, and that every year there was a fresh superior; on my
inquiring whether the nuns did not frequently find the time
exceedingly heavy on their hands, it stated that, when they had
nothing better to do, they employed themselves in making
cheesecakes, which were disposed of in the neighbourhood.  I
thanked the voice for its communications, and walked away.  Whilst
proceeding under the wall of the house towards the south-west, I
heard a fresh and louder tittering above my head, and looking up,
saw three or four windows crowded with dusky faces, and black
waving hair; these belonged to the nuns, anxious to obtain a view
of the stranger.  After kissing my hand repeatedly, I moved on, and
soon arrived at the south-west end of this mountain of curiosities.
There I found the remains of a large building, which seemed to have
been originally erected in the shape of a cross.  A tower at its
eastern entrance was still entire; the western side was quite in
ruins, and stood on the verge of the hill overlooking the valley,
at the bottom of which ran the stream I have spoken of on a former
occasion.

The day was intensely hot, notwithstanding the coldness of the
preceding nights; and the brilliant sun of Portugal now illumined a
landscape of entrancing beauty.  Groves of cork trees covered the
farther side of the valley and the distant acclivities, exhibiting
here and there charming vistas, where various flocks of cattle were
feeding; the soft murmur of the stream, which was at intervals
chafed and broken by huge stones, ascended to my ears and filled my
mind with delicious feelings.  I sat down on the broken wall and
remained gazing, and listening, and shedding tears of rapture; for,
of all the pleasures which a bountiful God permitteth his children
to enjoy, none are so dear to some hearts as the music of forests,
and streams, and the view of the beauties of his glorious creation.
An hour elapsed, and I still maintained my seat on the wall; the
past scenes of my life flitting before my eyes in airy and
fantastic array, through which every now and then peeped trees and
hills and other patches of the real landscape which I was
confronting; the sun burnt my visage, but I heeded it not; and I
believe that I should have remained till night, buried in these
reveries, which, I confess, only served to enervate the mind, and
steal many a minute which might be most profitably employed, had
not the report of the gun of a fowler in the valley, which awakened
the echoes of the woods, hills, and ruins, caused me to start on my
feet, and remember that I had to proceed three leagues before I
could reach the hostelry where I intended to pass the night.

I bent my steps to the inn, passing along a kind of rampart:
shortly before I reached the portal, which I have already
mentioned, I observed a kind of vault on my right hand, scooped out
of the side of the hill; its roof was supported by three pillars,
though part of it had given way towards the farther end, so that
the light was admitted through a chasm in the top.  It might have
been intended for a chapel, a dungeon, or a cemetery, but I should
rather think for the latter; one thing I am certain of, that it was
not the work of Moorish hands, and indeed throughout my wanderings
in this place I saw nothing which reminded me of that most singular
people.  The hill on which the ruins stand was doubtless originally
a strong fortress of the Moors, who, upon their first irruption
into the peninsula, seized and fortified most of the lofty and
naturally strong positions, but they had probably lost it at an
early period, so that the broken walls and edifices, which at
present cover the hill, are probably remains of the labours of the
Christians after the place had been rescued from the hands of the
terrible enemies of their faith.  Monte Moro will perhaps recall
Cintra to the mind of the traveller, as it exhibits a distant
resemblance to that place; nevertheless, there is something in
Cintra wild and savage, to which Monte Moro has no pretension; its
scathed and gigantic crags are piled upon each other in a manner
which seems to menace headlong destruction to whatever is in the
neighbourhood; and the ruins which still cling to those crags seem
more like eagles' nests than the remains of the habitations even of
Moors; whereas those of Monte Moro stand comparatively at their
ease on the broad back of a hill, which, though stately and
commanding, has no crags nor precipices, and which can be ascended
on every side without much difficulty:  yet I was much gratified by
my visit, and I shall wander far indeed before I forget the voice
in the dilapidated convent, the ruined walls amongst which I
strayed, and the rampart where, sunk in dreamy rapture, I sat
during a bright sunny hour at Monte Moro.

I returned to the inn, where I refreshed myself with tea and very
sweet and delicious cheesecakes, the handiwork of the nuns in the
convent above.  Observing gloom and unhappiness on the countenances
of the people of the house, I inquired the reason of the hostess,
who sat almost motionless, on the hearth by the fire; whereupon she
informed me that her husband was deadly sick with a disorder which,
from her description, I supposed to be a species of cholera; she
added, that the surgeon who attended him entertained no hopes of
his recovery.  I replied that it was quite in the power of God to
restore her husband in a few hours from the verge of the grave to
health and vigour, and that it was her duty to pray to that
Omnipotent Being with all fervency.  I added, that if she did not
know how to pray upon such an occasion, I was ready to pray for
her, provided she would join in the spirit of the supplication.  I
then offered up a short prayer in Portuguese, in which I entreated
the Lord to remove, if he thought proper, the burden of affliction
under which the family was labouring.

The woman listened attentively, with her hands devoutly clasped,
until the prayer was finished, and then gazed at me seemingly with
astonishment, but uttered no word by which I could gather that she
was pleased or displeased with what I had said.  I now bade the
family farewell, and having mounted my mule, set forward to
Arroyolos.



CHAPTER VII



The Druids' Stone--The Young Spaniard--Ruffianly Soldiers--Evils of
War--Estremoz--The Brawl--Ruined Watch Tower--Glimpse of Spain--Old
Times and New.

After proceeding about a league and a half, a blast came booming
from the north, rolling before it immense clouds of dust; happily
it did not blow in our faces, or it would have been difficult to
proceed, so great was its violence.  We had left the road in order
to take advantage of one of those short cuts, which, though
possible for a horse or a mule, are far too rough to permit any
species of carriage to travel along them.  We were in the midst of
sands, brushwood, and huge pieces of rock, which thickly studded
the ground.  These are the stones which form the sierras of Spain
and Portugal; those singular mountains which rise in naked
horridness, like the ribs of some mighty carcass from which the
flesh has been torn.  Many of these stones, or rocks, grew out of
the earth, and many lay on its surface unattached, perhaps wrested
from their bed by the waters of the deluge.  Whilst toiling along
these wild wastes, I observed, a little way to my left, a pile of
stones of rather a singular appearance, and rode up to it.  It was
a druidical altar, and the most perfect and beautiful one of the
kind which I had ever seen.  It was circular, and consisted of
stones immensely large and heavy at the bottom, which towards the
top became thinner and thinner, having been fashioned by the hand
of art to something of the shape of scollop shells.  These were
surmounted by a very large flat stone, which slanted down towards
the south, where was a door.  Three or four individuals might have
taken shelter within the interior, in which was growing a small
thorn tree.

I gazed with reverence and awe upon the pile where the first
colonies of Europe offered their worship to the unknown God.  The
temples of the mighty and skilful Roman, comparatively of modern
date, have crumbled to dust in its neighbourhood.  The churches of
the Arian Goth, his successor in power, have sunk beneath the
earth, and are not to be found; and the mosques of the Moor, the
conqueror of the Goth, where and what are they?  Upon the rock,
masses of hoary and vanishing ruin.  Not so the Druids' stone;
there it stands on the hill of winds, as strong and as freshly new
as the day, perhaps thirty centuries back, when it was first
raised, by means which are a mystery.  Earthquakes have heaved it,
but its copestone has not fallen; rain floods have deluged it, but
failed to sweep it from its station; the burning sun has flashed
upon it, but neither split nor crumbled it; and time, stern old
time, has rubbed it with his iron tooth, and with what effect let
those who view it declare.  There it stands, and he who wishes to
study the literature, the learning, and the history of the ancient
Celt and Cymbrian, may gaze on its broad covering, and glean from
that blank stone the whole known amount.  The Roman has left behind
him his deathless writings, his history, and his songs; the Goth
his liturgy, his traditions, and the germs of noble institutions;
the Moor his chivalry, his discoveries in medicine, and the
foundations of modern commerce; and where is the memorial of the
Druidic races?  Yonder:  that pile of eternal stone!

We arrived at Arroyolos about seven at night.  I took possession of
a large two-bedded room, and, as I was preparing to sit down to
supper, the hostess came to inquire whether I had any objection to
receive a young Spaniard for the night.  She said he had just
arrived with a train of muleteers, and that she had no other room
in which she could lodge him.  I replied that I was willing, and in
about half an hour he made his appearance, having first supped with
his companions.  He was a very gentlemanly, good-looking lad of
seventeen.  He addressed me in his native language, and, finding
that I understood him, he commenced talking with astonishing
volubility.  In the space of five minutes he informed me that,
having a desire to see the world, he had run away from his friends,
who were people of opulence at Madrid, and that he did not intend
to return until he had travelled through various countries.  I told
him that if what he said was true, he had done a very wicked and
foolish action; wicked, because he must have overwhelmed those with
grief whom he was bound to honour and love, and foolish, inasmuch
as he was going to expose himself to inconceivable miseries and
hardships, which would shortly cause him to rue the step he had
taken; that he would be only welcome in foreign countries so long
as he had money to spend, and when he had none, he would be
repulsed as a vagabond, and would perhaps be allowed to perish of
hunger.  He replied that he had a considerable sum of money with
him, no less than a hundred dollars, which would last him a long
time, and that when it was spent he should perhaps be able to
obtain more.  "Your hundred dollars," said I, "will scarcely last
you three months in the country in which you are, even if it be not
stolen from you; and you may as well hope to gather money on the
tops of the mountains as expect to procure more by honourable
means."  But he had not yet sufficiently drank of the cup of
experience to attend much to what I said, and I soon after changed
the subject.  About five next morning he came to my bedside to take
leave, as his muleteers were preparing to depart.  I gave him the
usual Spanish valediction (Vaya usted con Dios), and saw no more of
him.

At nine, after having paid a most exorbitant sum for slight
accommodation, I started from Arroyolos, which is a town or large
village situated on very elevated ground, and discernible afar off.
It can boast of the remains of a large ancient and seemingly
Moorish castle, which stands on a hill on the left as you take the
road to Estremoz.

About a mile from Arroyolos I overtook a train of carts escorted by
a number of Portuguese soldiers, conveying stores and ammunition
into Spain.  Six or seven of these soldiers marched a considerable
way in front; they were villainous looking ruffians upon whose
livid and ghastly countenances were written murder, and all the
other crimes which the decalogue forbids.  As I passed by, one of
them, with a harsh, croaking voice, commenced cursing all
foreigners.  "There," said he, "is this Frenchman riding on
horseback" (I was on a mule), "with a man" (the idiot) "to take
care of him, and all because he is rich; whilst I, who am a poor
soldier, am obliged to tramp on foot.  I could find it in my heart
to shoot him dead, for in what respect is he better than I?  But he
is a foreigner, and the devil helps foreigners and hates the
Portuguese."  He continued shouting his remarks until I got about
forty yards in advance, when I commenced laughing; but it would
have been more prudent in me to have held my peace, for the next
moment, with bang--bang, two bullets, well aimed, came whizzing
past my ears.  A small river lay just before me, though the bridge
was a considerable way on my left.  I spurred my animal through it,
closely followed by my terrified guide, and commenced galloping
along a sandy plain on the other side, and so escaped with my life.

These fellows, with the look of banditti, were in no respect
better; and the traveller who should meet them in a solitary place
would have little reason to bless his good fortune.  One of the
carriers (all of whom were Spaniards from the neighbourhood of
Badajoz, and had been despatched into Portugal for the purpose of
conveying the stores), whom I afterwards met in the aforesaid town,
informed me that the whole party were equally bad, and that he and
his companions had been plundered by them of various articles, and
threatened with death if they attempted to complain.  How frightful
to figure to oneself an army of such beings in a foreign land, sent
thither either to invade or defend; and yet Spain, at the time I am
writing this, is looking forward to armed assistance from Portugal.
May the Lord in his mercy grant that the soldiers who proceed to
her assistance may be of a different stamp:  and yet, from the lax
state of discipline which exists in the Portuguese army, in
comparison with that of England and France, I am afraid that the
inoffensive population of the disturbed provinces will say that
wolves have been summoned to chase away foxes from the sheepfold.
O! may I live to see the day when soldiery will no longer be
tolerated in any civilized, or at least Christian, country!

I pursued my route to Estremoz, passing by Monte Moro Novo, which
is a tall dusky hill, surmounted by an ancient edifice, probably
Moorish.  The country was dreary and deserted, but offering here
and there a valley studded with cork trees and azinheiras.  After
midday the wind, which during the night and morning had much
abated, again blew with such violence as nearly to deprive me of my
senses, though it was still in our rear.

I was heartily glad when, on ascending a rising ground, at about
four o'clock, I saw Estremoz on its hill at something less than a
league's distance.  Here the view became wildly interesting; the
sun was sinking in the midst of red and stormy clouds, and its rays
were reflected on the dun walls of the lofty town to which we were
wending.  Nor far distant to the south-west rose Serra Dorso, which
I had seen from Evora, and which is the most beautiful mountain in
the Alemtejo.  My idiot guide turned his uncouth visage towards it,
and becoming suddenly inspired, opened his mouth for the first time
during the day, I might almost say since we had left Aldea Gallega,
and began to tell me what rare hunting was to be obtained in that
mountain.  He likewise described with great minuteness a wonderful
dog, which was kept in the neighbourhood for the purpose of
catching the wolves and wild boars, and for which the proprietor
had refused twenty moidores.

At length we reached Estremoz, and took up our quarters at the
principal inn, which looks upon a large plain or market-place
occupying the centre of the town, and which is so extensive that I
should think ten thousand soldiers at least might perform their
evolutions there with case.

The cold was far too terrible to permit me to remain in the chamber
to which I had been conducted; I therefore went down to a kind of
kitchen on one side of the arched passage, which led under the
house to the yard and stables.  A tremendous withering blast poured
through this passage, like the water through the flush of a mill.
A large cork tree was blazing in the kitchen beneath a spacious
chimney; and around it were gathered a noisy crew of peasants and
farmers from the neighbourhood, and three or four Spanish smugglers
from the frontier.  I with difficulty obtained a place amongst
them, as a Portuguese or a Spaniard will seldom make way for a
stranger, till called upon or pushed aside, but prefers gazing upon
him with an expression which seems to say, I know what you want,
but I prefer remaining where I am.

I now first began to observe an alteration in the language spoken;
it had become less sibilant, and more guttural; and, when
addressing each other, the speakers used the Spanish title of
courtesy usted, or your worthiness, instead of the Portuguese high
flowing vossem se, or your lordship.  This is the result of
constant communication with the natives of Spain, who never
condescend to speak Portuguese, even when in Portugal, but persist
in the use of their own beautiful language, which, perhaps, at some
future period, the Portuguese will generally adopt.  This would
greatly facilitate the union of the two countries, hitherto kept
asunder by the natural waywardness of mankind.

I had not been seated long before the blazing pile, when a fellow,
mounted on a fine spirited horse, dashed from the stables through
the passage into the kitchen, where he commenced displaying his
horsemanship, by causing the animal to wheel about with the
velocity of a millstone, to the great danger of everybody in the
apartment.  He then galloped out upon the plain, and after half an
hour's absence returned, and having placed his horse once more in
the stable, came and seated himself next to me, to whom he
commenced talking in a gibberish of which I understood very little,
but which he intended for French.  He was half intoxicated, and
soon became three parts so, by swallowing glass after glass of
aguardiente.  Finding that I made him no answer, he directed his
discourse to one of the contrabandistas, to whom he talked in bad
Spanish.  The latter either did not or would not understand him;
but at last, losing patience, called him a drunkard, and told him
to hold his tongue.  The fellow, enraged at this contempt, flung
the glass out of which he was drinking at the Spaniard's head, who
sprang up like a tiger, and unsheathing instantly a snick and snee
knife, made an upward cut at the fellow's cheek, and would have
infallibly laid it open, had I not pulled his arm down just in time
to prevent worse effects than a scratch above the lower jawbone,
which, however, drew blood.

The smuggler's companions interfered, and with much difficulty led
him off to a small apartment in the rear of the house, where they
slept, and kept the furniture of their mules.  The drunkard then
commenced singing, or rather yelling, the Marseillois hymn; and
after having annoyed every one for nearly an hour, was persuaded to
mount his horse and depart, accompanied by one of his neighbours.
He was a pig merchant of the vicinity, but had formerly been a
trooper in the army of Napoleon, where, I suppose, like the drunken
coachman of Evora, he had picked up his French and his habits of
intoxication.

From Estremoz to Elvas the distance is six leagues.  I started at
nine next morning; the first part of the way lay through an
enclosed country, but we soon emerged upon wild bleak downs, over
which the wind, which still pursued us, howled most mournfully.  We
met no one on the route; and the scene was desolate in the extreme;
the heaven was of a dark grey, through which no glimpse of the sun
was to be perceived.  Before us, at a great distance, on an
elevated ground, rose a tower--the only object which broke the
monotony of the waste.  In about two hours from the time when we
first discovered it, we reached a fountain, at the foot of the hill
on which it stood; the water, which gushed into a long stone
trough, was beautifully clear and transparent, and we stopped here
to water the animals.

Having dismounted, I left the guide, and proceeded to ascend the
hill on which the tower stood.  Though the ascent was very gentle I
did not accomplish it without difficulty; the ground was covered
with sharp stones, which, in two or three instances, cut through my
boots and wounded my feet; and the distance was much greater than I
had expected.  I at last arrived at the ruin, for such it was.  I
found it had been one of those watch towers or small fortresses
called in Portuguese atalaias; it was square, and surrounded by a
wall, broken down in many places.  The tower itself had no door,
the lower part being of solid stone work; but on one side were
crevices at intervals between the stones, for the purpose of
placing the feet, and up this rude staircase I climbed to a small
apartment, about five feet square, from which the top had fallen.
It commanded an extensive view from all sides, and had evidently
been built for the accommodation of those whose business it was to
keep watch on the frontier, and at the appearance of an enemy to
alarm the country by signals--probably by a fire.  Resolute men
might have defended themselves in this little fastness against many
assailants, who must have been completely exposed to their arrows
or musketry in the ascent.

Being about to leave the place, I heard a strange cry behind a part
of the wall which I had not visited, and hastening thither, I found
a miserable object in rags, seated upon a stone.  It was a maniac--
a man about thirty years of age, and I believe deaf and dumb; there
he sat, gibbering and mowing, and distorting his wild features into
various dreadful appearances.  There wanted nothing but this object
to render the scene complete; banditti amongst such melancholy
desolation would have been by no means so much in keeping.  But the
maniac, on his stone, in the rear of the wind-beaten ruin,
overlooking the blasted heath, above which scowled the leaden
heaven, presented such a picture of gloom and misery as I believe
neither painter nor poet ever conceived in the saddest of their
musings.  This is not the first instance in which it has been my
lot to verify the wisdom of the saying, that truth is sometimes
wilder than fiction.

I remounted my mule, and proceeded till, on the top of another
hill, my guide suddenly exclaimed, "there is Elvas."  I looked in
the direction in which he pointed, and beheld a town perched on the
top of a lofty hill.  On the other side of a deep valley towards
the left rose another hill, much higher, on the top of which is the
celebrated fort of Elvas, believed to be the strongest place in
Portugal.  Through the opening between the fort and the town, but
in the background and far in Spain, I discerned the misty sides and
cloudy head of a stately mountain, which I afterwards learned was
Albuquerque, one of the loftiest of Estremadura.

We now got into a cultivated country, and following the road, which
wound amongst hedgerows, we arrived at a place where the ground
began gradually to shelve down.  Here, on the right, was the
commencement of an aqueduct by means of which the town on the
opposite hill was supplied; it was at this point scarcely two feet
in altitude, but, as we descended, it became higher and higher, and
its proportions more colossal.  Near the bottom of the valley it
took a turn to the left, bestriding the road with one of its
arches.  I looked up, after passing under it; the water must have
been flowing near a hundred feet above my head, and I was filled
with wonder at the immensity of the structure which conveyed it.
There was, however, one feature which was no slight drawback to its
pretensions to grandeur and magnificence; the water was supported
not by gigantic single arches, like those of the aqueduct of
Lisbon, which stalk over the valley like legs of Titans, but by
three layers of arches, which, like three distinct aqueducts, rise
above each other.  The expense and labour necessary for the
erection of such a structure must have been enormous; and, when we
reflect with what comparative ease modern art would confer the same
advantage, we cannot help congratulating ourselves that we live in
times when it is not necessary to exhaust the wealth of a province
to supply a town on a hill with one of the first necessaries of
existence.



CHAPTER VIII



Elvas--Extraordinary Longevity--The English Nation--Portuguese
Ingratitude--Illiberality--Fortifications--Spanish Beggar--Badajoz-
-The Custom House.

Arrived at the gate of Elvas, an officer came out of a kind of
guard house, and, having asked me some questions, despatched a
soldier with me to the police office, that my passport might be
viseed, as upon the frontier they are much more particular with
respect to passports than in other parts.  This matter having been
settled, I entered an hostelry near the same gate, which had been
recommended to me by my host at Vendas Novas, and which was kept by
a person of the name of Joze Rosado.  It was the best in the town,
though, for convenience and accommodation, inferior to a hedge
alehouse in England.  The cold still pursued me, and I was glad to
take refuge in an inner kitchen, which, when the door was not open,
was only lighted by a fire burning somewhat dimly on the hearth.
An elderly female sat beside it in her chair, telling her beads:
there was something singular and extraordinary in her look, as well
as I could discern by the imperfect light of the apartment.  I put
a few unimportant questions to her, to which she replied, but
seemed to be afflicted to a slight degree with deafness.  Her hair
was becoming grey, and I said that I believed she was older than
myself, but that I was confident she had less snow on her head.

"How old may you be, cavalier?" said she, giving me that title
which in Spain is generally used when an extraordinary degree of
respect is wished to be exhibited.  I answered that I was near
thirty.  "Then," said she, "you were right in supposing that I am
older than yourself; I am older than your mother, or your mother's
mother:  it is more than a hundred years since I was a girl, and
sported with the daughters of the town on the hillside."  "In that
case," said I, "you doubtless remember the earthquake."  "Yes," she
replied, "if there is any occurrence in my life that I remember, it
is that:  I was in the church of Elvas at the moment, hearing the
mass of the king, and the priest fell on the ground, and let fall
the Host from his hands.  I shall never forget how the earth shook;
it made us all sick; and the houses and walls reeled like
drunkards.  Since that happened I have seen fourscore years pass by
me, yet I was older then than you are now."

I looked with wonder at this surprising female, and could scarcely
believe her words.  I was, however, assured that she was in fact
upwards of a hundred and ten years of age, and was considered the
oldest person in Portugal.  She still retained the use of her
faculties in as full a degree as the generality of people who have
scarcely attained the half of her age.  She was related to the
people of the house.

As the night advanced, several persons entered for the purpose of
enjoying the comfort of the fire and for the sake of conversation,
for the house was a kind of news room, where the principal speaker
was the host, a man of some shrewdness and experience, who had
served as a soldier in the British army.  Amongst others was the
officer who commanded at the gate.  After a few observations, this
gentleman, who was a good-looking young man of five-and-twenty,
began to burst forth in violent declamation against the English
nation and government, who, he said, had at all times proved
themselves selfish and deceitful, but that their present conduct in
respect to Spain was particularly infamous, for though it was in
their power to put an end to the war at once, by sending a large
army thither, they preferred sending a handful of troops, in order
that the war might be prolonged, for no other reason than that it
was of advantage to them.  Having paid him an ironical compliment
for his politeness and urbanity, I asked whether he reckoned
amongst the selfish actions of the English government and nation,
their having expended hundreds of millions of pounds sterling, and
an ocean of precious blood, in fighting the battles of Spain and
Portugal against Napoleon.  "Surely," said I, "the fort of Elvas
above our heads, and still more the castle of Badajoz over the
water, speak volumes respecting English selfishness, and must,
every time you view them, confirm you in the opinion which you have
just expressed.  And then, with respect to the present combat in
Spain, the gratitude which that country evinced to England after
the French, by means of English armies, had been expelled,--
gratitude evinced by discouraging the trade of England on all
occasions, and by offering up masses in thanksgiving when the
English heretics quitted the Spanish shores,--ought now to induce
England to exhaust and ruin herself, for the sake of hunting Don
Carlos out of his mountains.  In deference to your superior
judgment," continued I to the officer, "I will endeavour to believe
that it would be for the advantage of England were the war
prolonged for an indefinite period; nevertheless, you would do me a
particular favour by explaining by what process in chemistry blood
shed in Spain will find its way into the English treasury in the
shape of gold."

As he was not ready with his answer, I took up a plate of fruit
which stood on the table beside me, and said, "What do you call
these fruits?"  "Pomegranates and bolotas," he replied.  "Right,"
said I, "a home-bred Englishman could not have given me that
answer; yet he is as much acquainted with pomegranates and bolotas
as your lordship is with the line of conduct which it is incumbent
upon England to pursue in her foreign and domestic policy."

This answer of mine, I confess, was not that of a Christian, and
proved to me how much of the leaven of the ancient man still
pervaded me; yet I must be permitted to add, that I believe no
other provocation would have elicited from me a reply so full of
angry feeling:  but I could not command myself when I heard my own
glorious land traduced in this unmerited manner.  By whom?  A
Portuguese!  A native of a country which has been twice liberated
from horrid and detestable thraldom by the hands of Englishmen.
But for Wellington and his heroes, Portugal would have been French
at this day; but for Napier and his mariners, Miguel would now be
lording it in Lisbon.  To return, however, to the officer; every
one laughed at him, and he presently went away.

The next day I became acquainted with a respectable tradesman of
the name of Almeida, a man of talent, though rather rough in his
manners.  He expressed great abhorrence of the papal system, which
had so long spread a darkness like that of death over his
unfortunate country, and I had no sooner informed him that I had
brought with me a certain quantity of Testaments, which it was my
intention to leave for sale at Elvas, than he expressed a great
desire to undertake the charge, and said that he would do the
utmost in his power to procure a sale for them amongst his numerous
customers.  Upon showing him a copy, I remarked, your name is upon
the title page; the Portuguese version of the Holy Scriptures,
circulated by the Bible Society, having been executed by a
Protestant of the name of Almeida, and first published in the year
1712; whereupon he smiled, and observed that he esteemed it an
honour to be connected in name at least with such a man.  He
scoffed at the idea of receiving any remuneration, and assured me
that the feeling of being permitted to co-operate in so holy and
useful a cause as the circulation of the Scriptures was quite a
sufficient reward.

After having accomplished this matter, I proceeded to survey the
environs of the place, and strolled up the hill to the fort on the
north side of the town.  The lower part of the hill is planted with
azinheiras, which give it a picturesque appearance, and at the
bottom is a small brook, which I crossed by means of stepping
stones.  Arrived at the gate of the fort, I was stopped by the
sentry, who, however, civilly told me, that if I sent in my name to
the commanding officer he would make no objection to my visiting
the interior.  I accordingly sent in my card by a soldier who was
lounging about, and, sitting down on a stone, waited his return.
He presently appeared, and inquired whether I was an Englishman; to
which, having replied in the affirmative, he said, "In that case,
sir, you cannot enter; indeed, it is not the custom to permit any
foreigners to visit the fort."  I answered that it was perfectly
indifferent to me whether I visited it or not; and, having taken a
survey of Badajoz from the eastern side of the hill, descended by
the way I came.

This is one of the beneficial results of protecting a nation and
squandering blood and treasure in its defence.  The English, who
have never been at war with Portugal, who have fought for its
independence on land and sea, and always with success, who have
forced themselves by a treaty of commerce to drink its coarse and
filthy wines, which no other nation cares to taste, are the most
unpopular people who visit Portugal.  The French have ravaged the
country with fire and sword, and shed the blood of its sons like
water; the French buy not its fruits and loathe its wines, yet
there is no bad spirit in Portugal towards the French.  The reason
of this is no mystery; it is the nature not of the Portuguese only,
but of corrupt and unregenerate man, to dislike his benefactors,
who, by conferring benefits upon him, mortify in the most generous
manner his miserable vanity.

There is no country in which the English are so popular as in
France; but, though the French have been frequently roughly handled
by the English, and have seen their capital occupied by an English
army, they have never been subjected to the supposed ignominy of
receiving assistance from them.

The fortifications of Elvas are models of their kind, and, at the
first view, it would seem that the town, if well garrisoned, might
bid defiance to any hostile power; but it has its weak point:  the
western side is commanded by a hill, at the distance of half a
mile, from which an experienced general would cannonade it, and
probably with success.  It is the last town in this part of
Portugal, the distance to the Spanish frontier being barely two
leagues.  It was evidently built as a rival to Badajoz, upon which
it looks down from its height across a sandy plain and over the
sullen waters of the Guadiana; but, though a strong town, it can
scarcely be called a defence to the frontier, which is open on all
sides, so that there would not be the slightest necessity for an
invading army to approach within a dozen leagues of its walls,
should it be disposed to avoid them.  Its fortifications are so
extensive that ten thousand men at least would be required to man
them, who, in the event of an invasion, might be far better
employed in meeting the enemy in the open field.  The French,
during their occupation of Portugal, kept a small force in this
place, who, at the approach of the British, retreated to the fort,
where they shortly after capitulated.

Having nothing farther to detain me at Elvas, I proceeded to cross
the frontier into Spain.  My idiot guide was on his way back to
Aldea Gallega; and, on the fifth of January, I mounted a sorry mule
without bridle or stirrups, which I guided by a species of halter,
and followed by a lad who was to attend me on another, I spurred
down the hill of Elvas to the plain, eager to arrive in old
chivalrous romantic Spain.  But I soon found that I had no need to
quicken the beast which bore me, for though covered with sores,
wall-eyed, and with a kind of halt in its gait, it cantered along
like the wind.

In little more than half an hour we arrived at a brook, whose
waters ran vigorously between steep banks.  A man who was standing
on the side directed me to the ford in the squeaking dialect of
Portugal; but whilst I was yet splashing through the water, a voice
from the other bank hailed me, in the magnificent language of
Spain, in this guise:  "O Senor Caballero, que me de usted una
limosna por amor de Dios, una limosnita para que io me compre un
traguillo de vino tinto"  (Charity, Sir Cavalier, for the love of
God, bestow an alms upon me, that I may purchase a mouthful of red
wine).  In a moment I was on Spanish ground, as the brook, which is
called Acaia, is the boundary here of the two kingdoms, and having
flung the beggar a small piece of silver, I cried in ecstasy
"Santiago y cierra Espana!" and scoured on my way with more speed
than before, paying, as Gil Blas says, little heed to the torrent
of blessings which the mendicant poured forth in my rear:  yet
never was charity more unwisely bestowed, for I was subsequently
informed that the fellow was a confirmed drunkard, who took his
station every morning at the ford, where he remained the whole day
for the purpose of extorting money from the passengers, which he
regularly spent every night in the wine-shops of Badajoz.  To those
who gave him money he returned blessings, and to those who refused,
curses; being equally skilled and fluent in the use of either.

Badajoz was now in view, at the distance of little more than half a
league.  We soon took a turn to the left, towards a bridge of many
arches across the Guadiana, which, though so famed in song and
ballad, is a very unpicturesque stream, shallow and sluggish,
though tolerably wide; its banks were white with linen which the
washer-women had spread out to dry in the sun, which was shining
brightly; I heard their singing at a great distance, and the theme
seemed to be the praises of the river where they were toiling, for
as I approached, I could distinguish Guadiana, Guadiana, which
reverberated far and wide, pronounced by the clear and strong
voices of many a dark-checked maid and matron.  I thought there was
some analogy between their employment and my own:  I was about to
tan my northern complexion by exposing myself to the hot sun of
Spain, in the humble hope of being able to cleanse some of the foul
stains of Popery from the minds of its children, with whom I had
little acquaintance, whilst they were bronzing themselves on the
banks of the river in order to make white the garments of
strangers:  the words of an eastern poet returned forcibly to my
mind.


"I'll weary myself each night and each day,
To aid my unfortunate brothers;
As the laundress tans her own face in the ray,
To cleanse the garments of others."


Having crossed the bridge, we arrived at the northern gate, when
out rushed from a species of sentry box a fellow wearing on his
head a high-peaked Andalusian hat, with his figure wrapped up in
one of those immense cloaks so well known to those who have
travelled in Spain, and which none but a Spaniard can wear in a
becoming manner:  without saying a word, he laid hold of the halter
of the mule, and began to lead it through the gate up a dirty
street, crowded with long-cloaked people like himself.  I asked him
what he meant, but he deigned not to return an answer, the boy,
however, who waited upon me said that it was one of the gate-
keepers, and that he was conducting us to the Custom House or
Alfandega, where the baggage would be examined.  Having arrived
there, the fellow, who still maintained a dogged silence, began to
pull the trunks off the sumpter mule, and commenced uncording them.
I was about to give him a severe reproof for his brutality, but
before I could open my mouth a stout elderly personage appeared at
the door, who I soon found was the principal officer.  He looked at
me for a moment and then asked me, in the English language, if I
was an Englishman.  On my replying in the affirmative, he demanded
of the fellow how he dared to have the insolence to touch the
baggage, without orders, and sternly bade him cord up the trunks
again and place them on the mule, which he performed without
uttering a word.  The gentleman then asked what the trunks
contained:  I answered clothes and linen; when he begged pardon for
the insolence of the subordinate, and informed him that I was at
liberty to proceed where I thought proper.  I thanked him for his
exceeding politeness, and, under guidance of the boy, made the best
of my way to the Inn of the Three Nations, to which I had been
recommended at Elvas.



CHAPTER IX



Badajoz--Antonio the Gypsy--Antonio's Proposal--The Proposal
Accepted--Gypsy Breakfast--Departure from Badajoz--The Gypsy
Donkey--Merida--The Ruined Wall--The Crone--The Land of the Moor--
The Black Men--Life in the Desert--The Supper.

I was now at Badajoz in Spain, a country which for the next four
years was destined to be the scene of my labour:  but I will not
anticipate.  The neighbourhood of Badajoz did not prepossess me
much in favour of the country which I had just entered; it consists
chiefly of brown moors, which bear little but a species of
brushwood, called in Spanish carrasco; blue mountains are however
seen towering up in the far distance, which relieve the scene from
the monotony which would otherwise pervade it.

It was at this town of Badajoz, the capital of Estremadura, that I
first fell in with those singular people, the Zincali, Gitanos, or
Spanish gypsies.  It was here I met with the wild Paco, the man
with the withered arm, who wielded the cachas (shears) with his
left hand; his shrewd wife, Antonia, skilled in hokkano baro, or
the great trick; the fierce gypsy, Antonio Lopez, their father-in-
law; and many other almost equally singular individuals of the
Errate, or gypsy blood.  It was here that I first preached the
gospel to the gypsy people, and commenced that translation of the
New Testament in the Spanish gypsy tongue, a portion of which I
subsequently printed at Madrid.

After a stay of three weeks at Badajoz, I prepared to depart for
Madrid:  late one afternoon, as I was arranging my scanty baggage,
the gypsy Antonio entered my apartment, dressed in his zamarra and
high-peaked Andalusian hat.

Antonio.--Good evening, brother; they tell me that on the
callicaste (day after to-morrow) you intend to set out for
Madrilati.

Myself.--Such is my intention; I can stay here no longer.

Antonio.--The way is far to Madrilati:  there are, moreover, wars
in the land and many chories (thieves) walk about; are you not
afraid to journey?

Myself.--I have no fears; every man must accomplish his destiny:
what befalls my body or soul was written in a gabicote (book) a
thousand years before the foundation of the world.

Antonio.--I have no fears myself, brother; the dark night is the
same to me as the fair day, and the wild carrascal as the market-
place or the chardy (fair); I have got the bar lachi in my bosom,
the precious stone to which sticks the needle.

Myself.--You mean the loadstone, I suppose.  Do you believe that a
lifeless stone can preserve you from the dangers which occasionally
threaten your life?

Antonio.--Brother, I am fifty years old, and you see me standing
before you in life and strength; how could that be unless the bar
lachi had power?  I have been soldier and contrabandista, and I
have likewise slain and robbed the Busne.  The bullets of the
Gabine (French) and of the jara canallis (revenue officers) have
hissed about my ears without injuring me, for I carried the bar
lachi.  I have twenty times done that which by Busnee law should
have brought me to the filimicha (gallows), yet my neck has never
yet been squeezed by the cold garrote.  Brother, I trust in the bar
lachi, like the Calore of old:  were I in the midst of the gulph of
Bombardo (Lyons), without a plank to float upon, I should feel no
fear; for if I carried the precious stone, it would bring me safe
to shore:  the bar lachi has power, brother.

Myself.--I shall not dispute the matter with you, more especially
as I am about to depart from Badajoz:  I must speedily bid you
farewell, and we shall see each other no more.

Antonio.--Brother, do you know what brings me hither?

Myself.--I cannot tell, unless it be to wish me a happy journey:  I
am not gypsy enough to interpret the thoughts of other people.

Antonio.--All last night I lay awake, thinking of the affairs of
Egypt; and when I arose in the morning I took the bar lachi from my
bosom, and scraping it with a knife, swallowed some of the dust in
aguardiente, as I am in the habit of doing when I have made up my
mind; and I said to myself, I am wanted on the frontiers of
Castumba (Castile) on a certain matter.  The strange Caloro is
about to proceed to Madrilati; the journey is long, and he may fall
into evil hands, peradventure into those of his own blood; for let
me tell you, brother, the Cales are leaving their towns and
villages, and forming themselves into troops to plunder the Busne,
for there is now but little law in the land, and now or never is
the time for the Calore to become once more what they were in
former times; so I said, the strange Caloro may fall into the hands
of his own blood and be ill-treated by them, which were shame:  I
will therefore go with him through the Chim del Manro (Estremadura)
as far as the frontiers of Castumba, and upon the frontiers of
Castumba I will leave the London Caloro to find his own way to
Madrilati, for there is less danger in Castumba than in the Chim
del Manro, and I will then betake me to the affairs of Egypt which
call me from hence.

Myself.--This is a very hopeful plan of yours, my friend; and in
what manner do you propose that we shall travel?

Antonio.--I will tell you, brother; I have a gras in the stall,
even the one which I purchased at Olivencas, as I told you on a
former occasion; it is good and fleet, and cost me, who am a gypsy,
fifty chule (dollars); upon that gras you shall ride.  As for
myself, I will journey upon the macho.

Myself.--Before I answer you, I shall wish you to inform me what
business it is which renders your presence necessary in Castumba;
your son-in-law, Paco, told me that it was no longer the custom of
the gypsies to wander.

Antonio.--It is an affair of Egypt, brother, and I shall not
acquaint you with it; peradventure it relates to a horse or an ass,
or peradventure it relates to a mule or a macho; it does not relate
to yourself, therefore I advise you not to inquire about it--Dosta
(enough).  With respect to my offer, you are free to decline it;
there is a drungruje (royal road) between here and Madrilati, and
you can travel it in the birdoche (stage-coach) or with the dromale
(muleteers); but I tell you, as a brother, that there are chories
upon the drun, and some of them are of the Errate.

Certainly few people in my situation would have accepted the offer
of this singular gypsy.  It was not, however, without its
allurements for me; I was fond of adventure, and what more ready
means of gratifying my love of it than by putting myself under the
hands of such a guide.  There are many who would have been afraid
of treachery, but I had no fears on this point, as I did not
believe that the fellow harboured the slightest ill intention
towards me; I saw that he was fully convinced that I was one of the
Errate, and his affection for his own race, and his hatred for the
Busne, were his strongest characteristics.  I wished, moreover, to
lay hold of every opportunity of making myself acquainted with the
ways of the Spanish gypsies, and an excellent one here presented
itself on my first entrance into Spain.  In a word, I determined to
accompany the gypsy.  "I will go with you," I exclaimed; "as for my
baggage, I will despatch it to Madrid by the birdoche."  "Do so,
brother," he replied, "and the gras will go lighter.  Baggage,
indeed!--what need of baggage have you?  How the Busne on the road
would laugh if they saw two Cales with baggage behind them."

During my stay at Badajoz, I had but little intercourse with the
Spaniards, my time being chiefly devoted to the gypsies, with whom,
from long intercourse with various sections of their race in
different parts of the world, I felt myself much more at home than
with the silent, reserved men of Spain, with whom a foreigner might
mingle for half a century without having half a dozen words
addressed to him, unless he himself made the first advances to
intimacy, which, after all, might be rejected with a shrug and a no
intendo; for, among the many deeply rooted prejudices of these
people, is the strange idea that no foreigner can speak their
language; an idea to which they will still cling though they hear
him conversing with perfect ease; for in that case the utmost that
they will concede to his attainments is, Habla quatro palabras y
nada mas (he can speak four words, and no more).

Early one morning, before sunrise, I found myself at the house of
Antonio; it was a small mean building, situated in a dirty street.
The morning was quite dark; the street, however, was partially
illumined by a heap of lighted straw, round which two or three men
were busily engaged, apparently holding an object over the flames.
Presently the gypsy's door opened, and Antonio made his appearance;
and, casting his eye in the direction of the light, exclaimed, "The
swine have killed their brother; would that every Busno was served
as yonder hog is.  Come in, brother, and we will eat the heart of
that hog."  I scarcely understood his words, but, following him, he
led me into a low room in which was a brasero, or small pan full of
lighted charcoal; beside it was a rude table, spread with a coarse
linen cloth, upon which was bread and a large pipkin full of a mess
which emitted no disagreeable savour.  "The heart of the balichow
is in that puchera," said Antonio; "eat, brother."  We both sat
down and ate, Antonio voraciously.  When we had concluded he
arose:- "Have you got your li?" he demanded.  "Here it is," said I,
showing him my passport.  "Good," said he, "you may want it; I want
none, my passport is the bar lachi.  Now for a glass of repani, and
then for the road."

We left the room, the door of which he locked, hiding the key
beneath a loose brick in a corner of the passage.  "Go into the
street, brother, whilst I fetch the caballerias from the stable."
I obeyed him.  The sun had not yet risen, and the air was
piercingly cold; the grey light, however, of dawn enabled me to
distinguish objects with tolerable accuracy; I soon heard the
clattering of the animals' feet, and Antonio presently stepped
forth leading the horse by the bridle; the macho followed behind.
I looked at the horse and shrugged my shoulders:  as far as I could
scan it, it appeared the most uncouth animal I had ever beheld.  It
was of a spectral white, short in the body, but with remarkably
long legs.  I observed that it was particularly high in the cruz or
withers.  "You are looking at the grasti," said Antonio; "it is
eighteen years old, but it is the very best in the Chim del Manro;
I have long had my eye upon it; I bought it for my own use for the
affairs of Egypt.  Mount, brother, mount and let us leave the
foros--the gate is about being opened."

He locked the door, and deposited the key in his faja.  In less
than a quarter of an hour we had left the town behind us.  "This
does not appear to be a very good horse," said I to Antonio, as we
proceeded over the plain.  "It is with difficulty that I can make
him move."

"He is the swiftest horse in the Chim del Manro, brother," said
Antonio; "at the gallop and at the speedy trot there is no one to
match him; but he is eighteen years old, and his joints are stiff,
especially of a morning; but let him once become heated and the
genio del viejo (spirit of the old man) comes upon him and there is
no holding him in with bit or bridle.  I bought that horse for the
affairs of Egypt, brother."

About noon we arrived at a small village in the neighbourhood of a
high lumpy hill.  "There is no Calo house in this place," said
Antonio; "we will therefore go to the posada of the Busne, and
refresh ourselves, man and beast."  We entered the kitchen and sat
down at the boards, calling for wine and bread.  There were two
ill-looking fellows in the kitchen, smoking cigars; I said
something to Antonio in the Calo language.

"What is that I hear?" said one of the fellows, who was
distinguished by an immense pair of moustaches.  "What is that I
hear? is it in Calo that you are speaking before me, and I a Chalan
and national?  Accursed gypsy, how dare you enter this posada and
speak before me in that speech?  Is it not forbidden by the law of
the land in which we are, even as it is forbidden for a gypsy to
enter the mercado?  I tell you what, friend, if I hear another word
of Calo come from your mouth, I will cudgel your bones and send you
flying over the house-tops with a kick of my foot."

"You would do right," said his companion; "the insolence of these
gypsies is no longer to be borne.  When I am at Merida or Badajoz I
go to the mercado, and there in a corner stand the accursed gypsies
jabbering to each other in a speech which I understand not.  'Gypsy
gentleman,' say I to one of them, 'what will you have for that
donkey?'  'I will have ten dollars for it, Caballero nacional,'
says the gypsy; 'it is the best donkey in all Spain.'  'I should
like to see its paces,' say I.  'That you shall, most valorous!'
says the gypsy, and jumping upon its back, he puts it to its paces,
first of all whispering something into its ears in Calo, and truly
the paces of the donkey are most wonderful, such as I have never
seen before.  'I think it will just suit me,' and after looking at
it awhile, I take out the money and pay for it.  'I shall go to my
house,' says the gypsy; and off he runs.  'I shall go to my
village,' say I, and I mount the donkey.  'Vamonos,' say I, but the
donkey won't move.  I give him a switch, but I don't get on the
better for that.  'How is this?' say I, and I fall to spurring him.
What happens then, brother?  The wizard no sooner feels the prick
than he bucks down, and flings me over his head into the mire.  I
get up and look about me; there stands the donkey staring at me,
and there stand the whole gypsy canaille squinting at me with their
filmy eyes.  'Where is the scamp who has sold me this piece of
furniture?' I shout.  'He is gone to Granada, Valorous,' says one.
'He is gone to see his kindred among the Moors,' says another.  'I
just saw him running over the field, in the direction of -, with
the devil close behind him,' says a third.  In a word, I am
tricked.  I wish to dispose of the donkey; no one, however, will
buy him; he is a Calo donkey, and every person avoids him.  At last
the gypsies offer thirty rials for him; and after much chaffering I
am glad to get rid of him at two dollars.  It is all a trick,
however; he returns to his master, and the brotherhood share the
spoil amongst them.  All which villainy would be prevented, in my
opinion, were the Calo language not spoken; for what but the word
of Calo could have induced the donkey to behave in such an
unaccountable manner?"

Both seemed perfectly satisfied with the justness of this
conclusion, and continued smoking till their cigars were burnt to
stumps, when they arose, twitched their whiskers, looked at us with
fierce disdain, and dashing the tobacco-ends to the ground, strode
out of the apartment.

"Those people seem no friends to the gypsies," said I to Antonio,
when the two bullies had departed, "nor to the Calo language
either."

"May evil glanders seize their nostrils," said Antonio; "they have
been jonjabadoed by our people.  However, brother, you did wrong to
speak to me in Calo, in a posada like this; it is a forbidden
language; for, as I have often told you, the king has destroyed the
law of the Cales.  Let us away, brother, or those juntunes
(sneaking scoundrels) may set the justicia upon us."

Towards evening we drew near to a large town or village.  "That is
Merida," said Antonio, "formerly, as the Busne say, a mighty city
of the Corahai.  We shall stay here to-night, and perhaps for a day
or two, for I have some business of Egypt to transact in this
place.  Now, brother, step aside with the horse, and wait for me
beneath yonder wall.  I must go before and see in what condition
matters stand."

I dismounted from the horse, and sat down on a stone beneath the
ruined wall to which Antonio had motioned me; the sun went down,
and the air was exceedingly keen; I drew close around me an old
tattered gypsy cloak with which my companion had provided me, and
being somewhat fatigued, fell into a doze which lasted for nearly
an hour.

"Is your worship the London Caloro?" said a strange voice close
beside me.

I started and beheld the face of a woman peering under my hat.
Notwithstanding the dusk, I could see that the features were
hideously ugly and almost black; they belonged, in fact, to a gypsy
crone, at least seventy years of age, leaning upon a staff.

"Is your worship the London Caloro?" repeated she.

"I am he whom you seek," said I; "where is Antonio?"

"Curelando, curelando, baribustres curelos terela," {1} said the
crone:  "come with me, Caloro of my garlochin, come with me to my
little ker, he will be there anon."

I followed the crone, who led the way into the town, which was
ruinous and seemingly half deserted; we went up the street, from
which she turned into a narrow and dark lane, and presently opened
the gate of a large dilapidated house; "Come in," said she.

"And the gras?" I demanded.

"Bring the gras in too, my chabo, bring the gras in too; there is
room for the gras in my little stable."  We entered a large court,
across which we proceeded till we came to a wide doorway.  "Go in,
my child of Egypt," said the hag; "go in, that is my little
stable."

"The place is as dark as pitch," said I, "and may be a well for
what I know; bring a light or I will not enter."

"Give me the solabarri (bridle)," said the hag, "and I will lead
your horse in, my chabo of Egypt, yes, and tether him to my little
manger."  She led the horse through the doorway, and I heard her
busy in the darkness; presently the horse shook himself:  "Grasti
terelamos," said the hag, who now made her appearance with the
bridle in her hand; "the horse has shaken himself, he is not harmed
by his day's journey; now let us go in, my Caloro, into my little
room."

We entered the house and found ourselves in a vast room, which
would have been quite dark but for a faint glow which appeared at
the farther end; it proceeded from a brasero, beside which were
squatted two dusky figures.

"These are Callees," said the hag; "one is my daughter and the
other is her chabi; sit down, my London Caloro, and let us hear you
speak."

I looked about for a chair, but could see none; at a short
distance, however, I perceived the end of a broken pillar lying on
the floor; this I rolled to the brasero and sat down upon it.

"This is a fine house, mother of the gypsies," said I to the hag,
willing to gratify the desire she had expressed of hearing me
speak; "a fine house is this of yours, rather cold and damp,
though; it appears large enough to be a barrack for hundunares."

"Plenty of houses in this foros, plenty of houses in Merida, my
London Caloro, some of them just as they were left by the
Corahanoes; ah, a fine people are the Corahanoes; I often wish
myself in their chim once more."

"How is this, mother," said I, "have you been in the land of the
Moors?"

"Twice have I been in their country, my Caloro,--twice have I been
in the land of the Corahai; the first time is more than fifty years
ago, I was then with the Sese (Spaniards), for my husband was a
soldier of the Crallis of Spain, and Oran at that time belonged to
Spain."

"You were not then with the real Moors," said I, "but only with the
Spaniards who occupied part of their country."

"I have been with the real Moors, my London Caloro.  Who knows more
of the real Moors than myself?  About forty years ago I was with my
ro in Ceuta, for he was still a soldier of the king, and he said to
me one day, 'I am tired of this place where there is no bread and
less water, I will escape and turn Corahano; this night I will kill
my sergeant and flee to the camp of the Moor.'  'Do so,' said I,
'my chabo, and as soon as may be I will follow you and become a
Corahani.'  That same night he killed his sergeant, who five years
before had called him Calo and cursed him, then running to the wall
he dropped from it, and amidst many shots he escaped to the land of
the Corahai, as for myself, I remained in the presidio of Ceuta as
a suttler, selling wine and repani to the soldiers.  Two years
passed by and I neither saw nor heard from my ro; one day there
came a strange man to my cachimani (wine-shop), he was dressed like
a Corahano, and yet he did not look like one, he looked like more a
callardo (black), and yet he was not a callardo either, though he
was almost black, and as I looked upon him I thought he looked
something like the Errate, and he said to me, 'Zincali; chachipe!'
and then he whispered to me in queer language, which I could
scarcely understand, 'Your ro is waiting, come with me, my little
sister, and I will take you unto him.'  'Where is he?' said I, and
he pointed to the west, to the land of the Corahai, and said, 'He
is yonder away; come with me, little sister, the ro is waiting.'
For a moment I was afraid, but I bethought me of my husband and I
wished to be amongst the Corahai; so I took the little parne
(money) I had, and locking up the cachimani went with the strange
man; the sentinel challenged us at the gate, but I gave him repani
(brandy) and he let us pass; in a moment we were in the land of the
Corahai.  About a league from the town beneath a hill we found four
people, men and women, all very black like the strange man, and we
joined ourselves with them and they all saluted me and called me
little sister.  That was all I understood of their discourse, which
was very crabbed; and they took away my dress and gave me other
clothes, and I looked like a Corahani, and away we marched for many
days amidst deserts and small villages, and more than once it
seemed to me that I was amongst the Errate, for their ways were the
same:  the men would hokkawar (cheat) with mules and asses, and the
women told baji, and after many days we came before a large town,
and the black man said, 'Go in there, little sister, and there you
will find your ro;' and I went to the gate, and an armed Corahano
stood within the gate, and I looked in his face, and lo! it was my
ro.

"O what a strange town it was that I found myself in, full of
people who had once been Candore (Christians) but had renegaded and
become Corahai.  There were Sese and Lalore (Portuguese), and men
of other nations, and amongst them were some of the Errate from my
own country; all were now soldiers of the Crallis of the Corahai
and followed him to his wars; and in that town I remained with my
ro a long time, occasionally going out with him to the wars, and I
often asked him about the black men who had brought me thither, and
he told me that he had had dealings with them, and that he believed
them to be of the Errate.  Well, brother, to be short, my ro was
killed in the wars, before a town to which the king of the Corahai
laid siege, and I became a piuli (widow), and I returned to the
village of the renegades, as it was called, and supported myself as
well as I could; and one day as I was sitting weeping, the black
man, whom I had never seen since the day he brought me to my ro,
again stood before me, and he said, 'Come with me, little sister,
come with me, the ro is at hand'; and I went with him, and beyond
the gate in the desert was the same party of black men and women
which I had seen before.  'Where is my ro?' said I.  'Here he is,
little sister,' said the black man, 'here he is; from this day I am
the ro and you the romi; come, let us go, for there is business to
be done.'

"And I went with him, and he was my ro, and we lived amongst the
deserts, and hokkawar'd and choried and told baji; and I said to
myself, this is good, sure I am amongst the Errate in a better chim
than my own; and I often said that they were of the Errate, and
then they would laugh and say that it might be so, and that they
were not Corahai, but they could give no account of themselves.

"Well, things went on in this way for years, and I had three chai
by the black man, two of them died, but the youngest, who is the
Calli who sits by the brasero, was spared; so we roamed about and
choried and told baji; and it came to pass that once in the winter
time our company attempted to pass a wide and deep river, of which
there are many in the Chim del Corahai, and the boat overset with
the rapidity of the current and all our people were drowned, all
but myself and my chabi, whom I bore in my bosom.  I had now no
friends amongst the Corahai, and I wandered about the despoblados
howling and lamenting till I became half lili (mad), and in this
manner I found my way to the coast, where I made friends with the
captain of a ship and returned to this land of Spain.  And now I am
here, I often wish myself back again amongst the Corahai."

Here she commenced laughing loud and long, and when she had ceased,
her daughter and grandchild took up the laugh, which they continued
so long that I concluded they were all lunatics.

Hour succeeded hour, and still we sat crouching over the brasero,
from which, by this time, all warmth had departed; the glow had
long since disappeared, and only a few dying sparks were to be
distinguished.  The room or hall was now involved in utter
darkness; the women were motionless and still; I shivered and began
to feel uneasy.  "Will Antonio be here to-night?" at length I
demanded.

"No tenga usted cuidao, my London Caloro," said the Gypsy mother,
in an unearthly tone; "Pepindorio {2} has been here some time."

I was about to rise from my seat and attempt to escape from the
house, when I felt a hand laid upon my shoulder, and in a moment I
heard the voice of Antonio.

"Be not afraid, 'tis I, brother; we will have a light anon, and
then supper."

The supper was rude enough, consisting of bread, cheese, and
olives.  Antonio, however, produced a leathern bottle of excellent
wine; we despatched these viands by the light of an earthen lamp
which was placed upon the floor.

"Now," said Antonio to the youngest female, "bring me the pajandi,
and I will sing a gachapla."

The girl brought the guitar, which, with some difficulty, the Gypsy
tuned, and then strumming it vigorously, he sang:


"I stole a plump and bonny fowl,
   But ere I well had dined,
The master came with scowl and growl,
   And me would captive bind.

"My hat and mantle off I threw,
   And scour'd across the lea,
Then cried the beng {3} with loud halloo,
   Where does the Gypsy flee?"


He continued playing and singing for a considerable time, the two
younger females dancing in the meanwhile with unwearied diligence,
whilst the aged mother occasionally snapped her fingers or beat
time on the ground with her stick.  At last Antonio suddenly laid
down the instrument:-

"I see the London Caloro is weary; enough, enough, to-morrow more
thereof--we will now to the charipe (bed)."

"With all my heart," said I; "where are we to sleep?"

"In the stable," said he, "in the manger; however cold the stable
may be we shall be warm enough in the bufa."



CHAPTER X



The Gypsy's Granddaughter--Proposed Marriage--The Algnazil--The
Assault--Speedy Trot--Arrival at Trujillo--Night and Rain--The
Forest--The Bivouac--Mount and Away!--Jaraicejo--The National--The
Cavalier Balmerson--Among the Thicket--Serious Discourse--What is
Truth?--Unexpected Intelligence.

We remained three days at the Gypsies' house, Antonio departing
early every morning, on his mule, and returning late at night.  The
house was large and ruinous, the only habitable part of it, with
the exception of the stable, being the hall, where we had supped,
and there the Gypsy females slept at night, on some mats and
mattresses in a corner.

"A strange house is this," said I to Antonio, one morning as he was
on the point of saddling his mule and departing, as I supposed, on
the affairs of Egypt; "a strange house and strange people; that
Gypsy grandmother has all the appearance of a sowanee (sorceress)."

"All the appearance of one!" said Antonio; "and is she not really
one?  She knows more crabbed things and crabbed words than all the
Errate betwixt here and Catalonia.  She has been amongst the wild
Moors, and can make more drows, poisons, and philtres than any one
alive.  She once made a kind of paste, and persuaded me to taste,
and shortly after I had done so my soul departed from my body, and
wandered through horrid forests and mountains, amidst monsters and
duendes, during one entire night.  She learned many things amidst
the Corahai which I should be glad to know."

"Have you been long acquainted with her?" said I; "you appear to be
quite at home in this house."

"Acquainted with her!" said Antonio.  "Did not my own brother marry
the black Calli, her daughter, who bore him the chabi, sixteen
years ago, just before he was hanged by the Busne?"

In the afternoon I was seated with the Gypsy mother in the hall,
the two Callees were absent telling fortunes about the town and
neighbourhood, which was their principal occupation.  "Are you
married, my London Caloro?" said the old woman to me.  "Are you a
ro?"

Myself.--Wherefore do you ask, O Dai de los Cales?

Gypsy Mother.--It is high time that the lacha of the chabi were
taken from her, and that she had a ro.  You can do no better than
take her for romi, my London Caloro.

Myself.--I am a stranger in this land, O mother of the Gypsies, and
scarcely know how to provide for myself, much less for a romi.

Gypsy Mother.--She wants no one to provide for her, my London
Caloro, she can at any time provide for herself and her ro.  She
can hokkawar, tell baji, and there are few to equal her at stealing
a pastesas.  Were she once at Madrilati, where they tell me you are
going, she would make much treasure; therefore take her thither,
for in this foros she is nahi (lost), as it were, for there is
nothing to be gained; but in the foros baro it would be another
matter; she would go dressed in lachipi and sonacai (silk and
gold), whilst you would ride about on your black-tailed gra; and
when you had got much treasure, you might return hither and live
like a Crallis, and all the Errate of the Chim del Manro should bow
down their heads to you.  What, say you, my London Caloro, what say
you to my plan?

Myself.--Your plan is a plausible one, mother, or at least some
people would think so; but I am, as you are aware, of another chim,
and have no inclination to pass my life in this country.

Gypsy Mother.--Then return to your own country, my Caloro, the
chabi can cross the pani.  Would she not do business in London with
the rest of the Calore?  Or why not go to the land of the Corahai?
In which case I would accompany you; I and my daughter, the mother
of the chabi.

Myself.--And what should we do in the land of the Corahai?  It is a
poor and wild country, I believe.

Gypsy Mother.--The London Caloro asks me what we could do in the
land of the Corahai!  Aromali!  I almost think that I am speaking
to a lilipendi (simpleton).  Are there not horses to chore?  Yes, I
trow there are, and better ones than in this land, and asses and
mules.  In the land of the Corahai you must hokkawar and chore even
as you must here, or in your own country, or else you are no
Caloro.  Can you not join yourselves with the black people who live
in the despoblados?  Yes, surely; and glad they would be to have
among them the Errate from Spain and London.  I am seventy years of
age, but I wish not to die in this chim, but yonder, far away,
where both my roms are sleeping.  Take the chabi, therefore, and go
to Madrilati to win the parne, and when you have got it, return,
and we will give a banquet to all the Busne in Merida, and in their
food I will mix drow, and they shall eat and burst like poisoned
sheep. . . . And when they have eaten we will leave them, and away
to the land of the Moor, my London Caloro.

During the whole time that I remained at Merida I stirred not once
from the house; following the advice of Antonio, who informed me
that it would not be convenient.  My time lay rather heavily on my
hands, my only source of amusement consisting in the conversation
of the women, and in that of Antonio when he made his appearance at
night.  In these tertulias the grandmother was the principal
spokeswoman, and astonished my ears with wonderful tales of the
Land of the Moors, prison escapes, thievish feats, and one or two
poisoning adventures, in which she had been engaged, as she
informed me, in her early youth.

There was occasionally something very wild in her gestures and
demeanour; more than once I observed her, in the midst of much
declamation, to stop short, stare in vacancy, and thrust out her
palms as if endeavouring to push away some invisible substance; she
goggled frightfully with her eyes, and once sank back in
convulsions, of which her children took no farther notice than
observing that she was only lili, and would soon come to herself.

Late in the afternoon of the third day, as the three women and
myself sat conversing as usual over the brasero, a shabby looking
fellow in an old rusty cloak walked into the room:  he came
straight up to the place where we were sitting, produced a paper
cigar, which he lighted at a coal, and taking a whiff or two,
looked at me:  "Carracho," said he, "who is this companion?"

I saw at once that the fellow was no Gypsy:  the women said
nothing, but I could hear the grandmother growling to herself,
something after the manner of an old grimalkin when disturbed.

"Carracho," reiterated the fellow, "how came this companion here?"

"No le penela chi min chaboro," said the black Callee to me, in an
undertone; "sin un balicho de los chineles {4};" then looking up to
the interrogator she said aloud, "he is one of our people from
Portugal, come on the smuggling lay, and to see his poor sisters
here."

"Then let him give me some tobacco," said the fellow, "I suppose he
has brought some with him."

"He has no tobacco," said the black Callee, "he has nothing but old
iron.  This cigar is the only tobacco there is in the house; take
it, smoke it, and go away!"

Thereupon she produced a cigar from out her shoe, which she
presented to the alguazil.

"This will not do," said the fellow, taking the cigar, "I must have
something better; it is now three months since I received anything
from you; the last present was a handkerchief, which was good for
nothing; therefore hand me over something worth taking, or I will
carry you all to the Carcel."

"The Busno will take us to prison," said the black Callee, "ha! ha!
ha!"

"The Chinel will take us to prison," giggled the young girl "he!
he! he!"

"The Bengui will carry us all to the estaripel," grunted the Gypsy
grandmother, "ho! ho! ho!"

The three females arose and walked slowly round the fellow, fixing
their eyes steadfastly on his face; he appeared frightened, and
evidently wished to get away.  Suddenly the two youngest seized his
hands, and whilst he struggled to release himself, the old woman
exclaimed:  "You want tobacco, hijo--you come to the Gypsy house to
frighten the Callees and the strange Caloro out of their plako--
truly, hijo, we have none for you, and right sorry I am; we have,
however, plenty of the dust a su servicio."

Here, thrusting her hand into her pocket, she discharged a handful
of some kind of dust or snuff into the fellow's eyes; he stamped
and roared, but was for some time held fast by the two Callees; he
extricated himself, however, and attempted to unsheath a knife
which he bore at his girdle; but the two younger females flung
themselves upon him like furies, while the old woman increased his
disorder by thrusting her stick into his face; he was soon glad to
give up the contest, and retreated, leaving behind him his hat and
cloak, which the chabi gathered up and flung after him into the
street.

"This is a bad business," said I, "the fellow will of course bring
the rest of the justicia upon us, and we shall all be cast into the
estaripel."

"Ca!" said the black Callee, biting her thumb nail, "he has more
reason to fear us than we him, we could bring him to the filimicha;
we have, moreover, friends in this town, plenty, plenty."

"Yes," mumbled the grandmother, "the daughters of the baji have
friends, my London Caloro, friends among the Busnees, baributre,
baribu (plenty, plenty)."

Nothing farther of any account occurred in the Gypsy house; the
next day, Antonio and myself were again in the saddle, we travelled
at least thirteen leagues before we reached the Venta, where we
passed the night; we rose early in the morning, my guide informing
me that we had a long day's journey to make.  "Where are we bound
to?"  I demanded.  "To Trujillo," he replied.

When the sun arose, which it did gloomily and amidst threatening
rain-clouds, we found ourselves in the neighbourhood of a range of
mountains which lay on our left, and which, Antonio informed me,
were called the Sierra of San Selvan; our route, however, lay over
wide plains, scantily clothed with brushwood, with here and there a
melancholy village, with its old and dilapidated church.
Throughout the greater part of the day, a drizzling rain was
falling, which turned the dust of the roads into mud and mire,
considerably impeding our progress.  Towards evening we reached a
moor, a wild place enough, strewn with enormous stones and rocks.
Before us, at some distance, rose a strange conical hill, rough and
shaggy, which appeared to be neither more nor less than an immense
assemblage of the same kind of rocks which lay upon the moor.  The
rain had now ceased, but a strong wind rose and howled at our
backs.  Throughout the journey, I had experienced considerable
difficulty in keeping up with the mule of Antonio; the walk of the
horse was slow, and I could discover no vestige of the spirit which
the Gypsy had assured me lurked within him.  We were now upon a
tolerably clear spot of the moor:  "I am about to see," I said,
"whether this horse has any of the quality which you have
described."  "Do so," said Antonio, and spurred his beast onward,
speedily leaving me far behind.  I jerked the horse with the bit,
endeavouring to arouse his dormant spirit, whereupon he stopped,
reared, and refused to proceed.  "Hold the bridle loose and touch
him with your whip," shouted Antonio from before.  I obeyed, and
forthwith the animal set off at a trot, which gradually increased
in swiftness till it became a downright furious speedy trot; his
limbs were now thoroughly lithy, and he brandished his fore legs in
a manner perfectly wondrous; the mule of Antonio, which was a
spirited animal of excellent paces, would fain have competed with
him, but was passed in a twinkling.  This tremendous trot endured
for about a mile, when the animal, becoming yet more heated, broke
suddenly into a gallop.  Hurrah! no hare ever ran so wildly or
blindly; it was, literally, ventre a terre; and I had considerable
difficulty in keeping him clear of rocks, against which he would
have rushed in his savage fury, and dashed himself and rider to
atoms.

This race brought me to the foot of the hill, where I waited till
the Gypsy rejoined me:  we left the hill, which seemed quite
inaccessible, on our right, passing through a small and wretched
village.  The sun went down, and dark night presently came upon us;
we proceeded on, however, for nearly three hours, until we heard
the barking of dogs, and perceived a light or two in the distance.
"That is Trujillo," said Antonio, who had not spoken for a long
time.  "I am glad of it," I replied; "I am thoroughly tired; I
shall sleep soundly in Trujillo."  "That is as it may be," said the
Gypsy, and spurred his mule to a brisker pace.  We soon entered the
town, which appeared dark and gloomy enough; I followed close
behind the Gypsy, who led the way I knew not whither, through
dismal streets and dark places, where cats were squalling.  "Here
is the house," said he at last, dismounting before a low mean hut;
he knocked, no answer was returned;--he knocked again, but still
there was no reply; he shook the door and essayed to open it, but
it appeared firmly locked and bolted.  "Caramba!" said he, "they
are out--I feared it might be so.  Now what are we to do?"

"There can be no difficulty," said I, "with respect to what we have
to do; if your friends are gone out, it is easy enough to go to a
posada."

"You know not what you say," replied the Gypsy, "I dare not go to
the mesuna, nor enter any house in Trujillo save this, and this is
shut; well, there is no remedy, we must move on, and, between
ourselves, the sooner we leave this place the better; my own
planoro (brother) was garroted at Trujillo."

He lighted a cigar, by means of a steel and yesca, sprang on his
mule, and proceeded through streets and lanes equally dismal as
those which we had already traversed till we again found ourselves
out of the, town.

I confess I did not much like this decision of the Gypsy; I felt
very slight inclination to leave the town behind and to venture
into unknown places in the dark night:  amidst rain and mist, for
the wind had now dropped, and the rain began again to fall briskly.
I was, moreover, much fatigued, and wished for nothing better than
to deposit myself in some comfortable manger, where I might sink to
sleep, lulled by the pleasant sound of horses and mules despatching
their provender.  I had, however, put myself under the direction of
the Gypsy, and I was too old a traveller to quarrel with my guide
under the present circumstances.  I therefore followed close at his
crupper; our only light being the glow emitted from the Gypsy's
cigar; at last he flung it from his mouth into a puddle, and we
were then in darkness.

We proceeded in this manner for a long time; the Gypsy was silent;
I myself was equally so; the rain descended more and more.  I
sometimes thought I heard doleful noises, something like the
hooting of owls.  "This is a strange night to be wandering abroad
in," I at length said to Antonio.

"It is, brother," said he, "but I would sooner be abroad in such a
night, and in such places, than in the estaripel of Trujillo."

We wandered at least a league farther, and appeared now to be near
a wood, for I could occasionally distinguish the trunks of immense
trees.  Suddenly Antonio stopped his mule; "Look, brother," said
he, "to the left, and tell me if you do not see a light; your eyes
are sharper than mine."  I did as he commanded me.  At first I
could see nothing, but moving a little farther on I plainly saw a
large light at some distance, seemingly amongst the trees.  "Yonder
cannot be a lamp or candle," said I; "it is more like the blaze of
a fire."  "Very likely," said Antonio.  "There are no queres
(houses) in this place; it is doubtless a fire made by durotunes
(shepherds); let us go and join them, for, as you say, it is
doleful work wandering about at night amidst rain and mire."

We dismounted and entered what I now saw was a forest, leading the
animals cautiously amongst the trees and brushwood.  In about five
minutes we reached a small open space, at the farther side of
which, at the foot of a large cork tree, a fire was burning, and by
it stood or sat two or three figures; they had heard our approach,
and one of them now exclaimed Quien Vive?  "I know that voice,"
said Antonio, and leaving the horse with me, rapidly advanced
towards the fire:  presently I heard an Ola! and a laugh, and soon
the voice of Antonio summoned me to advance.  On reaching the fire
I found two dark lads, and a still darker woman of about forty; the
latter seated on what appeared to be horse or mule furniture.  I
likewise saw a horse and two donkeys tethered to the neighbouring
trees.  It was in fact a Gypsy bivouac. . . . "Come forward,
brother, and show yourself," said Antonio to me; "you are amongst
friends; these are of the Errate, the very people whom I expected
to find at Trujillo, and in whose house we should have slept."

"And what," said I, "could have induced them to leave their house
in Trujillo and come into this dark forest in the midst of wind and
rain, to pass the night?"

"They come on business of Egypt, brother, doubtless," replied
Antonio; "and that business is none of ours, Calla boca!  It is
lucky we have found them here, else we should have had no supper,
and our horses no corn."

"My ro is prisoner at the village yonder," said the woman, pointing
with her hand in a particular direction; "he is prisoner yonder for
choring a mailla (stealing a donkey); we are come to see what we
can do in his behalf; and where can we lodge better than in this
forest, where there is nothing to pay?  It is not the first time, I
trow, that Calore have slept at the root of a tree."

One of the striplings now gave us barley for our animals in a large
bag, into which we successively introduced their heads, allowing
the famished creatures to regale themselves till we conceived that
they had satisfied their hunger.  There was a puchero simmering at
the fire, half full of bacon, garbanzos, and other provisions; this
was emptied into a large wooden platter, and out of this Antonio
and myself supped; the other Gypsies refused to join us, giving us
to understand that they had eaten before our arrival; they all,
however, did justice to the leathern bottle of Antonio, which,
before his departure from Merida, he had the precaution to fill.

I was by this time completely overcome with fatigue and sleep.
Antonio flung me an immense horse-cloth, of which he bore more than
one beneath the huge cushion on which he rode; in this I wrapped
myself, and placing my head upon a bundle, and my feet as near as
possible to the fire, I lay down.

Antonio and the other Gypsies remained seated by the fire
conversing.  I listened for a moment to what they said, but I did
not perfectly understand it, and what I did understand by no means
interested me:  the rain still drizzled, but I heeded it not, and
was soon asleep.

The sun was just appearing as I awoke.  I made several efforts
before I could rise from the ground; my limbs were quite stiff, and
my hair was covered with rime; for the rain had ceased and a rather
severe frost set in.  I looked around me, but could see neither
Antonio nor the Gypsies; the animals of the latter had likewise
disappeared, so had the horse which I had hitherto rode; the mule,
however, of Antonio still remained fastened to the tree! this
latter circumstance quieted some apprehensions which were beginning
to arise in my mind.  "They are gone on some business of Egypt," I
said to myself, "and will return anon."  I gathered together the
embers of the fire, and heaping upon them sticks and branches, soon
succeeded in calling forth a blaze, beside which I placed the
puchero, with what remained of the provision of last night.  I
waited for a considerable time in expectation of the return of my
companions, but as they did not appear, I sat down and breakfasted.
Before I had well finished I heard the noise of a horse approaching
rapidly, and presently Antonio made his appearance amongst the
trees, with some agitation in his countenance.  He sprang from the
horse, and instantly proceeded to untie the mule.  "Mount, brother,
mount!" said he, pointing to the horse; "I went with the Callee and
her chabes to the village where the ro is in trouble; the
chinobaro, however, seized them at once with their cattle, and
would have laid hands also on me, but I set spurs to the grasti,
gave him the bridle, and was soon far away.  Mount, brother, mount,
or we shall have the whole rustic canaille upon us in a twinkling."

I did as he commanded:  we were presently in the road which we had
left the night before.  Along this we hurried at a great rate, the
horse displaying his best speedy trot; whilst the mule, with its
ears pricked up, galloped gallantly at his side.  "What place is
that on the hill yonder?" said I to Antonio, at the expiration of
an hour, as we prepared to descend a deep valley.

"That is Jaraicejo," said Antonio; "a bad place it is and a bad
place it has ever been for the Calo people."

"If it is such a bad place," said I, "I hope we shall not have to
pass through it."

"We must pass through it," said Antonio, "for more reasons than
one:  first, forasmuch is the road lies through Jaraicejo; and
second, forasmuch as it will be necessary to purchase provisions
there, both for ourselves and horses.  On the other side of
Jaraicejo there is a wild desert, a despoblado, where we shall find
nothing."

We crossed the valley, and ascended the hill, and as we drew near
to the town the Gypsy said, "Brother, we had best pass through that
town singly.  I will go in advance; follow slowly, and when there
purchase bread and barley; you have nothing to fear.  I will await
you on the despoblado."

Without waiting for my answer he hastened forward, and was speedily
out of sight.

I followed slowly behind, and entered the gate of the town; an old
dilapidated place, consisting of little more than one street.
Along this street I was advancing, when a man with a dirty foraging
cap on his head, and holding a gun in his hand, came running up to
me:  "Who are you?" said he, in rather rough accents, "from whence
do you come?"

"From Badajoz and Trujillo," I replied; "why do you ask?"

"I am one of the national guard," said the man, "and am placed here
to inspect strangers; I am told that a Gypsy fellow just now rode
through the town; it is well for him that I had stepped into my
house.  Do you come in his company?"

"Do I look a person," said I, "likely to keep company with
Gypsies?"

The national measured me from top to toe, and then looked me full
in the face with an expression which seemed to say, "likely
enough."  In fact, my appearance was by no means calculated to
prepossess people in my favour.  Upon my head I wore an old
Andalusian hat, which, from its condition, appeared to have been
trodden under foot; a rusty cloak, which had perhaps served half a
dozen generations, enwrapped my body.  My nether garments were by
no means of the finest description; and as far as could be seen
were covered with mud, with which my face was likewise plentifully
bespattered, and upon my chin was a beard of a week's growth.

"Have you a passport?" at length demanded the national.

I remembered having read that the best way to win a Spaniard's
heart is to treat him with ceremonious civility.  I therefore
dismounted, and taking off my hat, made a low bow to the
constitutional soldier, saying, "Senor nacional, you must know that
I am an English gentleman, travelling in this country for my
pleasure; I bear a passport, which, on inspecting, you will find to
be perfectly regular; it was given me by the great Lord Palmerston,
minister of England, whom you of course have heard of here; at the
bottom you will see his own handwriting; look at it and rejoice;
perhaps you will never have another opportunity.  As I put
unbounded confidence in the honour of every gentleman, I leave the
passport in your hands whilst I repair to the posada to refresh
myself.  When you have inspected it, you will perhaps oblige me so
far as to bring it to me.  Cavalier, I kiss your hands."

I then made him another low bow, which he returned with one still
lower, and leaving him now staring at the passport and now looking
at myself, I went into a posada, to which I was directed by a
beggar whom I met.

I fed the horse, and procured some bread and barley, as the Gypsy
had directed me; I likewise purchased three fine partridges of a
fowler, who was drinking wine in the posada.  He was satisfied with
the price I gave him, and offered to treat me with a copita, to
which I made no objection.  As we sat discoursing at the table, the
national entered with the passport in his hand, and sat down by us.

National.--Caballero!  I return you your passport, it is quite in
form; I rejoice much to have made your acquaintance; I have no
doubt that you can give me some information respecting the present
war.

Myself.--I shall be very happy to afford so polite and honourable a
gentleman any information in my power.

National.--What is England doing,--is she about to afford any
assistance to this country?  If she pleased she could put down the
war in three months.

Myself.--Be under no apprehension, Senor nacional; the war will be
put down, don't doubt.  You have heard of the English legion, which
my Lord Palmerston has sent over?  Leave the matter in their hands,
and you will soon see the result.

National.--It appears to me that this Caballero Balmerson must be a
very honest man.

Myself.--There can be no doubt of it.

National.--I have heard that he is a great general.

Myself.--There can be no doubt of it.  In some things neither
Napoleon nor the sawyer {5} would stand a chance with him for a
moment.  Es mucho hombre.

National.--I am glad to hear it.  Does he intend to head the legion
himself?

Myself.--I believe not; but he has sent over, to head the fighting
men, a friend of his, who is thought to be nearly as much versed in
military matters as himself.

National.--I am rejoiced to hear it.  I see that the war will soon
be over.  Caballero, I thank you for your politeness, and for the
information which you have afforded me.  I hope you will have a
pleasant journey.  I confess that I am surprised to see a gentleman
of your country travelling alone, and in this manner, through such
regions as these.  The roads are at present very bad; there have of
late been many accidents, and more than two deaths in this
neighbourhood.  The despoblado out yonder has a particularly evil
name; be on your guard, Caballero.  I am sorry that Gypsy was
permitted to pass; should you meet him and not like his looks,
shoot him at once, stab him, or ride him down.  He is a well known
thief, contrabandista, and murderer, and has committed more
assassinations than he has fingers on his hands.  Caballero, if you
please, we will allow you a guard to the other side of the pass.
You do not wish it?  Then, farewell.  Stay, before I go I should
wish to see once more the signature of the Caballero Balmerson.

I showed him the signature, which he looked upon with profound
reverence, uncovering his head for a moment; we then embraced and
parted.

I mounted the horse and rode from the town, at first proceeding
very slowly; I had no sooner, however, reached the moor, than I put
the animal to his speedy trot, and proceeded at a tremendous rate
for some time, expecting every moment to overtake the Gypsy.  I,
however, saw nothing of him, nor did I meet with a single human
being.  The road along which I sped was narrow and sandy, winding
amidst thickets of broom and brushwood, with which the despoblado
was overgrown, and which in some places were as high as a man's
head.  Across the moor, in the direction in which I was proceeding,
rose a lofty eminence, naked and bare.  The moor extended for at
least three leagues; I had nearly crossed it, and reached the foot
of the ascent.  I was becoming very uneasy, conceiving that I might
have passed the Gypsy amongst the thickets, when I suddenly heard
his well known Ola! and his black savage head and staring eyes
suddenly appeared from amidst a clump of broom.

"You have tarried long, brother," said he; "I almost thought you
had played me false."

He bade me dismount, and then proceeded to lead the horse behind
the thicket, where I found the route picqueted to the ground.  I
gave him the barley and provisions, and then proceeded to relate to
him my adventure with the national.

"I would I had him here," said the Gypsy, on hearing the epithets
which the former had lavished upon him.  "I would I had him here,
then should my chulee and his carlo become better acquainted."

"And what are you doing here yourself," I demanded, "in this wild
place, amidst these thickets?"

"I am expecting a messenger down yon pass," said the Gypsy; "and
till that messenger arrive I can neither go forward nor return.  It
is on business of Egypt, brother, that I am here."

As he invariably used this last expression when he wished to evade
my inquiries, I held my peace, and said no more; the animals were
fed, and we proceeded to make a frugal repast on bread and wine.

"Why do you not cook the game which I brought?" I demanded; "in
this place there is plenty of materials for a fire."

"The smoke might discover us, brother," said Antonio, "I am
desirous of lying escondido in this place until the arrival of the
messenger."

It was now considerably past noon; the gypsy lay behind the
thicket, raising himself up occasionally and looking anxiously
towards the hill which lay over against us; at last, with an
exclamation of disappointment and impatience, he flung himself on
the ground, where he lay a considerable time, apparently
ruminating; at last he lifted up his head and looked me in the
face.

Antonio.--Brother, I cannot imagine what business brought you to
this country.

Myself.--Perhaps the same which brings you to this moor--business
of Egypt.

Antonio.--Not so, brother; you speak the language of Egypt, it is
true, but your ways and words are neither those of the Cales nor of
the Busne.

Myself.--Did you not hear me speak in the foros about God and
Tebleque?  It was to declare his glory to the Cales and Gentiles
that I came to the land of Spain.

Antonio.--And who sent you on this errand?

Myself.--You would scarcely understand me were I to inform you.
Know, however, that there are many in foreign lands who lament the
darkness which envelops Spain, and the scenes of cruelty, robbery,
and murder which deform it.

Antonio.--Are they Calore or Busne?

Myself.--What matters it?  Both Calore and Busne are sons of the
same God.

Antonio.--You lie, brother, they are not of one father nor of one
Errate.  You speak of robbery, cruelty, and murder.  There are too
many Busne, brother; if there were no Busne there would be neither
robbery nor murder.  The Calore neither rob nor murder each other,
the Busno do; nor are they cruel to their animals, their law
forbids them.  When I was a child I was beating a burra, but my
father stopped my hand, and chided me.  "Hurt not the animal," said
he; "for within it is the soul of your own sister!"

Myself.--And do you believe in this wild doctrine, O Antonio?

Antonio.--Sometimes I do, sometimes I do not.  There are some who
believe in nothing; not even that they live!  Long since, I knew an
old Caloro, he was old, very old, upwards of a hundred years,--and
I once heard him say, that all we thought we saw was a lie; that
there was no world, no men nor women, no horses nor mules, no olive
trees.  But whither are we straying?  I asked what induced you to
come to this country--you tell me the glory of God and Tebleque.
Disparate! tell that to the Busne.  You have good reasons for
coming, no doubt, else you would not be here.  Some say you are a
spy of the Londone, perhaps you are; I care not.  Rise, brother,
and tell me whether any one is coming down the pass."

"I see a distant object," I replied; "like a speck on the side of
the hill."

The Gypsy started up, and we both fixed our eyes on the object:
the distance was so great that it was at first with difficulty that
we could distinguish whether it moved or not.  A quarter of an
hour, however, dispelled all doubts, for within this time it had
nearly reached the bottom of the hill, and we could descry a figure
seated on an animal of some kind.

"It is a woman," said I, at length, "mounted on a grey donkey."

"Then it is my messenger," said Antonio, "for it can be no other."

The woman and the donkey were now upon the plain, and for some time
were concealed from us by the copse and brushwood which intervened.
They were not long, however, in making their appearance at the
distance of about a hundred yards.  The donkey was a beautiful
creature of a silver grey, and came frisking along, swinging her
tail, and moving her feet so quick that they scarcely seemed to
touch the ground.  The animal no sooner perceived us than she
stopped short, turned round, and attempted to escape by the way she
had come; her rider, however, detained her, whereupon the donkey
kicked violently, and would probably have flung the former, had she
not sprung nimbly to the ground.  The form of the woman was
entirely concealed by the large wrapping man's cloak which she
wore.  I ran to assist her, when she turned her face full upon me,
and I instantly recognized the sharp clever features of Antonia,
whom I had seen at Badajoz, the daughter of my guide.  She said
nothing to me, but advancing to her father, addressed something to
him in a low voice, which I did not hear.  He started back, and
vociferated "All!"  "Yes," said she in a louder tone, probably
repeating the words which I had not caught before, "All are
captured."

The Gypsy remained for some time like one astounded and, unwilling
to listen to their discourse, which I imagined might relate to
business of Egypt, I walked away amidst the thickets.  I was absent
for some time, but could occasionally hear passionate expressions
and oaths.  In about half an hour I returned; they had left the
road, but I found then behind the broom clump, where the animals
stood.  Both were seated on the ground; the features of the Gypsy
were peculiarly dark and grim; he held his unsheathed knife in his
hand, which he would occasionally plunge into the earth,
exclaiming, "All! All!"

"Brother," said he at last, "I can go no farther with you; the
business which carried me to Castumba is settled; you must now
travel by yourself and trust to your baji (fortune)."

"I trust in Undevel," I replied, "who wrote my fortune long ago.
But how am I to journey?  I have no horse, for you doubtless want
your own."

The Gypsy appeared to reflect:  "I want the horse, it is true,
brother," he said, "and likewise the macho; but you shall not go en
pindre (on foot); you shall purchase the burra of Antonia, which I
presented her when I sent her upon this expedition."

"The burra," I replied, "appears both savage and vicious."

"She is both, brother, and on that account I bought her; a savage
and vicious beast has generally four excellent legs.  You are a
Calo, brother, and can manage her; you shall therefore purchase the
savage burra, giving my daugher Antonia a baria of gold.  If you
think fit, you can sell the beast at Talavera or Madrid, for
Estremenian bestis are highly considered in Castumba."

In less than an hour I was on the other side of the pass, mounted
on the savage burra.



CHAPTER XI



The Pass of Mirabete--Wolves and Shepherds--Female Subtlety--Death
by Wolves--The Mystery Solved--The Mountains--The Dark Hour--The
Traveller of the Night--Abarbenel--Hoarded Treasure--Force of Gold-
-The Archbishop--Arrival at Madrid

I proceeded down the pass of Mirabete, occasionally ruminating on
the matter which had brought me to Spain, and occasionally admiring
one of the finest prospects in the world; before me outstretched
lay immense plains, bounded in the distance by huge mountains,
whilst at the foot of the hill which I was now descending, rolled
the Tagus, in a deep narrow stream, between lofty banks; the whole
was gilded by the rays of the setting sun; for the day, though cold
and wintry, was bright and clear.  In about an hour I reached the
river at a place where stood the remains of what had once been a
magnificent bridge, which had, however, been blown up in the
Peninsular war and never since repaired.

I crossed the river in a ferry-boat; the passage was rather
difficult, the current very rapid and swollen, owing to the latter
rains.

"Am I in New Castile?" I demanded of the ferryman, on reaching the
further bank.  "The raya is many leagues from hence," replied the
ferryman; "you seem a stranger.  Whence do you come?"  "From
England," I replied, and without waiting for an answer, I sprang on
the burra, and proceeded on my way.  The burra plied her feet most
nimbly, and, shortly after nightfall, brought me to a village at
about two leagues' distance from the river's bank.

I sat down in the venta where I put up; there was a huge fire,
consisting of the greater part of the trunk of an olive tree; the
company was rather miscellaneous:  a hunter with his escopeta; a
brace of shepherds with immense dogs, of that species for which
Estremadura is celebrated; a broken soldier, just returned from the
wars; and a beggar, who, after demanding charity for the seven
wounds of Maria Santissima, took a seat amidst us, and made himself
quite comfortable.  The hostess was an active bustling woman, and
busied herself in cooking my supper, which consisted of the game
which I had purchased at Jaraicejo, and which, on my taking leave
of the Gypsy, he had counselled me to take with me.  In the
meantime, I sat by the fire listening to the conversation of the
company.

"I would I were a wolf," said one of the shepherds; "or, indeed,
anything rather than what I am.  A pretty life is this of ours, out
in the campo, among the carascales, suffering heat and cold for a
peseta a day.  I would I were a wolf; he fares better and is more
respected than the wretch of a shepherd."

"But he frequently fares scurvily," said I; "the shepherd and dogs
fall upon him, and then he pays for his temerity with the loss of
his head."

"That is not often the case, senor traveller," said the shepherd;
"he watches his opportunity, and seldom runs into harm's way.  And
as to attacking him, it is no very pleasant task; he has both teeth
and claws, and dog or man, who has once felt them, likes not to
venture a second time within his reach.  These dogs of mine will
seize a bear singly with considerable alacrity, though he is a most
powerful animal, but I have seen them run howling away from a wolf,
even though there were two or three of us at hand to encourage
them."

"A dangerous person is the wolf," said the other shepherd, "and
cunning as dangerous; who knows more than he?  He knows the
vulnerable point of every animal; see, for example, how he flies at
the neck of a bullock, tearing open the veins with his grim teeth
and claws.  But does he attack a horse in this manner?  I trow
not."

"Not he," said the other shepherd, "he is too good a judge; but he
fastens on the haunches, and hamstrings him in a moment.  O the
fear of the horse when he comes near the dwelling of the wolf.  My
master was the other day riding in the despoblado, above the pass,
on his fine Andalusian steed, which had cost him five hundred
dollars; suddenly the horse stopped, and sweated and trembled like
a woman in the act of fainting; my master could not conceive the
reason, but presently he heard a squealing and growling in the
bushes, whereupon he fired off his gun and scared the wolves, who
scampered away; but he tells me, that the horse has not yet
recovered from his fright."

"Yet the mares know, occasionally, how to balk him," replied his
companion; "there is great craft and malice in mares, as there is
in all females; see them feeding in the campo with their young cria
about them; presently the alarm is given that the wolf is drawing
near; they start wildly and run about for a moment, but it is only
for a moment--amain they gather together, forming themselves into a
circle, in the centre of which they place the foals.  Onward comes
the wolf, hoping to make his dinner on horse-flesh; he is mistaken,
however, the mares have balked him, and are as cunning as himself:
not a tail is to be seen--not a hinder quarter--but there stands
the whole troop, their fronts towards him ready to receive him, and
as he runs around them barking and howling, they rise successively
on their hind legs, ready to stamp him to the earth, should he
attempt to hurt their cria or themselves."

"Worse than the he-wolf," said the soldier, "is the female, for as
the senor pastor has well observed, there is more malice in women
than in males:  to see one of these she-demons with a troop of the
males at her heels is truly surprising:  where she turns, they
turn, and what she does that do they; for they appear bewitched,
and have no power but to imitate her actions.  I was once
travelling with a comrade over the hills of Galicia, when we heard
a howl.  'Those are wolves,' said my companion, 'let us get out of
the way;' so we stepped from the path and ascended the side of the
hill a little way, to a terrace, where grew vines, after the manner
of Galicia:  presently appeared a large grey she-wolf, deshonesta,
snapping and growling at a troop of demons, who followed close
behind, their tails uplifted, and their eyes like fire-brands.
What do you think the perverse brute did?  Instead of keeping to
the path, she turned in the very direction in which we were; there
was now no remedy, so we stood still.  I was the first upon the
terrace, and by me she passed so close that I felt her hair brush
against my legs; she, however, took no notice of me, but pushed on,
neither looking to the right nor left, and all the other wolves
trotted by me without offering the slightest injury or even so much
as looking at me.  Would that I could say as much for my poor
companion, who stood farther on, and was, I believe, less in the
demon's way than I was; she had nearly passed him, when suddenly
she turned half round and snapped at him.  I shall never forget
what followed:  in a moment a dozen wolves were upon him, tearing
him limb from limb, with howlings like nothing in this world; in a
few moments he was devoured; nothing remained but a skull and a few
bones; and then they passed on in the same manner as they came.
Good reason had I to be grateful that my lady wolf took less notice
of me than my poor comrade."

Listening to this and similar conversation, I fell into a doze
before the fire, in which I continued for a considerable time, but
was at length aroused by a voice exclaiming in a loud tone, "All
are captured!"  These were the exact words which, when spoken by
his daughter, confounded the Gypsy upon the moor.  I looked around
me, the company consisted of the same individuals to whose
conversation I had been listening before I sank into slumber; but
the beggar was now the spokesman, and he was haranguing with
considerable vehemence.

"I beg your pardon, Caballero," said I, "but I did not hear the
commencement of your discourse.  Who are those who have been
captured?"

"A band of accursed Gitanos, Caballero," replied the beggar,
returning the title of courtesy, which I had bestowed upon him.
"During more than a fortnight they have infested the roads on the
frontier of Castile, and many have been the gentleman travellers
like yourself whom they have robbed and murdered.  It would seem
that the Gypsy canaille must needs take advantage of these
troublous times, and form themselves into a faction.  It is said
that the fellows of whom I am speaking expected many more of their
brethren to join them, which is likely enough, for all Gypsies are
thieves:  but praised be God, they have been put down before they
became too formidable.  I saw them myself conveyed to the prison at
-.  Thanks be to God.  Todos estan presos."

"The mystery is now solved," said I to myself, and proceeded to
despatch my supper, which was now ready.

The next day's journey brought me to a considerable town, the name
of which I have forgotten.  It is the first in New Castile, in this
direction.  I passed the night as usual in the manger of the
stable, close beside the Caballeria; for, as I travelled upon a
donkey, I deemed it incumbent upon me to be satisfied with a couch
in keeping with my manner of journeying, being averse, by any
squeamish and over delicate airs, to generate a suspicion amongst
the people with whom I mingled that I was aught higher than what my
equipage and outward appearance might lead them to believe.  Rising
before daylight, I again proceeded on my way, hoping ere night to
be able to reach Talavera, which I was informed was ten leagues
distant.  The way lay entirely over an unbroken level, for the most
part covered with olive trees.  On the left, however, at the
distance of a few leagues, rose the mighty mountains which I have
already mentioned.  They run eastward in a seemingly interminable
range, parallel with the route which I was pursuing; their tops and
sides were covered with dazzling snow, and the blasts which came
sweeping from them across the wide and melancholy plains were of
bitter keenness.

"What mountains are those?" I inquired of a barber-surgeon, who,
mounted like myself on a grey burra, joined me about noon, and
proceeded in my company for several leagues.  "They have many
names, Caballero," replied the barber; "according to the names of
the neighbouring places so they are called.  Yon portion of them is
styled the Serrania of Plasencia; and opposite to Madrid they are
termed the Mountains of Guadarama, from a river of that name, which
descends from them; they run a vast way, Caballero, and separate
the two kingdoms, for on the other side is Old Castile.  They are
mighty mountains, and though they generate much cold, I take
pleasure in looking at them, which is not to be wondered at, seeing
that I was born amongst them, though at present, for my sins, I
live in a village of the plain.  Caballero, there is not another
such range in Spain; they have their secrets too--their mysteries--
strange tales are told of those hills, and of what they contain in
their deep recesses, for they are a broad chain, and you may wander
days and days amongst them without coming to any termino.  Many
have lost themselves on those hills, and have never again been
heard of.  Strange things are told of them:  it is said that in
certain places there are deep pools and lakes, in which dwell
monsters, huge serpents as long as a pine tree, and horses of the
flood, which sometimes come out and commit mighty damage.  One
thing is certain, that yonder, far away to the west, in the heart
of those hills, there is a wonderful valley, so narrow that only at
midday is the face of the sun to be descried from it.  That valley
lay undiscovered and unknown for thousands of years; no person
dreamed of its existence, but at last, a long time ago, certain
hunters entered it by chance, and then what do you think they
found, Caballero?  They found a small nation or tribe of unknown
people, speaking an unknown language, who, perhaps, had lived there
since the creation of the world, without intercourse with the rest
of their fellow creatures, and without knowing that other beings
besides themselves existed!  Caballero, did you never hear of the
valley of the Batuecas?  Many books have been written about that
valley and those people.  Caballero, I am proud of yonder hills;
and were I independent, and without wife or children, I would
purchase a burra like that of your own, which I see is an excellent
one, and far superior to mine, and travel amongst them till I knew
all their mysteries, and had seen all the wondrous things which
they contain."

Throughout the day I pressed the burra forward, only stopping once
in order to feed the animal; but, notwithstanding that she played
her part very well, night came on, and I was still about two
leagues from Talavera.  As the sun went down, the cold became
intense; I drew the old Gypsy cloak, which I still wore, closer
around me, but I found it quite inadequate to protect me from the
inclemency of the atmosphere.  The road, which lay over a plain,
was not very distinctly traced, and became in the dusk rather
difficult to find, more especially as cross roads leading to
different places were of frequent occurrence.  I, however,
proceeded in the best manner I could, and when I became dubious as
to the course which I should take, I invariably allowed the animal
on which I was mounted to decide.  At length the moon shone out
faintly, when suddenly by its beams I beheld a figure moving before
me at a slight distance.  I quickened the pace of the burra, and
was soon close at its side.  It went on, neither altering its pace
nor looking round for a moment.  It was the figure of a man, the
tallest and bulkiest that I had hitherto seen in Spain, dressed in
a manner strange and singular for the country.  On his head was a
hat with a low crown and broad brim, very much resembling that of
an English waggoner; about his body was a long loose tunic or slop,
seemingly of coarse ticken, open in front, so as to allow the
interior garments to be occasionally seen; these appeared to
consist of a jerkin and short velveteen pantaloons.  I have said
that the brim of the hat was broad, but broad as it was, it was
insufficient to cover an immense bush of coal-black hair, which,
thick and curly, projected on either side; over the left shoulder
was flung a kind of satchel, and in the right hand was held a long
staff or pole.

There was something peculiarly strange about the figure, but what
struck me the most was the tranquillity with which it moved along,
taking no heed of me, though of course aware of my proximity, but
looking straight forward along the road, save when it occasionally
raised a huge face and large eyes towards the moon, which was now
shining forth in the eastern quarter.

"A cold night," said I at last.  "Is this the way to Talavera?"

"It is the way to Talavera, and the night is cold."

"I am going to Talavera," said I, "as I suppose you are yourself."

"I am going thither, so are you, Bueno."

The tones of the voice which delivered these words were in their
way quite as strange and singular as the figure to which the voice
belonged; they were not exactly the tones of a Spanish voice, and
yet there was something in them that could hardly be foreign; the
pronunciation also was correct; and the language, though singular,
faultless.  But I was most struck with the manner in which the last
word, bueno, was spoken.  I had heard something like it before, but
where or when I could by no means remember.  A pause now ensued;
the figure stalking on as before with the most perfect
indifference, and seemingly with no disposition either to seek or
avoid conversation.

"Are you not afraid," said I at last, "to travel these roads in the
dark?  It is said that there are robbers abroad."

"Are you not rather afraid," replied the figure, "to travel these
roads in the dark?--you who are ignorant of the country, who are a
foreigner, an Englishman!"

"How is it that you know me to be an Englishman?" demanded I, much
surprised.

"That is no difficult matter," replied the figure; "the sound of
your voice was enough to tell me that."

"You speak of voices," said I; "suppose the tone of your own voice
were to tell me who you are?"

"That it will not do," replied my companion; "you know nothing
about me--you can know nothing about me."

"Be not sure of that, my friend; I am acquainted with many things
of which you have little idea."

"Por exemplo," said the figure.

"For example," said I; "you speak two languages."

The figure moved on, seemed to consider a moment, and then said
slowly bueno.

"You have two names," I continued; "one for the house and the other
for the street; both are good, but the one by which you are called
at home is the one which you like best."

The man walked on about ten paces, in the same manner as he had
previously done; all of a sudden he turned, and taking the bridle
of the burra gently in his hand, stopped her.  I had now a full
view of his face and figure, and those huge features and Herculean
form still occasionally revisit me in my dreams.  I see him
standing in the moonshine, staring me in the face with his deep
calm eyes.  At last he said:

"Are you then one of us?"

* * * *

It was late at night when we arrived at Talavera.  We went to a
large gloomy house, which my companion informed me was the
principal posada of the town.  We entered the kitchen, at the
extremity of which a large fire was blazing.  "Pepita," said my
companion to a handsome girl, who advanced smiling towards us; "a
brasero and a private apartment; this cavalier is a friend of mine,
and we shall sup together."  We were shown to an apartment in which
were two alcoves containing beds.  After supper, which consisted of
the very best, by the order of my companion, we sat over the
brasero and commenced talking.

Myself.--Of course you have conversed with Englishmen before, else
you could not have recognized me by the tone of my voice.

Abarbenel.--I was a young lad when the war of the Independence
broke out, and there came to the village in which our family lived
an English officer in order to teach discipline to the new levies.
He was quartered in my father's house, where he conceived a great
affection for me.  On his departure, with the consent of my father,
I attended him through the Castiles, partly as companion, partly as
domestic.  I was with him nearly a year, when he was suddenly
summoned to return to his own country.  He would fain have taken me
with him, but to that my father would by no means consent.  It is
now five-and-twenty years since I last saw an Englishman; but you
have seen how I recognized you even in the dark night.

Myself.--And what kind of life do you pursue, and by what means do
you obtain support?

Abarbenel.--I experience no difficulty.  I live much in the same
way as I believe my forefathers lived; certainly as my father did,
for his course has been mine.  At his death I took possession of
the herencia, for I was his only child.  It was not requisite that
I should follow any business, for my wealth was great; yet, to
avoid remark, I followed that of my father, who was a longanizero.
I have occasionally dealt in wool:  but lazily, lazily--as I had no
stimulus for exertion.  I was, however, successful in many
instances, strangely so; much more than many others who toiled day
and night, and whose whole soul was in the trade.

Myself.--Have you any children?  Are you married?

Abarbenel.--I have no children though I am married.  I have a wife
and an amiga, or I should rather say two wives, for I am wedded to
both.  I however call one my amiga, for appearance sake, for I wish
to live in quiet, and am unwilling to offend the prejudices of the
surrounding people.

Myself.--You say you are wealthy.  In what does your wealth
consist?

Abarbenel.--In gold and silver, and stones of price; for I have
inherited all the hoards of my forefathers.  The greater part is
buried under ground; indeed, I have never examined the tenth part
of it.  I have coins of silver and gold older than the times of
Ferdinand the Accursed and Jezebel; I have also large sums employed
in usury.  We keep ourselves close, however, and pretend to be
poor, miserably so; but on certain occasions, at our festivals,
when our gates are barred, and our savage dogs are let loose in the
court, we eat our food off services such as the Queen of Spain
cannot boast of, and wash our feet in ewers of silver, fashioned
and wrought before the Americas were discovered, though our
garments are at all times coarse, and our food for the most part of
the plainest description.

Myself.--Are there more of you than yourself and your two wives?

Abarbenel.--There are my two servants, who are likewise of us; the
one is a youth, and is about to leave, being betrothed to one at
some distance; the other is old; he is now upon the road, following
me with a mule and car.

Myself.--And whither are you bound at present?

Abarbenel.--To Toledo, where I ply my trade occasionally of
longanizero.  I love to wander about, though I seldom stray far
from home.  Since I left the Englishman my feet have never once
stepped beyond the bounds of New Castile.  I love to visit Toledo,
and to think of the times which have long since departed; I should
establish myself there, were there not so many accursed ones, who
look upon me with an evil eye.

Myself.--Are you known for what you are?  Do the authorities molest
you?

Abarbenel.--People of course suspect me to be what I am; but as I
conform outwardly in most respects to their ways, they do not
interfere with me.  True it is that sometimes, when I enter the
church to hear the mass, they glare at me over the left shoulder,
as much as to say--"What do you here?"  And sometimes they cross
themselves as I pass by; but as they go no further, I do not
trouble myself on that account.  With respect to the authorities,
they are not bad friends of mine.  Many of the higher class have
borrowed money from me on usury, so that I have them to a certain
extent in my power, and as for the low alguazils and corchetes,
they would do any thing to oblige me in consideration of a few
dollars, which I occasionally give them; so that matters upon the
whole go on remarkably well.  Of old, indeed, it was far otherwise;
yet, I know not how it was, though other families suffered much,
ours always enjoyed a tolerable share of tranquillity.  The truth
is, that our family has always known how to guide itself
wonderfully.  I may say there is much of the wisdom of the snake
amongst us.  We have always possessed friends; and with respect to
enemies, it is by no means safe to meddle with us; for it is a rule
of our house never to forgive an injury, and to spare neither
trouble nor expense in bringing ruin and destruction upon the heads
of our evil doers.

Myself.--Do the priests interfere with you?

Abarbenel.--They let me alone, especially in our own neighbourhood.
Shortly after the death of my father, one hot-headed individual
endeavoured to do me an evil turn, but I soon requited him, causing
him to be imprisoned on a charge of blasphemy, and in prison he
remained a long time, till he went mad and died.

Myself.--Have you a head in Spain, in whom is rested the chief
authority?

Abarbenel.--Not exactly.  There are, however, certain holy families
who enjoy much consideration; my own is one of these--the chiefest,
I may say.  My grandsire was a particularly holy man; and I have
heard my father say, that one night an archbishop came to his house
secretly, merely to have the satisfaction of kissing his head.

Myself.--How can that be; what reverence could an archbishop
entertain for one like yourself or your grandsire?

Abarbenel.--More than you imagine.  He was one of us, at least his
father was, and he could never forget what he had learned with
reverence in his infancy.  He said he had tried to forget it, but
he could not; that the ruah was continually upon him, and that even
from his childhood he had borne its terrors with a troubled mind,
till at last he could bear himself no longer; so he went to my
grandsire, with whom he remained one whole night; he then returned
to his diocese, where he shortly afterwards died, in much renown
for sanctity.

Myself.--What you say surprises me.  Have you reason to suppose
that many of you are to be found amongst the priesthood?

Abarbenel.--Not to suppose, but to know it.  There are many such as
I amongst the priesthood, and not amongst the inferior priesthood
either; some of the most learned and famed of them in Spain have
been of us, or of our blood at least, and many of them at this day
think as I do.  There is one particular festival of the year at
which four dignified ecclesiastics are sure to visit me; and then,
when all is made close and secure, and the fitting ceremonies have
been gone through, they sit down upon the floor and curse.

Myself.--Are you numerous in the large towns?

Abarbenel.--By no means; our places of abode are seldom the large
towns; we prefer the villages, and rarely enter the large towns but
on business.  Indeed we are not a numerous people, and there are
few provinces of Spain which contain more than twenty families.
None of us are poor, and those among us who serve, do so more from
choice than necessity, for by serving each other we acquire
different trades.  Not unfrequently the time of service is that of
courtship also, and the servants eventually marry the daughters of
the house.

We continued in discourse the greater part of the night; the next
morning I prepared to depart.  My companion, however, advised me to
remain where I was for that day.  "And if you respect my counsel,"
said he, "you will not proceed farther in this manner.  To-night
the diligence will arrive from Estremadura, on its way to Madrid.
Deposit yourself therein; it is the safest and most speedy mode of
travelling.  As for your animal, I will myself purchase her.  My
servant is here, and has informed me that she will be of service to
us.  Let us, therefore, pass the day together in communion, like
brothers, and then proceed on our separate journeys."  We did pass
the day together; and when the diligence arrived I deposited myself
within, and on the morning of the second day arrived at Madrid.



CHAPTER XII



Lodging at Madrid--My Hostess--British Ambassador--Mendizabal--
Baltasar--Duties of a National--Young Blood--The Execution--
Population of Madrid--The Higher Orders--The Lower Classes--The
Bull-fighter--The Crabbed Gitano.

It was the commencement of February when I reached Madrid.  After
staying a few days at a posada, I removed to a lodging which I
engaged at No. 3, in the Calle de la Zarza, a dark dirty street,
which, however, was close to the Puerta del Sol, the most central
point of Madrid, into which four or five of the principal streets
debouche, and which is, at all times of the year, the great place
of assemblage for the idlers of the capital, poor or rich.

It was rather a singular house in which I had taken up my abode.  I
occupied the front part of the first floor; my apartments consisted
of an immense parlour, and a small chamber on one side in which I
slept; the parlour, notwithstanding its size, contained very little
furniture:  a few chairs, a table, and a species of sofa,
constituted the whole.  It was very cold and airy, owing to the
draughts which poured in from three large windows, and from sundry
doors.  The mistress of the house, attended by her two daughters,
ushered me in.  "Did you ever see a more magnificent apartment?"
demanded the former; "is it not fit for a king's son?  Last winter
it was occupied by the great General Espartero."

The hostess was an exceedingly fat woman, a native of Valladolid,
in Old Castile.  "Have you any other family," I demanded, "besides
these daughters?"  "Two sons," she replied; "one of them an officer
in the army, father of this urchin," pointing to a wicked but
clever looking boy of about twelve, who at that moment bounded into
the room; "the other is the most celebrated national in Madrid:  he
is a tailor by trade, and his name is Baltasar.  He has much
influence with the other nationals, on account of the liberality of
his opinions, and a word from him is sufficient to bring them all
out armed and furious to the Puerta del Sol.  He is, however, at
present confined to his bed, for he is very dissipated and fond of
the company of bull-fighters and people still worse."

As my principal motive for visiting the Spanish capital was the
hope of obtaining permission from the government to print the New
Testament in the Castilian language, for circulation in Spain, I
lost no time, upon my arrival, in taking what I considered to be
the necessary steps.

I was an entire stranger at Madrid, and bore no letters of
introduction to any persons of influence, who might have assisted
me in this undertaking, so that, notwithstanding I entertained a
hope of success, relying on the assistance of the Almighty, this
hope was not at all times very vivid, but was frequently overcast
with the clouds of despondency.

Mendizabal was at this time prime minister of Spain, and was
considered as a man of almost unbounded power, in whose hands were
placed the destinies of the country.  I therefore considered that
if I could by any means induce him to favour my views, I should
have no reason to fear interruption from other quarters, and I
determined upon applying to him.

Before talking this step, however, I deemed it advisable to wait
upon Mr. Villiers, the British ambassador at Madrid; and with the
freedom permitted to a British subject, to ask his advice in this
affair.  I was received with great kindness, and enjoyed a
conversation with him on various subjects before I introduced the
matter which I had most at heart.  He said that if I wished for an
interview with Mendizabal, he would endeavour to procure me one,
but, at the same time, told me frankly that he could not hope that
any good would arise from it, as he knew him to be violently
prejudiced against the British and Foreign Bible Society, and was
far more likely to discountenance than encourage any efforts which
they might be disposed to make for introducing the Gospel into
Spain.  I, however, remained resolute in my desire to make the
trial, and before I left him, obtained a letter of introduction to
Mendizabal.

Early one morning I repaired to the palace, in a wing of which was
the office of the Prime Minister; it was bitterly cold, and the
Guadarama, of which there is a noble view from the palace-plain,
was covered with snow.  For at least three hours I remained
shivering with cold in an ante-room, with several other aspirants
for an interview with the man of power.  At last his private
secretary made his appearance, and after putting various questions
to the others, addressed himself to me, asking who I was and what I
wanted.  I told him that I was an Englishman, and the bearer of a
letter from the British Minister.  "If you have no objection, I
will myself deliver it to His Excellency," said he; whereupon I
handed it to him and he withdrew.  Several individuals were
admitted before me; at last, however, my own turn came, and I was
ushered into the presence of Mendizabal.

He stood behind a table covered with papers, on which his eyes were
intently fixed.  He took not the slightest notice when I entered,
and I had leisure enough to survey him:  he was a huge athletic
man, somewhat taller than myself, who measure six feet two without
my shoes; his complexion was florid, his features fine and regular,
his nose quite aquiline, and his teeth splendidly white:  though
scarcely fifty years of age, his hair was remarkably grey; he was
dressed in a rich morning gown, with a gold chain round his neck,
and morocco slippers on his feet.

His secretary, a fine intellectual looking man, who, as I was
subsequently informed, had acquired a name both in English and
Spanish literature, stood at one end of the table with papers in
his hands.

After I had been standing about a quarter of an hour, Mendizabal
suddenly lifted up a pair of sharp eyes, and fixed them upon me
with a peculiarly scrutinizing glance.

"I have seen a glance very similar to that amongst the Beni
Israel," thought I to myself. . . .


My interview with him lasted nearly an hour.  Some singular
discourse passed between us:  I found him, as I had been informed,
a bitter enemy to the Bible Society, of which he spoke in terms of
hatred and contempt, and by no means a friend to the Christian
religion, which I could easily account for.  I was not discouraged,
however, and pressed upon him the matter which brought me thither,
and was eventually so far successful, as to obtain a promise, that
at the expiration of a few months, when he hoped the country would
be in a more tranquil state, I should be allowed to print the
Scriptures.

As I was going away he said, "Yours is not the first application I
have had; ever since I have held the reins of government I have
been pestered in this manner, by English calling themselves
Evangelical Christians, who have of late come flocking over into
Spain.  Only last week a hunchbacked fellow found his way into my
cabinet whilst I was engaged in important business, and told me
that Christ was coming. . . . And now you have made your
appearance, and almost persuaded me to embroil myself yet more with
the priesthood, as if they did not abhor me enough already.  What a
strange infatuation is this which drives you over lands and waters
with Bibles in your hands.  My good sir, it is not Bibles we want,
but rather guns and gunpowder, to put the rebels down with, and
above all, money, that we may pay the troops; whenever you come
with these three things you shall have a hearty welcome, if not, we
really can dispense with your visits, however great the honour."

Myself.--There will be no end to the troubles of this afflicted
country until the gospel have free circulation.

Mendizabal.--I expected that answer, for I have not lived thirteen
years in England without forming some acquaintance with the
phraseology of you good folks.  Now, now, pray go; you see how
engaged I am.  Come again whenever you please, but let it not be
within the next three months.

"Don Jorge," said my hostess, coming into my apartment one morning,
whilst I sat at breakfast with my feet upon the brasero, "here is
my son Baltasarito, the national; he has risen from his bed, and
hearing that there is an Englishman in the house, he has begged me
to introduce him, for he loves Englishmen on account of the
liberality of their opinions; there he is, what do you think of
him?"

I did not state to his mother what I thought; it appeared to me,
however, that she was quite right calling him Baltasarito, which is
the diminutive of Baltasar, forasmuch as that ancient and sonorous
name had certainly never been bestowed on a more diminutive
personage:  he might measure about five feet one inch, though he
was rather corpulent for his height; his face looked yellow and
sickly, he had, however, a kind of fanfaronading air, and his eyes,
which were of dark brown, were both sharp and brilliant.  His
dress, or rather his undress, was somewhat shabby:  he had a
foraging cap on his head, and in lieu of a morning gown, he wore a
sentinel's old great coat.

"I am glad to make your acquaintance, senor nacional," said I to
him, after his mother had departed, and Baltasar had taken his
seat, and of course lighted a paper cigar at the brasero.  "I am
glad to have made your acquaintance, more especially as your lady
mother has informed me that you have great influence with the
nationals.  I am a stranger in Spain, and may want a friend;
fortune has been kind to me in procuring me one who is a member of
so powerful a body."

Baltasar.--Yes, I have a great deal to say with the other
nationals; there is none in Madrid better known than Baltasar, or
more dreaded by the Carlists.  You say you may stand in need of a
friend; there is no fear of my failing you in any emergency.  Both
myself and any of the other nationals will be proud to go out with
you as padrinos, should you have any affair of honour on your
hands.  But why do you not become one of us?  We would gladly
receive you into our body.

Myself.--Is the duty of a national particularly hard?

Baltasar.--By no means; we have to do duty about once every fifteen
days, and then there is occasionally a review, which does not last
long.  No! the duties of a national are by no means onerous, and
the privileges are great.  I have seen three of my brother
nationals walk up and down the Prado of a Sunday, with sticks in
their hands, cudgelling all the suspicious characters, and it is
our common practice to scour the streets at night, and then if we
meet any person who is obnoxious to us, we fall upon him, and with
a knife or a bayonet generally leave him wallowing in his blood on
the pavement:  no one but a national would be permitted to do that.

Myself.--Of course none but persons of liberal opinions are to be
found amongst the nationals?

Baltasar.--Would it were so!  There are some amongst us, Don Jorge,
who are no better than they should be; they are few, however, and
for the most part well known.  Theirs is no pleasant life, for when
they mount guard with the rest they are scouted, and not
unfrequently cudgelled.  The law compels all of a certain age
either to serve in the army or to become national soldiers on which
account some of these Godos are to be found amongst us.

Myself.--Are there many in Madrid of the Carlist opinion?

Baltasar.--Not among the young people; the greater part of the
Madrilenian Carlists capable of bearing arms departed long ago to
join the ranks of the factious in the Basque provinces.  Those who
remain are for the most part grey-beards and priests, good for
nothing but to assemble in private coffee-houses, and to prate
treason together.  Let them prate, Don Jorge; let them prate; the
destinies of Spain do not depend on the wishes of ojalateros and
pasteleros, but on the hands of stout gallant nationals like myself
and friends, Don Jorge.

Myself.--I am sorry to learn from your lady mother, that you are
strangely dissipated.

Baltasar.--Ho, ho, Don Jorge, she has told you that, has she; what
would you have, Don Jorge?  I am young, and young blood will have
its course.  I am called Baltasar the gay by all the other
nationals, and it is on account of my gaiety and the liberality of
my opinions that I am so popular among them.  When I mount guard I
invariably carry my guitar with me, and then there is sure to be a
function at the guard-house.  We send for wine, Don Jorge, and the
nationals become wild, Don Jorge, dancing and drinking through the
night, whilst Baltasarito strums the guitar and sings them songs of
Germania:


"Una romi sin pachi
Le peno a su chindomar," &c., &c.


That is Gitano, Don Jorge; I learnt it from the toreros of
Andalusia, who all speak Gitano, and are mostly of Gypsy blood.  I
learnt it from them; they are all friends of mine, Montes Sevilla
and Poquito Pan.  I never miss a function of bulls, Don Jorge.
Baltasar is sure to be there with his amiga.  Don Jorge, there are
no bull-functions in the winter, or I would carry you to one, but
happily to-morrow there is an execution, a funcion de la horca; and
there we will go, Don Jorge.

We did go to see this execution, which I shall long remember.  The
criminals were two young men, brothers; they suffered for a most
atrocious murder, having in the dead of night broke open the house
of an aged man, whom they put to death, and whose property they
stole.  Criminals in Spain are not hanged as they are in England,
or guillotined as in France, but strangled upon a wooden stage.
They sit down on a kind of chair with a post behind, to which is
affixed an iron collar with a screw; this iron collar is made to
clasp the neck of the prisoner, and on a certain signal it is drawn
tighter and tighter by means of the screw, until life becomes
extinct.  After we had waited amongst the assembled multitude a
considerable time, the first of the culprits appeared; he was
mounted on an ass, without saddle or stirrups, his legs being
allowed to dangle nearly to the ground.  He was dressed in yellow
sulphur-coloured robes, with a high-peaked conical red hat on his
head, which was shaven.  Between his hands he held a parchment, on
which was written something, I believe the confession of faith.
Two priests led the animal by the bridle; two others walked on
either side, chanting litanies, amongst which I distinguished the
words of heavenly peace and tranquillity, for the culprit had been
reconciled to the church, had confessed and received absolution,
and had been promised admission to heaven.  He did not exhibit the
least symptom of fear, but dismounted from the animal and was led,
not supported, up the scaffold, where he was placed on the chair,
and the fatal collar put round his neck.  One of the priests then
in a loud voice commenced saying the Belief, and the culprit
repeated the words after him.  On a sudden, the executioner, who
stood behind, commenced turning the screw, which was of prodigious
force, and the wretched man--was almost instantly a corpse; but, as
the screw went round, the priest began to shout, "pax et
misericordia et tranquillitas," and still as he shouted, his voice
became louder and louder, till the lofty walls of Madrid rang with
it:  then stooping down, he placed his mouth close to the culprit's
ear, still shouting, just as if he would pursue the spirit through
its course to eternity, cheering it on its way.  The effect was
tremendous.  I myself was so excited that I involuntarily shouted
"misericordia," and so did many others.  God was not thought of;
Christ was not thought of; only the priest was thought of, for he
seemed at that moment to be the first being in existence, and to
have the power of opening and shutting the gates of heaven or of
hell, just as he should think proper.  A striking instance of the
successful working of the Popish system, whose grand aim has ever
been to keep people's minds as far as possible from God, and to
centre their hopes and fears in the priesthood.  The execution of
the second culprit was precisely similar; he ascended the scaffold
a few minutes after his brother had breathed his last.

I have visited most of the principal capitals of the world, but
upon the whole none has ever so interested me as this city of
Madrid, in which I now found myself.  I will not dwell upon its
streets, its edifices, its public squares, its fountains, though
some of these are remarkable enough:  but Petersburg has finer
streets, Paris and Edinburgh more stately edifices, London far
nobler squares, whilst Shiraz can boast of more costly fountains,
though not cooler waters.  But the population!  Within a mud wall,
scarcely one league and a half in circuit, are contained two
hundred thousand human beings, certainly forming the most
extraordinary vital mass to be found in the entire world; and be it
always remembered that this mass is strictly Spanish.  The
population of Constantinople is extraordinary enough, but to form
it twenty nations have contributed; Greeks, Armenians, Persians,
Poles, Jews, the latter, by the by, of Spanish origin, and speaking
amongst themselves the old Spanish language; but the huge
population of Madrid, with the exception of a sprinkling of
foreigners, chiefly French tailors, glove-makers and peruquiers, is
strictly Spanish, though a considerable portion are not natives of
the place.  Here are no colonies of Germans, as at Saint
Petersburg; no English factories, as at Lisbon; no multitudes of
insolent Yankees lounging through the streets as at the Havannah,
with an air which seems to say, the land is our own whenever we
choose to take it; but a population which, however strange and
wild, and composed of various elements, is Spanish, and will remain
so as long as the city itself shall exist.  Hail, ye aguadores of
Asturia! who, in your dress of coarse duffel and leathern skull-
caps, are seen seated in hundreds by the fountain sides, upon your
empty water-casks, or staggering with them filled to the topmost
stories of lofty houses.  Hail, ye caleseros of Valencia! who,
lolling lazily against your vehicles, rasp tobacco for your paper
cigars whilst waiting for a fare.  Hail to you, beggars of La
Mancha! men and women, who, wrapped in coarse blankets, demand
charity indifferently at the gate of the palace or the prison.
Hail to you, valets from the mountains, mayordomos and secretaries
from Biscay and Guipuscoa, toreros from Andalusia, riposteros from
Galicia, shopkeepers from Catalonia!  Hail to ye, Castilians,
Estremenians and Aragonese, of whatever calling!  And lastly,
genuine sons of the capital, rabble of Madrid, ye twenty thousand
manolos, whose terrible knifes, on the second morning of May,
worked such grim havoc amongst the legions of Murat!

And the higher orders--the ladies and gentlemen, the cavaliers and
senoras; shall I pass them by in silence?  The truth is I have
little to say about them; I mingled but little in their society,
and what I saw of them by no means tended to exalt them in my
imagination.  I am not one of those who, wherever they go, make it
a constant practice to disparage the higher orders, and to exalt
the populace at their expense.  There are many capitals in which
the high aristocracy, the lords and ladies, the sons and daughters
of nobility, constitute the most remarkable and the most
interesting part of the population.  This is the case at Vienna,
and more especially at London.  Who can rival the English
aristocrat in lofty stature, in dignified bearing, in strength of
hand, and valour of heart?  Who rides a nobler horse?  Who has a
firmer seat?  And who more lovely than his wife, or sister, or
daughter?  But with respect to the Spanish aristocracy, the ladies
and gentlemen, the cavaliers and senoras, I believe the less that
is said of them on the points to which I have just alluded the
better.  I confess, however, that I know little about them; they
have, perhaps, their admirers, and to the pens of such I leave
their panegyric.  Le Sage has described them as they were nearly
two centuries ago.  His description is anything but captivating,
and I do not think that they have improved since the period of the
sketches of the immortal Frenchman.  I would sooner talk of the
lower class, not only of Madrid but of all Spain.  The Spaniard of
the lower class has much more interest for me, whether manolo,
labourer, or muleteer.  He is not a common being; he is an
extraordinary man.  He has not, it is true, the amiability and
generosity of the Russian mujik, who will give his only rouble
rather than the stranger shall want; nor his placid courage, which
renders him insensible to fear, and at the command of his Tsar,
sends him singing to certain death. {6}  There is more hardness and
less self-devotion in the disposition of the Spaniard; he
possesses, however, a spirit of proud independence, which it is
impossible but to admire.  He is ignorant, of course; but it is
singular that I have invariably found amongst the low and slightly
educated classes far more liberality of sentiment than amongst the
upper.  It has long been the fashion to talk of the bigotry of the
Spaniards, and their mean jealousy of foreigners.  This is true to
a certain extent:  but it chiefly holds good with respect to the
upper classes.  If foreign valour or talent has never received its
proper meed in Spain, the great body of the Spaniards are certainly
not in fault.  I have heard Wellington calumniated in this proud
scene of his triumphs, but never by the old soldiers of Aragon and
the Asturias, who assisted to vanquish the French at Salamanca and
the Pyrenees.  I have heard the manner of riding of an English
jockey criticized, but it was by the idiotic heir of Medina Celi,
and not by a picador of the Madrilenian bull ring.

Apropos of bull-fighters:- Shortly after my arrival, I one day
entered a low tavern in a neighbourhood notorious for robbery and
murder, and in which for the last two hours I had been wandering on
a voyage of discovery.  I was fatigued, and required refreshment.
I found the place thronged with people, who had all the appearance
of ruffians.  I saluted them, upon which they made way for me to
the bar, taking off their sombreros with great ceremony.  I emptied
a glass of val de penas, and was about to pay for it and depart,
when a horrible looking fellow, dressed in a buff jerkin, leather
breeches, and jackboots, which came half way up his thighs, and
having on his head a white hat, the rims of which were at least a
yard and a half in circumference, pushed through the crowd, and
confronting me, roared:-

"Otra copita! vamos Inglesito:  Otra copita!"

"Thank you, my good sir, you are very kind, you appear to know me,
but I have not the honour of knowing you."

"Not know me!" replied the being.  "I am Sevilla, the torero.  I
know you well; you are the friend of Baltasarito, the national, who
is a friend of mine, and a very good subject."

Then turning to the company, he said in a sonorous tone, laying a
strong emphasis on the last syllable of every word, according to
the custom of the gente rufianesca throughout Spain:

"Cavaliers, and strong men, this cavalier is the friend of a friend
of mine.  Es mucho hombre.  There is none like him in Spain.  He
speaks the crabbed Gitano though he is an Inglesito."

"We do not believe it," replied several grave voices.  "It is not
possible."

"It is not possible, say you?  I tell you it is.  Come forward,
Balseiro, you who have been in prison all your life, and are always
boasting that you can speak the crabbed Gitano, though I say you
know nothing of it--come forward and speak to his worship in the
crabbed Gitano."

A low, slight, but active figure stepped forward.  He was in his
shirt sleeves, and wore a montero cap; his features were handsome,
but they were those of a demon.

He spoke a few words in the broken Gypsy slang of the prison,
inquiring of me whether I had ever been in the condemned cell, and
whether I knew what a Gitana {7} was?

"Vamos Inglesito," shouted Sevilla in a voice of thunder; "answer
the monro in the crabbed Gitano."

I answered the robber, for such he was, and one, too, whose name
will live for many a year in the ruffian histories of Madrid; I
answered him in a speech of some length, in the dialect of the
Estremenian Gypsies.

"I believe it is the crabbed Gitano," muttered Balseiro.  "It is
either that or English, for I understand not a word of it."

"Did I not say to you," cried the bull-fighter, "that you knew
nothing of the crabbed Gitano?  But this Inglesito does.  I
understood all he said.  Vaya, there is none like him for the
crabbed Gitano.  He is a good ginete, too; next to myself, there is
none like him, only he rides with stirrup leathers too short.
Inglesito, if you have need of money, I will lend you my purse.
All I have is at your service, and that is not a little; I have
just gained four thousand chules by the lottery.  Courage,
Englishman!  Another cup.  I will pay all.  I, Sevilla!"

And he clapped his hand repeatedly on his breast, reiterating "I,
Sevilla!  I--"



CHAPTER XIII



Intrigues at Court--Quesada and Galiano--Dissolution of the Cortes-
-The Secretary--Aragonese Pertinacity--The Council of Trent--The
Asturian--The Three Thieves--Benedict Mol--The Men of Lucerne--The
Treasure

Mendizabal had told me to call upon him again at the end of three
months, giving me hopes that he would not then oppose himself to
the publication of the New Testament; before, however, the three
months had elapsed, he had fallen into disgrace, and had ceased to
be prime minister.

An intrigue had been formed against him, at the head of which were
two quondam friends of his, and fellow-townsmen, Gaditanians,
Isturitz and Alcala Galiano; both of them had been egregious
liberals in their day, and indeed principal members of those cortes
which, on the Angouleme invasion, had hurried Ferdinand from Madrid
to Cadiz, and kept him prisoner there until that impregnable town
thought proper to surrender, and both of them had been subsequently
refugees in England, where they had spent a considerable number of
years.

These gentlemen, however, finding themselves about this time
exceedingly poor, and not seeing any immediate prospect of
advantage from supporting Mendizabal; considering themselves,
moreover, quite as good men as he, and as capable of governing
Spain in the present emergency; determined to secede from the party
of their friend, whom they had hitherto supported, and to set up
for themselves.

They therefore formed an opposition to Mendizabal in the cortes;
the members of this opposition assumed the name of moderados, in
contradistinction to Mendizabal and his followers, who were ultra
liberals.  The moderados were encouraged by the Queen Regent
Christina, who aimed at a little more power than the liberals were
disposed to allow her, and who had a personal dislike to the
minister.  They were likewise encouraged by Cordova, who at that
time commanded the army, and was displeased with Mendizabal,
inasmuch as the latter did not supply the pecuniary demands of the
general with sufficient alacrity, though it is said that the
greater part of what was sent for the payment of the troops was not
devoted to that purpose, but, was invested in the French funds in
the name and for the use and behoof of the said Cordova.

It is, however, by no means my intention to write an account of the
political events which were passing around me at this period;
suffice it to say, that Mendizabal finding himself thwarted in all
his projects by the regent and the general, the former of whom
would adopt no measure which he recommended, whilst the latter
remained inactive and refused to engage the enemy, which by this
time had recovered from the check caused by the death of
Zumalacarregui, and was making considerable progress, resigned and
left the field for the time open to his adversaries, though he
possessed an immense majority in the cortes, and had the voice of
the nation, at least the liberal part of it, in his favour.

Thereupon, Isturitz became head of the cabinet, Galiano minister of
marine, and a certain Duke of Rivas minister of the interior.
These were the heads of the moderado government, but as they were
by no means popular at Madrid, and feared the nationals, they
associated with themselves one who hated the latter body and feared
nothing, a man of the name of Quesada, a very stupid individual,
but a great fighter, who, at one period of his life, had commanded
a legion or body of men called the Army of the Faith, whose
exploits both on the French and Spanish side of the Pyrenees are
too well known to require recapitulation.  This person was made
captain general of Madrid.

By far the most clever member of this government was Galiano, whose
acquaintance I had formed shortly after my arrival.  He was a man
of considerable literature, and particularly well versed in that of
his own country.  He was, moreover, a fluent, elegant, and forcible
speaker, and was to the moderado party within the cortes what
Quesada was without, namely, their horses and chariots.  Why he was
made minister of marine is difficult to say, as Spain did not
possess any; perhaps, however, from his knowledge of the English
language, which he spoke and wrote nearly as well as his own
tongue, having indeed during his sojourn in England chiefly
supported himself by writing for reviews and journals, an
honourable occupation, but to which few foreign exiles in England
would be qualified to devote themselves.

He was a very small and irritable man, and a bitter enemy to every
person who stood in the way of his advancement.  He hated
Mendizabal with undisguised rancour, and never spoke of him but in
terms of unmeasured contempt.  "I am afraid that I shall have some
difficulty in inducing Mendizabal to give me permission to print
the Testament," said I to him one day.  "Mendizabal is a jackass,"
replied Galiano.  "Caligula made his horse consul, which I suppose
induced Lord--to send over this huge burro of the Stock Exchange to
be our minister."

It would be very ungrateful on my part were I not to confess my
great obligations to Galiano, who assisted me to the utmost of his
power in the business which had brought me to Spain.  Shortly after
the ministry was formed, I went to him and said, "that now or never
was the time to mike an effort in my behalf."  "I will do so," said
he, in a waspish tone; for he always spoke waspishly whether to
friend or foe; "but you must have patience for a few days, we are
very much occupied at present.  We have been outvoted in the
cortes, and this afternoon we intend to dissolve them.  It is
believed that the rascals will refuse to depart, but Quesada will
stand at the door ready to turn them out, should they prove
refractory.  Come along, and you will perhaps see a funcion."

After an hour's debate, the cortes were dissolved without it being
necessary to call in the aid of the redoubtable Quesada, and
Galiano forthwith gave me a letter to his colleague the Duke of
Rivas, in whose department he told me was vested the power either
of giving or refusing the permission to print the book in question.
The duke was a very handsome young man, of about thirty, an
Andalusian by birth, like his two colleagues.  He had published
several works, tragedies, I believe, and enjoyed a certain kind of
literary reputation.  He received me with the greatest affability;
and having heard what I had to say, he replied with a most
captivating bow, and a genuine Andalusian grimace:  "Go to my
secretary; go to my secretary--el hara por usted el gusio."  So I
went to the secretary, whose name was Oliban, an Aragonese, who was
not handsome, and whose manners were neither elegant nor affable.
"You want permission to print the Testament?"  "I do," said I.
"And you have come to His Excellency about it," continued Oliban.
"Very true," I replied.  "I suppose you intend to print it without
notes."  "Yes."  "Then His Excellency cannot give you permission,"
said the Aragonese secretary:  "it was determined by the Council of
Trent that no part of the Scripture should be printed in any
Christian country without the notes of the church."  "How many
years was that ago?" I demanded.  "I do not know how many years ago
it was," said Oliban; "but such was the decree of the Council of
Trent."  "Is Spain at present governed according to the decrees of
the Council of Trent?" I inquired.  "In some points she is,"
answered the Aragonese, "and this is one.  But tell me who are you?
Are you known to the British minister?"  "O yes, and he takes a
great interest in the matter."  "Does he?" said Oliban; "that
indeed alters the case:  if you can show me that His Excellency
takes in interest in this business, I certainly shall not oppose
myself to it."

The British minister performed all I could wish, and much more than
I could expect; he had an interview with the Duke of Rivas, with
whom he had much discourse upon my affair:  the duke was all smiles
and courtesy.  He moreover wrote a private letter to the duke,
which he advised me to present when I next paid him a visit, and,
to crown all, he wrote a letter directed to myself, in which he did
me the honour to say that he had a regard for me, and that nothing
would afford him greater pleasure than to hear that I had obtained
the permission which I was seeking.  So I went to the duke, and
delivered the letter.  He was ten times more kind and affable than
before:  he read the letter, smiled most sweetly, and then, as if
seized with sudden enthusiasm, he extended his arms in a manner
almost theatrical, exclaiming, "Al secretario, el hara por usted el
gusto."  Away I hurried to the secretary, who received me with all
the coolness of an icicle:  I related to him the words of his
principal, and then put into his hand the letter of the British
minister to myself.  The secretary read it very deliberately, and
then said that it was evident His Excellency did take an interest
in the matter.  He then asked me my name, and taking a sheet of
paper, sat down as if for the purpose of writing the permission.  I
was in ecstasy--all of a sudden, however, he stopped, lifted up his
head, seemed to consider a moment, and then putting his pen behind
his ear, he said, "Amongst the decrees of the Council of Trent is
one to the effect" . . . .


"Oh dear!" said I.

"A singular person is this Oliban," said I to Galiano; "you cannot
imagine what trouble he gives me:  he is continually talking about
the Council of Trent."

"I wish he was in the Trent up to the middle," said Galiano, who,
as I have observed already, spoke excellent English; "I wish he was
there for talking such nonsense.  However," said he, "we must not
offend Oliban, he is one of us, and has done us much service; he
is, moreover, a very clever man, but he is an Aragonese, and when
one of that nation once gets an idea into his head, it is the most
difficult thing in the world to dislodge it; however, we will go to
him; he is an old friend of mine, and I have no doubt but that we
shall be able to make him listen to reason."  So the next day I
called upon Galiano, at his marine or admiralty office (what shall
I call it?), and from thence we proceeded to the bureau of the
interior, a magnificent edifice, which had formerly been the casa
of the Inquisition, where we had an interview with Oliban, whom
Galiano took aside to the window, and there held with him a long
conversation, which, as they spoke in whispers, and the room was
immensely large, I did not hear.  At length Galiano came to me and
said, "There is some difficulty with respect to this business of
yours, but I have told Oliban that you are a friend of mine, and he
says that that is sufficient; remain with him now, and he will do
anything to oblige you; your affair is settled--farewell";
whereupon he departed and I remained with Oliban, who proceeded
forthwith to write something, which having concluded, he took out a
box of cigars, and having lighted one and offered me another, which
I declined as I do not smoke, he placed his feet against the table,
and thus proceeded to address me, speaking in the French language.

"It is with great pleasure that I see you in this capital, and, I
may say, upon this business.  I consider it a disgrace to Spain
that there is no edition of the Gospel in circulation, at least
such a one as would be within the reach of all classes of society,
the highest or poorest; one unencumbered with notes and
commentaries, human devices, swelling it to an unwieldy bulk.  I
have no doubt that such an edition as you propose to print, would
have a most beneficial influence on the minds of the people, who,
between ourselves, know nothing of pure religion; how should they?
seeing that the Gospel has always been sedulously kept from them,
just as if civilization could exist where the light of the Gospel
beameth not.  The moral regeneration of Spain depends upon the free
circulation of the Scriptures; to which alone England, your own
happy country, is indebted for its high state of civilization, and
the unmatched prosperity which it at present enjoys; all this I
admit, in fact, reason compels me to do so, but--"

"Now for it," thought I.

"But"--and then he began to talk once more of the wearisome Council
of Trent, and I found that his writing in the paper, the offer of
the cigar, and the long and prosy harangue were--what shall I call
it?--mere [Greek text].

By this time the spring was far advanced, the sides though not the
tops of the Guadarama hills had long since lost their snows; the
trees of the Prado had donned their full foliage, and all the
Campina in the neighbourhood of Madrid smiled and was happy:  the
summer heats had not commenced, and the weather was truly
delicious.

Towards the west, at the foot of the hill on which stands Madrid,
is a canal running parallel with the Manzanares for some leagues,
from which it is separated by pleasant and fertile meadows.  The
banks of this canal, which was begun by Carlos Tercero, and has
never been completed, are planted with beautiful trees, and form
the most delightful walk in the neighbourhood of the capital.  Here
I would loiter for hours looking at the shoals of gold and silver
fish which basked on the surface of the green sunny waters, or
listening, not to the warbling of birds--for Spain is not the land
of feathered choristers--but to the prattle of the narangero or man
who sold oranges and water by a little deserted watch tower just
opposite the wooden bridge that crosses the canal, which situation
he had chosen as favourable for his trade, and there had placed his
stall.  He was an Asturian by birth, about fifty years of age, and
about five feet high.  As I purchased freely of his fruit, he soon
conceived a great friendship for me, and told me his history; it
contained, however, nothing very remarkable, the leading incident
being an adventure which had befallen him amidst the mountains of
Granada, where, falling into the hands of certain Gypsies, they
stripped him naked, and then dismissed him with a sound cudgelling.
"I have wandered throughout Spain," said he, "and I have come to
the conclusion that there are but two places worth living in,
Malaga and Madrid.  At Malaga everything is very cheap, and there
is such an abundance of fish, that I have frequently seen them
piled in heaps on the sea-shore:  and as for Madrid, money is
always stirring at the Corte, and I never go supperless to bed; my
only care is to sell my oranges, and my only hope that when I die I
shall be buried yonder."

And he pointed across the Manzanares, where, on the declivity of a
gentle hill, at about a league's distance, shone brightly in the
sunshine the white walls of the Campo Santo, or common burying
ground of Madrid.

He was a fellow of infinite drollery, and, though he could scarcely
read or write, by no means ignorant of the ways of the world; his
knowledge of individuals was curious and extensive, few people
passing his stall with whose names, character, and history he was
not acquainted.  "Those two gentry," said he, pointing to a
magnificently dressed cavalier and lady, who had dismounted from a
carriage, and arm in arm were coming across the wooden bridge,
followed by two attendants; "those gentry are the Infante Francisco
Paulo, and his wife the Neapolitana, sister of our Christina; he is
a very good subject, but as for his wife--vaya--the veriest scold
in Madrid; she can say carrajo with the most ill-conditioned
carrier of La Mancha, giving the true emphasis and genuine
pronunciation.  Don't take off your hat to her, amigo--she has
neither formality nor politeness--I once saluted her, and she took
no more notice of me than if I had not been what I am, an Asturian
and a gentleman, of better blood than herself.  Good day, Senor Don
Francisco.  Que tal (how goes it)? very fine weather this--vaya su
merced con Dios.  Those three fellows who just stopped to drink
water are great thieves, true sons of the prison; I am always civil
to them, for it would not do to be on ill terms; they pay me or
not, just as they think proper.  I have been in some trouble on
their account:  about a year ago they robbed a man a little farther
on beyond the second bridge.  By the way, I counsel you, brother,
not to go there, as I believe you often do--it is a dangerous
place.  They robbed a gentleman and ill-treated him, but his
brother, who was an escribano, was soon upon their trail, and had
them arrested; but he wanted someone to identify them, and it
chanced that they had stopped to drink water at my stall, just as
they did now.  This the escribano heard of, and forthwith had me
away to the prison to confront me with them.  I knew them well
enough, but I had learnt in my travels when to close my eyes and
when to open them; so I told the escribano that I could not say
that I had ever seen them before.  He was in a great rage and
threatened to imprison me; I told him he might and that I cared
not.  Vaya, I was not going to expose myself to the resentment of
those three and to that of their friends; I live too near the Hay
Market for that.  Good day, my young masters.--Murcian oranges, as
you see; the genuine dragon's blood.  Water sweet and cold.  Those
two boys are the children of Gabiria, comptroller of the queen's
household, and the richest man in Madrid; they are nice boys, and
buy much fruit.  It is said their father loves them more than all
his possessions.  The old woman who is lying beneath yon tree is
the Tia Lucilla; she has committed murders, and as she owes me
money, I hope one day to see her executed.  This man was of the
Walloon guard;--Senor Don Benito Mol, how do you do?"

This last named personage instantly engrossed my attention; he was
a bulky old man, somewhat above the middle height, with white hair
and ruddy features; his eyes were large and blue, and whenever he
fixed them on any one's countenance, were full of an expression of
great eagerness, as if he were expecting the communication of some
important tidings.  He was dressed commonly enough, in a jacket and
trousers of coarse cloth of a russet colour, on his head was an
immense sombrero, the brim of which had been much cut and
mutilated, so as in some places to resemble the jags or denticles
of a saw.  He returned the salutation of the orange-man, and bowing
to me, forthwith produced two scented wash-balls which he offered
for sale in a rough dissonant jargon, intended for Spanish, but
which seemed more like the Valencian or Catalan.

Upon my asking him who he was, the following conversation ensued
between us:

"I am a Swiss of Lucerne, Benedict Mol by name, once a soldier in
the Walloon guard, and now a soap-boiler, at your service."

"You speak the language of Spain very imperfectly," said I; "how
long have you been in the country?"

"Forty-five years," replied Benedict; "but when the guard was
broken up, I went to Minorca, where I lost the Spanish language
without acquiring the Catalan."

"You have been a soldier of the king of Spain," said I; "how did
you like the service?"

"Not so well, but that I should have been glad to leave it forty
years ago; the pay was bad, and the treatment worse.  I will now
speak Swiss to you, for, if I am not much mistaken, you are a
German man, and understand the speech of Lucerne; I should soon
have deserted from the service of Spain, as I did from that of the
Pope, whose soldier I was in my early youth before I came here; but
I had married a woman of Minorca, by whom I had two children; it
was this that detained me in those parts so long; before, however,
I left Minorca, my wife died, and as for my children, one went
east, the other west, and I know not what became of them; I intend
shortly to return to Lucerne, and live there like a duke."

"Have you, then, realized a large capital in Spain?" said I,
glancing at his hat and the rest of his apparel.

"Not a cuart, not a cuart; these two wash-balls are all that I
possess."

"Perhaps you are the son of good parents, and have lands and money
in your own country wherewith to support yourself."

"Not a heller, not a heller; my father was hangman of Lucerne, and
when he died, his body was seized to pay his debts."

"Then doubtless," said I, "you intend to ply your trade of soap-
boiling at Lucerne; you are quite right, my friend, I know of no
occupation more honourable or useful."

"I have no thoughts of plying my trade at Lucerne," replied Bennet;
"and now, as I see you are a German man, Lieber Herr, and as I like
your countenance and your manner of speaking, I will tell you in
confidence that I know very little of my trade, and have already
been turned out of several fabriques as an evil workman; the two
wash-balls that I carry in my pocket are not of my own making.  In
kurtzen, I know little more of soap-boiling than I do of tailoring,
horse-farriery, or shoe-making, all of which I have practised."

"Then I know not how you can hope to live like a hertzog in your
native canton, unless you expect that the men of Lucerne, in
consideration of your services to the Pope and to the king of
Spain, will maintain you in splendour at the public expense."

"Lieber Herr," said Benedict, "the men of Lucerne are by no means
fond of maintaining the soldiers of the Pope and the king of Spain
at their own expense; many of the guard who have returned thither
beg their bread in the streets, but when I go, it shall be in a
coach drawn by six mules, with a treasure, a mighty schatz which
lies in the church of Saint James of Compostella, in Galicia."

"I hope you do not intend to rob the church," said I; "if you do,
however, I believe you will be disappointed.  Mendizabal and the
liberals have been beforehand with you.  I am informed that at
present no other treasure is to be found in the cathedrals of Spain
than a few paltry ornaments and plated utensils."

"My good German Herr," said Benedict, "it is no church schatz, and
no person living, save myself, knows of its existence:  nearly
thirty years ago, amongst the sick soldiers who were brought to
Madrid, was one of my comrades of the Walloon Guard, who had
accompanied the French to Portugal; he was very sick and shortly
died.  Before, however, he breathed his last, he sent for me, and
upon his deathbed told me that himself and two other soldiers, both
of whom had since been killed, had buried in a certain church at
Compostella a great booty which they had made in Portugal:  it
consisted of gold moidores and of a packet of huge diamonds from
the Brazils; the whole was contained in a large copper kettle.  I
listened with greedy ears, and from that moment, I may say, I have
known no rest, neither by day nor night, thinking of the schatz.
It is very easy to find, for the dying man was so exact in his
description of the place where it lies, that were I once at
Compostella, I should have no difficulty in putting my hand upon
it; several times I have been on the point of setting out on the
journey, but something has always happened to stop me.  When my
wife died, I left Minorca with a determination to go to Saint
James, but on reaching Madrid, I fell into the hands of a Basque
woman, who persuaded me to live with her, which I have done for
several years; she is a great hax, {8} and says that if I desert
her she will breathe a spell which shall cling to me for ever.  Dem
Got sey dank,--she is now in the hospital, and daily expected to
die.  This is my history, Lieber Herr."

I have been the more careful in relating the above conversation, as
I shall have frequent occasion to mention the Swiss in the course
of these journals; his subsequent adventures were highly
extraordinary, and the closing one caused a great sensation in
Spain.



CHAPTER XIV



State of Spain--Isturitz--Revolution of the Granja--The
Disturbance--Signs of Mischief--Newspaper Reporters--Quesada's
Onslaught--The Closing Scene--Flight of the Moderados--The Coffee
Bowl.

In the meantime the affairs of the moderados did not proceed in a
very satisfactory manner; they were unpopular at Madrid, and still
more so in the other large towns of Spain, in most of which juntas
had been formed, which, taking the local administration into their
own hands, declared themselves independent of the queen and her
ministers, and refused to pay taxes; so that the government was
within a short time reduced to great straits for money; the army
was unpaid, and the war languished; I mean on the part of the
Christinos, for the Carlists were pushing it on with considerable
vigour; parties of their guerillas scouring the country in all
directions, whilst a large division, under the celebrated Gomez,
was making the entire circuit of Spain.  To crown the whole, an
insurrection was daily expected at Madrid, to prevent which the
nationals were disarmed, which measure tended greatly to increase
their hatred against the moderado government, and especially
against Quesada, with whom it was supposed to have originated.

With respect to my own matters, I lost no opportunity of pushing
forward my application; the Aragonese secretary, however, still
harped upon the Council of Trent, and succeeded in baffling all my
efforts.  He appeared to have inoculated his principal with his own
ideas upon the subject, for the duke, when he beheld me at his
levees, took no farther notice of me than by a contemptuous glance;
and once, when I stepped up for the purpose of addressing him,
disappeared through a side door, and I never saw him again, for I
was disgusted with the treatment which I had received, and forebore
paying any more visits at the Casa de la Inquisicion.  Poor Galiano
still proved himself my unshaken friend, but candidly informed me
that there was no hope of my succeeding in the above quarter.  "The
duke," said he, "says that your request cannot be granted; and the
other day, when I myself mentioned it in the council, began to talk
of the decision of Trent, and spoke of yourself as a plaguy
pestilent fellow; whereupon I answered him with some acrimony, and
there ensued a bit of a function between us, at which Isturitz
laughed heartily.  By the by," continued he, "what need have you of
a regular permission, which it does not appear that any one has
authority to grant.  The best thing that you can do under all
circumstances is to commit the work to the press, with an
understanding that you shall not be interfered with when you
attempt to distribute it. I strongly advise you to see Isturitz
himself upon the matter.  I will prepare him for the interview, and
will answer that he receives you civilly."

In fact, a few days afterwards, I had an interview with Isturitz at
the palace, and for the sake of brevity I shall content myself with
saying that I found him perfectly well disposed to favour my views.
"I have lived long in England," said he; "the Bible is free there,
and I see no reason why it should not be free in Spain also.  I am
not prepared to say that England is indebted for her prosperity to
the knowledge which all her children, more or less, possess of the
sacred writings; but of one thing I am sure, namely, that the Bible
has done no harm in that country, nor do I believe that it will
effect any in Spain; print it, therefore, by all means, and
circulate it as extensively as possible."  I retired, highly
satisfied with my interview, having obtained, if not a written
permission to print the sacred volume, what, under all
circumstances, I considered as almost equivalent, an understanding
that my biblical pursuits would be tolerated in Spain; and I had
fervent hope that whatever was the fate of the present ministry, no
future one, particularly a liberal one, would venture to interfere
with me, more especially as the English ambassador was my friend,
and was privy to all the steps I had taken throughout the whole
affair.

Two or three things connected with the above interview with
Isturitz struck me as being highly remarkable.  First of all, the
extreme facility with which I obtained admission to the presence of
the prime minister of Spain.  I had not to wait, or indeed to send
in my name, but was introduced at once by the door-keeper.
Secondly, the air of loneliness which pervaded the place, so unlike
the bustle, noise, and activity which I observed when I waited on
Mendizabal.  In this instance, there were no eager candidates for
an interview with the great man; indeed, I did not behold a single
individual, with the exception of Isturitz and the official.  But
that which made the most profound impression upon me, was the
manner of the minister himself, who, when I entered, sat upon a
sofa, with his arms folded, and his eyes directed to the ground.
When he spoke there was extreme depression in the tones of his
voice, his dark features wore an air of melancholy, and he
exhibited all the appearance of a person meditating to escape from
the miseries of this life by the most desperate of all acts--
suicide.

And a few days showed that he had, indeed, cause for much
melancholy meditation:  in less than a week occurred the revolution
of the Granja, as it is called.  The Granja, or Grange, is a royal
country seat, situated amongst pine forests, on the other side of
the Guadarama hills, about twelve leagues distant from Madrid.  To
this place the queen regent Christina had retired, in order to be
aloof from the discontent of the capital, and to enjoy rural air
and amusements in this celebrated retreat, a monument of the taste
and magnificence of the first Bourbon who ascended the throne of
Spain.  She was not, however, permitted to remain long in
tranquillity; her own guards were disaffected, and more inclined to
the principles of the constitution of 1823 than to those of
absolute monarchy, which the moderados were attempting to revive
again in the government of Spain.  Early one morning, a party of
these soldiers, headed by a certain Sergeant Garcia, entered her
apartment, and proposed that she should subscribe her hand to this
constitution, and swear solemnly to abide by it.  Christina,
however, who was a woman of considerable spirit, refused to comply
with this proposal, and ordered them to withdraw.  A scene of
violence and tumult ensued, but the regent still continuing firm,
the soldiers at length led her down to one of the courts of the
palace, where stood her well-known paramour, Munos, bound and
blindfolded.  "Swear to the constitution, you she-rogue,"
vociferated the swarthy sergeant.  "Never!" said the spirited
daughter of the Neapolitan Bourbons.  "Then your cortejo shall
die!" replied the sergeant.  "Ho! ho! my lads; get ready your arms,
and send four bullets through the fellow's brain."  Munos was
forthwith led to the wall, and compelled to kneel down, the
soldiers levelled their muskets and another moment would have
consigned the unfortunate wight to eternity, when Christina,
forgetting everything but the feelings of her woman's heart,
suddenly started forward with a shriek, exclaiming:  "Hold, hold!
I sign, I sign!"

The day after this event I entered the Puerta del Sol at about
noon.  There is always a crowd there about this hour, but it is
generally a very quiet motionless crowd, consisting of listless
idlers calmly smoking their cigars, or listening to or retailing
the--in general--very dull news of the capital; but on the day of
which I am speaking the mass was no longer inert.  There was much
gesticulation and vociferation, and several people were running
about shouting, "Viva la constitucion!"--a cry which, a few days
previously, would have been visited on the utterer with death, the
city having for some weeks past been subjected to the rigour of
martial law.  I occasionally heard the words, "La Granja!  La
Granja!"  Which words were sure to be succeeded by the shout of
"Viva la constitucion!"  Opposite the Casa de Postas were drawn up
in a line about a dozen mounted dragoons, some of whom were
continually waving their caps in the air and joining the common
cry, in which they were encouraged by their commander, a handsome
young officer, who flourished his sword, and more than once cried
out with great glee, "Long live the constitutional queen!  Long
live the constitution!"

The crowd was rapidly increasing, and several nationals made their
appearance in their uniforms, but without their arms, of which they
had been deprived, as I have already stated.  "What has become of
the moderado government?" said I to Baltasar, whom I suddenly
observed amongst the crowd, dressed as when I had first seen him,
in his old regimental great coat and foraging cap; "have the
ministers been deposed and others put in their place?"

"Not yet, Don Jorge," said the little soldier-tailor; "not yet; the
scoundrels still hold out, relying on the brute bull Quesada and a
few infantry, who still continue true to them; but there is no
fear, Don Jorge; the queen is ours, thanks to the courage of my
friend Garcia, and if the brute bull should make his appearance--
ho! ho! Don Jorge, you shall see something--I am prepared for him,
ho! ho!" and thereupon he half opened his great coat, and showed me
a small gun, which he bore beneath it in a sling, and then moving
away with a wink and a nod, disappeared amongst the crowd.

Presently I perceived a small body of soldiers advancing up the
Calle Mayor, or principal street which runs from the Puerta del Sol
in the direction of the palace; they might be about twenty in
number, and an officer marched at their head with a drawn sword;
the men appeared to have been collected in a hurry, many of them
being in fatigue dress, with foraging caps on their heads.  On they
came, slowly marching; neither their officer nor themselves paying
the slightest attention to the cries of the crowd which thronged
about them, shouting "Long live the constitution!" save and except
by an occasional surly side glance:  on they marched with
contracted brows and set teeth, till they came in front of the
cavalry, where they halted and drew up in a rank.

"Those men mean mischief," said I to my friend D-, of the Morning
Chronicle, who at this moment joined me; "and depend upon it, that
if they are ordered they will commence firing, caring nothing whom
they hit,--but what can those cavalry fellows behind them mean, who
are evidently of the other opinion by their shouting, why don't
they charge at once this handful of foot people and overturn them?
Once down, the crowd would wrest from them their muskets in a
moment.  You are a liberal, which I am not; why do you not go to
that silly young man who commands the horse and give him a word of
counsel in time?"

D--turned upon me his broad red good-humoured English countenance,
with a peculiarly arch look, as much as to say--(whatever you think
most applicable, gentle reader), then taking me by the arm, "Let us
get," said he, "out of this crowd and mount to some window, where I
can write down what is about to take place, for I agree with you
that mischief is meant."  Just opposite the post office was a large
house, in the topmost story of which we beheld a paper displayed,
importing that apartments were to let; whereupon we instantly
ascended the common stair, and having agreed with the mistress of
the etage for the use of the front room for the day, we bolted the
door, and the reporter, producing his pocket-book and pencil,
prepared to take notes of the coming events, which were already
casting their shadow before.

What most extraordinary men are these reporters of newspapers in
general, I mean English newspapers; surely if there be any class of
individuals who are entitled to the appellation of cosmopolites, it
is these; who pursue their avocation in all countries
indifferently, and accommodate themselves at will to the manners of
all classes of society:  their fluency of style as writers is only
surpassed by their facility of language in conversation, and their
attainments in classical and polite literature only by their
profound knowledge of the world, acquired by an early introduction
into its bustling scenes.  The activity, energy, and courage which
they occasionally display in the pursuit of information are truly
remarkable.  I saw them during the three days at Paris, mingled
with canaille and gamins behind the barriers, whilst the mitraille
was flying in all directions, and the desperate cuirassiers were
dashing their fierce horses against these seemingly feeble
bulwarks.  There stood they, dotting down their observations in
their pocket-books as unconcernedly as if reporting the proceedings
of a reform meeting in Covent Garden or Finsbury Square; whilst in
Spain, several of them accompanied the Carlist and Christino
guerillas in some of their most desperate raids and expeditions,
exposing themselves to the danger of hostile bullets, the
inclemency of winter, and the fierce heat of the summer sun.

We had scarcely been five minutes at the window, when we suddenly
heard the clattering of horses' feet hastening down the street
called the Calle de Carretas.  The house in which we had stationed
ourselves was, as I have already observed, just opposite to the
post office, at the left of which this street debouches from the
north into the Puerta del Sol:  as the sounds became louder and
louder, the cries of the crowd below diminished, and a species of
panic seemed to have fallen upon all:  once or twice, however, I
could distinguish the words Quesada! Quesada!  The foot soldiers
stood calm and motionless, but I observed that the cavalry, with
the young officer who commanded them, displayed both confusion and
fear, exchanging with each other some hurried words; all of a
sudden that part of the crowd which stood near the mouth of the
Calle de Carretas fell back in great disorder, leaving a
considerable space unoccupied, and the next moment Quesada, in
complete general's uniform, and mounted on a bright bay thorough
bred English horse, with a drawn sword in his hand, dashed at full
gallop into the area, in much the same manner as I have seen a
Manchegan bull rush into the amphitheatre when the gates of his pen
are suddenly flung open.

He was closely followed by two mounted officers, and at a short
distance by as many dragoons.  In almost less time than is
sufficient to relate it, several individuals in the crowd were
knocked down and lay sprawling upon the ground, beneath the horses
of Quesada and his two friends, for as to the dragoons, they halted
as soon as they had entered the Puerta del Sol.  It was a fine
sight to see three men, by dint of valour and good horsemanship,
strike terror into at least as many thousands:  I saw Quesada spur
his horse repeatedly into the dense masses of the crowd, and then
extricate himself in the most masterly manner.  The rabble were
completely awed and gave way, retiring by the Calle del Comercio
and the street of Alcala.  All at once, Quesada singled out two
nationals, who were attempting to escape, and setting spurs to his
horse, turned them in a moment, and drove them in another
direction, striking them in a contemptuous manner with the flat of
his sabre.  He was crying out, "Long live the absolute queen!"
when, just beneath me, amidst a portion of the crowd which had
still maintained its ground, perhaps from not having the means of
escaping, I saw a small gun glitter for a moment, then there was a
sharp report, and a bullet had nearly sent Quesada to his long
account, passing so near to the countenance of the general as to
graze his hat.  I had an indistinct view for a moment of a well-
known foraging cap just about the spot from whence the gun had been
discharged, then there was a rush of the crowd, and the shooter,
whoever he was, escaped discovery amidst the confusion which arose.

As for Quesada, he seemed to treat the danger from which he had
escaped with the utmost contempt.  He glared about him fiercely for
a moment, then leaving the two nationals, who sneaked away like
whipped hounds, he went up to the young officer who commanded the
cavalry, and who had been active in raising the cry of the
constitution, and to him he addressed a few words with an air of
stern menace; the youth evidently quailed before him, and probably
in obedience to his orders, resigned the command of the party, and
rode slowly away with a discomfited air; whereupon Quesada
dismounted and walked slowly backwards and forwards before the Casa
de Postas with a mien which seemed to bid defiance to mankind.

This was the glorious day of Quesada's existence, his glorious and
last day.  I call it the day of his glory, for he certainly never
before appeared under such brilliant circumstances, and he never
lived to see another sun set.  No action of any conqueror or hero
on record is to be compared with this closing scene of the life of
Quesada, for who, by his single desperate courage and impetuosity,
ever before stopped a revolution in full course?  Quesada did:  he
stopped the revolution at Madrid for one entire day, and brought
back the uproarious and hostile mob of a huge city to perfect order
and quiet.  His burst into the Puerta del Sol was the most
tremendous and successful piece of daring ever witnessed.  I
admired so much the spirit of the "brute bull" that I frequently,
during his wild onset, shouted "Viva Quesada!" for I wished him
well.  Not that I am of any political party or system.  No, no!  I
have lived too long with Rommany Chals and Petulengres {9} to be of
any politics save Gypsy politics; and it is well known that, during
elections, the children of Roma side with both parties so long as
the event is doubtful, promising success to each; and then when the
fight is done, and the battle won, invariably range themselves in
the ranks of the victorious.  But I repeat that I wished well to
Quesada, witnessing, as I did, his stout heart and good
horsemanship.  Tranquillity was restored to Madrid throughout the
remainder of the day; the handful of infantry bivouacked in the
Puerta del Sol.  No more cries of long live the constitution were
heard; and the revolution in the capital seemed to have been
effectually put down.  It is probable, indeed, that had the chiefs
of the moderado party but continued true to themselves for forty-
eight hours longer, their cause would have triumphed, and the
revolutionary soldiers at the Granja would have been glad to
restore the Queen Regent to liberty, and to have come to terms, as
it was well known that several regiments, who still continued
loyal, were marching upon Madrid.  The moderados, however, were not
true to themselves; that very night their hearts failed them, and
they fled in various directions.  Isturitz and Galiano to France;
and the Duke of Rivas to Gibraltar:  the panic of his colleagues
even infected Quesada, who, disguised as a civilian, took to
flight.  He was not, however, so successful as the rest, but was
recognised at a village about three leagues from Madrid, and cast
into prison by some friends of the constitution.  Intelligence of
his capture was instantly transmitted to the capital, and a vast
mob of the nationals, some on foot, some on horseback, and others
in cabriolets, instantly set out.  "The nationals are coming," said
a paisano to Quesada.  "Then," said he, "I am lost," and forthwith
prepared himself for death.

There is a celebrated coffee-house in the Calle d'Alcala at Madrid,
capable of holding several hundred individuals.  On the evening of
the day in question, I was seated there, sipping a cup of the brown
beverage, when I heard a prodigious noise and clamour in the
street; it proceeded from the nationals, who were returning from
their expedition.  In a few minutes I saw a body of them enter the
coffee-house marching arm in arm, two by two, stamping on the
ground with their feet in a kind of measure, and repeating in loud
chorus as they walked round the spacious apartment, the following
grisly stanza:-


"Que es lo que abaja
Por aquel cerro?
Ta ra ra ra ra.
Son los huesos de Quesada,
Que los trae un perro -
Ta ra ra ra ra." {10}


"What down the hill comes hurrying there? -
With a hey, with a ho, a sword, and a gun!
Quesada's bones, which a hound doth bear. -
Hurrah, brave brothers!--the work is done."

A huge bowl of coffee was then called for, which was placed upon a
table, around which gathered the national soldiers:  there was
silence for a moment, which was interrupted by a voice roaring out,
"el panuelo!"  A blue kerchief was forthwith produced, which
appeared to contain a substance of some kind; it was untied, and a
gory hand and three or four dissevered fingers made their
appearance, and with these the contents of the bowl were stirred
up.  "Cups! cups!" cried the nationals.

"Ho, ho, Don Jorge," cried Baltasarito, coming up to me with a cup
of coffee, "pray do me the favour to drink upon this glorious
occasion.  This is a pleasant day for Spain, and for the gallant
nationals of Madrid.  I have seen many a bull funcion, but none
which has given me so much pleasure as this.  Yesterday the brute
had it all his own way, but to-day the toreros have prevailed, as
you see, Don Jorge.  Pray drink; for I must now run home to fetch
my pajandi to play my brethren a tune, and sing a copla.  What
shall it be?  Something in Gitano?


"Una noche sinava en tucue."


You shake your head, Don Jorge.  Ha, ha; I am young, and youth is
the time for pleasure; well, well, out of compliment to you, who
are an Englishman and a monro, it shall not be that, but something
liberal, something patriotic, the Hymn of Riego--Hasta despues, Don
Jorge!"



CHAPTER XV



The Steamer--Cape Finisterre--The Storm--Arrival at Cadiz--The New
Testament--Seville--Italica--The Amphitheatre--The Prisoners--The
Encounter--Baron Taylor--The Street and Desert.

At the commencement of November, I again found myself on the salt
water, on my way to Spain.  I had returned to England shortly after
the events which have been narrated in the last chapter, for the
purpose of consulting with my friends, and for planning the opening
of a biblical campaign in Spain.  It was now determined by us to
print the New Testament, with as little delay as possible, at
Madrid; and I was to be entrusted with the somewhat arduous task of
its distribution.  My stay in England was very short, for time was
precious, and I was eager to return to the field of action.

I embarked in the Thames, on board the M- steamer.  We had a most
unpleasant passage to Falmouth; the ship was crowded with
passengers, most of them poor consumptive individuals, and other
invalids fleeing from the cold blasts of England's winter to the
sunny shores of Portugal and Madeira.  In a more uncomfortable
vessel, especially steam ship, it has never been my fate to make a
voyage.  The berths were small and insupportably close, and of
these wretched holes mine was amongst the worst, the rest having
been bespoken before I arrived on board; so that to avoid the
suffocation which seemed to threaten me should I enter it, I lay
upon the floor of one of the cabins throughout the voyage.  We
remained at Falmouth twenty-four hours, taking in coal, and
repairing the engine, which had sustained considerable damage.

On Monday, the seventh, we again started, and made for the Bay of
Biscay.  The sea was high and the wind strong and contrary;
nevertheless, on the morning of the fourth day, we were in sight of
the rocky coast to the north of Cape Finisterre.  I must here
observe, that this was the first voyage that the captain who
commanded the vessel had ever made on board of her, and that he
knew little or nothing of the coast towards which we were bearing.
He was a person picked up in a hurry, the former captain having
resigned his command on the ground that the ship was not seaworthy,
and that the engines were frequently unserviceable.  I was not
acquainted with these circumstances at the time, or perhaps I
should have felt more alarmed than I did, when I saw the vessel
approaching nearer and nearer the shore, till at last we were only
a few hundred yards distant.  As it was, however, I felt very much
surprised; for having passed it twice before, both times in steam
vessels, and having seen with what care the captains endeavoured to
maintain a wide offing, I could not conceive the reason of our
being now so near this dangerous region.  The wind was blowing hard
towards the shore, if that can be called a shore which consists of
steep abrupt precipices, on which the surf was breaking with the
noise of thunder, tossing up clouds of spray and foam to the height
of a cathedral.  We coasted slowly along, rounding several tall
forelands, some of them piled up by the hand of nature in the most
fantastic shapes.  About nightfall Cape Finisterre was not far
ahead,--a bluff, brown, granite mountain, whose frowning head may
be seen far away by those who traverse the ocean.  The stream which
poured round its breast was terrific, and though our engines plied
with all their force, we made little or no way.

By about eight o'clock at night the wind had increased to a
hurricane, the thunder rolled frightfully, and the only light which
we had to guide us on our way was the red forked lightning, which
burst at times from the bosom of the big black clouds which lowered
over our heads.  We were exerting ourselves to the utmost to
weather the cape, which we could descry by the lightning on our
lee, its brow being frequently brilliantly lighted up by the
flashes which quivered around it, when suddenly, with a great
crash, the engine broke, and the paddles, on which depended our
lives, ceased to play.

I will not attempt to depict the scene of horror and confusion
which ensued; it may be imagined, but never described.  The
captain, to give him his due, displayed the utmost coolness and
intrepidity; he and the whole crew made the greatest exertions to
repair the engine, and when they found their labour in vain,
endeavoured, by hoisting the sails, and by practising all possible
manoeuvres, to preserve the ship from impending destruction; but
all was of no avail, we were hard on a lee shore, to which the
howling tempest was impelling us.  About this time I was standing
near the helm, and I asked the steersman if there was any hope of
saving the vessel, or our lives.  He replied, "Sir, it is a bad
affair, no boat could live for a minute in this sea, and in less
than an hour the ship will have her broadside on Finisterre, where
the strongest man-of-war ever built must go to shivers instantly--
none of us will see the morning."  The captain, likewise, informed
the other passengers in the cabin to the same effect, telling them
to prepare themselves; and having done so, he ordered the door to
be fastened, and none to be permitted to come on deck.  I, however,
kept my station, though almost drowned with water, immense waves
continually breaking over our windward side and flooding the ship.
The water casks broke from their lashings, and one of them struck
me down, and crushed the foot of the unfortunate man at the helm,
whose place was instantly taken by the captain.  We were now close
to the rocks, when a horrid convulsion of the elements took place.
The lightning enveloped us as with a mantle, the thunders were
louder than the roar of a million cannon, the dregs of the ocean
seemed to be cast up, and in the midst of all this turmoil, the
wind, without the slightest intimation, VEERED RIGHT ABOUT, and
pushed us from the horrible coast faster than it had previously
driven us towards it.

The oldest sailors on board acknowledged that they had never
witnessed so providential an escape.  I said, from the bottom of my
heart, "Our Father--hallowed be thy name."

The next day we were near foundering, for the sea was exceedingly
high, and our vessel, which was not intended for sailing, laboured
terribly, and leaked much.  The pumps were continually working.
She likewise took fire, but the flames were extinguished.  In the
evening the steam-engine was partially repaired, and we reached
Lisbon on the thirteenth, where in a few days we completed our
repairs.

I found my excellent friend W- in good health.  During my absence
he had been doing everything in his power to further the sale of
the sacred volume in Portuguese:  his zeal and devotedness were
quite admirable.  The distracted state of the country, however,
during the last six months, had sadly impeded his efforts.  The
minds of the people had been so engrossed with politics, that they
found scarcely any time to think of the welfare of their souls.
The political history of Portugal had of late afforded a striking
parallel to that of the neighbouring country.  In both a struggle
for supremacy had arisen between the court and the democratic
party; in both the latter had triumphed, whilst two distinguished
individuals had fallen a sacrifice to the popular fury--Freire in
Portugal, and Quesada in Spain.  The news which reached me at
Lisbon from the latter country was rather startling.  The hordes of
Gomez were ravaging Andalusia, which I was about to visit on my way
to Madrid; Cordova had been sacked and abandoned after a three
days' occupation by the Carlists.  I was told that if I persisted
in my attempt to enter Spain in the direction which I proposed, I
should probably fall into their hands at Seville.  I had, however,
no fears, and had full confidence that the Lord would open the path
before me to Madrid.

The vessel being repaired, we again embarked, and in two days
arrived in safety at Cadiz.  I found great confusion reigning
there; numerous bands of the factious were reported to be hovering
in the neighbourhood.  An attack was not deemed improbable, and the
place had just been declared in a state of siege.  I took up my
abode at the French hotel in the Calle de la Niveria, and was
allotted a species of cockloft, or garret, to sleep in, for the
house was filled with guests, being a place of much resort, on
account of the excellent table d'hote which is kept there.  I
dressed myself and walked about the town.  I entered several
coffee-houses:  the din of tongues in all was deafening.  In one no
less than six orators were haranguing at the same time on the state
of the country, and the probability of an intervention on the part
of England and France.  As I was listening to one of them, he
suddenly called upon me for my opinion, as I was a foreigner, and
seemingly just arrived.  I replied that I could not venture to
guess what steps the two governments would pursue under the present
circumstances, but thought that it would be as well if the
Spaniards would exert themselves more and call less on Jupiter.  As
I did not wish to engage in any political conversation, I instantly
quitted the house, and sought those parts of the town where the
lower classes principally reside.

I entered into discourse with several individuals, but found them
very ignorant; none could read or write, and their ideas respecting
religion were anything but satisfactory,--most professing a perfect
indifference.  I afterwards went into a bookseller's shop and made
inquiries respecting the demand for literature, which, he informed
me, was small.  I produced a London edition of the New Testament in
Spanish, and asked the bookseller whether he thought a book of that
description would sell in Cadiz.  He said that both the type and
paper were exceedingly beautiful, but that it was a work not sought
after, and very little known.  I did not pursue my inquiries in
other shops, for I reflected that I was not likely to receive a
very favourable opinion from booksellers respecting a publication
in which they had no interest.  I had, moreover, but two or three
copies of the New Testament with me, and could not have supplied
them had they even given me an order.

Early on the twenty-fourth, I embarked for Seville in the small
Spanish steamer the Betis:  the morning was wet, and the aspect of
nature was enveloped in a dense mist, which prevented my observing
surrounding objects.  After proceeding about six leagues, we
reached the north-eastern extremity of the Bay of Cadiz, and passed
by Saint Lucar, an ancient town near to the spot where the
Guadalquivir disembogues itself.  The mist suddenly disappeared,
and the sun of Spain burst forth in full brilliancy, enlivening all
around, and particularly myself, who had till then been lying on
the deck in a dull melancholy stupor.  We entered the mouth of "The
Great River," for that is the English translation of Oued al Kiber,
as the Moors designated the ancient Betis.  We came to anchor for a
few minutes at a little village called Bonanca, at the extremity of
the first reach of the river, where we received several passengers,
and again proceeded.  There is not much in the appearance of the
Guadalquivir to interest the traveller:  the banks are low and
destitute of trees, the adjacent country is flat, and only in the
distance is seen a range of tall blue sierras.  The water is turbid
and muddy, and in colour closely resembling the contents of a duck-
pool; the average width of the stream is from a hundred and fifty
to two hundred yards, but it is impossible to move along this river
without remembering that it has borne the Roman, the Vandal, and
the Arab, and has been the witness of deeds which have resounded
through the world and been the themes of immortal songs.  I
repeated Latin verses and fragments of old Spanish ballads till we
reached Seville, at about nine o'clock of a lovely moonlight night.

Seville contains ninety thousand inhabitants, and is situated on
the eastern bank of the Guadalquivir, about eighteen leagues from
its mouth; it is surrounded with high Moorish walls, in a good
state of preservation, and built of such durable materials that it
is probable they will for many centuries still bid defiance to the
encroachments of time.  The most remarkable edifices are the
cathedral and Alcazar, or palace of the Moorish kings; the tower of
the former, called La Giralda, belongs to the period of the Moors,
and formed part of the grand mosque of Seville:  it is computed to
be one hundred ells in height, and is ascended not by stairs or
ladders but by a vaulted pathway, in the manner of an inclined
plane:  this path is by no means steep, so that a cavalier might
ride up to the top, a feat which Ferdinand the Seventh is said to
have accomplished.  The view from the summit is very extensive, and
on a fine clear day the mountain ridge, called the Sierra de Ronda,
may be discovered, though upwards of twenty leagues distant.  The
cathedral itself is a noble Gothic structure, reputed the finest of
the kind in Spain.  In the chapels allotted to the various saints
are some of the most magnificent paintings which Spanish art has
produced; indeed the Cathedral of Seville is at the present time
far more rich in splendid paintings than at any former period;
possessing many very recently removed from some of the suppressed
convents, particularly from the Capuchin and San Francisco.

No one should visit Seville without paying particular attention to
the Alcazar, that splendid specimen of Moorish architecture.  It
contains many magnificent halls, particularly that of the
ambassadors, so called, which is in every respect more magnificent
than the one of the same name within the Alhambra of Granada.  This
palace was a favourite residence of Peter the Cruel, who carefully
repaired it without altering its Moorish character and appearance.
It probably remains in much the same state as at the time of his
death.

On the right side of the river is a large suburb, called Triana,
communicating with Seville by means of a bridge of boats; for there
is no permanent bridge across the Guadalquivir, owing to the
violent inundations to which it is subject.  This suburb is
inhabited by the dregs of the populace, and abounds with Gitanos or
Gypsies.  About a league and a half to the north-west stands the
village of Santo Ponce:  at the foot and on the side of some
elevated ground higher up are to be seen vestiges of ruined walls
and edifices, which once formed part of Italica, the birth-place of
Silius Italicus and Trajan, from which latter personage Triana
derives its name.

One fine morning I walked thither, and having ascended the hill, I
directed my course northward.  I soon reached what had once been
bagnios, and a little farther on, in a kind of valley between two
gentle declivities, the amphitheatre.  This latter object is by far
the most considerable relic of ancient Italica; it is oval in its
form, with two gateways fronting the east and west.

On all sides are to be seen the time-worn broken granite benches,
from whence myriads of human beings once gazed down on the area
below, where the gladiator shouted, and the lion and the leopard
yelled:  all around, beneath these flights of benches, are vaulted
excavations from whence the combatants, part human part bestial,
darted forth by their several doors. I spent many hours in this
singular place, forcing my way through the wild fennel and
brushwood into the caverns, now the haunts of adders and other
reptiles, whose hissings I heard.  Having sated my curiosity, I
left the ruins, and returning by another way, reached a place where
lay the carcass of a horse half devoured; upon it, with lustrous
eyes, stood an enormous vulture, who, as I approached, slowly
soared aloft till he alighted on the eastern gate of the
amphitheatre, from whence he uttered a hoarse cry, as if in anger
that I had disturbed him from his feast of carrion.

Gomez had not hitherto paid a visit to Seville:  when I arrived he
was said to be in the neighbourhood of Ronda.  The city was under
watch and ward:  several gates had been blocked up with masonry,
trenches dug, and redoubts erected, but I am convinced that the
place would not have held out six hours against a resolute attack.
Gomez had proved himself to be a most extraordinary man, and with
his small army of Aragonese and Basques had, within the last four
months, made the tour of Spain.  He had very frequently been hemmed
in by forces three times the number of his own, in places whence
escape appeared impossible, but he had always battled his enemies,
whom he seemed to laugh at.  The most absurd accounts of victories
gained over him were continually issuing from the press at Seville;
amongst others, it was stated that his army had been utterly
defeated, himself killed, and that twelve hundred prisoners were on
their way to Saville.  I saw these prisoners:  instead of twelve
hundred desperadoes, they consisted of about twenty poor lame
ragged wretches, many of them boys from fourteen to sixteen years
of age.  They were evidently camp followers, who, unable to keep up
with the army, had been picked up straggling in the plains and
amongst the hills.

It subsequently appeared that no battle had occurred, and that the
death of Gomez was a fiction.  The grand defect of Gomez consisted
in not knowing how to take advantage of circumstances:  after
defeating Lopez, he might have marched to Madrid and proclaimed Don
Carlos there, and after sacking Cordova he might have captured
Seville.

There were several booksellers' shops at Seville, in two of which I
found copies of the New Testament in Spanish, which had been
obtained from Gibraltar about two years before, since which time
six copies had been sold in one shop and four in the other.  The
person who generally accompanied me in my walks about the town and
the neighbourhood, was an elderly Genoese, who officiated as a kind
of valet de place in the Posada del Turco, where I had taken up my
residence.  On learning from me that it was my intention to bring
out an edition of the New Testament at Madrid, he observed that
copies of the work might be extensively circulated in Andalusia.
"I have been accustomed to bookselling," he continued, "and at one
time possessed a small shop of my own in this place.  Once having
occasion to go to Gibraltar, I procured several copies of the
Scriptures; some, it is true, were seized by the officers of the
customs, but the rest I sold at a high price, and with considerable
profit to myself."

I had returned from a walk in the country, on a glorious sunshiny
morning of the Andalusian winter, and was directing my steps
towards my lodging:  as I was passing by the portal of a large
gloomy house near the gate of Xeres, two individuals dressed in
zamarras emerged from the archway, and were about to cross my path,
when one, looking in my face, suddenly started back, exclaiming in
the purest and most melodious French:  "What do I see?  If my eyes
do not deceive me--it is himself.  Yes, the very same as I saw him
first at Bayonne; then long subsequently beneath the brick wall at
Novogorod; then beside the Bosphorus; and last at--at--Oh, my
respectable and cherished friend, where was it that I had last the
felicity of seeing your well-remembered and most remarkable
physiognomy?"

Myself.--It was in the south of Ireland, if I mistake not.  Was it
not there that I introduced you to the sorcerer who tamed the
savage horses by a single whisper into their ear?  But tell me what
brings you to Spain and Andalusia, the last place where I should
have expected to find you?

Baron Taylor.--And wherefore, my most respectable B-?  Is not Spain
the land of the arts; and is not Andalusia of all Spain that
portion which has produced the noblest monuments of artistic
excellence and inspiration?  Surely you know enough of me to be
aware that the arts are my passion; that I am incapable of
imagining a more exalted enjoyment than to gaze in adoration on a
noble picture.  O come with me! for you too have a soul capable of
appreciating what is lovely and exalted; a soul delicate and
sensitive.  Come with me, and I will show you a Murillo, such as -.
But first allow me to introduce you to your compatriot.  My dear
Monsieur W., turning to his companion (an English gentleman from
whom and from his family I subsequently experienced unbounded
kindness and hospitality on various occasions, and at different
periods at Seville), allow me to introduce to you my most cherished
and respectable friend, one who is better acquainted with Gypsy
ways than the Chef des Bohemiens a Triana, one who is an expert
whisperer and horse-sorcerer, and who, to his honour I say it, can
wield hammer and tongs, and handle a horse-shoe with the best of
the smiths amongst the Alpujarras of Granada.

In the course of my travels I have formed various friendships and
acquaintances, but no one has more interested me than Baron Taylor,
and there is no one for whom I entertain a greater esteem and
regard.  To personal and mental accomplishments of the highest
order he unites a kindness of heart rarely to be met with, and
which is continually inducing him to seek for opportunities of
doing good to his fellow creatures, and of contributing to their
happiness; perhaps no person in existence has seen more of the
world and life in its various phases than himself.  His manners are
naturally to the highest degree courtly, yet he nevertheless
possesses a disposition so pliable that he finds no difficulty in
accommodating himself to all kinds of company, in consequence of
which he is a universal favourite.  There is a mystery about him,
which, wherever he goes, serves not a little to increase the
sensation naturally created by his appearance and manner.  Who he
is, no one pretends to assert with downright positiveness:  it is
whispered, however, that he is a scion of royalty; and who can gaze
for a moment upon that most graceful figure, that most intelligent
but singularly moulded countenance, and those large and expressive
eyes, without feeling as equally convinced that he is of no common
lineage, as that he is no common man.  Though possessed of talents
and eloquence which would speedily have enabled him to attain to an
illustrious position in the state, he has hitherto, and perhaps
wisely, contented himself with comparative obscurity, chiefly
devoting himself to the study of the arts and of literature, of
both of which he is a most bounteous patron.

He has, notwithstanding, been employed by the illustrious house to
which he is said to be related in more than one delicate and
important mission, both in the East and the West, in which his
efforts have uniformly been crowned with complete success.  He was
now collecting masterpieces of the Spanish school of painting,
which were destined to adorn the saloons of the Tuileries.

He has visited most portions of the earth, and it is remarkable
enough that we are continually encountering each other in strange
places and under singular circumstances.  Whenever he descries me,
whether in the street or the desert, the brilliant hall or amongst
Bedouin haimas, at Novogorod or Stambul, he flings up his arms and
exclaims, "O ciel!  I have again the felicity of seeing my
cherished and most respectable B-."



CHAPTER XVI



Departure for Cordova--Carmona--German Colonies--Language--The
Sluggish Horse--Nocturnal Welcome--Carlist Landlord--Good Advice--
Gomez--The Old Genoese--The Two Opinions.

After a sojourn of about fourteen days at Seville, I departed for
Cordova.  The diligence had for some time past ceased running,
owing to the disturbed state of the province.  I had therefore no
resource but to proceed thither on horseback.  I hired a couple of
horses, and engaged the old Genoese, of whom I have already had
occasion to speak, to attend me as far as Cordova, and to bring
them back.  Notwithstanding we were now in the depths of winter,
the weather was beautiful, the days sunny and brilliant, though the
nights were rather keen.  We passed by the little town of Alcala,
celebrated for the ruins of an immense Moorish castle, which stand
on a rocky hill, overhanging a picturesque river.  The first night
we slept at Carmona, another Moorish town, distant about seven
leagues from Seville.  Early in the morning we again mounted and
departed.  Perhaps in the whole of Spain there is scarcely a finer
Moorish monument of antiquity than the eastern side of this town of
Carmona, which occupies the brow of a lofty hill, and frowns over
an extensive vega or plain, which extends for leagues unplanted and
uncultivated, producing nothing but brushwood and carasco.  Here
rise tall and dusky walls, with square towers at short distances,
of so massive a structure that they would seem to bid defiance
alike to the tooth of time and the hand of man.  This town, in the
time of the Moors, was considered the key to Seville, and did not
submit to the Christian arms till after a long and desperate siege:
the capture of Seville followed speedily after.  The vega upon
which we now entered forms a part of the grand despoblado or desert
of Andalusia, once a smiling garden, but which became what it now
is on the expulsion of the Moors from Spain, when it was drained
almost entirely of its population.  The towns and villages from
hence to the Sierra Morena, which divides Andalusia from La Mancha,
are few and far between, and even of these several date from the
middle of the last century, when an attempt was made by a Spanish
minister to people this wilderness with the children of a foreign
land.

At about midday we arrived at a place called Moncloa, which
consisted of a venta, and a desolate-looking edifice which had
something of the appearance of a chateau:  a solitary palm tree
raised its head over the outer wall.  We entered the venta, tied
our horses to the manger, and having ordered barley for them, we
sat down before a large fire, which burned in the middle of the
venta.  The host and hostess also came and sat down beside us.
"They are evil people," said the old Genoese to me in Italian, "and
this is an evil house; it is a harbouring place for thieves, and
murders have been committed here, if all tales be true."  I looked
at these two people attentively; they were both young, the man
apparently about twenty-five years of age.  He was a short thick-
made churl, evidently of prodigious strength; his features were
rather handsome, but with a gloomy expression, and his eyes were
full of sullen fire.  His wife somewhat resembled him, but had a
countenance more open and better tempered; but what struck me as
most singular in connexion with these people, was the colour of
their hair and complexion; the latter was fair and ruddy, and the
former of a bright auburn, both in striking contrast to the black
hair and swarthy visages which in general distinguish the natives
of this province.  "Are you an Andalusian?" said I to the hostess.
"I should almost conclude you to be a German."

Hostess.--And your worship would not be very wrong.  It is true
that I am a Spaniard, being born in Spain, but it is equally true
that I am of German blood, for my grandparents came from Germany,
even like those of this gentleman, my lord and husband.

Myself.--And what chance brought your grandparents into this
country?

Hostess.--Did your worship never hear of the German colonies?
There are many of them in these parts.  In old times the land was
nearly deserted, and it was very dangerous for travellers to
journey along the waste, owing to the robbers.  So along time ago,
nearly a hundred years, as I am told, some potent lord sent
messengers to Germany, to tell the people there what a goodly land
there was in these parts uncultivated for want of hands, and to
promise every labourer who would consent to come and till it, a
house and a yoke of oxen, with food and provision for one year.
And in consequence of this invitation a great many poor families
left the German land and came hither, and settled down in certain
towns and villages which had been prepared for them, which places
were called German colonies, and this name they still retain.

Myself.--And how many of these colonies may there be?

Hostess.--There are several, both on this side of Cordova and the
other.  The nearest is Luisiana, about two leagues from hence, from
which place both my husband and myself come; the next is Carlota,
which is some ten leagues distant, and these are the only colonies
of our people which I have seen; but there are others farther on,
and some, as I have heard say, in the very heart of the Sierra
Morena.

Myself.--And do the colonists still retain the language of their
forefathers?

Hostess.--We speak Spanish, or rather Andalusian, and no other
language.  A few, indeed, amongst the very old people, retain a few
words of German, which they acquired from their fathers, who were
born in the other country:  but the last person amongst the
colonists who could understand a conversation in German, was the
aunt of my mother, who came over when a girl.  When I was a child I
remember her conversing with a foreign traveller, a countryman of
hers, in a language which I was told was German, and they
understood each other, though the old woman confessed that she had
lost many words:  she has now been dead several years.

Myself.--Of what religion are the colonists?

Hostess.--They are Christians, like the Spaniards, and so were
their fathers before them.  Indeed, I have heard that they came
from a part of Germany where the Christian religion is as much
practised as in Spain itself.

Myself.--The Germans are the most honest people in the world:
being their legitimate descendants you have of course no thieves
amongst you.

The hostess glanced at me for a moment, then looked at her husband
and smiled:  the latter, who had hitherto been smoking without
uttering a word, though with a peculiarly surly and dissatisfied
countenance, now flung the remainder of his cigar amongst the
embers, then springing up he muttered "Disparate!" and
"Conversacion!" and went abroad.

"You touched them in the sore place, Signor," said the Genoese,
after we had left Moncloa some way behind us.  "Were they honest
people they would not keep that venta; and as for the colonists, I
know not what kind of people they might be when they first came
over, but at present their ways are not a bit better than those of
the Andalusians, but rather worse, if there is any difference at
all."

A short time before sunset of the third day after our departure
from Seville, we found ourselves at the Cuesta del Espinal, or hill
of the thorn tree, at about two leagues from Cordova;--we could
just descry the walls of the city, upon which the last beams of the
descending luminary were resting.  As the neighbourhood in which we
were was, according to the account of my guide, generally infested
with robbers, we used our best endeavours to reach the town before
the night should have entirely closed in.  We did not succeed,
however, and before we had proceeded half the distance, pitchy
darkness overtook us.  Throughout the journey we had been
considerably delayed by the badness of our horses, especially that
of my attendant, which appeared to pay no regard to whip or spur;
his rider also was no horseman, it being thirty years, as he at
length confessed to me, since he last mounted in a saddle.  Horses
soon become aware of the powers of their riders, and the brute in
question was disposed to take great advantage of the fears and
weakness of the old man.  There is a remedy, however, for most
things in this world.  I became so wearied at last at the snail's
pace at which we were proceeding, that I fastened the bridle of the
sluggish horse to the crupper of mine, then sparing neither spur
nor cudgel, I soon forced my own horse into a kind of trot, which
compelled the other to make some use of his legs.  He twice
attempted to fling himself down, to the great terror of his aged
rider, who frequently entreated me to stop and permit him to
dismount.  I, however, took no notice of what he said, but
continued spurring and cudgelling with unabated activity, and with
such success, that in less than half an hour we saw lights close
before us, and presently came to a river and a bridge, which
crossing, we found ourselves at the gate of Cordova, without having
broken either our horses' knees or our own necks.

We passed through the entire length of the town ere we reached the
posada; the streets were dark and almost entirely deserted.  The
posada was a large building, the windows of which were well fenced
with rejas, or iron grating:  no light gleamed from them, and the
silence of death not only seemed to pervade the house, but the
street in which it was situated.  We knocked for a long time at the
gate without receiving any answer; we then raised our voices and
shouted.  At last some one from within inquired what we wanted.
"Open the door and you will see," we replied.  "I shall do no such
thing," answered the individual from within, "until I know who you
are."  "We are travellers," said I, "from Seville."  "Travellers,
are you," said the voice; "why did you not tell me so before?  I am
not porter at this house to keep out travellers.  Jesus Maria knows
we have not so many of them that we need repulse any.  Enter,
cavalier, and welcome, you and your company."

He opened the gate and admitted us into a spacious courtyard, and
then forthwith again secured the gate with various bolts and bars.
"Are you afraid that the Carlists should pay you a visit," I
demanded, "that you take so much precaution?"  "It is not the
Carlists we are afraid of," replied the porter; "they have been
here already, and did us no damage whatever.  It is certain
scoundrels of this town that we are afraid of, who have a spite
against the master of the house, and would murder both him and his
family, could they but find an opportunity."

I was about to inquire the cause of this enmity, when a thick bulky
man, bearing a light in his hand, came running down a stone
staircase, which led into the interior of the building.  Two or
three females, also bearing lights, followed him.  He stopped on
the lowest stair.  "Whom have we here?" he exclaimed; then
advancing the lamp which he bore, the light fell full upon my face.
"Ola!" he exclaimed; "Is it you?  Only think," said he, turning to
the female who stood next him, a dark-featured person, stout as
himself, and about his own age, which might border upon fifty;
"Only think, my dear, that at the very moment we were wishing for a
guest an Englishman should be standing before our doors; for I
should know an Englishman at a mile's distance, even in the dark.
Juanito," cried he to the porter, "open not the gate any more to-
night, whoever may ask for admission.  Should the nationals come to
make any disturbance, tell them that the son of Belington
(Wellington) is in the house ready to attack them sword in hand
unless they retire; and should other travellers arrive, which is
not likely, inasmuch as we have seen none for a month past, say
that we have no room, all our apartments being occupied by an
English gentleman and his company."

I soon found that my friend the posadero was a most egregious
Carlist.  Before I had finished supper--during which both himself
and all his family were present, surrounding the little table at
which I sat, and observing my every motion, particularly the manner
in which I handled my knife and fork and conveyed the food to my
mouth--he commenced talking politics:  "I am of no particular
opinion, Don Jorge," said he, for he had inquired my name in order
that he might address me in a suitable manner; "I am of no
particular opinion, and I hold neither for King Carlos nor for the
Chica Isabel:  nevertheless, I lead the life of a dog in this
accursed Christino town, which I would have left long ago, had it
not been the place of my birth, and did I but know whither to
betake myself.  Ever since the troubles have commenced, I have been
afraid to stir into the street, for no sooner do the canaille of
the town see me turning round a corner, than they forthwith
exclaim, 'Halloo, the Carlist!' and then there is a run and a rush,
and stones and cudgels are in great requisition:  so that unless I
can escape home, which is no easy matter, seeing that I weigh
eighteen stone, my life is poured out in the street, which is
neither decent nor convenient, as I think you will acknowledge, Don
Jorge!  You see that young man," he continued, pointing to a tall
swarthy youth who stood behind my chair, officiating as waiter; "he
is my fourth son, is married, and does not live in the house, but
about a hundred yards down the street.  He was summoned in a hurry
to wait upon your worship, as is his duty:  know, however, that he
has come at the peril of his life:  before he leaves this house he
must peep into the street to see if the coast is clear, and then he
must run like a partridge to his own door.  Carlists! why should
they call my family and myself Carlists?  It is true that my eldest
son was a friar, and when the convents were suppressed betook
himself to the royal ranks, in which he has been fighting upwards
of three years; could I help that?  Nor was it my fault, I trow,
that my second son enlisted the other day with Gomez and the
royalists when they entered Cordova.  God prosper him, I say; but I
did not bid him go!  So far from being a Carlist, it was I who
persuaded this very lad who is present to remain here, though he
would fain have gone with his brother, for he is a brave lad and a
true Christian.  Stay at home, said I, for what can I do without
you?  Who is to wait upon the guests when it pleases God to send
them.  Stay at home, at least till your brother, my third son,
comes back, for, to my shame be it spoken, Don Jorge, I have a son
a soldier and a sergeant in the Christino armies, sorely against
his own inclination, poor fellow, for he likes not the military
life, and I have been soliciting his discharge for years; indeed, I
have counselled him to maim himself, in order that he might procure
his liberty forthwith; so I said to this lad, Stay at home, my
child, till your brother comes to take your place and prevent our
bread being eaten by strangers, who would perhaps sell me and
betray me; so my son staid at home as you see, Don Jorge, at my
request, and yet they call me a Carlist?"

"Gomez and his bands have lately been in Cordova," said I; "of
course you were present at all that occurred:  how did they comport
themselves?"

"Bravely well," replied the innkeeper, "bravely well, and I wish
they were here still.  I hold with neither side, as I told you
before, Don Jorge, but I confess I never felt greater pleasure in
my life than when they entered the gate; and then to see the dogs
of nationals flying through the streets to save their lives--that
was a sight, Don Jorge--those who met me then at the corner forgot
to shout 'Halloo, Carlista!' and I heard not a word about
cudgelling; some jumped from the wall and ran no one knows where,
whilst the rest retired to the house of the Inquisition, which they
had fortified, and there they shut themselves up.  Now you must
know, Don Jorge, that all the Carlist chiefs lodged at my house,
Gomez, Cabrera, and the Sawyer; and it chanced that I was talking
to my Lord Gomez in this very room in which we are now, when in
came Cabrera in a mighty fury--he is a small man, Don Jorge, but he
is as active as a wild cat and as fierce.  'The canaille,' said he,
'in the Casa of the Inquisition refuse to surrender; give but the
order, General, and I will scale the walls with my men and put them
all to the sword'; but Gomez said, 'No, we must not spill blood if
we can avoid it; order a few muskets to be fired at them, that will
be sufficient!'  And so it proved, Don Jorge, for after a few
discharges their hearts failed them, and they surrendered at
discretion:  whereupon their arms were taken from them and they
were permitted to return to their own houses; but as soon as ever
the Carlists departed, these fellows became as bold as ever, and it
is now once more, 'Halloo, Carlista!' when they see me turning the
corner, and it is for fear of them that my son must run like a
partridge to his own home, now that he has done waiting on your
worship, lest they meet him in the street and kill him with their
knives!"

"You tell me that you were acquainted with Gomez:  what kind of man
might he be?"

"A middle-sized man," replied the innkeeper; "grave and dark.  But
the most remarkable personage in appearance of them all was the
Sawyer:  he is a kind of giant, so tall, that when he entered the
doorway he invariably struck his head against the lintel.  The one
I liked least of all was one Palillos, who is a gloomy savage
ruffian whom I knew when he was a postillion.  Many is the time
that he has been at my house of old; he is now captain of the
Manchegan thieves, for though he calls himself a royalist, he is
neither more nor less than a thief:  it is a disgrace to the cause
that such as he should be permitted to mix with honourable and
brave men; I hate that fellow, Don Jorge:  it is owing to him that
I have so few customers.  Travellers are, at present, afraid to
pass through La Mancha, lest they fall into his hands.  I wish he
were hanged, Don Jorge, and whether by Christinos or Royalists, I
care not."

"You recognized me at once for an Englishman," said I, "do many of
my countrymen visit Cordova?"

"Toma!" said the landlord, "they are my best customers; I have had
Englishmen in this house of all grades, from the son of Belington
to a young medico, who cured my daughter, the chica here, of the
ear-ache.  How should I not know an Englishman?  There were two
with Gomez, serving as volunteers.  Vaya que gente; what noble
horses they rode, and how they scattered their gold about; they
brought with them a Portuguese, who was much of a gentleman but
very poor; it was said that he was one of Don Miguel's people, and
that these Englishmen supported him for the love they bore to
royalty; he was continually singing


'El Rey chegou--El Rey chegou,
E en Belem desembarcou!' {11}


Those were merry days, Don Jorge.  By the by, I forgot to ask your
worship of what opinion you are?"

The next morning, whilst I was dressing, the old Genoese entered my
room:  "Signore," said he, "I am come to bid you farewell.  I am
about to return to Seville forthwith with the horses."

"Wherefore in such a hurry," I replied; "assuredly you had better
tarry till to-morrow; both the animals and yourself require rest;
repose yourselves to-day and I will defray the expense."

"Thank you, Signore, but we will depart forthwith, for there is no
tarrying in this house."

"What is the matter with the house?" I inquired.

"I find no fault with the house," replied the Genoese, "it is the
people who keep it of whom I complain.  About an hour since, I went
down to get my breakfast, and there, in the kitchen, I found the
master and all his family:  well, I sat down and called for
chocolate, which they brought me, but ere I could dispatch it, the
master fell to talking politics.  He commenced by telling me that
he held with neither side, but he is as rank a Carlist as Carlos
Quinto:  for no sooner did he find that I was of the other opinion,
than he glared at me like a wild beast.  You must know, Signore,
that in the time of the old constitution I kept a coffee-house at
Seville, which was frequented by all the principal liberals, and
was, indeed, the cause of my ruin:  for as I admired their
opinions, I gave my customers whatever credit they required, both
with regard to coffee and liqueurs, so that by the time the
constitution was put down and despotism re-established, I had
trusted them with all I had.  It is possible that many of them
would have paid me, for I believe they harboured no evil intention;
but the persecution came, the liberals took to flight, and, as was
natural enough, thought more of providing for their own safety than
of paying me for my coffee and liqueurs; nevertheless, I am a
friend to their system, and never hesitate to say so.  So the
landlord, as I told your worship before, when he found that I was
of this opinion, glared at me like a wild beast:  'Get out of my
house,' said he, 'for I will have no spies here,' and thereupon he
spoke disrespectfully of the young Queen Isabel and of Christina,
who, notwithstanding she is a Neapolitan, I consider as my
countrywoman.  Hearing this, your worship, I confess that I lost my
temper and returned the compliment, by saying that Carlos was a
knave and the Princess of Beira no better than she should be.  I
then prepared to swallow the chocolate, but ere I could bring it to
my lips, the woman of the house, who is a still ranker Carlist than
her husband, if that be possible, coming up to me struck the cup
into the air as high as the ceiling, exclaiming, 'Begone, dog of a
negro, you shall taste nothing more in my house; may you be hanged
even as a swine is hanged.'  So your worship sees that it is
impossible for me to remain here any longer.  I forgot to say that
the knave of a landlord told me that you had confessed yourself to
be of the same politics as himself, or he would not have harboured
you."

"My good man," said I, "I am invariably of the politics of the
people at whose table I sit, or beneath whose roof I sleep, at
least I never say anything which can lead them to suspect the
contrary; by pursuing which system I have more than once escaped a
bloody pillow, and having the wine I drank spiced with sublimate."



CHAPTER XVII



Cordova--Moors of Barbary--The English--An Old Priest--The Roman
Breviary--The Dovecote--The Holy Office--Judaism--Desecration of
Dovecotes--The Innkeeper's Proposal.

Little can be said with respect to the town of Cordova, which is a
mean dark gloomy place, full of narrow streets and alleys, without
squares or public buildings worthy of attention, save and except
its far-famed cathedral; its situation, however, is beautiful and
picturesque.  Before it runs the Guadalquivir, which, though in
this part shallow and full of sandbanks, is still a delightful
stream; whilst behind it rise the steep sides of the Sierra Morena,
planted up to the top with olive groves.  The town or city is
surrounded on all sides by lofty Moorish walls, which may measure
about three quarters of a league in circumference; unlike Seville,
and most other towns in Spain, it has no suburbs.

I have said that Cordova has no remarkable edifices, save its
cathedral; yet this is perhaps the most extraordinary place of
worship in the world.  It was originally, as is well known, a
mosque, built in the brightest days of Arabian dominion in Spain;
in shape it was quadrangular, with a low roof, supported by an
infinity of small and delicately rounded marble pillars, many of
which still remain, and present at first sight the appearance of a
marble grove; the greater part, however, were removed when the
Christians, after the expulsion of the Moslems, essayed to convert
the mosque into a cathedral, which they effected in part by the
erection of a dome, and by clearing an open space for a choir.  As
it at present exists, the temple appears to belong partly to
Mahomet, and partly to the Nazarene; and though this jumbling
together of massive Gothic architecture with the light and delicate
style of the Arabians produces an effect somewhat bizarre, it still
remains a magnificent and glorious edifice, and well calculated to
excite feelings of awe and veneration within the bosoms of those
who enter it.

The Moors of Barbary seem to care but little for the exploits of
their ancestors:  their minds are centred in the things of the
present day, and only so far as those things regard themselves
individually.  Disinterested enthusiasm, that truly distinguishing
mark of a noble mind, and admiration for what is great, good, and
grand, they appear to be totally incapable of feeling.  It is
astonishing with what indifference they stray amongst the relics of
ancient Moorish grandeur in Spain.  No feelings of exultation seem
to be excited by the proof of what the Moor once was, nor of regret
at the consciousness of what he now is.  More interesting to them
are their perfumes, their papouches, their dates, and their silks
of Fez and Maraks, to dispose of which they visit Andalusia; and
yet the generality of these men are far from being ignorant, and
have both heard and read of what was passing in Spain in the old
time.  I was once conversing with a Moor at Madrid, with whom I was
very intimate, about the Alhambra of Granada, which he had visited.
"Did you not weep," said I, "when you passed through the courts,
and thought of the, Abencerrages?"  "No," said he, "I did not weep;
wherefore should I weep?"  "And why did you visit the Alhambra?" I
demanded.  "I visited it," he replied, "because being at Granada on
my own affairs, one of your countrymen requested me to accompany
him thither, that I might explain some of the inscriptions.  I
should certainly not have gone of my own accord, for the hill on
which it stands is steep."  And yet this man could compose verses,
and was by no means a contemptible poet.  Once at Cordova, whilst I
was in the cathedral, three Moors entered it, and proceeded slowly
across its floor in the direction of a gate, which stood at the
opposite side; they took no farther notice of what was around them
than by slightly glancing once or twice at the pillars, one of them
exclaiming, "Huaije del Mselmeen, huaije del Mselmeen" (things of
the Moors, things of the Moors); and showed no other respect for
the place where Abderrahman the Magnificent prostrated himself of
old, than facing about on arriving at the farther door and making
their egress backwards; yet these men were hajis and talebs, men
likewise of much gold and silver, men who had read, who had
travelled, who had seen Mecca, and the great city of Negroland.

I remained in Cordova much longer than I had originally intended,
owing to the accounts which I was continually hearing of the unsafe
state of the roads to Madrid.  I soon ransacked every nook and
cranny of this ancient town, formed various acquaintances amongst
the populace, which is my general practice on arriving at a strange
place.  I more than once ascended the side of the Sierra Morena, in
which excursions I was accompanied by the son of my host,--the tall
lad of whom I have already spoken.  The people of the house, who
had imbibed the idea that I was of the same way of thinking as
themselves, were exceedingly courteous; it is true, that in return
I was compelled to listen to a vast deal of Carlism, in other
words, high treason against the ruling powers in Spain, to which,
however, I submitted with patience.  "Don Jorgito," said the
landlord to me one day, "I love the English; they are my best
customers.  It is a pity that there is not greater union between
Spain and England, and that more English do not visit us.  Why
should there not be a marriage?  The king will speedily be at
Madrid.  Why should there not be bodas between the son of Don
Carlos and the heiress of England?"

"It would certainly tend to bring a considerable number of English
to Spain," said I, "and it would not be the first time that the son
of a Carlos has married a Princess of England."

The host mused for a moment, and then exclaimed, "Carracho, Don
Jorgito, if this marriage could be brought about, both the king and
myself should have cause to fling our caps in the air."

The house or posada in which I had taken up my abode was
exceedingly spacious, containing an infinity of apartments, both
large and small, the greater part of which were, however,
unfurnished.  The chamber in which I was lodged stood at the end of
an immensely long corridor, of the kind so admirably described in
the wondrous tale of Udolfo.  For a day or two after my arrival I
believed myself to be the only lodger in the house.  One morning,
however, I beheld a strange-looking old man seated in the corridor,
by one of the windows, reading intently in a small thick volume.
He was clad in garments of coarse blue cloth, and wore a loose
spencer over a waistcoat adorned with various rows of small buttons
of mother of pearl; he had spectacles upon his nose.  I could
perceive, notwithstanding he was seated, that his stature bordered
upon the gigantic.  "Who is that person?" said I to the landlord,
whom I presently met; "is he also a guest of yours?"  "Not exactly,
Don Jorge de mi alma," replied he, "I can scarcely call him a
guest, inasmuch as I gain nothing by him, though he is staying at
my house.  You must know, Don Jorge, that he is one of two priests
who officiate at a large village at some slight distance from this
place.  So it came to pass, that when the soldiers of Gomez entered
the village, his reverence went to meet them, dressed in full
canonicals, with a book in his hand, and he, at their bidding,
proclaimed Carlos Quinto in the market-place.  The other priest,
however, was a desperate liberal, a downright negro, and upon him
the royalists laid their hands, and were proceeding to hang him.
His reverence, however, interfered, and obtained mercy for his
colleague, on condition that he should cry Viva Carlos Quinto!
which the latter did in order to save his life.  Well; no sooner
had the royalists departed from these parts than the black priest
mounts his mule, comes to Cordova, and informs against his
reverence, notwithstanding that he had saved his life.  So his
reverence was seized and brought hither to Cordova, and would
assuredly have been thrown into the common prison as a Carlist, had
I not stepped forward and offered to be surety that he should not
quit the place, but should come forward at any time to answer
whatever charge might be brought against him; and he is now in my
house, though guest I cannot call him, for he is not of the
slightest advantage to me, as his very food is daily brought from
the country, and that consists only of a few eggs and a little milk
and bread.  As for his money, I have never seen the colour of it,
notwithstanding they tell me that he has buenas pesetas.  However,
he is a holy man, is continually reading and praying and is,
moreover, of the right opinion.  I therefore keep him in my house,
and would be bail for him were he twenty times more of a skinflint
than he seems to be."

The next day, as I was again passing through the corridor, I
observed the old man in the same place, and saluted him.  He
returned my salutation with much courtesy, and closing the book,
placed it upon his knee as if willing to enter into conversation.
After exchanging a word or two, I took up the book for the purpose
of inspecting it.

"You will hardly derive much instruction from that book, Don
Jorge," said the old man; "you cannot understand it, for it is not
written in English."

"Nor in Spanish," I replied.  "But with respect to understanding
the book, I cannot see what difficulty there can be in a thing so
simple; it is only the Roman breviary written in the Latin tongue."

"Do the English understand Latin?" exclaimed he.  "Vaya!  Who would
have thought that it was possible for Lutherans to understand the
language of the church?  Vaya! the longer one lives the more one
learns."

"How old may your reverence be?" I inquired.

"I am eighty years, Don Jorge; eighty years, and somewhat more."

Such was the first conversation which passed between his reverence
and myself.  He soon conceived no inconsiderable liking for me, and
favoured me with no little of his company.  Unlike our friend the
landlord, I found him by no means inclined to talk politics, which
the more surprised me, knowing, as I did, the decided and hazardous
part which he had taken on the late Carlist irruption into the
neighbourhood.  He took, however, great delight in discoursing on
ecclesiastical subjects and the writings of the fathers.

"I have got a small library at home, Don Jorge, which consists of
all the volumes of the fathers which I have been able to pick up,
and I find the perusal of them a source of great amusement and
comfort.  Should these dark days pass by, Don Jorge, and you should
be in these parts, I hope you will look in upon me, and I will show
you my little library of the fathers, and likewise my dovecote,
where I rear numerous broods of pigeons, which are also a source of
much solace and at the same time of profit."

"I suppose by your dovecote," said I, "you mean your parish, and by
rearing broods of pigeons, you allude to the care you take of the
souls of your people, instilling therein the fear of God, and
obedience to his revealed law, which occupation must of course
afford you much solace and spiritual profit."

"I was not speaking metaphorically, Don Jorge," replied my
companion; "and by rearing doves, I mean neither more nor less than
that I supply the market of Cordova with pigeons, and occasionally
that of Seville; for my birds are very celebrated, and plumper or
fatter flesh than theirs I believe cannot be found in the whole
kingdom.  Should you come into my village, you will doubtless taste
them, Don Jorge, at the venta where you will put up, for I suffer
no dovecotes but my own within my district.  With respect to the
souls of my parishioners, I trust I do my duty--I trust I do, as
far as in my power lies.  I always took great pleasure in these
spiritual matters, and it was on that account that I attached
myself to the Santa Casa of Cordova, the duties of which I assisted
to perform for a long period."

"Your reverence has been an inquisitor?" I exclaimed, somewhat
startled.

"From my thirtieth year until the time of the suppression of the
holy office in these afflicted kingdoms."

"You both surprise and delight me," I exclaimed.  "Nothing could
have afforded me greater pleasure than to find myself conversing
with a father formerly attached to the holy house of Cordova."

The old man looked at me steadfastly; "I understand you, Don Jorge.
I have long seen that you are one of us.  You are a learned and
holy man; and though you think fit to call yourself a Lutheran and
an Englishman, I have dived into your real condition.  No Lutheran
would take the interest in church matters which you do, and with
respect to your being an Englishman, none of that nation can speak
Castilian, much less Latin.  I believe you to be one of us--a
missionary priest, and I am especially confirmed in that idea by
your frequent conversations and interviews with the Gitanos; you
appear to be labouring among them.  Be, however, on your guard, Don
Jorge, trust not to Egyptian faith; they are evil penitents, whom I
like not.  I would not advise you to trust them."

"I do not intend," I replied; "especially with money.  But to
return to more important matters: --of what crimes did this holy
house of Cordova take cognizance?"

"You are of course aware of the matters on which the holy office
exercises its functions.  I need scarcely mention sorcery, Judaism,
and certain carnal misdemeanours."

"With respect to sorcery," said I, "what is your opinion of it?  Is
there in reality such a crime?"

"Que se io {12}?" said the old man, shrugging up his shoulders.
"How should I know?  The church has power, Don Jorge, or at least
it had power, to punish for anything, real or unreal; and as it was
necessary to punish in order to prove that it had the power of
punishing, of what consequence whether it punished for sorcery or
any other crime."

"Did many cases of sorcery occur within your own sphere of
knowledge?"

"One or two, Don Jorge; they were by no means frequent.  The last
that I remember was a case which occurred in a convent at Seville:
a certain nun was in the habit of flying through the windows and
about the garden over the tops of the orange trees; declarations of
various witnesses were taken, and the process was arranged with
much formality; the fact, I believe, was satisfactorily proved:  of
one thing I am certain, that the nun was punished."

"Were you troubled with much Judaism in these parts?"

"Wooh!  Nothing gave so much trouble to the Santa Casa as this same
Judaism.  Its shoots and ramifications are numerous, not only in
these parts, but in all Spain; and it is singular enough, that even
among the priesthood, instances of Judaism of both kinds were
continually coming to our knowledge, which it was of course our
duty to punish."

"Is there more than one species of Judaism?" I demanded.

"I have always arranged Judaism under two heads," said the old man,
"the black and the white:  by the black, I mean the observance of
the law of Moses in preference to the precepts of the church; then
there is the white Judaism, which includes all kinds of heresy,
such as Lutheranism, freemasonry, and the like."

"I can easily conceive," said I, "that many of the priesthood
favoured the principles of the reformation, and that the minds of
not a few had been led astray by the deceitful lights of modern
philosophy, but it is almost inconceivable to me that there should
be Jews amongst the priesthood who follow in secret the rites and
observances of the old law, though I confess that I have been
assured of the fact ere now."

"Plenty of Judaism amongst the priesthood, whether of the black or
white species; no lack of it, I assure you, Don Jorge; I remember
once searching the house of an ecclesiastic who was accused of the
black Judaism, and after much investigation, we discovered beneath
the floor a wooden chest, in which was a small shrine of silver,
inclosing three books in black hogskin, which, on being opened,
were found to be books of Jewish devotion, written in Hebrew
characters, and of great antiquity; and on being questioned, the
culprit made no secret of his guilt, but rather gloried in it,
saying that there was no God but one, and denouncing the adoration
of Maria Santissima as rank idolatry."

"And between ourselves, what is your own opinion of the adoration
of this same Maria Santissima?"

"What is my opinion!  Que se io?" said the old man, shrugging up
his shoulders still higher than on the former occasion; "but I will
tell you; I think, on consideration, that it is quite right and
proper; why not?  Let any one pay a visit to my church, and look at
her as she stands there, tan bonita, tan guapita--so well dressed
and so genteel--with such pretty colours, such red and white, and
he would scarcely ask me why Maria Santissima should not be adored.
Moreover, Don Jorgito mio, this is a church matter and forms an
important part of the church system."

"And now, with respect to carnal misdemeanours.  Did you take much
cognizance of them?"

"Amongst the laity, not much; we, however, kept a vigilant eye upon
our own body, but, upon the whole, were rather tolerant in these
matters, knowing that the infirmities of human nature are very
great indeed:  we rarely punished, save in cases where the glory of
the church and loyalty to Maria Santissima made punishment
absolutely imperative."

"And what cases might those be?" I demanded.

"I allude to the desecration of dovecotes, Don Jorge, and the
introduction therein of strange flesh, for purposes neither seemly
nor convenient."

"Your reverence will excuse me for not yet perfectly
understanding."

"I mean, Don Jorge, certain acts of flagitiousness practised by the
clergy in lone and remote palomares (dovecotes) in olive grounds
and gardens; actions denounced, I believe, by the holy Pablo in his
first letter to Pope Sixtus. {13}  You understand me now, Don
Jorge, for you are learned in church matters."

"I think I understand you," I replied.

After remaining several days more at Cordova, I determined to
proceed on my journey to Madrid, though the roads were still said
to be highly insecure.  I, however, saw but little utility in
tarrying and awaiting a more tranquil state of affairs, which might
never arrive.  I therefore consulted with the landlord respecting
the best means of making the journey.  "Don Jorgito," he replied,
"I think I can tell you.  You say you are anxious to depart, and I
never wish to keep guests in my house longer than is agreeable to
them; to do so, would not become a Christian innkeeper:  I leave
such conduct to Moors, Christinos, and Negroes.  I will further you
on your journey, Don Jorge:  I have a plan in my head, which I had
resolved to propose to you before you questioned me.  There is my
wife's brother, who has two horses which he occasionally lets out
for hire; you shall hire them, Don Jorge, and he himself shall
attend you to take care of you, and to comfort you, and to talk to
you, and you shall pay him forty dollars for the journey.
Moreover, as there are thieves upon the route, and malos sujetos,
such as Palillos and his family, you shall make an engagement and a
covenant, Don Jorge, that provided you are robbed and stripped on
the route, and the horses of my wife's brother are taken from him
by the thieves, you shall, on arriving at Madrid, make good any
losses to which my wife's brother may be subject in following you.
This is my plan, Don Jorge, which no doubt will meet with your
worship's approbation, as it is devised solely for your benefit,
and not with any view of lucre or interest either to me or mine.
You will find my wife's brother pleasant company on the route:  he
is a very respectable man, and one of the right opinion, and has
likewise travelled much; for between ourselves, Don Jorge, he is
something of a Contrabandista and frequently smuggles diamonds and
precious stones from Portugal, which he disposes of sometimes in
Cordova and sometimes at Madrid.  He is acquainted with all the
short cuts, all the atajos, Don Jorge, and is much respected in all
the ventas and posadas on the way; so now give me your hand upon
the bargain, and I will forthwith repair to my wife's brother to
tell him to get ready to set out with your worship the day after
to-morrow."



CHAPTER XVIII



Departure from Cordova--The Contrabandista--Jewish Cunning--Arrival
at Madrid.

One fine morning, I departed from Cordova, in company with the
Contrabandista; the latter was mounted on a handsome animal,
something between a horse and a pony, which he called a jaca, of
that breed for which Cordova is celebrated.  It was of a bright bay
colour, with a star in its forehead, with strong but elegant limbs,
and a long black tail, which swept the ground.  The other animal,
which was destined to carry me to Madrid, was not quite so
prepossessing in its appearance:  in more than one respect it
closely resembled a hog, particularly in the curving of its back,
the shortness of its neck, and the manner in which it kept its head
nearly in contact with the ground:  it had also the tail of a hog,
and meandered over the ground much like one.  Its coat more
resembled coarse bristles than hair, and with respect to size, I
have seen many a Westphalian hog quite as tall.  I was not
altogether satisfied with the idea of exhibiting myself on the back
of this most extraordinary quadruped, and looked wistfully on the
respectable animal on which my guide had thought proper to place
himself; he interpreted my glances, and gave me to understand that
as he was destined to carry the baggage, he was entitled to the
best horse; a plea too well grounded on reason for me to make any
objection to it.

I found the Contrabandista by no means such pleasant company on the
road as I had been led to suppose he would prove from the
representation of my host of Cordova.  Throughout the day he sat
sullen and silent, and rarely replied to my questions, save by a
monosyllable; at night, however, after having eaten well and drank
proportionably at my expense, he would occasionally become more
sociable and communicative.  "I have given up smuggling," said he,
on one of these occasions, "owing to a trick which was played upon
me the last time that I was at Lisbon:  a Jew whom I had been long
acquainted with palmed upon me a false brilliant for a real stone.
He effected it in the most extraordinary manner, for I am not such
a novice as not to know a true diamond when I see one; but the Jew
appears to have had two, with which he played most adroitly,
keeping the valuable one for which I bargained, and substituting
therefor another which, though an excellent imitation, was not
worth four dollars.  I did not discover the trick until I was
across the border, and upon my hurrying back, the culprit was not
to be found; his priest, however, told me that he was just dead and
buried, which was of course false, as I saw him laughing in the
corners of his eyes.  I renounced the contraband trade from that
moment."

It is not my intention to describe minutely the various incidents
of this journey.  Leaving at our right the mountains of Jaen, we
passed through Andujar and Bailen, and on the third day reached
Carolina, a small but beautiful town on the skirts of the Sierra
Morena, inhabited by the descendants of German colonists.  Two
leagues from this place, we entered the defile of Despena Perros,
which, even in quiet times, has an evil name, on account of the
robberies which are continually being perpetrated within its
recesses, but at the period of which I am speaking, it was said to
be swarming with banditti.  We of course expected to be robbed,
perhaps stripped and otherwise ill-treated; but Providence here
manifested itself.  It appeared that, the day before our arrival,
the banditti of the pass had committed a dreadful robbery and
murder, by which they gained forty thousand rials.  This booty
probably contented them for a time; certain it is that we were not
interrupted:  we did not even see a single individual in the pass,
though we occasionally heard whistles and loud cries.  We entered
La Mancha, where I expected to fall into the hands of Palillos and
Orejita.  Providence again showed itself.  It had been delicious
weather, suddenly the Lord breathed forth a frozen blast, the
severity of which was almost intolerable; no human beings but
ourselves ventured forth.  We traversed snow-covered plains, and
passed through villages and towns to all appearance deserted.  The
robbers kept close in their caves and hovels, but the cold nearly
killed us.  We reached Aranjuez late on Christmas Day, and I got
into the house of an Englishman, where I swallowed nearly a pint of
brandy; it affected me no more than warm water.

On the following day we arrived at Madrid, where we had the good
fortune to find everything tranquil and quiet.  The Contrabandista
continued with me for two days, at the end of which time he
returned to Cordova upon the uncouth animal on which I had ridden
throughout the journey.  I had myself purchased the jaca, whose
capabilities I had seen on the route, and which I imagined might
prove useful in future journeys.  The Contrabandista was so
satisfied with the price which I gave him for his beast, and the
general treatment which he had experienced at my hands during the
time of his attendance upon me, that he would fain have persuaded
me to retain him as a servant, assuring me that, in the event of my
compliance, he would forget his wife and children and follow me
through the world.  I declined, however, to accede to his request,
though I was in need of a domestic; I therefore sent him back to
Cordova, where, as I subsequently learned, he died suddenly, about
a week after his return.

The manner of his death was singular:  one day he took out his
purse, and, after counting his money, said to his wife, "I have
made ninety-five dollars by this journey with the Englishman and by
the sale of the jaca; this I could easily double by one successful
venture in the smuggling lay.  To-morrow I will depart for Lisbon
to buy diamonds.  I wonder if the beast requires to be shod?"  He
then started up and made for the door, with the intention of going
to the stable; ere, however, his foot had crossed the threshold, he
fell dead on the floor.  Such is the course of the world.  Well
said the wise king:  Let no one boast of the morrow.



CHAPTER XIX



Arrival at Madrid--Maria Diaz--Printing of the Testament--My
Project--Andalusian Steed--Servant Wanted--An Application--Antonio
Buchini--General Cordova--Principles of Honour.

On my arrival at Madrid I did not repair to my former lodgings in
the Calle de la Zarza, but took others in the Calle de Santiago, in
the vicinity of the palace.  The name of the hostess (for there
was, properly speaking, no host) was Maria Diaz, of whom I shall
take the present opportunity of saying something in particular.

She was a woman of about thirty-five years of age, rather good-
looking, and with a physiognomy every lineament of which bespoke
intelligence of no common order.  Her eyes were keen and
penetrating, though occasionally clouded with a somewhat melancholy
expression.  There was a particular calmness and quiet in her
general demeanour, beneath which, however, slumbered a firmness of
spirit and an energy of action which were instantly displayed
whenever necessary.  A Spaniard and, of course, a Catholic, she was
possessed of a spirit of toleration and liberality which would have
done honour to individuals much her superior in station.  In this
woman, during the remainder of my sojourn in Spain, I found a firm
and constant friend, and occasionally a most discreet adviser:  she
entered into all my plans, I will not say with enthusiasm, which,
indeed, formed no part of her character, but with cordiality and
sincerity, forwarding them to the utmost of her ability.  She never
shrank from me in the hour of danger and persecution, but stood my
friend, notwithstanding the many inducements which were held out to
her by my enemies to desert or betray me.  Her motives were of the
noblest kind, friendship and a proper feeling of the duties of
hospitality; no prospect, no hope of self-interest, however remote,
influenced this admirable woman in her conduct towards me.  Honour
to Maria Diaz, the quiet, dauntless, clever Castilian female.  I
were an ingrate not to speak well of her, for richly has she
deserved an eulogy in the humble pages of The Bible in Spain.

She was a native of Villa Seca, a hamlet of New Castile, situated
in what is called the Sagra, at about three leagues' distance from
Toledo:  her father was an architect of some celebrity,
particularly skilled in erecting bridges.  At a very early age she
married a respectable yeoman of Villa Seca, Lopez by name, by whom
she had three sons.  On the death of her father, which occurred
about five years previous to the time of which I am speaking, she
removed to Madrid, partly for the purpose of educating her
children, and partly in the hope of obtaining from the government a
considerable sum of money for which it stood indebted to her
father, at the time of his decease, for various useful and
ornamental works, principally in the neighbourhood of Aranjuez.
The justness of her claim was at once acknowledged; but, alas! no
money was forthcoming, the royal treasury being empty.  Her hopes
of earthly happiness were now concentrated in her children.  The
two youngest were still of a very tender age; but the eldest, Juan
Jose Lopez, a lad of about sixteen, was bidding fair to realize the
warmest hopes of his affectionate mother; he had devoted himself to
the arts, in which he made such progress that he had already become
the favourite pupil of his celebrated namesake Lopez, the best
painter of modern Spain.  Such was Maria Diaz, who, according to a
custom formerly universal in Spain, and still very prevalent,
retained the name of her maidenhood though married.  Such was Maria
Diaz and her family.

One of my first cares was to wait on Mr. Villiers, who received me
with his usual kindness.  I asked him whether he considered that I
might venture to commence printing the Scriptures without any more
applications to government.  His reply was satisfactory:  "You
obtained the permission of the government of Isturitz," said he,
"which was a much less liberal one than the present.  I am a
witness to the promise made to you by the former ministers, which I
consider sufficient.  You had best commence and complete the work
as soon as possible, without any fresh application; and should any
one attempt to interrupt you, you have only to come to me, whom you
may command at any time."  So I went away with a light heart, and
forthwith made preparation for the execution of the object which
had brought me to Spain.

I shall not enter here into unnecessary details, which could
possess but little interest for the reader; suffice it to say that,
within three months from this time, an edition of the New
Testament, consisting of five thousand copies, was published at
Madrid.  The work was printed at the establishment of Mr. Borrego,
a well-known writer on political economy, and proprietor and editor
of an influential newspaper called El Espanol.  To this gentleman I
had been recommended by Isturitz himself, on the day of my
interview with him.  That unfortunate minister had, indeed, the
highest esteem for Borrego, and had intended raising him to the
station of minister of finance, when the revolution of the Granja
occurring, of course rendered abortive this project, with perhaps
many others of a similar kind which he might have formed.

The Spanish version of the New Testament which was thus published,
had been made many years before by a certain Padre Filipe Scio,
confessor of Ferdinand the Seventh, and had even been printed, but
so encumbered by notes and commentaries as to be unfitted for
general circulation, for which, indeed, it was never intended.  In
the present edition, the notes were of course omitted, and the
inspired word, and that alone, offered to the public.  It was
brought out in a handsome octavo volume, and presented, upon the
whole, a rather favourable specimen of Spanish typography.

The mere printing, however, of the New Testament at Madrid could be
attended with no utility whatever, unless measures, and energetic
ones, were taken for the circulation of the sacred volume.

In the case of the New Testament, it would not do to follow the
usual plan of publication in Spain, namely, to entrust the work to
the booksellers of the capital, and rest content with the sale
which they and their agents in the provincial towns might be able
to obtain for it, in the common routine of business; the result
generally being, the circulation of a few dozen copies in the
course of the year; as the demand for literature of every kind in
Spain was miserably small.

The Christians of England had already made considerable sacrifices
in the hope of disseminating the word of God largely amongst the
Spaniards, and it was now necessary to spare no exertion to prevent
that hope becoming abortive.  Before the book was ready, I had
begun to make preparations for putting a plan into execution, which
had occupied my thoughts occasionally during my former visit to
Spain, and which I had never subsequently abandoned.  I had mused
on it when off Cape Finisterre in the tempest; in the cut-throat
passes of the Morena; and on the plains of La Mancha, as I jogged
along a little way ahead of the Contrabandista.

I had determined, after depositing a certain number of copies in
the shops of the booksellers of Madrid, to ride forth, Testament in
hand, and endeavour to circulate the word of God amongst the
Spaniards, not only of the towns but of the villages; amongst the
children not only of the plains but of the hills and mountains.  I
intended to visit Old Castile, and to traverse the whole of Galicia
and the Asturias,--to establish Scripture depots in the principal
towns, and to visit the people in secret and secluded spots,--to
talk to them of Christ, to explain to them the nature of his book,
and to place that book in the hands of those whom I should deem
capable of deriving benefit from it.  I was aware that such a
journey would be attended with considerable danger, and very
possibly the fate of St. Stephen might overtake me; but does the
man deserve the name of a follower of Christ who would shrink from
danger of any kind in the cause of Him whom he calls his Master?
"He who loses his life for my sake, shall find it," are words which
the Lord himself uttered.  These words were fraught with
consolation to me, as they doubtless are to every one engaged in
propagating the gospel in sincerity of heart, in savage and
barbarian lands.

I now purchased another horse; for these animals, at the time of
which I am speaking, were exceedingly cheap.  A royal requisition
was about to be issued for five thousand, the consequence being,
that an immense number were for sale, for, by virtue of this
requisition, the horses of any person not a foreigner could be
seized for the benefit of the service.  It was probable that, when
the number was made up, the price of horses would be treble what it
then was, which consideration induced me to purchase this animal
before I exactly wanted him.  He was a black Andalusian stallion of
great power and strength, and capable of performing a journey of a
hundred leagues in a week's time, but he was unbroke, savage, and
furious.  A cargo of Bibles, however, which I hoped occasionally to
put on his back, would, I had no doubt, thoroughly tame him,
especially when labouring up the flinty hills of the north of
Spain.  I wished to have purchased a mule, but, though I offered
thirty pounds for a sorry one, I could not obtain her; whereas the
cost of both the horses, tall powerful stately animals, scarcely
amounted to that sum.

The state of the surrounding country at this time was not very
favourable for venturing forth:  Cabrera was within nine leagues of
Madrid, with an army nearly ten thousand strong; he had beaten
several small detachments of the queen's troops, and had ravaged La
Mancha with fire and sword, burning several towns; bands of
affrighted fugitives were arriving every hour, bringing tidings of
woe and disaster, and I was only surprised that the enemy did not
appear, and by taking Madrid, which was almost at his mercy, put an
end to the war at once.  But the truth is, that the Carlist
generals did not wish the war to cease, for as long as the country
was involved in bloodshed and anarchy, they could plunder and
exercise that lawless authority so dear to men of fierce and brutal
passions.  Cabrera, moreover, was a dastardly wretch, whose limited
mind was incapable of harbouring a single conception approaching to
grandeur; whose heroic deeds were confined to cutting down
defenceless men, and to forcing and disembowelling unhappy women;
and yet I have seen this wretched fellow termed by French journals
(Carlist of course) the young, the heroic general.  Infamy on the
cowardly assassin!  The shabbiest corporal of Napoleon would have
laughed at his generalship, and half a battalion of Austrian
grenadiers would have driven him and his rabble army headlong into
the Ebro.

I now made preparations for my journey into the north.  I was
already provided with horses well calculated to support the
fatigues of the road and the burdens which I might deem necessary
to impose upon them.  One thing, however, was still lacking,
indispensable to a person about to engage on an expedition of this
description; I mean a servant to attend me.  Perhaps there is no
place in the world where servants more abound than at Madrid, or at
least fellows eager to proffer their services in the expectation of
receiving food and wages, though, with respect to the actual
service which they are capable of performing, not much can be said;
but I was in want of a servant of no common description, a shrewd
active fellow, of whose advice, in cases of emergency, I could
occasionally avail myself; courageous withal, for it certainly
required some degree of courage to follow a master bent on
exploring the greater part of Spain, and who intended to travel,
not under the protection of muleteers and carmen, but on his own
cabalgaduras.  Such a servant, perhaps, I might have sought for
years without finding; chance, however, brought one to my hand at
the very time I wanted him, without it being necessary for me to
make any laborious perquisitions.  I was one day mentioning the
subject to Mr. Borrego, at whose establishment I had printed the
New Testament, and inquiring whether he thought that such an
individual was to be found in Madrid, adding that I was
particularly anxious to obtain a servant who, besides Spanish,
could speak some other language, that occasionally we might
discourse without being understood by those who might overhear us.
"The very description of person," he replied, "that you appear to
be in need of, quitted me about half an hour ago, and, it is
singular enough, came to me in the hope that I might be able to
recommend him to a master.  He has been twice in my service:  for
his talent and courage I will answer; and I believe him to be
trustworthy, at least to masters who may chime in with his humour,
for I must inform you that he is a most extraordinary fellow, full
of strange likes and antipathies, which he will gratify at any
expense, either to himself or others.  Perhaps he will attach
himself to you, in which case you will find him highly valuable;
for if he please he can turn his hand to any thing, and is not only
acquainted with two but half a dozen languages."

"Is he a Spaniard?" I inquired.

"I will send him to you to-morrow," said Borrego, "you will best
learn from his own mouth who and what he is."

The next day, as I had just sat down to my "sopa," my hostess
informed me that a man wished to speak to me.  "Admit him," said I,
and he almost instantly made his appearance.  He was dressed
respectably in the French fashion, and had rather a juvenile look,
though I subsequently learned that he was considerably above forty.
He was somewhat above the middle stature, and might have been
called well made, had it not been for his meagreness, which was
rather remarkable.  His arms were long and bony, and his whole form
conveyed an idea of great activity united with no slight degree of
strength:  his hair was wiry, but of jetty blackness; his forehead
low; his eyes small and grey, expressive of much subtlety and no
less malice, strangely relieved by a strong dash of humour; the
nose was handsome, but the mouth was immensely wide, and his under
jaw projected considerably.  A more singular physiognomy I had
never seen, and I continued staring at him for some time in
silence.  "Who are you?" I at last demanded.

"Domestic in search of a master," answered the man in good French,
but in a strange accent.  "I come recommended to you, my Lor, by
Monsieur B."

Myself.--Of what nation may you be?  Are you French or Spanish?

Man.--God forbid that I should be either, mi Lor, j'ai l'honneur
d'etre de la nation Grecque, my name is Antonio Buchini, native of
Pera the Belle near to Constantinople.

Myself.--And what brought you to Spain?

Buchini.--Mi Lor, je vais vous raconter mon histoire du
commencement jusqu'ici: --my father was a native of Sceira in
Greece, from whence at an early age he repaired to Pera, where he
served as janitor in the hotels of various ambassadors, by whom he
was much respected for his fidelity.  Amongst others of these
gentlemen, he served him of your own nation:  this occurred at the
time that there was war between England and the Porte. {14}
Monsieur the Ambassador had to escape for his life, leaving the
greater part of his valuables to the care of my father, who
concealed them at his own great risk, and when the dispute was
settled, restored them to Monsieur, even to the most inconsiderable
trinket.  I mention this circumstance to show you that I am of a
family which cherishes principles of honour, and in which
confidence may be placed.  My father married a daughter of Pera, et
moi je suis l'unique fruit de ce mariage.  Of my mother I know
nothing, as she died shortly after my birth.  A family of wealthy
Jews took pity on my forlorn condition and offered to bring me up,
to which my father gladly consented; and with them I continued
several years, until I was a beau garcon; they were very fond of
me, and at last offered to adopt me, and at their death to bequeath
me all they had, on condition of my becoming a Jew.  Mais la
circoncision n'etoit guere a mon gout; especially that of the Jews,
for I am a Greek, am proud, and have principles of honour.  I
quitted them, therefore, saying that if ever I allowed myself to be
converted, it should be to the faith of the Turks, for they are
men, are proud, and have principles of honour like myself.  I then
returned to my father, who procured me various situations, none of
which were to my liking, until I was placed in the house of
Monsieur Zea.

Myself.--You mean, I suppose, Zea Bermudez, who chanced to be at
Constantinople.

Buchini.--Just so, mi Lor, and with him I continued during his
stay.  He put great confidence in me, more especially as I spoke
the pure Spanish language, which I acquired amongst the Jews, who,
as I have heard Monsieur Zea say, speak it better than the present
natives of Spain.

I shall not follow the Greek step by step throughout his history,
which was rather lengthy:  suffice it to say, that he was brought
by Zea Bermudez from Constantinople to Spain, where he continued in
his service for many years, and from whose house he was expelled
for marrying a Guipuscoan damsel, who was fille de chambre to
Madame Zea; since which time it appeared that he had served an
infinity of masters; sometimes as valet, sometimes as cook, but
generally in the last capacity.  He confessed, however, that he had
seldom continued more than three days in the same service, on
account of the disputes which were sure to arise in the house
almost immediately after his admission, and for which he could
assign no other reason than his being a Greek, and having
principles of honour.  Amongst other persons whom he had served was
General Cordova, who he said was a bad paymaster, and was in the
habit of maltreating his domestics.  "But he found his match in
me," said Antonio, "for I was prepared for him; and once, when he
drew his sword against me, I pulled out a pistol and pointed it in
his face.  He grew pale as death, and from that hour treated me
with all kinds of condescension.  It was only pretence, however,
for the affair rankled in his mind; he had determined upon revenge,
and on being appointed to the command of the army, he was
particularly anxious that I should attend him to the camp.  Mais je
lui ris au nez, made the sign of the cortamanga--asked for my
wages, and left him; and well it was that I did so, for the very
domestic whom he took with him he caused to be shot upon a charge
of mutiny."

"I am afraid," said I, "that you are of a turbulent disposition,
and that the disputes to which you have alluded are solely to be
attributed to the badness of your temper."

"What would you have, Monsieur?  Moi je suis Grec, je suis fier et
j'ai des principes d'honneur.  I expect to be treated with a
certain consideration, though I confess that my temper is none of
the best, and that at times I am tempted to quarrel with the pots
and pans in the kitchen.  I think, upon the whole, that it will be
for your advantage to engage me, and I promise you to be on my
guard.  There is one thing that pleases me relating to you, you are
unmarried.  Now, I would rather serve a young unmarried man for
love and friendship, than a Benedict for fifty dollars per month.
Madame is sure to hate me, and so is her waiting woman; and more
particularly the latter, because I am a married man.  I see that mi
Lor is willing to engage me."

"But you say you are a married man," I replied; "how can you desert
your wife, for I am about to leave Madrid, and to travel into the
remote and mountainous parts of Spain."

"My wife will receive the moiety of my wages, while I am absent, mi
Lor, and therefore will have no reason to complain of being
deserted.  Complain! did I say; my wife is at present too well
instructed to complain.  She never speaks nor sits in my presence
unless I give her permission.  Am I not a Greek, and do I not know
how to govern my own house?  Engage me, mi Lor, I am a man of many
capacities:  a discreet valet, an excellent cook, a good groom and
light rider; in a word, I am [Greek text].  What would you more?"

I asked him his terms, which were extravagant, notwithstanding his
principes d'honneur.  I found, however, that he was willing to take
one half.

I had no sooner engaged him, than seizing the tureen of soup, which
had by this time become quite cold, he placed it on the top of his
forefinger, or rather on the nail thereof, causing it to make
various circumvolutions over his head, to my great astonishment,
without spilling a drop, then springing with it to the door, he
vanished, and in another moment made his appearance with the
puchera, which, after a similar bound and flourish, he deposited on
the table; then suffering his hands to sink before him, he put one
over the other and stood at his ease with half-shut eyes, for all
the world as if he had been in my service twenty years.

And in this manner Antonio Buchini entered upon his duties.  Many
was the wild spot to which he subsequently accompanied me; many the
wild adventure of which he was the sharer.  His behaviour was
frequently in the highest degree extraordinary, but he served me
courageously and faithfully:  such a valet, take him for all in
all,


"His like I ne'er expect to see again."


Kosko bakh Anton.



CHAPTER XX



Illness--Nocturnal Visit--A Master Mind--The Whisper--Salamanca--
Irish Hospitality--Spanish Soldiers--The Scriptures advertised.

But I am anxious to enter upon the narrative of my journey, and
shall therefore abstain from relating to my readers a great many
circumstances which occurred previously to my leaving Madrid on
this expedition.  About the middle of May I had got everything in
readiness, and I bade farewell to my friends.  Salamanca was the
first place which I intended to visit.

Some days previous to my departure I was very much indisposed,
owing to the state of the weather, for violent and biting winds had
long prevailed.  I had been attacked with a severe cold, which
terminated in a disagreeable cough, which the many remedies I
successively tried seemed unable to subdue.  I had made
preparations for departing on a particular day, but, owing to the
state of my health, I was apprehensive that I should be compelled
to defer my journey for a time.  The last day of my stay in Madrid,
finding myself scarcely able to stand, I was fain to submit to a
somewhat desperate experiment, and by the advice of the barber-
surgeon who visited me, I determined to be bled.  Late on the night
of that same day he took from me sixteen ounces of blood, and
having received his fee left me, wishing me a pleasant journey, and
assuring me, upon his reputation, that by noon the next day I
should be perfectly recovered.

A few minutes after his departure, whilst I was sitting alone,
meditating on the journey which I was about to undertake, and on
the ricketty state of my health, I heard a loud knock at the street
door of the house, on the third floor of which I was lodged.  In
another minute Mr. S- of the British Embassy entered my apartment.
After a little conversation, he informed me that Mr. Villiers had
desired him to wait upon me to communicate a resolution which he
had come to.  Being apprehensive that, alone and unassisted, I
should experience great difficulty in propagating the gospel of God
to any considerable extent in Spain, he was bent upon exerting to
the utmost his own credit and influence to further my views, which
he himself considered, if carried into proper effect, extremely
well calculated to operate beneficially on the political and moral
state of the country.  To this end it was his intention to purchase
a very considerable number of copies of the New Testament, and to
dispatch them forthwith to the various British consuls established
in different parts of Spain, with strict and positive orders to
employ all the means which their official situation should afford
them to circulate the books in question and to assure their being
noticed.  They were, moreover, to be charged to afford me, whenever
I should appear in their respective districts, all the protection,
encouragement, and assistance which I should stand in need of.

I was of course much rejoiced on receiving this information, for
though I had long been aware that Mr. Villiers was at all times
willing to assist me, he having frequently given me sufficient
proof, I could never expect that he would come forward in so noble,
and, to say the least of it, considering his high diplomatic
situation, so bold and decided a manner.  I believe that this was
the first instance of a British ambassador having made the cause of
the Bible Society a national one, or indeed of having favoured it
directly or indirectly.  What renders the case of Mr. Villiers more
remarkable is, that on my first arrival at Madrid I found him by no
means well disposed towards the Society.  The Holy Spirit had
probably illumined his mind on this point.  I hoped that by his
means our institution would shortly possess many agents in Spain,
who, with far more power and better opportunities than I myself
could ever expect to possess, would scatter abroad the seed of the
gospel, and make of a barren and thirsty wilderness a green and
smiling corn-field.

A word or two about the gentleman who paid me this nocturnal visit.
Though he has probably long since forgotten the humble circulator
of the Bible in Spain, I still bear in mind numerous acts of
kindness which I experienced at his hands.  Endowed with an
intellect of the highest order, master of the lore of all Europe,
profoundly versed in the ancient tongues, and speaking most of the
modern dialects with remarkable facility,--possessed, moreover, of
a thorough knowledge of mankind,--he brought with him into the
diplomatic career advantages such as few, even the most highly
gifted, can boast of.  During his sojourn in Spain he performed
many eminent services for the government which employed him;
services which, I believe, it had sufficient discernment to see,
and gratitude to reward.  He had to encounter, however, the full
brunt of the low and stupid malignity of the party who, shortly
after the time of which I am speaking, usurped the management of
the affairs of Spain.  This party, whose foolish manoeuvres he was
continually discomfiting, feared and hated him as its evil genius,
taking every opportunity of showering on his head calumnies the
most improbable and absurd.  Amongst other things, he was accused
of having acted as an agent to the English government in the affair
of the Granja, bringing about that revolution by bribing the
mutinous soldiers, and more particularly the notorious Sergeant
Garcia.  Such an accusation will of course merely extract a smile
from those who are at all acquainted with the English character,
and the general line of conduct pursued by the English government.
It was a charge, however, universally believed in Spain, and was
even preferred in print by a certain journal, the official organ of
the silly Duke of Frias, one of the many prime ministers of the
moderado party who followed each other in rapid succession towards
the latter period of the Carlist and Christino struggle.  But when
did a calumnious report ever fall to the ground in Spain by the
weight of its own absurdity?  Unhappy land, not until the pure
light of the Gospel has illumined thee wilt thou learn that the
greatest of all gifts is charity.

The next day verified the prediction of the Spanish surgeon; I had
to a considerable degree lost my cough and fever, though, owing to
the loss of blood, I was somewhat feeble.  Precisely at twelve
o'clock the horses were led forth before the door of my lodging in
the Calle de Santiago, and I prepared to mount:  but my black
entero of Andalusia would not permit me to approach his side, and
whenever I made the attempt, commenced wheeling round with great
rapidity.

"C'est un mauvais signe, mon maitre," said Antonio, who, dressed in
a green jerkin, a Montero cap, booted and spurred, stood ready to
attend me, holding by the bridle the horse which I had purchased
from the contrabandista.  "It is a bad sign, and in my country they
would defer the journey till to-morrow."

"Are there whisperers in your country?" I demanded; and taking the
horse by the mane, I performed the ceremony after the most approved
fashion:  the animal stood still, and I mounted the saddle,
exclaiming -


"The Rommany Chal to his horse did cry,
As he placed the bit in his horse's jaw;
Kosko gry! Rommany gry!
Muk man kistur tute knaw."


We then rode forth from Madrid by the gate of San Vincente,
directing our course to the lofty mountains which separate Old from
New Castile.  That night we rested at Guadarama, a large village at
their foot, distant from Madrid about seven leagues.  Rising early
on the following morning, we ascended the pass and entered into Old
Castile.

After crossing the mountains, the route to Salamanca lies almost
entirely over sandy and arid plains, interspersed here and there
with thin and scanty groves of pine.  No adventure worth relating
occurred during this journey.  We sold a few Testaments in the
villages through which we passed, more especially at Penaranda.
About noon of the third day, on reaching the brow of a hillock, we
saw a huge dome before us, upon which the fierce rays of the sun
striking, produced the appearance of burnished gold.  It belonged
to the cathedral of Salamanca, and we flattered ourselves that we
were already at our journey's end; we were deceived, however, being
still four leagues distant from the town, whose churches and
convents, towering up in gigantic masses, can be distinguished at
an immense distance, flattering the traveller with an idea of
propinquity which does not in reality exist.  It was not till long
after nightfall that we arrived at the city gate, which we found
closed and guarded, in apprehension of a Carlist attack; and having
obtained admission with some difficulty, we led our horses along
dark, silent, and deserted streets, till we found an individual who
directed us to a large, gloomy, and comfortless posada, that of the
Bull, which we, however, subsequently found was the best which the
town afforded.

A melancholy town is Salamanca; the days of its collegiate glory
are long since past by, never more to return:  a circumstance,
however, which is little to be regretted; for what benefit did the
world ever derive from scholastic philosophy?  And for that alone
was Salamanca ever famous.  Its halls are now almost silent, and
grass is growing in its courts, which were once daily thronged by
at least eight thousand students; a number to which, at the present
day, the entire population of the city does not amount.  Yet, with
all its melancholy, what an interesting, nay, what a magnificent
place is Salamanca!  How glorious are its churches, how stupendous
are its deserted convents, and with what sublime but sullen
grandeur do its huge and crumbling walls, which crown the
precipitous bank of the Tormes, look down upon the lovely river and
its venerable bridge.

What a pity that, of the many rivers in Spain, scarcely one is
navigable.  The beautiful but shallow Tormes, instead of proving a
source of blessing and wealth to this part of Castile, is of no
further utility than to turn the wheels of various small water
mills, standing upon weirs of stone, which at certain distances
traverse the river.

My sojourn at Salamanca was rendered particularly pleasant by the
kind attentions and continual acts of hospitality which I
experienced from the inmates of the Irish College, to the rector of
which I bore a letter of recommendation from my kind and excellent
friend Mr. O'Shea, the celebrated banker of Madrid.  It will be
long before I forget these Irish, more especially their head, Dr.
Gartland, a genuine scion of the good Hibernian tree, an
accomplished scholar, and a courteous and high-minded gentleman.
Though fully aware who I was, he held out the hand of friendship to
the wandering heretic missionary, although by so doing he exposed
himself to the rancorous remarks of the narrow-minded native
clergy, who, in their ugly shovel hats and long cloaks, glared at
me askance as I passed by their whispering groups beneath the
piazzas of the Plaza.  But when did the fear of consequences cause
an Irishman to shrink from the exercise of the duties of
hospitality?  However attached to his religion--and who is so
attached to the Romish creed as the Irishman?--I am convinced that
not all the authority of the Pope or the Cardinals would induce him
to close his doors on Luther himself, were that respectable
personage at present alive and in need of food and refuge.

Honour to Ireland and her "hundred thousand welcomes!"  Her fields
have long been the greenest in the world; her daughters the
fairest; her sons the bravest and most eloquent.  May they never
cease to be so.

The posada where I had put up was a good specimen of the old
Spanish inn, being much the same as those described in the time of
Philip the Third or Fourth.  The rooms were many and large, floored
with either brick or stone, generally with an alcove at the end, in
which stood a wretched flock bed.  Behind the house was a court,
and in the rear of this a stable, full of horses, ponies, mules,
machos, and donkeys, for there was no lack of guests, who, however,
for the most part slept in the stable with their caballerias, being
either arrieros or small peddling merchants who travelled the
country with coarse cloth or linen.  Opposite to my room in the
corridor lodged a wounded officer, who had just arrived from San
Sebastian on a galled broken-kneed pony; he was an Estrimenian, and
was returning to his own village to be cured.  He was attended by
three broken soldiers, lame or maimed, and unfit for service:  they
told me that they were of the same village as his worship, and on
that account he permitted them to travel with him.  They slept
amongst the litter, and throughout the day lounged about the house
smoking paper cigars.  I never saw them eating, though they
frequently went to a dark cool corner, where stood a bota or kind
of water pitcher, which they held about six inches from their black
filmy lips, permitting the liquid to trickle down their throats.
They said they had no pay, and were quite destitute of money, that
su merced the officer occasionally gave them a piece of bread, but
that he himself was poor and had only a few dollars.  Brave guests
for an inn, thought I; yet, to the honour of Spain be it spoken, it
is one of the few countries in Europe where poverty is never
insulted nor looked upon with contempt.  Even at an inn, the poor
man is never spurned from the door, and if not harboured, is at
least dismissed with fair words, and consigned to the mercies of
God and his mother.  This is as it should be.  I laugh at the
bigotry and prejudices of Spain; I abhor the cruelty and ferocity
which have cast a stain of eternal infamy on her history; but I
will say for the Spaniards, that in their social intercourse no
people in the world exhibit a juster feeling of what is due to the
dignity of human nature, or better understand the behaviour which
it behoves a man to adopt towards his fellow beings.  I have said
that it is one of the few countries in Europe where poverty is not
treated with contempt, and I may add, where the wealthy are not
blindly idolized.  In Spain the very beggar does not feel himself a
degraded being, for he kisses no one's feet, and knows not what it
is to be cuffed or spitten upon; and in Spain the duke or the
marquis can scarcely entertain a very overweening opinion of his
own consequence, as he finds no one, with perhaps the exception of
his French valet, to fawn upon or flatter him.

During my stay at Salamanca, I took measures that the word of God
might become generally known in this celebrated city.  The
principal bookseller of the town, Blanco, a man of great wealth and
respectability, consented to become my agent here, and I in
consequence deposited in his shop a certain number of New
Testaments.  He was the proprietor of a small printing press, where
the official bulletin of the place was published.  For this
bulletin I prepared an advertisement of the work, in which, amongst
other things, I said that the New Testament was the only guide to
salvation; I also spoke of the Bible Society, and the great
pecuniary sacrifices which it was making with the view of
proclaiming Christ crucified, and of making his doctrine known.
This step will perhaps be considered by some as too bold, but I was
not aware that I could take any more calculated to arouse the
attention of the people--a considerable point.  I also ordered
numbers of the same advertisement to be struck off in the shape of
bills, which I caused to be stuck up in various parts of the town.
I had great hope that by means of these a considerable number of
New Testaments would be sold.  I intended to repeat this experiment
in Valladolid, Leon, St. Jago, and all the principal towns which I
visited, and to distribute them likewise as I rode along:  the
children of Spain would thus be brought to know that such a work as
the New Testament is in existence, a fact of which not five in one
hundred were then aware, notwithstanding their so frequently-
repeated boasts of their Catholicity and Christianity.



CHAPTER XXI



Departure from Salamanca--Reception at Pitiegua--The Dilemma--
Sudden Inspiration--The Good Presbyter--Combat of Quadrupeds--Irish
Christians--Plains of Spain--The Catalans--The Fatal Pool--
Valladolid--Circulation of the Scriptures--Philippine Missions--
English College--A Conversation--The Gaoleress.

On Saturday, the tenth of June, I left Salamanca for Valladolid.
As the village where we intended to rest was only five leagues
distant, we did not sally forth till midday was past.  There was a
haze in the heavens which overcast the sun, nearly hiding his
countenance from our view.  My friend, Mr. Patrick Cantwell, of the
Irish College, was kind enough to ride with me part of the way.  He
was mounted on a most sorry-looking hired mule, which, I expected
would be unable to keep pace with the spirited horses of myself and
man, for he seemed to be twin brother of the mule of Gil Perez, on
which his nephew made his celebrated journey from Oviedo to
Penaflor.  I was, however, very much mistaken.  The creature on
being mounted instantly set off at that rapid walk which I have so
often admired in Spanish mules, and which no horse can emulate.
Our more stately animals were speedily left in the rear, and we
were continually obliged to break into a trot to follow the
singular quadruped, who, ever and anon, would lift his head high in
the air, curl up his lip, and show his yellow teeth, as if he were
laughing at us, as perhaps he was.  It chanced that none of us was
well acquainted with the road; indeed, I could see nothing which
was fairly entitled to that appellation.  The way from Salamanca to
Valladolid is amongst a medley of bridle-paths and drift-ways,
where discrimination is very difficult.  It was not long before we
were bewildered, and travelled over more ground than was strictly
necessary.  However, as men and women frequently passed on donkeys
and little ponies, we were not too proud to be set right by them,
and by dint of diligent inquiry we at length arrived at Pitiegua,
four leagues from Salamanca, a small village, containing about
fifty families, consisting of mud huts, and situated in the midst
of dusty plains, where corn was growing in abundance.  We asked for
the house of the cura, an old man whom I had seen the day before at
the Irish College, and who, on being informed that I was about to
depart for Valladolid, had exacted from me a promise that I would
not pass through his village without paying him a visit and
partaking of his hospitality.

A woman directed us to a cottage somewhat superior in appearance to
those contiguous.  It had a small portico, which, if I remember
well, was overgrown with a vine.  We knocked loud and long at the
door, but received no answer; the voice of man was silent, and not
even a dog barked.  The truth was, that the old curate was taking
his siesta, and so were his whole family, which consisted of one
ancient female and a cat.  The good man was at last disturbed by
our noise and vociferation, for we were hungry, and consequently
impatient.  Leaping from his couch, he came running to the door in
great hurry and confusion, and perceiving us, he made many
apologies for being asleep at a period when, he said, he ought to
have been on the lookout for his invited guest.  He embraced me
very affectionately and conducted me into his parlour, an apartment
of tolerable size, hung round with shelves, which were crowded with
books.  At one end there was a kind of table or desk covered with
black leather, with a large easy chair, into which he pushed me, as
I, with the true eagerness of a bibliomaniac, was about to inspect
his shelves; saying, with considerable vehemence, that there was
nothing there worthy of the attention of an Englishman, for that
his whole stock consisted of breviaries and dry Catholic treatises
on divinity.

His care now was to furnish us with refreshments.  In a twinkling,
with the assistance of his old attendant, he placed on the table
several plates of cakes and confectionery, and a number of large
uncouth glass bottles, which I thought bore a strong resemblance to
those of Schiedam, and indeed they were the very same.  "There,"
said he, rubbing his hands; "I thank God that it is in my power to
treat you in a way which will be agreeable to you.  In those
bottles there is Hollands thirty years old"; and producing two
large tumblers, he continued, "fill, my friends, and drink, drink
it every drop if you please, for it is of little use to myself, who
seldom drink aught but water.  I know that you islanders love it,
and cannot live without it; therefore, since it does you good, I am
only sorry that there is no more."

Observing that we contented ourselves with merely tasting it, he
looked at us with astonishment, and inquired the reason of our not
drinking.  We told him that we seldom drank ardent spirits; and I
added, that as for myself, I seldom tasted even wine, but like
himself, was content with the use of water.  He appeared somewhat
incredulous, but told us to do exactly what we pleased, and to ask
for what was agreeable to us.  We told him that we had not dined,
and should be glad of some substantial refreshment.  "I am afraid,"
said he, "that I have nothing in the house which will suit you;
however, we will go and see."

Thereupon he led us through a small yard at the back part of his
house, which might have been called a garden, or orchard, if it had
displayed either trees or flowers; but it produced nothing but
grass, which was growing in luxuriance.  At one end was a large
pigeon-house, which we all entered:  "for," said the curate, "if we
could find some nice delicate pigeons they would afford you an
excellent dinner."  We were, however, disappointed; for after
rummaging the nests, we only found very young ones, unfitted for
our purpose.  The good man became very melancholy, and said he had
some misgivings that we should have to depart dinnerless.  Leaving
the pigeon-house, he conducted us to a place where there were
several skeps of bees, round which multitudes of the busy insects
were hovering, filling the air with their music.  "Next to my
fellow creatures," said he, "there is nothing which I love so
dearly as these bees; it is one of my delights to sit watching
them, and listening to their murmur."  We next went to several
unfurnished rooms, fronting the yard, in one of which were hanging
several flitches of bacon, beneath which he stopped, and looking
up, gazed intently upon them.  We told him that if he had nothing
better to offer, we should be very glad to eat some slices of this
bacon, especially if some eggs were added.  "To tell the truth,"
said he, "I have nothing better, and if you can content yourselves
with such fare I shall be very happy; as for eggs you can have as
many as you wish, and perfectly fresh, for my hens lay every day."

So, after every thing was prepared and arranged to our
satisfaction, we sat down to dine on the bacon and eggs, in a small
room, not the one to which he had ushered us at first, but on the
other side of the doorway.  The good curate, though he ate nothing,
having taken his meal long before, sat at the head of the table,
and the repast was enlivened by his chat.  "There, my friends,"
said he, "where you are now seated, once sat Wellington and
Crawford, after they had beat the French at Arapiles, and rescued
us from the thraldom of those wicked people.  I never respected my
house so much as I have done since they honoured it with their
presence.  They were heroes, and one was a demigod."  He then burst
into a most eloquent panegyric of El Gran Lord, as he termed him,
which I should be very happy to translate, were my pen capable of
rendering into English the robust thundering sentences of his
powerful Castilian.  I had till then considered him a plain
uninformed old man, almost simple, and as incapable of much emotion
as a tortoise within its shell; but he had become at once inspired:
his eyes were replete with a bright fire, and every muscle of his
face was quivering.  The little silk skull-cap which he wore,
according to the custom of the Catholic clergy, moved up and down
with his agitation, and I soon saw that I was in the presence of
one of those remarkable men who so frequently spring up in the
bosom of the Romish church, and who to a child-like simplicity
unite immense energy and power of mind,--equally adapted to guide a
scanty flock of ignorant rustics in some obscure village in Italy
or Spain, as to convert millions of heathens on the shores of
Japan, China, and Paraguay.

He was a thin spare man, of about sixty-five, and was dressed in a
black cloak of very coarse materials, nor were his other garments
of superior quality.  This plainness, however, in the appearance of
his outward man was by no means the result of poverty; quite the
contrary.  The benefice was a very plentiful one, and placed at his
disposal annually a sum of at least eight hundred dollars, of which
the eighth part was more than sufficient to defray the expenses of
his house and himself; the rest was devoted entirely to the purest
acts of charity.  He fed the hungry wanderer, and dispatched him
singing on his way, with meat in his wallet and a peseta in his
purse, and his parishioners, when in need of money, had only to
repair to his study and were sure of an immediate supply.  He was,
indeed, the banker of the village, and what he lent he neither
expected nor wished to be returned.  Though under the necessity of
making frequent journeys to Salamanca, he kept no mule, but
contented himself with an ass, borrowed from the neighbouring
miller.  "I once kept a mule," said he, "but some years since it
was removed without my permission by a traveller whom I had housed
for the night:  for in that alcove I keep two clean beds for the
use of the wayfaring, and I shall be very much pleased if yourself
and friend will occupy them, and tarry with me till the morning."

But I was eager to continue my journey, and my friend was no less
anxious to return to Salamanca.  Upon taking leave of the
hospitable curate, I presented him with a copy of the New
Testament.  He received it without uttering a single word, and
placed it on one of the shelves of his study; but I observed him
nodding significantly to the Irish student, perhaps as much as to
say, "Your friend loses no opportunity of propagating his book";
for he was well aware who I was.  I shall not speedily forget the
truly good presbyter, Anthonio Garcia de Aguilar, Cura of Pitiegua.

We reached Pedroso shortly before nightfall.  It was a small
village containing about thirty houses, and intersected by a
rivulet, or as it is called a regata.  On its banks women and
maidens were washing their linen and singing couplets; the church
stood lone and solitary on the farther side.  We inquired for the
posada, and were shown a cottage differing nothing from the rest in
general appearance.  We called at the door in vain, as it is not
the custom of Castile for the people of these halting places to go
out to welcome their visitors:  at last we dismounted and entered
the house, demanding of a sullen-looking woman where we were to
place the horses.  She said there was a stable within the house,
but we could not put the animals there as it contained malos machos
(savage mules) belonging to two travellers who would certainly
fight with our horses, and then there would be a funcion, which
would tear the house down.  She then pointed to an outhouse across
the way, saying that we could stable them there.  We entered this
place, which we found full of filth and swine, with a door without
a lock.  I thought of the fate of the cura's mule, and was
unwilling to trust the horses in such a place, abandoning them to
the mercy of any robber in the neighbourhood.  I therefore entered
the house, and said resolutely, that I was determined to place them
in the stable.  Two men were squatted on the ground, with an
immense bowl of stewed hare before them, on which they were
supping; these were the travelling merchants, the masters of the
mutes.  I passed on to the stable, one of the men saying softly,
"Yes, yes, go in and see what will befall."  I had no sooner
entered the stable than I heard a horrid discordant cry, something
between a bray and a yell, and the largest of the machos, tearing
his head from the manger to which he was fastened, his eyes
shooting flames, and breathing a whirlwind from his nostrils, flung
himself on my stallion.  The horse, as savage as himself, reared on
his hind legs, and after the fashion of an English pugilist, repaid
the other with a pat on the forehead, which nearly felled him.  A
combat instantly ensued, and I thought that the words of the sullen
woman would be verified by the house being torn to pieces.  It
ended by my seizing the mute by the halter, at the risk of my
limbs, and hanging upon him with all my weight, whilst Antonio,
with much difficulty, removed the horse.  The man who had been
standing at the entrance now came forward, saying, "This would not
have happened if you had taken good advice."  Upon my stating to
him the unreasonableness of expecting that I would risk horses in a
place where they would probably be stolen before the morning, he
replied, "True, true, you have perhaps done right."  He then
refastened his macho, adding for additional security a piece of
whipcord, which he said rendered escape impossible.

After supper I roamed about the village.  I addressed two or three
labourers whom I found standing at their doors; they appeared,
however, exceedingly reserved, and with a gruff "buenas noches"
turned into their houses without inviting me to enter.  I at last
found my way to the church porch, where I continued some time in
meditation.  At last I bethought myself of retiring to rest; before
departing, however, I took out and affixed to the porch of the
church an advertisement to the effect that the New Testament was to
be purchased at Salamanca.  On returning to the house, I found the
two travelling merchants enjoying profound slumber on various
mantas or mule-cloths stretched on the floor.  "You are a French
merchant, I suppose, Caballero," said a man, who it seemed was the
master of the house, and whom I had not before seen.  "You are a
French merchant, I suppose, and are on the way to the fair of
Medina."  "I am neither Frenchman nor merchant," I replied, "and
though I purpose passing through Medina, it is not with the view of
attending the fair."  "Then you are one of the Irish Christians
from Salamanca, Caballero," said the man; "I hear you come from
that town."  "Why do you call them Irish Christians?" I replied.
"Are there pagans in their country?"  "We call them Christians,"
said the man, "to distinguish them from the Irish English, who are
worse than pagans, who are Jews and heretics."  I made no answer,
but passed on to the room which had been prepared for me, and from
which, the door being ajar, I heard the following conversation
passing between the innkeeper and his wife:-

Innkeeper.--Muger, it appears to me that we have evil guests in the
house.

Wife.--You mean the last comers, the Caballero and his servant.
Yes, I never saw worse countenances in my life.

Innkeeper.--I do not like the servant, and still less the master.
He has neither formality nor politeness:  he tells me that he is
not French, and when I spoke to him of the Irish Christians, he did
not seem to belong to them.  I more than suspect that he is a
heretic or a Jew at least.

Wife.--Perhaps they are both.  Maria Santissima! what shall we do
to purify the house when they are gone?

Innkeeper.--O, as for that matter, we must of course charge it in
the cuenta.

I slept soundly, and rather late in the morning arose and
breakfasted, and paid the bill, in which, by its extravagance, I
found the purification had not been forgotten.  The travelling
merchants had departed at daybreak.  We now led forth the horses,
and mounted; there were several people at the door staring at us.
"What is the meaning of this?" said I to Antonio.

"It is whispered that we are no Christians," said Antonio; "they
have come to cross themselves at our departure."

In effect, the moment that we rode forward a dozen hands at least
were busied in this evil-averting ceremony.  Antonio instantly
turned and crossed himself in the Greek fashion,--much more complex
and difficult than the Catholic.

"Mirad que Santiguo! que Santiguo de los demonios!" {15} exclaimed
many voices, whilst for fear of consequences we hastened away.

The day was exceedingly hot, and we wended our way slowly along the
plains of Old Castile.  With all that pertains to Spain, vastness
and sublimity are associated:  grand are its mountains, and no less
grand are its plains, which seem of boundless extent, but which are
not tame unbroken flats, like the steppes of Russia.  Rough and
uneven ground is continually occurring:  here a deep ravine and
gully worn by the wintry torrent; yonder an eminence not
unfrequently craggy and savage, at whose top appears the lone
solitary village.  There is little that is blithesome and cheerful,
but much that is melancholy.  A few solitary rustics are
occasionally seen toiling in the fields--fields without limit or
boundary, where the green oak, the elm or the ash are unknown;
where only the sad and desolate pine displays its pyramid-like
form, and where no grass is to be found.  And who are the
travellers of these districts?  For the most part arrieros, with
their long trains of mules hung with monotonous tinkling bells.
Behold them with their brown faces, brown dresses, and broad
slouched hats;--the arrieros, the true lords of the roads of Spain,
and to whom more respect is paid in these dusty ways than to dukes
and condes;--the arrieros, sullen, proud, and rarely courteous,
whose deep voices may be sometimes heard at the distance of a mile,
either cheering the sluggish animals, or shortening the dreary way
with savage and dissonant songs.

Late in the afternoon, we reached Medina del Campo, formerly one of
the principal cities of Spain, though at present an inconsiderable
place.  Immense ruins surround it in every direction, attesting the
former grandeur of this "city of the plain."  The great square or
market-place is a remarkable spot, surrounded by a heavy massive
piazza, over which rise black buildings of great antiquity.  We
found the town crowded with people awaiting the fair, which was to
be held in a day or two.  We experienced some difficulty in
obtaining admission into the posada, which was chiefly occupied by
Catalans from Valladolid.  These people not only brought with them
their merchandise but their wives and children.  Some of them
appeared to be people of the worst description:  there was one in
particular, a burly savage-looking fellow, of about forty, whose
conduct was atrocious; he sat with his wife, or perhaps concubine,
at the door of a room which opened upon the court:  he was
continually venting horrible and obscene oaths, both in Spanish and
Catalan.  The woman was remarkably handsome, but robust and
seemingly as savage as himself; her conversation likewise was as
frightful as his own.  Both seemed to be under the influence of an
incomprehensible fury.  At last, upon some observation from the
woman, he started up, and drawing a long knife from his girdle,
stabbed at her naked bosom; she, however, interposed the palm of
her hand, which was much cut.  He stood for a moment viewing the
blood trickling upon the ground, whilst she held up her wounded
hand, then with an astounding oath he hurried up the court to the
Plaza.  I went up to the woman and said, "What is the cause of
this?  I hope the ruffian has not seriously injured you."  She
turned her countenance upon me with the glance of a demon, and at
last with a sneer of contempt exclaimed, "Carals, que es eso?
Cannot a Catalan gentleman be conversing with his lady upon their
own private affairs without being interrupted by you?"  She then
bound up her hand with a handkerchief, and going into the room
brought a small table to the door, on which she placed several
things as if for the evening's repast, and then sat down on a
stool:  presently returned the Catalan, and without a word took his
seat on the threshold; then, as if nothing had occurred, the
extraordinary couple commenced eating and drinking, interlarding
their meal with oaths and jests.

We spent the night at Medina, and departing early next morning,
passed through much the same country as the day before, until about
noon we reached a small venta, distant half a league from the
Duero; here we reposed ourselves during the heat of the day, and
then remounting, crossed the river by a handsome stone bridge, and
directed our course to Valladolid.  The banks of the Duero in this
place have much beauty:  they abound with trees and brushwood,
amongst which, as we passed along, various birds were singing
melodiously.  A delicious coolness proceeded from the water, which
in some parts brawled over stones or rippled fleetly over white
sand, and in others glided softly over blue pools of considerable
depth.  By the side of one of these last, sat a woman of about
thirty, neatly dressed as a peasant; she was gazing upon the water
into which she occasionally flung flowers and twigs of trees.  I
stopped for a moment to ask a question; she, however, neither
looked up nor answered, but continued gazing at the water as if
lost to consciousness of all beside.  "Who is that woman?" said I
to a shepherd, whom I met the moment after.  "She is mad, la
pobrecita," said he; "she lost her child about a month ago in that
pool, and she has been mad ever since; they are going to send her
to Valladolid, to the Casa de los Locos.  There are many who perish
every year in the eddies of the Duero; it is a bad river; vaya
usted con la Virgen, Caballero."  So I rode on through the pinares,
or thin scanty pine forests, which skirt the way to Valladolid in
this direction.

Valladolid is seated in the midst of an immense valley, or rather
hollow which seems to have been scooped by some mighty convulsion
out of the plain ground of Castile.  The eminences which appear in
the neighbourhood are not properly high grounds, but are rather the
sides of this hollow.  They are jagged and precipitous, and exhibit
a strange and uncouth appearance.  Volcanic force seems at some
distant period to have been busy in these districts.  Valladolid
abounds with convents, at present deserted, which afford some of
the finest specimens of architecture in Spain.  The principal
church, though rather ancient, is unfinished:  it was intended to
be a building of vast size, but the means of the founders were
insufficient to carry out their plan:  it is built of rough
granite.  Valladolid is a manufacturing town, but the commerce is
chiefly in the hands of the Catalans, of whom there is a colony of
nearly three hundred established here.  It possesses a beautiful
alameda, or public walk, through which flows the river Escurva.
The population is said to amount to sixty thousand souls.

We put up at the Posada de las Diligencias, a very magnificent
edifice:  this posada, however, we were glad to quit on the second
day after our arrival, the accommodation being of the most wretched
description, and the incivility of the people great; the master of
the house, an immense tall fellow, with huge moustaches and an
assumed military air, being far too high a cavalier to attend to
the wants of his guests, with whom, it is true, he did not appear
to be overburdened, as I saw no one but Antonio and myself.  He was
a leading man amongst the national guards of Valladolid, and
delighted in parading about the city on a clumsy steed, which he
kept in a subterranean stable.

Our next quarters were at the Trojan Horse, an ancient posada, kept
by a native of the Basque provinces, who at least was not above his
business.  We found everything in confusion at Valladolid, a visit
from the factious being speedily expected.  All the gates were
blockaded, and various forts had been built to cover the approaches
to the city.  Shortly after our departure the Carlists actually did
arrive, under the command of the Biscayan chief, Zariategui.  They
experienced no opposition; the staunchest nationals retiring to the
principal fort, which they, however, speedily surrendered, not a
gun being fired throughout the affair.  As for my friend the hero
of the inn, on the first rumour of the approach of the enemy, he
mounted his horse and rode off, and was never subsequently heard
of.  On our return to Valladolid, we found the inn in other and
better hands, those of a Frenchman from Bayonne, from whom we
received as much civility as we had experienced rudeness from his
predecessor.

In a few days I formed the acquaintance of the bookseller of the
place, a kind-hearted simple man, who willingly undertook the
charge of vending the Testaments which I brought.

I found literature of every description at the lowest ebb at
Valladolid.  My newly-acquired friend merely carried on bookselling
in connexion with other business; it being, as he assured me, in
itself quite insufficient to afford him a livelihood.  During the
week, however, that I continued in this city, a considerable number
of copies were disposed of, and a fair prospect opened that many
more would be demanded.  To call attention to my books, I had
recourse to the same plan which I had adopted at Salamanca, the
affixing of advertisements to the walls.  Before leaving the city,
I gave orders that these should be renewed every week; from
pursuing which course I expected that much manifold good would
accrue, as the people would have continual opportunities of
learning that a book which contains the living word was in
existence, and within their reach, which might induce them to
secure it and consult it even unto salvation.

In Valladolid I found both an English and Scotch College.  From my
obliging friends, the Irish at Salamanca, I bore a letter of
introduction to the rector of the latter.  I found this college an
old gloomy edifice, situated in a retired street.  The rector was
dressed in the habiliments of a Spanish ecclesiastic, a character
which he was evidently ambitious of assuming.  There was something
dry and cold in his manner, and nothing of that generous warmth and
eager hospitality which had so captivated me in the fine Irish
rector of Salamanca; he was, however, civil and polite, and offered
to show me the curiosities of the place.  He evidently knew who I
was, and on that account was, perhaps, more reserved than he
otherwise would have been:  not a word passed between us on
religious matters, which we seemed to avoid by common consent.
Under the auspices of this gentleman, I visited the college of the
Philippine Missions, which stands beyond the gate of the city,
where I was introduced to the superior, a fine old man of seventy,
very stout, in the habiliments of a friar.  There was an air of
placid benignity on his countenance which highly interested me:
his words were few and simple, and he seemed to have bid adieu to
all worldly passions.  One little weakness was, however, still
clinging to him.

Myself.--This is a noble edifice in which you dwell, Father; I
should think it would contain at least two hundred students.

Rector.--More, my son; it is intended for more hundreds than it now
contains single individuals.

Myself.--I observe that some rude attempts have been made to
fortify it; the walls are pierced with loopholes in every
direction.

Rector.--The nationals of Valladolid visited us a few days ago, and
committed much useless damage; they were rather rude, and
threatened me with their clubs:  poor men, poor men.

Myself.--I suppose that even these missions, which are certainly
intended for a noble end, experience the sad effects of the present
convulsed state of Spain?

Rector.--But too true:  we at present receive no assistance from
the government, and are left to the Lord and ourselves.

Myself.--How many aspirants for the mission are you at present
instructing?

Rector.--Not one, my son; not one.  They are all fled.  The flock
is scattered and the shepherd left alone.

Myself.--Your reverence has doubtless taken an active part in the
mission abroad?

Rector.--I was forty years in the Philippines, my son, forty years
amongst the Indians.  Ah me! how I love those Indians of the
Philippines.

Myself.--Can your reverence discourse in the language of the
Indians?

Rector.--No, my son.  We teach the Indians Castilian.  There is no
better language, I believe.  We teach them Castilian, and the
adoration of the Virgin.  What more need they know?

Myself.--And what did your reverence think of the Philippines as a
country?

Rector.--I was forty years in the Philippines, but I know little of
the country.  I do not like the country.  I love the Indians.  The
country is not very bad; it is, however, not worth Castile.

Myself.--Is your reverence a Castilian?

Rector.--I am an OLD Castilian, my son.

From the house of the Philippine Missions my friend conducted me to
the English college; this establishment seemed in every respect to
be on a more magnificent scale than its Scottish sister.  In the
latter there were few pupils, scarcely six or seven, I believe,
whilst in the English seminary I was informed that between thirty
and forty were receiving their education.  It is a beautiful
building, with a small but splendid church, and a handsome library.
The situation is light and airy:  it stands by itself in an
unfrequented part of the city, and, with genuine English
exclusiveness, is surrounded by a high wall, which encloses a
delicious garden.  This is by far the most remarkable establishment
of the kind in the Peninsula, and I believe the most prosperous.
From the cursory view which I enjoyed of its interior, I of course
cannot be expected to know much of its economy.  I could not,
however, fall to be struck with the order, neatness, and system
which pervaded it.  There was, however, an air of severe monastic
discipline, though I am far from asserting that such actually
existed.  We were attended throughout by the sub-rector, the
principal being absent.  Of all the curiosities of this college,
the most remarkable is the picture gallery, which contains neither
more nor less than the portraits of a variety of scholars of this
house who eventually suffered martyrdom in England, in the exercise
of their vocation in the angry times of the Sixth Edward and fierce
Elizabeth.  Yes, in this very house were many of those pale smiling
half-foreign priests educated, who, like stealthy grimalkins,
traversed green England in all directions; crept into old halls
beneath umbrageous rookeries, fanning the dying embers of Popery,
with no other hope nor perhaps wish than to perish disembowelled by
the bloody hands of the executioner, amongst the yells of a rabble
as bigoted as themselves:  priests like Bedingfield and Garnet, and
many others who have left a name in English story.  Doubtless many
a history, only the more wonderful for being true, could be wrought
out of the archives of the English Popish seminary at Valladolid.

There was no lack of guests at the Trojan Horse, where we had taken
up our abode at Valladolid.  Amongst others who arrived during my
sojourn was a robust buxom dame, exceedingly well dressed in black
silk, with a costly mantilla.  She was accompanied by a very
handsome, but sullen and malicious-looking urchin of about fifteen,
who appeared to be her son.  She came from Toro, a place about a
day's journey from Valladolid, and celebrated for its wine.  One
night, as we were seated in the court of the inn enjoying the
fresco, the following conversation ensued between us.

Lady.--Vaya, vaya, what a tiresome place is Valladolid!  How
different from Toro.

Myself.--I should have thought that it is at least as agreeable as
Toro, which is not a third part so large.

Lady.--As agreeable as Toro!  Vaya, vaya!  Were you ever in the
prison of Toro, Sir Cavalier?

Myself.--I have never had that honour; the prison is generally the
last place which I think of visiting.

Lady.--See the difference of tastes:  I have been to see the prison
of Valladolid, and it seems as tiresome as the town.

Myself.--Of course, if grief and tediousness exist anywhere, you
will find them in the prison.

Lady.--Not in that of Toro.

Myself.--What does that of Toro possess to distinguish it from all
others?

Lady.--What does it possess?  Vaya!  Am I not the carcelera?  Is
not my husband the alcayde?  Is not that son of mine a child of the
prison?

Myself.--I beg your pardon, I was not aware of that circumstance;
it of course makes much difference.

Lady.--I believe you.  I am a daughter of that prison, my father
was alcayde, and my son might hope to be so, were he not a fool.

Myself.--His countenance then belies him strangely:  I should be
loth to purchase that youngster for a fool.

Gaoleress.--You would have a fine bargain if you did; he has more
picardias than any Calabozero in Toro.  What I mean is, that he
does not take to the prison as he ought to do, considering what his
fathers were before him.  He has too much pride--too many fancies;
and he has at length persuaded me to bring him to Valladolid, where
I have arranged with a merchant who lives in the Plaza to take him
on trial.  I wish he may not find his way to the prison:  if he do,
he will find that being a prisoner is a very different thing from
being a son of the prison.

Myself.--As there is so much merriment at Toro, you of course
attend to the comfort of your prisoners.

Gaoleress.--Yes, we are very kind to them; I mean to those who are
caballeros; but as for those with vermin and miseria, what can we
do?  It is a merry prison that of Toro; we allow as much wine to
enter as the prisoners can purchase and pay duty for.  This of
Valladolid is not half so gay:  there is no prison like Toro.  I
learned there to play on the guitar.  An Andalusian cavalier taught
me to touch the guitar and to sing a la Gitana.  Poor fellow, he
was my first novio.  Juanito, bring me the guitar, that I may play
this gentleman a tune of Andalusia.

The carcelera had a fine voice, and touched the favourite
instrument of the Spaniards in a truly masterly manner.  I remained
listening to her performance for nearly an hour, when I retired to
my apartment and my repose.  I believe that she continued playing
and singing during the greater part of the night, for as I
occasionally awoke I could still hear her; and, even in my
slumbers, the strings were ringing in my ears.



CHAPTER XXII



Duenas--Children of Egypt--Jockeyism--The Baggage Pony--The Fall--
Palencia--Carlist Priests--The Lookout--Priestly Sincerity--Leon--
Antonio alarmed--Heat and Dust.

After a sojourn of about ten days at Valladolid, we directed our
course towards Leon.  We arrived about noon at Duenas, a town at
the distance of six short leagues from Valladolid.  It is in every
respect a singular place:  it stands on a rising ground, and
directly above it towers a steep conical mountain of calcareous
earth, crowned by a ruined castle.  Around Duenas are seen a
multitude of caves scooped in the high banks and secured with
strong doors.  These are cellars, in which is deposited the wine,
of which abundance is grown in the neighbourhood, and which is
chiefly sold to the Navarrese and the mountaineers of Santander,
who arrive in cars drawn by oxen, and convey it away in large
quantities.  We put up at a mean posada in the suburb for the
purpose of refreshing our horses.  Several cavalry soldiers were
quartered there, who instantly came forth, and began, with the eyes
of connoisseurs, to inspect my Andalusian entero.  "A capital horse
that would be for our troop," said the corporal; "what a chest he
has.  By what right do you travel with that horse, Senor, when so
many are wanted for the Queen's service?  He belongs to the
requiso."  "I travel with him by right of purchase, and being an
Englishman," I replied.  "Oh, your worship is an Englishman,"
answered the corporal; "that, indeed, alters the matter; the
English in Spain are allowed to do what they please with their own,
which is more than the Spaniards are.  Cavalier, I have seen your
countrymen in the Basque provinces; Vaya, what riders! what horses!
They do not fight badly either.  But their chief skill is in
riding:  I have seen them dash over barrancos to get at the
factious, who thought themselves quite secure, and then they would
fall upon them on a sudden and kill them to a man.  In truth, your
worship, this is a fine horse, I must look at his teeth."

I looked at the corporal--his nose and eyes were in the horse's
mouth:  the rest of the party, who might amount to six or seven,
were not less busily engaged.  One was examining his forefeet,
another his hind; one fellow was pulling at his tail with all his
might, while another pinched the windpipe, for the purpose of
discovering whether the animal was at all touched there.  At last
perceiving that the corporal was about to remove the saddle that he
might examine the back of the animal, I exclaimed:-

"Stay, ye chabes of Egypt, ye forget that ye are hundunares, and
are no longer paruguing grastes in the chardy."

The corporal at these words turned his face full upon me, and so
did all the rest.  Yes, sure enough, there were the countenances of
Egypt, and the fixed filmy stare of eye.  We continued looking at
each other for a minute at least, when the corporal, a villainous-
looking fellow, at last said, in the richest gypsy whine
imaginable, "the erray know us, the poor Calore!  And he an
Englishman!  Bullati!  I should not have thought that there was
e'er a Busno would know us in these parts, where Gitanos are never
seen.  Yes, your worship is right; we are all here of the blood of
the Calore; we are from Melegrana (Granada), your worship; they
took us from thence and sent us to the wars.  Your worship is
right, the sight of that horse made us believe we were at home
again in the mercado of Granada; he is a countryman of ours, a real
Andalou.  Por dios, your worship, sell us that horse; we are poor
Calore, but we can buy him."

"You forget that you are soldiers," said I.  "How should you buy my
horse?"

"We are soldiers, your worship," said the corporal, "but we are
still Calore; we buy and sell bestis; the captain of our troop is
in league with us.  We have been to the wars, but not to fight; we
left that to the Busne.  We have kept together, and like true
Calore, have stood back to back.  We have made money in the wars,
your worship.  No tenga usted cuidao (be under no apprehension).
We can buy your horse."

Here he pulled out a purse, which contained at least ten ounces of
gold.

"If I were willing to sell," I replied, "what would you give me for
that horse?"

"Then your worship wishes to sell your horse--that alters the
matter.  We will give ten dollars for your worship's horse.  He is
good for nothing."

"How is this?" said I.  "You this moment told me he was a fine
horse--an Andalusian, and a countryman of yours."

"No, Senor! we did not say that he was an Andalou.  We said he was
an Estremou, and the worst of his kind.  He is eighteen years old,
your worship, short-winded and galled."

"I do not wish to sell my horse," said I; "quite the contrary; I
had rather buy than sell."

"Your worship does not wish to sell your horse," said the Gypsy.
"Stay, your worship, we will give sixty dollars for your worship's
horse."

"I would not sell him for two hundred and sixty.  Meclis! Meclis!
say no more.  I know your Gypsy tricks.  I will have no dealings
with you."

"Did I not hear your worship say that you wished to buy a horse?"
said the Gypsy.

"I do not want to buy a horse," said I; "if I need any thing, it is
a pony to carry our baggage; but it is getting late.  Antonio, pay
the reckoning."

"Stay, your worship, do not be in a hurry," said the Gypsy:  "I
have got the very pony which will suit you."

Without waiting for my answer, he hurried into the stable, from
whence he presently returned, leading an animal by a halter.  It
was a pony of about thirteen hands high, of a dark red colour; it
was very much galled all over, the marks of ropes and thongs being
visible on its hide.  The figure, however, was good, and there was
an extraordinary brightness in its eye.

"There, your worship," said the Gypsy; "there is the best pony in
all Spain."

"What do you mean by showing me this wretched creature?" said I.

"This wretched creature," said the Gypsy, "is a better horse than
your Andalou!"

"Perhaps you would not exchange," said I, smiling.

"Senor, what I say is, that he shall run with your Andalou, and
beat him!"

"He looks feeble," said I; "his work is well nigh done."

"Feeble as he is, Senor, you could not manage him; no, nor any
Englishman in Spain."

I looked at the creature again, and was still more struck with its
figure.  I was in need of a pony to relieve occasionally the horse
of Antonio in carrying the baggage which we had brought from
Madrid, and though the condition of this was wretched, I thought
that by kind treatment I might possibly soon bring him round.

"May I mount this animal?" I demanded.

"He is a baggage pony, Senor, and is ill to mount.  He will suffer
none but myself to mount him, who am his master.  When he once
commences running, nothing will stop him but the sea.  He springs
over hills and mountains, and leaves them behind in a moment.  If
you will mount him, Senor, suffer me to fetch a bridle, for you can
never hold him in with the halter."

"This is nonsense," said I.  "You pretend that he is spirited in
order to enhance the price.  I tell you his work is done."

I took the halter in my hand and mounted.  I was no sooner on his
back than the creature, who had before stood stone still, without
displaying the slightest inclination to move, and who in fact gave
no farther indication of existence than occasionally rolling his
eyes and pricking up an ear, sprang forward like a racehorse, at a
most desperate gallop.  I had expected that he might kick or fling
himself down on the ground, in order to get rid of his burden, but
for this escapade I was quite unprepared.  I had no difficulty,
however, in keeping on his back, having been accustomed from my
childhood to ride without a saddle.  To stop him, however, baffled
all my endeavours, and I almost began to pay credit to the words of
the Gypsy, who had said that he would run on until he reached the
sea.  I had, however, a strong arm, and I tugged at the halter
until I compelled him to turn slightly his neck, which from its
stiffness might almost have been of wood; he, however, did not
abate his speed for a moment.  On the left side of the road down
which he was dashing was a deep trench, just where the road took a
turn towards the right, and over this he sprang in a sideward
direction; the halter broke with the effort, the pony shot forward
like an arrow, whilst I fell back into the dust.

"Senor!" said the Gypsy, coming up with the most serious
countenance in the world, "I told you not to mount that animal
unless well bridled and bitted.  He is a baggage pony, and will
suffer none to mount his back, with the exception of myself who
feed him."  (Here he whistled, and the animal, who was scurring
over the field, and occasionally kicking up his heels, instantly
returned with a gentle neigh.)  "Now, your worship, see how gentle
he is.  He is a capital baggage pony, and will carry all you have
over the hills of Galicia."

"What do you ask for him?" said I.

"Senor, as your worship is an Englishman, and a good ginete, and,
moreover, understands the ways of the Calore, and their tricks and
their language also, I will sell him to you a bargain.  I will take
two hundred and sixty dollars for him and no less."

"That is a large sum," said I.

"No, Senor, not at all, considering that he is a baggage pony, and
belongs to the troop, and is not mine to sell."

Two hours' ride brought us to Palencia, a fine old town,
beautifully situated on the Carrion, and famous for its trade in
wool.  We put up at the best posada which the place afforded, and I
forthwith proceeded to visit one of the principal merchants of the
town, to whom I was recommended by my banker in Madrid.  I was
told, however, that he was taking his siesta.  "Then I had better
take my own," said I, and returned to the posada.  In the evening I
went again, when I saw him.  He was a short bulky man about thirty,
and received me at first with some degree of bluntness; his manner,
however, presently became more kind, and at last he scarcely
appeared to know how to show me sufficient civility.  His brother
had just arrived from Santander, and to him he introduced me.  This
last was a highly-intelligent person, and had passed many years of
his life in England.  They both insisted upon showing me the town,
and, indeed, led me all over it, and about the neighbourhood.  I
particularly admired the cathedral, a light, elegant, but ancient
Gothic edifice.  Whilst we walked about the aisles, the evening
sun, pouring its mellow rays through the arched windows, illumined
some beautiful paintings of Murillo, with which the sacred edifice
is adorned.  From the church my friends conducted me to a fulling
mill in the neighbourhood, by a picturesque walk.  There was no
lack either of trees or water, and I remarked, that the environs of
Palencia were amongst the most pleasant places that I had ever
seen.

Tired at last with rambling, we repaired to a coffee-house, where
they regaled me with chocolate and sweet-meats.  Such was their
hospitality; and of hospitality of this simple and agreeable kind
there is much in Spain.

On the next day we pursued our journey, a dreary one, for the most
part, over bleak and barren plains, interspersed with silent and
cheerless towns and villages, which stood at the distance of two or
three leagues from each other.  About midday we obtained a dim and
distant view of an immense range of mountains, which are in fact
those which bound Castile on the north.  The day, however, became
dim and obscure, and we speedily lost sight of them.  A hollow wind
now arose and blew over these desolate plains with violence,
wafting clouds of dust into our faces; the rays of the sun were
few, and those red and angry.  I was tired of my journey, and when
about four we reached -, a large village, half way between Palencia
and Leon, I declared my intention of stopping for the night.  I
scarcely ever saw a more desolate place than this same town or
village of -.  The houses were for the most part large, but the
walls were of mud, like those of barns.  We saw no person in the
long winding street to direct us to the venta, or posada, till at
last, at the farther end of the place, we descried two black
figures standing at a door, of whom, on making inquiry, we learned
that the door at which they stood was that of the house we were in
quest of.  There was something strange in the appearance of these
two beings, who seemed the genii of the place.  One was a small
slim man, about fifty, with sharp, ill-natured features.  He was
dressed in coarse black worsted stockings, black breeches, and an
ample black coat with long trailing skirts.  I should at once have
taken him for an ecclesiastic, but for his hat, which had nothing
clerical about it, being a pinched diminutive beaver.  His
companion was of low stature, and a much younger man.  He was
dressed in similar fashion, save that he wore a dark blue cloak.
Both carried walking sticks in their hands, and kept hovering about
the door, now within and now without, occasionally looking up the
road, as if they expected some one.

"Trust me, mon maitre," said Antonio to me, in French, "those two
fellows are Carlist priests, and are awaiting the arrival of the
Pretender.  Les imbeciles!"

We conducted our horses to the stable, to which we were shown by
the woman of the house.  "Who are those men?" said I to her.

"The eldest is head curate to our pueblo," said she; "the other is
brother to my husband.  Pobrecito! he was a friar in our convent
before it was shut up and the brethren driven forth."

We returned to the door.  "I suppose, gentlemen," said the curate,
"that you are Catalans.  Do you bring any news from that kingdom?"

"Why do you suppose we are Catalans?" I demanded.

"Because I heard you this moment conversing in that language."

"I bring no news from Catalonia," said I.  "I believe, however,
that the greater part of that principality is in the hands of the
Carlists."

"Ahem, brother Pedro!  This gentleman says that the greater part of
Catalonia is in the hands of the royalists.  Pray, sir, where may
Don Carlos be at present with his army?"

"He may be coming down the road this moment," said I, "for what I
know;" and, stepping out, I looked up the way.

The two figures were at my side in a moment; Antonio followed, and
we all four looked intently up the road.

"Do you see anything?" said I at last to Antonio.

"Non, mon maitre."

"Do you see anything, sir?" said I to the curate.

"I see nothing," said the curate, stretching out his neck.

"I see nothing," said Pedro, the ex-friar; "I see nothing but the
dust, which is becoming every moment more blinding."

"I shall go in, then," said I.  "Indeed, it is scarcely prudent to
be standing here looking out for the Pretender:  should the
nationals of the town hear of it, they might perhaps shoot us."

"Ahem," said the curate, following me; "there are no nationals in
this place:  I would fain see what inhabitant would dare become a
national.  When the inhabitants of this place were ordered to take
up arms as nationals, they refused to a man, and on that account we
had to pay a mulet; therefore, friend, you may speak out if you
have anything to communicate; we are all of your opinion here."

"I am of no opinion at all," said I, "save that I want my supper.
I am neither for Rey nor Roque.  You say that I am a Catalan, and
you know that Catalans think only of their own affairs."

In the evening I strolled by myself about the village, which I
found still more forlorn and melancholy than it at first appeared;
perhaps, however, it had been a place of consequence in its time.
In one corner of it I found the ruins of a large clumsy castle,
chiefly built of flint stones:  into these ruins I attempted to
penetrate, but the entrance was secured by a gate.  From the castle
I found my way to the convent, a sad desolate place, formerly the
residence of mendicant brothers of the order of St. Francis.  I was
about to return to the inn, when I heard a loud buzz of voices,
and, following the sound, presently reached a kind of meadow,
where, upon a small knoll, sat a priest in full canonicals, reading
in a loud voice a newspaper, while around him, either erect or
seated on the grass, were assembled about fifty vecinos, for the
most part dressed in long cloaks, amongst whom I discovered my two
friends the curate and friar.  A fine knot of Carlist quid-nuncs,
said I to myself, and turned away to another part of the meadow,
where the cattle of the village were grazing.  The curate, on
observing me, detached himself instantly from the group, and
followed.  "I am told you want a pony," said he; "there now is mine
feeding amongst those horses, the best in all the kingdom of Leon."
He then began with all the volubility of a chalan to descant on the
points of the animal.  Presently the friar joined us, who,
observing his opportunity, pulled me by the sleeve and whispered,
"Have nothing to do with the curate, master, he is the greatest
thief in the neighbourhood; if you want a pony, my brother has a
much better, which he will dispose of cheaper."  "I shall wait till
I arrive at Leon," I exclaimed, and walked away, musing on priestly
friendship and sincerity.

From--to Leon, a distance of eight leagues, the country rapidly
improved:  we passed over several small streams, and occasionally
found ourselves amongst meadows in which grass was growing in the
richest luxuriance.  The sun shone out brightly, and I hailed his
re-appearance with joy, though the heat of his beams was
oppressive.  On arriving within two leagues of Leon, we passed
numerous cars and waggons, and bands of people with horses and
mules, all hastening to the celebrated fair which is held in the
city on St. John's or Mid-summer day, and which took place within
three days after our arrival.  This fair, though principally
intended for the sale of horses, is frequented by merchants from
many parts of Spain, who attend with goods of various kinds, and
amongst them I remarked many of the Catalans whom I had previously
seen at Medina and Valladolid.

There is nothing remarkable in Leon, which is an old gloomy town,
with the exception of its cathedral, in many respects a counterpart
of the church of Palencia, exhibiting the same light and elegant
architecture, but, unlike its beautiful sister, unadorned with
splendid paintings.  The situation of Leon is highly pleasant, in
the midst of a blooming country, abounding with trees, and watered
by many streams, which have their source in the mighty mountains in
the neighbourhood.  It is, however, by no means a healthy place,
especially in summer, when the heats raise noxious exhalations from
the waters, generating many kinds of disorders, especially fevers.

I had scarcely been at Leon three days when I was seized with a
fever, against which I thought the strength even of my constitution
would have yielded, for it wore me almost to a skeleton, and when
it departed, at the end of about a week, left me in such a
deplorable state of weakness that I was scarcely able to make the
slightest exertion.  I had, however, previously persuaded a
bookseller to undertake the charge of vending the Testaments, and
had published my advertisements as usual, though without very
sanguine hope of success, as Leon is a place where the inhabitants,
with very few exceptions, are furious Carlists, and ignorant and
blinded followers of the old papal church.  It is, moreover, a
bishop's see, which was once enjoyed by the prime counsellor of Don
Carlos, whose fierce and bigoted spirit still seems to pervade the
place.  Scarcely had the advertisements appeared, when the clergy
were in motion.  They went from house to house, banning and
cursing, and denouncing misery to whomsoever should either purchase
or read "the accursed books," which had been sent into the country
by heretics for the purpose of perverting the innocent minds of the
population.  They did more; they commenced a process against the
bookseller in the ecclesiastical court.  Fortunately this court is
not at present in the possession of much authority; and the
bookseller, a bold and determined man, set them at defiance, and
went so far as to affix an advertisement to the gate of the very
cathedral.  Notwithstanding the cry raised against the book,
several copies were sold at Leon:  two were purchased by ex-friars,
and the same number by parochial priests from neighbouring
villages.  I believe the whole number disposed of during my stay
amounted to fifteen; so that my visit to this dark corner was not
altogether in vain, as the seed of the gospel has been sown, though
sparingly.  But the palpable darkness which envelops Leon is truly
lamentable, and the ignorance of the people is so great, that
printed charms and incantations against Satan and his host, and
against every kind of misfortune, are publicly sold in the shops,
and are in great demand.  Such are the results of Popery, a
delusion which, more than any other, has tended to debase and
brutalize the human mind.

I had scarcely risen from my bed where the fever had cast me, when
I found that Antonio had become alarmed.  He informed me that he
had seen several soldiers in the uniform of Don Carlos lurking at
the door of the posada, and that they had been making inquiries
concerning me.

It was indeed a singular fact connected with Leon, that upwards of
fifty of these fellows, who had on various accounts left the ranks
of the Pretender, were walking about the streets dressed in his
livery, and with all the confidence which the certainty of
protection from the local authorities could afford them should any
one be disposed to interrupt them.

I learned moreover from Antonio, that the person in whose house we
were living was a notorious "alcahuete," or spy to the robbers in
the neighbourhood, and that unless we took our departure speedily
and unexpectedly, we should to a certainty be plundered on the
road.  I did not pay much attention to these hints, but my desire
to quit Leon was great, as I was convinced that as long as I
continued there I should be unable to regain my health and vigour.

Accordingly, at three in the morning, we departed for Galicia.  We
had scarcely proceeded half a league when we were overtaken by a
thunder-storm of tremendous violence.  We were at that time in the
midst of a wood which extends to some distance in the direction in
which we were going.  The trees were bowed almost to the ground by
the wind or torn up by the roots, whilst the earth was ploughed up
by the lightning, which burst all around and nearly blinded us.
The spirited Andalusian on which I rode became furious, and bounded
into the air as if possessed.  Owing to my state of weakness, I had
the greatest difficulty in maintaining my seat, and avoiding a fall
which might have been fatal.  A tremendous discharge of rain
followed the storm, which swelled the brooks and streams and
flooded the surrounding country, causing much damage amongst the
corn.  After riding about five leagues, we began to enter the
mountainous district which surrounds Astorga:  the heat now became
almost suffocating; swarms of flies began to make their appearance,
and settling down upon the horses, stung them almost to madness,
whilst the road was very flinty and trying.  It was with great
difficulty that we reached Astorga, covered with mud and dust, our
tongues cleaving to our palates with thirst.



CHAPTER XXIII



Astorga--The Inn--The Maragatos--The Habits of the Maragatos--The
Statue.

We went to a posada in the suburbs, the only one, indeed, which the
place afforded.  The courtyard was full of arrieros and carriers,
brawling loudly; the master of the house was fighting with two of
his customers, and universal confusion reigned around.  As I
dismounted I received the contents of a wineglass in my face, of
which greeting, as it was probably intended for another, I took no
notice.  Antonio, however, was not so patient, for on being struck
with a cudgel, he instantly returned the salute with his whip,
scarifying the countenance of a carman.  In my endeavours to
separate these two antagonists, my horse broke loose, and rushing
amongst the promiscuous crowd, overturned several individuals and
committed no little damage.  It was a long time before peace was
restored:  at last we were shown to a tolerably decent chamber.  We
had, however, no sooner taken possession of it, than the waggon
from Madrid arrived on its way to Coruna, filled with dusty
travellers, consisting of women, children, invalid officers and the
like.  We were now forthwith dislodged, and our baggage flung into
the yard.  On our complaining of this treatment, we were told that
we were two vagabonds whom nobody knew; who had come without an
arriero, and had already set the whole house in confusion.  As a
great favour, however, we were at length permitted to take up our
abode in a ruinous building down the yard, adjoining the stable,
and filled with rats and vermin.  Here there was an old bed with a
tester, and with this wretched accommodation we were glad to
content ourselves, for I could proceed no farther, and was burnt
with fever.  The heat of the place was intolerable, and I sat on
the staircase with my head between my hands, gasping for breath:
soon appeared Antonio with vinegar and water, which I drank and
felt relieved.

We continued in this suburb three days, during the greatest part of
which time I was stretched on the tester bed.  I once or twice
contrived to make my way into the town, but found no bookseller,
nor any person willing to undertake the charge of disposing of my
Testaments.  The people were brutal, stupid, and uncivil, and I
returned to my tester bed fatigued and dispirited.  Here I lay
listening from time to time to the sweet chimes which rang from the
clock of the old cathedral.  The master of the house never came
near me, nor indeed, once inquired about me.  Beneath the care of
Antonio, however, I speedily waxed stronger.  "Mon maitre," said he
to me one evening, "I see you are better; let us quit this bad town
and worse posada to-morrow morning.  Allons, mon maitre!  Il est
temps de nous mettre en chemin pour Lugo et Galice."

Before proceeding, however, to narrate what befell us in this
journey to Lugo and Galicia, it will perhaps not be amiss to say a
few words concerning Astorga and its vicinity.  It is a walled
town, containing about five or six thousand inhabitants, with a
cathedral and college, which last is, however, at present deserted.
It is situated on the confines, and may be called the capital of a
tract of land called the country of the Maragatos, which occupies
about three square leagues, and has for its north-western boundary
a mountain called Telleno, the loftiest of a chain of hills which
have their origin near the mouth of the river Minho, and are
connected with the immense range which constitutes the frontier of
the Asturias and Guipuscoa.

The land is ungrateful and barren, and niggardly repays the toil of
the cultivator, being for the most part rocky, with a slight
sprinkling of red brick earth.

The Maragatos are perhaps the most singular caste to be found
amongst the chequered population of Spain.  They have their own
peculiar customs and dress, and never intermarry with the
Spaniards.  Their name is a clue to their origin, as it signifies,
"Moorish Goths," and at the present day their garb differs but
little from that of the Moors of Barbary, as it consists of a long
tight jacket, secured at the waist by a broad girdle, loose short
trousers which terminate at the knee, and boots and gaiters.  Their
heads are shaven, a slight fringe of hair being only left at the
lower part.  If they wore the turban or barret, they could scarcely
be distinguished from the Moors in dress, but in lieu thereof they
wear the sombrero, or broad slouching hat of Spain.  There can be
little doubt that they are a remnant of those Goths who sided with
the Moors on their invasion of Spain, and who adopted their
religion, customs, and manner of dress, which, with the exception
of the first, are still to a considerable degree retained by them.
It is, however, evident that their blood has at no time mingled
with that of the wild children of the desert, for scarcely amongst
the hills of Norway would you find figures and faces more
essentially Gothic than those of the Maragatos.  They are strong
athletic men, but loutish and heavy, and their features, though for
the most part well formed, are vacant and devoid of expression.
They are slow and plain of speech, and those eloquent and
imaginative sallies so common in the conversation of other
Spaniards, seldom or never escape them; they have, moreover, a
coarse thick pronunciation, and when you hear them speak, you
almost imagine that it is some German or English peasant attempting
to express himself in the language of the Peninsula.  They are
constitutionally phlegmatic, and it is very difficult to arouse
their anger; but they are dangerous and desperate when once
incensed; and a person who knew them well, told me that he would
rather face ten Valencians, people infamous for their ferocity and
blood-thirstiness, than confront one angry Maragato, sluggish and
stupid though he be on other occasions.

The men scarcely ever occupy themselves in husbandry, which they
abandon to the women, who plough the flinty fields and gather in
the scanty harvests.  Their husbands and sons are far differently
employed:  for they are a nation of arrieros or carriers, and
almost esteem it a disgrace to follow any other profession.  On
every road of Spain, particularly those north of the mountains
which divide the two Castiles, may be seen gangs of fives and sixes
of these people lolling or sleeping beneath the broiling sun, on
gigantic and heavily laden mutes and mules.  In a word, almost the
entire commerce of nearly one half of Spain passes through the
hands of the Maragatos, whose fidelity to their trust is such, that
no one accustomed to employ them would hesitate to confide to them
the transport of a ton of treasure from the sea of Biscay to
Madrid; knowing well that it would not be their fault were it not
delivered safe and undiminished, even of a grain, and that bold
must be the thieves who would seek to wrest it from the far feared
Maragatos, who would cling to it whilst they could stand, and would
cover it with their bodies when they fell in the act of loading or
discharging their long carbines.

But they are far from being disinterested, and if they are the most
trustworthy of all the arrieros of Spain, they in general demand
for the transport of articles a sum at least double to what others
of the trade would esteem a reasonable recompense:  by this means
they accumulate large sums of money, notwithstanding that they
indulge themselves in far superior fare to that which contents in
general the parsimonious Spaniard;--another argument in favour of
their pure Gothic descent; for the Maragatos, like true men of the
north, delight in swilling liquors and battening upon gross and
luscious meats, which help to swell out their tall and goodly
figures.  Many of them have died possessed of considerable riches,
part of which they have not unfrequently bequeathed to the erection
or embellishment of religious houses.

On the east end of the cathedral of Astorga, which towers over the
lofty and precipitous wall, a colossal figure of lead may be seen
on the roof.  It is the statue of a Maragato carrier who endowed
the cathedral with a large sum.  He is in his national dress, but
his head is averted from the lands of his fathers, and whilst he
waves in his hand a species of flag, he seems to be summoning his
race from their unfruitful region to other climes, where a richer
field is open to their industry and enterprise.

I spoke to several of these men respecting the all-important
subject of religion; but I found "their hearts gross, and their
ears dull of hearing, and their eyes closed."  There was one in
particular to whom I showed the New Testament, and whom I addressed
for a considerable time.  He listened or seemed to listen
patiently, taking occasionally copious draughts from an immense jug
of whitish wine which stood between his knees.  After I had
concluded he said, "To-morrow I set out for Lugo, whither, I am
told, yourself are going.  If you wish to send your chest, I have
no objection to take it at so much (naming an extravagant price).
As for what you have told me, I understand little of it, and
believe not a word of it; but in respect to the books which you
have shown me, I will take three or four.  I shall not read them,
it is true, but I have no doubt that I can sell them at a higher
price than you demand."

So much for the Maragatos.



CHAPTER XXIV



Departure from Astorga--The Venta--The By-path--Narrow Escape--The
Cup of Water--Sun and Shade--Bembibre--Convent of the Rocks--
Sunset--Cacabelos--Midnight Adventure--Villafrancs.

It was four o'clock of a beautiful morning when we sallied from
Astorga, or rather from its suburbs, in which we had been lodged:
we directed our course to the north, in the direction of Galicia.
Leaving the mountain Telleno on our left, we passed along the
eastern skirts of the land of the Maragatos, over broken uneven
ground, enlivened here and there by small green valleys and runnels
of water.  Several of the Maragatan women, mounted on donkeys,
passed us on their way to Astorga, whither they were carrying
vegetables.  We saw others in the fields handling their rude
ploughs, drawn by lean oxen.  We likewise passed through a small
village, in which we, however, saw no living soul.  Near this
village we entered the high road which leads direct from Madrid to
Coruna, and at last, having travelled near four leagues, we came to
a species of pass, formed on our left by a huge lumpish hill (one
of those which descend from the great mountain Telleno), and on our
right by one of much less altitude.  In the middle of this pass,
which was of considerable breadth, a noble view opened itself to
us.  Before us, at the distance of about a league and a half, rose
the mighty frontier chain, of which I have spoken before; its blue
sides and broken and picturesque peaks still wearing a thin veil of
the morning mist, which the fierce rays of the sun were fast
dispelling.  It seemed an enormous barrier, threatening to oppose
our farther progress, and it reminded me of the fables respecting
the children of Magog, who are said to reside in remotest Tartary,
behind a gigantic wall of rocks, which can only be passed by a gate
of steel a thousand cubits in height.

We shortly after arrived at Manzanal, a village consisting of
wretched huts, and exhibiting every sign of poverty and misery.  It
was now time to refresh ourselves and horses, and we accordingly
put up at a venta, the last habitation in the village, where,
though we found barley for the animals, we had much difficulty in
procuring anything for ourselves.  I was at length fortunate enough
to obtain a large jug of milk, for there were plenty of cows in the
neighbourhood, feeding in a picturesque valley which we had passed
by, where was abundance of grass, and trees, and a rivulet broken
by tiny cascades.  The jug might contain about half a gallon, but I
emptied it in a few minutes, for the thirst of fever was still
burning within me, though I was destitute of appetite.  The venta
had something the appearance of a German baiting-house.  It
consisted of an immense stable, from which was partitioned a kind
of kitchen and a place where the family slept.  The master, a
robust young man, lolled on a large solid stone bench, which stood
within the door.  He was very inquisitive respecting news, but I
could afford him none; whereupon he became communicative, and gave
me the history of his life, the sum of which was, that he had been
a courier in the Basque provinces, but about a year since had been
dispatched to this village, where he kept the post-house.  He was
an enthusiastic liberal, and spoke in bitter terms of the
surrounding population, who, he said, were all Carlists and friends
of the friars.  I paid little attention to his discourse, for I was
looking at a Maragato lad of about fourteen, who served in the
house as a kind of ostler.  I asked the master if we were still in
the land of the Maragatos; but he told me that we had left it
behind nearly a league, and that the lad was an orphan and was
serving until he could rake up a sufficient capital to become an
arriero.  I addressed several questions to the boy, but the urchin
looked sullenly in my face, and either answered by monosyllables or
was doggedly silent.  I asked him if he could read.  "Yes," said
he, "as much as that brute of yours who is tearing down the
manger."

Quitting Manzanal, we continued our course.  We soon arrived at the
verge of a deep valley amongst mountains, not those of the chain
which we had seen before us, and which we now left to the right,
but those of the Telleno range, just before they unite with that
chain.  Round the sides of this valley, which exhibited something
of the appearance of a horse-shoe, wound the road in a circuitous
manner; just before us, however, and diverging from the road, lay a
footpath which seemed, by a gradual descent, to lead across the
valley, and to rejoin the road on the other side, at the distance
of about a furlong; and into this we struck in order to avoid the
circuit.

We had not gone far before we met two Galicians, on their way to
cut the harvests of Castile.  One of them shouted, "Cavalier, turn
back:  in a moment you will be amongst precipices, where your
horses will break their necks, for we ourselves could scarcely
climb them on foot."  The other cried, "Cavalier, proceed, but be
careful, and your horses, if sure-footed, will run no great danger:
my comrade is a fool."  A violent dispute instantly ensued between
the two mountaineers, each supporting his opinion with loud oaths
and curses; but without stopping to see the result, I passed on,
but the path was now filled with stones and huge slaty rocks, on
which my horse was continually slipping.  I likewise heard the
sound of water in a deep gorge, which I had hitherto not perceived,
and I soon saw that it would be worse than madness to proceed.  I
turned my horse, and was hastening to regain the path which I had
left, when Antonio, my faithful Greek, pointed out to me a meadow
by which, he said, we might regain the high road much lower down
than if we returned on our steps.  The meadow was brilliant with
short green grass, and in the middle there was a small rivulet of
water.  I spurred my horse on, expecting to be in the high road in
a moment; the horse, however, snorted and stared wildly, and was
evidently unwilling to cross the seemingly inviting spot.  I
thought that the scent of a wolf, or some other wild animal might
have disturbed him, but was soon undeceived by his sinking up to
the knees in a bog.  The animal uttered a shrill sharp neigh, and
exhibited every sign of the greatest terror, making at the same
time great efforts to extricate himself, and plunging forward, but
every moment sinking deeper.  At last he arrived where a small vein
of rock showed itself:  on this he placed his fore feet, and with
one tremendous exertion freed himself, from the deceitful soil,
springing over the rivulet and alighting on comparatively firm
ground, where he stood panting, his heaving sides covered with a
foamy sweat.  Antonio, who had observed the whole scene, afraid to
venture forward, returned by the path by which we came, and shortly
afterwards rejoined me.  This adventure brought to my recollection
the meadow with its footpath which tempted Christian from the
straight road to heaven, and finally conducted him to the dominions
of the giant Despair.

We now began to descend the valley by a broad and excellent
carretera or carriage road, which was cut out of the steep side of
the mountain on our right.  On our left was the gorge, down which
tumbled the runnel of water which I have before mentioned.  The
road was tortuous, and at every turn the scene became more
picturesque.  The gorge gradually widened, and the brook at its
bottom, fed by a multitude of springs, increased in volume and in
sound, but it was soon far beneath us, pursuing its headlong course
till it reached level ground, where it flowed in the midst of a
beautiful but confined prairie.  There was something sylvan and
savage in the mountains on the farther side, clad from foot to
pinnacle with trees, so closely growing that the eye was unable to
obtain a glimpse of the hill sides, which were uneven with ravines
and gulleys, the haunts of the wolf, the wild boar, and the corso,
or mountain-stag; the latter of which, as I was informed by a
peasant who was driving a car of oxen, frequently descended to feed
in the prairie, and were there shot for the sake of their skins,
for their flesh, being strong and disagreeable, is held in no
account.

But notwithstanding the wildness of these regions, the handiworks
of man were visible.  The sides of the gorge, though precipitous,
were yellow with little fields of barley, and we saw a hamlet and
church down in the prairie below, whilst merry songs ascended to
our ears from where the mowers were toiling with their scythes,
cutting the luxuriant and abundant grass.  I could scarcely believe
that I was in Spain, in general so brown, so arid and cheerless,
and I almost fancied myself in Greece, in that land of ancient
glory, whose mountain and forest scenery Theocritus has so well
described.

At the bottom of the valley we entered a small village, washed by
the brook, which had now swelled almost to a stream.  A more
romantic situation I had never witnessed.  It was surrounded, and
almost overhung by mountains, and embowered in trees of various
kinds; waters sounded, nightingales sang, and the cuckoo's full
note boomed from the distant branches, but the village was
miserable.  The huts were built of slate stones, of which the
neighbouring hills seemed to be principally composed, and roofed
with the same, but not in the neat tidy manner of English houses,
for the slates were of all sizes, and seemed to be flung on in
confusion.  We were spent with heat and thirst, and sitting down on
a stone bench, I entreated a woman to give me a little water.  The
woman said she would, but added that she expected to be paid for
it.  Antonio, on hearing this, became highly incensed, and speaking
Greek, Turkish, and Spanish, invoked the vengeance of the Panhagia
on the heartless woman, saying, "If I were to offer a Mahometan
gold for a draught of water he would dash it in my face; and you
are a Catholic, with the stream running at your door."  I told him
to be silent, and giving the woman two cuartos, repeated my
request, whereupon she took a pitcher, and going to the stream
filled it with water.  It tasted muddy and disagreeable, but it
drowned the fever which was devouring me.

We again remounted and proceeded on our way, which, for a
considerable distance, lay along the margin of the stream, which
now fell in small cataracts, now brawled over stones, and at other
times ran dark and silent through deep pools overhung with tall
willows,--pools which seemed to abound with the finny tribe, for
large trout frequently sprang from the water, catching the
brilliant fly which skimmed along its deceitful surface.  The scene
was delightful.  The sun was rolling high in the firmament, casting
from its orb of fire the most glorious rays, so that the atmosphere
was flickering with their splendour, but their fierceness was
either warded off by the shadow of the trees or rendered innocuous
by the refreshing coolness which rose from the waters, or by the
gentle breezes which murmured at intervals over the meadows,
"fanning the cheek or raising the hair" of the wanderer.  The hills
gradually receded, till at last we entered a plain where tall grass
was waving, and mighty chestnut trees, in full blossom, spread out
their giant and umbrageous boughs.  Beneath many stood cars, the
tired oxen prostrate on the ground, the crossbar of the poll which
they support pressing heavily on their heads, whilst their drivers
were either employed in cooking, or were enjoying a delicious
siesta in the grass and shade.  I went up to one of the largest of
these groups and demanded of the individuals whether they were in
need of the Testament of Jesus Christ.  They stared at one another,
and then at me, till at last a young man, who was dangling a long
gun in his hands as he reclined, demanded of me what it was, at the
same time inquiring whether I was a Catalan, "for you speak
hoarse," said he, "and are tall and fair like that family."  I sat
down amongst them and said that I was no Catalan, but that I came
from a spot in the Western Sea, many leagues distant, to sell that
book at half the price it cost; and that their souls' welfare
depended on their being acquainted with it.  I then explained to
them the nature of the New Testament, and read to them the parable
of the Sower.  They stared at each other again, but said that they
were poor, and could not buy books.  I rose, mounted, and was going
away, saying to them:  "Peace bide with you."  Whereupon the young
man with the gun rose, and saying, "Caspita! this is odd," snatched
the book from my hand and gave me the price I had demanded.

Perhaps the whole world might be searched in vain for a spot whose
natural charms could rival those of this plain or valley of
Bembibre, as it is called, with its wall of mighty mountains, its
spreading chestnut trees, and its groves of oaks and willows, which
clothe the banks of its stream, a tributary to the Minho.  True it
is, that when I passed through it, the candle of heaven was blazing
in full splendour, and everything lighted by its rays looked gay,
glad, and blessed.  Whether it would have filled me with the same
feelings of admiration if viewed beneath another sky, I will not
pretend to determine; but it certainly possesses advantages which
at no time could fail to delight, for it exhibits all the peaceful
beauties of an English landscape blended with something wild and
grand, and I thought within myself that he must be a restless
dissatisfied man, who, born amongst those scenes, would wish to
quit them.  At the time I would have desired no better fate than
that of a shepherd on the prairies, or a hunter in the hills of
Bembibre.

Three hours passed away and we were in another situation.  We had
halted and refreshed ourselves and horses at Bembibre, a village of
mud and slate, and which possessed little to attract attention:  we
were now ascending, for the road was over one of the extreme ledges
of those frontier hills which I have before so often mentioned; but
the aspect of heaven had blackened, clouds were rolling rapidly
from the west over the mountains, and a cold wind was moaning
dismally.  "There is a storm travelling through the air," said a
peasant, whom we overtook, mounted on a wretched mule; "and the
Asturians had better be on the lookout, for it is speeding in their
direction."  He had scarce spoken, when a light, so vivid and
dazzling that it seemed as if the whole lustre of the fiery element
were concentrated in it, broke around us, filling the whole
atmosphere, and covering rock, tree and mountain with a glare not
to be described.  The mule of the peasant tumbled prostrate, while
the horse I rode reared himself perpendicularly, and turning round,
dashed down the hill at headlong speed, which for some time it was
impossible to cheek.  The lightning was followed by a peal almost
as terrible, but distant, for it sounded hollow and deep; the
hills, however, caught up its voice, seemingly repeating it from
summit to summit, till it was lost in interminable space.  Other
flashes and peals succeeded, but slight in comparison, and a few
drops of rain descended.  The body of the tempest seemed to be over
another region.  "A hundred families are weeping where that bolt
fell," said the peasant when I rejoined him, "for its blaze has
blinded my mule at six leagues' distance."  He was leading the
animal by the bridle, as its sight was evidently affected.  "Were
the friars still in their nest above there," he continued, "I
should say that this was their doing, for they are the cause of all
the miseries of the land."

I raised my eyes in the direction in which he pointed.  Half way up
the mountain, over whose foot we were wending, jutted forth a black
frightful crag, which at an immense altitude overhung the road, and
seemed to threaten destruction.  It resembled one of those ledges
of the rocky mountains in the picture of the Deluge, up to which
the terrified fugitives have scrambled from the eager pursuit of
the savage and tremendous billows, and from whence they gaze down
in horror, whilst above them rise still higher and giddier heights,
to which they seem unable to climb.  Built on the very edge of this
crag, stood an edifice, seemingly devoted to the purposes of
religion, as I could discern the spire of a church rearing itself
high over wall and roof.  "That is the house of the Virgin of the
Rocks," said the peasant, "and it was lately full of friars, but
they have been thrust out, and the only inmates now are owls and
ravens."  I replied, that their life in such a bleak exposed abode
could not have been very enviable, as in winter they must have
incurred great risk of perishing with cold.  "By no means," said
he; "they had the best of wood for their braseros and chimneys, and
the best of wine to warm them at their meals, which were not the
most sparing.  Moreover, they had another convent down in the vale
yonder, to which they could retire at their pleasure."  On my
asking him the reason of his antipathy to the friars, he replied,
that he had been their vassal, and that they had deprived him every
year of the flower of what he possessed.  Discoursing in this
manner, we reached a village just below the convent, where he left
me, having first pointed out to me a house of stone, with an image
over the door, which, he said, once also belonged to the canalla
(rabble) above.

The sun was setting fast, and eager to reach Villafranca, where I
had determined on resting, and which was still distant three
leagues and a half, I made no halt at this place.  The road was now
down a rapid and crooked descent, which terminated in a valley, at
the bottom of which was a long and narrow bridge; beneath it rolled
a river, descending from a wide pass between two mountains, for the
chain was here cleft, probably by some convulsion of nature.  I
looked up the pass, and on the hills on both sides.  Far above, on
my right, but standing forth bold and clear, and catching the last
rays of the sun, was the Convent of the Precipices, whilst directly
over against it, on the farther side of the valley, rose the
perpendicular side of the rival hill, which, to a considerable
extent intercepting the light, flung its black shadow over the
upper end of the pass, involving it in mysterious darkness.
Emerging from the centre of this gloom, with thundering sound,
dashed a river, white with foam, and bearing along with it huge
stones and branches of trees, for it was the wild Sil hurrying to
the ocean from its cradle in the heart of the Asturian hills, and
probably swollen by the recent rains.

Hours again passed away.  It was now night, and we were in the
midst of woodlands, feeling our way, for the darkness was so great
that I could scarcely see the length of a yard before my horse's
head.  The animal seemed uneasy, and would frequently stop short,
prick up his ears, and utter a low mournful whine.  Flashes of
sheet lightning frequently illumined the black sky, and flung a
momentary glare over our path.  No sound interrupted the stillness
of the night, except the slow tramp of the horses' hoofs, and
occasionally the croaking of frogs from some pool or morass.  I now
bethought me that I was in Spain, the chosen land of the two
fiends, assassination and plunder, and how easily two tired and
unarmed wanderers might become their victims.

We at last cleared the woodlands, and after proceeding a short
distance, the horse gave a joyous neigh, and broke into a smart
trot.  A barking of dogs speedily reached my ears, and we seemed to
be approaching some town or village.  In effect we were close to
Cacabelos, a town about five miles distant from Villafranca.

It was near eleven at night, and I reflected that it would be far
more expedient to tarry in this place till the morning than to
attempt at present to reach Villafranca, exposing ourselves to all
the horrors of darkness in a lonely and unknown road.  My mind was
soon made up on this point; but I reckoned without my host, for at
the first posada which I attempted to enter, I was told that we
could not be accommodated, and still less our horses, as the stable
was full of water.  At the second, and there were but two, I was
answered from the window by a gruff voice, nearly in the words of
the Scripture:  "Trouble me not; the door is now shut, and my
children are with me in bed; I cannot arise to let you in."
Indeed, we had no particular desire to enter, as it appeared a
wretched hovel, though the poor horses pawed piteously against the
door, and seemed to crave admittance.

We had now no choice but to resume our doleful way to Villafranca,
which, we were told, was a short league distant, though it proved a
league and a half.  We found it no easy matter to quit the town,
for we were bewildered amongst its labyrinths, and could not find
the outlet.  A lad about eighteen was, however, persuaded, by the
promise of a peseta, to guide us:  whereupon he led us by many
turnings to a bridge, which he told us to cross, and to follow the
road, which was that of Villafranca; he then, having received his
fee, hastened from us.

We followed his directions, not, however, without a suspicion that
he might be deceiving us.  The night had settled darker down upon
us, so that it was impossible to distinguish any object, however
nigh.  The lightning had become more faint and rare.  We heard the
rustling of trees, and occasionally the barking of dogs, which last
sound, however, soon ceased, and we were in the midst of night and
silence.  My horse, either from weariness, or the badness of the
road, frequently stumbled; whereupon I dismounted, and leading him
by the bridle, soon left Antonio far in the rear.

I had proceeded in this manner a considerable way, when a
circumstance occurred of a character well suited to the time and
place.

I was again amidst trees and bushes, when the horse stopping short,
nearly pulled me back.  I know not how it was, but fear suddenly
came over me, which, though in darkness and in solitude, I had not
felt before.  I was about to urge the animal forward, when I heard
a noise at my right hand, and listened attentively.  It seemed to
be that of a person or persons forcing their way through branches
and brushwood.  It soon ceased, and I heard feet on the road.  It
was the short staggering kind of tread of people carrying a very
heavy substance, nearly too much for their strength, and I thought
I heard the hurried breathing of men over-fatigued.  There was a
short pause, during which I conceived they were resting in the
middle of the road; then the stamping recommenced, until it reached
the other side, when I again heard a similar rustling amidst
branches; it continued for some time and died gradually away.

I continued my road, musing on what had just occurred, and forming
conjectures as to the cause.  The lightning resumed its flashing,
and I saw that I was approaching tall black mountains.

This nocturnal journey endured so long that I almost lost all hope
of reaching the town, and had closed my eyes in a doze, though I
still trudged on mechanically, leading the horse.  Suddenly a voice
at a slight distance before me roared out, "Quien vive?" for I had
at last found my way to Villafranca.  It proceeded from the sentry
in the suburb, one of those singular half soldiers half guerillas,
called Miguelets, who are in general employed by the Spanish
government to clear the roads of robbers.  I gave the usual answer,
"Espana," and went up to the place where he stood.  After a little
conversation, I sat down on a stone, awaiting the arrival of
Antonio, who was long in making his appearance.  On his arrival, I
asked if any one had passed him on the road, but he replied that he
had seen nothing.  The night, or rather the morning, was still very
dark, though a small corner of the moon was occasionally visible.
On our inquiring the way to the gate, the Miguelet directed us down
a street to the left, which we followed.  The street was steep, we
could see no gate, and our progress was soon stopped by houses and
wall.  We knocked at the gates of two or three of these houses (in
the upper stories of which lights were burning), for the purpose of
being set right, but we were either disregarded or not heard.  A
horrid squalling of cats, from the tops of the houses and dark
corners, saluted our ears, and I thought of the night arrival of
Don Quixote and his squire at Toboso, and their vain search amongst
the deserted streets for the palace of Dulcinea.  At length we saw
light and heard voices in a cottage at the other side of a kind of
ditch.  Leading the horses over, we called at the door, which was
opened by an aged man, who appeared by his dress to be a baker, as
indeed he proved, which accounted for his being up at so late an
hour.  On begging him to show us the way into the town, he led us
up a very narrow alley at the end of his cottage, saying that he
would likewise conduct us to the posada.

The alley led directly to what appeared to be the market-place, at
a corner house of which our guide stopped and knocked.  After a
long pause an upper window was opened, and a female voice demanded
who we were.  The old man replied, that two travellers had arrived
who were in need of lodging.  "I cannot be disturbed at this time
of night," said the woman; "they will be wanting supper, and there
is nothing in the house; they must go elsewhere."  She was going to
shut the window, but I cried that we wanted no supper, but merely
resting place for ourselves and horses--that we had come that day
from Astorga, and were dying with fatigue.  "Who is that speaking?"
cried the woman.  "Surely that is the voice of Gil, the German
clock-maker from Pontevedra.  Welcome, old companion; you are come
at the right time, for my own is out of order.  I am sorry I have
kept you waiting, but I will admit you in a moment."

The window was slammed to, presently a light shone through the
crevices of the door, a key turned in the lock, and we were
admitted.



CHAPTER XXV



Villafranca--The Pass--Gallegan Simplicity--The Frontier Guard--The
Horse-shoe--Gallegan Peculiarities--A Word on Language--The
Courier--Wretched Cabins--Host and Guests--Andalusians.

"Ave Maria," said the woman; "whom have we here?  This is not Gil
the clock-maker."  "Whether it be Gil or Juan," said I, "we are in
need of your hospitality, and can pay for it."  Our first care was
to stable the horses, who were much exhausted.  We then went in
search of some accommodation for ourselves.  The house was large
and commodious, and having tasted a little water, I stretched
myself on the floor of one of the rooms on some mattresses which
the woman produced, and in less than a minute was sound asleep.

The sun was shining bright when I awoke.  I walked forth into the
market-place, which was crowded with people, I looked up, and could
see the peaks of tall black mountains peeping over the tops of the
houses.  The town lay in a deep hollow, and appeared to be
surrounded by hills on almost every side.  "Quel pays barbare!"
said Antonio, who now joined me; "the farther we go, my master, the
wilder everything looks.  I am half afraid to venture into Galicia;
they tell me that to get to it we must clamber up those hills:  the
horses will founder."  Leaving the market-place I ascended the wall
of the town, and endeavoured to discover the gate by which we
should have entered the preceding night; but I was not more
successful in the bright sunshine than in the darkness.  The town
in the direction of Astorga appeared to be hermetically sealed.

I was eager to enter Galicia, and finding that the horses were to a
certain extent recovered from the fatigue of the journey of the
preceding day, we again mounted and proceeded on our way.  Crossing
a bridge, we presently found ourselves in a deep gorge amongst the
mountains, down which rushed an impetuous rivulet, overhung by the
high road which leads into Galicia.  We were in the far-famed pass
of Fuencebadon.

It is impossible to describe this pass or the circumjacent region,
which contains some of the most extraordinary scenery in all Spain;
a feeble and imperfect outline is all that I can hope to effect.
The traveller who ascends it follows for nearly a league the course
of the torrent, whose banks are in some places precipitous, and in
others slope down to the waters, and are covered with lofty trees,
oaks, poplars, and chestnuts.  Small villages are at first
continually seen, with low walls, and roofs formed of immense
slates, the eaves nearly touching the ground; these hamlets,
however, gradually become less frequent as the path grows more
steep and narrow, until they finally cease at a short distance
before the spot is attained where the rivulet is abandoned, and is
no more seen, though its tributaries may yet be heard in many a
gully, or descried in tiny rills dashing down the steeps.
Everything here is wild, strange, and beautiful:  the hill up which
winds the path towers above on the right, whilst on the farther
side of a profound ravine rises an immense mountain, to whose
extreme altitudes the eye is scarcely able to attain; but the most
singular feature of this pass are the hanging fields or meadows
which cover its sides.  In these, as I passed, the grass was
growing luxuriantly, and in many the mowers were plying their
scythes, though it seemed scarcely possible that their feet could
find support on ground so precipitous:  above and below were drift-
ways, so small as to seem threads along the mountain side.  A car,
drawn by oxen, is creeping round yon airy eminence; the nearer
wheel is actually hanging over the horrid descent; giddiness seizes
the brain, and the eye is rapidly withdrawn.  A cloud intervenes,
and when again you turn to watch their progress, the objects of
your anxiety have disappeared.  Still more narrow becomes the path
along which you yourself are toiling, and its turns more frequent.
You have already come a distance of two leagues, and still one-
third of the ascent remains unsurmounted.  You are not yet in
Galicia; and you still hear Castilian, coarse and unpolished, it is
true, spoken in the miserable cabins placed in the sequestered
nooks which you pass by in your route.

Shortly before we reached the summit of the pass thick mists began
to envelop the tops of the hills, and a drizzling rain descended.
"These mists," said Antonio, "are what the Gallegans call bretima;
and it is said there is never any lack of them in their country."
"Have you ever visited the country before?" I demanded.  "Non, mon
maitre; but I have frequently lived in houses where the domestics
were in part Gallegans, on which account I know not a little of
their ways, and even something of their language."  "Is the opinion
which you have formed of them at all in their favour?" I inquired.
"By no means, mon maitre; the men in general seem clownish and
simple, yet they are capable of deceiving the most clever filou of
Paris; and as for the women, it is impossible to live in the same
house with them, more especially if they are Camareras, and wait
upon the Senora; they are continually breeding dissensions and
disputes in the house, and telling tales of the other domestics.  I
have already lost two or three excellent situations in Madrid,
solely owing to these Gallegan chambermaids.  We have now come to
the frontier, mon maitre, for such I conceive this village to be."

We entered the village, which stood on the summit of the mountain,
and as our horses and ourselves were by this time much fatigued, we
looked round for a place in which to obtain refreshment.  Close by
the gate stood a building which, from the circumstance of a mule or
two and a wretched pony standing before it, we concluded was the
posada, as in effect it proved to be.  We entered:  several
soldiers were lolling on heaps of coarse hay, with which the place,
which much resembled a stable, was half filled.  All were
exceedingly ill-looking fellows, and very dirty.  They were
conversing with each other in a strange-sounding dialect, which I
supposed to be Gallegan.  Scarcely did they perceive us when two or
three of them, starting from their couch, ran up to Antonio, whom
they welcomed with much affection, calling him companheiro.  "How
came you to know these men?" I demanded in French.  "Ces messieurs
sont presque tous de ma connoissance," he replied, "et, entre nous,
ce sont des veritables vauriens; they are almost all robbers and
assassins.  That fellow, with one eye, who is the corporal, escaped
a little time ago from Madrid, more than suspected of being
concerned in an affair of poisoning; but he is safe enough here in
his own country, and is placed to guard the frontier, as you see;
but we must treat them civilly, mon maitre; we must give them wine,
or they will be offended.  I know them, mon maitre--I know them.
Here, hostess, bring an azumbre of wine."

Whilst Antonio was engaged in treating his friends, I led the
horses to the stable; this was through the house, inn, or whatever
it might be called.  The stable was a wretched shed, in which the
horses sank to their fetlocks in mud and puddle.  On inquiring for
barley, I was told that I was now in Galicia, where barley was not
used for provender, and was very rare.  I was offered in lieu of it
Indian corn, which, however, the horses ate without hesitation.
There was no straw to be had; coarse hay, half green, being the
substitute.  By trampling about in the mud of the stable my horse
soon lost a shoe, for which I searched in vain.  "Is there a
blacksmith in the village?" I demanded of a shock-headed fellow who
officiated as ostler.

Ostler.--Si, Senhor; but I suppose you have brought horse-shoes
with you, or that large beast of yours cannot be shod in this
village.

Myself.--What do you mean?  Is the blacksmith unequal to his trade?
Cannot he put on a horse-shoe?

Ostler.--Si, Senhor; he can put on a horse-shoe if you give it him;
but there are no horse-shoes in Galicia, at least in these parts.

Myself.--Is it not customary then to shoe the horses in Galicia?

Ostler.--Senhor, there are no horses in Galicia, there are only
ponies; and those who bring horses to Galicia, and none but madmen
ever do, must bring shoes to fit them; only shoes of ponies are to
be found here.

Myself.--What do you mean by saying that only madmen bring horses
to Galicia?

Ostler.--Senhor, no horse can stand the food of Galicia and the
mountains of Galicia long, without falling sick; and then if he
does not die at once, he will cost you in farriers more than he is
worth; besides, a horse is of no use here, and cannot perform
amongst the broken ground the tenth part of the service which a
little pony mare can.  By the by, Senhor, I perceive that yours is
an entire horse; now out of twenty ponies that you see on the roads
of Galicia, nineteen are mares; the males are sent down into
Castile to be sold.  Senhor, your horse will become heated on our
roads, and will catch the bad glanders, for which there is no
remedy.  Senhor, a man must be mad to bring any horse to Galicia,
but twice mad to bring an entero, as you have done.

"A strange country this of Galicia," said I, and went to consult
with Antonio.

It appeared that the information of the ostler was literally true
with regard to the horse-shoe; at least the blacksmith of the
village, to whom we conducted the animal, confessed his inability
to shoe him, having none that would fit his hoof:  he said it was
very probable that we should be obliged to lead the animal to Lugo,
which, being a cavalry station, we might perhaps find there what we
wanted.  He added, however, that the greatest part of the cavalry
soldiers were mounted on the ponies of the country, the mortality
amongst the horses brought from the level ground into Galicia being
frightful.  Lugo was ten leagues distant:  there seemed, however,
to be no remedy at hand but patience, and, having refreshed
ourselves, we proceeded, leading our horses by the bridle.

We were now on level ground, being upon the very top of one of the
highest mountains in Galicia.  This level continued for about a
league, when we began to descend.  Before we had crossed the plain,
which was overgrown with furze and brushwood, we came suddenly upon
half a dozen fellows armed with muskets and wearing a tattered
uniform.  We at first supposed them to be banditti:  they were,
however, only a party of soldiers who had been detached from the
station we had just quitted to escort one of the provincial posts
or couriers.  They were clamorous for cigars, but offered us no
farther incivility.  Having no cigars to bestow, I gave them in
lieu thereof a small piece of silver.  Two of the worst looking
were very eager to be permitted to escort us to Nogales, the
village where we proposed to spend the night.  "By no means permit
them, mon maitre," said Antonio, "they are two famous assassins of
my acquaintance; I have known them at Madrid:  in the first ravine
they will shoot and plunder us."  I therefore civilly declined
their offer and departed.  "You seem to be acquainted with all the
cut-throats in Galicia," said I to Antonio, as we descended the
hill.

"With respect to those two fellows," he replied, "I knew them when
I lived as cook in the family of General Q-, who is a Gallegan:
they were sworn friends of the repostero.  All the Gallegans in
Madrid know each other, whether high or low makes no difference;
there, at least, they are all good friends, and assist each other
on all imaginable occasions; and if there be a Gallegan domestic in
a house, the kitchen is sure to be filled with his countrymen, as
the cook frequently knows to his cost, for they generally contrive
to eat up any little perquisites which he may have reserved for
himself and family."

Somewhat less than half way down the mountain we reached a small
village.  On observing a blacksmith's shop, we stopped, in the
faint hope of finding a shoe for the horse, who, for want of one,
was rapidly becoming lame.  To our great joy we found that the
smith was in possession of one single horse-shoe, which some time
previously he had found upon the way.  This, after undergoing much
hammering and alteration, was pronounced by the Gallegan vulcan to
be capable of serving in lieu of a better; whereupon we again
mounted, and slowly continued our descent.

Shortly ere sunset we arrived at Nogales, a hamlet situate in a
narrow valley at the foot of the mountain, in traversing which we
had spent the day.  Nothing could be more picturesque than the
appearance of this spot:  steep hills, thickly clad with groves and
forests of chestnuts, surrounded it on every side; the village
itself was almost embowered in trees, and close beside it ran a
purling brook.  Here we found a tolerably large and commodious
posada.

I was languid and fatigued, but felt little desire to sleep.
Antonio cooked our supper, or rather his own, for I had no
appetite.  I sat by the door, gazing on the wood-covered heights
above me, or on the waters of the rivulet, occasionally listening
to the people who lounged about the house, conversing in the
country dialect.  What a strange tongue is the Gallegan, with its
half singing half whining accent, and with its confused jumble of
words from many languages, but chiefly from the Spanish and
Portuguese.  "Can you understand this conversation?" I demanded of
Antonio, who had by this time rejoined me.  "I cannot, mon maitre,"
he replied; "I have acquired at various times a great many words
amongst the Gallegan domestics in the kitchens where I have
officiated as cook, but am quite unable to understand any long
conversation.  I have heard the Gallegans say that in no two
villages is it spoken in one and the same manner, and that very
frequently they do not understand each other.  The worst of this
language is, that everybody on first hearing it thinks that nothing
is more easy than to understand it, as words are continually
occurring which he has heard before:  but these merely serve to
bewilder and puzzle him, causing him to misunderstand everything
that is said; whereas, if he were totally ignorant of the tongue,
he would occasionally give a shrewd guess at what was meant, as I
myself frequently do when I hear Basque spoken, though the only
word which I know of that language is jaunguicoa."

As the night closed in I retired to bed, where I remained four or
five hours, restless and tossing about; the fever of Leon still
clinging to my system.  It was considerably past midnight when,
just as I was sinking into a slumber, I was aroused by a confused
noise in the village, and the glare of lights through the lattice
of the window of the room where I lay; presently entered Antonio,
half dressed.  "Mon maitre," said he, "the grand post from Madrid
to Coruna has just arrived in the village, attended by a
considerable escort, and an immense number of travellers.  The road
they say, between here and Lugo, is infested with robbers and
Carlists, who are committing all kinds of atrocities; let us,
therefore, avail ourselves of the opportunity, and by midday to-
morrow we shall find ourselves safe in Lugo."  On hearing these
words, I instantly sprang out of bed and dressed myself, telling
Antonio to prepare the horses with all speed.

We were soon mounted and in the street, amidst a confused throng of
men and quadrupeds.  The light of a couple of flambeaux, which were
borne before the courier, shone on the arms of several soldiers,
seemingly drawn up on either side of the road; the darkness,
however, prevented me from distinguishing objects very clearly.
The courier himself was mounted on a little shaggy pony; before and
behind him were two immense portmanteaux, or leather sacks, the
ends of which nearly touched the ground.  For about a quarter of an
hour there was much hubbub, shouting, and trampling, at the end of
which period the order was given to proceed.  Scarcely had we left
the village when the flambeaux were extinguished, and we were left
in almost total darkness; for some time we were amongst woods and
trees, as was evident from the rustling of leaves on every side.
My horse was very uneasy and neighed fearfully, occasionally
raising himself bolt upright.  "If your horse is not more quiet,
cavalier, we shall be obliged to shoot him," said a voice in an
Andalusian accent; "he disturbs the whole cavalcade."  "That would
be a pity, sergeant," I replied, "for he is a Cordovese by the four
sides; he is not used to the ways of this barbarous country."  "Oh,
he is a Cordovese," said the voice, "vaya, I did not know that; I
am from Cordova myself.  Pobrecito! let me pat him--yes, I know by
his coat that he is my countryman--shoot him, indeed! vaya, I would
fain see the Gallegan devil who would dare to harm him.  Barbarous
country, io lo creo:  neither oil nor olives, bread nor barley.
You have been at Cordova.  Vaya; oblige me, cavalier, by taking
this cigar."

In this manner we proceeded for several hours, up hill and down
dale, but generally at a very slow pace. The soldiers who escorted
us from time to time sang patriotic songs, breathing love and
attachment to the young Queen Isabel, and detestation of the grim
tyrant Carlos.  One of the stanzas which reached my ears, ran
something in the following style:-


"Don Carlos is a hoary churl,
Of cruel heart and cold;
But Isabel's a harmless girl,
Of only six years old."


At last the day began to break, and I found myself amidst a train
of two or three hundred people, some on foot, but the greater part
mounted, either on mules or the pony mares:  I could not
distinguish a single horse except my own and Antonio's.  A few
soldiers were thinly scattered along the road.  The country was
hilly, but less mountainous and picturesque than the one which we
had traversed the preceding day; it was for the most part
partitioned into small fields, which were planted with maize.  At
the distance of every two or three leagues we changed our escort,
at some village where was stationed a detachment.  The villages
were mostly an assemblage of wretched cabins; the roofs were
thatched, dank, and moist, and not unfrequently covered with rank
vegetation.  There were dunghills before the doors, and no lack of
pools and puddles.  Immense swine were stalking about, intermingled
with naked children.  The interior of the cabins corresponded with
their external appearance:  they were filled with filth and misery.

We reached Lugo about two hours past noon:  during the last two or
three leagues, I became so overpowered with weariness, the result
of want of sleep and my late illness, that I was continually dozing
in my saddle, so that I took but little notice of what was passing.
We put up at a large posada without the wall of the town, built
upon a steep bank, and commanding an extensive view of the country
towards the east.  Shortly after our arrival, the rain began to
descend in torrents, and continued without intermission during the
next two days, which was, however, to me but a slight source of
regret, as I passed the entire time in bed, and I may almost say in
slumber.  On the evening of the third day I arose.

There was much bustle in the house, caused by the arrival of a
family from Coruna; they came in a large jaunting car, escorted by
four carabineers.  The family was rather numerous, consisting of a
father, son, and eleven daughters, the eldest of whom might be
about eighteen.  A shabby-looking fellow, dressed in a jerkin and
wearing a high-crowned hat, attended as domestic.  They arrived
very wet and shivering, and all seemed very disconsolate,
especially the father, who was a well-looking middle-aged man.
"Can we be accommodated?" he demanded in a gentle voice of the man
of the house; "can we be accommodated in this fonda?"

"Certainly, your worship," replied the other; "our house is large.
How many apartments does your worship require for your family?"

"One will be sufficient," replied the stranger.

The host, who was a gouty personage and leaned upon a stick, looked
for a moment at the traveller, then at every member of his family,
not forgetting the domestic, and, without any farther comment than
a slight shrug, led the way to the door of an apartment containing
two or three flock beds, and which on my arrival I had objected to
as being small, dark, and incommodious; this he flung open, and
demanded whether it would serve.

"It is rather small," replied the gentleman; "I think, however,
that it will do."

"I am glad of it," replied the host.  "Shall we make any
preparations for the supper of your worship and family?"

"No, I thank you," replied the stranger, "my own domestic will
prepare the slight refreshment we are in need of."

The key was delivered to the domestic, and the whole family
ensconced themselves in their apartment:  before, however, this was
effected, the escort were dismissed, the principal carabineer being
presented with a peseta.  The man stood surveying the gratuity for
about half a minute, as it glittered in the palm of his hand; then
with an abrupt Vamos! he turned upon his heel, and without a word
of salutation to any person, departed with the men under his
command.

"Who can these strangers be?" said I to the host, as we sat
together in a large corridor open on one side, and which occupied
the entire front of the house.

"I know not," he replied, "but by their escort I suppose they are
people holding some official situation.  They are not of this
province, however, and I more than suspect them to be Andalusians."

In a few minutes the door of the apartment occupied by the
strangers was opened, and the domestic appeared bearing a cruse in
his hand.  "Pray, Senor Patron," demanded he, "where can I buy some
oil?"

"There is oil in the house," replied the host, "if you want to
purchase any; but if, as is probable, you suppose that we shall
gain a cuarto by selling it, you will find some over the way.  It
is as I suspected," continued the host, when the man had departed
on his errand, "they are Andalusians, and are about to make what
they call gaspacho, on which they will all sup.  Oh, the meanness
of these Andalusians! they are come here to suck the vitals of
Galicia, and yet envy the poor innkeeper the gain of a cuarto in
the oil which they require for their gaspacho.  I tell you one
thing, master, when that fellow returns, and demands bread and
garlic to mix with the oil, I will tell him there is none in the
house:  as he has bought the oil abroad, so he may the bread and
garlic; aye, and the water too for that matter."



CHAPTER XXVI



Lugo--The Baths--A Family History--Miguelets--The Three Heads--A
Farrier--English Squadron--Sale of Testaments--Coruna--The
Recognition--Luigi Piozzi--The Speculation--A Blank Prospect--John
Moore.

At Lugo I found a wealthy bookseller, to whom I brought a letter of
recommendation from Madrid.  He willingly undertook the sale of my
books.  The Lord deigned to favour my feeble exertions in his cause
at Lugo.  I brought thither thirty Testaments, all of which were
disposed of in one day; the bishop of the place, for Lugo is an
episcopal see, purchasing two copies for himself, whilst several
priests and ex-friars, instead of following the example of their
brethren at Leon, by persecuting the work, spoke well of it and
recommended its perusal.  I was much grieved that my stock of these
holy books was exhausted, there being a great demand; and had I
been able to supply them, quadruple the quantity might have been
sold during the few days that I continued at Lugo.

Lugo contains about six thousand inhabitants.  It is situated on
lofty ground, and is defended by ancient walls.  It possesses no
very remarkable edifice, and the cathedral church itself is a small
mean building.  In the centre of the town is the principal square,
a light cheerful place, not surrounded by those heavy cumbrous
buildings with which the Spaniards both in ancient and modern times
have encircled their plazas.  It is singular enough that Lugo, at
present a place of very little importance, should at one period
have been the capital of Spain:  yet such it was in the time of the
Romans, who, as they were a people not much guided by caprice, had
doubtless very excellent reasons for the preference which they gave
to the locality.

There are many Roman remains in the vicinity of this place, the
most remarkable of which are the ruins of the ancient medicinal
baths, which stand on the southern side of the river Minho, which
creeps through the valley beneath the town.  The Minho in this
place is a dark and sullen stream, with high, precipitous, and
thickly wooded banks.

One evening I visited the baths, accompanied by my friend the
bookseller.  They had been built over warm springs which flow into
the river.  Notwithstanding their ruinous condition, they were
crowded with sick, hoping to derive benefit from the waters, which
are still famed for their sanative power.  These patients exhibited
a strange spectacle as, wrapped in flannel gowns much resembling
shrouds, they lay immersed in the tepid waters amongst disjointed
stones, and overhung with steam and reek.

Three or four days after my arrival I was seated in the corridor
which, as I have already observed, occupied the entire front of the
house.  The sky was unclouded, and the sun shone most gloriously,
enlivening every object around.  Presently the door of the
apartment in which the strangers were lodged opened, and forth
walked the whole family, with the exception of the father, who, I
presumed, was absent on business.  The shabby domestic brought up
the rear, and on leaving the apartment, carefully locked the door,
and secured the key in his pocket.  The one son and the eleven
daughters were all dressed remarkably well:  the boy something
after the English fashion, in jacket and trousers, the young ladies
in spotless white:  they were, upon the whole, a very good-looking
family, with dark eyes and olive complexions, but the eldest
daughter was remarkably handsome.  They arranged themselves upon
the benches of the corridor, the shabby domestic sitting down
amongst them without any ceremony whatever.  They continued for
some time in silence, gazing with disconsolate looks upon the
houses of the suburb and the dark walls of the town, until the
eldest daughter, or senorita as she was called, broke silence with
an "Ay Dios mio!"

Domestic.--Ay Dios mio! we have found our way to a pretty country.

Myself.--I really can see nothing so very bad in the country, which
is by nature the richest in all Spain, and the most abundant.  True
it is that the generality of the inhabitants are wretchedly poor,
but they themselves are to blame, and not the country.

Domestic.--Cavalier, the country is a horrible one, say nothing to
the contrary.  We are all frightened, the young ladies, the young
gentleman, and myself; even his worship is frightened, and says
that we are come to this country for our sins.  It rains every day,
and this is almost the first time that we have seen the sun since
our arrival, it rains continually, and one cannot step out without
being up to the ankles in fango; and then, again, there is not a
house to be found.

Myself.--I scarcely understand you.  There appears to be no lack of
houses in this neighbourhood.

Domestic.--Excuse me, sir.  His worship hired yesterday a house,
for which he engaged to pay fourteen pence daily; but when the
senorita saw it, she wept, and said it was no house, but a hog-sty,
so his worship paid one day's rent and renounced his bargain.
Fourteen pence a day! why, in our country, we can have a palace for
that money.

Myself.--From what country do you come?

Domestic.--Cavalier, you appear to be a decent gentleman, and I
will tell you our history.  We are from Andalusia, and his worship
was last year receiver-general for Granada:  his salary was
fourteen thousand rials, with which we contrived to live very
commodiously--attending the bull funcions regularly, or if there
were no bulls, we went to see the novillos, and now and then to the
opera.  In a word, sir, we had our diversions and felt at our ease;
so much so, that his worship was actually thinking of purchasing a
pony for the young gentleman, who is fourteen, and must learn to
ride now or never.  Cavalier, the ministry was changed, and the new
corners, who were no friends to his worship, deprived him of his
situation.  Cavalier, they removed us from that blessed country of
Granada, where our salary was fourteen thousand rials, and sent us
to Galicia, to this fatal town of Lugo, where his worship is
compelled to serve for ten thousand, which is quite insufficient to
maintain us in our former comforts.  Good-bye, I trow, to bull
funcions, and novillos, and the opera.  Good-bye to the hope of a
horse for the young gentleman.  Cavalier, I grow desperate:  hold
your tongue, for God's sake! for I can talk no more."

On hearing this history I no longer wondered that the receiver-
general was eager to save a cuarto in the purchase of the oil for
the gaspacho of himself and family of eleven daughters, one son,
and a domestic.

We staid one week at Lugo, and then directed our steps to Coruna,
about twelve leagues distant.  We arose before daybreak in order to
avail ourselves of the escort of the general post, in whose company
we travelled upwards of six leagues.  There was much talk of
robbers, and flying parties of the factious, on which account our
escort was considerable.  At the distance of five or six leagues
from Lugo, our guard, in lieu of regular soldiers, consisted of a
body of about fifty Miguelets.  They had all the appearance of
banditti, but a finer body of ferocious fellows I never saw.  They
were all men in the prime of life, mostly of tall stature, and of
Herculean brawn and limbs.  They wore huge whiskers, and walked
with a fanfaronading air, as if they courted danger, and despised
it.  In every respect they stood in contrast to the soldiers who
had hitherto escorted us, who were mere feeble boys from sixteen to
eighteen years of age, and possessed of neither energy nor
activity.  The proper dress of the Miguelet, if it resembles
anything military, is something akin to that anciently used by the
English marines.  They wear a peculiar kind of hat, and generally
leggings, or gaiters, and their arms are the gun and bayonet.  The
colour of their dress is mostly dark brown.  They observe little or
no discipline whether on a march or in the field of action.  They
are excellent irregular troops, and when on actual service are
particularly useful as skirmishers.  Their proper duty, however, is
to officiate as a species of police, and to clear the roads of
robbers, for which duty they are in one respect admirably
calculated, having been generally robbers themselves at one period
of their lives.  Why these people are called Miguelets it is not
easy to say, but it is probable that they have derived this
appellation from the name of their original leader.  I regret that
the paucity of my own information will not allow me to enter into
farther particulars with respect to this corps, concerning which I
have little doubt that many remarkable things might be said.

Becoming weary of the slow travelling of the post, I determined to
brave all risk, and to push forward.  In this, however, I was
guilty of no slight imprudence, as by so doing I was near falling
into the hands of robbers.  Two fellows suddenly confronted me with
presented carbines, which they probably intended to discharge into
my body, but they took fright at the noise of Antonio's horse, who
was following a little way behind.  The affair occurred at the
bridge of Castellanos, a spot notorious for robbery and murder, and
well adapted for both, for it stands at the bottom of a deep dell
surrounded by wild desolate hills.  Only a quarter of an hour
previous I had passed three ghastly heads stuck on poles standing
by the wayside; they were those of a captain of banditti and two of
his accomplices, who had been seized and executed about two months
before.  Their principal haunt was the vicinity of the bridge, and
it was their practice to cast the bodies of the murdered into the
deep black water which runs rapidly beneath.  Those three heads
will always live in my remembrance, particularly that of the
captain, which stood on a higher pole than the other two:  the long
hair was waving in the wind, and the blackened, distorted features
were grinning in the sun.  The fellows whom I met wore the relics
of the band.

We arrived at Betanzos late in the afternoon.  This town stands on
a creek at some distance from the sea, and about three leagues from
Coruna.  It is surrounded on three sides by lofty hills.  The
weather during the greater part of the day had been dull and
lowering, and we found the atmosphere of Betanzos insupportably
close and heavy.  Sour and disagreeable odours assailed our
olfactory organs from all sides.  The streets were filthy--so were
the houses, and especially the posada.  We entered the stable; it
was strewed with rotten sea-weeds and other rubbish, in which pigs
were wallowing; huge and loathsome flies were buzzing around.
"What a pest-house!" I exclaimed.  But we could find no other
stable, and were therefore obliged to tether the unhappy animals to
the filthy mangers.  The only provender that could be obtained was
Indian corn.  At nightfall I led them to drink at a small river
which passes through Betanzos.  My entero swallowed the water
greedily; but as we returned towards the inn, I observed that he
was sad, and that his head drooped.  He had scarcely reached the
stall, when a deep hoarse cough assailed him.  I remembered the
words of the ostler in the mountains, "the man must be mad who
brings a horse to Galicia, and doubly so he who brings an entero."
During the greater part of the day the animal had been much heated,
walking amidst a throng of at least a hundred pony mares.  He now
began to shiver violently.  I procured a quart of anise brandy,
with which, assisted by Antonio, I rubbed his body for nearly an
hour, till his coat was covered with a white foam; but his cough
increased perceptibly, his eyes were becoming fixed, and his
members rigid.  "There is no remedy but bleeding," said I.  "Run
for a farrier."  The farrier came.  "You must bleed the horse," I
shouted; "take from him an azumbre of blood."  The farrier looked
at the animal, and made for the door.  "Where are you going?" I
demanded.  "Home," he replied.  "But we want you here."  "I know
you do," was his answer; "and on that account I am going."  "But
you must bleed the horse, or he will die."  "I know he will," said
the farrier, "but I will not bleed him."  "Why?" I demanded.  "I
will not bleed him, but under one condition."  "What is that?"
"What is it!--that you pay me an ounce of gold."  "Run for the red
morocco case," said I to Antonio.  It was brought; I took out a
large fleam, and with the assistance of a stone, drove it into the
principal artery horse's leg.  The blood at first refused to flow;
with much rubbing, it began to trickle, and then to stream; it
continued so for half an hour.  "The horse is fainting, mon
maitre," said Antonio.  "Hold him up," said I, "and in another ten
minutes we will stop the vein."

I closed the vein, and whilst doing so I looked up into the
farrier's face, arching my eyebrows.

"Carracho! what an evil wizard," muttered the farrier, as he walked
away.  "If I had my knife here I would stick him."  We bled the
horse again, during the night, which second bleeding I believe
saved him.  Towards morning he began to eat his food.

The next day we departed for Coruna, leading our horses by the
bridle:  the day was magnificent, and our walk delightful.  We
passed along beneath tall umbrageous trees, which skirted the road
from Betanzos to within a short distance of Coruna.  Nothing could
be more smiling and cheerful than the appearance of the country
around.  Vines were growing in abundance in the vicinity of the
villages through which we passed, whilst millions of maize plants
upreared their tall stalks and displayed their broad green leaves
in the fields.  After walking about three hours, we obtained a view
of the bay of Coruna, in which, even at the distance of a league,
we could distinguish three or four immense ships riding at anchor.
"Can these vessels belong to Spain?"  I demanded of myself.  In the
very next village, however, we were informed that the preceding
evening an English squadron had arrived, for what reason nobody
could say.  "However," continued our informant, "they have
doubtless some design upon Galicia.  These foreigners are the ruin
of Spain."

We put up in what is called the Calle Real, in an excellent fonda,
or posada, kept by a short, thick, comical-looking person, a
Genoese by birth.  He was married to a tall, ugly, but good-
tempered Basque woman, by whom he had been blessed with a son and
daughter.  His wife, however, had it seems of late summoned all her
female relations from Guipuscoa, who now filled the house to the
number of nine, officiating as chambermaids, cooks, and scullions:
they were all very ugly, but good-natured, and of immense
volubility of tongue.  Throughout the whole day the house resounded
with their excellent Basque and very bad Castilian.  The Genoese,
on the contrary, spoke little, for which he might have assigned a
good reason; he had lived thirty years in Spain, and had forgotten
his own language without acquiring Spanish, which he spoke very
imperfectly.

We found Coruna full of bustle and life, owing to the arrival of
the English squadron.  On the following day, however, it departed,
being bound for the Mediterranean on a short cruise, whereupon
matters instantly returned to their usual course.

I had a depot of five hundred Testaments at Coruna, from which it
was my intention to supply the principal towns of Galicia.
Immediately on my arrival I published advertisements, according to
my usual practice, and the book obtained a tolerable sale--seven or
eight copies per day on the average.  Some people, perhaps, on
perusing these details, will be tempted to exclaim, "These are
small matters, and scarcely worthy of being mentioned."  But let
such bethink them, that till within a few months previous to the
time of which I am speaking, the very existence of the gospel was
almost unknown in Spain, and that it must necessarily be a
difficult task to induce a people like the Spaniards, who read very
little, to purchase a work like the New Testament, which, though of
paramount importance to the soul, affords but slight prospect of
amusement to the frivolous and carnally minded.  I hoped that the
present was the dawning of better and more enlightened times, and
rejoiced in the idea that Testaments, though but few in number,
were being sold in unfortunate benighted Spain, from Madrid to the
furthermost parts of Galicia, a distance of nearly four hundred
miles.

Coruna stands on a peninsula, having on one side the sea, and on
the other the celebrated bay, generally called the Groyne.  It is
divided into the old and new town, the latter of which was at one
time probably a mere suburb.  The old town is a desolate ruinous
place, separated from the new by a wide moat.  The modern town is a
much more agreeable spot, and contains one magnificent street, the
Calle Real, where the principal merchants reside.  One singular
feature of this street is, that it is laid entirely with flags of
marble, along which troop ponies and cars as if it were a common
pavement.

It is a saying amongst the inhabitants of Coruna, that in their
town there is a street so clean, that puchera may be eaten off it
without the slightest inconvenience.  This may certainly be the
fact after one of those rains which so frequently drench Galicia,
when the appearance of the pavement of the street is particularly
brilliant.  Coruna was at one time a place of considerable
commerce, the greater part of which has latterly departed to
Santander, a town which stands a considerable distance down the Bay
of Biscay.

"Are you going to Saint James, Giorgio?  If so, you will perhaps
convey a message to my poor countryman," said a voice to me one
morning in broken English, as I was standing at the door of my
posada, in the royal street of Coruna.

I looked round and perceived a man standing near me at the door of
a shop contiguous to the inn.  He appeared to be about sixty-five,
with a pale face and remarkably red nose.  He was dressed in a
loose green great coat, in his mouth was a long clay pipe, in his
hand a long painted stick.

"Who are you, and who is your countryman?" I demanded; "I do not
know you."

"I know you, however," replied the man; "you purchased the first
knife that I ever sold in the market-place of N-."

Myself.--Ah, I remember you now, Luigi Piozzi; and well do I
remember also, how, when a boy, twenty years ago, I used to repair
to your stall, and listen to you and your countrymen discoursing in
Milanese.

Luigi.--Ah, those were happy times to me.  Oh, how they rushed back
on my remembrance when I saw you ride up to the door of the posada.
I instantly went in, closed my shop, lay down upon my bed and wept.

Myself.--I see no reason why you should so much regret those times.
I knew you formerly in England as an itinerant pedlar, and
occasionally as master of a stall in the market-place of a country
town.  I now find you in a seaport of Spain, the proprietor,
seemingly, of a considerable shop.  I cannot see why you should
regret the difference.

Luigi (dashing his pipe on the ground).--Regret the difference!  Do
you know one thing?  England is the heaven of the Piedmontese and
Milanese, and especially those of Como.  We never lie down to rest
but we dream of it, whether we are in our own country or in a
foreign land, as I am now.  Regret the difference, Giorgio!  Do I
hear such words from your lips, and you an Englishman?  I would
rather be the poorest tramper on the roads of England, than lord of
all within ten leagues of the shore of the lake of Como, and much
the same say all my countrymen who have visited England, wherever
they now be.  Regret the difference!  I have ten letters, from as
many countrymen in America, who say they are rich and thriving, and
principal men and merchants; but every night, when their heads are
reposing on their pillows, their souls auslandra, hurrying away to
England, and its green lanes and farm-yards.  And there they are
with their boxes on the ground, displaying their looking-glasses
and other goods to the honest rustics and their dames and their
daughters, and selling away and chaffering and laughing just as of
old.  And there they are again at nightfall in the hedge alehouses,
eating their toasted cheese and their bread, and drinking the
Suffolk ale, and listening to the roaring song and merry jest of
the labourers.  Now, if they regret England so who are in America,
which they own to be a happy country, and good for those of
Piedmont and of Como, how much more must I regret it, when, after
the lapse of so many years, I find myself in Spain, in this
frightful town of Coruna, driving a ruinous trade, and where months
pass by without my seeing a single English face, or hearing a word
of the blessed English tongue.

Myself.--With such a predilection for England, what could have
induced you to leave it and come to Spain?

Luigi.--I will tell you:  about sixteen years ago a universal
desire seized our people in England to become something more than
they had hitherto been, pedlars and trampers; they wished,
moreover, for mankind are never satisfied, to see other countries:
so the greater part forsook England.  Where formerly there had been
ten, at present scarcely lingers one.  Almost all went to America,
which, as I told you before, is a happy country, and specially good
for us men of Como.  Well, all my comrades and relations passed
over the sea to the West.  I, too, was bent on travelling; but
whither?  Instead of going towards the West with the rest, to a
country where they have all thriven, I must needs come by myself to
this land of Spain; a country in which no foreigner settles without
dying of a broken heart sooner or later.  I had an idea in my head
that I could make a fortune at once, by bringing a cargo of common
English goods, like those which I had been in the habit of selling
amongst the villagers of England.  So I freighted half a ship with
such goods, for I had been successful in England in my little
speculations, and I arrived at Coruna.  Here at once my vexations
began:  disappointment followed disappointment.  It was with the
utmost difficulty that I could obtain permission to land my goods,
and this only at a considerable sacrifice in bribes and the like;
and when I had established myself here, I found that the place was
one of no trade, and that my goods went off very slowly, and
scarcely at prime cost.  I wished to remove to another place, but
was informed that, in that case, I must leave my goods behind,
unless I offered fresh bribes, which would have ruined me; and in
this way I have gone on for fourteen years, selling scarcely enough
to pay for my shop and to support myself.  And so I shall doubtless
continue till I die, or my goods are exhausted.  In an evil day I
left England and came to Spain.

Myself.--Did you not say that you had a countryman at St. James?

Luigi.--Yes, a poor honest fellow, who, like myself, by some
strange chance found his way to Galicia.  I sometimes contrive to
send him a few goods, which he sells at St. James at a greater
profit than I can here.  He is a happy fellow, for he has never
been in England, and knows not the difference between the two
countries.  Oh, the green English hedgerows! and the alehouses!
and, what is much more, the fair dealing and security.  I have
travelled all over England and never met with ill usage, except
once down in the north amongst the Papists, upon my telling them to
leave all their mummeries and go to the parish church as I did, and
as all my countrymen in England did; for know one thing, Signor
Giorgio, not one of us who have lived in England, whether
Piedmontese or men of Como, but wished well to the Protestant
religion, if he had not actually become a member of it.

Myself.--What do you propose to do at present, Luigi?  What are
your prospects?

Luigi.--My prospects are a blank, Giorgio; my prospects are a
blank.  I propose nothing but to die in Coruna, perhaps in the
hospital, if they will admit me.  Years ago I thought of fleeing,
even if I left all behind me, and either returning to England, or
betaking myself to America; but it is too late now, Giorgio, it is
too late.  When I first lost all hope, I took to drinking, to which
I was never before inclined, and I am now what I suppose you see.

"There is hope in the Gospel," said I, "even for you.  I will send
you one."

There is a small battery of the old town which fronts the east, and
whose wall is washed by the waters of the bay.  It is a sweet spot,
and the prospect which opens from it is extensive.  The battery
itself may be about eighty yards square; some young trees are
springing up about it, and it is rather a favourite resort of the
people of Coruna.

In the centre of this battery stands the tomb of Moore, built by
the chivalrous French, in commemoration of the fall of their heroic
antagonist.  It is oblong and surmounted by a slab, and on either
side bears one of the simple and sublime epitaphs for which our
rivals are celebrated, and which stand in such powerful contrast
with the bloated and bombastic inscriptions which deform the walls
of Westminster Abbey:


"JOHN MOORE,
LEADER OF THE ENGLISH ARMIES,
SLAIN IN BATTLE,
1809."


The tomb itself is of marble, and around it is a quadrangular wall,
breast high, of rough Gallegan granite; close to each corner rises
from the earth the breech of an immense brass cannon, intended to
keep the wall compact and close.  These outer erections are,
however, not the work of the French, but of the English government.

Yes, there lies the hero, almost within sight of the glorious hill
where he turned upon his pursuers like a lion at bay and terminated
his career.  Many acquire immortality without seeking it, and die
before its first ray has gilded their name; of these was Moore.
The harassed general, flying through Castile with his dispirited
troops before a fierce and terrible enemy, little dreamed that he
was on the point of attaining that for which many a better,
greater, though certainly not braver man, had sighed in vain.  His
very misfortunes were the means which secured him immortal fame;
his disastrous route, bloody death, and finally his tomb on a
foreign strand, far from kin and friends.  There is scarcely a
Spaniard but has heard of this tomb, and speaks of it with a
strange kind of awe.  Immense treasures are said to have been
buried with the heretic general, though for what purpose no one
pretends to guess.  The demons of the clouds, if we may trust the
Gallegans, followed the English in their flight, and assailed them
with water-spouts as they toiled up the steep winding paths of
Fuencebadon; whilst legends the most wild are related of the manner
in which the stout soldier fell.  Yes, even in Spain, immortality
has already crowned the head of Moore;--Spain, the land of
oblivion, where the Guadalete {16} flows.



CHAPTER XXVII



Compostella--Rey Romero--The Treasure-seeker--Hopeful Project--The
Church of Refuge--Hidden Riches--The Canon--Spirit of Localism--The
Leper--Bones of St. James.

At the commencement of August, I found myself at St. James of
Compostella.  To this place I travelled from Coruna with the
courier or weekly post, who was escorted by a strong party of
soldiers, in consequence of the distracted state of the country,
which was overrun with banditti.  From Coruna to St. James, the
distance is but ten leagues; the journey, however, endured for a
day and a half.  It was a pleasant one, through a most beautiful
country, with a rich variety of hill and dale; the road was in many
places shaded with various kinds of trees clad in most luxuriant
foliage.  Hundreds of travellers, both on foot and on horseback,
availed themselves of the security which the escort afforded:  the
dread of banditti was strong.  During the journey two or three
alarms were given; we, however, reached Saint James without having
been attacked.

Saint James stands on a pleasant level amidst mountains:  the most
extraordinary of these is a conical hill, called the Pico Sacro, or
Sacred Peak, connected with which are many wonderful legends.  A
beautiful old town is Saint James, containing about twenty thousand
inhabitants.  Time has been when, with the single exception of
Rome, it was the most celebrated resort of pilgrims in the world;
its cathedral being said to contain the bones of Saint James the
elder, the child of the thunder, who, according to the legend of
the Romish church, first preached the Gospel in Spain.  Its glory,
however, as a place of pilgrimage is rapidly passing away.

The cathedral, though a work of various periods, and exhibiting
various styles of architecture, is a majestic venerable pile, in
every respect calculated to excite awe and admiration; indeed, it
is almost impossible to walk its long dusky aisles, and hear the
solemn music and the noble chanting, and inhale the incense of the
mighty censers, which are at times swung so high by machinery as to
smite the vaulted roof, whilst gigantic tapers glitter here and
there amongst the gloom, from the shrine of many a saint, before
which the worshippers are kneeling, breathing forth their prayers
and petitions for help, love, and mercy, and entertain a doubt that
we are treading the floor of a house where God delighteth to dwell.
Yet the Lord is distant from that house; he hears not, he sees not,
or if he do, it is with anger.  What availeth that solemn music,
that noble chanting, that incense of sweet savour?  What availeth
kneeling before that grand altar of silver, surmounted by that
figure with its silver hat and breast-plate, the emblem of one who,
though an apostle and confessor, was at best an unprofitable
servant?  What availeth hoping for remission of sin by trusting in
the merits of one who possessed none, or by paying homage to others
who were born and nurtured in sin, and who alone, by the exercise
of a lively faith granted from above, could hope to preserve
themselves from the wrath of the Almighty?

Rise from your knees, ye children of Compostella, or if ye bend,
let it be to the Almighty alone, and no longer on the eve of your
patron's day address him in the following strain, however sublime
it may sound:


"Thou shield of that faith which in Spain we revere,
Thou scourge of each foeman who dares to draw near;
Whom the Son of that God who the elements tames,
Called child of the thunder, immortal Saint James!

"From the blessed asylum of glory intense,
Upon us thy sovereign influence dispense;
And list to the praises our gratitude aims
To offer up worthily, mighty Saint James.

"To thee fervent thanks Spain shall ever outpour;
In thy name though she glory, she glories yet more
In thy thrice-hallowed corse, which the sanctuary claims
Of high Compostella, O, blessed Saint James.

"When heathen impiety, loathsome and dread,
With a chaos of darkness our Spain overspread,
Thou wast the first light which dispell'd with its flames
The hell-born obscurity, glorious Saint James!

"And when terrible wars had nigh wasted our force,
All bright 'midst the battle we saw thee on horse,
Fierce scattering the hosts, whom their fury proclaims
To be warriors of Islam, victorious Saint James.

"Beneath thy direction, stretch'd prone at thy feet,
With hearts low and humble, this day we intreat
Thou wilt strengthen the hope which enlivens our frames,
The hope of thy favour and presence, Saint James.

"Then praise to the Son and the Father above,
And to that Holy Spirit which springs from their love;
To that bright emanation whose vividness shames
The sun's burst of splendour, and praise to Saint James."


At Saint James I met with a kind and cordial coadjutor in my
biblical labours in the bookseller of the place, Rey Romero, a man
of about sixty.  This excellent individual, who was both wealthy
and respected, took up the matter with an enthusiasm which
doubtless emanated from on high, losing no opportunity of
recommending my book to those who entered his shop, which was in
the Azabacheria, and was a very splendid and commodious
establishment.  In many instances, when the peasants of the
neighbourhood came with an intention of purchasing some of the
foolish popular story-books of Spain, he persuaded them to carry
home Testaments instead, assuring them that the sacred volume was a
better, more instructive, and even far more entertaining book than
those they came in quest of.  He speedily conceived a great fancy
for me, and regularly came to visit me every evening at my posada,
and accompanied me in my walks about the town and the environs.  He
was a man of considerable information, and though of much
simplicity, possessed a kind of good-natured humour which was
frequently highly diverting.

I was walking late one night alone in the Alameda of Saint James,
considering in what direction I should next bend my course, for I
had been already ten days in this place; the moon was shining
gloriously, and illumined every object around to a considerable
distance.  The Alameda was quite deserted; everybody, with the
exception of myself, having for some time retired.  I sat down on a
bench and continued my reflections, which were suddenly interrupted
by a heavy stumping sound.  Turning my eyes in the direction from
which it proceeded, I perceived what at first appeared a shapeless
bulk slowly advancing:  nearer and nearer it drew, and I could now
distinguish the outline of a man dressed in coarse brown garments,
a kind of Andalusian hat, and using as a staff the long peeled
branch of a tree.  He had now arrived opposite the bench where I
was seated, when, stopping, he took off his hat and demanded
charity in uncouth tones and in a strange jargon, which had some
resemblance to the Catalan.  The moon shone on grey locks and on a
ruddy weather-beaten countenance which I at once recognized:
"Benedict Mol," said I, "is it possible that I see you at
Compostella?"

"Och, mein Gott, es ist der Herr!" replied Benedict.  "Och, what
good fortune, that the Herr is the first person I meet at
Compostella."

Myself.--I can scarcely believe my eyes.  Do you mean to say that
you have just arrived at this place?

Benedict.--Ow yes, I am this moment arrived.  I have walked all the
long way from Madrid.

Myself.--What motive could possibly bring you such a distance?

Benedict.--Ow, I am come for the schatz--the treasure.  I told you
at Madrid that I was coming; and now I have met you here, I have no
doubt that I shall find it, the schatz.

Myself.--In what manner did you support yourself by the way?

Benedict.--Ow, I begged, I bettled, and so contrived to pick up
some cuartos; and when I reached Toro, I worked at my trade of
soap-making for a time, till the people said I knew nothing about
it, and drove me out of the town.  So I went on and begged and
bettled till I arrived at Orense, which is in this country of
Galicia.  Ow, I do not like this country of Galicia at all.

Myself.--Why not?

Benedict.--Why! because here they all beg and bettle, and have
scarce anything for themselves, much less for me whom they know to
be a foreign man.  O the misery of Galicia.  When I arrive at night
at one of their pigsties, which they call posadas, and ask for
bread to eat in the name of God, and straw to lie down in, they
curse me, and say there is neither bread nor straw in Galicia; and
sure enough, since I have been here I have seen neither, only
something that they call broa, and a kind of reedy rubbish with
which they litter the horses:  all my bones are sore since I
entered Galicia.

Myself.--And yet you have come to this country, which you call so
miserable, in search of treasure?

Benedict.--Ow yaw, but the schatz is buried; it is not above
ground; there is no money above ground in Galicia.  I must dig it
up; and when I have dug it up I will purchase a coach with six
mules, and ride out of Galicia to Lucerne; and if the Herr pleases
to go with me, he shall be welcome to go with me and the schatz.

Myself.--I am afraid that you have come on a desperate errand.
What do you propose to do?  Have you any money?

Benedict.--Not a cuart; but I do not care now I have arrived at
Saint James.  The schatz is nigh; and I have, moreover, seen you,
which is a good sign; it tells me that the schatz is still here.  I
shall go to the best posada in the place, and live like a duke till
I have an opportunity of digging up the schatz, when I will pay all
scores.

"Do nothing of the kind," I replied; "find out some place in which
to sleep, and endeavour to seek some employment.  In the mean time,
here is a trifle with which to support yourself; but as for the
treasure which you have come to seek, I believe it only exists in
your own imagination."  I gave him a dollar and departed.

I have never enjoyed more charming walks than in the neighbourhood
of Saint James.  In these I was almost invariably accompanied by my
friend the good old bookseller.  The streams are numerous, and
along their wooded banks we were in the habit of straying and
enjoying the delicious summer evenings of this part of Spain.
Religion generally formed the topic of our conversation, but we not
unfrequently talked of the foreign lands which I had visited, and
at other times of matters which related particularly to my
companion.  "We booksellers of Spain," said he, "are all liberals;
we are no friends to the monkish system.  How indeed should we be
friends to it?  It fosters darkness, whilst we live by
disseminating light.  We love our profession, and have all more or
less suffered for it; many of us, in the times of terror, were
hanged for selling an innocent translation from the French or
English.  Shortly after the Constitution was put down by Angouleme
and the French bayonets, I was obliged to flee from Saint James and
take refuge in the wildest part of Galicia, near Corcuvion.  Had I
not possessed good friends, I should not have been alive now; as it
was, it cost me a considerable sum of money to arrange matters.
Whilst I was away, my shop was in charge of the ecclesiastical
officers.  They frequently told my wife that I ought to be burnt
for the books which I had sold.  Thanks be to God, those times are
past, and I hope they will never return."

Once, as we were walking through the streets of Saint James, he
stopped before a church and looked at it attentively.  As there was
nothing remarkable in the appearance of this edifice, I asked him
what motive he had for taking such notice of it.  "In the days of
the friars," said he, "this church was one of refuge, to which if
the worst criminals escaped, they were safe.  All were protected
there save the negros, as they called us liberals."  "Even
murderers, I suppose?" said I.  "Murderers!" he answered, "far
worse criminals than they.  By the by, I have heard that you
English entertain the utmost abhorrence of murder.  Do you in
reality consider it a crime of very great magnitude?"  "How should
we not," I replied; "for every other crime some reparation can be
made; but if we take away life, we take away all.  A ray of hope
with respect to this world may occasionally enliven the bosom of
any other criminal, but how can the murderer hope?"  "The friars
were of another way of thinking," replied the old man; "they always
looked upon murder as a friolera; but not so the crime of marrying
your first cousin without dispensation, for which, if we believe
them, there is scarcely any atonement either in this world or the
next."

Two or three days after this, as we were seated in my apartment in
the posada, engaged in conversation, the door was opened by
Antonio, who, with a smile on his countenance, said that there was
a foreign GENTLEMAN below, who desired to speak with me.  "Show him
up," I replied; whereupon almost instantly appeared Benedict Mol.

"This is a most extraordinary person," said I to the bookseller.
"You Galicians, in general, leave your country in quest of money;
he, on the contrary, is come hither to find some."

Rey Romero.--And he is right.  Galicia is by nature the richest
province in Spain, but the inhabitants are very stupid, and know
not how to turn the blessings which surround them to any account;
but as a proof of what may be made out of Galicia, see how rich the
Catalans become who have settled down here and formed
establishments.  There are riches all around us, upon the earth and
in the earth.

Benedict.--Ow yaw, in the earth, that is what I say.  There is much
more treasure below the earth than above it.

Myself.--Since I last saw you, have you discovered the place in
which you say the treasure is deposited?

Benedict.--O yes, I know all about it now.  It is buried 'neath the
sacristy in the church of San Roque.

Myself.--How have you been able to make that discovery?

Benedict.--I will tell you:  the day after my arrival I walked
about all the city in quest of the church, but could find none
which at all answered to the signs which my comrade who died in the
hospital gave me.  I entered several, and looked about, but all in
vain; I could not find the place which I had in my mind's eye.  At
last the people with whom I lodge, and to whom I told my business,
advised me to send for a meiga.

Myself.--A meiga!  What is that?

Benedict.--Ow! a haxweib, a witch; the Gallegos call them so in
their jargon, of which I can scarcely understand a word.  So I
consented, and they sent for the meiga.  Och! what a weib is that
meiga!  I never saw such a woman; she is as large as myself, and
has a face as round and red as the sun.  She asked me a great many
questions in her Gallegan, and when I had told her all she wanted
to know, she pulled out a pack of cards and laid them on the table
in a particular manner, and then she said that the treasure was in
the church of San Roque; and sure enough, when I went to that
church, it answered in every respect to the signs of my comrade who
died in the hospital.  O she is a powerful hax, that meiga; she is
well known in the neighbourhood, and has done much harm to the
cattle.  I gave her half the dollar I had from you for her trouble.

Myself.--Then you acted like a simpleton; she has grossly deceived
you.  But even suppose that the treasure is really deposited in the
church you mention, it is not probable that you will be permitted
to remove the floor of the sacristy to search for it.

Benedict.--Ow, the matter is already well advanced.  Yesterday I
went to one of the canons to confess myself and to receive
absolution and benediction; not that I regard these things much,
but I thought this would be the best means of broaching the matter,
so I confessed myself, and then I spoke of my travels to the canon,
and at last I told him of the treasure, and proposed that if he
assisted me we should share it between us.  Ow, I wish you had seen
him; he entered at once into the affair, and said that it might
turn out a very profitable speculation:  and he shook me by the
hand, and said that I was an honest Swiss and a good Catholic.  And
I then proposed that he should take me into his house and keep me
there till we had an opportunity of digging up the treasure
together.  This he refused to do.

Rey Romero.--Of that I have no doubt:  trust one of our canons for
not committing himself so far until he sees very good reason.
These tales of treasure are at present rather too stale:  we have
heard of them ever since the time of the Moors.

Benedict.--He advised me to go to the Captain General and obtain
permission to make excavations, in which case he promised to assist
me to the utmost of his power.

Thereupon the Swiss departed, and I neither saw nor heard anything
farther of him during the time that I continued at Saint James.

The bookseller was never weary of showing me about his native town,
of which he was enthusiastically fond.  Indeed, I have never seen
the spirit of localism, which is so prevalent throughout Spain,
more strong than at Saint James.  If their town did but flourish,
the Santiagians seemed to care but little if all others in Galicia
perished.  Their antipathy to the town of Coruna was unbounded, and
this feeling had of late been not a little increased from the
circumstance that the seat of the provincial government had been
removed from Saint James to Coruna.  Whether this change was
advisable or not, it is not for me, who am a foreigner, to say; my
private opinion, however, is by no means favourable to the
alteration.  Saint James is one of the most central towns in
Galicia, with large and populous communities on every side of it,
whereas Coruna stands in a corner, at a considerable distance from
the rest.  "It is a pity that the vecinos of Coruna cannot contrive
to steal away from us our cathedral, even as they have done our
government," said a Santiagian; "then, indeed, they would be able
to cut some figure.  As it is, they have not a church fit to say
mass in."  "A great pity, too, that they cannot remove our
hospital," would another exclaim; "as it is, they are obliged to
send us their sick, poor wretches.  I always think that the sick of
Coruna have more ill-favoured countenances than those from other
places; but what good can come from Coruna?"

Accompanied by the bookseller, I visited this hospital, in which,
however, I did not remain long; the wretchedness and uncleanliness
which I observed speedily driving me away.  Saint James, indeed, is
the grand lazar-house for all the rest of Galicia, which accounts
for the prodigious number of horrible objects to be seen in its
streets, who have for the most part arrived in the hope of
procuring medical assistance, which, from what I could learn, is
very scantily and inefficiently administered.  Amongst these
unhappy wretches I occasionally observed the terrible leper, and
instantly fled from him with a "God help thee," as if I had been a
Jew of old.  Galicia is the only province of Spain where cases of
leprosy are still frequent; a convincing proof this, that the
disease is the result of foul feeding, and an inattention to
cleanliness, as the Gallegans, with regard to the comforts of life
and civilized habits, are confessedly far behind all the other
natives of Spain.

"Besides a general hospital we have likewise a leper-house," said
the bookseller.  "Shall I show it you?  We have everything at Saint
James.  There is nothing lacking; the very leper finds an inn
here."  "I have no objection to your showing me the house," I
replied, "but it must be at a distance, for enter it I will not."
Thereupon he conducted me down the road which leads towards Padron
and Vigo, and pointing to two or three huts, exclaimed "That is our
leper-house."  "It appears a miserable place," I replied:  "what
accommodation may there be for the patients, and who attends to
their wants?"  "They are left to themselves," answered the
bookseller, "and probably sometimes perish from neglect:  the place
at one time was endowed and had rents which were appropriated to
its support, but even these have been sequestered during the late
troubles.  At present, the least unclean of the lepers generally
takes his station by the road side, and begs for the rest.  See
there he is now."

And sure enough the leper in his shining scales, and half naked,
was seated beneath a ruined wall.  We dropped money into the hat of
the unhappy being, and passed on.

"A bad disorder that," said my friend.  "I confess that I, who have
seen so many of them, am by no means fond of the company of lepers.
Indeed, I wish that they would never enter my shop, as they
occasionally do to beg.  Nothing is more infectious, as I have
heard, than leprosy:  there is one very virulent species, however,
which is particularly dreaded here, the elephantine:  those who die
of it should, according to law, be burnt, and their ashes scattered
to the winds:  for if the body of such a leper be interred in the
field of the dead, the disorder is forthwith communicated to all
the corses even below the earth.  Such, at least, is our idea in
these parts.  Lawsuits are at present pending from the circumstance
of elephantides having been buried with the other dead.  Sad is
leprosy in all its forms, but most so when elephantine."

"Talking of corses," said I, "do you believe that the bones of St.
James are veritably interred at Compostella?"

"What can I say," replied the old man; "you know as much of the
matter as myself.  Beneath the high altar is a large stone slab or
lid, which is said to cover the mouth of a profound well, at the
bottom of which it is believed that the bones of the saint are
interred; though why they should be placed at the bottom of a well,
is a mystery which I cannot fathom.  One of the officers of the
church told me that at one time he and another kept watch in the
church during the night, one of the chapels having shortly before
been broken open and a sacrilege committed.  At the dead of night,
finding the time hang heavy on their hands, they took a crowbar and
removed the slab and looked down into the abyss below; it was dark
as the grave; whereupon they affixed a weight to the end of a long
rope and lowered it down.  At a very great depth it seemed to
strike against something dull and solid like lead:  they supposed
it might be a coffin; perhaps it was, but whose is the question."



CHAPTER XXVIII



Skippers of Padron--Caldas de los Reyes--Pontevedra--The Notary
Public--Insane Barber--An Introduction--Gallegan Language--
Afternoon Ride--Vigo--The Stranger--Jews of the Desert--Bay of
Vigo--Sudden Interruption--The Governor.

After a stay of about a fortnight at Saint James, we again mounted
our horses and proceeded in the direction of Vigo.  As we did not
leave Saint James till late in the afternoon, we travelled that day
no farther than Padron, a distance of only three leagues.  This
place is a small port, situate at the extremity of a firth which
communicates with the sea.  It is called for brevity's sake,
Padron, but its proper appellation is Villa del Padron, or the town
of the patron saint; it having been, according to the legend, the
principal residence of Saint James during his stay in Galicia.  By
the Romans it was termed Iria Flavia.  It is a flourishing little
town, and carries on rather an extensive commerce, some of its tiny
barks occasionally finding their way across the Bay of Biscay, and
even so far as the Thames and London.

There is a curious anecdote connected with the skippers of Padron,
which can scarcely be considered as out of place here, as it
relates to the circulation of the Scriptures.  I was one day in the
shop of my friend the bookseller at Saint James, when a stout good-
humoured-looking priest entered.  He took up one of my Testaments,
and forthwith burst into a violent fit of laughter.  "What is the
matter?" demanded the bookseller.  "The sight of this book reminds
me of a circumstance":  replied the other, "about twenty years ago,
when the English first took it into their heads to be very zealous
in converting us Spaniards to their own way of thinking, they
distributed a great number of books of this kind amongst the
Spaniards who chanced to be in London; some of them fell into the
hands of certain skippers of Padron, and these good folks, on their
return to Galicia, were observed to have become on a sudden
exceedingly opinionated and fond of dispute.  It was scarcely
possible to make an assertion in their hearing without receiving a
flat contradiction, especially when religious subjects were brought
on the carpet.  'It is false,' they would say; 'Saint Paul, in such
a chapter and in such a verse, says exactly the contrary.'  'What
can you know concerning what Saint Paul or any other saint has
written?' the priests would ask them.  'Much more than you think,'
they replied; 'we are no longer to be kept in darkness and
ignorance respecting these matters:' and then they would produce
their books and read paragraphs, making such comments that every
person was scandalized; they cared nothing about the Pope, and even
spoke with irreverence of the bones of Saint James.  However, the
matter was soon bruited about, and a commission was dispatched from
our see to collect the books and burn them.  This was effected, and
the skippers were either punished or reprimanded, since which I
have heard nothing more of them.  I could not forbear laughing when
I saw these books; they instantly brought to my mind the skippers
of Padron and their religious disputations."

Our next day's journey brought us to Pontevedra.  As there was no
talk of robbers in these parts, we travelled without any escort and
alone.  The road was beautiful and picturesque, though somewhat
solitary, especially after we had left behind us the small town of
Caldas.  There is more than one place of this name in Spain; the
one of which I am speaking is distinguished from the rest by being
called Caldas de los Reyes, or the warm baths of the kings.  It
will not be amiss to observe that the Spanish Caldas is synonymous
with the Moorish Alhama, a word of frequent occurrence both in
Spanish and African topography.  Caldas seemed by no means
undeserving of its name:  it stands on a confluence of springs, and
the place when we arrived was crowded with people who had come to
enjoy the benefit of the waters.  In the course of my travels I
have observed that wherever warm springs are found, vestiges of
volcanoes are sure to be nigh; the smooth black precipice, the
divided mountain, or huge rocks standing by themselves on the plain
or on the hill side, as if Titans had been playing at bowls.  This
last feature occurs near Caldas de los Reyes, the side of the
mountain which overhangs it in the direction of the south being
covered with immense granite stones, apparently at some ancient
period eructed from the bowels of the earth.  From Caldas to
Pontevedra the route was hilly and fatiguing, the heat was intense,
and those clouds of flies, which constitute one of the pests of
Galicia, annoyed our horses to such a degree that we were obliged
to cut down branches from the trees to protect their heads and
necks from the tormenting stings of these bloodthirsty insects.
Whilst travelling in Galicia at this period of the year on
horseback, it is always advisable to carry a fine net for the
protection of the animal, a sure and commodious means of defence,
which appears, however, to be utterly unknown in Galicia, where,
perhaps, it is more wanted than in any other part of the world.

Pontevedra, upon the whole, is certainly entitled to the
appellation of a magnificent town, some of its public edifices,
especially the convents, being such as are nowhere to be found but
in Spain and Italy.  It is surrounded by a wall of hewn stone, and
stands at the end of a creek into which the river Levroz
disembogues.  It is said to have been founded by a colony of
Greeks, whose captain was no less a personage than Teucer the
Telemonian.  It was in former times a place of considerable
commerce; and near its port are to be seen the ruins of a farol, or
lighthouse, said to be of great antiquity.  The port, however, is
at a considerable distance from the town, and is shallow and
incommodious.  The whole country in the neighbourhood of Pontevedra
is inconceivably delicious, abounding with fruits of every
description, especially grapes, which in the proper season are seen
hanging from the "parras" in luscious luxuriance.  An old
Andalusian author has said that it produces as many oranges and
citron trees as the neighbourhood of Cordova.  Its oranges are,
however, by no means good, and cannot compete with those of
Andalusia.  The Pontevedrians boast that their land produces two
crops every year, and that whilst they are gathering in one they
may be seen ploughing and sowing another.  They may well be proud
of their country, which is certainly a highly favoured spot.

The town itself is in a state of great decay, and notwithstanding
the magnificence of its public edifices, we found more than the
usual amount of Galician filth and misery.  The posada was one of
the most wretched description, and to mend the matter, the hostess
was a most intolerable scold and shrew.  Antonio having found fault
with the quality of some provision which she produced, she cursed
him most immoderately in the country language, which was the only
one she spoke, and threatened, if he attempted to breed any
disturbance in her house, to turn the horses, himself, and his
master forthwith out of doors.  Socrates himself, however, could
not have conducted himself on this occasion with greater
forbearance than Antonio, who shrugged his shoulders, muttered
something in Greek, and then was silent.

"Where does the notary public live?" I demanded.  Now the notary
public vended books, and to this personage I was recommended by my
friend at Saint James.  A boy conducted me to the house of Senor
Garcia, for such was his name.  I found him a brisk, active,
talkative little man of forty.  He undertook with great alacrity
the sale of my Testaments, and in a twinkling sold two to a client
who was waiting in the office, and appeared to be from the country.
He was an enthusiastic patriot, but of course in a local sense, for
he cared for no other country than Pontevedra.

"Those fellows of Vigo," said he, "say their town is a better one
than ours, and that it is more deserving to be the capital of this
part of Galicia.  Did you ever hear such folly?  I tell you what,
friend, I should not care if Vigo were burnt, and all the fools and
rascals within it.  Would you ever think of comparing Vigo with
Pontevedra?"

"I don't know," I replied; "I have never been at Vigo, but I have
heard say that the bay of Vigo is the finest in the world."

"Bay! my good sir.  Bay! yes, the rascals have a bay, and it is
that bay of theirs which has robbed us all our commerce.  But what
needs the capital of a district with a bay?  It is public edifices
that it wants, where the provincial deputies can meet to transact
their business; now, so far from there being a commodious public
edifice, there is not a decent house in all Vigo.  Bay! yes, they
have a bay, but have they water fit to drink?  Have they a
fountain?  Yes, they have, and the water is so brackish that it
would burst the stomach of a horse.  I hope, my dear sir, that you
have not come all this distance to take the part of such a gang of
pirates as those of Vigo."

"I am not come to take their part," I replied; "indeed, I was not
aware that they wanted my assistance in this dispute.  I am merely
carrying to them the New Testament, of which they evidently stand
in much need, if they are such knaves and scoundrels as you
represent them."

"Represent them, my dear sir.  Does not the matter speak for
itself?  Do they not say that their town is better than ours, more
fit to be the capital of a district, que disparate! que briboneria!
(what folly! what rascality!)"

"Is there a bookseller's shop at Vigo?" I inquired.

"There was one," he replied, "kept by an insane barber.  I am glad,
for your sake, that it is broken up, and the fellow vanished; he
would have played you one of two tricks; he would either have cut
your throat with his razor, under pretence of shaving you, or have
taken your books and never have accounted to you for the proceeds.
Bay! I never could see what right such an owl's nest as Vigo has to
a bay."

No person could exhibit greater kindness to another, than did the
notary public to myself, as soon as I had convinced him that I had
no intention of siding with the men of Vigo against Pontevedra.  It
was now six o'clock in the evening, and he forthwith conducted me
to a confectioner's shop, where he treated me with an iced cream
and a small cup of chocolate.  From hence we walked about the city,
the notary showing the various edifices, especially, the Convent of
the Jesuits:  "See that front," said he, "what do you think of it?"

I expressed to him the admiration which I really felt, and by so
doing entirely won the good notary's heart:  "I suppose there is
nothing like that at Vigo?" said I.  He looked at me for a moment,
winked, gave a short triumphant chuckle, and then proceeded on his
way, walking at a tremendous rate.  The Senor Garcia was dressed in
all respects as an English notary might be:  he wore a white hat,
brown frock coat, drab breeches buttoned at the knees, white
stockings, and well blacked shoes.  But I never saw an English
notary walk so fast:  it could scarcely be called walking:  it
seemed more like a succession of galvanic leaps and bounds.  I
found it impossible to keep up with him:  "Where are you conducting
me?" I at last demanded, quite breathless.

"To the house of the cleverest man in Spain," he replied, "to whom
I intend to introduce you; for you must not think that Pontevedra
has nothing to boast of but its splendid edifices and its beautiful
country; it produces more illustrious minds than any other town in
Spain.  Did you ever hear of the grand Tamerlane?"

"Oh, yes," said I, "but he did not come from Pontevedra or its
neighbourhood:  he came from the steppes of Tartary, near the river
Oxus."

"I know he did," replied the notary, "but what I mean to say is,
that when Enrique the Third wanted an ambassador to send to that
African, the only man he could find suited to the enterprise was a
knight of Pontevedra, Don--by name.  Let the men of Vigo contradict
that fact if they can."

We entered a large portal and ascended a splendid staircase, at the
top of which the notary knocked at a small door:  "Who is the
gentleman to whom you are about to introduce me?" demanded I.

"It is the advocate -," replied Garcia; "he is the cleverest man in
Spain, and understands all languages and sciences."

We were admitted by a respectable-looking female, to all appearance
a housekeeper, who, on being questioned, informed us that the
Advocate was at home, and forthwith conducted us to an immense
room, or rather library, the walls being covered with books, except
in two or three places, where hung some fine pictures of the
ancient Spanish school.  There was a rich mellow light in the
apartment, streaming through a window of stained glass, which
looked to the west.  Behind the table sat the Advocate, on whom I
looked with no little interest:  his forehead was high and
wrinkled, and there was much gravity on his features, which were
quite Spanish.  He was dressed in a long robe, and might be about
sixty; he sat reading behind a large table, and on our entrance
half raised himself and bowed slightly.

The notary public saluted him most profoundly, and, in an under
voice, hoped that he might be permitted to introduce a friend of
his, an English gentleman, who was travelling through Galicia.

"I am very glad to see him," said the Advocate, "but I hope he
speaks Castilian, else we can have but little communication; for,
although I can read both French and Latin, I cannot speak them."

"He speaks, sir, almost as good Spanish," said the notary, "as a
native of Pontevedra."

"The natives of Pontevedra," I replied, "appear to be better versed
in Gallegan than in Castilian, for the greater part of the
conversation which I hear in the streets is carried on in the
former dialect."

"The last gentleman which my friend Garcia introduced to me," said
the Advocate, "was a Portuguese, who spoke little or no Spanish.
It is said that the Gallegan and Portuguese are very similar, but
when we attempted to converse in the two languages, we found it
impossible.  I understood little of what he said, whilst my
Gallegan was quite unintelligible to him.  Can you understand our
country dialect?" he continued.

"Very little of it," I replied; "which I believe chiefly proceeds
from the peculiar accent and uncouth enunciation of the Gallegans,
for their language is certainly almost entirely composed of Spanish
and Portuguese words."

"So you are an Englishman," said the Advocate.  "Your countrymen
have committed much damage in times past in these regions, if we
may trust our histories."

"Yes," said I, "they sank your galleons and burnt your finest men-
of-war in Vigo Bay, and, under old Cobham, levied a contribution of
forty thousand pounds sterling on this very town of Pontevedra."

"Any foreign power," interrupted the notary public, "has a clear
right to attack Vigo, but I cannot conceive what plea your
countrymen could urge for distressing Pontevedra, which is a
respectable town, and could never have offended them."

"Senor Cavalier," said the Advocate, "I will show you my library.
Here is a curious work, a collection of poems, written mostly in
Gallegan, by the curate of Fruime.  He is our national poet, and we
are very proud of him."

We stopped upwards of an hour with the Advocate, whose
conversation, if it did not convince me that he was the cleverest
man in Spain, was, upon the whole, highly interesting, and who
certainly possessed an extensive store of general information,
though he was by no means the profound philologist which the notary
had represented him to be.

When I was about to depart from Pontevedra in the afternoon of the
next day, the Senor Garcia stood by the side of my horse, and
having embraced me, thrust a small pamphlet into my hand:  "This
book," said he, "contains a description of Pontevedra.  Wherever
you go, speak well of Pontevedra." I nodded.  "Stay," said he, "my
dear friend, I have heard of your society, and will do my best to
further its views.  I am quite disinterested, but if at any future
time you should have an opportunity of speaking in print of Senor
Garcia, the notary public of Pontevedra,--you understand me,--I
wish you would do so."

"I will," said I.

It was a pleasant afternoon's ride from Pontevedra to Vigo, the
distance being only four leagues.  As we approached the latter
town, the country became exceedingly mountainous, though scarcely
anything could exceed the beauty of the surrounding scenery.  The
sides of the hills were for the most part clothed with luxuriant
forests, even to the very summits, though occasionally a flinty and
naked peak would present itself, rising to the clouds.  As the
evening came on, the route along which we advanced became very
gloomy, the hills and forests enwrapping it in deep shade.  It
appeared, however, to be well frequented:  numerous cars were
creaking along it, and both horsemen and pedestrians were
continually passing us.  The villages were frequent.  Vines,
supported on parras, were growing, if possible, in still greater
abundance than in the neighbourhood of Pontevedra.  Life and
activity seemed to pervade everything.  The hum of insects, the
cheerful bark of dogs, the rude songs of Galicia, were blended
together in pleasant symphony.  So delicious was my ride, that I
almost regretted when we entered the gate of Vigo.

The town occupies the lower part of a lofty hill, which, as it
ascends, becomes extremely steep and precipitous, and the top of
which is crowned with a strong fort or castle.  It is a small
compact place, surrounded with low walls, the streets are narrow,
steep, and winding, and in the middle of the town is a small
square.

There is rather an extensive faubourg extending along the shore of
the bay.  We found an excellent posada, kept by a man and woman
from the Basque provinces, who were both civil and intelligent.
The town seemed to be crowded, and resounded with noise and
merriment.  The people were making a wretched attempt at an
illumination, in consequence of some victory lately gained, or
pretended to have been gained, over the forces of the Pretender.
Military uniforms were glancing about in every direction.  To
increase the bustle, a troop of Portuguese players had lately
arrived from Oporto, and their first representation was to take
place this evening.  "Is the play to be performed in Spanish?" I
demanded.  "No," was the reply; "and on that account every person
is so eager to go; which would not be the case if it were in a
language which they could understand."

On the morning of the next day I was seated at breakfast in a large
apartment which looked out upon the Plaza Mayor, or great square of
the good town of Vigo.  The sun was shining very brilliantly, and
all around looked lively and gay.  Presently a stranger entered,
and bowing profoundly, stationed himself at the window, where he
remained a considerable time in silence.  He was a man of very
remarkable appearance, of about thirty-five.  His features were of
perfect symmetry, and I may almost say, of perfect beauty.  His
hair was the darkest I had ever seen, glossy and shining; his eyes
large, black, and melancholy; but that which most struck me was his
complexion.  It might be called olive, it is true, but it was a
livid olive.  He was dressed in the very first style of French
fashion.  Around his neck was a massive gold chain, while upon his
fingers were large rings, in one of which was set a magnificent
ruby.  Who can that man be? thought I;--Spaniard or Portuguese,
perhaps a Creole.  I asked him an indifferent question in Spanish,
to which he forthwith replied in that language, but his accent
convinced me that he was neither Spaniard nor Portuguese.

"I presume I am speaking to an Englishman, sir?" said he, in as
good English as it was possible for one not an Englishman to speak.

Myself.--You know me to be an Englishman; but I should find some
difficulty in guessing to what country you belong.

Stranger.--May I take a seat?

Myself.--A singular question.  Have you not as much right to sit in
the public apartment of an inn as myself?

Stranger.--I am not certain of that.  The people here are not in
general very gratified at seeing me seated by their side.

Myself.--Perhaps owing to your political opinions, or to some crime
which it may have been your misfortune to commit?

Stranger.--I have no political opinions, and I am not aware that I
ever committed any particular crime,--I am hated for my country and
my religion.

Myself.--Perhaps I am speaking to a Protestant, like myself?

Stranger.--I am no Protestant.  If I were, they would be cautious
here of showing their dislike, for I should then have a government
and a consul to protect me.  I am a Jew--a Barbary Jew, a subject
of Abderrahman.

Myself.--If that be the case, you can scarcely complain of being
looked upon with dislike in this country, since in Barbary the Jews
are slaves.

Stranger.--In most parts, I grant you, but not where I was born,
which was far up the country, near the deserts.  There the Jews are
free, and are feared, and are as valiant men as the Moslems
themselves; as able to tame the steed, or to fire the gun.  The
Jews of our tribe are not slaves, and I like not to be treated as a
slave either by Christian or Moor.

Myself.--Your history must be a curious one, I would fain hear it.

Stranger.--My history I shall tell to no one.  I have travelled
much, I have been in commerce and have thriven.  I am at present
established in Portugal, but I love not the people of Catholic
countries, and least of all these of Spain.  I have lately
experienced the most shameful injustice in the Aduana of this town,
and when I complained, they laughed at me and called me Jew.
Wherever he turns, the Jew is reviled, save in your country, and on
that account my blood always warms when I see an Englishman.  You
are a stranger here.  Can I do aught for you?  You may command me.

Myself.--I thank you heartily, but I am in need of no assistance.

Stranger.--Have you any bills, I will accept them if you have?

Myself.--I have no need of assistance; but you may do me a favour
by accepting of a book.

Stranger.--I will receive it with thanks.  I know what it is.  What
a singular people?  The same dress, the same look, the same book.
Pelham gave me one in Egypt.  Farewell!  Your Jesus was a good man,
perhaps a prophet; but . . . farewell!

Well may the people of Pontevedra envy the natives of Vigo their
bay, with which, in many respects, none other in the world can
compare.  On every side it is defended by steep and sublime hills,
save on the part of the west, where is the outlet to the Atlantic;
but in the midst of this outlet, up towers a huge rocky wall, or
island, which breaks the swell, and prevents the billows of the
western sea from pouring through in full violence.  On either side
of this island is a passage, so broad, that navies might pass
through at all times in safety.  The bay itself is oblong, running
far into the land, and so capacious, that a thousand sail of the
line might ride in it uncrowded.  The waters are dark, still, and
deep, without quicksands or shallows, so that the proudest man-of-
war might lie within a stone's throw of the town ramparts without
any fear of injuring her keel.

Of many a strange event, and of many a mighty preparation has this
bay been the scene.  It was here that the bulky dragons of the
grand armada were mustered, and it was from hence that, fraught
with the pomp, power, and terror of old Spain, the monster fleet,
spreading its enormous sails to the wind, and bent on the ruin of
the Lutheran isle, proudly steered;--that fleet, to build and man
which half the forests of Galicia had been felled, and all the
mariners impressed from the thousand bays and creeks of the stern
Cantabrian shore.  It was here that the united flags of Holland and
England triumphed over the pride of Spain and France; when the
burning timbers of exploded war-ships soared above the tops of the
Gallegan hills, and blazing galleons sank with their treasure
chests whilst drifting in the direction of Sampayo.  It was on the
shores of this bay that the English guards first emptied Spanish
bodegas, whilst the bombs of Cobham were crushing the roofs of the
castle of Castro, and the vecinos of Pontevedra buried their
doubloons in cellars, and flying posts were conveying to Lugo and
Orensee the news of the heretic invasion and the disaster of Vigo.
All these events occurred to my mind as I stood far up the hill, at
a short distance from the fort, surveying the bay.

"What are you doing there, Cavalier?" roared several voices.
"Stay, Carracho! if you attempt to run we will shoot you!"  I
looked round and saw three or four fellows in dirty uniforms, to
all appearance soldiers, just above me, on a winding path, which
led up the hill.  Their muskets were pointed at me.  "What am I
doing?  Nothing, as you see," said I, "save looking at the bay; and
as for running, this is by no means ground for a course."  "You are
our prisoner," said they, "and you must come with us to the fort."
"I was just thinking of going there," I replied, "before you thus
kindly invited me.  The fort is the very spot I was desirous of
seeing."  I thereupon climbed up to the place where they stood,
when they instantly surrounded me, and with this escort I was
marched into the fort, which might have been a strong place in its
time, but was now rather ruinous.  "You are suspected of being a
spy," said the corporal, who walked in front.  "Indeed," said I.
"Yes," replied the corporal, "and several spies have lately been
taken and shot."

Upon one of the parapets of the fort stood a young man, dressed as
a subaltern officer, and to this personage I was introduced.  "We
have been watching you this half hour," said he, "as you were
taking observations."  "Then you gave yourselves much useless
trouble," said I.  "I am an Englishman, and was merely looking at
the bay.  Have the kindness now to show me the fort." . . .

After some conversation, he said, "I wish to be civil to people of
your nation, you may therefore consider yourself at liberty."  I
bowed, made my exit, and proceeded down the hill.  Just before I
entered the town, however, the corporal, who had followed me
unperceived, tapped me on the shoulder.  "You must go with me to
the governor," said he.  "With all my heart," I replied.  The
governor was shaving, when we were shown up to him.  He was in his
shirt sleeves, and held a razor in his hand.  He looked very ill-
natured, which was perhaps owing to his being thus interrupted in
his toilet.  He asked me two or three questions, and on learning
that I had a passport, and was the bearer of a letter to the
English consul, he told me that I was at liberty to depart.  So I
bowed to the governor of the town, as I had done to the governor of
the fort, and making my exit proceeded to my inn.

At Vigo I accomplished but little in the way of distribution, and
after a sojourn of a few days, I returned in the direction of Saint
James.



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
Finisterra.  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 of 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
Finisterra, 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 cuidao," 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 Finisterra.  I then sallied forth and saw my friend
the alquilador, who was holding by the bridle the pony or jaco
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 Finisterra,
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 Finisterra, having been thither
several times with this very jaco 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 villainy, 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
Finisterra, to which you seem so eager to get.  Take my advice,
spur on the jaco, 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 Finisterra is no trifle.  As for the man,
no tenga usted cuidao, he is the best guide in all 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 jaco, 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 jaco, 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 jaco in motion than he ran on by its side, without word or
comment, farther 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 maze.  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 Finisterra 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
summersets, 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 Coruna.  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
cuidao, 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
Finisterra, 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
Finisterra 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 Finisterra.  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 anyone 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 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
Finisterra, 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 any thing at all, he is a Nuveiro,--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
Finisterra, 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 Finisterra, 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 Finisterra, 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 to-
night?" 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 Estadea.

Myself.--What do you mean by the Estadea?

Guide.--What do I mean by the Estadea?  My master asks me what I
mean by the Estadinha. {17}  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 Estadea!  Estadea! and I
myself fell to the ground crying out Estadinha!  The Estadea 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 Finisterra 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
Finisterra 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 it 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 lume, Senhor,"
said he, "there is lume."  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 lume," 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 Estadea?" 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 countryman
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 Estadea was frequently
mentioned.  After supper I demanded where I could rest:  whereupon
the host pointed to a trap-door 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
which opened before us.

It was not without reason that the Latins gave the name of
Finnisterrae 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 Finisterra.  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:  Alba 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 Finisterra.  He entered the door of a wine-house, from
which proceeded much noise and vociferation, and presently
returned, informing me that the village of Finisterra 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
Finisterra, Cavalheiros?" he shouted.

"Yes, my friend," I replied, "we are going thither."

"Then you are going amongst a flock of drunkards (fato de
barrachos)," 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
Finisterra, 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.

"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 Finisterra.

"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 Finisterra.

It was midday when we reached the village of Finisterra, 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 Finisterra; and making numerous
and long detours, 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 greatest 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 farming 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 Finisterra, 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
northern 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:  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 in 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 whiskers, 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 Finisterra.  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 Finisterra, 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 Finisterra 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 door 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!"

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 Finisterra, 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
Finisterra?"

Myself.--I am an Englishman.  Here is my passport, and I came to
see Finisterra.

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.

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 Finisterra 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 Finisterra, 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 Finisterra 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
Finisterra 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 had 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 Finisterra, "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, Senor 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
Finisterra 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 Finisterra, 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 do Finisterra, and I fear
no odds.

Myself.--Why do you call yourself the valiente of Finisterra?

Antonio de la Trava.--The whole district call me so.  When the
French came to Finisterra, 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 Finisterra.

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 Finisterra 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 Finisterra," replied Antonio.
"This is a young Senorito, 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 Finisterra, 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 Finisterra," 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
courtyard, 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, "Senhor 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 Finisterra, where they are all Christinos 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 Finisterra.  Those of my village never interfere
with honest people.  Vaya! how I hate that drunkard of Finisterra
who brought you, he is so old and ugly; were it not for the love
which I bear to the Senhor Alcalde, I would at once unlock the gate
and bid you go forth, you and your servant, the buen mozo."

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 Finisterra.

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 Finisterra 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 Finisterra 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 Finisterra, 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
Finisterra I hope it will be in a valiant English bark, with plenty
of contrabando 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



Coruna--Crossing the Bay--Ferrol--The Dockyard--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 Saint James and Coruna, 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
Coruna, I had no difficulty in disposing of him at a far higher
price than he originally cost me.  A young and wealthy merchant of
Coruna, 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 Coruna, where I subsequently learned that he
became glandered and died.  Peace to his memory!

From Coruna 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 which may put in dismantled by the fire of
some English smuggling schooner from Gibraltar.  Half the
inhabitants of Ferrol 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, bare-headed, 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 dockyards 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
Coruna, 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 it 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, 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," 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 maitre, 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 maitre, 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.  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, senor 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
maitre," 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 ye 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 maitre,"
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 load 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! 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
forests 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 maitre," 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
maitre," 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 us, 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 maitre," 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 by-standers
(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, 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 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, 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 semi-circle.  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 maitre," 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 it 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 Giyon, 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."


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 multitude 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 Giyon
and Oviedo?" demanded Martin of an ancient female, who stood at the
door of a cottage.

"For Giyon and Oviedo!" replied the crone; "many is the weary step
you will have to make before you reach Giyon 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 copse-wood, 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.  "Senor," 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! 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 (hunchback); 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.  A 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 the 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, Senor, 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, 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, Senor, 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, Senor, I cleared away the things, and then waited
below for the servant, for whom I had prepared a comfortable bed,
close by my own.  Senor, 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.  Senor, what do you think I saw at the door?"

"How should I know?" I replied.  "His riding boots perhaps."

"No, Senor, 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.

"Senor, 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, Senor, 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.--Senor, 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, Senor, 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, and from thence to Giyon, 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 Giyon.  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.  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, "Senor 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 maitre," 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 maitre," 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 villainous apparel."

"There must be some mystery in this," said I; "where is he at
present?"

"Below, mon maitre," 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 up stairs; he was, as
Antonio had remarked, in most villainous 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 had
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,
grasping 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 Coruna; I then set out
for Coruna after you.

Myself.--And what befell you on the road?

Benedict.--I will tell you:  about half-way between Saint James and
Coruna, 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, I never saw such
robbers; so finely dressed, so well armed, and mounted so bravely
on two fiery little hakkas, 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 would
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 any thing 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 Coruna?

Benedict.--When I arrived at Coruna, 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
Coruna.  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 betting 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, 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 Coruna 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, 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, 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 maitre, 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 sorciere, 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 Vincente--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, 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 cars 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
birth-place of Arguelles, 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 a 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 maitre," said Antonio, "c'est un
monsieur de ma connoissance.  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 maitre, that these Carlist and Christino
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 maitre, 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 maitre, 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 I 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 maitre, 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 Coruna.  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
Coruna, that the general was no liberal, and that he was a better
friend to Carlos than to Christina.  Eh bien, it chanced that there
was a grand fete, or festival at Coruna, on the water; and the
nationals were there, and the soldiers.  And I know not how it
befell, but there was an emeute, 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 maitre, 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 maitre, 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! but 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 deja 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 maitre, 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 to-morrow, and we will send for the maidens of the
neighbourhood, and for a violin and a 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 maitre, 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 maitre, I have told you the history of the young man of
the inn."

We slept at Ribida de Sela, 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 lone 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 Vincente, a
large 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 part in so
ruinous a condition as to be dangerous.

Leaving San Vincente behind us, we travelled for some leagues on
the sea-shore, 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.  This 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 Coruna 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 at 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'hote 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 criticising the
conduct of the generals, both Carlists and Christinos, 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 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
re-animate 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 move 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 Valdepenas, 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 Coruna, 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 Onas, 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 Onas, 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; we reached Valladolid in safety;
we passed the Guadarama 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 class, 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
Guipuscoa.  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.

From the present ministry I could expect but little; they consisted
of men, the greater part of whom had been either courtiers or
employes 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
ascendancy, 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 Biblica y Estrangera; "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 servile 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!" 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 (forty miles) westward 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 1,543 arrobes,
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 Orgaz, the masterpiece of Domenico, 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 Tome, 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 fire-arms, 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, is 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, 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 romi, my son, and am I not bound by the law of the
Cales 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 bahi, I must do it, for he is the rom and I the romi."

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 maitre, 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
Donna 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 maitre, 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 was I 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 Guipuscoa, who was strongly recommended to
me.



CHAPTER XXXVII



Euscarra--Basque not Irish--Sanskrit 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.

With respect to the Gypsy Gospel I have little to say, having
already spoken of it in a former work (The Zincali):  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 Phoenician, and, that the Basques are the descendants of a
Phoenician 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 Phoenician
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 Kamschatdale and Cherokee are dialects of the Greek or
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
Sanskrit, 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 Sanskrit in
structure, in the arrangement of words, and in many instances in
the words themselves, which, however modified, may still be
recognized as Sanskrit.  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 Sanskrit--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 Sanskrit family, even as in the East the
Persian, and to a less degree the Arabic, Hebrew, etc.; 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 Sanskrit words to such a degree that its surface
seems strewn with them.  Yet would it be wrong to term it a
Sanskrit 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 number to the terms derived from the Sanskrit.
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 Sanskrit 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 Sanskrit 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 Sanskrit 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 Sanskrit roots
in juxtaposition:-


BASQUE.     SANSKRIT.
Ardoa       Sandhana       Wine.
Arratsa     Ratri          Night.
Beguia      Akshi          Eye.
Choria      Chiria         Bird.
Chacurra    Cucura         Dog.
Erreguina   Rani           Queen.
Icusi       Iksha          To see.
Iru         Treya          Three.
Jan (Khan)  Khana          To eat.
Uria        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.  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,
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."


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 Abbe
D'Ilharce, who has written about them, that they derived the name
Cantabri, by which they were 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.  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 oneself 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 Tartan
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.



CHAPTER XXXVIII



The Prohibition--Gospel Persecuted--Charge of Sorcery--Ofalia.

About the middle of January 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
ministry to power, and the nomination of Ofalia 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 meantime, 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 meantime 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
hands 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 have easily 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 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 melange 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 dispatched 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, 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 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 dispatched
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 reascended 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 chamber 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, 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 senor,"
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.  Wo 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 (master mine), the alguaziloac
and the corchetoac, and all the other lapurrac (thieves) 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 Alcala, 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; they gathered themselves together in
a circle and began conversing in whispers.  I heard one of them
say, "he understands the seven Gypsy jargons."  Then presently
another, evidently from his language an Andalusian, said, "Es muy
diestro (he is very skilful), 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 evidently 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, "Senor, 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 dispatched 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 fe, 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?" 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'etoit plus
honnete."  "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 Basompierre, 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 here 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 dispatched 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 dispatch 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 do 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, 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, a
la casa, a la posada!

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."

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 commanded 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 pave 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, tip-top thieves,
mostly young fellows, who, though they had no money of their own,
were supported in prison by their majas and amigas, 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 a
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, 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?

O, 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 inferior court with their long
knives; 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, 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 Bicetre.  And yet in
this prison of Madrid were some of the most desperate characters in
Spain:  ruffians who had committed acts of cruelly 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 villainously-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 on 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 a 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 eirangers 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 sacres 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 a 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 a semblable betise.  I
have no opinions.  Je faisois . . . mais ce n'importe; je me trouve
ici, ou je creve 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 call 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 a mon metier.  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
creves 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." {18}

"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 snow-storm, and bitten by the tremendous
cold of Russia:  and what could he mean by plying his trade in
Biscay and the 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
Basompierre, 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, 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 among 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 (city),
and live as I have hitherto done, choring the gachos (robbing the
natives); what is to hinder me?  Madrid is large, and Balseiro has
plenty of friends, especially among the lumias (women)," 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 villainy.
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, 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 meantime
remaining in Madrid for the purpose of conducting negotiations 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 parne (money), 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
Evangiles.

"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, Senor," 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 still
be a 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 a rather 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 maitre,"
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 maitre," said the Greek; then glancing around the
apartment, he continued, "I am glad to find you so well lodged.  If
I remember right, mon maitre, 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 not you in the kitchen?"

"Of what employer are you speaking, mon maitre?" 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 maitre," 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 every thing
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 haversac 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 maitre, 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 maitre, 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 maitre,
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 maitre, 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 maitre, 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 enrage,' 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 fleche.  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 caserolle 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 caserolle 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 haversac 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:


[Greek verse]


And in this manner, mon maitre, 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 farther communication
with you.

Antonio.--Mais qu' est ce que vous voudriez, mon maitre?  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 maitre, you are too noble to require that, and what
is more, TOO JUST.  But we will talk of other things.  Mon maitre,
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 maitre, 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 graber.

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 Bennet, "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 Bennet 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
innuendoes, 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 with both 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 Evangiles."
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.  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 maitre," 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 maitre?" cried Antonio.  "Who should serve
you now but myself?  N'est pas que le sieur Francois est mort?  And
did I not say, as soon as I heard of his departure, I shall return
to my functions chez mon maitre, Monsieur Georges?"

"I suppose you had no other employment, and on that account you
came."

"Au contraire, mon maitre," replied the Greek, "I had just engaged
myself at the house of the Duke of Frias, 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 a 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.

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, 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 se," 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! 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?  A
la horca, a la horca!'  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 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:  'Ride forth because of the word of righteousness,
and thy right hand shall show thee terrible things.'  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 Senor 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 Senor 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 Benedict Mol.

"I am come to bid you farewell, lieber herr; 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
Evangiles' 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 Bennet'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 on 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
sandbanks, 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:- "Senor 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, 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?"  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 alaja?" 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. {19}  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 negotiations 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 half way up its neck, then
fastening a 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 place called 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 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
maitre," 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, "io quiero engancharme con
usted (I wish to enlist with you); 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 Ingalaterra; 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 "Arrhe
burra," 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 gratify 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 merchandize; 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 the 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 half 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, "Senor 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,"
(blessed be God,) 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 sunburnt 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; 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 Ingalaterra 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 connection 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 rocks 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 burrico.  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 Yungler.  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--Factions 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, 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 senoras 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."


When the sensual king went to his dread account, royalty deserted
it, and it soon fell into decay.  Intriguing counters 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 had
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 Ocana, 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 Ocana,
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 high road, 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
Ocana, 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.  I
knew this word to be one of the Jewish countersigns, and asked the
man if he had any thing 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 between 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
Ocana, 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 Ocana, we were far from being
discouraged, and forthwith prepared ourselves for another
expedition.  As we returned from Aranjeuz 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 Castile 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 Ingalaterra,
viva el Evangelio!"

In a few days I followed with Antonio.  We ascended the mountains
by the pass called Pena Cerrada, which lies about three leagues to
the eastward of that of Guadarama.  It is very unfrequented, the
high road between the two Castiles passing through Guadarama.  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 maitre!" 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 maitre," 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 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 rose 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.

We had not been at Labajos a week, during which time we were
remarkably successful, when the Carlist chieftain, Balmaseda, 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
Munoz.  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,
now became Earl of Clarendon, fulfilled the duties of minister at
Madrid:-


    LABAJOS, PROVINCE OF SEGOVIA,
    August 23, 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 Munos,
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.



CHAPTER XLV



Return to Spain--Seville--A Hoary Persecutor--Manchegan Prophetess-
-Antonio's Dream.

On the 31st of December, 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 the 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 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 staid 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, Columba and Thomas of
Canterbury; but she added those times had gone by since the re-
appearance of Semiramis (Elizabeth).  Her Latin was truly
excellent, and when I, like a genuine Goth, spoke of Anglia and
Terra Vandalica (Andalusia), 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 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 my first cares
was to pay a visit to Lord Clarendon.  Amongst other things, he
informed me that he had received an official notice from the
government, stating the seizure of the New Testaments at Ocana, 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.



CHAPTER XLVI



Work of Distribution resumed--Adventure at Cobenna--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 Cobenna, 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 (Tio), 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!"  What beautiful, what charming readings!"  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 book 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 would 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 (no hay otro en el mundo).
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 dispatched Victoriano to Caramanchal, a village at a
short distance from Madrid, the only one towards the west which had
not been visited last year.  He staid 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 real
authorities and the priests, without the slightest fear of being
called to account; for as they live quite apart {20} from the rest
of the world, they know no people greater than themselves, and
scarcely dream of a higher power than their own.

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
dispatched 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 Campina of Alcala:  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 Alcala, 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 vendor 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 cavallejo 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 arm chair 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 fact 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
Mohometan, 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
saddlebags, 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.  "Buenas noches," said the alcalde.  "Buenas
noches tenga usted," 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 Fuente 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 were 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 into 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, I as the document stated, was to-day in one
place, and to-morrow 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" of Saint
Petersburg.  Every house in this street was supplied with its
Testament, and the same might be said with respect to the Puerto
del Sol.  Nay, in some instances, every individual in the house,
man and child, man-servant 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.

"Senor," 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.  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 unreasonable 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 it 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 purissima!"
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, 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, compere," he added, in most villainous French,
"voila mon affaire; voila ce que je viens vous dire."

Thereupon he glared at me for a moment, nodded his head twice, and
replacing his staff beneath is 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 to-morrow, 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 dispatched 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."

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 recognised 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.  The churches which I allude to, were
those of San Gines and Santo Cruz.  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 guise 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 resolutions 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 the 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 by six mounted robbers; it was guarded by
an escort of as many soldiers, but the former suddenly galloped
from behind a solitary venda, 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 postillion; 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 Thomas) 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 recognised 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?"  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 intreated 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.

O 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.  Farther
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 citronem bluhen?"


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
streets, 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.  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
masterpieces 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 (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 at 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 Massaniello 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 proposed 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 Xerez, 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 train 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 Dedesa, 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 Xerez, 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.

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 my sphere of
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, 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 reunions 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!

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, I have adopted
this most unprofitable and despised one.  Oft have I regretted not
having been bred up as a shoe-maker, 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 arrobe.  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 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 one 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.
"Signior 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 civilised
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,
Signior 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, Signior 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, Signior 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?"
"Signior Donatio, 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."
"Signior 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 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.
{21}  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 among 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 the Fourth.  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 picaroon 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 farther 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 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
expendition, 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 curious 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 flush, 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."  It consists of several large
white buildings, principally government store-houses, and is
inhabited by the coast-guard, 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
all 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.  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 water side.  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.
Farther 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 their 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 O, 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, gursean.  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 or 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 Testaments 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 recommended 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 Ingalaterra," "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,) seemed 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 Busne 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 farther 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."  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 dispatched my luggage,
and then demanded of the red nightcap what I owed him.  He replied
"One 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 was 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 he be there, converse as fluently in
their gibberish as in Christiano, 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., 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
Algeciras, Gibraltar, and various other ports of Spain.  I had
engaged my passage on board her as far as Gibraltar, having nothing
farther 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
Algeciras, 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
Oehlenschlaeger 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.  Huge fragments of wreck
still frequently emerge from the watery gulf whose billows chafe
the rocky sides of Trafalgar:  they are relies 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, 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 had now come on, and the vessel pitched and tossed to a
very considerable degree.  Most of the passengers were sea-sick;
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 and wild beasts.  He observed that he had never been
even at Tangier, where the people were most civilised, 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 the Moors and Christians.  Who has not heard of
Alonzo Guzman the faithful, 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, "the one-eyed" (el tuerto),
and that he was one of the most villainous 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
overthrow 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.  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, Montana de las
Monas (the hill of the baboons); 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 Algeciras, on the Spanish side, for the purpose of
landing the old governor and his suite, and delivering and
receiving letters.

Algeciras is an ancient Moorish town, as the name denotes, which is
an Arabic word, and signifies "the place of the islands."  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 Santissima Trinidad, and be pleased also not to forget that we
are almost within cannon's sound of Trafalgar."

It was neat 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.  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 deform 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
atalaias which overcrowded 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 Alpujarra mocking it from behind.  O 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 chiseled 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 farther 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, 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 towards 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 ever 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," 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
up stairs 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.
O, 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--Hamalos--
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 horse-
flesh, 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 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 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 Angle-
Saxons 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 chiseled 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."

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 half way 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, "hamalos."  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 enquiring 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 "capitaz," or head man of the "hamalos" 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 bel scharki."  (A holy man this from the kingdoms
of the East.)  At last I produced the shekel, which I invariably
carry about me as a pocket-piece, and asked the capitaz 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 hamalos:
"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 hamalos, 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 capitaz.  "Allow me to offer you a glass of
bitters," said he; "I guessed you was one of our people before you
spoke to the hamalos.  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 hamalo 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, at Hamburgh; 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 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,--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 enquiry 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
imbedded; 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 Inglis Mendi, 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 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, {22} 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 streets of Gibraltar, in the dusk of the evening.
"Yes," he replied, "I am Judah, surnamed the Lib.  Thou didst not
recognise 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 about 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 half way 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 villages, 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, 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 asketh, 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 Sweerah, which the Nazarenes call Mogadore; and 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--St. 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 fusillade 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 Saint 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 farther.  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
farther.  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?" (1 Kings xix. 11-13.)

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 blood-hounds 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 greatest 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 "O 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 naive 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 hamalos 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 Hadji--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 orge 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 recognised the singular-looking Jew whom I
had seen in the company of Judah Lib.  He recognised 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 balk, 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 farther ornament than one large gold
ear-ring, 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 santuron, 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 art our brother--Allah knows no
distinctions."  The boatman now went up to the hadji, 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 hadji, 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 hadji'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 hadji, 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
Jhin.  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 hadji 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 hadji 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 (hogsflesh).  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, Haram (it is forbidden).  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
lateen 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 hadji
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 racehorses 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 Alminar, 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 houries.  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
Alminar.  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 hadji 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 tomatoes, 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 super.  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:-


"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."


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 Cavallero."  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 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 rode 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.  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" (Good-morning, my lord).  "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 dispatched
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
superficies 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 as 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; no scarlet strumpet with a
crown of false gold sat nursing an ugly changeling in a niche.
"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 hast 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"
(there is no god but one).

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 sea-
shore, 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?  Idolmonger,
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 any 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, (buy here, buy here), 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, (the water species), 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 peoples 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 Haim Ben Atar, 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, gratia plena, ora pro me," and finally a croaking voice
chanted:-


"Gentem auferte perfidam
Credentium de finibus,
Ut Christo laudes debitas
Persolvamus alacriter."


"That is the old Genoese," whispered Haim Ben Atar, "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.  His body was swathed in an immense
haik.  Finding that I could understand Moorish, he instantly began
talking with immense volubility, and I soon learned 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
(Algiers) 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 Mahasniah, they are my brethren.  See their haiks how
white, see their turbans how white.  O 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 atar del
nuar, 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 Mahasniah, 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 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.  Half way
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 Hadge, 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
summerhouse, 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 Mahasniah 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."

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 aspect.

We now passed over the see to the opposite side, where stand the
huts of the guardians.  Here a species of lane presents itself,
which descends to the sea-shore; 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.  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 I stooped down to inspect.  "Are you Talib enough to 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 (the house of the trades).  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
anything 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 olden 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 (sea-shore).  Take care, my
sultan, we tread upon bones."

We had emerged from the Dar Sinah, and the sea-shore 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 headlong 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 (stallion)?"  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 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
(Friday), 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 Guadeloupo--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 features 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 Johar,
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 Johar.  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 Johar.  Usted no tiene modo, you have no manner with you, nor
more has Johar.  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), 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 Johar laugh?  Am I not Hammin
Widdir, el hombre mas valido de Tanger?  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 Johar."

"You have been eating hashish and majoon, Hammin," said Joanna
Correa, "and the Shaitan has entered into you, as he but too
frequently does.  I have been busy, and so has Johar, or we should
have spoken to you before; however, mai doorshee (it does not
signify), 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 Johar 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, snuffled 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 Johar, and to
become Moors.  What a glory to you, after having been married to a
Genoui, and given birth to Genouillos, to receive for a husband a
Moor like me, and to bear him children of the blood of Garnata.
What a glory too for Johar, how much better than to marry a vile
Jew, even like Hayim Ben Atar, 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 be 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, 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.  O 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-la pour les vivres, pour les petits poulets,
pour les poulardes, pour les perdrix, pour les perdreaux, pour les
alouettes, pour les becasses, pour les becassines, enfin, pour
tout."

"Pray, sir, are you a cook?" demanded I.

"Monsieur, je le suis pour vous rendre service, mon nom c'est
Gerard, et j'ai l'honneur d'etre chef de cuisine chez monsieur le
consul Hollandois.  A present je prie permission de vous saluer; il
faut que j'aille a la maison pour faire le diner de mon maitre."

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 afforded, 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 Arable 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 incoherence 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 bare-headed 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 recognised 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."

(Algerine,
Moor so keen,
No drink wine,
No taste swine.)


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," (that is not lawful,) said I to him with a loud
voice.

"Cul shee halal," (everything is lawful,) 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 coeli porta!'"


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.



Footnote:

{0}  "Om Frands Gonzales, og Rodrik Cid.
End siunges i Sierra Murene!"
Kronike Riim.  By Severin Grundtvig.  Copenhagen, 1829.

{1}  Doing business, doing business--he has much business to do.

{2}  The Gypsy word for Antonio.

{3}  Devil.

{4}  "Say nothing to him, my lad, he is a hog of an alguazil."

{5}  El Serrador, a Carlist partisan, who about this period was
much talked of in Spain.

{6}  At the last attack on Warsaw, when the loss of the Russians
amounted to upwards of twenty thousand men, the soldiery mounted
the breach, repeating in measured chant, one of their popular
songs:  "Come, let us cut the cabbage," &c.

{7}  Twelve ounces of bread, small pound, as given in the prison.

{8}  Witch.  Ger.  Hexe.

{9}  A compound of the modern Greek [Greek text], and the Sanskrit
kara, the literal meaning being Lord of the horse-shoe (i.e.
maker); it is one of the private cognominations of "The Smiths," an
English Gypsy clan.

{10}  Of these lines the following translation, in the style of the
old English ballad, will, perhaps, not be unacceptable:-

{11}  "The king arrived, the king arrived, and disembarked at
Belem."--Miguelite song.

{12}  "How should I know?"

{13}  Qu. The Epistle to the Romans.

{14}  This was possibly the period when Admiral Duckworth attempted
to force the passage of the Dardanelles.

{15}  "See the crossing! see what devilish crossing!"

{16}  The ancient Lethe.

{17}  Inha, when affixed to words, serves as a diminutive.  It is
much in use amongst the Gallegans.

{18}  Perhaps Waterloo.

{19}  About thirty pounds.

{20}  [Greek text], as Antonio said.

{21}  Nothing at all.

{22}  A Rabbinical book, very difficult to be understood, though
written avowedly for the purpose of elucidating many points
connected with the religious ceremonies of the Hebrews.





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