{"collection":"scripture-revelation","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_35676/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_35676","id":"gutenberg_35676","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/35676","summary":null,"tags":["Borrow, George, 1803-1881 -- Travel -- Spain","Category: History - European","Category: Religion/Spirituality","Category: Travel Writing","Spain -- Description and travel","Spain -- History -- 19th century"],"text":"\n\nTranscribed from the 1896 John Murray edition by David Price, email\nccx074@pglaf.org\n\n [Picture: Toledo]\n\n\n\n\n\n THE BIBLE IN SPAIN;\n\n\n OR, THE JOURNEYS, ADVENTURES, AND\n IMPRISONMENTS OF AN ENGLISHMAN\n IN AN ATTEMPT TO CIRCULATE\n THE SCRIPTURES IN\n THE PENINSULA\n\n BY\n GEORGE BORROW.\n\n * * * * *\n\n _A NEW EDITION_, _WITH NOTES AND A GLOSSARY_,\n BY ULICK RALPH BURKE, M.A.,\n AUTHOR OF \u201cA HISTORY OF SPAIN,\u201d ETC.\n\n * * * * *\n\n _IN TWO VOLUMES_.\n VOL. II.\n\n * * * * *\n\n WITH MAP AND ENGRAVINGS.\n\n * * * * *\n\n LONDON:\n JOHN MURRAY, ALBEMARLE STREET.\n 1896.\n\n * * * * *\n\n LONDON:\n PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,\n STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.\n\n\n\n\nCONTENTS OF VOL. II.\n\n PAGE\n CHAPTER XXIX.\nArrival at Padron\u2014Projected Enterprise\u2014The Alquilador\u2014Breach 1\nof Promise\u2014An Odd Companion\u2014A Plain Story\u2014Rugged Paths\u2014The\nDesertion\u2014The Pony\u2014A Dialogue\u2014Unpleasant Situation\u2014The\nEstadea\u2014Benighted\u2014The Hut\u2014The Traveller\u2019s Pillow\n CHAPTER XXX.\nAutumnal Morning\u2014The World\u2019s End\u2014Corcuvion\u2014Duyo\u2014The Cape\u2014A 20\nWhale\u2014The Outer Bay\u2014The Arrest\u2014The Fisher-Magistrate\u2014Calros\nRey\u2014Hard of Belief\u2014Where is your Passport?\u2014The Beach\u2014A Mighty\nLiberal\u2014The Handmaid\u2014The Grand Baintham\u2014Eccentric\nBook\u2014Hospitality\n CHAPTER XXXI.\nCorunna\u2014Crossing the Bay\u2014Ferrol\u2014The Dock-yard\u2014Where are we 41\nnow?\u2014Greek Ambassador\u2014Lantern-Light\u2014The\nRavine\u2014Viveiro\u2014Evening\u2014Marsh and Quagmire\u2014Fair Words and Fair\nMoney\u2014The Leathern Girth\u2014Eyes of Lynx\u2014The Knavish Guide\n CHAPTER XXXII.\nMartin of Rivadeo\u2014The Factious Mare\u2014Asturians\u2014Luarca\u2014The 57\nSeven Bellotas\u2014Hermits\u2014The Asturian\u2019s Tale\u2014Strange Guests\u2014The\nBig Servant\u2014Batuschca\n CHAPTER XXXIII.\nOviedo\u2014The Ten Gentlemen\u2014The Swiss again\u2014Modest Request\u2014The 70\nRobbers\u2014Episcopal Benevolence\u2014The Cathedral\u2014Portrait of\nFeijoo\n CHAPTER XXXIV.\nDeparture from Oviedo\u2014Villa Viciosa\u2014The Young Man of the 82\nInn\u2014Antonio\u2019s Tale\u2014The General and his Family\u2014Woful\nTidings\u2014To-morrow we die\u2014San Vicente\u2014Santander\u2014An\nHarangue\u2014Flinter the Irishman\n CHAPTER XXXV.\nDeparture from Santander\u2014The Night Alarm\u2014The Black Pass 95\n CHAPTER XXXVI.\nState of Affairs at Madrid\u2014The New Ministry\u2014Pope of Rome\u2014The 99\nBookseller of Toledo\u2014Sword-blades\u2014Houses of Toledo\u2014The\nForlorn Gypsy\u2014Proceedings at Madrid\u2014Another Servant\n CHAPTER XXXVII.\nEuscarra\u2014Basque not Irish\u2014Sanscrit and Tartar Dialects\u2014A 111\nVowel Language\u2014Popular Poetry\u2014The Basques\u2014Their\nPersons\u2014Basque Women\n CHAPTER XXXVIII.\nThe Prohibition\u2014Gospel Persecuted\u2014Charge of Sorcery\u2014Ofalia 121\n CHAPTER XXXIX.\nThe Two Gospels\u2014The Alguazil\u2014The Warrant\u2014The Good Maria\u2014The 127\nArrest\u2014Sent to Prison\u2014Reflections\u2014The Reception\u2014The Prison\nRoom\u2014Redress demanded\n CHAPTER XL.\nOfalia\u2014The Juez\u2014Carcel de la Corte\u2014Sunday in Prison\u2014Robber 141\nDress\u2014Father and Son\u2014Characteristic Behaviour\u2014The\nFrenchman\u2014Prison Allowance\u2014Valley of the Shadow\u2014Pure\nCastilian\u2014Balseiro\u2014The Cave\u2014Robber Glory\n CHAPTER XLI.\nMaria Diaz\u2014Priestly Vituperation\u2014Antonio\u2019s Visit\u2014Antonio at 159\nService\u2014A Scene\u2014Benedict Mol\u2014Wandering in Spain\u2014The Four\nEvangelien\n CHAPTER XLII.\nLiberation from Prison\u2014The Apology\u2014Human Nature\u2014The Greek\u2019s 169\nReturn\u2014Church of Rome\u2014Light of Scripture\u2014Archbishop of\nToledo\u2014An Interview\u2014Stones of Price\u2014A Resolution\u2014The Foreign\nLanguage\u2014Benedict\u2019s Farewell\u2014Treasure Hunt at\nCompostella\u2014Truth and Fiction\n CHAPTER XLIII.\nVilla Seca\u2014Moorish House\u2014The Puchera\u2014The Rustic 185\nCouncil\u2014Polite Ceremonial\u2014The Flower of Spain\u2014The Bridge of\nAzeca\u2014The Ruined Castle\u2014Taking the Field\u2014Demand for the\nWord\u2014The Old Peasant\u2014The Curate and Blacksmith\u2014Cheapness of\nthe Scriptures\n CHAPTER XLIV.\nAranjuez\u2014A Warning\u2014A Night Adventure\u2014A Fresh 202\nExpedition\u2014Segovia\u2014Abades\u2014Factious Curas\u2014Lopez in\nPrison\u2014Rescue of Lopez\n CHAPTER XLV.\nReturn to Spain\u2014Seville\u2014A Hoary Persecutor\u2014Manchegan 214\nProphetess\u2014Antonio\u2019s Dream\n CHAPTER XLVI.\nWork of Distribution resumed\u2014Adventure at Cobe\u00f1a\u2014Power of the 220\nClergy\u2014Rural Authorities\u2014Fuente la Higuera\u2014Victoriano\u2019s\nMishap\u2014Village Prison\u2014The Rope\u2014Antonio\u2019s Errand\u2014Antonio at\nMass\n CHAPTER XLVII.\nTermination of our Rural Labours\u2014Alarm of the Clergy\u2014A New 232\nExperiment\u2014Success at Madrid\u2014Goblin-Alguazil\u2014Staff of\nOffice\u2014The Corregidor\u2014An Explanation\u2014The Pope in England\u2014New\nTestament expounded\u2014Works of Luther\n CHAPTER XLVIII.\nProjected Journey\u2014A Scene of Blood\u2014The Friar\u2014Seville\u2014Beauties 245\nof Seville\u2014Orange Trees and Flowers\u2014Murillo\u2014The Guardian\nAngel\u2014Dionysius\u2014My Coadjutors\u2014Demand for the Bible\n CHAPTER XLIX.\nThe Solitary House\u2014The Dehesa\u2014Johannes 258\nChrysostom\u2014Manuel\u2014Bookselling at Seville\u2014Dionysius and the\nPriests\u2014Athens and Rome\u2014Proselytism\u2014Seizure of\nTestaments\u2014Departure from Seville\n CHAPTER L.\nNight on the Guadalquivir\u2014Gospel Light\u2014Bonanza\u2014Strand of San 271\nLucar\u2014Andalusian Scenery\u2014History of a Chest\u2014Cosas de los\nIngleses\u2014The Two Gypsies\u2014The Driver\u2014The Red Nightcap\u2014The\nSteam-Boat\u2014Christian Language\n CHAPTER LI.\nCadiz\u2014The Fortifications\u2014The Consul-General\u2014Characteristic 286\nAnecdote\u2014Catalan Steamer\u2014Trafalgar\u2014Alonzo Guzman\u2014Gibil\nMuza\u2014Orestes Frigate\u2014The Hostile Lion\u2014Works of the\nCreator\u2014Lizard of the Rock\u2014The Concourse\u2014Queen of the\nWaters\u2014Broken Prayer\n CHAPTER LII.\nThe Jolly Hosteler\u2014Aspirants for Glory\u2014A 305\nPortrait\u2014Ham\u00e1les\u2014Solomons\u2014An Expedition\u2014The Yeoman\nSoldier\u2014The Excavations\u2014The Pull by the Skirt\u2014Judah and his\nFather\u2014Judah\u2019s Pilgrimage\u2014The Bushy Beard\u2014The False\nMoors\u2014Judah and the King\u2019s Son\u2014Premature Old Age\n CHAPTER LIII.\nGenoese Mariners\u2014Saint Michael\u2019s Cave\u2014Midnight Abysses\u2014Young 326\nAmerican\u2014A Slave Proprietor\u2014The Fairy Man\u2014Infidelity\n CHAPTER LIV.\nAgain on Board\u2014The Strange Visage\u2014The Haji\u2014Setting Sail\u2014The 335\nTwo Jews\u2014American Vessel\u2014Tangier\u2014Adun Oulem\u2014The Struggle\u2014The\nForbidden Thing\n CHAPTER LV.\nThe Mole\u2014The Two Moors\u2014Djmah of Tangier\u2014House of God\u2014British 348\nConsul\u2014Curious Spectacle\u2014The Moorish House\u2014Joanna Correa\u2014Ave\nMaria\n CHAPTER LVI.\nThe Mahasni\u2014Sin Samani\u2014The Bazaar\u2014Moorish Saints\u2014See the 359\nAyana!\u2014The Prickly Fig\u2014Jewish Graves\u2014The Place of\nCarcases\u2014The Stable Boy\u2014Horses of the Moslem\u2014Dar-dwag\n CHAPTER LVII.\nStrange Trio\u2014The Mulatto\u2014The Peace-offering\u2014Moors of 373\nGranada\u2014Vive la Guadeloupe\u2014The Moors\u2014Pascual Fava\u2014Blind\nAlgerine\u2014The Retreat\nGLOSSARY 385\n\nLIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS.\n\n VOL. II.\nTOLEDO. _Etched by_ MANESSE _Frontispiece_\nSEGOVIA. _From a Sketch by_ A. H. HALLAM MURRAY _To face_ 210\n\n _Engraved by_ MANESSE\n\nCHAPTER XXIX.\n\n\nArrival at Padron\u2014Projected Enterprise\u2014The Alquilador\u2014Breach of\nPromise\u2014An Odd Companion\u2014A Plain Story\u2014Rugged Paths\u2014The Desertion\u2014The\nPony\u2014A Dialogue\u2014Unpleasant Situation\u2014The Estadea\u2014Benighted\u2014The Hut\u2014The\nTraveller\u2019s Pillow.\n\nI arrived at Padron late in the evening, on my return from Pontevedra and\nVigo. It was my intention at this place to send my servant and horses\nforward to Santiago, and to hire a guide to Cape Finisterre. It would be\ndifficult to assign any plausible reason for the ardent desire which I\nentertained to visit this place; but I remembered that last year I had\nescaped almost by a miracle from shipwreck and death on the rocky sides\nof this extreme point of the Old World, and I thought that to convey the\nGospel to a place so wild and remote might perhaps be considered an\nacceptable pilgrimage in the eyes of my Maker. True it is that but one\ncopy remained of those which I had brought with me on this last journey;\nbut this reflection, far from discouraging me in my projected enterprise,\nproduced the contrary effect, as I called to mind that, ever since the\nLord revealed Himself to man, it has seemed good to Him to accomplish the\ngreatest ends by apparently the most insufficient means; and I reflected\nthat this one copy might serve as an instrument for more good than the\nfour thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine copies of the edition of\nMadrid.\n\nI was aware that my own horses were quite incompetent to reach\nFinisterre, as the roads or paths lie through stony ravines, and over\nrough and shaggy hills, and therefore determined to leave them behind\nwith Antonio, whom I was unwilling to expose to the fatigues of such a\njourney. I lost no time in sending for an _alquilador_, or person who\nlets out horses, and informing him of my intention. He said he had an\nexcellent mountain pony at my disposal, and that he himself would\naccompany me; but at the same time observed, that it was a terrible\njourney for man and horse, and that he expected to be paid accordingly.\nI consented to give him what he demanded, but on the express condition\nthat he would perform his promise of attending me himself, as I was\nunwilling to trust myself four or five days amongst the hills with any\nlow fellow of the town whom he might select, and who it was very possible\nmight play me some evil turn. He replied by the term invariably used by\nthe Spaniards when they see doubt or distrust exhibited: \u201c_No tenga usted\ncuidado_, {2} I will go myself.\u201d Having thus arranged the matter\nperfectly satisfactorily, as I thought, I partook of a slight supper, and\nshortly afterwards retired to repose.\n\nI had requested the _alquilador_ to call me the next morning at three\no\u2019clock; he, however, did not make his appearance till five, having, I\nsuppose, overslept himself, which was indeed my own case. I arose in a\nhurry, dressed, put a few things in a bag, not forgetting the Testament,\nwhich I had resolved to present to the inhabitants of Finisterre. I then\nsallied forth and saw my friend the _alquilador_, who was holding by the\nbridle the pony or _jaca_ which was destined to carry me in my\nexpedition. It was a beautiful little animal, apparently strong and full\nof life, without one single white hair in its whole body, which was black\nas the plumage of the crow.\n\nBehind it stood a strange-looking figure of the biped species, to whom,\nhowever, at the moment, I paid little attention, but of whom I shall have\nplenty to say in the sequel.\n\nHaving asked the horse-lender whether he was ready to proceed, and being\nanswered in the affirmative, I bade adieu to Antonio, and putting the\npony in motion, we hastened out of the town, taking at first the road\nwhich leads towards Santiago. Observing that the figure which I have\npreviously alluded to was following close at our heels, I asked the\n_alquilador_ who it was, and the reason of its following us; to which he\nreplied that it was a servant of his, who would proceed a little way with\nus and then return. So on we went at a rapid rate, till we were within a\nquarter of a mile of the Convent of the Esclavitud, a little beyond which\nhe had informed me that we should have to turn off from the high-road;\nbut here he suddenly stopped short, and in a moment we were all at a\nstandstill. I questioned the guide as to the reason of this, but\nreceived no answer. The fellow\u2019s eyes were directed to the ground, and\nhe seemed to be counting with the most intense solicitude the prints of\nthe hoofs of the oxen, mules, and horses in the dust of the road. I\nrepeated my demand in a louder voice; when, after a considerable pause,\nhe somewhat elevated his eyes, without, however, looking me in the face,\nand said that he believed that I entertained the idea that he himself was\nto guide me to Finisterre, which if I did, he was very sorry for, the\nthing being quite impossible, as he was perfectly ignorant of the way,\nand, moreover, incapable of performing such a journey over rough and\ndifficult ground, as he was no longer the man he had been; and, over and\nabove all that, he was engaged that day to accompany a gentleman to\nPontevedra, who was at that moment expecting him. \u201cBut,\u201d continued he,\n\u201cas I am always desirous of behaving like a _caballero_ to everybody, I\nhave taken measures to prevent your being disappointed. This person,\u201d\npointing to the figure, \u201cI have engaged to accompany you. He is a most\ntrustworthy person, and is well acquainted with the route to Finisterre,\nhaving been thither several times with this very _jaca_ on which you are\nmounted. He will, besides, be an agreeable companion to you on the way,\nas he speaks French and English very well, and has been all over the\nworld.\u201d The fellow ceased speaking at last; and I was so struck with his\ncraft, impudence, and villany, that some time elapsed before I could find\nan answer. I then reproached him in the bitterest terms for his breach\nof promise, and said that I was much tempted to return to the town\ninstantly, complain of him to the _alcalde_, and have him punished at any\nexpense. To which he replied, \u201cSir Cavalier, by so doing you will be\nnothing nearer Finisterre, to which you seem so eager to get. Take my\nadvice, spur on the _jaca_, for you see it is getting late, and it is\ntwelve long leagues from hence to Corcuvion, where you must pass the\nnight; and from thence to Finisterre is no trifle. As for the man, _no\ntenga usted cuidado_, he is the best guide in Galicia, speaks English and\nFrench, and will bear you pleasant company.\u201d\n\nBy this time I had reflected that by returning to Padron I should indeed\nbe only wasting time, and that by endeavouring to have the fellow\npunished no benefit would accrue to me; moreover, as he seemed to be a\nscoundrel in every sense of the word, I might as well proceed in the\ncompany of any person as in his. I therefore signified my intention of\nproceeding, and told him to go back, in the Lord\u2019s name, and repent of\nhis sins. But having gained one point, he thought he had best attempt\nanother; so placing himself about a yard before the _jaca_, he said that\nthe price which I had agreed to pay him for the loan of his horse (which,\nby-the-by, was the full sum he had demanded) was by no means sufficient,\nand that before I proceeded I must promise him two dollars more, adding\nthat he was either drunk or mad when he had made such a bargain. I was\nnow thoroughly incensed, and without a moment\u2019s reflection, spurred the\n_jaca_, which flung him down in the dust, and passed over him. Looking\nback at the distance of a hundred yards, I saw him standing in the same\nplace, his hat on the ground, gazing after us, and crossing himself most\ndevoutly. His servant, or whatever he was, far from offering any\nassistance to his principal, no sooner saw the _jaca _in motion than he\nran on by its side, without word or comment, further than striking\nhimself lustily on the thigh with his right palm. We soon passed the\nEsclavitud, and presently afterwards turned to the left into a stony\nbroken path leading to fields of maize. We passed by several\nfarm-houses, and at last arrived at a dingle, the sides of which were\nplentifully overgrown with dwarf oaks, and which slanted down to a small\ndark river shaded with trees, which we crossed by a rude bridge. By this\ntime I had had sufficient time to scan my odd companion from head to\nfoot. His utmost height, had he made the most of himself, might perhaps\nhave amounted to five feet one inch; but he seemed somewhat inclined to\nstoop. Nature had gifted him with an immense head, and placed it clean\nupon his shoulders, for amongst the items of his composition it did not\nappear that a neck had been included. Arms long and brawny swung at his\nsides, and the whole of his frame was as strong built and powerful as a\nwrestler\u2019s; his body was supported by a pair of short but very nimble\nlegs. His face was very long, and would have borne some slight\nresemblance to a human countenance had the nose been more visible, for\nits place seemed to have been entirely occupied by a wry mouth and large\nstaring eyes. His dress consisted of three articles: an old and tattered\nhat of the Portuguese kind, broad at the crown and narrow at the eaves,\nsomething which appeared to be a shirt, and dirty canvas trousers.\nWilling to enter into conversation with him, and remembering that the\n_alquilador_ had informed me that he spoke languages, I asked him, in\nEnglish, if he had always acted in the capacity of guide. Whereupon he\nturned his eyes with a singular expression upon my face, gave a loud\nlaugh, a long leap, and clapped his hands thrice above his head.\nPerceiving that he did not understand me, I repeated my demand in French,\nand was again answered by the laugh, leap, and clapping. At last he\nsaid, in broken Spanish, \u201cMaster mine, speak Spanish in God\u2019s name, and I\ncan understand you, and still better if you speak Gallegan, but I can\npromise no more. I heard what the _alquilador_ told you, but he is the\ngreatest _embustero_ in the whole land, and deceived you then as he did\nwhen he promised to accompany you. I serve him for my sins; but it was\nan evil hour when I left the deep sea and turned guide.\u201d He then\ninformed me that he was a native of Padron, and a mariner by profession,\nhaving spent the greater part of his life in the Spanish navy, in which\nservice he had visited Cuba and many parts of the Spanish Americas,\nadding, \u201cwhen my master told you that I should bear you pleasant company\nby the way, it was the only word of truth that has come from his mouth\nfor a month; and long before you reach Finisterre you will have rejoiced\nthat the servant, and not the master, went with you: he is dull and\nheavy, but I am what you see.\u201d He then gave two or three first-rate\nsomersaults, again laughed loudly, and clapped his hands. \u201cYou would\nscarcely think,\u201d he continued, \u201cthat I drove that little pony yesterday,\nheavily laden, all the way from Corunna. We arrived at Padron at two\no\u2019clock this morning; but we are nevertheless both willing and able to\nundertake a fresh journey. _No tenga usted cuidado_, as my master said,\nno one ever complains of that pony or of me.\u201d In this kind of discourse\nwe proceeded a considerable way through a very picturesque country, until\nwe reached a beautiful village at the skirt of a mountain. \u201cThis\nvillage,\u201d said my guide, \u201cis called Los Angeles, because its church was\nbuilt long since by the angels; they placed a beam of gold beneath it,\nwhich they brought down from heaven, and which was once a rafter of God\u2019s\nown house. It runs all the way under the ground from hence to the\ncathedral of Compostella.\u201d\n\nPassing through the village, which he likewise informed me possessed\nbaths, and was much visited by the people of Santiago, we shaped our\ncourse to the north-west, and by so doing doubled a mountain which rose\nmajestically over our heads, its top crowned with bare and broken rocks,\nwhilst on our right, on the other side of a spacious valley, was a high\nrange connected with the mountains to the northward of Saint James. On\nthe summit of this range rose high embattled towers, which my guide\ninformed me were those of Altamira, an ancient and ruined castle,\nformerly the principal residence in this province of the counts of that\nname. Turning now due west, we were soon at the bottom of a steep and\nrugged pass, which led to more elevated regions. The ascent cost us\nnearly half an hour, and the difficulties of the ground were such that I\nmore than once congratulated myself on having left my own horses behind,\nand being mounted on the gallant little pony, which, accustomed to such\npaths, scrambled bravely forward, and eventually brought us in safety to\nthe top of the ascent.\n\nHere we entered a Gallegan cabin, or _choza_, for the purpose of\nrefreshing the animal and ourselves. The quadruped ate some maize,\nwhilst we two bipeds regaled ourselves on some _broa_ and _aguardiente_,\nwhich a woman whom we found in the hut placed before us. I walked out\nfor a few minutes to observe the aspect of the country, and on my return\nfound my guide fast asleep on the bench where I had left him. He sat\nbolt upright, his back supported against the wall, and his legs\npendulous, within three inches of the ground, being too short to reach\nit. I remained gazing upon him for at least five minutes, whilst he\nenjoyed slumbers seemingly as quiet and profound as those of death\nitself. His face brought powerfully to my mind some of those uncouth\nvisages of saints and abbots which are occasionally seen in the niches of\nthe walls of ruined convents. There was not the slightest gleam of\nvitality in his countenance, which for colour and rigidity might have\nbeen of stone, and which was as rude and battered as one of the stone\nheads at Icolmkill, which have braved the winds of twelve hundred years.\nI continued gazing on his face till I became almost alarmed, concluding\nthat life might have departed from its harassed and fatigued tenement.\nOn my shaking him rather roughly by the shoulder he slowly awoke, opening\nhis eyes with a stare, and then closing them again. For a few moments he\nwas evidently unconscious of where he was. On my shouting to him,\nhowever, and inquiring whether he intended to sleep all day, instead of\nconducting me to Finisterre, he dropped upon his legs, snatched up his\nhat, which lay on the table, and instantly ran out of the door,\nexclaiming, \u201cYes, yes, I remember; follow me, captain, and I will lead\nyou to Finisterre in no time.\u201d I looked after him, and perceived that he\nwas hurrying at a considerable pace in the direction in which we had\nhitherto been proceeding. \u201cStop,\u201d said I, \u201cstop! will you leave me here\nwith the pony? Stop; we have not paid the reckoning. Stop!\u201d He,\nhowever, never turned his head for a moment, and in less than a minute\nwas out of sight. The pony, which was tied to a crib at one end of the\ncabin, began now to neigh terrifically, to plunge, and to erect its tail\nand mane in a most singular manner. It tore and strained at the halter\ntill I was apprehensive that strangulation would ensue. \u201cWoman,\u201d I\nexclaimed, \u201cwhere are you, and what is the meaning of all this?\u201d But the\nhostess had likewise disappeared, and though I ran about the _choza_,\nshouting myself hoarse, no answer was returned. The pony still continued\nto scream and to strain at the halter more violently than ever. \u201cAm I\nbeset with lunatics?\u201d I cried, and flinging down a _peseta_ on the table,\nunloosed the halter, and attempted to introduce the bit into the mouth of\nthe animal. This, however, I found impossible to effect. Released from\nthe halter, the pony made at once for the door, in spite of all the\nefforts which I could make to detain it. \u201cIf you abandon me,\u201d said I, \u201cI\nam in a pretty situation; but there is a remedy for everything!\u201d with\nwhich words I sprang into the saddle, and in a moment more the creature\nwas bearing me at a rapid gallop in the direction, as I supposed, of\nFinisterre. My position, however diverting to the reader, was rather\ncritical to myself. I was on the back of a spirited animal, over which I\nhad no control, dashing along a dangerous and unknown path. I could not\ndiscover the slightest vestige of my guide, nor did I pass any one from\nwhom I could derive any information. Indeed, the speed of the animal was\nso great, that even in the event of my meeting or overtaking a passenger,\nI could scarcely have hoped to exchange a word with him. \u201cIs the pony\ntrained to this work?\u201d said I, mentally. \u201cIs he carrying me to some den\nof banditti, where my throat will be cut, or does he follow his master by\ninstinct?\u201d Both of these suspicions I, however, soon abandoned. The\npony\u2019s speed relaxed; he appeared to have lost the road. He looked about\nuneasily: at last, coming to a sandy spot, he put his nostrils to the\nground, and then suddenly flung himself down, and wallowed in true pony\nfashion. I was not hurt, and instantly made use of this opportunity to\nslip the bit into his mouth, which previously had been dangling beneath\nhis neck; I then remounted in quest of the road.\n\nThis I soon found, and continued my way for a considerable time. The\npath lay over a moor, patched with heath and furze, and here and there\nstrewn with large stones, or rather rocks. The sun had risen high in the\nfirmament, and burned fiercely. I passed several people, men and women,\nwho gazed at me with surprise, wondering, probably, what a person of my\nappearance could be about, without a guide, in so strange a place. I\ninquired of two females whom I met whether they had seen my guide; but\nthey either did not or would not understand me, and, exchanging a few\nwords with each other in one of the hundred dialects of the Gallegan,\npassed on. Having crossed the moor, I came rather abruptly upon a\nconvent, overhanging a deep ravine, at the bottom of which brawled a\nrapid stream.\n\nIt was a beautiful and picturesque spot: the sides of the ravine were\nthickly clothed with wood, and on the other side a tall black hill\nuplifted itself. The edifice was large, and apparently deserted.\nPassing by it, I presently reached a small village, as deserted, to all\nappearance, as the convent, for I saw not a single individual, nor so\nmuch as a dog to welcome me with his bark. I proceeded, however, until I\nreached a fountain, the waters of which gushed from a stone pillar into a\ntrough. Seated upon this last, his arms folded, and his eyes fixed upon\nthe neighbouring mountain, I beheld a figure which still frequently\nrecurs to my thoughts, especially when asleep and oppressed by the\nnightmare. This figure was my runaway guide.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Good day to you, my gentleman. The weather is hot, and yonder\nwater appears delicious. I am almost tempted to dismount and regale\nmyself with a slight draught.\n\n_Guide_.\u2014Your worship can do no better. The day is, as you say, hot; you\ncan do no better than drink a little of this water. I have myself just\ndrunk. I would not, however, advise you to give that pony any; it\nappears heated and blown.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014It may well be so. I have been galloping at least two leagues\nin pursuit of a fellow who engaged to guide me to Finisterre, but who\ndeserted me in a most singular manner; so much so, that I almost believe\nhim to be a thief, and no true man. You do not happen to have seen him?\n\n_Guide_.\u2014What kind of a man might he be?\n\n_Myself_.\u2014A short, thick fellow, very much like yourself, with a hump\nupon his back, and, excuse me, of a very ill-favoured countenance.\n\n_Guide_.\u2014Ha, ha! I know him. He ran with me to this fountain, where he\nhas just left me. That man, Sir Cavalier, is no thief. If he is\nanything at all, he is a _Nuveiro_ {12}\u2014a fellow who rides upon the\nclouds, and is occasionally whisked away by a gust of wind. Should you\never travel with that man again, never allow him more than one glass of\nanise at a time, or he will infallibly mount into the clouds and leave\nyou, and then he will ride and run till he comes to a water-brook, or\nknocks his head against a fountain\u2014then one draught, and he is himself\nagain. So you are going to Finisterre, Sir Cavalier. Now it is singular\nenough, that a cavalier much of your appearance engaged me to conduct him\nthere this morning; I, however, lost him on the way; so it appears to me\nour best plan to travel together until you find your own guide and I find\nmy own master.\n\nIt might be about two o\u2019clock in the afternoon that we reached a long and\nruinous bridge, seemingly of great antiquity, and which, as I was\ninformed by my guide, was called the bridge of Don Alonzo. It crossed a\nspecies of creek, or rather frith, for the sea was at no considerable\ndistance, and the small town of Noyo lay at our right. \u201cWhen we have\ncrossed that bridge, captain,\u201d said my guide, \u201cwe shall be in an unknown\ncountry, for I have never been farther than Noyo, and as for Finisterre,\nso far from having been there, I never heard of such a place; and though\nI have inquired of two or three people since we have been upon this\nexpedition, they know as little about it as I do. Taking all things,\nhowever, into consideration, it appears to me that the best thing we can\ndo is to push forward to Corcuvion, which is five mad leagues from hence,\nand which we may perhaps reach ere nightfall, if we can find the way or\nget any one to direct us; for, as I told you before, I know nothing about\nit.\u201d \u201cTo fine hands have I confided myself,\u201d said I: \u201chowever, we had\nbest, as you say, push forward to Corcuvion, where, peradventure, we may\nhear something of Finisterre, and find a guide to conduct us.\u201d\nWhereupon, with a hop, skip, and a jump, he again set forward at a rapid\npace, stopping occasionally at a _choza_, for the purpose, I suppose, of\nmaking inquiries, though I understood scarcely anything of the jargon in\nwhich he addressed the people, and in which they answered him.\n\nWe were soon in an extremely wild and hilly country, scrambling up and\ndown ravines, wading brooks, and scratching our hands and faces with\nbrambles, on which grew a plentiful crop of wild mulberries, to gather\nsome of which we occasionally made a stop. Owing to the roughness of the\nway, we made no great progress. The pony followed close at the back of\nthe guide, so near, indeed, that its nose almost touched his shoulder.\nThe country grew wilder and wilder, and, since we had passed a\nwater-mill, we had lost all trace of human habitation. The mill stood at\nthe bottom of a valley shaded by large trees, and its wheels were turning\nwith a dismal and monotonous noise. \u201cDo you think we shall reach\nCorcuvion tonight?\u201d said I to the guide, as we emerged from this valley\nto a savage moor, which appeared of almost boundless extent.\n\n_Guide_.\u2014I do not, I do not. We shall in no manner reach Corcuvion\nto-night, and I by no means like the appearance of this moor. The sun is\nrapidly sinking, and then, if there come on a haze, we shall meet the\n_Estad\u00e9a_.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014What do you mean by the _Estad\u00e9a_?\n\n_Guide_.\u2014What do I mean by the _Estad\u00e9a_? My master asks me what I mean\nby the _Estadinha_. {14} I have met the _Estadinha_ but once, and it was\nupon a moor something like this. I was in company with several women,\nand a thick haze came on, and suddenly a thousand lights shone above our\nheads in the haze, and there was a wild cry, and the women fell to the\nground screaming, \u2018_Estad\u00e9a_! _Estad\u00e9a_!\u2019 and I myself fell to the\nground crying out, \u2018_Estadinha_!\u2019 The _Estad\u00e9a_ are the spirits of the\ndead which ride upon the haze, bearing candles in their hands. I tell\nyou frankly, my master, that if we meet the assembly of the souls, I\nshall leave you at once, and then I shall run and run till I drown myself\nin the sea, somewhere about Muros. We shall not reach Corcuvion this\nnight; my only hope is that we may find some _choza_ upon these moors,\nwhere we may hide our heads from the _Estadinha_.\u201d\n\nThe night overtook us ere we had traversed the moor; there was, however,\nno haze, to the great joy of my guide, and a corner of the moon partially\nillumined our steps. Our situation, however, was dreary enough: we were\nupon the wildest heath of the wildest province of Spain, ignorant of our\nway, and directing our course we scarcely knew whither, for my guide\nrepeatedly declared to me that he did not believe that such a place as\nFinisterre existed, or if it did exist, it was some bleak mountain\npointed out in a map. When I reflected on the character of this guide, I\nderived but little comfort or encouragement: he was at best evidently\nhalf-witted, and was by his own confession occasionally seized with\nparoxysms which differed from madness in no essential respect; his wild\nescapade in the morning of nearly three leagues, without any apparent\ncause, and lastly his superstitious and frantic fears of meeting the\nsouls of the dead upon this heath, in which event he intended, as he\nhimself said, to desert me and make for the sea, operated rather\npowerfully upon my nerves. I likewise considered that it was quite\npossible that we might be in the route neither of Finisterre nor\nCorcuvion, and I therefore determined to enter the first cabin at which\nwe should arrive, in preference to running the risk of breaking our necks\nby tumbling down some pit or precipice. No cabin, however, appeared in\nsight: the moor seemed interminable, and we wandered on until the moon\ndisappeared, and we were left in almost total darkness.\n\nAt length we arrived at the foot of a steep ascent, up which a rough and\nbroken pathway appeared to lead. \u201cCan this be our way?\u201d said I to the\nguide.\n\n\u201cThere appears to be no other for us, captain,\u201d replied the man; \u201clet us\nascend it by all means, and when we are at the top, if the sea be in the\nneighbourhood we shall see it.\u201d\n\nI then dismounted, for to ride up such a pass in such darkness would have\nbeen madness. We clambered up in a line, first the guide, next the pony,\nwith his nose as usual on his master\u2019s shoulder, of whom he seemed\npassionately fond, and I bringing up the rear, with my left hand grasping\nthe animal\u2019s tail. We had many a stumble, and more than one fall: once,\nindeed, we were all rolling down the side of the hill together. In about\ntwenty minutes we reached the summit, and looked around us, but no sea\nwas visible: a black moor, indistinctly seen, seemed to spread on every\nside.\n\n\u201cWe shall have to take up our quarters here till morning,\u201d said I.\n\nSuddenly my guide seized me by the hand. \u201cThere is _l\u00fame_, _senhor_,\u201d\nsaid he; \u201cthere is _l\u00fame_.\u201d I looked in the direction in which he\npointed, and after straining my eyes for some time, imagined that I\nperceived, far below and at some distance, a faint glow. \u201cThat is\n_l\u00fame_,\u201d shouted the guide, \u201cand it proceeds from the chimney of a\n_choza_.\u201d\n\nOn descending the eminence, we roamed about for a considerable time,\nuntil we at last found ourselves in the midst of about six or eight black\nhuts. \u201cKnock at the door of one of these,\u201d said I to the guide, \u201cand\ninquire of the people whether they can shelter us for the night.\u201d He did\nso, and a man presently made his appearance, bearing in his hand a\nlighted firebrand.\n\n\u201cCan you shelter a _Cavalheiro_ from the night and the _Estad\u00e9a_?\u201d said\nmy guide.\n\n\u201cFrom both, I thank God,\u201d said the man, who was an athletic figure,\nwithout shoes and stockings, and who, upon the whole, put me much in mind\nof a Munster peasant from the bogs. \u201cPray enter, gentlemen, we can\naccommodate you both and your _cavalgadura_ besides.\u201d\n\nWe entered the _choza_, which consisted of three compartments; in the\nfirst we found straw, in the second cattle and ponies, and in the third\nthe family, consisting of the father and mother of the man who admitted\nus, and his wife and children.\n\n\u201cYou are a Catalan, sir Cavalier, and are going to your countrymen at\nCorcuvion,\u201d said the man in tolerable Spanish. \u201cAh, you are brave\npeople, you Catalans, and fine establishments you have on the Gallegan\nshores; pity that you take all the money out of the country.\u201d\n\nNow, under all circumstances, I had not the slightest objection to pass\nfor a Catalan; and I rather rejoiced that these wild people should\nsuppose that I had powerful friends and countrymen in the neighbourhood\nwho were, perhaps, expecting me. I therefore favoured their mistake, and\nbegan with a harsh Catalan accent to talk of the fish of Galicia, and the\nhigh duties on salt. The eye of my guide was upon me for an instant,\nwith a singular expression, half serious, half droll; he, however, said\nnothing, but slapped his thigh as usual, and with a spring nearly touched\nthe roof of the cabin with his grotesque head. Upon inquiry, I\ndiscovered that we were still two long leagues distant from Corcuvion,\nand that the road lay over moor and hill, and was hard to find. Our host\nnow demanded whether we were hungry, and, upon being answered in the\naffirmative, produced about a dozen eggs and some bacon. Whilst our\nsupper was cooking, a long conversation ensued between my guide and the\nfamily, but as it was carried on in Gallegan, I tried in vain to\nunderstand it. I believe, however, that it principally related to\nwitches and witchcraft, as the _Estad\u00e9a_ was frequently mentioned. After\nsupper I demanded where I could rest: whereupon the host pointed to a\ntrapdoor in the roof, saying that above there was a loft where I could\nsleep by myself, and have clean straw. For curiosity\u2019s sake, I asked\nwhether there was such a thing as a bed in the cabin.\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d replied the man; \u201cnor nearer than Corcuvion. I never entered one\nin my life, nor any one of my family; we sleep around the hearth, or\namong the straw with the cattle.\u201d\n\nI was too old a traveller to complain, but forthwith ascended by a ladder\ninto a species of loft, tolerably large and nearly empty, where I placed\nmy cloak beneath my head, and lay down on the boards, which I preferred\nto the straw, for more reasons than one. I heard the people below\ntalking in Gallegan for a considerable time, and could see the gleams of\nthe fire through the interstices of the floor. The voices, however,\ngradually died away, the fire sank low and could no longer be\ndistinguished. I dozed, started, dozed again, and dropped finally into a\nprofound sleep, from which I was only roused by the crowing of the second\ncock.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXX.\n\n\nAutumnal Morning\u2014The World\u2019s End\u2014Corcuvion\u2014Duyo\u2014The Cape\u2014A Whale\u2014The\nOuter Bay\u2014The Arrest\u2014The Fisher-Magistrate\u2014Calros Rey\u2014Hard of\nBelief\u2014Where is your Passport?\u2014The Beach\u2014A mighty Liberal\u2014The\nHandmaid\u2014The Grand Baintham\u2014Eccentric Book\u2014Hospitality.\n\nIt was a beautiful autumnal morning when we left the _choza_ and pursued\nour way to Corcuvion. I satisfied our host by presenting him with a\ncouple of _pesetas_, and he requested as a favour, that if on our return\nwe passed that way, and were overtaken by the night, we would again take\nup our abode beneath his roof. This I promised, at the same time\ndetermining to do my best to guard against the contingency; as sleeping\nin the loft of a Gallegan hut, though preferable to passing the night on\na moor or mountain, is anything but desirable.\n\nSo we again started at a rapid pace along rough bridle-ways and\nfootpaths, amidst furze and brushwood. In about an hour we obtained a\nview of the sea, and, directed by a lad whom we found on the moor\nemployed in tending a few miserable sheep, we bent our course to the\nnorth-west, and at length reached the brow of an eminence, where we\nstopped for some time to survey the prospect before us.\n\nIt was not without reason that the Latins gave the name of _Finis terr\u00e6_\nto this district. We had arrived exactly at such a place as in my\nboyhood I had pictured to myself as the termination of the world, beyond\nwhich there was a wild sea, or abyss, or chaos. I now saw far before me\nan immense ocean, and below me a long and irregular line of lofty and\nprecipitous coast. Certainly in the whole world there is no bolder coast\nthan the Gallegan shore, from the debouchement of the Minho to Cape\nFinisterre. It consists of a granite wall of savage mountains, for the\nmost part serrated at the top, and occasionally broken, where bays and\nfirths like those of Vigo and Pontevedra intervene, running deep into the\nland. These bays and firths are invariably of an immense depth, and\nsufficiently capacious to shelter the navies of the proudest maritime\nnations.\n\nThere is an air of stern and savage grandeur in everything around, which\nstrongly captivates the imagination. This savage coast is the first\nglimpse of Spain which the voyager from the north catches, or he who has\nploughed his way across the wide Atlantic: and well does it seem to\nrealize all his visions of this strange land. \u201cYes,\u201d he exclaims, \u201cthis\nis indeed Spain\u2014stern, flinty Spain\u2014land emblematic of those spirits to\nwhich she has given birth. From what land but that before me could have\nproceeded those portentous beings who astounded the Old World and filled\nthe New with horror and blood. Alva and Philip, Cortez and Pizarro\u2014stern\ncolossal spectres looming through the gloom of bygone years, like yonder\ngranite mountains through the haze, upon the eye of the mariner. Yes,\nyonder is indeed Spain; flinty, indomitable Spain; land emblematic of its\nsons!\u201d\n\nAs for myself, when I viewed that wide ocean and its savage shore, I\ncried, \u201cSuch is the grave, and such are its terrific sides; those moors\nand wilds, over which I have passed, are the rough and dreary journey of\nlife. Cheered with hope, we struggle along through all the difficulties\nof moor, bog, and mountain, to arrive at\u2014what? The grave and its dreary\nsides. Oh, may hope not desert us in the last hour\u2014hope in the Redeemer\nand in God!\u201d\n\nWe descended from the eminence, and again lost sight of the sea amidst\nravines and dingles, amongst which patches of pine were occasionally\nseen. Continuing to descend, we at last came, not to the sea, but to the\nextremity of a long narrow firth, where stood a village or hamlet; whilst\nat a small distance, on the western side of the firth, appeared one\nconsiderably larger, which was indeed almost entitled to the appellation\nof town. This last was Corcuvion; the first, if I forget not, was called\nRia de Silla. We hastened on to Corcuvion, where I bade my guide make\ninquiries respecting Finisterre. He entered the door of a wine-house,\nfrom which proceeded much noise and vociferation, and presently returned,\ninforming me that the village of Finisterre was distant about a league\nand a half. A man, evidently in a state of intoxication, followed him to\nthe door. \u201cAre you bound for Finisterre, _Cavalheiros_?\u201d he shouted.\n\n\u201cYes, my friend,\u201d I replied, \u201cwe are going thither.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen you are going amongst a _fato de borrachos_,\u201d {22} he answered.\n\u201cTake care that they do not play you a trick.\u201d\n\nWe passed on, and, striking across a sandy peninsula at the back of the\ntown, soon reached the shore of an immense bay, the north-westernmost end\nof which was formed by the far-famed cape of Finisterre, which we now saw\nbefore us stretching far into the sea.\n\nAlong a beach of dazzling white sand we advanced towards the cape, the\nbourne of our journey. The sun was shining brightly, and every object\nwas illumined by his beams. The sea lay before us like a vast mirror,\nand the waves which broke upon the shore were so tiny as scarcely to\nproduce a murmur. On we sped along the deep winding bay, overhung by\ngigantic hills and mountains. Strange recollections began to throng upon\nmy mind. It was upon this beach that, according to the tradition of all\nancient Christendom, Saint James, the patron saint of Spain, preached the\nGospel to the heathen Spaniards. Upon this beach had once stood an\nimmense commercial city, the proudest in all Spain. This now desolate\nbay had once resounded with the voices of myriads, when the keels and\ncommerce of all the then known world were wafted to Duyo. {23}\n\n\u201cWhat is the name of this village?\u201d said I to a woman, as we passed by\nfive or six ruinous houses at the bend of the bay, ere we entered upon\nthe peninsula of Finisterre.\n\n\u201cThis is no village,\u201d said the Gallegan, \u201cthis is no village, Sir\nCavalier; this is a city, this is Duyo.\u201d\n\nSo much for the glory of the world! These huts were all that the roaring\nsea and the tooth of time had left of Duyo, the great city! Onward now\nto Finisterre.\n\nIt was mid-day when we reached the village of Finisterre, consisting of\nabout one hundred houses, and built on the southern side of the\npeninsula, just before it rises into the huge bluff head which is called\nthe Cape. We sought in vain for an inn or _venta_, where we might stable\nour beast; at one moment we thought that we had found one, and had even\ntied the animal to the manger. Upon our going out, however, he was\ninstantly untied and driven forth into the street. The few people whom\nwe saw appeared to gaze upon us in a singular manner. We, however, took\nlittle notice of these circumstances, and proceeded along the straggling\nstreet until we found shelter in the house of a Castilian shopkeeper,\nwhom some chance had brought to this corner of Galicia\u2014this end of the\nworld. Our first care was to feed the animal, who now began to exhibit\nconsiderable symptoms of fatigue. We then requested some refreshment for\nourselves; and in about an hour, a tolerably savoury fish, weighing about\nthree pounds, and fresh from the bay, was prepared for us by an old woman\nwho appeared to officiate as housekeeper. Having finished our meal, I\nand my uncouth companion went forth, and prepared to ascend the mountain.\n\nWe stopped to examine a small dismantled fort or battery facing the bay,\nand, whilst engaged in this examination, it more than once occurred to me\nthat we were ourselves the objects of scrutiny and investigation; indeed,\nI caught a glimpse of more than one countenance peering upon us through\nthe holes and chasms of the walls. We now commenced ascending\nFinisterre; and, making numerous and long _d\u00e9tours_, we wound our way up\nits flinty sides. The sun had reached the top of heaven, whence he\nshowered upon us perpendicularly his brightest and fiercest rays. My\nboots were torn, my feet cut, and the perspiration streamed from my brow.\nTo my guide, however, the ascent appeared to be neither toilsome nor\ndifficult. The heat of the day for him had no terrors, no moisture was\nwrung from his tanned countenance; he drew not one short breath; and\nhopped upon the stones and rocks with all the provoking agility of a\nmountain goat. Before we had accomplished one-half of the ascent, I felt\nmyself quite exhausted. I reeled and staggered. \u201cCheer up, master mine;\nbe of good cheer, and have no care,\u201d said the guide. \u201cYonder I see a\nwall of stones; lie down beneath it in the shade.\u201d He put his long and\nstrong arm round my waist, and, though his stature compared with mine was\nthat of a dwarf, he supported me as if I had been a child to a rude wall\nwhich seemed to traverse the greater part of the hill, and served\nprobably as a kind of boundary. It was difficult to find a shady spot:\nat last he perceived a small chasm, perhaps scooped by some shepherd as a\ncouch in which to enjoy his _siesta_. In this he laid me gently down,\nand, taking off his enormous hat, commenced fanning me with great\nassiduity. By degrees I revived, and, after having rested for a\nconsiderable time, I again attempted the ascent, which, with the\nassistance of my guide, I at length accomplished.\n\nWe were now standing at a great altitude between two bays, the wilderness\nof waters before us. Of all the ten thousand barks which annually plough\nthose seas in sight of that old cape, not one was to be descried. It was\na blue shiny waste, broken by no object save the black head of a\nspermaceti whale, which would occasionally show itself at the top,\ncasting up thin jets of brine. The principal bay, that of Finisterre, as\nfar as the entrance, was beautifully variegated by an immense shoal of\n_sardinhas_, on whose extreme skirts the monster was probably feasting.\nFrom the other side of the cape we looked down upon a smaller bay, the\nshore of which was overhung by rocks of various and grotesque shapes;\nthis is called the outer bay, or, in the language of the country, _Praia\ndo mar de fora_: {26} a fearful place in seasons of wind and tempest,\nwhen the long swell of the Atlantic pouring in is broken into surf and\nfoam by the sunken rocks with which it abounds. Even on the calmest day\nthere is a rumbling and a hollow roar in that bay which fill the heart\nwith uneasy sensations.\n\nOn all sides there was grandeur and sublimity. After gazing from the\nsummit of the cape for nearly an hour, we descended.\n\nOn reaching the house where we had taken up our temporary habitation, we\nperceived that the portal was occupied by several men, some of whom were\nreclining on the floor drinking wine out of small earthen pans, which are\nmuch used in this part of Galicia. With a civil salutation I passed on,\nand ascended the staircase to the room in which we had taken our repast.\nHere there was a rude and dirty bed, on which I flung myself, exhausted\nwith fatigue. I determined to take a little repose, and in the evening\nto call the people of the place together, to read a few chapters of the\nScripture, and then to address them with a little Christian exhortation.\nI was soon asleep, but my slumbers were by no means tranquil. I thought\nI was surrounded with difficulties of various kinds, amongst rocks and\nravines, vainly endeavouring to extricate myself; uncouth visages showed\nthemselves amidst the trees and in the hollows, thrusting out cloven\ntongues, and uttering angry cries. I looked around for my guide, but\ncould not find him; methought, however, that I heard his voice down a\ndeep dingle. He appeared to be talking of me. How long I might have\ncontinued in these wild dreams I know not. I was suddenly, however,\nseized roughly by the shoulder, and nearly dragged from the bed. I\nlooked up in amazement, and by the light of the descending sun I beheld\nhanging over me a wild and uncouth figure; it was that of an elderly man,\nbuilt as strong as a giant, with much beard and whisker, and huge bushy\neyebrows, dressed in the habiliments of a fisherman; in his hand was a\nrusty musket.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Who are you, and what do you want?\n\n_Figure_.\u2014Who I am matters but little. Get up and follow me; it is you I\nwant.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014By what authority do you thus presume to interfere with me?\n\n_Figure_.\u2014By the authority of the _justicia_ of Finisterre. Follow me\npeaceably, Calros, or it will be the worse for you.\n\n\u201cCalros,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat does the person mean?\u201d I thought it, however,\nmost prudent to obey his command, and followed him down the staircase.\nThe shop and the portal were now thronged with the inhabitants of\nFinisterre, men, women, and children; the latter for the most part in a\nstate of nudity, and with bodies wet and dripping, having been probably\nsummoned in haste from their gambols in the brine. Through this crowd\nthe figure whom I have attempted to describe pushed his way with an air\nof authority.\n\nOn arriving in the street, he laid his heavy hand upon my arm, not\nroughly, however. \u201cIt is Calros! it is Calros!\u201d said a hundred voices;\n\u201che has come to Finisterre at last, and the _justicia_ have now got hold\nof him.\u201d Wondering what all this could mean, I attended my strange\nconductor down the street. As we proceeded, the crowd increased every\nmoment, following and vociferating. Even the sick were brought to the\ndoors to obtain a view of what was going forward, and a glance at the\nredoubtable Calros. I was particularly struck by the eagerness displayed\nby one man, a cripple, who, in spite of the entreaties of his wife, mixed\nwith the crowd, and having lost his crutch, hopped forward on one leg,\nexclaiming, \u201c_Carracho_! _tambien voy yo_!\u201d {28}\n\nWe at last reached a house of rather larger size than the rest; my guide,\nhaving led me into a long low room, placed me in the middle of the floor,\nand then hurrying to the door, he endeavoured to repulse the crowd who\nstrove to enter with us. This he effected, though not without\nconsiderable difficulty, being once or twice compelled to have recourse\nto the butt of his musket to drive back unauthorized intruders. I now\nlooked round the room. It was rather scantily furnished: I could see\nnothing but some tubs and barrels, the mast of a boat, and a sail or two.\nSeated upon the tubs were three or four men coarsely dressed, like\nfishermen or shipwrights. The principal personage was a surly\nill-tempered looking fellow of about thirty-five, whom eventually I\ndiscovered to be the _alcalde_ of Finisterre, and lord of the house in\nwhich we now were. In a corner I caught a glimpse of my guide, who was\nevidently in durance, two stout fishermen standing before him, one with a\nmusket and the other with a boat-hook. After I had looked about me for a\nminute, the _alcalde_, giving his whiskers a twist, thus addressed me:\u2014\n\n\u201cWho are you, where is your passport, and what brings you to Finisterre?\u201d\n\n_Myself_.\u2014I am an Englishman. Here is my passport, and I came to see\nFinisterre.\n\nThis reply seemed to discomfit them for a moment. They looked at each\nother, then at my passport. At length the _alcalde_, striking it with\nhis finger, bellowed forth:\n\n\u201cThis is no Spanish passport; it appears to be written in French.\u201d\n\n_Myself_.\u2014I have already told you that I am a foreigner. I of course\ncarry a foreign passport.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014Then you mean to assert that you are not _Calros Rey_.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014I never heard before of such a king, nor indeed of such a name.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014Hark to the fellow! he has the audacity to say that he has\nnever heard of Calros the pretender, who calls himself king.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014If you mean by Calros, the pretender Don Carlos, all I can\nreply is, that you can scarcely be serious. You might as well assert\nthat yonder poor fellow, my guide, whom I see you have made prisoner, is\nhis nephew, the _Infante_ Don Sebastian. {29}\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014See, you have betrayed yourself; that is the very person we\nsuppose him to be.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014It is true that they are both hunchbacks. But how can I be\nlike Don Carlos? I have nothing the appearance of a Spaniard, and am\nnearly a foot taller than the pretender.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014That makes no difference; you of course carry many waistcoats\nabout you, by means of which you disguise yourself, and appear tall or\nlow according to your pleasure.\n\nThis last was so conclusive an argument that I had of course nothing to\nreply to it. The _alcalde_ looked around him in triumph, as if he had\nmade some notable discovery. \u201cYes, it is Calros; it is Calros,\u201d said the\ncrowd at the door. \u201cIt will be as well to have these men shot\ninstantly,\u201d continued the _alcalde_; \u201cif they are not the two pretenders,\nthey are at any rate two of the factious.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am by no means certain that they are either one or the other,\u201d said a\ngruff voice.\n\nThe _justicia_ of Finisterre turned their eyes in the direction from\nwhich these words proceeded, and so did I. Our glances rested upon the\nfigure who held watch at the door. He had planted the barrel of his\nmusket on the floor, and was now leaning his chin against the butt.\n\n\u201cI am by no means certain that they are either one or the other,\u201d\nrepeated he, advancing forward. \u201cI have been examining this man,\u201d\npointing to myself, \u201cand listening whilst he spoke, and it appears to me\nthat after all he may prove an Englishman; he has their very look and\nvoice. Who knows the English better than Antonio de la Trava, and who\nhas a better right? Has he not sailed in their ships; has he not eaten\ntheir biscuit; and did he not stand by Nelson when he was shot dead?\u201d\n\nHere the _alcalde_ became violently incensed. \u201cHe is no more an\nEnglishman than yourself,\u201d he exclaimed; \u201cif he were an Englishman would\nhe have come in this manner, skulking across the land? Not so, I trow.\nHe would have come in a ship, recommended to some of us, or to the\nCatalans. He would have come to trade\u2014to buy; but nobody knows him in\nFinisterre, nor does he know anybody, and the first thing, moreover, that\nhe does when he reaches this place is to inspect the fort, and to ascend\nthe mountain, where, no doubt, he has been marking out a camp. What\nbrings him to Finisterre, if he is neither Calros nor a _bribon_ of a\n_faccioso_?\u201d\n\nI felt that there was a good deal of justice in some of these remarks,\nand I was aware, for the first time, that I had indeed committed a great\nimprudence in coming to this wild place, and among these barbarous\npeople, without being able to assign any motive which could appear at all\nvalid in their eyes. I endeavoured to convince the _alcalde_ that I had\ncome across the country for the purpose of making myself acquainted with\nthe many remarkable objects which it contained, and of obtaining\ninformation respecting the character and condition of the inhabitants.\nHe could understand no such motives. \u201cWhat did you ascend the mountain\nfor?\u201d \u201cTo see prospects.\u201d \u201c_Disparate_! I have lived at Finisterre\nforty years, and never ascended that mountain. I would not do it in a\nday like this for two ounces of gold. You went to take altitudes, and to\nmark out a camp.\u201d I had, however, a staunch friend in old Antonio, who\ninsisted, from his knowledge of the English, that all I said might very\npossibly be true. \u201cThe English,\u201d said he, \u201chave more money than they\nknow what to do with, and on that account they wander all over the world,\npaying dearly for what no other people care a groat for.\u201d He then\nproceeded, notwithstanding the frowns of the _alcalde_, to examine me in\nthe English language. His own entire knowledge of this tongue was\nconfined to two words\u2014_knife_ and _fork_, which words I rendered into\nSpanish by their equivalents, and was forthwith pronounced an Englishman\nby the old fellow, who, brandishing his musket, exclaimed:\u2014\n\n\u201cThis man is not Calros; he is what he declares himself to be, an\nEnglishman, and whosoever seeks to injure him shall have to do with\nAntonio de la Trava, _el valiente de Finisterra_.\u201d No person sought to\nimpugn this verdict, and it was at length determined that I should be\nsent to Corcuvion, to be examined by the _alcalde mayor_ of the district.\n\u201cBut,\u201d said the _alcalde_ of Finisterre, \u201cwhat is to be done with the\nother fellow? He at least is no Englishman. Bring him forward, and let\nus hear what he has to say for himself. Now, fellow, who are you, and\nwhat is your master?\u201d\n\n_Guide_.\u2014I am Sebastianillo, a poor broken mariner of Padron, and my\nmaster for the present is the gentleman whom you see, the most valiant\nand wealthy of all the English. He has two ships at Vigo laden with\nriches. I told you so when you first seized me up there in our _posada_.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014Where is your passport?\n\n_Guide_.\u2014I have no passport. Who would think of bringing a passport to\nsuch a place as this, where I don\u2019t suppose there are two individuals who\ncan read? I have no passport; my master\u2019s passport of course includes\nme.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014It does not. And since you have no passport, and have\nconfessed that your name is Sebastian, you shall be shot. Antonio de la\nTrava, do you and the musketeers lead this Sebastianillo forth, and shoot\nhim before the door.\n\n_Antonio de la Trava_.\u2014With much pleasure, _Se\u00f1or Alcalde_, since you\norder it. With respect to this fellow, I shall not trouble myself to\ninterfere. He at least is no Englishman. He has more the look of a\nwizard or _nuveiro_; one of those devils who raise storms and sink\nlaunches. Moreover, he says he is from Padron, and those of that place\nare all thieves and drunkards. They once played me a trick, and I would\ngladly be at the shooting of the whole _pueblo_.\n\nI now interfered, and said that if they shot the guide they must shoot me\ntoo; expatiating at the same time on the cruelty and barbarity of taking\naway the life of a poor unfortunate fellow who, as might be seen at the\nfirst glance, was only half-witted; adding, moreover, that if any person\nwas guilty in this case it was myself, as the other could only be\nconsidered in the light of a servant acting under my orders.\n\n\u201cThe safest plan, after all,\u201d said the _alcalde_, \u201cappears to be to send\nyou both prisoners to Corcuvion, where the head _alcalde_ can dispose of\nyou as he thinks proper. You must, however, pay for your escort; for it\nis not to be supposed that the housekeepers of Finisterre have nothing\nelse to do than to ramble about the country with every chance fellow who\nfinds his way to this town.\u201d \u201cAs for that matter,\u201d said Antonio, \u201cI will\ntake charge of them both. I am the _valiente_ of Finisterre, and fear no\ntwo men living. Moreover, I am sure that the captain here will make it\nworth my while, else he is no Englishman. Therefore let us be quick, and\nset out for Corcuvion at once, as it is getting late. First of all,\nhowever, captain, I must search you and your baggage. You have no arms,\nof course? But it is best to make all sure.\u201d\n\nLong ere it was dark I found myself again on the pony, in company with my\nguide, wending our way along the beach in the direction of Corcuvion.\nAntonio de la Trava tramped heavily on before, his musket on his\nshoulder.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Are you not afraid, Antonio, to be thus alone with two\nprisoners, one of whom is on horseback? If we were to try, I think we\ncould overpower you.\n\n_Antonio de la Trava_.\u2014I am the _valiente de Finisterra_, and I fear no\nodds.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Why do you call yourself the _valiente_ of Finisterre?\n\n_Antonio de la Trava_.\u2014The whole district call me so. When the French\ncame to Finisterre and demolished the fort, three perished by my hand. I\nstood on the mountain, up where I saw you scrambling to-day. I continued\nfiring at the enemy, until three detached themselves in pursuit of me.\nThe fools! two perished amongst the rocks by the fire of this musket, and\nas for the third, I beat his head to pieces with the stock. It is on\nthat account that they call me the _valiente_ of Finisterre.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014How came you to serve with the English fleet? I think I heard\nyou say that you were present when Nelson fell.\n\n_Antonio de la Trava_.\u2014I was captured by your countrymen, captain; and as\nI had been a sailor from my childhood, they were glad of my services. I\nwas nine months with them, and assisted at Trafalgar. I saw the English\nadmiral die. You have something of his face, and your voice, when you\nspoke, sounded in my ears like his own. I love the English, and on that\naccount I saved you. Think not that I would toil along these sands with\nyou if you were one of my own countrymen. Here we are at Duyo, captain.\nShall we refresh?\n\nWe did refresh, or rather Antonio de la Trava refreshed, swallowing pan\nafter pan of wine, with a thirst which seemed unquenchable. \u201cThat man\nwas a greater wizard than myself,\u201d whispered Sebastian, my guide, \u201cwho\ntold us that the drunkards of Finisterre would play us a trick.\u201d At\nlength the old hero of the Cape slowly rose, saying that we must hasten\non to Corcuvion, or the night would overtake us by the way.\n\n\u201cWhat kind of person is the _alcalde_ to whom you are conducting me?\u201d\nsaid I.\n\n\u201cOh, very different from him of Finisterre,\u201d replied Antonio. \u201cThis is a\nyoung _Se\u00f1orito_, lately arrived from Madrid. He is not even a Gallegan.\nHe is a mighty liberal, and it is owing chiefly to his orders that we\nhave lately been so much on the alert. It is said that the Carlists are\nmeditating a descent on these parts of Galicia. Let them only come to\nFinisterre; we are liberals there to a man, and the old _valiente_ is\nready to play the same part as in the time of the French. But, as I was\ntelling you before, the _alcalde_ to whom I am conducting you is a young\nman, and very learned, and, if he thinks proper, he can speak English to\nyou, even better than myself, notwithstanding I was a friend of Nelson,\nand fought by his side at Trafalgar.\u201d\n\nIt was dark night before we reached Corcuvion. Antonio again stopped to\nrefresh at a wine-shop, after which he conducted us to the house of the\n_alcalde_. His steps were by this time not particularly steady, and on\narriving at the gate of the house, he stumbled over the threshold and\nfell. He got up with an oath, and instantly commenced thundering at the\ndoor with the stock of his musket. \u201cWho is it?\u201d at length demanded a\nsoft female voice in Gallegan. \u201cThe _valiente_ of Finisterre,\u201d replied\nAntonio; whereupon the gate was unlocked, and we beheld before us a very\npretty female with a candle in her hand. \u201cWhat brings you here so late,\nAntonio?\u201d she inquired. \u201cI bring two prisoners, _mi pulida_,\u201d replied\nAntonio. \u201c_Ave Maria_!\u201d she exclaimed. \u201cI hope they will do no harm.\u201d\n\u201cI will answer for one,\u201d replied the old man; \u201cbut as for the other, he\nis a _nuveiro_, and has sunk more ships than all his brethren in Galicia.\nBut be not afraid, my beauty,\u201d he continued, as the female made the sign\nof the cross: \u201cfirst lock the gate, and then show me the way to the\n_alcalde_. I have much to tell him.\u201d The gate was locked, and bidding\nus stay below in the court-yard, Antonio followed the young woman up a\nstone stair, whilst we remained in darkness below.\n\nAfter the lapse of about a quarter of an hour we again saw the candle\ngleam upon the staircase, and the young female appeared. Coming up to\nme, she advanced the candle to my features, on which she gazed very\nintently. After a long scrutiny she went to my guide, and having\nsurveyed him still more fixedly, she turned to me, and said, in her best\nSpanish, \u201c_Se\u00f1or_ Cavalier, I congratulate you on your servant. He is\nthe best-looking _mozo_ in all Galicia. _Vaya_! if he had but a coat to\nhis back, and did not go barefoot, I would accept him at once as a\n_novio_; but I have unfortunately made a vow never to marry a poor man,\nbut only one who has got a heavy purse and can buy me fine clothes. So\nyou are a Carlist, I suppose? _Vaya_! I do not like you the worse for\nthat. But, being so, how went you to Finisterre, where they are all\n_Cristinos_ and _negros_? Why did you not go to my village? None would\nhave meddled with you there. Those of my village are of a different\nstamp to the drunkards of Finisterre. Those of my village never\ninterfere with honest people. _Vaya_! how I hate that drunkard of\nFinisterre who brought you; he is so old and ugly; were it not for the\nlove which I bear to the _Se\u00f1or Alcalde_, I would at once unlock the gate\nand bid you go forth, you and your servant, _el buen mozo_\u201d. {37}\n\nAntonio now descended. \u201cFollow me,\u201d said he; \u201chis worship the _alcalde_\nwill be ready to receive you in a moment.\u201d Sebastian and myself followed\nhim upstairs to a room, where, seated behind a table, we beheld a young\nman of low stature, but handsome features, and very fashionably dressed.\nHe appeared to be inditing a letter, which, when he had concluded, he\ndelivered to a secretary to be transcribed. He then looked at me for a\nmoment fixedly, and the following conversation ensued between us:\u2014\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014I see that you are an Englishman, and my friend Antonio here\ninforms me that you have been arrested at Finisterre.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014He tells you true; and but for him I believe that I should have\nfallen by the hands of those savage fishermen.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014The inhabitants of Finisterre are brave, and are all liberals.\nAllow me to look at your passport? Yes, all in form. Truly it was very\nridiculous that they should have arrested you as a Carlist.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Not only as a Carlist, but as Don Carlos himself.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014Oh! most ridiculous; mistake a countryman of the grand\nBaintham for such a Goth!\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Excuse me, sir, you speak of the grand somebody.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014The grand Baintham. He who has invented laws for all the\nworld. I hope shortly to see them adopted in this unhappy country of\nours.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Oh! you mean Jeremy Bentham. Yes! a very remarkable man in his\nway.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014In his way! in all ways. The most universal genius which the\nworld ever produced:\u2014a Solon, a Plato, and a Lope de Vega.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014I have never read his writings. I have no doubt that he was a\nSolon; and as you say, a Plato. I should scarcely have thought, however,\nthat he could be ranked as a poet with Lope de Vega.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014How surprising! I see, indeed, that you know nothing of his\nwritings, though an Englishman. Now, here am I, a simple _alcalde_ of\nGalicia, yet I possess all the writings of Baintham on that shelf, and I\nstudy them day and night.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014You doubtless, sir, possess the English language.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014I do. I mean that part of it which is contained in the\nwritings of Baintham. I am most truly glad to see a countryman of his in\nthese Gothic wildernesses. I understand and appreciate your motives for\nvisiting them: excuse the incivility and rudeness which you have\nexperienced. But we will endeavour to make you reparation. You are this\nmoment free: but it is late; I must find you a lodging for the night. I\nknow one close by which will just suit you. Let us repair thither this\nmoment. Stay, I think I see a book in your hand.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014The New Testament.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014What book is that?\n\n_Myself_.\u2014A portion of the sacred writings, the Bible.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014Why do you carry such a book with you?\n\n_Myself_.\u2014One of my principal motives in visiting Finisterre was to carry\nthis book to that wild place.\n\n_Alcalde_.\u2014Ha, ha! how very singular. Yes, I remember. I have heard\nthat the English highly prize this eccentric book. How very singular\nthat the countrymen of the grand Baintham should set any value upon that\nold monkish book!\n\nIt was now late at night, and my new friend attended me to the lodging\nwhich he had destined for me, and which was at the house of a respectable\nold female, where I found a clean and comfortable room. On the way I\nslipped a gratuity into the hand of Antonio, and on my arrival, formally,\nand in the presence of the _alcalde_, presented him with the Testament,\nwhich I requested he would carry back to Finisterre, and keep in\nremembrance of the Englishman in whose behalf he had so effectually\ninterposed.\n\n_Antonio_.\u2014I will do so, your worship, and when the winds blow from the\nnorth-west, preventing our launches from putting to sea, I will read your\npresent. Farewell, my captain, and when you next come to Finisterre, I\nhope it will be in a valiant English bark, with plenty of contraband on\nboard, and not across the country on a pony, in company with _nuveiros_\nand men of Padron.\n\nPresently arrived the handmaid of the _alcalde_ with a basket, which she\ntook into the kitchen, where she prepared an excellent supper for her\nmaster\u2019s friend. On its being served up the _alcalde_ bade me farewell,\nhaving first demanded whether he could in any way forward my plans.\n\n\u201cI return to Saint James to-morrow,\u201d I replied, \u201cand I sincerely hope\nthat some occasion will occur which will enable me to acquaint the world\nwith the hospitality which I have experienced from so accomplished a\nscholar as the _Alcalde_ of Corcuvion.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXI.\n\n\nCorunna\u2014Crossing the Bay\u2014Ferrol\u2014The Dock-yard\u2014Where are we now?\u2014Greek\nAmbassador\u2014Lantern-Light\u2014The Ravine\u2014Viveiro\u2014Evening\u2014Marsh and\nQuagmire\u2014Fair Words and Fair Money\u2014The Leathern Girth\u2014Eyes of Lynx\u2014The\nKnavish Guide.\n\nFrom Corcuvion I returned to St. James and Corunna, and now began to make\npreparation for directing my course to the Asturias. In the first place\nI parted with my Andalusian horse, which I considered unfit for the long\nand mountainous journey I was about to undertake, his constitution having\nbecome much debilitated from his Gallegan travels. Owing to horses being\nexceedingly scarce at Corunna, I had no difficulty in disposing of him at\na far higher price than he originally cost me. A young and wealthy\nmerchant of Corunna, who was a national guardsman, became enamoured of\nhis glossy skin and long mane and tail. For my own part, I was glad to\npart with him for more reasons than one; he was both vicious and savage,\nand was continually getting me into scrapes in the stables of the\n_posadas_ where we slept or baited. An old Castilian peasant, whose pony\nhe had maltreated, once said to me, \u201cSir Cavalier, if you have any love\nor respect for yourself, get rid, I beseech you, of that beast, who is\ncapable of proving the ruin of a kingdom.\u201d So I left him behind at\nCorunna, where I subsequently learned that he became glandered and died.\nPeace to his memory!\n\nFrom Corunna I crossed the bay to Ferrol, whilst Antonio with our\nremaining horse followed by land, a rather toilsome and circuitous\njourney, although the distance by water is scarcely three leagues. I was\nvery sea-sick during the passage, and lay almost senseless at the bottom\nof the small launch in which I had embarked, and which was crowded with\npeople. The wind was adverse, and the water rough. We could make no\nsail, but were impelled along by the oars of five or six stout mariners,\nwho sang all the while Gallegan ditties. Suddenly the sea appeared to\nhave become quite smooth, and my sickness at once deserted me. I rose\nupon my feet and looked around. We were in one of the strangest places\nimaginable. A long and narrow passage overhung on either side by a\nstupendous barrier of black and threatening rocks. The line of the coast\nwas here divided by a natural cleft, yet so straight and regular that it\nseemed not the work of chance but design. The water was dark and sullen,\nand of immense depth. This passage, which is about a mile in length, is\nthe entrance to a broad basin, at whose farther extremity stands the town\nof Ferrol.\n\nSadness came upon me as soon as I entered this place. Grass was growing\nin the streets, and misery and distress stared me in the face on every\nside. Ferrol is the grand naval arsenal of Spain, and has shared in the\nruin of the once splendid Spanish navy: it is no longer thronged with\nthose thousand shipwrights who prepared for sea the tremendous\nthree-deckers and long frigates, the greater part of which were destroyed\nat Trafalgar. Only a few ill-paid and half-starved workmen still linger\nabout, scarcely sufficient to repair any _guarda costa_ {43a} which may\nput in dismantled by the fire of some English smuggling schooner from\nGibraltar. Half the inhabitants of Ferrol {43b} beg their bread; and\namongst these, as it is said, are not unfrequently found retired naval\nofficers, many of them maimed or otherwise wounded, who are left to pine\nin indigence: their pensions or salaries having been allowed to run three\nor four years in arrear, owing to the exigencies of the times. A crowd\nof importunate beggars followed me to the _posada_, and even attempted to\npenetrate to the apartment to which I was conducted. \u201cWho are you?\u201d said\nI to a woman who flung herself at my feet, and who bore in her\ncountenance evident marks of former gentility. \u201cA widow, sir,\u201d she\nreplied, in very good French; \u201ca widow of a brave officer, once admiral\nof this port.\u201d The misery and degradation of modern Spain are nowhere so\nstrikingly manifested as at Ferrol.\n\nYet even here there is still much to admire. Notwithstanding its present\nstate of desolation, it contains some good streets, and abounds with\nhandsome houses. The _alameda_ is planted with nearly a thousand elms,\nof which almost all are magnificent trees, and the poor Ferrolese, with\nthe genuine spirit of localism so prevalent in Spain, boast that their\ntown contains a better public walk than Madrid, of whose _prado_, when\nthey compare the two, they speak in terms of unmitigated contempt. At\none end of this _alameda_ stands the church, the only one in Ferrol. To\nthis church I repaired the day after my arrival, which was Sunday. I\nfound it quite insufficient to contain the number of worshippers who,\nchiefly from the country, not only crowded the interior, but, bareheaded,\nwere upon their knees before the door to a considerable distance down the\nwalk.\n\nParallel with the _alameda_ extends the wall of the naval arsenal and\ndock. I spent several hours in walking about these places, to visit\nwhich it is necessary to procure a written permission from the\ncaptain-general of Ferrol. They filled me with astonishment. I have\nseen the royal dock-yards of Russia and England, but, for grandeur of\ndesign and costliness of execution, they cannot for a moment compare with\nthese wonderful monuments of the bygone naval pomp of Spain. I shall not\nattempt to describe them, but content myself with observing that the\noblong basin, which is surrounded with a granite mole, is capacious\nenough to permit a hundred first-rates to lie conveniently in ordinary:\nbut instead of such a force, I saw only a sixty-gun frigate and two brigs\nlying in this basin; and to this inconsiderable number of vessels is the\npresent war marine of Spain reduced.\n\nI waited for the arrival of Antonio two or three days at Ferrol, and\nstill he came not: late one evening, however, as I was looking down the\nstreet, I perceived him advancing, leading our only horse by the bridle.\nHe informed me that, at about three leagues from Corunna, the heat of the\nweather and the flies had so distressed the animal that it had fallen\ndown in a kind of fit, from which it had been only relieved by copious\nbleeding, on which account he had been compelled to halt for a day upon\nthe road. The horse was evidently in a very feeble state; and had a\nstrange rattling in its throat, which alarmed me at first. I, however,\nadministered some remedies, and in a few days deemed him sufficiently\nrecovered to proceed.\n\nWe accordingly started from Ferrol, having first hired a pony for myself,\nand a guide who was to attend us as far as Rivadeo, {45} twenty leagues\nfrom Ferrol, and on the confines of the Asturias. The day at first was\nfine, but ere we reached Novales, a distance of three leagues, the sky\nbecame overcast, and a mist descended, accompanied by a drizzling rain.\nThe country through which we passed was very picturesque. At about two\nin the afternoon we could descry through the mist the small fishing-town\nof Santa Marta on our left, with its beautiful bay. Travelling along the\nsummit of a line of hills, we presently entered a chestnut forest, which\nappeared to be without limit: the rain still descended, and kept up a\nceaseless pattering among the broad green leaves. \u201cThis is the\ncommencement of the autumnal rains,\u201d said the guide. \u201cMany is the\nwetting that you will get, my masters, before you reach Oviedo.\u201d \u201cHave\nyou ever been as far as Oviedo?\u201d I demanded. \u201cNo,\u201d he replied, \u201cand once\nonly to Rivadeo, the place to which I am now conducting you, and I tell\nyou frankly that we shall soon be in wildernesses where the way is hard\nto find, especially at night, and amidst rain and waters. I wish I were\nfairly back to Ferrol, for I like not this route, which is the worst in\nGalicia, in more respects than one; but where my master\u2019s pony goes,\nthere must I go too; such is the life of us guides.\u201d I shrugged my\nshoulders at this intelligence, which was by no means cheering, but made\nno answer. At length, about nightfall, we emerged from the forest, and\npresently descended into a deep valley at the foot of lofty hills.\n\n\u201cWhere are we now?\u201d I demanded of the guide, as we crossed a rude bridge\nat the bottom of the valley, down which a rivulet swollen by the rain\nfoamed and roared. \u201cIn the valley of Coisa Doiro,\u201d {46} he replied; \u201cand\nit is my advice that we stay here for the night and do not venture among\nthose hills, through which lies the path to Viveiro; for as soon as we\nget there, _adios_! I shall be bewildered, which will prove the\ndestruction of us all.\u201d \u201cIs there a village nigh?\u201d \u201cYes, the village is\nright before us, and we shall be there in a moment.\u201d We soon reached the\nvillage, which stood amongst some tall trees at the entrance of a pass\nwhich led up amongst the hills. Antonio dismounted, and entered two or\nthree of the cabins, but presently came to me, saying, \u201cWe cannot stay\nhere, _mon ma\u00eetre_, without being devoured by vermin; we had better be\namongst the hills than in this place. There is neither fire nor light in\nthese cabins, and the rain is streaming through the roofs.\u201d The guide,\nhowever, refused to proceed. \u201cI could scarcely find my way amongst those\nhills by daylight,\u201d he cried surlily, \u201cmuch less at night, \u2019midst storm\nand _bretima_.\u201d We procured some wine and maize bread from one of the\ncottages. Whilst we were partaking of these, Antonio said, \u201c_Mon\nma\u00eetre_, the best thing we can do in our present situation is to hire\nsome fellow of this village to conduct us through the hills to Viveiro.\nThere are no beds in this place, and if we lie down in the litter in our\ndamp clothes we shall catch a tertian of Galicia. {47} Our present guide\nis of no service; we must therefore find another to do his duty.\u201d\nWithout waiting for a reply, he flung down the crust of _broa_ which he\nwas munching and disappeared. I subsequently learned that he went to the\ncottage of the _alcalde_, and demanded, in the queen\u2019s name, a guide for\nthe Greek ambassador, who was benighted on his way to the Asturias. In\nabout ten minutes I again saw him, attended by the local functionary,\nwho, to my surprise, made me a profound bow, and stood bare-headed in the\nrain. \u201cHis excellency,\u201d shouted Antonio, \u201cis in need of a guide to\nViveiro. People of our description are not compelled to pay for any\nservice which they may require; however, as his excellency has bowels of\ncompassion, he is willing to give three _pesetas_ to any competent person\nwho will accompany him to Viveiro, and as much bread and wine as he can\neat and drink on his arrival.\u201d \u201cHis excellency shall be served,\u201d said\nthe alcalde; \u201chowever, as the way is long and the path is bad, and there\nis much _bretima_ amongst the hills, it appears to me that, besides the\nbread and wine, his excellency can do no less than offer four pesetas to\nthe guide who may be willing to accompany him to Viveiro; and I know no\none better than my own son-in-law, Juanito.\u201d \u201cContent, _Se\u00f1or Alcalde_,\u201d\nI replied; \u201cproduce the guide, and the extra _peseta_ shall be\nforthcoming in due season.\u201d\n\nSoon appeared Juanito with a lantern in his hand. We instantly set\nforward. The two guides began conversing in Gallegan. \u201c_Mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d\nsaid Antonio, \u201cthis new scoundrel is asking the old one what he thinks we\nhave got in our portmanteaus.\u201d Then, without awaiting my answer, he\nshouted, \u201cPistols, ye barbarians! Pistols, as you shall learn to your\ncost, if you do not cease speaking in that gibberish and converse in\nCastilian.\u201d The Gallegans were silent, and presently the first guide\ndropped behind, whilst the other with the lantern moved before. \u201cKeep in\nthe rear,\u201d said Antonio to the former, \u201cand at a distance: know one\nthing, moreover, that I can see behind as well as before. _Mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d\nsaid he to me, \u201cI don\u2019t suppose these fellows will attempt to do us any\nharm, more especially as they do not know each other; it is well,\nhowever, to separate them, for this is a time and place which might tempt\nany one to commit robbery and murder too.\u201d\n\nThe rain still continued to fall uninterruptedly, the path was rugged and\nprecipitous, and the night was so dark that we could only see\nindistinctly the hills which surrounded us. Once or twice our guide\nseemed to have lost his way: he stopped, muttered to himself, raised his\nlantern on high, and would then walk slowly and hesitatingly forward. In\nthis manner we proceeded for three or four hours, when I asked the guide\nhow far we were from Viveiro. \u201cI do not know exactly where we are, your\nworship,\u201d he replied, \u201cthough I believe we are in the route. We can\nscarcely, however, be less than two mad leagues from Viveiro.\u201d \u201cThen we\nshall not arrive there before morning,\u201d interrupted Antonio, \u201cfor a mad\nleague of Galicia means at least two of Castile; and perhaps we are\ndoomed never to arrive there, if the way thither leads down this\nprecipice.\u201d As he spoke, the guide seemed to descend into the bowels of\nthe earth. \u201cStop,\u201d said I; \u201cwhere are you going?\u201d \u201cTo Viveiro,\n_Senhor_,\u201d replied the fellow: \u201cthis is the way to Viveiro; there is no\nother. I now know where we are.\u201d The light of the lantern shone upon\nthe dark red features of the guide, who had turned round to reply, as he\nstood some yards down the side of a dingle or ravine overgrown with thick\ntrees, beneath whose leafy branches a frightfully steep path descended.\nI dismounted from the pony, and delivering the bridle to the other guide,\nsaid, \u201cHere is your master\u2019s horse; if you please you may lead him down\nthat abyss, but as for myself I wash my hands of the matter.\u201d The\nfellow, without a word of reply, vaulted into the saddle, and with a\n_vamos_, _Perico_! {49} to the pony, impelled the creature to the\ndescent. \u201cCome, _Senhor_,\u201d said he with the lantern, \u201cthere is no time\nto be lost; my light will be presently extinguished, and this is the\nworst bit in the whole road.\u201d I thought it very probable that he was\nabout to lead us to some den of cut-throats, where we might be\nsacrificed; but, taking courage, I seized our own horse by the bridle,\nand followed the fellow down the ravine amidst rocks and brambles. The\ndescent lasted nearly ten minutes, and ere we had entirely accomplished\nit, the light in the lantern went out, and we remained in nearly total\ndarkness.\n\nEncouraged, however, by the guide, who assured us there was no danger, we\nat length reached the bottom of the ravine; here we encountered a rill of\nwater, through which we were compelled to wade as high as the knee. In\nthe midst of the water I looked up and caught a glimpse of the heavens\nthrough the branches of the trees, which all around clothed the shelving\nsides of the ravine, and completely embowered the channel of the stream:\nto a place more strange and replete with gloom and horror no benighted\ntraveller ever found his way. After a short pause we commenced scaling\nthe opposite bank, which we did not find so steep as the other, and a few\nminutes\u2019 exertion brought us to the top.\n\nShortly afterwards the rain abated, and the moon arising, cast a dim\nlight through the watery mists. The way had become less precipitous, and\nin about two hours we descended to the shore of an extensive creek, along\nwhich we proceeded till we reached a spot where many boats and barges lay\nwith their keels upward upon the sand. Presently we beheld before us the\nwalls of Viveiro, upon which the moon was shedding its sickly lustre. We\nentered by a lofty and seemingly ruinous archway, and the guide conducted\nus at once to the _posada_.\n\nEvery person in Viveiro appeared to be buried in profound slumber; not so\nmuch as a dog saluted us with his bark. After much knocking we were\nadmitted into the _posada_, a large and dilapidated edifice. We had\nscarcely housed ourselves and horses when the rain began to fall with yet\nmore violence than before, attended with much thunder and lightning.\nAntonio and I, exhausted with fatigue, betook ourselves to flock beds in\na ruinous chamber, into which the rain penetrated through many a cranny,\nwhilst the guides ate bread and drank wine till the morning.\n\nWhen I arose I was gladdened by the sight of a fine day. Antonio\nforthwith prepared a savoury breakfast of stewed fowl, of which we stood\nin much need after the ten-league journey of the preceding day over the\nways which I have attempted to describe. I then walked out to view the\ntown, which consists of little more than one long street, on the side of\na steep mountain thickly clad with forest and fruit-trees. At about ten\nwe continued our journey, accompanied by our first guide, the other\nhaving returned to Coisa Doiro some hours previously.\n\nOur route throughout this day was almost constantly within sight of the\nshores of the Cantabrian sea, whose windings we followed. The country\nwas barren, and in many parts covered with huge stones: cultivated spots,\nhowever, were to be seen, where vines were growing. We met with but few\nhuman habitations. We, however, journeyed on cheerfully, for the sun was\nonce more shining in full brightness, gilding the wild moors, and shining\nupon the waters of the distant sea, which lay in unruffled calmness.\n\nAt evening fall we were in the neighbourhood of the shore, with a range\nof wood-covered hills on our right. Our guide led us towards a creek\nbordered by a marsh, but he soon stopped, and declared that he did not\nknow whither he was conducting us.\n\n\u201c_Mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d said Antonio, \u201clet us be our own guides; it is, as you\nsee, of no use to depend upon this fellow, whose whole science consists\nin leading people into quagmires.\u201d\n\nWe therefore turned aside, and proceeded along the marsh for a\nconsiderable distance, till we reached a narrow path which led us into a\nthick wood, where we soon became completely bewildered. On a sudden,\nafter wandering about a considerable time, we heard the noise of water,\nand presently the clack of a wheel. Following the sound, we arrived at a\nlow stone mill, built over a brook; here we stopped and shouted, but no\nanswer was returned. \u201cThe place is deserted,\u201d said Antonio; \u201chere,\nhowever, is a path, which, if we follow it, will doubtless lead us to\nsome human habitation. So we went along the path, which, in about ten\nminutes, brought us to the door of a cabin, in which we saw lights.\nAntonio dismounted and opened the door: \u201cIs there any one here who can\nconduct us to Rivadeo?\u201d he demanded.\n\n\u201c_Senhor_,\u201d answered a voice, \u201cRivadeo is more than five leagues from\nhere, and, moreover, there is a river to cross.\u201d\n\n\u201cThen to the next village,\u201d continued Antonio.\n\n\u201cI am a _vecino_ of the next village, which is on the way to Rivadeo,\u201d\nsaid another voice, \u201cand I will lead you thither, if you will give me\nfair words, and, what is better, fair money.\u201d\n\nA man now came forth, holding in his hand a large stick. He strode\nsturdily before us, and in less than half an hour led us out of the wood.\nIn another half-hour he brought us to a group of cabins situated near the\nsea; he pointed to one of these, and having received a _peseta_, bade us\nfarewell.\n\nThe people of the cottage willingly consented to receive us for the\nnight; it was much more cleanly and commodious than the wretched huts of\nthe Gallegan peasantry in general. The ground floor consisted of a\nkeeping room and stable, whilst above was a long loft, in which were some\nneat and comfortable flock beds. I observed several masts and sails of\nboats. The family consisted of two brothers, with their wives and\nfamilies. One was a fisherman; but the other, who appeared to be the\nprincipal person, informed me that he had resided for many years in\nservice at Madrid, and, having amassed a small sum, he had at length\nreturned to his native village, where he had purchased some land, which\nhe farmed. All the family used the Castilian language in their common\ndiscourse, and on inquiry I learned that the Gallegan was not much spoken\nin that neighbourhood. I have forgotten the name of this village, which\nis situated on the estuary of the Foz, which rolls down from Mondonedo.\nIn the morning we crossed this estuary in a large boat, with our horses,\nand about noon arrived at Rivadeo.\n\n\u201cNow, your worship,\u201d said the guide, who had accompanied us from Ferrol,\n\u201cI have brought you as far as I bargained, and a hard journey it has\nbeen: I therefore hope you will suffer Perico and myself to remain here\nto-night at your expense, and to-morrow we will go back; at present we\nare both sorely tired.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never mounted a better pony than Perico,\u201d said I, \u201cand never met with\na worse guide than yourself. You appear to be perfectly ignorant of the\ncountry, and have done nothing but bring us into difficulties. You may,\nhowever, stay here for the night, as you say you are tired, and to-morrow\nyou may return to Ferrol, where I counsel you to adopt some other trade.\u201d\nThis was said at the door of the _posada_ of Rivadeo.\n\n\u201cShall I lead the horses to a stable?\u201d said the fellow.\n\n\u201cAs you please,\u201d said I.\n\nAntonio looked after him for a moment, as he was leading the animals\naway, and then, shaking his head, followed slowly after. In about a\nquarter of an hour he returned, laden with the furniture of our own\nhorse, and with a smile upon his countenance. \u201c_Mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d said he,\n\u201cI have throughout the journey had a bad opinion of this fellow, and now\nI have detected him: his motive in requesting permission to stay was a\ndesire to purloin something from us. He was very officious in the stable\nabout our horse, and I now miss the new leathern girth which secured the\nsaddle, and which I observed him looking at frequently on the road. He\nhas by this time doubtless hid it somewhere; we are quite secure of him,\nhowever, for he has not yet received the hire for the pony, nor the\ngratuity for himself.\u201d\n\nThe guide returned just as he had concluded speaking. Dishonesty is\nalways suspicious. The fellow cast a glance upon us, and probably\nbeholding in our countenances something which he did not like, he\nsuddenly said, \u201cGive me the horse-hire and my own _propina_, for Perico\nand I wish to be off instantly.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow is this?\u201d said I; \u201cI thought you and Perico were both fatigued, and\nwished to rest here for the night: you have soon recovered from your\nweariness.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have thought over the matter,\u201d said the fellow, \u201cand my master will be\nangry if I loiter here: pay up, therefore, and let us go.\u201d\n\n\u201cCertainly,\u201d said I, \u201cif you wish it. Is the horse furniture all right?\u201d\n\n\u201cQuite so,\u201d said he; \u201cI delivered it all to your servant.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is all here,\u201d said Antonio, \u201cwith the exception of the leathern\ngirth.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not got it,\u201d said the guide.\n\n\u201cOf course not,\u201d said I. \u201cLet us proceed to the stable; we shall perhaps\nfind it there.\u201d\n\nTo the stable we went, which we searched through: no girth, however, was\nforthcoming. \u201cHe has got it buckled round his middle beneath his\npantaloons, _mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d said Antonio, whose eyes were moving about\nlike those of a lynx; \u201cI saw the protuberance as he stooped down.\nHowever, let us take no notice: he is here surrounded by his countrymen,\nwho, if we were to seize him, might perhaps take his part. As I said\nbefore, he is in our power, as we have not paid him.\u201d\n\nThe fellow now began to talk in Gallegan to the bystanders (several\npersons having collected), wishing the _Denho_ to take him if he knew\nanything of the missing property. Nobody, however, seemed inclined to\ntake his part; and those who listened only shrugged their shoulders. We\nreturned to the portal of the _posada_, the fellow following us,\nclamouring for the horse-hire and _propina_. We made him no answer, and\nat length he went away, threatening to apply to the _justicia_; in about\nten minutes, however, he came running back with the girth in his hand.\n\u201cI have just found it,\u201d said he, \u201cin the street: your servant dropped\nit.\u201d\n\nI took the leather and proceeded very deliberately to count out the sum\nto which the horse-hire amounted, and having delivered it to him in the\npresence of witnesses, I said, \u201cDuring the whole journey you have been of\nno service to us whatever; nevertheless, you have fared like ourselves,\nand have had all you could desire to eat and drink. I intended, on your\nleaving us, to present you, moreover, with a _propina_ of two dollars;\nbut since, notwithstanding our kind treatment, you endeavoured to pillage\nus, I will not give you a _cuarto_: go, therefore, about your business.\u201d\n\nAll the audience expressed their satisfaction at this sentence, and told\nhim that he had been rightly-served, and that he was a disgrace to\nGalicia. Two or three women crossed themselves, and asked him if he was\nnot afraid that the _Denho_, whom he had invoked, would take him away.\nAt last, a respectable-looking man said to him, \u201cAre you not ashamed to\nhave attempted to rob two innocent strangers?\u201d\n\n\u201cStrangers!\u201d roared the fellow, who was by this time foaming with rage,\n\u201cinnocent strangers, _carracho_! they know more of Spain and Galicia,\ntoo, than the whole of us. Oh, _Denho_, that servant is no man, but a\nwizard, a _nuveiro_.\u2014Where is Perico?\u201d\n\nHe mounted Perico, and proceeded forthwith to another _posada_. The\ntale, however, of his dishonesty had gone before him, and no person would\nhouse him; whereupon he returned on his steps, and seeing me looking out\nof the window of the house, he gave a savage shout, and shaking his fist\nat me, galloped out of the town, the people pursuing him with hootings\nand revilings.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXII.\n\n\nMartin of Rivadeo\u2014The Factious Mare\u2014Asturians\u2014Luarca\u2014The Seven\nBellotas\u2014Hermits\u2014The Asturian\u2019s Tale\u2014Strange Guests\u2014The Big\nServant\u2014Batuschca.\n\n\u201cWhat may your business be?\u201d said I to a short, thick, merry-faced fellow\nin a velveteen jerkin and canvas pantaloons, who made his way into my\napartment in the dusk of the evening.\n\n\u201cI am Martin of Rivadeo, your worship,\u201d replied the man, \u201can _alquilador_\nby profession. I am told that you want a horse for your journey into the\nAsturias to-morrow, and of course a guide: now, if that be the case, I\ncounsel you to hire myself and mare.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am become tired of guides,\u201d I replied; \u201cso much so that I was thinking\nof purchasing a pony, and proceeding without any guide at all. The last\nwhich we had was an infamous character.\u201d\n\n\u201cSo I have been told, your worship, and it was well for the _bribon_ that\nI was not in Rivadeo when the affair to which you allude occurred. But\nhe was gone with the pony Perico before I came back, or I would have bled\nthe fellow to a certainty with my knife. He is a disgrace to the\nprofession, which is one of the most honourable and ancient in the world.\nPerico himself must have been ashamed of him, for Perico, though a pony,\nis a gentleman, one of many capacities, and well known upon the roads.\nHe is only inferior to my mare.\u201d\n\n\u201cAre you well acquainted with the road to Oviedo?\u201d I demanded.\n\n\u201cI am not, your worship; that is, no farther than Luarca, {58a} which is\nthe first day\u2019s journey. I do not wish to deceive you, therefore let me\ngo with you no farther than that place; though perhaps I might serve for\nthe whole journey, for though I am unacquainted with the country, I have\na tongue in my head, and nimble feet to run and ask questions. I will,\nhowever, answer for myself no farther than Luarca, where you can please\nyourselves. Your being strangers is what makes me wish to accompany you,\nfor I like the conversation of strangers, from whom I am sure to gain\ninformation both entertaining and profitable. I wish, moreover, to\nconvince you that we guides of Galicia are not all thieves, which I am\nsure you will not suppose if you only permit me to accompany you as far\nas Luarca.\u201d\n\nI was so much struck with the fellow\u2019s good humour and frankness, and\nmore especially by the originality of character displayed in almost every\nsentence which he uttered, that I readily engaged him to guide us to\nLuarca; whereupon he left me, promising to be ready with his mare at\neight next morning.\n\nRivadeo is one of the principal seaports of Galicia, and is admirably\nsituated for commerce, on a deep firth, into which the river Mirando\n{58b} debouches. It contains many magnificent buildings, and an\nextensive square or _plaza_, which is planted with trees. I observed\nseveral vessels in the harbour; and the population, which is rather\nnumerous, exhibited none of those marks of misery and dejection which I\nhad lately observed among the Ferrolese.\n\nOn the morrow Martin of Rivadeo made his appearance at the appointed hour\nwith his mare. It was a lean haggard animal, not much larger than a\npony; it had good points, however, and was very clean in its hinder legs,\nand Martin insisted that it was the best animal of its kind in all Spain.\n\u201cIt is a factious mare,\u201d said he, \u201cand I believe an Alavese. When the\nCarlists came here it fell lame, and they left it behind, and I purchased\nit for a dollar. It is not lame now, however, as you shall soon see.\u201d\n\nWe had now reached the firth which divides Galicia from the Asturias. A\nkind of barge was lying about two yards from the side of the quay,\nwaiting to take us over. Towards this Martin led his mare, and giving an\nencouraging shout, the creature without any hesitation sprang over the\nintervening space into the barge. \u201cI told you she was a _facciosa_,\u201d\nsaid Martin; \u201cnone but a factious animal would have taken such a leap.\u201d\n\nWe all embarked in the barge and crossed over the firth, which is in this\nplace nearly a mile broad, to Castro Pol, {59} the first town in the\nAsturias. I now mounted the factious mare, whilst Antonio followed on my\nown horse. Martin led the way, exchanging jests with every person whom\nhe met on the road, and occasionally enlivening the way with an\nextemporaneous song.\n\nWe were now in the Asturias, and about noon we reached Navias, a small\nfishing-town, situate on a _ria_ or firth: in the neighbourhood are\nragged mountains called the Sierra de Buron, which stand in the shape of\na semicircle. We saw a small vessel in the harbour, which we\nsubsequently learned was from the Basque provinces, come for a cargo of\ncider or _sagadua_, the beverage so dearly loved by the Basques. As we\npassed along the narrow street, Antonio was hailed with an \u201c_Ola_!\u201d from\na species of shop in which three men, apparently shoemakers, were seated.\nHe stopped for some time to converse with them, and when he joined us at\nthe _posada_ where we halted, I asked him who they were: \u201c_Mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d\nsaid he, \u201c_ce sont des messieurs de ma connoissance_. I have been\nfellow-servant at different times with all three; and I tell you\nbeforehand, that we shall scarcely pass through a village in this country\nwhere I shall not find an acquaintance. All the Asturians, at some\nperiod of their lives, make a journey to Madrid, where, if they can\nobtain a situation, they remain until they have scraped up sufficient to\nturn to advantage in their own country; and as I have served in all the\ngreat houses in Madrid, I am acquainted with the greatest part of them.\nI have nothing to say against the Asturians, save that they are close and\npenurious whilst at service; but they are not thieves, neither at home\nnor abroad, and though we must have our wits about us in their country, I\nhave heard we may travel from one end of it to the other without the\nslightest fear of being either robbed or ill-treated, which is not the\ncase in Galicia, where we were always in danger of having our throats\ncut.\u201d\n\nLeaving Navias, we proceeded through a wild desolate country, till we\nreached the pass of Baralla, which lies up the side of a huge wall of\nrocks, which at a distance appear of a light green colour, though\nperfectly bare of herbage or plants of any description.\n\n\u201cThis pass,\u201d said Martin of Rivadeo, \u201cbears a very evil reputation, and I\nshould not like to travel it after sunset. It is not infested by\nrobbers, but by things much worse, the _duendes_ of two friars of Saint\nFrancis. It is said that in the old time, long before the convents were\nsuppressed, two friars of the order of Saint Francis left their convent\nto beg. It chanced that they were very successful, but as they were\nreturning at nightfall by this pass, they had a quarrel about what they\nhad collected, each insisting that he had done his duty better than the\nother; at last, from high words they fell to abuse, and from abuse to\nblows. What do you think these demons of friars did? They took off\ntheir cloaks, and at the end of each they made a knot, in which they\nplaced a large stone, and with these they thrashed and belaboured each\nother till both fell dead. Master, I know not which are the worst\nplagues, friars, curates, or sparrows:\n\n \u2018May the Lord God preserve us from evil birds three:\n From all friars and curates and sparrows that be;\n For the sparrows eat up all the corn that we sow,\n The friars drink down all the wine that we grow,\n Whilst the curates have all the fair dames at their nod:\n From these three evil curses preserve us, Lord God.\u2019\u201d\n\nIn about two hours from this time we reached Luarca, the situation of\nwhich is most singular. It stands in a deep hollow, whose sides are so\nprecipitous that it is impossible to descry the town until you stand just\nabove it. At the northern extremity of this hollow is a small harbour,\nthe sea entering by a narrow cleft. We found a large and comfortable\n_posada_, and by the advice of Martin, made inquiry for a fresh guide and\nhorse; we were informed, however, that all the horses of the place were\nabsent, and that if we waited for their return, we must tarry for two\ndays. \u201cI had a presentiment,\u201d said Martin, \u201cwhen we entered Luarca, that\nwe were not doomed to part at present. You must now hire my mare and me\nas far as Gijon, {62a} from whence there is a conveyance to Oviedo. To\ntell you the truth, I am by no means sorry that the guides are absent,\nfor I am pleased with your company, as I make no doubt you are with mine.\nI will now go and write a letter to my wife at Rivadeo, informing her\nthat she must not expect to see me back for several days.\u201d He then went\nout of the room, singing the following stanza:\u2014\n\n \u201cA handless man a letter did write,\n A dumb dictated it word for word:\n The person who read it had lost his sight,\n And deaf was he who listened and heard.\u201d {62b}\n\nEarly the next morning we emerged from the hollow of Luarca; about an\nhour\u2019s riding brought us to Caneiro, a deep and romantic valley of rocks,\nshaded by tall chestnut trees. Through the midst of this valley rushes a\nrapid stream, which we crossed in a boat. \u201cThere is not such a stream\nfor trout in all the Asturias,\u201d said the ferryman. \u201cLook down into the\nwaters and observe the large stones over which it flows; now in the\nproper season, and in fine weather, you cannot see those stones for the\nmultitudes of fish which cover them.\u201d\n\nLeaving the valley behind us, we entered into a wild and dreary country,\nstony and mountainous. The day was dull and gloomy, and all around\nlooked sad and melancholy. \u201cAre we in the way for Gijon and Oviedo?\u201d\ndemanded Martin of an ancient female, who stood at the door of a cottage.\n\n\u201cFor Gijon and Oviedo!\u201d replied the crone; \u201cmany is the weary step you\nwill have to make before you reach Gijon and Oviedo. You must first of\nall crack the _bellotas_: you are just below them.\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat does she mean by cracking the _bellotas_?\u201d demanded I of Martin of\nRivadeo.\n\n\u201cDid your worship never hear of the seven _bellotas_?\u201d replied our guide.\n\u201cI can scarcely tell you what they are, as I have never seen them; I\nbelieve they are seven hills which we have to cross, and are called\n_bellotas_ from some resemblance to acorns which it is fancied they bear.\nI have often heard of these acorns, and am not sorry that I have now an\nopportunity of seeing them, though it is said that they are rather hard\nthings for horses to digest.\u201d\n\nThe Asturian mountains in this part rise to a considerable altitude.\nThey consist for the most part of dark granite, covered here and there\nwith a thin layer of earth. They approach very near to the sea, to which\nthey slope down in broken ridges, between which are deep and precipitous\ndefiles, each with its rivulet, the tribute of the hills to the salt\nflood. The road traverses these defiles. There are seven of them, which\nare called, in the language of the country, _Las siete bellotas_. Of all\nthese the most terrible is the midmost, down which rolls an impetuous\ntorrent. At the upper end of it rises a precipitous wall of rock, black\nas soot, to the height of several hundred yards; its top, as we passed,\nwas enveloped with a veil of _bretima_. From this gorge branch off, on\neither side, small dingles or glens, some of them so overgrown with trees\nand copsewood, that the eye is unable to penetrate the obscurity beyond a\nfew yards.\n\n\u201cFine places would some of these dingles prove for hermitages,\u201d said I to\nMartin of Rivadeo. \u201cHoly men might lead a happy life there on roots and\nwater, and pass many years absorbed in heavenly contemplation without\never being disturbed by the noise and turmoil of the world.\u201d\n\n\u201cTrue, your worship,\u201d replied Martin; \u201cand perhaps on that very account\nthere are no hermitages in the _barrancos_ of the seven _bellotas_. Our\nhermits had little inclination for roots and water, and had no kind of\nobjection to be occasionally disturbed in their meditations. _Vaya_! I\nnever yet saw a hermitage that was not hard by some rich town or village,\nor was not a regular resort for all the idle people in the neighbourhood.\nHermits are not fond of living in dingles, amongst wolves and foxes; for\nhow in that case could they dispose of their poultry? A hermit of my\nacquaintance left, when he died, a fortune of seven hundred dollars to\nhis niece, the greatest part of which he scraped up by fattening\nturkeys.\u201d\n\nAt the top of this _bellota_ we found a wretched _venta_, where we\nrefreshed ourselves, and then continued our journey. Late in the\nafternoon we cleared the last of these difficult passes. The wind began\nnow to rise, bearing on its wings a drizzling rain. We passed by Soto\nLuino, and shaping our course through a wild but picturesque country, we\nfound ourselves about nightfall at the foot of a steep hill, up which led\na narrow bridle-way, amidst a grove of lofty trees. Long before we had\nreached the top it had become quite dark, and the rain had increased\nconsiderably. We stumbled along in the obscurity, leading our horses,\nwhich were occasionally down on their knees, owing to the slipperiness of\nthe path. At last we accomplished the ascent in safety, and pushing\nbriskly forward, we found ourselves in about half an hour at the entrance\nof Muros, a large village situated just on the declivity of the farther\nside of the hill.\n\nA blazing fire in the _posada_ soon dried our wet garments, and in some\ndegree recompensed us for the fatigues which we had undergone in\nscrambling up the _bellotas_. A rather singular place was this same\n_posada_ of Muros. It was a large rambling house, with a spacious\nkitchen, or common room, on the ground floor. Above stairs was a large\ndining apartment, with an immense oak table, and furnished with cumbrous\nleathern chairs with high backs, apparently three centuries old at least.\nCommunicating with this apartment was a wooden gallery, open to the air,\nwhich led to a small chamber, in which I was destined to sleep, and which\ncontained an old-fashioned tester-bed with curtains. It was just one of\nthose inns which romance writers are so fond of introducing in their\ndescriptions, especially when the scene of adventure lies in Spain. The\nhost was a talkative Asturian.\n\nThe wind still howled, and the rain descended in torrents. I sat before\nthe fire in a very drowsy state, from which I was presently aroused by\nthe conversation of the host. \u201c_Se\u00f1or_,\u201d said he, \u201cit is now three years\nsince I beheld foreigners in my house. I remember it was about this time\nof the year, and just such a night as this, that two men on horseback\narrived here. What was singular, they came without any guide. Two more\nstrange-looking individuals I never yet beheld with eye-sight. I shall\nnever forget them. The one was as tall as a giant, with much tawny\nmoustache, like the coat of a badger, growing about his mouth. He had a\nhuge ruddy face, and looked dull and stupid, as he no doubt was, for when\nI spoke to him he did not seem to understand, and answered in a jabber,\n_valgame Dios_! {66} so wild and strange, that I remained staring at him\nwith mouth and eyes open. The other was neither tall nor red-faced, nor\nhad he hair about his mouth, and indeed he had very little upon his head.\nHe was very diminutive, and looked like a _jorobado_; but, _valgame\nDios_! such eyes, like wild cats\u2019, so sharp and full of malice. He spoke\nas good Spanish as I myself do, and yet he was no Spaniard. Spaniard\nnever looked like that man. He was dressed in a _zamarra_, with much\nsilver and embroidery, and wore an Andalusian hat, and I soon found that\nhe was master, and that the other was servant.\n\n\u201c_Valgame Dios_! what an evil disposition had that same foreign\n_jorobado_! and yet he had much grace, much humour, and said occasionally\nto me such comical things, that I was fit to die of laughter. So he sat\ndown to supper in the room above, and I may as well tell you here, that\nhe slept in the same chamber where your worship will sleep to-night, and\nhis servant waited behind his chair. Well, I had curiosity, so I sat\nmyself down at the table too, without asking leave. Why should I? I was\nin my own house, and an Asturian is fit company for a king, and is often\nof better blood. Oh, what a strange supper was that. If the servant\nmade the slightest mistake in helping him, up would start the _jorobado_,\njump upon his chair, and seizing the big giant by the hair, would cuff\nhim on both sides of his face till I was afraid his teeth would have\nfallen out. The giant, however, did not seem to care about it much. He\nwas used to it, I suppose. _Valgame Dios_! if he had been a Spaniard he\nwould not have submitted to it so patiently. But what surprised me most\nwas, that after beating his servant the master would sit down, and the\nnext moment would begin conversing and laughing with him as if nothing\nhad happened, and the giant also would laugh and converse with his\nmaster, for all the world as if he had not been beaten.\n\n\u201cYou may well suppose, _Se\u00f1or_, that I understood nothing of their\ndiscourse, for it was all in that strange unchristian tongue in which the\ngiant answered me when I spoke to him; the sound of it is still ringing\nin my ears. It was nothing like other languages. Not like Bascuen, {67}\nnot like the language in which your worship speaks to my namesake\n_Signor_ Antonio here. _Valgame Dios_! I can compare it to nothing but\nthe sound a person makes when he rinses his mouth with water. There is\none word which I think I still remember, for it was continually\nproceeding from the giant\u2019s lips, but his master never used it.\n\n\u201cBut the strangest part of the story is yet to be told. The supper was\nended, and the night was rather advanced; the rain still beat against the\nwindows, even as it does at this moment. Suddenly the _jorobado_ pulled\nout his watch. _Valgame Dios_! such a watch! I will tell you one thing,\n_Se\u00f1or_, that I could purchase all the Asturias, and Muros besides, with\nthe brilliants which shone about the sides of that same watch; the room\nwanted no lamp, I trow, so great was the splendour which they cast. So\nthe _jorobado_ looked at his watch, and then said to me, \u2018I shall go to\nrest.\u2019 He then took the lamp, and went through the gallery to his room,\nfollowed by his big servant. Well, _Se\u00f1or_, I cleared away the things,\nand then waited below for the servant, for whom I had prepared a\ncomfortable bed, close by my own. _Se\u00f1or_, I waited patiently for an\nhour, till at last my patience was exhausted, and I ascended to the\nsupper apartment, and passed through the gallery till I came to the door\nof the strange guest. _Se\u00f1or_, what do you think I saw at the door?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow should I know?\u201d I replied. \u201cHis riding-boots, perhaps.\u201d\n\n\u201cNo, _Se\u00f1or_, I did not see his riding-boots; but, stretched on the floor\nwith his head against the door, so that it was impossible to open it\nwithout disturbing him, lay the big servant fast asleep, his immense legs\nreaching nearly the whole length of the gallery. I crossed myself, as\nwell I might, for the wind was howling even as it is now, and the rain\nwas rushing down into the gallery in torrents; yet there lay the big\nservant fast asleep, without any covering, without any pillow, not even a\nlog, stretched out before his master\u2019s door.\n\n\u201c_Se\u00f1or_, I got little rest that night, for I said to myself, I have evil\nwizards in my house, folks who are not human. Once or twice I went up\nand peeped into the gallery, but there still lay the big servant fast\nasleep; so I crossed myself, and returned to my bed again.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I, \u201cand what occurred next day?\u201d\n\n\u201cNothing particular occurred next day: the _jorobado_ came down and said\ncomical things to me in good Spanish; and the big servant came down, but\nwhatever he said, and he did not say much, I understood not, for it was\nin that disastrous jabber. They stayed with me throughout the day till\nafter supper-time, and then the _jorobado_ gave me a gold ounce, and\nmounting their horses, they both departed as strangely as they had come,\nin the dark night, I know not whither.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs that all?\u201d I demanded.\n\n\u201cNo, _Se\u00f1or_, it is not all; for I was right in supposing them evil\n_brujos_: the very next day an express arrived, and a great search was\nmade after them, and I was arrested for having harboured them. This\noccurred just after the present wars had commenced. It was said they\nwere spies and emissaries of I don\u2019t know what nation, and that they had\nbeen in all parts of the Asturias, holding conferences with some of the\ndisaffected. They escaped, however, and were never heard of more, though\nthe animals which they rode were found without their riders, wandering\namongst the hills; they were common ponies, and were of no value. As for\nthe _brujos_, it is believed that they embarked in some small vessel\nwhich was lying concealed in one of the _rias_ of the coast.\u201d\n\n_Myself_.\u2014What was the word which you continually heard proceeding from\nthe lips of the big servant, and which you think you can remember?\n\n_Host_.\u2014_Se\u00f1or_, it is now three years since I heard it, and at times I\ncan remember it, and at others not; sometimes I have started up in my\nsleep repeating it. Stay, _Se\u00f1or_, I have it now at the point of my\ntongue: it was _Patusca_.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014_Batuschca_, you mean; the men were Russians.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIII.\n\n\nOviedo\u2014The Ten Gentlemen\u2014The Swiss again\u2014Modest Request\u2014The\nRobbers\u2014Episcopal Benevolence\u2014The Cathedral\u2014Portrait of Feijoo.\n\nI must now take a considerable stride in my journey, no less than from\nMuros to Oviedo, contenting myself with observing, that we proceeded from\nMuros to Velez, {70} and from thence to Gijon, where our guide Martin\nbade us farewell, and returned with his mare to Rivadeo. The honest\nfellow did not part without many expressions of regret; indeed he even\nexpressed a desire that I should take him and his mare into my service.\n\u201cFor,\u201d said he, \u201cI have a great desire to run through all Spain, and even\nthe world: and I am sure I shall never have a better opportunity than by\nattaching myself to your worship\u2019s skirts.\u201d On my reminding him,\nhowever, of his wife and family, for he had both, he said, \u201cTrue, true, I\nhad forgotten them: happy the guide whose only wife and family are a mare\nand foal.\u201d\n\nOviedo is about three leagues from Gijon. Antonio rode the horse, whilst\nI proceeded thither in a kind of diligence which runs daily between the\ntwo towns. The road is good, but mountainous. I arrived safely at the\ncapital of the Asturias, although at a rather unpropitious season, for\nthe din of war was at the gate, and there was the cry of the captains and\nthe shouting. {71} Castile, at the time of which I am writing, was in\nthe hands of the Carlists, who had captured and plundered Valladolid in\nmuch the same manner as they had Segovia some time before. They were\nevery day expected to march on Oviedo, in which case they might perhaps\nhave experienced some resistance, a considerable body of troops being\nstationed there, who had erected some redoubts, and strongly fortified\nseveral of the convents, especially that of Santa Clara de la Vega. All\nminds were in a state of feverish anxiety and suspense, more especially\nas no intelligence arrived from Madrid, which by the last accounts was\nsaid to be occupied by the bands of Cabrera and Palillos.\n\nSo it came to pass that one night I found myself in the ancient town of\nOviedo, in a very large, scantily furnished, and remote room in an\nancient _posada_, formerly a palace of the counts of Santa Cruz. It was\npast ten, and the rain was descending in torrents. I was writing, but\nsuddenly ceased on hearing numerous footsteps ascending the creaking\nstairs which led to my apartment. The door was flung open, and in walked\nnine men of tall stature, marshalled by a little hunchbacked personage.\nThey were all muffled in the long cloaks of Spain, but I instantly knew\nby their demeanour that they were _caballeros_, or gentlemen. They\nplaced themselves in a rank before the table where I was sitting.\nSuddenly and simultaneously they all flung back their cloaks, and I\nperceived that every one bore a book in his hand; a book which I knew\nfull well. After a pause, which I was unable to break, for I sat lost in\nastonishment, and almost conceived myself to be visited by apparitions,\nthe hunchback, advancing somewhat before the rest, said in soft silvery\ntones, \u201c_Se\u00f1or_ Cavalier, was it you who brought this book to the\nAsturias?\u201d I now supposed that they were the civil authorities of the\nplace come to take me into custody, and, rising from my seat, I\nexclaimed, \u201cIt certainly was I, and it is my glory to have done so. The\nbook is the New Testament of God: I wish it was in my power to bring a\nmillion.\u201d \u201cI heartily wish so too,\u201d said the little personage with a\nsigh. \u201cBe under no apprehension, Sir Cavalier; these gentlemen are my\nfriends. We have just purchased these books in the shop where you placed\nthem for sale, and have taken the liberty of calling upon you, in order\nto return you our thanks for the treasure you have brought us. I hope\nyou can furnish us with the Old Testament also.\u201d I replied, that I was\nsorry to inform him that at present it was entirely out of my power to\ncomply with his wish, as I had no Old Testaments in my possession, but\ndid not despair of procuring some speedily from England. He then asked\nme a great many questions concerning my biblical travels in Spain, and my\nsuccess, and the views entertained by the Society with respect to Spain,\nadding, that he hoped we should pay particular attention to the Asturias,\nwhich he assured me was the best ground in the Peninsula for our labour.\nAfter about half an hour\u2019s conversation, he suddenly said, in the English\nlanguage, \u201cGood night, sir,\u201d wrapped his cloak around him, and walked out\nas he had come. His companions, who had hitherto not uttered a word, all\nrepeated, \u201cGood night, sir,\u201d and, adjusting their cloaks, followed him.\n\nIn order to explain this strange scene, I must state, that in the morning\nI had visited the petty bookseller of the place, Longoria, and having\narranged preliminaries with him, I sent him in the evening a package of\nforty Testaments, all I possessed, with some advertisements. At the time\nhe assured me that, though he was willing to undertake the sale, there\nwas, nevertheless, not a prospect of success, as a whole month had\nelapsed since he had sold a book of any description, on account of the\nuncertainty of the times, and the poverty which pervaded the land; I\ntherefore felt much dispirited. This incident, however, admonished me\nnot to be cast down when things look gloomiest, as the hand of the Lord\nis generally then most busy: that men may learn to perceive, that\nwhatever good is accomplished is not their work, but His.\n\nTwo or three days after this adventure, I was once more seated in my\nlarge scantily-furnished room; it was about ten, of a dark melancholy\nmorning, and the autumnal rain was again falling. I had just\nbreakfasted, and was about to sit down to my journal, when the door was\nflung open and in bounded Antonio.\n\n\u201c_Mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d said he, quite breathless, \u201cwho do you think has\narrived?\u201d\n\n\u201cThe Pretender, I suppose,\u201d said I, in some trepidation; \u201cif so, we are\nprisoners.\u201d\n\n\u201cBah, bah!\u201d said Antonio, \u201cit is not the Pretender, but one worth twenty\nof him; it is the Swiss of Saint James.\u201d\n\n\u201cBenedict Mol, the Swiss!\u201d said I. \u201cWhat! has he found the treasure?\nBut how did he come? How is he dressed?\u201d\n\n\u201c_Mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d said Antonio, \u201che came on foot, if we may judge by his\nshoes, through which his toes are sticking; and as for his dress, he is\nin most villanous apparel.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere must be some mystery in this,\u201d said I. \u201cWhere is he at present?\u201d\n\n\u201cBelow, _mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d replied Antonio; \u201che came in quest of us. But I\nno sooner saw him, than I hurried away to let you know.\u201d\n\nIn a few minutes Benedict Mol found his way upstairs. He was, as Antonio\nhad remarked, in most villanous apparel, and nearly barefooted; his old\nAndalusian hat was dripping with rain.\n\n\u201c_Och_, _lieber Herr_,\u201d said Benedict, \u201chow rejoiced I am to see you\nagain! Oh, the sight of your countenance almost repays me for all the\nmiseries I have undergone since I parted with you at Saint James.\u201d\n\n_Myself_.\u2014I can scarcely believe that I really see you here at Oviedo.\nWhat motive can have induced you to come to such an out-of-the-way place\nfrom such an immense distance?\n\n_Benedict_.\u2014_Lieber Herr_, I will sit down and tell you all that has\nbefallen me. Some few days after I saw you last, the _canonigo_\npersuaded me to go to the captain-general to apply for permission to\ndisinter the _Schatz_, and also to crave assistance. So I saw the\ncaptain-general, who at first received me very kindly, asked me several\nquestions, and told me to come again. So I continued visiting him till\nhe would see me no longer, and, do what I might, I could not obtain a\nglance of him. The canon now became impatient, more especially as he had\ngiven me a few _pesetas_ out of the charities of the church. He\nfrequently called me a _bribon_ and impostor. At last, one morning I\nwent to him, and said that I proposed to return to Madrid, in order to\nlay the matter before the government, and requested that he would give me\na certificate to the effect that I had performed a pilgrimage to Saint\nJames, which I imagined would be of assistance to me upon the way, as it\nwould enable me to beg with some colour of authority. He no sooner heard\nthis request, than, without saying a word or allowing me a moment to put\nmyself on my defence, he sprang upon me like a tiger, clasping my throat\nso hard that I thought he would have strangled me. I am a Swiss,\nhowever, and a man of Lucerne, and when I had recovered myself a little,\nI had no difficulty in flinging him off; I then threatened him with my\nstaff and went away. He followed me to the gate with the most horrid\ncurses, saying, that if I presumed to return again, he would have me\nthrown at once into prison as a thief and a heretic. So I went in quest\nof yourself, _lieber Herr_, but they told me that you were departed for\nCorunna; I then set out for Corunna after you.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014And what befell you on the road?\n\n_Benedict_.\u2014I will tell you: about half-way between Saint James and\nCorunna, as I was walking along, thinking of the _Schatz_, I heard a loud\ngalloping, and looking around me I saw two men on horseback coming across\nthe field with the swiftness of the wind, and making directly for me.\n\u201c_Lieber Gott_,\u201d said I, \u201cthese are thieves, these are factious;\u201d and so\nthey were. They came up to me in a moment and bade me stand; so I flung\ndown my staff, took off my hat, and saluted them. \u201cGood day,\n_caballeros_,\u201d said I to them. \u201cGood day, countryman,\u201d said they to me,\nand then we stood staring at each other for more than a minute. _Lieber\nHimmel_, {75} I never saw such robbers; so finely dressed, so well armed,\nand mounted so bravely on two fiery little _hakkas_, {76} that looked as\nif they could have taken wing and flown up into the clouds! So we\ncontinued staring at each other, till at last one asked me who I was,\nwhence I came, and where I was going. \u201cGentlemen,\u201d said I, \u201cI am a\nSwiss; I have been to Saint James to perform a religious vow, and am now\nreturning to my own country.\u201d I said not a word about the treasure, for\nI was afraid that they would have shot me at once, conceiving that I\ncarried part of it about me. \u201cHave you any money?\u201d they demanded.\n\u201cGentlemen,\u201d I replied, \u201cyou see how I travel on foot, with my shoes torn\nto pieces; I should not do so if I had money. I will not deceive you,\nhowever; I have a _peseta_ and a few _cuartos_;\u201d and thereupon I took out\nwhat I had and offered it to them. \u201cFellow,\u201d said they, \u201cwe are\n_caballeros_ of Galicia, and do not take _pesetas_, much less _cuartos_.\nOf what opinion are you? Are you for the queen?\u201d \u201cNo, gentlemen,\u201d said\nI, \u201cI am not for the queen; but, at the same time, allow me to tell you\nthat I am not for the king either. I know nothing about the matter; I am\na Swiss, and fight neither for nor against anybody unless I am paid.\u201d\nThis made them laugh, and then they questioned me about Saint James, and\nthe troops there, and the captain-general; and not to disoblige them, I\ntold them all I knew, and much more. Then one of them, who looked the\nfiercest and most determined, took his trombone in his hand, and pointing\nit at me, said, \u201cHad you been a Spaniard, we should have blown your head\nto shivers, for we should have thought you a spy; but we see you are a\nforeigner, and believe what you have said. Take, therefore, this\n_peseta_ and go your way; but beware that you tell nobody anything about\nus, for if you do, _carracho_!\u201d He then discharged his trombone just\nover my head, so that for a moment I thought myself shot; and then with\nan awful shout, they both galloped away, their horses leaping over the\n_barrancos_, as if possessed with many devils.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014And what happened to you on your arrival at Corunna?\n\n_Benedict_.\u2014When I arrived at Corunna, I inquired after yourself, _lieber\nHerr_, and they informed me that, only the day before my arrival, you had\ndeparted for Oviedo: and when I heard that, my heart died within me, for\nI was now at the far end of Galicia, without a friend to help me. For a\nday or two I knew not what to do; at last I determined to make for the\nfrontier of France, passing through Oviedo in the way, where I hoped to\nsee you, and ask counsel of you. So I begged and bettled among the\nGermans of Corunna. I, however, got very little from them, only a few\n_cuarts_, less than the thieves had given me on the road from Saint\nJames, and with these I departed for the Asturias by the way of\nMondonedo. _Och_, what a town is that, full of canons, priests, and\n_pfaffen_, all of them more Carlist than Carlos himself.\n\nOne day I went to the bishop\u2019s palace and spoke to him, telling him I was\na pilgrim from Saint James, and requesting assistance. He told me,\nhowever, that he could not relieve me, and as for my being a pilgrim from\nSaint James, he was glad of it, and hoped that it would be of service to\nmy soul. So I left Mondonedo, and got amongst the wild mountains,\nbegging and bettling at the door of every _choza_ that I passed; telling\nall I saw that I was a pilgrim from Saint James, and showing my passport\nin proof that I had been there. _Lieber Herr_, no person gave me a\n_cuart_, nor even a piece of _broa_, and both Gallegans and Asturians\nlaughed at Saint James, and told me that his name was no longer a\npassport in Spain. I should have starved if I had not sometimes plucked\nan ear or two out of the maize fields; I likewise gathered grapes from\nthe _parras_ and berries from the brambles, and in this manner I\nsubsisted till I arrived at the _bellotas_, where I slaughtered a stray\nkid which I met, and devoured part of the flesh raw, so great was my\nhunger. It made me, however, very ill; and for two days I lay in a\n_barranco_ half dead and unable to help myself; it was a mercy that I was\nnot devoured by the wolves. I then struck across the country for Oviedo:\nhow I reached it I do not know; I was like one walking in a dream. Last\nnight I slept in an empty hog-sty about two leagues from here, and ere I\nleft it, I fell down on my knees and prayed to God that I might find you,\n_lieber Herr_, for you were my last hope.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014And what do you propose to do at present?\n\n_Benedict_.\u2014What can I say, _lieber Herr_? I know not what to do. I\nwill be guided in everything by your counsel.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014I shall remain at Oviedo a few days longer, during which time\nyou can lodge at this _posada_, and endeavour to recover from the fatigue\nof your disastrous journeys; perhaps before I depart, we may hit on some\nplan to extricate you from your present difficulties.\n\nOviedo contains about fifteen thousand inhabitants. It is picturesquely\nsituated between two mountains, Morcin and Naranco; the former is very\nhigh and rugged, and during the greater part of the year is covered with\nsnow; the sides of the latter are cultivated and planted with vines. The\nprincipal ornament of the town is the cathedral, {79a} the tower of which\nis exceedingly lofty, and is perhaps one of the purest specimens of\nGothic architecture at present in existence. The interior of the\ncathedral is neat and appropriate, but simple and unadorned. I observed\nbut one picture, the Conversion of Saint Paul. One of the chapels is a\ncemetery, in which rest the bones of eleven Gothic kings; to whose souls\nbe peace.\n\nI bore a letter of recommendation from Corunna to a merchant of Oviedo.\nThis person received me very courteously, and generally devoted some\nportion of every day to showing me the remarkable things of Oviedo.\n\nOne morning he thus addressed me: \u201cYou have doubtless heard of Feijoo,\n{79b} the celebrated philosophic monk of the order of Saint Benedict,\nwhose writings have so much tended to remove the popular fallacies and\nsuperstitions so long cherished in Spain; he is buried in one of our\nconvents, where he passed a considerable portion of his life. Come with\nme and I will show you his portrait. Carlos Tercero, {80} our great\nking, sent his own painter from Madrid to execute it. It is now in the\npossession of a friend of mine, Don Ramon Valdez, an advocate.\u201d\n\nThereupon he led me to the house of Don Ramon Valdez, who very politely\nexhibited the portrait of Feijoo. It was circular in shape, about a foot\nin diameter, and was surrounded by a little brass frame, something like\nthe rim of a barber\u2019s basin. The countenance was large and massive, but\nfine, the eyebrows knit, the eyes sharp and penetrating, nose aquiline.\nOn the head was a silken skull-cap; the collar of the coat or vest was\njust perceptible. The painting was decidedly good, and struck me as\nbeing one of the very best specimens of modern Spanish art which I had\nhitherto seen.\n\nA day or two after this I said to Benedict Mol, \u201cTo-morrow I start from\nhence for Santander. It is therefore high time that you decide upon some\ncourse, whether to return to Madrid or to make the best of your way to\nFrance, and from thence proceed to your own country.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Lieber Herr_,\u201d said Benedict, \u201cI will follow you to Santander by short\njourneys, for I am unable to make long ones amongst these hills; and when\nI am there, peradventure I may find some means of passing into France.\nIt is a great comfort, in my horrible journeys, to think that I am\ntravelling over the ground which yourself have trodden, and to hope that\nI am proceeding to rejoin you once more. This hope kept me alive in the\n_bellotas_, and without it I should never have reached Oviedo. I will\nquit Spain as soon as possible, and betake me to Lucerne, though it is a\nhard thing to leave the _Schatz_ behind me in the land of the Gallegans.\u201d\n\nThereupon I presented him with a few dollars.\n\n\u201cA strange man is this Benedict,\u201d said Antonio to me next morning, as,\naccompanied by a guide, we sallied forth from Oviedo; \u201ca strange man,\n_mon ma\u00eetre_, is this same Benedict. A strange life has he led, and a\nstrange death he will die,\u2014it is written on his countenance. That he\nwill leave Spain I do not believe, or if he leave it, it will be only to\nreturn, for he is bewitched about this treasure. Last night he sent for\na _sorci\u00e8re_ whom he consulted in my presence: and she told him that he\nwas doomed to possess it, but that first of all he must cross water. She\ncautioned him likewise against an enemy, which he supposes must be the\ncanon of Saint James. I have often heard people speak of the avidity of\nthe Swiss for money, and here is a proof of it. I would not undergo what\nBenedict has suffered in these last journeys of his to possess all the\ntreasures in Spain.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIV.\n\n\nDeparture from Oviedo\u2014Villa Viciosa\u2014The Young Man of the Inn\u2014Antonio\u2019s\nTale\u2014The General and his Family\u2014Woful Tidings\u2014To-morrow we die\u2014San\nVicente\u2014Santander\u2014An Harangue\u2014Flinter the Irishman.\n\nSo we left Oviedo and directed our course towards Santander. The man who\naccompanied us as guide, and from whom I hired the pony on which I rode,\nhad been recommended to me by my friend the merchant of Oviedo. He\nproved, however, a lazy, indolent fellow; he was generally loitering two\nor three hundred yards in our rear, and instead of enlivening the way\nwith song and tale, like our late guide, Martin of Rivadeo, he scarcely\never opened his lips, save to tell us not to go so fast, or that I should\nburst his pony if I spurred him so. He was thievish withal, and though\nhe had engaged to make the journey _seco_, {82} that is, to defray the\ncharges of himself and beast, he contrived throughout to keep both at our\nexpense. When journeying in Spain, it is invariably the cheapest plan to\nagree to maintain the guide and his horse or mule, for by so doing the\nhire is diminished at least one-third, and the bills upon the road are\nseldom increased; whereas, in the other case, he pockets the difference,\nand yet goes shot free, and at the expense of the traveller, through the\nconnivance of the innkeepers, who have a kind of fellow-feeling with the\nguides.\n\nLate in the afternoon we reached Villa Viciosa, a small dirty town, at\nthe distance of eight leagues from Oviedo: it stands beside a creek which\ncommunicates with the Bay of Biscay. It is sometimes called La Capital\nde las Avellanas, or the Capital of the Filberts, from the immense\nquantity of this fruit which is grown in the neighbourhood; and the\ngreatest part of which is exported to England. As we drew nigh we\novertook numerous carts laden with _avellanas_ proceeding in the\ndirection of the town. I was informed that several small English vessels\nwere lying in the harbour. Singular as it may seem, however,\nnotwithstanding we were in the Capital of the Avellanas, it was with the\nutmost difficulty that I procured a scanty handful for my dessert, and of\nthese more than one-half were decayed. The people of the house informed\nme that the nuts were intended for exportation, and that they never\ndreamt either of partaking of them themselves or of offering them to\ntheir guests.\n\nAt an early hour on the following day we reached Colunga, a beautiful\nvillage on a rising ground, thickly planted with chestnut trees. It is\ncelebrated, at least in the Asturias, as being the birthplace of\nArgu\u00eblles, the father of the Spanish constitution.\n\nAs we dismounted at the door of the _posada_, where we intended to\nrefresh ourselves, a person who was leaning out of an upper window\nuttered an exclamation and disappeared. We were yet at the door, when\nthe same individual came running forth and cast himself on the neck of\nAntonio. He was a good-looking young man, apparently about\nfive-and-twenty, genteelly dressed, with a _montero_ cap on his head.\nAntonio looked at him for a moment, and then with an \u201c_Ah_, _Monsieur_,\n_est ce bien vous_?\u201d shook him affectionately by the hand. The stranger\nthen motioned him to follow him, and they forthwith proceeded to the room\nabove.\n\nWondering what this could mean, I sat down to my morning repast. Nearly\nan hour elapsed, and still Antonio did not make his appearance. Through\nthe boards, however, which composed the ceiling of the kitchen where I\nsat, I could hear the voices of himself and his acquaintance, and thought\nthat I could occasionally distinguish the sound of broken sobs and\ngroans. At last there was a long pause. I became impatient, and was\nabout to summon Antonio, when he made his appearance, but unaccompanied\nby the stranger. \u201cWhat, in the name of all that is singular,\u201d I\ndemanded, \u201chave you been about? Who is that man?\u201d \u201c_Mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d said\nAntonio, \u201c_c\u2019est un monsieur de ma connaissance_. With your permission I\nwill now take a mouthful, and as we journey along I will tell you all\nthat I know of him.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Monsieur_,\u201d said Antonio, as we rode out of Colunga, \u201cyou are anxious\nto know the history of the gentleman whom you saw embrace me at the inn.\nKnow, _mon ma\u00eetre_, that these Carlist and _Cristino_ wars have been the\ncause of much misery and misfortune in this country; but a being so\nthoroughly unfortunate as that poor young gentleman of the inn, I do not\nbelieve is to be found in Spain, and his misfortunes proceed entirely\nfrom the spirit of party and faction which for some time past has been so\nprevalent.\n\n\u201c_Mon ma\u00eetre_, as I have often told you, I have lived in many houses and\nserved many masters, and it chanced that about ten years ago I served the\nfather of this gentleman, who was then a mere boy. It was a very high\nfamily, for _monsieur_ the father was a general in the army, and a man of\nlarge possessions. The family consisted of the general, his lady, and\ntwo sons; the youngest of whom is the person you have just seen, the\nother was several years older. _Pardieu_! I felt myself very\ncomfortable in that house, and every individual of the family had all\nkind of complaisance for me. It is singular enough, that though I have\nbeen turned out of so many families, I was never turned out of that; and\nthough I left it thrice, it was of my own free will. I became\ndissatisfied with the other servants, or with the dog or the cat. The\nlast time I left was on account of the quail which was hung out of the\nwindow of _madame_, and which waked me in the morning with its call. _Eh\nbien_, _mon ma\u00eetre_, things went on in this way during the three years\nthat I continued in the family, out and in; at the end of which time it\nwas determined that the young gentleman should travel, and it was\nproposed that I should attend him as valet. This I wished very much to\ndo. However, _par malheur_, I was at this time very much dissatisfied\nwith _madame_ his mother about the quail, and insisted that before I\naccompanied him the bird should be slaughtered for the kitchen. To this\n_madame_ would by no means consent; and even the young gentleman, who had\nalways taken my part on other occasions, said that I was unreasonable: so\nI left the house in a huff, and never entered it again.\n\n\u201c_Eh bien_, _mon ma\u00eetre_, the young gentleman went upon his travels, and\ncontinued abroad several years; and from the time of his departure until\nwe met him at Colunga, I have not set eyes upon, nor indeed heard of him.\nI have heard enough, however, of his family; of _monsieur_ the father, of\n_madame_, and of the brother, who was an officer of cavalry. A short\ntime before the troubles, I mean before the death of Ferdinand,\n_monsieur_ the father was appointed captain-general of Corunna. Now\n_monsieur_, though a good master, was rather a proud man, and fond of\ndiscipline, and all that kind of thing, and of obedience. He was,\nmoreover, no friend to the populace, to the _canaille_, and he had a\nparticular aversion to the nationals. So, when Ferdinand died, it was\nwhispered about at Corunna that the general was no liberal, and that he\nwas a better friend to Carlos than Christina. _Eh bien_, it chanced that\nthere was a grand _f\u00eate_, or festival, at Corunna, on the water, and the\nnationals were there, and the soldiers. And I know not how it befell,\nbut there was an _\u00e9meute_, and the nationals laid hands on _monsieur_ the\ngeneral, and tying a rope round his neck, flung him overboard from the\nbarge in which he was, and then dragged him astern about the harbour\nuntil he was drowned. They then went to his house, and pillaged it, and\nso ill-treated _madame_, who at that time happened to be _enceinte_, that\nin a few hours she expired.\n\n\u201cI tell you what, _mon ma\u00eetre_, when I heard of the misfortune of\n_madame_ and the general, you would scarcely believe it, but I actually\nshed tears, and was sorry that I had parted with them in unkindness on\naccount of that pernicious quail.\n\n\u201c_Eh bien_, _mon ma\u00eetre_, _nous poursuivrons notre histoire_. The eldest\nson, as I told you before, was a cavalry officer, and a man of\nresolution, and when he heard of the death of his father and mother, he\nvowed revenge. Poor fellow! So what does he do but desert, with two or\nthree discontented spirits of his troop, and going to the frontier of\nGalicia, he raised a small faction, and proclaimed Don Carlos. For some\nlittle time he did considerable damage to the liberals, burning and\ndestroying their possessions, and putting to death several nationals that\nfell into his hands. However, this did not last long; his faction was\nsoon dispersed, and he himself taken and hanged, and his head stuck on a\npole.\n\n\u201c_Nous sommes d\u00e9j\u00e0 presque au bout_. When we arrived at the inn, the\nyoung man took me above, as you saw, and there for some time he could do\nnothing but weep and sob. His story is soon told:\u2014he returned from his\ntravels, and the first intelligence which awaited him on his arrival in\nSpain was, that his father was drowned, his mother dead, and his brother\nhanged, and, moreover, all the possessions of his family confiscated.\nThis was not all: wherever he went, he found himself considered in the\nlight of a factious and discontented person, and was frequently assailed\nby the nationals with blows of sabres and cudgels. He applied to his\nrelations, and some of these, who were of the Carlist persuasion, advised\nhim to betake himself to the army of Don Carlos, and the Pretender\nhimself, who was a friend of his father, and remembered the services of\nhis brother, offered to give him a command in his army. But, _mon\nma\u00eetre_, as I told you before, he was a pacific young gentleman, and as\nmild as a lamb, and hated the idea of shedding blood. He was, moreover,\nnot of the Carlist opinion, for during his studies he had read books\nwritten a long time ago by countrymen of mine, all about republics and\nliberties, and the rights of man, so that he was much more inclined to\nthe liberal than the Carlist system; he therefore declined the offer of\nDon Carlos, whereupon all his relations deserted him, whilst the liberals\nhunted him from one place to another like a wild beast. At last, he sold\nsome little property which still remained to him, and with the proceeds\nhe came to this remote place of Colunga, where no one knew him, and where\nhe has been residing for several months, in a most melancholy manner,\nwith no other amusement than that which he derives from a book or two, or\noccasionally hunting a leveret with his spaniel.\n\n\u201cHe asked me for counsel, but I had none to give him, and could only weep\nwith him. At last he said, \u2018Dear Antonio, I see there is no remedy. You\nsay your master is below; beg him, I pray, to stay till tomorrow, and we\nwill send for the maidens of the neighbourhood, and for a violin and\nbagpipe, and we will dance and cast away care for a moment.\u2019 And then he\nsaid something in old Greek, which I scarcely understood, but which I\nthink was equivalent to, \u2018Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow\nwe die!\u2019\n\n\u201c_Eh bien_, _mon ma\u00eetre_, I told him that you were a serious gentleman,\nwho never took any amusement, and that you were in a hurry. Whereupon he\nwept again, and embraced me, and bade me farewell. And now, _mon\nma\u00eetre_, I have told you the history of the young man of the inn.\u201d\n\nWe slept at Ribida de Sella, and the next day at noon arrived at Llanes.\nOur route lay between the coast and an immense range of mountains, which\nrose up like huge ramparts at about a league\u2019s distance from the sea.\nThe ground over which we passed was tolerably level, and seemingly well\ncultivated. There was no lack of vines and trees, whilst at short\nintervals rose the _cortijos_ of the proprietors\u2014square stone buildings\nsurrounded with an outer wall. Llanes is an old town, formerly of\nconsiderable strength. In its neighbourhood is the convent of San\nCilorio, one of the largest monastic edifices in all Spain. It is now\ndeserted, and stands alone and desolate upon one of the peninsulas of the\nCantabrian shore. Leaving Llanes, we soon entered one of the most dreary\nand barren regions imaginable, a region of rock and stone, where neither\ngrass nor trees were to be seen. Night overtook us in these places. We\nwandered on, however, until we reached a small village, termed Santo\nColombo. Here we passed the night, in the house of a carabineer of the\nrevenue, a tall athletic figure, who met us at the gate, armed with a\ngun. He was a Castilian, and with all that ceremonious formality and\ngrave politeness for which his countrymen were at one time so celebrated.\nHe chid his wife for conversing with her handmaid about the concerns of\nthe house before us. \u201cBarbara,\u201d said he, \u201cthis is not conversation\ncalculated to interest the strange cavaliers; hold your peace, or go\naside with the _muchacha_.\u201d In the morning he refused any remuneration\nfor his hospitality, \u201cI am a _caballero_,\u201d said he, \u201ceven as yourselves.\nIt is not my custom to admit people into my house for the sake of lucre.\nI received you because you were benighted and the _posada_ distant.\u201d\n\nRising early in the morning, we pursued our way through a country equally\nstony and dreary as that which we had entered upon the preceding day. In\nabout four hours we reached San Vicente, a large and dilapidated town,\nchiefly inhabited by miserable fishermen. It retains, however, many\nremarkable relics of former magnificence: the bridge, which bestrides the\nbroad and deep firth on which stands the town, has no less than\nthirty-two arches, and is built of grey granite. It is very ancient, and\nin some parts in so ruinous a condition as to be dangerous.\n\nLeaving San Vicente behind us, we travelled for some leagues on the\nseashore, crossing occasionally a narrow inlet or firth. The country at\nlast began to improve, and in the neighbourhood of Santillana was both\nbeautiful and fertile. About a league before we reached the country of\nGil Blas we passed through an extensive wood, in which were rocks and\nprecipices; it was exactly such a place as that in which the cave of\nRolando was situated, as described in the novel. The wood has an evil\nname, and our guide informed us that robberies were occasionally\ncommitted in it. No adventure, however, befell us, and we reached\nSantillana at about six in the evening.\n\nWe did not enter the town, but halted at a large _venta_, or _posada_, at\nthe entrance, before which stood an immense ash tree. We had scarcely\nhoused ourselves when a tremendous storm of rain and wind commenced,\naccompanied with thunder and lightning, which continued without much\ninterruption for several hours, and the effects of which were visible in\nour journey of the following day, the streams over which we passed being\nmuch swollen, and several trees lying uptorn by the wayside. Santillana\ncontains four thousand inhabitants, and is six short leagues\u2019 distance\nfrom Santander, where we arrived early the next day.\n\nNothing could exhibit a stronger contrast to the desolate tracts and the\nhalf-ruined towns through which we had lately passed, than the bustle and\nactivity of Santander, which, though it stands on the confines of the\nBasque provinces, the stronghold of the Pretender, is almost the only\ncity in Spain which has not suffered by the Carlist wars. Till the close\nof the last century it was little better than an obscure fishing town,\nbut it has of late years almost entirely engrossed the commerce of the\nSpanish transatlantic possessions, especially of the Havannah. The\nconsequence of which has been, that whilst Santander has rapidly\nincreased in wealth and magnificence, both Corunna and Cadiz have been as\nrapidly hastening to decay. At present it possesses a noble quay, on\nwhich stands a line of stately edifices, far exceeding in splendour the\npalaces of the aristocracy of Madrid. These are built in the French\nstyle, and are chiefly occupied by the merchants. The population of\nSantander is estimated at sixty thousand souls.\n\nOn the day of my arrival I dined at the _table-d\u2019h\u00f4te_ of the principal\ninn, kept by a Genoese. The company was very miscellaneous\u2014French,\nGermans, and Spaniards, all speaking in their respective languages,\nwhilst at the ends of the table, confronting each other, sat two Catalan\nmerchants, one of whom weighed nearly twenty stone, grunting across the\nboard in their harsh dialect. Long, however, before dinner was concluded\nthe conversation was entirely engrossed and the attention of all present\ndirected to an individual who sat on one side of the bulky Catalan. He\nwas a thin man of about the middle height, with a remarkably red face,\nand something in his eyes which, if not a squint, bore a striking\nresemblance to it. He was dressed in a blue military frock, and seemed\nto take much more pleasure in haranguing than in the fare which was set\nbefore him. He spoke perfectly good Spanish, yet his voice betrayed\nsomething of a foreign accent. For a long time he descanted with immense\nvolubility on war and all its circumstances, freely criticizing the\nconduct of the generals, both Carlist and _Cristinos_, in the present\nstruggle, till at last he exclaimed, \u201cHad I but twenty thousand men\nallowed me by the government, I would bring the war to a conclusion in\nsix months.\u201d\n\n\u201cPardon me, sir,\u201d said a Spaniard who sat at the table, \u201cthe curiosity\nwhich induces me to request the favour of your distinguished name.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am Flinter,\u201d replied the individual in the military frock, \u201ca name\nwhich is in the mouth of every man, woman, and child in Spain. I am\nFlinter {92} the Irishman, just escaped from the Basque provinces and the\nclaws of Don Carlos. On the decease of Ferdinand, I declared for\nIsabella, esteeming it the duty of every good cavalier and Irishman in\nthe Spanish service to do so. You have all heard of my exploits, and\npermit me to tell you they would have been yet more glorious had not\njealousy been at work and cramped my means. Two years ago I was\ndespatched to Estremadura, to organize the militias. The bands of Gomez\nand Cabrera entered the province, and spread devastation around. They\nfound me, however, at my post; and had I been properly seconded by those\nunder my command, the two rebels would never have returned to their\nmaster to boast of their success. I stood behind my intrenchments. A\nman advanced and summoned us to surrender. \u2018Who are you?\u2019 I demanded.\n\u2018I am Cabrera,\u2019 he replied; \u2018and I am Flinter,\u2019 I retorted flourishing my\nsabre; \u2018retire to your battalions, or you will forthwith die the death.\u2019\nHe was awed, and did as I commanded. In an hour we surrendered. I was\nled a prisoner to the Basque provinces; and the Carlists rejoiced in the\ncapture they had made, for the name of Flinter had long sounded amongst\nthe Carlist ranks. I was flung into a loathsome dungeon, where I\nremained twenty months. I was cold; I was naked; but I did not on that\naccount despond\u2014my spirit was too indomitable for such weakness. My\nkeeper at last pitied my misfortunes. He said that \u2018it grieved him to\nsee so valiant a man perish in inglorious confinement.\u2019 We laid a plan\nto escape together; disguises were provided, and we made the attempt. We\npassed unobserved till we arrived at the Carlist lines above Bilbao:\nthere we were stopped. My presence of mind, however, did not desert me.\nI was disguised as a carman, as a Catalan, and the coolness of my answers\ndeceived my interrogators. We were permitted to pass, and soon were safe\nwithin the walls of Bilbao. There was an illumination that night in the\ntown, for the lion had burst his toils, Flinter had escaped, and was once\nmore returned to reanimate a drooping cause. I have just arrived at\nSantander, on my way to Madrid, where I intend to ask of the government a\ncommand, with twenty thousand men.\u201d\n\nPoor Flinter! a braver heart and a more gasconading mouth were surely\nnever united in the same body. He proceeded to Madrid, and through the\ninfluence of the British ambassador, who was his friend, he obtained the\ncommand of a small division, with which he contrived to surprise and\ndefeat, in the neighbourhood of Toledo, a body of the Carlists, commanded\nby Orejita, whose numbers more than trebled his own. In reward for this\nexploit he was persecuted by the government, which, at that time, was the\n_moderado_ or _juste milieu_, with the most relentless animosity; the\nprime minister, Ofalia, supporting with all his influence numerous and\nridiculous accusations of plunder and robbery brought against the too\nsuccessful general by the Carlist canons of Toledo. He was likewise\ncharged with a dereliction of duty, in having permitted, after the battle\nof Valdepe\u00f1as, which he likewise won in the most gallant manner, the\nCarlist force to take possession of the mines of Almaden, although the\ngovernment, who were bent on his ruin, had done all in their power to\nprevent him from following up his successes, by denying him the slightest\nsupplies and reinforcements. The fruits of victory thus wrested from\nhim, his hopes blighted, a morbid melancholy seized upon the Irishman; he\nresigned his command, and, in less than ten months from the period when I\nsaw him at Santander, afforded his dastardly and malignant enemies a\ntriumph which satisfied even them, by cutting his own throat with a\nrazor.\n\nArdent spirits of foreign climes, who hope to distinguish yourselves in\nthe service of Spain, and to earn honours and rewards, remember the fate\nof Columbus, and of another as brave and as ardent\u2014Flinter!\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXV.\n\n\nDeparture from Santander\u2014The Night Alarm\u2014The Black Pass.\n\nI had ordered two hundred Testaments to be sent to Santander from Madrid:\nI found, however, to my great sorrow, that they had not arrived, and I\nsupposed that they had either been seized on the way by the Carlists, or\nthat my letter had miscarried. I then thought of applying to England for\na supply, but I abandoned the idea for two reasons. In the first place,\nI should have to remain idly loitering, at least a month, before I could\nreceive them, at a place where every article was excessively dear; and,\nsecondly, I was very unwell, and unable to procure medical advice at\nSantander. Ever since I left Corunna, I had been afflicted with a\nterrible dysentery, and latterly with an ophthalmia, the result of the\nother malady. I therefore determined on returning to Madrid. To effect\nthis, however, seemed no very easy task. Parties of the army of Don\nCarlos, which, in a partial degree, had been routed in Castile, were\nhovering about the country through which I should have to pass, more\nespecially in that part called \u201cThe Mountains,\u201d so that all communication\nhad ceased between Santander and the southern districts. Nevertheless, I\ndetermined to trust as usual in the Almighty, and to risk the danger. I\npurchased, therefore, a small horse, and sallied forth with Antonio.\n\nBefore departing, however, I entered into conference with the booksellers\nas to what they should do in the event of my finding an opportunity of\nsending them a stock of Testaments from Madrid; and, having arranged\nmatters to my satisfaction, I committed myself to Providence. I will not\ndwell long on this journey of three hundred miles. We were in the midst\nof the fire, yet, strange to say, escaped without a hair of our heads\nbeing singed. Robberies, murders, and all kinds of atrocities were\nperpetrated before, behind, and on both sides of us; but not so much as a\ndog barked at us, though in one instance a plan had been laid to\nintercept us. About four leagues from Santander, whilst we were baiting\nour horses at a village hostelry, I saw a fellow run off after having\nheld a whispering conversation with a boy who was dealing out barley to\nus. I instantly inquired of the latter what the man had said to him, but\nonly obtained an evasive answer. It appeared afterwards that the\nconversation was about ourselves. Two or three leagues farther there was\nan inn and village where we had proposed staying, and indeed had\nexpressed our intention of doing so; but on arriving there, finding that\nthe sun was still far from its bourne, I determined to proceed farther,\nexpecting to meet with a resting-place at the distance of a league;\nthough I was mistaken, as we found none until we reached Montaneda, nine\nleagues and a half from Santander, where was stationed a small detachment\nof soldiers. At the dead of night, we were aroused from our sleep by a\ncry that the \u201cfactious\u201d were not far off. A messenger had arrived from\nthe _alcalde_ of the village where we had previously intended staying,\nwho stated that a party of Carlists had just surprised that place, and\nwere searching for an English spy, whom they supposed to be at the inn.\nThe officer commanding the soldiers, upon hearing this, not deeming his\nown situation a safe one, instantly drew off his men, falling back on a\nstronger party stationed in a fortified village near at hand. As for\nourselves, we saddled our horses and continued our way in the dark. Had\nthe Carlists succeeded in apprehending me, I should instantly have been\nshot, and my body cast on the rocks to feed the vultures and wolves. But\n\u201cit was not so written,\u201d said Antonio, who, like many of his countrymen,\nwas a fatalist. The next night we had another singular escape: we had\narrived near the entrance of a horrible pass called \u201c_El puerto de la\npuente de las tablas_,\u201d or the pass of the bridge of planks, which wound\nthrough a black and frightful mountain, on the farther side of which was\nthe town of O\u00f1as, where we meant to tarry for the night. The sun had set\nabout a quarter of an hour. Suddenly a man, with his face covered with\nblood, rushed out of the pass. \u201cTurn back, sir,\u201d he said, \u201cin the name\nof God; there are murderers in that pass; they have just robbed me of my\nmule, and all I possess, and I have hardly escaped with life from their\nhands!\u201d I scarcely know why, but I made him no answer, and proceeded;\nindeed I was so weary and unwell that I cared not what became of me. We\nentered; the rocks rose perpendicularly, right and left, entirely\nintercepting the scanty twilight, so that the darkness of the grave, or\nrather the blackness of the valley of the shadow of death, reigned around\nus, and we knew not where we went, but trusted to the instinct of the\nhorses, who moved on with their heads close to the ground. The only\nsound which we heard was the plash of a stream, which tumbled down the\npass. I expected every moment to feel a knife at my throat, but \u201c_it was\nnot so written_.\u201d We threaded the pass without meeting a human being,\nand within three-quarters of an hour after the time we entered it, we\nfound ourselves within the _posada_ of the town of O\u00f1as, which was filled\nwith troops and armed peasants expecting an attack from the grand Carlist\narmy, which was near at hand.\n\nWell, we reached Burgos in safety; {98} we reached Valladolid in safety;\nwe passed the Guadarrama in safety; and were at length safely housed in\nMadrid. People said we had been very lucky; Antonio said, \u201cIt was so\nwritten;\u201d but I say, Glory be to the Lord for His mercies vouchsafed to\nus.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVI.\n\n\nState of Affairs at Madrid\u2014The New Ministry\u2014Pope of Rome\u2014The Bookseller\nof Toledo\u2014Sword-blades\u2014Houses of Toledo\u2014The Forlorn Gypsy\u2014Proceedings at\nMadrid\u2014Another Servant.\n\nDuring my journey in the northern provinces of Spain, which occupied a\nconsiderable portion of the year 1837, I had accomplished but a slight\nportion of what I proposed to myself to effect in the outset.\nInsignificant are the results of man\u2019s labours compared with the swelling\nideas of his presumption; something, however, had been effected by the\njourney which I had just concluded. The New Testament of Christ was now\nenjoying a quiet sale in the principal towns of the north, and I had\nsecured the friendly interest and co-operation of the booksellers of\nthose parts, particularly of him the most considerable of them all, old\nRey of Compostella. I had, moreover, disposed of a considerable number\nof Testaments with my own hands, to private individuals, entirely of the\nlower classes, namely, muleteers, carmen, _contrabandistas_, etc., so\nthat upon the whole I had abundant cause for gratitude and thanksgiving.\n\nI did not find our affairs in a very prosperous state at Madrid, few\ncopies having been sold in the booksellers\u2019 shops; yet what could be\nrationally expected during these latter times? Don Carlos, with a large\narmy, had been at the gates; plunder and massacre had been expected; so\nthat people were too much occupied in forming plans to secure their lives\nand property to give much attention to reading of any description.\n\nThe enemy, however, had now retired to his strongholds in Alava and\nGuipuzcoa. I hoped that brighter days were dawning, and that the work,\nunder my own superintendence, would, with God\u2019s blessing, prosper in the\ncapital of Spain. How far the result corresponded with my expectations\nwill be seen in the sequel.\n\nDuring my absence in the north, a total change of ministers had occurred.\nThe liberal party had been ousted from the cabinet, and in their place\nhad entered individuals attached to the _moderado_ or court party:\nunfortunately, however, for my prospects, they consisted of persons with\nwhom I had no acquaintance whatever, and with whom my former friends,\nGaliano and Isturitz, had little or no influence. These gentlemen were\nnow regularly laid on the shelf, and their political career appeared to\nbe terminated for ever. {100}\n\nFrom the present ministry I could expect but little; they consisted of\nmen the greater part of whom had been either courtiers or employ\u00e9s of the\ndeceased King Ferdinand, who were friends to absolutism, and by no means\ninclined to do or to favour anything calculated to give offence to the\ncourt of Rome, which they were anxious to conciliate, hoping that\neventually it might be induced to recognize the young queen, not as the\nconstitutional but as the absolute Queen Isabella the Second.\n\nSuch was the party which continued in power throughout the remainder of\nmy sojourn in Spain, and which persecuted me less from rancour and malice\nthan from policy. It was not until the conclusion of the war of the\nsuccession that it lost the ascendency, when it sank to the ground with\nits patroness the queen-mother, before the dictatorship of Espartero.\n\nThe first step which I took after my return to Madrid, towards\ncirculating the Scriptures, was a very bold one. It was neither more nor\nless than the establishment of a shop for the sale of Testaments. This\nshop was situated in the Calle del Principe, a respectable and\nwell-frequented street in the neighbourhood of the Square of Cervantes.\nI furnished it handsomely with glass cases and chandeliers, and procured\nan acute Gallegan of the name of Pepe Calzado, to superintend the\nbusiness, who gave me weekly a faithful account of the copies sold.\n\n\u201cHow strangely times alter,\u201d said I, the second day subsequent to the\nopening of my establishment, as I stood on the opposite side of the\nstreet, leaning against the wall with folded arms, surveying my shop, on\nthe windows of which were painted in large yellow characters, _Despacho\nde la Sociedad B\u00edblica y Estrangera_; {101} \u201chow strangely times alter!\nHere have I been during the last eight months running about old Popish\nSpain, distributing Testaments, as agent of what the Papists call an\nheretical society, and have neither been stoned nor burnt; and here am I\nnow in the capital, doing that which one would think were enough to cause\nall the dead inquisitors and officials buried within the circuit of the\nwalls to rise from their graves and cry abomination; and yet no one\ninterferes with me. Pope of Rome! Pope of Rome! look to thyself. That\nshop may be closed; but oh! what a sign of the times, that it has been\npermitted to exist for one day. It appears to me, my Father, that the\ndays of your sway are numbered in Spain; that you will not be permitted\nmuch longer to plunder her, to scoff at her, and to scourge her with\nscorpions, as in bygone periods. See I not the hand on the wall? See I\nnot in yonder letters a \u2018_Mene_, _Mene_, _Tekel_, _Upharsin_\u2019? Look to\nthyself, _Batuschca_.\u201d\n\nAnd I remained for two hours, leaning against the wall, staring at the\nshop.\n\nA short time after the establishment of the _despacho_ at Madrid, I once\nmore mounted the saddle, and, attended by Antonio, rode over to Toledo,\nfor the purpose of circulating the Scriptures, sending beforehand by a\nmuleteer a cargo of one hundred Testaments. I instantly addressed myself\nto the principal bookseller of the place, whom, from the circumstance of\nhis living in a town so abounding with canons, priests, and ex-friars as\nToledo, I expected to find a Carlist, or a _servil_ at least. I was\nnever more mistaken in my life: on entering the shop, which was very\nlarge and commodious, I beheld a stout athletic man, dressed in a kind of\ncavalry uniform, with a helmet on his head, and an immense sabre in his\nhand. This was the bookseller himself, who, I soon found, was an officer\nin the national cavalry. Upon learning who I was, he shook me heartily\nby the hand, and said that nothing would give him greater pleasure than\ntaking charge of the books, which he would endeavour to circulate to the\nutmost of his ability.\n\n\u201cWill not your doing so bring you into odium with the clergy?\u201d\n\n\u201c_Ca_!\u201d {103a} said he; \u201cwho cares? I am rich, and so was my father\nbefore me. I do not depend on them; they cannot hate me more than they\ndo already, for I make no secret of my opinions. I have just returned\nfrom an expedition,\u201d said he; \u201cmy brother nationals and myself have, for\nthe last three days, been occupied in hunting down the factious and\nthieves of the neighbourhood; we have killed three and brought in several\nprisoners. Who cares for the cowardly priests? I am a liberal, _Don\nJorge_, and a friend of your countryman, Flinter. Many is the Carlist\nguerilla-curate and robber-friar whom I have assisted him to catch. I am\nrejoiced to hear that he has just been appointed captain-general of\nToledo; there will be fine doings here when he arrives, _Don Jorge_. We\nwill make the clergy shake between us, I assure you.\u201d\n\nToledo was formerly the capital of Spain. Its population at present is\nbarely fifteen thousand souls, though, in the time of the Romans, and\nalso during the Middle Ages, it is said to have amounted to between two\nand three hundred thousand. It is situated about twelve leagues, or\nforty miles, westward {103b} of Madrid, and is built upon a steep rocky\nhill, round which flows the Tagus, on all sides but the north. It still\npossesses a great many remarkable edifices, notwithstanding that it has\nlong since fallen into decay. Its cathedral is the most magnificent of\nSpain, and is the see of the primate. In the tower of this cathedral is\nthe famous bell of Toledo, the largest in the world with the exception of\nthe monster bell of Moscow, which I have also seen. It weighs 1543\n_arrobas_, or 37,032 pounds. It has, however, a disagreeable sound,\nowing to a cleft in its side. Toledo could once boast the finest\npictures in Spain, but many were stolen or destroyed by the French during\nthe Peninsular war, and still more have lately been removed by order of\nthe government. Perhaps the most remarkable one still remains; I allude\nto that which represents the burial of the Count of Orgas, the\nmasterpiece of Domenico, {104} the Greek, a most extraordinary genius,\nsome of whose productions possess merit of a very high order. The\npicture in question is in the little parish church of San Tom\u00e9, at the\nbottom of the aisle, on the left side of the altar. Could it be\npurchased, I should say it would be cheap at five thousand pounds.\n\nAmongst the many remarkable things which meet the eye of the curious\nobserver at Toledo, is the manufactory of arms, where are wrought the\nswords, spears, and other weapons intended for the army, with the\nexception of firearms, which mostly come from abroad.\n\nIn old times, as is well known, the sword-blades of Toledo were held in\ngreat estimation, and were transmitted as merchandise throughout\nChristendom. The present manufactory, or _fabrica_, as it is called, is\na handsome modern edifice, situated without the wall of the city, on a\nplain contiguous to the river, with which it communicates by a small\ncanal. It is said that the water and the sand of the Tagus are essential\nfor the proper tempering of the swords. I asked some of the principal\nworkmen whether, at the present day, they could manufacture weapons of\nequal value to those of former days, and whether the secret had been\nlost.\n\n\u201c_Ca_!\u201d said they, \u201cthe swords of Toledo were never so good as those\nwhich we are daily making. It is ridiculous enough to see strangers\ncoming here to purchase old swords, the greater part of which are mere\nrubbish, and never made at Toledo, yet for such they will give a large\nprice, whilst they would grudge two dollars for this jewel, which was\nmade but yesterday;\u201d thereupon putting into my hand a middle-sized\nrapier. \u201cYour worship,\u201d said they, \u201cseems to have a strong arm; prove\nits temper against the stone wall\u2014thrust boldly and fear not.\u201d\n\nI _have_ a strong arm, and dashed the point with my utmost force against\nthe solid granite: my arm was numbed to the shoulder from the violence of\nthe concussion, and continued so for nearly a week, but the sword\nappeared not to be at all blunted, or to have suffered in any respect.\n\n\u201cA better sword than that,\u201d said an ancient workman, a native of Old\nCastile, \u201cnever transfixed Moor out yonder on the _sagra_.\u201d\n\nDuring my stay at Toledo, I lodged at the Posada de los Caballeros, which\nsignifies the inn of the gentlemen, which name, in some respects, it\ncertainly well deserved, for there are many palaces far less magnificent\nthan this inn of Toledo. By magnificence it must not be supposed,\nhowever, that I allude to costliness of furniture or any kind of luxury\nwhich pervaded the culinary department. The rooms were as empty as those\nof Spanish inns generally are, and the fare, though good in its kind, was\nplain and homely; but I have seldom seen a more imposing edifice. It was\nof immense size, consisting of several stories, and was built something\nin the Moorish taste, with a quadrangular court in the centre, beneath\nwhich was an immense _algibe_ or tank, serving as a reservoir for\nrain-water. All the houses in Toledo are supplied with tanks of this\ndescription, into which the waters in the rainy season flow from the\nroofs through pipes. No other water is used for drinking; that of the\nTagus, not being considered salubrious, is only used for purposes of\ncleanliness, being conveyed up the steep narrow streets on donkeys, in\nlarge stone jars. The city, standing on a rocky mountain, has no wells.\nAs for the rain-water, it deposits a sediment in the tank, and becomes\nvery sweet and potable: these tanks are cleaned out twice every year.\nDuring the summer, at which time the heat in this part of Spain is\nintense, the families spend the greater part of the day in the courts,\nwhich are overhung with a linen awning, the heat of the atmosphere being\ntempered by the coolness arising from the tank below, which answers the\nsame purpose as the fountain in the southern provinces of Spain.\n\nI spent about a week at Toledo, during which time several copies of the\nTestament were disposed of in the shop of my friend the bookseller.\nSeveral priests took it up from the _mostrador_ on which it lay, examined\nit, but made no remarks; none of them purchased it. My friend showed me\nthrough his house, almost every apartment of which was lined from roof to\nfloor with books, many of which were highly valuable. He told me that he\npossessed the best collection in Spain of the ancient literature of the\ncountry. He was, however, less proud of his library than his stud;\nfinding that I had some acquaintance with horses, his liking for me and\nalso his respect considerably increased. \u201cAll I have,\u201d said he, \u201cis at\nyour service; I see you are a man after my own heart. When you are\ndisposed to ride out upon the _sagra_, you have only to apply to my\ngroom, who will forthwith saddle you my famed Cordovese _entero_; I\npurchased him from the stables at Aranjuez, when the royal stud was\nbroken up. There is but one other man to whom I would lend him, and that\nman is Flinter.\u201d\n\nAt Toledo I met with a forlorn gypsy woman and her son, a lad of about\nfourteen years of age; she was not a native of the place, but had come\nfrom La Mancha, her husband having been cast into the prison of Toledo on\na charge of mule-stealing: the crime had been proved against him, and in\na few days he was to depart for Malaga, with the chain of galley-slaves.\nHe was quite destitute of money, and his wife was now in Toledo, earning\na few _cuartos_ by telling fortunes about the streets, to support him in\nprison. She told me that it was her intention to follow him to Malaga,\nwhere she hoped to be able to effect his escape. What an instance of\nconjugal affection! and yet the affection here was all on one side, as is\ntoo frequently the case. Her husband was a worthless scoundrel, who had\npreviously abandoned her and betaken himself to Madrid, where he had long\nlived in concubinage with the notorious she-thug Aurora, {107} at whose\ninstigation he had committed the robbery for which he was now held in\ndurance. \u201cShould your husband escape from Malaga, in what direction will\nhe fly?\u201d I demanded.\n\n\u201cTo the _chim_ of the _Corahai_, my son; to the land of the Moors, to be\na soldier of the Moorish king.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what will become of yourself?\u201d I inquired; \u201cthink you that he will\ntake you with him?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe will leave me on the shore, my son; and as soon as he has crossed the\nblack _pawnee_, he will forget me and never think of me more.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd knowing his ingratitude, why should you give yourself so much\ntrouble about him?\u201d\n\n\u201cAm I not his _rom\u00ed_, my son; and am I not bound by the law of the\n_Cal\u00e9s_ to assist him to the last? Should he return from the land of the\n_Corahai_ at the end of a hundred years, and should find me alive, and\nshould say, \u2018I am hungry, little wife; go forth and steal or tell\n_baji_,\u2019 I must do it, for he is the _rom_ and I the _rom\u00ed_.\u201d\n\nOn my return to Madrid, I found the _despacho_ still open. Various\nTestaments had been sold, though the number was by no means considerable:\nthe work had to labour under great disadvantage, from the ignorance of\nthe people at large with respect to its tenor and contents. It was no\nwonder, then, that little interest was felt respecting it. To call,\nhowever, public attention to the _despacho_, I printed three thousand\nadvertisements on paper, yellow, blue, and crimson, with which I almost\ncovered the sides of the streets, and, besides this, inserted an account\nof it in all the journals and periodicals: the consequence was, that in a\nshort time almost every person in Madrid was aware of its existence.\nSuch exertions in London or Paris would probably have ensured the sale of\nthe entire edition of the New Testament within a few days. In Madrid,\nhowever, the result was not quite so flattering; for after the\nestablishment had been open an entire month, the copies disposed of\nbarely amounted to one hundred.\n\nThese proceedings of mine did not fail to cause a great sensation: the\npriests and their partisans were teeming with malice and fury, which, for\nsome time, however, they thought proper to exhibit only in words; it\nbeing their opinion that I was favoured by the ambassador and by the\nBritish government; but there was no attempt, however atrocious, that\nmight not be expected from their malignity; and were it right and seemly\nfor me, the most insignificant of worms, to make such a comparison, I\nmight say, like Paul at Ephesus, I was fighting with wild beasts.\n\nOn the last day of the year 1837, my servant Antonio thus addressed me:\n\u201c_Mon ma\u00eetre_, it is necessary that I leave you for a time. Ever since\nwe have returned from our journeys, I have become unsettled and\ndissatisfied with the house, the furniture, and with Do\u00f1a Marequita. I\nhave therefore engaged myself as cook in the house of the Count of ---,\nwhere I am to receive four dollars per month less than what your worship\ngives me. I am fond of change, though it be for the worse. _Adieu_,\n_mon ma\u00eetre_; may you be as well served as you deserve. Should you\nchance, however, to have any pressing need _de mes soins_, send for me\nwithout hesitation, and I will at once give my new master warning, if I\nam still with him, and come to you.\u201d\n\nThus I was deprived for a time of the services of Antonio. I continued\nfor a few days without a domestic, at the end of which time I hired a\ncertain Cantabrian or Basque, a native of the village of Hernani, in\nGuipuzcoa, who was strongly recommended to me.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVII.\n\n\nEuscarra\u2014Basque not Irish\u2014Sanscrit and Tartar Dialects\u2014A Vowel\nLanguage\u2014Popular Poetry\u2014The Basques\u2014Their Persons\u2014Basque Women.\n\nI now entered upon the year 1838, perhaps the most eventful of all those\nwhich I passed in Spain. The _despacho_ still continued open, with a\nsomewhat increasing sale. Having at this time little of particular\nmoment with which to occupy myself, I committed to the press two works,\nwhich for some time past had been in the course of preparation. These\nwere the Gospel of St. Luke in the Spanish gypsy and the Euscarra\nlanguages. {111a}\n\nWith respect to the gypsy Gospel, I have little to say, having already\nspoken of it in a former work; {111b} it was translated by myself,\ntogether with the greater part of the New Testament, during my long\nintercourse with the Spanish gypsies. Concerning the Luke in Euscarra,\nhowever, it will be as well to be more particular, and to avail myself of\nthe present opportunity to say a few words concerning the language in\nwhich it was written, and the people for whom it was intended.\n\nThe Euscarra, then, is the proper term for a certain speech or language,\nsupposed to have been at one time prevalent throughout Spain, but which\nis at present confined to certain districts, both on the French and\nSpanish side of the Pyrenees, which are laved by the waters of the\nCantabrian Gulf, or Bay of Biscay. This language is commonly known as\nthe Basque, or Biscayan, which words are mere modifications of the word\nEuscarra, the consonant B having been prefixed for the sake of euphony.\nMuch that is vague, erroneous, and hypothetical has been said and written\nconcerning this tongue. The Basques assert that it was not only the\noriginal language of Spain, but also of the world, and that from it all\nother languages are derived; but the Basques are a very ignorant people,\nand know nothing of the philosophy of language. Very little importance,\ntherefore, need be attached to any opinion of theirs on such a subject.\nA few amongst them, however, who affect some degree of learning, contend\nthat it is neither more nor less than a dialect of the Ph\u0153nician, and\nthat the Basques are the descendants of a Ph\u0153nician colony, established\nat the foot of the Pyrenees at a very remote period. Of this theory, or\nrather conjecture, as it is unsubstantiated by the slightest proof, it is\nneedless to take further notice than to observe that, provided the\nPh\u0153nician language, as many of the _truly learned_ have supposed, and\nalmost proved, was a dialect of the Hebrew, or closely allied to it, it\nwere as unreasonable to suppose that the Basque is derived from it as\nthat the Kamschatkan and Cherokee are dialects of the Greek and Latin.\n\nThere is, however, another opinion with respect to the Basque which\ndeserves more especial notice, from the circumstance of its being\nextensively entertained amongst the _literati_ of various countries of\nEurope, more especially England. I allude to the Celtic origin of this\ntongue, and its close connexion with the most cultivated of all the\nCeltic dialects\u2014the Irish. People who pretend to be well conversant with\nthe subject, have even gone so far as to assert, that so little\ndifference exists between the Basque and Irish tongues, that individuals\nof the two nations, when they meet together, find no difficulty in\nunderstanding each other, with no other means of communication than their\nrespective languages; in a word, that there is scarcely a greater\ndifference between the two than between the French and the Spanish\nBasque. Such similarity, however, though so strongly insisted upon, by\nno means exists in fact; and perhaps in the whole of Europe it would be\ndifficult to discover two languages which exhibit fewer points of mutual\nresemblance than the Basque and Irish.\n\nThe Irish, like most other European languages, is a dialect of the\nSanscrit, a _remote_ one, as may well be supposed; the corner of the\nwestern world in which it is still preserved being, of all countries in\nEurope, the most distant from the proper home of the parent tongue. It\nis still, however, a dialect of that venerable and most original speech,\nnot so closely resembling it, it is true, as the English, Danish, and\nthose which belong to what is called the Gothic family, and far less than\nthose of the Sclavonian; for the nearer we approach to the East, in equal\ndegree the assimilation of languages to this parent stock becomes more\nclear and distinct; but still a dialect, agreeing with the Sanscrit in\nstructure, in the arrangement of words, and in many instances in the\nwords themselves, which, however modified, may still be recognized as\nSanscrit. But what is the Basque, and to what family does it properly\npertain?\n\nTo two great Asiatic languages all the dialects spoken at present in\nEurope may be traced. These two, if not now spoken, still exist in\nbooks, and are, moreover, the languages of two of the principal religions\nof the East. I allude to the Tibetian and Sanscrit\u2014the sacred languages\nof the followers of Buddh and Bramah. These tongues, though they possess\nmany words in common, which is easily to be accounted for by their close\nproximity, are properly distinct, being widely different in structure.\nIn what this difference consists, I have neither time nor inclination to\nstate; suffice it to say, that the Celtic, Gothic, and Sclavonian\ndialects in Europe belong to the Sanscrit family, even as in the East the\nPersian, and to a less degree the Arabic, Hebrew, etc.; {114} whilst to\nthe Tibetian or Tartar family in Asia pertain the Mandchou and Mongolian,\nthe Calmuc and the Turkish of the Caspian sea; and in Europe, the\nHungarian and the Basque _partially_.\n\nIndeed, this latter language is a strange anomaly, so that upon the whole\nit is less difficult to say what it is not, than what it is. It abounds\nwith Sanscrit words to such a degree that its surface seems strewn with\nthem. Yet would it be wrong to term it a Sanscrit dialect, for in the\ncollocation of these words the Tartar form is most decidedly observable.\nA considerable proportion of Tartar words is likewise to be found in this\nlanguage, though perhaps not in equal numbers to the terms derived from\nthe Sanscrit. Of these Tartar etymons I shall at present content myself\nwith citing one, though, if necessary, it were easy to adduce hundreds.\nThis word is _Jauna_, or, as it is pronounced, _Khauna_\u2014a word in\nconstant use amongst the Basques, and which is the _Khan_ of the Mongols\nand Mandchous, and of the same signification\u2014_Lord_.\n\nHaving closely examined the subject in all its various bearings, and\nhaving weighed what is to be said on one side against what is to be\nadvanced on the other, I am inclined to rank the Basque rather amongst\nthe Tartar than the Sanscrit dialects. Whoever should have an\nopportunity of comparing the enunciation of the Basques and Tartars\nwould, from that alone, even if he understood them not, come to the\nconclusion that their respective languages were formed on the same\nprinciples. In both occur periods seemingly interminable, during which\nthe voice gradually ascends to a climax, and then gradually sinks down.\n\nI have spoken of the surprising number of Sanscrit words contained in the\nBasque language, specimens of some of which will be found below. It is\nremarkable enough, that in the greater part of the derivatives from the\nSanscrit, the Basque has dropped the initial consonant, so that the word\ncommences with a vowel. The Basque, indeed, may be said to be almost a\nvowel language, the number of consonants employed being comparatively\nfew; perhaps eight words out of ten commence and terminate with a vowel,\nowing to which it is a language to the highest degree soft and melodious,\nfar excelling in this respect any other language in Europe, not even\nexcepting the Italian. Here follow a few specimens of Basque words with\nthe Sanscrit roots in juxtaposition:\u2014\n\n\n\n BASQUE. SANSCRIT.\nArdoa {116a} Sandh\u00e1na _Wine_.\nArratsa Ratri _Night_.\nBeguia Akshi _Eye_.\nChoria Chiria {116a} _Bird_.\nChacurra Cucura _Dog_.\nErregui\u00f1a Rani _Queen_.\n{116a}\nIcusi Iksha _To see_.\nIru Treya _Three_.\nJan (Khan) Khana _To eat_.\nUria {116a} Puri _City_.\nUrruti Dura _Far_.\n\nSuch is the tongue in which I brought out Saint Luke\u2019s Gospel at Madrid.\nThe translation I procured originally from a Basque physician of the name\nof Oteiza. {116b} Previous to being sent to the press, the version had\nlain nearly two years in my possession, during which time, and\nparticularly during my travels, I lost no opportunity of submitting it to\nthe inspection of those who were considered competent scholars in the\nEuscarra. It did not entirely please me; but it was in vain to seek for\na better translation.\n\nIn my early youth I had obtained a slight acquaintance with the Euscarra,\nas it exists in books. This acquaintance I considerably increased during\nmy stay in Spain, and, by occasionally mingling with Basques, was enabled\nto understand the spoken language to a certain extent, and even to speak\nit, but always with considerable hesitation; for to speak Basque, even\ntolerably, it is necessary to have lived in the country from a very early\nperiod. So great are the difficulties attending it, and so strange are\nits peculiarities, that it is very rare to find a foreigner possessed of\nany considerable skill in the oral language, and the Spaniards consider\nthe obstacles so formidable that they have a proverb to the effect that\nSatan once lived seven years in Biscay, and then departed, finding\nhimself unable either to understand or to make himself understood.\n\nThere are few inducements to the study of this language. In the first\nplace, the acquisition of it is by no means necessary even to those who\nreside in the countries where it is spoken, the Spanish being generally\nunderstood throughout the Basque provinces pertaining to Spain, and the\nFrench in those pertaining to France.\n\nIn the second place, neither dialect is in possession of any peculiar\nliterature capable of repaying the toil of the student. There are\nvarious books extant both in French and Spanish Basque, {117} but these\nconsist entirely of Popish devotion, and are for the most part\ntranslations.\n\nIt will, perhaps, here be asked whether the Basques do not possess\npopular poetry, like most other nations, however small and\ninconsiderable. They have certainly no lack of songs, ballads, and\nstanzas, but of a character by no means entitled to the appellation of\npoetry. I have noted down from recitation, a considerable portion of\nwhat they call their poetry, but the only tolerable specimen of verse\nwhich I ever discovered amongst them was the following stanza, which,\nafter all, is not entitled to very high praise:\u2014\n\n \u201cIchasoa urac aundi,\n Estu ondoric agueri\u2014\n Pasaco ninsaqueni andic\n Maitea icustea gatic.\u201d {118a}\n\n_i.e._ \u201cThe waters of the sea are vast, and their bottom cannot be seen;\nbut over them I will pass, that I may behold my love.\u201d\n\nThe Basques are a singing rather than a poetical people. Notwithstanding\nthe facility with which their tongue lends itself to the composition of\nverse, they have never produced among them a poet with the slightest\npretensions to reputation; but their voices are singularly sweet, and\nthey are known to excel in musical composition. It is the opinion of a\ncertain author, the Abb\u00e9 D\u2019Iharce, {118b} who has written about them,\nthat they derived the name _Cantabri_, by which they are known to the\nRomans, from _Khantor-ber_, signifying sweet singers. They possess much\nmusic of their own, some of which is said to be exceedingly ancient. Of\nthis music specimens were published at Donostian (San Sebastian) in the\nyear 1826, edited by a certain Juan Ignacio Iztueta. {118c} These\nconsist of wild and thrilling marches, to the sound of which it is\nbelieved that the ancient Basques were in the habit of descending from\ntheir mountains to combat with the Romans, and subsequently with the\nMoors. Whilst listening to them it is easy to suppose one\u2019s self in the\nclose vicinity of some desperate encounter. We seem to hear the charge\nof cavalry on the sounding plain, the clash of swords, and the rushing of\nmen down the gorges of hills. This music is accompanied with words, but\nsuch words! Nothing can be imagined more stupid, commonplace, and\nuninteresting. So far from being martial, they relate to everyday\nincidents, and appear to have no connexion whatever with the music. They\nare evidently of modern date.\n\nIn person the Basques are of the middle size, and are active and\nathletic. They are in general of fair complexions and handsome features,\nand in appearance bear no slight resemblance to certain Tartar tribes of\nthe Caucasus. Their bravery is unquestionable, and they are considered\nas the best soldiery belonging to the Spanish crown: a fact highly\ncorroborative of the supposition that they are of Tartar origin, the\nTartars being of all races the most warlike, and amongst whom the most\nremarkable conquerors have been produced. They are faithful and honest,\nand capable of much disinterested attachment; kind and hospitable to\nstrangers; all of which points are far from being at variance with the\nTartar character. But they are somewhat dull, and their capacities are\nby no means of a high order, and in these respects they again resemble\nthe Tartars.\n\nNo people on earth are prouder than the Basques, but theirs is a kind of\nrepublican pride. They have no nobility amongst them, and no one will\nacknowledge a superior. The poorest carman is as proud as the governor\nof Tolosa. \u201cHe is more powerful than I,\u201d he will say, \u201cbut I am of as\ngood blood; perhaps hereafter I may become a governor myself.\u201d They\nabhor servitude, at least out of their own country; and though\ncircumstances frequently oblige them to seek masters, it is very rare to\nfind them filling the places of common domestics; they are stewards,\nsecretaries, accountants, etc. True it is, that it was my own fortune to\nobtain a Basque domestic; but then he always treated me more as an equal\nthan a master, would sit down in my presence, give me his advice unasked,\nand enter into conversation with me at all times and occasions. Did I\ncheck him? Certainly not! For in that case he would have left me, and a\nmore faithful creature I never knew. His fate was a mournful one, as\nwill appear in the sequel.\n\nI have said that the Basques abhor servitude, and are rarely to be found\nserving as domestics amongst the Spaniards. I allude, however, merely to\nthe males. The females, on the contrary, have no objection whatever to\nenter houses as servants. Women, indeed, amongst the Basques are not\nlooked upon with all the esteem which they deserve, and are considered as\nfitted for little else than to perform menial offices, even as in the\nEast, where they are viewed in the light of servants and slaves. The\nBasque females differ widely in character from the men; they are quick\nand vivacious, and have in general much more talent. They are famous for\ntheir skill as cooks, and in most respectable houses of Madrid a Biscayan\nfemale may be found in the kitchen, queen supreme of the culinary\ndepartment. {120}\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXVIII.\n\n\nThe Prohibition\u2014Gospel Persecuted\u2014Charge of Sorcery\u2014Ofalia.\n\nAbout the middle of January {121a} a swoop was made upon me by my\nenemies, in the shape of a peremptory prohibition from the political\ngovernor of Madrid to sell any more New Testaments. This measure by no\nmeans took me by surprise, as I had for some time previously been\nexpecting something of the kind, on account of the political sentiments\nof the ministers then in power. I forthwith paid a visit to Sir George\nVilliers, informing him of what had occurred. He promised to do all he\ncould to cause the prohibition to be withdrawn. Unfortunately, at this\ntime he had not much influence, having opposed with all his might the\nentrance of the _moderado_ {121b} ministry to power, and the nomination\nof Ofalia {121c} to the presidency of the cabinet. I however, never lost\nconfidence in the Almighty, in whose cause I was engaged.\n\nMatters were going on very well before this check. The demand for\nTestaments was becoming considerable, so much so that the clergy were\nalarmed, and this step was the consequence. But they had previously\nrecourse to another, well worthy of them; they attempted to act upon my\nfears. One of the ruffians of Madrid, called _Manolos_, came up to me\none night, in a dark street, and told me that unless I discontinued\nselling my \u201cJewish books,\u201d I should have a knife \u201c_nailed in my heart_;\u201d\nbut I told him to go home, say his prayers, and tell his employers that I\npitied them; whereupon he turned away with an oath. A few days after, I\nreceived an order to send two copies of the Testament to the office of\nthe political governor, with which I complied, and in less than\ntwenty-four hours an _alguazil_ arrived at the shop with a notice\nprohibiting the further sale of the work.\n\nOne circumstance rejoiced me. Singular as it may appear, the authorities\ntook no measures to cause my little _despacho_ to be closed, and I\nreceived no prohibition respecting the sale of any work but the New\nTestament, and as the Gospel of Saint Luke, in Romany and Basque, would\nwithin a short time be ready for delivery, I hoped to carry on matters in\na small way till better times should arrive.\n\nI was advised to erase from the shop windows the words \u201c_Despacho_ of the\nBritish and Foreign Bible Society.\u201d This, however, I refused to do.\nThose words had tended very much to call attention, which was my grand\nobject. Had I attempted to conduct things in an underhand manner, I\nshould, at the time of which I am speaking, scarcely have sold thirty\ncopies in Madrid, instead of nearly three hundred. People who know me\nnot, may be disposed to call me rash; but I am far from being so, as I\nnever adopt a venturous course when any other is open to me. I am not,\nhowever, a person to be terrified by any danger, when I see that braving\nit is the only way to achieve an object.\n\nThe booksellers were unwilling to sell my work; I was compelled to\nestablish a shop of my own. Every shop in Madrid has a name. What name\ncould I give it but the true one? I was not ashamed of my cause or my\ncolours. I hoisted them, and fought beneath them, not without success.\n\nThe priestly party in Madrid, in the mean time, spared no effort to\nvilify me. They started a publication called _The Friend of the\nChristian Religion_, in which a stupid but furious attack upon me\nappeared, which I, however, treated with the contempt it deserved. But\nnot satisfied with this, they endeavoured to incite the populace against\nme, by telling them that I was a sorcerer, and a companion of gypsies and\nwitches, and their agents even called me so in the streets. That I was\nan associate of gypsies and fortune-tellers I do not deny. Why should I\nbe ashamed of their company when my Master mingled with publicans and\nthieves? Many of the gypsy race came frequently to visit me; received\ninstruction, and heard parts of the Gospel read to them in their own\nlanguage, and when they were hungry and faint, I gave them to eat and\ndrink. This might be deemed sorcery in Spain, but I am not without hope\nthat it will be otherwise estimated in England; and had I perished at\nthis period, I think there are some who would have been disposed to\nacknowledge that I had not lived altogether in vain (always as an\ninstrument of the \u201cMost Highest\u201d), having been permitted to turn one of\nthe most valuable books of God into the speech of the most degraded of\nHis creatures.\n\nIn the mean time I endeavoured to enter into negotiations with the\nministry for the purpose of obtaining permission to sell the New\nTestament in Madrid, and the nullification of the prohibition. I\nexperienced, however, great opposition, which I was unable to surmount.\nSeveral of the ultra-popish bishops, then resident in Madrid, had\ndenounced the Bible, the Bible Society, and myself. Nevertheless,\nnotwithstanding their powerful and united efforts, they were unable to\neffect their principal object, namely, my expulsion from Madrid and\nSpain. The Count Ofalia, notwithstanding he had permitted himself to be\nmade the instrument, to a certain extent, of these people, would not\nconsent to be pushed to such a length. Throughout this affair I cannot\nfind words sufficiently strong to do justice to the zeal and interest\nwhich Sir George Villiers displayed in the cause of the Testament. He\nhad various interviews with Ofalia on the subject, and in these he\nexpressed to him his sense of the injustice and tyranny which had been\npractised in this instance towards his countryman.\n\nOfalia had been moved by these remonstrances, and more than once promised\nto do all in his power to oblige Sir George; but then the bishops again\nbeset him, and playing upon his political if not religious fears,\nprevented him from acting a just, honest, and honourable part. At the\ndesire of Sir George Villiers, I drew up a brief account of the Bible\nSociety, and an exposition of its views, especially in respect to Spain,\nwhich he presented with his own hand to the Count. I shall not trouble\nthe reader by inserting this memorial, but content myself with observing,\nthat I made no attempts to flatter and cajole, but expressed myself\nhonestly and frankly, as a Christian ought. Ofalia, on reading it, said,\n\u201cWhat a pity that this is a Protestant society, and that all its members\nare not Catholics!\u201d\n\nA few days subsequently, to my great astonishment, he sent a message to\nme by a friend, requesting that I would send him a copy of my gypsy\nGospel. I may as well here state, that the fame of this work, though not\nyet published, had already spread like wildfire through Madrid, and every\nperson was passionately eager to possess a copy: indeed, several grandees\nof Spain sent messages with similar requests, all of which I however\ndenied. I instantly resolved to take advantage of this overture on the\npart of Count Ofalia, and to call on him myself. I therefore caused a\ncopy of the Gospel to be handsomely bound, and proceeding to the palace,\nwas instantly admitted to him. He was a dusky, diminutive person,\nbetween fifty and sixty years of age, with false hair and teeth, but\nexceedingly gentlemanly manners. He received me with great affability,\nand thanked me for my present; but on my proceeding to speak of the New\nTestament, he told me that the subject was surrounded with difficulties,\nand that the great body of the clergy had taken up the matter against me;\nhe conjured me, however, to be patient and peaceable, in which case he\nsaid he would endeavour to devise some plan to satisfy me. Amongst other\nthings, he observed that the bishops hated a sectarian more than an\natheist. Whereupon I replied, that, like the Pharisees of old, they\ncared more for the gold of the temple than the temple itself. Throughout\nthe whole of our interview he evidently laboured under great fear, and\nwas continually looking behind and around him, seemingly in dread of\nbeing overheard, which brought to my mind an expression of a friend of\nmine, that if there be any truth in metempsychosis, the soul of Count\nOfalia must have originally belonged to a mouse. We parted in kindness,\nand I went away, wondering by what strange chance this poor man had\nbecome prime minister of a country like Spain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XXXIX.\n\n\nThe Two Gospels\u2014The Alguazil\u2014The Warrant\u2014The Good Maria\u2014The Arrest\u2014Sent\nto Prison\u2014Reflections\u2014The Reception\u2014The Prison Room\u2014Redress demanded.\n\nAt length the Gospel of Saint Luke in the gypsy language was in a state\nof readiness. I therefore deposited a certain number of copies in the\n_despacho_, and announced them for sale. The Basque, which was by this\ntime also printed, was likewise advertised. For this last work there was\nlittle demand. Not so, however, for the gypsy Luke, of which I could\neasily have disposed of the whole edition in less than a fortnight.\nLong, however, before this period had expired the clergy were up in arms.\n\u201cSorcery!\u201d said one bishop. \u201cThere is more in this than we can dive\ninto,\u201d exclaimed a second. \u201cHe will convert all Spain by means of the\ngypsy language,\u201d cried a third. And then came the usual chorus on such\noccasions, of _Que infamia_! _Que picardia_! At last, having consulted\ntogether, away they hurried to their tool the _corregidor_ or, according\nto the modern term, the _gefe politico_ {127} of Madrid. I have\nforgotten the name of this worthy, of whom I had myself no personal\nknowledge whatever. Judging from his actions, however, and from common\nreport, I should say that he was a stupid, wrong-headed creature, savage\nwithal\u2014a _m\u00e9lange_ of _borrico_, mule, and wolf. Having an inveterate\nantipathy to all foreigners, he lent a willing ear to the complaint of my\naccusers, and forthwith gave orders to make a seizure of all the copies\nof the gypsy Gospel which could be found in the _despacho_. The\nconsequence was, that a numerous body of _alguazils_ directed their steps\nto the Calle del Principe; some thirty copies of the book in question\nwere pounced upon, and about the same number of Saint Luke in Basque.\nWith this spoil these satellites returned in triumph to the _gefatura\npolitica_, where they divided the copies of the gypsy volume amongst\nthemselves, selling subsequently the greater number at a large price, the\nbook being in the greatest demand, and thus becoming unintentionally\nagents of an heretical society. But every one must live by his trade,\nsay these people, and they lose no opportunity of making their words\ngood, by disposing to the best advantage of any booty which falls into\ntheir hands. As no person cared about the Basque Gospel, it was safely\nstowed away, with other unmarketable captures, in the warehouses of the\noffice.\n\nThe gypsy Gospels had now been seized, at least as many as were exposed\nfor sale in the _despacho_. The _corregidor_ and his friends, however,\nwere of opinion that many more might be obtained by means of a little\nmanagement. Fellows, therefore, hangers on of the police-office, were\ndaily despatched to the shop in all kinds of disguises, inquiring, with\ngreat seeming anxiety, for \u201cgypsy books,\u201d and offering high prices for\ncopies. They, however, returned to their employers empty-handed. My\nGallegan was on his guard, informing all who made inquiries, that books\nof no description would be sold at the establishment for the present.\nWhich was in truth the case, as I had given him particular orders to sell\nno more under any pretence whatever.\n\nI got no credit, however, for my frank dealing. The _corregidor_ and his\nconfederates could not persuade themselves but that, by some means\nmysterious and unknown to them, I was daily selling hundreds of these\ngypsy books, which were to revolutionize the country, and annihilate the\npower of the Father of Rome. A plan was therefore resolved upon, by\nmeans of which they hoped to have an opportunity of placing me in a\nposition which would incapacitate me for some time from taking any active\nmeasures to circulate the Scriptures, either in gypsy or in any other\nlanguage.\n\nIt was on the morning of the first of May, {129a} [1838,] if I forget\nnot, that an unknown individual made his appearance in my apartment as I\nwas seated at breakfast; he was a mean-looking fellow, about the middle\nstature, with a countenance on which knave was written in legible\ncharacters. The hostess ushered him in, and then withdrew. I did not\nlike the appearance of my visitor, but assuming some degree of courtesy,\nI requested him to sit down, and demanded his business. \u201cI come from his\nexcellency the political {129b} chief of Madrid,\u201d he replied, \u201cand my\nbusiness is to inform you that his excellency is perfectly aware of your\nproceedings, and is at any time able to prove that you are still\ndisposing of in secret those evil books which you have been forbidden to\nsell.\u201d \u201cIs he so?\u201d I replied; \u201cpray let him do so forthwith; but what\nneed of giving me information?\u201d \u201cPerhaps,\u201d continued the fellow, \u201cyou\nthink his worship has no witnesses; know, however, that he has many, and\nrespectable ones too.\u201d \u201cDoubtless,\u201d I replied, \u201cand from the\nrespectability of your own appearance, you are perhaps one of them. But\nyou are occupying my time unprofitably; begone, therefore, and tell\nwhoever sent you, that I have by no means a high opinion of his wisdom.\u201d\n\u201cI shall go when I please,\u201d retorted the fellow; \u201cdo you know to whom you\nare speaking? Are you aware that if I think fit I can search your\napartment, yes, even below your bed? What have we here,\u201d he continued,\nand commenced with his stick poking a heap of papers which lay upon a\nchair; \u201cwhat have we here? Are these also papers of the gypsies?\u201d I\ninstantly determined upon submitting no longer to this behaviour, and\ntaking the fellow by the arm, led him out of the apartment; and then,\nstill holding him, conducted him downstairs from the third floor in which\nI lived, into the street, looking him steadfastly in the face the whole\nwhile.\n\nThe fellow had left his _sombrero_ on the table, which I despatched to\nhim by the landlady, who delivered it into his hand as he stood in the\nstreet staring with distended eyes at the balcony of my apartment.\n\n\u201cA _trampa_ has been laid for you, _Don Jorge_,\u201d said Maria Diaz, when\nshe had re-ascended from the street; \u201cthat _corchete_ came here with no\nother intention than to have a dispute with you. Out of every word you\nhave said he will make a long history, as is the custom with these\npeople; indeed, he said, as I handed him his hat, that ere twenty-four\nhours were over, you should see the inside of the prison of Madrid.\u201d\n\nIn effect, during the course of the morning, I was told that a warrant\nhad been issued for my apprehension. The prospect of incarceration,\nhowever, did not fill me with much dismay; an adventurous life and\ninveterate habits of wandering having long familiarized me to situations\nof every kind, so much so as to feel myself quite as comfortable in a\nprison as in the gilded chambers of palaces; indeed, more so, as in the\nformer place I can always add to my store of useful information, whereas\nin the latter, ennui frequently assails me. I had, moreover, been\nthinking for some time past of paying a visit to the prison, partly in\nthe hope of being able to say a few words of Christian instruction to the\ncriminals, and partly with the view of making certain investigations in\nthe robber language of Spain, a subject about which I had long felt much\ncuriosity; indeed, I had already made application for admittance into the\nCarcel de la Corte, {131} but had found the matter surrounded with\ndifficulties, as my friend Ofalia would have said. I rather rejoiced,\nthen, in the opportunity which was now about to present itself of\nentering the prison, not in the character of a visitor for an hour, but\nas a martyr, and as one suffering in the holy cause of religion. I was\ndetermined, however, to disappoint my enemies for that day at least, and\nto render null the threat of the _alguazil_, that I should be imprisoned\nwithin twenty-four hours. I therefore took up my abode for the rest of\nthe day in a celebrated French tavern in the Calle del Caballero de\nGracia, which, as it was one of the most fashionable and public places in\nMadrid, I naturally concluded was one of the last where the _corregidor_\nwould think of seeking me.\n\nAbout ten at night, Maria Diaz, to whom I had communicated the place of\nmy retreat, arrived with her son, Juan Lopez. \u201c_O_, _se\u00f1or_,\u201d said she,\non seeing me, \u201cthey are already in quest of you; the _alcalde_ of the\n_barrio_, with a large _comitiva_ of _alguazils_ and such-like people,\nhave just been at our house with a warrant for your imprisonment from the\n_corregidor_. They searched the whole house, and were much disappointed\nat not finding you. Woe is me, what will they do when they catch you?\u201d\n\u201cBe under no apprehensions, good Maria,\u201d said I; \u201cyou forget that I am an\nEnglishman, and so it seems does the _corregidor_. Whenever he catches\nme, depend upon it he will be glad enough to let me go. For the present,\nhowever, we will permit him to follow his own course, for the spirit of\nfolly seems to have seized him.\u201d\n\nI slept at the tavern, and in the forenoon of the following day repaired\nto the Embassy, where I had an interview with Sir George, to whom I\nrelated every circumstance of the affair. He said that he could scarcely\nbelieve that the _corregidor_ entertained any serious intentions of\nimprisoning me; in the first place, because I had committed no offence;\nand in the second, because I was not under the jurisdiction of that\nfunctionary, but under that of the captain-general, who was alone\nempowered to decide upon matters which relate to foreigners, and before\nwhom I must be brought in the presence of the consul of my nation.\n\u201cHowever,\u201d said he, \u201cthere is no knowing to what length these jacks in\noffice may go. I therefore advise you, if you are under any\napprehension, to remain as my guest at the Embassy for a few days, for\nhere you will be quite safe.\u201d I assured him that I was under no\napprehension whatever, having long been accustomed to adventures of this\nkind. From the apartment of Sir George I proceeded to that of the first\nsecretary of embassy, Mr. Southern, with whom I entered into\nconversation. I had scarcely been there a minute when my servant\nFrancisco rushed in, much out of breath, and in violent agitation,\nexclaiming in Basque, \u201c_Niri jauna_, the _alguaziloac_, and the\n_corchetoac_, and all the other _lapurrac_ {133} are again at the house.\nThey seem half mad, and not being able to find you, are searching your\npapers, thinking, I suppose, that you are hid among them.\u201d Mr. Southern\nhere interrupting him, inquired of me what all this meant. Whereupon I\ntold him, saying at the same time, that it was my intention to proceed at\nonce to my lodgings. \u201cBut perhaps these fellows will arrest you,\u201d said\nMr. S., \u201cbefore we can interfere.\u201d \u201cI must take my chance as to that,\u201d I\nreplied, and presently afterwards departed.\n\nEre, however, I had reached the middle of the street of Alcal\u00e1, two\nfellows came up to me, and telling me that I was their prisoner,\ncommanded me to follow them to the office of the _corregidor_. They\nwere, in fact, _alguazils_, who, suspecting that I might enter or come\nout of the Embassy, had stationed themselves in the neighbourhood. I\ninstantly turned round to Francisco, and told him in Basque to return to\nthe Embassy, and to relate there to the secretary what had just occurred.\nThe poor fellow set off like lightning, turning half round, however, to\nshake his fist, and to vent a Basque execration at the two _lapurrac_, as\nhe called the _alguazils_.\n\nThey conducted me to the _gefatura_, or office of the _corregidor_, where\nthey ushered me into a large room, and motioned me to sit down on a\nwooden bench. They then stationed themselves on each side of me. There\nwere at least twenty people in the apartment beside ourselves, evidently\nfrom their appearance officials of the establishment. They were all well\ndressed, for the most part in the French fashion, in round hats, coats,\nand pantaloons, and yet they looked what in reality they were, Spanish\n_alguazils_, spies, and informers: and Gil Blas, could he have waked from\nhis sleep of two centuries, would, notwithstanding the change of fashion,\nhave had no difficulty in recognizing them. They glanced at me as they\nstood lounging about the room; then gathered themselves together in a\ncircle and began conversing in whispers. I heard one of them say, \u201cHe\nunderstands the seven gypsy jargons.\u201d {134a} Then presently another,\nevidently from his language an Andalusian, said, \u201c_Es muy diestro_,\n{134b} and can ride a horse and dart a knife full as well as if he came\nfrom my own country.\u201d Thereupon they all turned round and regarded me\nwith a species of interest, evidently mingled with respect, which most\nassuredly they would not have exhibited had they conceived that I was\nmerely an honest man bearing witness in a righteous cause.\n\nI waited patiently on the bench at least one hour, expecting every moment\nto be summoned before my lord the _corregidor_. I suppose, however, that\nI was not deemed worthy of being permitted to see so exalted a personage,\nfor at the end of that time, an elderly man\u2014one, however, of the\n_alguazil_ genus\u2014came into the room and advanced directly towards me.\n\u201cStand up,\u201d said he. I obeyed. \u201cWhat is your name?\u201d he demanded. I\ntold him. \u201cThen,\u201d he replied, exhibiting a paper which he held in his\nhand, \u201c_se\u00f1or_, it is the will of his excellency the _corregidor_, that\nyou be forthwith sent to prison.\u201d\n\nHe looked at me steadfastly as he spoke, perhaps expecting that I should\nsink into the earth at the formidable name of prison; I, however, only\nsmiled. He then delivered the paper, which I suppose was the warrant for\nmy committal, into the hand of one of my two captors, and obeying a sign\nwhich they made, I followed them.\n\nI subsequently learned that the secretary of legation, Mr. Southern, had\nbeen despatched by Sir George, as soon as the latter had obtained\ninformation of my arrest, and had been waiting at the office during the\ngreater part of the time that I was there. He had demanded an audience\nof the _corregidor_, in which he had intended to have remonstrated with\nhim, and pointed out to him the danger to which he was subjecting himself\nby the rash step which he was taking. The sullen functionary, however,\nhad refused to see him, thinking, perhaps, that to listen to reason would\nbe a dereliction of dignity; by this conduct, however, he most\neffectually served me, as no person, after such a specimen of\nuncalled-for insolence, felt disposed to question the violence and\ninjustice which had been practised towards me.\n\nThe _alguazils_ conducted me across the Plaza Mayor to the Carcel de la\nCorte, or prison of the court, as it is called. Whilst going across the\nsquare, I remembered that this was the place where, in \u201cthe good old\ntimes,\u201d the Inquisition of Spain was in the habit of holding its solemn\n_Autos da f\u00e9_, and I cast my eye to the balcony of the city hall, where\nat the most solemn of them all, the last of the Austrian line in Spain\nsat, and after some thirty heretics, of both sexes, had been burnt by\nfours and by fives, wiped his face, perspiring with heat, and black with\nsmoke, and calmly inquired, \u201c_No hay mas_?\u201d {136} for which exemplary\nproof of patience he was much applauded by his priests and confessors,\nwho subsequently poisoned him. \u201cAnd here am I,\u201d thought I, \u201cwho have\ndone more to wound Popery than all the poor Christian martyrs that ever\nsuffered in this accursed square, merely sent to prison, from which I am\nsure to be liberated in a few days, with credit and applause. Pope of\nRome! I believe you to be as malicious as ever, but you are sadly\ndeficient in power. You are become paralytic, _Batuschca_, and your club\nhas degenerated to a crutch.\u201d\n\nWe arrived at the prison, which stands in a narrow street not far from\nthe great square. We entered a dusky passage, at the end of which was a\nwicket door. My conductors knocked, a fierce visage peered through the\nwicket; there was an exchange of words, and in a few moments I found\nmyself within the prison of Madrid, in a kind of corridor which\noverlooked at a considerable altitude what appeared to be a court, from\nwhich arose a hubbub of voices, and occasionally wild shouts and cries.\nWithin the corridor, which served as a kind of office, were several\npeople; one of them sat behind a desk, and to him the _alguazils_ went\nup, and after discoursing with him some time in low tones, delivered the\nwarrant into his hands. He perused it with attention, then rising he\nadvanced to me. What a figure! He was about forty years of age, and his\nheight might have amounted to some six feet two inches, had he not been\ncurved much after the fashion of the letter S. No weazel ever appeared\nlanker, and he looked as if a breath of air would have been sufficient to\nblow him away. His face might certainly have been called handsome, had\nit not been for its extraordinary and portentous meagreness; his nose was\nlike an eagle\u2019s bill, his teeth white as ivory, his eyes black\u2014oh, how\nblack!\u2014and fraught with a strange expression; his skin was dark, and the\nhair of his head like the plumage of the raven. A deep quiet smile dwelt\ncontinually on his features; but with all the quiet it was a cruel smile,\nsuch a one as would have graced the countenance of a Nero. \u201c_Mais en\nrevanche personne n\u2019\u00e9toit plus honn\u00eate_\u201d. \u201c_Caballero_,\u201d said he, \u201callow\nme to introduce myself to you as the _alcayde_ of this prison. I\nperceive by this paper that I am to have the honour of your company for a\ntime, a short time doubtless, beneath this roof; I hope you will banish\nevery apprehension from your mind. I am charged to treat you with all\nthe respect which is due to the illustrious nation to which you belong,\nand which a cavalier of such exalted category as yourself is entitled to\nexpect. A needless charge, it is true, as I should only have been too\nhappy of my own accord to have afforded you every comfort and attention.\n_Caballero_, you will rather consider yourself here as a guest than a\nprisoner; you will be permitted to roam over every part of this house\nwhenever you think proper. You will find matters here not altogether\nbelow the attention of a philosophic mind. Pray issue whatever commands\nyou may think fit to the turnkeys and officials, even as if they were\nyour own servants, I will now have the honour of conducting you to your\napartment\u2014the only one at present unoccupied. We invariably reserve it\nfor cavaliers of distinction. I am happy to say that my orders are again\nin consonance with my inclination. No charge whatever will be made for\nit to you, though the daily hire of it is not unfrequently an ounce of\ngold. I entreat you, therefore, to follow me, cavalier, who am at all\ntimes and seasons the most obedient and devoted of your servants.\u201d Here\nhe took off his hat and bowed profoundly.\n\nSuch was the speech of the _alcayde_ of the prison of Madrid; a speech\ndelivered in pure sonorous Castilian, with calmness, gravity, and almost\nwith dignity; a speech which would have done honour to a gentleman of\nhigh birth, to Monsieur Bassompierre, of the Old Bastile, receiving an\nItalian prince, or the High Constable of the Tower an English duke\nattainted of high treason. Now, who in the name of wonder was this\n_alcayde_?\n\nOne of the greatest rascals in all Spain. A fellow who had more than\nonce, by his grasping cupidity, and by his curtailment of the miserable\nrations of the prisoners, caused an insurrection in the court below, only\nto be repressed by bloodshed, and by summoning military aid; a fellow of\nlow birth, who, only five years previous, had been _drummer_ to a band of\nroyalist volunteers!\n\nBut Spain is the land of extraordinary characters.\n\nI followed the _alcayde_ to the end of the corridor, where was a massive\ngrated door, on each side of which sat a grim fellow of a turnkey. The\ndoor was opened, and turning to the right we proceeded down another\ncorridor, in which were many people walking about, whom I subsequently\ndiscovered to be prisoners like myself, but for political offences. At\nthe end of this corridor, which extended the whole length of the _patio_,\nwe turned into another, and the first apartment in this was the one\ndestined for myself. It was large and lofty, but totally destitute of\nevery species of furniture with the exception of a huge wooden pitcher,\nintended to hold my daily allowance of water. \u201c_Caballero_,\u201d said the\n_alcayde_, \u201cthe apartment is without furniture, as you see. It is\nalready the third hour of the _tarde_, I therefore advise you to lose no\ntime in sending to your lodgings for a bed and whatever you may stand in\nneed of; the _llavero_ shall do your bidding. _Caballero_, adieu, till I\nsee you again.\u201d\n\nI followed his advice, and, writing a note in pencil to Maria Diaz, I\ndespatched it by the _llavero_, and then, sitting down on the wooden\npitcher, I fell into a reverie, which continued for a considerable time.\n\nNight arrived, and so did Maria Diaz, attended by two porters and\nFrancisco, all loaded with furniture. A lamp was lighted, charcoal was\nkindled in the _brasero_, and the prison gloom was to a certain degree\ndispelled.\n\nI now left my seat on the pitcher, and sitting down on a chair, proceeded\nto despatch some wine and viands, which my good hostess had not forgotten\nto bring with her. Suddenly Mr. Southern entered. He laughed heartily\nat finding me engaged in the manner I have described. \u201cB---,\u201d said he,\n\u201cyou are the man to get through the world, for you appear to take all\nthings coolly, and as matters of course. That, however, which most\nsurprises me with respect to you is, your having so many friends; here\nyou are in prison, surrounded by people ministering to your comforts.\nYour very servant is your friend, instead of being your worst enemy, as\nis usually the case. That Basque of yours is a noble fellow. I shall\nnever forget how he spoke for you, when he came running to the Embassy to\ninform us of your arrest. He interested both Sir George and myself in\nthe highest degree: should you ever wish to part with him, I hope you\nwill give me the refusal of his services. But now to other matters.\u201d He\nthen informed me that Sir George had already sent in an official note to\nOfalia, demanding redress for such a wanton outrage on the person of a\nBritish subject. \u201cYou must remain in prison,\u201d said he, \u201cto-night, but\ndepend upon it that to-morrow, if you are disposed, you may quit in\ntriumph.\u201d \u201cI am by no means disposed for any such thing,\u201d I replied.\n\u201cThey have put me in prison for their pleasure, and I intend to remain\nhere for my own.\u201d \u201cIf the confinement is not irksome to you,\u201d said Mr.\nSouthern, \u201cI think, indeed, it will be your wisest plan; the government\nhave committed themselves sadly with regard to you; and, to speak\nplainly, we are by no means sorry for it. They have on more than one\noccasion treated ourselves very cavalierly, and we have now, if you\ncontinue firm, an excellent opportunity of humbling their insolence. I\nwill instantly acquaint Sir George with your determination, and you shall\nhear from us early on the morrow.\u201d He then bade me farewell; and\nflinging myself on my bed, I was soon asleep in the prison of Madrid.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XL.\n\n\nOfalia\u2014The Juez\u2014Carcel de la Corte\u2014Sunday in Prison\u2014Robber Dress\u2014Father\nand Son\u2014Characteristic Behaviour\u2014The Frenchman\u2014Prison Allowance\u2014Valley of\nthe Shadow\u2014Pure Castilian\u2014Balseiro\u2014The Cave\u2014Robber Glory.\n\nOfalia quickly perceived that the imprisonment of a British subject in a\nmanner so illegal as that which had attended my own was likely to be\nfollowed by rather serious consequences. Whether he himself had at all\nencouraged the _corregidor_ in his behaviour towards me, it is impossible\nto say; the probability is that he had not: the latter, however, was an\nofficer of his own appointing, for whose actions himself and the\ngovernment were to a certain extent responsible. Sir George had already\nmade a very strong remonstrance upon the subject, and had even gone so\nfar as to state in an official note that he should desist from all\nfarther communication with the Spanish government until full and ample\nreparation had been afforded me for the violence to which I had been\nsubjected. Ofalia\u2019s reply was, that immediate measures should be taken\nfor my liberation, and that it would be my own fault if I remained in\nprison. He forthwith ordered a _juez de la primera instancia_, {141} a\nkind of solicitor-general, to wait upon me, who was instructed to hear my\naccount of the affair, and then to dismiss me with an admonition to be\ncautious for the future. My friends of the Embassy, however, had advised\nme how to act in such a case. Accordingly, when the _juez_ on the second\nnight of my imprisonment made his appearance at the prison, and summoned\nme before him, I went, but on his proceeding to question me, I absolutely\nrefused to answer. \u201cI deny your right to put any questions to me,\u201d said\nI; \u201cI entertain, however, no feelings of disrespect to the government or\nto yourself, _Caballero Juez_; but I have been illegally imprisoned. So\naccomplished a jurist as yourself cannot fail to be aware that, according\nto the laws of Spain, I, as a foreigner, could not be committed to prison\nfor the offence with which I had been charged, without previously being\nconducted before the captain-general of this royal city, whose duty it is\nto protect foreigners, and see that the laws of hospitality are not\nviolated in their persons.\n\n_Juez_.\u2014Come, come, _Don Jorge_, I see what you are aiming at; but listen\nto reason: I will not now speak to you as a _juez_, but as a friend who\nwishes you well, and who entertains a profound reverence for the British\nnation. This is a foolish affair altogether; I will not deny that the\npolitical chief acted somewhat hastily on the information of a person not\nperhaps altogether worthy of credit. No great damage, however, has been\ndone to you, and to a man of the world like yourself, a little adventure\nof this kind is rather calculated to afford amusement than anything else.\nNow be advised, forget what has happened; you know that it is the part\nand duty of a Christian to forgive. So, _Don Jorge_, I advise you to\nleave this place forthwith; I dare say you are getting tired of it. You\nare this moment free to depart; repair at once to your lodgings, where I\npromise you that no one shall be permitted to interrupt you for the\nfuture. It is getting late, and the prison doors will speedily be closed\nfor the night. _Vamos_, _Don Jorge_, _\u00e1 la casa_, _\u00e1 la posada_! {143a}\n\n_Myself_.\u2014\u201cBut Paul said unto them, they have beaten us openly\nuncondemned, being Romans, and have cast us into prison; and now do they\nthrust us out privily? Nay, verily: but let them come themselves and\nfetch us out.\u201d {143b}\n\nI then bowed to the _juez_, who shrugged his shoulders and took snuff.\nOn leaving the apartment I turned to the _alcayde_, who stood at the\ndoor: \u201cTake notice,\u201d said I, \u201cthat I will not quit this prison till I\nhave received full satisfaction for being sent hither uncondemned. You\nmay expel me if you please, but any attempt to do so shall be resisted\nwith all the bodily strength of which I am possessed.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour worship is right,\u201d said the _alcayde_, with a bow, but in a low\nvoice.\n\nSir George, on hearing of this affair, sent me a letter in which he\nhighly commended my resolution not to leave the prison for the present,\nat the same time begging me to let him know if there were anything that\nhe could send me from the Embassy to render my situation more tolerable.\n\nI will now leave for the present my own immediate affairs, and proceed to\ngive some account of the prison of Madrid and its inmates.\n\nThe Carcel de la Corte, where I now was, though the principal prison of\nMadrid, is one which certainly in no respect does credit to the capital\nof Spain. Whether it was originally intended for the purpose to which it\nis at present applied, I have no opportunity of knowing. The chances,\nhowever, are, that it was not; indeed it was not till of late years that\nthe practice of building edifices expressly intended and suited for the\nincarceration of culprits came at all into vogue. Castles, convents, and\ndeserted palaces, have in all countries, at different times, been\nconverted into prisons, which practice still holds good upon the greater\npart of the continent, and more particularly in Spain and Italy, which\naccounts to a certain extent for the insecurity of the prisons, and the\nmisery, want of cleanliness, and unhealthiness which in general pervade\nthem.\n\nI shall not attempt to enter into a particular description of the prison\nof Madrid; indeed it would be quite impossible to describe so irregular\nand rambling an edifice. Its principal features consisted of two courts,\nthe one behind the other: intended for the great body of the prisoners to\ntake air and recreation in. Three large vaulted dungeons, or\n_calabozos_, occupied three sides of this court, immediately below the\ncorridors of which I have already spoken. These dungeons were roomy\nenough to contain respectively from one hundred to one hundred and fifty\nprisoners, who were at night secured therein with lock and bar, but\nduring the day were permitted to roam about the courts as they thought\nfit. The second court was considerably larger than the first, though it\ncontained but two dungeons, horribly filthy and disgusting places; this\nsecond court being used for the reception of the lower grades of thieves.\nOf the two dungeons one was, if possible, yet more horrible than the\nother; it was called the _gallineria_, or chicken-coop, and within it\nevery night were pent up the young fry of the prison, wretched boys from\nseven to fifteen years of age, the greater part almost in a state of\nnudity. The common bed of all the inmates of these dungeons was the\nground, between which and their bodies nothing intervened, save\noccasionally a _manta_ or horse-cloth, or perhaps a small mattress; this\nlatter luxury was, however, of exceedingly rare occurrence.\n\nBesides the _calabozos_ connected with the courts were other dungeons in\nvarious parts of the prison; some of them quite dark, intended for the\nreception of those whom it might be deemed expedient to treat with\npeculiar severity. There was likewise a ward set apart for females.\nConnected with the principal corridor were many small apartments, where\nresided prisoners confined for debt or for political offences. And,\nlastly, there was a small _capilla_, or chapel, in which prisoners cast\nfor death passed the last three days of their existence in company of\ntheir ghostly advisers.\n\nI shall not soon forget my first Sunday in prison, Sunday is the gala day\nof the prison, at least of that of Madrid, and whatever robber finery is\nto be found within it is sure to be exhibited on that day of holiness.\nThere is not a set of people in the world more vain than robbers in\ngeneral, more fond of cutting a figure whenever they have an opportunity,\nand of attracting the eyes of their fellow-creatures by the gallantry of\ntheir appearance. The famous Sheppard of olden times delighted in\nsporting a suit of Genoese velvet, and when he appeared in public\ngenerally wore a silver-hilted sword at his side; whilst Vaux and\nHayward, heroes of a later day, were the best dressed men on the _pav\u00e9_\nof London. Many of the Italian bandits go splendidly decorated, and the\nvery gypsy robber has a feeling for the charms of dress; the cap alone of\nthe Haram Pasha, or leader of the cannibal gypsy band which infested\nHungary towards the conclusion of the last century, was adorned with gold\nand jewels to the value of four thousand guilders. Observe, ye vain and\nfrivolous, how vanity and crime harmonize! The Spanish robbers are as\nfond of this species of display as their brethren of other lands, and,\nwhether in prison or out of it, are never so happy as when, decked out in\na profusion of white linen, they can loll in the sun, or walk jauntily up\nand down.\n\nSnow-white linen, indeed, constitutes the principal feature in the robber\nfoppery of Spain. Neither coat nor jacket is worn over the shirt, the\nsleeves of which are wide and flowing, only a waistcoat of green or blue\nsilk with an abundance of silver buttons, which are intended more for\nshow than use, as the vest is seldom buttoned. Then there are wide\ntrousers, something after the Turkish fashion; around the waist is a\ncrimson _faja_, or girdle, and about the head is tied a gaudily coloured\nhandkerchief from the loom of Barcelona; light pumps and silk stockings\ncomplete the robber\u2019s array. This dress is picturesque enough, and well\nadapted to the fine sunshiny weather of the Peninsula; there is a dash of\neffeminacy about it, however, hardly in keeping with the robber\u2019s\ndesperate trade. It must not, however, be supposed that it is every\nrobber who can indulge in all this luxury; there are various grades of\nthieves, some poor enough, with scarcely a rag to cover them. Perhaps in\nthe crowded prison of Madrid there were not more than twenty who\nexhibited the dress which I have attempted to describe above; these were\n_jente de reputacion_, {146} tip-top thieves, mostly young fellows, who,\nthough they had no money of their own, were supported in prison by their\n_majas_ and _amigas_, {147a} females of a certain class, who form\nfriendships with robbers, and whose glory and delight it is to administer\nto the vanity of these fellows with the wages of their own shame and\nabasement. These females supplied their _cortejos_ with the snowy linen,\nwashed, perhaps, by their own hands in the waters of the Manzanares, for\nthe display of the Sunday, when they would themselves make their\nappearance, dressed _\u00e0 la maja_, and from the corridors would gaze with\nadmiring eyes upon the robbers vapouring about in the court below.\n\nAmongst those of the snowy linen who most particularly attracted my\nattention, were a father and son; the former was a tall athletic figure\nof about thirty, by profession a housebreaker, and celebrated throughout\nMadrid for the peculiar dexterity which he exhibited in his calling. He\nwas now in prison for a rather atrocious murder committed in the dead of\nnight, in a house at Caramanchel, {147b} in which his only accomplice was\nhis son, a child under seven years of age. \u201cThe apple,\u201d as the Danes\nsay, \u201chad not fallen far from the tree;\u201d the imp was in every respect the\ncounterpart of the father, though in miniature. He, too, wore the robber\nshirt-sleeves, the robber waistcoat with the silver buttons, the robber\nkerchief round his brow, and, ridiculous enough, a long Manchegan knife\nin the crimson _faja_. He was evidently the pride of the ruffian father,\nwho took all imaginable care of this chick of the gallows, would dandle\nhim on his knee, and would occasionally take the cigar from his own\nmoustached lips and insert it in the urchin\u2019s mouth. The boy was the pet\nof the court, for the father was one of the _valientes_ of the prison,\nand those who feared his prowess, and wished to pay their court to him,\nwere always fondling the child. What an enigma is this world of ours!\nHow dark and mysterious are the sources of what is called crime and\nvirtue! If that infant wretch become eventually a murderer like his\nfather, is he to blame? Fondled by robbers, already dressed as a robber,\nborn of a robber, whose own history was perhaps similar. Is it right? . . .\n\nOh, man, man, seek not to dive into the mystery of moral good and evil;\nconfess thyself a worm, cast thyself on the earth, and murmur with thy\nlips in the dust, Jesus, Jesus!\n\nWhat most surprised me with respect to the prisoners was their good\nbehaviour; I call it good when all things are taken into consideration,\nand when I compare it with that of the general class of prisoners in\nforeign lands. They had their occasional bursts of wild gaiety, their\noccasional quarrels, which they were in the habit of settling in a corner\nof the interior court with their long knives; {148} the result not\nunfrequently being death, or a dreadful gash in the face or the abdomen;\nbut, upon the whole, their conduct was infinitely superior to what might\nhave been expected from the inmates of such a place. Yet this was not\nthe result of coercion, or any particular care which was exercised over\nthem; for perhaps in no part of the world are prisoners so left to\nthemselves and so utterly neglected as in Spain: the authorities having\nno farther anxiety about them than to prevent their escape; not the\nslightest attention being paid to their moral conduct, and not a thought\nbestowed upon their health, comfort, or mental improvement, whilst within\nthe walls. Yet in this prison of Madrid, and I may say in Spanish\nprisons in general, for I have been an inmate of more than one, {149} the\nears of the visitor are never shocked with horrid blasphemy and\nobscenity, as in those of some other countries, and more particularly in\ncivilized France; nor are his eyes outraged and himself insulted, as he\nwould assuredly be, were he to look down upon the courts from the\ngalleries of the Bic\u00eatre. And yet in this prison of Madrid were some of\nthe most desperate characters in Spain; ruffians who had committed acts\nof cruelty and atrocity sufficient to make the flesh shudder. But\ngravity and sedateness are the leading characteristics of the Spaniards,\nand the very robber, except in those moments when he is engaged in his\noccupation, and then no one is more sanguinary, pitiless, and wolfishly\neager for booty, is a being who can be courteous and affable, and who\ntakes pleasure in conducting himself with sobriety and decorum.\n\nHappily, perhaps, for me, that my acquaintance with the ruffians of Spain\ncommenced and ended in the towns about which I wandered, and in the\nprisons into which I was cast for the Gospel\u2019s sake, and that,\nnotwithstanding my long and frequent journeys, I never came in contact\nwith them on the road or in the _despoblado_.\n\nThe most ill-conditioned being in the prison was a Frenchman, though\nprobably the most remarkable. He was about sixty years of age, of the\nmiddle stature, but thin and meagre, like most of his countrymen; he had\na villanously formed head, according to all the rules of craniology, and\nhis features were full of evil expression. He wore no hat, and his\nclothes, though in appearance nearly new, were of the coarsest\ndescription. He generally kept aloof from the rest, and would stand for\nhours together leaning against the walls with his arms folded, glaring\nsullenly on what was passing before him. He was not one of the professed\n_valientes_, for his age prevented his assuming so distinguished a\ncharacter, and yet all the rest appeared to hold him in a certain awe:\nperhaps they feared his tongue, which he occasionally exerted in pouring\nforth withering curses upon those who incurred his displeasure. He spoke\nperfectly good Spanish, and to my great surprise excellent Basque, in\nwhich he was in the habit of conversing with Francisco, who, lolling from\nthe window of my apartment, would exchange jests and witticisms with the\nprisoners in the court below, with whom he was a great favourite.\n\nOne day when I was in the _patio_, to which I had free admission whenever\nI pleased, by permission of the _alcayde_, I went up to the Frenchman,\nwho stood in his usual posture, leaning against the wall, and offered him\na cigar. I do not smoke myself, but it will never do to mix among the\nlower classes of Spain unless you have a cigar to present occasionally.\nThe man glared at me ferociously for a moment, and appeared to be on the\npoint of refusing my offer with perhaps a hideous execration. I repeated\nit, however, pressing my hand against my heart, whereupon suddenly the\ngrim features relaxed, and with a genuine French grimace, and a low bow,\nhe accepted the cigar, exclaiming, \u201c_Ah_, _monsieur_, _pardon_, _mais\nc\u2019est faire trop d\u2019honneur \u00e0 un pauvre diable comme moi_.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot at all,\u201d said I, \u201cwe are both fellow-prisoners in a foreign land,\nand being so we ought to countenance each other. I hope that whenever I\nhave need of your co-operation in this prison you will afford it me.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Ah_, _monsieur_,\u201d exclaimed the Frenchman in rapture, \u201c_vous avez bien\nraison_; _il faut que les \u00e9trangers se donnent la main dans ce . . . pays\nde barbares_. _Tenez_,\u201d he added in a whisper, \u201cif you have any plan for\nescaping, and require my assistance, I have an arm and a knife at your\nservice: you may trust me, and that is more than you could any of these\n_sacr\u00e9es gens ici_,\u201d glancing fiercely round at his fellow-prisoners.\n\n\u201cYou appear to be no friend to Spain and the Spaniards,\u201d said I. \u201cI\nconclude that you have experienced injustice at their hands. For what\nhave they immured you in this place?\u201d\n\n\u201c_Pour rien du tout_, _c\u2019est \u00e0 dire pour une bagatelle_; but what can you\nexpect from such animals? For what are you imprisoned? Did I not hear\nsay for gypsyism and sorcery?\u201d\n\n\u201cPerhaps you are here for your opinions?\u201d\n\n\u201c_Ah_, _mon Dieu_, _non_; _je ne suis pas homme \u00e0 semblable betise_. I\nhave no opinions. _Je faisois . . . mais ce n\u2019importe_; _je me trouve\nici_, _o\u00f9 je cr\u00e8ve de faim_.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am sorry to see a brave man in such a distressed condition,\u201d said I;\n\u201chave you nothing to subsist upon beyond the prison allowance? Have you\nno friends?\u201d\n\n\u201cFriends in this country? You mock me; here one has no friends, unless\none buy them. I am bursting with hunger. Since I have been here I have\nsold the clothes off my back, that I might eat, for the prison allowance\nwill not support nature, and of half of that we are robbed by the _Batu_,\nas they called the barbarian of a governor. _Les haillons_ which now\ncover me were given by two or three devotees who sometimes visit here. I\nwould sell them if they would fetch aught. I have not a _sou_, and for\nwant of a few crowns I shall be garroted within a month unless I can\nescape, though, as I told you before, I have done nothing, a mere\nbagatelle; but the worst crimes in Spain are poverty and misery.\u201d\n\n\u201cI have heard you speak Basque; are you from French Biscay?\u201d\n\n\u201cI am from Bordeaux, _monsieur_; but I have lived much on the Landes and\nin Biscay, _travaillant \u00e0 mon m\u00e9tier_. I see by your look that you wish\nto know my history. I shall not tell it you. It contains nothing that\nis remarkable. See, I have smoked out your cigar; you may give me\nanother, and add a dollar if you please, _nous sommes crev\u00e9s ici de\nfaim_. I would not say as much to a Spaniard, but I have a respect for\nyour countrymen; I know much of them; I have met them at Maida and the\nother place.\u201d {152}\n\n\u201cNothing remarkable in his history!\u201d Why, or I greatly err, one chapter\nof his life, had it been written, would have unfolded more of the wild\nand wonderful than fifty volumes of what are in general called adventures\nand hairbreadth escapes by land and sea. A soldier! what a tale could\nthat man have told of marches and retreats, of battles lost and won,\ntowns sacked, convents plundered! perhaps he had seen the flames of\nMoscow ascending to the clouds, and had \u201ctried his strength with nature\nin the wintry desert,\u201d pelted by the snowstorm, and bitten by the\ntremendous cold of Russia. And what could he mean by plying his trade in\nBiscay and Landes, but that he had been a robber in those wild regions,\nof which the latter is more infamous for brigandage and crime than any\nother part of the French territory? Nothing remarkable in his history!\nthen what history in the world contains aught that is remarkable?\n\nI gave him the cigar and dollar. He received them, and then once more\nfolding his arms, leaned back against the wall, and appeared to sink\ngradually into one of his reveries. I looked him in the face and spoke\nto him, but he did not seem either to hear or see me. His mind was\nperhaps wandering in that dreadful valley of the shadow, into which the\nchildren of earth, whilst living, occasionally find their way: that\ndreadful region where there is no water, where hope dwelleth not, where\nnothing lives but the undying worm. This valley is the facsimile of\nhell, and he who has entered it has experienced here on earth for a time\nwhat the spirits of the condemned are doomed to suffer through ages\nwithout end.\n\nHe was executed about a month from this time. The bagatelle for which he\nwas confined was robbery and murder by the following strange device. In\nconcert with two others, he hired a large house in an unfrequented part\nof the town, to which place he would order tradesmen to convey valuable\narticles, which were to be paid for on delivery; those who attended paid\nfor their credulity with the loss of their lives and property. Two or\nthree had fallen into the snare. I wished much to have had some private\nconversation with this desperate man, and in consequence begged of the\n_alcayde_ to allow him to dine with me in my own apartment; whereupon\nMonsieur Bassompierre, for so I will take the liberty of calling the\ngovernor, his real name having escaped my memory, took off his hat, and,\nwith his usual smile and bow, replied in purest Castilian, \u201cEnglish\ncavalier, and I hope I may add friend, pardon me, that it is quite out of\nmy power to gratify your request, founded, I have no doubt, on the most\nadmirable sentiments of philosophy. Any of the other gentlemen beneath\nmy care shall, at any time you desire it, be permitted to wait upon you\nin your apartment. I will even go so far as to cause their irons, if\nirons they wear, to be knocked off in order that they may partake of your\nrefection with that comfort which is seemly and convenient: but to the\ngentleman in question I must object; he is the most evil disposed of the\nwhole of this family, and would most assuredly breed a _funcion_ either\nin your apartment or in the corridor, by an attempt to escape. Cavalier,\n_me pesa_, {154} but I cannot accede to your request. But with respect\nto any other gentleman, I shall be most happy, even Balseiro, who, though\nstrange things are told of him, still knows how to comport himself, and\nin whose behaviour there is something both of formality and politeness,\nshall this day share your hospitality if you desire it, cavalier.\u201d\n\nOf Balseiro I have already had occasion to speak in the former part of\nthis narrative. He was now confined in an upper story of the prison, in\na strong room, with several other malefactors. He had been found guilty\nof aiding and assisting one Pepe Candelas, a thief of no inconsiderable\nrenown, in a desperate robbery perpetrated in open daylight upon no less\na personage than the queen\u2019s milliner, a Frenchwoman, whom they bound in\nher own shop, from which they took goods and money to the amount of five\nor six thousand dollars. Candelas had already expiated his crime on the\nscaffold, but Balseiro, who was said to be by far the worst ruffian of\nthe two, had by dint of money, an ally which his comrade did not possess,\ncontrived to save his own life; the punishment of death, to which he was\noriginally sentenced, having been commuted to twenty years\u2019 hard labour\nin the _presidio_ of Malaga. I visited this worthy, and conversed with\nhim for some time through the wicket of the dungeon. He recognized me,\nand reminded me of the victory which I had once obtained over him, in the\ntrial of our respective skill in the crabbed _Gitano_, at which Sevilla\nthe bull-fighter was umpire.\n\nUpon my telling him that I was sorry to see him in such a situation, he\nreplied that it was an affair of no manner of consequence, as within six\nweeks he should be conducted to the _presidio_, from which, with the\nassistance of a few ounces distributed amongst the guards, he could at\nany time escape. \u201cBut whither would you flee?\u201d I demanded. \u201cCan I not\nflee to the land of the Moors,\u201d replied Balseiro, \u201cor to the English in\nthe camp of Gibraltar; or, if I prefer it, cannot I return to this\n_foro_, and live as I have hitherto done, _choring_ the _gachos_; {155}\nwhat is to hinder me? Madrid is large, and Balseiro has plenty of\nfriends, especially among the _lumias_,\u201d he added, with a smile. I spoke\nto him of his ill-fated accomplice Candelas; whereupon his face assumed a\nhorrible expression. \u201cI hope he is in torment,\u201d exclaimed the robber.\nThe friendship of the unrighteous is never of long duration; the two\nworthies had, it seems, quarrelled in prison; Candelas having accused the\nother of bad faith and an undue appropriation to his own use of the\n_corpus delicti_ in various robberies which they had committed in\ncompany.\n\nI cannot refrain from relating the subsequent history of this Balseiro.\nShortly after my own liberation, too impatient to wait until the\n_presidio_ should afford him a chance of regaining his liberty, he, in\ncompany with some other convicts, broke through the roof of the prison\nand escaped. He instantly resumed his former habits, committing several\ndaring robberies, both within and without the walls of Madrid. I now\ncome to his last, I may call it his master crime, a singular piece of\natrocious villany. Dissatisfied with the proceeds of street robbery and\nhouse-breaking, he determined upon a bold stroke, by which he hoped to\nacquire money sufficient to support him in some foreign land in luxury\nand splendour.\n\nThere was a certain comptroller of the queen\u2019s household, by name\nGabiria, {156} a Basque by birth, and a man of immense possessions: this\nindividual had two sons, handsome boys, between twelve and fourteen years\nof age, whom I had frequently seen, and indeed conversed with, in my\nwalks on the bank of the Manzanares, which was their favourite promenade.\nThese children, at the time of which I am speaking, were receiving their\neducation at a certain seminary in Madrid. Balseiro, being well\nacquainted with the father\u2019s affection for his children, determined to\nmake it subservient to his own rapacity. He formed a plan, which was\nneither more nor less than to steal the children, and not to restore them\nto their parent until he had received an enormous ransom. This plan was\npartly carried into execution: two associates of Balseiro, well dressed,\ndrove up to the door of the seminary where the children were, and, by\nmeans of a forged letter, purporting to be written by the father, induced\nthe schoolmaster to permit the boys to accompany them for a country\njaunt, as they pretended. About five leagues from Madrid Balseiro had a\ncave, in a wild unfrequented spot between the Escurial and a village\ncalled Torre Lodones: to this cave the children were conducted, where\nthey remained in durance under the custody of the two accomplices;\nBalseiro in the mean time remaining in Madrid for the purpose of\nconducting negociations with the father. The father, however, was a man\nof considerable energy, and instead of acceding to the terms of the\nruffian, communicated in a letter, instantly took the most vigorous\nmeasures for the recovery of his children. Horse and foot were sent out\nto scour the country, and in less than a week the children were found\nnear the cave, having been abandoned by their keepers, who had taken\nfright on hearing of the decided measures which had been resorted to;\nthey were, however, speedily arrested and identified by the boys as their\nravishers. Balseiro, perceiving that Madrid was becoming too hot to hold\nhim, attempted to escape, but whether to the camp of Gibraltar or to the\nland of the Moor, I know not; he was recognized, however, at a village in\nthe neighbourhood of Madrid, and being apprehended, was forthwith\nconducted to the capital, where he shortly after terminated his existence\non the scaffold, with his two associates; Gabiria and his children being\npresent at the ghastly scene, which they surveyed from a chariot at their\nease.\n\nSuch was the end of Balseiro, of whom I should certainly not have said so\nmuch, but for the affair of the crabbed _Gitano_. Poor wretch! he\nacquired that species of immortality which is the object of the\naspirations of many a Spanish thief, whilst vapouring about in the\n_patio_, dressed in the snowy linen; the rape of the children of Gabiria\nmade him at once the pet of the fraternity. A celebrated robber, with\nwhom I was subsequently imprisoned at Seville, spoke his eulogy in the\nfollowing manner:\u2014\n\n\u201cBalseiro was a very good subject, and an honest man. He was the head of\nour family, _Don Jorge_; we shall never see his like again; pity that he\ndid not sack the _parn\u00e9_, and escape to the camp of the Moor, _Don\nJorge_.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLI.\n\n\nMaria Diaz\u2014Priestly Vituperation\u2014Antonio\u2019s Visit\u2014Antonio at Service\u2014A\nScene\u2014Benedict Mol\u2014Wandering in Spain\u2014The Four Evangelien.\n\n\u201cWell,\u201d said I to Maria Diaz, on the third morning after my imprisonment,\n\u201cwhat do the people of Madrid say to this affair of mine?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do not know what the people of Madrid in general say about it,\nprobably they do not take much interest in it; indeed, imprisonments at\nthe present time are such common matters, that people seem to be quite\nindifferent to them; the priests, however, are in no slight commotion,\nand confess that they have committed an imprudent thing in causing you to\nbe arrested by their friend the _corregidor_ of Madrid.\u201d\n\n\u201cHow is that?\u201d I inquired. \u201cAre they afraid that their friend will be\npunished?\u201d\n\n \u201cNot so, _se\u00f1or_,\u201d replied Maria; \u201cslight grief indeed would it cause\nthem, however great the trouble in which he had involved himself on their\naccount; for this description of people have no affection, and would not\ncare if all their friends were hanged, provided they themselves escaped.\nBut they say that they have acted imprudently in sending you to prison,\ninasmuch as by so doing they have given you an opportunity of carrying a\nplan of yours into execution. \u2018This fellow is a _bribon_,\u2019 say they,\n\u2018and has commenced tampering with the prisoners; they have taught him\ntheir language, which he already speaks as well as if he were a son of\nthe prison. As soon as he comes out he will publish a thieves\u2019 Gospel,\nwhich will be a still more dangerous affair than the gypsy one, for the\ngypsies are few, but the thieves! woe is us; we shall all be\nLutheranized. What infamy, what rascality! It was a trick of his own.\nHe was always eager to get into prison, and now, in evil hour, we have\nsent him there, _el bribonazo_; there will be no safety for Spain until\nhe is hanged; he ought to be sent to the four hells, where at his leisure\nhe might translate his fatal gospels into the language of the demons.\u2019\u201d\n\n\u201cI but said three words to the _alcayde_ of the prison,\u201d said I,\n\u201crelative to the jargon used by the children of the prison.\u201d\n\n\u201cThree words! _Don Jorge_; and what may not be made out of three words?\nYou have lived amongst us to little purpose if you think we require more\nthan three words to build a system with. Those three words about the\nthieves and their tongue were quite sufficient to cause it to be reported\nthroughout Madrid that you had tampered with the thieves, had learnt\ntheir language, and had written a book which was to overturn Spain, open\nto the English the gates of Cadiz, give Mendizabal all the church plate\nand jewels, and to Don Martin Luther the archiepiscopal palace of\nToledo.\u201d\n\nLate in the afternoon of rather a gloomy day, as I was sitting in the\napartment which the _alcayde_ had allotted me, I heard a rap at the door.\n\u201cWho is that?\u201d I exclaimed. \u201c_C\u2019est moi_, _mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d cried a\nwell-known voice, and presently in walked Antonio Buchini, dressed in the\nsame style as when I first introduced him to the reader, namely, in a\nhandsome but rather faded French surtout, vest, and pantaloons, with a\ndiminutive hat in one hand, and holding in the other a long and slender\ncane.\n\n\u201c_Bon jour_, _mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d said the Greek; then, glancing around the\napartment, he continued, \u201cI am glad to find you so well lodged. If I\nremember right, _mon ma\u00eetre_, we have slept in worse places during our\nwanderings in Galicia and Castile.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou are quite right, Antonio,\u201d I replied; \u201cI am very comfortable. Well,\nthis is kind of you to visit your ancient master, more especially now he\nis in the toils; I hope, however, that by so doing you will not offend\nyour present employer. His dinner hour must be at hand; why are you not\nin the kitchen?\u201d\n\n\u201cOf what employer are you speaking, _mon ma\u00eetre_?\u201d demanded Antonio.\n\n\u201cOf whom should I speak but Count ---, to serve whom you abandoned me,\nbeing tempted by an offer of a monthly salary less by four dollars than\nthat which I was giving you?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour worship brings an affair to my remembrance which I had long since\nforgotten. I have at present no other master than yourself, _Monsieur\nGeorges_, for I shall always consider you as my master, though I may not\nenjoy the felicity of waiting upon you.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have left the Count, then,\u201d said I, \u201cafter remaining three days in\nthe house, according to your usual practice.\u201d\n\n\u201cNot three hours, _mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d replied Antonio; \u201cbut I will tell you\nthe circumstances. Soon after I left you I repaired to the house of\n_Monsieur le Comte_; I entered the kitchen, and looked about me. I\ncannot say that I had much reason to be dissatisfied with what I saw: the\nkitchen was large and commodious, and everything appeared neat and in its\nproper place, and the domestics civil and courteous; yet, I know not how\nit was, the idea at once rushed into my mind that the house was by no\nmeans suited to me, and that I was not destined to stay there long; so,\nhanging my haversack upon a nail, and sitting down on the dresser, I\ncommenced singing a Greek song, as I am in the habit of doing when\ndissatisfied. The domestics came about me, asking questions. I made\nthem no answer, however, and continued singing till the hour for\npreparing the dinner drew nigh, when I suddenly sprang on the floor, and\nwas not long in thrusting them all out of the kitchen, telling them that\nthey had no business there at such a season. I then at once entered upon\nmy functions. I exerted myself, _mon ma\u00eetre_\u2014I exerted myself, and was\npreparing a repast which would have done me honour; there was, indeed,\nsome company expected that day, and I therefore determined to show my\nemployer that nothing was beyond the capacity of his Greek cook. _Eh\nbien_, _mon ma\u00eetre_, all was going on remarkably well, and I felt almost\nreconciled to my new situation, when who should rush into the kitchen but\n_le fils de la maison_, my young master, an ugly urchin of thirteen years\nor thereabouts. He bore in his hand a manchet of bread, which, after\nprying about for a moment, he proceeded to dip in the pan where some\ndelicate woodcocks were in the course of preparation. You know, _mon\nma\u00eetre_, how sensitive I am on certain points, for I am no Spaniard, but\na Greek, and have principles of honour. Without a moment\u2019s hesitation I\ntook my young master by the shoulders, and hurrying him to the door,\ndismissed him in the manner which he deserved. Squalling loudly, he\nhurried away to the upper part of the house. I continued my labours, but\nere three minutes had elapsed, I heard a dreadful confusion above stairs,\n_on faisoit une horrible tintamarre_, and I could occasionally\ndistinguish oaths and execrations. Presently doors were flung open, and\nthere was an awful rushing downstairs, a gallopade. It was my lord the\ncount, his lady, and my young master, followed by a regular bevy of women\nand _filles de chambre_. Far in advance of all, however, was my lord\nwith a drawn sword in his hand, shouting, \u2018Where is the wretch who has\ndishonoured my son, where is he? He shall die forthwith.\u2019 I know not\nhow it was, _mon ma\u00eetre_, but I just then chanced to spill a large bowl\nof _garbanzos_, which were intended for the _puchera_ of the following\nday. They were uncooked, and were as hard as marbles; these I dashed\nupon the floor, and the greater part of them fell just about the doorway.\n_Eh bien_, _mon ma\u00eetre_, in another moment in bounded the count, his eyes\nsparkling like coals, and, as I have already said, with a rapier in his\nhand. \u2018_Tenez_, _gueux enrag\u00e9_,\u2019 he screamed, making a desperate lunge at\nme; but ere the words were out of his mouth, his foot slipping on the\npease, he fell forward with great violence at his full length, and his\nweapon flew out of his hand, _comme une fl\u00eache_. You should have heard\nthe outcry which ensued\u2014there was a terrible confusion: the count lay\nupon the floor to all appearance stunned. I took no notice, however,\ncontinuing busily employed. They at last raised him up, and assisted him\ntill he came to himself, though very pale and much shaken. He asked for\nhis sword: all eyes were now turned upon me, and I saw that a general\nattack was meditated. Suddenly I took a large _casserole_ from the fire\nin which various eggs were frying; this I held out at arm\u2019s length,\npeering at it along my arm as if I were curiously inspecting it, my right\nfoot advanced and the other thrown back as far as possible. All stood\nstill, imagining, doubtless, that I was about to perform some grand\noperation, and so I was: for suddenly the sinister leg advancing, with\none rapid _coup de pied_, I sent the _casserole_ and its contents flying\nover my head, so that they struck the wall far behind me. This was to\nlet them know that I had broken my staff and had shaken the dust off my\nfeet; so casting upon the count the peculiar glance of the Sceirote cooks\nwhen they feel themselves insulted, and extending my mouth on either side\nnearly as far as the ears, I took down my haversack and departed, singing\nas I went the song of the ancient Demos, who, when dying, asked for his\nsupper, and water wherewith to lave his hands\u2014\n\n \u038c \u1f24\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2 \u1f10\u03b2\u03b1\u03c3\u03af\u03bb\u03b5\u03c5\u03b5, \u03ba\u1f30 \u1f41 \u0394\u03b7\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2 \u03b4\u03b9\u03b1\u03c4\u03ac\u03b6\u03b5\u03b9,\n \u03a3\u03cd\u03c1\u03c4\u03b5, \u03c0\u03b1\u03b9\u03b4\u03b9\u03ac \u03bc\u03bf\u03c5, \u2019\u03c3 \u03c4\u1f78 \u03bd\u03b5\u03c1\u1f78\u03bd \u03c8\u03c9\u03bc\u1f76 \u03bd\u1f70 \u03c6\u03ac\u03c4' \u1f70\u03c0\u03cc\u03c8\u03b5. {164}\n\nAnd in this manner, _mon ma\u00eetre_, I left the house of the Count of ---.\u201d\n\n_Myself_.\u2014And a fine account you have given of yourself; by your own\nconfession, your behaviour was most atrocious. Were it not for the many\nmarks of courage and fidelity which you have exhibited in my service, I\nwould from this moment hold no further communication with you.\n\n_Antonio_.\u2014_Mais qu\u2019est ce que vous voudriez_, _mon ma\u00eetre_? Am I not a\nGreek, full of honour and sensibility? Would you have the cooks of\nSceira and Stambul submit to be insulted here in Spain by the sons of\ncounts rushing into the temple with manchets of bread? _Non_, _non_,\n_mon ma\u00eetre_, you are too noble to require that, and what is more, _too\njust_. But we will talk of other things. _Mon ma\u00eetre_, I came not\nalone, there is one now waiting in the corridor anxious to speak to you.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Who is it?\n\n_Antonio_.\u2014One whom you have met, _mon ma\u00eetre_, in various and strange\nplaces.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014But who is it?\n\n_Antonio_.\u2014One who will come to a strange end, _for so it is written_.\nThe most extraordinary of all the Swiss, he of Saint James\u2014_Der Schatz\nGr\u00e4ber_. {165}\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Not Benedict Mol?\n\n\u201c_Yaw_, _mein lieber Herr_,\u201d said Benedict, pushing open the door which\nstood ajar; \u201cit is myself. I met _Herr Anton_ in the street, and hearing\nthat you were in this place, I came with him to visit you.\u201d\n\n_Myself_.\u2014And in the name of all that is singular, how is it that I see\nyou in Madrid again? I thought that by this time you were returned to\nyour own country.\n\n_Benedict_.\u2014Fear not, _lieber Herr_, I shall return thither in good time;\nbut not on foot, but with mules and coach. The _Schatz_ is still yonder,\nwaiting to be dug up, and now I have better hope than ever; plenty of\nfriends, plenty of money. See you not how I am dressed, _lieber Herr_?\n\nAnd verily his habiliments were of a much more respectable appearance\nthan any which he had sported on former occasions. His coat and\npantaloons, which were of light green, were nearly new. On his head he\nstill wore an Andalusian hat, but the present one was neither old nor\nshabby, but fresh and glossy, and of immense altitude of cone; whilst in\nhis hand, instead of the ragged staff which I had observed at Saint James\nand Oviedo, he now carried a huge bamboo rattan, surmounted by the grim\nhead of either a bear or lion, curiously cut out of pewter.\n\n\u201cYou have all the appearance of a treasure-seeker returned from a\nsuccessful expedition,\u201d I exclaimed.\n\n\u201cOr rather,\u201d interrupted Antonio, \u201cof one who has ceased to trade on his\nown bottom, and now goes seeking treasures at the cost and expense of\nothers.\u201d\n\nI questioned the Swiss minutely concerning his adventures since I last\nsaw him, when I left him at Oviedo to pursue my route to Santander. From\nhis answers I gathered that he had followed me to the latter place; he\nwas, however, a long time in performing the journey, being weak from\nhunger and privation. At Santander he could hear no tidings of me, and\nby this time the trifle which he had received from me was completely\nexhausted. He now thought of making his way into France, but was afraid\nto venture through the disturbed provinces, lest he should fall into the\nhands of the Carlists, who he conceived might shoot him as a spy. No one\nrelieving him at Santander, he departed and begged his way till he found\nhimself in some part of Aragon, but where he scarcely knew. \u201cMy misery\nwas so great,\u201d said Benedict, \u201cthat I nearly lost my senses. Oh, the\nhorror of wandering about the savage hills and wide plains of Spain,\nwithout money and without hope! Sometimes I became desperate, when I\nfound myself amongst rocks and _barrancos_, perhaps after having tasted\nno food from sunrise to sunset; and then I would raise my staff towards\nthe sky and shake it, crying, _Lieber Herr Gott_, _ach lieber Herr Gott_,\nyou must help me now or never; if you tarry I am lost; you must help me\nnow, now! And once, when I was raving in this manner, methought I heard\na voice\u2014nay, I am sure I heard it\u2014sounding from the hollow of a rock,\nclear and strong; and it cried, \u2018_Der Schatz_, _der Schatz_, it is not\nyet dug up; to Madrid, to Madrid. The way to the _Schatz_ is through\nMadrid.\u2019 And then the thought of the _Schatz_ once more rushed into my\nmind, and I reflected how happy I might be, could I but dig up the\n_Schatz_. No more begging then; no more wandering amidst horrid\nmountains and deserts; so I brandished my staff, and my body and my limbs\nbecame full of new and surprising strength, and I strode forward, and was\nnot long before I reached the high road; and then I begged and bettled as\nI best could, until I reached Madrid.\u201d\n\n\u201cAnd what has befallen you since you reached Madrid?\u201d I inquired. \u201cDid\nyou find the treasure in the streets?\u201d\n\nOn a sudden Benedict became reserved and taciturn, which the more\nsurprised me, as, up to the present moment, he had at all times been\nremarkably communicative with respect to his affairs and prospects. From\nwhat I could learn from his broken hints and innuendos, it appeared that,\nsince his arrival at Madrid, he had fallen into the hands of certain\npeople who had treated him with kindness, and provided him both with\nmoney and clothes; not from disinterested motives, however, but having an\neye to the treasure. \u201cThey expect great things from me,\u201d said the Swiss;\n\u201cand perhaps, after all, it would have been more profitable to have dug\nup the treasure without their assistance, always provided that were\npossible.\u201d Who his new friends were he either knew not or would not tell\nme, save that they were people in power. He said something about Queen\nChristina and an oath which he had taken in the presence of a bishop on\nthe crucifix and the four _Evangelien_. I thought that his head was\nturned, and forbore questioning. Just before taking his departure, he\nobserved, \u201c_Lieber Herr_, pardon me for not being quite frank towards\nyou, to whom I owe so much, but I dare not; I am not now my own man. It\nis, moreover, an evil thing at all times to say a word about treasure\nbefore you have secured it. There was once a man in my own country who\ndug deep into the earth until he arrived at a copper vessel which\ncontained a _Schatz_. Seizing it by the handle, he merely exclaimed in\nhis transport, \u2018I have it!\u2019 that was enough, however: down sank the\nkettle, though the handle remained in his grasp. That was all he ever\ngot for his trouble and digging. Farewell, _lieber Herr_, I shall\nspeedily be sent back to Saint James to dig up the _Schatz_; but I will\nvisit you ere I go\u2014farewell.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLII.\n\n\nLiberation from Prison\u2014The Apology\u2014Human Nature\u2014The Greek\u2019s Return\u2014Church\nof Rome\u2014Light of Scripture\u2014Archbishop of Toledo\u2014An Interview\u2014Stones of\nPrice\u2014A Resolution\u2014The Foreign Language\u2014Benedict\u2019s Farewell\u2014Treasure Hunt\nat Compostella\u2014Truth and Fiction.\n\nI remained about three weeks in the prison of Madrid, and then left it.\nIf I had possessed any pride, or harboured any rancour against the party\nwho had consigned me to durance, the manner in which I was restored to\nliberty would no doubt have been highly gratifying to those evil\npassions; the government having acknowledged, by a document transmitted\nto Sir George, that I had been incarcerated on insufficient grounds, and\nthat no stigma attached itself to me from the imprisonment I had\nundergone; at the same time agreeing to defray all the expenses to which\nI had been subjected throughout the progress of this affair.\n\nIt moreover expressed its willingness to dismiss the individual owing to\nwhose information I had been first arrested, namely, the _corchete_, or\npolice officer, who had visited me in my apartments in the Calle de\nSantiago, and behaved himself in the manner which I have described in a\nformer chapter. I declined, however, to avail myself of this\ncondescension of the government, more especially as I was informed that\nthe individual in question had a wife and family, who, if he were\ndisgraced, would be at once reduced to want. I moreover considered that,\nin what he had done and said, he had probably only obeyed some private\norders which he had received; I therefore freely forgave him, and if he\ndoes not retain his situation at the present moment, it is certainly no\nfault of mine.\n\nI likewise refused to accept any compensation for my expenses, which were\nconsiderable. It is probable that many persons in my situation would\nhave acted very differently in this respect, and I am far from saying\nthat herein I acted discreetly or laudably; but I was averse to receive\nmoney from people such as those of which the Spanish Government was\ncomposed, people whom I confess I heartily despised, and I was unwilling\nto afford them an opportunity of saying that after they had imprisoned an\nEnglishman unjustly, and without a cause, he condescended to receive\nmoney at their hands. In a word, I confess my own weakness; I was\nwilling that they should continue my debtors, and have little doubt that\nthey had not the slightest objection to remain so: they kept their money,\nand probably laughed in their sleeves at my want of common sense.\n\nThe heaviest loss which resulted from my confinement, and for which no\nindemnification could be either offered or received, was in the death of\nmy affectionate and faithful Basque Francisco, who, having attended me\nduring the whole time of my imprisonment, caught the pestilential typhus\nor gaol fever, which was then raging in the Carcel de la Corte, of which\nhe expired within a few days subsequent to my liberation. {170} His\ndeath occurred late one evening. The next morning, as I was lying in bed\nruminating on my loss, and wondering of what nation my next servant would\nbe, I heard a noise which seemed to be that of a person employed\nvigorously in cleaning boots or shoes, and at intervals a strange\ndiscordant voice singing snatches of a song in some unknown language:\nwondering who it could be, I rang the bell.\n\n\u201cDid you ring, _mon ma\u00eetre_?\u201d said Antonio, appearing at the door with\none of his arms deeply buried in a boot.\n\n\u201cI certainly did ring,\u201d said I, \u201cbut I scarcely expected that you would\nhave answered the summons.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Mais pourquoi non_, _mon ma\u00eetre_?\u201d cried Antonio. \u201cWho should serve\nyou now but myself? _N\u2019est pas que le sieur Fran\u00e7ois est mort_? And did\nI not say, as soon as I heard of his departure, I shall return to my\nfunctions _chez mon ma\u00eetre_, _Monsieur Georges_?\u201d\n\n\u201cI suppose you had no other employment, and on that account you came.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Au contraire_, _mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d replied the Greek, \u201cI had just engaged\nmyself at the house of the Duke of Frias, {171} from whom I was to\nreceive ten dollars per month more than I shall accept from your worship;\nbut on hearing that you were without a domestic, I forthwith told the\nduke, though it was late at night, that he would not suit me; and here I\nam.\u201d\n\n\u201cI shall not receive you in this manner,\u201d said I; \u201creturn to the duke,\napologize for your behaviour, request your dismission in a regular way;\nand then, if his grace is willing to part with you, as will most probably\nbe the case, I shall be happy to avail myself of your services.\u201d\n\nIt is reasonable to expect that after having been subjected to an\nimprisonment which my enemies themselves admitted to be unjust, I should\nin future experience more liberal treatment at their hands than that\nwhich they had hitherto adopted towards me. The sole object of my\nambition at this time was to procure toleration for the sale of the\nGospel in this unhappy and distracted kingdom, and to have attained this\nend I would not only have consented to twenty such imprisonments in\nsuccession as that which I had undergone, but would gladly have\nsacrificed life itself. I soon perceived, however, that I was likely to\ngain nothing by my incarceration; on the contrary, I had become an object\nof personal dislike to the government since the termination of this\naffair, which it was probable I had never been before; their pride and\nvanity were humbled by the concessions which they had been obliged to\nmake in order to avoid a rupture with England. This dislike they were\nnow determined to gratify, by thwarting my views as much as possible. I\nhad an interview with Ofalia on the subject uppermost in my mind; I found\nhim morose and snappish. \u201cIt will be for your interest to be still,\u201d\nsaid he; \u201cbeware! you have already thrown the whole _corte_ into\nconfusion; beware, I repeat; another time you may not escape so easily.\u201d\n\u201cPerhaps not,\u201d I replied, \u201cand perhaps I do not wish it; it is a pleasant\nthing to be persecuted for the Gospel\u2019s sake. I now take the liberty of\ninquiring whether, if I attempt to circulate the Word of God, I am to be\ninterrupted.\u201d \u201cOf course,\u201d exclaimed Ofalia; \u201cthe Church forbids such\ncirculation.\u201d \u201cI shall make the attempt, however,\u201d I exclaimed. \u201cDo you\nmean what you say?\u201d demanded Ofalia, arching his eyebrows and elongating\nhis mouth. \u201cYes,\u201d I continued, \u201cI shall make the attempt in every\nvillage in Spain to which I can penetrate.\u201d\n\nThroughout my residence in Spain the clergy were the party from which I\nexperienced the strongest opposition; and it was at their instigation\nthat the government originally adopted those measures which prevented any\nextensive circulation of the sacred volume through the land. I shall not\ndetain the course of my narrative with reflections as to the state of a\nChurch, which, though it pretends to be founded on Scripture, would yet\nkeep the light of Scripture from all mankind, if possible. But Rome is\nfully aware that she is not a Christian Church, and having no desire to\nbecome so, she acts prudently in keeping from the eyes of her followers\nthe page which would reveal to them the truths of Christianity. Her\nagents and minions throughout Spain exerted themselves to the utmost to\nrender my humble labours abortive, and to vilify the work which I was\nattempting to disseminate. All the ignorant and fanatical clergy (the\ngreat majority) were opposed to it, and all those who were anxious to\nkeep on good terms with the court of Rome were loud in their cry against\nit. There was, however, one section of the clergy, a small one, it is\ntrue, rather favourably disposed towards the circulation of the Gospel,\nthough by no means inclined to make any particular sacrifice for the\naccomplishment of such an end: these were such as professed liberalism,\nwhich is supposed to mean a disposition to adopt any reform, both in\ncivil and Church matters, which may be deemed conducive to the weal of\nthe country. Not a few amongst the Spanish clergy were supporters of\nthis principle, or at least declared themselves so; some doubtless for\ntheir own advancement, hoping to turn the spirit of the times to their\nown personal profit: others, it is to be hoped, from conviction, and a\npure love of the principle itself. Amongst these were to be found, at\nthe time of which I am speaking, several bishops. It is worthy of\nremark, however, that of all these not one but owed his office, not to\nthe Pope, who disowned them one and all, but to the Queen Regent, the\nprofessed head of liberalism throughout all Spain. It is not, therefore,\nsurprising that men thus circumstanced should feel rather disposed than\nnot to countenance any measure or scheme at all calculated to favour the\nadvancement of liberalism; and surely such an one was the circulation of\nthe Scriptures. I derived but little assistance from their good will,\nhowever, supposing that they entertained some, as they never took any\ndecided stand, nor lifted up their voices in a bold and positive manner,\ndenouncing the conduct of those who would withhold the light of Scripture\nfrom the world. At one time I hoped by their instrumentality to\naccomplish much in Spain in the Gospel cause; but I was soon undeceived,\nand became convinced that reliance on what they would effect was like\nplacing the hand on a staff of reed, which will only lacerate the flesh.\nMore than once some of them sent messages to me, expressive of their\nesteem, and assuring me how much the cause of the Gospel was dear to\ntheir hearts. I even received an intimation that a visit from me would\nbe agreeable to the Archbishop of Toledo, the Primate of Spain.\n\nOf this personage I can say but little, his early history being entirely\nunknown to me. At the death of Ferdinand, I believe, he was Bishop of\nMallorca, a small insignificant see, of very scanty revenues, which\nperhaps he had no objection to exchange for one more wealthy. It is\nprobable, however, that had he proved a devoted servant of the Pope, and\nconsequently a supporter of legitimacy, he would have continued to the\nday of his death to fill the episcopal chair of Mallorca; but he was said\nto be a liberal, and the Queen Regent thought fit to bestow upon him the\ndignity of Archbishop of Toledo, by which he became the head of the\nSpanish Church. The Pope, it is true, had refused to ratify the\nnomination, on which account all good Catholics were still bound to\nconsider him as Bishop of Mallorca, and not as Primate of Spain. He,\nhowever, received the revenues belonging to the see, which, though only a\nshadow of what they originally were, were still considerable, and lived\nin the primate\u2019s palace at Madrid, so that if he were not archbishop _de\njure_, he was what many people would have considered much better,\narchbishop _de facto_. {175}\n\nHearing that this personage was a personal friend of Ofalia, who was said\nto entertain a very high regard for him, I determined upon paying him a\nvisit, and accordingly one morning betook myself to the palace in which\nhe resided. I experienced no difficulty in obtaining an interview, being\nforthwith conducted to his presence by a common kind of footman, an\nAsturian, I believe, whom I found seated on a stone bench in the\nentrance-hall. When I was introduced, the archbishop was alone, seated\nbehind a table in a large apartment, a kind of drawing-room; he was\nplainly dressed, in a black cassock and silken cap; on his finger,\nhowever, glittered a superb amethyst, the lustre of which was truly\ndazzling. He rose for a moment as I advanced, and motioned me to a chair\nwith his hand. He might be about sixty years of age; his figure was very\ntall, but he stooped considerably, evidently from feebleness, and the\npallid hue of ill-health overspread his emaciated features. When he had\nreseated himself, he dropped his head, and appeared to be looking on the\ntable before him.\n\n\u201cI suppose your lordship knows who I am?\u201d said I, at last breaking\nsilence.\n\nThe archbishop bent his head towards the right shoulder, in a somewhat\nequivocal manner, but said nothing.\n\n\u201cI am he whom the _Manolos_ of Madrid call _Don Jorgito el Ingles_; I am\njust come out of prison, whither I was sent for circulating my Lord\u2019s\nGospel in this kingdom of Spain.\u201d\n\nThe archbishop made the same equivocal motion with his head, but still\nsaid nothing.\n\n\u201cI was informed that your lordship was desirous of seeing me, and on that\naccount I have paid you this visit.\u201d\n\n\u201cI did not send for you,\u201d said the archbishop, suddenly, raising his head\nwith a startled look.\n\n\u201cPerhaps not: I was, however, given to understand that my presence would\nbe agreeable; but as that does not seem to be the case, I will leave.\u201d\n\n\u201cSince you are come, I am very glad to see you.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am very glad to hear it,\u201d said I, reseating myself; \u201cand since I am\nhere, we may as well talk of an all-important matter, the circulation of\nthe Scripture. Does your lordship see any way by which an end so\ndesirable might be brought about?\u201d\n\n\u201cNo,\u201d said the archbishop, faintly.\n\n\u201cDoes not your lordship think that a knowledge of the Scripture would\nwork inestimable benefit in these realms?\u201d\n\n\u201cI don\u2019t know.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs it probable that the government may be induced to consent to the\ncirculation?\u201d\n\n\u201cHow should I know?\u201d and the archbishop looked me in the face.\n\nI looked in the face of the archbishop; there was an expression of\nhelplessness in it, which almost amounted to dotage. \u201cDear me,\u201d thought\nI, \u201cwhom have I come to on an errand like mine? Poor man! you are not\nfitted to play the part of Martin Luther, and least of all in Spain. I\nwonder why your friends selected you to be Archbishop of Toledo; they\nthought perhaps that you would do neither good nor harm, and made choice\nof you, as they sometimes do primates in my own country, for your\nincapacity. You do not seem very happy in your present situation; no\nvery easy stall this of yours. You were more comfortable, I trow, when\nyou were the poor Bishop of Mallorca; could enjoy your _puchera_ then\nwithout fear that the salt would turn out sublimate. No fear then of\nbeing smothered in your bed. A _siesta_ is a pleasant thing when one is\nnot subject to be disturbed by \u2018the sudden fear.\u2019 I wonder whether they\nhave poisoned you already,\u201d I continued, half aloud, as I kept my eyes\nfixed on his countenance, which methought was becoming ghastly.\n\n\u201cDid you speak, _Don Jorge_?\u201d demanded the archbishop.\n\n\u201cThat is a fine brilliant on your lordship\u2019s hand,\u201d said I.\n\n\u201cYou are fond of brilliants, _Don Jorge_,\u201d said the archbishop, his\nfeatures brightening up; \u201c_vaya_! so am I; they are pretty things. Do\nyou understand them?\u201d\n\n\u201cI do,\u201d said I, \u201cand I never saw a finer brilliant than your own, one\nexcepted; it belonged to an acquaintance of mine, a Tartar Khan. He did\nnot bear it on his finger, however; it stood in the frontlet of his\nhorse, where it shone like a star. He called it _Daoud Scharr_, which,\nbeing interpreted, meaneth _light of war_.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Vaya_!\u201d said the archbishop, \u201chow very extraordinary! I am glad you\nare fond of brilliants, _Don Jorge_. Speaking of horses, reminds me that\nI have frequently seen you on horseback. _Vaya_! how you ride! It is\ndangerous to be in your way.\u201d\n\n\u201cIs your lordship fond of equestrian exercise?\u201d\n\n\u201cBy no means, _Don Jorge_; I do not like horses. It is not the practice\nof the Church to ride on horseback. We prefer mules; they are the\nquieter animals. I fear horses, they kick so violently.\u201d\n\n\u201cThe kick of a horse is death,\u201d said I, \u201cif it touches a vital part. I\nam not, however, of your lordship\u2019s opinion with respect to mules: a good\n_ginete_ may retain his seat on a horse however vicious, but a\nmule\u2014_vaya_! when a false mule _tira por detras_, {178a} I do not believe\nthat the Father of the Church himself could keep the saddle a moment,\nhowever sharp his bit.\u201d\n\nAs I was going away, I said, \u201cAnd with respect to the Gospel, your\nlordship, what am I to understand?\u201d\n\n\u201c_No s\u00e9_,\u201d {178b} said the archbishop, again bending his head towards the\nright shoulder, whilst his features resumed their former vacant\nexpression. And thus terminated my interview with the Archbishop of\nToledo.\n\n\u201cIt appears to me,\u201d said I to Maria Diaz, on returning home; \u201cit appears\nto me, _Marequita mia_, that if the Gospel in Spain is to wait for\ntoleration until these liberal bishops and archbishops come forward\nboldly in its behalf, it will have to tarry a considerable time.\u201d\n\n\u201cI am much of your worship\u2019s opinion,\u201d answered Maria; \u201ca fine thing,\ntruly, it would be to wait till they exerted themselves in its behalf.\n_Ca_! {179a} the idea makes me smile. Was your worship ever innocent\nenough to suppose that they cared one tittle about the Gospel or its\ncause? _Vaya_! they are true priests, and had only self-interest in view\nin their advances to you. The Holy Father disowns them, and they would\nnow fain, by awaking his fears and jealousy, bring him to some terms; but\nlet him once acknowledge them, and see whether they would admit you to\ntheir palaces or hold any intercourse with you! \u2018Forth with the fellow!\u2019\nthey would say; \u2018_vaya_! is he not a Lutheran? Is he not an enemy to the\nChurch? _\u00c1 la horca_, _\u00e1 la horca_!\u2019 {179b} I know this family better\nthan you do, _Don Jorge_.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt is useless tarrying,\u201d said I; \u201cnothing, however, can be done in\nMadrid. I cannot sell the work at the _despacho_, and I have just\nreceived intelligence that all the copies exposed for sale in the\nlibraries in the different parts of Spain which I have visited have been\nsequestrated by order of the government. My resolution is taken: I shall\nmount my horses, which are neighing in the stable, and betake myself to\nthe villages and plains of dusty Spain. _Al campo_, _al campo_: {180a}\n\u2018Ride forth, because of the word of righteousness, and thy right hand\nshall show thee terrible things. {180b} I will ride forth, Maria.\u201d\n\n\u201cYour worship can do no better; and allow me here to tell you, that for\nevery single book you might sell in a _despacho_ in the city, you may\ndispose of one hundred amongst the villages, always provided you offer\nthem cheap; for in the country money is rather scant. _Vaya_! should I\nnot know? am I not a villager myself, a _villana_ from the Sagra? Ride\nforth, therefore: your horses are neighing in the stall, as your worship\nsays, and you might almost have added that the _Se\u00f1or_ Antonio is\nneighing in the house. He says he has nothing to do, on which account he\nis once more dissatisfied and unsettled. He finds fault with everything,\nbut more particularly with myself. This morning I saluted him, and he\nmade me no reply, but twisted his mouth in a manner very uncommon in this\nland of Spain.\u201d\n\n\u201cA thought strikes me,\u201d said I; \u201cyou have mentioned the Sagra; why should\nnot I commence my labours amongst the villages of that district?\u201d\n\n\u201cYour worship can do no better,\u201d replied Maria; \u201cthe harvest is just over\nthere, and you will find the people comparatively unemployed, with\nleisure to attend and listen to you; and if you follow my advice, you\nwill establish yourself at Villa Seca, in the house of my fathers, where\nat present lives my lord and husband. Go, therefore, to Villa Seca in\nthe first place, and from thence you can sally forth with the _Se\u00f1or_\nAntonio upon your excursions. Peradventure, my husband will accompany\nyou; and if so, you will find him highly useful. The people of Villa\nSeca are civil and courteous, your worship; when they address a\nforeigner, they speak to him at the top of their voice and in Gallegan.\u201d\n\n\u201cIn Gallegan!\u201d I exclaimed.\n\n\u201cThey all understand a few words of Gallegan, which they have acquired\nfrom the mountaineers, who occasionally assist them in cutting the\nharvest, and as Gallegan is the only foreign language they know, they\ndeem it but polite to address a foreigner in that tongue. _Vaya_! it is\nnot a bad village, that of Villa Seca, nor are the people; the only\nill-conditioned person living there is his reverence the curate.\u201d\n\nI was not long in making preparations for my enterprise. A considerable\nstock of Testaments were sent forward by an _arriero_, I myself followed\nthe next day. Before my departure, however, I received a visit from\nBenedict Mol.\n\n\u201cI am come to bid you farewell, _lieber Herr_; tomorrow I return to\nCompostella.\u201d\n\n\u201cOn what errand?\u201d\n\n\u201cTo dig up the _Schatz_, _lieber Herr_. For what else should I go? For\nwhat have I lived until now, but that I may dig up the _Schatz_ in the\nend?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou might have lived for something better,\u201d I exclaimed. \u201cI wish you\nsuccess, however. But on what grounds do you hope? Have you obtained\npermission to dig? Surely you remember your former trials in Galicia?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have not forgotten them, _lieber Herr_, nor the journey to Oviedo, nor\n\u2018the seven acorns,\u2019 nor the fight with death in the _barranco_. But I\nmust accomplish my destiny. I go now to Galicia, as is becoming a Swiss,\nat the expense of the government, with coach and mule, I mean in the\n_galera_. I am to have all the help I require, so that I can dig down to\nthe earth\u2019s centre if I think fit. I\u2014but I must not tell your worship,\nfor I am sworn on \u2018the four _Evangelien_,\u2019 not to tell.\u201d\n\n\u201cWell, Benedict, I have nothing to say, save that I hope you will succeed\nin your digging.\u201d\n\n\u201cThank you, _lieber Herr_, thank you; and now farewell. Succeed! I\nshall succeed!\u201d Here he stopped short, started, and looking upon me with\nan expression of countenance almost wild, he exclaimed, \u201c_Heiliger Gott_!\nI forgot one thing. Suppose I should not find the treasure after all!\u201d\n\n\u201cVery rationally said; pity, though, that you did not think of that\ncontingency till now. I tell you, my friend, that you have engaged in a\nmost desperate undertaking. It is true that you may find a treasure.\nThe chances are, however, a hundred to one that you do not, and in that\nevent what will be your situation? You will be looked upon as an\nimpostor, and the consequences may be horrible to you. Remember where\nyou are, and amongst whom you are. The Spaniards are a credulous people,\nbut let them once suspect that they have been imposed upon, and above all\nlaughed at, and their thirst for vengeance knows no limit. Think not\nthat your innocence will avail you. That you are no impostor I feel\nconvinced; but they would never believe it. It is not too late. Return\nyour fine clothes and magic rattan to those from whom you had them. Put\non your old garments, grasp your ragged staff, and come with me to the\nSagra, to assist in circulating the illustrious Gospel amongst the\nrustics on the Tagus\u2019 bank.\u201d\n\nBenedict mused for a moment, then, shaking his head, he cried, \u201cNo, no, I\nmust accomplish my destiny. The _Schatz_ is not yet dug up. So said the\nvoice in the _barranco_. To-morrow to Compostella. I shall find it\u2014the\n_Schatz_\u2014it is still there\u2014it _must_ be there.\u201d\n\nHe went, and I never saw him more. What I heard, however, was\nextraordinary enough. It appeared that the government had listened to\nhis tale, and had been so struck with Benedict\u2019s exaggerated description\nof the buried treasure, that they imagined that, by a little trouble and\noutlay, gold and diamonds might be dug up at Saint James sufficient to\nenrich themselves and to pay off the national debt of Spain. The Swiss\nreturned to Compostella \u201clike a duke,\u201d to use his own words. The affair,\nwhich had at first been kept a profound secret, was speedily divulged.\nIt was, indeed, resolved that the investigation, which involved\nconsequences of so much importance, should take place in a manner the\nmost public and imposing. A solemn festival was drawing nigh, and it was\ndeemed expedient that the search should take place upon that day. The\nday arrived. All the bells in Compostella pealed. The whole populace\nthronged from their houses, a thousand troops were drawn up in the\nsquare, the expectation of all was wound up to the highest pitch. A\nprocession directed its course to the church of San Roque; at its head\nwas the captain-general and the Swiss, brandishing in his hand the magic\nrattan; close behind walked the _meiga_, the Gallegan witch-wife, by whom\nthe treasure-seeker had been originally guided in the search; numerous\nmasons brought up the rear, bearing implements to break up the ground.\nThe procession enters the church, they pass through it in solemn march,\nthey find themselves in a vaulted passage. The Swiss looks around. \u201cDig\nhere,\u201d said he suddenly. \u201cYes, dig here,\u201d said the _meiga_. The masons\nlabour, the floor is broken up,\u2014a horrible and fetid odour arises. . . .\n\nEnough; no treasure was found, and my warning to the unfortunate Swiss\nturned out but too prophetic. He was forthwith seized and flung into the\nhorrid prison of Saint James, amidst the execrations of thousands, who\nwould have gladly torn him limb from limb.\n\nThe affair did not terminate here. The political opponents of the\ngovernment did not allow so favourable an opportunity to escape for\nlaunching the shafts of ridicule. The _moderados_ were taunted in the\ncortes for their avarice and credulity, whilst the liberal press wafted\non its wings through Spain the story of the treasure-hunt at Saint James.\n\n\u201cAfter all, it was a _trampa_ of _Don Jorge\u2019s_,\u201d said one of my enemies.\n\u201cThat fellow is at the bottom of half the _picardias_ which happen in\nSpain.\u201d\n\nEager to learn the fate of the Swiss, I wrote to my old friend Rey\nRomero, at Compostella. In his answer he states: \u201cI saw the Swiss in\nprison, to which place he sent for me, craving my assistance, for the\nsake of the friendship which I bore to you. But how could I help him?\nHe was speedily after removed from Saint James, I know not whither. It\nis said that he disappeared on the road.\u201d\n\nTruth is sometimes stranger than fiction. Where in the whole cycle of\nromance shall we find anything more wild, grotesque, and sad, than the\neasily authenticated history of Benedict Mol, the treasure-digger of\nSaint James?\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIII.\n\n\nVilla Seca\u2014Moorish House\u2014The Puchera\u2014The Rustic Council\u2014Polite\nCeremonial\u2014The Flower of Spain\u2014The Bridge of Azeca\u2014The Ruined\nCastle\u2014Taking the Field\u2014Demand for the Word\u2014The Old Peasant\u2014The Curate\nand Blacksmith\u2014Cheapness of the Scriptures.\n\nIt was one of the most fiercely hot days in which I ever braved the sun,\nwhen I arrived at Villa Seca. The heat in the shade must have amounted\nat least to one hundred degrees, and the entire atmosphere seemed to\nconsist of flickering flame. At a place called Leganez, six leagues from\nMadrid, and about half way to Toledo, we diverged from the highway,\nbending our course seemingly towards the south-east. We rode over what\nare called plains in Spain, but which, in any other part of the world,\nwould be called undulating and broken ground. The crops of corn and\nbarley had already disappeared, the last vestiges discoverable being here\nand there a few sheaves, which the labourers were occupied in removing to\ntheir garners in the villages. The country could scarcely be called\nbeautiful, being perfectly naked, exhibiting neither trees nor verdure.\nIt was not, however, without its pretensions to grandeur and\nmagnificence, like every part of Spain. The most prominent objects were\ntwo huge calcareous hills, or rather one cleft in twain, which towered up\non high; the summit of the nearest being surmounted by the ruins of an\nancient castle, that of Villaluenga. About an hour past noon we reached\nVilla Seca.\n\nWe found it a large village, containing about seven hundred inhabitants,\nand surrounded by a mud wall. A _plaza_, or market-place, stood in the\nmidst, one side of which is occupied by what is called a palace, a clumsy\nquadrangular building of two stories, belonging to some noble family, the\nlords of the neighbouring soil. It was deserted, however; being only\noccupied by a kind of steward, who stored up in its chambers the grain\nwhich he received as rent from the tenants and _villanos_ who farmed the\nsurrounding district.\n\nThe village stands at the distance of about a quarter of a league from\nthe bank of the Tagus, which even here, in the heart of Spain, is a\nbeautiful stream, not navigable, however, on account of the sand-banks,\nwhich in many places assume the appearance of small islands, and are\ncovered with trees and brushwood. The village derives its supply of\nwater entirely from the river, having none of its own\u2014such, at least, as\nis potable\u2014the water of its wells being all brackish, on which account it\nis probably termed Villa Seca, which signifies \u201cthe dry hamlet.\u201d The\ninhabitants are said to have been originally Moors; certain it is, that\nvarious customs are observable here highly favourable to such a\nsupposition. Amongst others, a very curious one: it is deemed infamous\nfor a woman of Villa Seca to go across the market-place, or to be seen\nthere, though they have no hesitation in showing themselves in the\nstreets and lanes. A deep-rooted hostility exists between the\ninhabitants of this place and those of a neighbouring village, called\nVargas; they rarely speak when they meet, and never intermarry. There is\na vague tradition that the people of the latter place are old Christians,\nand it is highly probable that these neighbours were originally of widely\ndifferent blood; those of Villa Seca being of particularly dark\ncomplexions, whilst the indwellers of Vargas are light and fair. Thus\nthe old feud between Moor and Christian is still kept up in the\nnineteenth century in Spain.\n\nDrenched in perspiration, which fell from our brows like rain, we arrived\nat the door of Juan Lopez, the husband of Maria Diaz. Having heard of\nour intention to pay him a visit, he was expecting us, and cordially\nwelcomed us to his habitation, which, like a genuine Moorish house,\nconsisted only of one story. It was amply large, however, with a court\nand stable. All the apartments were deliciously cool. The floors were\nof brick or stone; and the narrow and trellised windows, which were\nwithout glass, scarcely permitted a ray of sun to penetrate into the\ninterior.\n\nA _puchera_ had been prepared in expectation of our arrival; the heat had\nnot taken away my appetite, and it was not long before I did full justice\nto this the standard dish of Spain. Whilst I ate, Lopez played upon the\nguitar, singing occasionally snatches of Andalusian songs. He was a\nshort, merry-faced, active fellow, whom I had frequently seen at Madrid,\nand was a good specimen of the Spanish _labrador_, or yeoman. Though far\nfrom possessing the ability and intellect of his wife, Maria Diaz, he was\nby no means deficient in shrewdness and understanding. He was, moreover,\nhonest and disinterested, and performed good service in the Gospel cause,\nas will presently appear.\n\nWhen the repast was concluded, Lopez thus addressed me:\u2014\u201c_Se\u00f1or Don\nJorge_, your arrival in our village has already caused a sensation; more\nespecially as these are times of war and tumult, and every person is\nafraid of another, and we dwell here close on the confines of the\nfactious country: for, as you well know, the greater part of La Mancha is\nin the hands of the _Carlinos_ and thieves, parties of whom frequently\nshow themselves on the other side of the river; on which account the\n_alcalde_ of this city, with the other grave and notable people thereof,\nare desirous of seeing your worship, and conversing with you, and of\nexamining your passport.\u201d \u201cIt is well,\u201d said I; \u201clet us forthwith pay a\nvisit to these worthy people.\u201d Whereupon he conducted me across the\n_plaza_, to the house of the _alcalde_, where I found the rustic\ndignitary seated in the passage, enjoying the refreshing coolness of a\ndraught of air which rushed through. He was an elderly man, of about\nsixty, with nothing remarkable in his appearance or his features, which\nlatter were placid and good-humoured. There were several people with\nhim, amongst whom was the surgeon of the place, a tall and immensely\nbulky man, an Alavese by birth, from the town of Vitoria. There was also\na red fiery-faced individual, with a nose very much turned on one side,\nwho was the blacksmith of the village, and was called in general _El\nTuerto_, {188} from the circumstance of his having but one eye. Making\nthe assembly a low bow, I pulled out my passport, and thus addressed\nthem:\u2014\n\n\u201cGrave men and cavaliers of this city of Villa Seca, as I am a stranger,\nof whom it is not possible that you should know anything, I have deemed\nit my duty to present myself before you, and to tell you who I am. Know,\nthen, that I am an Englishman of good blood and fathers, travelling in\nthese countries for my own profit and diversion, and for that of other\npeople also. I have now found my way to Villa Seca, where I propose to\nstay some time, doing that which may be deemed convenient; sometimes\nriding across the plain, and sometimes bathing myself in the waters of\nthe river, which are reported to be of advantage in times of heat. I\ntherefore beg that, during my sojourn in this capital, I may enjoy such\ncountenance and protection from its governors as they are in the habit of\naffording to those who are of quiet and well-ordered life, and are\ndisposed to be buxom and obedient to the customs and laws of the\nrepublic.\u201d\n\n\u201cHe speaks well,\u201d said the _alcalde_, glancing around.\n\n\u201cYes, he speaks well,\u201d said the bulky Alavese; \u201cthere is no denying it.\u201d\n\n\u201cI never heard any one speak better,\u201d cried the blacksmith, starting up\nfrom a stool on which he was seated. \u201c_Vaya_! he is a big man and a fair\ncomplexioned, like myself. I like him, and have a horse that will just\nsuit him; one that is the flower of Spain, and is eight inches above the\nmark.\u201d\n\nI then, with another bow, presented my passport to the _alcalde_, who,\nwith a gentle motion of his hand, appeared to decline taking it, at the\nsame time saying, \u201cIt is not necessary.\u201d \u201cOh, not at all,\u201d exclaimed the\nsurgeon. \u201cThe housekeepers of Villa Seca know how to comport themselves\nwith formality,\u201d observed the blacksmith. \u201cThey would be very loth to\nharbour any suspicion against a cavalier so courteous and well spoken.\u201d\nKnowing, however, that this refusal amounted to nothing, and that it\nmerely formed part of a polite ceremonial, I proffered the passport a\nsecond time, whereupon it was instantly taken, and in a moment the eyes\nof all present were bent upon it with intense curiosity. It was examined\nfrom top to bottom, and turned round repeatedly, and though it is not\nprobable that an individual present understood a word of it, it being\nwritten in French, it gave nevertheless universal satisfaction; and when\nthe _alcalde_, carefully folding it up, returned it to me, they all\nobserved that they had never seen a better passport in their lives, or\none which spake in higher terms of the bearer.\n\nWho was it said that \u201cCervantes sneered Spain\u2019s chivalry away\u201d? {190} I\nknow not; and the author of such a line scarcely deserves to be\nremembered. How the rage for scribbling tempts people at the present day\nto write about lands and nations of which they know nothing, or worse\nthan nothing! _Vaya_! It is not from having seen a bull-fight at\nSeville or Madrid, or having spent a handful of ounces at a _posada_ in\neither of those places, kept perhaps by a Genoese or a Frenchman, that\nyou are competent to write about such a people as the Spaniards, and to\ntell the world how they think, how they speak, and how they act. Spain\u2019s\nchivalry sneered away! Why, there is every probability that the great\nbody of the Spanish nation speak, think, and live precisely as their\nforefathers did six centuries ago.\n\nIn the evening the blacksmith, or, as he would be called in Spanish, _El\nHerrador_, made his appearance at the door of Lopez on horseback.\n\u201c_Vamos_, _Don Jorge_,\u201d he shouted. \u201cCome with me, if your worship is\ndisposed for a ride. I am going to bathe my horse in the Tagus, by the\nbridge of Azeca.\u201d I instantly saddled my _jaca Cordovesa_, and joining\nhim, we rode out of the village, directing our course across the plain\ntowards the river. \u201cDid you ever see such a horse as this of mine, _Don\nJorge_?\u201d he demanded. \u201cIs he not a jewel\u2014an _alhaja_?\u201d And in truth the\nhorse was a noble and gallant creature, in height at least sixteen hands,\nbroad-chested, but of clean and elegant limbs. His neck was superbly\narched, and his head towered on high like that of a swan. In colour he\nwas a bright chestnut, save his flowing mane and tail, which were almost\nblack. I expressed my admiration; whereupon the _herrador_, in high\nspirits, pressed his heels to the creature\u2019s sides, and flinging the\nbridle on its neck, speeded over the plain with prodigious swiftness,\nshouting the old Spanish cry, _Cierra_! I attempted to keep up with him,\nbut had not a chance. \u201cI call him the flower of Spain,\u201d said the\n_herrador_, rejoining me. \u201cPurchase him, _Don Jorge_; his price is but\nthree thousand _reals_. {192} I would not sell him for double that sum,\nbut the Carlist thieves have their eyes upon him, and I am apprehensive\nthat they will some day make a dash across the river and break into Villa\nSeca, all to get possession of my horse, \u2018The Flower of Spain.\u2019\u201d\n\nIt may be as well to observe here, that, within a month from this period,\nmy friend the _herrador_, not being able to find a regular purchaser for\nhis steed, entered into negociations with the aforesaid thieves\nrespecting him, and finally disposed of the animal to their leader,\nreceiving not the three thousand _reals_ he demanded, but an entire herd\nof horned cattle, probably driven from the plains of La Mancha. For this\ntransaction, which was neither more nor less than high treason, he was\ncast into the prison of Toledo, where, however, he did not continue long;\nfor during a short visit to Villa Seca, which I made in the spring of the\nfollowing year, I found him _alcalde_ of that \u201crepublic.\u201d\n\nWe arrived at the bridge of Azeca, which is about half a league from\nVilla Seca: close beside it is a large water-mill, standing upon a dam\nwhich crosses the river. Dismounting from his steed, the _herrador_\nproceeded to divest it of the saddle, then causing it to enter the\nmill-pool, he led it by means of a cord to a particular spot, where the\nwater reached halfway up its neck, then fastening the cord to a post on\nthe bank, he left the animal standing in the pool. I thought I could do\nno better than follow his example; and, accordingly, procuring a rope\nfrom the mill, I led my own horse into the water. \u201cIt will refresh their\nblood, _Don Jorge_,\u201d, said the _herrador_; \u201clet us leave them there for\nan hour, whilst we go and divert ourselves.\u201d\n\nNear the bridge, on the side of the river on which we were, was a kind of\nguard-house, where were three carbineers of the revenue, who collected\nthe tolls of the bridge. We entered into conversation with them: \u201cIs not\nthis a dangerous position of yours,\u201d said I to one of them, who was a\nCatalan, \u201cclose beside the factious country? Surely it would not be\ndifficult for a body of the _Carlinos_ or bandits to dash across the\nbridge and make prisoners of you all.\u201d\n\n\u201cIt would be easy enough at any moment, cavalier,\u201d replied the Catalan;\n\u201cwe are, however, all in the hands of God, and he has preserved us\nhitherto, and perhaps still will. True it is that one of our number, for\nthere were four of us originally, fell the other day into the hands of\nthe _canaille_. He had wandered across the bridge amongst the thickets\nwith his gun in search of a hare or rabbit, when three or four of them\nfell upon him and put him to death in a manner too horrible to relate.\nBut patience! every man who lives must die. I shall not sleep the worse\nto-night because I may chance to be hacked by the knives of these\n_malvados_ to-morrow. Cavalier, I am from Barcelona, and have seen there\nmariners of your nation; this is not so good a country as Barcelona.\n_Paciencia_! Cavalier, if you will step into our house, I will give you\na glass of water; we have some that is cool, for we dug a deep hole in\nthe earth and buried there our pitcher; it is cool, as I told you, but\nthe water of Castile is not like that of Catalonia.\u201d\n\nThe moon had arisen when we mounted our horses to return to the village,\nand the rays of the beauteous luminary danced merrily on the rushing\nwaters of the Tagus, silvered the plain over which we were passing, and\nbathed in a flood of brightness the bold sides of the calcareous hill of\nVillaluenga and the antique ruins which crowned its brow. \u201cWhy is that\nthe Castle of Villaluenga?\u201d I demanded.\n\n\u201cFrom a village of that name, which stands on the other side of the hill,\n_Don Jorge_,\u201d replied the _herrador_. \u201c_Vaya_! it is a strange place,\nthat castle: some say it was built by the Moors in the old times, and\nsome by the Christians when they first laid siege to Toledo. It is not\ninhabited now, save by rabbits, which breed there in abundance amongst\nthe long grass and broken stones, and by eagles and vultures, which build\non the tops of the towers. I occasionally go there with my gun to shoot\na rabbit. On a fine day you may descry both Toledo and Madrid from its\nwalls. I cannot say I like the place, it is so dreary and melancholy.\nThe hill on which it stands is all of chalk, and is very difficult of\nascent. I heard my grandame say that once, when she was a girl, a cloud\nof smoke burst from that hill, and that flames of fire were seen, just as\nif it contained a volcano, as perhaps it does, _Don Jorge_.\u201d\n\nThe grand work of Scripture circulation soon commenced in the Sagra.\nNotwithstanding the heat of the weather, I rode about in all directions.\nIt was well that heat agrees with my constitution, otherwise it would\nhave been impossible to effect anything in this season, when the very\n_arrieros_ frequently fall dead from their mules, smitten by a\nsun-stroke. I had an excellent assistant in Antonio, who, disregarding\nthe heat like myself, and afraid of nothing, visited several villages\nwith remarkable success. \u201c_Mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d said he, \u201cI wish to show you\nthat nothing is beyond my capacity.\u201d But he who put the labours of us\nboth to shame, was my host, Juan Lopez, whom it had pleased the Lord to\nrender favourable to the cause. \u201c_Don Jorge_,\u201d said he, \u201c_yo quiero\nengancharme con usted_; {195a} I am a liberal, and a foe to superstition;\nI will take the field, and, if necessary, will follow you to the end of\nthe world: _Viva Inglaterra_; _viva el Evangelio_.\u201d Thus saying, he put\na large bundle of Testaments into a satchel, and, springing upon the\ncrupper of his grey donkey, he cried, \u201c_Arrh\u00e9_! _burra_!\u201d {195b} and\nhastened away. I sat down to my journal.\n\nEre I had finished writing I heard the voice of the _burra_ in the\ncourtyard, and going out, I found my host returned. He had disposed of\nhis whole cargo of twenty Testaments at the village of Vargas, distant\nfrom Villa Seca about a league. Eight poor harvest-men, who were\nrefreshing themselves at the door of a wine-house, purchased each a copy,\nwhilst the village schoolmaster secured the rest for the little ones\nbeneath his care, lamenting, at the same time, the great difficulty he\nhad long experienced in obtaining religious books, owing to their\nscarcity and extravagant price. Many other persons were also anxious to\npurchase Testaments, but Lopez was unable to supply them: at his\ndeparture they requested him to return within a few days.\n\nI was aware that I was playing rather a daring game, and that it was very\npossible that, when I least expected it, I might be seized, tied to the\ntail of a mule, and dragged either to the prison of Toledo or Madrid.\nYet such a prospect did not discourage me in the least, but rather urged\nme to persevere; for, at this time, without the slightest wish to magnify\nmyself, I could say that I was eager to lay down my life for the cause,\nand whether a bandit\u2019s bullet or the gaol fever brought my career to a\nclose, was a matter of indifference to me; I was not then a stricken man:\n\u201cRide on, because of the word of righteousness,\u201d was my cry.\n\nThe news of the arrival of the book of life soon spread like wildfire\nthrough the villages of the Sagra of Toledo, and wherever my people and\nmyself directed our course we found the inhabitants disposed to receive\nour merchandise; it was even called for where not exhibited. One night\nas I was bathing myself and horse in the Tagus, a knot of people gathered\non the bank, crying, \u201cCome out of the water, Englishman, and give us\nbooks; we have got our money in our hands.\u201d The poor creatures then held\nout their hands, filled with _cuartos_, a copper coin of the value of a\nfarthing, but unfortunately I had no Testaments to give them. Antonio,\nhowever, who was at a short distance, having exhibited one, it was\ninstantly torn from his hands by the people, and a scuffle ensued to\nobtain possession of it. It very frequently occurred that the poor\nlabourers in the neighbourhood, being eager to obtain Testaments, and\nhaving no money to offer us in exchange, brought various articles to our\nhabitation as equivalents; for example, rabbits, fruit, and barley; and I\nmade a point never to disappoint them, as such articles were of utility\neither for our own consumption or that of the horses.\n\nIn Villa Seca there was a school in which fifty-seven children were\ntaught the first rudiments of education. One morning the schoolmaster, a\ntall slim figure of about sixty, bearing on his head one of the peaked\nhats of Andalusia, and wrapped, notwithstanding the excessive heat of the\nweather, in a long cloak, made his appearance, and having seated himself,\nrequested to be shown one of our books. Having delivered it to him, he\nremained examining it for nearly an hour, without uttering a word. At\nlast he laid it down with a sigh, and said that he should be very happy\nto purchase some of these books for his school, but from their\nappearance, especially from the quality of the paper and binding, he was\napprehensive that to pay for them would exceed the means of the parents\nof his pupils, as they were almost destitute of money, being poor\nlabourers. He then commenced blaming the government, which, he said,\nestablished schools without affording the necessary books, adding that in\nhis school there were but two books for the use of all his pupils, and\nthese, he confessed, contained but little good. I asked him what he\nconsidered the Testaments were worth? He said, \u201c_Se\u00f1or_ Cavalier, to\nspeak frankly, I have in other times paid twelve _reals_ for books\ninferior to yours in every respect; but I assure you that my poor pupils\nwould be utterly unable to pay the half of that sum.\u201d I replied, \u201cI will\nsell you as many as you please for three _reals_ each. I am acquainted\nwith the poverty of the land, and my friends and myself, in affording the\npeople the means of spiritual instruction, have no wish to curtail their\nscanty bread.\u201d He replied, \u201c_Bendito sea Dios_!\u201d {197} and could\nscarcely believe his ears. He instantly purchased a dozen, expending, as\nhe said, all the money he possessed, with the exception of a few\n_cuartos_. The introduction of the Word of God into the country schools\nof Spain is therefore begun, and I humbly hope that it will prove one of\nthose events which the Bible Society, after the lapse of years, will have\nmost reason to remember with joy and gratitude to the Almighty.\n\nAn old peasant is reading in the portico. Eighty-four years have passed\nover his head, and he is almost entirely deaf; nevertheless he is reading\naloud the second of Matthew: three days since he bespoke a Testament, but\nnot being able to raise the money, he has not redeemed it until the\npresent moment. He has just brought thirty farthings. As I survey the\nsilvery hair which overshadows his sun-burnt countenance, the words of\nthe song occurred to me, \u201cLord, now lettest thou thy servant depart in\npeace, according to thy word: for mine eyes have seen thy salvation.\u201d\n\nI experienced much grave kindness and simple hospitality from the good\npeople of Villa Seca during my sojourn amongst them. I had at this time\nso won their hearts by the \u201cformality\u201d of my behaviour and language, that\nI firmly believe they would have resisted to the knife any attempt which\nmight have been made to arrest or otherwise maltreat me. He who wishes\nto become acquainted with the genuine Spaniard must seek him not in\nseaports and large towns, but in lone and remote villages, like those of\nthe Sagra. There he will find all that gravity of deportment and\nchivalry of disposition which Cervantes is said to have sneered away;\n{198} and there he will hear, in everyday conversation, those grandiose\nexpressions, which, when met with in the romances of chivalry, are\nscoffed at as ridiculous exaggerations.\n\nI had one enemy in the village\u2014it was the curate.\n\n\u201cThe fellow is a heretic and a scoundrel,\u201d said he one day in the\nconclave. \u201cHe never enters the church, and is poisoning the minds of the\npeople with his Lutheran books. Let him be bound and sent to Toledo, or\nturned out of the village at least.\u201d\n\n\u201cI will have nothing of the kind,\u201d said the _alcalde_, who was said to be\na Carlist. \u201cIf he has his opinions, I have mine too. He has conducted\nhimself with politeness. Why should I interfere with him? He has been\ncourteous to my daughter, and has presented her with a volume. _Que\nviva_! and with respect to his being a Lutheran, I have heard say that\namongst the Lutherans there are sons of as good fathers as here. He\nappears to me a _caballero_. He speaks well.\u201d\n\n\u201cThere is no denying it,\u201d said the surgeon.\n\n\u201cWho speaks _so_ well?\u201d shouted the _herrador_. \u201cAnd who has more\nformality? _Vaya_! did he not praise my horse, \u2018The Flower of Spain\u2019?\nDid he not say that in the whole of _Inglaterra_ there was not a better?\nDid he not assure me, moreover, that if he were to remain in Spain he\nwould purchase it, giving me my own price? Turn him out, indeed! Is he\nnot of my own blood, is he not fair-complexioned? Who shall turn him out\nwhen I, \u2018the one-eyed,\u2019 say no?\u201d\n\nIn connexion with the circulation of the Scriptures I will now relate an\nanecdote not altogether divested of singularity. I have already spoken\nof the water-mill by the bridge of Azeca. I had formed acquaintance with\nthe tenant of this mill, who was known in the neighbourhood by the name\nof Don Antero. One day, taking me into a retired place, he asked me, to\nmy great astonishment, whether I would sell him a thousand Testaments at\nthe price at which I was disposing of them to the peasantry; saying, if I\nwould consent he would pay me immediately. In fact, he put his hand into\nhis pocket, and pulled it out filled with gold ounces. I asked him what\nwas his reason for wishing to make so considerable a purchase. Whereupon\nhe informed me that he had a relation in Toledo whom he wished to\nestablish, and that he was of opinion that his best plan would be to hire\nhim a shop there and furnish it with Testaments. I told him that he must\nthink of nothing of the kind, as probably the books would be seized on\nthe first attempt to introduce them into Toledo, as the priests and\ncanons were much averse to their distribution.\n\nHe was not disconcerted, however, and said his relation could travel, as\nI myself was doing, and dispose of them to the peasants with profit to\nhimself. I confess I was inclined at first to accept his offer, but at\nlength declined it, as I did not wish to expose a poor man to the risk of\nlosing money, goods, and perhaps liberty and life. I was likewise averse\nto the books being offered to the peasantry at an advanced price, being\naware that they could not afford it, and the books, by such an attempt,\nwould lose a considerable part of that influence which they then enjoyed;\nfor their cheapness struck the minds of the people, and they considered\nit almost as much in the light of a miracle as the Jews the manna which\ndropped from heaven at the time they were famishing, or the spring which\nsuddenly gushed from the flinty rock to assuage their thirst in the\nwilderness.\n\nAt this time a peasant was continually passing and repassing between\nVilla Seca and Madrid, bringing us cargoes of Testaments on a _borrico_.\nWe continued our labours until the greater part of the villages of the\nSagra were well supplied with books, more especially those of Vargas,\nCoveja, Mocejon, Villaluenga, Villa Seca, and Yuncler. {201} Hearing at\nlast that our proceedings were known at Toledo, and were causing\nconsiderable alarm, we returned to Madrid.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIV.\n\n\nAranjuez\u2014A Warning\u2014A Night Adventure\u2014A Fresh\nExpedition\u2014Segovia\u2014Abades\u2014Factious Curas\u2014Lopez in Prison\u2014Rescue of Lopez.\n\nThe success which had attended our efforts in the Sagra of Toledo\nspeedily urged me on to a new enterprise. I now determined to direct my\ncourse to La Mancha, and to distribute the Word amongst the villages of\nthat province. Lopez, who had already performed such important services\nin the Sagra, had accompanied us to Madrid, and was eager to take part in\nthis new expedition. We determined in the first place to proceed to\nAranjuez, where we hoped to obtain some information which might prove of\nutility in the further regulation of our movements; Aranjuez being but a\nslight distance from the frontier of La Mancha, and the high-road into\nthat province passing directly through it. We accordingly sallied forth\nfrom Madrid, selling from twenty to forty Testaments in every village\nwhich lay in our way, until we arrived at Aranjuez, to which place we had\nforwarded a large supply of books.\n\nA lovely spot is Aranjuez, {202} though in desolation: here the Tagus\nflows through a delicious valley, perhaps the most fertile in Spain; and\nhere upsprang, in Spain\u2019s better days, a little city, with a small but\nbeautiful palace, shaded by enormous trees, where royalty delighted to\nforget its cares. Here Ferdinand the Seventh spent his latter days,\nsurrounded by lovely _se\u00f1oras_ and Andalusian bull-fighters; but, as the\nGerman Schiller has it in one of his tragedies\u2014\n\n \u201cThe happy days in fair Aranjuez\n Are past and gone.\u201d {203}\n\nWhen the sensual king went to his dread account, royalty deserted it, and\nit soon fell into decay. Intriguing courtiers no longer crowd its halls;\nits spacious circus, where Manchegan bulls once roared in rage and agony,\nis now closed, and the light tinkling of guitars is no longer heard\namidst its groves and gardens.\n\nAt Aranjuez I made a sojourn of three days, during which time Antonio,\nLopez, and myself visited every house in the town. We found a vast deal\nof poverty and ignorance amongst the inhabitants, and experienced some\nopposition: nevertheless it pleased the Almighty to permit us to dispose\nof about eighty Testaments, which were purchased entirely by the very\npoor people; those in easier circumstances paying no attention to the\nWord of God, but rather turning it to scoff and ridicule.\n\nOne circumstance was very gratifying and cheering to me, namely, the\nocular proof which I possessed that the books which I disposed of were\nread, and with attention, by those to whom I sold them; and that many\nothers participated in their benefit. In the streets of Aranjuez, and\nbeneath the mighty cedars and gigantic elms and plantains which compose\nits noble woods, I have frequently seen groups assembled listening to\nindividuals who, with the New Testament in their hands, were reading\naloud the comfortable words of salvation.\n\nIt is probable that, had I remained a longer period at Aranjuez, I might\nhave sold many more of these Divine books, but I was eager to gain La\nMancha and its sandy plains, and to conceal myself for a season amongst\nits solitary villages, for I was apprehensive that a storm was gathering\naround me; but when once through Oca\u00f1a, the frontier town, I knew well\nthat I should have nothing to fear from the Spanish authorities, as their\npower ceased there, the rest of La Mancha being almost entirely in the\nhands of the Carlists, and overrun by small parties of banditti, from\nwhom, however, I trusted that the Lord would preserve me. I therefore\ndeparted for Oca\u00f1a, {204} distant three leagues from Aranjuez.\n\nI started with Antonio at six in the evening, having early in the morning\nsent forward Lopez with between two and three hundred Testaments. We\nleft the highroad, and proceeded by a shorter way through wild hills and\nover very broken and precipitous ground. Being well mounted, we found\nourselves just after sunset opposite Oca\u00f1a, which stands on a steep hill.\nA deep valley lay between us and the town: we descended, and came to a\nsmall bridge, which traverses a rivulet at the bottom of the valley, at a\nvery small distance from a kind of suburb. We crossed the bridge, and\nwere passing by a deserted house on our left hand, when a man appeared\nfrom under the porch.\n\nWhat I am about to state will seem incomprehensible, but a singular\nhistory and a singular people are connected with it: the man placed\nhimself before my horse so as to bar the way, and said, \u201c_Schophon_,\u201d\nwhich, in the Hebrew tongue, signifies a rabbit. {205} I knew this word\nto be one of the Jewish countersigns, and asked the man if he had\nanything to communicate? He said, \u201cYou must not enter the town, for a\nnet is prepared for you. The _corregidor_ of Toledo, on whom may all\nevil light, in order to give pleasure to the priests of Maria, in whose\nface I spit, has ordered all the _alcaldes_ of these parts, and the\n_escribanos_ and the _corchetes_ to lay hands on you wherever they may\nfind you, and to send you, and your books, and all that pertains to you\nto Toledo. Your servant was seized this morning in the town above, as he\nwas selling the writings in the streets, and they are now awaiting your\narrival in the _posada_; but I knew you from the accounts of my brethren,\nand I have been waiting here four hours to give you warning in order that\nyour horse may turn his tail to your enemies, and neigh in derision of\nthem. Fear nothing for your servant, for he is known to the _alcalde_,\nand will be set at liberty; but do you flee, and may God attend you.\u201d\nHaving said this, he hurried towards the town.\n\nI hesitated not a moment to take his advice, knowing full well that, as\nmy books had been taken possession of, I could do no more in that\nquarter. We turned back in the direction of Aranjuez, the horses,\nnotwithstanding the nature of the ground, galloping at full speed; but\nour adventures were not over. Midway, and about half a league from the\nvillage of Antigola, we saw close to us on our left hand three men on a\nlow bank. As far as the darkness would permit us to distinguish, they\nwere naked, but each bore in his hand a long gun. These were _rateros_,\nor the common assassins and robbers of the roads. We halted and cried\nout, \u201cWho goes there?\u201d They replied, \u201cWhat\u2019s that to you? pass by.\u201d\nTheir drift was to fire at us from a position from which it would be\nimpossible to miss. We shouted, \u201cIf you do not instantly pass to the\nright side of the road we will tread you down beneath the horses\u2019 hoofs.\u201d\nThey hesitated and then obeyed, for all assassins are dastards, and the\nleast show of resolution daunts them. As we galloped past, one cried,\nwith an obscene oath, \u201cShall we fire?\u201d But another said, \u201cNo, no!\nthere\u2019s danger.\u201d We reached Aranjuez, where early next morning Lopez\nrejoined us, and we returned to Madrid.\n\nI am sorry to state that two hundred Testaments were seized at Oca\u00f1a,\nfrom whence, after being sealed up, they were despatched to Toledo.\nLopez informed me, that in two hours he could have sold them all, the\ndemand was so great. As it was, twenty-seven were disposed of in less\nthan ten minutes.\n\n\u201cRide on, because of the word of righteousness.\u201d Notwithstanding the\ncheck which we had experienced at Oca\u00f1a, we were far from being\ndiscouraged, and forthwith prepared ourselves for another expedition. As\nwe returned from Aranjuez to Madrid, my eyes had frequently glanced\ntowards the mighty wall of mountains dividing the two Castiles, and I\nsaid to myself, \u201cWould it not be well to cross those hills, and commence\noperations on the other side, even in Old Castile? There I am unknown,\nand intelligence of my proceedings can scarcely have been transmitted\nthither. Peradventure the enemy is asleep, and before he has roused\nhimself, I may have sown much of the precious seed amongst the villages\nof the Old Castilians. To Castile, therefore, to _Castilla la Vieja_!\u201d\nAccordingly, on the day after my arrival, I despatched several cargoes of\nbooks to various places which I proposed to visit, and sent forward Lopez\nand his donkey, well laden, with directions to meet me on a particular\nday beneath a particular arch of the aqueduct of Segovia. I likewise\ngave him orders to engage any persons willing to co-operate with us in\nthe circulation of the Scriptures, and who might be likely to prove of\nutility in the enterprise. A more useful assistant than Lopez in an\nexpedition of this kind it was impossible to have. He was not only well\nacquainted with the country, but had friends, and even connexions on the\nother side of the hills, in whose houses he assured me that we should at\nall times find a hearty welcome. He departed in high spirits,\nexclaiming, \u201cBe of good cheer, _Don Jorge_; before we return we will have\ndisposed of every copy of your evangelic library. Down with the friars!\nDown with superstition! _Viva Inglaterra_, _viva el Evangelio_!\u201d\n\nIn a few days I followed with Antonio. We ascended the mountains by the\npass called Pe\u00f1a Cerrada, which lies about three leagues to the eastward\nof that of Guadarrama. It is very unfrequented, the high road between\nthe two Castiles passing through Guadarrama. It has, moreover, an evil\nname, being, according to common report, infested with banditti. The sun\nwas just setting when we reached the top of the hills, and entered a\nthick and gloomy pine forest, which entirely covers the mountains on the\nside of Old Castile. The descent soon became so rapid and precipitous,\nthat we were fain to dismount from our horses and to drive them before\nus. Into the woods we plunged deeper and deeper still; night-birds soon\nbegan to hoot and cry, and millions of crickets commenced their shrill\nchirping above, below, and around us. Occasionally, amidst the trees at\na distance, we could see blazes, as if from immense fires. \u201cThey are\nthose of the charcoal-burners, _mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d said Antonio; \u201cwe will not\ngo near them, however, for they are savage people, and half bandits.\nMany is the traveller whom they have robbed and murdered in these horrid\nwildernesses.\u201d\n\nIt was blackest night when we arrived at the foot of the mountains; we\nwere still, however, amidst woods and pine forests, which extended for\nleagues in every direction. \u201cWe shall scarcely reach Segovia to-night,\n_mon ma\u00eetre_,\u201d said Antonio. And so indeed it proved, for we became\nbewildered, and at last arrived where two roads branched off in different\ndirections: we took not the left-hand road, which would have conducted us\nto Segovia, but turned to the right, in the direction of La Granja, where\nwe arrived at midnight.\n\nWe found the desolation of La Granja {208} far greater than that of\nAranjuez; both had suffered from the absence of royalty, but the former\nto a degree which was truly appalling. Nine-tenths of the inhabitants\nhad left this place, which, until the late military revolution, had been\nthe favourite residence of Christina. So great is the solitude of La\nGranja, that wild boars from the neighbouring forests, and especially\nfrom the beautiful pine-covered mountain which rises like a cone directly\nbehind the palace, frequently find their way into the streets and\nsquares, and whet their tusks against the pillars of the porticos.\n\n\u201cRide on, because of the word of righteousness.\u201d After a stay of\ntwenty-four hours at La Granja, we proceeded to Segovia. The day had\narrived on which I had appointed to meet Lopez. I repaired to the\naqueduct, and sat down beneath the hundred and seventh arch, where I\nwaited the greater part of the day, but he came not, whereupon I arose\nand went into the city.\n\nAt Segovia I tarried two days in the house of a friend; still I could\nhear nothing of Lopez. At last, by the greatest chance in the world, I\nheard from a peasant that there were men in the neighbourhood of Abades\nselling books.\n\nAbades is about three leagues distant from Segovia, and upon receiving\nthis intelligence, I instantly departed for the former place, with three\ndonkeys laden with Testaments. I reached Abades at nightfall, and found\nLopez, with two peasants whom he had engaged, in the house of the surgeon\nof the place, where I also took up my residence. He had already disposed\nof a considerable number of Testaments in the neighbourhood, and had that\nday commenced selling at Abades itself. He had, however, been\ninterrupted by two of the three _curas_ of the village, who, with horrid\ncurses, denounced the work, threatening eternal condemnation to Lopez for\nselling it, and to any person who should purchase it; whereupon Lopez,\nterrified, forbore until I should arrive. The third _cura_, however,\nexerted himself to the utmost to persuade the people to provide\nthemselves with Testaments, telling them that his brethren were\nhypocrites and false guides, who, by keeping them in ignorance of the\nword and will of Christ, were leading them to the abyss. Upon receiving\nthis information, I instantly sallied forth to the market-place, and that\nsame night succeeded in disposing of upwards of thirty Testaments. The\nnext morning the house was entered by the two factious _curas_; but upon\nmy rising to confront them, they retreated, and I heard no more of them,\nexcept that they publicly cursed me in the church more than once, an\nevent which, as no ill resulted from it, gave me little concern.\n\nI will not detail the events of the next week; suffice it to say that,\narranging my forces in the most advantageous way, I succeeded, by God\u2019s\nassistance, in disposing of from five to six hundred Testaments amongst\nthe villages from one to seven leagues\u2019 distance from Abades. At the\nexpiration of that period I received information that my proceedings were\nknown in Segovia, in which province Abades is situated, and that an order\nwas about to be sent to the _alcalde_ to seize all books in my\npossession. Whereupon, notwithstanding that it was late in the evening,\nI decamped with all my people, and upwards of three hundred Testaments,\nhaving a few hours previously received a fresh supply from Madrid. That\nnight we passed in the fields, and next morning proceeded to Labajos, a\nvillage on the high-road from Madrid to Valladolid. In this place we\noffered no books for sale, but contented ourselves with supplying the\nneighbouring villages with the Word of God; we likewise sold it in the\nhighways.\n\n [Picture: Segovia]\n\nWe had not been at Labajos a week, during which time we were remarkably\nsuccessful, when the Carlist chieftain, Balmaseda, {211a} at the head of\nhis cavalry, made his desperate inroad into the southern part of Old\nCastile, dashing down like an avalanche from the pine-woods of Soria. I\nwas present at all the horrors which ensued,\u2014the sack of Arrevalo, and\nthe forcible entry into Martin Mu\u00f1oz. Amidst these terrible scenes we\ncontinued our labours. Suddenly I lost Lopez for three days, and\nsuffered dreadful anxiety on his account, imagining that he had been shot\nby the Carlists; at last I heard that he was in prison at Villallos,\nthree leagues distant. The steps which I took to rescue him will be\nfound detailed in a communication, which I deemed it my duty to transmit\nto Lord William Hervey, who, in the absence of Sir George Villiers,\n{211b} now become Earl of Clarendon, fulfilled the duties of minister at\nMadrid:\u2014\n\n \u201cLabajos, Province of Segovia,\n \u201cAugust 23rd, 1838.\n\n \u201cMY LORD,\n\n \u201cI beg leave to call your attention to the following facts. On the\n 21st inst. I received information that a person in my employ, of the\n name of Juan Lopez, had been thrown into the prison of Villallos, in\n the province of Avila, by order of the _cura_ of that place. The\n crime with which he was charged was selling the New Testament. I was\n at that time at Labajos, in the province of Segovia, and the division\n of the factious chieftain Balmaseda was in the immediate\n neighbourhood. On the 22nd, I mounted my horse and rode to\n Villallos, a distance of three leagues. On my arrival there, I found\n that Lopez had been removed from the prison to a private house. An\n order had arrived from the _corregidor_ of Avila, commanding that the\n person of Lopez should be set at liberty, and that the books which\n had been found in his possession should be alone detained.\n Nevertheless, in direct opposition to this order (a copy of which I\n herewith transmit), the _alcalde_ of Villallos, at the instigation of\n the _cura_, refused to permit the said Lopez to quit the place,\n either to proceed to Avila or in any other direction. It had been\n hinted to Lopez that as the factious were expected, it was intended\n on their arrival to denounce him to them as a liberal, and to cause\n him to be sacrificed. Taking these circumstances into consideration,\n I deemed it my duty, as a Christian and a gentleman, to rescue my\n unfortunate servant from such lawless hands, and in consequence,\n defying opposition, I bore him off, though entirely unarmed, through\n a crowd of at least one hundred peasants. On leaving the place I\n shouted, \u2018_Viva Isabel Segunda_.\u2019\n\n \u201cAs it is my belief that the _cura_ of Villallos is a person capable\n of any infamy, I beg leave humbly to intreat your Lordship to cause a\n copy of the above narration to be forwarded to the Spanish\n Government.\n\n \u201cI have the honour to remain,\n\n \u201cMy Lord,\n \u201cYour Lordship\u2019s most obedient,\n \u201cGEORGE BORROW.\n\n \u201cTo the Right Honourable\n \u201cLORD WILLIAM HERVEY.\u201d\n\nAfter the rescue of Lopez we proceeded in the work of distribution.\nSuddenly, however, the symptoms of an approaching illness came over me,\nwhich compelled us to return in all haste to Madrid. Arrived there, I\nwas attacked by a fever which confined me to my bed for several weeks;\noccasional fits of delirium came over me, during one of which I imagined\nmyself in the market-place of Martin Mu\u00f1oz, engaged in deadly struggle\nwith the chieftain Balmaseda.\n\nThe fever had scarcely departed, when a profound melancholy took\npossession of me, which entirely disqualified me for active exertion.\nChange of scene and air was recommended; I therefore returned to England.\n{213}\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLV.\n\n\nReturn to Spain\u2014Seville\u2014A Hoary Persecutor\u2014Manchegan Prophetess\u2014Antonio\u2019s\nDream.\n\nOn December 31, 1838, I again visited Spain for the third time. After\nstaying a day or two at Cadiz, I repaired to Seville, from which place I\nproposed starting for Madrid with the mail post. Here I tarried about a\nfortnight, enjoying the delicious climate of this terrestrial paradise,\nand the balmy breezes of the Andalusian winter, even as I had done two\nyears previously. Before leaving Seville I visited the bookseller, my\ncorrespondent, who informed me that seventy-six copies of the hundred\nTestaments entrusted to his care had been placed in embargo by the\ngovernment last summer, and that they were at the present time in\npossession of the ecclesiastical governor; whereupon I determined to\nvisit this functionary also, with the view of making inquiries concerning\nthe property.\n\nHe lived in a large house in the _Pajaria_, or straw-market. He was a\nvery old man, between seventy and eighty, and, like the generality of\nthose who wear the sacerdotal habit in this city, was a fierce\npersecuting Papist. I imagine that he scarcely believed his ears when\nhis two grand-nephews, beautiful black-haired boys who were playing in\nthe courtyard, ran to inform him that an Englishman was waiting to speak\nwith him, as it is probable that I was the first heretic who ever\nventured into his habitation. I found him in a vaulted room, seated on a\nlofty chair, with two sinister-looking secretaries, also in sacerdotal\nhabits, employed in writing at a table before him. He brought powerfully\nto my mind the grim old inquisitor who persuaded Philip the Second to\nslay his own son {215} as an enemy to the Church.\n\nHe rose as I entered, and gazed upon me with a countenance dark with\nsuspicion and dissatisfaction. He at last condescended to point me to a\nsofa, and I proceeded to state to him my business. He became much\nagitated when I mentioned the Testaments to him; but I no sooner spoke of\nthe Bible Society and told him who I was, than he could contain himself\nno longer: with a stammering tongue, and with eyes flashing fire like hot\ncoals, he proceeded to rail against the society and myself, saying that\nthe aims of the first were atrocious, and that, as to myself, he was\nsurprised that, being once lodged in the prison of Madrid, I had ever\nbeen permitted to quit it; adding, that it was disgraceful in the\ngovernment to allow a person of my character to roam about an innocent\nand peaceful country, corrupting the minds of the ignorant and\nunsuspicious. Far from allowing myself to be disconcerted by his rude\nbehaviour, I replied to him with all possible politeness, and assured him\nthat in this instance he had no reason to alarm himself, as my sole\nmotive in claiming the books in question was to avail myself of an\nopportunity which at present presented itself, of sending them out of the\ncountry, which, indeed, I had been commanded to do by an official notice.\nBut nothing would soothe him, and he informed me that he should not\ndeliver up the books on any condition, save by a positive order of the\ngovernment. As the matter was by no means an affair of consequence, I\nthought it wise not to persist, and also prudent to take my leave before\nhe requested me. I was followed even down into the street by his niece\nand grand-nephews, who, during the whole of the conversation, had\nlistened at the door of the apartment and heard every word.\n\nIn passing through La Mancha, we stayed for four hours at Manzanares, a\nlarge village. I was standing in the market-place conversing with a\ncurate, when a frightful ragged object presented itself; it was a girl\nabout eighteen or nineteen, perfectly blind, a white film being spread\nover her huge staring eyes. Her countenance was as yellow as that of a\nMulatto. I thought at first that she was a gypsy, and addressing myself\nto her, inquired in _Gitano_ if she were of that race. She understood\nme, but shaking her head, replied, that she was something better than a\n_Gitana_, and could speak something better than that jargon of witches:\nwhereupon she commenced asking me several questions in exceedingly good\nLatin. I was of course very much surprised, but, summoning all my\nLatinity, I called her Manchegan Prophetess, and, expressing my\nadmiration for her learning, begged to be informed by what means she\nbecame possessed of it. I must here observe that a crowd instantly\ngathered around us, who, though they understood not one word of our\ndiscourse, at every sentence of the girl shouted applause, proud in the\npossession of a prophetess who could answer the Englishman.\n\nShe informed me that she was born blind, and that a Jesuit priest had\ntaken compassion on her when she was a child, and had taught her the holy\nlanguage, in order that the attention and hearts of Christians might be\nmore easily turned towards her. I soon discovered that he had taught her\nsomething more than Latin, for upon telling her that I was an Englishman,\nshe said that she had always loved Britain, which was once the nursery of\nsaints and sages; for example, Bede and Alcuin, Columbus and Thomas of\nCanterbury; but, she added, those times had gone by since the\nreappearance of Semiramis (Elizabeth). Her Latin was truly excellent,\nand when I, like a genuine Goth, spoke of Anglia and Terra Vandalica\n(Andalusia), {217} she corrected me by saying, that in her language those\nplaces were called Britannia and Terra Betica. When we had finished our\ndiscourse, a gathering was made for the prophetess, the very poorest\ncontributing something.\n\nAfter travelling four days and nights, we arrived at Madrid without\nhaving experienced the slightest accident, though it is but just to\nobserve, and always with gratitude to the Almighty, that the next mail\nwas stopped. A singular incident befell me immediately after my arrival.\nOn entering the arch of the _posada_ called La Reyna, where I intended to\nput up, I found myself encircled in a person\u2019s arms, and on turning round\nin amazement, beheld my Greek servant, Antonio. He was haggard and\nill-dressed, and his eyes seemed starting from their sockets.\n\nAs soon as we were alone he informed me that since my departure he had\nundergone great misery and destitution, having, during the whole period,\nbeen unable to find a master in need of his services, so that he was\nbrought nearly to the verge of desperation; but that on the night\nimmediately preceding my arrival he had a dream, in which he saw me,\nmounted on a black horse, ride up to the gate of the _posada_, and that\non that account he had been waiting there during the greater part of the\nday. I do not pretend to offer an opinion concerning this narrative,\nwhich is beyond the reach of my philosophy, and shall content myself with\nobserving, that only two individuals in Madrid were aware of my arrival\nin Spain. I was very glad to receive him again into my service, as,\nnotwithstanding his faults, he had in many instances proved of no slight\nassistance to me in my wanderings and Biblical labours.\n\nI was soon settled in my former lodgings, when one of my first cares was\nto pay a visit to Lord Clarendon. {218} Amongst other things, he\ninformed me that he had received an official notice from the government,\nstating the seizure of the New Testaments at Oca\u00f1a, the circumstances\nrelating to which I have described on a former occasion, and informing\nhim that unless steps were instantly taken to remove them from the\ncountry, they would be destroyed at Toledo, to which place they had been\nconveyed. I replied that I should give myself no trouble about the\nmatter; and that if the authorities of Toledo, civil or ecclesiastic,\ndetermined upon burning these books, my only hope was that they would\ncommit them to the flames with all possible publicity, as by so doing\nthey would but manifest their own hellish rancour and their hostility to\nthe Word of God.\n\nBeing eager to resume my labours, I had no sooner arrived at Madrid than\nI wrote to Lopez at Villa Seca, for the purpose of learning whether he\nwas inclined to co-operate in the work, as on former occasions. In reply\nhe informed me that he was busily employed in his agricultural pursuits:\nto supply his place, however, he sent over an elderly villager,\nVictoriano Lopez by name, a distant relation of his own.\n\nWhat is a missionary in the heart of Spain without a horse? Which\nconsideration induced me now to purchase an Arabian of high caste, which\nhad been brought from Algiers by an officer of the French legion. The\nname of this steed, the best, I believe, that ever issued from the\ndesert, was Sidi Habismilk. {219}\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVI.\n\n\nWork of Distribution resumed\u2014Adventure at Cobe\u00f1a\u2014Power of the\nClergy\u2014Rural Authorities\u2014Fuente la Higuera\u2014Victoriano\u2019s Mishap\u2014Village\nPrison\u2014The Rope\u2014Antonio\u2019s Errand\u2014Antonio at Mass.\n\nIn my last chapter I stated that, immediately after my arrival at Madrid,\nI proceeded to get everything in readiness for commencing operations in\nthe neighbourhood: and I soon entered upon my labours in reality.\nConsiderable success attended my feeble efforts in the good cause, for\nwhich at present, after the lapse of some years, I still look back with\ngratitude to the Almighty.\n\nAll the villages within the distance of four leagues to the east of\nMadrid were visited in less than a fortnight, and Testaments to the\nnumber of nearly two hundred disposed of. These villages for the most\npart are very small, some of them consisting of not more than a dozen\nhouses, or I should rather say miserable cabins. I left Antonio, my\nGreek, to superintend matters in Madrid, and proceeded with Victoriano,\nthe peasant, from Villa Seca, in the direction which I have already\nmentioned. We, however, soon parted company and pursued different\nroutes.\n\nThe first village at which I made an attempt was Cobe\u00f1a, about three\nleagues from Madrid. I was dressed in the fashion of the peasants in the\nneighbourhood of Segovia, in Old Castile, namely, I had on my head a\nspecies of leather helmet or _montera_, with a jacket and trousers of the\nsame material. I had the appearance of a person between sixty and\nseventy years of age, and drove before me a _borrico_ with a sack of\nTestaments lying across its back. On nearing the village, I met a\ngenteel-looking young woman leading a little boy by the hand. As I was\nabout to pass her, with the customary salutation of _vaya usted con\nDios_, she stopped, and, after looking at me for a moment, she said,\n\u201cUncle, {221a} what is that you have got on your _borrico_? Is it soap?\u201d\n\n\u201cYes,\u201d I replied; \u201cit is soap to wash souls clean.\u201d\n\nShe demanded what I meant; whereupon I told her that I carried cheap and\ngodly books for sale. On her requesting to see one, I produced a copy\nfrom my pocket and handed it to her. She instantly commenced reading\nwith a loud voice, and continued so for at least ten minutes,\noccasionally exclaiming, \u201c_Que lectura tan bonita_, _que lectura tan\nlinda_!\u201d {221b} At last, on my informing her that I was in a hurry, and\ncould not wait any longer, she said, \u201cTrue, true,\u201d and asked me the price\nof the book; I told her \u201cBut three _reals_,\u201d whereupon she said, that\nthough what I asked was very little, it was more than she could afford to\ngive, as there was little or no money in those parts. I said I was sorry\nfor it, but that I could not dispose of the books for less than I had\ndemanded, and accordingly, resuming it, wished her farewell, and left\nher. I had not, however, proceeded thirty yards, when the boy came\nrunning behind me, shouting, out of breath, \u201cStop, uncle, the book, the\nbook!\u201d Upon overtaking me, he delivered the three _reals_ in copper, and\nseizing the Testament, ran back to her, who I suppose was his sister,\nflourishing the book over his head with great glee.\n\nOn arriving at the village, I directed my steps to a house, around the\ndoor of which I saw several people gathered, chiefly women. On my\ndisplaying my books, their curiosity was instantly aroused, and every\nperson had speedily one in his hand, many reading aloud; however, after\nwaiting nearly an hour, I had disposed of but one copy, all complaining\nbitterly of the distress of the times, and the almost total want of\nmoney, though, at the same time, they acknowledged that the books were\nwonderfully cheap, and appeared to be very good and Christian-like. I\nwas about to gather up my merchandise and depart, when on a sudden the\ncurate of the place made his appearance. After having examined the books\nfor some time with considerable attention, he asked me the price of a\ncopy, and upon my informing him that it was three _reals_, he replied\nthat the binding was worth more, and that he was much afraid that I had\nstolen the books, and that it was perhaps his duty to send me to prison\nas a suspicious character; but added, that the books were good books,\nhowever they might be obtained, and concluded by purchasing two copies.\nThe poor people no sooner heard their curate recommend the volumes, than\nall were eager to secure one, and hurried here and there for the purpose\nof procuring money, so that between twenty and thirty copies were sold\nalmost in an instant. This adventure not only affords an instance of the\npower still possessed by the Spanish clergy over the minds of the people,\nbut proves that such influence is not always exerted in a manner\nfavourable to the maintenance of ignorance and superstition.\n\nIn another village, on my showing a Testament to a woman, she said that\nshe had a child at school for whom she should like to purchase one, but\nthat she must first know whether the book was calculated to be of service\nto him. She then went away, and presently returned with the\nschoolmaster, followed by all the children under his care; she then,\nshowing the schoolmaster a book, inquired if it would answer for her son.\nThe schoolmaster called her a simpleton for asking such a question, and\nsaid that he knew the book well, and there was not its equal in the\nworld. {223} He instantly purchased five copies for his pupils,\nregretting that he had no more money, \u201cfor if I had,\u201d said he, \u201cI would\nbuy the whole cargo.\u201d Upon hearing this, the woman purchased four\ncopies, namely, one for her living son, another for her _deceased\nhusband_, a third for herself, and a fourth for her brother, whom she\nsaid she was expecting home that night from Madrid.\n\nIn this manner we proceeded; not, however, with uniform success. In some\nvillages the people were so poor and needy that they had literally no\nmoney; even in these, however, we managed to dispose of a few copies in\nexchange for barley or refreshments. On entering one very small hamlet,\nVictoriano was stopped by the curate, who, on learning what he carried,\ntold him, that unless he instantly departed, he would cause him to be\nimprisoned, and would write to Madrid in order to give information of\nwhat was going on. The excursion lasted about eight days. Immediately\nafter my return, I despatched Victoriano to Caramanchel, {224a} a village\nat a short distance from Madrid, the only one towards the west which had\nnot been visited last year. He stayed there about an hour, and disposed\nof twelve copies, and then returned, as he was exceedingly timid, and was\nafraid of being met by the thieves who swarm on that road in the evening.\n\nShortly after these events, a circumstance occurred which will, perhaps,\ncause the English reader to smile, whilst, at the same time, it will not\nfail to prove interesting, as affording an example of the feeling\nprevalent in some of the lone villages of Spain with respect to\ninnovation and all that savours thereof, and the strange acts which are\nsometimes committed by the rural authorities and the priests, without the\nslightest fear of being called to account; for as they live quite apart\nfrom the rest of the world, they know no people greater than themselves,\nand scarcely dream of a higher power than their own. {224b}\n\nI was about to make an excursion to Guadalajara, and the villages of\nAlcarria, about seven leagues distant from Madrid; indeed, I merely\nawaited the return of Victoriano to sally forth; I having despatched him\nin that direction with a few Testaments, as a kind of explorer, in order\nthat, from his report as to the disposition manifested by the people for\npurchasing, I might form a tolerably accurate opinion as to the number of\ncopies which it might be necessary to carry with me. However, I heard\nnothing of him for a fortnight, at the end of which period a letter was\nbrought to me by a peasant, dated from the prison of Fuente la Higuera, a\nvillage eight leagues from Madrid, in the _campi\u00f1a_ of Alcal\u00e1: {225} this\nletter, written by Victoriano, gave me to understand that he had been\nalready eight days imprisoned, and that unless I could find some means to\nextricate him, there was every probability of his remaining in durance\nuntil he should perish with hunger, which he had no doubt would occur as\nsoon as his money was exhausted. From what I afterwards learned, it\nappeared that, after passing the town of Alcal\u00e1, he had commenced\ndistributing, and with considerable success. His entire stock consisted\nof sixty-one Testaments, twenty-five of which he sold without the\nslightest difficulty or interruption in the single village of Arganza;\nthe poor labourers showering blessings on his head for providing them\nwith such good books at an easy price.\n\nNot more than eighteen of his books remained, when he turned off the\nhigh-road towards Fuente la Higuera. This place was already tolerably\nwell known to him, he having visited it of old, when he travelled the\ncountry in the capacity of a vender of _cacharras_, or earthen pans. He\nsubsequently stated that he felt some misgiving whilst on the way, as the\nvillage had invariably borne a bad reputation. On his arrival, after\nhaving put up his _caballejo_, or little pony, at a _posada_, he\nproceeded to the _alcalde_ for the purpose of asking permission to sell\nthe books, which that dignitary immediately granted. He now entered a\nhouse and sold a copy, and likewise a second. Emboldened by success, he\nentered a third, which, it appeared, belonged to the barber-surgeon of\nthe village. This personage, having just completed his dinner, was\nseated in an armchair within his doorway, when Victoriano made his\nappearance. He was a man about thirty-five, of a savage truculent\ncountenance. On Victoriano\u2019s offering him a Testament, he took it in his\nhand to examine it; but no sooner did his eyes glance over the title-page\nthan he burst out into a loud laugh, exclaiming, \u201c_Ha_, _ha_, _Don Jorge\nBorrow_, the English heretic, we have encountered you at last. Glory to\nthe Virgin and the Saints! We have long been expecting you here, and at\nlength you are arrived.\u201d He then inquired the price of the book, and on\nbeing told three _reals_, he flung down two, and rushed out of the house\nwith the Testament in his hand.\n\nVictoriano now became alarmed, and determined upon leaving the place as\nsoon as possible. He therefore hurried back to the _posada_, and having\npaid for the barley which his pony had consumed, went into the stable,\nand placing the packsaddle on the animal\u2019s back, was about to lead it\nforth, when the _alcalde_ of the village, the surgeon, and twelve other\nmen, some of whom were armed with muskets, suddenly presented themselves.\nThey instantly made Victoriano prisoner; and, after seizing the books and\nlaying an embargo on the pony, proceeded, amidst much abuse, to drag the\ncaptive to what they denominated their prison, a low damp apartment with\na little grated window, where they locked him up and left him. At the\nexpiration of three-quarters of an hour they again appeared, and\nconducted him to the house of the curate, where they sat down in\nconclave; the curate, who was a man stone blind, presiding, whilst the\nsacristan officiated as secretary. The surgeon having stated his\naccusation against the prisoner\u2014namely, that he had detected him in the\nact of selling a version of the Scriptures in the vulgar tongue\u2014the\ncurate proceeded to examine Victoriano, asking him his name and place of\nresidence; to which he replied that his name was Victoriano Lopez, and\nthat he was a native of Villa Seca, in the Sagra of Toledo. The curate\nthen demanded what religion he professed? and whether he was a Mahometan\nor freemason? and received for answer that he was a Roman Catholic. I\nmust here state that Victoriano, though sufficiently shrewd in his way,\nwas a poor old labourer of sixty-four; and until that moment had never\nheard either of Mahometans or freemasons. The curate becoming now\nincensed, called him a _tunante_, or scoundrel, and added, \u201cYou have sold\nyour soul to a heretic; we have long been aware of your proceedings, and\nthose of your master. You are the same Lopez whom he last year rescued\nfrom the prison of Villallos, in the province of Avila; I sincerely hope\nthat he will attempt to do the same thing here.\u201d \u201cYes, yes,\u201d shouted the\nrest of the conclave, \u201clet him but venture here, and we will shed his\nheart\u2019s blood on our stones.\u201d In this manner they went on for nearly\nhalf an hour. At last they broke up the meeting, and conducted\nVictoriano once more to his prison.\n\nDuring his confinement he lived tolerably well, being in possession of\nmoney. His meals were sent him twice a day from the _posada_, where his\npony remained in embargo. Once or twice he asked permission of the\n_alcalde_, who visited him every night and morning with his armed guard,\nto purchase pen and paper, in order that he might write to Madrid; but\nthis favour was peremptorily refused him, and all the inhabitants of the\nvillage were forbidden under terrible penalties to afford him the means\nof writing, or to convey any message from him beyond the precincts of the\nplace, and two boys were stationed before the window of his cell for the\npurpose of watching everything which might be conveyed to him.\n\nIt happened one day that Victoriano, being in need of a pillow, sent word\nto the people of the _posada_ to send him his _alforjas_, or saddle-bags,\nwhich they did. In these bags there chanced to be a kind of rope, or, as\nit is called in Spanish, _soga_, with which he was in the habit of\nfastening his satchel to the pony\u2019s back. The urchins seeing an end of\nthis rope, hanging from the _alforjas_, instantly ran to the _alcalde_ to\ngive him information. Late at evening, the _alcalde_ again visited the\nprisoner at the head of his twelve men as usual. \u201c_Buenos noches_,\u201d\n{228a} said the _alcalde_. \u201c_Buenas noches tenga usted_,\u201d {228b} replied\nVictoriano. \u201cFor what purpose did you send for the _soga_ this\nafternoon?\u201d demanded the functionary. \u201cI sent for no _soga_,\u201d said the\nprisoner; \u201cI sent for my _alforjas_ to serve as a pillow, and it was sent\nin them by chance.\u201d \u201cYou are a false, malicious knave,\u201d retorted the\n_alcalde_; \u201cyou intend to hang yourself, and by so doing ruin us all, as\nyour death would be laid at our door. Give me the _soga_.\u201d No greater\ninsult can be offered to a Spaniard than to tax him with an intention of\ncommitting suicide. Poor Victoriano flew into a violent rage; and, after\ncalling the _alcalde_ several very uncivil names, he pulled the _soga_\nfrom his bags, flung it at his head, and told him to take it home and use\nit for his own neck.\n\nAt length the people of the _posada_ took pity on the prisoner,\nperceiving that he was very harshly treated for no crime at all; they\ntherefore determined to afford him an opportunity of informing his\nfriends of his situation, and accordingly sent him a pen and inkhorn,\nconcealed in a loaf of bread, and a piece of writing-paper, pretending\nthat the latter was intended for cigars. So Victoriano wrote the letter:\nbut now ensued the difficulty of sending it to its destination, as no\nperson in the village dare have carried it for any reward. The good\npeople, however, persuaded a disbanded soldier from another village, who\nchanced to be at Fuente la Higuera in quest of work, to charge himself\nwith it, assuring him that I would pay him well for his trouble. The\nman, watching his opportunity, received the letter from Victoriano at the\nwindow: and it was he who, after travelling on foot all night, delivered\nit to me in safety at Madrid.\n\nI was now relieved from my anxiety, and had no fears for the result. I\ninstantly went to a friend who is in possession of large estates about\nGuadalajara, in which province Fuenta la Higuera is situated, who\nfurnished me with letters to the civil governor of Guadalajara and all\nthe principal authorities; these I delivered to Antonio, whom, at his own\nrequest, I despatched on the errand of the prisoner\u2019s liberation. He\nfirst directed his course to Fuente la Higuera, where, entering the\n_alcalde\u2019s_ house, he boldly told him what he had come about. The\n_alcalde_, expecting that I was at hand, with an army of Englishmen, for\nthe purpose of rescuing the prisoner, became greatly alarmed, and\ninstantly despatched his wife to summon his twelve men: however, on\nAntonio\u2019s assuring him that there was no intention of having recourse to\nviolence, he became more tranquil. In a short time Antonio was summoned\nbefore the conclave and its blind sacerdotal president. They at first\nattempted to frighten him by assuming a loud bullying tone, and talking\nof the necessity of killing all strangers, and especially the detested\n_Don Jorge_ and his dependents. Antonio, however, who was not a person\napt to allow himself to be easily terrified, scoffed at their threats,\nand, showing them his letters to the authorities of Guadalajara, said\nthat he should proceed there on the morrow and denounce their lawless\nconduct; adding that he was a Turkish subject, and that should they dare\nto offer him the slightest incivility, he would write to the Sublime\nPorte, in comparison with whom the best kings in the world were but\nworms, and who would not fail to avenge the wrongs of any of his\nchildren, however distant, in a manner too terrible to be mentioned. He\nthen returned to his _posada_. The conclave now proceeded to deliberate\namongst themselves, and at last determined to send their prisoner on the\nmorrow to Guadalajara, and deliver him into the hands of the civil\ngovernor.\n\nNevertheless, in order to keep up a semblance of authority, they that\nnight placed two men armed at the door of the _posada_ where Antonio was\nlodged, as if he himself was a prisoner. These men, as often as the\nclock struck the hour, shouted, \u201c_Ave Maria_! Death to the heretics!\u201d\nEarly in the morning the _alcalde_ presented himself at the _posada_; but\nbefore entering he made an oration at the door to the people in the\nstreet, saying, amongst other things, \u201cBrethren, these are the fellows\nwho have come to rob us of our religion.\u201d He then went in to Antonio\u2019s\napartment, and after saluting him with great politeness, said, that as a\nroyal or high Mass was about to be celebrated that morning, he had come\nto invite him to go to church with him. Whereupon Antonio, though by no\nmeans a Mass-goer, rose and accompanied him, and remained two hours, as\nhe told me, on his knees on the cold stones, to his great discomfort; the\neyes of the whole congregation being fixed upon him during the time.\n\nAfter Mass and breakfast, he departed for Guadalajara, Victoriano having\nbeen already despatched under a guard. On his arrival, he presented his\nletters to the individuals for whom they were intended. The civil\ngovernor was convulsed with merriment on hearing Antonio\u2019s account of the\nadventure. Victoriano was set at liberty, and the books were placed in\nembargo at Guadalajara; the governor stating, however, that though it was\nhis duty to detain them at present, they should be sent to me whenever I\nchose to claim them: he, moreover, said that he would do his best to\ncause the authorities of Fuente la Higuera to be severely punished, as in\nthe whole affair they had acted in the most cruel, tyrannical manner, for\nwhich they had no authority. Thus terminated this affair: one of those\nlittle accidents which chequer missionary life in Spain.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVII.\n\n\nTermination of our Rural Labours\u2014Alarm of the Clergy\u2014A New\nExperiment\u2014Success at Madrid\u2014Goblin-Alguazil\u2014Staff of Office\u2014The\nCorregidor\u2014An Explanation\u2014The Pope in England\u2014New Testament\nexpounded\u2014Works of Luther.\n\nWe proceeded in our task of distributing the Scriptures with various\nsuccess, until the middle of March, when I determined upon starting for\nTalavera, for the purpose of seeing what it was possible to accomplish in\nthat town and the neighbourhood. I accordingly bent my course in that\ndirection, accompanied by Antonio and Victoriano. On our way thither we\nstopped at Naval Carnero, a large village five leagues to the west of\nMadrid, where I remained three days, sending forth Victoriano to the\ncircumjacent hamlets with small cargoes of Testaments. Providence,\nhowever, which had hitherto so remarkably favoured us in these rural\nexcursions, now withdrew from us its support, and brought them to a\nsudden termination: for in whatever place the sacred writings were\noffered for sale, they were forthwith seized by persons who appeared to\nbe upon the watch; which events compelled me to alter my intention of\nproceeding to Talavera, and to return forthwith to Madrid.\n\nI subsequently learned that our proceedings on the other side of Madrid\nhaving caused alarm amongst the heads of the clergy, they had made a\nformal complaint to the government, who immediately sent orders to all\nthe _alcaldes_ of the villages, great and small, in New Castile, to seize\nthe New Testament wherever it might be exposed for sale; but, at the same\ntime, enjoining them to be particularly careful not to detain or maltreat\nthe person or persons who might be attempting to vend it. An exact\ndescription of myself accompanied these orders; and the authorities, both\ncivil and military, were exhorted to be on their guard against me and my\narts and machinations; for, as the document stated, I was to-day in one\nplace, and tomorrow at twenty leagues\u2019 distance.\n\nI was not much discouraged by this blow, which, indeed, did not come\nentirely unexpected. I, however, determined to change the sphere of\naction, and not expose the sacred volume to seizure at every step which I\nshould take to circulate it. In my late attempts I had directed my\nattention exclusively to the villages and small towns, in which it was\nquite easy for the government to frustrate my efforts by means of\ncirculars to the local authorities, who would, of course, be on the\nalert, and whose vigilance it would be impossible to baffle, as every\nnovelty which occurs in a small place is forthwith bruited about. But\nthe case would be widely different amongst the crowds of the capital,\nwhere I could pursue my labours with comparative secrecy. My present\nplan was to abandon the rural districts, and to offer the sacred volume\nat Madrid, from house to house, at the same low price as in the country.\nThis plan I forthwith put into execution.\n\nHaving an extensive acquaintance amongst the lower orders, I selected\neight intelligent individuals to co-operate with me, amongst whom were\nfive women. All these I supplied with Testaments, and then sent them\nforth to all the parishes in Madrid. The result of their efforts more\nthan answered my expectations. In less than fifteen days after my return\nfrom Naval Carnero, nearly six hundred copies of the life and words of\nHim of Nazareth had been sold in the streets and alleys of Madrid: a fact\nwhich I hope I may be permitted to mention with gladness and with decent\ntriumph in the Lord.\n\nOne of the richest streets is the Calle Montera, where reside the\nprincipal merchants and shopkeepers of Madrid. It is, in fact, the\nstreet of commerce, in which respect, and in being a favourite promenade,\nit corresponds with the far-famed Nefsky {234} of Saint Petersburg.\nEvery house in this street was supplied with its Testament, and the same\nmight be said with respect to the Puerta del Sol. Nay, in some\ninstances, every individual in the house, man and child, manservant and\nmaid-servant, was furnished with a copy. My Greek, Antonio, made\nwonderful exertions in this quarter; and it is but justice to say that,\nbut for his instrumentality, on many occasions, I might have been by no\nmeans able to give so favourable an account of the spread of \u201cthe Bible\nin Spain.\u201d There was a time when I was in the habit of saying \u201cdark\nMadrid,\u201d an expression which, I thank God, I could now drop. It were\nscarcely just to call a city \u201cdark,\u201d in which thirteen hundred Testaments\nat least were in circulation, and in daily use.\n\nIt was now that I turned to account a supply of Bibles which I had\nreceived from Barcelona, in sheets, at the commencement of the preceding\nyear. The demand for the entire Scriptures was great; indeed far greater\nthan I could answer, as the books were disposed of faster than they could\nbe bound by the man whom I employed for that purpose. Eight-and-twenty\ncopies were bespoken and paid for before delivery. Many of these Bibles\nfound their way into the best houses in Madrid. The Marquis of --- had a\nlarge family, but every individual of it, old and young, was in\npossession of a Bible, and likewise a Testament, which, strange to say,\nwere recommended by the chaplain of the house. One of my most zealous\nagents in the propagation of the Bible was an ecclesiastic. He never\nwalked out without carrying one beneath his gown, which he offered to the\nfirst person he met whom he thought likely to purchase. Another\nexcellent assistant was an elderly gentleman of Navarre, enormously rich,\nwho was continually purchasing copies on his own account, which he, as I\nwas told, sent into his native province, for distribution amongst his\nfriends and the poor.\n\nOn a certain night I had retired to rest rather more early than usual,\nbeing slightly indisposed. I soon fell asleep, and had continued so for\nsome hours, when I was suddenly aroused by the opening of the door of the\nsmall apartment in which I lay. I started up, and beheld Maria Diaz,\nwith a lamp in her hand, enter the room. I observed that her features,\nwhich were in general peculiarly calm and placid, wore a somewhat\nstartled expression. \u201cWhat is the hour, and what brings you here?\u201d I\ndemanded.\n\n\u201c_Se\u00f1or_,\u201d said she, closing the door, and coming up to the bedside, \u201cit\nis close upon midnight; but a messenger belonging to the police has just\nentered the house, and demanded to see you. I told him that it was\nimpossible, for that your worship was in bed. Whereupon he sneezed in my\nface, and said that he would see you if you were in your coffin. He has\nall the look of a goblin, and has thrown me into a tremor. I am far from\nbeing a timid person, as you are aware, _Don Jorge_; but I confess that I\nnever cast my eyes on these wretches of the police, but my heart dies\naway within me! I know them but too well, and what they are capable of.\u201d\n\n\u201cPooh,\u201d said I, \u201cbe under no apprehension; let him come in, I fear him\nnot, whether he be _alguazil_ or hobgoblin. {236} Stand, however, at the\ndoorway, that you may be a witness of what takes place, as it is more\nthan probable that he comes at this unseasonable hour to create a\ndisturbance, that he may have an opportunity of making an unfavourable\nreport to his principals, like the fellow on the former occasion.\u201d\n\nThe hostess left the apartment, and I heard her say a word or two to some\none in the passage, whereupon there was a loud sneeze, and in a moment\nafter a singular figure appeared at the doorway. It was that of a very\nold man, with long white hair, which escaped from beneath the eaves of an\nexceedingly high-peaked hat. He stooped considerably, and moved along\nwith a shambling gait. I could not see much of his face, which, as the\nlandlady stood behind him with the lamp, was consequently in deep shadow.\nI could observe, however, that his eyes sparkled like those of a ferret.\nHe advanced to the foot of the bed, in which I was still lying, wondering\nwhat this strange visit could mean; and there he stood gazing at me for a\nminute, at least, without uttering a syllable. Suddenly, however, he\nprotruded a spare skinny hand from the cloak in which it had hitherto\nbeen enveloped, and pointed with a short staff, tipped with metal, in the\ndirection of my face, as if he were commencing an exorcism. He appeared\nto be about to speak, but his words, if he intended any, were stifled in\ntheir birth by a sudden sternutation which escaped him, and which was so\nviolent that the hostess started back, exclaiming, \u201c_Ave Maria\npur\u00edsima_!\u201d and nearly dropped the lamp in her alarm.\n\n\u201cMy good person,\u201d said I, \u201cwhat do you mean by this foolish hobgoblinry?\nIf you have anything to communicate do so at once, and go about your\nbusiness. I am unwell, and you are depriving me of my repose.\u201d\n\n\u201cBy the virtue of this staff,\u201d said the old man, \u201cand the authority which\nit gives me to do and say that which is convenient, I do command, order,\nand summon you to appear to-morrow, at the eleventh hour, at the office\nof my lord the _corregidor_ of this village of Madrid, {237} in order\nthat, standing before him humbly, and with befitting reverence, you may\nlisten to whatever he may have to say, or, if necessary, may yield\nyourself up to receive the castigation of any crimes which you may have\ncommitted, whether trivial or enormous. _Tenez_, _comp\u00e8re_,\u201d he added,\nin most villanous French, \u201c_voil\u00e0 mon affaire_; _voil\u00e0 ce que je viens\nvous dire_.\u201d\n\nThereupon he glared at me for a moment, nodded his head twice, and\nreplacing his staff beneath his cloak, shambled out of the room, and with\na valedictory sneeze in the passage left the house.\n\nPrecisely at eleven on the following day I attended at the office of the\n_corregidor_. He was not the individual whose anger I had incurred on a\nformer occasion, and who had thought proper to imprison me, but another\nperson, I believe a Catalan, whose name I have also forgotten. Indeed,\nthese civil employments were at this period given to-day and taken away\ntomorrow, so that the person who held one of them for a month might\nconsider himself a functionary of long standing. I was not kept waiting\na moment, but as soon as I had announced myself, was forthwith ushered\ninto the presence of the _corregidor_\u2014a good-looking, portly, and\nwell-dressed personage, seemingly about fifty. He was writing at a desk\nwhen I entered, but almost immediately arose and came towards me. He\nlooked me full in the face, and I, nothing abashed, kept my eyes fixed\nupon his. He had, perhaps, expected a less independent bearing, and that\nI should have quaked and crouched before him; but now, conceiving himself\nbearded in his own den, his old Spanish leaven was forthwith stirred up.\nHe plucked his whiskers fiercely. \u201c_Escuchad_,\u201d said he, casting upon me\na ferocious glance, \u201cI wish to ask you a question.\u201d\n\n\u201cBefore I answer any question of your excellency,\u201d said I, \u201cI shall take\nthe liberty of putting one myself. What law or reason is there that I, a\npeaceable individual and a foreigner, should have my rest disturbed by\n_duendes_ and hobgoblins sent at midnight to summon me to appear at\npublic offices like a criminal?\u201d\n\n\u201cYou do not speak the truth,\u201d shouted the _corregidor_; \u201cthe person sent\nto summon you was neither _duende_ nor hobgoblin, but one of the most\nancient and respectable officers of this _casa_, and so far from being\ndespatched at midnight, it wanted twenty-five minutes to that hour by my\nown watch when he left this office, and as your lodging is not distant,\nhe must have arrived there at least ten minutes before midnight, so that\nyou are by no means accurate, and are found wanting in regard to truth.\u201d\n\n\u201cA distinction without a difference,\u201d I replied. \u201cFor my own part, if I\nam to be disturbed in my sleep, it is of little consequence whether at\nmidnight or ten minutes before that time; and with respect to your\nmessenger, although he might not be a hobgoblin, he had all the\nappearance of one, and assuredly answered the purpose, by frightening the\nwoman of the house almost into fits by his hideous grimaces and sneezing\nconvulsions.\u201d\n\n_Corregidor_.\u2014You are a\u2014I know not what. Do you know that I have the\npower to imprison you?\n\n_Myself_.\u2014You have twenty _alguazils_ at your beck and call, and have of\ncourse the power, and so had your predecessor, who nearly lost his\nsituation by imprisoning me; but you know full well that you have not the\nright, as I am not under your jurisdiction, but that of the\ncaptain-general. If I have obeyed your summons, it was simply because I\nhad a curiosity to know what you wanted with me, and from no other motive\nwhatever. As for imprisoning me, I beg leave to assure you, that you\nhave my full consent to do so; the most polite society in Madrid is to be\nfound in the prison, and as I am at present compiling a vocabulary of the\nlanguage of the Madrilenian thieves, I should have, in being imprisoned,\nan excellent opportunity of completing it. There is much to be learnt\neven in the prison, for, as the gypsies say, \u201cThe dog that trots about\nfinds a bone.\u201d {240}\n\n_Corregidor_.\u2014Your words are not those of a _caballero_. Do you forget\nwhere you are, and in whose presence? Is this a fitting place to talk of\nthieves and gypsies in?\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Really I know of no place more fitting, unless it be the\nprison. But we are wasting time, and I am anxious to know for what I\nhave been summoned; whether for crimes trivial or enormous, as the\nmessenger said.\n\nIt was a long time before I could obtain the required information from\nthe incensed _corregidor_; at last, however, it came. It appeared that a\nbox of Testaments, which I had despatched to Naval Carnero, had been\nseized by the local authorities, and having been detained there for some\ntime, was at last sent back to Madrid, intended, as it now appeared, for\nthe hands of the _corregidor_. One day as it was lying at the\nwaggon-office, Antonio chanced to enter on some business of his own and\nrecognized the box, which he instantly claimed as my property, and having\npaid the carriage, removed it to my warehouse. He had considered the\nmatter as of so little importance, that he had not as yet mentioned it to\nme. The poor _corregidor_, however, had no doubt that it was a deep-laid\nscheme to plunder and insult him. And now, working himself up into\nalmost a frenzy of excitement, he stamped on the ground, exclaiming,\n\u201c_Que picardia_! _Que infamia_!\u201d\n\nThe old system, thought I, of prejudging people, and imputing to them\nmotives and actions of which they never dreamed. I then told him frankly\nthat I was entirely ignorant of the circumstance by which he had felt\nhimself aggrieved; but that if, upon inquiry, I found that the chest had\nactually been removed by my servant from the office to which it had been\nforwarded, I would cause it forthwith to be restored, although it was my\nown property. \u201cI have plenty more Testaments,\u201d said I, \u201cand can afford\nto lose fifty or a hundred. I am a man of peace, and wish not to have\nany dispute with the authorities for the sake of an old chest and a cargo\nof books, whose united value would scarcely amount to forty dollars.\u201d\n\nHe looked at me for a moment, as if in doubt of my sincerity, then, again\nplucking his whiskers, he forthwith proceeded to attack me in another\nquarter: \u201c_Pero que infamia_, _que picardia_! to come into Spain for the\npurpose of overturning the religion of the country. What would you say\nif the Spaniards were to go to England and attempt to overturn the\nLutheranism established there?\u201d\n\n\u201cThey would be most heartily welcome,\u201d I replied; \u201cmore especially if\nthey would attempt to do so by circulating the Bible, the book of\nChristians, even as the English are doing in Spain. But your excellency\nis not perhaps aware that the Pope has a fair field and fair play in\nEngland, and is permitted to make as many converts from Lutheranism every\nday in the week as are disposed to go over to him. He cannot boast,\nhowever, of much success; the people are too fond of light to embrace\ndarkness, and would smile at the idea of exchanging their Gospel\nprivileges for the superstitious ceremonies and observances of the Church\nof Rome.\u201d\n\nOn my repeating my promise that the books and chest should be forthwith\nrestored, the _corregidor_ declared himself satisfied, and all of a\nsudden became excessively polite and condescending: he even went so far\nas to say that he left it entirely with myself, whether to return the\nbooks or not; \u201cand,\u201d continued he, \u201cbefore you go, I wish to tell you\nthat my private opinion is, that it is highly advisable in all countries\nto allow full and perfect tolerance in religious matters, and to permit\nevery religious system to stand or fall according to its own merits.\u201d\n\nSuch were the concluding words of the _corregidor_ of Madrid, which,\nwhether they expressed his private opinion or not, were certainly\ngrounded on sense and reason. I saluted him respectfully and retired,\nand forthwith performed my promise with regard to the books; and thus\nterminated this affair.\n\nIt almost appeared to me at this time that a religious reform was\ncommencing in Spain; indeed, matters had of late come to my knowledge,\nwhich, had they been prophesied only a year before, I should have\nexperienced much difficulty in believing.\n\nThe reader will be surprised when I state that, in two churches of\nMadrid, the New Testament was regularly expounded every Sunday evening,\nby the respective curates, to about twenty children who attended, and who\nwere all provided with copies of the society\u2019s edition of Madrid, 1837.\n{242a} The churches which I allude to were those of San Gines and Santa\nCruz. {242b} Now, I humbly conceive that this fact alone is more than\nequivalent to all the expense which the society had incurred in the\nefforts which it had been making to introduce the Gospel into Spain; but\nbe this as it may, I am certain that it amply recompensed me for all the\nanxiety and unhappiness which I had undergone. I now felt that whenever\nI should be compelled to discontinue my labours in the Peninsula, I\nshould retire without the slightest murmur, my heart being filled with\ngratitude to the Lord for having permitted me, useless vessel as I was,\nto see at least some of the seed springing up, which during two years I\nhad been casting on the stony ground of the interior of Spain.\n\nWhen I recollected the difficulties which had encompassed our path, I\ncould sometimes hardly credit all that the Almighty had permitted us to\naccomplish within the last year. A large edition of the New Testament\nhad been almost entirely disposed of in the very centre of Spain, in\nspite of the opposition and the furious cry of the sanguinary priesthood\nand the edicts of a deceitful government, and a spirit of religious\ninquiry excited, which I had fervent hope would sooner or later lead to\nblessed and most important results. Till of late the name most abhorred\nand dreaded in these parts of Spain was that of Martin Luther, who was in\ngeneral considered as a species of demon, a cousin-german to Belial and\nBeelzebub, who, under the disguise of a man, wrote and preached blasphemy\nagainst the Highest; yet now, strange to say, this once abominated\npersonage was spoken of with no slight degree of respect. People with\nBibles in their hands not unfrequently visited me, inquiring with much\nearnestness, and with no slight degree of simplicity, for the writings of\nthe great Doctor Martin, whom, indeed, some supposed to be still alive.\n\nIt will be as well here to observe, that of all the names connected with\nthe Reformation, that of Luther is the only one known in Spain; and let\nme add, that no controversial writings but his are likely to be esteemed\nas possessing the slightest weight or authority, however great their\nintrinsic merit may be. The common description of tracts, written with\nthe view of exposing the errors of Popery, are therefore not calculated\nto prove of much benefit in Spain, though it is probable that much good\nmight be accomplished by well executed translations of judicious\nselections from the works of Luther.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLVIII.\n\n\nProjected Journey\u2014A Scene of Blood\u2014The Friar\u2014Seville\u2014Beauties of\nSeville\u2014Orange Trees and Flowers\u2014Murillo\u2014The Guardian Angel\u2014Dionysius\u2014My\nCoadjutors\u2014Demand for the Bible.\n\nBy the middle of April I had sold as many Testaments as I thought Madrid\nwould bear: I therefore called in my people, for I was afraid to\noverstock the market, and to bring the book into contempt by making it\ntoo common. I had, indeed, by this time, barely a thousand copies\nremaining of the edition which I had printed two years previously; and\nwith respect to Bibles, every copy was by this time disposed of, though\nthere was still a great demand for them, which, of course, I was unable\nto satisfy.\n\nWith the remaining copies of the Testament, I now determined to betake\nmyself to Seville, where little had hitherto been effected in the way of\ncirculation: my preparations were soon made. The roads were at this time\nin a highly dangerous state, on which account I thought to go along with\na convoy, which was about to start for Andalusia. Two days, however,\nbefore its departure, understanding that the number of people who\nlikewise proposed to avail themselves of it was likely to be very great,\nand reflecting on the slowness of this way of travelling, and moreover\nthe insults to which civilians were frequently subjected from the\nsoldiers and petty officers, I determined to risk the journey with the\nmail. This resolution I carried into effect. Antonio, whom I had\nresolved to take with me, and my two horses, departed with the convoy,\nwhilst in a few days I followed with the mail courier. We travelled all\nthe way without the slightest accident, my usual wonderful good fortune\naccompanying us. I might well call it wonderful, for I was running into\nthe den of a lion; the whole of La Mancha, with the exception of a few\nfortified places, being once more in the hands of Palillos and his\nbanditti, who, whenever it pleased them, stopped the courier, burnt the\nvehicle and letters, murdered the paltry escort, and carried away any\nchance passenger to the mountains, where an enormous ransom was demanded,\nthe alternative being four shots through the head, as the Spaniards say.\n\nThe upper part of Andalusia was becoming rapidly nearly as bad as La\nMancha. The last time the mail had passed, it was attacked at the defile\nof La Rumblar {246} by six mounted robbers; it was guarded by an escort\nof as many soldiers, but the former suddenly galloped from behind a\nsolitary _venta_, and dashed the soldiers to the ground, who were taken\nquite by surprise, the hoofs of the robbers\u2019 horses making no noise on\naccount of the sandy nature of the ground. The soldiers were instantly\ndisarmed and bound to olive trees, with the exception of two, who escaped\namongst the rocks; they were then mocked and tormented by the robbers, or\nrather fiends, for nearly half an hour, when they were shot; the head of\nthe corporal who commanded being blown to fragments with a blunderbuss.\nThe robbers then burned the coach, which they accomplished by igniting\nthe letters by means of the tow with which they light their cigars. The\nlife of the courier was saved by one of them, who had formerly been his\npostilion; he was, however, robbed and stripped. As we passed by the\nscene of the butchery, the poor fellow wept, and, though a Spaniard,\ncursed Spain and the Spaniards, saying that he intended shortly to pass\nover to the Moreria, to confess Mahomet, and to learn the law of the\nMoors, for that any country and religion were better than his own. He\npointed to the tree where the corporal had been tied; though much rain\nhad fallen since, the ground around was still saturated with blood, and a\ndog was gnawing a piece of the unfortunate wretch\u2019s skull. A friar\ntravelled with us the whole way from Madrid to Seville; he was of the\nmissionaries, and was going to the Philippine Islands, to conquer (_para\nconquistar_), for such was his word, by which I suppose he meant\npreaching to the Indians. During the whole journey he exhibited every\nsymptom of the most abject fear, which operated upon him so that he\nbecame deadly sick, and we were obliged to stop twice in the road, and\nlay him amongst the green corn. He said that if he fell into the hands\nof the factious, he was a lost priest, for that they would first make him\nsay Mass, and then blow him up with gunpowder. He had been professor of\nphilosophy, as he told me, in one of the convents (I think it was San\nTomas) of Madrid before their suppression, but appeared to be grossly\nignorant of the Scriptures, which he confounded with the works of Virgil.\n\nWe stopped at Manzanares as usual; it was Sunday morning, and the\nmarket-place was crowded with people. I was recognized in a moment, and\ntwenty pair of legs instantly hurried away in quest of the prophetess,\nwho presently made her appearance in the house to which we had retired to\nbreakfast. After many greetings on both sides, she proceeded, in her\nLatin, to give me an account of all that had occurred in the village\nsince I had last been there, and of the atrocities of the factious in the\nneighbourhood. I asked her to breakfast, and introduced her to the\nfriar, whom she addressed in this manner: \u201c_Anne Domine Reverendissime\nfacis adhuc sacrificium_?\u201d {248} But the friar did not understand her,\nand, waxing angry, anathematized her for a witch, and bade her begone.\nShe was, however, not to be disconcerted, and commenced singing, in\nextemporary Castilian verse, the praises of friars and religious houses\nin general. On departing I gave her a _peseta_, upon which she burst\ninto tears, and entreated that I would write to her if I reached Seville\nin safety.\n\nWe did arrive at Seville in safety, and I took leave of the friar,\ntelling him that I hoped to meet him again at Philippi. As it was my\nintention to remain at Seville for some months, I determined to hire a\nhouse, in which I conceived I could live with more privacy, and at the\nsame time more economically, than in a _posada_. It was not long before\nI found one in every respect suited to me. It was situated in the\nPlazuela de la Pila Seca, a retired part of the city in the neighbourhood\nof the cathedral, and at a short distance from the gate of Xeres; and in\nthis house, on the arrival of Antonio and the horses, which occurred\nwithin a few days, I took up my abode.\n\nI was now once more in beautiful Seville, and had soon ample time and\nleisure to enjoy its delights and those of the surrounding country.\nUnfortunately, at the time of my arrival, and indeed for the next ensuing\nfortnight, the heaven of Andalusia, in general so glorious, was overcast\nwith black clouds, which discharged tremendous showers of rain, such as\nfew of the Sevillians, according to their own account, had ever seen\nbefore. This extraordinary weather had wrought no little damage in the\nneighbourhood, causing the Guadalquivir, which, during the rainy season,\nis a rapid and furious stream, to overflow its banks, and to threaten an\ninundation. It is true that intervals were occurring when the sun made\nhis appearance from his cloudy tabernacle, and with his golden rays\ncaused everything around to smile, enticing the butterfly forth from the\nbush, and the lizard from the hollow tree, and I invariably availed\nmyself of these intervals to take a hasty promenade.\n\nOh how pleasant it is, especially in springtide, to stray along the\nshores of the Guadalquivir! Not far from the city, down the river, lies\na grove called _Las Delicias_, or \u201cThe Delights.\u201d It consists of trees\nof various kinds, but more especially of poplars and elms, and is\ntraversed by long shady walks. This grove is the favourite promenade of\nthe Sevillians, and there one occasionally sees assembled whatever the\ntown produces of beauty or gallantry. There wander the black-eyed\nAndalusian dames and damsels, clad in their graceful silken _mantillas_;\nand there gallops the Andalusian cavalier, on his long-tailed thick-maned\nsteed of Moorish ancestry. As the sun is descending, it is enchanting to\nglance back from this place in the direction of the city; the prospect is\ninexpressibly beautiful. Yonder in the distance, high and enormous,\nstands the Golden Tower, now used as a toll-house, but the principal\nbulwark of the city in the time of the Moors. It stands on the shore of\nthe river, like a giant keeping watch, and is the first edifice which\nattracts the eye of the voyager as he moves up the stream to Seville. On\nthe other side, opposite the tower, stands the noble Augustine convent,\nthe ornament of the _faubourg_ of Triana, whilst between the two edifices\nrolls the broad Guadalquivir, bearing on its bosom a flotilla of barks\nfrom Catalonia and Valencia. Further up is seen the bridge of boats,\nwhich traverses the water. The principal object of this prospect,\nhowever, is the Golden Tower, where the beams of the setting sun seem to\nbe concentrated as in a focus, so that it appears built of pure gold, and\nprobably from that circumstance received the name which it now bears.\nCold, cold must the heart be which can remain insensible to the beauties\nof this magic scene, to do justice to which the pencil of Claude himself\nwere barely equal. Often have I shed tears of rapture whilst I beheld\nit, and listened to the thrush and the nightingale piping forth their\nmelodious songs in the woods, and inhaled the breeze laden with the\nperfume of the thousand orange gardens of Seville:\n\n \u201cKennst du das Land wo die Citronen bl\u00fchen?\u201d {251a}\n\nThe interior of Seville scarcely corresponds with the exterior; the\nstreets are narrow, badly paved, and full of misery and beggary. The\nhouses are, for the most part, built in the Moorish fashion, with a\nquadrangular _patio_, or court, in the centre, where stands a marble\nfountain, constantly distilling limpid water. These courts, during the\ntime of the summer heats, are covered over with a canvas awning, and\nbeneath this the family sit during the greater part of the day. In many,\nespecially those belonging to the houses of the wealthy, are to be found\nshrubs, orange trees, and all kinds of flowers, and perhaps a small\naviary, so that no situation can be conceived more delicious than to lie\nhere in the shade, hearkening to the song of the birds and the voice of\nthe fountain.\n\nNothing is more calculated to interest the stranger as he wanders through\nSeville, than a view of these courts, obtained from the street through\nthe iron-grated door. Oft have I stopped to observe them, and as often\nsighed that my fate did not permit me to reside in such an Eden for the\nremainder of my days. On a former occasion I have spoken of the\ncathedral of Seville, but only in a brief and cursory manner. {251b} It\nis, perhaps, the most magnificent cathedral in all Spain, and though not\nso regular in its architecture as those of Toledo and Burgos, is far more\nworthy of admiration when considered as a whole. It is utterly\nimpossible to wander through the long aisles, and to raise one\u2019s eyes to\nthe richly inlaid roof, supported by colossal pillars, without\nexperiencing sensations of sacred awe and deep astonishment. It is true\nthat the interior, like those of the generality of the Spanish\ncathedrals, is somewhat dark and gloomy; yet it loses nothing by this\ngloom, which, on the contrary, rather increases the solemnity of the\neffect. Notre Dame of Paris is a noble building, yet to him who has seen\nthe Spanish cathedrals, and particularly this of Seville, it almost\nappears trivial and mean, and more like a town-hall than a temple of the\nEternal. The Parisian cathedral is entirely destitute of that solemn\ndarkness and gloomy pomp which so abound in the Sevillian, and is thus\ndestitute of the principal requisite to a cathedral.\n\nIn most of the chapels are to be found some of the very best pictures of\nthe Spanish school; and, in particular, many of the master-pieces of\nMurillo, a native of Seville. Of all the pictures of this extraordinary\nman, one of the least celebrated is that which has always wrought on me\nthe most profound impression. I allude to the Guardian Angel, _El Angel\nde la Guardia_, a small picture which stands at the bottom of the church,\nand looks up the principal aisle. The angel, holding a flaming sword in\nhis right hand, is conducting the child: this child is, in my opinion,\nthe most wonderful of all the creations of Murillo; the form is that of\nan infant about five years of age, and the expression of the countenance\nis quite infantine, but the tread\u2014it is the tread of a conqueror, of a\nGod, of the Creator of the universe; and the earthly globe appears to\ntremble beneath its majesty.\n\nThe service of the cathedral is in general well attended, especially when\nit is known that a sermon is to be preached. All these sermons are\nextemporaneous; some of them are edifying, and faithful to the\nScriptures. I have often listened to them with pleasure, though I was\nmuch surprised to remark, that when the preachers quoted from the Bible,\ntheir quotations were almost invariably taken from the apocryphal\nwritings. There is in general no lack of worshippers at the principal\nshrines\u2014women for the most part\u2014many of whom appear to be animated with\nthe most fervent devotion.\n\nI had flattered myself, previous to my departure from Madrid, that I\nshould experience but little difficulty in the circulation of the Gospel\nin Andalusia, at least for a time, as the field was new, and myself and\nthe object of my mission less known and dreaded than in New Castile. It\nappeared, however, that the government at Madrid had fulfilled its\nthreat, transmitting orders throughout Spain for the seizure of my books\nwherever found. The Testaments that arrived from Madrid were seized at\nthe custom-house, to which place all goods on their arrival, even from\nthe interior, are carried, in order that a duty be imposed upon them.\nThrough the management of Antonio, however, I procured one of the two\nchests, whilst the other was sent down to San Lucar, to be embarked for a\nforeign land as soon as I could make arrangements for that purpose.\n\nI did not permit myself to be discouraged by this slight _contretemps_,\nalthough I heartily regretted the loss of the books which had been\nseized, and which I could no longer hope to circulate in these parts,\nwhere they were so much wanted; but I consoled myself with the\nreflection, that I had still several hundred at my disposal, from the\ndistribution of which, if it pleased the Lord, a blessed harvest might\nstill proceed.\n\nI did not commence operations for some time, for I was in a strange\nplace, and scarcely knew what course to pursue. I had no one to assist\nme but poor Antonio, who was as ignorant of the place as myself.\nProvidence, however, soon sent me a coadjutor in rather a singular\nmanner. I was standing in the courtyard of the Reyna Posada, where I\noccasionally dined, when a man, singularly dressed and gigantically tall,\nentered. My curiosity was excited, and I inquired of the master of the\nhouse who he was. He informed me that he was a foreigner, who had\nresided a considerable time in Seville, and he believed a Greek. Upon\nhearing this, I instantly went up to the stranger, and accosted him in\nthe Greek language, in which, though I speak it very ill, I can make\nmyself understood. He replied in the same idiom, and, flattered by the\ninterest which I, a foreigner, expressed for his nation, was not slow in\ncommunicating to me his history. He told me that his name was Dionysius,\nthat he was a native of Cephalonia, and had been educated for the Church,\nwhich, not suiting his temper, he had abandoned, in order to follow the\nprofession of the sea, for which he had an early inclination. That after\nmany adventures and changes of fortune, he found himself one morning on\nthe coast of Spain, a shipwrecked mariner, and that, ashamed to return to\nhis own country in poverty and distress, he had remained in the\nPeninsula, residing chiefly in Seville, where he now carried on a small\ntrade in books. He said that he was of the Greek religion, to which he\nprofessed strong attachment, and, soon discovering that I was a\nProtestant, spoke with unbounded abhorrence of the papal system; nay, of\nits followers in general, whom he called Latins, and whom he charged with\nthe ruin of his own country, inasmuch as they sold it to the Turk. It\ninstantly struck me, that this individual would be an excellent assistant\nin the work which had brought me to Seville, namely, the propagation of\nthe eternal Gospel; and, accordingly, after some more conversation, in\nwhich he exhibited considerable learning, I explained myself to him. He\nentered into my views with eagerness, and, in the sequel, I had no reason\nto regret my confidence, he having disposed of a considerable number of\nNew Testaments, and even contrived to send a certain number of copies to\ntwo small towns at some distance from Seville.\n\nAnother helper in the circulation of the Gospel I found in an aged\nprofessor of music, who, with much stiffness and ceremoniousness, united\nmuch that was excellent and admirable. This venerable individual, only\nthree days after I had made his acquaintance, brought me the price of six\nTestaments and a Gypsy Gospel, which he had sold under the heat of an\nAndalusian sun. What was his motive? A Christian one truly. He said\nthat his unfortunate countrymen, who were then robbing and murdering each\nother, might probably be rendered better by the reading of the Gospel,\nbut could never be injured. Adding, that many a man had been reformed by\nthe Scriptures, but that no one ever yet became a thief or assassin from\nits perusal.\n\nBut my most extraordinary agent was one whom I occasionally employed in\ncirculating the Scriptures amongst the lower classes. I might have\nturned the services of this individual to far greater account had the\nquantity of books at my disposal been greater; but they were now\ndiminishing rapidly, and as I had no hopes of a fresh supply, I was\nalmost tempted to be niggard of the few which remained. This agent was a\nGreek bricklayer, by name Johannes Chrysostom, who had been introduced to\nme by Dionysius. He was a native of the Morea, but had been upwards of\nthirty-five years in Spain, so that he had almost entirely lost his\nnative language. Nevertheless, his attachment to his own country was so\nstrong that he considered whatever was not Greek as utterly barbarous and\nbad. Though entirely destitute of education, he had, by his strength of\ncharacter and by a kind of rude eloquence which he possessed, obtained\nsuch a mastery over the minds of the labouring classes of Seville, that\nthey assented to almost everything he said, notwithstanding the shocks\nwhich their prejudices were continually receiving. So that, although he\nwas a foreigner, he could at any time have become the Masaniello {256} of\nSeville. A more honest creature I never saw, and I soon found that if I\nemployed him, notwithstanding his eccentricities, I might entertain\nperfect confidence that his actions would be no disparagement to the book\nhe vended.\n\nWe were continually pressed for Bibles, which of course we could not\nsupply. Testaments were held in comparatively little esteem. I had by\nthis time made the discovery of a fact which it would have been well had\nI been aware of three years before: but we live and learn. I mean the\ninexpediency of printing Testaments, and Testaments _alone_, for Catholic\ncountries. The reason is plain: the Catholic, unused to Scripture\nreading, finds a thousand things which he cannot possibly understand in\nthe New Testament, the foundation of which is the Old. \u201cSearch the\nScriptures, for they bear witness of me,\u201d may well be applied to this\npoint. It may be replied, that New Testaments separate are in great\ndemand and of infinite utility in England; but England, thanks be to the\nLord, is not a papal country; and though an English labourer may read a\nTestament, and derive from it the most blessed fruit, it does not follow\nthat a Spanish or Italian peasant will enjoy similar success, as he will\nfind many dark things with which the other is well acquainted, and\ncompetent to understand, being versed in the Bible history from his\nchildhood. I confess, however, that in my summer campaign of the\npreceding year, I could not have accomplished with Bibles what Providence\npermitted me to effect with Testaments, the former being far too bulky\nfor rural journeys.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER XLIX.\n\n\nThe Solitary House\u2014The Dehesa\u2014Johannes Chrysostom\u2014Manuel\u2014Bookselling at\nSeville\u2014Dionysius and the Priests\u2014Athens and Rome\u2014Proselytism\u2014Seizure of\nTestaments\u2014Departure from Seville.\n\nI have already stated that I had hired an empty house in Seville, wherein\nI purposed to reside for some months. It stood in a solitary situation,\noccupying one side of a small square. It was built quite in the\nbeautiful taste of Andalusia, with a court paved with small slabs of\nwhite and blue marble. In the middle of this court was a fountain well\nsupplied with the crystal lymph, the murmur of which, as it fell from its\nslender pillar into an octangular basin, might be heard in every\napartment. The house itself was large and spacious, consisting of two\nstories, and containing room sufficient for at least ten times the number\nof inmates which now occupied it. I generally kept during the day in the\nlower apartments, on account of the refreshing coolness which pervaded\nthem. In one of these was an immense stone water-trough, ever\noverflowing with water from the fountain, in which I immersed myself\nevery morning. Such were the premises to which, after having provided\nmyself with a few indispensable articles of furniture, I now retreated\nwith Antonio and my two horses.\n\nI was fortunate in the possession of these quadrupeds, inasmuch as it\nafforded me an opportunity of enjoying to a greater extent the beauties\nof the surrounding country. I know of few things in this life more\ndelicious than a ride in the spring or summer season in the neighbourhood\nof Seville. My favourite one was in the direction of Xeres, over the\nwide Dehesa, as it is called, which extends from Seville to the gates of\nthe former town, a distance of nearly fifty miles, with scarcely a town\nor village intervening. The ground is irregular and broken, and is for\nthe most part covered with that species of brushwood called _carrasco_,\namongst which winds a bridle-path, by no means well defined, chiefly\ntrodden by the _arrieros_, with their long trains of mules and\n_borricos_. It is here that the balmy air of beautiful Andalusia is to\nbe inhaled in full perfection. Aromatic herbs and flowers are growing in\nabundance, diffusing their perfume around. Here dark and gloomy cares\nare dispelled as if by magic from the bosom, as the eyes wander over the\nprospect, lighted by unequalled sunshine, in which gaily painted\nbutterflies wanton, and green and golden _salamanquesas_ lie extended,\nenjoying the luxurious warmth, and occasionally startling the traveller,\nby springing up and making off with portentous speed to the nearest\ncoverts, whence they stare upon him with their sharp and lustrous eyes.\nI repeat, that it is impossible to continue melancholy in regions like\nthese, and the ancient Greeks and Romans were right in making them the\nsite of their Elysian fields. Most beautiful they are, even in their\npresent desolation, for the hand of man has not cultivated them since the\nfatal era of the expulsion of the Moors, which drained Andalusia of at\nleast two-thirds of its population.\n\nEvery evening it was my custom to ride along the Dehesa, until the\ntopmost towers of Seville were no longer in sight. I then turned about,\nand pressing my knees against the sides of Sidi Habismilk, my Arabian,\nthe fleet creature, to whom spur or lash had never been applied, would\nset off in the direction of the town with the speed of a whirlwind,\nseeming in his headlong course to devour the ground of the waste, until\nhe had left it behind, then dashing through the elm-covered road of the\nDelicias, his thundering hoofs were soon heard beneath the vaulted\narchway of the Puerta de Xeres, and in another moment he would stand\nstone-still before the door of my solitary house in the little silent\nsquare of the Pila Seca.\n\nIt is eight o\u2019clock at night, I am returned from the Dehesa, and am\nstanding on the _sotea_, or flat roof of my house, enjoying the cool\nbreeze. Johannes Chrysostom has just arrived from his labour. I have\nnot spoken to him, but I hear him below in the courtyard, detailing to\nAntonio the progress he has made in the last two days. He speaks\nbarbarous Greek, plentifully interlarded with Spanish words; but I gather\nfrom his discourse, that he has already sold twelve Testaments among his\nfellow-labourers. I hear copper coin falling on the pavement, and\nAntonio, who is not of a very Christian temper, reproving him for not\nhaving brought the proceeds of the sale in silver. He now asks for\nfifteen more, as he says the demand is becoming great, and that he shall\nhave no difficulty in disposing of them in the course of the morrow,\nwhilst pursuing his occupations. Antonio goes to fetch them, and he now\nstands alone by the marble fountain, singing a wild song, which I believe\nto be a hymn of his beloved Greek Church. Behold one of the helpers\nwhich the Lord has sent me in my Gospel labours on the shores of the\nGuadalquivir.\n\nI lived in the greatest retirement during the whole time that I passed at\nSeville, spending the greater part of each day in study, or in that half\ndreamy state of inactivity which is the natural effect of the influence\nof a warm climate. There was little in the character of the people\naround to induce me to enter much into society. The higher class of the\nAndalusians are probably upon the whole the most vain and foolish of\nhuman beings, with a taste for nothing but sensual amusements, foppery in\ndress, and ribald discourse. Their insolence is only equalled by their\nmeanness, and their prodigality by their avarice. The lower classes are\na shade or two better than their superiors in station: little, it is\ntrue, can be said for the tone of their morality; they are overreaching,\nquarrelsome, and revengeful, but they are upon the whole more courteous,\nand certainly not more ignorant.\n\nThe Andalusians are in general held in the lowest estimation by the rest\nof the Spaniards, even those in opulent circumstances finding some\ndifficulty at Madrid in procuring admission into respectable society,\nwhere, if they find their way, they are invariably the objects of\nridicule, from the absurd airs and grimaces in which they indulge,\u2014their\ntendency to boasting and exaggeration, their curious accent, and the\nincorrect manner in which they speak and pronounce the Castilian\nlanguage. {261}\n\nIn a word, the Andalusians, in all estimable traits of character, are as\nfar below the other Spaniards as the country which they inhabit is\nsuperior in beauty and fertility to the other provinces of Spain.\n\nYet let it not for a moment be supposed that I have any intention of\nasserting, that excellent and estimable individuals are not to be found\namongst the Andalusians; it was amongst _them_ that I myself discovered\none, whom I have no hesitation in asserting to be the most extraordinary\ncharacter that has ever come within the sphere of my knowledge; but this\nwas no scion of a noble or knightly house, \u201cno wearer of soft clothing,\u201d\nno sleek highly perfumed personage, none of the romanticos who walk in\nlanguishing attitudes about the streets of Seville, with long black hair\nhanging upon their shoulders in luxuriant curls: but one of those whom\nthe proud and unfeeling style the dregs of the populace, a haggard,\nhouseless, penniless man, in rags and tatters. I allude to Manuel,\nthe\u2014what shall I call him?\u2014seller of lottery tickets, driver of death\ncarts, or poet laureate in gypsy songs? I wonder whether thou art still\nliving, my friend Manuel; thou gentleman of nature\u2019s forming\u2014honest,\npure-minded, humble, yet dignified being! Art thou still wandering\nthrough the courts of beautiful Safacoro, or on the banks of the Len\nBaro, {262} thine eyes fixed in vacancy, and thy mind striving to recall\nsome half-forgotten couplet of Luis Lobo; or art thou gone to thy long\nrest, out beyond the Xeres gate within the wall of the Campo Santo, to\nwhich, in times of pest and sickness, thou wast wont to carry so many,\ngypsy and Gentile, in thy cart of the tinkling bell? Oft in the\n_r\u00e9unions_ of the lettered and learned in this land of universal\nliterature, when weary of the display of pedantry and egotism, have I\nrecurred with yearning to our gypsy recitations at the old house in the\nPila Seca. Oft, when sickened by the high-wrought professions of those\nwho bear the cross in gilded chariots, have I thought on thee, thy calm\nfaith, without pretence,\u2014thy patience in poverty, and fortitude in\naffliction; and as oft, when thinking of my speedily approaching end,\nhave I wished that I might meet thee once again, and that thy hands might\nhelp to bear me to \u201cthe dead man\u2019s acre\u201d yonder on the sunny plain, O\nManuel! {263}\n\nMy principal visitor was Dionysius, who seldom failed to make his\nappearance every forenoon: the poor fellow came for sympathy and\nconversation. It is difficult to imagine a situation more forlorn and\nisolated than that of this man,\u2014a Greek at Seville, with scarcely a\nsingle acquaintance, and depending for subsistence on the miserable\npittance to be derived from selling a few books, for the most part hawked\nabout from door to door. \u201cWhat could have first induced you to commence\nbookselling in Seville?\u201d said I to him, as he arrived one sultry day,\nheated and fatigued, with a small bundle of books secured together by a\nleather strap.\n\n_Dionysius_.\u2014For want of a better employment, _Kyrie_, {264a} I have\nadopted this most unprofitable and despised one. Oft have I regretted\nnot having been bred up as a shoemaker, or having learnt in my youth some\nother useful handicraft, for gladly would I follow it now. Such, at\nleast, would procure me the respect of my fellow-creatures, inasmuch as\nthey needed me; but now all avoid me and look upon me with contempt; for\nwhat have I to offer in this place that any one cares about? Books in\nSeville! where no one reads, or at least nothing but new romances,\ntranslated from the French, and obscenity. Books! Would I were a gypsy\nand could trim donkeys, for then I were at least independent and were\nmore respected than I am at present.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Of what kind of books does your stock-in-trade consist?\n\n_Dionysius_.\u2014Of those not likely to suit the Seville market, _Kyrie_;\nbooks of sterling and intrinsic value; many of them in ancient Greek,\nwhich I picked up upon the dissolution of the convents, when the contents\nof the libraries were hurled into the courtyards, and there sold by the\n_arroba_. I thought at first that I was about to make a fortune, and in\nfact my books would be so in any other place; but here I have offered an\nElzevir {264b} for half a dollar in vain. I should starve were it not\nfor the strangers who occasionally purchase of me.\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Seville is a large cathedral city, abounding with priests and\ncanons; surely some of these occasionally visit you to make purchases of\nclassic works and books connected with ecclesiastical literature.\n\n_Dionysius_.\u2014If you think so, _Kyrie_, you know little respecting the\necclesiastics of Seville. I am acquainted with many of them, and can\nassure you that a tribe of beings can scarcely be found with a more\nconfirmed aversion to intellectual pursuits of every kind. Their reading\nis confined to newspapers, which they take up in the hope of seeing that\ntheir friend Don Carlos is at length reinstated at Madrid; but they\nprefer their chocolate and biscuits, and nap before dinner, to the wisdom\nof Plato and the eloquence of Tully. They occasionally visit me, but it\nis only to pass away a heavy hour in chattering nonsense. Once on a time\nthree of them came, in the hope of making me a convert to their Latin\nsuperstition. \u201c_Signor Donatio_,\u201d said they (for so they called me),\n\u201chow is it that an unprejudiced person like yourself, a man really with\nsome pretension to knowledge, can still cling to this absurd religion of\nyours? Surely, after having resided so many years in a civilized country\nlike this of Spain, it is high time to abandon your half-pagan form of\nworship, and to enter the bosom of the Church; now pray be advised, and\nyou shall be none the worse for it.\u201d \u201cThank you, gentlemen,\u201d I replied,\n\u201cfor the interest you take in my welfare; I am always open to conviction;\nlet us proceed to discuss the subject. What are the points of my\nreligion which do not meet your approbation? You are of course well\nacquainted with all our dogmas and ceremonies.\u201d \u201cWe know nothing about\nyour religion, _Signor Donatio_, save that it is a very absurd one, and\ntherefore it is incumbent upon you, as an unprejudiced and well-informed\nman, to renounce it.\u201d \u201cBut, gentlemen, if you know nothing of my\nreligion, why call it absurd? Surely it is not the part of unprejudiced\npeople to disparage that of which they are ignorant.\u201d \u201cBut, _Signor\nDonatio_, it is not the Catholic Apostolic Roman religion, is it?\u201d \u201cIt\nmay be, gentlemen, for what you appear to know of it; for your\ninformation, however, I will tell you that it is not; it is the Greek\nApostolic religion. I do not call it catholic, for it is absurd to call\nthat catholic which is not universally acknowledged.\u201d \u201cBut, _Signor\nDonatio_, does not the matter speak for itself? What can a set of\nignorant Greek barbarians know about religion? If they set aside the\nauthority of Rome, whence should they derive any rational ideas of\nreligion? whence should they get the Gospel?\u201d \u201cThe Gospel, gentlemen?\nAllow me to show you a book. Here it is; what is your opinion of it?\u201d\n\u201c_Signor Donati_, what does this mean? What characters of the devil are\nthese, are they Moorish? Who is able to understand them?\u201d \u201cI suppose\nyour worships, being Roman priests, know something of Latin; if you\ninspect the title-page to the bottom, you will find, in the language of\nyour own Church, \u2018the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, in the\noriginal Greek,\u2019 of which your Vulgate is merely a translation, and not a\nvery correct one. With respect to the barbarism of Greece, it appears\nthat you are not aware that Athens was a city, and a famed one, centuries\nbefore the first mud cabin of Rome was thatched, and the gypsy vagabonds\nwho first peopled it had escaped from the hands of justice.\u201d \u201c_Signor\nDonatio_, you are an ignorant heretic, and insolent withal: _what\nnonsense is this_! . . .\u201d But I will not weary your ears, _Kyrie_, with\nall the absurdities which the poor Latin _Papas_ {266} poured into mine;\nthe burden of their song being invariably, _what nonsense is this_! which\nwas certainly applicable enough to what they themselves were saying.\nSeeing, however, that I was more than their match in religious\ncontroversy, they fell foul of my country. \u201cSpain is a better country\nthan Greece,\u201d said one. \u201cYou never tasted bread before you came to\nSpain,\u201d cried another. \u201cAnd little enough since,\u201d thought I. \u201cYou never\nbefore saw such a city as Seville,\u201d said the third. But then ensued the\nbest part of the comedy: my visitors chanced to be natives of three\ndifferent places; one was of Seville, another of Utrera, and the third of\nMiguel Turra, a miserable village in La Mancha. At the mention of\nSeville, the other two instantly began to sing the praises of their\nrespective places of birth; this brought on comparisons, and a violent\ndispute was the consequence. Much abuse passed between them, whilst I\nstood by, shrugged my shoulders, and said _tipotas_. {267} At last, as\nthey were leaving the house, I said, \u201cWho would have thought, gentlemen,\nthat the polemics of the Greek and Latin Churches were so closely\nconnected with the comparative merits of Seville, Utrera, and Miguel\nTurra?\u201d\n\n_Myself_.\u2014Is the spirit of proselytism very prevalent here? Of what\ndescription of people do their converts generally consist?\n\n_Dionysius_.\u2014I will tell you, _Kyrie_; the generality of their converts\nconsist of German or English Protestant adventurers, who come here to\nsettle, and in course of time take to themselves wives from amongst the\nSpanish, prior to which it is necessary to become members of the Latin\nChurch. A few are vagabond Jews, from Gibraltar or Tangier, who have\nfled for their crimes into Spain, and who renounce their faith to escape\nfrom starvation. These gentry, however, it is necessary to pay, on which\naccount the priests procure for them _padrinos_, or godfathers; these\ngenerally consist of rich devotees over whom the priests have influence,\nand who esteem it a glory and a meritorious act to assist in bringing\nback lost souls to the Church. The neophyte allows himself to be\nconvinced on the promise of a _peseta_ a day, which is generally paid by\nthe godfathers for the first year, but seldom for a longer period. About\nforty years ago, however, they made a somewhat notable convert. A civil\nwar arose in Morocco, caused by the separate pretensions of two brothers\nto the throne. One of these being worsted, fled over to Spain, imploring\nthe protection of Charles IV. He soon became an object of particular\nattention to the priests, who were not slow in converting him, and\ninduced Charles to settle upon him a pension of a dollar per day. He\ndied some few years since in Seville, a despised vagabond. He left\nbehind him a son, who is at present a notary, and outwardly very devout,\nbut a greater hypocrite and _picaron_ does not exist. I would you could\nsee his face, _Kyrie_, it is that of Judas Iscariot. I think you would\nsay so, for you are a physiognomist. He lives next door to me, and\nnotwithstanding his pretensions to religion, is permitted to remain in a\nstate of great poverty.\n\nAnd now nothing further for the present about Dionysius.\n\nAbout the middle of July our work was concluded at Seville, and for the\nvery efficient reason that I had no more Testaments to sell; somewhat\nmore than two hundred having been circulated since my arrival.\n\nAbout ten days before the time of which I am speaking, I was visited by\nvarious _alguazils_, accompanied by a kind of headborough, who made a\nsmall seizure of Testaments and gypsy Gospels, which happened to be lying\nabout. This visit was far from being disagreeable to me, as I considered\nit to be a very satisfactory proof of the effect of our exertions in\nSeville. I cannot help here relating an anecdote:\u2014A day or two\nsubsequent, having occasion to call at the house of the headborough\nrespecting my passport, I found him lying on his bed, for it was the hour\nof _siesta_, reading intently one of the Testaments which he had taken\naway, all of which, if he had obeyed his orders, would have been\ndeposited in the office of the civil governor. So intently, indeed, was\nhe engaged in reading, that he did not at first observe my entrance; when\nhe did, however, he sprang up in great confusion, and locked the book up\nin his cabinet, whereupon I smiled, and told him to be under no alarm, as\nI was glad to see him so usefully employed. Recovering himself, he said\nthat he had read the book nearly through, and that he had found no harm\nin it, but, on the contrary, everything to praise. Adding, he believed\nthat the clergy must be possessed with devils (_endemoniados_) to\npersecute it in the manner they did.\n\nIt was Sunday when the seizure was made, and I happened to be reading the\nLiturgy. One of the _alguazils_, when going away, made an observation\nrespecting the very different manner in which the Protestants and\nCatholics keep the Sabbath; the former being in their own houses reading\ngood books, and the latter abroad in the bull-ring, seeing the wild bulls\ntear out the gory bowels of the poor horses. The bull amphitheatre at\nSeville is the finest in all Spain, and is invariably on a Sunday (the\nonly day on which it is open) filled with applauding multitudes.\n\nI now made preparations for leaving Seville for a few months, my\ndestination being the coast of Barbary. Antonio, who did not wish to\nleave Spain, in which were his wife and children, returned to Madrid,\nrejoicing in a handsome gratuity with which I presented him. As it was\nmy intention to return to Seville, I left my house and horses in the\ncharge of a friend in whom I could confide, and departed.\n\nThe reasons which induced me to visit Barbary will be seen in the\nfollowing chapters.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER L.\n\n\nNight on the Guadalquivir\u2014Gospel Light\u2014Bonanza\u2014Strand of San\nLucar\u2014Andalusian Scenery\u2014History of a Chest\u2014Cosas de los Ingleses\u2014The Two\nGypsies\u2014The Driver\u2014The Red Nightcap\u2014The Steam-Boat\u2014Christian Language.\n\nOn the night of the 31st of July I departed from Seville upon my\nexpedition, going on board one of the steamers which ply on the\nGuadalquivir between Seville and Cadiz.\n\nIt was my intention to stop at San Lucar, for the purpose of recovering\nthe chest of Testaments which had been placed in embargo there, until\nsuch time as they could be removed from the kingdom of Spain. These\nTestaments I intended for distribution amongst the Christians whom I\nhoped to meet on the shores of Barbary. San Lucar is about fifteen\nleagues distant from Seville, at the entrance of the bay of Cadiz, where\nthe yellow waters of the Guadalquivir unite with the brine. The steamer\nshot from the little quay, or wharf, at about half-past nine, and then\narose a loud cry\u2014it was the voices of those on board and on shore wishing\nfarewell to their friends. Amongst the tumult I thought I could\ndistinguish the accents of some friends of my own who had accompanied me\nto the bank, and I instantly raised my own voice louder than all. The\nnight was very dark, so much so, indeed, that as we passed along we could\nscarcely distinguish the trees which cover the eastern shore of the river\nuntil it takes its first turn. A _calmazo_ had reigned during the day at\nSeville, by which is meant exceedingly sultry weather, unenlivened by the\nslightest breeze. The night likewise was calm and sultry. As I had\nfrequently made the voyage of the Guadalquivir, ascending and descending\nthis celebrated river, I felt nothing of that restlessness and curiosity\nwhich people experience in a strange place, whether in light or darkness,\nand being acquainted with none of the other passengers, who were talking\non the deck, I thought my best plan would be to retire to the cabin and\nenjoy some rest, if possible. The cabin was solitary and tolerably cool,\nall its windows on either side being open for the admission of air.\nFlinging myself on one of the cushioned benches, I was soon asleep, in\nwhich state I continued for about two hours, when I was aroused by the\nfurious biting of a thousand bugs, which compelled me to seek the deck,\nwhere, wrapping myself in my cloak, I again fell asleep. It was near\ndaybreak when I awoke; we were then about two leagues from San Lucar. I\narose and looked towards the east, watching the gradual progress of dawn,\nfirst the dull light, then the streak, then the tinge, then the bright\nblush, till at last the golden disk of that orb which giveth day emerged\nfrom the abyss of immensity, and in a moment the whole prospect was\ncovered with brightness and glory. The land smiled, the waters sparkled,\nthe birds sang, and men arose from their resting-places and rejoiced: for\nit was day, and the sun was gone forth on the errand of its Creator, the\ndiffusion of light and gladness, and the dispelling of darkness and\nsorrow.\n\n \u201cBehold the morning sun\n Begins his glorious way;\n His beams through all the nations run,\n And life and light convey.\n\n \u201cBut where the Gospel comes,\n It spreads diviner light;\n It calls dead sinners from their tombs,\n And gives the blind their sight.\u201d\n\nWe now stopped before Bonanza: this is, properly speaking, the port of\nSan Lucar, although it is half a league distant from the latter place.\nIt is called Bonanza on account of its good anchorage, and its being\nsecured from the boisterous winds of the ocean; its literal meaning is\n\u201cfair weather.\u201d {273} It consists of several large white buildings,\nprincipally government store-houses, and is inhabited by the coastguard,\ndependents on the custom-house, and a few fishermen. A boat came off to\nreceive those passengers whose destination was San Lucar, and to bring on\nboard about half a dozen who were bound for Cadiz: I entered with the\nrest. A young Spaniard of very diminutive stature addressed some\nquestions to me in French as to what I thought of the scenery and climate\nof Andalusia. I replied that I admired both, which evidently gave him\ngreat pleasure. The boatman now came demanding two _reals_ for conveying\nme on shore. I had no small money, and offered him a dollar to change.\nHe said that it was impossible. I asked him what was to be done:\nwhereupon he replied, uncivilly, that he knew not, but could not lose\ntime, and expected to be paid instantly. The young Spaniard, observing\nmy embarrassment, took out two _reals_ and paid the fellow. I thanked\nhim heartily for this act of civility, for which I felt really grateful;\nas there are few situations more unpleasant than to be in a crowd in want\nof change, whilst you are importuned by people for payment. A loose\ncharacter once told me that it was far preferable to be without money at\nall, as you then knew what course to take. I subsequently met the young\nSpaniard at Cadiz, and repaid him, with thanks.\n\nA few cabriolets were waiting near the wharf, in order to convey us to\nSan Lucar. I ascended one, and we proceeded slowly along the _playa_ or\nstrand. This place is famous in the ancient novels of Spain, of that\nclass called Picaresque, or those devoted to the adventures of notorious\nscoundrels, the father of which, as also of others of the same kind, in\nwhatever language, is _Lazarillo de Tormes_. Cervantes himself has\nimmortalized this strand in the most amusing of his smaller tales, _La\nIlustre Fregona_. {274} In a word, the strand of San Lucar in ancient\ntimes, if not in modern, was a rendezvous for ruffians,\n_contrabandistas_, and vagabonds of every description, who nested there\nin wooden sheds, which have now vanished. San Lucar itself was always\nnoted for the thievish propensities of its inhabitants\u2014the worst in all\nAndalusia. The roguish innkeeper in Don Quixote perfected his education\nat San Lucar. All these recollections crowded into my mind as we\nproceeded along the strand, which was beautifully gilded by the\nAndalusian sun. We at last arrived nearly opposite to San Lucar, which\nstands at some distance from the waterside. Here a lively spectacle\npresented itself to us: the shore was covered with a multitude of females\neither dressing or undressing themselves, while (I speak within bounds)\nhundreds were in the water, sporting and playing: some were close by the\nbeach, stretched at their full length on the sand and pebbles, allowing\nthe little billows to dash over their heads and bosoms; whilst others\nwere swimming boldly out into the firth. There was a confused hubbub of\nfemale cries, thin shrieks, and shrill laughter; couplets likewise were\nbeing sung, on what subject it is easy to guess\u2014for we were in sunny\nAndalusia, and what can its black-eyed daughters think, speak, or sing of\nbut _amor_, _amor_, which now sounded from the land and the waters?\nFurther on along the beach we perceived likewise a crowd of men bathing;\nwe passed not by them, but turned to the left up an alley or avenue which\nleads to San Lucar, and which may be a quarter of a mile long. The view\nfrom hence was truly magnificent: before us lay the town, occupying the\nside and top of a tolerably high hill, extending from east to west. It\nappeared to be of considerable size; and I was subsequently informed that\nit contained at least twenty thousand inhabitants. Several immense\nedifices and walls towered up in a style of grandeur which can be but\nfeebly described by words; but the principal object was an ancient castle\ntowards the left. The houses were all white, and would have shone\nbrilliantly in the sun had it been higher; but at this early hour they\nlay comparatively in shade. The _tout ensemble_ was very Moorish and\nOriental; and, indeed, in ancient times San Lucar was a celebrated\nstronghold of the Moors, and, next to Almeria, the most frequented of the\ncommercial places in Spain. Everything, indeed, in these parts of\nAndalusia is perfectly Oriental. Behold the heavens, as cloudless and as\nbrightly azure as those of Ind; the fiery sun which tans the fairest\ncheek in a moment, and which fills the air with flickering flame; and oh!\nremark the scenery and the vegetable productions. The alley up which we\nwere moving was planted on each side with that remarkable tree or plant,\nfor I know not which to call it, the giant aloe, which is called in\nSpanish, _pita_, and in Moorish, _gurs\u00e9an_. It rises here to a height\nalmost as magnificent as on the African shore. Need I say that the stem,\nwhich springs up from the middle of the bush of green blades, which shoot\nout from the root on all sides, is as high as a palm-tree; and need I say\nthat those blades, which are of an immense thickness at the root, are at\nthe tip sharper than the point of a spear, and would inflict a terrible\nwound on any animal which might inadvertently rush against them?\n\nOne of the first houses at San Lucar was the _posada_ at which we\nstopped. It confronted, with some others, the avenue up which we had\ncome. As it was still early, I betook myself to rest for a few hours, at\nthe end of which time I went out to visit Mr. Phillipi, the British\nvice-consul, who was already acquainted with me by name, as I had been\nrecommended to him in a letter from a relation of his at Seville. Mr.\nPhillipi was at home in his counting-house, and received me with much\nkindness and civility. I told him the motive of my visit to San Lucar,\nand requested his assistance towards obtaining the books from the\ncustom-house, in order to transport them out of the country, as I was\nvery well acquainted with the difficulties which every one has to\nencounter in Spain who has any business to transact with the government\nauthorities. He assured me that he should be most happy to assist me;\nand, accordingly, despatched with me to the custom-house his head clerk,\na person well known and much respected at San Lucar.\n\nIt may be as well here at once to give the history of these books, which\nmight otherwise tend to embarrass the narrative. They consisted of a\nchest of Testaments in Spanish, and a small box of Saint Luke\u2019s Gospel in\nthe _Gitano_ language of the Spanish gypsies. I obtained them from the\ncustom-house at San Lucar, with a pass for that of Cadiz. At Cadiz I was\noccupied two days, and also a person whom I employed, in going through\nall the formalities, and in procuring the necessary papers. The expense\nwas great, as money was demanded at every step I had to take, though I\nwas simply complying, in this instance, with the orders of the Spanish\ngovernment in removing prohibited books from Spain. The farce did not\nend until my arrival at Gibraltar, where I paid the Spanish consul a\ndollar for certifying on the back of the pass, which I had to return to\nCadiz, that the books were arrived at the former place. It is true that\nhe never saw the books, nor inquired about them; but he received the\nmoney, for which he alone seemed to be anxious.\n\nWhilst at the custom-house of San Lucar I was asked one or two questions\nrespecting the books contained in the chests: this afforded me some\nopportunity of speaking of the New Testament and the Bible Society. What\nI said excited attention; and presently all the officers and dependents\nof the house, great and small, were gathered around me, from the governor\nto the porter. As it was necessary to open the boxes to inspect their\ncontents, we all proceeded to the courtyard, where, holding a Testament\nin my hand, I recommenced my discourse. I scarcely know what I said; for\nI was much agitated, and hurried away by my feelings, when I bethought me\nof the manner in which the Word of God was persecuted in this unhappy\nkingdom. My words evidently made impression, and to my astonishment\nevery person present pressed me for a copy. I sold several within the\nwalls of the custom-house. The object, however, of most attention was\nthe gypsy Gospel, which was minutely examined amidst smiles and\nexclamations of surprise; an individual every now and then crying,\n\u201c_Cosas de los Ingleses_.\u201d A bystander asked me whether I could speak\nthe _Gitano_ language. I replied that I could not only speak it, but\nwrite it, and instantly made a speech of about five minutes in the gypsy\ntongue, which I had no sooner concluded than all clapped their hands and\nsimultaneously shouted, \u201c_Cosas de Inglaterra_,\u201d \u201c_Cosas de los\nIngleses_.\u201d I disposed of several copies of the gypsy Gospel likewise,\nand having now settled the business which had brought me to the\ncustom-house, I saluted my new friends and departed with my books.\n\nI now revisited Mr. Phillipi, who, upon learning that it was my intention\nto proceed to Cadiz next morning by the steamer, which would touch at\nBonanza at four o\u2019clock, despatched the chests and my little luggage to\nthe latter place, where he likewise advised me to sleep, in order that I\nmight be in readiness to embark at that early hour. He then introduced\nme to his family, his wife an English woman, and his daughter an amiable\nand beautiful girl of about eighteen years of age, whom I had previously\nseen at Seville; three or four other ladies from Seville were likewise\nthere on a visit, and for the purpose of sea-bathing. After a few words\nin English between the lady of the house and myself, we all commenced\nchatting in Spanish, which seemed to be the only language understood or\ncared for by the rest of the company; indeed, who would be so\nunreasonable as to expect Spanish females to speak any language but their\nown, which, flexible and harmonious as it is (far more so, I think, than\nany other), seems at times quite inadequate to express the wild sallies\nof their luxuriant imagination. Two hours fled rapidly away in\ndiscourse, interrupted occasionally by music and song, when I bade\nfarewell to this delightful society, and strolled out to view the town.\n\nIt was now past noon, and the heat was exceedingly fierce: I saw scarcely\na living being in the streets, the stones of which burnt my feet through\nthe soles of my boots. I passed through the square of the Constitution,\nwhich presents nothing particular to the eye of the stranger, and\nascended the hill to obtain a nearer view of the castle. It is a strong\nheavy edifice of stone, with round towers, and, though deserted, appears\nto be still in a tolerable state of preservation. I became tired of\ngazing, and was retracing my steps, when I was accosted by two gypsies,\nwho by some means had heard of my arrival. We exchanged some words in\n_Gitano_, but they appeared to be very ignorant of the dialect, and\nutterly unable to maintain a conversation in it. They were clamorous for\na _gabicote_, or book in the gypsy tongue. I refused it them, saying\nthat they could turn it to no profitable account; but finding that they\ncould read, I promised them each a Testament in Spanish. This offer,\nhowever, they refused with disdain, saying that they cared for nothing\nwritten in the language of the _Busn\u00e9_ or Gentiles. They then persisted\nin their demand, to which I at last yielded, being unable to resist their\nimportunity; whereupon they accompanied me to the inn, and received what\nthey so ardently desired.\n\nIn the evening I was visited by Mr. Phillipi, who informed me that he had\nordered a cabriolet to call for me at the inn at eleven at night, for the\npurpose of conveying me to Bonanza, and that a person there, who kept a\nsmall wine-house, and to whom the chests and other things had been\nforwarded, would receive me for the night, though it was probable that I\nshould have to sleep on the floor. We then walked to the beach, where\nthere were a great number of bathers, all men. Amongst them were some\ngood swimmers; two, in particular, were out at a great distance in the\nfirth of the Guadalquivir, I should say at least a mile; their heads\ncould just be descried with the telescope. I was told that they were\nfriars. I wondered at what period of their lives they had acquired their\ndexterity at natation. I hoped it was not at a time when, according to\ntheir vows, they should have lived for prayer, fasting, and mortification\nalone. Swimming is a noble exercise, but it certainly does not tend to\nmortify either the flesh or the spirit. As it was becoming dusk, we\nreturned to the town, when my friend bade me a kind farewell. I then\nretired to my apartment, and passed some hours in meditation.\n\nIt was night, ten o\u2019clock;\u2014eleven o\u2019clock, and the cabriolet was at the\ndoor. I got in, and we proceeded down the avenue and along the shore,\nwhich was quite deserted. The waves sounded mournfully; everything\nseemed to have changed since the morning. I even thought that the\nhorse\u2019s feet sounded differently as it trotted slowly over the moist firm\nsand. The driver, however, was by no means mournful, nor inclined to be\nsilent long: he soon commenced asking me an infinity of questions as to\nwhence I came and whither I was bound. Having given him what answers I\nthought most proper, I, in return, asked him whether he was not afraid to\ndrive along that beach, which had always borne so bad a character, at so\nunseasonable an hour. Whereupon he looked around him, and seeing no\nperson, he raised a shout of derision, and said that a fellow with his\nwhiskers feared not all the thieves that ever walked the _playa_, and\nthat no dozen men in San Lucar dare to waylay any traveller whom they\nknew to be beneath his protection. He was a good specimen of the\nAndalusian braggart. We soon saw a light or two shining dimly before us;\nthey proceeded from a few barks and small vessels stranded on the sand\nclose below Bonanza: amongst them I distinguished two or three dusky\nfigures. We were now at our journey\u2019s end, and stopped before the door\nof the place where I was to lodge for the night. The driver,\ndismounting, knocked loud and long, until the door was opened by an\nexceedingly stout man of about sixty years of age; he held a dim light in\nhis hand, and was dressed in a red nightcap and dirty striped shirt. He\nadmitted us, without a word, into a very large long room with a clay\nfloor. A species of counter stood on one side near the door; behind it\nstood a barrel or two, and against the wall, on shelves, many bottles of\nvarious sizes. The smell of liquors and wine was very powerful. I\nsettled with the driver and gave him a gratuity, whereupon he asked me\nfor something to drink to my safe journey. I told him he could call for\nwhatever he pleased: whereupon he demanded a glass of _aguardiente_,\nwhich the master of the house, who had stationed himself behind the\ncounter, handed him without saying a word. The fellow drank it off at\nonce, but made a great many wry faces after having swallowed it, and,\ncoughing, said that he made no doubt it was good liquor, as it burnt his\nthroat terribly. He then embraced me, went out, mounted his cabriolet,\nand drove off.\n\nThe old man with the red nightcap now moved slowly to the door, which he\nbolted and otherwise secured; he then drew forward two benches, which he\nplaced together, and pointed to them as if to intimate to me that there\nwas my bed: he then blew out the candle and retired deeper into the\napartment, where I heard him lay himself down sighing and snorting.\nThere was now no further light than what proceeded from a small earthen\npan on the floor, filled with water and oil, on which floated a small\npiece of card with a lighted wick in the middle, which simple species of\nlamp is called _mariposa_. {282} I now laid my carpet-bag on the bench\nas a pillow, and flung myself down. I should have been asleep instantly,\nbut he of the red nightcap now commenced snoring awfully, which brought\nto my mind that I had not yet commended myself to my Friend and Redeemer:\nI therefore prayed, and then sank to repose.\n\nI was awakened more than once during the night by cats, and I believe\nrats, leaping upon my body. At the last of these interruptions I arose,\nand, approaching the _mariposa_, looked at my watch; it was half-past\nthree o\u2019clock. I opened the door and looked out; whereupon some\nfishermen entered, clamouring for their morning draught: the old man was\nsoon on his feet serving them. One of the men said to me, that if I was\ngoing by the steamer, I had better order my things to the wharf without\ndelay, as he had heard the vessel coming down the river. I despatched my\nluggage, and then demanded of the red nightcap what I owed him. He\nreplied, \u201c_Un real_.\u201d These were the only two words which I heard\nproceed from his mouth: he was certainly addicted to silence, and perhaps\nto philosophy, neither of which are much practised in Andalusia. I now\nhurried to the wharf. The steamer was not yet arrived, but I heard its\nthunder up the river every moment becoming more distinct: there were mist\nand darkness upon the face of the waters, and I felt awe as I listened to\nthe approach of the invisible monster booming through the stillness of\nthe night. It came at last in sight, plashed its way forward, stopped,\nand I was soon on board. It was the _Peninsula_, the best boat on the\nGuadalquivir.\n\nWhat a wonderful production of art is a steamboat! and yet why should we\ncall it wonderful, if we consider its history? More than five hundred\nyears have elapsed since the idea of making one first originated; but it\nwas not until the close of the last century that the first, worthy of the\nname, made its appearance on a Scottish river.\n\nDuring this long period of time, acute minds and skilful hands were\noccasionally busied in attempting to remove those imperfections in the\nmachinery which alone prevented a vessel being made capable of propelling\nitself against wind and tide. All these attempts were successively\nabandoned in despair, yet scarcely one was made which was perfectly\nfruitless; each inventor leaving behind him some monument of his labour,\nof which those who succeeded him took advantage, until at last a\nfortunate thought or two, and a few more perfect arrangements, were all\nthat were wanting. The time arrived, and now, at length, the very\nAtlantic is crossed by haughty steamers. Much has been said of the\nutility of steam in spreading abroad civilization, and I think justly.\nWhen the first steam-vessels were seen on the Guadalquivir, about ten\nyears ago, the Sevillians ran to the banks of the river, crying \u201csorcery,\nsorcery,\u201d which idea was not a little favoured by the speculation being\nan English one, and the boats, which were English built, being provided\nwith English engineers, as, indeed, they still are; no Spaniard having\nbeen found capable of understanding the machinery. They soon, however,\nbecame accustomed to them, and the boats are in general crowded with\npassengers. Fanatic and vain as the Sevillians still are, and bigoted as\nthey remain to their own customs, they know that good, in one instance at\nleast, can proceed from a foreign land, and that land a land of heretics;\ninveterate prejudice has been shaken, and we will hope that this is the\ndawn of their civilization.\n\nWhilst passing over the bay of Cadiz, I was reclining on one of the\nbenches on the deck, when the captain walked by in company with another\nman; they stopped a short distance from me, and I heard the captain ask\nthe other, in a low voice, how many languages he spoke; he replied, \u201cOnly\none.\u201d \u201cThat one,\u201d said the captain, \u201cis of course the Christian;\u201d by\nwhich name the Spaniards style their own language, in contradistinction\nto all others. \u201cThat fellow,\u201d continued the captain, \u201cwho is lying on\nthe deck, can speak Christian too, when it serves his purpose, but he\nspeaks others, which are by no means Christian: he can talk English, and\nI myself have heard him chatter in _Gitano_ with the gypsies of Triana;\nhe is now going amongst the Moors, and when he arrives in their country\nyou will hear him, should you be there, converse as fluently in their\ngibberish as in _Cristiano_, nay, better, for he is no Christian himself.\nHe has been several times on board my vessel already, but I do not like\nhim, as I consider that he carries something about with him which is not\ngood.\u201d\n\nThis worthy person, on my coming aboard the boat, had shaken me by the\nhand and expressed his joy at seeing me again.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LI.\n\n\nCadiz\u2014The Fortifications\u2014The Consul-General\u2014Characteristic\nAnecdote\u2014Catalan Steamer\u2014Trafalgar\u2014Alonzo Guzman\u2014Gibil Muza\u2014Orestes\nFrigate\u2014The Hostile Lion\u2014Works of the Creator\u2014Lizard of the Rock\u2014The\nConcourse\u2014Queen of the Waters\u2014Broken Prayer.\n\nCadiz stands, as is well known, upon a long narrow neck of land\nstretching out into the ocean, from whose bosom the town appears to rise,\nthe salt waters laving its walls on all sides save the east, where a\nsandy isthmus connects it with the coast of Spain. The town, as it\nexists at the present day, is of modern construction, and very unlike any\nother town which is to be found in the Peninsula, being built with great\nregularity and symmetry. The streets are numerous, and intersect each\nother, for the most part at right angles. They are very narrow in\ncomparison to the height of the houses, so that they are almost\nimpervious to the rays of the sun, except when at its midday altitude.\nThe principal street, however, is an exception, it being of some width.\nThis street, in which stands the Bolsa, or exchange, and which contains\nthe houses of the chief merchants and nobility, is the grand resort of\nloungers as well as men of business during the early part of the day, and\nin that respect resembles the Puerta del Sol at Madrid. It is connected\nwith the great square, which, though not of very considerable extent, has\nmany pretensions to magnificence, it being surrounded with large imposing\nhouses, and planted with fine trees, with marble seats below them for the\naccommodation of the public. There are few public edifices worthy of\nmuch attention: the chief church, indeed, might be considered a fine\nmonument of labour in some other countries; but in Spain, the land of\nnoble and gigantic cathedrals, it can be styled nothing more than a\ndecent place of worship; it is still in an unfinished state. There is a\npublic walk, or _alameda_, on the northern ramparts, which is generally\nthronged in summer evenings: the green of its trees, when viewed from the\nbay, affords an agreeable relief to the eye, dazzled with the glare of\nthe white buildings, for Cadiz is also a bright city. It was once the\nwealthiest place in all Spain, but its prosperity has of late years sadly\ndiminished, and its inhabitants are continually lamenting its ruined\ntrade; on which account many are daily abandoning it for Seville, where\nliving at least is cheaper. There is still, however, much life and\nbustle in the streets, which are adorned with many splendid shops,\nseveral of which are in the style of Paris and London. The present\npopulation is said to amount to eighty thousand souls.\n\nIt is not without reason that Cadiz has been called a strong town: the\nfortifications on the land side, which were partly the work of the French\nduring the sway of Napoleon, are perfectly admirable, and seem\nimpregnable: towards the sea it is defended as much by nature as by art,\nwater and sunken rocks being no contemptible bulwarks. The defences of\nthe town, however, except the landward ones, afford melancholy proofs of\nSpanish apathy and neglect, even when allowance is made for the present\npeculiarly unhappy circumstances of the country. Scarcely a gun, except\na few dismounted ones, is to be seen on the fortifications, which are\nrapidly falling to decay, so that this insulated stronghold is at present\nalmost at the mercy of any foreign nation which, upon any pretence, or\nnone at all, should seek to tear it from the grasp of its present\nlegitimate possessors, and convert it into a foreign colony.\n\nA few hours after my arrival, I waited upon Mr. B---, {288} the British\nconsul-general at Cadiz. His house, which is the corner one at the\nentrance of the _alameda_, commands a noble prospect of the bay, and is\nvery large and magnificent. I had, of course, long been acquainted with\nMr. B--- by reputation; I knew that for several years he had filled, with\nadvantage to his native country, and with honour to himself, the\ndistinguished and highly responsible situation which he holds in Spain.\nI knew, likewise, that he was a good and pious Christian, and, moreover,\nthe firm and enlightened friend of the Bible Society. Of all this I was\naware, but I had never yet enjoyed the advantage of being personally\nacquainted with him. I saw him now for the first time, and was much\nstruck with his appearance. He is a tall, athletic, finely built man,\nseemingly about forty-five or fifty; there is much dignity in his\ncountenance, which is, however, softened by an expression of good humour\ntruly engaging. His manner is frank and affable in the extreme. I am\nnot going to enter into minute details of our interview, which was to me\na very interesting one. He knew already the leading parts of my history\nsince my arrival in Spain, and made several comments upon it, which\ndisplayed his intimate knowledge of the situation of the country as\nregards ecclesiastical matters, and the state of opinion respecting\nreligious innovation.\n\nI was pleased to find that his ideas in many points accorded with my own,\nand we were both decidedly of opinion that, notwithstanding the great\npersecution and outcry which had lately been raised against the Gospel,\nthe battle was by no means lost, and that the holy cause might yet\ntriumph in Spain, if zeal united with discretion and Christian humility\nwere displayed by those called upon to uphold it.\n\nDuring the greater part of this and the following day, I was much\noccupied at the custom-house, endeavouring to obtain the documents\nnecessary for the exportation of the Testaments. On the afternoon of\nSaturday I dined with Mr. B--- and his family\u2014an interesting group\u2014his\nlady, his beautiful daughters, and his son, a fine intelligent young man.\nEarly the next morning a steamer, the _Balear_, was to quit Cadiz for\nMarseilles, touching on the way at Algeziras, Gibraltar, and various\nother ports of Spain. I had engaged my passage on board her as far as\nGibraltar, having nothing further to detain me at Cadiz; my business with\nthe custom-house having been brought at last to a termination, though I\nbelieve I should never have got through it but for the kind assistance of\nMr. B---. I quitted this excellent man and my other charming friends at\na late hour with regret. I believe that I carried with me their very\nbest wishes; and, in whatever part of the world I, a poor wanderer in the\nGospel\u2019s cause, may chance to be, I shall not unfrequently offer up\nsincere prayers for their happiness and well-being.\n\nBefore taking leave of Cadiz I shall relate an anecdote of the British\nconsul, characteristic of him and the happy manner in which he contrives\nto execute the most disagreeable duties of his situation. I was in\nconversation with him in a parlour of his house, when we were interrupted\nby the entrance of two very unexpected visitors: they were the captain of\na Liverpool merchant-vessel and one of the crew. The latter was a rough\nsailor, a Welshman, who could only express himself in very imperfect\nEnglish. They looked unutterable dislike and defiance at each other. It\nappeared that the latter had refused to work, and insisted on leaving the\nship, and his master had in consequence brought him before the consul, in\norder that, if he persisted, the consequences might be detailed to him,\nwhich would be the forfeiture of his wages and clothes. This was done;\nbut the fellow became more and more dogged, refusing ever to tread the\nsame deck again with his captain, who, he said, had called him \u201cGreek,\nlazy lubberly Greek,\u201d which he would not bear. The word Greek rankled in\nthe sailor\u2019s mind, and stung him to the very core. Mr. B---, who seemed\nto be perfectly acquainted with the character of Welshmen in general\u2014who\nare proverbially obstinate when opposition is offered to them\u2014and who saw\nat once that the dispute had arisen on foolish and trivial grounds, now\ntold the man, with a smile, that he would inform him of a way by which he\nmight gain the weather-gage of every one of them, consul, and captain,\nand all, and secure his wages and clothes; which was by merely going on\nboard a brig-of-war of her Majesty, which was then lying in the bay. The\nfellow said he was aware of this, and intended to do so. His grim\nfeatures, however, instantly relaxed in some degree, and he looked more\nhumanely upon his captain. Mr. B--- then, addressing himself to the\nlatter, made some observations on the impropriety of using the word Greek\nto a British sailor: not forgetting at the same time to speak of the\nabsolute necessity of obedience and discipline on board every ship. His\nwords produced such an effect, that in a very little time the sailor held\nout his hand towards his captain, and expressed his willingness to go on\nboard with him and perform his duty, adding, that the captain, upon the\nwhole, was the best man in the world. So they departed mutually pleased;\nthe consul making both of them promise to attend divine service at his\nhouse on the following day.\n\nSunday morning came, and I was on board the steamer by six o\u2019clock. As I\nascended the side, the harsh sound of the Catalan dialect assailed my\nears. In fact, the vessel was Catalan built, and the captain and crew\nwere of that nation; the greater part of the passengers already on board,\nor who subsequently arrived, appeared to be Catalans, and seemed to vie\nwith each other in producing disagreeable sounds. A burly merchant,\nhowever, with a red face, peaked chin, sharp eyes, and hooked nose,\nclearly bore off the palm; he conversed with astonishing eagerness on\nseemingly the most indifferent subjects, or rather on no subject at all;\nhis voice would have sounded exactly like a coffee-mill but for a vile\nnasal twang: he poured forth his Catalan incessantly till we arrived at\nGibraltar. Such people are never sea-sick, though they frequently\nproduce or aggravate the malady in others. We did not get under way\nuntil past eight o\u2019clock, for we waited for the Governor of Algeziras,\nand started instantly on his coming on board. He was a tall, thin, rigid\nfigure of about seventy, with a long, grave, wrinkled countenance; in a\nword, the very image of an old Spanish grandee. We stood out of the bay,\nrounding the lofty lighthouse, which stands on a ledge of rocks, and then\nbent our course to the south, in the direction of the Straits. It was a\nglorious morning, a blue sunny sky and blue sunny ocean; or rather, as my\nfriend Oehlenschl\u00e6ger {292a} has observed on a similar occasion, there\nappeared two skies and two suns, one above and one below.\n\nOur progress was rather slow, notwithstanding the fineness of the\nweather, probably owing to the tide being against us. In about two hours\nwe passed the Castle of Santa Petra, and at noon were in sight of\nTrafalgar. The wind now freshened, and was dead ahead; on which account\nwe hugged closely to the coast, in order to avoid as much as possible the\nstrong heavy sea which was pouring down from the Straits. We passed\nwithin a very short distance of the Cape, a bold bluff foreland, but not\nof any considerable height.\n\nIt is impossible for an Englishman to pass by this place\u2014the scene of the\nmost celebrated naval action on record\u2014without emotion. Here it was that\nthe united navies of France and Spain were annihilated by a far inferior\nforce; but that force was British, and was directed by one of the most\nremarkable men of the age, and perhaps the greatest hero of any time.\n{292b} Huge fragments of wreck still frequently emerge from the watery\ngulf whose billows chafe the rocky sides of Trafalgar: they are relics of\nthe enormous ships which were burnt and sunk on that terrible day, when\nthe heroic champion of Britain concluded his work and died. I never\nheard but one individual venture to say a word in disparagement of\nNelson\u2019s glory: it was a pert American, {293a} who observed, that the\nBritish admiral was much overrated. \u201cCan that individual be overrated,\u201d\nreplied a stranger, \u201cwhose every thought was bent on his country\u2019s\nhonour, who scarcely ever fought without leaving a piece of his body in\nthe fray, and who, not to speak of minor triumphs, was victorious, in two\nsuch actions as Aboukir and Trafalgar?\u201d\n\nWe were now soon in sight of the Moorish coast, Cape Spartel appearing\ndimly through mist and vapour on our right. A regular Levanter {293b}\nhad now come on, and the vessel pitched and tossed to a very considerable\ndegree. Most of the passengers were seasick; the governor, however, and\nmyself held out manfully: we sat on a bench together, and entered into\nconversation respecting the Moors and their country. Torquemada himself\ncould not have spoken of both with more abhorrence. He informed me that\nhe had been frequently in several of the principal Moorish towns of the\ncoast, which he described as heaps of ruins: the Moors themselves he\ncalled _Caffres_ {293c} and wild beasts. He observed that he had never\nbeen even at Tangier, where the people were most civilized, without\nexperiencing some insult, so great was the abhorrence of the Moors to\nanything in the shape of a Christian. He added, however, that they\ntreated the English with comparative civility, and that they had a saying\namong them to the effect that Englishman and Mahometan were one and the\nsame: he then looked particularly grave for a moment, and, crossing\nhimself, was silent. I guessed what was passing in his mind:\u2014\n\n \u201cFrom heretic boors,\n And Turkish Moors,\n Star of the sea,\n Gentle Marie,\n Deliver me!\u201d\n\nAt about three we were passing Tarifa, so frequently mentioned in the\nhistory of Moors and Christians. Who has not heard of Alonzo Guzman the\nFaithful, {294} who allowed his only son to be crucified before the walls\nof the town rather than submit to the ignominy of delivering up the keys\nto the Moorish monarch, who, with a host which is said to have amounted\nto nearly half a million of men, had landed on the shores of Andalusia,\nand threatened to bring all Spain once more beneath the Moslem yoke?\nCertainly if there be a land and a spot where the name of that good\npatriot is not sometimes mentioned and sung, that land, that spot, is\nmodern Spain and modern Tarifa. I have heard the ballad of Alonzo Guzman\nchanted in Danish, by a hind in the wilds of Jutland; but once speaking\nof \u201cthe Faithful\u201d to some inhabitants of Tarifa, they replied that they\nhad never heard of Guzman the Faithful of Tarifa, but were acquainted\nwith Alonzo Guzman, _el tuerto_, and that he was one of the most\nvillanous _arrieros_ on the Cadiz road.\n\nThe voyage of these narrow seas can scarcely fail to be interesting to\nthe most apathetic individual, from the nature of the scenery which\npresents itself to the eye on either side. The coasts are exceedingly\nhigh and bold, especially that of Spain, which seems to overcrow the\nMoorish; but opposite to Tarifa, the African continent, rounding towards\nthe south-west, assumes an air of sublimity and grandeur. A hoary\nmountain is seen uplifting its summits above the clouds: it is Mount\nAbyla, or, as it is called in the Moorish tongue, Gibil Muza, or the hill\nof Muza, from the circumstance of its containing the sepulchre of a\nprophet of that name. {295} This is one of the two excrescences of\nnature on which the Old World bestowed the title of the Pillars of\nHercules. Its skirts and sides occupy the Moorish coast for many leagues\nin more than one direction, but the broad aspect of its steep and\nstupendous front is turned full towards that part of the European\ncontinent where Gibraltar lies like a huge monster stretching far into\nthe brine. Of the two hills, or pillars, the most remarkable, when\nviewed from afar, is the African one, Gibil Muza. It is the tallest and\nbulkiest, and is visible at a greater distance; but scan them both from\nnear, and you feel that all your wonder is engrossed by the European\ncolumn. Gibil Muza is an immense shapeless mass, a wilderness of rocks,\nwith here and there a few trees and shrubs nodding from the clefts of its\nprecipices; it is uninhabited, save by wolves, wild swine, and chattering\nmonkeys, on which last account it is called by the Spaniards, _Monta\u00f1a de\nlas Monas_, {296a} whilst, on the contrary, Gibraltar, not to speak of\nthe strange city which covers part of it, a city inhabited by men of all\nnations and tongues, its batteries and excavations, all of them miracles\nof art, is the most singular-looking mountain in the world\u2014a mountain\nwhich can neither be described by pen nor pencil, and at which the eye is\nnever satiated with gazing.\n\nIt was near sunset, and we were crossing the bay of Gibraltar. We had\nstopped at Algeziras, on the Spanish side, for the purpose of landing the\nold governor and his suite, and delivering and receiving letters.\n\nAlgeziras is an ancient Moorish town, as the name denotes, which is an\nArabic word, and signifies \u201cthe place of the islands.\u201d {296b} It is\nsituated at the water\u2019s edge, with a lofty range of mountains in the\nrear. It seemed a sad deserted place, as far as I could judge at the\ndistance of half a mile. In the harbour, however, lay a Spanish frigate\nand French war brig. As we passed the former, some of the Spaniards on\nboard our steamer became boastful at the expense of the English. It\nappeared that, a few weeks before, an English vessel, suspected to be a\ncontraband trader, was seen by this frigate hovering about a bay on the\nAndalusian coast, in company with an English frigate, the _Orestes_. The\nSpaniard dogged them for some time, till one morning, observing that the\n_Orestes_ had disappeared, he hoisted English colours, and made a signal\nto the trader to bear down; the latter, deceived by the British ensign,\nand supposing that the Spaniard was the friendly _Orestes_, instantly\ndrew near, was fired at and boarded, and, proving in effect to be a\ncontraband trader, she was carried into port and delivered over to the\nSpanish authorities. In a few days the captain of the _Orestes_ hearing\nof this, and incensed at the unwarrantable use made of the British flag,\nsent a boat on board the frigate, demanding that the vessel should be\ninstantly restored, as, if she was not, he would retake her by force;\nadding, that he had forty cannons on board. The captain of the Spanish\nfrigate returned for answer, that the trader was in the hands of the\nofficers of the customs, and was no longer at his disposal; that the\ncaptain of the _Orestes_, however, could do what he pleased, and that if\nhe had forty guns, he himself had forty-four; whereupon the _Orestes_\nthought proper to bear away. Such at least was the Spanish account, as\nrelated by the journals. Observing the Spaniards to be in great glee at\nthe idea of one of their nation having frightened away the Englishman, I\nexclaimed, \u201cGentlemen, all of you who suppose that an English sea-captain\nhas been deterred from attacking a Spaniard, from an apprehension of a\nsuperior force of four guns, remember, if you please, the fate of the\n_Sant\u00edsima Trinidad_, and be pleased also not to forget that we are\nalmost within cannon\u2019s sound of Trafalgar.\u201d\n\nIt was near sunset, I repeat, and we were crossing the bay of Gibraltar.\nI stood on the prow of the vessel, with my eyes intently fixed on the\nmountain fortress, which, though I had seen it several times before,\nfilled my mind with admiration and interest. Viewed from this situation,\nit certainly, if it resembles any animate object in nature, has something\nof the appearance of a terrible couchant lion, whose stupendous head\nmenaces Spain. Had I been dreaming, I should almost have concluded it to\nbe the genius of Africa, in the shape of its most puissant monster, who\nhad bounded over the sea from the clime of sand and sun, bent on the\ndestruction of the rival continent, more especially as the hue of its\nstony sides, its crest and chine, is tawny even as that of the hide of\nthe desert king. A hostile lion has it almost invariably proved to\nSpain, at least since it first began to play a part in history, which was\nat the time when Tarik seized and fortified it. {298} It has for the\nmost part been in the hands of foreigners: first the swarthy and turbaned\nMoor possessed it, and it is now tenanted by a fair-haired race from a\ndistant isle. Though a part of Spain, it seems to disavow the connexion,\nand at the end of a long narrow sandy isthmus, almost level with the sea,\nraising its blasted and perpendicular brow to denounce the crimes which\ndeformed the history of that fair and majestic land.\n\nIt was near sunset, I say it for the third time, and we were crossing the\nbay of Gibraltar. Bay! it seemed no bay, but an inland sea, surrounded\non all sides by enchanted barriers, so strange, so wonderful was the\naspect of its coasts. Before us lay the impregnable hill; on our right\nthe African continent, with its grey Gibil Muza, and the crag of Ceuta,\nto which last a solitary bark seemed steering its way; behind us the town\nwe had just quitted, with its mountain wall; on our left the coast of\nSpain. The surface of the water was unruffled by a wave, and as we\nrapidly glided on, the strange object which we were approaching became\nmomentarily more distinct and visible. There, at the base of the\nmountain, and covering a small portion of its side, lay the city, with\nits ramparts garnished with black guns, pointing significantly at its\nmoles and harbours; above, seemingly on every crag which could be made\navailable for the purpose of defence or destruction, peered batteries,\npale and sepulchral looking, as if ominous of the fate which awaited any\nintrusive foe; whilst east and west towards Africa and Spain, on the\nextreme points, rose castles, towers, or _atalayas_, which overcrowed the\nwhole, and all the circumjacent region, whether land or sea. Mighty and\nthreatening appeared the fortifications, and doubtless, viewed in any\nother situation, would have alone occupied the mind and engrossed its\nwonder; but the hill, the wondrous hill was everywhere about them,\nbeneath them, or above them, overpowering their effect as a spectacle.\nWho, when he beholds the enormous elephant, with his brandished trunk,\ndashing impetuously to the war, sees the castle which he bears, or fears\nthe javelins of those whom he carries, however skilful and warlike they\nmay be? Never does God appear so great and powerful as when the works of\nhis hands stand in contrast with the labours of man. Survey the\nEscurial; it is a proud work, but wonder if you can when you see the\nmountain mocking it behind; survey that boast of Moorish kings, survey\nGranada from its plain, and wonder if you can, for you see the Alpujarras\nmocking it from behind. Oh, what are the works of man compared with\nthose of the Lord? Even as man is compared with his Creator. Man builds\npyramids, and God builds pyramids; the pyramids of man are heaps of\nshingles, tiny hillocks on a sandy plain; the pyramids of the Lord are\nAndes and Indian hills. Man builds walls, and so does his Master; but\nthe walls of God are the black precipices of Gibraltar and Horneel,\neternal, indestructible, and not to be scaled; whilst those of man can be\nclimbed, can be broken by the wave, or shattered by the lightning or the\npowder blast. Would man display his power and grandeur to advantage, let\nhim flee far from the hills; for the broad pennants of God, even his\nclouds, float upon the tops of the hills, and the majesty of God is most\nmanifest among the hills. Call Gibraltar the hill of Tarik or Hercules,\nif you will; but gaze upon it for a moment, and you will call it the hill\nof God. Tarik and the old giant may have built upon it; but not all the\ndark race of whom Tarik was one, nor all the giants of old renown of whom\nthe other was one, could have built up its crags or chiselled the\nenormous mass to its present shape.\n\nWe dropped anchor not far from the Mole. As we expected every moment to\nhear the evening gun, after which no person is permitted to enter the\ntown, I was in trepidation lest I should be obliged to pass the night on\nboard the dirty Catalan steamer, which, as I had no occasion to proceed\nfurther in her, I was in great haste to quit. A boat now drew nigh, with\ntwo individuals at the stern, one of whom, standing up, demanded, in an\nauthoritative voice, the name of the vessel, her destination, and cargo.\nUpon being answered, they came on board. After some conversation with\nthe captain, they were about to depart, when I inquired whether I could\naccompany them on shore. The person I addressed was a tall young man,\nwith a fustian frock-coat. He had a long face, long nose, and wide\nmouth, with large restless eyes. There was a grin on his countenance\nwhich seemed permanent, and, had it not been for his bronzed complexion,\nI should have declared him to be a cockney, and nothing else. He was,\nhowever, no such thing, but what is called \u201ca rock lizard,\u201d {301} that\nis, a person born at Gibraltar of English parents. Upon hearing my\nquestion, which was in Spanish, he grinned more than ever, and inquired,\nin a strange accent, whether I was a son of Gibraltar. I replied that I\nhad not that honour, but that I was a British subject. Whereupon he said\nthat he should make no difficulty in taking me ashore. We entered the\nboat, which was rapidly rowed toward the land by four Genoese sailors.\nMy two companions chattered in their strange Spanish, he of the fustian\noccasionally turning his countenance full upon me, the last grin\nappearing even more hideous than the preceding ones. We soon reached the\nquay, where my name was noted down by a person who demanded my passport,\nand I was then permitted to advance.\n\nIt was now dusk, and I lost no time in crossing the drawbridge and\nentering the long low archway which, passing under the rampart,\ncommunicates with the town. Beneath this archway paced, with measured\ntread, tall red-coated sentinels with shouldered guns. There was no\nstopping, no sauntering in these men. There was no laughter, no exchange\nof light conversation with the passers-by, but their bearing was that of\nBritish soldiers, conscious of the duties of their station. What a\ndifference between them and the listless loiterers who stand at guard at\nthe gate of a Spanish garrisoned town!\n\nI now proceeded up the principal street, which runs with a gentle ascent\nalong the base of the hill. Accustomed for some months past to the\nmelancholy silence of Seville, I was almost deafened by the noise and\nbustle which reigned around. It was Sunday night, and of course no\nbusiness was going on, but there were throngs of people passing up and\ndown. Here was a military guard proceeding along; here walked a group of\nofficers, there a knot of soldiers stood talking and laughing. The\ngreater part of the civilians appeared to be Spaniards, but there was a\nlarge sprinkling of Jews in the dress of those of Barbary, and here and\nthere a turbaned Moor. There were gangs of sailors likewise, Genoese,\njudging from the patois which they were speaking, though I occasionally\ndistinguished the sound of _tou logou sas_, {302} by which I knew there\nwere Greeks at hand, and twice or thrice caught a glimpse of the red cap\nand blue silken petticoats of the mariner from the Romaic isles. On\nstill I hurried, till I arrived at a well-known hostelry, close by a kind\nof square, in which stands the little exchange of Gibraltar. Into this I\nran and demanded lodging, receiving a cheerful welcome from the genius of\nthe place, who stood behind the bar, and whom I shall perhaps have\noccasion subsequently to describe. All the lower rooms were filled with\nmen of the rock, burly men in general, with swarthy complexions and\nEnglish features, with white hats, white jean jerkins, and white jean\npantaloons. They were smoking pipes and cigars, and drinking porter,\nwine, and various other fluids, and conversing in the rock Spanish, or\nrock English, as the fit took them. Dense was the smoke of tobacco, and\ngreat the din of voices, and I was glad to hasten upstairs to an\nunoccupied apartment, where I was served with some refreshment, of which\nI stood much in need.\n\nI was soon disturbed by the sound of martial music close below my\nwindows. I went down and stood at the door. A military band was\nmarshalled upon the little square before the exchange. It was preparing\nto beat the retreat. After the prelude, which was admirably executed,\nthe tall leader gave a flourish with his stick, and strode forward up the\nstreet, followed by the whole company of noble-looking fellows and a\ncrowd of admiring listeners. The cymbals clashed, the horns screamed,\nand the kettle-drum emitted its deep awful note, till the old rock echoed\nagain, and the hanging terraces of the town rang with the stirring noise\u2014\n\n \u201cDub-a-dub, dub-a-dub\u2014thus go the drums,\n Tantara, tantara, the Englishman comes.\u201d\n\nO England! long, long may it be ere the sun of thy glory sink beneath the\nwave of darkness! Though gloomy and portentous clouds are now gathering\nrapidly around thee, still, still may it please the Almighty to disperse\nthem, and to grant thee a futurity longer in duration, and still brighter\nin renown, than thy past! Or if thy doom be at hand, may that doom be a\nnoble one, and worthy of her who has been styled the Old Queen of the\nwaters! May thou sink, if thou dost sink, amidst blood and flame, with a\nmighty noise, causing more than one nation to participate in thy\ndownfall! Of all fates, may it please the Lord to preserve thee from a\ndisgraceful and a slow decay; becoming, ere extinct, a scorn and a\nmockery for those selfsame foes who now, though they envy and abhor thee,\nstill fear thee, nay, even against their will, honour and respect thee!\n\nArouse thee, whilst yet there is time, and prepare thee for the combat of\nlife and death! Cast from thee the foul scurf which now encrusts thy\nrobust limbs, which deadens their force, and makes them heavy and\npowerless! Cast from thee thy false philosophers, who would fain decry\nwhat, next to the love of God, has hitherto been deemed most sacred, the\nlove of the mother land! Cast from thee thy false patriots, who, under\nthe pretext of redressing the wrongs of the poor and weak, seek to\npromote internal discord, so that thou mayest become only terrible to\nthyself! And remove from thee the false prophets, who have seen vanity\nand divined lies; who have daubed thy wall with untempered mortar, that\nit may fall; who see visions of peace where there is no peace; who have\nstrengthened the hands of the wicked, and made the heart of the righteous\nsad. Oh, do this, and fear not the result; for either shall thy end be a\nmajestic and an enviable one, or God shall perpetuate thy reign upon the\nwaters, thou Old Queen!\n\nThe above was part of a broken prayer for my native land, which, after my\nusual thanksgiving, I breathed to the Almighty ere retiring to rest that\nSunday night at Gibraltar.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LII.\n\n\nThe Jolly Hosteler\u2014Aspirants for Glory\u2014A Portrait\u2014Ham\u00e1les\u2014Solomons\u2014An\nExpedition\u2014The Yeoman Soldier\u2014The Excavations\u2014The Pull by the Skirt\u2014Judah\nand his Father\u2014Judah\u2019s Pilgrimage\u2014The Bushy Beard\u2014The False Moors\u2014Judah\nand the King\u2019s Son\u2014Premature Old Age.\n\nPerhaps it would have been impossible to have chosen a situation more\nadapted for studying at my ease Gibraltar and its inhabitants, than that\nwhich I found myself occupying about ten o\u2019clock on the following\nmorning. Seated on a small bench just opposite the bar, close by the\ndoor, in the passage of the hostelry at which I had taken up my temporary\nabode, I enjoyed a view of the square of the exchange and all that was\ngoing on there, and, by merely raising my eyes, could gaze at my leisure\non the stupendous hill which towers above the town to an altitude of some\nthousand feet. I could likewise observe every person who entered or left\nthe house, which is one of great resort, being situated in the most\nfrequented place of the principal thoroughfare of the town. My eyes were\nbusy, and so were my ears. Close beside me stood my excellent friend\nGriffiths, the jolly hosteler, of whom I take the present opportunity of\nsaying a few words, though I dare say he has been frequently described\nbefore, and by far better pens. Let those who know him not figure to\nthemselves a man of about fifty, at least six feet in height, and\nweighing some eighteen stone, an exceedingly florid countenance and good\nfeatures, eyes full of quickness and shrewdness, but at the same time\nbeaming with good nature. He wears white pantaloons, white frock, and\nwhite hat, and is, indeed, all white, with the exception of his polished\nWellingtons and rubicund face. He carries a whip beneath his arm, which\nadds wonderfully to the knowingness of his appearance, which is rather\nmore that of a gentleman who keeps an inn on the Newmarket road, \u201cpurely\nfor the love of travellers, and the money which they carry about them,\u201d\nthan of a native of the rock. Nevertheless, he will tell you himself\nthat he is a rock lizard; and you will scarcely doubt it when, besides\nhis English, which is broad and vernacular, you hear him speak Spanish,\nay, and Genoese too, when necessary, and it is no child\u2019s play to speak\nthe latter, which I myself could never master. He is a good judge of\nhorseflesh, and occasionally sells a \u201cbit of a blood,\u201d or a Barbary\nsteed, to a young hand, though he has no objection to do business with an\nold one; for there is not a thin, crouching, liver-faced, lynx-eyed Jew\nof Fez capable of outwitting him in a bargain, or cheating him out of one\nsingle pound of the fifty thousand sterling which he possesses; and yet\never bear in mind that he is a good-natured fellow to those who are\ndisposed to behave honourably to him, and know likewise that he will lend\nyou money, if you are a gentleman, and are in need of it; but depend upon\nit, if he refuse you, there is something not altogether right about you,\nfor Griffiths knows _his world_, and is not to be made a fool of.\n\nThere was a prodigious quantity of porter consumed in my presence during\nthe short hour that I sat on the bench of that hostelry of the rock. The\npassage before the bar was frequently filled with officers, who lounged\nin for a refreshment which the sultry heat of the weather rendered\nnecessary, or at least inviting; whilst not a few came galloping up to\nthe door on small Barbary horses, which are to be found in great\nabundance at Gibraltar. All seemed to be on the best of terms with the\nhost, with whom they occasionally discussed the merits of particular\nsteeds, and whose jokes they invariably received with unbounded\napprobation. There was much in the demeanour and appearance of these\nyoung men, for the greater part were quite young, which was highly\ninteresting and agreeable. Indeed, I believe it may be said of English\nofficers in general, that in personal appearance, and in polished\nmanners, they bear the palm from those of the same class over the world.\nTrue it is, that the officers of the royal guard of Russia, especially of\nthe three noble regiments styled the _Priberjensky_, _Simeonsky_, and\n_Finlansky polks_, {307} might fearlessly enter into competition in\nalmost all points with the flower of the British army; but it must be\nremembered, that those regiments are officered by the choicest specimens\nof the Sclavonian nobility, young men selected expressly for the\nsplendour of their persons, and for the superiority of their mental\nendowments; whilst, probably, amongst all the fair-haired Anglo-Saxon\nyouths whom I now saw gathered near me, there was not a single one of\nnoble ancestry, nor of proud and haughty name; and certainly, so far from\nhaving been selected to flatter the pride and add to the pomp of a\ndespot, they had been taken indiscriminately from a mass of ardent\naspirants for military glory, and sent on their country\u2019s service to a\nremote and unhealthy colony. Nevertheless, they were such as their\ncountry might be proud of, for gallant boys they looked, with courage on\ntheir brows, beauty and health on their cheeks, and intelligence in their\nhazel eyes.\n\nWho is he who now stops before the door without entering, and addresses a\nquestion to my host, who advances with a respectful salute? He is no\ncommon man, or his appearance belies him strangely. His dress is simple\nenough; a Spanish hat, with a peaked crown and broad shadowy brim\u2014the\nveritable _sombrero_\u2014jean pantaloons and blue hussar jacket;\u2014but how well\nthat dress becomes one of the most noble-looking figures I ever beheld!\nI gazed upon him with strange respect and admiration as he stood\nbenignantly smiling and joking in good Spanish with an impudent rock\nrascal, who held in his hand a huge _bogamante_, or coarse carrion\nlobster, which he would fain have persuaded him to purchase. He was\nalmost gigantically tall, towering nearly three inches above the burly\nhost himself, yet athletically symmetrical, and straight as the pine-tree\nof Dovrefeld. He must have counted eleven lustres, which cast an air of\nmature dignity over a countenance which seemed to have been chiselled by\nsome Grecian sculptor, and yet his hair was black as the plume of the\nNorwegian raven, and so was the moustache which curled above his\nwell-formed lip. In the garb of Greece, and in the camp before Troy, I\nshould have taken him for Agamemnon. \u201cIs that man a general?\u201d said I to\na short queer-looking personage, who sat by my side, intently studying a\nnewspaper. \u201cThat gentleman,\u201d he whispered in a lisping accent, \u201cis, sir,\nthe Lieutenant-Governor of Gibraltar.\u201d {309}\n\nOn either side outside the door, squatting on the ground, or leaning\nindolently against the walls, were some half-dozen men of very singular\nappearance. Their principal garment was a kind of blue gown, something\nresembling the blouse worn by the peasants of the north of France, but\nnot so long; it was compressed around their waists by a leathern girdle,\nand depended about halfway down their thighs. Their legs were bare, so\nthat I had an opportunity of observing the calves, which appeared\nunnaturally large. Upon the head they wore small skull-caps of black\nwool. I asked the most athletic of these men, a dark-visaged fellow of\nforty, who they were. He answered, _hum\u00e1les_. This word I knew to be\nArabic, in which tongue it signifies a porter; and, indeed, the next\nmoment, I saw a similar fellow staggering across the square under an\nimmense burden, almost sufficient to have broken the back of a camel. On\nagain addressing my swarthy friend, and inquiring whence he came, he\nreplied, that he was born at Mogadore, in Barbary, but had passed the\ngreatest part of his life at Gibraltar. He added, that he was the\n_capataz_, or head man, of the _ham\u00e1les_ near the door. I now addressed\nhim in the Arabic of the East, though with scarcely the hope of being\nunderstood, more especially as he had been so long from his own country.\nHe, however, answered very pertinently, his lips quivering with eagerness\nand his eyes sparkling with joy, though it was easy to perceive that the\nArabic, or rather the Moorish, was not the language in which he was\naccustomed either to think or speak. His companions all gathered round\nand listened with avidity, occasionally exclaiming, when anything was\nsaid which they approved of: \u201c_Wakhud rajil shereef hada_, _min beled del\nscharki_.\u201d {310} At last I produced the shekel, which I invariably carry\nabout me as a pocket-piece, and asked the _capataz_ whether he had ever\nseen that money before. He surveyed the censer and olive-branch for a\nconsiderable time, and evidently knew not what to make of it. At length\nhe fell to inspecting the characters round about it on both sides, and\ngiving a cry, exclaimed to the other _ham\u00e1les_: \u201cBrothers, brothers,\nthese are the letters of Solomon. This silver is blessed. We must kiss\nthis money.\u201d He then put it upon his head, pressed it to his eyes, and\nfinally kissed it with enthusiasm, as did successively all his brethren.\nThen regaining it, he returned it to me, with a low reverence. Griffiths\nsubsequently informed me that the fellow refused to work during all the\nrest of the day, and did nothing but smile, laugh, and talk to himself.\n\n\u201cAllow me to offer you a glass of bitters, sir,\u201d said the queer-looking\npersonage before mentioned; he was a corpulent man, very short, and his\nlegs particularly so. His dress consisted of a greasy snuff-coloured\ncoat, dirty white trousers, and dirtier stockings. On his head he wore a\nrusty silk hat, the eaves of which had a tendency to turn up before and\nbehind. I had observed that, during my conversation with the _ham\u00e1les_,\nhe had several times uplifted his eyes from the newspaper, and on the\nproduction of the shekel had grinned very significantly, and had\ninspected it when in the hand of the _capataz_. \u201cAllow me to offer you a\nglass of bitters,\u201d said he; \u201cI guessed you was one of our people before\nyou spoke to the _ham\u00e1les_. Sir, it does my heart good to see a\ngentleman of your appearance not above speaking to his poor brethren. It\nis what I do myself not unfrequently, and I hope God will blot out my\nname, and that is Solomons, when I despise them. I do not pretend to\nmuch Arabic myself, yet I understood you tolerably well, and I liked your\ndiscourse much. You must have a great deal of _shillam eidri_,\nnevertheless you startled me when you asked the _ham\u00e1l_ if he ever read\nthe _Torah_; of course you meant with the _meforshim_; poor as he is, I\ndo not believe him _becoresh_ enough to read the _Torah_ without the\ncommentators. So help me, sir, I believe you to be a Salamancan Jew; I\nam told there are still some of the old families to be found there. Ever\nat Tudela, sir? not very far from Salamanca, I believe; one of my own\nkindred once lived there: a great traveller, sir, like yourself; went\nover all the world to look for the Jews\u2014went to the top of Sinai.\nAnything that I can do for you at Gibraltar, sir? Any commission? will\nexecute it as reasonably, and more expeditiously than any one else. My\nname is Solomons. I am tolerably well known at Gibraltar; yes, sir, and\nin the Crooked Friars, and, for that matter, in the Neuen Stein Steg,\n{311} at Hamburg; so help me, sir, I think I once saw your face at the\nfair at Bremen. Speak German, sir? though of course you do. Allow me,\nsir, to offer you a glass of bitters. I wish, sir, they were _mayim\nhayim_ {312a} for your sake, I do indeed, sir, I wish they were living\nwaters. Now, sir, do give me your opinion as to this matter (lowering\nhis voice and striking the newspaper). Do you not think it is very hard\nthat one _Yudken_ should betray the other? When I put my little secret\n_beyad peluni_ {312b}\u2014you understand me, sir? when I entrust my poor\nsecret to the custody of an individual, and that individual a Jew, a\n_Yudken_, sir, I do not wish to be blown, indeed, I do not expect it. In\na word, what do you think of the _gold dust robbery_, and what will be\ndone to those unfortunate people, who I see are convicted?\u201d\n\nThat same day I made inquiry respecting the means of transferring myself\nto Tangier, having no wish to prolong my stay at Gibraltar, where, though\nit is an exceedingly interesting place to an observant traveller, I had\nno particular business to detain me. In the evening I was visited by a\nJew, a native of Barbary, who informed me that he was secretary to the\nmaster of a small Genoese bark which plied between Tangier and Gibraltar.\nUpon his assuring me that the vessel would infallibly start for the\nformer place on the following evening, I agreed with him for my passage.\nHe said that as the wind was blowing from the Levant quarter, the voyage\nwould be a speedy one. Being desirous now of disposing to the most\nadvantage of the short time which I expected to remain at Gibraltar, I\ndetermined upon visiting the excavations, which I had as yet never seen,\non the following morning, and accordingly sent for, and easily obtained,\nthe necessary permission.\n\nAbout six on Tuesday morning, I started on this expedition, attended by a\nvery intelligent good-looking lad of the Jewish persuasion, one of two\nbrothers who officiated at the inn in the capacity of _valets de place_.\n\nThe morning was dim and hazy, yet sultry to a degree. We ascended a\nprecipitous street, and, proceeding in an easterly direction, soon\narrived in the vicinity of what is generally known by the name of the\nMoorish Castle, a large tower, but so battered by the cannon balls\ndischarged against it in the famous siege, that it is at present little\nbetter than a ruin. Hundreds of round holes are to be seen in its sides,\nin which, as it is said, the shot are still embedded. Here, at a species\nof hut, we were joined by an artillery sergeant, who was to be our guide.\nAfter saluting us, he led the way to a huge rock, where he unlocked a\ngate at the entrance of a dark vaulted passage which passed under it,\nemerging from which passage we found ourselves in a steep path, or rather\nstaircase, with walls on either side.\n\nWe proceeded very leisurely, for hurry in such a situation would have\nbeen of little avail, as we should have lost our breath in a minute\u2019s\ntime. The soldier, perfectly well acquainted with the locality, stalked\nalong with measured steps, his eyes turned to the ground.\n\nI looked fully as much at that man as at the strange place where we now\nwere, and which was every moment becoming stranger. He was a fine\nspecimen of the yeoman turned soldier; indeed, the corps to which he\nbelonged consists almost entirely of that class. There he paces along,\ntall, strong, ruddy, and chestnut-haired, an Englishman every inch;\nbehold him pacing along, sober, silent, and civil, a genuine English\nsoldier. I prize the sturdy Scot, I love the daring and impetuous\nIrishman; I admire all the various races which constitute the population\nof the British isles; yet I must say that, upon the whole, none are so\nwell adapted to ply the soldier\u2019s hardy trade as the rural sons of old\nEngland, so strong, so cool, yet, at the same time, animated with so much\nhidden fire. Turn to the history of England and you will at once\nperceive of what such men are capable: even at Hastings, in the grey old\ntime, under almost every disadvantage, weakened by a recent and terrible\nconflict, without discipline, comparatively speaking, and uncouthly\narmed, they all but vanquished the Norman chivalry. Trace their deeds in\nFrance, which they twice subdued; and even follow them to Spain, where\nthey twanged the yew and raised the battle-axe, and left behind them a\nname of glory at Ingles Mendi, {314} a name that shall last till fire\nconsumes the Cantabrian hills. And, oh, in modern times, trace the deeds\nof these gallant men all over the world, and especially in France and\nSpain, and admire them, even as I did that sober, silent, soldier-like\nman who was showing me the wonders of a foreign mountain fortress,\nwrested by his countrymen from a powerful and proud nation more than a\ncentury before, and of which he was now a trusty and efficient guardian.\n\nWe arrived close to the stupendous precipice, which rises abruptly above\nthe isthmus called the neutral ground, staring gauntly and horridly at\nSpain, and immediately entered the excavations. They consist of\ngalleries scooped in the living rock at the distance of some twelve feet\nfrom the outside, behind which they run the whole breadth of the hill in\nthis direction. In these galleries, at short distances, are ragged\nyawning apertures, all formed by the hand of man, where stand the cannon\nupon neat slightly raised pavements of small flint stones, each with its\npyramid of bullets on one side, and on the other a box, in which is\nstowed the gear which the gunner requires in the exercise of his craft.\nEverything was in its place, everything in the nicest English order,\neverything ready to scathe and overwhelm in a few moments the proudest\nand most numerous host which might appear marching in hostile array\nagainst this singular fortress on the land side.\n\nThere is not much variety in these places, one cavern and one gun\nresembling the other. As for the guns, they are not of large calibre,\nindeed, such are not needed here, where a pebble discharged from so great\nan altitude, would be fraught with death. On descending a shaft,\nhowever, I observed, in one cave of special importance, two enormous\ncarronades looking with peculiar wickedness and malignity down a shelving\nrock, which perhaps, although not without tremendous difficulty, might be\nscaled. The mere wind of one of these huge guns would be sufficient to\ntopple over a thousand men. What sensations of dread and horror must be\nawakened in the breast of a foe when this hollow rock, in the day of\nsiege, emits its flame, smoke, and thundering wind from a thousand\nyawning holes; horror not inferior to that felt by the peasant of the\nneighbourhood when Mongibello {316} belches forth from all its orifices\nits sulphureous fires.\n\nEmerging from the excavations, we proceeded to view various batteries. I\nasked the sergeant whether his companions and himself were dexterous at\nthe use of the guns. He replied that these cannons were to them what the\nfowling-piece is to the fowler, that they handled them as easily, and, he\nbelieved, pointed them with more precision, as they seldom or never\nmissed an object within range of the shot. This man never spoke until he\nwas addressed, and then the answers which he gave were replete with good\nsense, and in general well worded. After our excursion, which lasted at\nleast two hours, I made him a small present, and took leave with a hearty\nshake of the hand.\n\nIn the evening I prepared to go on board the vessel bound for Tangier,\ntrusting in what the Jewish secretary had told me as to its sailing.\nMeeting him, however, accidentally in the street, he informed me that it\nwould not start until the following morning, advising me at the same time\nto be on board at an early hour. I now roamed about the streets until\nnight was beginning to set in, and becoming weary, I was just about to\ndirect my steps to the inn, when I felt myself gently pulled by the\nskirt. I was amidst a concourse of people who were gathered around some\nIrish soldiers who were disputing, and I paid no attention; but I was\npulled again more forcibly than before, and I heard myself addressed in a\nlanguage which I had half forgotten, and which I scarcely expected ever\nto hear again. I looked round, and lo! a tall figure stood close to me\nand gazed in my face with anxious inquiring eyes. On its head was the\n_kauk_ or furred cap of Jerusalem; depending from its shoulders, and\nalmost trailing on the ground, was a broad blue mantle, whilst _kandrisa_\nor Turkish trousers enveloped its nether limbs. I gazed on the figure as\nwistfully as it gazed upon me. At first the features appeared perfectly\nstrange, and I was about to exclaim, \u201cI know you not,\u201d when one or two\nlineaments struck me, and I cried, though somewhat hesitatingly, \u201cSurely\nthis is Judah Lib.\u201d\n\nI was in a steamer in the Baltic in the year \u201934, if I mistake not.\nThere was a drizzling rain and a high sea, when I observed a young man of\nabout two and twenty leaning in a melancholy attitude against the side of\nthe vessel. By his countenance I knew him to be one of the Hebrew race,\nnevertheless there was something very singular in his appearance,\nsomething which is rarely found amongst that people, a certain air of\nnobleness which highly interested me. I approached him, and in a few\nminutes we were in earnest conversation. He spoke Polish and Jewish\nGerman indiscriminately. The story which he related to me was highly\nextraordinary, yet I yielded implicit credit to all his words, which came\nfrom his mouth with an air of sincerity which precluded doubt; and,\nmoreover, he could have no motive for deceiving me. One idea, one\nobject, engrossed him entirely: \u201cMy father,\u201d said he, in language which\nstrongly marked his race, \u201cwas a native of Galatia, a Jew of high caste,\na learned man, for he knew Zohar, {318} and he was likewise skilled in\nmedicine. When I was a child of some eight years, he left Galatia, and\ntaking his wife, who was my mother, and myself with him, he bent his way\nunto the East, even to Jerusalem; there he established himself as a\nmerchant, for he was acquainted with trade and the arts of getting money.\nHe was much respected by the Rabbins of Jerusalem, for he was a Polish\nman, and he knew more Zohar and more secrets than the wisest of them. He\nmade frequent journeys, and was absent for weeks and for months, but he\nnever exceeded six moons. My father loved me, and he taught me part of\nwhat he knew in the moments of his leisure. I assisted him in his trade,\nbut he took me not with him in his journeys. We had a shop at Jerusalem,\neven a shop of commerce, where we sold the goods of the Nazarene, and my\nmother and myself, and even a little sister who was born shortly after\nour arrival at Jerusalem, all assisted my father in his commerce. At\nlength it came to pass, that on a particular time he told us that he was\ngoing on a journey, and he embraced us and bade us farewell, and he\ndeparted, whilst we continued at Jerusalem attending to the business. We\nawaited his return, but months passed, even six months, and he came not,\nand we wondered; and months passed, even other six passed, but still he\ncame not, nor did we hear any tidings of him, and our hearts were filled\nwith heaviness and sorrow. But when years, even two years, were expired,\nI said to my mother, \u2018I will go and seek my father;\u2019 and she said, \u2018Do\nso,\u2019 and she gave me her blessing, and I kissed my little sister, and I\nwent forth as far as Egypt, and there I heard tidings of my father, for\npeople told me he had been there, and they named the time, and they said\nthat he had passed from thence to the land of the Turk; so I myself\nfollowed to the land of the Turk, even unto Constantinople. And when I\narrived there I again heard of my father, for he was well known amongst\nthe Jews, and they told me the time of his being there, and they added\nthat he had speculated and prospered, and departed from Constantinople,\nbut whither he went they knew not. So I reasoned within myself and said,\nperhaps he may have gone to the land of his fathers, even unto Galatia,\nto visit his kindred; so I determined to go there myself, and I went, and\nI found our kindred, and I made myself known to them, and they rejoiced\nto see me: but when I asked them for my father, they shook their heads\nand could give me no intelligence; and they would fain have had me tarry\nwith them, but I would not, for the thought of my father was working\nstrong within me, and I could not rest. So I departed and went to\nanother country, even unto Russia, and I went deep into that country,\neven as far as Kazan, and of all I met, whether Jew, or Russ, or Tartar,\nI inquired for my father: but no one knew him, nor had heard of him. So\nI turned back, and here thou seest me; and I now purpose going through\nall Germany and France, nay, through all the world, until I have received\nintelligence of my father, for I cannot rest until I know what is become\nof my father, for the thought of him burneth in my brain like fire, even\nlike the fire of _Jehinnim_.\u201d\n\nSuch was the individual whom I now saw again, after a lapse of five\nyears, in the street of Gibraltar, in the dusk of the evening. \u201cYes,\u201d he\nreplied, \u201cI am Judah, surnamed the _Lib_. Thou didst not recognize me,\nbut I knew thee at once. I should have known thee amongst a million, and\nnot a day has passed since I last saw thee, but I have thought on thee.\u201d\nI was about to reply, but he pulled me out of the crowd and led me into a\nshop where, squatted on the floor, sat six or seven Jews cutting leather;\nhe said something to them which I did not understand, whereupon they\nbowed their heads and followed their occupation, without taking any\nnotice of us. A singular figure had followed us to the door: it was a\nman dressed in exceedingly shabby European garments, which exhibited\nnevertheless the cut of a fashionable tailor. He seemed about fifty; his\nface, which was very broad, was of a deep bronze colour; the features\nwere rugged, but exceedingly manly, and, notwithstanding they were those\nof a Jew, exhibited no marks of cunning, but, on the contrary, much\nsimplicity and good nature. His form was above the middle height, and\ntremendously athletic, the arms and back were literally those of a\nHercules squeezed into a modern surtout; the lower part of his face was\ncovered with a bushy beard, which depended halfway down his breast. This\nfigure remained at the door, his eyes fixed upon myself and Judah.\n\nThe first inquiry which I now addressed was, \u201cHave you heard of your\nfather?\u201d\n\n\u201cI have,\u201d he replied. \u201cWhen we parted, I proceeded through many lands,\nand wherever I went I inquired of the people respecting my father, but\nstill they shook their heads, until I arrived at the land of Tunis; and\nthere I went to the head Rabbi, and he told me that he knew my father\nwell, and that he had been there, even at Tunis, and he named the time,\nand he said that from thence he departed for the land of Fez; and he\nspoke much of my father and of his learning, and he mentioned the Zohar,\neven that dark book which my father loved so well; and he spoke yet more\nof my father\u2019s wealth and his speculations, in all of which it seems he\nhad thriven. So I departed, and I mounted a ship, and I went into the\nland of Barbary, even unto Fez, and when I arrived there I heard much\nintelligence of my father, but it was intelligence which perhaps was\nworse than ignorance. For the Jews told me that my father had been\nthere, and had speculated and had thriven, and that from thence he\ndeparted for Tafilaltz, which is the country of which the emperor, even\nMuley Abderrahman, is a native; and there he was still prosperous, and\nhis wealth in gold and silver was very great; and he wished to go to a\nnot far distant town, and he engaged certain Moors, two in number, to\naccompany him and defend him and his treasures: and the Moors were strong\nmen, even _makhasniah_, or soldiers; and they made a covenant with my\nfather, and they gave him their right hands, and they swore to spill\ntheir blood rather than his should be shed. And my father was\nencouraged, and he waxed bold, and he departed with them, even with the\ntwo false Moors. And when they arrived in the uninhabited place, they\nsmote my father, and they prevailed against him, and they poured out his\nblood in the way, and they robbed him of all he had, of his silks and his\nmerchandise, and of the gold and silver which he had made in his\nspeculations, and they went to their own village, and there they sat\nthemselves down and bought lands and houses, and they rejoiced and they\ntriumphed, and they made a merit of their deed, saying, \u2018We have killed\nan infidel, even an accursed Jew;\u2019 and these things were notorious in\nFez. And when I heard these tidings my heart was sad, and I became like\na child, and I wept; but the fire of _Jehinnim_ burned no longer in my\nbrain, for I now knew what was become of my father. At last I took\ncomfort, and I reasoned with myself, saying, \u2018Would it not be wise to go\nunto the Moorish king and demand of him vengeance for my father\u2019s death,\nand that the spoilers be despoiled, and the treasure, even my father\u2019s\ntreasure, be wrested from their hands and delivered up to me who am his\nson?\u2019 And the king of the Moors was not at that time in Fez, but was\nabsent in his wars; and I arose and followed him, even unto Arbat, {322}\nwhich is a seaport, and when I arrived there, lo! I found him not, but\nhis son was there, and men said unto me, that to speak unto the son was\nto speak unto the king, even Muley Abderrahman; so I went in unto the\nking\u2019s son, and I kneeled before him, and I lifted up my voice, and I\nsaid unto him what I had to say, and he looked courteously upon me and\nsaid, \u2018Truly thy tale is a sorrowful one, and it maketh me sad; and what\nthou askest, that will I grant, and thy father\u2019s death shall be avenged,\nand the spoilers shall be despoiled; and I will write thee a letter with\nmy own hand unto the Pasha, even the Pasha of Tafilaltz, and I will\nenjoin him to make inquiry into thy matter, and that letter thou shalt\nthyself carry and deliver unto him.\u2019 And when I heard these words, my\nheart died within my bosom for very fear, and I replied, \u2018Not so, my\nlord; it is good that thou write a letter unto the Pasha, even unto the\nPasha of Tafilaltz, but that letter will I not take, neither will I go to\nTafilaltz, for no sooner should I arrive there, and my errand be known,\nthan the Moors would arise and put me to death, either privily or\npublicly, for are not the murderers of my father Moors; and am I aught\nbut a Jew, though I be a Polish man?\u2019 And he looked benignantly, and he\nsaid, \u2018Truly, thou speakest wisely; I will write the letter, but thou\nshalt not take it, for I will send it by other hands; therefore set thy\nheart at rest, and doubt not that, if thy tale be true, thy father\u2019s\ndeath shall be avenged, and the treasure, or the value thereof, be\nrecovered and given up to thee; tell me, therefore, where wilt thou abide\ntill then?\u2019 And I said unto him, \u2018My lord, I will go into the land of\nSuz and will tarry there.\u2019 And he replied, \u2018Do so, and thou shalt hear\nspeedily from me.\u2019 So I arose and departed, and went into the land of\nSuz, even unto Swirah, which the Nazarenes call Mogadore; and I waited\nwith a troubled heart for intelligence from the son of the Moorish king,\nbut no intelligence came, and never since that day have I heard from him,\nand it is now three years since I was in his presence. And I sat me down\nat Mogadore, and I married a wife, a daughter of our nation, and I wrote\nto my mother, even to Jerusalem, and she sent me money, and with that I\nentered into commerce, even as my father had done, and I speculated, and\nI was not successful in my speculations, and I speedily lost all I had.\nAnd now I am come to Gibraltar to speculate on the account of another, a\nmerchant of Mogadore, but I like not my occupation; he has deceived me; I\nam going back, when I shall again seek the presence of the Moorish king,\nand demand that the treasure of my father be taken from the spoilers and\ndelivered up to me, even to me his son.\u201d\n\nI listened with mute attention to the singular tale of this singular man,\nand when he had concluded I remained a considerable time without saying a\nword. At last he inquired what had brought me to Gibraltar. I told him\nthat I was merely a passer through on my way to Tangier, for which place\nI expected to sail the following morning. Whereupon he observed, that in\nthe course of a week or two he expected to be there also, when he hoped\nthat we should meet, as he had much more to tell me. \u201cAnd peradventure,\u201d\nhe added, \u201cyou can afford me counsel which will be profitable, for you\nare a person of experience, versed in the ways of many nations; and when\nI look in your countenance, heaven seems to open to me, for I think I see\nthe countenance of a friend, even of a brother.\u201d He then bade me\nfarewell, and departed; the strange bearded man, who during our\nconversation had remained patiently waiting at the door, following him.\nI remarked that there was less wildness in his look than on the former\noccasion, but, at the same time, more melancholy, and his features were\nwrinkled like those of an aged man, though he had not yet passed the\nprime of youth.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LIII.\n\n\nGenoese Mariners\u2014Saint Michael\u2019s Cave\u2014Midnight Abysses\u2014Young American\u2014A\nSlave Proprietor\u2014The Fairy Man\u2014Infidelity.\n\nThroughout the whole of that night it blew very hard, but, as the wind\nwas in the Levant quarter, I had no apprehension of being detained longer\nat Gibraltar on that account. I went on board the vessel at an early\nhour, when I found the crew engaged in hauling the anchor close, and\nmaking other preparations for sailing. They informed me that we should\nprobably start in an hour. That time, however, passed, and we still\nremained where we were, and the captain continued on shore. We formed\none of a small flotilla of Genoese barks, the crews of which seemed in\ntheir leisure moments to have no better means of amusing themselves than\nthe exchange of abusive language: a furious fusilade of this kind\npresently commenced, in which the mate of our vessel particularly\ndistinguished himself; he was a grey-haired Genoese of sixty. Though not\nable to speak their patois, I understood much of what was said. It was\ntruly shocking, and as they shouted it forth, judging from their violent\ngestures and distorted features, you would have concluded them to be\nbitter enemies. They were, however, nothing of the kind, but excellent\nfriends all the time, and indeed very good-humoured fellows at bottom.\nOh, the infirmities of human nature! When will man learn to become truly\nChristian?\n\nI am upon the whole very fond of the Genoese; they have, it is true, much\nribaldry and many vices, but they are a brave and chivalrous people, and\nhave ever been so, and from them I have never experienced aught but\nkindness and hospitality.\n\nAfter the lapse of another two hours, the Jew secretary arrived and said\nsomething to the old mate, who grumbled much; then coming up to me, he\ntook off his hat and informed me that we were not to start that day,\nsaying at the same time that it was a shame to lose such a noble wind,\nwhich would carry us to Tangier in three hours. \u201cPatience,\u201d said I, and\nwent on shore.\n\nI now strolled towards St. Michael\u2019s cave, in company with the Jewish lad\nwhom I have before mentioned.\n\nThe way thither does not lie in the same direction as that which leads to\nthe excavations; these confront Spain, whilst the cave yawns in the face\nof Africa. It lies nearly at the top of the mountain, several hundred\nyards above the sea. We passed by the public walks, where there are\nnoble trees, and also by many small houses, situated delightfully in\ngardens, and occupied by the officers of the garrison. It is wrong to\nsuppose Gibraltar a mere naked barren rock; it is not without its\nbeautiful spots\u2014spots such as these, looking cool and refreshing, with\nbright green foliage. The path soon became very steep, and we left\nbehind us the dwellings of man. The gale of the preceding night had\nentirely ceased, and not a breath of air was stirring; the midday sun\nshone in all its fierce glory, and the crags up which we clambered were\nnot unfrequently watered with the perspiration drops which rained from\nour temples: at length we arrived at the cavern.\n\nThe mouth is a yawning cleft in the side of the mountain, about twelve\nfeet high and as many wide; within there is a very rapid, precipitous\ndescent for some fifty yards, where the cavern terminates in an abyss\nwhich leads to unknown depths. The most remarkable object is a natural\ncolumn, which rises up something like the trunk of an enormous oak, as if\nfor the purpose of supporting the roof; it stands at a short distance\nfrom the entrance, and gives a certain air of wildness and singularity to\nthat part of the cavern which is visible, which it would otherwise not\npossess. The floor is exceedingly slippery, consisting of soil which the\ncontinual drippings from the roof have saturated, so that no slight\nprecaution is necessary for him who treads it. It is very dangerous to\nenter this place without a guide well acquainted with it, as, besides the\nblack pit at the extremity, holes which have never been fathomed present\nthemselves here and there, falling into which the adventurer would be\ndashed to pieces. Whatever men may please to say of this cave, one thing\nit seems to tell to all who approach it, namely, that the hand of man has\nnever been busy about it. There is many a cave of nature\u2019s forming, old\nas the earth on which we exist, which nevertheless exhibits indications\nthat man has turned it to some account, and that it has been subjected\nmore or less to his modifying power. Not so this cave of Gibraltar, for,\njudging from its appearance, there is not the slightest reason for\nsupposing that it ever served for aught else than a den for foul night\nbirds, reptiles, and beasts of prey. It has been stated by some to have\nbeen used in the days of paganism as a temple to the god Hercules, who,\naccording to the ancient tradition, raised the singular mass of crags now\ncalled Gibraltar, and the mountain which confronts it on the African\nshores, as columns which should say to all succeeding times that he had\nbeen there, and had advanced no further. Sufficient to observe, that\nthere is nothing within the cave which would authorize the adoption of\nsuch an opinion, not even a platform on which an altar could have stood,\nwhilst a narrow path passes before it, leading to the summit of the\nmountain. As I have myself never penetrated into its depths, I can of\ncourse not pretend to describe them. Numerous have been the individuals\nwho, instigated by curiosity, have ventured down to immense depths,\nhoping to discover an end, and indeed scarcely a week passes without\nsimilar attempts being made either by the officers or soldiers of the\ngarrison, all of which have proved perfectly abortive. No termination\nhas ever been reached, nor any discoveries made to repay the labour and\nfrightful danger incurred; precipice succeeds precipice, and abyss\nsucceeds abyss, in apparently endless succession, with ledges at\nintervals, which afford the adventurers opportunities for resting\nthemselves and affixing their rope-ladders for the purpose of descending\nyet further. What is, however, most mortifying and perplexing, is to\nobserve that these abysses are not only before, but behind you, and on\nevery side; indeed, close within the entrance of the cave, on the right,\nthere is a gulf almost equally dark and full as threatening as that which\nexists at the nether end, and perhaps contains within itself as many\ngulfs and horrid caverns branching off in all directions. Indeed, from\nwhat I have heard, I have come to the opinion that the whole hill of\nGibraltar is honeycombed, and I have little doubt that, were it cleft\nasunder, its interior would be found full of such abysses of Erebus as\nthose to which Saint Michael\u2019s cave conducts. Many valuable lives are\nlost every year in these horrible places; and only a few weeks before my\nvisit, two sergeants, brothers, had perished in the gulf on the right\nhand side of the cave, having, when at a great depth, slipped down a\nprecipice. The body of one of these adventurous men is even now rotting\nin the bowels of the mountain, preyed upon by its blind and noisome\nworms; that of his brother was extricated. Immediately after this\nhorrible accident, a gate was placed before the mouth of the cave, to\nprevent individuals, and especially the reckless soldiers, from indulging\nin their extravagant curiosity. The lock, however, was speedily forced,\nand at the period of my arrival the gate swung idly upon its hinges.\n\nAs I left the place, I thought that perhaps similar to this was the cave\nof Horeb, where dwelt Elijah, when he heard the still small voice, after\nthe great and strong wind which rent the mountains and brake in pieces\nthe rocks before the Lord; the cave to the entrance of which he went out\nand stood with his face wrapped in his mantle, when he heard the voice\nsay unto him, \u201cWhat doest thou here, Elijah?\u201d {330}\n\nAnd what am I doing here, I inquired of myself, as, vexed at my\ndetention, I descended into the town.\n\nThat afternoon I dined in the company of a young American, a native of\nSouth Carolina. I had frequently seen him before, as he had been staying\nfor some time at the inn previous to my arrival at Gibraltar. His\nappearance was remarkable: he was low of stature, and exceedingly\nslightly made; his features were pale, but very well formed; he had a\nmagnificent head of crispy black hair, and as superb a pair of whiskers\nof the same colour as I ever beheld. He wore a white hat, with broad\nbrim and particularly shallow crown, and was dressed in a light yellow\ngingham frock, striped with black, and ample trousers of calico. In a\nword, his appearance was altogether queer and singular. On my return\nfrom my ramble to the cave, I found that he had himself just descended\nfrom the mountain, having since a very early hour been absent exploring\nits wonders.\n\nA man of the rock asked him how he liked the excavations. \u201cLiked them?\u201d\nsaid he; \u201cyou might just as well ask a person who has just seen the\nNiagara Falls how he liked them\u2014like is not the word, mister.\u201d The heat\nwas suffocating, as it almost invariably is in the town of Gibraltar,\nwhere rarely a breath of air is to be felt, as it is sheltered from all\nwinds. This led another individual to inquire of him whether he did not\nthink it exceedingly hot? \u201cHot, sir?\u201d he replied, \u201cnot at all; fine\ncotton-gathering weather as a man could wish for. We couldn\u2019t beat it in\nSouth Carolina, sir.\u201d \u201cYou live in South Carolina, sir\u2014I hope, sir, you\nare not a slave proprietor,\u201d said the short, fat Jewish personage in the\nsnuff-coloured coat, who had offered me the bitters on a previous\noccasion; \u201cit is a terrible thing to make slaves of poor people, simply\nbecause they happen to be black; don\u2019t you think so, sir?\u201d \u201cThink so,\nsir?\u2014no, sir, I don\u2019t think so\u2014I glory in being a slave proprietor; have\nfour hundred black niggers on my estate\u2014own estate, sir, near\nCharleston\u2014flog half a dozen of them before breakfast, merely for\nexercise. Niggers only made to be flogged, sir; try to escape sometimes;\nset the bloodhounds in their trail, catch them in a twinkling; used to\nhang themselves formerly\u2014the niggers thought that a sure way to return to\ntheir own country and get clear of me; soon put a stop to that; told them\nthat if any more hanged themselves I\u2019d hang myself too, follow close\nbehind them, and flog them in their own country ten times worse than in\nmine. What do you think of that, friend?\u201d It was easy to perceive that\nthere was more of fun than malice in this eccentric little fellow, for\nhis large grey eyes were sparkling with good humour whilst he poured out\nthese wild things. He was exceedingly free of his money; and a dirty\nIrish woman, a soldier\u2019s wife, having entered with a basketful of small\nboxes and trinkets, made of portions of the rock of Gibraltar, he\npurchased the greater part of her ware, giving her for every article the\nprice (by no means inconsiderable) which she demanded. He had glanced at\nme several times, and at last I saw him stoop down and whisper something\nto the Jew, who replied in an undertone, though with considerable\nearnestness, \u201cOh dear no, sir; perfectly mistaken, sir; is no American,\nsir; from Salamanca, sir\u2014the gentleman is a Salamancan Spaniard.\u201d The\nwaiter at length informed us that he had laid the table, and that perhaps\nit would be agreeable to us to dine together: we instantly assented. I\nfound my new acquaintance in many respects a most agreeable companion: he\nsoon told me his history. He was a planter, and, from what he hinted,\njust come to his property. He was part owner of a large vessel which\ntraded between Charleston and Gibraltar, and the yellow fever having just\nbroken out at the former place, he had determined to take a trip (his\nfirst) to Europe in this ship; having, as he said, already visited every\nstate in the Union, and seen all that was to be seen there. He described\nto me, in a very na\u00efve and original manner, his sensations on passing by\nTarifa, which was the first walled town he had ever seen. I related to\nhim the history of that place, to which he listened with great attention.\nHe made divers attempts to learn from me who I was, all of which I\nevaded, though he seemed fully convinced that I was an American; and,\namongst other things, asked me whether my father had not been American\nconsul at Seville. What, however, most perplexed him was my\nunderstanding Moorish and Gaelic, which he had heard me speak\nrespectively to the _ham\u00e1les_ and the Irish woman, the latter of whom, as\nhe said, had told him that I was a fairy man. At last he introduced the\nsubject of religion, and spoke with much contempt of revelation, avowing\nhimself a deist: he was evidently very anxious to hear my opinion, but\nhere again I evaded him, and contented myself with asking him whether he\nhad ever read the Bible. He said he had not, but that he was well\nacquainted with the writings of Volney and Mirabeau. I made no answer,\nwhereupon he added, that it was by no means his habit to introduce such\nsubjects, and that there were very few persons to whom he would speak so\nunreservedly, but that I had very much interested him, though our\nacquaintance had been short. I replied, that he would scarcely have\nspoken at Boston in the manner that I had just heard him, and that it was\neasy to perceive that he was not a New Englander. \u201cI assure you,\u201d said\nhe, \u201cI should as little have thought of speaking so at Charleston, for if\nI held such conversation there, I should soon have had to speak to\nmyself.\u201d\n\nHad I known less of deists than it has been my fortune to know, I should\nperhaps have endeavoured to convince this young man of the erroneousness\nof the ideas which he had adopted; but I was aware of all that he would\nhave urged in reply, and, as the believer has no carnal arguments to\naddress to carnal reason upon this subject, I thought it best to avoid\ndisputation, which I felt sure would lead to no profitable result. Faith\nis the free gift of God, and I do not believe that ever yet was an\ninfidel converted by means of after-dinner polemics. This was the last\nevening of my sojourn in Gibraltar.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LIV.\n\n\nAgain on Board\u2014The Strange Visage\u2014The Haji\u2014Setting Sail\u2014The Two\nJews\u2014American Vessel\u2014Tangier\u2014Adun Oulem\u2014The Struggle\u2014The Forbidden Thing.\n\nOn Thursday, the 8th of August, I was again on board the Genoese bark, at\nas early an hour as on the previous morning. After waiting, however, two\nor three hours without any preparation being made for departing, I was\nabout to return to the shore once more, but the old Genoese mate advised\nme to stay, assuring me that he had no doubt of our sailing speedily, as\nall the cargo was on board, and we had nothing further to detain us. I\nwas reposing myself in the little cabin, when I heard a boat strike\nagainst the side of the vessel, and some people come on board. Presently\na face peered in at the opening, strange and wild. I was half asleep,\nand at first imagined I was dreaming, for the face seemed more like that\nof a goat or an ogre than of a human being; its long beard almost\ntouching my face as I lay extended in a kind of berth. Starting up,\nhowever, I recognized the singular-looking Jew whom I had seen in the\ncompany of Judah Lib. He recognized me also, and nodding, bent his huge\nfeatures into a smile. I arose and went upon deck, where I found him in\ncompany with another Jew, a young man in the dress of Barbary. They had\njust arrived in the boat. I asked my friend of the beard who he was,\nfrom whence he came, and where he was going? He answered, in broken\nPortuguese, that he was returning from Lisbon, where he had been on\nbusiness, to Mogadore, of which place he was a native. He then looked me\nin the face and smiled, and taking out a book from his pocket, in Hebrew\ncharacters, fell to reading it; whereupon a Spanish sailor on board\nobserved that with such a beard and book he must needs be a _sabio_, or\nsage. His companion was from Mequinez, and spoke only Arabic.\n\nA large boat now drew nigh, the stern of which was filled with Moors;\nthere might be about twelve, and the greater part evidently consisted of\npersons of distinction, as they were dressed in all the pomp and\ngallantry of the East, with snow-white turbans, _jabadores_ of green silk\nor scarlet cloth, and _bedeyas_ rich with gold galloon. Some of them\nwere exceedingly fine men, and two amongst them, youths, were strikingly\nhandsome, and, so far from exhibiting the dark swarthy countenance of\nMoors in general, their complexions were of a delicate red and white.\nThe principal personage, and to whom all the rest paid much deference,\nwas a tall athletic man of about forty. He wore a vest of white quilted\ncotton, and white _kandrisa_, whilst gracefully wound round his body, and\nswathing the upper part of his head, was the _haik_, or white flannel\nwrapping plaid, always held in so much estimation by the Moors from the\nearliest period of their history. His legs were bare, and his feet only\nprotected from the ground by yellow slippers. He displayed no further\nornament than one large gold earring, from which depended a pearl,\nevidently of great price. A noble black beard, about a foot in length,\ntouched his muscular breast. His features were good, with the exception\nof the eyes, which were somewhat small; their expression, however, was\nevil; their glances were sullen; and malignity and ill-nature were\npainted in every lineament of his countenance, which seemed never to have\nbeen brightened with a smile. The Spanish sailor, of whom I have already\nhad occasion to speak, informed me in a whisper, that he was a\n_santurron_, {337} or big saint, and was so far back on his way from\nMecca, adding, that he was a merchant of immense wealth. It soon\nappeared that the other Moors had merely attended him on board through\nfriendly politeness, as they all successively came to bid him adieu, with\nthe exception of two blacks, who were his attendants. I observed that\nthese blacks, when the Moors presented them their hands at departing,\ninvariably made an effort to press them to their lips, which effort was\nas uniformly foiled, the Moors in every instance, by a speedy and\ngraceful movement, drawing back their hand locked in that of the black,\nwhich they pressed against their own heart; as much as to say, \u201cthough a\nnegro and a slave you are a Moslem, and being so, you are our\nbrother\u2014Allah knows no distinctions.\u201d The boatman now went up to the\n_haji_, demanding payment, stating, at the same time, that he had been on\nboard three times on his account, conveying his luggage. The sum which\nhe demanded appeared exorbitant to the _haji_, who, forgetting that he\nwas a saint, and fresh from Mecca, fumed outrageously, and in broken\nSpanish called the boatman thief. If there be any term of reproach which\nstings a Spaniard (and such was the boatman) more than another, it is\nthat one; and the fellow no sooner heard it applied to himself, than,\nwith eyes sparkling with fury, he put his fist to the _haji\u2019s_ nose, and\nrepaid the one opprobrious name by at least ten others equally bad or\nworse. He would perhaps have proceeded to acts of violence had he not\nbeen pulled away by the other Moors, who led him aside, and I suppose\neither said or gave him something which pacified him, as he soon got into\nhis boat, and returned with them on shore. The captain now arrived with\nhis Jewish secretary, and orders were given for setting sail.\n\nAt a little past twelve we were steering out of the bay of Gibraltar.\nThe wind was in the right quarter, but for some time we did not make much\nprogress, lying almost becalmed beneath the lee of the hill; by degrees,\nhowever, our progress became brisker, and in about an hour we found\nourselves careering smartly towards Tarifa.\n\nThe Jew secretary stood at the helm, and indeed appeared to be the person\nwho commanded the vessel, and who issued out all the necessary orders,\nwhich were executed under the superintendence of the old Genoese mate. I\nnow put some questions to the _haji_, but he looked at me askance with\nhis sullen eye, pouted with his lip, and remained silent; as much as to\nsay, \u201cSpeak not to me, I am holier than thou.\u201d I found his negroes,\nhowever, far more conversable. One of them was old and ugly, the other\nabout twenty, and as well-looking as it is possible for a negro to be.\nHis colour was perfect ebony, his features exceedingly well-formed and\ndelicate, with the exception of the lips, which were too full. The shape\nof his eyes was peculiar; they were rather oblong than round, like those\nof an Egyptian figure. Their expression was thoughtful and meditative.\nIn every respect he differed from his companion, even in colour (though\nboth were negroes), and was evidently a scion of some little-known and\nsuperior race. As he sat beneath the mast gazing at the sea, I thought\nhe was misplaced, and that he would have appeared to more advantage\namidst boundless sands, and beneath a date-tree, and then he might have\nwell represented a _Jin_. I asked him from whence he came; he replied\nthat he was a native of Fez, but that he had never known his parents. He\nhad been brought up, he added, in the family of his present master, whom\nhe had followed in the greater part of his travels, and with whom he had\nthrice visited Mecca. I asked him if he liked being a slave? Whereupon\nhe replied, that he was a slave no longer, having been made free for some\ntime past, on account of his faithful services, as had likewise his\ncompanion. He would have told me much more, but the _haji_ called him\naway, and otherwise employed him, probably to prevent his being\ncontaminated by me.\n\nThus, avoided by the Moslems, I betook myself to the Jews, whom I found\nnowise backward in cultivating an intimacy. The sage of the beard told\nme his history, which in some respects reminded me of that of Judah Lib,\nas it seemed that, a year or two previous, he had quitted Mogadore in\npursuit of his son, who had betaken himself to Portugal. On the arrival,\nhowever, of the father at Lisbon, he discovered that the fugitive had, a\nfew days before, shipped himself for the Brazils. Unlike Judah in quest\nof his father, he now became weary, and discontinued the pursuit. The\nyounger Jew from Mequinez was exceedingly gay and lively as soon as he\nperceived that I was capable of understanding him, and made me smile by\nhis humorous account of Christian life, as he had observed it at\nGibraltar, where he had made a stay of about a month. He then spoke of\nMequinez, which, he said, was a _Jennut_, or Paradise, compared with\nwhich Gibraltar was a sty of hogs. So great, so universal is the love of\ncountry. I soon saw that both these people believed me to be of their\nown nation: indeed, the young one, who was much the most familiar, taxed\nme with being so, and spoke of the infamy of denying my own blood.\nShortly before our arrival off Tarifa, universal hunger seemed to prevail\namongst us. The _haji_ and his negroes produced their store, and feasted\non roast fowls, the Jews ate grapes and bread, myself bread and cheese,\nwhilst the crew prepared a mess of anchovies. Two of them speedily came\nwith a large portion, which they presented to me with the kindness of\nbrothers: I made no hesitation in accepting their present, and found the\nanchovies delicious. As I sat between the Jews, I offered them some, but\nthey turned away their heads with disgust, and cried, _Haloof_. They at\nthe same time, however, shook me by the hand, and, uninvited, took a\nsmall portion of my bread. I had a bottle of Cognac, which I had brought\nwith me as a preventive to sea-sickness, and I presented it to them; but\nthis they also refused, exclaiming, _Har\u00e1m_. I said nothing.\n\nWe were now close to the lighthouse of Tarifa, and turning the head of\nthe bark towards the west, we made directly for the coast of Africa. The\nwind was now blowing very fresh, and as we had it almost in our poop, we\nsprang along at a tremendous rate, the huge latine sails threatening\nevery moment to drive us beneath the billows, which an adverse tide\nraised up against us. Whilst scudding along in this manner, we passed\nclose under the stern of a large vessel bearing American colours; she was\ntacking up the straits, and slowly winning her way against the impetuous\nLevanter. As we passed under her, I observed the poop crowded with\npeople gazing at us; indeed, we must have offered a singular spectacle to\nthose on board, who, like my young American friend at Gibraltar, were\nvisiting the Old World for the first time. At the helm stood the Jew;\nhis whole figure enveloped in a gabardine, the cowl of which, raised\nabove his head, gave him almost the appearance of a spectre in its\nshroud; whilst upon the deck, mixed with Europeans in various kinds of\ndresses, all of them picturesque with the exception of my own, trod the\nturbaned Moors, the _haik_ of the _haji_ flapping loosely in the wind.\nThe view they obtained of us, however, could have been but momentary, as\nwe bounded past them literally with the speed of a racehorse, so that in\nabout an hour\u2019s time we were not more than a mile\u2019s distance from the\nforeland on which stands the fortress Almin\u00e0r, and which constitutes the\nboundary point of the bay of Tangier towards the east. There the wind\ndropped and our progress was again slow.\n\nFor a considerable time Tangier had appeared in sight. Shortly after\nstanding away from Tarifa, we had descried it in the far distance, when\nit showed like a white dove brooding on its nest. The sun was setting\nbehind the town when we dropped anchor in its harbour, amidst half a\ndozen barks and felouks about the size of our own, the only vessels which\nwe saw. There stood Tangier before us, and a picturesque town it was,\noccupying the sides and top of two hills, one of which, bold and bluff,\nprojects into the sea where the coast takes a sudden and abrupt turn.\nFrowning and battlemented were its walls, either perched on the top of\nprecipitous rocks, whose base was washed by the salt billows, or rising\nfrom the narrow strand which separates the hill from the ocean.\n\nYonder are two or three tiers of batteries, displaying heavy guns, which\ncommand the harbour; above them you see the terraces of the town rising\nin succession like steps for giants. But all is white, perfectly white,\nso that the whole seems cut out of an immense chalk rock, though true it\nis that you behold here and there tall green trees springing up from\namidst the whiteness: perhaps they belong to Moorish gardens, and beneath\nthem even now peradventure is reclining many a dark-eyed Leila, akin to\nthe _houris_. Right before you is a high tower, or minaret, not white\nbut curiously painted, which belongs to the principal mosque of Tangier;\na black banner waves upon it, for it is the feast of Ashor. A noble\nbeach of white sand fringes the bay from the town to the foreland of\nAlmin\u00e0r. To the east rise prodigious hills and mountains: they are Gibil\nMuza and his chain; and yon tall fellow is the peak of Tetuan; the grey\nmists of evening are enveloping their sides. Such was Tangier, such its\nvicinity, as it appeared to me whilst gazing from the Genoese bark.\n\nA boat was now lowered from the vessel, in which the captain, who was\ncharged with the mail from Gibraltar, the Jew secretary, and the _haji_\nand his attendant negroes departed for the shore. I would have gone with\nthem, but I was told that I could not land that night, as ere my passport\nand bill of health could be examined, the gates would be closed; so I\nremained on board with the crew and the two Jews. The former prepared\ntheir supper, which consisted simply of pickled _tomates_, {343a} the\nother provisions having been consumed. The old Genoese brought me a\nportion, apologizing at the same time for the plainness of the fare. I\naccepted it with thanks, and told him that a million better men than\nmyself had a worse supper. I never ate with more appetite. As the night\nadvanced, the Jews sang Hebrew hymns, and when they had concluded,\ndemanded of me why I was silent, so I lifted up my voice and chanted\n_Adun Oulem_. {343b}\n\nDarkness had now fallen over land and sea: not a sound was heard save\noccasionally the distant barking of a dog from the shore, or some\nplaintive Genoese ditty, which arose from a neighbouring bark. The town\nseemed buried in silence and gloom, no light, not even that of a taper,\ncould be descried. Turning our eyes in the direction of Spain, however,\nwe perceived a magnificent conflagration, seemingly enveloping the side\nand head of one of the lofty mountains northward of Tarifa. The blaze\nwas redly reflected in the waters of the strait; either the brushwood was\nburning or the _carboneros_ were plying their dusky toil. The Jews now\ncomplained of weariness, and the younger, uncording a small mattress,\nspread it on the deck and sought repose. The sage descended into the\ncabin, but he had scarcely time to lie down ere the old mate, darting\nforward, dived in after him, and pulled him out by the heels, for it was\nvery shallow, and the descent was effected by not more than two or three\nsteps. After accomplishing this, he called him many opprobrious names,\nand threatened him with his foot, as he lay sprawling on the deck.\n\u201cThink you,\u201d said he, \u201cwho are a dog and a Jew, and pay as a dog and a\nJew; think you to sleep in the cabin? Undeceive yourself, beast: that\ncabin shall be slept in by none to-night but this Christian _caballero_.\u201d\nThe sage made no reply, but arose from the deck and stroked his beard,\nwhilst the old Genoese proceeded in his Philippic. Had the Jew been\ndisposed, he could have strangled the insulter in a moment, or crushed\nhim to death in his brawny arms, as I never remember to have seen a\nfigure so powerful and muscular; but he was evidently slow to anger, and\nlong-suffering. Not a resentful word escaped him, and his features\nretained their usual expression of benignant placidity.\n\nI now assured the mate that I had not the slightest objection to the\nJew\u2019s sharing the cabin with me, but rather wished it, as there was room\nfor us both and for more. \u201cExcuse me, Sir Cavalier,\u201d replied the\nGenoese, \u201cbut I swear to permit no such thing; you are young, and do not\nknow this _canaille_ as I do, who have been backward and forward to this\ncoast for twenty years. If the beast is cold, let him sleep below the\nhatches as I and the rest shall, but that cabin he shall not enter.\u201d\nObserving that he was obstinate, I retired, and in a few minutes was in a\nsound sleep, which lasted till daybreak. Twice or thrice, indeed, I\nthought that a struggle was taking place near me; but I was so\noverpowered with weariness, or \u201csleep drunken,\u201d as the Germans call it,\nthat I was unable to arouse myself sufficiently to discover what was\ngoing on. The truth is, that three times during the night, the sage,\nfeeling himself uncomfortable in the open air by the side of his\ncompanion, penetrated into the cabin, and was as many times dragged out\nby his relentless old enemy, who, suspecting his intentions, kept his eye\nupon him throughout the night.\n\nAbout five I arose: the sun was shining brightly and gloriously upon\ntown, bay, and mountain; the crew were already employed upon deck\nrepairing a sail which had been shivered in the wind of the preceding\nday. The Jews sat disconsolate on the poop; they complained much of the\ncold they had suffered in their exposed situation. Over the left eye of\nthe sage I observed a bloody cut, which he informed me he had received\nfrom the old Genoese after he had dragged him out of the cabin for the\nlast time. I now produced my bottle of Cognac, begging that the crew\nwould partake of it as a slight return for their hospitality. They\nthanked me, and the bottle went its round; it was last in the hands of\nthe old mate, who, after looking for a moment at the sage, raised it to\nhis mouth, where he kept it a considerable time longer than any of his\ncompanions, after which he returned it to me with a low bow. The sage\nnow inquired what the bottle contained. I told him Cognac, or\n_aguardiente_, whereupon with some eagerness he begged that I would allow\nhim to take a draught. \u201cHow is this?\u201d said I; \u201cyesterday you told me\nthat it was a forbidden thing, an abomination.\u201d \u201cYesterday,\u201d said he, \u201cI\nwas not aware that it was brandy; I thought it was wine, which assuredly\nis an abomination, and a forbidden thing.\u201d \u201cIs it forbidden in the\n_Torah_?\u201d I inquired. \u201cIs it forbidden in the law of God?\u201d \u201cI know\nnot,\u201d said he; \u201cbut one thing I know, that the sages have forbidden it.\u201d\n\u201cSages like yourself,\u201d cried I with warmth; \u201csages like yourself, with\nlong beards and short understandings; the use of both drinks is\npermitted, but more danger lurks in this bottle than in a tun of wine.\nWell said my Lord the Nazarene, \u2018ye strain at a gnat, and swallow a\ncamel;\u2019 but as you are cold and shivering, take the bottle and revive\nyourself with a small portion of its contents.\u201d He put it to his lips\nand found not a single drop. The old Genoese grinned.\n\n\u201c_Bestia_,\u201d said he, \u201cI saw by your looks that you wished to drink of\nthat bottle, and I said within me, even though I suffocate, yet will I\nnot leave one drop of the _aguardiente_ of the Christian Cavalier to be\nwasted on that Jew, on whose head may evil lightnings fall.\u201d\n\n\u201cNow, Sir Cavalier,\u201d he continued, \u201cyou can go ashore: these two sailors\nshall row you to the Mole, and convey your baggage where you think\nproper; may the Virgin bless you wherever you go.\u201d\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LV.\n\n\nThe Mole\u2014The Two Moors\u2014Djmah of Tangier\u2014House of God\u2014British\nConsul\u2014Curious Spectacle\u2014The Moorish House\u2014Joanna Correa\u2014Ave Maria.\n\nSo we rowed to the Mole, and landed. This Mole consists at present of\nnothing more than an immense number of large loose stones, which run\nabout five hundred yards into the bay; they are part of the ruins of a\nmagnificent pier which the English, who were the last foreign nation\nwhich held Tangier, destroyed when they evacuated the place. {348} The\nMoors have never attempted to repair it: the surf at high water breaks\nover it with great fury. I found it a difficult task to pick my way over\nthe slippery stones, and should once or twice have fallen but for the\nkindness of the Genoese mariners. At last we reached the beach, and were\nproceeding towards the gate of the town, when two persons, Moors, came up\nto us. I almost started at sight of the first: he was a huge old\nbarbarian with a white uncombed beard, dirty turban, _haik_, and\ntrousers, naked legs, and immense splay feet, the heels of which stood\nout a couple of inches at least behind his rusty black slippers.\n\n\u201cThat is the captain of the port,\u201d said one of the Genoese; \u201cpay him\nrespect.\u201d I accordingly doffed my hat and cried, \u201c_Sba alkheir a sidi_.\u201d\n{349} \u201cAre you Englishmans?\u201d shouted the old grisly giant.\n\u201cEnglishmans, my lord,\u201d I replied, and, advancing, presented him my hand,\nwhich he nearly wrung off with his tremendous gripe. The other Moor now\naddressed me in a jargon composed of English, Spanish, and Arabic. A\nqueer-looking personage was he also, but very different in most respects\nfrom his companion, being shorter by a head at least, and less complete\nby one eye, for the left orb of vision was closed, leaving him, as the\nSpaniards style it, _tuerto_; he, however, far outshone the other in\ncleanliness of turban, _haik_, and trousers. From what he jabbered to\nme, I collected that he was the English consul\u2019s _mahasni_, or soldier;\nthat the consul, being aware of my arrival, had despatched him to conduct\nme to his house. He then motioned me to follow him, which I did, the old\nport-captain attending us to the gate, when he turned aside into a\nbuilding, which I judged to be a kind of custom-house from the bales and\nboxes of every description piled up before it. We passed the gate and\nproceeded up a steep and winding ascent. On our left was a battery full\nof guns, pointing to the sea, and on our right a massive wall, seemingly\nin part cut out of the hill: a little higher up we arrived at an opening\nwhere stood the mosque which I have already mentioned. As I gazed upon\nthe tower I said to myself, \u201cSurely we have here a younger sister of the\nGiralda of Seville.\u201d\n\nI know not whether the resemblance between the two edifices has been\nobserved by any other individual; and perhaps there are those who would\nassert that no resemblance exists, especially if, in forming an opinion,\nthey were much swayed by size and colour: the hue of the Giralda is red,\nor rather vermilion, whilst that which predominates in the Djmah of\nTangier is green, the bricks of which it is built being of that colour;\nthough between them, at certain intervals, are placed others of a light\nred tinge, so that the tower is beautifully variegated. With respect to\nsize, standing beside the giant witch of Seville, the Tangerine Djmah\nwould show like a ten-year sapling in the vicinity of the cedar of\nLebanon, whose trunk the tempests of five hundred years have worn. And\nyet I will assert that the towers in other respects are one and the same,\nand that the same mind and the same design are manifested in both; the\nsame shape do they exhibit, and the same marks have they on their walls,\neven those mysterious arches graven on the superfice of the bricks,\nemblematic of I know not what. The two structures may, without any\nviolence, be said to stand in the same relation to each other as the\nancient and modern Moors. The Giralda is the world\u2019s wonder, and the old\nMoor was all but the world\u2019s conqueror. The modern Moor is scarcely\nknown, and who ever heard of the tower of Tangier? Yet examine it\nattentively, and you will find in that tower much, very much, to admire,\nand certainly, if opportunity enable you to consider the modern Moor\nminutely, you will discover in him, and in his actions, amongst much that\nis wild, uncouth, and barbarous, not a little capable of amply rewarding\nlaborious investigation.\n\nAs we passed the mosque I stopped for a moment before the door, and\nlooked in upon the interior: I saw nothing but a quadrangular court paved\nwith painted tiles and exposed to the sky; on all sides were arched\n_piazzas_, and in the middle was a fountain, at which several Moors were\nperforming their ablutions. I looked around for the abominable thing and\nfound it not; the besetting sin of the pseudo-Christian Church did not\nstare me in the face in every corner. \u201cCome here,\u201d said I, \u201cPapist, and\ntake a lesson; here is a house of God, in externals at least, such as a\nhouse of God should be: four walls, a fountain, and the eternal firmament\nabove, which mirrors His glory. Dost thou build such houses to the God\nwho has said, \u2018Thou shalt make to thyself no graven image\u2019? Fool, thy\nwalls are stuck with idols; thou callest a stone thy Father, and a piece\nof rotting wood the Queen of Heaven. Fool, thou knowest not even the\nAncient of Days, and the very Moor can instruct thee. He at least knows\nthe Ancient of Days who has said, \u2018Thou shalt have no other gods but\nme.\u2019\u201d\n\nAnd as I said these words I heard a cry like the roaring of a lion, and\nan awful voice in the distance exclaim, \u201c_Kapul Udbagh_.\u201d {351}\n\nWe now turned to the left through a passage which passed under the tower,\nand had scarcely proceeded a few steps, when I heard a prodigious hubbub\nof infantine voices: I listened for a moment, and distinguished verses of\nthe Koran; it was a school. Another lesson for thee, Papist. Thou\ncallest thyself a Christian, yet the book of Christ thou persecutest;\nthou huntest it even to the seashore, compelling it to seek refuge upon\nthe billows of the sea. Fool, learn a lesson from the Moor, who teaches\nhis child to repeat with its first accents the most important portions of\nthe book of his law, and considers himself wise or foolish, according as\nhe is versed in or ignorant of that book; whilst thou, blind slave,\nknowest not what the book of thy own law contains, nor wishest to know:\nyet art thou not to be judged by thy own law? Idol-monger, learn\nconsistency from the Moor: he says that he shall be judged after his own\nlaw, and therefore he prizes and gets by heart the entire book of his\nlaw.\n\nWe were now at the consul\u2019s house, a large roomy habitation, built in the\nEnglish style. The soldier led me through a court into a large hall hung\nwith the skins of all kinds of ferocious animals, from the kingly lion to\nthe snarling jackal. Here I was received by a Jew domestic, who\nconducted me at once to the consul, who was in his library. He received\nme with the utmost frankness and genuine kindness, and informed me that,\nhaving received a letter from his excellent friend Mr. B---, in which I\nwas strongly recommended, he had already engaged me a lodging in the\nhouse of a Spanish woman, who was, however, a British subject, and with\nwhom he believed that I should find myself as comfortable as it was\npossible to be in such a place as Tangier. He then inquired if I had any\nparticular motive for visiting the place, and I informed him without\nhesitation that I came with the intention of distributing a certain\nnumber of copies of the New Testament in the Spanish language amongst the\nChristian residents of the place. He smiled, and advised me to proceed\nwith considerable caution, which I promised to do. We then discoursed on\nother subjects, and it was not long before I perceived that I was in the\ncompany of a most accomplished scholar, especially in the Greek and Latin\nclassics; he appeared likewise to be thoroughly acquainted with the\nBarbary empire and with the Moorish character.\n\nAfter half an hour\u2019s conversation, exceedingly agreeable and instructive\nto myself, I expressed a wish to proceed to my lodging; whereupon he rang\nthe bell, and, the same Jewish domestic entering who had introduced me,\nhe said to him in the English language, \u201cTake this gentleman to the house\nof Joanna Correa, the Mahonese widow, and enjoin her, in my name, to take\ncare of him and attend to his comforts; by doing which she will confirm\nme in the good opinion which I at present entertain of her, and will\nincrease my disposition to befriend her.\u201d\n\nSo, attended by the Jew, I now bent my steps to the lodging prepared for\nme. Having ascended the street in which the house of the consul was\nsituated, we entered a small square which stands about half way up the\nhill. This, my companion informed me, was the _soc_, or market-place. A\ncurious spectacle here presented itself. All round the square were small\nwooden booths, which very much resembled large boxes turned on their\nsides, the lid being supported above by a string. Before each of these\nboxes was a species of counter, or rather one long counter ran in front\nof the whole line, upon which were raisins, dates, and small barrels of\nsugar, soap, and butter, and various other articles. Within each box, in\nfront of the counter, and about three feet from the ground, sat a human\nbeing, with a blanket on its shoulders, a dirty turban on its head, and\nragged trousers, which descended as far as the knee, though in some\ninstances, I believe, these were entirely dispensed with. In its hand it\nheld a stick, to the end of which was affixed a bunch of palm leaves,\nwhich it waved incessantly as a fan, for the purpose of scaring from its\ngoods the million flies which, engendered by the Barbary sun, endeavoured\nto settle upon them. Behind it, and on either side, were piles of the\nsame kind of goods. _Shrit hinai_, _shrit hinai_, {354} was continually\nproceeding from its mouth. Such are the grocers of Tangier, such their\nshops.\n\nIn the middle of the _soc_, upon the stones, were pyramids of melons and\n_sandias_, and also baskets filled with other kinds of fruit, exposed for\nsale, whilst round cakes of bread were lying here and there upon the\nstones, beside which sat on their hams the wildest-looking beings that\nthe most extravagant imagination ever conceived, the head covered with an\nenormous straw hat, at least two yards in circumference, the eaves of\nwhich, flapping down, completely concealed the face, whilst the form was\nswathed in a blanket, from which occasionally were thrust skinny arms and\nfingers. These were Moorish women, who were, I believe, in all\ninstances, old and ugly, judging from the countenances of which I caught\na glimpse as they lifted the eaves of their hats to gaze on me as I\npassed, or to curse me for stamping on their bread. The whole _soc_ was\nfull of people, and there was abundance of bustle, screaming, and\nvociferation, and as the sun, though the hour was still early, was\nshining with the greatest brilliancy, I thought that I had scarcely ever\nwitnessed a livelier scene.\n\nCrossing the _soc_, we entered a narrow street with the same kind of\nbox-shops on each side, some of which, however, were either unoccupied or\nnot yet opened, the lid being closed. We almost immediately turned to\nthe left, up a street somewhat similar, and my guide presently entered\nthe door of a low house which stood at the corner of a little alley, and\nwhich he informed me was the abode of Joanna Correa. We soon stood in\nthe midst of this habitation. I say the midst, as all the Moorish houses\nare built with a small court in the middle. This one was not more than\nten feet square. It was open at the top, and around it on three sides\nwere apartments: on the fourth a small staircase, which communicated with\nthe upper story, half of which consisted of a terrace looking down into\nthe court, over the low walls of which you enjoyed a prospect of the sea\nand a considerable part of the town. The rest of the story was taken up\nby a long room, destined for myself, and which opened upon the terrace by\na pair of folding-doors. At either end of this apartment stood a bed,\nextending transversely from wall to wall, the canopy touching the\nceiling. A table and two or three chairs completed the furniture.\n\nI was so occupied in inspecting the house of Joanna Correa, that at first\nI paid little attention to that lady herself. She now, however, came up\nupon the terrace where my guide and myself were standing. She was a\nwoman about five and forty, with regular features, which had once been\nhandsome, but had received considerable injury from time, and perhaps\nmore from trouble. Two of her front teeth had disappeared, but she still\nhad fine black hair. As I looked upon her countenance, I said within\nmyself, if there be truth in physiognomy, thou art good and gentle, O\nJoanna; and, indeed, the kindness I experienced from her during the six\nweeks which I spent beneath her roof would have made me a convert to that\nscience had I doubted in it before. I believe no warmer and more\naffectionate heart ever beat in human bosom than in that of Joanna\nCorrea, the Mahonese widow, and it was indexed by features beaming with\nbenevolence and good nature, though somewhat clouded with melancholy.\n\nShe informed me that she had been married to a Genoese, the master of a\nfelouk which passed between Gibraltar and Tangier, who had been dead\nabout four years, leaving her with a family of four children, the eldest\nof which was a lad of thirteen; that she had experienced great difficulty\nin providing for her family and herself since the death of her husband,\nbut that Providence had raised her up a few excellent friends, especially\nthe British consul; that besides letting lodgings to such travellers as\nmyself, she made bread which was in high esteem with the Moors, and that\nshe was likewise in partnership in the sale of liquors with an old\nGenoese. She added that this last person lived below in one of the\napartments; that he was a man of great ability and much learning, but\nthat she believed he was occasionally somewhat touched here, pointing\nwith her finger to her forehead, and she therefore hoped that I would not\nbe offended at anything extraordinary in his language or behaviour. She\nthen left me, as she said, to give orders for my breakfast; whereupon the\nJewish domestic, who had accompanied me from the consul, finding that I\nwas established in the house, departed.\n\nI speedily sat down to breakfast in an apartment on the left side of the\nlittle _wustuddur_; the fare was excellent: tea, fried fish, eggs, and\ngrapes, not forgetting the celebrated bread of Joanna Correa. I was\nwaited upon by a tall Jewish youth of about twenty years, who informed me\nthat his name was Hayim Ben Attar, {357a} that he was a native of Fez,\nfrom whence his parents brought him at a very early age to Tangier, where\nhe had passed the greater part of his life principally in the service of\nJoanna Correa, waiting upon those who, like myself, lodged in the house.\nI had completed my meal, and was seated in the little court, when I heard\nin the apartment opposite to that in which I had breakfasted several\nsighs, which were succeeded by as many groans, and then came _Ave Maria_,\n_grati\u00e2 plena_, _ora pro me_, {357b} and finally a croaking voice\nchanted\u2014\n\n \u201cGentem auferte perfidam\n Credentium de finibus,\n Ut Christo laudes debitas\n Persolvamus alacriter.\u201d {357c}\n\n\u201cThat is the old Genoese,\u201d whispered Hayim Ben Attar, \u201cpraying to his\nGod, which he always does with particular devotion when he happens to\nhave gone to bed the preceding evening rather in liquor. He has in his\nroom a picture of _Maria Buckra_, before which he generally burns a\ntaper, and on her account he will never permit me to enter his apartment.\nHe once caught me looking at her, and I thought he would have killed me;\nand since then he always keeps his chamber locked, and carries the key in\nhis pocket when he goes out. He hates both Jew and Moor, and says that\nhe is now living amongst them for his sins.\u201d\n\n\u201cThey do not place tapers before pictures,\u201d said I, and strolled forth to\nsee the wonders of the land.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LVI.\n\n\nThe Mahasni\u2014Sin Samani\u2014The Bazaar\u2014Moorish Saints\u2014See the Ayana!\u2014The\nPrickly Fig\u2014Jewish Graves\u2014The Place of Carcases\u2014The Stable Boy\u2014Horses of\nthe Moslem\u2014Dar-dwag.\n\nI was standing in the market-place, a spectator of much the same scene as\nI have already described, when a Moor came up to me and attempted to\nutter a few words in Spanish. He was a tall elderly man, with sharp but\nrather whimsical features, and might have been called good looking, had\nhe not been one-eyed, a very common deformity in this country. {359} His\nbody was swathed in an immense _haik_. Finding that I could understand\nMoorish, he instantly began talking with immense volubility, and I soon\nlearnt that he was a _mahasni_. He expatiated diffusely on the beauties\nof Tangier, of which he said he was a native, and at last exclaimed,\n\u201cCome, my sultan, come, my lord, and I will show you many things which\nwill gladden your eyes, and fill your heart with sunshine; it were a\nshame in me, who have the advantage of being a son of Tangier, to permit\na stranger, who comes from an island in the great sea, as you tell me you\ndo, for the purpose of seeing this blessed land, to stand here in the\n_soc_ with no one to guide him. By Allah, it shall not be so. Make room\nfor my sultan, make room for my lord,\u201d he continued, pushing his way\nthrough a crowd of men and children who had gathered round us; \u201cit is his\nhighness\u2019 pleasure to go with me. This way, my lord, this way;\u201d and he\nled the way up the hill, walking at a tremendous rate, and talking still\nfaster. \u201cThis street,\u201d said he, \u201cis the Siarrin, and its like is not to\nbe found in Tangier; observe how broad it is, even half the breadth of\nthe _soc_ itself; here are the shops of the most considerable merchants,\nwhere are sold precious articles of all kinds. Observe those two men,\nthey are Algerines and good Moslems; they fled from Zair {360} when the\nNazarenes conquered it, not by force of fighting, not by valour, as you\nmay well suppose, but by gold; the Nazarenes only conquer by gold. The\nMoor is good, the Moor is strong, who so good and strong? but he fights\nnot with gold, and therefore he lost Zair.\n\n\u201cObserve you those men seated on the benches by those portals; they are\n_mokhasniah_, they are my brethren. See their _haiks_ how white, see\ntheir turbans how white. Oh that you could see their swords in the day\nof war, for bright, bright are their swords! Now they bear no swords.\nWherefore should they? is there not peace in the land? See you him in\nthe shop opposite? That is the Pasha of Tangier, that is the Hamed Sin\nSamani, the under Pasha of Tangier; the elder Pasha, my lord, is away on\na journey; may Allah send him a safe return. Yes, that is Hamed; he sits\nin his _hanutz_ as were he nought more than a merchant, yet life and\ndeath are in his hands. There he dispenses justice, even as he dispenses\nthe essence of the rose and cochineal, and powder of cannon and sulphur;\nand these two last he sells on the account of Abderrahman, my lord and\nsultan, for none can sell powder and the sulphur dust in his land but the\nsultan. Should you wish to purchase _attar del nuar_, {361} should you\nwish to purchase the essence of the rose, you must go to the _hanutz_ of\nSin Samani, for there only you will get it pure: you must receive it from\nno common Moor, but only from Hamed. May Allah bless Hamed. The\n_makhasniah_, my brethren, wait to do his orders, for wherever sits the\nPasha, there is a hall of judgment. See, now we are opposite the bazaar;\nbeneath yon gate is the court of the bazaar; what will you not find in\nthat bazaar? Silks from Fez you will find there: and if you wish for\n_sibat_, if you wish for slippers for your feet, you must seek them\nthere, and there also are sold curious things from the towns of the\nNazarenes. Those large houses on our left are habitations of Nazarene\nconsuls; you have seen many such in your own land, therefore why should\nyou stay to look at them? Do you not admire this street of the Siarrin?\nWhatever enters or goes out of Tangier by the land passes through this\nstreet. Oh, the riches that pass through this street! Behold those\ncamels, what a long train; twenty, thirty, a whole _cafila_ descending\nthe street. _Wullah_! I know those camels, I know the driver. Good\nday, O Sidi Hassim, in how many days from Fez? And now we are arrived at\nthe wall, and we must pass under this gate. This gate is called Bab del\nFaz; we are now in the Soc de Barra.\u201d\n\nThe Soc de Barra is an open place beyond the upper wall of Tangier, on\nthe side of the hill. The ground is irregular and steep; there are,\nhowever, some tolerably level spots. In this place, every Thursday {362}\nand Sunday morning, a species of mart is held, on which account it is\ncalled Soc de Barra, or the outward market-place. Here and there, near\nthe town ditch, are subterranean pits, with small orifices, about the\ncircumference of a chimney, which are generally covered with a large\nstone, or stuffed with straw. These pits are granaries, in which wheat,\nbarley, and other species of grain intended for sale are stored. On one\nside are two or three rude huts, or rather sheds, beneath which keep\nwatch the guardians of the corn. It is very dangerous to pass over this\nhill at night, after the town gates are closed, as at that time numerous\nlarge and ferocious dogs are let loose, who would to a certainty pull\ndown, and perhaps destroy, any stranger who should draw nigh. Halfway up\nthe hill are seen four white walls, inclosing a spot about ten feet\nsquare, where rest the bones of Sidi Mokhfidh, a saint of celebrity, who\ndied some fifteen years ago. Here terminates the _soc_; the remainder of\nthe hill is called El Kawar, or the place of graves, being the common\nburying-ground of Tangier; the resting-places of the dead are severally\ndistinguished by a few stones arranged so as to form an oblong circle.\nNear Mokhfidh sleeps Sidi Gali; but the principal saint of Tangier lies\ninterred on the top of the hill, in the centre of a small plain. A\nbeautiful chapel or mosque, with vaulted roof, is erected there in his\nhonour, which is in general adorned with banners of various dyes. The\nname of this saint is Mohammed _el Haji_, and his memory is held in the\nutmost veneration in Tangier and its vicinity. His death occurred at the\ncommencement of the present century.\n\nThese details I either gathered at the time or on subsequent occasions.\nOn the north side of the _soc_, close by the town, is a wall with a gate.\n\u201cCome,\u201d said the old _mahasni_, giving a flourish with his hand; \u201ccome,\nand I will show you the garden of a Nazarene consul.\u201d I followed him\nthrough the gate, and found myself in a spacious garden laid out in the\nEuropean taste, and planted with lemon and pear trees, and various kinds\nof aromatic shrubs. It was, however, evident that the owner chiefly\nprided himself on his flowers, of which there were numerous beds. There\nwas a handsome summer-house, and art seemed to have exhausted itself in\nmaking the place complete.\n\nOne thing was wanting, and its absence was strangely remarkable in a\ngarden at this time of the year; scarcely a leaf was to be seen. The\ndirest of all the plagues which devastated Egypt was now busy in this\npart of Africa\u2014the locust was at work, and in no place more fiercely than\nin the particular spot where I was now standing. All around looked\nblasted. The trees were brown and bald as in winter. Nothing green save\nthe fruits, especially the grapes, huge clusters of which were depending\nfrom the _parras_; for the locust touches not the fruit whilst a single\nleaf remains to be devoured. As we passed along the walks, these\nhorrible insects flew against us in every direction, and perished by\nhundreds beneath our feet. \u201cSee the _ayanas_,\u201d said the old _mahasni_,\n\u201cand hear them eating. Powerful is the _ayana_, more powerful than the\nsultan or the consul. Should the sultan send all his _makhasniah_\nagainst the _ayana_, should he send me with them, the _ayana_ would say,\n\u2018Ha! ha!\u2019 Powerful is the _ayana_! He fears not the consul. A few\nweeks ago the consul said, \u2018I am stronger than the _ayana_, and I will\nextirpate him from the land.\u2019 So he shouted through the city, \u2018O\nTangerines! speed forth to fight the _ayana_,\u2014destroy him in the egg; for\nknow that whosoever shall bring me one pound weight of the eggs of the\n_ayana_, unto him will I give five _reals_ of Spain; there shall be no\n_ayanas_ this year.\u2019 So all Tangier rushed forth to fight the _ayana_,\nand to collect the eggs which the _ayana_ had laid to hatch beneath the\nsand on the sides of the hills, and in the roads, and in the plains. And\nmy own child, who is seven years old, went forth to fight the _ayana_,\nand he alone collected eggs to the weight of five pounds, eggs which the\n_ayana_ had placed beneath the sand, and he carried them to the consul,\nand the consul paid the price. And hundreds carried eggs to the consul,\nmore or less, and the consul paid them the price, and in less than three\ndays the treasure chest of the consul was exhausted. And then he cried,\n\u2018Desist, O Tangerines! perhaps we have destroyed the _ayana_, perhaps we\nhave destroyed them all!\u2019 Ha! ha! Look around you, and beneath you, and\nabove you, and tell me whether the consul has destroyed the _ayana_. Oh,\npowerful is the _ayana_! More powerful than the consul, more powerful\nthan the sultan and all his armies.\u201d {364}\n\nIt will be as well to observe here, that within a week from this time all\nthe locusts had disappeared, no one knew how\u2014only a few stragglers\nremained. But for this providential deliverance, the fields and gardens\nin the vicinity of Tangier would have been totally devastated. These\ninsects were of an immense size, and of a loathly appearance.\n\nWe now passed over the _soc_ to the opposite side, where stand the huts\nof the guardians. Here a species of lane presents itself, which descends\nto the seashore; it is deep and precipitous, and resembles a gully or\nravine. The banks on either side are covered with the tree which bears\nthe prickly fig, called in Moorish, _Kermous del Inde_. {365} There is\nsomething wild and grotesque in the appearance of this tree or plant, for\nI know not which to call it. Its stem, though frequently of the\nthickness of a man\u2019s body, has no head, but divides itself, at a short\ndistance from the ground, into many crooked branches, which shoot in all\ndirections, and bear green and uncouth leaves, about half an inch in\nthickness, and which, if they resemble anything, present the appearance\nof the fore fins of a seal, and consist of multitudinous fibres. The\nfruit, which somewhat resembles a pear, has a rough tegument covered with\nminute prickles, which instantly enter the hand which touches them,\nhowever slightly, and are very difficult to extract. I never remember to\nhave seen vegetation in ranker luxuriance than that which these fig-trees\nexhibited, nor upon the whole a more singular spot. \u201cFollow me,\u201d said\nthe _mahasni_, \u201cand I will show you something which you will like to\nsee.\u201d So he turned to the left, leading the way by a narrow path up the\nsteep bank, till we reached the summit of a hillock, separated by a deep\nditch from the wall of Tangier. The ground was thickly covered with the\ntrees already described, which spread their strange arms along the\nsurface, and whose thick leaves crushed beneath our feet as we walked\nalong. Amongst them I observed a large number of stone slabs lying\nhorizontally; they were rudely scrawled over with odd characters, which\nstooped down to inspect. \u201cAre you _talib_ enough read those signs?\u201d\nexclaimed the old Moor. \u201cThey are letters of the accursed Jews; this is\ntheir _mearrah_, as they call it, and here they inter their dead. Fools,\nthey trust in Muza, when they might believe in Mohammed, and therefore\ntheir dead shall burn everlastingly in _Jehinnim_. See, my sultan, how\nfat is the soil of this _mearrah_ of the Jews; see what _kermous_ grow\nhere. When I was a boy I often came to the _mearrah_ of the Jews to eat\n_kermous_ in the season of their ripeness. The Moslem boys of Tangier\nlove the _kermous_ of the _mearrah_ of the Jews; but the Jews will not\ngather them. They say that the waters of the springs which nourish the\nroots of these trees pass among the bodies of their dead, and for that\nreason it is an abomination to taste of these fruits. Be this true, or\nbe it not, one thing is certain, in whatever manner nourished, good are\nthe _kermous_ which grow in the _mearrah_ of the Jews.\u201d\n\nWe returned to the lane by the same path by which we had come: as we were\ndescending it he said, \u201cKnow, my sultan, that the name of the place where\nwe now are, and which you say you like much, is Dar-sinah. {367a} You\nwill ask me why it bears that name, as you see neither house nor man,\nneither Moslem, Nazarene, nor Jew, only our two selves; I will tell you,\nmy sultan, for who can tell you better than myself? Learn, I pray you,\nthat Tangier was not always what it is now, nor did it occupy always the\nplace which it does now. It stood yonder (pointing to the east) on those\nhills above the shore, and ruins of houses are still to be seen there,\nand the spot is called Old Tangier. So in the old time, as I have heard\nsay, this Dar-sinah was a street, whether without or within the wall\nmatters not, and there resided men of all trades; smiths of gold, and\nsilver, and iron, and tin, and artificers of all kinds. You had only to\ngo to the Dar-sinah if you wished for any thing wrought, and there\ninstantly you would find a master of the particular craft. My sultan\ntells me he likes the look of Dar-sinah at the present day; truly I know\nnot why, especially as the _kermous_ are not yet in their ripeness, nor\nfit to eat. If he likes Dar-sinah now, how would my sultan have liked it\nin the old time, when it was filled with gold and silver, and iron and\ntin, and was noisy with the hammers, and the masters and the cunning men?\nWe are now arrived at the _Chali del Bahar_. {367b} Take care, my\nsultan, we tread upon bones.\u201d\n\nWe had emerged from the Dar-sinah, and the seashore was before us; on a\nsudden we found ourselves amongst a multitude of bones of all kinds of\nanimals, and seemingly of all dates; some being blanched with time and\nexposure to sun and wind, whilst to others the flesh still partly clung;\nwhole carcases were here, horses, asses, and even the uncouth remains of\na camel. Gaunt dogs were busy here, growling, tearing, and gnawing;\namongst whom, unintimidated, stalked the carrion vulture, fiercely\nbattening and even disputing with the brutes the garbage; whilst the crow\nhovered overhead, and croaked wistfully, or occasionally perched upon\nsome upturned rib bone. \u201cSee,\u201d said the _mahasni_, \u201cthe _kawar_ of the\nanimals. My sultan has seen the _kawar_ of the Moslems and the _mearrah_\nof the Jews; and he sees here the _kawar_ of the animals. All the\nanimals which die in Tangier by the hand of God\u2014horse, dog, or camel\u2014are\nbrought to this spot, and here they putrefy or are devoured by the birds\nof the heaven or the wild creatures that prowl on the _chali_. Come, my\nsultan, it is not good to remain long in this place.\u201d\n\nWe were preparing to leave the spot, when we heard a galloping down the\nDar-sinah, and presently a horse and rider darted at full speed from the\nmouth of the lane and appeared upon the strand: the horseman, when he saw\nus, pulled up his steed with much difficulty, and joined us. The horse\nwas small but beautiful, a sorrel with long mane and tail; had he been\nhoodwinked he might perhaps have been mistaken for a Cordovese _jaca_; he\nwas broad-chested, and rotund in his hind quarters, and possessed much of\nthe plumpness and sleekness which distinguish that breed, but looking in\nhis eyes you would have been undeceived in a moment; a wild savage fire\ndarted from the restless orbs, and so far from exhibiting the docility of\nthe other noble and loyal animal, he occasionally plunged desperately,\nand could scarcely be restrained by a strong curb and powerful arm from\nresuming his former head-long course. The rider was a youth, apparently\nabout eighteen, dressed as a European, with a _montero_ cap on his head:\nhe was athletically built, but with lengthy limbs, his feet, for he rode\nwithout stirrups or saddle, reaching almost to the ground; his complexion\nwas almost as dark as that of a Mulatto; his features very handsome, the\neyes particularly so, but filled with an expression which was bold and\nbad; and there was a disgusting look of sensuality about the mouth. He\naddressed a few words to the _mahasni_, with whom he seemed to be well\nacquainted, inquiring who I was. The old man answered, \u201cO Jew, my sultan\nunderstands our speech, thou hadst better address thyself to him.\u201d The\nlad then spoke to me in Arabic, but almost instantly dropping that\nlanguage, proceeded to discourse in tolerable French. \u201cI suppose you are\nFrench,\u201d said he with much familiarity; \u201cshall you stay long in Tangier?\u201d\nHaving received an answer, he proceeded, \u201cas you are an Englishman, you\nare doubtless fond of horses; know, therefore, whenever you are disposed\nfor a ride, I will accompany you, and procure you horses. My name is\nEphraim Fragey: I am stable-boy to the Neapolitan consul, who prizes\nhimself upon possessing the best horses in Tangier; you shall mount any\nyou please. Would you like to try this little _aoud_?\u201d I thanked him,\nbut declined his offer for the present, asking him at the same time how\nhe had acquired the French language, and why he, a Jew, did not appear in\nthe dress of his brethren? \u201cI am in the service of a consul,\u201d said he,\n\u201cand my master obtained permission that I might dress myself in this\nmanner; and as to speaking French, I have been to Marseilles and Naples,\nto which last place I conveyed horses, presents from the sultan. Besides\nFrench, I can speak Italian.\u201d He then dismounted, and holding the horse\nfirmly by the bridle with one hand, proceeded to undress himself, which\nhaving accomplished, he mounted the animal and rode into the water. The\nskin of his body was much akin in colour to that of a frog or toad, but\nthe frame was that of a young Titan. The horse took to the water with\ngreat unwillingness, and at a small distance from the shore commenced\nstruggling with his rider, whom he twice dashed from his back; the lad,\nhowever, clung to the bridle, and detained the animal. All his efforts,\nhowever, being unavailing to ride him deeper in, he fell to washing him\nstrenuously with his hands, then leading him out, he dressed himself and\nreturned by the way he came.\n\n\u201cGood are the horses of the Moslems,\u201d said my old friend; \u201cwhere will you\nfind such? They will descend rocky mountains at full speed and neither\ntrip nor fall; but you must be cautious with the horses of the Moslems,\nand treat them with kindness, for the horses of the Moslems are proud,\nand they like not being slaves. When they are young and first mounted,\njerk not their mouths with your bit, for be sure if you do they will kill\nyou; sooner or later, you will perish beneath their feet. Good are our\nhorses, and good our riders, yea, very good are the Moslems at mounting\nthe horse; who are like them? I once saw a Frank rider compete with a\nMoslem on this beach, and at first the Frank rider had it all his own\nway, and he passed the Moslem, but the course was long, very long, and\nthe horse of the Frank rider, which was a Frank also, panted; but the\nhorse of the Moslem panted not, for he was a Moslem also, and the Moslem\nrider at last gave a cry and the horse sprang forward and he overtook the\nFrank horse, and then the Moslem rider stood up in his saddle. How did\nhe stand? Truly he stood on his head, and these eyes saw him; he stood\non his head in the saddle as he passed the Frank rider; and he cried ha!\nha! as he passed the Frank rider; and the Moslem horse cried ha! ha! as\nhe passed the Frank breed, and the Frank lost by a far distance. Good\nare the Franks; good their horses; but better are the Moslems, and better\nare the horses of the Moslems.\u201d\n\nWe now directed our steps towards the town, but not by the path we came:\nturning to the left under the hill of the _mearrah_, and along the\nstrand, we soon came to a rudely-paved way with a steep ascent, which\nwound beneath the wall of the town to a gate, before which, on one side,\nwere various little pits like graves, filled with water or lime. \u201cThis\nis Dar-dwag,\u201d said the _mahasni_; \u201cthis is the house of the bark, and to\nthis house are brought the hides; all those which are prepared for use in\nTangier are brought to this house, and here they are cured with lime, and\nbran, and bark, and herbs. And in this Dar-dwag there are one hundred\nand forty pits; I have counted them myself; and there were more which\nhave now ceased to be, for the place is very ancient. And these pits are\nhired not by one, nor by two, but by many people, and whosoever list can\nrent one of these pits and cure the hides which he may need; but the\nowner of all is one man, and his name is Cado Ableque. And now my sultan\nhas seen the house of the bark, and I will show him nothing more this\nday; for to-day is _Youm al Jumal_, {372} and the gates will be presently\nshut whilst the Moslems perform their devotions. So I will accompany my\nsultan to the guest house, and there I will leave him for the present.\u201d\n\nWe accordingly passed through a gate, and ascending a street found\nourselves before the mosque where I had stood in the morning; in another\nminute or two we were at the door of Joanna Correa. I now offered my\nkind guide a piece of silver as a remuneration for his trouble, whereupon\nhe drew himself up and said\u2014\n\n\u201cThe silver of my sultan I will not take, for I consider that I have done\nnothing to deserve it. We have not yet visited all the wonderful things\nof this blessed town. On a future day I will conduct my sultan to the\ncastle of the governor, and to other places which my sultan will be glad\nto see; and when we have seen all we can, and my sultan is content with\nme, if at any time he see me in the _soc_ of a morning, with my basket in\nmy hand, and he see nothing in that basket, then is my sultan at liberty\nas a friend to put grapes in my basket, or bread in my basket, or fish or\nmeat in my basket. That will I not refuse of my sultan, when I shall\nhave done more for him than I have now. But the silver of my sultan will\nI not take now nor at any time.\u201d He then waved his hand gently, and\ndeparted.\n\n\n\n\nCHAPTER LVII.\n\n\nStrange Trio\u2014The Mulatto\u2014The Peace-offering\u2014Moors of Granada\u2014Vive la\nGuadeloupe\u2014The Moors\u2014Pascual Fava\u2014Blind Algerine\u2014The Retreat.\n\nThree men were seated in the _wustuddur_ of Joanna Correa, when I\nentered; singular-looking men they all were, though perhaps three were\nnever gathered together more unlike to each other in all points. The\nfirst on whom I cast my eye was a man about sixty, dressed in a grey\nkerseymere coat with short lappets, yellow waistcoat, and wide coarse\ncanvas trousers; upon his head was a very broad dirty straw hat, and in\nhis hand he held a thick cane with ivory handle; his eyes were bleared\nand squinting, his face rubicund, and his nose much carbuncled. Beside\nhim sat a good-looking black, who perhaps appeared more negro than he\nreally was, from the circumstance of his being dressed in spotless white\njean\u2014jerkin, waistcoat, and pantaloons being all of that material: his\nhead gear consisted of a blue _montero_ cap. His eyes sparkled like\ndiamonds, and there was an indescribable expression of good humour and\nfun upon his countenance. The third man was a Mulatto, and by far the\nmost remarkable personage of the group: he might be between thirty and\nforty; his body was very long, and, though uncouthly put together,\nexhibited every mark of strength and vigour; it was cased in a _ferioul_\nof red wool, a kind of garment which descends below the hips. His long,\nmuscular, and hairy arms were naked from the elbow, where the sleeves of\nthe _ferioul_ terminate; his under limbs were short in comparison with\nhis body and arms; his legs were bare, but he wore blue _kandrisa_ as far\nas the knee; every feature of his face was ugly, exceedingly and bitterly\nugly, and one of his eyes was sightless, being covered with a white film.\nBy his side on the ground was a large barrel, seemingly a water-cask,\nwhich he occasionally seized with a finger and thumb, and waved over his\nhead as if it had been a quart pot. Such was the trio who now occupied\nthe _wustuddur_ of Joanna Correa: and I had scarcely time to remark what\nI have just recorded, when that good lady entered from a back court with\nher handmaid Joh\u00e1r, or the pearl, an ugly fat Jewish girl with an immense\nmole on her cheek.\n\n\u201c_Que Dios remate tu nombre_,\u201d exclaimed the Mulatto; \u201cmay Allah blot out\nyour name, Joanna, and may he likewise blot out that of your maid Joh\u00e1r.\nIt is more than fifteen minutes that I have been seated here, after\nhaving poured out into the _tinaja_ the water which I brought from the\nfountain, and during all that time I have waited in vain for one single\nword of civility from yourself or from Joh\u00e1r. _Usted no tiene modo_, you\nhave no manner with you, nor more has Joh\u00e1r. This is the only house in\nTangier where I am not received with fitting love and respect, and yet I\nhave done more for you than for any other person. Have I not filled your\n_tinaja_ with water when other people have gone without a drop? When\neven the consul and the interpreter of the consul had no water to slake\ntheir thirst, have you not had enough to wash your _wustuddur_? And what\nis my return? When I arrive in the heat of the day, I have not one kind\nword spoken to me, nor so much as a glass of _makhiah_ offered to me;\nmust I tell you all that I do for you, Joanna? Truly I must, for you\nhave no manner with you. Do I not come every morning just at the third\nhour; and do I not knock at your door; and do you not arise and let me\nin, and then do I not knead your bread in your presence, whilst you lie\nin bed, and because I knead it is not yours the best bread in Tangier?\nFor am I not the strongest man in Tangier, and the most noble also?\u201d\nHere he brandished his barrel over his head, and his face looked almost\ndemoniacal. \u201cHear me, Joanna,\u201d he continued, \u201cyou know that I am the\nstrongest man in Tangier, and I tell you again for the thousandth time,\nthat I am the most noble. Who are the consuls? Who is the Pasha? They\nare Pashas and consuls now, but who were their fathers? I know not, nor\ndo they. But do I not know who _my_ fathers; were? Were they not Moors\nof Garnata (_Granada_), {375} and is it not on that account that I am the\nstrongest man in Tangier? Yes, I am of the old Moors of Garnata, and my\nfamily has lived here, as is well known, since Garnata was lost to the\nNazarenes, and now I am the only one of my family of the blood of the old\nMoors in all this land, and on that account I am of nobler blood than the\nsultan, for the sultan is not of the blood of the Moors of Garnata. Do\nyou laugh, Joanna? Does your maid Joh\u00e1r laugh? Am I not Hammin Widdir,\n_el hombre mas valido de Tanger_? {376a} And is it not true that I am of\nthe blood of the Moors of Garnata? Deny it, and I will kill you both,\nyou and your maid Joh\u00e1r.\u201d\n\n\u201cYou have been eating _hsheesh_ and _majoon_, Hammin,\u201d said Joanna\nCorrea, \u201cand the _Shait\u00e1n_ has entered into you, as he but too frequently\ndoes. I have been busy, and so has Joh\u00e1r, or we should have spoken to\nyou before; however, _ma ydoorshee_, {376b} I know how to pacify you now\nand at all times; will you take some gin-bitters, or a glass of common\n_makhiah_?\u201d\n\n\u201cMay you burst, O Joanna,\u201d said the Mulatto, \u201cand may Joh\u00e1r also burst; I\nmean, may you both live many years, and know neither pain nor sorrow. I\nwill take the gin-bitters, O Joanna, because they are stronger than the\n_makhiah_, which always appears to me like water; and I like not water,\nthough I carry it. Many thanks to you, Joanna; here is health to you,\nJoanna, and to this good company.\u201d\n\nShe had handed him a large tumbler filled to the brim; he put it to his\nnostrils, snuffed in the flavour, and then, applying it to his mouth,\nremoved it not whilst one drop of the fluid remained. His features\ngradually relaxed from their former angry expression, and looking\nparticularly amiable at Joanna, he at last said\u2014\n\n\u201cI hope that within a little time, O Joanna, you will be persuaded that I\nam the strongest man in Tangier, and that I am sprung from the blood of\nthe Moors of Garnata, as then you will no longer refuse to take me for a\nhusband, you and your maid Joh\u00e1r, and to become Moors. What a glory to\nyou, after having been married to a _Genoui_, and given birth to\n_Genouillos_, to receive for husband a Moor like me, and to bear him\nchildren of the blood of Garnata! What a glory, too, for Joh\u00e1r!\u2014how much\nbetter than to marry a vile Jew, even like Hayim Ben Attar, or your cook\nSabia, both of whom I could strangle with two fingers, for am I not\nHammin Widdir, _Moro de Garnata_, _el hombre mas valido de Tanger_?\u201d He\nthen shouldered his barrel and departed.\n\n\u201cIs that Mulatto really what he pretends to be?\u201d said I to Joanna; \u201cis he\na descendant of the Moors of Granada?\u201d\n\n\u201cHe always talks about the Moors of Granada, when he is mad with _majoon_\nor _aguardiente_,\u201d interrupted, in bad French, the old man whom I have\nbefore described, and in the same croaking voice which I had heard\nchanting in the morning. \u201cNevertheless it may be true, and if he had not\nheard something of the kind from his parents, he would never have\nimagined such a thing, for he is too stupid. As I said before, it is by\nno means impossible: many of the families of Granada settled down here\nwhen their town was taken by the Christians, but the greater part went to\nTunis. When I was there, I lodged in the house of a Moor who called\nhimself Zegri, {378} and was always talking of Granada and the things\nwhich his forefathers had done there. He would moreover sit for hours\nsinging romances of which I understood not one word, praised be the\nMother of God, but which he said all related to his family: there were\nhundreds of that name in Tunis, therefore why should not this Hammin,\nthis drunken water-carrier, be a Moor of Granada also? He is ugly enough\nto be emperor of all the Moors. Oh, the accursed _canaille_! I have\nlived amongst them for my sins these eight years, at Oran and here.\n_Monsieur_, do you not consider it to be a hard case for an old man like\nmyself, who am a Christian, to live amongst a race who know not God, nor\nChrist, nor anything holy?\u201d\n\n\u201cWhat do you mean?\u201d said I, \u201cby asserting that the Moors know not God?\nThere is no people in the world who entertain sublimer notions of the\nuncreated eternal God than the Moors, and no people have ever shown\nthemselves more zealous for His honour and glory: their very zeal for the\nglory of God has been and is the chief obstacle to their becoming\nChristians. They are afraid of compromising His dignity by supposing\nthat He ever condescended to become man. And with respect to Christ,\ntheir ideas even of Him are much more just than those of the Papists;\nthey say He is a mighty prophet, whilst, according to the others, He is\neither a piece of bread, or a helpless infant. In many points of\nreligion the Moors are wrong, dreadfully wrong; but are the Papists less\nso? And one of their practices sets them immeasurably below the Moors in\nthe eyes of any unprejudiced person: they bow down to idols, Christian\nidols if you like, but idols still, things graven of wood, and stone, and\nbrass; and from these things, which can neither hear, nor speak, nor\nfeel, they ask and expect to obtain favours.\u201d\n\n\u201c_Vive la France_, _Vive la Guadeloupe_!\u201d said the black, with a good\nFrench accent. \u201cIn France and in Guadeloupe there is no superstition,\nand they pay as much regard to the Bible as to the Koran; I am now\nlearning to read, in order that I may understand the writings of\nVoltaire, who, as I am told, has proved that both the one and the other\nwere written with the sole intention of deceiving mankind. _O_, _vive la\nFrance_! where will you find such an enlightened country as France; and\nwhere will you find such a plentiful country as France? Only one in the\nworld, and that is Guadeloupe. Is it not so, Monsieur Pascual? Were you\never at Marseilles? _Ah quel bon pays est celui-l\u00e0 pour les vivres_,\n_pour les petits poulets_, _pour les poulardes_, _pour les perdrix_,\n_pour les perdreaux_, _pour les alouettes_, _pour les b\u00e9casses_, _pour\nles b\u00e9cassines_, _enfin_, _pour tout_.\u201d\n\n\u201cPray, sir, are you a cook?\u201d demanded I.\n\n\u201c_Monsieur_, _je le suis pour vous rendre service_, _mon nom c\u2019est\nG\u00e9rard_, _et j\u2019ai l\u2019honneur d\u2019\u00eatre chef de cuisine chez monsieur le\nconsul Hollandois_. _A present je prie permission de vous saluer_; _il\nfaut que j\u2019aille \u00e0 la maison pour faire le diner de mon ma\u00eetre_.\u201d\n\nAt four I went to dine with the British consul. Two other English\ngentlemen were present, who had arrived at Tangier from Gibraltar about\nten days previously for a short excursion, and were now detained longer\nthan they wished by the Levant wind. They had already visited the\nprincipal towns in Spain, and proposed spending the winter either at\nCadiz or Seville. One of them, Mr. ---, struck me as being one of the\nmost remarkable men I had ever conversed with: he travelled not for\ndiversion nor instigated by curiosity, but merely with the hope of doing\nspiritual good, chiefly by conversation. The consul soon asked me what I\nthought of the Moors and their country. I told him that what I had\nhitherto seen of both highly pleased me. He said that were I to live\namongst them ten years, as he had done, he believed I should entertain a\nvery different opinion; that no people in the world were more false and\ncruel; that their government was one of the vilest description, with\nwhich it was next to an impossibility for any foreign power to hold\namicable relations, as it invariably acted with bad faith, and set at\nnought the most solemn treaties. That British property and interests\nwere every day subjected to ruin and spoliation, and British subjects\nexposed to unheard-of vexations, without the slightest hope of redress\nbeing offered, save recourse was had to force, the only argument to which\nthe Moors were accessible. He added, that towards the end of the\npreceding year an atrocious murder had been perpetrated in Tangier: a\nGenoese family of three individuals had perished, all of whom were\nBritish subjects, and entitled to the protection of the British flag.\nThe murderers were known, and the principal one was even now in prison\nfor the fact; yet all attempts to bring him to condign punishment had\nhitherto proved abortive, as he was a Moor, and his victims Christians.\nFinally, he cautioned me not to take walks beyond the wall unaccompanied\nby a soldier, whom he offered to provide for me should I desire it, as\notherwise I incurred great risk of being ill-treated by the Moors of the\ninterior, whom I might meet, or perhaps murdered; and he instanced the\ncase of a British officer who not long since had been murdered on the\nbeach for no other reason than being a Nazarene, and appearing in a\nNazarene dress. He at length introduced the subject of the Gospel, and I\nwas pleased to learn that, during his residence in Tangier, he had\ndistributed a considerable quantity of Bibles amongst the natives in the\nArabic language, and that many of the learned men, or _talibs_, had read\nthe holy volume with great interest, and that by this distribution,\nwhich, it is true, was effected with much caution, no angry or unpleasant\nfeeling had been excited. He finally asked whether I had come with the\nintention of circulating the Scripture amongst the Moors.\n\nI replied that I had no opportunity of doing so, as I had not one single\ncopy either in the Arabic language or character. That the few Testaments\nwhich were in my possession were in the Spanish language, and were\nintended for circulation amongst the Christians of Tangier, to whom they\nmight be serviceable, as they all understood the language.\n\nIt was night, and I was seated in the _wustuddur_ of Joanna Correa, in\ncompany with Pascual Fava, the Genoese. The old man\u2019s favourite subject\nof discourse appeared to be religion, and he professed unbounded love for\nthe Saviour, and the deepest sense of gratitude for his miraculous\natonement for the sins of mankind. I should have listened to him with\npleasure had he not smelt very strongly of liquor, and by certain\nincoherences of language and wildness of manner given indications of\nbeing in some degree the worse for it. Suddenly two figures appeared\nbeneath the doorway; one was that of a bareheaded and bare-legged Moorish\nboy of about ten years of age, dressed in a _gelaba_. He guided by the\nhand an old man, whom I at once recognized as one of the Algerines, the\ngood Moslems of whom the old _mahasni_ had spoken in terms of praise in\nthe morning whilst we ascended the street of the Siarrin. He was very\nshort of stature and dirty in his dress; the lower part of his face was\ncovered with a stubbly white beard; before his eyes he wore a large pair\nof spectacles, from which he evidently received but little benefit, as he\nrequired the assistance of the guide at every step. The two advanced a\nlittle way into the _wustuddur_, and there stopped. Pascual Fava no\nsooner beheld them, than assuming a jovial air he started nimbly up, and\nleaning on his stick, for he had a bent leg, limped to a cupboard, out of\nwhich he took a bottle and poured out a glass of wine, singing in the\nbroken kind of Spanish used by the Moors of the coast\u2014\n\n \u201cArgelino,\n Moro fino,\n No beber vino,\n Ni comer tocino.\u201d {382}\n\nHe then handed the wine to the old Moor, who drank it off, and then, led\nby the boy, made for the door without saying a word.\n\n\u201c_Hade mushe halal_,\u201d {383a} said I to him with a loud voice.\n\n\u201c_Cul shee halal_,\u201d {383b} said the old Moor, turning his sightless and\nspectacled eyes in the direction from which my voice reached him. \u201cOf\neverything which God has given, it is lawful for the children of God to\npartake.\u201d\n\n\u201cWho is that old man?\u201d said I to Pascual Fava, after the blind and the\nleader of the blind had departed. \u201cWho is he!\u201d said Pascual; \u201cwho is he!\nHe is a merchant now, and keeps a shop in the Siarrin, but there was a\ntime when no bloodier pirate sailed out of Algier. That old blind wretch\nhas cut more throats than he has hairs in his beard. Before the French\ntook the place he was the _rais_ or captain of a frigate, and many was\nthe poor Sardinian vessel which fell into his hands. After that affair\nhe fled to Tangier, and it is said that he brought with him a great part\nof the booty which he had amassed in former times. Many other Algerines\ncame hither also, or to Tetuan, but he is the strangest guest of them\nall. He keeps occasionally very extraordinary company for a Moor, and is\nrather over-intimate with the Jews. Well, that\u2019s no business of mine;\nonly let him look to himself. If the Moors should once suspect him, it\nwere all over with him. Moors and Jews, Jews and Moors! Oh my poor\nsins, my poor sins, that brought me to live amongst them!\u2014\n\n \u201c\u2018Ave maris stella,\n Dei Mater alma,\n Atque semper virgo,\n Felix c\u0153li porta!\u2019\u201d {383c}\n\nHe was proceeding in this manner when I was startled by the sound of a\nmusket.\n\n\u201cThat is the retreat,\u201d said Pascual Fava. \u201cIt is fired every night in\nthe _soc_ at half-past eight, and it is the signal for suspending all\nbusiness, and shutting up. I am now going to close the doors, and\nwhosoever knocks, I shall not admit them till I know their voice. Since\nthe murder of the poor Genoese last year, we have all been particularly\ncautious.\u201d\n\nThus had passed Friday, the sacred day of the Moslems, and the first\nwhich I had spent in Tangier. I observed that the Moors followed their\noccupations as if the day had nothing particular in it. Between twelve\nand one, the hour of prayer in the mosque, the gates of the town were\nclosed, and no one permitted either to enter or go out. There is a\ntradition current amongst them, that on this day, and at this hour, their\neternal enemies, the Nazarenes, will arrive to take possession of their\ncountry; on which account they hold themselves prepared against a\nsurprisal.\n\n\n\n\nGLOSSARY.\n\n\nIn the following pages a translation only has been given, as a rule, of\nthe Romany words, but references have been added which will enable _los\ndel aficion_ to acquire fuller knowledge elsewhere. It is only right to\nstate that for any philological theories advanced in this part of the\nGlossary the late Mr. Burke is not responsible.\u2014H. W. G.\n\n LIST OF ABBREVIATIONS.\n\nA. Ascoli, Zigeunerisches. 1865.\nF. Francisque-Michel, Le Pays Basque. 1857.\nG. Journal of the Gypsy Lore Society. 1888\u20131892.\nGr. Groome, In Gipsy Tents. 1880.\nH. Hidalgo, Romances de German\u00eda. 1779.\nJ. Jimenez, Vocabulario del Dialecto Jitano. 1853.\nLel. Leland, The Gypsies.\nLL. Borrow, Romano Lavo-Lil. 1888.\nM. Miklosich, Ueber die Mundarten und die Wanderungen der\n Zigeuner Europa\u2019s. 1872\u20131880.\nMcR. MacRitchie, The Gypsies of India. 1886.\nP. Pott, Die Zigeuner in Europa und Asien. 1844\u20135.\nPp. Paspati, Etudes sur les Tchinghian\u00e9s ou Boh\u00e9miens de\n l\u2019Empire Ottoman. 1870.\nR. De Rochas, Les Parias de France et d\u2019Espagne. 1876.\nS. Smith, Tent Life with English Gypsies in Norway. 1873.\nSC. Smart and Crofton, The Dialect of the English Gypsies.\nW. Wlislocki, Die Sprache der transsilvanischen Zigeuner.\n 1884.\nZ. Borrow, The Zincali, 3rd edit. 1843.\n\nA. _Arab._ O! _A sidi_, \u201c_O my lord_!\u201d\n\n\u00c1. _Span._ and _Port._ To.\n\nABAJAR. _Span_. To descend.\n\nAC\u00c1NA. _Rom._ Now. P. ii. 124; A. 21; W. 70.\n\nADUANA. _Span._ The custom-house. Fr. _la douane_, from Arab. _diw\u00e1n_;\neither as a council or as an account-book.\n\nADUN. _Hebr._ Lord; _Adon_.\n\nAFICION. _Span._ Affection. _Los del aficion_, \u201cthose of the\npredilection,\u201d persons addicted to the gypsies and their language. Z.\nii. 58.\n\nAFRANCESADO. _Span._ Frenchified.\n\nAGOA. _Port._ Water. Span. _agua_.\n\nAGUADOR. _Span._ A water-carrier.\n\nAGUARDIENTE. _Span._ _Agua ardiente_, fire-water; coarse native spirit;\nSpanish brandy.\n\nALAMEDA. _Span._ A public promenade in or near a town, planted with\ntrees. Lit. a place of poplars, from Span. _\u00e1lamo_, a poplar.\n\nALCAHUETE. _Span._ A spy; a pimp. Arab. _al \u1e33aww\u0101d_.\n\nALCAL\u00c1. _Span._ The fort. Arab, _al-\u1e33al\u2018ah_.\n\nALCALDE. _Span._ The mayor or chief magistrate of a town or village.\nArab. _al \u1e33\u00e1di_, the judge.\n\nALCALDE MAYOR. The chief magistrate of a district.\n\nALCAYDE. _Span._ A governor of a castle or fortress. Arab. _al \u1e33\u00e1id_,\nthe general. In more modern parlance, the governor of a prison, a\njailer.\n\nALCAZAR. _Span._ A castle; palace; a fortress. Arab. _al \u1e33a\u1e63r_.\n\nALCORNOQUE. _Span._ The cork tree, _Quercus suber_.\n\nALDEA. _Span_. and _Port._ A village.\n\nALECRIM. _Port._ Rosemary. A word said to be of Arabic origin, perhaps\n_al kar\u00edm_, a precious thing. The Spanish _romero_, or pilgrim flower\n(see note, i. 47). The English word is said to be derived from _ros\nmarinus_, dew of the sea.\n\nALEM. _Port._ Beyond. _Alemtejo_, the district beyond the Tagus.\n\nALFANDEGA. _Port._ Custom-house. The Arab. _fundu\u1e33_, a large house.\n\nALFORJAS, LAS. _Span._ Saddle-bags. Arab. _al khurj_.\n\nALGIBE. _Span._ A vaulted subterranean cistern for storing water.\nArab. _jubb_, a reservoir.\n\nALGUACIL or ALGUAZIL. _Span._ A constable, or peace-officer. Arab. _al\nwazir_, the vizier, governor, deputy, or minister.\n\nALHAJA. _Span._ Any precious article, a jewel. Probably from the Arab,\n_al-hadja_.\n\nALHAMA. Stated by Borrow (i. 394) to be a Moorish word, meaning \u201cwarm\nbaths.\u201d Apparently the Arab, _al \u1e25amm\u0101m_.\n\nALKHEIR. _Arab._ Of good.\n\nALMA. _Span._ and _Port._ Soul.\n\nALMOCREVES. _Port._ Muleteers or carriers. A word of Arabic origin,\n_al muk\u0101ri_, like the Spanish _arriero._\n\nALQUILADOR. _Span. and Port._ A letter on hire of anything, especially\nof horses. _Alquilar_, in Spanish, signifies to give or lend on hire.\n_Alquiler_, to take or borrow for reward. The converse, _inquiler_.\n\nALTO. _Span._ and _Port._ High.\n\nAMIGA. _Span._ and _Port._ A mistress, or concubine. Lit. a female\nfriend.\n\nAMIGO. _Span._ and _Port._ A friend.\n\nANCI\u00d1A ANCI\u00d1ACO. _Basque_. The ancient of the ancient.\n\nANDALOU. _Rom._ An Andalusian.\n\nANDR\u00c9. _Rom._ In. P. ii. 56.\n\nANISE-BRANDY. _Eng._ A cordial, something like the French _anisette_.\nThe anise (_Pimpinella anisum_) is largely cultivated in Spain, where it\nis known as _anis_. The seed is dried and exported, the aniseed of the\nEnglish cake-makers.\n\nAOUD. _Arab._ According to Borrow, a stallion. It is the Moorish\n\u2018_aud_ = horse.\n\nAQUEL. _Span._ That.\n\nARCO. _Span._ and _Port._ A bow, an arch.\n\nARDOA. Guipuzcoan and Biscayan for _arno_,_ arnoa_, wine, the final _a_\nbeing the definite article.\n\nARGELINO. _Span._ A native of Algiers.\n\nARMADA. _Span._ and _Port._ A fleet, or navy.\n\nAROM\u00c1LI. _Rom._ Truly. _Arromales_ = _caramba_. J.\n\nARRIERO. _Span._ Muleteer; one who cries _arrh\u00e9_ or _harr\u00e9_, Arabic\n\u201cGee up!\u201d The older form of _Harriero_, given in the Dictionary of the\nSpanish Academy, more clearly preserves this etymology.\n\nARROBA. _Span._ and _Port._ A weight equal to about 25 lbs. English.\nArab, _ar ruba_\u2018, a quarter.\n\nARROYO. _Span._ A brook, stream.\n\nARTESANO. _Span._ Artisan, workman.\n\nASHOR. _Hebr._ Jewish feast of the tenth (day), \u2018_\u0101sor_. It is really\nthe Arabic \u2018_ash\u016br\u0101_.\n\nATAJO. _Span._ A short cut, material or moral; an expedient of any\nkind. Lit. a tying; _atar_, to tie.\n\nATALAYA. _Span._ A watch-tower. Port. _atalaia_. A word of Arabic\norigin; _a\u1e6d-\u1e6dal\u00ed\u2018ah_, a view.\n\nATTAR. _Arab._ Essence. More correctly, \u2018_a\u1e6dar_. Frequently in\ncombination. The Eng. _otto_.\n\nAUSLANDRA. _Milan._ The meaning of this word is given by Borrow himself\nas \u201cto roam about in a dissipated manner.\u201d It is obviously the Germ.\n_Ausland_, \u201ca foreign country,\u201d made into an Italian verb. On the\nauthority of the native of Como, whom Borrow met at Cerrig y Drudion, it\nwas considered a vulgar word, even in the _gergo_ of the Milanese, and\nthat it is so may be proved by a reference to Cherubini, _Vocabolario\nMilanese-Italiano_, s.v. _Sl\u00e1ndra_, _Slandr\u00e0_.\n\nAUTO DA F\u00c9. _Port._ Span. _auto de f\u00e9_. Execution of persons condemned\nby the Inquisition.\n\nAVELLANA. _Span._ A filbert.\n\nAYANA. _Arab._ According to Borrow, a locust. It is not an ordinary\nArabic word, possibly of some North African dialect.\n\nAZABACHE. _Span._ Jet. The Arab, _as-sabaj_.\n\nAZABACHERIA. _Span._ Jet-market.\n\nAZINHEIRA. _Port._ The holm-oak.\n\nAZUMBRE. _Span._ A measure for liquids, the eighth of an _arroba_,\nequal to about half a gallon. From the Arab. _ath-thumn_ = the eighth.\n\n * * * * *\n\nBAB. _Arab._ Gate. _Bab del Faz_, gate of Fez.\n\nBACALH\u00c3O. _Port._ (In _Span._ BACALLAO or ABADEJO). Salt cod, commonly\nimported from the Newfoundland coast.\n\nBAHAR. _Arab._ Sea.\n\nBAHI or BAJI. _Rom._ Fortune. _Penar baji_, _decir la buena ventura_,\nto tell fortunes. According to Borrow, the Sanscrit and Persian _ba\u1e25kt_.\n\nBAKH, BOK. _Rom._ Luck. _Kosko bakh_, \u201cGood luck to you!\u201d P. ii. 398;\nA. 47; M. vii. 14.\n\nBALAD. _Arab._ Land. Also _beled_.\n\nBALICH\u00d3. _Rom._ A hog. P. ii. 420; A. 54; M. vii. 15.\n\nBAR. _Aram._ Son.\n\nBAR. _Rom._ A stone. P. ii. 409; M. vii. 16.\n\nBAR LACH\u00cd. _Rom._ The loadstone; a gypsy charm or talisman. Lit. \u201cthe\ngood stone.\u201d See LACH\u00d3.\n\nBARIA. _Rom._ Used by Borrow in ch. x., and given in Z. ii. 147, as\n_German\u00eda_, or thieves\u2019 slang, for a gold _onza_ (q.v.). Cf. _varia_ =\nweight. A. 12. It is also the plural of _bar_, used by English gypsies\nfor a sovereign. The correct Gitano for _onza_ is _jara_.\n\nBARIB\u00da, BARIBUTRE, BARIBUSTRE. _Rom._ Plenty, much. P. ii. 400; M.\nvii. 17.\n\nBARO. _Rom._ Great. _Len Baro_ = the great river, the Guadalquivir.\n_Hokkano Baro_ = the great trick. See HOK. P. ii. 411; A. 59; M. vii.\n17.\n\nBARRA. _Arab._ Outside; out of the town. See SOC.\n\nBARRAGANERIA. _Span._ Concubinage. See note, i. 157.\n\nBARRANCO, BARRANCA. _Span._ A fissure in a hill, a deep cleft, made by\nthe action of water; a precipice.\n\nBARRETE. _Span._ A helmet, cap.\n\nBARRIO. _Span._ One of the quarters or districts into which a large\ntown is divided. Fr. _quartier_.\n\nBATU, BATO. _Rom._ Father. Perhaps from the Russ. _batuschca_, q.v.\nIn thieves\u2019 slang, a prison governor or jailer. P. ii. 430; F. 145; G.\ni. 61; J.\n\nBATUSCHCA, BATUSHKA. _Russ._ Little father. A term of endearment or\nfamiliar address, something like the Span. _tio_, uncle.\n\nBEBER. _Span._ and _Port._ To drink.\n\nBECORESH. _Hebr._ I.e. _Epikores_ = Epicurus, selected by Jewish\nwriters as a type of insolent atheism.\n\nBEDEYA. _Arab._ An open waistcoat. More correctly, _bad\u2018iyya_.\n\nBELAD. _Hebr._ In the power of.\n\nBELED. _Arab._ Country. Also _balad_.\n\nBELLOTA. _Span._ An acorn. The Portuguese _bolota_; Arab, _bal\u016bt_.\n\nBEN, plur. BENI. _Hebr._ and _Arab._ Son.\n\nBENDITO. _Span._ and _Port._ Blessed, praised.\n\nBENG, BENGUE, BENGUI. _Rom._ The devil; also any demon, or evil spirit.\nP. ii. 407; M. vii. 19. As to the meaning, frog or toad, see G. i. 118.\n\nBERAKA. _Hebr._ A blessing.\n\nBESTI, BESTIS. _Rom._ A seat, chair, or saddle. P. ii. 428; M. vii.\n20. Borrow, however, seems to use it as a slang form of the following.\n\nBESTIA. _Span._ An animal. \u201cYou brute!\u201d\n\nBIRDOCHE. _Rom._ Used by Borrow in ch. ix. for a stage-coach or\n_galera_, q.v. It is probably connected with _bedo_, _berdo_, a cart.\nZ. ii. * 17. Eng. Rom. _vardo_. See P. ii. 80; A. 68; M. viii. 96.\n\nBOCA. _Span._ and _Port._ Mouth.\n\nBODA, BODAS. _Span._ and _Port._ Marriage, a wedding.\n\nBOGAMANTE, BOGAVANTE. _Span._ The slang name for a large lobster; orig.\nthe stroke-oar of a galley; _bogar_ = to row, _avante_ = in front.\n\nBOH\u00c9MIEN. _Fr._ A gypsy.\n\nBOLOTA. _Port._ (_Span._ BELLOTA.) An acorn.\n\nBOLSA. _Span._ and _Port._ (1) A purse. (2) The Exchange.\n\nBOMBARD\u00d3. _Rom._ A lion. Used also of the gulf usually called the Gulf\nof Lyons, but in French La Golfe du Lion, or \u201cGulf of the Lion,\u201d from its\nstormy water. Lyons on the Rhone may have given the English, but\ncertainly not the French, name to the bay. P. ii. 432.\n\nBONANZA. _Span._ Fair weather. See note, ii. 273.\n\nBONITO. _Span._ and _Port._ Pretty.\n\nBORRACHO. _Span._ and _Port._ A drunkard. _Borracha_ is a wine-skin,\nor leathern bottle. Hence Shakespeare\u2019s _Borachio_.\n\nBORRICO. _Span._ Dimin. of _Burro_, an ass.\n\nBOTA. _Span._ A leather wine-bottle or bag; usually made of the skin of\na pig for storing purposes, of goatskin for travelling. A glass bottle\nis called _frasco_ or _botella_.\n\nBRASERO. _Span._ Brazier; brass or copper pan to hold live coals.\n\nBRETIMA, BRETEMA, BRETOMA. _Gal._ A low-lying mist or fog. When thick\nand damp it is called\u2014also in Galician\u2014_mexona_.\n\nBRIBON, BRIBONAZO. _Span._ A vagrant, vagabond, or impostor. The\ntermination in _bribonazo_ does not express action, as in such words as\n_calmazo_, q.v., but augmentation.\n\nBRIBONERIA. _Span._ Knavery, rascality.\n\nBROA. _Port._ and _Gal._ BARONA. _Span._ and _Gal._ BRONA. _Gal._ A\nbread made of a mixture of maize (2 parts), rye (4), millet (1), and\npanic-grass (1).\n\nBROTOBORO. _Rom._ First. Grk. \u03c0\u03c1\u1ff6\u03c4\u03bf\u03c2. _Brotorbo_, J.\n\nBRUJO or BRUXO. _Span._, _Port._, and _Gal._ A sorcerer, or wizard.\n\nBUCKRA. _Arab._ _Bikr_, a virgin; used (ii. 357) for the Blessed Virgin\nMary.\n\nBUENO. _Span._ Good. _Buenas noches_, \u201cgood night.\u201d\n\nBUFA. _Rom._ A manger, crib. P. ii. 433.\n\nBUL, BULL\u00c1TI. _Rom._ The _anus_. P. ii. 422.\n\nBURRA. _Span._ and _Port._ Jackass; she-ass.\n\nBUSN\u00d3. _Rom._ A man who is not a gypsy, a Gentile. P. ii. 434; Pp.\n172; M. vii. 26.\n\n * * * * *\n\nCA. _Span._ An abbreviated form of CARAJO, _q.v._\n\nCABALGADURA. _Span._ A sumpter horse or mule; beast of burden.\n\nCABALLEJO, or CABALLUELO. _Span._ Pony.\n\nCABALLERIA. _Span._ Is used either of a single horse, mule, or ass used\nfor riding, as the Fr. _monture_, or for a number of such beasts\ntogether. The word in the plural also signifies chivalry or knighthood.\n\nCABALLERO. _Span._ Lit. a cavalier, but constantly used either as a\nmode of polite address, \u201cSir,\u201d or in speaking of a gentleman, whether\nmounted or on foot.\n\nCABA\u00d1A. _Span._ (1) A shepherd\u2019s hut or cabin. (2) A flock, or\nassemblage of flocks, of sheep, under the charge of a _mayoral_, driven\nto and from the wild pasture lands of Estremadura. See note, i. 146.\n\nCACHARRO. _Span._ A coarse earthen pan or pot.\n\nCACHAS. _Rom._ Shears, scissors. Z. i. 244; P. ii. 99; _cachais_, R.\n295.\n\nCACHIMANI. _Rom._ A wine-shop, or tavern. _Cachiman_, J. See P. ii.\n117; M. i. 19.\n\nCAES. _Port._ A wharf.\n\nCAFILA, rather \u1e32\u0100FILAH. _Arab._ A caravan.\n\nCALABOZO. _Span._ Dungeon or underground cell. _Calabozero_, the\nkeeper thereof; turnkey.\n\nCALASH. _Eng._ A two-wheeled carriage with a hood; a buggy. Span.\n_calesa_; Port. _cale\u00e7a_; Fr. _cal\u00e8che_.\n\nCALDAS. _Span._ and _Port._ Warm Baths. Used most frequently in\ncombination as a place name; e.g. Caldas de Reyes, called by Borrow (i.\n394) Caldas de los Reyes, in Galicia.\n\nCAL\u00c9S. _Rom._ Plur. of CAL\u00d3, CALOR\u00d3. A gypsy; lit. a black and dark\nman. See CAL\u00d3.\n\nCALESERO. _Span._ (1) The driver of a _calesa_. (2) The driver of any\ncarriage or cart.\n\nCALLAR. _Span._ To be silent. _Calla boca_, \u201cHold your tongue!\u201d\n\nCALLARD\u00d3, GALLARD\u00d3. _Rom._ A black man, mulatto. See CAL\u00d3.\n\nCALLE. _Span._ A street.\n\nCALLEE, CALL\u00cd. _Rom._ Fem. of CAL\u00d3, _q.v._\n\nCALLICASTE. _Rom._ (1) Yesterday. (2) Tomorrow. So in English Rom.\n_c\u00f3llico_, _k\u00e1liko_. P. ii. 107; LL. 7.\n\nCALMAZO. _Span._ A calm at sea. Lit. an \u201cattack\u201d or \u201cstroke\u201d of calm,\nsuch being the force of the termination _azo_; as _pu\u00f1al_, a poignard;\n_pu\u00f1alazo_, the blow of a poignard.\n\nCAL\u00d3, CALOR\u00d3. _Rom._ One of the _kalo rat_, or black blood; a gypsy.\nP. ii. 106; A. 44; M. vii. 71; G. i. 178.\n\nCAMARERA. _Span._ A lady\u2019s maid, chambermaid.\n\nCAMPI\u00d1A. _Span._ The open country, the fields. Dimin. of CAMPO.\n\nCAMPO. _Span._ and _Port._ The country. In the mouths of\nEnglish-speaking Argentines it has become \u201cthe camp,\u201d conveying no idea\nwhatever of the Anglo-Indian \u201ccamp,\u201d or \u201cmarching\u201d with tents, or\n\u201ccamping out.\u201d\n\nCAMPO SANTO. _Span._, _Port._, and _Ital._ A churchyard, cemetery.\n\nCANALLIS. See JARA CANALLIS.\n\nCANDORY, plur. CANDOR\u00c9. _Rom._ Christian. P. ii. 125; McR. 46.\n\nCAN\u00d3NIGO. _Span._ A canon or prebendary of a cathedral.\n\nCAPATAZ. _Span._ and _Port._ Not _capitaz_. A head man; overseer;\nganger; steward on a farm. From Lat. _caput_.\n\nCAPILLA. _Span._ A chapel.\n\nCAPITULAR. _Span._ Belonging to the chapter. _Sala capitular_,\nchapter-house.\n\nCARAJO. _Span._ \u201cThe great oath of Spain, which ought never to be\nwritten or pronounced in full, practically forms the foundation of the\nlanguage of the lower orders; it is a most ancient remnant of the phallic\nabjuration of the evil eye, the dreaded fascination which still perplexes\nthe minds of Orientals, and is not banished from Spanish and Neapolitan\nsuperstitions. The word terminates in _ajo_, on which stress is laid;\nthe _j_ is pronounced with a most Arabic guttural aspiration. The word\n_ajo_ means also garlic, which is quite as often in Spanish mouths, and\nis exactly what Hotspur liked\u2014a \u2018mouth-filling oath,\u2019 energetic and\nMichael Angelesque.\u201d\u2014Ford\u2019s _Spain_, Introd. p. 35. For \u201cthe evil eye,\u201d\nsee; Z. i. 138.\n\nCARALS. Catalan for CARAJO, _q.v._\n\nCARAMBA. _Span._ A polite modification of the grosser CARAJO, _q.v._\n\nCARBONERO. _Span._ A charcoal-burner; also a collier.\n\nCARCEL. _Span._ A prison.\n\nCARCELERO, CARCELERA. _Span._ A male or female jailer; or the latter\nmay be merely the wife of a jailer.\n\nCARLINO, CARLISTA. _Span._ A partisan of Don Carlos.\n\nCARLO. _Rom._ Heart. P. ii. 125. It also means \u201cthroat,\u201d the only\nmeaning in English Rom. P. ii. 96; A. 66; Pp. 299; SC. 91.\n\nCARRACHO. _Gal._ A tick, or small parasite found on dogs and cattle.\n_Carracha_ is a somewhat similar pest of the human body. The word, which\nis not Spanish, is used by Borrow as an expletive, instead of the coarser\nCARAJO, _q.v._\n\nCARRASCAL. _Span._ and _Port._ A plantation or grove of the following.\n\nCARRASCO. _Span._ and _Port._ The _ilex_, or evergreen oak.\n\nCARRETA. _Span._ and _Port._ A long and narrow cart.\n\nCARRETERA. _Span._ A high-road. Fr. _voie carrossable_.\n\nCARRONADE. _O. Eng._ A short cannon of large bore, usually carried on\nboard ship. The word has nothing to do with cannon, but is derived from\nthe Scotch town of Carron, in Stirlingshire, where these pieces were\nfirst made in 1779. They were not used after 1852, and the name is\nobsolete.\n\nCARTA. _Span._ and _Port._ A letter.\n\nCASA. _Span._ and _Port._ House.\n\nCASPITA. _Span._ \u201cWonderful!\u201d Milder than CARAMBA, _q.v._\n\nCASTELLANO. _Span._ A Castilian. _Hablar Castellano_, to talk Spanish.\n\nCASTUMBA. _Rom._ Castile.\n\nCAVALGADURA. _Gal._ See CABALGADURA.\n\nCAVALHEIRO. _Port._ See CABALLERO.\n\nC\u00c9AD. _Irish_. A hundred.\n\nCERRADA. _Span._ and _Port._ Closed, concealed, dark.\n\nCERRO. _Span._ and _Port._ A hill, hillock.\n\nCHAB\u00cd. _Rom._ A girl. See CHAB\u00d3.\n\nCHAB\u00d3, CHAB\u00c9, CHABOR\u00d3. _Rom._ A boy, youth, fellow. P. ii. 181; A. 51;\nPp. 528; M. vii. 30; McR. 100. Possibly the origin of the English slang,\n\u201cchap.\u201d\n\nCHACHIP\u00c9. _Rom._ The truth. P. i. 138; ii. 178; A. 29; Pp. 523; M.\nvii. 27.\n\nCHAI. _Rom._ Irreg. plur. of CHAB\u00d3, _q.v._ Chaps; used commonly for\ngypsies.\n\nCHAL. _Rom._ A lad, boy, fellow; possibly the same as chiel, childe.\n_R\u00f3mano-chal_, a gypsy. McR. 98.\n\nCHALI DEL BAHAR. _Arab._ _Bahar_ is \u201cthe sea\u201d in Arabic; _sh\u00e1t_ is \u201cthe\nshore.\u201d _Chali_ is possibly a misprint for this.\n\nCHALAN. _Span._ A jockey or horse-dealer.\n\nCHARD\u00cd, CH\u00c1TI. _Rom._ A fair. I cannot find this word except in Borrow\n(Z. ii. * 36), though J. gives _chand\u00ed_. Borrow derives it from Hind,\n_chhetr_ = field. If so it is perhaps connected with _char_, _chor_ =\ngrass. P. ii. 198; Pp. 529; M. vii. 29. Can it be the Persian\n_chatr\u00ed_\u2014canopy, tent?\n\nCHARIP\u00c9, CHERIPEN. _Rom._ Bed, or bedstead. Hind. _charpoy_ = that\nwhich has four feet or legs. Borrow (Z. ii.* 37) wrongly suggests the\nGrk. \u03ba\u03c1\u03b5\u03b2\u03b2\u03ac\u03c4\u03b9, though giving, as elsewhere (LL. 100), the right\nderivation. P. ii. 203; M. vii. 32.\n\nCHEGAR. _Port._ To arrive, land.\n\nCHENOURAIN. Synagogues. From _shan\u016bra_, an Algerian or low Arabic word.\n\nCHI, CHICH\u00cd. _Rom._ Nothing. P. ii. 176; M. vii. 31.\n\nCHIBADO. _Rom._ Put into. From _chibar_, a word used in many senses.\nP. ii. 184.\n\nCHICA. _Span._ Little girl. Properly the fem. of the adj. _chico_,\nwhich is also used commonly for a boy, especially as a mode of address,\nor to call attention, _h\u00e9_, _chico_!\n\nCHICOTITO. _Span._ Dimin. of _chico_. A little fellow, dwarf.\n\nCHIM. _Rom._ Kingdom, country. P. ii. 295; M. viii. 82; Z. ii. * 38;\nand J.\n\nCHINDOMAR. _Rom._ A butcher. From _chinar_ = to cut. P. ii. 208; Pp.\n538; M. vii. 33.\n\nCHINEL. _Rom._ A man of official position or rank. Especially an\n_alguacil_. Russ. _chin_, rank. P. ii. 204.\n\nCHINOBAR\u00d3. _Rom._ A head official. Compounded of CHIN and BARO, _q.v._\n\nCHIPE. _Rom._ Tongue, speech. P. ii. 216; M. vii. 31; SC. 64.\n\nCHIRIA. Borrow gives this as Sanscrit for \u201cbird,\u201d but I cannot find his\nauthority. The Rom. word is _cziriklo_, _chiriclo_. See P. ii. 199.\n\nCHOR. _Rom._ _Subs._ a thief; _verb_, to steal. P. ii. 200; A. 46; Pp.\n545\u20136; M. vii. 36.\n\nCHOZA. _Span._ A hut or small cottage. According to Dozy and Engelmann\nit is the Arab. _khas_.\n\nCHUL\u00cd, plur. CHUL\u00c9. _Rom._ A dollar. Span. _peso fuerte_. Borrow uses\nthe word in his gypsy St. Luke, xv. 8, etc. P. ii. 205, has \u201c_Chuli_ =\n_Groschen_,\u201d and suggests a connexion with _tchulo_ = thick. It is\ntempting to compare the English slang \u201ca thick \u2019un\u201d = a sovereign.\n\nCHUL\u00cd, CHUR\u00cd. _Rom._ A knife. Hind. _churi_. P. ii. 210; Pp. 550; M.\nvii. 39. The form with L is only found in Spanish. Pott suggests that\nit is a corruption of _cuchillo_. In Z. ii. 148 it is given as\n_German\u00eda_, or thieves\u2019 slang, and is probably their alteration of the\ncorrect _chur\u00ed_.\n\nCHUQUEL. _Rom._ A dog. P. ii. 213; A. 64; Pp. 553; M. vii. 51; Z. ii.\n* 132.\n\nCIERRA! _Span._ \u201cClose!\u201d The war-cry of the Castilian chivalry; more\nfully, _Santiago_! _y cierra Espa\u00f1a_!\n\nCIERTO. _Span._ Sure, certain.\n\nCIERVO. _Span._ A stag.\n\nCOCAL. _Rom._ A bone. P. ii. 92; A. 52; Pp. 289; M. vii. 85.\n\nCOISA, COUSA. _Port._ A thing.\n\nCOLEGIO. _Span._ A college.\n\nCOMER. _Span._ and _Port._ To eat.\n\nCOMITIVA. _Span._ and _Port._ Suite, following, company.\n\nCOMMERCIO. _Port._ Commerce. _Span. comercio_.\n\nCOMPANHEIRO. _Port._ Companion, comrade.\n\nCOMPRAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To buy.\n\nCOMUNERO. _Span._ A member or partisan of the Communities of Castile.\nSee Burke\u2019s _Hist. of Spain_, ii. 316.\n\nCON. _Span._ With.\n\nCONCIUDADANO. _Span._ A fellow-citizen.\n\nCONDE. _Span._ and _Port._ A count, or earl. Lat. _comes_. A title at\none time greater than that of duke in Spain. See Burke\u2019s _Hist. of\nSpain_, i. 148.\n\nCONDENADO. _Span._ Condemned, damned.\n\nCONQUISTAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To conquer.\n\nCONSTITUCION. _Span._ Constitution; the constitution of 1812.\n\nCONTRABANDISTA. _Span_ and _Port._ A smuggler.\n\nCONVERSACION. _Span._ Conversation. As an interjection, \u201cFolly!\nrubbish!\u201d\n\nCOPITA. _Span._ A wine-glass, or small drinking-cup; dimin. of _copa_.\n\nCOPLA. _Span._ and _Port._ A couplet, or a few lines of poetry. The\noriginal Spanish of the lines quoted ii. 62 is as follows\u2014\n\n \u201cUn manco escribi\u00f3 una carta;\n Un siego {395} la est\u00e1 mirando;\n Un mudo la est\u00e1 leyendo;\n Y un sordo la est\u00e1 escuchando.\u201d\n\n (Rodriguez Marin, _Cantos Populares Espa\u00f1oles_, tom. iv. p. 364, No.\n 7434.)\n\nCORAHAI or CORAJAI. _Rom._ The Moors of Northern Africa. P. ii. 127;\nA. 27; Pp. 320; M. vii. 64.\n\nCORAHAN\u00d3, fem. CORAHAN\u00cd. _Rom._ A Moor. See CORAHAI.\n\nCORCHETE. _Span._ and _Port._ A catchpoll. Lit. a clasp; _corchetes_\nare \u201chooks and eyes.\u201d\n\nCOR\u00c7O. _Gal._ A stag, or deer.\n\nCORDOVES. _Span._ Of or belonging to Cordova.\n\nCORREGIDOR. _Span._ A municipal magistrate. Orig. a _co-regidor_, or\njoint administrator of the law; not, as Midshipman Easy and the Boatswain\ndecided, a _corrector_, though the word also has that signification in\nSpanish. As regards the magistrate, the second _r_ is superfluous and\netymologically deceptive.\n\nCORRIDA. _Span._ and _Port._ A racecourse; bull-fight.\n\nCORTAMANGA. The word is not given in any dictionary that I have\nconsulted. Borrow evidently alludes to a vulgar and obscene gesture,\nusually called _un corte de mangas_. It is made by bringing down the\nright hand on the left forearm, and raising the left forearm, with the\nmiddle finger of the left hand raised and the other fingers bent. It is\nnot under _corte_ or _manga_ either in Covarrubia or the 1730 edit. of\nthe _Dic. Acad. Esp._, or more recent ones, probably on account of its\nindecent signification. I have never seen it written. The finger part\nof the business is of course as old as the Romans, and survives still in\nItaly.\n\nCORTE. _Span._ and _Port._ The king\u2019s court; more particularly the city\nwhere the court resides\u2014thus the capital. Applied colloquially and in\ncommercial correspondence to Madrid, Lisbon, Rio Janeiro, etc.\n\nCORTEJO. _Span._ and _Port._ A lover. Orig. courtesy or homage.\n_Cortejar_ = to do homage to.\n\nCORTES. _Span._ and _Port._ The estates of the realm, parliament.\n\nCORTIJO. _Span._ Farmhouse.\n\nCOSAS. _Span._ Things. \u201c_Cosas de Espa\u00f1a_,\u201d \u201c_Cosas de Inglaterra_,\u201d\n\u201c_Cosas de los Ingleses_.\u201d Colloquially equivalent to our, \u201cHow\nSpanish!\u201d \u201cQuite English!\u201d\n\nCRALLIS. _Rom._ King. The Slavonian _kral_. P. ii. 123; Pp. 296; M.\nvii. 87.\n\nCREER. _Span._ To believe. _Yo lo creo_, \u201cI believe you, my boy!\u201d\n\u201cYou bet!\u201d\n\nCRIA. _Span._ and _Port._ A brood.\n\nCRISCOTE. _Rom._ A book. See GABICOTE.\n\nCRISTIANO. _Span._ Christian. Used in Spain for the Spanish language.\n\nCRISTINO. _Span._ A partisan of Queen Christina.\n\nCRUZ. _Span._ and _Port._ A cross; also the withers of a horse or mule.\n\nCRUZADO. _Span._ and _Port._ A coin worth about six shillings. See\nBurke\u2019s _Hist. of Spain_, ii. 286.\n\nCUADRILLA. _Span._ A band.\n\nCUARTO. _Span._ A copper coin of the value of four maravedis, or about\none English farthing. Lit. the fourth part of anything.\n\nCUENTA. _Span._ Bill, reckoning.\n\nCUESTA. _Span._ A hill, or mount.\n\nCUIDADO. _Span._ and _Port._ Care, anxiety. The Andalusians and\nGitanos say _cuidao_.\n\nCUL. _Arab._ Every, all.\n\nCURA. _Span._ and _Port._ Parish priest. Fr. _cur\u00e9_; _not_ a \u201ccurate.\u201d\nThe writer usually known as _El Cura de Fruime_ (i. 401) was D. Diego\nAntonio Zernadas de Castro, born at Santiago in 1698. He wrote various\nworks in verse and prose, a complete edition of which, in seven volumes,\nwas published by Ibarra (Madrid, 1778\u201381), and was followed by another,\nin three volumes, in 1783\u20139\u201390. A biography of the author, by D.\nFernando Fulgosio, appeared in the _Revista de Espa\u00f1a_, _tomos_ 27, 28\n(1872). There was another _Cura de Fruime_, D. Antonio Francisco de\nCastro, who was also a poet, and who died in 1836.\n\nCURELAR. _Rom._ To do business. P. ii. 111; Pp. 281; M. vii. 88.\n\nCUREL\u00d3. _Rom._ Trouble, pain. P. ii. 115. See CURELAR.\n\nCURIOSO. _Span._ and _Port._ Inquiring, curious.\n\n * * * * *\n\nDADAS. _Span._ and _Port._ Given. From _dar_.\n\nDAI. _Rom._ Mother. P. ii. 309; Pp. 194; M. vii. 40.\n\nDAOUD. _Arab._ Light. Arab. _\u1e0dau_. _Daoud Scharr_ = _\u1e0dau ash-sharr_,\nlight of mischief.\n\nDAR. _Arab._ A house; often found in composition as _Dar-sinah_, _Dar\n\u1e63in\u0101_\u2018_ah_ (ii. 367), the house of the arts, or handicrafts; _Dar-dwag_,\n_Dar dabbagh_ (ii. 371), the house of the bark, or tannery.\n\nDEHESA. _Span._ Pasture; applied more particularly to large open tracts\nof country where the cattle can roam at large.\n\nDEMONIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Demon, devil.\n\nDENHO. _Gal._ The devil; used familiarly, \u201cthe deuce.\u201d\n\nDESEMBARCAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To disembark.\n\nDESESPERADO. _Span._ and _Port._ Desperate; a desperado.\n\nDESHONESTO. _Span._ and _Port._ Not \u201cdishonest,\u201d but \u201cimmodest,\nlascivious.\u201d\n\nDESPACHO. _Span._ An office; a _dep\u00f4t_. Used also of certain shops,\nsuch as the bakers, tobacco-sellers, and others.\n\nDESPOBLADO. _Span._ Desert, or waste lands. Lit. depopulated; the true\nhistory is seen in the etymology. The word is applied to uncultivated\ndesert, or uninhabited parts of the country, grazed for the most part by\nhalf wild sheep or cattle.\n\nDESPUES. _Span._ Afterwards. _Hasta despues_, \u201cAu revoir.\u201d\n\nDETRAS. _Span._ Behind. See TIRAR.\n\nDIESTRO. _Span._ Skilful, dexterous; as a substantive, a performer at a\nbull-feast, also a fencer.\n\nDIOS. _Span._ God.\n\nDISPARATE. _Span._ and _Port._ A blunder, or extravagance. As an\ninterjection, \u201cStuff and nonsense!\u201d\n\nDJMAH. The name of a tower in Tangier. Apparently the Arab. _Jami_\u2019 =\nmosque.\n\nDOIRO. _Port._ Of gold, _de oiro_ or _ouro_.\n\nDON, DO\u00d1A. _Span._ DOM, DONA. _Port._ Lord; lady.\n\nDONOSTIAN. _Basque_. San Sebastian.\n\nDORSO. _Span._ and _Port._ The back.\n\nDOSTA. _Rom._ Enough! Span. _basta_! P. ii. 308; M. vii. 45.\n\nDOUBLOON. _Eng._ A gold coin. _Span. doblon_. See Burke\u2019s _Hist. of\nSpain_, ii. 284.\n\nDRAO. _Rom._ Poison. P. ii. 316; Pp. 215; M. vii. 45.\n\nDROM\u00c1LIS. _Rom._ Carriers, muleteers, men of the road. P. ii. 319.\nSee DRUN.\n\nDRUN, DROM. _Rom._ A road. Grk. \u03b4\u03c1\u03cc\u03bc\u03bf\u03c2. P. ii. 318; Pp. 215; M. vii.\n46.\n\nDRUNGRUJE, better DRONGRUGI or DRUNJI. _Rom._ The king\u2019s highway; also\na bridle-path. See DRUN.\n\nDUENDE. _Span._ and _Port._ A ghost, or hobgoblin. In _German\u00eda_, or\nthieves\u2019 slang = the watch, patrol.\n\nDUFFEL. _O. Eng._ A coarse woollen cloth, said to have been first made\nat Duffel, near Amsterdam.\n\nDUROTUN\u00d3. A shepherd. Probably connected with _dur_ = far, P. ii. 317;\nM. vii. 48. It is worth noticing that we find _Gorotun\u00e9_ = a native of\nEstremadura, which looks like a pun, P. i. 54, so too J., who has also\n_oroturn\u00e9_ = a mountaineer, which suits the idea.\n\nDWAG. See DAR.\n\n * * * * *\n\nE, Es. _Rom._ Genitive, sing. and plur., of the article _O_.\n\nE. _Port._ And.\n\nEIDRI. See SHILLAM.\n\nELLEGREN. Stated by Borrow to be a Scand. word, meaning \u201celfin plant,\u201d\nbut the dictionaries do not give it. _Elle_, however, in composition =\nfairy, in Danish; and _gren_ = bough, in Danish, Norse, and Swedish.\n\nEMB\u00c9O. _Rom._ A book. P. ii. 62.\n\nEMBUSTERO. _Span._ Impostor, cheat, schemer; from _embuste_, a deceit,\nfalse or fraudulent scheme, snare.\n\nENCINA. _Span._ An oak.\n\nENDEMONIADO. _Span._ Possessed by the devil.\n\nENGANCHAR. _Span._ To enlist as a soldier. Prim. to hook; _gancho_, a\nhook.\n\nENSAYO. _Span._ An essay, attempt.\n\nENTENDER. _Span._ To understand.\n\nENTERO. _Span._ An _entire_ horse, or stallion. As an adjective,\nentire, perfect, complete.\n\nERRATE. _Rom._ A respectful appellation of the gypsy race, used by them\nof their own race. From Rom. _rat_, blood; the people of the same blood;\nour blood relations. P. ii. 272; Pp. 457; M. viii. 56.\n\nERRAY. _Rom._ Gentleman. More commonly, _rai_; in Eng. Rom., _rye_.\nP. ii. 264; Pp. 453; M. viii. 54.\n\nERREGUI\u00d1A. _Basque._ Queen. Borrow is mistaken in connecting this word\nwith Sanscrit. It is simply the Lat. _regina_.\n\nERUDITO. _Span._ and _Port._ Learned.\n\nESCAPADO. _Span._ and _Port._ Escaped, a runaway.\n\nESCLIVITUD. _Span._ Slavery.\n\nESCOC\u00c9S. _Span._ Scotch.\n\nESCONDIDO. _Span._ and _Port._ _Adj._ hidden.\n\nESCOPETA. _Span._ and _Port._ A gun.\n\nESCRIBANO. _Span._ A notary, or his clerk. Lit. a writer.\n\nESCUCHAR. _Span._ To listen. _Escuchad_! \u201cListen!\u201d\n\nESCUELA. _Span._ A school.\n\nESO. _Span._ That. _Que es eso_? \u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d\n\nESPA\u00d1A. _Span._ Spain. See i. 341.\n\nESPA\u00d1OL. Spanish.\n\nESPINAL, ESPINAR. _Span._ A thorny thicket; place of thorns.\n\nESPINGARDA. _Span._ and _Port._ A musket.\n\nESPINHEIRO. _Port._ A thorn-tree.\n\nESTADEA. _Port._ ESTADAI\u00d1A. _Gal._ Dimin. ESTADINHA. (1) A skeleton,\nor death\u2019s-head; a nocturnal procession of the spirits of the dead. (2)\nA witches\u2019 \u201csabbath;\u201d for which last the Galician _compa\u00f1a_ is also used.\n\nESTALAGEM. _Port._ An inn.\n\nESTAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To be.\n\nESTARIPEL. _Rom._ A prison. P. ii. 246; Pp. 146. SC. 141.\n\nESTRANGERO. _Span._ Strange, foreign.\n\nESTREMOU. _Rom._ ESTREME\u00d1O. _Span._ An inhabitant of the province of\nEstremadura.\n\nEUSCARRA. Basque. Used by Borrow (ch. xxxvii.) for the Basque name of\ntheir own tongue; more commonly, _Escualdun_, _Escualdunac_; a word in\nany case of very uncertain origin. See Burke\u2019s _Hist. of Spain_, vol. i.\nApp. I., THE BASQUES.\n\nEXEMPLO. _Span._ and _Port._ Example, pattern. _Por exemplo_, for\ninstance.\n\nEXTENDERSE. _Span._ To extend, stretch.\n\n * * * * *\n\nFABRICA. _Span._ and _Port._ Manufactory.\n\nFACCIOSO. _Span._ As an adjective, factious; more often used by Borrow\nas a substantive, with the special signification, in the years 1830\u20131840,\nof a disaffected or factious person; a rebel; a Carlist.\n\nF\u00c1ILTE. _Irish_. Welcomes.\n\nFAJA, FAXA. _Span._ and _Port._ A thick waist-band, usually of silk,\noften red, and a characteristic portion of the dress of a great majority\nof Spaniards. The Indian _kamarband_. From the Lat. _fascia_, a girth,\nor band.\n\nFANGO. _Span._ Mire, mud.\n\nFAROL. _Span._ and _Port._ Strictly speaking, a lantern; used by Borrow\nfor FARO, a lighthouse. They are, of course, equally the ancient Grk.\n\u03c6\u03ac\u03c1\u03bf\u03c2.\n\nFATO. _Port._ A herd; a multitude. Span. _hato_.\n\nFELOUK, FELOQUE. _Eng._ A boat, felucca. Arab. _faluka_, _falak_ =\nship.\n\nFERIOUL. _Arab._ A sort of shawl thrown over the shoulders. Arab.\n_farw\u0101l_.\n\nFIDALGO. _Port._ A gentleman. The Spanish hidalgo = _filius alicujus_,\nthe son of some one.\n\nFILIMICHA. _Rom._ The gallows. Found in Borrow, and J.; Pott, ii. 394,\nsimply quotes it from the former.\n\nFINO. _Span._ and _Port._ Fine, excellent, sharp.\n\nFONDA. _Span._ Hotel. According to Diez, from Latin _funda_, a sling,\nor a purse, which has also given the French _bourse_ and Spanish _bolsa_,\nan assembly of paying persons. See POSADA.\n\nFORA. _Port._ and _Gal._ Outside, without.\n\nFORO, FOROS. _Rom._ City, or town. P. ii. 393; Pp. 234; M. vii. 53.\n\nFORTE. _Port._ Strong.\n\nFREGONA. _Span._ A scullery maid.\n\nFRIOLERA. _Span._ A trifle. Lat. _futilitas_.\n\nFUENTE. _Span._ A fount, spring.\n\nFUERON. _Span._ They were. From _ser_.\n\nFUEROS. _Span._ Local privileges.\n\nFUNCION. _Span._ A solemnity; festival; public assemblage of people to\ndo or see some important act. In military language, an action; then\ncolloquially, \u201ca row.\u201d The barbarous English adaptation, _function_, is\nconvenient, and is rapidly gaining ground.\n\n * * * * *\n\nGABARDINE. _O. Eng._ A long coat, or cloak, usually applied to the\ndistinctive dress worn by the Jews under compulsion. Said to be from the\nSpanish and Old French _gaban_, a great coarse cloak with a hood, a word\nitself supposed to be connected with _capa_.\n\nGABICOTE. _Rom._ Book. Borrow seems the only authority for this word.\nJ. has _gascote_. P. ii. 145.\n\nGABIN\u00c9. _Rom._ A Frenchman. P. i. 54, ii. 145.\n\nGACHAPLA. _Rom._ A couplet, in poetry. Span. _copla_. P. ii. 41.\n\nGACH\u00d3. _Rom._ Any one who is not a gypsy; the same as Rom. _busn\u00f3_. P.\nii. 129; Pp. 235; M. vii. 53; McR. 93.\n\nGALERA. _Span._ A long cart without springs; the sides are lined with\nmatting, while beneath hangs a loose open net, as under the _calesinas_\nof Naples, in which lies and barks a horrid dog, who keeps a cerberus\nwatch over iron pots and sieves, and suchlike gypsy utensils, and who is\nnever to be conciliated.\u2014Ford\u2019s _Spain_, Introd. p. 37.\n\nGALLEGO. _Span._ and _Port._ Galician; usually Anglicized by Borrow as\nGallegan. The Roman _Gallaeci_ or _Callaeci_.\n\nGALLINERIA. _Span._ A hen-coop; a place for keeping _gallinas_, or\nchickens.\n\nGALOOT (_Gal\u016bth_). _Hebr._ Bondage, captivity. \u201cThe galoot of sin.\u201d\nIn the slang of the United States the word means \u201ca simpleton.\u201d\n\nGARBANZOS. _Span._ Chick-pease (_Cicer arietinum_). The invariable\nvegetable in every _olla_ and _puchero_.\n\nGARLOCHIN. _Rom._ Heart. See CARLO.\n\nGARNATA. _Arab._ Granada. See MELEGRANA.\n\nGARROTE. _Span._ and _Port._ The death penalty by strangulation, in\nwhich an iron collar fixed to a post is tightened by a screw and receives\nthe neck of the culprit, which is broken by a sharp turn given by the\nexecutioner. _Garrote_ also means a cudgel, or heavy walking-stick; and\nthe tourniquet used by surgeons. It is a word of strange and uncertain\netymology, and is said to be connected with Span. _garra_, a claw, Fr.\n_jarret_, a thigh, and other apparently incongruous words.\n\nGAZPACHO. A dish in the nature of a vegetable salad very popular in\nSpain, made of bread, onions, potatoes, tomatoes, garlic, _garbanzos_ or\nchick-peas, with oil and seasoning of various kinds. The etymology is\nuncertain.\n\nGEFATURA. _Span._ Office of the following.\n\nGEFE. _Span._ Chief. _Gefe politico_ = _corregidor_, _q.v._\n\nGELABA. _Arab._ A long cloak. Arab. _jilb\u0101b_.\n\nGENIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Genius; spirit.\n\nGENOUI, dimin. GENOUILLOS. Moor. A Genoese, Genoese children.\n\nGENTE, JENTE. _Span._ and _Port._ People.\n\nGERMAN\u00cdA. _Span._ According to the dictionaries, the dialect or mode of\nspeech used by gypsies, thieves, and ruffians, to prevent their being\nunderstood, in which they give special meanings to ordinary words (e.g.\n_aguila_, eagle = a clever thief), or invent words of their own (e.g.\n_almifor_ = horse). No doubt _German\u00eda_ contains gypsy words, but it is\nno more identical with Romany than are the Fr. _Argot_ or the Eng.\n_Cant_. See Z. ii. 129.\n\nGIBIL. _Arab._ A hill.\n\nGINETE. _Span._ A good horseman. _\u00c0 la gineta_, in the Moorish style\n(of riding). Diez, strangely enough, would derive this Arab or Moorish\nword from the Grk. \u03bc\u03c5\u03bc\u03bd\u03ae\u03c4\u03b7\u03c2, a naked or light-armed foot soldier. It is\nreally derived from the proper name Zeneta, a Berber tribe who furnished\nthe finest horsemen to the Spanish Moors (Cron. Alfonso X., fo. 6 d, an.\n1263). In Catalan the word has become _janetz_. Our English word\n\u201cjennet\u201d may be derived from the same source.\n\nGIRAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To turn round.\n\nGITANA. _Thieves\u2019 slang_. Twelve ounces of bread. See i. 177.\n\nGITANO. _Span._ A gypsy. A corrupted form of _Egiptiano_, an Egyptian.\nR. 269; McR. 109. See ZINCALO.\n\nGODO. _Span._ and _Port._ A Goth; Gothic.\n\nGOH. _Pers._ Mountain. More correctly, _koh_.\n\nGONFALONIERA. _Ital._ Standard-bearer.\n\nGR\u0100, GRAS, GRASTE, GRY. _Rom._ A horse. P. ii. 145; A. 33; Pp. 249; M.\nvii. 58.\n\nGRACIA. _Span._ GRATIA. _Lat._ Grace.\n\nGRANJA. _Span._ A grange, farm. _La Granja_, the royal palace at San\nIldefonso.\n\nGRECO. _Ital._ GRIEGO. _Span._ Greek.\n\nGUAPO, GUAPITO. _Span._ and _Port._ Gay, neat, clever, elegant,\ngallant.\n\nGUARDACOSTAS. _Span._ A revenue cutter.\n\nGUARDIA. _Span._ A guard, watch.\n\nGUERILLA. _Span._ Lit. little war. Irregular warfare to which the\nSpaniards have ever been so much addicted. The _guerrillero_ is the\nirregular soldier, or armed _paisano_, who wages this little war.\n\nGUERRA. _Span._ War.\n\nGUISSAN. _Basque_. According to. It is an adaptation of the Fr.\n_guise_, Span. _guisa_. The regular Basque words are _arabera_,\n_araura_. Aizquibel, Basque-Spanish Dict., gives the form _gisara_.\n\nGURS\u00c9AN. _Moor._ The giant aloe. Span. _pita_. _Apud_ Borrow, ii.\n276.\n\nGUSTO. _Span._ (1) Taste, lit. or fig. (2) Fancy, caprice, wish.\n\n * * * * *\n\nHABER. _Span._ To have. _Hay_, there are. _No hay mas_? Are there no\nmore?\n\nHABLA. _Span._ Speech.\n\nHABLAR. _Span._ To speak. Lat. _fabulare_.\n\nHACER. _Span._ To do, make. _El har\u00e1 el gusto por V_, He will do what\nyou want.\n\nHADA, HADE. _Arab._ This.\n\nHAIK. _Arab._ A white cloth worn over the head by the Moors.\n\nHAIMAS. _Arab._ Tents. More correctly, _\u1e25aimat_, plur. _\u1e25iy\u0101m_.\n\nHAJI. _Arab._, _Turk._, and _Grk._ One who having made the _haj_, or\npilgrimage, to Mecca, is entitled to wear a green turban and assume the\ntitle of _haji_. But the same title, strange to say, is assumed by\northodox Christians who have made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem; and _Haji\nYanco_ is quite as common a title or mode of address in the Levant as\n_Haji Ibrah\u00edm_.\n\nHALAL. _Arab._ Lawful.\n\nHALOOF. _Berber_. Hog\u2019s flesh. More correctly, _\u1e25alluf_.\n\nHAMAL. _Arab._ Porter, carrier. More correctly, _\u1e25amm\u0101l_.\n\nHANUTZ. _Arab._ Shop. More correctly, _\u1e25an\u016bt_.\n\nHAR\u0100M. _Arab._ and _Hebr._ Forbidden. Akin to this is _harem_.\n\nHASTA. _Span._ Until. See DESPUES.\n\nHATO. _Span._ A herd, a multitude. Port. _fato_.\n\nHAX WEIB, HAX. _Germ._ A witch. A wrong form of _Hexe Weib_ or _Hexe_,\na witch, or female wizard.\n\nHAYIM. _Hebr._ Living. More correctly, _hayyim_.\n\nHELLER. _Germ._ A copper coin in use in Germany previous to 1848; in\nvalue about one farthing.\n\nHERENCIA. _Span._ Heritage, inheritance.\n\nHERRADOR. _Span._ A blacksmith.\n\nHIDALGO. _Span._ See FIDALGO.\n\nHIGUERA. _Span._ A fig-tree.\n\nHIJO. _Span._ A son. Lat. _filius_.\n\nHINAI. _Arab._ Here.\n\nHOK. _Rom._ Deceit, falsehood, fraud. _Hokka_, to lie; _hokkawar_, to\ncheat. _Hokkano_, in Eng. Rom., a lie. P. ii. 160; A. 37; Pp. 317; M.\nvii. 63. _Hokkano baro_, the great trick. See Z. i. 310; LL. 244; Lel.\n352; Gr. 357.\n\nHOMBRE. _Span._ HOMME. _Fr._ A man\n\nHORCA. _Span._ The gallows.\n\nHORNO. _Span._ Oven.\n\nHOURIS. _Arab._ The women of the Moslem Paradise. Plural of the Arab,\n_\u1e25awr\u00e1_ = black-eyed.\n\nHSHEESH. _Arab._ I.e. _\u1e25ashish_, a preparation of hemp.\n\nHU\u00c1JE. _Arab._ Things. _Hu\u00e1je del Mselmeen_, more correctly, _\u1e25aw\u0101ij\nel Muslim\u012bn_, things of the Moslems.\n\nHUESO. _Span._ A bone.\n\nHUNDUNAR, JUNDUNAR. _Rom._ A soldier. P. ii. 172; R. 294. J. gives\n_jundo_, _jundonal_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nICHASOA. _Basque_. The sea. The verse quoted by Borrow (ii. 118) more\naccurately runs thus\u2014\n\n \u201cIchasoa urac handi.\n (The iea\u2014the water\u2014large)\n Eztu ondoric aguerri\u2014\n (There is not\u2014any bottom\u2014manifest)\n Pasaco ninsaqueni andic\n (To pass\u2014I could be able\u2014thence)\n Maitea icustea gatic.\u201d\n (The beloved\u2014the seeing, _i.e._ to see\u2014for).\n\nINFAMIA. _Span._ and _Port._ Infamy.\n\nINFANTE. _Span._ and _Port._ Prince.\n\nINGLATERRA. _Span._ England.\n\nINGLES. _Span._ English. _Inglesito_! \u201cMy little Englishman!\u201d\n\nINQUISICION. _Span._ The Inquisition.\n\nINSHALLAH. _Arab._ Please God!\n\nINSTANCIA. _Span._ and _Port._ Instance, prosecution. See note, ii.\n141.\n\n * * * * *\n\nJABADOR. Apparently a Hispanized form of the African Arabic _jabdali_ =\na gold-embroidered waistcoat.\n\nJACA, or HACA. _Span._ A pony, or small riding horse.\n\nJARA CANALLIS. _Rom._ The only authority I have succeeded in finding\nfor this word is Z. ii. * 61. \u201c_Jaraca\u00f1ales_, guards, officers of the\nrevenue.\u201d It may possibly be derived from the Bohemian gypsy _x\u00e1ro_,\nHungarian _h\u00e1ro_ = sabre, and the Span._ canalla_, but I have no reason\nto suppose that the word _x\u00e1ro_ or _h\u00e1ro_ was known to the gypsies of\nSpain.\n\nJARGON. _Eng._ Originally a Fr. word, meaning any unintelligible sound,\nas that of birds, then applied to the strange speech of the _Gueux_; and\nso to any unknown tongue. Borrow himself says of the gypsies, \u201cwhen\nwishing to praise the proficiency of any individual in their tongue, they\nare in the habit of saying, \u2018He understands the seven jargons\u2019\u201d (Z. ii.\n125). Frampton Boswell is recorded (G. i. 374) to have stated that\nRomany was not one of \u201cthe seven languages,\u201d \u201cbut,\u201d adds Mr. Hinde\nGroome, \u201cwhat he meant thereby, goodness alone knows.\u201d The historian\nMazaris (A.D. 1416) states that at that time the Peloponnesus was\ninhabited by seven principal nations, one of which was that of the\nEgyptians. These \u201cEgyptians\u201d are held by M. Bataillard to have been\ngypsies (_ib._ iii. 154), and I would suggest that we have here the\norigin of \u201cthe seven jargons.\u201d The number seven seems to be in a special\nway connected with the children of Roma. For other instances see Leland,\n_English Gypsies_, p. 218; Gr. 171.\n\nJAUN, JAUNA. _Basque_. Lord, the lord.\n\nJAUNGVICOA. _Basque_. The Lord God. _Jaun_ = man, sir, lord; _Gincoa_\nor _Jincoa_ = God.\n\nJEHINNIM. _Arab._ and _Hebr._ Hell.\n\nJENNUT. _Arab._ Paradise. Usually written, _jannat_.\n\nJENTE. _Span._ See GENTE.\n\nJIN. _Arab._ In classic English, _genie_ (Arabic and Persian _jinn_), a\nclass of spirits lower than the angels.\n\nJOH\u00c1R. _Arab._ A pearl.\n\nJOJABAR, JONJABAR. _Rom._ To deceive. From _joj\u00e1na_, deceit. See HOK.\n\nJORGE, dimin. JORGITO. _Span._ George.\n\nJOROBADO. _Span._ A hunchback. The verb _jorobar_ means \u201cto worry.\u201d\n\nJUEZ. _Span._ A judge.\n\nJUMAL. _Arab._ Friday. More correctly, _jum_\u2018_a_.\n\nJUNTA. _Span._ and _Port._ An assembly, meeting, council, governing\nbody.\n\nJUNTUN\u00d3. _Rom._ A listener, spy, sneak. From _junar_, _junelar_, to\nlisten. P. ii. 221; Pp. 497; M. viii. 75.\n\nJUSTICIA. _Span._ A legal tribunal, or the magistrate or magistrates\nwho constitute it. _Absol_, justice.\n\n * * * * *\n\nKAFIR. _Arab._ Not a Moslem.\n\nKANDRISA. According to Borrow, Turkish trousers. Possibly the same as\nthe African Arabic _\u1e33an d\u016bra_ = long shirt, _toga talaris_.\n\nKAPUL UDBAGH. According to Borrow = \u201cThere is no God but one.\u201d\n\nKAUK. _Hebr._ The furred cap of Jerusalem, according to Borrow. We may\nperhaps compare _\u1e33\u016b\u1e33a_, stated by Redhouse in his _Turkish Diet_, to be a\npeculiar plumed head-dress worn by field-officers of the Janissaries.\n\nKAWAR. _Arab._ An uncommon word, meaning, no doubt, a cemetery, being a\ncorrupt form of _\u1e33abr_, a tomb.\n\nKEBIR. _Arab._ Great.\n\nKER, QUER. _Rom._ A house. P. ii. 153; Pp. 279; M. vii. 79; G. i. 178.\n\nKERMOUS DEL INDE. _Arab._ A fruit; the prickly pear.\n\nKISTUR, KESTER. _Rom._ To ride. P. ii. 122; SC. refer to _uklist\u00f3_,\nPp. 560; A. 14; M. viii. 89. Borrow derives it from the Wallachian\n_keleri_. Perhaps from the Grk. \u03ba\u03ad\u03bb\u03b7\u03c2.\n\nKJ\u00c6MPE. _Scand._ A champion. Cf. \u201cKempion the kingis son\u201d in the\nballad that bears his name.\n\nKNAW. _Rom._ Now. P. ii. 124; Pp. 130; M. vii. 5.\n\nKOSKO, KOOSHTO. _Rom._ Good. P. ii. 157. This is an Eng. Rom. word.\nContinental gypsies use _latch\u00f3_, _misht\u00f3_.\n\nKYRIE. Grk. \u039a\u03cd\u03c1\u03b9\u03b5, sir, my lord.\n\n * * * * *\n\nLABRADOR. _Span._ Cultivator, rustic, peasant. _Labrar_, to till the\nground.\n\nL\u00c1CHA. _Rom._ Maidenhead, virginity. Z. ii. 7; P. ii. 331; Pp. 325; M.\nviii. 4.\n\nLACHIP\u00c9. _Rom._ Silk. I cannot explain this word, unless it is\nconnected with the following.\n\nLACH\u00d3, fem. LACH\u00cd. _Rom._ Good. P. ii. 329; A. 49; Pp. 328; M. viii.\n4.\n\nLADR\u00d5ES. _Port._ Plur. of _ladr\u00e3o_, a thief. Lat. _latro_.\n\nLALOR\u00c9. _Rom._ The Portuguese. LALOR\u00d3, the red land. Eng. Rom.\n_Lotto_ (cf. _Jackanapes_, p. 28). P. i. 54, ii. 338; Pp. 328, 339; M.\nviii. 8.\n\nLAPURRAC. _Basque_. The thieves.\n\nLARGO. _Port._ A square, or public place in a town.\n\nLECTURA. _Span._ Reading.\n\nLEN. _Rom._ A river. _Len baro_, the great river; _Wady al Kebir_, the\nGuadalquivir. P. ii. 336; Pp. 333; M. viii. 6.\n\nLEVANTARSE. _Span._ and _Port._ To raise one\u2019s self, rise.\n\nLE. _Span._ To him.\n\nLI, LIL. _Rom._ Paper; a letter, passport, book. P. ii. 329, 339; A.\n48; Pp. 334; M. viii. 7.\n\nLIB. _Hebr._ Heart. More correctly, _leb_.\n\nLICEO. _Span._ School, college.\n\nLILIPENDI. _Rom._ A simpleton. Akin to LIL\u00d3, _q.v._\n\nLIL\u00d3, fem. LIL\u00cd. _Rom._ Foolish, mad. P. ii. 340.\n\nLIMOSNA, dimin. LIMOSNITA. _Span._ Alms, charity.\n\nLINDO. _Span._ and _Port._ Beautiful, pretty.\n\nLIRI. _Rom._ Law. P. ii. 340.\n\nLLAVERO. _Span._ Turnkey.\n\nLOCO. _Span._ Mad.\n\nLOMBO. _Port._ Loin.\n\nLONDON\u00c9. _Rom._ An Englishman; lit. a Londoner. So B., but it is\nprobably plural. P. i. 54.\n\nLONGANIZERO. _Span._ Sausage-maker.\n\nLONTRA. _Port._ Otter. Span. _nutria_. \u201cL\u201d for \u201cN\u201d is characteristic.\n\nLOOR. _Old Span._ Praise.\n\nLUME. _Port._ Light.\n\nLUMIA. _Rom._ A harlot. P. ii. 334; Pp. 342; M. viii. 9; G. i. 178.\n\n * * * * *\n\nMA. _Arab._ Not.\n\nMACHO, MACHA. _Span._ A mule, male or female. Considering that, even\nin Spanish, _macho_ did, and does, signify a male animal of any\nkind\u2014being an abbreviation of the Latin _masculus_\u2014_macha_, a she-mule,\nis rather a strange word!\n\nMADRILATI. _Rom._ Madrid. Also _Adal\u00ed_, J. In thieves\u2019 slang also\n_Gao_ (= _gav_, a town), Z. ii. * 54. But H. gives _gao_ = _piojo_ (a\nlouse).\n\nMAHA. _Sanscr._ Great. Persian _mih_.\n\nMAHASNI, plur. MAKHASNIAH. _Arab._ Soldiers. More correctly, men of\nthe garrison; defenders.\n\nMAI. _Port._ Mother.\n\nMAILLA. _Rom._ A she-ass. P. ii. 454. Apparently only found in Eng.\nRomany.\n\nMAJAR\u00d3. _Rom._ Holy. P. ii. 462.\n\nMAJO, MAJA. Dandy; fancy man or girl. _Majo_, scarcely to be rendered\nin any foreign language, is a word of more general signification than\n_manolo_, q.v. The one is a dandy, or smart fellow, all over Spain; the\nother is used only of a certain class in Madrid.\n\nMAJOON. I cannot find this word, but it is apparently the name of some\nintoxicating substance, and is probably connected with the Arabic\n_majn\u016bn_ = possessed by a _jinn_, mad.\n\nMAKHIAH. _Arab._ Brandy made of figs. More correctly, _ma\u2019iyya_.\n\nMALO. _Span._ Bad, wicked.\n\nMALVADO. _Span._ and _Port._ Malicious, evil disposed.\n\nMAN. _Rom._ Me. P. i. 229; Pp. 66; M. xi. 22.\n\nMANOLO. _Span._ _Manolo_ is a somewhat difficult word to translate. It\nis applied to the flash or fancy man and his _manola_ in Madrid only; a\nclass fond of pleasure, of fine clothes, of bull-fights, and of sunshine,\nwith a code of honour of their own; men and women rather picturesque than\nexemplary, and eminently racy of the soil.\n\nMANR\u00d3. _Rom._ Bread or corn. Estremadura is thus called _Chim del\nManr\u00f3_, \u201cThe Land of Corn.\u201d P. ii. 440; Pp. 350; M. viii. 12. Given as\n_marron_, G. i. 177.\n\nMANTA. _Span._ and _Port._ A woollen blanket. _\u00c1 manta de Dios_ =\ncopiously. The word has nothing to do with the national _cloak_ of\nSpain, which is _la capa_.\n\nMANTILLA. _Span._ The characteristic headdress of Spanish ladies, of\nblack silk or lace, drawn over the back of the head and shoulders.\nDimin. of _manta_.\n\nMAR. _Span._ and _Port._ Sea.\n\nMARAVED\u00cd. _Span._ A coin of various weights and values. See Burke\u2019s\n_History of Spain_, ii. 282.\n\nMAREQUITA. _Span._ Dimin. of Maria.\n\nMARIPOSA. _Span._ A butterfly; a night light.\n\nMAS. _Span._ More.\n\nMATADOR. _Span._ and _Port._ (1) A slayer, murderer. (2) The man who\nkills the bull. See note, i. 170.\n\nMATO. _Port._ A forest; or more exactly, a wild country, full of bushes\nand thickets.\n\nMAUGHRABIE. _Arab._ A Borrovian adaptation of the Arabic _Al Maghrib_,\nthe west, signifying Mauretania, or North-Western Africa.\n\nMAYIM. _Hebr._ Waters.\n\nMAYOR. _Span._ and _Port._ Greater.\n\nMAYORDOMO. _Span._ and _Port._ House steward, or major-domo.\n\nMEARRAH. _Hebr._ and _Arab._ Cemetery. Lit. a cave. Hebr. _m_\u2018_arah_,\nArab. _magh\u0101rah._\n\nMECLIS, MEKLIS. _Eng. Rom._ Leave off! have done! \u201c\u2018_Meklis_,\u2019 said\nMrs. Chikno, \u2018pray drop all that, sister\u2019\u201d (_The Romany Rye_, ch. v.).\nP. ii. 112, 434; Pp. 369; M. viii. 19.\n\nMEDICO. _Span._ and _Port._ A physician.\n\nMEFORSHIM. _Hebr._ The commentators. More correctly, _m_\u2019_f\u00e1r_\u2019_shim_.\n\nMEIGA. _Port._ and _Gal._ A female sharper, fortune-teller, or\nsorceress. The adjective _meigo_, in Spanish _mego_, has the\nsignification of gentle, kind, mild.\n\nMELEGRANA. _Rom._ Granada. From the Ital. _melagrana_, a pomegranate;\nSpan. _granada_. See note, 375.\n\nMENDI. _Basque_. A mountain. See note to Ingles Mendi, ii. 314.\n\nMERCADO. _Span._ and _Port._ A market, or market-place.\n\nMERCED. _Span._ (1) Favour, grace, mercy. (2) A day labourer\u2019s pay, or\nwages. (3) In combination, _vuestra merced_, your worship, your honour,\netc.; written V. or Vd. and pronounced _usted_.\n\nMESUNA. _Rom._ A wayside inn, or _posada_, q.v. P. ii. 43, 463.\n\nMEZQUITA. _Span._ A mosque.\n\nM\u00cdLA. _Irish_. A thousand.\n\nMILAGRO. _Span._ A miracle.\n\nMIN. _Rom._ My, mine. P. i. 237; Pp. 69; M. xi. 30.\n\nMIN. _Arab._ From.\n\nMIRAR. _Span._ To look.\n\nMISERIA. _Span._ and _Port._ Misery, wretchedness; also niggardliness,\nstinginess.\n\nMODERADO. _Span._ and _Port._ Moderate. The name assumed by the more\nroyalist members of the _Cristino_ party. See i. 180.\n\nMODO. _Span._ and _Port._ (1) Measure; (2) courtesy, urbanity. _V. no\ntiene modo_, \u201cYou\u2019ve got no manners.\u201d\n\nMOIDORE. _O. Eng._ Portuguese _moeda d\u2019ouro_ = golden money, was a gold\npiece of the value of about twenty-six shillings.\n\nMONA. _Span._ and _Port._ A she-monkey.\n\nMONR\u00d3. _Rom._ A friend; in thieves\u2019 slang, an adult. Z. ii. 149; P.\nii. 453; M. viii. 18.\n\nMONTANA. _Span._ A hill, mountain.\n\nMONTE. _Span._ and _Port._ A hill, mountain.\n\nMONTERA. _Span._ A hunting-cap, a Montero cap.\n\nMONTERO. _Span._ A hunter; originally, a mountaineer.\n\nMORO. _Span._ Moorish.\n\nMOSTRADOR. _Span._ The counter, of a shop.\n\nMOZO. _Span._ A youth, or lad; _moza_, a girl.\n\nMSELMEEN. _Arab._ Moslems. See HU\u00c1JE.\n\nMUCHACHO, MUCHACHA. _Spn._ Boy; girl.\n\nMUCHO. _Span._ Much.\n\nMUGER, MUJER. _Span._ Woman; wife.\n\nMUJIK, MUZHIK. _Russ._ A peasant. It may be added that their popular\nsong, \u201cCome, let us cut the cabbage\u201d (i. 175), is not, as might be\nsupposed, an exhortation to horticultural pursuits. \u201cTo cut the cabbage\u201d\nis a slang expression among the Slavs for killing a Turk, in allusion to\nthe green turbans worn by the descendants of the prophet.\n\nMUK. _Rom._ Let, allow. See MECLIS.\n\nMUNDO. _Span._ and _Port._ World.\n\nMUSHEE. _Arab._ I.e. _ma_ = not, _shee_ = thing.\n\nMUY. _Span._ Very, much.\n\n * * * * *\n\nNACIONAL. _Span._ and _Port._ A Nationalist; a member of the National\nGuard.\n\nNADA. _Span._ and _Port._ Nothing.\n\nNAHI. _Rom._ Translated by Borrow, lost. If so, perhaps connected with\n_najabar_, to lose. P. ii. 324; Pp. 381; M. viii. 23. Possibly,\nhowever, it is only a negative = is not. P. i. 319; A. 70.\n\nNAO. _Port._ Ship.\n\nNARANGERO. _Span._ An orange-seller.\n\nNAVA. _Span._ A plain.\n\nNDUI. _Hebr._ A kind of hell, or purgatory, according to Borrow, who\nputs the word into the mouth of his Lisbon Jews. It is, apparently, the\nHebr. _niddui_ = ban, excommunication.\n\nNEFSKY. _Russ._ Of the Neva.\n\nNEGRO. _Span._ and _Port._ (1) Black; (2) a negro, or African; (3) the\nnickname given by the Basque Carlists to the _Cristinos_, or\nConstitutionalists, 1833\u20131839.\n\nNICABAR. _Rom._ To take away, steal, destroy. P. ii. 326; Pp. 390; M.\nviii. 25.\n\nNIRI. _Basque_. My, mine.\n\nNOCHE. _Span._ Night.\n\nNOMBRE. _Span._ Name.\n\nNOVILLO. _Span._ A young bull. See note, i. 361.\n\nNOVIO. _Span._ Bridegroom, betrothed.\n\nNUAR. _Arab._ Flowers. More correctly, _naw\u0101r_.\n\nNUESTRO. _Span._ Our.\n\nNUVEIRO. This word is neither Castilian, Galician, nor Portuguese; but\nis a made-up or fancy word, from the Portuguese _nuvem_, a cloud; a cloud\nman, or supernatural being.\n\n * * * * *\n\nO. _Rom._ The.\n\n\u00d3. _Span._ Or.\n\nOBISPO. _Span._ Bishop.\n\nOJALATEROS. _Span._ \u201cWaiters upon Providence.\u201d A burlesque word. See\nnote, i. 169.\n\nONZA. _Span._ A coin of the value of about \u00a33 6_s._ 8_d._; lit. an\n_ounce_ of gold. Also known as the _doblon de \u00e0_ 8; Anglicized as \u201cpiece\nof eight.\u201d\n\nORA\u00c7AM, ORA\u00c7\u00c3O. _Port._ A prayer.\n\nOTRO. _Span._ Other. _No hay otro en el mundo_, \u201cThere\u2019s none like it\nin the world.\u201d\n\nOULEM. _Hebr._ Of the world. Arab. \u2018_olam_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nPACH\u00cd. _Rom._ Modesty, honour, virginity. P. ii. 347.\n\nPACIENCIA. _Span._ and _Port._ Patience.\n\nPA\u00c7O. _Port._ The Court.\n\nPADRE. _Span._ and _Port._ Father.\n\nPADRINO. _Span._ (1) Sponsor, godfather; (2) second\u2014in a duel.\n\nPADRON. _Span._ Patron, landlord.\n\nPAHAN. _Ph\u0153n._ A rabbit.\n\nPAISANO. _Span._ and _Port._ A countryman; _not_ a peasant, but a man\nof the same country as another; a compatriot. As the conventional answer\nto the challenge, \u201c_Quien vive_?\u201d by a Spanish sentry, it means\n\u201cCivilian.\u201d\n\nPAJANDI. _Rom._ A guitar. According to Borrow, lit. \u201cthe thing that is\ntouched or played upon.\u201d P. ii. 369, 426.\n\nPAJARIA. _Span._ Straw-market. The place where straw is _kept_ is\nPAJAR.\n\nPAL. Rom. See PLAN.\n\nPALABRA. _Span._ A word.\n\nPALOMAR. _Span._ A dovecote.\n\nPAN. _Span._ Bread.\n\nPANHAGIA. _Grk._ Lit. All-holy. The Virgin Mary.\n\nPAN\u00cd. See PAWNEE.\n\nPA\u00d1UELO. _Span._ A handkerchief. Lit. a little cloth.\n\nPAPAS. _Grk._ A priest (\u03c0\u03b1\u03c0\u1fb6\u03c2).\n\nPARA. _Span._ and _Port._ For.\n\nPARN\u00d3. _Rom._ White. P. ii. 359; Pp. 410; M. viii. 32.\n\nPARN\u00c9. White, or silver money; thence, as in the case of Fr. _argent_,\nmoney in general. See PARN\u00d3.\n\nPARRA. _Span._ Festoons of vines; the trellis or stakes upon which\nthese festoons are trained.\n\nPARUGAR. _Rom._ To barter, swop, chaffer. P. ii. 354; Pp. 412; M.\nviii. 33.\n\nPASTELEROS. _Span._ Pastrycooks.\n\nPASTESAS. _Rom._ The hands. _Ustilar \u00e1 pastesas_ is to steal \u201cwith the\nhands,\u201d or by any sleight of hand. Z. i. 315. The usual Span. gypsy\nword is _ba_, J.; _bas_, Z. i. 522. Both are doubtless variations of the\nmore common _vast_. P. ii. 86; Pp. 573; M. viii. 94; SC. 151.\n\nPASTOR. _Span._ and _Port._ Shepherd.\n\nPATIO. _Span._ and _Port._ The court of a house; either the open space\nround which Spanish houses are so commonly built, or an open court in\nfront of it.\n\nPATRON. See PADRON.\n\nPAWNEE, PAN\u00cd. _Rom._ Water. Hind. _pan\u00ed_. The one special word known\nto all gypsies wherever found, even in Brazil. P. ii. 343; Pp. 405; M.\nviii. 31; G. i. 61.\n\nPELUNI. _Arab._ Of another. See ii. 313.\n\nPENAR, PENELAR. _Rom._ To speak, say. P. ii. 386; Pp. 421; M. viii.\n41.\n\nPE\u00d1A. _Span._ A rock.\n\nPEPTNDORIO. _Rom._ Antonio; proper name.\n\nPERICO. _Span._ A small parrot.\n\nPERO. _Span._ But\n\nPERRO. _Span._ A dog.\n\nPESAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To afflict, distress. Lit. to weigh. _Me\npeso_, \u201cI\u2019m very sorry.\u201d\n\nPESETA. _Span._ A Spanish coin, representing, down to 1870, two silver\nreals or four reals _vellon_, but since 1870 the standard or unit of\nvalue in Spanish finance, is nearly equal to the French _franc_, and,\nlike it, divided for purposes of account, into 100 _centimos_.\n\nPETULENGRO, PETALENGRO. _Eng. Rom._ A shoeing smith. See note on i.\n204; P. ii. 348; Pp. 427; M. viii. 37; SC. 13, 121; and, generally,\nLavengro and The Romany Rye.\n\nPFAFFEN. _Germ._ Monks; a contemptuous term for clerics generally,\nwhether regular or secular.\n\nPIAZZA. _Ital._ An open square in a town, surrounded by colonnades. In\nmodern American parlance the word is often used for a veranda, in which\nsense Borrow apparently uses it, i. 276.\n\nPICADOR. _Span._ and _Port._ A riding-master, bull-fighter. See note,\ni. 170, and TORERO.\n\nPICARDIA. _Span._ and _Port._ Knavishness; from _picaro_, a rogue,\nknave, or loafer. The English adjective _picaresque_ is conventionally\napplied to a certain class of Spanish story of low life and sharp\npractice relieved by humour.\n\nP\u00cdCARO. _Span._ and _Port._ Rogue, knave.\n\nPICARON. _Span._ Augmentative (_on_) of _p\u00edcaro_, a great scamp.\n\nPICA. _Span._ and _Port._ Peak, summit.\n\nPILA. _Span._ A water-trough.\n\nPINAR, PINAL. _Span._ Grove or wood of pine trees.\n\nPINR\u00d3, PINDR\u00d3, plur. PINDR\u00c9. _Rom._ Foot; _en pindr\u00e9_, on foot P. ii.\n351; Pp. 433; M. viii. 47; A. 33.\n\nPIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Pious.\n\nPIRAR, PIRELAR. _Rom._ To go, walk. P. ii. 382; Pp. 436; M. viii. 42.\n\nPITA. _Span._ The aloe (_Agave americana_).\n\nPLUL\u00cd. _Rom._ A widow. P. ii. 377; Pp. 439; M. viii. 43.\n\nPLAKO or PLACO. _Rom._ Tobacco. Russ. _pr\u00e2k_ = powder. P. ii. 361;\nPp. 445; M. viii. 52. A gypsy model at Granada gave it as _prajo_ in\n1876, \u201cL\u201d and \u201cR\u201d being often interchanged by the peasants thereabouts.\nG. i. 177 and J. has _polvo_ = _praco_.\n\nPLAN, PLANOR\u00d3, PLAL. _Rom._ Brother, comrade. Eng. Rom. _pal_. P. ii.\n383; A. 79; Pp. 445; M. viii. 43.\n\nPLAYA. _Span._ The strand.\n\nPLAZA. _Span._ A square or open space in a town. Ital. _piazza_, q.v.\n\nPLAZUELA. _Span._ Dimin. of PLAZA.\n\nPOBLACION. _Span._ (1) Population; (2) act of populating; (3) a town.\n\nPOBRECITA. _Span._ \u201cPoor thing!\u201d Dimin. of _pobre_, poor.\n\nPOLITICO. _Span._ and _Port._ Political, civil. See note, ii. 127.\n\nPOLK. _Russ._ A regiment.\n\nPOQUITO. _Span._ Dimin. of _poco_. Small, little.\n\nPOR. _Span._ and _Port._ For.\n\nPORQUE. _Span._ and _Port._ Because.\n\nPOSADA. _Span._ \u201cA lodging; from _posar_, to sit down or lodge, hence\nlodging-house, tavern, or small hotel. The genuine Spanish town inn is\ncalled the _posada_, as being meant to mean a house of repose after the\npains of travel. Strictly speaking, the keeper is only bound to provide\nlodging, salt, and the power of cooking whatever the traveller brings\nwith him or can procure out-of-doors, and in this it differs from the\n_fonda_, in which meats and drinks are furnished.\u201d\u2014Ford, _Gatherings from\nSpain_, ch. xv.\n\nPOSADERO. _Span._ Innkeeper.\n\nPOSTA. _Span._ and _Port._ Post, post-house. _Casa de las Postas_,\nGeneral Post-office.\n\nPRA\u00c7A. _Port._ Square, place.\n\nPRADO. _Span._ and _Port._ A lawn or meadow. The great promenade at\nMadrid.\n\nPRAIA. _Gal._ Seashore, strand.\n\nPRESIDIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Place of imprisonment, penitentiary;\nprim. a fortress, or the garrison thereof.\n\nPRESTAR. _Port._ To be of use.\n\nPRIMERO. _Span._ First.\n\nPRINCIPE. _Span._ and _Port._ PRINCEPS. _Lat._ Prince.\n\nPROPINA. _Span._ Lat. _propinare_. Drink-money; _pour boire_, a tip.\n\nPUCHERA or PUCHERO. _Span._ A stew; prim. the pot in which the stew is\nmade, which, as in the case of the _olla_, has come to signify the\ncontents. The _puchero_ is more used in the north, the _olla_ in the\nsouth of the Peninsula. The combination _olla podrida_ is now at least\nnever heard in Spain.\n\nPUEBLO. _Span._ A small town, or village. _El pueblo_, the common\npeople.\n\nPUENTE. _Span._ A bridge.\n\nPUERTA. _Span._ Door, gate. _Puerta del Sol_, Gate of the Sun. The\ncentral point of Madrid.\n\nPUERTO. _Span._ A bay, or port; also a pass in the mountains.\n\nPULIDO. _Span._ Neat, delicate, charming.\n\n * * * * *\n\nQUATRO. _Span._ and _Port._ Four.\n\nQUE. _Span._ and _Port._ What, that.\n\nQUER. _Rom._ A house. See KER.\n\nQUIEN. _Span._ Who.\n\nQUIERO. _Span._ I wish.\n\nQUINTA. _Span._ and _Port._ A country house.\n\n * * * * *\n\nRABBI. _Hebr._ Master.\n\nRAINHA. _Port._ Queen.\n\nRAIS. _Arab._ Chief; captain of a ship.\n\nRAJIL. _Arab._ Man.\n\nRANDADO._ Rom._ Written. From _randar_, P. ii. 276.\n\nRATERO. _Span._ Mean, scoundrelly.\n\nRAYA. _Span._ Border, boundary, or frontier.\n\nREAL. _Span._ and _Port._ Royal.\n\nREAL. _Span._ and _Port._ A coin or unit of value. The Spanish plural\nis _reales_; the Portuguese, _reis_ or _rees_. The Spanish real is worth\nabout 2\u00bd_d._ English; the Portuguese only 1/20_d._, one thousand reis\nmaking the Portuguese dollar, or piece of mil reis, hence called a\n_milrei_ or _milreis_.\n\nREGATA. _Span._ A small channel, or, conduit.\n\nREJA. _Span._ The iron grating before a window looking on to the street\nof a town. The recognized trysting-place of a lover and his mistress.\n\nRELACION. _Span._ Relation, story.\n\nREMATAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To end, finish. _Que Dios remate tu\nnombre_! \u201cMay God blot out your name!\u201d\n\nRENDER. _Span._ and _Port._ To yield, surrender.\n\nREPA\u00d1I. _Rom._ Brandy. This word, given in 1876 (_v._ PLAKO), is\nderived by Pott from _repa\u00f1i_ (_repa\u00f1\u00f3_, J.), a radish, the connexion\nbeing the sharp taste of both (ii. 274). Remembering the \u201cfire-water\u201d of\nthe Indians, the _aguardiente_ of Spain and Portugal, and the _tattopani_\nof the Eng. gypsies, I am tempted to suggest another explanation. J.\ngives _ardiente_ = _car\u00ed_, and _aguardiente_ = _pa\u00f1icar\u00ed_. Now _car_ (P.\nii. 125) or _jar_ (_ib._ 171) = heat. Change the order of the words and\n_caripa\u00f1i_ might shorten into _repa\u00f1\u00ed_.\n\nREPOSTERO. _Span._ The butler, or majordomo, in a great house. The\n_reposteria_ is the plate-room, storeroom, or pantry.\n\nREPUTACION. _Span._ Reputation. _Gente de reputacion_, \u201cswells,\u201d\n\u201cswagger people.\u201d\n\nREQUISO. _Span._ Requisitioning (from _requerir_). A technical word;\nthe authority that requisitions private property, horses, etc., for the\nuse of the national army in time of war.\n\nREYNA. _Span._ Queen.\n\nRIA. _Span._ and _Port._ An estuary, as the mouth of a river. More\nparticularly applied to the numerous bays on the Galician and Asturian\ncoasts of Northwest Spain.\n\nRO, ROM. _Rom._ A husband; a married gypsy. _Roma_, the husbands, is\nthe generic name of the gypsy nation, or Romany. P. ii. 275; A. 56; Pp.\n462; M. viii. 58; McR. 91.\n\nROMERO. _Span._ Rosemary.\n\nROMI. _Rom._ A married gypsywoman; fem. of _rom_, a husband; a married\ngypsy.\n\nROQUE. _Span._ and _Port._ The \u201crook,\u201d or \u201ccastle,\u201d at chess. Pers.\n_rukh_. The same word is used for the fabulous bird of immense size so\noften mentioned in Oriental tales.\n\nROUBLE. _Russ._ A kind of Russian money, either silver or paper. Its\npresent value is about two shillings.\n\nRUAH. Arab, and _Hebr._ Spirit. Used throughout the Old Test, to\ndenote the Spirit of God, the Holy Spirit.\n\nRUFIANESCO. _Span._ Ruffian, criminal.\n\nRUNE. _Eng._ (1) A letter of the ancient Scandinavian alphabet, usually\ncarved on stone. (2) A short mystic sentence of Scandinavian origin.\nNorse and Danish _rune_, Swed. _runa_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nSABIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Learned. King Alfonso X. was surnamed _El\nSabio_, which is sometimes erroneously rendered \u201cThe Wise.\u201d _Sabio_ is,\nrather, \u201cerudite;\u201d and the king was undoubtedly the most learned man of\nhis time, though his government was not always by any means wise.\n\nSACRO. _Span._ and _Port._ Sacred.\n\nSAFACORO. _Rom._ The city of Seville. P. ii. 248. J. gives\n_Sevillano_ = _Safacorano_.\n\nSAGADUA, SAGARDUA. _Basque_. Cider; _i.e._ the strong or Spanish cider,\ncalled in French Basque _charnoa_ or _sharnoa_, as distinguished from the\nweak cider which is made from apples rotted in water. A probable\netymology is _sagar_ = apple; _arno_ = wine.\n\nSAGRA. _Span._ The name of certain districts in Spain, especially of\none lying north of Toledo. The word is probably derived from the Arab\n_\u1e63a\u1e25ra_ = a plain. See note, i. 257.\n\nSALAMANQUESA. _Span._ A salamander, or, star-lizard; otherwise called\n_salamandra_.\n\nSANDIA. _Span._ A water-melon.\n\nSANTIGUO. _Span._ The action of crossing one\u2019s self. _Santiguar_ is\n\u201cto make the sign of the cross.\u201d\n\nSANTO. _Span._ and _Port._ Sainted, holy. _La Santa Casa_, the\nInquisition.\n\nSANTON. _Span._ A great saint; more especially applied to Moslem\nrecluses. Also, a hypocrite.\n\nSANTURRON. _Span._ A great saint; usually, a great hypocrite.\n\nSARDINHA. _Port._ and _Gal._ A sardine. Borrow\u2019s friends, _la gente\nrufianesca_, have a quaint name for a galley-slave, _apaleador de\nsardinas_, a sardine-beater. H. 155.\n\nSBA. _Arab._ Morning. More correctly, _\u1e63ab\u0101\u1e25_.\n\nSCHARKI. _Arab._ The East.\n\nSCHARR. See DAOUD.\n\nSCHOPHON. _Heb._ _Sh\u00e2ph\u00e2n_ (\u05e9\u05c1\u05e4\u05df) A quadruped which chews the cud like\na hare (Lev. xi. 5; Deut. xiv. 7); which lives gregariously on rocks, and\nis remarkable for its cunning (Ps. civ. 18; Prov. xxx. 26). The Rabbins\nrender _coney_, or _rabbit_; more correctly the LXX. in three places\n\u03c7\u03bf\u03b9\u03c1\u03bf\u03b3\u03c1\u03cd\u03bb\u03bb\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, _i.e._ an animal resembling the _marmot_.\n\nS\u00c9. _Span._ I know; from _saber_.\n\nSEA. _Span._ May he be; from _ser_.\n\nSECO. _Span._ and _Port._ Dry. See ii. 82.\n\nSECRETARIO. _Span._ and _Port._ Secretary.\n\nSEGUN. _Span._ According to.\n\nSEGUNDO. _Span._ and _Port._ Second.\n\nSENHOR, SENHORA. _Port._ SE\u00d1OR, SE\u00d1ORA. _Span._ Gentleman, lady.\n\nSE\u00d1ORITO, SE\u00d1ORITA. _Span._ Dimin. of the above.\n\nSEO. _Span._ A cathedral church.\n\nSEREKA. _Arab._ A theft. More correctly, _sarika_.\n\nSERRA. _Port._ A high range of mountains; the Spanish sierra.\n\nSERRADOR. _Span._ and _Port._ A sawyer. Although according to some\nauthorities this was the real name of the person mentioned in i. 138,\n233, it seems that he was really a sawyer, by name Jos\u00e9 Miralles, born in\nValencia, on the borders of Aragon. He served under _El Fraile_ (The\nFriar), a Guerilla chief in the Napoleonic wars, and was rather the rival\nthan the lieutenant of Cabrera, who imprisoned him, on which occasion he\nbroke both his legs in a vain attempt to escape. He subsequently took\npart in the rising at Maeztrazgo, in 1844, and died in the campaign of\nthat year, while serving under General Villalonga.\n\nSERRANIA. _Span._ and _Port._ District or country of _sierras_, or\nmountain ridges.\n\nSERVIL. _Span._ and _Port._ Servile. Applied, as a substantive, as a\nparty nickname to the Royalists on the outbreak of the first civil war in\n1820.\n\nSES\u00d3 (fem. SES\u00cd, plur. SES\u00c9, also = Spain). _Rom._ A Spaniard. In\nSpanish the word signifies \u201cbrain,\u201d P. ii. 249.\n\nSHAIT\u00c1N. _Arab._ Satan, the devil.\n\nSHEE. _Arab._ Thing.\n\nSHEKEL. _Hebr._ A Hebrew coin of uncertain value. The word itself\nmeans merely \u201ca weight.\u201d\n\nSHEM. _Hebr._ Name.\n\nSHEM HAMPHORASH. _Hebr._ The separated, reserved, or special Name, i.e.\n_Yahweh_. Always transliterated _Adonai_. Lord (a word which itself,\nperhaps, contains the Span. _Don_), whence \u039a\u03cd\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, _Dominus_, and the\nLORD, have found their way into translations of the Old Testament. Our\nEnglish \u201cJehovah\u201d contains the forbidden consonants of _Yahweh_ and the\nvowel points of _Adonai_.\n\nSHEREEF. _Arab._ Noble.\n\nSHILLAM EIDRI. Apparently meant for _lashon ivri_ = the Hebrew tongue.\n\nSHOOB. Borrovian for the Russian _shuba_, a fur cloak or pelisse. The\nword has made its way into Eng. Rom. as _shooba_, a gown.\n\nSHRIT. Apparently for the Arabic _ishtari_ = buy.\n\nSIBAT. _Arab._ Slippers. More correctly, _sabb\u0101t_.\n\nSIDI. _Arab._ My lord. More usually written _Said_ or _Sayyid_, the\nsame as the more familiar Cid. The fem. _Sitti_ = my lady, is familiar\nto every lady who has visited North Africa.\n\nSIERRAS. _Span._ Lit. saws; applied to mountain ranges, from their\nserrated outline.\n\nSIESTA. _Span._ Lat. _sexta_ (_hora_), noon. Noontide or afternoon\nsleep. _Sext_ is one of the canonical hours of the Catholic Church.\n\nSIETE. _Span._ Seven.\n\nSIGLO. _Span._ Century, age.\n\nSIGNOR, SIGNORE. _Ital._ Sir.\n\nSIN. _Span._ Without.\n\nSINAH. See DAR.\n\nSINAR. _Rom._ To be. _Sin_, he is; _sinava_, I was. P. ii. 250; Pp.\n255; M. vii. 66.\n\nS\u014cC. _Arab._ A market. More correctly, _s\u016b\u1e33_. _Soc de barra_ = outer\nmarket.\n\nSOCIEDAD. _Span._ Society.\n\nSOGA. _Span._ A rope; a well-rope; a halter for beasts; the halter for\nhanging a man.\n\nSOLABARRI. _Rom._ Bridle. P. ii. 239; Pp. 487; M. viii. 69.\n\nSOMBRERO. _Span._ A hat; that which gives _sombra_, or shade.\n\nSON. _Span._ They are; from _ser_.\n\nSONACAI. _Rom._ Gold. P. ii. 227; Pp. 481; M. viii. 68.\n\nSOPA. _Span._ (1) Soup. (2) The entire dinner.\n\nSOTEA. _Port._ Flat roof; balcony; platform.\n\nSOU. _Port._ SOY. _Span._ I am; from _ser_.\n\nSOWANEE. _Rom._ A sorceress. Used by Borrow, i. 122, for the more\ncorrect _chuaja\u00f1i_, Eng. Rom. _chovihoni_. P. ii. 190; Pp. 549; M. vii.\n37.\n\nSU. _Span._ SUUS. _Lat._ His.\n\nSVEND. _Dan._ Swain.\n\n * * * * *\n\nTABLA. _Span._ A board, or plank.\n\nTAL. _Span._ and _Port._ Such. _Que tal_? \u201cHow goes it?\u201d\n\nTALIB. _Arab._ Learned, Lit. \u201ca seeker,\u201d used in some countries for \u201ca\ndevotee.\u201d More correctly, _\u1e6d\u0101lib_.\n\nTAMBIEN. _Span._ Also, likewise, as well.\n\nTAN. _Span._ So.\n\nTARDE. _Span._ and _Port._ Afternoon, evening.\n\nTEATRO. _Span._ Theatre.\n\nTEBLEQUE. _Rom._ God the Saviour, Jesus. P. ii. 312; J.\n\nTENER. _Span._ To take, hold, have. See MODO. _Tuvose_, it was held,\nor, thought.\n\nTERELAR._ Rom._ To have, hold. P. ii, 294; A. 41; Pp. 512; M. viii.\n79.\n\nTERREIRO. _Port._ A parade, promenade.\n\nTERTULIA. _Span._ An assembly, conversazione.\n\nTINAJA. _Span._ A large earthen jar.\n\nTINTO. _Span._ and _Port._ Coloured. _Vino tinto_, red wine.\n\nTIO, TIA. _Span._ Uncle; aunt. Applied in common life as a term of\nfamiliar address to any one, not related to the speaker. Something like\nthe Old English _gaffer_ and _gammer_.\n\nTIPOTAS. _Grk._ Nothing (\u03c0\u03af\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5).\n\nTIRAR. _Span._ and _Port._ To throw, remove, shoot. _Tirar por\ndetras_, to kick out behind.\n\nTOCINO. _Span._ Bacon, pork.\n\nTODO. _Span._ and _Port._ All.\n\nTOMA. _Span._ Lit. take; as an interjection, \u201cCome!\u201d \u201cLook here!\u201d\n\nTOMATE. _Span._ The tomato (_Lycopersicum esculentum_).\n\nTONSURA. _Span._ and _Port._ (1) A cutting, of hair or wool. (2) The\nfirst of the ecclesiastical orders.\n\nTORAH, or THORAH. _Hebr._ The books of the Law; the Pentateuch.\n\nTOREADOR. See TORERO.\n\nTORERO. _Span._ A professional bull-fighter. These are of three\nclasses\u2014the _picadores_, or horsemen; the _bandarilleros_, or placers of\n_banderillos_; and the _matador_, or _espada_. Each company, or\n_cuadrilla_, of fighters consists of a _matador_, chief of the band,\nthree _bandarilleros_, and two _picadores_. There is also usually a\n_sobresaliente_ (or understudy) _de espada_, in case of accidents; and a\ncertain number of _chulos_, or men with cloaks, complete the personnel of\nthe ring.\n\nTRADUCIDO. _Span._ Translated. From _traducir_.\n\nTRAER. _Span._ To bear, carry.\n\nTRAGUILLO. _Span._ Dim. of _trago_. A draught, drink.\n\nTRAMPA. _Span._ and _Port._ A trap, snare.\n\nTRINIDAD. _Span._ Trinity.\n\nTSADIK. _Hebr._ Righteous. Hence Tsadok, the leader of the Sadducees,\nderived his name.\n\nTUCUE. _Rom._ Thee, with thee. See TUTE.\n\nTUERTO. _Span._ One-eyed.\n\nTUNANTE. _Span._ and _Port._ Truant; lazy scoundrel.\n\nTUTE. _Rom._ Thou, thee. P. i. 229; Pp. 66; M. viii. 87.\n\nTUVOSE. See TENER.\n\n * * * * *\n\nUNDEVEL, UNDEBEL. _Rom._ God. According to Borrow, the first syllable\nof the word is the _Om_ of the Brahmins and Indian Buddhists, one of the\nnames of the Deity. Pott, however, denies this, ii. 75, 311; A. 285 Pp.\n205; M. vii. 42; G. i. 177.\n\nURIA. _Basque_. City. So translated by Borrow, but I cannot find the\nword. The correct Basque is _iri_ or _hiri_.\n\nUSTED. _Span._ Contracted form of _vuestra merced_, your worship; used\nfor \u201cyou;\u201d now written simply Vd or V.\n\nUSTILAR. _Rom._ To take, take up, steal. Z. ii. * 118; J. Cf.\n_ostilar_, to steal. P. ii. 72, 246. See PASTESAS.\n\nVALDEPE\u00d1AS. _Span._ The red wine made in the neighbourhood of that\ntown, in die heart of La Mancha. It is about the best in Spain.\n\nVALER. _Span._ To be worth, prevail, protect. _Valgame Dios_! \u201cMay\nGod protect me!\u201d \u201cS\u2019help me!\u201d\n\nVALIDO. _Span._ and _Port._ Powerful, respected. See note, ii. 376.\n\nVALIENTE._ Span._ (1) As an adjective, strong or valiant. (2) As a\nsubstantive, in a less honourable sense, as \u201ccock of the walk,\u201d or bully.\n\nVAMOS, or VAMONOS. _Span._ \u201cLet us go!\u201d \u201cCome along!\u201d\n\nV\u00c1STACO. _Span._ Stem, bud, shoot.\n\nVAYA. _Span._ A very common interjection or expression, \u201cCome!\u201d \u201cGet\nalong!\u201d \u201cLet it go!\u201d Imper. of _ir_, to go.\n\nVECINO. _Span._ An inhabitant; as an adjective, neighbouring.\n\nVEGA. _Span._ A meadow or plain; an open tract of level and fruitful\nground, more particularly applied to the country around Granada;\ngenerally an alluvial tract formed by the bend of a river or expansion of\na valley.\n\nVELHO. _Port._ Old.\n\nVENTA. _Span._ VENDA. _Port._ Strictly speaking, an isolated country\ninn, or house of reception on the road; and if it be not of physical\nentertainment, it is at least one of moral, and accordingly figures in\nprominent characters in all the personal narratives and travels in Spain.\nThe _venta_ is inferior in rank to the _posada_, q.v. The original\nmeaning of the word is \u201csale.\u201d\n\nVERDADERO. _Span._ True.\n\nVERDUGO, VERDUGA. _Span._ and _Port._ Said of an exceedingly cruel\nperson. Prim. a switch, then a flogger, or executioner.\n\nVIAJE. _Span._ A voyage.\n\nVID. _Span._ Vine.\n\nVIEJO. _Span._ Old; an old man.\n\nVILLA. _Span._ A town; greater than an _aldea_ or village, less than a\n_ciudad_ or city.\n\nVILLANO, VILLANA. _Span._ Countryman, peasant; country girl or woman.\n\nVINO. _Span._ Wine.\n\nVIRGEN. _Span._ VIRGO. _Lat._ Virgin.\n\nVISE. _Nor. Dan._ A ballad.\n\nVIS\u00c9. _Fr._ Endorsed, or furnished with the official visa. As commonly\napplied to passports, neither the verb nor the substantive has any exact\nequivalent in English.\n\nVIVER. _Span._ and _Port._ To live. _Que viva_! \u201cLong life to him!\u201d\n\nVOSS\u00c9, or VOSSEM. _Port._ _Vossa merc\u00e9_, your worship; you. Gal.\n_vust\u00e9_; Span. _usted_. See note, i. 89.\n\nVOY. _Span._ I am going; from _ir_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nWADY. _Arab._ River. _Wady al kebir_ = the great river, the\nGuadalquivir.\n\nWAKHUD. _Arab._ A, the article. More correctly, _wa\u1e25id_.\n\nWULLAH. _Arab._ \u201cBy God!\u201d\n\nWUSTUDDUR. _Arab._ Home; abode. Lit. the middle of the houses. See\nDAR.\n\n * * * * *\n\nY. _Span._ And.\n\nYAW. Borrovian for the Germ. _ja_ = yes.\n\nYDOORSHEE. _Arab._ It signifies; lit. it hurts.\n\nYERBA. _Span._ (1) Grass. (2) Poison.\n\nYESCA. _Span._ Under.\n\nYO. _Span._ I.\n\nYOUM. _Arab._ A day.\n\nYUDKEN. _Germ._ A little Jew; more correctly, _J\u00fcdchen_.\n\n * * * * *\n\nZAMARRA. _Span._ A sheepskin coat, the woolly side turned inwards; from\nthe Basque _echamarra_ (having the same signification), usually worn by\nshepherds. The French _chamarrer_, to deck out, or bedizen, is said to\nbe a word of kindred origin.\n\nZARZA. _Span._ A bramble.\n\nZINCALO. plur. ZINCALI. _Span. Rom._ Gypsy. P. ii. 259; M. viii. 65.\n\nZOHAR. _Hebr._ Brilliancy. See note, ii. 318.\n\n\n\n\nINDEX.\n\n\nAbades, ii. 209\n\nAbyla, Mount (Gibil Muza), ii. 295\n\nAguilar, Antonio Garcia de, i. 282\u2013286\n\nAlcal\u00e1 de Guadaira, i. 223\n\nAldea Gallega, i. 19, 58, 71\n\nAlemtejo, i. 16, 72\n\nAlgeziras, ii. 296\n\nAndalusia, Desert of, i. 224\n\nAndalusians, The, ii. 261\n\nAndujar, i. 253\n\nAntigola, ii. 206\n\nAntonio, the gypsy, i. 106\n\nAntonio Buchini, i. 265; ii. 161, 171, 217\n\nAranjuez, 1. 254; ii. 202\n\nArroyolos, i. 84\n\nAstorga, i. 318\n\nAsturias, The, ii. 59\n\nAzeca, Bridge of, 11. 192\n\nAzido, Joz\u00e9 Dias, i. 74\n\n * * * * *\n\nBadajoz, i. 96, 105\n\nBailen, i. 253\n\nBalmaseda, ii. 211\n\nBalseiro, i. 177; ii. 154\n\nBaltasar, the National, i. 167, 206\n\nBaralla Pass, ii. 60\n\nBasques, The, and their language, ii. 112 _et seq._\n\nBeckford, William, i. 9\n\nBembibre, i. 333\n\nBenedict Mol, i. 190, 382, 385; ii. 73, 165, 181\n\nBermudez, Cean, i. 266\n\nBetanzos, i. 364\n\nBilbao, ii. 93\n\nBonanza, i. 214; ii. 273\n\nBorrego, Don Andr\u00e9s, i. 259\n\nBrackenbury, John (Consul at Cadiz), ii. 288\n\nBuchini, Antonio, i. 265; ii. 161, 171, 217\n\nBurgos, ii. 98\n\n * * * * *\n\nCabrera, General, i. 233\n\nCacabelos, i. 338\n\nCadiz, i. 212; ii. 286\n\nCaldas de Reyes, i. 394\n\nCalzado, Pepe, ii. 101\n\nCaneiro, ii. 62\n\nCantwell, Patrick, i. 280\n\nCarmona, i. 224\n\nCarolina, i. 253\n\nCastro, John de, i. 9\n\nCastro Pol, ii. 59\n\nChristina, Queen Regent, i. 197\n\nChrysostom, Johannes, ii. 256\n\nCintra, i. 7\n\nClarendon, Lord, i. 164, 271; ii. 121, 124, 218\n\nCobe\u00f1a, ii. 221\n\nCoisa Doiro, ii. 46\n\nColhares, i. 10\n\nColunga, ii. 83\n\nCompostella, i. 192, 377; ii. 183\n\nContrabandistas, Spanish, ii. 35, 45\n\nCorcuvion, ii. 35\n\nCordova, i. 229, 238\n\nCordova, General, i, 180, 267\n\nCorrea, Joanna, ii. 355\n\nCorunna, i. 367; ii. 41\n\nCuesta del Espinal, i. 228\n\n * * * * *\n\nD\u2019Almeida, J. Ferreira, i. 98\n\nD\u2019Azveto, Don Geronimo, i. 25, 38\n\nDehesa, The, ii. 259\n\nDespe\u00f1aperros Pass, i. 254\n\nDiaz, Maria, i. 256; ii. 130, 159\n\nDionysius, ii. 263\n\nDoddridge, Dr. P., i. 6\n\nDue\u00f1as, i. 303\n\nDuero (Douro), i. 293\n\nDuyo, ii. 23\n\n * * * * *\n\nElvas, i. 94\n\nEstremadura, i. 146\n\nEstremoz, i. 87\n\nEvora, i. 16, 33\n\nExecution of criminals, i. 171\n\n * * * * *\n\nFava, Pascual, ii. 381\n\nFerrol, ii. 42\n\nFeyjoo, Benito, ii. 79\n\nFielding, Henry, i. 6\n\nFinisterre, Cape, i. 209; ii. 21, 24\n\nFlinter, G. D. (the Irishman), ii. 92\n\nFragey, Ephraim, ii. 369\n\nFuencebadon Pass, i. 344\n\n * * * * *\n\nGaliano, Alcala, i. 179, 181, 195\n\nGalicia, i, 1, 347; ii. 59\n\nGallegan language, i. 351\n\nGarcia, Sergeant, i. 197, 273\n\nGartland, Dr., i. 276\n\nGibraltar, ii. 300\n\nGijon, ii. 70\n\nGomez, i. 194, 212, 218, 233\n\nGuadalquivir, i. 214; ii. 249, 272\n\nGuadarrama Mountains, i. 151\n\nGuadiana River, i. 102\n\nGypsies, Spanish, i. 105\n\n * * * * *\n\nHervey, Lord William, ii. 211\n\nHirias, Archbishop (Toledo), ii. 174\n\n * * * * *\n\nIsturitz, Don Francis Xavier de, i. 179, 181, 196\n\n * * * * *\n\nJaraicejo, i. 135\n\nJudaism, i. 67, 247\n\n * * * * *\n\nLabajos, i. 210\n\nLa Granja, i. 197; ii. 208\n\nLa Mancha, i. 254\n\nLariategui, i. 262, 295\n\nLas Batuecas, i. 152\n\nLeganez, ii. 185\n\nLeon, i. 315\n\nLeyden, Dr. John, i. 76\n\nLib, Judah, ii. 317\n\nLisbon, i. 3, 15, 58, 66, 212\n\nLlanes, ii. 88\n\nLos Angeles, ii. 7\n\nLuarca, ii. 61\n\nLugo, i. 354, 358\n\nLuigi Piozzi, ii. 370\n\n * * * * *\n\nMadrid, i. 162, 173, 256, 270; ii. 99, 121, 217, 334\n\nMafra, i. 12\n\nManzanal, i. 327\n\nManzanares, ii. 216, 248\n\nMaragatos, The, i. 321\n\nMedina del Campo, i. 291\n\nMendizabal, Juan Alvarez y, i. 164\n\nMerida, i. 114, 125\n\nMiguelets, The, i. 363\n\nMirabete Pass, i. 145\n\nMol, Benedict, i. 190, 382, 385; ii. 73, 165, 181\n\nMoncloa, i. 225\n\nMontaneda, ii. 96\n\nMonte Almo, i. 29\n\nMonte Moro, i. 28, 53, 75\n\nMonte Moro Novo, i. 87\n\nMontes, Francisco, i. 170\n\nMoore, Sir John, i. 374\n\nMoors, The, i. 116, 239\n\nMunoz, i. 198\n\nMuros, ii. 65\n\n * * * * *\n\nNaval Carnero, ii. 232\n\nNavias, ii. 59\n\nNew Castile, i. 150\n\nNogales, i. 350\n\nNovales, ii. 45\n\nNoyo, ii. 13\n\n * * * * *\n\nOca\u00f1a, ii. 204\n\nOfalia, Count, ii. 121, 124, 141\n\nOld Castile, i. 274; Plains of, i. 290\n\nOliban, the secretary, i. 183, 195\n\nO\u00f1as, ii. 98\n\nOropesa, i. 150\n\nOviedo, ii. 70\n\n * * * * *\n\nPadron, i. 392; ii. 1\n\nPalencia, i. 309\n\nPascual Fava, ii. 381\n\nPedroso, i. 286\n\nPeg\u00f5es, 1. 24, 74\n\nPe\u00f1a Cerrada Pass, ii. 207\n\nPe\u00f1aranda, i. 275\n\nPetulengres, i. 204\n\nPhilippi, Mr., ii. 276, 278\n\nPico Sacro, i. 377\n\nPiozzi, Luigi, i. 370\n\nPitiegua, i. 281\n\nPontevedra, i. 395\n\nPortuguese Jews, i. 409\n\nPuerto de Lumbreras, ii. 246\n\n * * * * *\n\nQuesada, i. 181, 199, 202\n\n * * * * *\n\nRey Romero, i. 380\n\nRibida de Sella, ii. 88\n\nRivadeo, ii. 53\n\nRivas, Duke of, i. 183\n\n * * * * *\n\nSabocha, the robber, i. 21\n\nSagra of Toledo, The, i. 257, ii. 194\n\nSaint James of Compostella, i. 192, 377\n\nSalamanca, i. 275\n\nSanchez, Antonio, i. 170\n\nSan Lucar, i. 214; ii. 274\n\nSan Martin de Duyo, ii. 23\n\nSanta Colombo, ii. 89\n\nSanta Marta, ii. 45\n\nSantander, ii. 90\n\nSanti Ponce, i. 217\n\nSantillana, ii. 90\n\nSan Vicente, ii. 89\n\nScio, Padre Filipe, i. 259\n\nSegovia, ii. 209\n\nSerra Dorso, i. 33, 87\n\nSevilla Francesco, i. 170, 176\n\nSeville, i. 215; ii. 214, 248\n\nSierra de Buron, ii. 60\n\nSierra de Ronda, i. 215\n\nSierra Morena, i. 241\n\nSoto Luino, ii. 64\n\nSouthern, Mr., i. 271; ii. 133, 135, 139\n\n * * * * *\n\nTagus, The, i. 3, 18, 145\n\nTalavera, i. 155\n\nTangier, ii. 342\n\nTarifa, ii. 294, 341\n\nTaylor, Baron, i. 220\n\nToledo, ii. 102\u2013107\n\nTormes River, i. 276\n\nToro, i. 300\n\nTrafalgar Bay, ii. 292\n\nTriana, i. 216\n\nTrujillo, i. 130\n\n * * * * *\n\nValladolid, i. 294\n\nVargas, ii. 187, 195\n\nVendas Novas, i. 27, 55, 74\n\nVendas Velhas, i. 21\n\nVilla del Padron, i. 392; ii. 1\n\nVillafranca, i. 341\n\nVilla Seca, ii. 185\n\nVilla Viciosa, ii. 83\n\nVigo, i. 403\n\nVilliers, Sir George. _See_ Clarendon, Lord\n\nViveiro, ii. 50\n\n * * * * *\n\nZariategui, i. 262, 295\n\n * * * * *\n\n THE END.\n\n * * * * *\n\n LONDON: PRINTED BY WILLIAM CLOWES AND SONS, LIMITED,\n STAMFORD STREET AND CHARING CROSS.\n\n\n\n\nFootnotes\n\n\n{2} See note, vol. i. p. 120.\n\n{12} A fanciful word of Portuguese etymology from _nuvem_, cloud = the\ncloud-man.\n\n{14} _Inha_, when affixed to words, serves as a diminutive. It is much\nin use amongst the Gallegans. It is pronounced _\u00ednia_, the Portuguese\nand Galician _nh_ being equivalent to the Spanish _\u00f1_.\n\n{22} \u201cFlock of drunkards.\u201d _Fato_, in Gal. as in Port. = a herd or\nflock. Span. _hato_.\n\n{23} San Martin de Duyo, a village, according to Madoz, of sixty houses.\nThere are no remains of the ancient Duyo.\n\n{26} Galician; lit. the shore of the outer sea.\n\n{28} \u201cBy God! I am going too.\u201d\n\n{29} Who served as a subordinate general in the Carlist armies.\n\n{37} \u201cThe good lad.\u201d\n\n{43a} In Spanish, _guardacostas_.\n\n{43b} More correctly, _el Ferrol_ or _farol_, the lighthouse. Nothing\ncan more strikingly give the lie to the conventional taunt that Spain has\nmade no progress in recent years than the condition of the modern town of\nel Ferrol compared with the description in the text. It is now a\nflourishing and remarkably clean town of over 23,000 inhabitants, with an\narsenal not only magnificent in its construction, but filled with every\nmodern appliance, employing daily some 4000 skilled workmen, whose club\n(_el liceo de los artesanos_) might serve as a model for similar\ninstitutions in more \u201cadvanced\u201d countries. It comprises a library,\nrecreation-room, casino, sick fund, benefit society, and school; and\nlectures and evening parties, dramatic entertainments, and classes for\nscientific students, are all to be found within its walls.\n\n{45} A little town charmingly situated on a little bay at the mouth of\nthe river Eo, which divides Galicia from Asturias, famous for oysters and\nsalmon.\n\n{46} Signifying in Portugese or Galician, \u201cA thing of gold.\u201d\n\n{47} Tertian ague, or intermittent three-day fever.\n\n{49} \u201cCome along, my little Parrot!\u201d\n\n{58a} A town on the sea-coast about half-way between Rivadeo and Aviles.\n\n{58b} Query. See note, p. 45.\n\n{59} On the right bank of the Eo, over against Rivadeo.\n\n{62a} The port of Oviedo.\n\n{62b} See the Glossary, _s.v._ COPLA.\n\n{66} \u201cGod bless me!\u201d\n\n{67} I.e. _Bascuence_, or _Vascuence_, the Basque language.\n\n{70} Query, Aviles?\n\n{71} Job xxxix. 25: \u201c. . . the thunder of the captains, and the\nshouting.\u201d\n\n{75} \u201cGood heavens!\u201d\n\n{76} I.e. _jacas_.\n\n{79a} The cathedral at Oviedo is one of the oldest and most interesting\nfoundations in Spain. The first stone was laid by Alfonso II. in 802;\nthe greater part of the existing edifice is of the fourteenth century.\n\nBut the great glory of Oviedo, entitling it to rank as second among the\nholy cities of Christian Spain, is the Camara Santa, and the relics\ntherein contained (see Burke\u2019s _History of Spain_ vol. i. pp. 122\u2013124,\n140, 141, 147\u2013150, 165, 275; vol. ii. pp. 8\u201311; and Murray\u2019s _Handbook_,\nsub. _Oviedo_).\n\n{79b} Benito Feyjoo was born in 1676, and having assumed the Benedictine\nhabit early in life, settled at length in a convent of his order at\nOviedo, where he lived for hard on fifty years. He died in 1764.\n\nA strange mixture of a devout Catholic and a scientific innovator, he was\nan earnest student of Bacon, Newton, Pascal, Leibnitz, and others, whose\nopinions he embodied in his own works. Learned, judicious, and diligent\nrather than a man of genius, he was original at least as regards his\nconceptions of the nature and limits of scientific research in Spain. He\nkept on good terms with the Inquisition, while he continued to publish in\nhis _Teatro Critico_ and his _Cartas Eruditas y Curiosas_ all that the\nInquisitors would desire to remain unread; attacked the dialectics and\nmetaphysics then taught everywhere in Spain; maintained Bacon\u2019s system of\ninduction in the physical sciences; ridiculed the general opinion as\nregards eclipses, comets, magic, and divination; and laid down canons of\nhistorical criticism which would exclude many of the most cherished\ntraditions of his country and his Church. The best edition of his works\nis that by Campomanes, the minister of the enlightened Charles III., with\na Life of the author. 16 vols. Madrid, 1778.\n\n{80} Charles III. of Spain (1759\u20131788), the most enlightened of the\nBourbon kings.\n\n{82} Literally, _dry_.\n\n{92} George Dawson Flinter began life in an English West India regiment,\nserved in the Spanish American forces, and afterwards obtained a\ncommission in the Spanish army. In 1833, on the outbreak of the civil\nwar, he declared for Isabella, and served with considerable distinction\nin the constitutional army. A prisoner in 1836, he was entrusted with a\nhigh command at Toledo in 1837, but having failed to satisfy the Cortes\nin an engagement in September, 1838, he cut his throat (see _Gentl.\nMag._, 1838, vol. ii. p. 553, and Duncan, _The English in Spain_, pp. 13,\n189).\n\n{98} There is still a fairly frequented high-road from Santander to\nBurgos, inasmuch as the railway from Santander to Madrid takes a more\nwesterly route through Palencia, the actual junction with the main line\nfrom Irun being at Venta de Ba\u00f1os, a new creation of the railway not even\nmentioned in the guidebooks a few years ago, and now one of the most\nimportant stations in Spain.\n\nYet in railway matters Spain has still some progress to make. From\nSantander to Burgos _vi\u00e2_ Venta de Ba\u00f1os is just 120 English miles; but\nthe time occupied in the journey by train in this year 1895 is just\nseventeen hours, the traveller having to leave Santander at 1 p.m. in\norder to reach Burgos at 6 o\u2019clock the following morning!\n\n{100} See Introduction.\n\n{101} \u201c_Office of the Biblical and Foreign Society_,\u201d rather an odd\nrendering of the original title!\n\n{103a} The briefest of all abbreviations and modifications of the\nobjectionable _Carajo_.\n\n{103b} Rather south-south-west.\n\n{104} Domenico Theotocoupoulis, a Greek or Byzantine who settled at\nToledo in 1577. He is said to have been a pupil of Titian. The picture\nso highly praised in the text is said by Professor Justi to be in \u201chis\nworst manner,\u201d and is indeed a very stiff performance. There are many of\n_El Greco\u2019s_ pictures in Italy, where his work is often assigned to\nBassano, Paul Veronese, and Titian. His acknowledged masterpiece is the\nChrist on Mount Calvary in the cathedral of Toledo. _El Greco_ died in\n1625, after an uninterrupted residence of nearly forty years in Spain.\n\n{107} See _The Zincali_, part. ii. chap. vi.\n\n{111a} Borrow\u2019s translation of St. Luke into Spanish gypsy was published\nwith the following title: _Emb\u00e9o e Majar\u00f3 Lucas_. _Brotoboro randado\nandr\u00e9 la chipe griega_, _ac\u00e1na chibado andr\u00e9 o Roman\u00f3 \u00f3 chipe es Zincales\nde Ses\u00e9_. (No place) 1837. A new edition was published five and thirty\nyears later by the British and Foreign Bible Society, as _Criscote e\nMajar\u00f3 Lucas chibado andr\u00e9 o Romano \u00f3 chipe es Zincales de Ses\u00e9_.\nLundra, 1872. Both these works are now out of print, but I have had the\nadvantage of seeing a copy of each in the library of the Society in Queen\nVictoria Street.\n\n{111b} _The Zincali_, part ii. ch. viii.\n\n{114} Modern linguistic science is so entirely at variance with these\ntheories that it is difficult to add a note at once modest, instructive,\nor of reasonable length. On the whole it is perhaps better to leave the\nchapter entirely alone.\n\n{116a} See the Glossary.\n\n{116b} _Evangelioa San Lucasen Guissan_. _El Evangelio Segun S. Lucas_.\n_Traducido al vascuence_. _Madrid_: _Imprenta de la Compa\u00f1ia\nTipografica_. 1838.\n\n{117} See _Proverbes Basques suivis des Po\u00e9sies Basques_, by Arnauld\nOihenart, 1847.\n\n{118a} See F. Michel, _Le Pays Basque_, p. 213, and the Glossary, _s.v._\nICHASOA.\n\n{118b} No one who has ever read the work of this _Abb\u00e9_ would ever think\nof citing it as a serious authority. It is entitled, _L\u2019histoire des\nCantabres par l\u2019Abb\u00e9 d\u2019Iharce de Bidassouet_. Paris, 1825. Basque,\naccording to the author, was the prim\u00e6val language; _Noah_ being still\nthe Basque for _wine_ is an etymological record of the patriarch\u2019s\nunhappy inebriety!\n\n{118c} This work is entitled, _Euscaldun anci\u00f1a anci\u00f1aco_, _etc._\n_Donostian_, 1826, by Juan Ignacio de Iztueta, with an Introduction in\nSpanish, and many Basque songs with musical notation, but without\naccompaniment.\n\n{120} See further as to the Basques, Burke\u2019s _History of Spain_, vol. i.\nApp. I.\n\n{121a} 1838.\n\n{121b} See _ante_, p. 100, and Introduction.\n\n{121c} Ofalia was prime minister from November 30, 1837, to August,\n1838, when he was succeeded by the Duke of Frias.\n\n{127} The mayor or chief magistrate. _Politico_ is here used in the old\nsense of civic, \u03c0\u03bf\u03bb\u03b9\u03c4\u03b9\u03ba\u1f78\u03c2, of the \u03c0\u03cc\u03bb\u03b9\u03c2; _gefe_, now spelt _jefe_ =\nchief.\n\n{129a} In _The Zincali_, part ii. ch. iv., Borrow places his\nimprisonment in March.\n\n{129b} Rather _civic_; see note on p. 127.\n\n{131} \u201cThe city prison.\u201d _La Corte_ is the _capital_, as well as the\n_court_.\n\n{133} \u201cMy master! the constables, and the catchpolls, and all the other\nthieves . . . \u201d\n\n{134a} See the Glossary, _s.v._ JARGON.\n\n{134b} \u201cHe is very skilful.\u201d\n\n{136} \u201cAre there no more?\u201d\n\n{141} More like the French _Juge d\u2019Instruction_.\n\n{143a} \u201cCome along, Sir George; to your house, to your lodgings!\u201d\n\n{143b} Acts xvi. 37.\n\n{146} People of renown.\n\n{147a} \u201cMashes\u201d and mistresses. _Majo_ is a word of more general\nsignification than _manolo_. The one is a dandy, or smart fellow, all\nover Spain; the other is used only of a certain class in Madrid.\n\n{147b} More correctly, _Carabanchel_ or _Carabancheles_, two villages a\nfew miles south of Madrid.\n\n{148} This in prison!\n\n{149} _E.g._ in the citadel of Pampeluna. See _Journal of the Gypsy\nLore Society_, i. 152.\n\n{152} Perhaps Waterloo.\u2014[Note by Borrow.]\n\n{154} \u201cIt distresses me.\u201d\n\n{155} Robbing the natives.\n\n{156} See chap. xiii.\n\n{164} The sun was setting, and Demos commands. \u201cBring water, my\nchildren, that ye may eat bread this evening.\u201d Borrow has translated\nthis song in the _Targum _(_v._ p. 343).\n\n{165} The treasure-digger.\n\n{170} See _The Zincali_, part ii. chap. iv.\n\n{171} The duke became prime minister in August, 1838.\n\n{175} In Gams\u2019 _Series Episcoporum_, the standard authority on the\nsubject, the archiepiscopal see of Toledo is noted as _vacant_ from 1836\nto 1847. Nor is any hint given of how the duties of the office were\nperformed. Don Antonio Perez Hirias figures only as Bishop of Mallorca,\nor Majorca, from December, 1825, to December, 1847.\n\n{178a} Kicks from behind.\n\n{178b} \u201cI do not know.\u201d\n\n{179a} See note, p. 103.\n\n{179b} \u201cTo the gallows! To the gallows!\u201d\n\n{180a} \u201cTo the country! To the country!\u201d\n\n{180b} \u201cRide on, because of the word of truth, of meekness, and\nrighteousness\u201d (Ps. xlv. 5, P.B.V.).\n\n{188} A nickname, unhappily too commonly justified in Southern Spain,\nwhere ophthalmia and oculists are equally dangerous.\n\nIt is remarkable how many of the great men in Spanish history, however,\nhave been distinguished by this blemish: Hannibal, Viriatus, T\u00e1ric, Abdur\nRahman I., and Don Juan el Tuerto in the reign of Alfonso XI.\n\n{190} Byron, _Don Juan_, xiii. 11. Borrow probably knew well enough\nwhere the lines came from. _Don Juan_ had not been published more than\nfifteen years at the time, and was in the zenith of its popularity. But\nByron and his ways were alike odious to the rough manliness of Borrow\n(see _Lavengro_, ch. xxxix.), and, in good truth, however much the poet\n\u201cdeserves to be remembered,\u201d it is certainly not for this line, which\ncontains as many _suggestiones falsi_ as may be packed into one line.\nYet the \u201csneer\u201d is not in the original, but in Borrow\u2019s misquotation;\nByron wrote \u201csmiled.\u201d The idea of the poet having spent a handful of\ngold ounces in a Genoese posada at Seville and at a bull-fight at Madrid,\nthat he might be competent to tell the world that Cervantes sneered\nSpain\u2019s chivalry away, is superlatively Borrovian\u2014and delicious. The\nentire passage runs thus\u2014\n\n \u201cCervantes smiled Spain\u2019s chivalry away;\n A single laugh demolish\u2019d the right arm\n Of his own country;\u2014seldom since that day\n Has Spain had heroes.\u201d\n\n{192} About thirty pounds, at the exchange of the day.\n\n{195a} \u201cI wish to enlist with you.\u201d\n\n{195b} \u201c_Gee up_, donkey!\u201d From this _arrh\u00e9_, of Arabic origin, is\nderived the word _arriero_, a muleteer.\n\n{197} \u201cBlessed be God!\u201d\n\n{198} See note, _ante_, p. 190.\n\n{201} See vol. i. p. 257.\n\n{202} Aranjuez, the Roman _Ara Jovis_, was, until the absorption of the\ngreat military order by the Crown under Isabella and Ferdinand, a\nfavourite residence of the Grand Masters of Santiago.\n\n{203} \u201cDie sch\u00f6nen Tage in Aranjuez\nSind nun zu Ende.\u201d\n\n The opening lines of _Don Carlos_.\n\n{204} An exceedingly ancient town, celebrated in the days before the\nRoman dominion.\n\n{205} See Glossary, _sub. verb_. SCHOPHON. As to rabbits in Spain, see\nnote, vol. i. p. 25.\n\n{208} The modern La Granja or San Ildefonso is, in the season, anything\nbut desolate: the beautiful, if somewhat over-elaborate gardens, are\nadmirably kept up, and the general atmosphere of the plain is bright and\ncheerful, though the Court of to-day prefers the sea-breezes of Biscay to\nthe air of the Guadarrama, when Madrid becomes, as it does, well-nigh\nuninhabitable in summer.\n\n{211a} A particular scoundrel. His massacre of prisoners, November 9,\n1838, was remarkable for its atrocity, when massacre was of daily\noccurrence. See Duncan, _The English in Spain_, pp. 247, 248.\n\n{211b} See note, vol. i. p. 164.\n\n{213} August 31, 1838.\n\n{215} Don Carlos, who probably died a natural death in 1568.\n\n{217} The etymology of Andalusia is somewhat of a _crux_; the various\nauthorities are collected and reviewed in an appendix to Burke\u2019s _History\nof Spain_, vol. i. p. 379. The true etymology may be Vandalusia, the\nabiding-place of the Vandals, though they abode in Southern Spain but a\nvery short time; but the word certainly came into the Spanish through the\nArabic, and not through the Latin, long years after Latin was a spoken\nlanguage. The young lady was quite right in speaking of it as _Betica_\nor _B\u0153tica_; though the _Terra_ would be superfluous, if not incorrect.\n\n{218} He had succeeded to that title on the death of his uncle, December\n22, 1838.\n\n{219} _I.e._ \u201cMy Lord the Sustainer of the Kingdom.\u201d See preface to\n_The Zincali_, second edition.\n\n{221a} _Tio_. A common method of address, conveying no reference to\nreal relationship. So the Boers in South Africa speak of \u201cOom (uncle)\nPaul.\u201d\n\n{221b} \u201cWhat beautiful, what charming reading!\u201d\n\n{223} _No hay otro en el mundo_.\n\n{224a} See note on p. 147.\n\n{224b} \u039a\u03b1\u03c4\u1f70 \u03c4\u1f78\u03bd \u03c4\u03cc\u03c0\u03bf\u03bd \u03ba\u03b1\u1f76 \u1f41 \u03c4\u03c1\u03cc\u03c0\u03bf\u03c2, as Antonio said.\u2014[Note by Borrow].\n_I.e._ \u201cAs is the place, such is the character (of the people).\u201d\n\n{225} Alcal\u00e1 de Henares. See note, vol. i. p. 223.\n\n{228a} \u201cGood night!\u201d\n\n{228b} \u201cGood night to you!\u201d\n\n{234} Or _Nevski_ = of the Neva; as we have a Thames Street.\n\n{236} Spanish, _duende_. See p. 238. Oddly enough in _German\u00eda_, or\nthieves\u2019 slang, _duende_ = _ronda_, a night patrol.\n\n{237} Madrid is not a city or _ciudad_, but only the chief of _villas_.\n\n{240} In Romany, _Chuquel sos pirela cocal terela_.\n\n{242a} _El Nuevo Testamento Traducido al Espa\u00f1ol de la Vulgata Latino\npor el Rmo. P. Phelipe Scio de S. Miguel de las Escuelas Pias Obispo\nElecto de Segovia_. _Madrid_. _Imprenta \u00e1 cargo de D. Joaquin de la\nBarrera_. 1837.\n\n{242b} The church of San Gines is in the Calle del Arenal; the chapel of\nSanta Cruz in the Concepcion Jer\u00f3nima.\n\n{246} This is a curious slip; the spelling is found in the first and all\nsubsequent editions. The true name of the defile\u2014it is between Velez el\nRubio and Lorca\u2014is, as might be supposed, _La Rambla_, but the narrowest\npart of the pass is known as the _Puerto de Lumbreras_ (the Pass of\nIllumination), and from _Rambla_ and _Lumbrera_ Borrow or the printer of\n1843 evolved the strange compound _Rumblar_!\n\n{248} This would naturally mean, \u201cMost reverend sir, art thou still\nsaying, or, dost thou still say Mass?\u201d which seems somewhat irrelevant.\nPossibly what \u201cthe prophetess\u201d meant to ask was, \u201cMost reverend sir, hast\nthou yet said Mass?\u201d\n\n{251a} \u201cKnowest thou the land where the lemon-trees bloom?\u201d The song of\nMignon in Goethe\u2019s _Wilhelm Meister_, introduced in the opera of _Faust_.\n\n{251b} See note, vol. i. p. 216.\n\n{256} Born at Amalfi, 1623, a simple fisherman. He headed the rebellion\nof the Neapolitans against the Spanish viceroy, in 1647. His success as\na leader led to a revulsion of popular feeling, and he was executed or\nmurdered within a few days of his greatest triumph.\n\n{261} Chiefly in their pronunciation of the characteristic G and Z of\nthe Castilian as S instead of TH. The South-American Spaniards, so\nlargely recruited from Andalusia, maintain the same sibilation, which is\nabout as offensive to a true Castilian as the dropping of an H is to an\neducated Englishman.\n\n{262} Safacoro is the Romany name for Seville; and Len Baro for the\ngreat river, _arabic\u00e9_ Wady al Kebir, the Guadalquivir. See Glossary.\n\n{263} For further information about Manuel and Luis Lobo, who compiled a\nmanuscript collection of the pseudo-gypsy writings of _los del aficion_,\nor those addicted to the _Gitanos_ and their language, see _The Zincali_,\npart iii. chap. ii.\n\n{264a} \u039a\u03cd\u03c1\u03b9\u03b5, voc. of \u03ba\u03cd\u03c1\u03b9\u03bf\u03c2, the usual mode of address, \u201csir.\u201d\n\n{264b} The name of a famous family of Dutch printers (1594\u20131680).\n\n{266} Priests. Greek, \u03c0\u03b1\u03c0\u1fb6\u03c2; not Spanish, in which language _Papa_\nmeans the Pope (of Rome).\n\n{267} \u03a4\u03af\u03c0\u03bf\u03c4\u03b5 = nothing at all.\n\n{273} The secondary signification of \u201cprosperity\u201d or \u201cgood fortune\u201d is\nmore familiar to English ears; the word having come to us by way of the\nSpanish, American, and Californian mining camps.\n\n{274} \u201cThe Illustrious Scullion.\u201d\n\n{282} Lit. a butterfly.\n\n{288} This was Mr. John Brackenbury.\n\n{292a} The great Danish poet, born in 1779, died 1850; see _ante_, note,\nvol. i. p. 29.\n\n{292b} October 21, 1805.\n\n{293a} It is an American in our own day, Captain Mahan, U.S.N., who has\ncalled attention, in his masterly _influence of Sea Power upon History_,\nto the transcendent importance of the battle of Trafalgar, hardly\nrealized by the most patriotic Englishman, who had well-nigh forgotten\nTrafalgar in celebrating the more attractive glories of Waterloo.\n\n{293b} Storm of east wind; wind from the Levant.\n\n{293c} I.e. _Kafirs_, the Arabic term of reproach, signifying an\nunbeliever; one who is _not a Moslem_!\n\n{294} The title formally granted to this Alonzo Perez de Guzman, under\nthe sign-manual of King Sancho the Bravo, was that of \u201cThe Good.\u201d His\nson was not crucified, but stabbed to death by the Infante Don John, with\nthe knife that had been flung over the battlements of the city by the\npoor lad\u2019s father, A.D. 1294 (see _Documentos Ineditos para la Historia\nde Espa\u00f1a_, tom. xxxix. pp. 1\u2013397).\n\n{295} Rather of Muza, the commander-in-chief of the army that conquered\nGothic Spain in 711. Tarifa similarly perpetuates the memory of one of\nhis lieutenants, T\u00e1rif; and Gibraltar is Gibil Tarik, after Tarik, his\nsecond in command (see Burke\u2019s _History of Spain_, vol. i. pp. 110\u2013120).\n\n{296a} The hill of the baboons.\n\n{296b} Rather, \u201cThe Island;\u201d _Al Jezirah_.\n\n{298} According to Don Pascual de Gayangos, Thursday, April 30, 711.\n\n{301} In more modern slang, \u201ca rock scorpion.\u201d\n\n{302} \u03a4\u03bf\u03c5 \u03bb\u03cc\u03b3\u03bf\u03c5 \u03c3\u03b1\u03c2, a polite locution in modern Greek, signifying\n\u201cyou,\u201d \u201cyour good self, _or_, selves.\u201d\n\n{307} More correctly, the _Preobazhenski_, _Semeonovski_, and\n_Findlandski polks_. The first is a very crack regiment, and was formed\nby Peter the Great in 1682. In 1692 it took part in the capture of Azov\n(Toll, \u201cNastolny Slovar,\u201d _Encyclop._ tom. iii.).\n\n{309} This would have been General Sir A. Woodford, K.C.B., G.C.M.G.\n\n{310} \u201cA holy man this, from the kingdoms of the East.\u201d\n\n{311} A street in West Hamburg, near the port and the notorious\n_Heiligegeist_, frequented by a low class of Jews and seafaring men.\n\n{312a} The living waters.\n\n{312b} Into the hands of some one else\u2014_man\u00fb alicujus_. _Peluni_ is the\nFulaneh of the Arabs, the Don Fulano of the Spaniards; Mr. So-and-So;\nMonsieur Chose.\n\n{314} _I.e._ \u201cThe Hill of the English,\u201d near Vitoria. Here, in the year\n1367, Don Tello, with a force of six thousand knights, cut to pieces a\nbody of four hundred men-at-arms and archers, under the command of Sir\nThomas Felton, Seneschal of Guienne, and his brother Sir William. See\nFroissart, i. chap. 239; Ayala, _Cronicas de los Reyes de Castilla_, i.\np. 446; M\u00e9rim\u00e9e, _Histoire de Don P\u00e8dre Ier_, p. 486.\n\n{316} The popular name for _Etna_\u2014an etymology most suggestive, _Mons_\n(Latin) and _gibil_ (Arabic) each signifying \u201ca mountain.\u201d\n\n{318} The book Zohar (Hebrew, \u201cBrilliancy\u201d) is, next to the canonical\nScripture, one of the ablest books in Hebrew literature, having been\nwritten by the Rabbi Simeon bar Jocha\u00ef, \u201cThe Great Light\u201d and \u201cSpark of\nMoses,\u201d early in the second century of our era. The mysteries contained\nin the Zohar are said to have been communicated to Jocha\u00ef during his\ntwelve years\u2019 seclusion in a cave; and they are specially revered by a\nsect of modern Jews known as Zoharites, or Sabbathians, from their\nfounder Sabbata\u00ef Zevi, who was born at Smyrna in 1625, and claimed to be\nthe true Messiah, but who, to save himself from death as an impostor,\nembraced the faith of Isl\u00e1m at Adrianople, and died a Moslem in 1676.\nYet a hundred years later another Zoharite pretender, Jankiev Lejbovicz,\nwho acquired the name of Jacob Frank, of Offenbach, near Frankfort, and\ndied only in 1792, made himself famous in Germany. The Zoharites were\nCabalistic, as opposed to Talmudic, in their theology or theosophy, and\nin later times have claimed to have much in common with Christianity.\u2014See\nM. J. Mayers (of Yarmouth), _A Brief Account of the Zoharite Jews_\n(Cambridge, 1826); and Graetz, _History of the Jews_, vol. v. pp. 125,\n289.\n\n{322} Rabat.\n\n{330} 1 Kings xix. 11\u201313.\n\n{337} _On_ as a termination is usually indicative of size without\nadmiration, bigness rather than greatness, as in the Italian _one_.\n\n{343a} The tomato was hardly known in England in 1839, and was not\ncommon for forty years after, so Borrow may be excused for giving the\nword in its Spanish form. The plant was introduced into Spain from Peru\nin the sixteenth century.\n\n{343b} \u201cLord of the World.\u201d _Adun_ or _Adon_ is the well-known Hebrew\nword for Lord, and is said to be the origin of the Spanish title _Don_.\n_Oulem_ is the Arab \u2018_Olam_. The following lines are the first poem in\nthe _Targum_, a collection of translations by Borrow from thirty\nlanguages, printed at St. Petersburg in 1835:\u2014\n\n \u201cReigned the universe\u2019s Master, ere were earthly things begun:\n When his mandate all created Ruler was the name he won;\n And alone he\u2019ll rule tremendous when all things are past and gone,\n He no equal has, nor consort, he, the singular and lone,\n Has no end and no beginning; his the sceptre, might and throne.\n He\u2019s my God and living Saviour, rock to whom in need I run;\n He\u2019s my banner and my refuge, fount of weal when called upon;\n In his hand I place my spirit at nightfall and rise of sun,\n And therewith my body also; God\u2019s my God\u2014I fear no one.\u201d\n\n{348} In 1684, on the familiar official plea of \u201ceconomy.\u201d\n\n{349} \u201cGood morning, O my lord.\u201d\n\n{351} \u201cThere is no God but one.\u201d\n\n{354} \u201cBuy here, buy here.\u201d\n\n{357a} This youth followed Borrow to England, where he was introduced to\nMr. Petulengro as a _pal_, but rejected by him as \u201cno Roman.\u201d See _The\nZincali_, Preface to Second Edition.\n\n{357b} \u201cHail, Mary, full of grace, pray for me.\u201d\n\n{357c} \u201cRemove the faithless race from the borders of the believers,\nthat we may gladly pay due praises to Christ.\u201d\n\n{359} This has been already alluded to as regards Southern Spain.\n\n{360} Algiers.\n\n{361} Essence of white flowers. The Arabic _attar_ = essence is well\nknown in combination as _otto_ or _attar_ of roses. _Nuar_ is a form of\n_Naw\u0101r_ = flowers.\n\n{362} This was still market-day in 1892.\n\n{364} Nowhere has the destruction of locusts been undertaken in a more\nsystematic manner, or carried to greater perfection than in the island of\nCyprus, where a special tax is levied by the British Government to defray\nthe expenses of what is called \u201cthe war.\u201d The system is the invention of\na Cypriote gentleman, Mr. Mattei.\n\n{365} More commonly known as the prickly pear (_Opuntia vulgaris_).\n\n{367a} The house of the trades [Borrow], or rather \u201cof the handicrafts.\u201d\n\n{367b} Seashore. See the Glossary.\n\n{372} Friday.\n\n{375} The etymology of Granada is doubtful. Before the invasion of\nSpain by the Arabs, a small town of Ph\u0153nician origin, known as Karnattah,\nexisted near Illiberis (Elvira), and probably on the site of the more\nmodern city of Granada. The syllable _Kar_ would, in Ph\u0153nician, signify\n\u201ca town.\u201d The meaning of _nattah_ is unknown (Gayangos, i. 347; Casiri,\n_Bib. Ar. Hisp. Esc._, ii. 251; Conde, _Hist. Dom._, i. pp. 37\u201351). The\nsupposition that the city owes its name to its resemblance to a ripe\npomegranate (_granada_) is clearly inadmissible. As in the case of Leon,\nthe device was adopted in consequence of its appropriateness to an\nexisting name\u2014although the modern city of Granada is probably not older\nthan 1020. The Arabic word, moreover, for a pomegranate is _rom\u00e0n_; and\nSoto de Roma, the name of the Duke of Wellington\u2019s estate in Andalusia,\nmeans \u201cthe wood of the pomegranates;\u201d and an _ensalada romana_ is not a\nRoman, but a pomegranate salad (see Pedaza, _Hist. Eccl. de Granada_\n[1618], fol. 21, 22; Romey, _Hist._, i. 474, 475).\u2014Burke\u2019s _Hist. of\nSpain_, vol. i. p. 116.\n\n{376a} The most powerful, or the most respected, man in Tangier. Power\nand respect are usually enjoyed by the same individual in the East.\n\n{376b} \u201cIt does not signify.\u201d\n\n{378} See note, vol. i. p. 240.\n\n{382} \u201cAlgerine,\nMoor so keen,\nNo drink wine,\nNo taste swine.\u201d\n\n{383a} \u201cThat is not lawful.\u201d\n\n{383b} \u201cEverything is lawful.\u201d\n\n{383c} \u201cHail, star of the sea, benign Mother of God, and for ever\nvirgin, blessed gate of heaven.\u201d\n\n{395} Andalusian for _ciego_.\n\n\n\n\n
","title":"The Bible in Spain, Vol. 2 [of 2]: Or, the Journeys, Adventures, and Imprisonments of an Englishman in an Attempt to Circulate the Scriptures in the Peninsula","tradition":"scripture-revelation","translated_text":null,"word_count":124776}