The Bible in Spain by George Borrow

CHAPTER XXVIII

Skippers of Padron - Caldas de los Reyes - Pontevedra - The Notary Public -
Insane Barber - An Introduction - Gallegan Language - Afternoon Ride -
Vigo - The Stranger - Jews of the Desert - Bay of Vigo -
Sudden Interruption - The Governor.

After a stay of about a fortnight at Saint James, we
again mounted our horses and proceeded in the direction of
Vigo. As we did not leave Saint James till late in the
afternoon, we travelled that day no farther than Padron, a
distance of only three leagues. This place is a small port,
situate at the extremity of a firth which communicates with the
sea. It is called for brevity's sake, Padron, but its proper
appellation is Villa del Padron, or the town of the patron
saint; it having been, according to the legend, the principal
residence of Saint James during his stay in Galicia. By the
Romans it was termed Iria Flavia. It is a flourishing little
town, and carries on rather an extensive commerce, some of its
tiny barks occasionally finding their way across the Bay of
Biscay, and even so far as the Thames and London.

There is a curious anecdote connected with the skippers
of Padron, which can scarcely be considered as out of place
here, as it relates to the circulation of the Scriptures. I
was one day in the shop of my friend the bookseller at Saint
James, when a stout good-humoured-looking priest entered. He
took up one of my Testaments, and forthwith burst into a
violent fit of laughter. "What is the matter?" demanded the
bookseller. "The sight of this book reminds me of a
circumstance": replied the other, "about twenty years ago, when
the English first took it into their heads to be very zealous
in converting us Spaniards to their own way of thinking, they
distributed a great number of books of this kind amongst the
Spaniards who chanced to be in London; some of them fell into
the hands of certain skippers of Padron, and these good folks,
on their return to Galicia, were observed to have become on a
sudden exceedingly opinionated and fond of dispute. It was
scarcely possible to make an assertion in their hearing without
receiving a flat contradiction, especially when religious
subjects were brought on the carpet. `It is false,' they would
say; `Saint Paul, in such a chapter and in such a verse, says
exactly the contrary.' `What can you know concerning what
Saint Paul or any other saint has written?' the priests would
ask them. `Much more than you think,' they replied; `we are no
longer to be kept in darkness and ignorance respecting these
matters:' and then they would produce their books and read
paragraphs, making such comments that every person was
scandalized; they cared nothing about the Pope, and even spoke
with irreverence of the bones of Saint James. However, the
matter was soon bruited about, and a commission was dispatched
from our see to collect the books and burn them. This was
effected, and the skippers were either punished or reprimanded,
since which I have heard nothing more of them. I could not
forbear laughing when I saw these books; they instantly brought
to my mind the skippers of Padron and their religious
disputations."

Our next day's journey brought us to Pontevedra. As
there was no talk of robbers in these parts, we travelled
without any escort and alone. The road was beautiful and
picturesque, though somewhat solitary, especially after we had
left behind us the small town of Caldas. There is more than
one place of this name in Spain; the one of which I am speaking
is distinguished from the rest by being called Caldas de los
Reyes, or the warm baths of the kings. It will not be amiss to
observe that the Spanish CALDAS is synonymous with the Moorish
ALHAMA, a word of frequent occurrence both in Spanish and
African topography. Caldas seemed by no means undeserving of
its name: it stands on a confluence of springs, and the place
when we arrived was crowded with people who had come to enjoy
the benefit of the waters. In the course of my travels I have
observed that wherever warm springs are found, vestiges of
volcanoes are sure to be nigh; the smooth black precipice, the
divided mountain, or huge rocks standing by themselves on the
plain or on the hill side, as if Titans had been playing at
bowls. This last feature occurs near Caldas de los Reyes, the
side of the mountain which overhangs it in the direction of the
south being covered with immense granite stones, apparently at
some ancient period eructed from the bowels of the earth. From
Caldas to Pontevedra the route was hilly and fatiguing, the
heat was intense, and those clouds of flies, which constitute
one of the pests of Galicia, annoyed our horses to such a
degree that we were obliged to cut down branches from the trees
to protect their heads and necks from the tormenting stings of
these bloodthirsty insects. Whilst travelling in Galicia at
this period of the year on horseback, it is always advisable to
carry a fine net for the protection of the animal, a sure and
commodious means of defence, which appears, however, to be
utterly unknown in Galicia, where, perhaps, it is more wanted
than in any other part of the world.

Pontevedra, upon the whole, is certainly entitled to the
appellation of a magnificent town, some of its public edifices,
especially the convents, being such as are nowhere to be found
but in Spain and Italy. It is surrounded by a wall of hewn
stone, and stands at the end of a creek into which the river
Levroz disembogues. It is said to have been founded by a
colony of Greeks, whose captain was no less a personage than
Teucer the Telemonian. It was in former times a place of
considerable commerce; and near its port are to be seen the
ruins of a farol, or lighthouse, said to be of great antiquity.
The port, however, is at a considerable distance from the town,
and is shallow and incommodious. The whole country in the
neighbourhood of Pontevedra is inconceivably delicious,
abounding with fruits of every description, especially grapes,
which in the proper season are seen hanging from the "parras"
in luscious luxuriance. An old Andalusian author has said that
it produces as many oranges and citron trees as the
neighbourhood of Cordova. Its oranges are, however, by no
means good, and cannot compete with those of Andalusia. The
Pontevedrians boast that their land produces two crops every
year, and that whilst they are gathering in one they may be
seen ploughing and sowing another. They may well be proud of
their country, which is certainly a highly favoured spot.

The town itself is in a state of great decay, and
notwithstanding the magnificence of its public edifices, we
found more than the usual amount of Galician filth and misery.
The posada was one of the most wretched description, and to
mend the matter, the hostess was a most intolerable scold and
shrew. Antonio having found fault with the quality of some
provision which she produced, she cursed him most immoderately
in the country language, which was the only one she spoke, and
threatened, if he attempted to breed any disturbance in her
house, to turn the horses, himself, and his master forthwith
out of doors. Socrates himself, however, could not have
conducted himself on this occasion with greater forbearance
than Antonio, who shrugged his shoulders, muttered something in
Greek, and then was silent.

"Where does the notary public live?" I demanded. Now the
notary public vended books, and to this personage I was
recommended by my friend at Saint James. A boy conducted me to
the house of Senor Garcia, for such was his name. I found him
a brisk, active, talkative little man of forty. He undertook
with great alacrity the sale of my Testaments, and in a
twinkling sold two to a client who was waiting in the office,
and appeared to be from the country. He was an enthusiastic
patriot, but of course in a local sense, for he cared for no
other country than Pontevedra.

"Those fellows of Vigo," said he, "say their town is a
better one than ours, and that it is more deserving to be the
capital of this part of Galicia. Did you ever hear such folly?
I tell you what, friend, I should not care if Vigo were burnt,
and all the fools and rascals within it. Would you ever think
of comparing Vigo with Pontevedra?"

"I don't know," I replied; "I have never been at Vigo,
but I have heard say that the bay of Vigo is the finest in the
world."

"Bay! my good sir. Bay! yes, the rascals have a bay, and
it is that bay of theirs which has robbed us all our commerce.
But what needs the capital of a district with a bay? It is
public edifices that it wants, where the provincial deputies
can meet to transact their business; now, so far from there
being a commodious public edifice, there is not a decent house
in all Vigo. Bay! yes, they have a bay, but have they water
fit to drink? Have they a fountain? Yes, they have, and the
water is so brackish that it would burst the stomach of a
horse. I hope, my dear sir, that you have not come all this
distance to take the part of such a gang of pirates as those of
Vigo."

"I am not come to take their part," I replied; "indeed, I
was not aware that they wanted my assistance in this dispute.
I am merely carrying to them the New Testament, of which they
evidently stand in much need, if they are such knaves and
scoundrels as you represent them."

"Represent them, my dear sir. Does not the matter speak
for itself? Do they not say that their town is better than
ours, more fit to be the capital of a district, QUE DISPARATE!
QUE BRIBONERIA! (what folly! what rascality!)"

"Is there a bookseller's shop at Vigo?" I inquired.

"There was one," he replied, "kept by an insane barber.
I am glad, for your sake, that it is broken up, and the fellow
vanished; he would have played you one of two tricks; he would
either have cut your throat with his razor, under pretence of
shaving you, or have taken your books and never have accounted
to you for the proceeds. Bay! I never could see what right
such an owl's nest as Vigo has to a bay."

No person could exhibit greater kindness to another, than
did the notary public to myself, as soon as I had convinced him
that I had no intention of siding with the men of Vigo against
Pontevedra. It was now six o'clock in the evening, and he
forthwith conducted me to a confectioner's shop, where he
treated me with an iced cream and a small cup of chocolate.
From hence we walked about the city, the notary showing the
various edifices, especially, the Convent of the Jesuits: "See
that front," said he, "what do you think of it?"

I expressed to him the admiration which I really felt,
and by so doing entirely won the good notary's heart: "I
suppose there is nothing like that at Vigo?" said I. He looked
at me for a moment, winked, gave a short triumphant chuckle,
and then proceeded on his way, walking at a tremendous rate.
The Senor Garcia was dressed in all respects as an English
notary might be: he wore a white hat, brown frock coat, drab
breeches buttoned at the knees, white stockings, and well
blacked shoes. But I never saw an English notary walk so fast:
it could scarcely be called walking: it seemed more like a
succession of galvanic leaps and bounds. I found it impossible
to keep up with him: "Where are you conducting me?" I at last
demanded, quite breathless.

"To the house of the cleverest man in Spain," he replied,
"to whom I intend to introduce you; for you must not think that
Pontevedra has nothing to boast of but its splendid edifices
and its beautiful country; it produces more illustrious minds
than any other town in Spain. Did you ever hear of the grand
Tamerlane?"

"Oh, yes," said I, "but he did not come from Pontevedra
or its neighbourhood: he came from the steppes of Tartary, near
the river Oxus."

"I know he did," replied the notary, "but what I mean to
say is, that when Enrique the Third wanted an ambassador to
send to that African, the only man he could find suited to the
enterprise was a knight of Pontevedra, Don - by name. Let the
men of Vigo contradict that fact if they can."

We entered a large portal and ascended a splendid
staircase, at the top of which the notary knocked at a small
door: "Who is the gentleman to whom you are about to introduce
me?" demanded I.

"It is the advocate -," replied Garcia; "he is the
cleverest man in Spain, and understands all languages and
sciences."

We were admitted by a respectable-looking female, to all
appearance a housekeeper, who, on being questioned, informed us
that the Advocate was at home, and forthwith conducted us to an
immense room, or rather library, the walls being covered with
books, except in two or three places, where hung some fine
pictures of the ancient Spanish school. There was a rich
mellow light in the apartment, streaming through a window of
stained glass, which looked to the west. Behind the table sat
the Advocate, on whom I looked with no little interest: his
forehead was high and wrinkled, and there was much gravity on
his features, which were quite Spanish. He was dressed in a
long robe, and might be about sixty; he sat reading behind a
large table, and on our entrance half raised himself and bowed
slightly.

The notary public saluted him most profoundly, and, in an
under voice, hoped that he might be permitted to introduce a
friend of his, an English gentleman, who was travelling through
Galicia.

"I am very glad to see him," said the Advocate, "but I
hope he speaks Castilian, else we can have but little
communication; for, although I can read both French and Latin,
I cannot speak them."

"He speaks, sir, almost as good Spanish," said the
notary, "as a native of Pontevedra."

"The natives of Pontevedra," I replied, "appear to be
better versed in Gallegan than in Castilian, for the greater
part of the conversation which I hear in the streets is carried
on in the former dialect."

"The last gentleman which my friend Garcia introduced to
me," said the Advocate, "was a Portuguese, who spoke little or
no Spanish. It is said that the Gallegan and Portuguese are
very similar, but when we attempted to converse in the two
languages, we found it impossible. I understood little of what
he said, whilst my Gallegan was quite unintelligible to him.
Can you understand our country dialect?" he continued.

"Very little of it," I replied; "which I believe chiefly
proceeds from the peculiar accent and uncouth enunciation of
the Gallegans, for their language is certainly almost entirely
composed of Spanish and Portuguese words."

"So you are an Englishman," said the Advocate. "Your
countrymen have committed much damage in times past in these
regions, if we may trust our histories."

"Yes," said I, "they sank your galleons and burnt your
finest men-of-war in Vigo Bay, and, under old Cobham, levied a
contribution of forty thousand pounds sterling on this very
town of Pontevedra."

"Any foreign power," interrupted the notary public, "has
a clear right to attack Vigo, but I cannot conceive what plea
your countrymen could urge for distressing Pontevedra, which is
a respectable town, and could never have offended them."

"Senor Cavalier," said the Advocate, "I will show you my
library. Here is a curious work, a collection of poems,
written mostly in Gallegan, by the curate of Fruime. He is our
national poet, and we are very proud of him."

We stopped upwards of an hour with the Advocate, whose
conversation, if it did not convince me that he was the
cleverest man in Spain, was, upon the whole, highly
interesting, and who certainly possessed an extensive store of
general information, though he was by no means the profound
philologist which the notary had represented him to be.

When I was about to depart from Pontevedra in the
afternoon of the next day, the Senor Garcia stood by the side
of my horse, and having embraced me, thrust a small pamphlet
into my hand: "This book," said he, "contains a description of
Pontevedra. Wherever you go, speak well of Pontevedra." I
nodded. "Stay," said he, "my dear friend, I have heard of your
society, and will do my best to further its views. I am quite
disinterested, but if at any future time you should have an
opportunity of speaking in print of Senor Garcia, the notary
public of Pontevedra, - you understand me, - I wish you would
do so."

"I will," said I.

It was a pleasant afternoon's ride from Pontevedra to
Vigo, the distance being only four leagues. As we approached
the latter town, the country became exceedingly mountainous,
though scarcely anything could exceed the beauty of the
surrounding scenery. The sides of the hills were for the most
part clothed with luxuriant forests, even to the very summits,
though occasionally a flinty and naked peak would present
itself, rising to the clouds. As the evening came on, the
route along which we advanced became very gloomy, the hills and
forests enwrapping it in deep shade. It appeared, however, to
be well frequented: numerous cars were creaking along it, and
both horsemen and pedestrians were continually passing us. The
villages were frequent. Vines, supported on parras, were
growing, if possible, in still greater abundance than in the
neighbourhood of Pontevedra. Life and activity seemed to
pervade everything. The hum of insects, the cheerful bark of
dogs, the rude songs of Galicia, were blended together in
pleasant symphony. So delicious was my ride, that I almost
regretted when we entered the gate of Vigo.

The town occupies the lower part of a lofty hill, which,
as it ascends, becomes extremely steep and precipitous, and the
top of which is crowned with a strong fort or castle. It is a
small compact place, surrounded with low walls, the streets are
narrow, steep, and winding, and in the middle of the town is a
small square.

There is rather an extensive faubourg extending along the
shore of the bay. We found an excellent posada, kept by a man
and woman from the Basque provinces, who were both civil and
intelligent. The town seemed to be crowded, and resounded with
noise and merriment. The people were making a wretched attempt
at an illumination, in consequence of some victory lately
gained, or pretended to have been gained, over the forces of
the Pretender. Military uniforms were glancing about in every
direction. To increase the bustle, a troop of Portuguese
players had lately arrived from Oporto, and their first
representation was to take place this evening. "Is the play to
be performed in Spanish?" I demanded. "No," was the reply;
"and on that account every person is so eager to go; which
would not be the case if it were in a language which they could
understand."

On the morning of the next day I was seated at breakfast
in a large apartment which looked out upon the Plaza Mayor, or
great square of the good town of Vigo. The sun was shining
very brilliantly, and all around looked lively and gay.
Presently a stranger entered, and bowing profoundly, stationed
himself at the window, where he remained a considerable time in
silence. He was a man of very remarkable appearance, of about
thirty-five. His features were of perfect symmetry, and I may
almost say, of perfect beauty. His hair was the darkest I had
ever seen, glossy and shining; his eyes large, black, and
melancholy; but that which most struck me was his complexion.
It might be called olive, it is true, but it was a livid olive.
He was dressed in the very first style of French fashion.
Around his neck was a massive gold chain, while upon his
fingers were large rings, in one of which was set a magnificent
ruby. Who can that man be? thought I; - Spaniard or
Portuguese, perhaps a Creole. I asked him an indifferent
question in Spanish, to which he forthwith replied in that
language, but his accent convinced me that he was neither
Spaniard nor Portuguese.

"I presume I am speaking to an Englishman, sir?" said he,
in as good English as it was possible for one not an Englishman
to speak.

MYSELF. - You know me to be an Englishman; but I should
find some difficulty in guessing to what country you belong.

STRANGER. - May I take a seat?

MYSELF. - A singular question. Have you not as much
right to sit in the public apartment of an inn as myself?

STRANGER. - I am not certain of that. The people here
are not in general very gratified at seeing me seated by their
side.

MYSELF. - Perhaps owing to your political opinions, or to
some crime which it may have been your misfortune to commit?

STRANGER. - I have no political opinions, and I am not
aware that I ever committed any particular crime, - I am hated
for my country and my religion.

MYSELF. - Perhaps I am speaking to a Protestant, like
myself?

STRANGER. - I am no Protestant. If I were, they would be
cautious here of showing their dislike, for I should then have
a government and a consul to protect me. I am a Jew - a
Barbary Jew, a subject of Abderrahman.

MYSELF. - If that be the case, you can scarcely complain
of being looked upon with dislike in this country, since in
Barbary the Jews are slaves.

STRANGER. - In most parts, I grant you, but not where I
was born, which was far up the country, near the deserts.
There the Jews are free, and are feared, and are as valiant men
as the Moslems themselves; as able to tame the steed, or to
fire the gun. The Jews of our tribe are not slaves, and I like
not to be treated as a slave either by Christian or Moor.

MYSELF. - Your history must be a curious one, I would
fain hear it.

STRANGER. - My history I shall tell to no one. I have
travelled much, I have been in commerce and have thriven. I am
at present established in Portugal, but I love not the people
of Catholic countries, and least of all these of Spain. I have
lately experienced the most shameful injustice in the Aduana of
this town, and when I complained, they laughed at me and called
me Jew. Wherever he turns, the Jew is reviled, save in your
country, and on that account my blood always warms when I see
an Englishman. You are a stranger here. Can I do aught for
you? You may command me.

MYSELF. - I thank you heartily, but I am in need of no
assistance.

STRANGER. - Have you any bills, I will accept them if you
have?

MYSELF. - I have no need of assistance; but you may do me
a favour by accepting of a book.

STRANGER. - I will receive it with thanks. I know what
it is. What a singular people? The same dress, the same look,
the same book. Pelham gave me one in Egypt. Farewell! Your
Jesus was a good man, perhaps a prophet; but . . . farewell!

Well may the people of Pontevedra envy the natives of
Vigo their bay, with which, in many respects, none other in the
world can compare. On every side it is defended by steep and
sublime hills, save on the part of the west, where is the
outlet to the Atlantic; but in the midst of this outlet, up
towers a huge rocky wall, or island, which breaks the swell,
and prevents the billows of the western sea from pouring
through in full violence. On either side of this island is a
passage, so broad, that navies might pass through at all times
in safety. The bay itself is oblong, running far into the
land, and so capacious, that a thousand sail of the line might
ride in it uncrowded. The waters are dark, still, and deep,
without quicksands or shallows, so that the proudest man-of-war
might lie within a stone's throw of the town ramparts without
any fear of injuring her keel.

Of many a strange event, and of many a mighty preparation
has this bay been the scene. It was here that the bulky
dragons of the grand armada were mustered, and it was from
hence that, fraught with the pomp, power, and terror of old
Spain, the monster fleet, spreading its enormous sails to the
wind, and bent on the ruin of the Lutheran isle, proudly
steered; - that fleet, to build and man which half the forests
of Galicia had been felled, and all the mariners impressed from
the thousand bays and creeks of the stern Cantabrian shore. It
was here that the united flags of Holland and England triumphed
over the pride of Spain and France; when the burning timbers of
exploded war-ships soared above the tops of the Gallegan hills,
and blazing galleons sank with their treasure chests whilst
drifting in the direction of Sampayo. It was on the shores of
this bay that the English guards first emptied Spanish bodegas,
whilst the bombs of Cobham were crushing the roofs of the
castle of Castro, and the vecinos of Pontevedra buried their
doubloons in cellars, and flying posts were conveying to Lugo
and Orensee the news of the heretic invasion and the disaster
of Vigo. All these events occurred to my mind as I stood far
up the hill, at a short distance from the fort, surveying the
bay.

"What are you doing there, Cavalier?" roared several
voices. "Stay, Carracho! if you attempt to run we will shoot
you!"  I looked round and saw three or four fellows in dirty
uniforms, to all appearance soldiers, just above me, on a
winding path, which led up the hill. Their muskets were
pointed at me. "What am I doing? Nothing, as you see," said
I, "save looking at the bay; and as for running, this is by no
means ground for a course."  "You are our prisoner," said they,
"and you must come with us to the fort."  "I was just thinking
of going there," I replied, "before you thus kindly invited me.
The fort is the very spot I was desirous of seeing."  I
thereupon climbed up to the place where they stood, when they
instantly surrounded me, and with this escort I was marched
into the fort, which might have been a strong place in its
time, but was now rather ruinous. "You are suspected of being
a spy," said the corporal, who walked in front. "Indeed," said
I. "Yes," replied the corporal, "and several spies have lately
been taken and shot."

Upon one of the parapets of the fort stood a young man,
dressed as a subaltern officer, and to this personage I was
introduced. "We have been watching you this half hour," said
he, "as you were taking observations." "Then you gave
yourselves much useless trouble," said I. "I am an Englishman,
and was merely looking at the bay. Have the kindness now to
show me the fort." . . .

After some conversation, he said, "I wish to be civil to
people of your nation, you may therefore consider yourself at
liberty." I bowed, made my exit, and proceeded down the hill.
Just before I entered the town, however, the corporal, who had
followed me unperceived, tapped me on the shoulder. "You must
go with me to the governor," said he. "With all my heart," I
replied. The governor was shaving, when we were shown up to
him. He was in his shirt sleeves, and held a razor in his
hand. He looked very ill-natured, which was perhaps owing to
his being thus interrupted in his toilet. He asked me two or
three questions, and on learning that I had a passport, and was
the bearer of a letter to the English consul, he told me that I
was at liberty to depart. So I bowed to the governor of the
town, as I had done to the governor of the fort, and making my
exit proceeded to my inn.

At Vigo I accomplished but little in the way of
distribution, and after a sojourn of a few days, I returned in
the direction of Saint James.

CHAPTER XXIX

Arrival at Padron - Projected Enterprise - The Alquilador
- Breach of Promise - An Odd Companion - A Plain Story -
Rugged Paths - The Desertion - The Pony - A Dialogue -
Unpleasant Situation - The Estadea - Benighted -
The Hut - The Traveller's Pillow.

I arrived at Padron late in the evening, on my return
from Pontevedra and Vigo. It was my intention at this place to
send my servant and horses forward to Santiago, and to hire a
guide to Cape Finisterra. It would be difficult to assign any
plausible reason for the ardent desire which I entertained to
visit this place; but I remembered that last year I had escaped
almost by a miracle from shipwreck and death on the rocky sides
of this extreme point of the Old World, and I thought that to
convey the Gospel to a place so wild and remote, might perhaps
be considered an acceptable pilgrimage in the eyes of my Maker.
True it is that but one copy remained of those which I had
brought with me on this last journey, but this reflection, far
from discouraging me in my projected enterprise, produced the
contrary effect, as I called to mind that ever since the Lord
revealed himself to man, it has seemed good to him to
accomplish the greatest ends by apparently the most
insufficient means; and I reflected that this one copy might
serve as an instrument of more good than the four thousand nine
hundred and ninety-nine copies of the edition of Madrid.

I was aware that my own horses were quite incompetent to
reach Finisterra, as the roads or paths lie through stony
ravines, and over rough and shaggy hills, and therefore
determined to leave them behind with Antonio, whom I was
unwilling to expose to the fatigues of such a journey. I lost
no time in sending for an alquilador, or person who lets out
horses, and informing him of my intention. He said he had an
excellent mountain pony at my disposal, and that he himself
would accompany me, but at the same time observed, that it was
a terrible journey for man and horse, and that he expected to
be paid accordingly. I consented to give him what he demanded,
but on the express condition that he would perform his promise
of attending me himself, as I was unwilling to trust myself
four or five days amongst the hills with any low fellow of the
town whom he might select, and who it was very possible might
play me some evil turn. He replied by the term invariably used
by the Spaniards when they see doubt or distrust exhibited.
"NO TENGA USTED CUIDAO," I will go myself. Having thus
arranged the matter perfectly satisfactorily, as I thought, I
partook of a slight supper, and shortly afterwards retired to
repose.

I had requested the alquilador to call me the next
morning at three o'clock; he however did not make his
appearance till five, having, I suppose, overslept himself,
which was indeed my own case. I arose in a hurry, dressed, put
a few things in a bag, not forgetting the Testament which I had
resolved to present to the inhabitants of Finisterra. I then
sallied forth and saw my friend the alquilador, who was holding
by the bridle the pony or jaco which was destined to carry me
in my expedition. It was a beautiful little animal, apparently
strong and full of life, without one single white hair in its
whole body, which was black as the plumage of the crow.

Behind it stood a strange-looking figure of the biped
species, to whom, however, at the moment, I paid little
attention, but of whom I shall have plenty to say in the
sequel.

Having asked the horse-lender whether he was ready to
proceed, and being answered in the affirmative, I bade adieu to
Antonio, and putting the pony in motion, we hastened out of the
town, taking at first the road which leads towards Santiago.
Observing that the figure which I have previously alluded to
was following close at our heels, I asked the alquilador who it
was, and the reason of its following us; to which he replied
that it was a servant of his, who would proceed a little way
with us and then return. So on we went at a rapid rate, till
we were within a quarter of a mile of the Convent of the
Esclavitud, a little beyond which he had informed me that we
should have to turn off from the high road; but here he
suddenly stopped short, and in a moment we were all at a
standstill. I questioned the guide as to the reason of this,
but received no answer. The fellow's eyes were directed to the
ground, and he seemed to be counting with the most intense
solicitude the prints of the hoofs of the oxen, mules, and
horses in the dust of the road. I repeated my demand in a
louder voice; when, after a considerable pause, he somewhat
elevated his eyes, without however looking me in the face, and
said that he believed that I entertained the idea that he
himself was to guide me to Finisterra, which if I did, he was
very sorry for, the thing being quite impossible, as he was
perfectly ignorant of the way, and, moreover, incapable of
performing such a journey over rough and difficult ground, as
he was no longer the man he had been, and over and above all
that, he was engaged that day to accompany a gentleman to
Pontevedra, who was at that moment expecting him. "But,"
continued he, "as I am always desirous of behaving like a
caballero to everybody, I have taken measures to prevent your
being disappointed. This person," pointing to the figure, "I
have engaged to accompany you. He is a most trustworthy
person, and is well acquainted with the route to Finisterra,
having been thither several times with this very jaco on which
you are mounted. He will, besides, be an agreeable companion
to you on the way, as he speaks French and English very well,
and has been all over the world." The fellow ceased speaking
at last; and I was so struck with his craft, impudence, and
villainy, that some time elapsed before I could find an answer.
I then reproached him in the bitterest terms for his breach of
promise, and said that I was much tempted to return to the town
instantly, complain of him to the alcalde, and have him
punished at any expense. To which he replied, "Sir Cavalier,
by so doing you will be nothing nearer Finisterra, to which you
seem so eager to get. Take my advice, spur on the jaco, for
you see it is getting late, and it is twelve long leagues from
hence to Corcuvion, where you must pass the night; and from
thence to Finisterra is no trifle. As for the man, NO TENGA
USTED CUIDAO, he is the best guide in all Galicia, speaks
English and French, and will bear you pleasant company."

By this time I had reflected that by returning to Padron
I should indeed be only wasting time, and that by endeavouring
to have the fellow punished, no benefit would accrue to me;
moreover, as he seemed to be a scoundrel in every sense of the
word, I might as well proceed in the company of any person as
in his. I therefore signified my intention of proceeding, and
told him to go back in the Lord's name, and repent of his sins.
But having gained one point, he thought he had best attempt
another; so placing himself about a yard before the jaco, he
said that the price which I had agreed to pay him for the loan
of his horse (which by the by was the full sum he had demanded)
was by no means sufficient, and that before I proceeded I must
promise him two dollars more, adding that he was either drunk
or mad when he had made such a bargain. I was now thoroughly
incensed, and without a moment's reflection, spurred the jaco,
which flung him down in the dust, and passed over him. Looking
back at the distance of a hundred yards, I saw him standing in
the same place, his hat on the ground, gazing after us, and
crossing himself most devoutly. His servant, or whatever he
was, far from offering any assistance to his principal, no
sooner saw the jaco in motion than he ran on by its side,
without word or comment, farther than striking himself lustily
on the thigh with his right palm. We soon passed the
Esclavitud, and presently afterwards turned to the left into a
stony broken path leading to fields of maze. We passed by
several farm-houses, and at last arrived at a dingle, the sides
of which were plentifully overgrown with dwarf oaks, and which
slanted down to a small dark river shaded with trees, which we
crossed by a rude bridge. By this time I had had sufficient
time to scan my odd companion from head to foot. His utmost
height, had he made the most of himself, might perhaps have
amounted to five feet one inch; but he seemed somewhat inclined
to stoop. Nature had gifted him with an immense head and
placed it clean upon his shoulders, for amongst the items of
his composition it did not appear that a neck had been
included. Arms long and brawny swung at his sides, and the
whole of his frame was as strong built and powerful as a
wrestler's; his body was supported by a pair of short but very
nimble legs. His face was very long, and would have borne some
slight resemblance to a human countenance, had the nose been
more visible, for its place seemed to have been entirely
occupied by a wry mouth and large staring eyes. His dress
consisted of three articles: an old and tattered hat of the
Portuguese kind, broad at the crown and narrow at the eaves,
something which appeared to be a shirt, and dirty canvas
trousers. Willing to enter into conversation with him, and
remembering that the alquilador had informed me that he spoke
languages, I asked him, in English, if he had always acted in
the capacity of guide? Whereupon he turned his eyes with a
singular expression upon my face, gave a loud laugh, a long
leap, and clapped his hands thrice above his head. Perceiving
that he did not understand me, I repeated my demand in French,
and was again answered by the laugh, leap, and clapping. At
last he said in broken Spanish, "Master mine, speak Spanish in
God's name, and I can understand you, and still better if you
speak Gallegan, but I can promise no more. I heard what the
alquilador told you, but he is the greatest embustero in the
whole land, and deceived you then as he did when he promised to
accompany you. I serve him for my sins; but it was an evil
hour when I left the deep sea and turned guide."  He then
informed me that he was a native of Padron, and a mariner by
profession, having spent the greater part of his life in the
Spanish navy, in which service he had visited Cuba and many
parts of the Spanish Americas, adding, "when my master told you
that I should bear you pleasant company by the way, it was the
only word of truth that has come from his mouth for a month;
and long before you reach Finisterra you will have rejoiced
that the servant, and not the master, went with you: he is dull
and heavy, but I am what you see."  He then gave two or three
first-rate summersets, again laughed loudly, and clapped his
hands. "You would scarcely think," he continued, "that I drove
that little pony yesterday heavily laden all the way from
Coruna. We arrived at Padron at two o'clock this morning; but
we are nevertheless both willing and able to undertake a fresh
journey. NO TENGA USTED CUIDAO, as my master said, no one ever
complains of that pony or of me."  In this kind of discourse we
proceeded a considerable way through a very picturesque
country, until we reached a beautiful village at the skirt of a
mountain. "This village," said my guide, "is called Los
Angeles, because its church was built long since by the angels;
they placed a beam of gold beneath it, which they brought down
from heaven, and which was once a rafter of God's own house.
It runs all the way under the ground from hence to the
cathedral of Compostella."

Passing through the village, which he likewise informed
me possessed baths, and was much visited by the people of
Santiago, we shaped our course to the north-west, and by so
doing doubled a mountain which rose majestically over our
heads, its top crowned with bare and broken rocks, whilst on
our right, on the other side of a spacious valley, was a high
range, connected with the mountains to the northward of Saint
James. On the summit of this range rose high embattled towers,
which my guide informed me were those of Altamira, an ancient
and ruined castle, formerly the principal residence in this
province of the counts of that name. Turning now due west, we
were soon at the bottom of a steep and rugged pass, which led
to more elevated regions. The ascent cost us nearly half an
hour, and the difficulties of the ground were such, that I more
than once congratulated myself on having left my own horses
behind, and being mounted on the gallant little pony which,
accustomed to such paths, scrambled bravely forward, and
eventually brought us in safety to the top of the ascent.

Here we entered a Gallegan cabin, or choza, for the
purpose of refreshing the animal and ourselves. The quadruped
ate some maize, whilst we two bipeds regaled ourselves on some
broa and aguardiente, which a woman whom we found in the hut
placed before us. I walked out for a few minutes to observe
the aspect of the country, and on my return found my guide fast
asleep on the bench where I had left him. He sat bolt upright,
his back supported against the wall, and his legs pendulous,
within three inches of the ground, being too short to reach it.
I remained gazing upon him for at least five minutes, whilst he
enjoyed slumbers seemingly as quiet and profound as those of
death itself. His face brought powerfully to my mind some of
those uncouth visages of saints and abbots which are
occasionally seen in the niches of the walls of ruined
convents. There was not the slightest gleam of vitality in his
countenance, which for colour and rigidity might have been of
stone, and which was as rude and battered as one of the stone
heads at Icolmkill, which have braved the winds of twelve
hundred years. I continued gazing on his face till I became
almost alarmed, concluding that life might have departed from
its harassed and fatigued tenement. On my shaking him rather
roughly by the shoulder he slowly awoke, opening his eyes with
a stare and then closing them again. For a few moments he was
evidently unconscious of where he was. On my shouting to him,
however, and inquiring whether he intended to sleep all day
instead of conducting me to Finisterra, he dropped upon his
legs, snatched up his hat, which lay on the table, and
instantly ran out of the door, exclaiming, "Yes, yes, I
remember - follow me, captain, and I will lead you to
Finisterra in no time."  I looked after him, and perceived that
he was hurrying at a considerable pace in the direction in
which we had hitherto been proceeding. "Stop," said I, "stop!
will you leave me here with the pony? Stop, we have not paid
the reckoning. Stop!"  He, however, never turned his head for
a moment, and in less than a minute was out of sight. The
pony, which was tied to a crib at one end of the cabin, began
now to neigh terrifically, to plunge, and to erect its tail and
mane in a most singular manner. It tore and strained at the
halter till I was apprehensive that strangulation would ensue.
"Woman," I exclaimed, "where are you, and what is the meaning
of all this?"  But the hostess had likewise disappeared, and
though I ran about the choza, shouting myself hoarse, no answer
was returned. The pony still continued to scream and to strain
at the halter more violently than ever. "Am I beset with
lunatics?" I cried, and flinging down a peseta on the table,
unloosed the halter, and attempted to introduce the bit into
the mouth of the animal. This, however, I found impossible to
effect. Released from the halter, the pony made at once for
the door, in spite of all the efforts which I could make to
detain it. "If you abandon me," said I, "I am in a pretty
situation; but there is a remedy for everything!" with which
words I sprang into the saddle, and in a moment more the
creature was bearing me at a rapid gallop in the direction, as
I supposed, of Finisterra. My position, however diverting to
the reader, was rather critical to myself. I was on the back
of a spirited animal, over which I had no control, dashing
along a dangerous and unknown path. I could not discover the
slightest vestige of my guide, nor did I pass anyone from whom
I could derive any information. Indeed, the speed of the
animal was so great, that even in the event of my meeting or
overtaking a passenger, I could scarcely have hoped to exchange
a word with him. "Is the pony trained to this work?" said I
mentally. "Is he carrying me to some den of banditti, where my
throat will be cut, or does he follow his master by instinct?"
Both of these suspicions I however soon abandoned; the pony's
speed relaxed, he appeared to have lost the road. He looked
about uneasily: at last, coming to a sandy spot, he put his
nostrils to the ground, and then suddenly flung himself down,
and wallowed in true pony fashion. I was not hurt, and
instantly made use of this opportunity to slip the bit into his
mouth, which previously had been dangling beneath his neck; I
then remounted in quest of the road.

This I soon found, and continued my way for a
considerable time. The path lay over a moor, patched heath and
furze, and here and there strewn with large stones, or rather
rocks. The sun had risen high in the firmament, and burned
fiercely. I passed several people, men and women, who gazed at
me with surprise, wondering, probably, what a person of my
appearance could be about without a guide in so strange a
place. I inquired of two females whom I met whether they had
seen my guide; but they either did not or would not understand
me, and exchanging a few words with each other, in one of the
hundred dialects of the Gallegan, passed on. Having crossed
the moor, I came rather abruptly upon a convent, overhanging a
deep ravine, at the bottom of which brawled a rapid stream.

It was a beautiful and picturesque spot: the sides of the
ravine were thickly clothed with wood, and on the other side a
tall, black hill uplifted itself. The edifice was large, and
apparently deserted. Passing by it, I presently reached a
small village, as deserted, to all appearance, as the convent,
for I saw not a single individual, nor so much as a dog to
welcome me with his bark. I proceeded, however, until I
reached a fountain, the waters of which gushed from a stone
pillar into a trough. Seated upon this last, his arms folded,
and his eyes fixed upon the neighbouring mountain, I beheld a
figure which still frequently recurs to my thoughts, especially
when asleep and oppressed by the nightmare. This figure was my
runaway guide.

MYSELF. - Good day to you, my gentleman. The weather is
hot, and yonder water appears delicious. I am almost tempted
to dismount and regale myself with a slight draught.

GUIDE. - Your worship can do no better. The day is, as
you say, hot; you can do no better than drink a little of this
water. I have myself just drunk. I would not, however, advise
you to give that pony any, it appears heated and blown.

MYSELF. - It may well be so. I have been galloping at
least two leagues in pursuit of a fellow who engaged to guide
me to Finisterra, but who deserted me in a most singular
manner, so much so, that I almost believe him to be a thief,
and no true man. You do not happen to have seen him?

GUIDE. - What kind of a man might he be?

MYSELF. - A short, thick fellow, very much like yourself,
with a hump upon his back, and, excuse me, of a very ill-
favoured countenance.

GUIDE. - Ha, ha! I know him. He ran with me to this
fountain, where he has just left me. That man, Sir Cavalier,
is no thief. If he is any thing at all, he is a Nuveiro, - a
fellow who rides upon the clouds, and is occasionally whisked
away by a gust of wind. Should you ever travel with that man
again, never allow him more than one glass of anise at a time,
or he will infallibly mount into the clouds and leave you, and
then he will ride and run till he comes to a water brook, or
knocks his head against a fountain - then one draught, and he
is himself again. So you are going to Finisterra, Sir
Cavalier. Now it is singular enough, that a cavalier much of
your appearance engaged me to conduct him there this morning.
I however lost him on the way. So it appears to me our best
plan to travel together until you find your own guide and I
find my own master.

It might be about two o'clock in the afternoon, that we
reached a long and ruinous bridge, seemingly of great
antiquity, and which, as I was informed by my guide, was called
the bridge of Don Alonzo. It crossed a species of creek, or
rather frith, for the sea was at no considerable distance, and
the small town of Noyo lay at our right. "When we have crossed
that bridge, captain," said my guide, "we shall be in an
unknown country, for I have never been farther than Noyo, and
as for Finisterra, so far from having been there, I never heard
of such a place; and though I have inquired of two or three
people since we have been upon this expedition, they know as
little about it as I do. Taking all things, however, into
consideration, it appears to me that the best thing we can do
is to push forward to Corcuvion, which is five mad leagues from
hence, and which we may perhaps reach ere nightfall, if we can
find the way or get any one to direct us; for, as I told you
before, I know nothing about it." "To fine hands have I
confided myself," said I: "however, we had best, as you say,
push forward to Corcuvion, where, peradventure, we may hear
something of Finisterra, and find a guide to conduct us."
Whereupon, with a hop, skip, and a jump, he again set forward
at a rapid pace, stopping occasionally at a choza, for the
purpose, I suppose, of making inquiries, though I understood
scarcely anything of the jargon in which he addressed the
people, and in which they answered him.

We were soon in an extremely wild and hilly country,
scrambling up and down ravines, wading brooks, and scratching
our hands and faces with brambles, on which grew a plentiful
crop of wild mulberries, to gather some of which we
occasionally made a stop. Owing to the roughness of the way we
made no great progress. The pony followed close at the back of
the guide, so near, indeed, that its nose almost touched his
shoulder. The country grew wilder and wilder, and since we had
passed a water mill, we had lost all trace of human habitation.
The mill stood at the bottom of a valley shaded by large trees,
and its wheels were turning with a dismal and monotonous noise.
"Do you think we shall reach Corcuvion to-night?" said I to the
guide, as we emerged from this valley to a savage moor, which
appeared of almost boundless extent.

GUIDE. - I do not, I do not. We shall in no manner reach
Corcuvion to-night, and I by no means like the appearance of
this moor. The sun is rapidly sinking, and then, if there come
on a haze, we shall meet the Estadea.

MYSELF. - What do you mean by the Estadea?

GUIDE. - What do I mean by the Estadea? My master asks
me what I mean by the Estadinha. * I have met the Estadinha but
once, and it was upon a moor something like this. I was in
company with several women, and a thick haze came on, and
suddenly a thousand lights shone above our heads in the haze,
and there was a wild cry, and the women fell to the ground
screaming Estadea! Estadea! and I myself fell to the ground
crying out Estadinha! The Estadea are the spirits of the dead
which ride upon the haze, bearing candles in their hands. I
tell you frankly, my master, that if we meet the assembly of
the souls, I shall leave you at once, and then I shall run and
run till I drown myself in the sea, somewhere about Muros. We
shall not reach Corcuvion this night; my only hope is that we
may find some choza upon these moors, where we may hide our
heads from the Estadinha.

* INHA, when affixed to words, serves as a diminutive.
It is much in use amongst the Gallegans.

The night overtook us ere we had traversed the moor;
there was, however, no haze, to the great joy of my guide, and
a corner of the moon partially illumined our steps. Our
situation, however, was dreary enough: we were upon the wildest
heath of the wildest province of Spain, ignorant of our way,
and directing our course we scarcely knew whither, for my guide
repeatedly declared to me, that he did not believe that such a
place as Finisterra existed, or if it did exist, it was some
bleak mountain pointed out in a map. When I reflected on the
character of this guide, I derived but little comfort or
encouragement: he was at best evidently half witted, and was by
his own confession occasionally seized with paroxysms which
differed from madness in no essential respect; his wild
escapade in the morning of nearly three leagues, without any
apparent cause, and lastly his superstitious and frantic fears
of meeting the souls of the dead upon this heath, in which
event he intended, as he himself said, to desert me and make
for the sea, operated rather powerfully upon my nerves. I
likewise considered that it was quite possible that we might be
in the route neither of Finisterra nor Corcuvion, and I
therefore determined to enter the first cabin at which we
should arrive, in preference to running the risk of breaking
our necks by tumbling down some pit or precipice. No cabin,
however, appeared in sight: the moor seemed interminable, and
we wandered on until the moon disappeared, and we were left in
almost total darkness.

At length we arrived at the foot of a steep ascent, up
which a rough and broken pathway appeared to lead.

"Can this be our way?" said I to the guide.

"There appears to be no other for us, captain," replied
the man; "let us ascend it by all means, and when we are it the
top, if the sea be in the neighbourhood we shall see it."

I then dismounted, for to ride up such a pass in such
darkness would have been madness. We clambered up in a line,
first the guide, next the pony, with his nose as usual on his
master's shoulder, of whom he seemed passionately fond, and I
bringing up the rear, with my left hand grasping the animal's
tail. We had many a stumble, and more than one fall: once,
indeed, we were all rolling down the side of the hill together.
In about twenty minutes we reached the summit, and looked
around us, but no sea was visible: a black moor, indistinctly
seen, seemed to spread on every side.

"We shall have to take up our quarters here till
morning," said I.

Suddenly my guide seized me by the hand: "There is lume,
Senhor," said he, "there is lume." I looked in the direction
in which he pointed, and, after straining my eyes for some
time, imagined that I perceived, far below and at some
distance, a faint glow. "That is lume," shouted the guide,
"and it proceeds from the chimney of a choza."

On descending the eminence, we roamed about for a
considerable time, until we at last found ourselves in the
midst of about six or eight black huts. "Knock at the door of
one of these," said I to the guide, "and inquire of the people
whether they can shelter us for the night." He did so, and a
man presently made his appearance, bearing in his hand a
lighted firebrand.

"Can you shelter a Cavalheiro from the night and the
Estadea?" said my guide.

"From both, I thank God," said the man, who was an
athletic figure, without shoes and stockings, and who, upon the
whole, put me much in mind of a Munster peasant from the bogs.
"Pray enter, gentlemen, we can accommodate you both and your
cavalgadura besides."

We entered the choza, which consisted of three
compartments; in the first we found straw, in the second cattle
and ponies, and in the third the family, consisting of the
father and mother of the man who admitted us, and his wife and
children.

"You are a Catalan, sir Cavalier, and are going to your
countryman at Corcuvion," said the man in tolerable Spanish.
"Ah, you are brave people, you Catalans, and fine
establishments you have on the Gallegan shores; pity that you
take all the money out of the country."

Now, under all circumstances, I had not the slightest
objection to pass for a Catalan; and I rather rejoiced that
these wild people should suppose that I had powerful friends
and countrymen in the neighbourhood who were, perhaps,
expecting me. I therefore favoured their mistake, and began
with a harsh Catalan accent to talk of the fish of Galicia, and
the high duties on salt. The eye of my guide was upon me for
an instant, with a singular expression, half serious, half
droll; he however said nothing, but slapped his thigh as usual,
and with a spring nearly touched the roof of the cabin with his
grotesque head. Upon inquiry, I discovered that we were still
two long leagues distant from Corcuvion, and that the road lay
over moor and hill, and was hard to find. Our host now
demanded whether we were hungry, and upon being answered in the
affirmative, produced about a dozen eggs and some bacon.
Whilst our supper was cooking, a long conversation ensued
between my guide and the family, but as it was carried on in
Gallegan, I tried in vain to understand it. I believe,
however, that it principally related to witches and witchcraft,
as the Estadea was frequently mentioned. After supper I
demanded where I could rest: whereupon the host pointed to a
trap-door in the roof, saying that above there was a loft where
I could sleep by myself, and have clean straw. For curiosity's
sake, I asked whether there was such a thing as a bed in the
cabin.

"No," replied the man; "nor nearer than Corcuvion. I
never entered one in my life, nor any one of my family: we
sleep around the hearth, or among the straw with the cattle."

I was too old a traveller to complain, but forthwith
ascended by a ladder into a species of loft, tolerably large
and nearly empty, where I placed my cloak beneath my head, and
lay down on the boards, which I preferred to the straw, for
more reasons than one. I heard the people below talking in
Gallegan for a considerable time, and could see the gleams of
the fire through the interstices of the floor. The voices,
however, gradually died away, the fire sank low and could no
longer be distinguished. I dozed, started, dozed again, and
dropped finally into a profound sleep, from which I was only
roused by the crowing of the second cock.

CHAPTER XXX

Autumnal Morning - The World's End - Corcuvion - Duyo -
The Cape - A Whale - The Outer Bay - The Arrest - The Fisher-
Magistrate - Calros Rey - Hard of Belief - Where is your Passport? -
The Beach - A Mighty Liberal - The Handmaid - The Grand Baintham -
Eccentric Book - Hospitality.

It was a beautiful autumnal morning when we left the
choza and pursued our way to Corcuvion. I satisfied our host
by presenting him with a couple of pesetas, and he requested as
a favour, that if on our return we passed that way, and were
overtaken by the night, we would again take up our abode
beneath his roof. This I promised, at the same time
determining to do my best to guard against the contingency; as
sleeping in the loft of a Gallegan hut, though preferable to
passing the night on a moor or mountain, is anything but
desirable.

So we again started at a rapid pace along rough bridle-
ways and footpaths, amidst furze and brushwood. In about an
hour we obtained a view of the sea, and directed by a lad, whom
we found on the moor employed in tending a few miserable sheep,
we bent our course to the north-west, and at length reached the
brow of an eminence, where we stopped for some time to survey
the prospect which opened before us.

It was not without reason that the Latins gave the name
of Finnisterrae to this district. We had arrived exactly at
such a place as in my boyhood I had pictured to myself as the
termination of the world, beyond which there was a wild sea, or
abyss, or chaos. I now saw far before me an immense ocean, and
below me a long and irregular line of lofty and precipitous
coast. Certainly in the whole world there is no bolder coast
than the Gallegan shore, from the debouchement of the Minho to
Cape Finisterra. It consists of a granite wall of savage
mountains, for the most part serrated at the top, and
occasionally broken, where bays and firths like those of Vigo
and Pontevedra intervene, running deep into the land. These
bays and firths are invariably of an immense depth, and
sufficiently capacious to shelter the navies of the proudest
maritime nations.

There is an air of stern and savage grandeur in
everything around, which strongly captivates the imagination.
This savage coast is the first glimpse of Spain which the
voyager from the north catches, or he who has ploughed his way
across the wide Atlantic: and well does it seem to realize all
his visions of this strange land. "Yes," he exclaims, "this is
indeed Spain - stern flinty Spain - land emblematic of those
spirits to which she has given birth. From what land but that
before me could have proceeded those portentous beings, who
astounded the Old World and filled the New with horror and
blood: Alba and Philip, Cortez and Pizarro: stern colossal
spectres looming through the gloom of bygone years, like yonder
granite mountains through the haze, upon the eye of the
mariner. Yes, yonder is indeed Spain; flinty, indomitable
Spain; land emblematic of its sons!"

As for myself, when I viewed that wide ocean and its
savage shore, I cried, "Such is the grave, and such are its
terrific sides; those moors and wilds, over which I have
passed, are the rough and dreary journey of life. Cheered with
hope, we struggle along through all the difficulties of moor,
bog, and mountain, to arrive at - what? The grave and its
dreary sides. Oh, may hope not desert us in the last hour:
hope in the Redeemer and in God!"

We descended from the eminence, and again lost sight of
the sea amidst ravines and dingles, amongst which patches of
pine were occasionally seen. Continuing to descend, we at last
came, not to the sea, but to the extremity of a long narrow
firth, where stood a village or hamlet; whilst at a small
distance, on the Western side of the firth, appeared one
considerably larger, which was indeed almost entitled to the
appellation of town. This last was Corcuvion; the first, if I
forget not, was called Ria de Silla. We hastened on to
Corcuvion, where I bade my guide make inquiries respecting
Finisterra. He entered the door of a wine-house, from which
proceeded much noise and vociferation, and presently returned,
informing me that the village of Finisterra was distant about a
league and a half. A man, evidently in a state of
intoxication, followed him to the door: "Are you bound for
Finisterra, Cavalheiros?" he shouted.

"Yes, my friend," I replied, "we are going thither."

"Then you are going amongst a flock of drunkards (FATO DE
BARRACHOS)," he answered. "Take care that they do not play you
a trick."

We passed on, and striking across a sandy peninsula at
the back of the town, soon reached the shore of an immense bay,
the north-westernmost end of which was formed by the far-famed
cape of Finisterra, which we now saw before us stretching far
into the sea.

Along a beach of dazzling white sand, we advanced towards
the cape, the bourne of our journey. The sun was shining
brightly, and every object was illumined by his beams. The sea
lay before us like a vast mirror, and the waves which broke
upon the shore were so tiny as scarcely to produce a murmur.
On we sped along the deep winding bay, overhung by gigantic
hills and mountains. Strange recollections began to throng
upon my mind. It was upon this beach that, according to the
tradition of all ancient Christendom, Saint James, the patron
saint of Spain, preached the Gospel to the heathen Spaniards.
Upon this beach had once stood an immense commercial city, the
proudest in all Spain. This now desolate bay had once
resounded with the voices of myriads, when the keels and
commerce of all the then known world were wafted to Duyo.

"What is the name of this village?" said I to a woman, as
we passed by five or six ruinous houses at the bend of the bay,
ere we entered upon the peninsula of Finisterra.

"This is no village," said the Gallegan, "this is no
village, Sir Cavalier, this is a city, this is Duyo."

So much for the glory of the world! These huts were all
that the roaring sea and the tooth of time had left of Duyo,
the great city! Onward now to Finisterra.

It was midday when we reached the village of Finisterra,
consisting of about one hundred houses, and built on the
southern side of the peninsula, just before it rises into the
huge bluff head which is called the Cape. We sought in vain
for an inn or venta, where we might stable our beast; at one
moment we thought that we had found one, and had even tied the
animal to the manger. Upon our going out, however, he was
instantly untied and driven forth into the street. The few
people whom we saw appeared to gaze upon us in a singular
manner. We, however, took little notice of these
circumstances, and proceeded along the straggling street until
we found shelter in the house of a Castilian shopkeeper, whom
some chance had brought to this corner of Galicia, - this end
of the world. Our first care was to feed the animal, who now
began to exhibit considerable symptoms of fatigue. We then
requested some refreshment for ourselves; and in about an hour
a tolerably savoury fish, weighing about three pounds, and
fresh from the bay, was prepared for us by an old woman who
appeared to officiate as house-keeper. Having finished our
meal, I and my uncouth companion went forth and prepared to
ascend the mountain.

We stopped to examine a small dismantled fort or battery
facing the bay; and whilst engaged in this examination, it more
than once occurred to me that we were ourselves the objects of
scrutiny and investigation: indeed I caught a glimpse of more
than one countenance peering upon us through the holes and
chasms of the walls. We now commenced ascending Finisterra;
and making numerous and long detours, we wound our way up its
flinty sides. The sun had reached the top of heaven, whence he
showered upon us perpendicularly his brightest and fiercest
rays. My boots were torn, my feet cut, and the perspiration
streamed from my brow. To my guide, however, the ascent
appeared to be neither toilsome nor difficult. The heat of the
day for him had no terrors, no moisture was wrung from his
tanned countenance; he drew not one short breath; and hopped
upon the stones and rocks with all the provoking agility of a
mountain goat. Before we had accomplished one half of the
ascent, I felt myself quite exhausted. I reeled and staggered.
"Cheer up, master mine, be of good cheer, and have no care,"
said the guide. "Yonder I see a wall of stones; lie down
beneath it in the shade." He put his long and strong arm round
my waist, and though his stature compared with mine was that of
a dwarf, he supported me, as if I had been a child, to a rude
wall which seemed to traverse the greatest part of the hill,
and served probably as a kind of boundary. It was difficult to
find a shady spot: at last he perceived a small chasm, perhaps
scooped by some shepherd as a couch, in which to enjoy his
siesta. In this he laid me gently down, and taking off his
enormous hat, commenced farming me with great assiduity. By
degrees I revived, and after having rested for a considerable
time, I again attempted the ascent, which, with the assistance
of my guide, I at length accomplished.

We were now standing at a great altitude between two
bays: the wilderness of waters before us. Of all the ten
thousand barks which annually plough those seas in sight of
that old cape, not one was to be descried. It was a blue shiny
waste, broken by no object save the black head of a spermaceti
whale, which would occasionally show itself at the top, casting
up thin jets of brine. The principal bay, that of Finisterra,
as far as the entrance, was beautifully variegated by an
immense shoal of sardinhas, on whose extreme skirts the monster
was probably feasting. From the northern side of the cape we
looked down upon a smaller bay, the shore of which was overhung
by rocks of various and grotesque shapes; this is called the
outer bay, or, in the language of the country, PRAIA DO MAR DE
FORA: a fearful place in seasons of wind and tempest, when the
long swell of the Atlantic pouring in, is broken into surf and
foam by the sunken rocks with which it abounds. Even in the
calmest day there is a rumbling and a hollow roar in that bay
which fill the heart with uneasy sensations.

On all sides there was grandeur and sublimity. After
gazing from the summit of the Cape for nearly an hour we
descended.

On reaching the house where we had taken up our temporary
habitation, we perceived that the portal was occupied by
several men, some of whom were reclining on the floor drinking
wine out of small earthen pans, which are much used in this
part of Galicia. With a civil salutation I passed on, and
ascended the staircase to the room in which we had taken our
repast. Here there was a rude and dirty bed, on which I flung
myself, exhausted with fatigue. I determined to take a little
repose, and in the evening to call the people of the place
together, to read a few chapters of the Scripture, and then to
address them with a little Christian exhortation. I was soon
asleep, but my slumbers were by no means tranquil. I thought I
was surrounded with difficulties of various kinds amongst rocks
and ravines, vainly endeavouring to extricate myself; uncouth
visages showed themselves amidst the trees and in the hollows,
thrusting out cloven tongues and uttering angry cries. I
looked around for my guide, but could not find him; methought,
however, that I heard his voice down a deep dingle. He
appeared to be talking of me. How long I might have continued
in these wild dreams I know not. I was suddenly, however,
seized roughly by the shoulder and nearly dragged from the bed.
I looked up in amazement, and by the light of the descending
sun I beheld hanging over me a wild and uncouth figure; it was
that of an elderly man, built as strong as a giant, with much
beard and whiskers, and huge bushy eyebrows, dressed in the
habiliments of a fisherman; in his hand was a rusty musket.

MYSELF. - Who are you and what do you want?

FIGURE. - Who I am matters but little. Get up and follow
me; it is you I want.

MYSELF. - By what authority do you thus presume to
interfere with me?

FIGURE. - By the authority of the justicia of Finisterra.
Follow me peaceably, Calros, or it will be the worse for you.

"Calros," said I, "what does the person mean?" I thought
it, however, most prudent to obey his command, and followed him
down the staircase. The shop and the portal were now thronged
with the inhabitants of Finisterra, men, women, and children;
the latter for the most part in a state of nudity, and with
bodies wet and dripping, having been probably summoned in haste
from their gambols in the brine. Through this crowd the figure
whom I have attempted to describe pushed his way with an air of
authority.

On arriving in the street, he laid his heavy hand upon my
arm, not roughly however. "It is Calros! it is Calros!" said a
hundred voices; "he has come to Finisterra at last, and the
justicia have now got hold of him." Wondering what all this
could mean, I attended my strange conductor down the street.
As we proceeded, the crowd increased every moment, following
and vociferating. Even the sick were brought to the door to
obtain a view of what was going forward and a glance at the
redoubtable Calros. I was particularly struck by the eagerness
displayed by one man, a cripple, who, in spite of the
entreaties of his wife, mixed with the crowd, and having lost
his crutch, hopped forward on one leg, exclaiming, - "CARRACHO!
TAMBIEN VOY YO!"

We at last reached a house of rather larger size than the
rest; my guide having led me into a long low room, placed me in
the middle of the floor, and then hurrying to the door, he
endeavoured to repulse the crowd who strove to enter with us.
This he effected, though not without considerable difficulty,
being once or twice compelled to have recourse to the butt of
his musket, to drive back unauthorized intruders. I now looked
round the room. It was rather scantily furnished: I could see
nothing but some tubs and barrels, the mast of a boat, and a
sail or two. Seated upon the tubs were three or four men
coarsely dressed, like fishermen or shipwrights. The principal
personage was a surly ill-tempered-looking fellow of about
thirty-five, whom eventually I discovered to be the alcalde of
Finisterra, and lord of the house in which we now were. In a
corner I caught a glimpse of my guide, who was evidently in
durance, two stout fishermen standing before him, one with a
musket and the other with a boat-hook. After I had looked
about me for a minute, the alcalde, giving his whiskers a
twist, thus addressed me:-

"Who are you, where is your passport, and what brings you
to Finisterra?"

MYSELF. - I am an Englishman. Here is my passport, and I
came to see Finisterra.

This reply seemed to discomfit them for a moment. They
looked at each other, then at my passport. At length the
alcalde, striking it with his finger, bellowed forth:

"This is no Spanish passport; it appears to be written in
French."

MYSELF. - I have already told you that I am a foreigner.
I of course carry a foreign passport.

ALCALDE. - Then you mean to assert that you are not
Calros Rey.

MYSELF. - I never heard before of such a king, nor indeed
of such a name.

ALCALDE. - Hark to the fellow: he has the audacity to say
that he has never heard of Calros the pretender, who calls
himself king.

MYSELF. - If you mean by Calros, the pretender Don
Carlos, all I can reply is, that you can scarcely be serious.
You might as well assert that yonder poor fellow, my guide,
whom I see you have made prisoner, is his nephew, the infante
Don Sebastian.

ALCALDE. - See, you have betrayed yourself; that is the
very person we suppose him to be.

MYSELF. - It is true that they are both hunchbacks. But
how can I be like Don Carlos? I have nothing the appearance of
a Spaniard, and am nearly a foot taller than the pretender.

ALCALDE. - That makes no difference; you of course carry
many waistcoats about you, by means of which you disguise
yourself, and appear tall or low according to your pleasure.

This last was so conclusive an argument that I had of
course nothing to reply to it. The alcalde looked around him
in triumph, as if he had made some notable discovery. "Yes, it
is Calros; it is Calros," said the crowd at the door. "It will
be as well to have these men shot instantly," continued the
alcalde; "if they are not the two pretenders, they are at any
rate two of the factious."

"I am by no means certain that they are either one or the
other," said a gruff voice.

The justicia of Finisterra turned their eyes in the
direction from which these words proceeded, and so did I. Our
glances rested upon the figure who held watch at the door. He
had planted the barrel of his musket on the floor, and was now
leaning his chin against the butt.

"I am by no means certain that they are either one or the
other," repeated he, advancing forward. "I have been examining
this man," pointing to myself, "and listening whilst he spoke,
and it appears to me that after all he may prove an Englishman;
he has their very look and voice. Who knows the English better
than Antonio de la Trava, and who has a better right? Has he
not sailed in their ships; has he not eaten their biscuit; and
did he not stand by Nelson when he was shot dead?"

Here the alcalde became violently incensed. "He is no
more an Englishman than yourself," he exclaimed; "if he were an
Englishman would he have come in this manner, skulking across
the land? Not so I trow. He would have come in a ship,
recommended to some of us, or to the Catalans. He would have
come to trade, to buy; but nobody knows him in Finisterra, nor
does he know anybody: and the first thing, moreover, that he
does when he reaches this place is to inspect the fort, and to
ascend the mountain where, no doubt, he has been marking out a
camp. What brings him to Finisterra if he is neither Calros
nor a bribon of a faccioso?"

I felt that there was a good deal of justice in some of
these remarks, and I was aware, for the first time, that I had,
indeed, committed a great imprudence in coming to this wild
place, and among these barbarous people, without being able to
assign any motive which could appear at all valid in their
eyes. I endeavoured to convince the alcalde that I had come
across the country for the purpose of making myself acquainted
with the many remarkable objects which it contained, and of
obtaining information respecting the character and condition of
the inhabitants. He could understand no such motives. "What
did you ascend the mountain for?"  "To see prospects."
"Disparate! I have lived at Finisterra forty years and never
ascended that mountain. I would not do it in a day like this
for two ounces of gold. You went to take altitudes, and to
mark out a camp."  I had, however, a staunch friend in old
Antonio, who insisted, from his knowledge of the English, that
all I had said might very possibly be true. "The English,"
said he, "have more money than they know what to do with, and
on that account they wander all over the world, paying dearly
for what no other people care a groat for."  He then proceeded,
notwithstanding the frowns of the alcalde, to examine me in the
English language. His own entire knowledge of this tongue was
confined to two words - KNIFE and FORK, which words I rendered
into Spanish by their equivalents, and was forthwith pronounced
an Englishman by the old fellow, who, brandishing his musket,
exclaimed:-

"This man is not Calros; he is what he declares himself
to be, an Englishman, and whosoever seeks to injure him, shall
have to do with Antonio de la Trava el valiente de Finisterra."
No person sought to impugn this verdict, and it was at length
determined that I should be sent to Corcuvion, to be examined
by the alcalde mayor of the district. "But," said the alcalde
of Finisterra, "what is to be done with the other fellow? He
at least is no Englishman. Bring him forward, and let us hear
what he has to say for himself. Now, fellow, who are you, and
what is your master?"

GUIDE. - I am Sebastianillo, a poor broken mariner of
Padron, and my master for the present is the gentleman whom you
see, the most valiant and wealthy of all the English. He has
two ships at Vigo laden with riches. I told you so when you
first seized me up there in our posada.

ALCALDE. - Where is your passport?

GUIDE. - I have no passport. Who would think of bringing
a passport to such a place as this, where I don't suppose there
are two individuals who can read? I have no passport; my
master's passport of course includes me.

ALCALDE. - It does not. And since you have no passport,
and have confessed that your name is Sebastian, you shall be
shot. Antonio de la Trava, do you and the musketeers lead this
Sebastianillo forth, and shoot him before the door.

ANTONIO DE LA TRAVA. - With much pleasure, Senor Alcalde,
since you order it. With respect to this fellow, I shall not
trouble myself to interfere. He at least is no Englishman. He
has more the look of a wizard or nuveiro; one of those devils
who raise storms and sink launches. Moreover, he says he is
from Padron, and those of that place are all thieves and
drunkards. They once played me a trick, and I would gladly be
at the shooting of the whole pueblo.

I now interfered, and said that if they shot the guide
they must shoot me too; expatiating at the same time on the
cruelty and barbarity of taking away the life of a poor
unfortunate fellow who, as might be seen at the first glance,
was only half witted; adding, moreover, that if any person was
guilty in this case it was myself, as the other could only be
considered in the light of a servant acting under my orders.

"The safest plan after all," said the alcalde, "appears
to be, to send you both prisoners to Corcuvion, where the head
alcalde can dispose of you as he thinks proper. You must,
however, pay for your escort; for it is not to be supposed that
the housekeepers of Finisterra have nothing else to do than to
ramble about the country with every chance fellow who finds his
way to this town." "As for that matter," said Antonio, "I will
take charge of them both. I am the valiente of Finisterra, and
fear no two men living. Moreover, I am sure that the captain
here will make it worth my while, else he is no Englishman.
Therefore let us be quick and set out for Corcuvion at once, as
it is getting late. First of all, however, captain, I must
search you and your baggage. You have no arms, of course? But
it is best to make all sure."

Long ere it was dark I found myself again on the pony, in
company with my guide, wending our way along the beach in the
direction of Corcuvion. Antonio de la Trava tramped heavily on
before, his musket on his shoulder.

MYSELF. - Are you not afraid, Antonio, to be thus alone
with two prisoners, one of whom is on horseback? If we were to
try, I think we could overpower you.

ANTONIO DE LA TRAVA. - I am the valiente do Finisterra,
and I fear no odds.

MYSELF. - Why do you call yourself the valiente of
Finisterra?

ANTONIO DE LA TRAVA. - The whole district call me so.
When the French came to Finisterra, and demolished the fort,
three perished by my hand. I stood on the mountain, up where I
saw you scrambling to-day. I continued firing at the enemy,
until three detached themselves in pursuit of me. The fools!
two perished amongst the rocks by the fire of this musket, and
as for the third, I beat his head to pieces with the stock. It
is on that account that they call me the valiente of
Finisterra.

MYSELF. - How came you to serve with the English fleet?
I think I heard you say that you were present when Nelson fell.

ANTONIO DE LA TRAVA. - I was captured by your countrymen,
captain; and as I had been a sailor from my childhood, they
were glad of my services. I was nine months with them, and
assisted at Trafalgar. I saw the English admiral die. You
have something of his face, and your voice, when you spoke,
sounded in my ears like his own. I love the English, and on
that account I saved you. Think not that I would toil along
these sands with you if you were one of my own countrymen.
Here we are at Duyo, captain. Shall we refresh?

We did refresh, or rather Antonio de la Trava refreshed,
swallowing pan after pan of wine, with a thirst which seemed
unquenchable. "That man was a greater wizard than myself,"
whispered Sebastian, my guide, "who told us that the drunkards
of Finisterra would play us a trick." At length the old hero
of the Cape slowly rose, saying, that we must hasten on to
Corcuvion, or the night would overtake us by the way.

"What kind of person is the alcalde to whom you are
conducting me?" said I.

"Oh, very different from him of Finisterra," replied
Antonio. "This is a young Senorito, lately arrived from
Madrid. He is not even a Gallegan. He is a mighty liberal,
and it is owing chiefly to his orders that we have lately been
so much on the alert. It is said that the Carlists are
meditating a descent on these parts of Galicia. Let them only
come to Finisterra, we are liberals there to a man, and the old
valiente is ready to play the same part as in the time of the
French. But, as I was telling you before, the alcalde to whom
I am conducting you is a young man, and very learned, and if he
thinks proper, he can speak English to you, even better than
myself, notwithstanding I was a friend of Nelson, and fought by
his side at Trafalgar."

It was dark night before we reached Corcuvion. Antonio
again stopped to refresh at a wine-shop, after which he
conducted us to the house of the alcalde. His steps were by
this time not particularly steady, and on arriving at the gate
of the house, he stumbled over the threshold and fell. He got
up with an oath, and instantly commenced thundering at the door
with the stock of his musket. "Who is it?" at length demanded
a soft female voice in Gallegan. "The valiente of Finisterra,"
replied Antonio; whereupon the gate was unlocked, and we beheld
before us a very pretty female with a candle in her hand.
"What brings you here so late, Antonio?" she inquired. "I
bring two prisoners, mi pulida," replied Antonio. "Ave Maria!"
she exclaimed, "I hope they will do no harm." "I will answer
for one," replied the old man; "but, as for the other, he is a
nuveiro, and has sunk more ships than all his brethren in
Galicia. But be not afraid, my beauty," he continued, as the
female made the sign of the cross: "first lock the gate, and
then show me the way to the alcalde. I have much to tell him."
The gate was locked, and bidding us stay below in the court-
yard, Antonio followed the young woman up a stone stair, whilst
we remained in darkness below.

After the lapse of about a quarter of an hour we again
saw the candle gleam upon the staircase, and the young female
appeared. Coming up to me, she advanced the candle to my
features, on which she gazed very intently. After a long
scrutiny she went to my guide, and having surveyed him still
more fixedly, she turned to me, and said, in her best Spanish,
"Senhor Cavalier, I congratulate you on your servant. He is
the best-looking mozo in all Galicia. Vaya! if he had but a
coat to his back, and did not go barefoot, I would accept him
at once as a novio; but I have unfortunately made a vow never
to marry a poor man, but only one who has got a heavy purse and
can buy me fine clothes. So you are a Carlist, I suppose?
Vaya! I do not like you the worse for that. But, being so, how
went you to Finisterra, where they are all Christinos and
negros? Why did you not go to my village? None would have
meddled with you there. Those of my village are of a different
stamp to the drunkards of Finisterra. Those of my village
never interfere with honest people. Vaya! how I hate that
drunkard of Finisterra who brought you, he is so old and ugly;
were it not for the love which I bear to the Senhor Alcalde, I
would at once unlock the gate and bid you go forth, you and
your servant, the buen mozo."

Antonio now descended. "Follow me," said he; "his
worship the alcalde will be ready to receive you in a moment."
Sebastian and myself followed him upstairs to a room where,
seated behind a table, we beheld a young man of low stature but
handsome features and very fashionably dressed. He appeared to
be inditing a letter, which, when he had concluded, he
delivered to a secretary to be transcribed. He then looked at
me for a moment fixedly, and the following conversation ensued
between us:-

ALCALDE. - I see that you are an Englishman, and my
friend Antonio here informs me that you have been arrested at
Finisterra.

MYSELF. - He tells you true; and but for him I believe
that I should have fallen by the hands of those savage
fishermen.

ALCALDE. - The inhabitants of Finisterra are brave, and
are all liberals. Allow me to look at your passport? Yes, all
in form. Truly it was very ridiculous that they should have
arrested you as a Carlist.

MYSELF. - Not only as a Carlist, but as Don Carlos
himself.

ALCALDE. - Oh! most ridiculous; mistake a countryman of
the grand Baintham for such a Goth!

MYSELF. - Excuse me, Sir, you speak of the grand
somebody.

ALCALDE. - The grand Baintham. He who has invented laws
for all the world. I hope shortly to see them adopted in this
unhappy country of ours.

MYSELF. - Oh! you mean Jeremy Bentham. Yes! a very
remarkable man in his way.

ALCALDE. - In his way! In all ways. The most universal
genius which the world ever produced:- a Solon, a Plato, and a
Lope de Vega.

MYSELF. - I have never read his writings. I have no
doubt that he was a Solon; and as you say, a Plato. I should
scarcely have thought, however, that he could be ranked as a
poet with Lope de Vega.

ALCALDE. - How surprising! I see, indeed, that you know
nothing of his writings, though an Englishman. Now, here am I,
a simple alcalde of Galicia, yet I possess all the writings of
Baintham on that shelf, and I study them day and night.

MYSELF. - You doubtless, Sir, possess the English
Language.

ALCALDE. - I do. I mean that part of it which is
contained in the writings of Baintham. I am most truly glad to
see a countryman of his in these Gothic wildernesses. I
understand and appreciate your motives for visiting them:
excuse the incivility and rudeness which you have experienced.
But we will endeavour to make you reparation. You are this
moment free: but it is late; I must find you a lodging for the
night. I know one close by which will just suit you. Let us
repair thither this moment. Stay, I think I see a book in your
hand.

MYSELF. - The New Testament.

ALCALDE. - What book is that?

MYSELF. - A portion of the sacred writings, the Bible.

ALCALDE. - Why do you carry such a book with you?

MYSELF. - One of my principal motives in visiting
Finisterra was to carry this book to that wild place.

ALCALDE. - Ha, ha! how very singular. Yes, I remember.
I have heard that the English highly prize this eccentric book.
How very singular that the countrymen of the grand Baintham
should set any value upon that old monkish book.

It was now late at night, and my new friend attended me
to the lodging which he had destined for me, and which was at
the house of a respectable old female, where I found a clean
and comfortable room. On the way I slipped a gratuity into the
hand of Antonio, and on my arrival, formally, and in the
presence of the alcalde, presented him with the Testament,
which I requested he would carry back to Finisterra, and keep
in remembrance of the Englishman in whose behalf he had so
effectually interposed.

ANTONIO. - I will do so, your worship; and when the winds
blow from the north-west, preventing our launches from putting
to sea, I will read your present. Farewell, my captain, and
when you next come to Finisterra I hope it will be in a valiant
English bark, with plenty of contrabando on board, and not
across the country on a pony, in company with nuveiros and men
of Padron.

Presently arrived the handmaid of the alcalde with a
basket, which she took into the kitchen, where she prepared an
excellent supper for her master's friend. On its being served
up the alcalde bade me farewell, having first demanded whether
he could in any way forward my plans.

"I return to Saint James to-morrow," I replied, "and I
sincerely hope that some occasion will occur which will enable
me to acquaint the world with the hospitality which I have
experienced from so accomplished a scholar as the Alcalde of
Corcuvion."

CHAPTER XXXI

Coruna - Crossing the Bay - Ferrol - The Dockyard - Where are we now? -
Greek Ambassador - Lantern-light - The Ravine - Viveiro - Evening -
Marsh and Quagmire - Fair Words and Fair Money - The Leathern Girth -
Eyes of Lynx - The Knavish Guide.

From Corcuvion I returned to Saint James and Coruna, and
now began to make preparation for directing my course to the
Asturias. In the first place I parted with my Andalusian
horse, which I considered unfit for the long and mountainous
journey I was about to undertake; his constitution having
become much debilitated from his Gallegan travels. Owing to
horses being exceedingly scarce at Coruna, I had no difficulty
in disposing of him at a far higher price than he originally
cost me. A young and wealthy merchant of Coruna, who was a
national guardsman, became enamoured of his glossy skin and
long mane and tail. For my own part, I was glad to part with
him for more reasons than one; he was both vicious and savage,
and was continually getting me into scrapes in the stables of
the posadas where we slept or baited. An old Castilian
peasant, whose pony he had maltreated, once said to me, "Sir
Cavalier, if you have any love or respect for yourself, get rid
I beseech you of that beast, who is capable of proving the ruin
of a kingdom." So I left him behind at Coruna, where I
subsequently learned that he became glandered and died. Peace
to his memory!

From Coruna I crossed the bay to Ferrol, whilst Antonio
with our remaining horse followed by land, a rather toilsome
and circuitous journey, although the distance by water is
scarcely three leagues. I was very sea-sick during the
passage, and lay almost senseless at the bottom of the small
launch in which I had embarked, and which was crowded with
people. The wind was adverse, and the water rough. We could
make no sail, but were impelled along by the oars of five or
six stout mariners, who sang all the while Gallegan ditties.
Suddenly the sea appeared to have become quite smooth, and my
sickness at once deserted me. I rose upon my feet and looked
around. We were in one of the strangest places imaginable. A
long and narrow passage overhung on either side by a stupendous
barrier of black and threatening rocks. The line of the coast
was here divided by a natural cleft, yet so straight and
regular that it seemed not the work of chance but design. The
water was dark and sullen, and of immense depth. This passage,
which is about a mile in length, is the entrance to a broad
basin, at whose farther extremity stands the town of Ferrol.

Sadness came upon me as soon as I entered this place.
Grass was growing in the streets, and misery and distress
stared me in the face on every side. Ferrol is the grand naval
arsenal of Spain, and has shared in the ruin of the once
splendid Spanish navy: it is no longer thronged with those
thousand shipwrights who prepared for sea the tremendous three-
deckers and long frigates, the greater part of which were
destroyed at Trafalgar. Only a few ill-paid and half-starved
workmen still linger about, scarcely sufficient to repair any
guarda costa which may put in dismantled by the fire of some
English smuggling schooner from Gibraltar. Half the
inhabitants of Ferrol beg their bread; and amongst these, as it
is said, are not unfrequently found retired naval officers,
many of them maimed or otherwise wounded, who are left to pine
in indigence; their pensions or salaries having been allowed to
run three or four years in arrear, owing to the exigencies of
the times. A crowd of importunate beggars followed me to the
posada, and even attempted to penetrate to the apartment to
which I was conducted. "Who are you?" said I to a woman who
flung herself at my feet, and who bore in her countenance
evident marks of former gentility. "A widow, sir," she
replied, in very good French; "a widow of a brave officer, once
admiral of this port." The misery and degradation of modern
Spain are nowhere so strikingly manifested as at Ferrol.

Yet even here there is still much to admire.
Notwithstanding its present state of desolation, it contains
some good streets, and abounds with handsome houses. The
alameda is planted with nearly a thousand elms, of which almost
all are magnificent trees, and the poor Ferrolese, with the
genuine spirit of localism so prevalent in Spain, boast that
their town contains a better public walk than Madrid, of whose
prado, when they compare the two, they speak in terms of
unmitigated contempt. At one end of this alameda stands the
church, the only one in Ferrol. To this church I repaired the
day after my arrival, which was Sunday. I found it quite
insufficient to contain the number of worshippers who, chiefly
from the country, not only crowded the interior, but, bare-
headed, were upon their knees before the door to a considerable
distance down the walk.

Parallel with the alameda extends the wall of the naval
arsenal and dock. I spent several hours in walking about these
places, to visit which it is necessary to procure a written
permission from the captain-general of Ferrol. They filled me
with astonishment. I have seen the royal dockyards of Russia
and England, but for grandeur of design and costliness of
execution, they cannot for a moment compare with these
wonderful monuments of the bygone naval pomp of Spain. I shall
not attempt to describe them, but content myself with
observing, that the oblong basin, which is surrounded with a
granite mole, is capacious enough to permit a hundred first-
rates to lie conveniently in ordinary: but instead of such a
force, I saw only a sixty-gun frigate and two brigs lying in
this basin, and to this inconsiderable number of vessels is the
present war marine of Spain reduced.

I waited for the arrival of Antonio two or three days at
Ferrol, and still he came not: late one evening, however, as I
was looking down the street, I perceived him advancing, leading
our only horse by the bridle. He informed me that, at about
three leagues from Coruna, the heat of the weather and the
flies had so distressed the animal that it had fallen down in a
kind of fit, from which it had been only relieved by copious
bleeding, on which account he had been compelled to halt for a
day upon the road. The horse was evidently in a very feeble
state; and had a strange rattling in its throat, which alarmed
me it first. I however administered some remedies, and in a
few days deemed him sufficiently recovered to proceed.

We accordingly started from Ferrol; having first hired a
pony for myself, and a guide who was to attend us as far as
Rivadeo, twenty leagues from Ferrol, and on the confines of the
Asturias. The day at first was fine, but ere we reached
Novales, a distance of three leagues, the sky became overcast,
and a mist descended, accompanied by a drizzling rain. The
country through which we passed was very picturesque. At about
two in the afternoon we could descry through the mist the small
fishing town of Santa Marta on our left, with its beautiful
bay. Travelling along the summit of a line of hills, we
presently entered a chestnut forest, which appeared to be
without limit: the rain still descended, and kept up a
ceaseless pattering among the broad green leaves. "This is the
commencement of the autumnal rains," said the guide. "Many is
the wetting that you will get, my masters, before you reach
Oviedo." "Have you ever been as far as Oviedo?" I demanded.
"No," he replied, "and once only to Rivadeo, the place to which
I am now conducting you, and I tell you frankly that we shall
soon be in wildernesses where the way is hard to find,
especially at night, and amidst rain and waters. I wish I were
fairly back to Ferrol, for I like not this route, which is the
worst in Galicia, in more respects than one; but where my
master's pony goes, there must I go too; such is the life of us
guides." I shrugged my shoulders at this intelligence, which
was by no means cheering, but made no answer. At length, about
nightfall, we emerged from the forest, and presently descended
into a deep valley at the foot of lofty hills.

"Where are we now?" I demanded of the guide, as we
crossed a rude bridge at the bottom of the valley, down which a
rivulet swollen by the rain foamed and roared. "In the valley
of Coisa doiro," he replied; "and it is my advice that we stay
here for the night, and do not venture among those hills,
through which lies the path to Viveiro; for as soon as we get
there, adios! I shall be bewildered, which will prove the
destruction of us all."  "Is there a village nigh?"  "Yes, the
village is right before us, and we shall be there in a moment."
We soon reached the village, which stood amongst some tall
trees at the entrance of a pass which led up amongst the hills.
Antonio dismounted and entered two or three of the cabins, but
presently came to me, saying, "We cannot stay here, mon maitre,
without being devoured by vermin; we had better be amongst the
hills than in this place; there is neither fire nor light in
these cabins, and the rain is streaming through the roofs."
The guide, however, refused to proceed: "I could scarcely find
my way amongst those hills by daylight," he cried, surlily,
"much less at night, midst storm and bretima."  We procured
some wine and maize bread from one of the cottages. Whilst we
were partaking of these, Antonio said, "Mon maitre, the best
thing we can do in our present situation, is to hire some
fellow of this village to conduct us through the hills to
Viveiro. There are no beds in this place, and if we lie down
in the litter in our damp clothes we shall catch a tertian of
Galicia. Our present guide is of no service, we must therefore
find another to do his duty."  Without waiting for a reply, he
flung down the crust of broa which he was munching and
disappeared. I subsequently learned that he went to the
cottage of the alcalde, and demanded, in the Queen's name, a
guide for the Greek ambassador, who was benighted on his way to
the Asturias. In about ten minutes I again saw him, attended
by the local functionary, who, to my surprise, made me a
profound bow, and stood bareheaded in the rain. "His
excellency," shouted Antonio, "is in need of a guide to
Viveiro. People of our description are not compelled to pay
for any service which they may require; however, as his
excellency has bowels of compassion, he is willing to give
three pesetas to any competent person who will accompany him to
Viveiro, and as much bread and wine as he can eat and drink on
his arrival."  "His excellency shall be served," said the
alcalde; "however, as the way is long and the path is bad, and
there is much bretima amongst the hills, it appears to me that,
besides the bread and wine, his excellency can do no less than
offer four pesetas to the guide who may be willing to accompany
him to Viveiro; and I know no one better than my own son-in-
law, Juanito."  "Content, senor alcalde," I replied; "produce
the guide, and the extra peseta shall be forthcoming in due
season."

Soon appeared Juanito with a lantern in his hand. We
instantly set forward. The two guides began conversing in
Gallegan. "Mon maitre," said Antonio, "this new scoundrel is
asking the old one what he thinks we have got in our
portmanteaus." Then, without awaiting my answer, he shouted,
"Pistols, ye barbarians! Pistols, as ye shall learn to your
cost, if you do not cease speaking in that gibberish and
converse in Castilian." The Gallegans were silent, and
presently the first guide dropped behind, whilst the other with
the lantern moved before. "Keep in the rear," said Antonio to
the former, "and at a distance: know one thing moreover, that I
can see behind as well as before. Mon maitre," said he to me,
"I don't suppose these fellows will attempt to do us any harm,
more especially as they do not know each other; it is well,
however, to separate them, for this is a time and place which
might tempt any one to commit robbery and murder too."

The rain still continued to fall uninterruptedly, the
path was rugged and precipitous, and the night was so dark that
we could only see indistinctly the hills which surrounded us.
Once or twice our guide seemed to have lost his way: he
stopped, muttered to himself, raised his lantern on high, and
would then walk slowly and hesitatingly forward. In this
manner we proceeded for three or four hours, when I asked the
guide how far we were from Viveiro. "I do not know exactly
where we are, your worship," he replied, "though I believe we
are in the route. We can scarcely, however, be less than two
mad leagues from Viveiro."  "Then we shall not arrive there
before morning," interrupted Antonio, "for a mad league of
Galicia means at least two of Castile; and perhaps we are
doomed never to arrive there, if the way thither leads down
this precipice."  As he spoke, the guide seemed to descend into
the bowels of the earth. "Stop," said I, "where are you
going?"  "To Viveiro, Senhor," replied the fellow; "this is the
way to Viveiro, there is no other; I now know where we are."
The light of the lantern shone upon the dark red features of
the guide, who had turned round to reply, as he stood some
yards down the side of a dingle or ravine overgrown with thick
trees, beneath whose leafy branches a frightfully steep path
descended. I dismounted from the pony, and delivering the
bridle to the other guide, said, "Here is your master's horse,
if you please you may load him down that abyss, but as for
myself I wash my hands of the matter."  The fellow, without a
word of reply, vaulted into the saddle, and with A VAMOS,
PERICO! to the pony, impelled the creature to the descent.
"Come, Senhor," said he with the lantern, "there is no time to
be lost, my light will be presently extinguished, and this is
the worst bit in the whole road."  I thought it very probable
that he was about to lead us to some den of cut-throats, where
we might be sacrificed; but taking courage, I seized our own
horse by the bridle, and followed the fellow down the ravine
amidst rocks and brambles. The descent lasted nearly ten
minutes, and ere we had entirely accomplished it, the light in
the lantern went out, and we remained in nearly total darkness.

Encouraged, however, by the guide, who assured us there
was no danger, we at length reached the bottom of the ravine;
here we encountered a rill of water, through which we were
compelled to wade as high as the knee. In the midst of the
water I looked up and caught a glimpse of the heavens through
the branches of the trees, which all around clothed the
shelving sides of the ravine and completely embowered the
channel of the stream: to a place more strange and replete with
gloom and horror no benighted traveller ever found his way.
After a short pause we commenced scaling the opposite bank,
which we did not find so steep as the other, and a few minutes'
exertion brought us to the top.

Shortly afterwards the rain abated, and the moon arising
cast a dim light through the watery mists; the way had become
less precipitous, and in about two hours we descended to the
shore of an extensive creek, along which we proceeded till we
reached a spot where many boats and barges lay with their keels
upward upon the sand. Presently we beheld before us the walls
of Viveiro, upon which the moon was shedding its sickly lustre.
We entered by a lofty and seemingly ruinous archway, and the
guide conducted us at once to the posada.

Every person in Viveiro appeared to be buried in profound
slumber; not so much as a dog saluted us with his bark. After
much knocking we were admitted into the posada, a large and
dilapidated edifice. We had scarcely housed ourselves and
horses when the rain began to fall with yet more violence than
before, attended with much thunder and lightning. Antonio and
I, exhausted with fatigue, betook ourselves to flock beds in a
ruinous chamber, into which the rain penetrated through many a
cranny, whilst the guides ate bread and drank wine till the
morning.

When I arose I was gladdened by the sight of a fine day.
Antonio forthwith prepared a savoury breakfast of stewed fowl,
of which we stood in much need after the ten league journey of
the preceding day over the ways which I have attempted to
describe. I then walked out to view the town, which consists
of little more than one long street, on the side of a steep
mountain thickly clad with forests and fruit trees. At about
ten we continued our journey, accompanied by our first guide,
the other having returned to Coisa doiro some hours previously.

Our route throughout this day was almost constantly
within sight of the shores of the Cantabrian sea, whose
windings we followed. The country was barren, and in many
parts covered with huge stones: cultivated spots, however, were
to be seen, where vines were growing. We met with but few
human habitations. We however journeyed on cheerfully, for the
sun was once more shining in full brightness, gilding the wild
moors, and shining upon the waters of the distant sea, which
lay in unruffled calmness.

At evening fall we were in the neighbourhood of the
shore, with a range of wood-covered hills on our right. Our
guide led us towards a creek bordered by a marsh, but he soon
stopped and declared that he did not know whither he was
conducting us.

"Mon maitre," said Antonio, "let us be our own guides; it
is, as you see, of no use to depend upon this fellow, whose
whole science consists in leading people into quagmires."

We therefore turned aside and proceeded along the marsh
for a considerable distance, till we reached a narrow path
which led us into a thick wood, where we soon became completely
bewildered. On a sudden, after wandering about a considerable
time, we heard the noise of water, and presently the clack of a
wheel. Following the sound, we arrived at a low stone mill,
built over a brook; here we stopped and shouted, but no answer
was returned. "The place is deserted," said Antonio; "here,
however, is a path, which, if we follow it, will doubtless lead
us to some human habitation." So we went along the path,
which, in about ten minutes, brought us to the door of a cabin,
in which we saw lights. Antonio dismounted and opened the
door: "Is there any one here who can conduct us to Rivadeo?" he
demanded.

"Senhor," answered a voice, "Rivadeo is more than five
leagues from here, and, moreover, there is a river to cross!"

"Then to the next village," continued Antonio.

"I am a vecino of the next village, which is on the way
to Rivadeo," said another voice, "and I will lead you thither,
if you will give me fair words, and, what is better, fair
money."

A man now came forth, holding in his hand a large stick.
He strode sturdily before us, and in less than half an hour led
us out of the wood. In another half hour he brought us to a
group of cabins situated near the sea; he pointed to one of
these, and having received a peseta, bade us farewell.

The people of the cottage willingly consented to receive
us for the night: it was much more cleanly and commodious than
the wretched huts of the Gallegan peasantry in general. The
ground floor consisted of a keeping room and stable, whilst
above was a long loft, in which were some neat and comfortable
flock beds. I observed several masts and sails of boats. The
family consisted of two brothers with their wives and families;
one was a fisherman, but the other, who appeared to be the
principal person, informed me that he had resided for many
years in service at Madrid, and having amassed a small sum, he
had at length returned to his native village, where he had
purchased some land which he farmed. All the family used the
Castilian language in their common discourse, and on inquiry I
learned that the Gallegan was not much spoken in that
neighbourhood. I have forgotten the name of this village,
which is situated on the estuary of the Foz, which rolls down
from Mondonedo. In the morning we crossed this estuary in a
large boat with our horses, and about noon arrived at Rivadeo.

"Now, your worship," said the guide who had accompanied
us from Ferrol, "I have brought you as far as I bargained, and
a hard journey it has been; I therefore hope you will suffer
Perico and myself to remain here to-night at your expense, and
to-morrow we will go back; at present we are both sorely
tired."

"I never mounted a better pony than Perico," said I, "and
never met with a worse guide than yourself. You appear to be
perfectly ignorant of the country, and have done nothing but
bring us into difficulties. You may, however, stay here for
the night, as you say you are tired, and to-morrow you may
return to Ferrol, where I counsel you to adopt some other
trade." This was said at the door of the posada of Rivadeo.

"Shall I lead the horses to a stable?" said the fellow.

"As you please," said I.

Antonio looked after him for a moment, as he was leading
the animals away, and then shaking his head followed slowly
after. In about a quarter of an hour he returned, laden with
the furniture of our own horse, and with a smile upon his
countenance: "Mon maitre," said he, "I have throughout the
journey had a bad opinion of this fellow, and now I have
detected him: his motive in requesting permission to stay, was
a desire to purloin something from us. He was very officious
in the stable about our horse, and I now miss the new leathern
girth which secured the saddle, and which I observed him
looking at frequently on the road. He has by this time
doubtless hid it somewhere; we are quite secure of him,
however, for he has not yet received the hire for the pony, nor
the gratuity for himself."

The guide returned just as he had concluded speaking.
Dishonesty is always suspicious. The fellow cast a glance upon
us, and probably beholding in our countenances something which
he did not like, he suddenly said, "Give me the horse-hire and
my own propina, for Perico and I wish to be off instantly."

"How is this?" said I; "I thought you and Perico were
both fatigued, and wished to rest here for the night; you have
soon recovered from your weariness."

"I have thought over the matter," said the fellow, "and
my master will be angry if I loiter here: pay us, therefore,
and let us go."

"Certainly," said I, "if you wish it. Is the horse
furniture all right?"

"Quite so," said he; "I delivered it all to your
servant."

"It is all here," said Antonio, "with the exception of
the leathern girth."

"I have not got it," said the guide.

"Of course not," said I. "Let us proceed to the stable,
we shall perhaps find it there."

To the stable we went, which we searched through: no
girth, however, was forthcoming. "He has got it buckled round
his middle beneath his pantaloons, mon maitre," said Antonio,
whose eyes were moving about like those of a lynx; "I saw the
protuberance as he stooped down. However, let us take no
notice: he is here surrounded by his countrymen, who, if we
were to seize him, might perhaps take his part. As I said
before, he is in our power, as we have not paid him."

The fellow now began to talk in Gallegan to the by-
standers (several persons having collected), wishing the Denho
to take him if he knew anything of the missing property.
Nobody, however, seemed inclined to take his part; and those
who listened, only shrugged their shoulders. We returned to
the portal of the posada, the fellow following us, clamouring
for the horse-hire and propina. We made him no answer, and at
length he went away, threatening to apply to the justicia; in
about ten minutes, however, he came running back with the girth
in his hand: "I have just found it," said he, "in the street:
your servant dropped it."

I took the leather and proceeded very deliberately to
count out the sum to which the horse-hire amounted, and having
delivered it to him in the presence of witnesses, I said,
"During the whole journey you have been of no service to us
whatever; nevertheless, you have fared like ourselves, and have
had all you could desire to eat and drink. I intended, on your
leaving us, to present you, moreover, with a propina of two
dollars; but since, notwithstanding our kind treatment, you
endeavoured to pillage us, I will not give you a cuarto: go,
therefore, about your business."

All the audience expressed their satisfaction at this
sentence, and told him that he had been rightly served, and
that he was a disgrace to Galicia. Two or three women crossed
themselves, and asked him if he was not afraid that the Denho,
whom he had invoked, would take him away. At last, a
respectable-looking man said to him: "Are you not ashamed to
have attempted to rob two innocent strangers?"

"Strangers!" roared the fellow, who was by this time
foaming with rage; "Innocent strangers, carracho! they know
more of Spain and Galicia too than the whole of us. Oh, Denho,
that servant is no man but a wizard, a nuveiro. - Where is
Perico?"

He mounted Perico, and proceeded forthwith to another
posada. The tale, however, of his dishonesty had gone before
him, and no person would house him; whereupon he returned on
his steps, and seeing me looking out of the window of the
house, he gave a savage shout, and shaking his fist at me,
galloped out of the town, the people pursuing him with hootings
and revilings.

CHAPTER XXXII

Martin of Rivadeo - The Factious Mare - Asturians -
Luarca - The Seven Bellotas - Hermits - The Asturian's Tale -
Strange Guests - The Big Servant - Batuschca

"What may your business be?" said I to a short, thick,
merry-faced fellow in a velveteen jerkin and canvas pantaloons,
who made his way into my apartment, in the dusk of the evening.

"I am Martin of Rivadeo, your worship," replied the man,
"an alquilador by profession; I am told that you want a horse
for your journey into the Asturias tomorrow, and of course a
guide: now, if that be the case, I counsel you to hire myself
and mare."

"I am become tired of guides," I replied; "so much so
that I was thinking of purchasing a pony, and proceeding
without any guide at all. The last which we had was an
infamous character."

"So I have been told, your worship, and it was well for
the bribon that I was not in Rivadeo when the affair to which
you allude occurred. But he was gone with the pony Perico
before I came back, or I would have bled the fellow to a
certainty with my knife. He is a disgrace to the profession,
which is one of the most honourable and ancient in the world.
Perico himself must have been ashamed of him, for Perico,
though a pony, is a gentleman, one of many capacities, and well
known upon the roads. He is only inferior to my mare."

"Are you well acquainted with the road to Oviedo?" I
demanded.

"I am not, your worship; that is, no farther than Luarca,
which is the first day's journey. I do not wish to deceive
you, therefore let me go with you no farther than that place;
though perhaps I might serve for the whole journey, for though
I am unacquainted with the country, I have a tongue in my head,
and nimble feet to run and ask questions. I will, however,
answer for myself no farther than Luarca, where you can please
yourselves. Your being strangers is what makes me wish to
accompany you, for I like the conversation of strangers, from
whom I am sure to gain information both entertaining and
profitable. I wish, moreover, to convince you that we guides
of Galicia are not all thieves, which I am sure you will not
suppose if you only permit me to accompany you as far as
Luarca."

I was so much struck with the fellow's good humour and
frankness, and more especially by the originality of character
displayed in almost every sentence which he uttered, that I
readily engaged him to guide us to Luarca; whereupon he left
me, promising to be ready with his mare at eight next morning.

Rivadeo is one of the principal seaports of Galicia, and
is admirably situated for commerce, on a deep firth, into which
the river Mirando debouches. It contains many magnificent
buildings, and an extensive square or plaza, which is planted
with trees. I observed several vessels in the harbour; and the
population, which is rather numerous, exhibited none of those
marks of misery and dejection which I had lately observed among
the Ferrolese.

On the morrow Martin of Rivadeo made his appearance at
the appointed hour with his mare. It was a lean haggard
animal, not much larger than a pony; it had good points,
however, and was very clean in its hinder legs, and Martin
insisted that it was the best animal of its kind in all Spain.
"It is a factious mare," said he, "and I believe an Alavese.
When the Carlists came here it fell lame, and they left it
behind, and I purchased it for a dollar. It is not lame now,
however, as you shall soon see."

We had now reached the firth which divides Galicia from
the Asturias. A kind of barge was lying about two yards from
the side of the quay, waiting to take us over. Towards this
Martin led his mare, and giving an encouraging shout, the
creature without any hesitation sprang over the intervening
space into the barge. "I told you she was a facciosa," said
Martin; "none but a factious animal would have taken such a
leap."

We all embarked in the barge and crossed over the firth,
which is in this place nearly a mile broad, to Castro Pol, the
first town in the Asturias. I now mounted the factious mare,
whilst Antonio followed on my own horse. Martin led the way,
exchanging jests with every person whom he met on the road, and
occasionally enlivening the way with an extemporaneous song.

We were now in the Asturias, and about noon we reached
Navias, a small fishing town, situate on a ria or firth; in the
neighbourhood are ragged mountains, called the Sierra de Buron,
which stand in the shape of a semi-circle. We saw a small
vessel in the harbour, which we subsequently learned was from
the Basque provinces, come for a cargo of cider or sagadua, the
beverage so dearly loved by the Basques. As we passed along
the narrow street, Antonio was hailed with an "Ola" from a
species of shop in which three men, apparently shoemakers, were
seated. He stopped for some time to converse with them, and
when he joined us at the posada where we halted, I asked him
who they were: "Mon maitre," said he, "CE SONT DES MESSIEURS DE
MA CONNOISSANCE. I have been fellow servant at different times
with all three; and I tell you beforehand, that we shall
scarcely pass through a village in this country where I shall
not find an acquaintance. All the Asturians, at some period of
their lives, make a journey to Madrid, where, if they can
obtain a situation, they remain until they have scraped up
sufficient to turn to advantage in their own country; and as I
have served in all the great houses in Madrid, I am acquainted
with the greatest part of them. I have nothing to say against
the Asturians, save that they are close and penurious whilst at
service; but they are not thieves, neither at home nor abroad,
and though we must have our wits about us in their country, I
have heard we may travel from one end of it to the other
without the slightest fear of being either robbed or ill
treated, which is not the case in Galicia, where we were always
in danger of having our throats cut."

Leaving Navias, we proceeded through a wild desolate
country, till we reached the pass of Baralla, which lies up the
side of a huge wall of rocks, which at a distance appear of a
light green colour, though perfectly bare of herbage or plants
of any description.

"This pass," said Martin of Rivadeo, "bears a very evil
reputation, and I should not like to travel it after sunset.
It is not infested by robbers, but by things much worse, the
duendes of two friars of Saint Francis. It is said that in the
old time, long before the convents were suppressed, two friars
of the order of Saint Francis left their convent to beg; it
chanced that they were very successful, but as they were
returning at nightfall, by this pass, they had a quarrel about
what they had collected, each insisting that he had done his
duty better than the other; at last, from high words they fell
to abuse, and from abuse to blows. What do you think these
demons of friars did? They took off their cloaks, and at the
end of each they made a knot, in which they placed a large
stone, and with these they thrashed and belaboured each other
till both fell dead. Master, I know not which are the worst
plagues, friars, curates, or sparrows:

"May the Lord God preserve us from evil birds three:
From all friars and curates and sparrows that be;
For the sparrows eat up all the corn that we sow,
The friars drink down all the wine that we grow,
Whilst the curates have all the fair dames at their nod:
From these three evil curses preserve us, Lord God."

In about two hours from this time we reached Luarca, the
situation of which is most singular. It stands in a deep
hollow, whose sides are so precipitous that it is impossible to
descry the town until you stand just above it. At the northern
extremity of this hollow is a small harbour, the sea entering
it by a narrow cleft. We found a large and comfortable posada,
and by the advice of Martin, made inquiry for a fresh guide and
horse; we were informed, however, that all the horses of the
place were absent, and that if we waited for their return, we
must tarry for two days. "I had a presentiment," said Martin,
"when we entered Luarca, that we were not doomed to part at
present. You must now hire my mare and me as far as Giyon,
from whence there is a conveyance to Oviedo. To tell you the
truth, I am by no means sorry that the guides are absent, for I
am pleased with your company, as I make no doubt you are with
mine. I will now go and write a letter to my wife at Rivadeo,
informing her that she must not expect to see me back for
several days." He then went out of the room singing the
following stanza:

"A handless man a letter did write,
A dumb dictated it word for word:
The person who read it had lost his sight,
And deaf was he who listened and heard."

Early the next morning we emerged from the hollow of
Luarca; about an hour's riding brought us to Caneiro, a deep
and romantic valley of rocks, shaded by tall chestnut trees.
Through the midst of this valley rushes a rapid stream, which
we crossed in a boat. "There is not such a stream for trout in
all the Asturias," said the ferryman; "look down into the
waters and observe the large stones over which it flows; now in
the proper season and in fine weather, you cannot see those
stones for the multitude of fish which cover them."

Leaving the valley behind us, we entered into a wild and
dreary country, stony and mountainous. The day was dull and
gloomy, and all around looked sad and melancholy. "Are we in
the way for Giyon and Oviedo?" demanded Martin of an ancient
female, who stood at the door of a cottage.

"For Giyon and Oviedo!" replied the crone; "many is the
weary step you will have to make before you reach Giyon and
Oviedo. You must first of all crack the bellotas: you are just
below them."

"What does she mean by cracking the bellotas?" demanded I
of Martin of Rivadeo.

"Did your worship never hear of the seven bellotas?"
replied our guide. "I can scarcely tell you what they are, as
I have never seen them; I believe they are seven hills which we
have to cross, and are called bellotas from some resemblance to
acorns which it is fancied they bear. I have often heard of
these acorns, and am not sorry that I have now an opportunity
of seeing them, though it is said that they are rather hard
things for horses to digest."

The Asturian mountains in this part rise to a
considerable altitude. They consist for the most part of dark
granite, covered here and there with a thin layer of earth.
They approach very near to the sea, to which they slope down in
broken ridges, between which are deep and precipitous defiles,
each with its rivulet, the tribute of the hills to the salt
flood. The road traverses these defiles. There are seven of
them, which are called, in the language of the country, LAS
SIETE BELLOTAS. Of all these, the most terrible is the
midmost, down which rolls an impetuous torrent. At the upper
end of it rises a precipitous wall of rock, black as soot, to
the height of several hundred yards; its top, as we passed, was
enveloped with a veil of bretima. From this gorge branch off,
on either side, small dingles or glens, some of them so
overgrown with trees and copse-wood, that the eye is unable to
penetrate the obscurity beyond a few yards.

"Fine places would some of these dingles prove for
hermitages," said I to Martin of Rivadeo. "Holy men might lead
a happy life there on roots and water, and pass many years
absorbed in heavenly contemplation, without ever being
disturbed by the noise and turmoil of the world."

"True, your worship," replied Martin; "and perhaps on
that very account there are no hermitages in the barrancos of
the seven bellotas. Our hermits had little inclination for
roots and water, and had no kind of objection to be
occasionally disturbed in their meditations. Vaya! I never yet
saw a hermitage that was not hard by some rich town or village,
or was not a regular resort for all the idle people in the
neighbourhood. Hermits are not fond of living in dingles,
amongst wolves and foxes; for how in that case could they
dispose of their poultry? A hermit of my acquaintance left,
when he died, a fortune of seven hundred dollars to his niece,
the greatest part of which he scraped up by fattening turkeys."

At the top of this bellota we found a wretched venta,
where we refreshed ourselves, and then continued our journey.
Late in the afternoon we cleared the last of these difficult
passes. The wind began now to rise, bearing on its wings a
drizzling rain. We passed by Soto Luino, and shaping our
course through a wild but picturesque country, we found
ourselves about nightfall at the foot of a steep hill, up which
led a narrow bridle-way, amidst a grove of lofty trees. Long
before we had reached the top it had become quite dark, and the
rain had increased considerably. We stumbled along in the
obscurity, leading our horses, which were occasionally down on
their knees, owing to the slipperiness of the path. At last we
accomplished the ascent in safety, and pushing briskly forward,
we found ourselves, in about half an hour, at the entrance of
Muros, a large village situated just on the declivity of the
farther side of the hill.

A blazing fire in the posada soon dried our wet garments,
and in some degree recompensed us for the fatigues which we had
undergone in scrambling up the bellotas. A rather singular
place was this same posada of Muros. It was a large rambling
house, with a spacious kitchen, or common room, on the ground
floor. Above stairs was a large dining-apartment, with an
immense oak table, and furnished with cumbrous leathern chairs
with high backs, apparently three centuries old at least.
Communicating with this apartment was a wooden gallery, open to
the air, which led to a small chamber, in which I was destined
to sleep, and which contained an old-fashioned tester-bed with
curtains. It was just one of those inns which romance writers
are so fond of introducing in their descriptions, especially
when the scene of adventure lies in Spain. The host was a
talkative Asturian.

The wind still howled, and the rain descended in
torrents. I sat before the fire in a very drowsy state, from
which I was presently aroused by the conversation of the host.
"Senor," said he, "it is now three years since I beheld
foreigners in my house. I remember it was about this time of
the year, and just such a night as this, that two men on
horseback arrived here. What was singular, they came without
any guide. Two more strange-looking individuals I never yet
beheld with eye-sight. I shall never forget them. The one was
as tall as a giant, with much tawny moustache, like the coat of
a badger, growing about his mouth. He had a huge ruddy face,
and looked dull and stupid, as he no doubt was, for when I
spoke to him, he did not seem to understand, and answered in a
jabber, valgame Dios! so wild and strange, that I remained
staring at him with mouth and eyes open. The other was neither
tall nor red-faced, nor had he hair about his mouth, and,
indeed, he had very little upon his head. He was very
diminutive, and looked like a jorobado (HUNCHBACK); but,
valgame Dios! such eyes, like wild cats', so sharp and full of
malice. He spoke as good Spanish as I myself do, and yet he
was no Spaniard. A Spaniard never looked like that man. He
was dressed in a zamarra, with much silver and embroidery, and
wore an Andalusian hat, and I soon found that he was master,
and that the other was servant.

"Valgame Dios! what an evil disposition had that same
foreign jorobado, and yet he had much grace, much humour, and
said occasionally to me such comical things, that I was fit to
die of laughter. So he sat down to supper in the room above,
and I may as well tell you here, that he slept in the same
chamber where your worship will sleep to-night, and his servant
waited behind his chair. Well, I had curiosity, so I sat
myself down at the table too, without asking leave. Why should
I? I was in my own house, and an Asturian is fit company for a
king, and is often of better blood. Oh, what a strange supper
was that. If the servant made the slightest mistake in helping
him, up would start the jorobado, jump upon his chair, and
seizing the big giant by the hair, would cuff him on both sides
of the face, till I was afraid his teeth would have fallen out.
The giant, however, did not seem to care about it much. He was
used to it, I suppose. Valgame Dios! if he had been a
Spaniard, he would not have submitted to it so patiently. But
what surprised me most was, that after beating his servant, the
master would sit down, and the next moment would begin
conversing and laughing with him as if nothing had happened,
and the giant also would laugh and converse with his master,
for all the world as if he had not been beaten.

"You may well suppose, Senor, that I understood nothing
of their discourse, for it was all in that strange unchristian
tongue in which the giant answered me when I spoke to him; the
sound of it is still ringing in my ears. It was nothing like
other languages. Not like Bascuen, not like the language in
which your worship speaks to my namesake Signor Antonio here.
Valgame Dios! I can compare it to nothing but the sound a
person makes when he rinses his mouth with water. There is one
word which I think I still remember, for it was continually
proceeding from the giant's lips, but his master never used it.

"But the strangest part of the story is yet to be told.
The supper was ended, and the night was rather advanced, the
rain still beat against the windows, even as it does at this
moment. Suddenly the jorobado pulled out his watch. Valgame
Dios! such a watch! I will tell you one thing, Senor, that I
could purchase all the Asturias, and Muros besides, with the
brilliants which shone about the sides of that same watch: the
room wanted no lamp, I trow, so great was the splendour which
they cast. So the jorobado looked at his watch, and then said
to me, I shall go to rest. He then took the lamp and went
through the gallery to his room, followed by his big servant.
Well, Senor, I cleared away the things, and then waited below
for the servant, for whom I had prepared a comfortable bed,
close by my own. Senor, I waited patiently for an hour, till
at last my patience was exhausted, and I ascended to the supper
apartment, and passed through the gallery till I came to the
door of the strange guest. Senor, what do you think I saw at
the door?"

"How should I know?" I replied. "His riding boots
perhaps."

"No, Senor, I did not see his riding boots; but,
stretched on the floor with his head against the door, so that
it was impossible to open it without disturbing him, lay the
big servant fast asleep, his immense legs reaching nearly the
whole length of the gallery. I crossed myself, as well I
might, for the wind was howling even as it is now, and the rain
was rushing down into the gallery in torrents; yet there lay
the big servant fast asleep, without any covering, without any
pillow, not even a log, stretched out before his master's door.

"Senor, I got little rest that night, for I said to
myself, I have evil wizards in my house, folks who are not
human. Once or twice I went up and peeped into the gallery,
but there still lay the big servant fast asleep, so I crossed
myself and returned to my bed again."

"Well," said I, "and what occurred next day?"

"Nothing particular occurred next day: the jorobado came
down and said comical things to me in good Spanish, and the big
servant came down, but whatever he said, and he did not say
much, I understood not, for it was in that disastrous jabber.
They stayed with me throughout the day till after supper-time,
and then the jorobado gave me a gold ounce, and mounting their
horses, they both departed as strangely as they had come, in
the dark night, I know not whither."

"Is that all?" I demanded.

"No, Senor, it is not all; for I was right in supposing
them evil brujos: the very next day an express arrived and a
great search was made after them, and I was arrested for having
harboured them. This occurred just after the present wars had
commenced. It was said they were spies and emissaries of I
don't know what nation, and that they had been in all parts of
the Asturias, holding conferences with some of the disaffected.
They escaped, however, and were never heard of more, though the
animals which they rode were found without their riders,
wandering amongst the hills; they were common ponies, and were
of no value. As for the brujos, it is believed that they
embarked in some small vessel which was lying concealed in one
of the rias of the coast."

MYSELF. - What was the word which you continually heard
proceeding from the lips of the big servant, and which you
think you can remember?

HOST. - Senor, it is now three years since I heard it,
and at times I can remember it and at others not; sometimes I
have started up in my sleep repeating it. Stay, Senor, I have
it now at the point of my tongue: it was Patusca.

MYSELF. - Batuschca, you mean; the men were Russians.

CHAPTER XXXIII

Oviedo - The Ten Gentlemen - The Swiss again - Modest Request -
The Robbers - Episcopal Benevolence - The Cathedral - Portrait of Feijoo.

I must now take a considerable stride in my journey, no
less than from Muros to Oviedo, contenting myself with
observing, that we proceeded from Muros to Velez, and from
thence to Giyon, where our guide Martin bade us farewell, and
returned with his mare to Rivadeo. The honest fellow did not
part without many expressions of regret, indeed he even
expressed a desire that I should take him and his mare into my
service; "for," said he, "I have a great desire to run through
all Spain, and even the world; and I am sure I shall never have
a better opportunity than by attaching myself to your worship's
skirts." On my reminding him, however, of his wife and family,
for he had both, he said, "True, true, I had forgotten them:
happy the guide whose only wife and family are a mare and
foal."

Oviedo is about three leagues from Giyon. Antonio rode
the horse, whilst I proceeded thither in a kind of diligence
which runs daily between the two towns. The road is good, but
mountainous. I arrived safely at the capital of the Asturias,
although at a rather unpropitious season, for the din of war
was at the gate, and there was the cry of the captains and the
shouting. Castile, at the time of which I am writing, was in
the hands of the Carlists, who had captured and plundered
Valladolid in much the same manner as they had Segovia some
time before. They were every day expected to march on Oviedo,
in which case they might perhaps have experienced some
resistance, a considerable body of troops being stationed
there, who had erected some redoubts, and strongly fortified
several of the convents, especially that of Santa Clara de la
Vega. All minds were in a state of feverish anxiety and
suspense, more especially as no intelligence arrived from
Madrid, which by the last accounts was said to be occupied by
the bands of Cabrera and Palillos.

So it came to pass that one night I found myself in the
ancient town of Oviedo, in a very large, scantily-furnished,
and remote room in an ancient posada, formerly a palace of the
counts of Santa Cruz. It was past ten, and the rain was
descending in torrents. I was writing, but suddenly ceased on
hearing numerous footsteps ascending the creaking stairs which
led to my apartment. The door was flung open, and in walked
nine men of tall stature, marshalled by a little hunchbacked
personage. They were all muffled in the long cloaks of Spain,
but I instantly knew by their demeanour that they were
caballeros, or gentlemen. They placed themselves in a rank
before the table where I was sitting. Suddenly and
simultaneously they all flung back their cloaks, and I
perceived that every one bore a book in his hand; a book which
I knew full well. After a pause, which I was unable to break,
for I sat lost in astonishment, and almost conceived myself to
be visited by apparitions, the hunchback, advancing somewhat
before the rest, said in soft silvery tones, "Senor Cavalier,
was it you who brought this book to the Asturias?"  I now
supposed that they were the civil authorities of the place come
to take me into custody, and, rising from my seat, I exclaimed,
"It certainly was I, and it is my glory to have done so; the
book is the New Testament of God: I wish it was in my power to
bring a million."  "I heartily wish so too," said the little
personage with a sigh. "Be under no apprehension, Sir
Cavalier, these gentlemen are my friends; we have just
purchased these books in the shop where you placed them for
sale, and have taken the liberty of calling upon you, in order
to return you our thanks for the treasure you have brought us.
I hope you can furnish us with the Old Testament also."  I
replied that I was sorry to inform him that at present it was
entirely out of my power to comply with his wish, as I had no
Old Testaments in my possession, but did not despair of
procuring some speedily from England. He then asked me a great
many questions concerning my biblical travels in Spain, and my
success, and the views entertained by the Society, with respect
to Spain, adding that he hoped we should pay particular
attention to the Asturias, which he assured me was the best
ground in the Peninsula for our labour. After about half an
hour's conversation, he suddenly said, in the English language,
"Good night, Sir," wrapped his cloak around him, and walked out
as he had come. His companions, who had hitherto not uttered a
word, all repeated "Good night, Sir," and, adjusting their
cloaks, followed him.

In order to explain this strange scene, I must state that
in the morning I had visited the petty bookseller of the place,
Longoria, and having arranged preliminaries with him, I sent
him in the evening a package of forty Testaments, all I
possessed, with some advertisements. At the time he assured me
that, though he was willing to undertake the sale, there was,
nevertheless, not a prospect of success, as a whole month had
elapsed since he had sold a book of any description, on account
of the uncertainty of the times, and the poverty which pervaded
the land; I therefore felt much dispirited. This incident,
however, admonished me not to be cast down when things look
gloomiest, as the hand of the Lord is generally then most busy;
that men may learn to perceive, that whatever good is
accomplished is not their work but his.

Two or three days after this adventure, I was once more
seated in my large scantily-furnished room; it was about ten,
of a dark melancholy morning, and the autumnal rain was again
falling. I had just breakfasted, and was about to sit down to
my journal, when the door was flung open and in bounded
Antonio.

"Mon maitre," said he, quite breathless, "who do you
think has arrived?"

"The pretender, I suppose," said I, in some trepidation;
"if so, we are prisoners."

"Bah, bah!" said Antonio, "it is not the pretender, but
one worth twenty of him; it is the Swiss of Saint James."

"Benedict Mol, the Swiss!" said I, "What! has he found
the treasure? But how did he come? How is he dressed?"

"Mon maitre," said Antonio, "he came on foot if we may
judge by his shoes, through which his toes are sticking; and as
for his dress, he is in most villainous apparel."

"There must be some mystery in this," said I; "where is
he at present?"

"Below, mon maitre," replied Antonio; "he came in quest
of us. But I no sooner saw him, than I hurried away to let you
know."

In a few minutes Benedict Mol found his way up stairs; he
was, as Antonio had remarked, in most villainous apparel, and
nearly barefooted; his old Andalusian hat was dripping with
rain.

"Och, lieber herr," said Benedict, "how rejoiced I am to
see you again. Oh, the sight of your countenance almost repays
me for all the miseries I have undergone since I parted with
you at Saint James."

MYSELF. - I can scarcely believe that I really see you
here at Oviedo. What motive can have induced you to come to
such an out-of-the-way place from such an immense distance?

BENEDICT. - Lieber herr, I will sit down and tell you all
that has befallen me. Some few days after I saw you last, the
canonigo persuaded me to go to the captain-general to apply for
permission to disinter the schatz, and also to crave
assistance. So I saw the captain-general, who at first
received me very kindly, asked me several questions, and told
me to come again. So I continued visiting him till he would
see me no longer, and do what I might I could not obtain a
glance of him. The canon now became impatient, more especially
as he had given me a few pesetas out of the charities of the
church. He frequently called me a bribon and impostor. At
last, one morning I went to him, and said that I had proposed
to return to Madrid, in order to lay the matter before the
government, and requested that he would give me a certificate
to the effect that I had performed a pilgrimage to Saint James,
which I imagined would be of assistance to me upon the way, as
it would enable me to beg with some colour of authority. He no
sooner heard this request, than, without saying a word or
allowing me a moment to put myself on my defence, he sprang
upon me like a tiger, grasping my throat so hard that I thought
he would have strangled me. I am a Swiss, however, and a man
of Lucerne, and when I had recovered myself a little, I had no
difficulty in flinging him off; I then threatened him with my
staff and went away. He followed me to the gate with the most
horrid curses, saying that if I presumed to return again, he
would have me thrown at once into prison as a thief and a
heretic. So I went in quest of yourself, lieber herr, but they
told me that you were departed for Coruna; I then set out for
Coruna after you.

MYSELF. - And what befell you on the road?

BENEDICT. - I will tell you: about half-way between Saint
James and Coruna, as I was walking along, thinking of the
schatz, I heard a loud galloping, and looking around me I saw
two men on horseback coming across the field with the swiftness
of the wind, and making directly for me. Lieber Gott, said I,
these are thieves, these are factious; and so they were. They
came up to me in a moment and bade me stand, so I flung down my
staff, took off my hat and saluted them. "Good day,
caballeros," said I to them. "Good day, countryman," said they
to me, and then we stood staring at each other for more than a
minute. Lieber himmel, I never saw such robbers; so finely
dressed, so well armed, and mounted so bravely on two fiery
little hakkas, that looked as if they could have taken wing and
flown up into the clouds! So we continued staring at each
other, till at last one asked me who I was, whence I came, and
where I was going. "Gentlemen," said I, "I am a Swiss, I have
been to Saint James to perform a religious vow, and am now
returning to my own country."  I said not a word about the
treasure, for I was afraid that they would have shot me at
once, conceiving that I carried part of it about me. "Have you
any money?" they demanded. "Gentlemen," I replied, "you see
how I travel on foot, with my shoes torn to pieces; I should
not do so if I had money. I will not deceive you, however, I
have a peseta and a few cuartos," and thereupon I took out what
I had and offered it to them. "Fellow," said they, "we are
caballeros of Galicia, and do not take pesetas, much less
cuartos. Of what opinion are you? Are you for the queen?"
"No, gentlemen," said I, "I am not for the queen, but, at the
same time, allow me to tell you that I am not for the king
either; I know nothing about the matter; I am a Swiss, and
fight neither for nor against anybody unless I am paid."  This
made them laugh, and then they questioned me about Saint James,
and the troops there, and the captain-general; and not to
disoblige them, I told them all I knew and much more. Then one
of them, who looked the fiercest and most determined, took his
trombone in his hand, and pointing it at me, said, "Had you
been a Spaniard, we would have blown your head to shivers, for
we should have thought you a spy, but we see you are a
foreigner, and believe what you have said; take, therefore,
this peseta and go your way, but beware that you tell nobody
any thing about us, for if you do, carracho!"  He then
discharged his trombone just over my head, so that for a moment
I thought myself shot, and then with an awful shout, they both
galloped away, their horses leaping over the barrancos, as if
possessed with many devils.

MYSELF. - And what happened to you on your arrival at
Coruna?

BENEDICT. - When I arrived at Coruna, I inquired after
yourself, lieber herr, and they informed me that, only the day
before my arrival, you had departed for Oviedo: and when I
heard that, my heart died within me, for I was now at the far
end of Galicia, without a friend to help me. For a day or two
I knew not what to do; at last I determined to make for the
frontier of France, passing through Oviedo in the way, where I
hoped to see you and ask counsel of you. So I begged and
bettled among the Germans of Coruna. I, however, got very
little from them, only a few cuarts, less than the thieves had
given me on the road from Saint James, and with these I
departed for the Asturias by the way of Mondonedo. Och, what a
town is that, full of canons, priests, and pfaffen, all of them
more Carlist than Carlos himself.

One day I went to the bishop's palace and spoke to him,
telling him I was a pilgrim from Saint James, and requesting
assistance. He told me, however, that he could not relieve me,
and as for my being a pilgrim from Saint James, he was glad of
it, and hoped that it would be of service to my soul. So I
left Mondonedo, and got amongst the wild mountains, begging and
betting at the door of every choza that I passed, telling all I
saw that I was a pilgrim from Saint James, and showing my
passport in proof that I had been there. Lieber herr, no
person gave me a cuart, nor even a piece of broa, and both
Gallegans and Asturians laughed at Saint James, and told me
that his name was no longer a passport in Spain. I should have
starved if I had not sometimes plucked an ear or two out of the
maize fields; I likewise gathered grapes from the parras and
berries from the brambles, and in this manner I subsisted till
I arrived at the bellotas, where I slaughtered a stray kid
which I met, and devoured part of the flesh raw, so great was
my hunger. It made me, however, very ill, and for two days I
lay in a barranco half dead and unable to help myself; it was a
mercy that I was not devoured by the wolves. I then struck
across the country for Oviedo: how I reached it I do not know;
I was like one walking in a dream. Last night I slept in an
empty hogsty about two leagues from here, and ere I left it, I
fell down on my knees and prayed to God that I might find you,
lieber herr, for you were my last hope.

MYSELF. - And what do you propose to do at present?

BENEDICT. - What can I say, lieber herr? I know not what
to do. I will be guided in everything by your counsel.

MYSELF. - I shall remain at Oviedo a few days longer,
during which time you can lodge at this posada, and endeavour
to recover from the fatigue of your disastrous journeys;
perhaps before I depart, we may hit on some plan to extricate
you from your present difficulties.

Oviedo contains about fifteen thousand inhabitants. It
is picturesquely situated between two mountains, Morcin and
Naranco; the former is very high and rugged, and during the
greater part of the year is covered with snow; the sides of the
latter are cultivated and planted with vines. The principal
ornament of the town is the cathedral, the tower of which is
exceedingly lofty, and is perhaps one of the purest specimens
of Gothic architecture at present in existence. The interior
of the cathedral is neat and appropriate, but simple and
unadorned. I observed but one picture, the Conversion of Saint
Paul. One of the chapels is a cemetery, in which rest the
bones of eleven Gothic kings; to whose souls be peace.

I bore a letter of recommendation from Coruna to a
merchant of Oviedo. This person received me very courteously,
and generally devoted some portion of every day to showing me
the remarkable things of Oviedo.

One morning he thus addressed me: "You have doubtless
heard of Feijoo, the celebrated philosophic monk of the order
of Saint Benedict, whose writings have so much tended to remove
the popular fallacies and superstitions so long cherished in
Spain; he is buried in one of our convents, where he passed a
considerable portion of his life. Come with me and I will show
you his portrait. Carlos Tercero, our great king, sent his own
painter from Madrid to execute it. It is now in the possession
of a friend of mine, Don Ramon Valdez, an advocate."

Thereupon he led me to the house of Don Ramon Valdez, who
very politely exhibited the portrait of Feijoo. It was
circular in shape, about a foot in diameter, and was surrounded
by a little brass frame, something like the rim of a barber's
basin. The countenance was large and massive but fine, the
eyebrows knit, the eyes sharp and penetrating, nose aquiline.
On the head was a silken skull-cap; the collar of the coat or
vest was just perceptible. The painting was decidedly good,
and struck me as being one of the very best specimens of modern
Spanish art which I had hitherto seen.

A day or two after this I said to Benedict Mol, "to-
morrow I start from hence for Santander. It is therefore high
time that you decide upon some course, whether to return to
Madrid or to make the best of your way to France, and from
thence proceed to your own country."

"Lieber herr," said Benedict, "I will follow you to
Santander by short journeys, for I am unable to make long ones
amongst these hills; and when I am there, peradventure I may
find some means of passing into France. It is a great comfort,
in my horrible journeys, to think that I am travelling over the
ground which yourself have trodden, and to hope that I am
proceeding to rejoin you once more. This hope kept me alive in
the bellotas, and without it I should never have reached
Oviedo. I will quit Spain as soon as possible, and betake me
to Lucerne, though it is a hard thing to leave the schatz
behind me in the land of the Gallegans."

Thereupon I presented him with a few dollars.

"A strange man is this Benedict," said Antonio to me next
morning, as, accompanied by a guide, we sallied forth from
Oviedo; "a strange man, mon maitre, is this same Benedict. A
strange life has he led, and a strange death he will die, - it
is written on his countenance. That he will leave Spain I do
not believe, or if he leave it, it will be only to return, for
he is bewitched about this treasure. Last night he sent for a
sorciere, whom he consulted in my presence; and she told him
that he was doomed to possess it, but that first of all he must
cross water. She cautioned him likewise against an enemy,
which he supposes must be the canon of Saint James. I have
often heard people speak of the avidity of the Swiss for money,
and here is a proof of it. I would not undergo what Benedict
has suffered in these last journeys of his, to possess all the
treasures in Spain."

CHAPTER XXXIV

Departure from Oviedo - Villa Viciosa - The Young Man of the Inn -
Antonio's Tale - The General and his Family - Woful Tidings -
To-morrow we Die - San Vincente - Santander - An Harangue -
Flinter the Irishman.

So we left Oviedo and directed our course towards
Santander. The man who accompanied us as guide, and from whom
I hired the pony on which I rode, had been recommended to me by
my friend the merchant of Oviedo. He proved, however, a lazy
indolent fellow; he was generally loitering two or three
hundred yards in our rear, and instead of enlivening the way
with song and tale, like our late guide, Martin of Rivadeo, he
scarcely ever opened his lips, save to tell us not to go so
fast, or that I should burst his pony if I spurred him so. He
was thievish withal, and though he had engaged to make the
journey SECO, that is, to defray the charges of himself and
beast, he contrived throughout to keep both at our expense.
When journeying in Spain, it is invariably the cheapest plan to
agree to maintain the guide and his horse or mule, for by so
doing the hire is diminished at least one third, and the bills
upon the road are seldom increased: whereas, in the other case,
he pockets the difference, and yet goes shot free, and at the
expense of the traveller, through the connivance of the
innkeepers, who have a kind of fellow feeling with the guides.

Late in the afternoon we reached Villa Viciosa, a small
dirty town, at the distance of eight leagues from Oviedo: it
stands beside a creek which communicates with the Bay of
Biscay. It is sometimes called La Capital de las Avellanas, or
the capital of the Filberts, from the immense quantity of this
fruit which is grown in the neighbourhood; and the greatest
part of which is exported to England. As we drew nigh we
overtook numerous cars laden with avellanas proceeding in the
direction of the town. I was informed that several small
English vessels were lying in the harbour. Singular as it may
seem, however, notwithstanding we were in the capital of the
Avellanas, it was with the utmost difficulty that I procured a
scanty handful for my dessert, and of these more than one half
were decayed. The people of the house informed me that the
nuts were intended for exportation, and that they never dreamt
either of partaking of them themselves or of offering them to
their guests.

At an early hour on the following day we reached Colunga,
a beautiful village on a rising ground, thickly planted with
chestnut trees. It is celebrated, at least in the Asturias, as
being the birthplace of Arguelles, the father of the Spanish
constitution.

As we dismounted at the door of the posada, where we
intended to refresh ourselves, a person who was leaning out of
an upper window uttered an exclamation and disappeared. We
were yet at the door, when the same individual came running
forth and cast himself on the neck of Antonio. He was a good-
looking young man, apparently about five and twenty, genteelly
dressed, with a Montero cap on his head. Antonio looked at him
for a moment, and then with a AH, MONSIEUR, EST CE BIEN VOUS?
shook him affectionately by the hand. The stranger then
motioned him to follow him, and they forthwith proceeded to the
room above.

Wondering what this could mean, I sat down to my morning
repast. Nearly an hour elapsed, and still Antonio did not make
his appearance; through the boards, however, which composed the
ceiling of the kitchen where I sat, I could hear the voices of
himself and his acquaintance, and thought that I could
occasionally distinguish the sound of broken sobs and groans;
at last there was a long pause. I became impatient, and was
about to summon Antonio, when he made his appearance, but
unaccompanied by the stranger. "What, in the name of all that
is singular," I demanded, "have you been about? Who is that
man?" "Mon maitre," said Antonio, "C'EST UN MONSIEUR DE MA
CONNOISSANCE. With your permission I will now take a mouthful,
and as we journey along I will tell you all that I know of
him."

"Monsieur," said Antonio, as we rode out of Colunga, "you
are anxious to know the history of the gentleman whom you saw
embrace me at the inn. Know, mon maitre, that these Carlist
and Christino wars have been the cause of much misery and
misfortune in this country, but a being so thoroughly
unfortunate as that poor young gentleman of the inn, I do not
believe is to be found in Spain, and his misfortunes proceed
entirely from the spirit of party and faction which for some
time past has been so prevalent.

"Mon maitre, as I have often told you, I have lived in
many houses and served many masters, and it chanced that about
ten years ago I served the father of this gentleman, who was
then a mere boy. It was a very high family, for monsieur the
father was a general in the army, and a man of large
possessions. The family consisted of the general, his lady,
and two sons; the youngest of whom is the person you have just
seen, the other was several years older. Pardieu! I felt
myself very comfortable in that house, and every individual of
the family had all kind of complaisance for me. It is singular
enough, that though I have been turned out of so many families,
I was never turned out of that; and though I left it thrice, it
was of my own free will. I became dissatisfied with the other
servants or with the dog or the cat. The last time I left was
on account of the quail which was hung out of the window of
madame, and which waked me in the morning with its call. EH
BIEN, MON MAITRE, things went on in this way during the three
years that I continued in the family, out and in; at the end of
which time it was determined that the young gentleman should
travel, and it was proposed that I should attend him as valet;
this I wished very much to do. However, par malheur, I was at
this time very much dissatisfied with madame his mother about
the quail, and I insisted that before I accompanied him the
bird should be slaughtered for the kitchen. To this madame
would by no means consent; and even the young gentleman, who
had always taken my part on other occasions, said that I was
unreasonable: so I left the house in a huff, and never entered
it again.

"EH BIEN, MON MAITRE, the young gentleman went upon his
travels, and continued abroad several years; and from the time
of his departure until we met him at Colunga, I have not set
eyes upon, nor indeed heard of him. I have heard enough,
however, of his family; of monsieur the father, of madame, and
of the brother, who was an officer of cavalry. A short time
before the troubles, I mean before the death of Ferdinand,
monsieur the father was appointed captain-general of Coruna.
Now monsieur, though a good master, was rather a proud man, and
fond of discipline and all that kind of thing, and of
obedience. He was, moreover, no friend to the populace, to the
canaille, and he had a particular aversion to the nationals.
So when Ferdinand died, it was whispered about at Coruna, that
the general was no liberal, and that he was a better friend to
Carlos than to Christina. EH BIEN, it chanced that there was a
grand fete, or festival at Coruna, on the water; and the
nationals were there, and the soldiers. And I know not how it
befell, but there was an emeute, and the nationals laid hands
on monsieur the general, and tying a rope round his neck, flung
him overboard from the barge in which he was, and then dragged
him astern about the harbour until he was drowned. They then
went to his house and pillaged it, and so ill-treated madame,
who at that time happened to be enceinte, that in a few hours
she expired.

"I tell you what, mon maitre, when I heard of the
misfortune of madame and the general, you would scarcely
believe it, but I actually shed tears, and was sorry that I had
parted with them in unkindness on account of that pernicious
quail.

"EH BIEN, MON MAITRE, NOUS POURSUIVRONS NOTRE HISTOIRE.
The eldest son, as I told you before, was a cavalry officer and
a man of resolution, and when he heard of the death of his
father and mother, he vowed revenge. Poor fellow! but what
does he do but desert, with two or three discontented spirits
of his troop, and going to the frontier of Galicia, he raised a
small faction, and proclaimed Don Carlos. For some little time
he did considerable damage to the liberals, burning and
destroying their possessions, and putting to death several
nationals that fell into his hands. However, this did not last
long, his faction was soon dispersed, and he himself taken and
hanged, and his head stuck on a pole.

"NOUS SOMMES DEJA PRESQUE AU BOUT. When we arrived at
the inn, the young man took me above, as you saw, and there for
some time he could do nothing but weep and sob. His story is
soon told:- he returned from his travels, and the first
intelligence which awaited him on his arrival in Spain was,
that his father was drowned, his mother dead, and his brother
hanged, and, moreover, all the possessions of his family
confiscated. This was not all: wherever he went, he found
himself considered in the light of a factious and discontented
person, and was frequently assailed by the nationals with blows
of sabres and cudgels. He applied to his relations, and some
of these, who were of the Carlist persuasion, advised him to
betake himself to the army of Don Carlos, and the Pretender
himself, who was a friend of his father, and remembered the
services of his brother, offered to give him a command in his
army. But, mon maitre, as I told you before, he was a pacific
young gentleman, and as mild as a lamb, and hated the idea of
shedding blood. He was, moreover, not of the Carlist opinion,
for during his studies he had read books written a long time
ago by countrymen of mine, all about republics and liberties,
and the rights of man, so that he was much more inclined to the
liberal than the Carlist system; he therefore declined the
offer of Don Carlos, whereupon all his relations deserted him,
whilst the liberals hunted him from one place to another like a
wild beast. At last, he sold some little property which still
remained to him, and with the proceeds he came to this remote
place of Colunga, where no one knew him, and where he has been
residing for several months, in a most melancholy manner, with
no other amusement than that which he derives from a book or
two, or occasionally hunting a leveret with his spaniel.

"He asked me for counsel, but I had none to give him, and
could only weep with him. At last he said, `Dear Antonio, I
see there is no remedy. You say your master is below, beg him,
I pray, to stay till to-morrow, and we will send for the
maidens of the neighbourhood, and for a violin and a bagpipe,
and we will dance and cast away care for a moment.' And then
he said something in old Greek, which I scarcely understood,
but which I think was equivalent to, `Let us eat, drink, and be
merry, for to-morrow we die!'

"EH BIEN, MON MAITRE, I told him that you were a serious
gentleman who never took any amusement, and that you were in a
hurry. Whereupon he wept again, and embraced me and bade me
farewell. And now, mon maitre, I have told you the history of
the young man of the inn."

We slept at Ribida de Sela, and the next day, at noon,
arrived at Llanes. Our route lay between the coast and an
immense range of mountains, which rose up like huge ramparts at
about a league's distance from the sea. The ground over which
we passed was tolerably level, and seemingly well cultivated.
There was no lack of vines and trees, whilst at short intervals
rose the cortijos of the proprietors, - square stone buildings
surrounded with an outer wall. Llanes is an old town, formerly
of considerable strength. In its neighbourhood is the convent
of San Cilorio, one of the largest monastic edifices in all
Spain. It is now deserted, and stands lone and desolate upon
one of the peninsulas of the Cantabrian shore. Leaving Llanes,
we soon entered one of the most dreary and barren regions
imaginable, a region of rock and stone, where neither grass nor
trees were to be seen. Night overtook us in these places. We
wandered on, however, until we reached a small village, termed
Santo Colombo. Here we passed the night, in the house of a
carabineer of the revenue, a tall athletic figure who met us at
the gate armed with a gun. He was a Castilian, and with all
that ceremonious formality and grave politeness for which his
countrymen were at one time so celebrated. He chid his wife
for conversing with her handmaid about the concerns of the
house before us. "Barbara," said he, "this is not conversation
calculated to interest the strange cavaliers; hold your peace,
or go aside with the muchacha." In the morning he refused any
remuneration for his hospitality. "I am a caballero," said he,
"even as yourselves. It is not my custom to admit people into
my house for the sake of lucre. I received you because you
were benighted and the posada distant."

Rising early in the morning, we pursued our way through a
country equally stony and dreary as that which we had entered
upon the preceding day. In about four hours we reached San
Vincente, a large dilapidated town, chiefly inhabited by
miserable fishermen. It retains, however, many remarkable
relics of former magnificence: the bridge, which bestrides the
broad and deep firth, on which stands the town, has no less
than thirty-two arches, and is built of grey granite. It is
very ancient, and in some part in so ruinous a condition as to
be dangerous.

Leaving San Vincente behind us, we travelled for some
leagues on the sea-shore, crossing occasionally a narrow inlet
or firth. The country at last began to improve, and in the
neighbourhood of Santillana was both beautiful and fertile.
About a league before we reached the country of Gil Blas, we
passed through an extensive wood, in which were rocks and
precipices; it was exactly such a place as that in which the
cave of Rolando was situated, as described in the novel. This
wood has an evil name, and our guide informed us that robberies
were occasionally committed in it. No adventure, however,
befell us, and we reached Santillana at about six in the
evening.

We did not enter the town, but halted at a large venta or
posada at the entrance, before which stood an immense ash tree.
We had scarcely housed ourselves when a tremendous storm of
rain and wind commenced, accompanied with thunder and
lightning, which continued without much interruption for
several hours, and the effects of which were visible in our
journey of the following day, the streams over which we passed
being much swollen, and several trees lying uptorn by the
wayside. Santillana contains four thousand inhabitants, and is
six short leagues' distance from Santander, where we arrived
early the next day.

Nothing could exhibit a stronger contrast to the desolate
tracts and the half ruined towns through which we had lately
passed, than the bustle and activity of Santander, which,
though it stands on the confines of the Basque provinces, the
stronghold of the Pretender, is almost the only city in Spain
which has not suffered by the Carlist wars. Till the close of
the last century it was little better than an obscure fishing
town, but it has of late years almost entirely engrossed the
commerce of the Spanish transatlantic possessions, especially
of the Havannah. The consequence of which has been, that
whilst Santander has rapidly increased in wealth and
magnificence, both Coruna and Cadiz have been as rapidly
hastening to decay. At present it possesses a noble quay, on
which stands a line of stately edifices, far exceeding in
splendour the palaces of the aristocracy at Madrid. These are
built in the French style, and are chiefly occupied by the
merchants. The population of Santander is estimated at sixty
thousand souls.

On the day of my arrival I dined at the table d'hote of
the principal inn, kept by a Genoese. The company was very
miscellaneous, French, Germans, and Spaniards, all speaking in
their respective languages, whilst at the ends of the table,
confronting each other, sat two Catalan merchants, one of whom
weighed nearly twenty stone, grunting across the board in their
harsh dialect. Long, however, before dinner was concluded, the
conversation was entirely engrossed and the attention of all
present directed to an individual who sat on one side of the
bulky Catalan. He was a thin man of about the middle height,
with a remarkably red face, and something in his eyes which, if
not a squint, bore a striking resemblance to it. He was
dressed in a blue military frock, and seemed to take much more
pleasure in haranguing than in the fare which was set before
him. He spoke perfectly good Spanish, yet his voice betrayed
something of a foreign accent. For a long time he descanted
with immense volubility on war and all its circumstances,
freely criticising the conduct of the generals, both Carlists
and Christinos, in the present struggle, till at last he
exclaimed, "Had I but twenty thousand men allowed me by the
government, I would bring the war to a conclusion in six
months."

"Pardon me, Sir," said a Spaniard who sat at the table,
"the curiosity which induces me to request the favour of your
distinguished name."

"I am Flinter," replied the individual in the military
frock, "a name which is in the mouth of every man, woman, and
child in Spain. I am Flinter the Irishman, just escaped from
the Basque provinces and the claws of Don Carlos. On the
decease of Ferdinand I declared for Isabella, esteeming it the
duty of every good cavalier and Irishman in the Spanish service
to do so. You have all heard of my exploits, and permit me to
tell you they would have been yet more glorious had not
jealousy been at work and cramped my means. Two years ago I
was despatched to Estremadura, to organize the militias. The
bands of Gomez and Cabrera entered the province and spread
devastation around. They found me, however, at my post; and
had I been properly seconded by those under my command, the two
rebels would never have returned to their master to boast of
their success. I stood behind my intrenchments. A man
advanced and summoned us to surrender. `Who are you?' I
demanded. `I am Cabrera,' he replied; `and I am Flinter,' I
retorted, flourishing my sabre; `retire to your battalions or
you will forthwith die the death.' He was awed and did as I
commanded. In an hour we surrendered. I was led a prisoner to
the Basque provinces; and the Carlists rejoiced in the capture
they had made, for the name of Flinter had long sounded amongst
the Carlist ranks. I was flung into a loathsome dungeon, where
I remained twenty months. I was cold; I was naked; but I did
not on that account despond, my spirit was too indomitable for
such weakness. My keeper at last pitied my misfortunes. He
said that `it grieved him to see so valiant a man perish in
inglorious confinement.' We laid a plan to escape together;
disguises were provided, and we made the attempt. We passed
unobserved till we arrived at the Carlist lines above Bilbao;
there we were stopped. My presence of mind, however, did not
desert me. I was disguised as a carman, as a Catalan, and the
coolness of my answers deceived my interrogators. We were
permitted to pass, and soon were safe within the walls of
Bilbao. There was an illumination that night in the town, for
the lion had burst his toils, Flinter had escaped, and was once
more returned to re-animate a drooping cause. I have just
arrived at Santander on my way to Madrid, where I intend to ask
of the government a command, with twenty thousand men."

Poor Flinter! a braver heart and a move gasconading mouth
were surely never united in the same body. He proceeded to
Madrid, and through the influence of the British ambassador,
who was his friend, he obtained the command of a small
division, with which he contrived to surprise and defeat, in
the neighbourhood of Toledo, a body of the Carlists, commanded
by Orejita, whose numbers more than trebled his own. In reward
for this exploit he was persecuted by the government, which, at
that time, was the moderado or juste milieu, with the most
relentless animosity; the prime minister, Ofalia, supporting
with all his influence numerous and ridiculous accusations of
plunder and robbery brought against the too-successful general
by the Carlist canons of Toledo. He was likewise charged with
a dereliction of duty, in having permitted, after the battle of
Valdepenas, which he likewise won in the most gallant manner,
the Carlist force to take possession of the mines of Almaden,
although the government, who were bent on his ruin, had done
all in their power to prevent him from following up his
successes by denying him the slightest supplies and
reinforcements. The fruits of victory thus wrested from him,
his hopes blighted, a morbid melancholy seized upon the
Irishman; he resigned his command, and in less than ten months
from the period when I saw him at Santander, afforded his
dastardly and malignant enemies a triumph which satisfied even
them, by cutting his own throat with a razor.

Ardent spirits of foreign climes, who hope to distinguish
yourselves in the service of Spain, and to earn honours and
rewards, remember the fate of Columbus, and of another as brave
and as ardent - Flinter!

CHAPTER XXXV

Departure from Santander - The Night Alarm - The Black Pass.

I had ordered two hundred Testaments to be sent to
Santander from Madrid: I found, however, to my great sorrow,
that they had not arrived, and I supposed that they had either
been seized on the way by the Carlists, or that my letter had
miscarried. I then thought of applying to England for a
supply, but I abandoned the idea for two reasons. In the first
place, I should have to remain idly loitering, at least a
month, before I could receive them, at a place where every
article was excessively dear; and, secondly, I was very unwell,
and unable to procure medical advice at Santander. Ever since
I left Coruna, I had been afflicted with a terrible dysentery,
and latterly with an ophthalmia, the result of the other
malady. I therefore determined on returning to Madrid. To
effect this, however, seemed no very easy task. Parties of the
army of Don Carlos, which, in a partial degree, had been routed
in Castile, were hovering about the country through which I
should have to pass, more especially in that part called "The
Mountains," so that all communication had ceased between
Santander and the southern districts. Nevertheless, I
determined to trust as usual in the Almighty and to risk the
danger. I purchased, therefore, a small horse, and sallied
forth with Antonio.

Before departing, however, I entered into conference with
the booksellers as to what they should do in the event of my
finding an opportunity of sending them a stock of Testaments
from Madrid; and, having arranged matters to my satisfaction, I
committed myself to Providence. I will not dwell long on this
journey of three hundred miles. We were in the midst of the
fire, yet, strange to say, escaped without a hair of our heads
being singed. Robberies, murders, and all kinds of atrocities
were perpetrated before, behind, and on both sides of us, but
not so much as a dog barked at us, though in one instance a
plan had been laid to intercept us. About four leagues from
Santander, whilst we were baiting our horses at a village
hostelry, I saw a fellow run off after having held a whispering
conversation with a boy who was dealing out barley to us. I
instantly inquired of the latter what the man had said to him,
but only obtained an evasive answer. It appeared afterwards
that the conversation was about ourselves. Two or three
leagues farther there was an inn and village where we had
proposed staying, and indeed had expressed our intention of
doing so; but on arriving there, finding that the sun was still
far from its bourne, I determined to proceed farther, expecting
to meet with a resting-place at the distance of a league;
though I was mistaken, as we found none until we reached
Montaneda, nine leagues and a half from Santander, where was
stationed a small detachment of soldiers. At the dead of night
we were aroused from our sleep by a cry that the factious were
not far off. A messenger had arrived from the alcalde of the
village where we had previously intended staying, who stated
that a party of Carlists had just surprised that place, and
were searching for an English spy, whom they supposed to be at
the inn. The officer commanding the soldiers upon hearing
this, not deeming his own situation a safe one, instantly drew
off his men, falling back on a stronger party stationed in a
fortified village near at hand. As for ourselves, we saddled
our horses and continued our way in the dark. Had the Carlists
succeeded in apprehending me, I should instantly have been
shot, and my body cast on the rocks to feed the vultures and
wolves. But "it was not so written," said Antonio, who, like
many of his countrymen, was a fatalist. The next night we had
another singular escape: we had arrived near the entrance of a
horrible pass called "El puerto de la puente de las tablas," or
the pass of the bridge of planks, which wound through a black
and frightful mountain, on the farther side of which was the
town of Onas, where we meant to tarry for the night. The sun
had set about a quarter of an hour. Suddenly a man, with his
face covered with blood, rushed out of the pass. "Turn back,
sir," he said, "in the name of God; there are murderers in that
pass; they have just robbed me of my mule and all I possess,
and I have hardly escaped with life from their hands." I
scarcely know why, but I made him no answer and proceeded;
indeed I was so weary and unwell that I cared not what became
of me. We entered; the rocks rose perpendicularly, right and
left, entirely intercepting the scanty twilight, so that the
darkness of the grave, or rather the blackness of the valley of
the shadow of death reigned around us, and we knew not where we
went, but trusted to the instinct of the horses, who moved on
with their heads close to the ground. The only sound which we
heard was the plash of a stream, which tumbled down the pass.
I expected every moment to feel a knife at my throat, but "IT
WAS NOT SO WRITTEN." We threaded the pass without meeting a
human being, and within three quarters of an hour after the
time we entered it, we found ourselves within the posada of the
town of Onas, which was filled with troops and armed peasants
expecting an attack from the grand Carlist army, which was near
at hand.

Well, we reached Burgos in safety; we reached Valladolid
in safety; we passed the Guadarama in safety; and were at
length safely housed in Madrid. People said we had been very
lucky; Antonio said, "It was so written"; but I say, Glory be
to the Lord for his mercies vouchsafed to us.

CHAPTER XXXVI

State of Affairs at Madrid - The New Ministry - Pope of Rome -
The Bookseller of Toledo - Sword Blades - Houses of Toledo -
The Forlorn Gypsy - Proceedings at Madrid - Another Servant.

During my journey in the northern provinces of Spain,
which occupied a considerable portion of the year 1837, I had
accomplished but a slight portion of what I proposed to myself
to effect in the outset. Insignificant are the results of
man's labours compared with the swelling ideas of his
presumption; something, however, had been effected by the
journey, which I had just concluded. The New Testament of
Christ was now enjoying a quiet sale in the principal towns of
the north, and I had secured the friendly interest and co-
operation of the booksellers of those parts, particularly of
him the most considerable of them all, old Rey of Compostella.
I had, moreover, disposed of a considerable number of
Testaments with my own hands, to private individuals, entirely
of the lower class, namely, muleteers, carmen, contrabandistas,
etc., so that upon the whole I had abundant cause for gratitude
and thanksgiving.

I did not find our affairs in a very prosperous state at
Madrid, few copies having been sold in the booksellers' shops,
yet what could be rationally expected during these latter
times? Don Carlos, with a large army, had been at the gates;
plunder and massacre had been expected; so that people were too
much occupied in forming plans to secure their lives and
property, to give much attention to reading of any description.

The enemy, however, had now retired to his strongholds in
Alava and Guipuscoa. I hoped that brighter days were dawning,
and that the work, under my own superintendence, would, with
God's blessing, prosper in the capital of Spain. How far the
result corresponded with my expectations will be seen in the
sequel. During my absence in the north, a total change of
ministers had occurred. The liberal party had been ousted from
the cabinet, and in their place had entered individuals
attached to the moderado or court party: unfortunately,
however, for my prospects, they consisted of persons with whom
I had no acquaintance whatever, and with whom my former
friends, Galiano and Isturitz, had little or no influence.
These gentlemen were now regularly laid on the shelf, and their
political career appeared to be terminated for ever.

From the present ministry I could expect but little; they
consisted of men, the greater part of whom had been either
courtiers or employes of the deceased King Ferdinand, who were
friends to absolutism, and by no means inclined to do or to
favour anything calculated to give offence to the court of
Rome, which they were anxious to conciliate, hoping that
eventually it might be induced to recognize the young queen,
not as the constitutional but as the absolute Queen Isabella
the Second.

Such was the party which continued in power throughout
the remainder of my sojourn in Spain, and which persecuted me
less from rancour and malice than from policy. It was not
until the conclusion of the war of the succession that it lost
the ascendancy, when it sank to the ground with its patroness
the queen-mother, before the dictatorship of Espartero.

The first step which I took after my return to Madrid,
towards circulating the Scriptures, was a very bold one. It
was neither more nor less than the establishment of a shop for
the sale of Testaments. This shop was situated in the Calle
del Principe, a respectable and well-frequented street in the
neighbourhood of the Square of Cervantes. I furnished it
handsomely with glass cases and chandeliers, and procured an
acute Gallegan of the name of Pepe Calzado, to superintend the
business, who gave me weekly a faithful account of the copies
sold.

"How strangely times alter," said I, the second day
subsequent to the opening of my establishment, as I stood on
the opposite side of the street, leaning against the wall with
folded arms, surveying my shop, on the windows of which were
painted in large yellow characters, DESPACHO DE LA SOCIEDAD
BIBLICA Y ESTRANGERA; "how strangely times alter; here have I
been during the last eight months running about old Popish
Spain, distributing Testaments, as agent of what the Papists
call an heretical society, and have neither been stoned nor
burnt; and here am I now in the capital, doing that which one
would think were enough to cause all the dead inquisitors and
officials buried within the circuit of the walls to rise from
their graves and cry abomination; and yet no one interferes
with me. Pope of Rome! Pope of Rome! look to thyself. That
shop may be closed; but oh! what a sign of the times, that it
has been permitted to exist for one day. It appears to me, my
Father, that the days of your sway are numbered in Spain; that
you will not be permitted much longer to plunder her, to scoff
at her, and to scourge her with scorpions, as in bygone
periods. See I not the hand on the wall? See I not in yonder
letters a `Mene, mene, Tekel, Upharsin'? Look to thyself,
Batuschca."

And I remained for two hours, leaning against the wall,
staring at the shop.

A short time after the establishment of the despacho at
Madrid, I once more mounted the saddle, and, attended by
Antonio, rode over to Toledo, for the purpose of circulating
the Scriptures, sending beforehand by a muleteer a cargo of one
hundred Testaments. I instantly addressed myself to the
principal bookseller of the place, whom from the circumstance
of his living in a town so abounding with canons, priests, and
ex-friars as Toledo, I expected to find a Carlist, or a SERVILE
at least. I was never more mistaken in my life; on entering
the shop, which was very large and commodious, I beheld a stout
athletic man, dressed in a kind of cavalry uniform, with a
helmet on his head, and an immense sabre in his hand: this was
the bookseller himself, who I soon found was an officer in the
national cavalry. Upon learning who I was, he shook me
heartily by the hand, and said that nothing would give him
greater pleasure than taking charge of the books, which he
would endeavour to circulate to the utmost of his ability.

"Will not your doing so bring you into odium with the
clergy?"

"Ca!" said he; "who cares? I am rich, and so was my
father before me. I do not depend on them, they cannot hate me
more than they do already, for I make no secret of my opinions.
I have just returned from an expedition," said he; "my brother
nationals and myself have, for the last three days, been
occupied in hunting down the factious and thieves of the
neighbourhood; we have killed three and brought in several
prisoners. Who cares for the cowardly priests? I am a
liberal, Don Jorge, and a friend of your countryman, Flinter.
Many is the Carlist guerilla-curate and robber-friar whom I
have assisted him to catch. I am rejoiced to hear that he has
just been appointed captain-general of Toledo; there will be
fine doings here when he arrives, Don Jorge. We will make the
clergy shake between us, I assure you."

Toledo was formerly the capital of Spain. Its population
at present is barely fifteen thousand souls, though, in the
time of the Romans, and also during the Middle Ages, it is said
to have amounted to between two and three hundred thousand. It
is situated about twelve leagues (forty miles) westward of
Madrid, and is built upon a steep rocky hill, round which flows
the Tagus, on all sides but the north. It still possesses a
great many remarkable edifices, notwithstanding that it has
long since fallen into decay. Its cathedral is the most
magnificent of Spain, and is the see of the primate. In the
tower of this cathedral is the famous bell of Toledo, the
largest in the world with the exception of the monster bell of
Moscow, which I have also seen. It weighs 1,543 arrobes, or
37,032 pounds. It has, however, a disagreeable sound, owing to
a cleft in its side. Toledo could once boast the finest
pictures in Spain, but many were stolen or destroyed by the
French during the Peninsular war, and still more have lately
been removed by order of the government. Perhaps the most
remarkable one still remains; I allude to that which represents
the burial of the Count of Orgaz, the masterpiece of Domenico,
the Greek, a most extraordinary genius, some of whose
productions possess merit of a very high order. The picture in
question is in the little parish church of San Tome, at the
bottom of the aisle, on the left side of the altar. Could it
be purchased, I should say it would be cheap at five thousand
pounds.

Amongst the many remarkable things which meet the eye of
the curious observer at Toledo, is the manufactory of arms,
where are wrought the swords, spears, and other weapons
intended for the army, with the exception of fire-arms, which
mostly come from abroad.

In old times, as is well known, the sword-blades of
Toledo were held in great estimation, and were transmitted as
merchandise throughout Christendom. The present manufactory,
or fabrica, as it is called, is a handsome modern edifice,
situated without the wall of the city, on a plain contiguous to
the river, with which it communicates by a small canal. It is
said that the water and the sand of the Tagus are essential for
the proper tempering of the swords. I asked some of the
principal workmen whether, at the present day, they could
manufacture weapons of equal value to those of former days, and
whether the secret had been lost.

"Ca!" said they, "the swords of Toledo were never so good
as those which we are daily making. It is ridiculous enough to
see strangers coming here to purchase old swords, the greater
part of which are mere rubbish, and never made at Toledo, yet
for such they will give a large price, whilst they would grudge
two dollars for this jewel, which was made but yesterday";
thereupon putting into my hand a middle-sized rapier. "Your
worship," said they, "seems to have a strong arm, prove its
temper against the stone wall; - thrust boldly and fear not."

I HAVE a strong arm and dashed the point with my utmost
force against the solid granite: my arm was numbed to the
shoulder from the violence of the concussion, and continued so
for nearly a week, but the sword appeared not to be at all
blunted, or to have suffered in any respect.

"A better sword than that," said an ancient workman, a
native of Old Castile, "never transfixed Moor out yonder on the
sagra."

During my stay at Toledo, I lodged at the Posada de los
Caballeros, which signifies the inn of the gentlemen, which
name, in some respects, is certainly well deserved, for there
are many palaces far less magnificent than this inn of Toledo.
By magnificence it must not be supposed, however, that I allude
to costliness of furniture, or any kind of luxury which
pervaded the culinary department. The rooms were as empty as
those of Spanish inns generally are, and the fare, though good
in its kind, was plain and homely; but I have seldom seen a
more imposing edifice. It was of immense size, consisting of
several stories, and was built something in the Moorish taste,
with a quadrangular court in the centre, beneath which was an
immense algibe or tank, serving as a reservoir for rain-water.
All the houses in Toledo are supplied with tanks of this
description, into which the waters in the rainy season flow
from the roofs through pipes. No other water is used for
drinking; that of the Tagus, not being considered salubrious,
is only used for purposes of cleanliness, being conveyed up the
steep narrow streets on donkeys in large stone jars. The city,
standing on a rocky mountain, has no wells. As for the rain-
water, it deposits a sediment in the tank, and becomes very
sweet and potable: these tanks are cleaned out: twice every
year. During the summer, at which time the heat in this part
of Spain is intense, the families spend the greater part of the
day in the courts, which are overhung with a linen awning, the
heat of the atmosphere being tempered by the coolness arising
from the tank below, which answers the same purpose as the
fountain in the southern provinces of Spain.

I spent about a week at Toledo, during which time several
copies of the Testament were disposed of in the shop of my
friend the bookseller. Several priests took it up from the
mostrador on which it lay, examined it, but made no remarks;
none of them purchased it. My friend showed me through his
house, almost every apartment of which was lined from roof to
floor with books, many of which were highly valuable. He told
me that he possessed the best collection in Spain of the
ancient literature of the country. He was, however, less proud
of his library than his stud; finding that I had some
acquaintance with horses, his liking for me and also his
respect considerably increased. "All I have," said he, "is at
your service; I see you are a man after my own heart. When you
are disposed to ride out upon the sagra, you have only to apply
to my groom, who will forthwith saddle you my famed Cordovese
entero; I purchased him from the stables at Aranjuez, when the
royal stud was broken up. There is but one other man to whom I
would lend him, and that man is Flinter."

At Toledo I met with a forlorn Gypsy woman and her son, a
lad of about fourteen years of age; she was not a native of the
place, but had come from La Mancha, her husband having been
cast into the prison of Toledo on a charge of mule-stealing:
the crime had been proved against him, and in a few days he was
to depart for Malaga, with the chain of galley slaves. He was
quite destitute of money, and his wife was now in Toledo,
earning a few cuartos by telling fortunes about the streets, to
support him in prison. She told me that it was her intention
to follow him to Malaga, where she hoped to be able to effect
his escape. What an instance of conjugal affection; and yet
the affection here was all on one side, as is too frequently
the case. Her husband was a worthless scoundrel, who had
previously abandoned her and betaken himself to Madrid, where
he had long lived in concubinage with the notorious she-thug
Aurora, at whose instigation he had committed the robbery for
which he was now held in durance. "Should your husband escape
from Malaga, in what direction will he fly?" I demanded.

"To the chim of the Corahai, my son; to the land of the
Moors, to be a soldier of the Moorish king."

"And what will become of yourself?" I inquired; "think
you that he will take you with him?"

"He will leave me on the shore, my son, and as soon as he
has crossed the black pawnee, he will forget me and never think
of me more."

"And knowing his ingratitude, why should you give
yourself so much trouble about him?"

"Am I not his romi, my son, and am I not bound by the law
of the Cales to assist him to the last? Should he return from
the land of the Corahai at the end of a hundred years, and
should find me alive, and should say, I am hungry, little wife,
go forth and steal or tell bahi, I must do it, for he is the
rom and I the romi."

On my return to Madrid, I found the despacho still open:
various Testaments had been sold, though the number was by no
means considerable: the work had to labour under great
disadvantage, from the ignorance of the people at large with
respect to its tenor and contents. It was no wonder, then,
that little interest was felt respecting it. To call, however,
public attention to the despacho, I printed three thousand
advertisements on paper, yellow, blue, and crimson, with which
I almost covered the sides of the streets, and besides this,
inserted an account of it in all the journals and periodicals;
the consequence was, that in a short time almost every person
in Madrid was aware of its existence. Such exertions in London
or Paris would probably have ensured the sale of the entire
edition of the New Testament within a few days. In Madrid,
however, the result was not quite so flattering; for after the
establishment had been open an entire month, the copies
disposed of barely amounted to one hundred.

These proceedings of mine did not fail to cause a great
sensation: the priests and their partisans were teeming with
malice and fury, which, for some time, however, they thought
proper to exhibit only in words; it being their opinion that I
was favoured by the ambassador and by the British government;
but there was no attempt, however atrocious, that might not be
expected from their malignity; and were it right and seemly for
me, the most insignificant of worms, to make such a comparison,
I might say, like Paul at Ephesus, I was fighting with wild
beasts.

On the last day of the year 1837, my servant Antonio thus
addressed me: "Mon maitre, it is necessary that I leave you for
a time. Ever since we have returned from our journeys, I have
become unsettled and dissatisfied with the house, the
furniture, and with Donna Marequita. I have therefore engaged
myself as cook in the house of the Count of -, where I am to
receive four dollars per month less than what your worship
gives me. I am fond of change, though it be for the worse.
Adieu, mon maitre, may you be as well served as you deserve;
should you chance, however, to have any pressing need DE MES
SOINS, send for me without hesitation, and I will at once give
my new master warning, if I am still with him, and come to
you."

Thus was I deprived for a time of the services of
Antonio. I continued for a few days without a domestic, at the
end of which time I hired a certain Cantabrian or Basque, a
native of the village of Hernani, in Guipuscoa, who was
strongly recommended to me.

CHAPTER XXXVII

Euscarra - Basque not Irish - Sanskrit and Tartar Dialects -
A Vowel Language - Popular Poetry - The Basques - Their Persons -
Basque Women.

I now entered upon the year 1838, perhaps the most
eventful of all those which I passed in Spain. The despacho
still continued open, with a somewhat increasing sale. Having
at this time little of particular moment with which to occupy
myself, I committed to the press two works, which for some time
past had been in the course of preparation. These were the
Gospel of St. Luke in the Spanish Gypsy and the Euscarra
languages.

With respect to the Gypsy Gospel I have little to say,
having already spoken of it in a former work (THE ZINCALI): it
was translated by myself, together with the greater part of the
New Testament, during my long intercourse with the Spanish
Gypsies. Concerning the Luke in Euscarra, however, it will be
as well to be more particular, and to avail myself of the
present opportunity to say a few words concerning the language
in which it was written, and the people for whom it was
intended.

The Euscarra, then, is the proper term for a certain
speech or language, supposed to have been at one time prevalent
throughout Spain, but which is at present confined to certain
districts, both on the French and Spanish side of the Pyrenees,
which are laved by the waters of the Cantabrian Gulf or Bay of
Biscay. This language is commonly known as the Basque or
Biscayan, which words are mere modifications of the word
Euscarra, the consonant B having been prefixed for the sake of
euphony. Much that is vague, erroneous, and hypothetical, has
been said and written concerning this tongue. The Basques
assert that it was not only the original language of Spain, but
also of the world, and that from it all other languages are
derived; but the Basques are a very ignorant people, and know
nothing of the philosophy of language. Very little importance,
therefore, need be attached to any opinion of theirs on such a
subject. A few amongst them, however, who affect some degree
of learning, contend, that it is neither more nor less than a
dialect of the Phoenician, and, that the Basques are the
descendants of a Phoenician colony, established at the foot of
the Pyrenees at a very remote period. Of this theory, or
rather conjecture, as it is unsubstantiated by the slightest
proof, it is needless to take further notice than to observe
that, provided the Phoenician language, as many of the TRULY
LEARNED have supposed and almost proved, was a dialect of the
Hebrew, or closely allied to it, it were as unreasonable to
suppose that the Basque is derived from it, as that the
Kamschatdale and Cherokee are dialects of the Greek or Latin.

There is, however, another opinion with respect to the
Basque which deserves more especial notice, from the
circumstance of its being extensively entertained amongst the
literati of various countries of Europe, more especially
England. I allude to the Celtic origin of this tongue, and its
close connexion with the most cultivated of all the Celtic
dialects, the Irish. People who pretend to be well conversant
with the subject, have even gone so far as to assert, that so
little difference exists between the Basque and Irish tongues,
that individuals of the two nations, when they meet together,
find no difficulty in understanding each other, with no other
means of communication than their respective languages; in a
word, that there is scarcely a greater difference between the
two than between the French and the Spanish Basque. Such
similarity, however, though so strongly insisted upon, by no
means exists in fact, and perhaps in the whole of Europe it
would be difficult to discover two languages which exhibit
fewer points of mutual resemblance than the Basque and Irish.

The Irish, like most other European languages, is a
dialect of the Sanskrit, a REMOTE one, as may well be supposed.
The corner of the western world in which it is still preserved
being, of all countries in Europe, the most distant from the
proper home of the parent tongue. It is still, however, a
dialect of that venerable and most original speech, not so
closely resembling it, it is true, as the English, Danish, and
those which belong to what is called the Gothic family, and far
less than those of the Sclavonian; for, the nearer we approach
to the East, in equal degree the assimilation of languages to
this parent stock becomes more clear and distinct; but still a
dialect, agreeing with the Sanskrit in structure, in the
arrangement of words, and in many instances in the words
themselves, which, however modified, may still be recognized as
Sanskrit. But what is the Basque, and to what family does it
properly pertain?

To two great Asiatic languages, all the dialects spoken
at present in Europe may be traced. These two, if not now
spoken, still exist in books, and are, moreover, the languages
of two of the principal religions of the East. I allude to the
Tibetian and Sanskrit - the sacred languages of the followers
of Buddh and Bramah. These tongues, though they possess many
words in common, which is easily to be accounted for by their
close proximity, are properly distinct, being widely different
in structure. In what this difference consists, I have neither
time nor inclination to state; suffice it to say that the
Celtic, Gothic, and Sclavonian dialects in Europe belong to the
Sanskrit family, even as in the East the Persian, and to a less
degree the Arabic, Hebrew, etc.; whilst to the Tibetian or
Tartar family in Asia pertain the Mandchou and Mongolian, the
Calmuc and the Turkish of the Caspian Sea; and in Europe, the
Hungarian and the Basque PARTIALLY.

Indeed this latter language is a strange anomaly, so that
upon the whole it is less difficult to say what it is not, than
what it is. It abounds with Sanskrit words to such a degree
that its surface seems strewn with them. Yet would it be wrong
to term it a Sanskrit dialect, for in the collocation of these
words the Tartar form is most decidedly observable. A
considerable proportion of Tartar words is likewise to be found
in this language, though perhaps not in equal number to the
terms derived from the Sanskrit. Of these Tartar etymons I
shall at present content myself with citing one, though, if
necessary, it were easy to adduce hundreds. This word is
JAUNA, or as it is pronounced, KHAUNA, a word in constant use
amongst the Basques, and which is the KHAN of the Mongols and
Mandchous, and of the same signification - Lord.

Having closely examined the subject in all its various
bearings, and having weighed what is to be said on one side
against what is to be advanced on the other, I am inclined to
rank the Basque rather amongst the Tartar than the Sanskrit
dialects. Whoever should have an opportunity of comparing the
enunciation of the Basques and Tartars would, from that alone,
even if he understood them not, come to the conclusion that
their respective languages were formed on the same principles.
In both occur periods seemingly interminable, during which the
voice gradually ascends to a climax, and then gradually sinks
down.

I have spoken of the surprising number of Sanskrit words
contained in the Basque language, specimens of some of which
will be found below. It is remarkable enough, that in the
greater part of the derivatives from the Sanskrit the Basque
has dropped the initial consonant, so that the word commences
with a vowel. The Basque, indeed, may be said to be almost a
vowel language; the number of consonants employed being
comparatively few: perhaps eight words out of ten commence and
terminate with a vowel, owing to which it is a language to the
highest degree soft and melodious, far excelling in this
respect any other language in Europe, not even excepting the
Italian.

Here follow a few specimens of Basque words with the
Sanskrit roots in juxtaposition:-

BASQUE.    SANSKRIT.
Ardoa       Sandhana       WINE.
Arratsa     Ratri          NIGHT.
Beguia      Akshi          EYE.
Choria      Chiria         BIRD.
Chacurra    Cucura         DOG.
Erreguina   Rani           QUEEN.
Icusi       Iksha          TO SEE.
Iru         Treya          THREE.
Jan (Khan)  Khana          TO EAT.
Uria        Puri           CITY.
Urruti      Dura           FAR.

Such is the tongue in which I brought out Saint Luke's
Gospel at Madrid. The translation I procured originally from a
Basque physician of the name of Oteiza. Previous to being sent
to the press, the version had lain nearly two years in my
possession, during which time, and particularly during my
travels, I lost no opportunity of submitting it to the
inspection of those who were considered competent scholars in
the Euscarra. It did not entirely please me; but it was in
vain to seek for a better translation.

In my early youth I had obtained a slight acquaintance
with the Euscarra, as it exists in books. This acquaintance I
considerably increased during my stay in Spain; and by
occasionally mingling with Basques, was enabled to understand
the spoken language to a certain extent, and even to speak it,
but always with considerable hesitation; for to speak Basque,
even tolerably, it is necessary to have lived in the country
from a very early period. So great are the difficulties
attending it, and so strange are its peculiarities, that it is
very rare to find a foreigner possessed of any considerable
skill in the oral language, and the Spaniards consider the
obstacles so formidable that they have a proverb to the effect
that Satan once lived seven years in Biscay, and then departed,
finding himself unable either to understand or to make himself
understood.

There are few inducements to the study of this language.
In the first place, the acquisition of it is by no means
necessary even to those who reside in the countries where it is
spoken; the Spanish being generally understood throughout the
Basque provinces pertaining to Spain, and the French in those
pertaining to France.

In the second place, neither dialect is in possession of
any peculiar literature capable of repaying the toil of the
student. There are various books extant both in French and
Spanish Basque, but these consist entirely of Popish devotion,
and are for the most part translations.

It will, perhaps, here be asked whether the Basques do
not possess popular poetry, like most other nations, however
small and inconsiderable. They have certainly no lack of
songs, ballads, and stanzas, but of a character by no means
entitled to the appellation of poetry. I have noted down from
recitation a considerable portion of what they call their
poetry, but the only tolerable specimen of verse which I ever
discovered amongst them was the following stanza, which, after
all, is not entitled to very high praise:-

"Ichasoa urac aundi,
Estu ondoric agueri -
Pasaco ninsaqueni andic
Maitea icustea gatic."

I.E. "The waters of the sea are vast, and their bottom
cannot be seen: but over them I will pass, that I may behold my
love."

The Basques are a singing rather than a poetical people.
Notwithstanding the facility with which their tongue lends
itself to the composition of verse, they have never produced
among them a poet with the slightest pretensions to reputation;
but their voices are singularly sweet, and they are known to
excel in musical composition. It is the opinion of a certain
author, the Abbe D'Ilharce, who has written about them, that
they derived the name CANTABRI, by which they were known to the
Romans, from KHANTOR-BER, signifying sweet singers. They
possess much music of their own, some of which is said to be
exceedingly ancient. Of this music specimens were published at
Donostian (San Sebastian) in the year 1826, edited by a certain
Juan Ignacio Iztueta. These consist of wild and thrilling
marches, to the sound of which it is believed that the ancient
Basques were in the habit of descending from their mountains to
combat with the Romans, and subsequently with the Moors.
Whilst listening to them it is easy to suppose oneself in the
close vicinity of some desperate encounter. We seem to hear
the charge of cavalry on the sounding plain, the clash of
swords, and the rushing of men down the gorges of hills. This
music is accompanied with words, but such words! Nothing can
be imagined more stupid, commonplace, and uninteresting. So
far from being martial, they relate to every-day incidents and
appear to have no connexion whatever with the music. They are
evidently of modern date.

In person the Basques are of the middle size, and are
active and athletic. They are in general of fair complexions
and handsome features, and in appearance bear no slight
resemblance to certain Tartar tribes of the Caucasus. Their
bravery is unquestionable, and they are considered as the best
soldiery belonging to the Spanish crown: a fact highly
corroborative of the supposition that they are of Tartar
origin, the Tartars being of all races the most warlike, and
amongst whom the most remarkable conquerors have been produced.
They are faithful and honest, and capable of much disinterested
attachment; kind and hospitable to strangers; all of which
points are far from being at variance with the Tartan
character. But they are somewhat dull, and their capacities
are by no means of a high order, and in these respects they
again resemble the Tartars.

No people on earth are prouder than the Basques, but
theirs is a kind of republican pride. They have no nobility
amongst them, and no one will acknowledge a superior. The
poorest carman is as proud as the governor of Tolosa. "He is
more powerful than I," he will say, "but I am of as good blood;
perhaps hereafter I may become a governor myself." They abhor
servitude, at least out of their own country; and though
circumstances frequently oblige them to seek masters, it is
very rare to find them filling the places of common domestics;
they are stewards, secretaries, accountants, etc. True it is,
that it was my own fortune to obtain a Basque domestic; but
then he always treated me more as an equal than a master, would
sit down in my presence, give me his advice unasked, and enter
into conversation with me at all times and occasions. Did I
check him! Certainly not! For in that case he would have left
me, and a more faithful creature I never knew. His fate was a
mournful one, as will appear in the sequel.

I have said that the Basques abhor servitude, and are
rarely to be found serving as domestics amongst the Spaniards.
I allude, however, merely to the males. The females, on the
contrary, have no objection whatever to enter houses as
servants. Women, indeed, amongst the Basques are not looked
upon with all the esteem which they deserve, and are considered
as fitted for little else than to perform menial offices, even
as in the East, where they are viewed in the light of servants
and slaves. The Basque females differ widely in character from
the men; they are quick and vivacious, and have in general much
more talent. They are famous for their skill as cooks, and in
most respectable houses of Madrid a Biscayan female may be
found in the kitchen, queen supreme of the culinary department.

CHAPTER XXXVIII

The Prohibition - Gospel Persecuted - Charge of Sorcery - Ofalia.

About the middle of January a swoop was made upon me by
my enemies, in the shape of a peremptory prohibition from the
political governor of Madrid to sell any more New Testaments.
This measure by no means took me by surprise, as I had for some
time previously been expecting something of the kind, on
account of the political sentiments of the ministers then in
power. I forthwith paid a visit to Sir George Villiers,
informing him of what had occurred. He promised to do all he
could to cause the prohibition to be withdrawn. Unfortunately
at this time he had not much influence, having opposed with all
his might the entrance of the moderado ministry to power, and
the nomination of Ofalia to the presidency of the cabinet. I,
however, never lost confidence in the Almighty, in whose cause
I was engaged.

Matters were going on very well before this check. The
demand for Testaments was becoming considerable, so much so,
that the clergy were alarmed, and this step was the
consequence. But they had previously recourse to another, well
worthy of them, they attempted to act upon my fears. One of
the ruffians of Madrid, called Manolos, came up to me one
night, in a dark street, and told me that unless I discontinued
selling my "Jewish books," I should have a knife "NAILED IN MY
HEART"; but I told him to go home, say his prayers, and tell
his employers that I pitied them; whereupon he turned away with
an oath. A few days after, I received an order to send two
copies of the Testament to the office of the political
governor, with which I complied, and in less than twenty-four
hours an alguazil arrived at the shop with a notice prohibiting
the further sale of the work.

One circumstance rejoiced me. Singular as it may appear,
the authorities took no measures to cause my little despacho to
be closed, and I received no prohibition respecting the sale of
any work but the New Testament, and as the Gospel of Saint
Luke, in Romany and Basque, would within a short time be ready
for delivery, I hoped to carry on matters in a small way till
better times should arrive.

I was advised to erase from the shop windows the words
"Despacho of the British and Foreign Bible Society." This,
however, I refused to do. Those words had tended very much to
call attention, which was my grand object. Had I attempted to
conduct things in an underhand manner, I should, at the time of
which I am speaking, scarcely have sold thirty copies in
Madrid, instead of nearly three hundred. People who know me
not, may be disposed to call me rash; but I am far from being
so, as I never adopt a venturous course when any other is open
to me. I am not, however, a person to be terrified by any
danger, when I see that braving it is the only way to achieve
an object.

The booksellers were unwilling to sell my work; I was
compelled to establish a shop of my own. Every shop in Madrid
has a name. What name could I give it but the true one? I was
not ashamed of my cause or my colours. I hoisted them, and
fought beneath them not without success.

The priestly party in Madrid, in the meantime, spared no
effort to vilify me. They started a publication called THE
FRIEND OF THE CHRISTIAN RELIGION, in which a stupid but furious
attack upon me appeared, which I, however, treated with the
contempt it deserved. But not satisfied with this, they
endeavoured to incite the populace against me, by telling them
that I was a sorcerer, and a companion of Gypsies and witches,
and their agents even called me so in the streets. That I was
an associate of Gypsies and fortune-tellers I do not deny. Why
should I be ashamed of their company when my Master mingled
with publicans and thieves? Many of the Gypsy race came
frequently to visit me; received instruction, and heard parts
of the Gospel read to them in their own language, and when they
were hungry and faint, I gave them to eat and drink. This
might be deemed sorcery in Spain, but I am not without hope
that it will be otherwise estimated in England, and had I
perished at this period, I think there are some who would have
been disposed to acknowledge that I had not lived altogether in
vain (always as an instrument of the "Most Highest"), having
been permitted to turn one of the most valuable books of God
into the speech of the most degraded of his creatures.

In the meantime I endeavoured to enter into negotiations
with the ministry, for the purpose of obtaining permission to
sell the New Testament in Madrid, and the nullification of the
prohibition. I experienced, however, great opposition, which I
was unable to surmount. Several of the ultra-popish bishops,
then resident in Madrid, had denounced the Bible, the Bible
Society, and myself. Nevertheless, notwithstanding their
powerful and united efforts, they were unable to effect their
principal object, namely, my expulsion from Madrid and Spain.
The Count Ofalia, notwithstanding he had permitted himself to
be made the instrument, to a certain extent, of these people,
would not consent to be pushed to such a length. Throughout
this affair, I cannot find words sufficiently strong to do
justice to the zeal and interest which Sir George Villiers
displayed in the cause of the Testament. He had various
interviews with Ofalia on the subject, and in these he
expressed to him his sense of the injustice and tyranny which
had been practised in this instance towards his countryman.

Ofalia had been moved by these remonstrances, and more
than once promised to do all in his power to oblige Sir George;
but then the bishops again beset him, and playing upon his
political if not religious fears, prevented him from acting a
just, honest, and honourable part. At the desire of Sir George
Villiers, I drew up a brief account of the Bible Society, and
an exposition of its views, especially in respect to Spain,
which he presented with his own hands to the Count. I shall
not trouble the reader by inserting this memorial, but content
myself with observing, that I made no attempts to flatter and
cajole, but expressed myself honestly and frankly, as a
Christian ought. Ofalia, on reading it, said, "What a pity
that this is a Protestant society, and that all its members are
not Catholics."

A few days subsequently, to my great astonishment, he
sent a message to me by a friend, requesting that I would send
him a copy of my Gypsy Gospel. I may as well here state, that
the fame of this work, though not yet published, had already
spread like wildfire through Madrid, and every person was
passionately eager to possess a copy; indeed, several grandees
of Spain sent messages with similar requests, all of which I
however denied. I instantly resolved to take advantage of this
overture on the part of Count Ofalia, and to call on him
myself. I therefore caused a copy of the Gospel to be
handsomely bound, and proceeding to the palace, was instantly
admitted to him. He was a dusky, diminutive person, between
fifty and sixty years of age, with false hair and teeth, but
exceedingly gentlemanly manners. He received me with great
affability, and thanked me for my present; but on my proceeding
to speak of the New Testament, he told me that the subject was
surrounded with difficulties, and that the great body of the
clergy had taken up the matter against me; he conjured me,
however, to be patient and peaceable, in which case he said he
would endeavour to devise some plan to satisfy me. Amongst
other things, he observed that the bishops hated a sectarian
more than an Atheist. Whereupon I replied, that, like the
Pharisees of old, they cared more for the gold of the temple
than the temple itself. Throughout the whole of our interview
he evidently laboured under great fear, and was continually
looking behind and around him, seemingly in dread of being
overheard, which brought to my mind an expression of a friend
of mine, that if there be any truth in metempsychosis, the soul
of Count Ofalia must have originally belonged to a mouse. We
parted in kindness, and I went away, wondering by what strange
chance this poor man had become prime minister of a country
like Spain.

CHAPTER XXXIX

The Two Gospels - The Alguazil - The Warrant - The Good Maria -
The Arrest - Sent to Prison - Reflections - The Reception -
The Prison Room - Redress Demanded.

At length the Gospel of Saint Luke in the Gypsy language
was in a state of readiness. I therefore deposited a certain
number of copies in the despacho, and announced them for sale.
The Basque, which was by this time also printed, was likewise
advertised. For this last work there was little demand. Not
so, however, for the Gypsy Luke, of which I could have easily
disposed of the whole edition in less than a fortnight. Long,
however, before this period had expired, the clergy were up in
arms. "Sorcery!" said one bishop. "There is more in this than
we can dive into," exclaimed a second. "He will convert all
Spain by means of the Gypsy language," cried a third. And then
came the usual chorus on such occasions, of QUE INFAMIA! QUE
PICARDIA! At last, having consulted together, away they
hurried to their tool the corregidor, or, according to the
modern term, the gefe politico of Madrid. I have forgotten the
name of this worthy, of whom I had myself no personal knowledge
whatever. Judging from his actions, however, and from common
report, I should say that he was a stupid wrong-headed
creature, savage withal - a melange of borrico, mule, and wolf.
Having an inveterate antipathy to all foreigners, he lent a
willing ear to the complaint of my accusers, and forthwith gave
orders to make a seizure of all the copies of the Gypsy Gospel
which could be found in the despacho. The consequence was,
that a numerous body of alguazils directed their steps to the
Calle del principe; some thirty copies of the book in question
were pounced upon, and about the same number of Saint Luke in
Basque. With this spoil these satellites returned in triumph
to the gefatura politica, where they divided the copies of the
Gypsy volume amongst themselves, selling subsequently the
greater number at a large price, the book being in the greatest
demand, and thus becoming unintentionally agents of an
heretical society. But every one must live by his trade, say
these people, and they lose no opportunity of making their
words good, by disposing to the best advantage of any booty
which falls into their hands. As no person cared about the
Basque Gospel, it was safely stowed away, with other
unmarketable captures, in the warehouses of the office.

The Gypsy Gospels had now been seized, at least as many
as were exposed for sale in the despacho. The corregidor and
his friends, however, were of opinion that many more might be
obtained by means of a little management. Fellows, therefore,
hangers-on of the police office, were daily dispatched to the
shop in all kinds of disguises, inquiring, with great seeming
anxiety, for "Gypsy books," and offering high prices for
copies. They, however, returned to their employers empty-
handed. My Gallegan was on his guard, informing all who made
inquiries, that books of no description would be sold at the
establishment for the present. Which was in truth the case, as
I had given him particular orders to sell no more under any
pretence whatever.

I got no credit, however, for my frank dealing. The
corregidor and his confederates could not persuade themselves
but that by some means mysterious and unknown to them, I was
daily selling hundreds of these Gypsy books, which were to
revolutionize the country, and annihilate the power of the
Father of Rome. A plan was therefore resolved upon, by means
of which they hoped to have an opportunity of placing me in a
position which would incapacitate me for some time from taking
any active measures to circulate the Scriptures, either in
Gypsy or in any other language.

It was on the morning of the first of May, if I forget
not, that an unknown individual made his appearance in my
apartment as I was seated at breakfast; he was a mean-looking
fellow, about the middle stature, with a countenance on which
knave was written in legible characters. The hostess ushered
him in, and then withdrew. I did not like the appearance of my
visitor, but assuming some degree of courtesy, I requested him
to sit down, and demanded his business. "I come from his
excellency the political chief of Madrid," he replied, "and my
business is to inform you that his excellency is perfectly
aware of your proceedings, and is at any time able to prove
that you are still disposing of in secret those evil books
which you have been forbidden to sell."  "Is he so," I replied;
"pray let him do so forthwith, but what need of giving me
information?"  "Perhaps," continued the fellow, "you think his
worship has no witnesses; know, however, that he has many, and
respectable ones too."  "Doubtless," I replied, "and from the
respectability of your own appearance, you are perhaps one of
them. But you are occupying my time unprofitably; begone,
therefore, and tell whoever sent you, that I have by no means a
high opinion of his wisdom."  "I shall go when I please,"
retorted the fellow; "do you know to whom you are speaking?
Are you aware that if I think fit I can search your apartment,
yes, even below your bed? What have we here," he continued;
and commenced with his stick poking a heap of papers which lay
upon a chair; "what have we here; are these also papers of the
Gypsies?"  I instantly determined upon submitting no longer to
this behaviour, and taking the fellow by the arm, led him out
of the apartment, and then still holding him, conducted him
downstairs from the third floor in which I lived, into the
street, looking him steadfastly in the face the whole while.

The fellow had left his sombrero on the table, which I
dispatched to him by the landlady, who delivered it into his
hand as he stood in the street staring with distended eyes at
the balcony of my apartment.

"A trampa has been laid for you, Don Jorge," said Maria
Diaz, when she had reascended from the street; "that corchete
came here with no other intention than to have a dispute with
you; out of every word you have said he will make a long
history, as is the custom with these people: indeed he said, as
I handed him his hat, that ere twenty-four hours were over, you
should see the inside of the prison of Madrid."

In effect, during the course of the morning, I was told
that a warrant had been issued for my apprehension. The
prospect of incarceration, however, did not fill me with much
dismay; an adventurous life and inveterate habits of wandering
having long familiarized me to situations of every kind, so
much so as to feel myself quite as comfortable in a prison as
in the gilded chamber of palaces; indeed more so, as in the
former place I can always add to my store of useful
information, whereas in the latter, ennui frequently assails
me. I had, moreover, been thinking for some time past of
paying a visit to the prison, partly in the hope of being able
to say a few words of Christian instruction to the criminals,
and partly with the view of making certain investigations in
the robber language of Spain, a subject about which I had long
felt much curiosity; indeed, I had already made application for
admittance into the Carcel de la Corte, but had found the
matter surrounded with difficulties, as my friend Ofalia would
have said. I rather rejoiced then in the opportunity which was
now about to present itself of entering the prison, not in the
character of a visitor for an hour, but as a martyr, and as one
suffering in the holy cause of religion. I was determined,
however, to disappoint my enemies for that day at least, and to
render null the threat of the alguazil, that I should be
imprisoned within twenty-four hours. I therefore took up my
abode for the rest of the day in a celebrated French tavern in
the Calle del Caballero de Gracia, which, as it was one of the
most fashionable and public places in Madrid, I naturally
concluded was one of the last where the corregidor would think
of seeking me.

About ten at night, Maria Diaz, to whom I had
communicated the place of my retreat, arrived with her son,
Juan Lopez. "O senor," said she on seeing me, "they are
already in quest of you; the alcalde of the barrio, with a
large comitiva of alguazils and such like people, have just
been at our house with a warrant for your imprisonment from the
corregidor. They searched the whole house, and were much
disappointed at not finding you. Wo is me, what will they do
when they catch you?" "Be under no apprehensions, good Maria,"
said I; "you forget that I am an Englishman, and so it seems
does the corregidor. Whenever he catches me, depend upon it he
will be glad enough to let me go. For the present, however, we
will permit him to follow his own course, for the spirit of
folly seems to have seized him."

I slept at the tavern, and in the forenoon of the
following day repaired to the embassy, where I had an interview
with Sir George, to whom I related every circumstance of the
affair. He said that he could scarcely believe that the
corregidor entertained any serious intentions of imprisoning
me: in the first place, because I had committed no offence; and
in the second, because I was not under the jurisdiction of that
functionary, but under that of the captain-general, who was
alone empowered to decide upon matters which relate to
foreigners, and before whom I must be brought in the presence
of the consul of my nation. "However," said he, "there is no
knowing to what length these jacks in office may go. I
therefore advise you, if you are under any apprehension, to
remain as my guest at the embassy for a few days, for here you
will be quite safe."  I assured him that I was under no
apprehension whatever, having long been accustomed to
adventures of this kind. From the apartment of Sir George, I
proceeded to that of the first secretary of embassy, Mr.
Southern, with whom I entered into conversation. I had
scarcely been there a minute when my servant Francisco rushed
in, much out of breath, and in violent agitation, exclaiming in
Basque, "Niri jauna (MASTER MINE), the alguaziloac and the
corchetoac, and all the other lapurrac (THIEVES) are again at
the house. They seem half mad, and not being able to find you,
are searching your papers, thinking, I suppose, that you are
hid among them."  Mr. Southern here interrupting him, inquired
of me what all this meant. Whereupon I told him, saying at the
same time, that it was my intention to proceed at once to my
lodgings. "But perhaps these fellows will arrest you," said
Mr. S., "before we can interfere."  "I must take my chance as
to that," I replied, and presently afterwards departed.

Ere, however, I had reached the middle of the street of
Alcala, two fellows came up to me, and telling me that I was
their prisoner, commanded me to follow them to the office of
the corregidor. They were in fact alguazils, who, suspecting
that I might enter or come out of the embassy, had stationed
themselves in the neighbourhood. I instantly turned round to
Francisco, and told him in Basque to return to the embassy and
to relate there to the secretary what had just occurred. The
poor fellow set off like lightning, turning half round,
however, to shake his fist, and to vent a Basque execration at
the two lapurrac, as he called the alguazils.

They conducted me to the gefatura or office of the
corregidor, where they ushered me into a large room, and
motioned me to sit down on a wooden bench. They then stationed
themselves on each side of me: there were at least twenty
people in the apartment beside ourselves, evidently from their
appearance officials of the establishment. They were all well
dressed, for the most part in the French fashion, in round
hats, coats, and pantaloons, and yet they looked what in
reality they were, Spanish alguazils, spies, and informers, and
Gil Blas, could he have waked from his sleep of two centuries,
would, notwithstanding the change of fashion, have had no
difficulty in recognizing them. They glanced at me as they
stood lounging about the room; they gathered themselves
together in a circle and began conversing in whispers. I heard
one of them say, "he understands the seven Gypsy jargons."
Then presently another, evidently from his language an
Andalusian, said, "ES MUY DIESTRO (he is very skilful), and can
ride a horse and dart a knife full as well as if he came from
my own country." Thereupon they all turned round and regarded
me with a species of interest, evidently mingled with respect,
which most assuredly they would not have exhibited had they
conceived that I was merely an honest man bearing witness in a
righteous cause.

I waited patiently on the bench at least one hour,
expecting every moment to be summoned before my lord the
corregidor. I suppose, however, that I was not deemed worthy
of being permitted to see so exalted a personage, for at the
end of that time, an elderly man, one however evidently of the
alguazil genus, came into the room and advanced directly
towards me. "Stand up," said he. I obeyed. "What is your
name?" he demanded. I told him. "Then," he replied,
exhibiting a paper which he held in his hand, "Senor, it is the
will of his excellency the corregidor that you be forthwith
sent to prison."

He looked at me steadfastly as he spoke, perhaps
expecting that I should sink into the earth at the formidable
name of prison; I however only smiled. He then delivered the
paper, which I suppose was the warrant for my committal, into
the hand of one of my two captors, and obeying a sign which
they made, I followed them.

I subsequently learned that the secretary of legation,
Mr. Southern, had been dispatched by Sir George, as soon as the
latter had obtained information of my arrest, and had been
waiting at the office during the greater part of the time that
I was there. He had demanded an audience of the corregidor, in
which he had intended to have remonstrated with him, and
pointed out to him the danger to which he was subjecting
himself by the rash step which he was taking. The sullen
functionary, however, had refused to see him, thinking,
perhaps, that to listen to reason would be a dereliction of
dignity: by this conduct, however, he most effectually served
me, as no person, after such a specimen of uncalled-for
insolence, felt disposed to question the violence and injustice
which had been practised towards me.

The alguazils conducted me across the Plaza Mayor to the
Carcel de la Corte, or prison of the court, as it is called.
Whilst going across the square, I remembered that this was the
place where, in "the good old times," the Inquisition of Spain
was in the habit of holding its solemn AUTOS DA FE, and I cast
my eye to the balcony of the city hall, where at the most
solemn of them all, the last of the Austrian line in Spain sat,
and after some thirty heretics, of both sexes, had been burnt
by fours and by fives, wiped his face, perspiring with heat,
and black with smoke, and calmly inquired, "No hay mas?" for
which exemplary proof of patience he was much applauded by his
priests and confessors, who subsequently poisoned him. "And
here am I," thought I, "who have done more to wound Popery,
than all the poor Christian martyrs that ever suffered in this
accursed square, merely sent to prison, from which I am sure to
be liberated in a few days, with credit and applause. Pope of
Rome! I believe you to be as malicious as ever, but you are
sadly deficient in power. You are become paralytic, Batuschca,
and your club has degenerated to a crutch."

We arrived at the prison, which stands in a narrow street
not far from the great square. We entered a dusky passage, at
the end of which was a wicket door. My conductors knocked, a
fierce visage peered through the wicket; there was an exchange
of words, and in a few moments I found myself within the prison
of Madrid, in a kind of corridor which overlooked at a
considerable altitude what appeared to be a court, from which
arose a hubbub of voices, and occasionally wild shouts and
cries. Within the corridor which served as a kind of office,
were several people; one of them sat behind a desk, and to him
the alguazils went up, and after discoursing with him some time
in low tones, delivered the warrant into his hands. He perused
it with attention, then rising he advanced to me. What a
figure! He was about forty years of age, and his height might
have amounted to some six feet two inches, had he not been
curved much after the fashion of the letter S. No weazel ever
appeared lanker, and he looked as if a breath of air would have
been sufficient to blow him away; his face might certainly have
been called handsome, had it not been for its extraordinary and
portentous meagreness; his nose was like an eagle's bill, his
teeth white as ivory, his eyes black (Oh how black!) and
fraught with a strange expression, his skin was dark, and the
hair of his head like the plumage of the raven. A deep quiet
smile dwelt continually on his features; but with all the quiet
it was a cruel smile, such a one as would have graced the
countenance of a Nero. "MAIS EN REVANCHE PERSONNE N'ETOIT PLUS
HONNETE." "Caballero," said he, "allow me to introduce myself
to you as the alcayde of this prison. I perceive by this paper
that I am to have the honour of your company for a time, a
short time doubtless, beneath this roof; I hope you will banish
every apprehension from your mind. I am charged to treat you
with all the respect which is due to the illustrious nation to
which you belong, and which a cavalier of such exalted category
as yourself is entitled to expect. A needless charge, it is
true, as I should only have been too happy of my own accord to
have afforded you every comfort and attention. Caballero, you
will rather consider yourself here as a guest than a prisoner;
you will be permitted to roam over every part of this house
whenever you think proper. You will find matters here not
altogether below the attention of a philosophic mind! Pray,
issue whatever commands you may think fit to the turnkeys and
officials, even as if they were your own servants. I will now
have the honour of conducting you to your apartment - the only
one at present unoccupied. We invariably reserve it for
cavaliers of distinction. I am happy to say that my orders are
again in consonance with my inclination. No charge whatever
will be made for it to you, though the daily hire of it is not
unfrequently an ounce of gold. I entreat you, therefore, to
follow me, cavalier, who am at all times and seasons the most
obedient and devoted of your servants." Here he took off his
hat and bowed profoundly.

Such was the speech of the alcayde of the prison of
Madrid; a speech delivered in pure sonorous Castilian, with
calmness, gravity, and almost with dignity; a speech which
would have done honour to a gentleman of high birth, to
Monsieur Basompierre, of the Old Bastile, receiving an Italian
prince, or the high constable of the Tower an English duke
attainted of high treason. Now, who in the name of wonder was
this alcayde?

One of the greatest rascals in all Spain. A fellow who
had more than once by his grasping cupidity, and by his
curtailment of the miserable rations of the prisoners, caused
an insurrection in the court below only to be repressed by
bloodshed, and by summoning military aid; a fellow of low
birth, who, only five years previous, had been DRUMMER to a
band of royalist volunteers!

But Spain is the land of extraordinary characters.

I followed the alcayde to the end of the corridor, where
was a massive grated door, on each side of which sat a grim
fellow of a turnkey. The door was opened, and turning to the
right we proceeded down another corridor, in which were many
people walking about, whom I subsequently discovered to be
prisoners like myself, but for political offences. At the end
of this corridor, which extended the whole length of the patio,
we turned into another, and the first apartment in this was the
one destined for myself. It was large and lofty, but totally
destitute of every species of furniture, with the exception of
a huge wooden pitcher, intended to hold my daily allowance of
water. "Caballero," said the alcayde, "the apartment is
without furniture, as you see. It is already the third hour of
the tarde, I therefore advise you to lose no time in sending to
your lodgings for a bed and whatever you may stand in need of,
the llavero here shall do your bidding. Caballero, adieu till
I see you again."

I followed his advice, and writing a note in pencil to
Maria Diaz, I dispatched it by the llavero, and then sitting
down on the wooden pitcher, I fell into a reverie, which
continued for a considerable time.

Night arrived, and so did Maria Diaz, attended by two
porters and Francisco, all loaded with furniture. A lamp was
lighted, charcoal was kindled in the brasero, and the prison
gloom was to a certain degree dispelled.

I now left my seat on the pitcher, and sitting down on a
chair, proceeded to dispatch some wine and viands, which my
good hostess had not forgotten to bring with her. Suddenly Mr.
Southern entered. He laughed heartily at finding me engaged in
the manner I have described. "B-," said he, "you are the man
to get through the world, for you appear to take all things
coolly, and as matters of course. That, however, which most
surprises me with respect to you is, your having so many
friends; here you are in prison, surrounded by people
ministering to your comforts. Your very servant is your
friend, instead of being your worst enemy, as is usually the
case. That Basque of yours is a noble fellow. I shall never
forget how he spoke for you, when he came running to the
embassy to inform us of your arrest. He interested both Sir
George and myself in the highest degree: should you ever wish
to part with him, I hope you will give me the refusal of his
services. But now to other matters."  He then informed me that
Sir George had already sent in an official note to Ofalia,
demanding redress for such a wanton outrage on the person of a
British subject. "You must remain in prison," said he, "to-
night, but depend upon it that to-morrow, if you are disposed,
you may quit in triumph."  "I am by no means disposed for any
such thing," I replied. "They have put me in prison for their
pleasure, and I intend to remain here for my own."  "If the
confinement is not irksome to you," said Mr. Southern, "I
think, indeed, it will be your wisest plan; the government have
committed themselves sadly with regard to you; and, to speak
plainly, we are by no means sorry for it. They have on more
than one occasion treated ourselves very cavalierly, and we
have now, if you continue firm, an excellent opportunity of
humbling their insolence. I will instantly acquaint Sir George
with your determination, and you shall hear from us early on
the morrow."  He then bade me farewell; and flinging myself on
my bed, I was soon asleep in the prison of Madrid.

CHAPTER XL

Ofalia - The Juez - Carcel do la Corte - Sunday in Prison -
Robber Dress - Father and Son - Characteristic Behaviour -
The Frenchman - Prison Allowance - Valley of the Shadow -
Pure Castilian - Balseiro - The Cave - Robber Glory.

Ofalia quickly perceived that the imprisonment of a
British subject in a manner so illegal as that which had
attended my own, was likely to be followed by rather serious
consequences. Whether he himself had at all encouraged the
corregidor in his behaviour towards me, it is impossible to
say; the probability is that he had not: the latter, however,
was an officer of his own appointing, for whose actions himself
and the government were to a certain extent responsible. Sir
George had already made a very strong remonstrance upon the
subject, and had even gone so far as to state in an official
note that he should desist from all farther communication with
the Spanish government until full and ample reparation had been
afforded me for the violence to which I had been subjected.
Ofalia's reply was, that immediate measures should be taken for
my liberation, and that it would be my own fault if I remained
in prison. He forthwith ordered a juez de la primera
instancia, a kind of solicitor-general, to wait upon me, who
was instructed to hear my account of the affair, and then to
dismiss me with an admonition to be cautious for the future.
My friends of the embassy, however, had advised me how to act
in such a case. Accordingly, when the juez on the second night
of my imprisonment made his appearance at the prison, and
summoned me before him, I went, but on his proceeding to
question me, I absolutely refused to answer. "I deny your
right to put any questions to me," said I; "I entertain,
however, no feelings of disrespect to the government or to
yourself, Caballero Juez; but I have been illegally imprisoned.
So accomplished a jurist as yourself cannot fail to be aware
that, according to the laws of Spain, I, as a foreigner, could
not be committed to prison for the offence with which I had
been charged, without previously being conducted before the
captain-general of this royal city, whose duty it is to protect
foreigners, and see that the laws of hospitality are not
violated in their persons."

JUEZ. - Come, come, Don Jorge, I see what you are aiming
at; but listen to reason: I will not now speak to you as a juez
but as a friend who wishes you well, and who entertains a
profound reverence for the British nation. This is a foolish
affair altogether; I will not deny that the political chief
acted somewhat hastily on the information of a person not
perhaps altogether worthy of credit. No great damage, however,
has been done to you, and to a man of the world like yourself,
a little adventure of this kind is rather calculated to afford
amusement than anything else. Now be advised, forget what has
happened; you know that it is the part and duty of a Christian
to forgive; so, Don Jorge, I advise you to leave this place
forthwith. I dare say you are getting tired of it. You are
this moment free to depart; repair at once to your lodgings,
where, I promise you, that no one shall be permitted to
interrupt you for the future. It is getting late, and the
prison doors will speedily be closed for the night. VAMOS, DON
JORGE, A LA CASA, A LA POSADA!

MYSELF. - "But Paul said unto them, they have beaten us
openly uncondemned, being Romans, and have cast us into prison;
and now do they thrust us out privily? Nay, verily: but let
them come themselves and fetch us out."

I then bowed to the juez, who shrugged his shoulders and
took snuff. On leaving the apartment I turned to the alcayde,
who stood at the door: "Take notice," said I, "that I will not
quit this prison till I have received full satisfaction for
being sent hither uncondemned. You may expel me if you please,
but any attempt to do so shall be resisted with all the bodily
strength of which I am possessed."

"Your worship is right," said the alcayde with a bow, but
in a low voice.

Sir George, on hearing of this affair, sent me a letter
in which he highly commanded my resolution not to leave the
prison for the present, at the same time begging me to let him
know if there were anything that he could send me from the
embassy to render my situation more tolerable.

I will now leave for the present my own immediate
affairs, and proceed to give some account of the prison of
Madrid and its inmates.

The Carcel de la Corte, where I now was, though the
principal prison of Madrid, is one which certainly in no
respect does credit to the capital of Spain. Whether it was
originally intended for the purpose to which it is at present
applied, I have no opportunity of knowing. The chances,
however, are, that it was not; indeed it was not till of late
years that the practice of building edifices expressly intended
and suited for the incarceration of culprits came at all into
vogue. Castles, convents, and deserted palaces, have in all
countries, at different times, been converted into prisons,
which practice still holds good upon the greater part of the
continent, and more particularly in Spain and Italy, which
accounts, to a certain extent, for the insecurity of the
prisons, and the misery, want of cleanliness, and unhealthiness
which in general pervade them.

I shall not attempt to enter into a particular
description of the prison of Madrid, indeed it would be quite
impossible to describe so irregular and rambling an edifice.
Its principal features consisted of two courts, the one behind
the other, intended for the great body of the prisoners to take
air and recreation in. Three large vaulted dungeons or
calabozos occupied three sides of this court, immediately below
the corridors of which I have already spoken. These dungeons
were roomy enough to contain respectively from one hundred to
one hundred and fifty prisoners, who were at night secured
therein with lock and bar, but during the day were permitted to
roam about the courts as they thought fit. The second court
was considerably larger than the first, though it contained but
two dungeons, horribly filthy and disgusting places; this
second court being used for the reception of the lower grades
of thieves. Of the two dungeons one was, if possible, yet more
horrible than the other; it was called the gallineria, or
chicken coop, and within it every night were pent up the young
fry of the prison, wretched boys from seven to fifteen years of
age, the greater part almost in a state of nudity. The common
bed of all the inmates of these dungeons was the ground,
between which and their bodies nothing intervened, save
occasionally a manta or horse-cloth, or perhaps a small
mattress; this latter luxury was, however, of exceedingly rare
occurrence.

Besides the calabozos connected with the courts, were
other dungeons in various parts of the prison; some of them
quite dark, intended for the reception of those whom it might
be deemed expedient to treat with peculiar severity. There was
likewise a ward set apart for females. Connected with the
principal corridor were many small apartments, where resided
prisoners confined for debt or for political offences. And,
lastly, there was a small capilla or chapel, in which prisoners
cast for death passed the last three days of their existence in
company of their ghostly advisers.

I shall not soon forget my first Sunday in prison.
Sunday is the gala day of the prison, at least of that of
Madrid, and whatever robber finery is to be found within it, is
sure to be exhibited on that day of holiness. There is not a
set of people in the world more vain than robbers in general,
more fond of cutting a figure whenever they have an
opportunity, and of attracting the eyes of their fellow
creatures by the gallantry of their appearance. The famous
Sheppard of olden times delighted in sporting a suit of Genoese
velvet, and when he appeared in public generally wore a silver-
hilted sword at his side; whilst Vaux and Hayward, heroes of a
later day, were the best dressed men on the pave of London.
Many of the Italian bandits go splendidly decorated, and the
very Gypsy robber has a feeling for the charms of dress; the
cap alone of the Haram Pasha, or leader of the cannibal Gypsy
band which infested Hungary towards the conclusion of the last
century, was adorned with gold and jewels to the value of four
thousand guilders. Observe, ye vain and frivolous, how vanity
and crime harmonize. The Spanish robbers are as fond of this
species of display as their brethren of other lands, and,
whether in prison or out of it, are never so happy as when,
decked out in a profusion of white linen, they can loll in the
sun, or walk jauntily up and down.

Snow-white linen, indeed, constitutes the principal
feature in the robber foppery of Spain. Neither coat nor
jacket is worn over the shirt, the sleeves of which are wide
and flowing, only a waistcoat of green or blue silk, with an
abundance of silver buttons, which are intended more for show
than use, as the vest is seldom buttoned. Then there are wide
trousers, something after the Turkish fashion; around the waist
is a crimson faja or girdle, and about the head is tied a
gaudily coloured handkerchief from the loom of Barcelona; light
pumps and silk stockings complete the robber's array. This
dress is picturesque enough, and well adapted to the fine
sunshiny weather of the Peninsula; there is a dash of
effeminacy about it, however, hardly in keeping with the
robber's desperate trade. It must not, however, be supposed
that it is every robber who can indulge in all this luxury;
there are various grades of thieves, some poor enough, with
scarcely a rag to cover them. Perhaps in the crowded prison of
Madrid, there were not more than twenty who exhibited the dress
which I have attempted to describe above; these were JENTE DE
REPUTACION, tip-top thieves, mostly young fellows, who, though
they had no money of their own, were supported in prison by
their majas and amigas, females of a certain class, who form
friendships with robbers, and whose glory and delight it is to
administer to the vanity of these fellows with the wages of
their own shame and abasement. These females supplied their
cortejos with the snowy linen, washed, perhaps, by their own
hands in the waters of the Manzanares, for the display of the
Sunday, when they would themselves make their appearance
dressed a la maja, and from the corridors would gaze with
admiring eyes upon the robbers vapouring about in the court
below.

Amongst those of the snowy linen who most particularly
attracted my attention, were a father and son; the former was a
tall athletic figure of about thirty, by profession a
housebreaker, and celebrated throughout Madrid for the peculiar
dexterity which he exhibited in his calling. He was now in
prison for a rather atrocious murder committed in the dead of
night, in a house at Caramanchel, in which his only accomplice
was his son, a child under seven years of age. "The apple," as
the Danes say, "had not fallen far from the tree"; the imp was
in every respect the counterpart of the father, though in
miniature. He, too, wore the robber shirt sleeves, the robber
waistcoat with the silver buttons, the robber kerchief round
his brow, and, ridiculous enough, a long Manchegan knife in the
crimson faja. He was evidently the pride of the ruffian
father, who took all imaginable care of this chick of the
gallows, would dandle him on his knee, and would occasionally
take the cigar from his own moustached lips and insert it in
the urchin's mouth. The boy was the pet of the court, for the
father was one of the valientes of the prison, and those who
feared his prowess, and wished to pay their court to him, were
always fondling the child. What an enigma is this world of
ours! How dark and mysterious are the sources of what is
called crime and virtue! If that infant wretch become
eventually a murderer like his father, is he to blame? Fondled
by robbers, already dressed as a robber, born of a robber,
whose own history was perhaps similar. Is it right?

O, man, man, seek not to dive into the mystery of moral
good and evil; confess thyself a worm, cast thyself on the
earth, and murmur with thy lips in the dust, Jesus, Jesus!

What most surprised me with respect to the prisoners, was
their good behaviour; I call it good when all things are taken
into consideration, and when I compare it with that of the
general class of prisoners in foreign lands. They had their
occasional bursts of wild gaiety, their occasional quarrels,
which they were in the habit of settling in a corner of the
inferior court with their long knives; the result not
unfrequently being death, or a dreadful gash in the face or the
abdomen; but, upon the whole, their conduct was infinitely
superior to what might have been expected from the inmates of
such a place. Yet this was not the result of coercion, or any
particular care which was exercised over them; for perhaps in
no part of the world are prisoners so left to themselves and so
utterly neglected as in Spain: the authorities having no
farther anxiety about them, than to prevent their escape; not
the slightest attention being paid to their moral conduct and
not a thought bestowed upon their health, comfort or mental
improvement, whilst within the walls. Yet in this prison of
Madrid, and I may say in Spanish prisons in general, for I have
been an inmate of more than one, the ears of the visitor are
never shocked with horrid blasphemy and obscenity, as in those
of some other countries, and more particularly in civilized
France; nor are his eyes outraged and himself insulted, as he
would assuredly be, were he to look down upon the courts from
the galleries of the Bicetre. And yet in this prison of Madrid
were some of the most desperate characters in Spain: ruffians
who had committed acts of cruelly and atrocity sufficient to
make the flesh shudder. But gravity and sedateness are the
leading characteristics of the Spaniards, and the very robber,
except in those moments when he is engaged in his occupation,
and then no one is more sanguinary, pitiless, and wolfishly
eager for booty, is a being who can be courteous and affable,
and who takes pleasure in conducting himself with sobriety and
decorum.

Happily, perhaps, for me, that my acquaintance with the
ruffians of Spain commenced and ended in the towns about which
I wandered, and in the prisons into which I was cast for the
Gospel's sake, and that, notwithstanding my long and frequent
journeys, I never came in contact with them on the road or in
the despoblado.

The most ill-conditioned being in the prison was a
Frenchman, though probably the most remarkable. He was about
sixty years of age, of the middle stature, but thin and meagre,
like most of his countrymen; he had a villainously-formed head,
according to all the rules of craniology, and his features were
full of evil expression. He wore no hat, and his clothes,
though in appearance nearly new, were of the coarsest
description. He generally kept aloof from the rest, and would
stand for hours together leaning against the walls with his
arms folded, glaring sullenly on what was passing before him.
He was not one of the professed valientes, for his age
prevented his assuming so distinguished a character, and yet
all the rest appeared to hold him in a certain awe: perhaps
they feared his tongue, which he occasionally exerted in
pouring forth withering curses on those who incurred his
displeasure. He spoke perfectly good Spanish, and to my great
surprise excellent Basque, in which he was in the habit of
conversing with Francisco, who, lolling from the window of my
apartment, would exchange jests and witticisms with the
prisoners in the court below, with whom he was a great
favourite.

One day when I was in the patio, to which I had free
admission whenever I pleased, by permission of the alcayde, I
went up to the Frenchman, who stood in his usual posture,
leaning against the wall, and offered him a cigar. I do not
smoke myself, but it will never do to mix among the lower
classes of Spain unless you have a cigar to present
occasionally. The man glared at me ferociously for a moment,
and appeared to be on the point of refusing my offer with
perhaps a hideous execration. I repeated it, however, pressing
my hand against my heart, whereupon suddenly the grim features
relaxed, and with a genuine French grimace, and a low bow, he
accepted the cigar, exclaiming, "AH, MONSIEUR, PARDON, MAIS
C'EST FAIRE TROP D'HONNEUR A UN PAUVRE DIABLE COMME MOI."

"Not at all," said I, "we are both fellow prisoners in a
foreign land, and being so we ought to countenance each other.
I hope that whenever I have need of your co-operation in this
prison you will afford it me."

"Ah, Monsieur," exclaimed the Frenchman in rapture, "VOUS
AVEZ BIEN RAISON; IL FAUT QUE LES EIRANGERS SE DONNENT LA MAIN
DANS CE . . . PAYS DE BARBARES. TENEZ," he added, in a
whisper, "if you have any plan for escaping, and require my
assistance, I have an arm and a knife at your service: you may
trust me, and that is more than you could any of these SACRES
GENS ICI," glancing fiercely round at his fellow prisoners.

"You appear to be no friend to Spain and the Spaniards,"
said I. "I conclude that you have experienced injustice at
their hands. For what have they immured you in this place?"

"POUR RIEN DU TOUT, C'EST A DIRE POUR UNE BAGATELLE; but
what can you expect from such animals? For what are you
imprisoned? Did I not hear say for Gypsyism and sorcery?"

"Perhaps you are here for your opinions?"

"AH, MON DIEU, NON; JE NE SUIS PAS HOMME A SEMBLABLE
BETISE. I have no opinions. JE FAISOIS . . . MAIS CE
N'IMPORTE; JE ME TROUVE ICI, OU JE CREVE DE FAIM."

"I am sorry to see a brave man in such a distressed
condition," said I; "have you nothing to subsist upon beyond
the prison allowance? Have you no friends?"

"Friends in this country, you mock me; here one has no
friends, unless one buy them. I am bursting with hunger; since
I have been here I have sold the clothes off my back, that I
might eat, for the prison allowance will not support nature,
and of half of that we are robbed by the Batu, as they call the
barbarian of a governor. LES HAILLONS which now cover me were
given by two or three devotees who sometimes visit here. I
would sell them if they would fetch aught. I have not a sou,
and for want of a few crowns I shall be garroted within a month
unless I can escape, though, as I told you before, I have done
nothing, a mere bagatelle; but the worst crimes in Spain are
poverty and misery."

"I have heard you speak Basque, are you from French
Biscay?"

"I am from Bordeaux, Monsieur; but I have lived much on
the Landes and in Biscay, TRAVAILLANT A MON METIER. I see by
your look that you wish to know my history. I shall not tell
it you. It contains nothing that is remarkable. See, I have
smoked out your cigar; you may give me another, and add a
dollar if you please, NOUS SOMMES CREVES ICI DE FAIM. I would
not say as much to a Spaniard, but I have a respect for your
countrymen; I know much of them; I have met them at Maida and
the other place." *

* Perhaps Waterloo.

"Nothing remarkable in his history!" Why, or I greatly
err, one chapter of his life, had it been written, would have
unfolded more of the wild and wonderful than fifty volumes of
what are in general called adventures and hairbreadth escapes
by land and sea. A soldier! what a tale could that man have
told of marches and retreats, of battles lost and won, towns
sacked, convents plundered; perhaps he had seen the flames of
Moscow ascending to the clouds, and had "tried his strength
with nature in the wintry desert," pelted by the snow-storm,
and bitten by the tremendous cold of Russia: and what could he
mean by plying his trade in Biscay and the Landes, but that he
had been a robber in those wild regions, of which the latter is
more infamous for brigandage and crime than any other part of
the French territory. Nothing remarkable in his history! then
what history in the world contains aught that is remarkable?

I gave him the cigar and dollar: he received them, and
then once more folding his arms, leaned back against the wall
and appeared to sink gradually into one of his reveries. I
looked him in the face and spoke to him, but he did not seem
either to hear or see me. His mind was perhaps wandering in
that dreadful valley of the shadow, into which the children of
earth, whilst living, occasionally find their way; that
dreadful region where there is no water, where hope dwelleth
not, where nothing lives but the undying worm. This valley is
the facsimile of hell, and he who has entered it, has
experienced here on earth for a time what the spirits of the
condemned are doomed to suffer through ages without end.

He was executed about a month from this time. The
bagatelle for which he was confined was robbery and murder by
the following strange device. In concert with two others, he
hired a large house in an unfrequented part of the town, to
which place he would order tradesmen to convey valuable
articles, which were to be paid for on delivery; those who
attended paid for their credulity with the loss of their lives
and property. Two or three had fallen into the snare. I
wished much to have had some private conversation with this
desperate man, and in consequence begged of the alcayde to
allow him to dine with me in my own apartment; whereupon
Monsieur Basompierre, for so I will take the liberty of calling
the governor, his real name having escaped my memory, took off
his hat, and, with his usual smile and bow, replied in purest
Castilian, "English Cavalier, and I hope I may add friend,
pardon me, that it is quite out of my power to gratify your
request, founded, I have no doubt, on the most admirable
sentiments of philosophy. Any of the other gentlemen beneath
my care shall, at any time you desire it, be permitted to wait
upon you in your apartment. I will even go so far as to cause
their irons, if irons they wear, to be knocked off in order
that they may partake of your refection with that comfort which
is seemly and convenient: but to the gentleman in question I
must object; he is the most evil disposed of the whole of this
family, and would most assuredly breed a funcion either in your
apartment or in the corridor, by an attempt to escape.
Cavalier, ME PESA, but I cannot accede to your request. But
with respect to any other gentleman, I shall be most happy,
even Balseiro, who, though strange things are told of him,
still knows how to comport himself, and in whose behaviour
there is something both of formality and politeness, shall this
day share your hospitality if you desire it, Cavalier."

Of Balseiro I have already had occasion to speak in the
former part of this narrative. He was now confined in an upper
story of the prison, in a strong room, with several other
malefactors. He had been found guilty of aiding and assisting
one Pepe Candelas, a thief of no inconsiderable renown, in a
desperate robbery perpetrated in open daylight upon no less a
personage than the queen's milliner, a Frenchwoman, whom they
bound in her own shop, from which they took goods and money to
the amount of five or six thousand dollars. Candelas had
already expiated his crime on the scaffold, but Balseiro, who
was said to be by far the worst ruffian of the two, had by dint
of money, an ally which his comrade did not possess, contrived
to save his own life; the punishment of death, to which he was
originally sentenced, having been commuted to twenty years'
hard labour in the presidio of Malaga. I visited this worthy
and conversed with him for some time through the wicket of the
dungeon. He recognized me, and reminded me of the victory
which I had once obtained over him, in the trial of our
respective skill in the crabbed Gitano, at which Sevilla the
bull-fighter was umpire.

Upon my telling him that I was sorry to see him in such a
situation, he replied that it was an affair of no manner of
consequence, as within six weeks he should be conducted to the
presidio, from which, with the assistance of a few ounces
distributed among the guards, he could at any time escape.
"But whither would you flee?" I demanded. "Can I not flee to
the land of the Moors," replied Balseiro, "or to the English in
the camp of Gibraltar; or, if I prefer it, cannot I return to
this foro (CITY), and live as I have hitherto done, choring the
gachos (ROBBING THE NATIVES); what is to hinder me? Madrid is
large, and Balseiro has plenty of friends, especially among the
lumias (WOMEN)," he added with a smile. I spoke to him of his
ill-fated accomplice Candelas; whereupon his face assumed a
horrible expression. "I hope he is in torment," exclaimed the
robber. The friendship of the unrighteous is never of long
duration; the two worthies had it seems quarrelled in prison;
Candelas having accused the other of bad faith and an undue
appropriation to his own use of the CORPUS DELICTI in various
robberies which they had committed in company.

I cannot refrain from relating the subsequent history of
this Balseiro. Shortly after my own liberation, too impatient
to wait until the presidio should afford him a chance of
regaining his liberty, he in company with some other convicts
broke through the roof of the prison and escaped. He instantly
resumed his former habits, committing several daring robberies,
both within and without the walls of Madrid. I now come to his
last, I may call it his master crime, a singular piece of
atrocious villainy. Dissatisfied with the proceeds of street
robbery and house-breaking, he determined upon a bold stroke,
by which he hoped to acquire money sufficient to support him in
some foreign land in luxury and splendour.

There was a certain comptroller of the queen's household,
by name Gabiria, a Basque by birth, and a man of immense
possessions: this individual had two sons, handsome boys,
between twelve and fourteen years of age, whom I had frequently
seen, and indeed conversed with, in my walks on the bank of the
Manzanares, which was their favourite promenade. These
children, at the time of which I am speaking, were receiving
their education at a certain seminary in Madrid. Balseiro,
being well acquainted with the father's affection for his
children, determined to make it subservient to his own
rapacity. He formed a plan which was neither more nor less
than to steal the children, and not to restore them to their
parent until he had received an enormous ransom. This plan was
partly carried into execution: two associates of Balseiro well
dressed drove up to the door of the seminary, where the
children were, and, by means of a forged letter, purporting to
be written by the father, induced the school-master to permit
the boys to accompany them for a country jaunt, as they
pretended. About five leagues from Madrid, Balseiro had a cave
in a wild unfrequented spot between the Escurial and a village
called Torre Lodones: to this cave the children were conducted,
where they remained in durance under the custody of the two
accomplices; Balseiro in the meantime remaining in Madrid for
the purpose of conducting negotiations with the father. The
father, however, was a man of considerable energy, and instead
of acceding to the terms of the ruffian, communicated in a
letter, instantly took the most vigorous measures for the
recovery of his children. Horse and foot were sent out to
scour the country, and in less than a week the children were
found near the cave, having been abandoned by their keepers,
who had taken fright on hearing of the decided measures which
had been resorted to; they were, however, speedily arrested and
identified by the boys as their ravishers. Balseiro perceiving
that Madrid was becoming too hot to hold him, attempted to
escape, but whether to the camp of Gibraltar or to the land of
the Moor, I know not; he was recognized, however, at a village
in the neighbourhood of Madrid, and being apprehended, was
forthwith conducted to the capital, where he shortly after
terminated his existence on the scaffold, with his two
associates; Gabiria and his children being present at the
ghastly scene, which they surveyed from a chariot at their
ease.

Such was the end of Balseiro, of whom I should certainly
not have said so much, but for the affair of the crabbed
Gitano. Poor wretch! he acquired that species of immortality
which is the object of the aspirations of many a Spanish thief,
whilst vapouring about in the patio, dressed in the snowy
linen; the rape of the children of Gabiria made him at once the
pet of the fraternity. A celebrated robber, with whom I was
subsequently imprisoned at Seville, spoke his eulogy in the
following manner. -

"Balseiro was a very good subject, and an honest man. He
was the head of our family, Don Jorge; we shall never see his
like again; pity that he did not sack the parne (MONEY), and
escape to the camp of the Moor, Don Jorge."

CHAPTER XLI

Maria Diaz - Priestly Vituperation - Antonio's Visit -
Antonio at Service - A Scene - Benedict Mol -
Wandering in Spain - The Four Evangiles.

"Well," said I to Maria Diaz on the third morning after
my imprisonment, "what do the people of Madrid say to this
affair of mine?"

"I do not know what the people of Madrid in general say
about it, probably they do not take much interest in it;
indeed, imprisonments at the present time are such common
matters that people seem to be quite indifferent to them; the
priests, however, are in no slight commotion, and confess that
they have committed an imprudent thing in causing you to be
arrested by their friend the corregidor of Madrid."

"How is that?" I inquired. "Are they afraid that their
friend will be punished?"

"Not so, Senor," replied Maria; "slight grief indeed
would it cause them, however great the trouble in which he had
involved himself on their account; for this description of
people have no affection, and would not care if all their
friends were hanged, provided they themselves escaped. But
they say that they have acted imprudently in sending you to
prison, inasmuch as by so doing they have given you an
opportunity of carrying a plan of yours into execution. `This
fellow is a bribon,' say they, `and has commenced tampering
with the prisoners; they have taught him their language, which
he already speaks as well as if he were a son of the prison.
As soon as he comes out he will publish a thieves' gospel,
which will still be a more dangerous affair than the Gypsy one,
for the Gypsies are few, but the thieves! woe is us; we shall
all be Lutheranized. What infamy, what rascality! It was a
trick of his own. He was always eager to get into prison, and
now in evil hour we have sent him there, EL BRIBONAZO; there
will be no safety for Spain until he is hanged; he ought to be
sent to the four hells, where at his leisure he might translate
his fatal gospels into the language of the demons.' "

"I but said three words to the alcayde of the prison,"
said I, "relative to the jargon used by the children of the
prison."

"Three words! Don Jorge; and what may not be made out of
three words? You have lived amongst us to little purpose if
you think we require more than three words to build a system
with: those three words about the thieves and their tongue were
quite sufficient to cause it to be reported throughout Madrid
that you had tampered with the thieves, had learnt their
language, and had written a book which was to overturn Spain,
open to the English the gates of Cadiz, give Mendizabal all the
church plate and jewels, and to Don Martin Luther the
archiepiscopal palace of Toledo."

Late in the afternoon of a rather gloomy day, as I was
sitting in the apartment which the alcayde had allotted me, I
heard a rap at the door. "Who is that?" I exclaimed. "C'EST
MOI, MON MAITRE," cried a well-known voice, and presently in
walked Antonio Buchini, dressed in the same style as when I
first introduced him to the reader, namely, in a handsome but
rather faded French surtout, vest and pantaloons, with a
diminutive hat in one hand, and holding in the other a long and
slender cane.

"BON JOUR, MON MAITRE," said the Greek; then glancing
around the apartment, he continued, "I am glad to find you so
well lodged. If I remember right, mon maitre, we have slept in
worse places during our wanderings in Galicia and Castile."

"You are quite right, Antonio," I replied; "I am very
comfortable. Well, this is kind of you to visit your ancient
master, more especially now he is in the toils; I hope,
however, that by so doing you will not offend your present
employer. His dinner hour must be at hand; why are not you in
the kitchen?"

"Of what employer are you speaking, mon maitre?" demanded
Antonio.

"Of whom should I speak but Count -, to serve whom you
abandoned me, being tempted by an offer of a monthly salary
less by four dollars than that which I was giving you."

"Your worship brings an affair to my remembrance which I
had long since forgotten. I have at present no other master
than yourself, Monsieur Georges, for I shall always consider
you as my master, though I may not enjoy the felicity of
waiting upon you."

"You have left the Count, then," said I, "after remaining
three days in the house, according to your usual practice."

"Not three hours, mon maitre," replied Antonio; "but I
will tell you the circumstances. Soon after I left you I
repaired to the house of Monsieur le Comte; I entered the
kitchen, and looked about me. I cannot say that I had much
reason to be dissatisfied with what I saw; the kitchen was
large and commodious, and every thing appeared neat and in its
proper place, and the domestics civil and courteous; yet I know
not how it was, the idea at once rushed into my mind that the
house was by no means suited to me, and that I was not destined
to stay there long; so hanging my haversac upon a nail, and
sitting down on the dresser, I commenced singing a Greek song,
as I am in the habit of doing when dissatisfied. The domestics
came about me asking questions; I made them no answer, however,
and continued singing till the hour for preparing the dinner
drew nigh, when I suddenly sprang on the floor and was not long
in thrusting them all out of the kitchen, telling them that
they had no business there at such a season; I then at once
entered upon my functions. I exerted myself, mon maitre, I
exerted myself, and was preparing a repast which would have
done me honour; there was, indeed, some company expected that
day, and I therefore determined to show my employer that
nothing was beyond the capacity of his Greek cook. EH BIEN,
mon maitre, all was going on remarkably well, and I felt almost
reconciled to my new situation, when who should rush into the
kitchen but LE FILS DE LA MAISON, my young master, an ugly
urchin of thirteen years or thereabouts; he bore in his hand a
manchet of bread, which, after prying about for a moment, he
proceeded to dip in the pan where some delicate woodcocks were
in the course of preparation. You know, mon maitre, how
sensitive I am on certain points, for I am no Spaniard but a
Greek, and have principles of honour. Without a moment's
hesitation I took my young master by the shoulders, and
hurrying him to the door, dismissed him in the manner which he
deserved; squalling loudly, he hurried away to the upper part
of the house. I continued my labours, but ere three minutes
had elapsed, I heard a dreadful confusion above stairs, ON
FAISOIT UNE HORRIBLE TINTAMARRE, and I could occasionally
distinguish oaths and execrations: presently doors were flung
open, and there was an awful rushing downstairs, a gallopade.
It was my lord the count, his lady, and my young master,
followed by a regular bevy of women and filles de chambre. Far
in advance of all, however, was my lord with a drawn sword in
his hand, shouting, `Where is the wretch who has dishonoured my
son, where is he? He shall die forthwith.' I know not how it
was, mon maitre, but I just then chanced to spill a large bowl
of garbanzos, which were intended for the puchera of the
following day. They were uncooked, and were as hard as
marbles; these I dashed upon the floor, and the greater part of
them fell just about the doorway. EH BIEN, mon maitre, in
another moment in bounded the count, his eyes sparkling like
coals, and, as I have already said, with a rapier in his hand.
`TENEZ, GUEUX ENRAGE,' he screamed, making a desperate lunge at
me, but ere the words were out of his mouth, his foot slipping
on the pease, he fell forward with great violence at his full
length, and his weapon flew out of his hand, COMME UNE FLECHE.
You should have heard the outcry which ensued - there was a
terrible confusion: the count lay upon the floor to all
appearance stunned; I took no notice, however, continuing
busily employed. They at last raised him up, and assisted him
till he came to himself, though very pale and much shaken. He
asked for his sword: all eyes were now turned upon me, and I
saw that a general attack was meditated. Suddenly I took a
large caserolle from the fire in which various eggs were
frying; this I held out at arm's length peering at it along my
arm as if I were curiously inspecting it; my right foot
advanced and the other thrown back as far as possible. All
stood still, imagining, doubtless, that I was about to perform
some grand operation, and so I was; for suddenly the sinister
leg advancing, with one rapid COUP DE PIED, I sent the
caserolle and its contents flying over my head, so that they
struck the wall far behind me. This was to let them know that
I had broken my staff and had shaken the dust off my feet; so
casting upon the count the peculiar glance of the Sceirote
cooks when they feel themselves insulted, and extending my
mouth on either side nearly as far as the ears, I took down my
haversac and departed, singing as I went the song of the
ancient Demos, who, when dying, asked for his supper, and water
wherewith to lave his hands:

[Greek text which cannot be reproduced]

And in this manner, mon maitre, I left the house of the
Count of - ."

MYSELF. - And a fine account you have given of yourself;
by your own confession, your behaviour was most atrocious.
Were it not for the many marks of courage and fidelity which
you have exhibited in my service, I would from this moment hold
no farther communication with you.

ANTONIO. - MAIS QU' EST CE QUE VOUS VOUDRIEZ, MON MAITRE?
Am I not a Greek, full of honour and sensibility? Would you
have the cooks of Sceira and Stambul submit to be insulted here
in Spain by the sons of counts rushing into the temple with
manchets of bread. Non, non, mon maitre, you are too noble to
require that, and what is more, TOO JUST. But we will talk of
other things. Mon maitre, I came not alone; there is one now
waiting in the corridor anxious to speak to you.

MYSELF. - Who is it?

ANTONIO. - One whom you have met, mon maitre, in various
and strange places.

MYSELF. - But who is it?

ANTONIO. - One who will come to a strange end, FOR SO IT
IS WRITTEN. The most extraordinary of all the Swiss, he of
Saint James, - DER SCHATZ GRABER.

MYSELF. - Not Benedict Mol?

"YAW, MEIN LIEBER HERR," said Benedict, pushing open the
door which stood ajar; "it is myself. I met Herr Anton in the
street, and hearing that you were in this place, I came with
him to visit you."

MYSELF. - And in the name of all that is singular, how is
it that I see you in Madrid again? I thought that by this time
you were returned to your own country.

BENEDICT. - Fear not, lieber herr, I shall return thither
in good time; but not on foot, but with mules and coach. The
schatz is still yonder, waiting to be dug up, and now I have
better hope than ever: plenty of friends, plenty of money. See
you not how I am dressed, lieber herr?

And verily his habiliments were of a much more
respectable appearance than any which he had sported on former
occasions. His coat and pantaloons, which were of light green,
were nearly new. On his head he still wore an Andalusian hat,
but the present one was neither old nor shabby, but fresh and
glossy, and of immense altitude of cone: whilst in his hand,
instead of the ragged staff which I had observed at Saint James
and Oviedo, he now carried a huge bamboo rattan, surmounted by
the grim head of either a bear or lion, curiously cut out of
pewter.

"You have all the appearance of a treasure seeker
returned from a successful expedition," I exclaimed.

"Or rather," interrupted Antonio, "of one who has ceased
to trade on his own bottom, and now goes seeking treasures at
the cost and expense of others."

I questioned the Swiss minutely concerning his adventures
since I last saw him, when I left him at Oviedo to pursue my
route to Santander. From his answers I gathered that he had
followed me to the latter place; he was, however, a long time
in performing the journey, being weak from hunger and
privation. At Santander he could hear no tidings of me, and by
this time the trifle which he had received from me was
completely exhausted. He now thought of making his way into
France, but was afraid to venture through the disturbed
provinces, lest he should fall into the hands of the Carlists,
who he conceived might shoot him as a spy. No one relieving
him at Santander, he departed and begged his way till he found
himself in some part of Aragon, but where he scarcely knew.
"My misery was so great," said Bennet, "that I nearly lost my
senses. Oh, the horror of wandering about the savage hills and
wide plains of Spain, without money and without hope!
Sometimes I became desperate, when I found myself amongst rocks
and barrancos, perhaps after having tasted no food from sunrise
to sunset, and then I would raise my staff towards the sky and
shake it, crying, lieber herr Gott, ach lieber herr Gott, you
must help me now or never; if you tarry, I am lost; you must
help me now, now! And once when I was raving in this manner,
methought I heard a voice, nay I am sure I heard it, sounding
from the hollow of a rock, clear and strong; and it cried, `Der
schatz, der schatz, it is not yet dug up; to Madrid, to Madrid.
The way to the schatz is through Madrid.' And then the thought
of the schatz once more rushed into my mind, and I reflected
how happy I might be, could I but dig up the schatz. No more
begging, then, no more wandering amidst horrid mountains and
deserts; so I brandished my staff, and my body and my limbs
became full of new and surprising strength, and I strode
forward, and was not long before I reached the high road; and
then I begged and bettled as I best could, until I reached
Madrid."

"And what has befallen you since you reached Madrid?" I
inquired. "Did you find the treasure in the streets?"

On a sudden Bennet became reserved and taciturn, which
the more surprised me, as, up to the present moment, he had at
all times been remarkably communicative with respect to his
affairs and prospects. From what I could learn from his broken
hints and innuendoes, it appeared that, since his arrival at
Madrid, he had fallen into the hands of certain people who had
treated him with kindness, and provided him with both money and
clothes; not from disinterested motives, however, but having an
eye to the treasure. "They expect great things from me," said
the Swiss; "and perhaps, after all, it would have been more
profitable to have dug up the treasure without their
assistance, always provided that were possible." Who his new
friends were, he either knew not or would not tell me, save
that they were people in power. He said something about Queen
Christina and an oath which he had taken in the presence of a
bishop on the crucifix and "the four Evangiles." I thought
that his head was turned, and forbore questioning. Just before
taking his departure, he observed "Lieber herr, pardon me for
not being quite frank towards you, to whom I owe so much, but I
dare not; I am not now my own man. It is, moreover, an evil
thing at all times to say a word about treasure before you have
secured it. There was once a man in my own country, who dug
deep into the earth until he arrived at a copper vessel which
contained a schatz. Seizing it by the handle, he merely
exclaimed in his transport, `I have it'; that was enough,
however: down sank the kettle, though the handle remained in
his grasp. That was all he ever got for his trouble and
digging. Farewell, lieber herr, I shall speedily be sent back
to Saint James to dig up the schatz; but I will visit you ere I
go - farewell."

CHAPTER XLII

Liberation from Prison - The Apology - Human Nature -
The Greek's Return - Church of Rome - Light of Scripture -
Archbishop of Toledo - An Interview - Stones of Price -
A Resolution - The Foreign Language - Benedict's Farewell -
Treasure Hunt at Compostella - Truth and Fiction.

I Remained about three weeks in the prison of Madrid, and
then left it. If I had possessed any pride, or harboured any
rancour against the party who had consigned me to durance, the
manner in which I was restored to liberty would no doubt have
been highly gratifying to those evil passions; the government
having acknowledged, by a document transmitted to Sir George,
that I had been incarcerated on insufficient grounds, and that
no stigma attached itself to me from the imprisonment I had
undergone; at the same time agreeing to defray all the expenses
to which I had been subjected throughout the progress of this
affair.

It moreover expressed its willingness to dismiss the
individual owing to whose information I had been first
arrested, namely, the corchete or police officer who had
visited me in my apartments in the Calle de Santiago, and
behaved himself in the manner which I have described in a
former chapter. I declined, however, to avail myself of this
condescension of the government, more especially as I was
informed that the individual in question had a wife and family,
who, if he were disgraced, would be at once reduced to want. I
moreover considered that, in what he had done and said, he had
probably only obeyed some private orders which he had received;
I therefore freely forgave him, and if he does not retain his
situation at the present moment, it is certainly no fault of
mine.

I likewise refused to accept any compensation for my
expenses, which were considerable. It is probable that many
persons in my situation would have acted very differently in
this respect, and I am far from saying that herein I acted
discreetly or laudably; but I was averse to receive money from
people such as those of which the Spanish government was
composed, people whom I confess I heartily despised, and I was
unwilling to afford them an opportunity of saying that after
they had imprisoned an Englishman unjustly, and without a
cause, he condescended to receive money at their hands. In a
word, I confess my own weakness; I was willing that they should
continue my debtors, and have little doubt that they had not
the slightest objection to remain so; they kept their money,
and probably laughed in their sleeves at my want of common
sense.

The heaviest loss which resulted from my confinement, and
for which no indemnification could be either offered or
received, was in the death of my affectionate and faithful
Basque Francisco, who having attended me during the whole time
of my imprisonment, caught the pestilential typhus or gaol
fever, which was then raging in the Carcel de la Corte, of
which he expired within a few days subsequent to my liberation.
His death occurred late one evening; the next morning as I was
lying in bed ruminating on my loss, and wondering of what
nation my next servant would be, I heard a noise which seemed
to be that of a person employed vigorously in cleaning boots or
shoes, and at intervals a strange discordant voice singing
snatches of a song in some unknown language: wondering who it
could be, I rang the bell.

"Did you ring, mon maitre," said Antonio, appearing at
the door with one of his arms deeply buried in a boot.

"I certainly did ring," said I, "but I scarcely expected
that you would have answered the summons."

"MAIS POURQUOI NON, MON MAITRE?" cried Antonio. "Who
should serve you now but myself? N'EST PAS QUE LE SIEUR
FRANCOIS EST MORT? And did I not say, as soon as I heard of
his departure, I shall return to my functions CHEZ MON MAITRE,
Monsieur Georges?"

"I suppose you had no other employment, and on that
account you came."

"AU CONTRAIRE, MON MAITRE," replied the Greek, "I had
just engaged myself at the house of the Duke of Frias, from
whom I was to receive ten dollars per month more than I shall
accept from your worship; but on hearing that you were without
a domestic, I forthwith told the Duke, though it was late at
night, that he would not suit me, and here I am."

"I shall not receive you in this manner," said I; "return
to the Duke, apologize for your behaviour, request your
dismission in a regular way; and then if his grace is willing
to part with you, as will most probably be the case, I shall be
happy to avail myself of your services."

It is reasonable to expect that after having been
subjected to an imprisonment which my enemies themselves
admitted to be unjust, I should in future experience more
liberal treatment at their hands than that which they had
hitherto adopted towards me. The sole object of my ambition at
this time was to procure toleration for the sale of the Gospel
in this unhappy and distracted kingdom, and to have attained
this end I would not only have consented to twenty such
imprisonments in succession, as that which I had undergone, but
would gladly have sacrificed life itself. I soon perceived,
however, that I was likely to gain nothing by my incarceration;
on the contrary, I had become an object of personal dislike to
the government since the termination of this affair, which it
was probable I had never been before; their pride and vanity
were humbled by the concessions which they had been obliged to
make in order to avoid a rupture with England. This dislike
they were now determined to gratify, by thwarting my views as
much as possible. I had an interview with Ofalia on the
subject uppermost in my mind: I found him morose and snappish.
"It will be for your interest to be still," said he; "beware!
you have already thrown the whole corte into confusion; beware,
I repeat; another time you may not escape so easily."  "Perhaps
not," I replied, "and perhaps I do not wish it; it is a
pleasant thing to be persecuted for the Gospel's sake. I now
take the liberty of inquiring whether, if I attempt to
circulate the word of God, I am to be interrupted."  "Of
course," exclaimed Ofalia; "the church forbids such
circulation."  "I shall make the attempt, however," I
exclaimed. "Do you mean what you say?" demanded Ofalia,
arching his eyebrows and elongating his mouth. "Yes," I
continued, "I shall make the attempt in every village in Spain
to which I can penetrate."

Throughout my residence in Spain the clergy were the
party from which I experienced the strongest opposition; and it
was at their instigation that the government originally adopted
those measures which prevented any extensive circulation of the
sacred volume through the land. I shall not detain the course
of my narrative with reflections as to the state of a church,
which, though it pretends to be founded on Scripture, would yet
keep the light of Scripture from all mankind, if possible. But
Rome is fully aware that she is not a Christian church, and
having no desire to become so, she acts prudently in keeping
from the eyes of her followers the page which would reveal to
them the truths of Christianity. Her agents and minions
throughout Spain exerted themselves to the utmost to render my
humble labours abortive, and to vilify the work which I was
attempting to disseminate. All the ignorant and fanatical
clergy (the great majority) were opposed to it, and all those
who were anxious to keep on good terms with the court of Rome
were loud in their cry against it. There was, however, one
section of the clergy, a small one, it is true, rather
favourably disposed towards the circulation of the Gospel
though by no means inclined to make any particular sacrifice
for the accomplishment of such an end: these were such as
professed liberalism, which is supposed to mean a disposition
to adopt any reform both in civil and church matters, which may
be deemed conducive to the weal of the country. Not a few
amongst the Spanish clergy were supporters of this principle,
or at least declared themselves so, some doubtless for their
own advancement, hoping to turn the spirit of the times to
their own personal profit; others, it is to be hoped, from
conviction, and a pure love of the principle itself. Amongst
these were to be found, at the time of which I am speaking,
several bishops. It is worthy of remark, however, that of all
these not one but owed his office, not to the Pope, who
disowned them one and all, but to the Queen Regent, the
professed head of liberalism throughout all Spain. It is not,
therefore, surprising that men thus circumstanced should feel
rather disposed than not to countenance any measure or scheme
at all calculated to favour the advancement of liberalism; and
surely such an one was a circulation of the Scriptures. I
derived but little assistance from their good will, however,
supposing that they entertained some, as they never took any
decided stand nor lifted up their voices in a bold and positive
manner, denouncing the conduct of those who would withhold the
light of Scripture from the world. At one time I hoped by
their instrumentality to accomplish much in Spain in the Gospel
cause; but I was soon undeceived, and became convinced that
reliance on what they would effect, was like placing the hand
on a staff of reed which will only lacerate the flesh. More
than once some of them sent messages to me, expressive of their
esteem, and assuring me how much the cause of the Gospel was
dear to their hearts. I even received an intimation that a
visit from me would be agreeable to the Archbishop of Toledo,
the Primate of Spain.

Of this personage I can say but little, his early history
being entirely unknown to me. At the death of Ferdinand, I
believe, he was Bishop of Mallorca, a small insignificant see,
of very scanty revenues, which perhaps he had no objection to
exchange for one more wealthy; it is probable, however, that
had he proved a devoted servant of the Pope, and consequently a
supporter of legitimacy, he would have continued to the day of
his death to fill the episcopal chair of Mallorca; but he was
said to be a liberal, and the Queen Regent thought fit to
bestow upon him the dignity of Archbishop of Toledo, by which
he became the head of the Spanish church. The Pope, it is
true, had refused to ratify the nomination, on which account
all good Catholics were still bound to consider him as Bishop
of Mallorca, and not as Primate of Spain. He however received
the revenues belonging to the see, which, though only a shadow
of what they originally were, were still considerable, and
lived in the primate's palace at Madrid, so that if he were not
archbishop DE JURE, he was what many people would have
considered much better, archbishop DE FACTO.

Hearing that this personage was a personal friend of
Ofalia, who was said to entertain a very high regard for him, I
determined upon paying him a visit, and accordingly one morning
betook myself to the palace in which he resided. I experienced
no difficulty in obtaining an interview, being forthwith
conducted to his presence by a common kind of footman, an
Asturian, I believe, whom I found seated on a stone bench in
the entrance hall. When I was introduced the Archbishop was
alone, seated behind a table in a large apartment, a kind of
drawing-room; he was plainly dressed, in a black cassock and
silken cap; on his finger, however, glittered a superb
amethyst, the lustre of which was truly dazzling. He rose for
a moment as I advanced, and motioned me to a chair with his
hand. He might be about sixty years of age; his figure was
very tall, but he stooped considerably, evidently from
feebleness, and the pallid hue of ill health overspread his
emaciated features. When he had reseated himself, he dropped
his head, and appeared to be looking on the table before him.

"I suppose your lordship knows who I am?" said I, at last
breaking silence.

The Archbishop bent his head towards the right shoulder,
in a somewhat equivocal manner, but said nothing.

"I am he whom the Manolos of Madrid call Don Jorgito el
Ingles; I am just come out of prison, whither I was sent for
circulating my Lord's Gospel in this kingdom of Spain?"

The Archbishop made the same equivocal motion with his
head, but still said nothing.

"I was informed that your lordship was desirous of seeing
me, and on that account I have paid you this visit."

"I did not send for you," said the Archbishop, suddenly
raising his head with a startled look.

"Perhaps not: I was, however, given to understand that my
presence would be agreeable; but as that does not seem to be
the case, I will leave."

"Since you are come, I am very glad to see you."

"I am very glad to hear it," said I, reseating myself;
"and since I am here, we may as well talk of an all-important
matter, the circulation of the Scripture. Does your lordship
see any way by which an end so desirable might be brought
about?"

"No," said the Archbishop faintly.

"Does not your lordship think that a knowledge of the
Scripture would work inestimable benefit in these realms?"

"I don't know."

"Is it probable that the government may be induced to
consent to the circulation?"

"How should I know?" and the Archbishop looked me in the
face.

I looked in the face of the Archbishop; there was an
expression of helplessness in it, which almost amounted to
dotage. "Dear me," thought I, "whom have I come to on an
errand like mine? Poor man, you are not fitted to play the
part of Martin Luther, and least of all in Spain. I wonder why
your friends selected you to be Archbishop of Toledo; they
thought perhaps that you would do neither good nor harm, and
made choice of you, as they sometimes do primates in my own
country, for your incapacity. You do not seem very happy in
your present situation; no very easy stall this of yours. You
were more comfortable, I trow, when you were the poor Bishop of
Mallorca; could enjoy your puchera then without fear that the
salt would turn out sublimate. No fear then of being smothered
in your bed. A siesta is a pleasant thing when one is not
subject to be disturbed by `the sudden fear.' I wonder whether
they have poisoned you already," I continued, half aloud, as I
kept my eyes fixed on his countenance, which methought was
becoming ghastly.

"Did you speak, Don Jorge?" demanded the Archbishop.

"That is a fine brilliant on your lordship's hand," said
I.

"You are fond of brilliants, Don Jorge," said the
Archbishop, his features brightening up; "vaya! so am I; they
are pretty things. Do you understand them?"

"I do," said I, "and I never saw a finer brilliant than
your own, one excepted; it belonged to an acquaintance of mine,
a Tartar Khan. He did not bear it on his finger, however; it
stood in the frontlet of his horse, where it shone like a star.
He called it Daoud Scharr, which, being interpreted, meaneth
LIGHT OF WAR."

"Vaya!" said the Archbishop, "how very extra-ordinary; I
am glad you are fond of brilliants, Don Jorge. Speaking of
horses, reminds me that I have frequently seen you on
horseback. Vaya! how you ride; it is dangerous to be in your
way."

"Is your lordship fond of equestrian exercise?"

"By no means, Don Jorge; I do not like horses; it is not
the practice of the church to ride on horseback. We prefer
mules: they are the quieter animals; I fear horses, they kick
so violently."

"The kick of a horse is death," said I, "if it touches a
vital part. I am not, however, of your lordship's opinion with
respect to mules: a good ginete may retain his seat on a horse
however vicious, but a mule - vaya! when a false mule TIRA POR
DETRAS, I do not believe that the Father of the Church himself
could keep the saddle a moment, however sharp his bit."

As I was going away, I said, "And with respect to the
Gospel, your lordship; what am I to understand?"

"NO SE," said the Archbishop, again bending his head
towards the right shoulder, whilst his features resumed their
former vacant expression. And thus terminated my interview
with the Archbishop of Toledo.

"It appears to me," said I to Maria Diaz, on returning
home; "it appears to me, Marequita mia, that if the Gospel in
Spain is to wait for toleration until these liberal bishops and
archbishops come forward boldly in its behalf, it will have to
tarry a considerable time."

"I am much of your worship's opinion," answered Maria; "a
fine thing, truly, it would be to wait till they exerted
themselves in its behalf. Ca! the idea makes me smile: was
your worship ever innocent enough to suppose that they cared
one tittle about the Gospel or its cause? Vaya! they are true
priests, and had only self-interest in view in their advances
to you. The Holy Father disowns them, and they would now fain,
by awaking his fears and jealousy, bring him to some terms; but
let him once acknowledge them and see whether they would admit
you to their palaces or hold any intercourse with you: `Forth
with the fellow,' they would say; `vaya! is he not a Lutheran?
Is he not an enemy to the Church? A LA HORCA, A LA HORCA!' I
know this family better than you do, Don Jorge."

"It is useless tarrying," said I; "nothing, however, can
be done in Madrid. I cannot sell the work at the despacho, and
I have just received intelligence that all the copies exposed
for sale in the libraries in the different parts of Spain which
I visited, have been sequestrated by order of the government.
My resolution is taken: I shall mount my horses, which are
neighing in the stable, and betake myself to the villages and
plains of dusty Spain. AL CAMPO, AL CAMPO: `Ride forth because
of the word of righteousness, and thy right hand shall show
thee terrible things.' I will ride forth, Maria."

"Your worship can do no better; and allow me here to tell
you, that for every single book you might sell in a despacho in
the city, you may dispose of one hundred amongst the villages,
always provided you offer them cheap: for in the country money
is rather scant. Vaya! should I not know? am I not a villager
myself, a villana from the Sagra? Ride forth, therefore; your
horses are neighing in the stall, as your worship says, and you
might almost have added that the Senor Antonio is neighing in
the house. He says he has nothing to do, on which account he
is once more dissatisfied and unsettled. He finds fault with
everything, but more particularly with myself. This morning I
saluted him, and he made me no reply, but twisted his mouth in
a manner very uncommon in this land of Spain."

"A thought strikes me," said I; "you have mentioned the
Sagra; why should not I commence my labours amongst the
villages of that district?"

"Your worship can do no better," replied Maria; "the
harvest is just over there, and you will find the people
comparatively unemployed, with leisure to attend and listen to
you; and if you follow my advice, you will establish yourself
at Villa Seca, in the house of my fathers, where at present
lives my lord and husband. Go, therefore, to Villa Seca in the
first place, and from thence you can sally forth with the Senor
Antonio upon your excursions. Peradventure, my husband will
accompany you; and if so, you will find him highly useful. The
people of Villa Seca are civil and courteous, your worship;
when they address a foreigner they speak to him at the top of
their voice and in Gallegan."

"In Gallegan!" I exclaimed.

"They all understand a few words of Gallegan, which they
have acquired from the mountaineers, who occasionally assist
them in cutting the harvest, and as Gallegan is the only
foreign language they know, they deem it but polite to address
a foreigner in that tongue. Vaya! it is not a bad village,
that of Villa Seca, nor are the people; the only ill-
conditioned person living there is his reverence the curate."

I was not long in making preparations for my enterprise.
A considerable stock of Testaments were sent forward by an
arriero, I myself followed the next day. Before my departure,
however, I received a Benedict Mol.

"I am come to bid you farewell, lieber herr; I return to
Compostella."

"On what errand?"

"To dig up the schatz, lieber herr. For what else should
I go? For what have I lived until now, but that I may dig up
the schatz in the end?"

"You might have lived for something better," I exclaimed.
"I wish you success, however. But on what grounds do you hope?
Have you obtained permission to dig? Surely you remember your
former trials in Galicia?"

"I have not forgotten them, lieber herr, nor the journey
to Oviedo, nor `the seven acorns,' nor the fight with death in
the barranco. But I must accomplish my destiny. I go now to
Galicia, as is becoming a Swiss, at the expense of the
government, with coach and mule, I mean in the galera. I am to
have all the help I require, so that I can dig down to the
earth's centre if I think fit. I - but I must not tell your
worship, for I am sworn on `the four Evangiles' not to tell."

"Well, Benedict, I have nothing to say, save that I hope
you will succeed in your digging."

"Thank you, lieber herr, thank you; and now farewell.
Succeed! I shall succeed!" Here he stopped short, started,
and looking upon me with an expression of countenance almost
wild, he exclaimed: "Heiliger Gott! I forgot one thing.
Suppose I should not find the treasure after all."

"Very rationally said; pity, though, that you did not
think of that contingency till now. I tell you, my friend,
that you have engaged in a most desperate undertaking. It is
true that you may find a treasure. The chances are, however, a
hundred to one that you do not, and in that event, what will be
your situation? You will be looked upon as an impostor, and
the consequences may be horrible to you. Remember where you
are, and amongst whom you are. The Spaniards are a credulous
people, but let them once suspect that they have been imposed
upon, and above all laughed at, and their thirst for vengeance
knows no limit. Think not that your innocence will avail you.
That you are no impostor I feel convinced; but they would never
believe it. It is not too late. Return your fine clothes and
magic rattan to those from whom you had them. Put on your old
garments, grasp your ragged staff, and come with me to the
Sagra, to assist in circulating the illustrious Gospel amongst
the rustics on the Tagus' bank."

Benedict mused for a moment, then shaking his head, he
cried, "No, no, I must accomplish my destiny. The schatz is
not yet dug up. So said the voice in the barranco. To-morrow
to Compostella. I shall find it - the schatz - it is still
there - it MUST be there."

He went, and I never saw him more. What I heard,
however, was extraordinary enough. It appeared that the
government had listened to his tale, and had been so struck
with Bennet's exaggerated description of the buried treasure,
that they imagined that, by a little trouble and outlay, gold
and diamonds might be dug up at Saint James sufficient to
enrich themselves and to pay off the national debt of Spain.
The Swiss returned to Compostella "like a duke," to use his own
words. The affair, which had at first been kept a profound
secret, was speedily divulged. It was, indeed, resolved that
the investigation, which involved consequences of so much
importance, should take place in a manner the most public and
imposing. A solemn festival was drawing nigh, and it was
deemed expedient that the search should take place on that day.
The day arrived. All the bells in Compostella pealed. The
whole populace thronged from their houses, a thousand troops
were drawn up in the square, the expectation of all was wound
up to the highest pitch. A procession directed its course to
the church of San Roque; at its head was the captain-general
and the Swiss, brandishing in his hand the magic rattan, close
behind walked the MEIGA, the Gallegan witch-wife, by whom the
treasure-seeker had been originally guided in the search;
numerous masons brought up the rear, bearing implements to
break up the ground. The procession enters the church, they
pass through it in solemn march, they find themselves in a
vaulted passage. The Swiss looks around. "Dig here," said he
suddenly. "Yes, dig here," said the meiga. The masons labour,
the floor is broken up, - a horrible and fetid odour arises. .
. .

Enough; no treasure was found, and my warning to the
unfortunate Swiss turned out but too prophetic. He was
forthwith seized and flung into the horrid prison of Saint
James, amidst the execrations of thousands, who would have
gladly torn him limb from limb.

The affair did not terminate here. The political
opponents of the government did not allow so favourable an
opportunity to escape for launching the shafts of ridicule.
The Moderados were taunted in the cortes for their avarice and
credulity, whilst the liberal press wafted on its wings through
Spain the story of the treasure-hunt at Saint James.

"After all, it was a TRAMPA of Don Jorge's," said one of
my enemies. "That fellow is at the bottom of half the
picardias which happen in Spain."

Eager to learn the fate of the Swiss, I wrote to my old
friend Rey Romero, at Compostella. In his answer he states: "I
saw the Swiss in prison, to which place he sent for me, craving
my assistance, for the sake of the friendship which I bore to
you. But how could I help him? He was speedily after removed
from Saint James, I know not whither. It is said that he
disappeared on the road."

Truth is sometimes stranger than fiction. Where in the
whole cycle of romance shall we find anything more wild,
grotesque, and sad, than the easily-authenticated history of
Benedict Mol, the treasure-digger of Saint James?

CHAPTER XLIII

Villa Seca - Moorish House - The Puchera - The Rustic Council -
Polite Ceremonial - The Flower of Spain - The Bridge of Azeca -
The Ruined Castle - Taking the Field - Demand for the Word -
he Old Peasant - The Curate and Blacksmith -
Cheapness of the Scriptures.

It was one of the most fiercely hot days in which I ever
braved the sun, when I arrived at Villa Seca. The heat in the
shade must have amounted at least to one hundred degrees, and
the entire atmosphere seemed to consist of flickering flame.
At a place called Leganez, six leagues from Madrid, and about
half way to Toledo, we diverged from the highway, bending our
course seemingly towards the south-east. We rode over what are
called plains in Spain, but which, in any other part of the
world, would be called undulating and broken ground. The crops
of corn and barley had already disappeared. The last vestiges
discoverable being here and there a few sheaves, which the
labourers were occupied in removing to their garners in the
villages. The country could scarcely be called beautiful,
being perfectly naked, exhibiting neither trees nor verdure.
It was not, however, without its pretensions to grandeur and
magnificence, like every part of Spain. The most prominent
objects were two huge calcareous hills or rather one cleft in
twain, which towered up on high; the summit of the nearest
being surmounted by the ruins of an ancient castle, that of
Villaluenga. About an hour past noon we reached Villa Seca.

We found it a large village, containing about seven
hundred inhabitants, and surrounded by a mud wall. A plaza, or
market-place, stood in the midst, one side of which is occupied
by what is called a palace, a clumsy quadrangular building of
two stories, belonging to some noble family, the lords of the
neighbouring soil. It was deserted, however, being only
occupied by a kind of steward, who stored up in its chambers
the grain which he received as rent from the tenants and
villanos who farmed the surrounding district.

The village stands at the distance of about a quarter of
a league from the bank of the Tagus, which even here, in the
heart of Spain, is a beautiful stream, not navigable, however,
on account of the sand-banks, which in many places assume the
appearance of small islands, and are covered with trees and
brushwood. The village derives its supply of water entirely
from the river, having none of its own; such at least as is
potable, the water of its wells being all brackish, on which
account it is probably termed Villa Seca, which signifies "the
dry hamlet." The inhabitants are said to have been originally
Moors; certain it is, that various customs are observable here
highly favourable to such a supposition. Amongst others, a
very curious one; it is deemed infamous for a woman of Villa
Seca to go across the market-place, or to be seen there, though
they have no hesitation in showing themselves in the streets
and lanes. A deep-rooted hostility exists between the
inhabitants of this place and those of a neighbouring village,
called Vargas; they rarely speak when they meet, and never
intermarry. There is a vague tradition that the people of the
latter place are old Christians, and it is highly probable that
these neighbours were originally of widely different blood;
those of Villa Seca being of particularly dark complexions,
whilst the indwellers of Vargas are light and fair. Thus the
old feud between Moor and Christian is still kept up in the
nineteenth century in Spain.

Drenched in perspiration, which fell from our brows like
rain, we arrived at the door of Juan Lopez, the husband of
Maria Diaz. Having heard of our intention to pay him a visit,
he was expecting us, and cordially welcomed us to his
habitation, which, like a genuine Moorish house, consisted only
of one story. It was amply large, however, with a court and
stable. All the apartments were deliciously cool. The floors
were of brick or stone, and the narrow and trellised windows,
which were without glass, scarcely permitted a ray of sun to
penetrate into the interior.

A puchera had been prepared in expectation of our
arrival; the heat had not taken away my appetite, and it was
not long before I did full justice to this the standard dish of
Spain. Whilst I ate, Lopez played upon the guitar, singing
occasionally snatches of Andalusian songs. He was a short,
merry-faced, active fellow, whom I had frequently seen at
Madrid, and was a good specimen of the Spanish labrador or
yeoman. Though far from possessing the ability and intellect
of his wife, Maria Diaz, he was by no means deficient in
shrewdness and understanding. He was, moreover, honest and
disinterested, and performed good service in the Gospel cause,
as will presently appear.

When the repast was concluded, Lopez thus addressed me:-
"Senor Don Jorge, your arrival in our village has already
caused a sensation, more especially as these are times of war
and tumult, and every person is afraid of another, and we dwell
here close on the confines of the factious country; for, as you
well know, the greater part of La Mancha is in the hands of the
Carlinos and thieves, parties of whom frequently show
themselves on the other side of the river: on which account the
alcalde of this city, with the other grave and notable people
thereof, are desirous of seeing your worship, and conversing
with you, and of examining your passport." "It is well," said
I; "let us forthwith pay a visit to these worthy people."
Whereupon he conducted me across the plaza, to the house of the
alcalde, where I found the rustic dignitary seated in the
passage, enjoying the refreshing coolness of a draught of air
which rushed through. He was an elderly man, of about sixty,
with nothing remarkable in his appearance or his features,
which latter were placid and good-humoured. There were several
people with him, amongst whom was the surgeon of the place, a
tall and immensely bulky man, an Alavese by birth, from the
town of Vitoria. There was also a red fiery-faced individual,
with a nose very much turned on one side, who was the
blacksmith of the village, and was called in general El Tuerto,
from the circumstance of his having but one eye. Making the
assembly a low bow, I pulled out my passport, and thus
addressed them:-

"Grave men and cavaliers of this city of Villa Seca, as I
am a stranger, of whom it is not possible that you should know
anything, I have deemed it my duty to present myself before
you, and to tell you who I am. Know, then, that I am an
Englishman of good blood and fathers, travelling in these
countries for my own profit and diversion, and for that of
other people also. I have now found my way to Villa Seca,
where I propose to stay some time, doing that which may be
deemed convenient; sometimes riding across the plain, and
sometimes bathing myself in the waters of the river, which are
reported to be of advantage in times of heat, I therefore beg
that, during my sojourn in this capital, I may enjoy such
countenance and protection from its governors as they are in
the habit of affording to those who are of quiet and well-
ordered life, and are disposed to be buxom and obedient to the
customs and laws of the republic."

"He speaks well," said the alcalde, glancing around.

"Yes, he speaks well," said the bulky Alavese; "there is
no denying it."

"I never heard any one speak better," cried the
blacksmith, starting up from a stool on which he was seated.
"Vaya! he is a big man and a fair complexioned like myself. I
like him, and have a horse that will just suit him; one that is
the flower of Spain, and is eight inches above the mark."

I then, with another bow, presented my passport to the
alcalde, who, with a gentle motion of his hand, appeared to
decline taking it, at the same time saying, "It is not
necessary." "Oh, not at all," exclaimed the surgeon. "The
housekeepers of Villa Seca know how to comport themselves with
formality," observed the blacksmith. "They would be very loth
to harbour any suspicion against a cavalier so courteous and
well spoken." Knowing, however, that this refusal amounted to
nothing, and that it merely formed part of a polite ceremonial,
I proffered the passport a second time, whereupon it was
instantly taken, and in a moment the eyes of all present were
bent upon it with intense curiosity. It was examined from top
to bottom, and turned round repeatedly, and though it is not
probable that an individual present understood a word of it, it
being written in French, it gave nevertheless universal
satisfaction; and when the alcalde, carefully folding it up,
returned it to me, they all observed that they had never seen a
better passport in their lives, or one which spake in higher
terms of the bearer.

Who was it said that "Cervantes sneered Spain's chivalry
away?" I know not; and the author of such a line scarcely
deserves to be remembered. How the rage for scribbling tempts
people at the present day to write about lands and nations of
which they know nothing, or worse than nothing. Vaya! It is
not from having seen a bull-fight at Seville or Madrid, or
having spent a handful of ounces at a posada in either of those
places, kept perhaps by a Genoese or a Frenchman, that you are
competent to write about such a people as the Spaniards, and to
tell the world how they think, how they speak, and how they
act! Spain's chivalry sneered away! Why, there is every
probability that the great body of the Spanish nation speak,
think, and live precisely as their forefathers did six
centuries ago.

In the evening the blacksmith, or, as he would be called
in Spanish, El Herrador, made his appearance at the door of
Lopez on horseback. "Vamos, Don Jorge," he shouted. "Come
with me, if your worship is disposed for a ride. I am going to
bathe my horse in the Tagus by the bridge of Azeca." I
instantly saddled my jaca Cordovesa, and joining him, we rode
out of the village, directing our course across the plain
towards the river. "Did you ever see such a horse as this of
mine, Don Jorge?" he demanded. "Is he not a jewel - an alaja?"
And in truth the horse was a noble and gallant creature, in
height at least sixteen hands, broad-chested, but of clean and
elegant limbs. His neck was superbly arched, and his head
towered on high like that of a swan. In colour he was a bright
chestnut, save his flowing mane and tail, which were almost
black. I expressed my admiration, whereupon the herrador, in
high spirits, pressed his heels to the creature's sides, and
flinging the bridle on its neck, speeded over the plain with
prodigious swiftness, shouting the old Spanish cry, Cierra! I
attempted to keep up with him, but had not a chance. "I call
him the flower of Spain," said the herrador, rejoining me.
"Purchase him, Don Jorge, his price is but three thousand
reals. * I would not sell him for double that sum, but the
Carlist thieves have their eyes upon him, and I am apprehensive
that they will some day make a dash across the river and break
into Villa Seca, all to get possession of my horse, `The Flower
of Spain.'"

* About thirty pounds.

It may be as well to observe here, that within a month
from this period, my friend the herrador, not being able to
find a regular purchaser for his steed, entered into
negotiations with the aforesaid thieves respecting him, and
finally disposed of the animal to their leader, receiving not
the three thousand reals he demanded, but an entire herd of
horned cattle, probably driven from the plains of La Mancha.
For this transaction, which was neither more nor less than high
treason, he was cast into the prison of Toledo, where, however,
he did not continue long; for during a short visit to Villa
Seca, which I made in the spring of the following year, I found
him alcalde of that "republic."

We arrived at the bridge of Azeca, which is about half a
league from Villa Seca; close beside it is a large water-mill,
standing upon a dam which crosses the river. Dismounting from
his steed, the herrador proceeded to divest it of the saddle,
then causing it to enter the mill-pool, he led it by means of a
cord to a particular spot, where the water reached half way up
its neck, then fastening a cord to a post on the bank, he left
the animal standing in the pool. I thought I could do no
better than follow his example, and accordingly procuring a
rope from the mill, I led my own horse into the water. "It
will refresh their blood, Don Jorge," said the herrador; "let
us leave them there for an hour, whilst we go and divert
ourselves."

Near the bridge, on the side of the river on which we
were, was a kind of guard-house, where were three carbineers of
the revenue, who collected the tolls of the bridge; we entered
into conversation with them: "Is not this a dangerous position
of yours," said I to one of them, who was a Catalan; "close
beside the factious country? Surely it would not be difficult
for a body of the Carlinos or bandits to dash across the bridge
and make prisoners of you all."

"It would be easy enough at any moment, Cavalier,"
replied the Catalan; "we are, however, all in the hands of God,
and he has preserved us hitherto, and perhaps still will. True
it is that one of our number, for there were four of us
originally, fell the other day into the hands of the canaille:
he had wandered across the bridge amongst the thickets with his
gun in search of a hare or rabbit, when three or four of them
fell upon him and put him to death in a manner too horrible to
relate. But patience! every man who lives must die. I shall
not sleep the worse tonight because I may chance to be hacked
by the knives of these malvados to-morrow. Cavalier, I am from
Barcelona, and have seen there mariners of your nation; this is
not so good a country as Barcelona. Paciencia! Cavalier, if
you will step into our house, I will give you a glass of water;
we have some that is cool, for we dug a deep hole in the earth
and buried there our pitcher; it is cool, as I told you, but
the water of Castile is not like that of Catalonia."

The moon had arisen when we mounted our horses to return
to the village, and the rays of the beauteous luminary danced
merrily on the rushing waters of the Tagus, silvered the plain
over which we were passing, and bathed in a flood of brightness
the bold sides of the calcareous hill of Villaluenga and the
antique ruins which crowned its brow. "Why is that place
called the Castle of Villaluenga?" I demanded.

"From a village of that name, which stands on the other
side of the hill, Don Jorge," replied the herrador. "Vaya! it
is a strange place, that castle; some say it was built by the
Moors in the old times, and some by the Christians when they
first laid siege to Toledo. It is not inhabited now, save by
rabbits, which breed there in abundance amongst the long grass
and broken stones, and by eagles and vultures, which build on
the tops of the towers; I occasionally go there with my gun to
shoot a rabbit. On a fine day you may descry both Toledo and
Madrid from its walls. I cannot say I like the place, it is so
dreary and melancholy. The hill on which it stands is all of
chalk, and is very difficult of ascent. I heard my grandame
say that once, when she was a girl, a cloud of smoke burst from
that hill, and that flames of fire were seen, just as if it
contained a volcano, as perhaps it does, Don Jorge."

The grand work of Scripture circulation soon commenced in
the Sagra. Notwithstanding the heat of the weather, I rode
about in all directions. It was well that heat agrees with my
constitution, otherwise it would have been impossible to effect
anything in this season, when the very arrieros frequently fall
dead from their mules, smitten by sun-stroke. I had an
excellent assistant in Antonio, who, disregarding the heat like
myself, and afraid of nothing, visited several villages with
remarkable success. "Mon maitre," said he, "I wish to show you
that nothing is beyond my capacity." But he who put the
labours of us both to shame, was my host, Juan Lopez, whom it
had pleased the Lord to render favourable to the cause. "Don
Jorge," said he, "IO QUIERO ENGANCHARME CON USTED (I wish to
enlist with you); I am a liberal, and a foe to superstition; I
will take the field, and, if necessary, will follow you to the
end of the world; VIVA INGALATERRA; VIVA EL EVANGELIO." Thus
saying, he put a large bundle of Testaments into a satchel, and
springing upon the crupper of his grey donkey, he cried "ARRHE
BURRA," and hastened away. I sat down to my journal.

Ere I had finished writing, I heard the voice of the
burra in the courtyard, and going out, I found my host
returned. He had disposed of his whole cargo of twenty
Testaments at the village of Vargas, distant from Villa Seca
about a league. Eight poor harvest men, who were refreshing
themselves at the door of a wine-house, purchased each a copy,
whilst the village schoolmaster secured the rest for the little
ones beneath his care, lamenting, at the same time, the great
difficulty he had long experienced in obtaining religious
books, owing to their scarcity and extravagant price. Many
other persons were also anxious to purchase Testaments, but
Lopez was unable to supply them: at his departure, they
requested him to return within a few days.

I was aware that I was playing rather a daring game, and
that it was very possible that, when I least expected it, I
might be seized, tied to the tail of a mule, and dragged either
to the prison of Toledo or Madrid. Yet such a prospect did not
discourage me in the least, but rather urged me to persevere;
for at this time, without the slightest wish to gratify myself,
I could say that I was eager to lay down my life for the cause,
and whether a bandit's bullet, or the gaol fever brought my
career to a close, was a matter of indifference to me; I was
not then a stricken man: "Ride on because of the word of
righteousness," was my cry.

The news of the arrival of the book of life soon spread
like wildfire through the villages of the Sagra of Toledo, and
wherever my people and myself directed our course we found the
inhabitants disposed to receive our merchandize; it was even
called for where not exhibited. One night as I was bathing
myself and horse in the Tagus, a knot of people gathered on the
bank, crying, "Come out of the water, Englishman, and give us
books; we have got our money in our hands." The poor creatures
then held out their hands, filled with cuartos, a copper coin
of the value of the farthing, but unfortunately I had no
Testaments to give them. Antonio, however, who was at a short
distance, having exhibited one, it was instantly torn from his
hands by the people, and a scuffle ensued to obtain possession
of it. It very frequently occurred, that the poor labourers in
the neighbourhood, being eager to obtain Testaments, and having
no money to offer us in exchange, brought various articles to
our habitation as equivalents; for example, rabbits, fruit and
barley, and I made a point never to disappoint them, as such
articles were of utility either for our own consumption or that
of the horses.

In Villa Seca there was a school in which fifty-seven
children were taught the first rudiments of education. One
morning the schoolmaster, a tall slim figure of about sixty,
bearing on his head one of the peaked hats of Andalusia, and
wrapped, notwithstanding the excessive heat of the weather, in
a long cloak, made his appearance; and having seated himself,
requested to be shown one of our books. Having delivered it to
him, he remained examining it for nearly half an hour, without
uttering a word. At last he laid it down with a sigh, and said
that he should be very happy to purchase some of these books
for his school, but from their appearance, especially from the
quality of the paper and binding, he was apprehensive that to
pay for them would exceed the means of the parents of his
pupils, as they were almost destitute of money, being poor
labourers. He then commenced blaming the government, which he
said established schools without affording the necessary books,
adding that in his school there were but two books for the use
of all his pupils, and these he confessed contained but little
good. I asked him what he considered the Testaments were
worth? He said, "Senor Cavalier, to speak frankly, I have in
other times paid twelve reals for books inferior to yours in
every respect, but I assure you that my poor pupils would be
utterly unable to pay the half of that sum." I replied, "I
will sell you as many as you please for three reals each, I am
acquainted with the poverty of the land, and my friends and
myself, in affording the people the means of spiritual
instruction have no wish to curtail their scanty bread." He
replied: "Bendito sea Dios," (BLESSED BE GOD,) and could
scarcely believe his ears. He instantly purchased a dozen,
expending, as he said, all the money he possessed, with the
exception of a few cuartos. The introduction of the word of
God into the country schools of Spain is therefore begun, and I
humbly hope that it will prove one of those events, which the
Bible Society, after the lapse of years, will have most reason
to remember with joy and gratitude to the Almighty.

An old peasant is reading in the portico. Eighty-four
years have passed over his head, and he is almost entirely
deaf; nevertheless he is reading aloud the second of Matthew:
three days since he bespoke a Testament, but not being able to
raise the money, he has not redeemed it until the present
moment. He has just brought thirty farthings; as I survey the
silvery hair which overshadows his sunburnt countenance, the
words of the song occurred to me, "Lord, now lettest thou thy
servant depart in peace according to thy word, for mine eyes
have seen thy salvation."

I experienced much grave kindness and simple hospitality
from the good people of Villa Seca during my sojourn amongst
them. I had at this time so won their hearts by the
"formality" of my behaviour and language, that I firmly believe
they would have resisted to the knife any attempt which might
have been made to arrest or otherwise maltreat me. He who
wishes to become acquainted with the genuine Spaniard, must
seek him not in sea-ports and large towns, but in lone and
remote villages, like those of the Sagra. There he will find
all that gravity of deportment and chivalry of disposition
which Cervantes is said to have sneered away; and there he will
hear, in everyday conversation, those grandiose expressions,
which, when met with in the romances of chivalry, are scoffed
at as ridiculous exaggerations.

I had one enemy in the village - it was the curate.

"The fellow is a heretic and a scoundrel," said he one
day in the conclave. "He never enters the church, and is
poisoning the minds of the people with his Lutheran books. Let
him be bound and sent to Toledo, or turned out of the village
at least."

"I will have nothing of the kind," said the alcalde, who
was said to be a Carlist. "If he has his opinions, I have mine
too. He has conducted himself with politeness. Why should I
interfere with him? He has been courteous to my daughter, and
has presented her with a volume. Que viva! and with respect to
his being a Lutheran, I have heard say that amongst the
Lutherans there are sons of as good fathers as here. He
appears to me a caballero. He speaks well."

"There is no denying it," said the surgeon.

"Who speaks SO well?" shouted the herrador. "And, who
has more formality? Vaya! did he not praise my horse, `The
Flower of Spain'? Did he not say that in the whole of
Ingalaterra there was not a better? Did he not assure me,
moreover, that if he were to remain in Spain he would purchase
it, giving me my own price? Turn him out, indeed! Is he not
of my own blood, is he not fair-complexioned? Who shall turn
him out when I, `the one-eyed,' say no?"

In connection with the circulation of the Scriptures I
will now relate an anecdote not altogether divested of
singularity. I have already spoken of the water-mill by the
bridge of Azeca. I had formed acquaintance with the tenant of
this mill, who was known in the neighbourhood by the name of
Don Antero. One day, taking me into a retired place, he asked
me, to my great astonishment, whether I would sell him a
thousand Testaments at the price at which I was disposing of
them to the peasantry; saying, if I would consent he would pay
me immediately. In fact, he put his hand into his pocket, and
pulled it out filled with gold ounces. I asked him what was
his reason for wishing to make so considerable a purchase.
Whereupon he informed me that he had a relation in Toledo whom
he wished to establish, and that he was of opinion that his
best plan would be to hire him a shop there and furnish it with
Testaments. I told him that he must think of nothing of the
kind, as probably the books would be seized on the first
attempt to introduce them into Toledo, as the priests and
canons were much averse to their distribution.

He was not disconcerted, however, and said his relation
could travel, as I myself was doing, and dispose of them to the
peasants with profit to himself. I confess I was inclined at
first to accept his offer, but at length declined it, as I did
not wish to expose a poor man to the risk of losing money,
goods, and perhaps liberty and life. I was likewise averse to
the books being offered to the peasantry at an advanced price,
being aware that they could not afford it, and the books, by
such an attempt, would lose a considerable part of that
influence which they then enjoyed; for their cheapness struck
the minds of the people, and they considered it almost as much
in the light of a miracle as the Jews the manna which dropped
from heaven at the time they were famishing, or the spring
which suddenly gushed from the flinty rocks to assuage their
thirst in the wilderness.

At this time a peasant was continually passing and
repassing between Villa Seca and Madrid, bringing us cargoes of
Testaments on a burrico. We continued our labours until the
greater part of the villages of the Sagra were well supplied
with books, more especially those of Vargas, Coveja, Mocejon,
Villaluenga, Villa Seca, and Yungler. Hearing at last that our
proceedings were known at Toledo, and were causing considerable
alarm, we returned to Madrid.

CHAPTER XLIV

Aranjuez - A Warning - A Night Adventure - A Fresh Expedition -
Segovia - Abades - Factions Curas - Lopez in Prison - Rescue of Lopez.

The success which had attended our efforts in the Sagra
of Toledo speedily urged me on to a new enterprise. I now
determined to direct my course to La Mancha, and to distribute
the word amongst the villages of that province. Lopez, who had
already performed such important services in the Sagra, had
accompanied us to Madrid, and was eager to take part in this
new expedition. We determined in the first place to proceed to
Aranjuez, where we hoped to obtain some information which might
prove of utility in the further regulation of our movements;
Aranjuez being but a slight distance from the frontier of La
Mancha and the high road into that province passing directly
through it. We accordingly sallied forth from Madrid, selling
from twenty to forty Testaments in every village which lay in
our way, until we arrived at Aranjuez, to which place we had
forwarded a large supply of books.

A lovely spot is Aranjuez, though in desolation: here the
Tagus flows through a delicious valley, perhaps the most
fertile in Spain; and here upsprang, in Spain's better days, a
little city, with a small but beautiful palace shaded by
enormous trees, where royalty delighted to forget its cares.
Here Ferdinand the Seventh spent his latter days, surrounded by
lovely senoras and Andalusian bull-fighters: but as the German
Schiller has it in one of his tragedies:

"The happy days in fair Aranjuez,
Are past and gone."

When the sensual king went to his dread account, royalty
deserted it, and it soon fell into decay. Intriguing counters
no longer crowd its halls; its spacious circus, where Manchegan
bulls once roared in rage and agony, is now closed, and the
light tinkling of guitars is no longer heard amidst its groves
and gardens.

At Aranjuez I made a sojourn of three days, during which
time Antonio, Lopez, and myself visited every house in the
town. We found a vast deal of poverty and ignorance amongst
the inhabitants, and experienced some opposition: nevertheless
it pleased the Almighty to permit us to dispose of about eighty
Testaments, which were purchased entirely by the very poor
people; those in easier circumstances paying no attention to
the word of God, but rather turning it to scoff and ridicule.

One circumstance was very gratifying and cheering to me,
namely, the ocular proof which I possessed that the books which
I had disposed of were read, and with attention, by those to
whom I sold them; and that many others participated in their
benefit. In the streets of Aranjuez, and beneath the mighty
cedars and gigantic elms and plantains which compose its noble
woods, I have frequently seen groups assembled listening to
individuals who, with the New Testament in their hands, were
reading aloud the comfortable words of salvation.

It is probable that, had I remained a longer period at
Aranjuez, I might have sold many more of these divine books,
but I was eager to gain La Mancha and its sandy plains, and to
conceal myself for a season amongst its solitary villages, for
I was apprehensive that a storm was gathering around me; but
when once through Ocana, the frontier town, I knew well that I
should have nothing to fear from the Spanish authorities, as
their power ceased there, the rest of La Mancha being almost
entirely in the hands of the Carlists, and overrun by small
parties of banditti, from whom, however, I trusted that the
Lord would preserve me. I therefore departed for Ocana,
distant three leagues from Aranjuez.

I started with Antonio at six in the evening, having
early in the morning sent forward Lopez with between two and
three hundred Testaments. We left the high road, and proceeded
by a shorter way through wild hills and over very broken and
precipitous ground: being well mounted we found ourselves just
after sunset opposite Ocana, which stands on a steep hill. A
deep valley lay between us and the town: we descended, and came
to a small bridge, which traverses a rivulet at the bottom of
the valley, at a very small distance from a kind of suburb. We
crossed the bridge, and were passing by a deserted house on our
left hand, when a man appeared from under the porch.

What I am about to state will seem incomprehensible, but
a singular history and a singular people are connected with it:
the man placed himself before my horse so as to bar the way,
and said "SCHOPHON," which, in the Hebrew tongue, signifies a
rabbit. I knew this word to be one of the Jewish countersigns,
and asked the man if he had any thing to communicate? He said,
"You must not enter the town, for a net is prepared for you.
The corregidor of Toledo, on whom may all evil light, in order
to give pleasure to the priests of Maria, in whose face I spit,
has ordered all the alcaldes of these parts, and the escribanos
and the corchetes to lay hands on you wherever they may find
you, and to send you, and your books, and all that pertains to
you to Toledo. Your servant was seized this morning in the
town above, as he was selling the writings in the streets, and
they are now awaiting your arrival in the posada; but I knew
you from the accounts of my brethren, and I have been waiting
here four hours to give you warning in order that your horse
may turn his tail to your enemies, and neigh in derision of
them. Fear nothing for your servant, for he is known to the
alcalde, and will be set at liberty, but do you flee, and may
God attend you." Having said this, he hurried towards the
town.

I hesitated not a moment to take his advice, knowing full
well that, as my books had been taken possession of, I could do
no more in that quarter. We turned back in the direction of
Aranjuez, the horses, notwithstanding the nature of the ground,
galloping at full speed; but our adventures were not over.
Midway, and about half a league from the village of Antigola,
we saw close to us on our left hand three men on a low bank.
As far as the darkness would permit us to distinguish, they
were naked, but each bore in his hand a long gun. These were
rateros, or the common assassins and robbers of the roads. We
halted and cried out, "Who goes there?"  They replied, "What's
that to you? pass by."  Their drift was to fire at us from a
position from which it would be impossible to miss. We
shouted, "If you do not instantly pass to the right side of the
road, we will tread you down between the horses' hoofs."  They
hesitated and then obeyed, for all assassins are dastards, and
the least show of resolution daunts them. As we galloped past,
one cried, with an obscene oath, "Shall we fire?"  But another
said, "No, no! there's danger."  We reached Aranjuez, where
early next morning Lopez rejoined us, and we returned to
Madrid.

I am sorry to state that two hundred Testaments were
seized at Ocana, from whence, after being sealed up, they were
despatched to Toledo. Lopez informed me, that in two hours he
could have sold them all, the demand was so great. As it was,
twenty-seven were disposed of in less than ten minutes.

"Ride on because of the word of righteousness."
Notwithstanding the check which we had experienced at Ocana, we
were far from being discouraged, and forthwith prepared
ourselves for another expedition. As we returned from Aranjeuz
to Madrid, my eyes had frequently glanced towards the mighty
wall of mountains dividing the two Castiles, and I said to
myself, "Would it not be well to cross those hills, and
commence operations on the other side, even in Old Castile?
There I am unknown, and intelligence of my proceedings can
scarcely have been transmitted thither. Peradventure the enemy
is asleep, and before he has roused himself, I may have sown
much of the precious seed amongst the villages of the Old
Castilians. To Castile, therefore, to Castile la Vieja!"
Accordingly, on the day after my arrival, I despatched several
cargoes of books to various places which I proposed to visit,
and sent forward Lopez and his donkey, well laden, with
directions to meet me on a particular day beneath a particular
arch of the aqueduct of Segovia. I likewise gave him orders to
engage any persons willing to co-operate with us in the
circulation of the Scriptures, and who might be likely to prove
of utility in the enterprise. A more useful assistant than
Lopez in an expedition of this kind it was impossible to have.
He was not only well acquainted with the country, but had
friends, and even connexions on the other side of the hills, in
whose houses he assured me that we should at all times find a
hearty welcome. He departed in high spirits, exclaiming, "Be
of good cheer, Don Jorge; before we return we will have
disposed of every copy of your evangelic library. Down with
the friars! Down with superstition! Viva Ingalaterra, viva el
Evangelio!"

In a few days I followed with Antonio. We ascended the
mountains by the pass called Pena Cerrada, which lies about
three leagues to the eastward of that of Guadarama. It is very
unfrequented, the high road between the two Castiles passing
through Guadarama. It has, moreover, an evil name, being,
according to common report, infested with banditti. The sun
was just setting when we reached the top of the hills, and
entered a thick and gloomy pine forest, which entirely covers
the mountains on the side of Old Castile. The descent soon
became so rapid and precipitous, that we were fain to dismount
from our horses and to drive them before us. Into the woods we
plunged deeper and deeper still; night-birds soon began to hoot
and cry, and millions of crickets commenced their shrill
chirping above, below, and around us. Occasionally, amidst the
trees at a distance, we could see blazes, as if from immense
fires. "They are those of the charcoal-burners, mon maitre!"
said Antonio; "we will not go near them, however, for they are
savage people, and half bandits. Many is the traveller whom
they have robbed and murdered in these horrid wildernesses."

It was blackest night when we arrived at the foot of the
mountains; we were still, however, amidst woods and pine
forests, which extended for leagues in every direction. "We
shall scarcely reach Segovia to-night, mon maitre," said
Antonio. And so indeed it proved, for we became bewildered,
and at last arrived where two roads branched off in different
directions, we took not the left hand road, which would have
conducted us to Segovia, but turned to the right, in the
direction of La Granja, where we arrived at midnight.

We found the desolation of La Granja far greater than
that of Aranjuez; both had suffered from the absence of
royalty, but the former to a degree which was truly appalling.
Nine-tenths of the inhabitants had left this place, which,
until the late military revolution, had been the favourite
residence of Christina. So great is the solitude of La Granja,
that wild boars from the neighbouring forests, and especially
from the beautiful pine-covered mountain which rises like a
cone directly behind the palace, frequently find their way into
the streets and squares, and whet their tusks against the
pillars of the porticos.

"Ride on because of the word of righteousness." After a
stay of twenty-four hours at La Granja, we proceeded to
Segovia. The day had arrived on which I had appointed to meet
Lopez. I repaired to the aqueduct, and sat down beneath the
hundred and seventh arch, where I waited the greater part of
the day, but he came not, whereupon I rose and went into the
city.

At Segovia I tarried two days in the house of a friend,
still I could hear nothing of Lopez. At last, by the greatest
chance in the world, I heard from a peasant that there were men
in the neighbourhood of Abades selling books.

Abades is about three leagues distant from Segovia, and
upon receiving this intelligence, I instantly departed for the
former place, with three donkeys laden with Testaments. I
reached Abades at nightfall, and found Lopez, with two peasants
whom he had engaged, in the house of the surgeon of the place,
where I also took up my residence. He had already disposed of
a considerable number of Testaments in the neighbourhood, and
had that day commenced selling at Abades itself; he had,
however, been interrupted by two of the three curas of the
village, who, with horrid curses denounced the work,
threatening eternal condemnation to Lopez for selling it, and
to any person who should purchase it; whereupon Lopez,
terrified, forbore until I should arrive. The third cura,
however, exerted himself to the utmost to persuade the people
to provide themselves with Testaments, telling them that his
brethren were hypocrites and false guides, who, by keeping them
in ignorance of the word and will of Christ, were leading them
to the abyss. Upon receiving this information, I instantly
sallied forth to the market-place, and that same night
succeeded in disposing of upwards of thirty Testaments. The
next morning the house was entered by the two factious curas,
but upon my rising to confront them, they retreated, and I
heard no more of them, except that they publicly cursed me in
the church more than once, an event which, as no ill resulted
from it, gave me little concern.

I will not detail the events of the next week; suffice it
to say that arranging my forces in the most advantageous way, I
succeeded, by God's assistance, in disposing of from five to
six hundred Testaments amongst the villages from one to seven
leagues' distance from Abades. At the expiration of that
period I received information that my proceedings were known in
Segovia, in which province Abades is situated, and that an
order was about to be sent to the alcalde to seize all books in
my possession. Whereupon, notwithstanding that it was late in
the evening, I decamped with all my people, and upwards of
three hundred Testaments, having a few hours previously
received a fresh supply from Madrid. That night we passed in
the fields, and next morning proceeded to Labajos, a village on
the high road from Madrid to Valladolid. In this place we
offered no books for sale, but contented ourselves with
supplying the neighbouring villages with the word of God: we
likewise sold it in the highways.

We had not been at Labajos a week, during which time we
were remarkably successful, when the Carlist chieftain,
Balmaseda, at the head of his cavalry, made his desperate
inroad into the southern part of Old Castile, dashing down like
an avalanche from the pine-woods of Soria. I was present at
all the horrors which ensued, - the sack of Arrevalo, and the
forcible entry into Martin Munoz. Amidst these terrible scenes
we continued our labours. Suddenly I lost Lopez for three
days, and suffered dreadful anxiety on his account, imagining
that he had been shot by the Carlists; at last I heard that he
was in prison at Villallos, three leagues distant. The steps
which I took to rescue him will be found detailed in a
communication, which I deemed it my duty to transmit to Lord
William Hervey, who, in the absence of Sir George Villiers, now
became Earl of Clarendon, fulfilled the duties of minister at
Madrid:-

LABAJOS, PROVINCE OF SEGOVIA,
AUGUST 23, 1838.

MY LORD, - I beg leave to call your attention to the
following facts. On the 21st inst. I received information that
a person in my employ, of the name of Juan Lopez, had been
thrown into the prison of Villallos, in the province of Avila,
by order of the cura of that place. The crime with which he
was charged was selling the New Testament. I was at that time
at Labajos, in the province of Segovia, and the division of the
factious chieftain Balmaseda was in the immediate
neighbourhood. On the 22nd, I mounted my horse and rode to
Villallos, a distance of three leagues. On my arrival there, I
found that Lopez had been removed from the prison to a private
house. An order had arrived from the corregidor of Avila,
commanding that the person of Lopez should be set at liberty,
and that the books which had been found in his possession
should be alone detained. Nevertheless, in direct opposition
to this order, (a copy of which I herewith transmit,) the
alcalde of Villallos, at the instigation of the cura, refused
to permit the said Lopez to quit the place, either to proceed
to Avila or in any other direction. It had been hinted to
Lopez that as the factious were expected, it was intended on
their arrival to denounce him to them as a liberal, and to
cause him to be sacrificed. Taking these circumstances into
consideration, I deemed it my duty as a Christian and a
gentleman, to rescue my unfortunate servant from such lawless
hands, and in consequence, defying opposition, I bore him off,
though entirely unarmed, through a crowd of at least one
hundred peasants. On leaving the place I shouted, "VIVA ISABEL
SEGUNDA."

As it is my belief that the cura of Villallos is a person
capable of any infamy, I beg leave humbly to intreat your
Lordship to cause a copy of the above narration to be forwarded
to the Spanish government. - I have the honour to remain, My
Lord, Your Lordship's most obedient,

GEORGE BORROW.

To the Right Honourable
LORD WILLIAM HERVEY.

After the rescue of Lopez we proceeded in the work of
distribution. Suddenly, however, the symptoms of an
approaching illness came over me, which compelled us to return
in all haste to Madrid. Arrived there, I was attacked by a
fever which confined me to my bed for several weeks; occasional
fits of delirium came over me, during one of which, I imagined
myself in the market-place of Martin Munos, engaged in deadly
struggle with the chieftain Balmaseda.

The fever had scarcely departed, when a profound
melancholy took possession of me, which entirely disqualified
me for active exertion. Change of scene and air was
recommended; I therefore returned to England.

CHAPTER XLV

Return to Spain - Seville - A Hoary Persecutor -
Manchegan Prophetess - Antonio's Dream.

On the 31st of December, 1838, I again visited Spain for
the third time. After staying a day or two at Cadiz I repaired
to Seville, from which place I proposed starting for Madrid
with the mail post. Here I tarried about a fortnight, enjoying
the delicious climate of this terrestrial Paradise, and the
balmy breezes of the Andalusian winter, even as I had done two
years previously. Before leaving Seville, I visited the
bookseller, my correspondent, who informed me that seventy-six
copies of the hundred Testaments entrusted to his care had been
placed in embargo by the government last summer, and that they
were at the present time in the possession of the
ecclesiastical governor, whereupon I determined to visit this
functionary also, with the view of making inquiries concerning
the property.

He lived in a large house in the Pajaria, or straw-
market. He was a very old man, between seventy and eighty,
and, like the generality of those who wear the sacerdotal habit
in this city, was a fierce persecuting Papist. I imagine that
he scarcely believed his ears when his two grand-nephews,
beautiful black-haired boys who were playing in the court-yard,
ran to inform him that an Englishman was waiting to speak with
him, as it is probable that I was the first heretic who ever
ventured into his habitation. I found him in a vaulted room,
seated on a lofty chair, with two sinister-looking secretaries,
also in sacerdotal habits, employed in writing at a table
before him. He brought powerfully to my mind the grim old
inquisitor who persuaded Philip the Second to slay his own son
as an enemy to the church.

He rose as I entered, and gazed upon me with a
countenance dark with suspicion and dissatisfaction. He at
last condescended to point me to a sofa, and I proceeded to
state to him my business. He became much agitated when I
mentioned the Testaments to him; but I no sooner spoke of the
Bible Society and told him who I was, than he could contain
himself no longer: with a stammering tongue, and with eyes
flashing fire like hot coals, he proceeded to rail against the
society and myself, saying that the aims of the first were
atrocious, and that, as to myself, he was surprised that, being
once lodged in the prison of Madrid, I had ever been permitted
to quit it; adding, that it was disgraceful in the government
to allow a person of my character to roam about an innocent and
peaceful country, corrupting the minds of the ignorant and
unsuspicious. Far from allowing myself to be disconcerted by
his rude behaviour, I replied to him with all possible
politeness, and assured him that in this instance he had no
reason to alarm himself, as my sole motive in claiming the
books in question, was to avail myself of an opportunity which
at present presented itself, of sending them out of the
country, which, indeed, I had been commanded to do by an
official notice. But nothing would soothe him, and he informed
me that he should not deliver up the books on any condition,
save by a positive order of the government. As the matter was
by no means an affair of consequence, I thought it wise not to
persist, and also prudent to take my leave before he requested
me. I was followed even down into the street by his niece and
grand-nephews, who, during the whole of the conversation, had
listened at the door of the apartment and heard every word.

In passing through La Mancha, we staid for four hours at
Manzanares, a large village. I was standing in the market-
place conversing with a curate, when a frightful ragged object
presented itself; it was a girl about eighteen or nineteen,
perfectly blind, a white film being spread over her huge
staring eyes. Her countenance was as yellow as that of a
Mulatto. I thought at first that she was a Gypsy, and
addressing myself to her, inquired in Gitano if she were of
that race; she understood me, but shaking her head, replied,
that she was something better than a Gitana, and could speak
something better than that jargon of witches; whereupon she
commenced asking me several questions in exceedingly good
Latin. I was of course very much surprised, but summoning all
my Latinity, I called her Manchegan Prophetess, and expressing
my admiration for her learning, begged to be informed by what
means she became possessed of it. I must here observe that a
crowd instantly gathered around us, who, though they understood
not one word of our discourse, at every sentence of the girl
shouted applause, proud in the possession of a prophetess who
could answer the Englishman.

She informed me that she was born blind, and that a
Jesuit priest had taken compassion on her when she was a child,
and had taught her the holy language, in order that the
attention and hearts of Christians might be more easily turned
towards her. I soon discovered that he had taught her
something more than Latin, for upon telling her that I was an
Englishman, she said that she had always loved Britain, which
was once the nursery of saints and sages, for example Bede and
Alcuin, Columba and Thomas of Canterbury; but she added those
times had gone by since the re-appearance of Semiramis
(Elizabeth). Her Latin was truly excellent, and when I, like a
genuine Goth, spoke of Anglia and Terra Vandalica (Andalusia),
she corrected me by saying, that in her language those places
were called Britannia and Terra Betica. When we had finished
our discourse, a gathering was made for the prophetess, the
very poorest contributing something.

After travelling four days and nights, we arrived at
Madrid, without having experienced the slightest accident,
though it is but just to observe, and always with gratitude to
the Almighty, that the next mail was stopped. A singular
incident befell me immediately after my arrival; on entering
the arch of the posada called La Reyna, where I intended to put
up, I found myself encircled in a person's arms, and on turning
round in amazement, beheld my Greek servant, Antonio. He was
haggard and ill-dressed, and his eyes seemed starting from
their sockets.

As soon as we were alone he informed that since my
departure he had undergone great misery and destitution,
having, during the whole period, been unable to find a master
in need of his services, so that he was brought nearly to the
verge of desperation; but that on the night immediately
preceding my arrival he had a dream, in which he saw me,
mounted on a black horse, ride up to the gate of the posada,
and that on that account he had been waiting there during the
greater part of the day. I do not pretend to offer an opinion
concerning this narrative, which is beyond the reach of my
philosophy, and shall content myself with observing that only
two individuals in Madrid were aware of my arrival in Spain. I
was very glad to receive him again into my service, as,
notwithstanding his faults, he had in many instances proved of
no slight assistance to me in my wanderings and biblical
labours.

I was soon settled in my former lodgings, when one my
first cares was to pay a visit to Lord Clarendon. Amongst
other things, he informed me that he had received an official
notice from the government, stating the seizure of the New
Testaments at Ocana, the circumstances relating to which I have
described on a former occasion, and informing him that unless
steps were instantly taken to remove them from the country,
they would be destroyed at Toledo, to which place they had been
conveyed. I replied that I should give myself no trouble about
the matter; and that if the authorities of Toledo, civil or
ecclesiastic, determined upon burning these books, my only hope
was that they would commit them to the flames with all possible
publicity, as by so doing they would but manifest their own
hellish rancour and their hostility to the word of God.

Being eager to resume my labours, I had no sooner arrived
at Madrid than I wrote to Lopez at Villa Seca, for the purpose
of learning whether he was inclined to cooperate in the work,
as on former occasions. In reply, he informed me that he was
busily employed in his agricultural pursuits: to supply his
place, however, he sent over an elderly villager, Victoriano
Lopez by name, a distant relation of his own.

What is a missionary in the heart of Spain without a
horse? Which consideration induced me now to purchase an
Arabian of high caste, which had been brought from Algiers by
an officer of the French legion. The name of this steed, the
best I believe that ever issued from the desert, was Sidi
Habismilk.

CHAPTER XLVI

Work of Distribution resumed - Adventure at Cobenna -
Power of the Clergy - Rural Authorities - Fuente la Higuera -
Victoriano's Mishap - Village Prison - The Rope -
Antonio's Errand - Antonio at Mass.

In my last chapter, I stated that, immediately after my
arrival at Madrid, I proceeded to get everything in readiness
for commencing operations in the neighbourhood; and I soon
entered upon my labours in reality. Considerable success
attended my feeble efforts in the good cause, for which at
present, after the lapse of some years, I still look back with
gratitude to the Almighty.

All the villages within the distance of four leagues to
the east of Madrid, were visited in less than a fortnight, and
Testaments to the number of nearly two hundred disposed of.
These villages for the most part are very small, some of them
consisting of not more than a dozen houses, or I should rather
say miserable cabins. I left Antonio, my Greek, to superintend
matters in Madrid, and proceeded with Victoriano, the peasant
from Villa Seca, in the direction which I have already
mentioned. We, however, soon parted company, and pursued
different routes.

The first village at which I made an attempt was Cobenna,
about three leagues from Madrid. I was dressed in the fashion
of the peasants in the neighbourhood of Segovia, in Old
Castile; namely, I had on my head a species of leather helmet
or montera, with a jacket and trousers of the same material. I
had the appearance of a person between sixty and seventy years
of age, and drove before me a borrico with a sack of Testaments
lying across its back. On nearing the village, I met a
genteel-looking young woman leading a little boy by the hand:
as I was about to pass her with the customary salutation of
VAYA USTED CON DIOS, she stopped, and after looking at me for a
moment, she said: "Uncle (TIO), what is that you have got on
your borrico? Is it soap?"

"Yes," I replied: "it is soap to wash souls clean."

She demanded what I meant; whereupon I told her that I
carried cheap and godly books for sale. On her requesting to
see one, I produced a copy from my pocket and handed it to her.
She instantly commenced reading with a loud voice, and
continued so for at least ten minutes, occasionally exclaiming:
"QUE LECTURA TAN BONITA, QUE LECTURA TAN LINDA!"  What
beautiful, what charming readings!"  At last, on my informing
her that I was in a hurry, and could not wait any longer, she
said, "true, true," and asked me the price of the book: I told
her "but three reals," whereupon she said, that though what I
asked was very little, it was more than she could afford to
give, as there was little or no money in those parts. I said I
was sorry for it, but that I could not dispose of the books for
less than I had demanded, and accordingly, resuming it, wished
her farewell, and left her. I had not, however, proceeded
thirty yards, when the boy came running behind me, shouting,
out of breath: "Stop, uncle, the book, the book!"  Upon
overtaking me, he delivered the three reals in copper, and
seizing the Testament, ran back to her, who I suppose was his
sister, flourishing the book over his head with great glee.

On arriving at the village, I directed my steps to a
house, around the door of which I saw several people gathered,
chiefly women. On my displaying my books, their curiosity was
instantly aroused, and every person had speedily one in his
hand, many reading aloud; however, after waiting nearly an
hour, I had disposed of but one copy, all complaining bitterly
of the distress of the times, and the almost total want of
money, though, at the same time, they acknowledged that the
books were wonderfully cheap, and appeared to be very good and
Christian-like. I was about to gather up my merchandise and
depart, when on a sudden the curate of the place made his
appearance. After having examined the book for some time with
considerable attention, he asked me the price of a copy, and
upon my informing him that it was three reals, he replied that
the binding was worth more, and that he was much afraid that I
had stolen the books, and that it was perhaps his duty to send
me to prison as a suspicious character; but added, that the
books were good books, however they might be obtained, and
concluded by purchasing two copies. The poor people no sooner
heard their curate recommend the volumes, than all were eager
to secure one, and hurried here and there for the purpose of
procuring money, so that between twenty and thirty copies were
sold almost in an instant. This adventure not only affords an
instance of the power still possessed by the Spanish clergy
over the minds of the people, but proves that such influence is
not always exerted in a manner favourable to the maintenance of
ignorance and superstition.

In another village, on my showing a Testament to a woman,
she said that she had a child at school for whom she would like
to purchase one, but that she must first know whether the book
was calculated to be of service to him. She then went away,
and presently returned with the school-master, followed by all
the children under his care; she then, showing the schoolmaster
a book, inquired if it would answer for her son. The
schoolmaster called her a simpleton for asking such a question,
and said that he knew the book well, and there was not its
equal in the world (NO HAY OTRO EN EL MUNDO). He instantly
purchased five copies for his pupils, regretting that he had no
more money, "for if I had," said he, "I would buy the whole
cargo." Upon hearing this, the woman purchased four copies,
namely, one for her living son, another for her DECEASED
HUSBAND, a third for herself, and a fourth for her brother,
whom she said she was expecting home that night from Madrid.

In this manner we proceeded; not, however, with uniform
success. In some villages the people were so poor and needy,
that they had literally no money; even in these, however, we
managed to dispose of a few copies in exchange for barley or
refreshments. On entering one very small hamlet, Victoriano
was stopped by the curate, who, on learning what he carried,
told him that unless he instantly departed, he would cause him
to be imprisoned, and would write to Madrid in order to give
information of what was going on. The excursion lasted about
eight days. Immediately after my return, I dispatched
Victoriano to Caramanchal, a village at a short distance from
Madrid, the only one towards the west which had not been
visited last year. He staid there about an hour, and disposed
of twelve copies, and then returned, as he was exceedingly
timid, and was afraid of being met by the thieves who swarm on
that road in the evening.

Shortly after these events, a circumstance occurred which
will perhaps cause the English reader to smile, whilst, at the
same time, it will not fail to prove interesting, as affording
an example of the feeling prevalent in some of the lone
villages of Spain with respect to innovation and all that
savours thereof, and the strange acts which are sometimes
committed by the real authorities and the priests, without the
slightest fear of being called to account; for as they live
quite apart * from the rest of the world, they know no people
greater than themselves, and scarcely dream of a higher power
than their own.

* [Footnote in Greek text which cannot be reproduced]

I was about to make an excursion to Guadalajara, and the
villages of Alcarria, about seven leagues distant from Madrid;
indeed I merely awaited the return of Victoriano to sally
forth; I having dispatched him in that direction with a few
Testaments, as a kind of explorer, in order that, from his
report as to the disposition manifested by the people for
purchasing, I might form

The Bible in Spain by George Borrow Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries from the Encyclopedia of the Self by Mark ZimmermanReturn to Part 1 of 2

The Bible in Spain
by George Borrow
Hypertext Meanings and Commentaries
from the Encyclopedia of the Self
by Mark Zimmerman
Return to Part 1 of 2