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THE BRIDLE ROADS OF SPAIN

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THE BRIDLE ROADS

OF SPAIN OR LAS ALFORJAS

BY

GEORGE JOHN CAYLEY

WITH AN INTRODUCTION BY
MARTIN HUME, M.A.
AND RECOLLECTIONS OF THE
AUTHOR BY LADY RITCHIE
AND MRS. COBDEN SICKERT

BOSTON: DANA ESTES AND
COMPANY PUBLISHERS MCMIX

{All rights rescweci.)

INTRODUCTION

There was a stripling once, long long ago, who, strange
as it seems now, was in some sort identical with myself. He
did not think it at the time, but he must have been rather
an unusual boy ; for he had an overmastering passion for
books, and cared not for much else. He had been taught
very little, but he was already trilingual, and devoured
everything in the shape of reading in either of his three
tongues that fell into his way. From the strange mixed
mental pabulum thus provided he gained much vague
impression and stuff for dreams, but no sense of reality
or of the applicability of what he read to actual life.

Once into his hands, which were mine, there came, I
know not how, a book in English with a Spanish name,
"Las Alforjas." Anything Spanish appealed to me,
for I loved the very sound of the Castilian words ; and
'' the saddlebags," of which the title was the translation,
were familiar objects to me : brightly embroidered twin
sacks of stout canvas to sling across the back of a mule or
eke to carry oneself at a pinch in lieu of the carpet-bag or
portmanteau of civilisation. Moreover, Spain itself meant
to me as a boy a place of pleasant, but perfectly prosaic,
sojourn, where elderly relatives were delightfully indulgent
and had expansive views with regard to tips.

What wonder, then, that I should cast myself avidly

5

Introduction

upon " Las Alforjas ; or, The Bridle Roads of Spain, by
George John Cayley," a book in two volumes with a
quaint woodcut title-page to each, bearing a picture of two
men in Andalusian garb, two mules, and the bulging
alforjas that gave the title to the work ? It is not too
much to say that the book for the first time opened the
gates of a new world to the eager youngster who devoured
it. I can recollect through the long dim vista of inter-
vening years, as if it were yesterday, the exquisite delight it
gave me to realise from its pages that romance and pic-
turesqueness were not confined, as I had supposed, to the
men and times of long ago, but still surrounded us in our
daily lives if only we had the faculty to see them. Spain,
the workaday Spain that I knew, assumed a new guise. 1
realised, as if by a flash of lightning, that the costumes I
had seen so often were picturesque, that the turns of speech
familiar to me were quaint and archaic, that the dirty-
looking posadas I had peeped into were widely different
from English country inns ; and that the stern rugged
granite mountains bathed in glow of gold and shadows of
purple brought to the soul a new sense of the beauty of
atmosphere. I learnt from the book for the first time that
the world was fair to look upon, and that adventure with a
delightful spice of lawlessness and risk was within the reach
of a boy who mounted a donkey and rode along the high-
ways and byways that I had seen from the banquette of a
diligence or from the windows of one of the few Spanish
railroads then in existence.

I revelled in the high-spirited adventures or the two
young Englishmen who had bought ponies in the extreme
south of Spain, and had ridden them unattended, disguised as
Andaluz muleteers, through all the country to the Pyrenees.
It was patent to me, of course, that the writer was

6

Introduction

extremely shaky in his Spanish, and I recollect scoffing
hugely at the pretence that any one who called a Custom
House officer a doganero could possibly be mistaken for a
Spaniard. But the scenes in the ventas by the wayside,
the vastness of the landscapes, the lonely tracks through the
rugged mountains, the tragic encounter with the footpad
near Seville, all described with racy picturesqueness of
speech and unfailing humour, brought home to me with
absolute truth the very spirit of Spain. The somewhat
lackadaisical love-letters in which much of the narrative is
contained seemed to me an unworthy vehicle for such
heroic, but yet perfectly attainable, adventures, and most of
the philosophical discussions by the way were ruthlessly
skipped with a boy's eagerness to " cut the cackle and get
to the horses." But, with youth's eclecticism, the book
was enshrined in my heart as an incomparable master-
piece, and conned again and again with delight. It led
me too to the book of all books, " Don Quixote," before
which even "Las Alforjas" paled, and by which, after a time,
it was supplanted. But, though the Knight of the Mancha
much more than filled its place, " Las Alforjas " was kept in
loving memory for what it had opened to me, and through
more years than I care to think the recollection of it was
cherished gratefully, though the book itself had long been
lost ; and I fondly thought that no other living soul but
myself had ever heard of it.

But one day I was seated at a large London dinner-party
next to a gifted lady who asked me whether I had ever
heard of such a book as " Las Alforjas ; or. The Bridle
Roads of Spain." Had I ever heard of it forsooth ? My
answer was that I thought no one else ever had ; but to my
surprise it appeared that George John Cayley had left
behind him a small circle of admirers who reverently

7

Introduction

preserved the tradition of his attractive and unconventional
personality, and believed in his wayward genius. And, so,
I was prompted to read " Las Alforjas" again. It is always
a risky experiment to review in the searching light of long
experience the literary judgments of enthusiastic youth, and
in my case it was more than usually difficult ; because since
I had known and loved Cayley's book I had during the last
twenty years read all, and reviewed most, of the books on
Spanish travel published in England ; and my faculty for
admiration had been considerably diminished in the process.
For truth to say many of such books are hopelessly bad in
the eyes of a person who knows the country well. They
are written for the most part without any attempt, or
indeed opportunity, to study from the inside the national
life they profess to describe, and with no sympathy for the
country or the people. Railway travel, now general in
Spain, whilst enormously facilitating communication and
increasing the number of foreign visitors to the country, has
rendered it more difficult to join in, or even to see, the life
of the people ; and of no other country in Europe is it as
true as of Spain that a traveller who never leaves the iron
track and the saloon carriage knows no more of the country
when he leaves than when he enters it.

So, although I knew that " Las Alforjas " was not open
to this objection, for Cayley wrote just before the era of
Spanish railways, I took up the book with a lingering fear
that the aroma of it that I had cherished for so many years
would vanish before critical scrutiny. It came through the
ordeal triumphantly, though not unscathed. One saw
immediately that if George Borrow had not written " The
Bible in Spain," Cayley would have written "Las Alforjas"
differently or not at all. The phraseology was somewhat
stilted and old-fashioned, and the verbal fun a little forced

8

Introduction

in places in poor imitation of Dickens. The love-making
in the letters, too, was a bit wearisome ; as indeed I had
found it in my youth. But when these little deductions
had been made, enough remained to stamp the book as a
work of genius, worthy to stand on a lower shelf as a little
classic in the same book-case as Borrow and Ford.

The author was a young man of five-and-twenty, who in
1 85 1 was forced by ill-health to winter in Seville; and
with an English friend, and apparently prospective brother-
in-law, started with two bought ponies and the saddlebags
early in the year 1852 to ride slowly to the French frontier
at Irun. They were dressed, as, alas ! it would be impossible
for them to be now, in the smart old Andaluz garb, with
velvet-tufted calanes hats, embroidered jackets with silver
buttons, breeches and gaiters. Their road led them to
many famous cities, of which, truth to say, they show very
little appreciation. Even peerless Granada gets but scant
perfunctory praise. But upon the open road, in the
sunbaked villages upon sterile hillsides, amongst rude boors
sitting round the blazing fire of vine cuttings in inn
kitchens, Cayley is at his best : full of keen observation,
witty comment, racy description and whimsical fancy.

The Spain he describes is that of Borrow seen in the last
years before the great change swept over it, a change that
in forty years transformed it more than the previous four
hundred had done. Gone now, or almost gone, are the
quaint provincial costumes that made of Spanish travel a
feast of colour and picturesqueness ; gone, in the consider-
able towns at least, the haphazard accommodation for
travellers, the overcrowded and verminous posadas, the
unsophisticated service and the scanty fare. The frequent
intercourse with strangers, too, has rubbed oiF some of the
old-world bloom from the manners of the people. But,

9

Introduction

though the railways have scored deep lines upon the face or
the land, they have left the districts untouched by them
more conservative than ever in many things. Now that
everybody travels by rail from one principal point to
another, the habit of road travel has been lost, and the
smaller towns of no special interest to tourists are more
deserted than before. A few Catalan and French bagmen
occasionally find their way to these places out of the beaten
track of international travel ; but save for them, the roads
are left to muleteers and wayfarers, such as those described
in " Don Quixote " and seen by George Cayley and his
friend more than fifty years ago. Again, doubtless, in
Spain as elsewhere, the popularisation of the motor will in
time bring the main diligence roads into use again by
cultured travellers. But that, thank Heaven, is not likely
to be just yet ; for the highways leave much to be desired
from the motorist's point of view, and the posadas in the
provinces will take many years to bring up to his ideal of a
comfortable stopping-place.

It may be safely said that if at present any two young
men similarly equipped to Cayley and his companion were
to start out on a like expedition they might conceivably
meet with adventures and discomforts of the same sort, and
would assuredly find the places and people but little
changed, except in the matter of costume. It is true that
they would run smaller risk of attack from bandits, although
even that danger in certain districts might be encountered,
nor would it be so easy now as it appears to have been fifty
years ago to make readers believe that you might kill a free-
booter in the neighbourhood of a great Spanish city and escape
pursuit or suspicion. Nor could the travellers, without
the certainty of being apprehended for lunatics or stoned for
buffoons, assume the theatrical get up adopted by the
Englishmen in "Las Alforjas."

10

Introduction

But what is quite inconceivable is that two young
English gentlemen of the present day, accustomed to rapid,
luxurious transit and cleanly comfort, would voluntarily
undergo the dirt, hardship, discomfort and delay which a
journey over by-roads and bridle-tracks from one end of
Spain to the other would even now necessarily entail. In
the pursuit of sport, as it is called, it is true that even
greater hardships are faced by gently nurtured Englishmen ;
but of sport as they understand it there is little to be had in
Spain, especially by chance travellers ; and poor fare and
squalid surroundings do not commend themselves to our
pampered generation. Quite recently I passed a time upon
the road and in the small pueblos^ far away from railways, in
the ancient kingdom of Murcia, passing the nights often in
lonely granges before the log fires, or in village posadas as
primitive as those described by Cayley. And there was
much talk there at the time of a certain daring handelero
who had an inconvenient habit of waylaying and robbing
honest citizens on the road not far from Lorca. I can
answer for it that if a pair of young Englishmen were to set
forth, as Cayley and his friend did, with ponies and no
guide, and were to ride, we will say, from Lorca through
the ancient Moorish kingdom of Granada, by Velez Rubio,
Baza, Guadix and Granada, to Motril on the Mediterranean,
they would see as much local colour, wild scenery and
rough accommodation as would last them in a general way
for the rest of their lives, although they might not make so
fine a book of their wanderings as George Cayley did.
Indeed, for a good portion of the way the route of the
earlier traveller might still be traversed without much
alteration being found in the roadside inns or in the roads
themselves. It is not, however, primarily as a guide-book
that " The Bridle Roads of Spain " should be regarded. It

II

Introduction

deserves to be read as a little masterpiece of travel by any
one upon whom the glamour of Spain has fallen ; and it
was a happy thought to rescue it from the undeserved
oblivion into which it had sunk. Personally I shall love
it always for what it meant to me in those fast-fading days
or my early youth, but it should charm others by the wit
and brilliancy of its narrative and the unfailing vigour of
its style.

MARTIN HUME.

London, April, 1908.

12

RECOLLECTIONS
OF GEORGE JOHN CAYLEY

BY

LADY RITCHIE

AND

MRS. COBDEN SICKERT

The first time I remember him was mounting a great
stone staircase in an old palace at Naples. My father had
been calling on Mrs. Craven — Pauline de la Ferronays —
the friend of so many friends. We left her sitting by the
wood fire burning in the great chimney-piece. She was
dressed in white, a pale woman with smooth dark hair,
looking thoughtfully into the smouldering flame. The
room beyond was in twilight ; it was rather solemn,
with thick walls and carved ceilings and sad-coloured
curtains, just lighted by the flicker from the burning logs.
A servant met us in the anteroom to let us out, and the
door had not closed when we saw George Cayley coming
up the staircase — a rapid, fanciful figure wrapped in a
cloak. He suddenly drew out a sword as he met us
and stopped to speak to my father.

13

Recollections of George John Cayley

«■

I am going to the fancy ball at the palace to-night,"
he said, " and I am coming to show Mrs. Craven my
sword."

" Where did you get it from ? " my father asked him,
taking it into his own hand and admiring it.

" I made it myself," the young man answered ; " look at
the chain — I am very proud of the chain," and then, re-
placing it in its scabbard, he nodded, and passed through
the door which had not yet shut, into the dim, dignified
home of the Cravens.

Among the many pictures which hang up in one's gallery
of early impressions I have more than one fading sketch of
my old friend. But when some one asked me who he was
like, I could only think of some character in fiction, of
Hamlet — Mercutio — Fantasio, perhaps, out of Alfred de
Musset's play. I could imagine George Cayley fishing for
wigs as Fantasio did. How many strange objects he used
to fish for, and what lovely things he used to bring to show
us devised by his own hands and invented by himself! I
can see those hands still, nervous, gentleman's hands, the
fingers scarred and stained with many experiments, with
work on the anvil, with acids and varnishes. When we
first met his dress was shabby and fanciful. Sometimes he
had on a red cap like that one in the picture of Masaccio's
in the National Gallery. People wore their hair long in
those days, almost as long as they did in Masaccio's time.
Mr. Cayley was not handsome, like Masaccio, but never-
theless, his was a striking appearance and a figure not to be
overlooked ; always to the front, propounding, speculating,
alert, interested — his friends laughed at his whimsical
theories and paradoxes, and loved his warm heart, and
admired his gay, quick intuition.

We did not meet again for a year or two after that

H

Recollections of George John Cayley

casual encounter at Naples. By that time I was a grown-
up young lady going out with my father.

There was one special ball in Dover Street at Lady
Stanley of Alderley's, into which he suddenly reappeared on
his return from the war in the East, where he had gone
out as special correspondent.

Lady Stanley stood receiving her guests, surrounded by
her beautiful daughters. The great shining landing led to
a shining ballroom ; figures dressed (so it seemed to me) in
radiance and light and crowned with flowers were flitting
all about, and Mr. Cayley came up through the crowd.
He told us he had only returned home that very day, and
it was with the halo of unknown adventure and danger
about him that he met us. His clothes were not quite
the same as other people's clothes ; he wore a loose
black necktie which I dare say had been in battle with
him. Everybody made him welcome, and all that even-
ing he danced and talked and responded to his friends'
greetings.

Whether in beautiful and dazzling scenes or in quiet
little dining-rooms and studies, his talk was always the
same, full of wit, full of gist. He would talk of to-day,
of to-morrow, of yesterday, of feelings, of plans, with end-
less zest and with fancy. He used to preach little sermons
to his partners as he stood up with them, to which they
listened with reverence. He had a high, harsh voice, with
a chord in it.

"There is such a thing as being true to oneself," I can
still hear him say in a crowded back room in Chesham
Place ; " you must never forget that."

Mr. Cayley had given up fancy dress and foreign experi-
ments by this time. He had made it all right with his
family and come home to live in London. As I reopen

15

Recollections of George John Cayley

this book of the past (it must have been published about
the time of which I am writing), I can almost hear my old
friend's voice, still speaking, dictating, suggesting, half in
fun, all in earnest, sentence after sentence ringing like
a happy chime of youth — each sentence is as if he were
speaking still.

Take for instance : " Man is a practical animal with
a few romantic aspirations which affect his thoughts much
more than his actions. The romance of every man's life
consists, not half so much in what he does, or has done,
as in what he thinks of doing, or thinks he might have
done." Or again : " There are Pyramuses and Thisbes,
who peep at each other through opera glasses instead of
through holes in the wall, and Romeos and Juliets, who
meet, whether at Devonshire House or the Whittington
Club Balls, and love just as suddenly, desperately, and
fatally." How true it all is, how gay, how experienced !
Or again : " I have always looked upon Pickwick (which
will live as Dickens's great work) as a free translation or
Don Ouixote into the manners of modern England. Mr.
Pickwick, in the simple enthusiasm of his heart, resolves to
be the redresser of grievances. Sam Weller, the shrewd and
humorous valet, is the natural Sancho of British low life ;
always ready, like his prototype, with a quaint and homely,
common-sense view, to contrast with the flighty visions of
his master. Jingle is Gines de Pasamonte, Wardle the
hospitable sylvan duke. . . ."

George Cayley used to come and dine with us in Onslow
Square, and question and contradict my father and interest
him and amuse him. His own father, Mr. Edward
Stillingfleet Cayley, a widower, was a Yorkshireman,
a landowner, belonging to an ancient family, and a
member of Parliament. Mr. Cayley used to live in

i6

Recollections of George John Cayley

Dean's Yard, Westminster, and we were sometimes asked
to dine there. I do not know who was actually dwelling
in the house besides George and his elder brother ; I have an
impression that Lord Strangford, then Mr. Smythe, lived
there too. I remember the hall with half a dozen hats
hanging up ; there was a little snug back room with a
bright fire and invitations stuck all over the chimney-piece ;
a drawing-room upstairs also looking very comfortable,
with its bookcases and its plaster casts, and armchairs
round the fire, and a table with books and a reading-
desk. Mr. Cayley pere was standing at the door to
receive us, a tall, thin, hook-nosed gentleman with very
white hair, very dignified and polite. Lady Charlotte
Locker was sitting on the sofa.

I remember Mr. Cayley the elder welcoming my father
with great courtesy and saying : " I leave everything to
George ; he mvites my guests and arranges everything ; he
arranged the dinner table, as you will see ; it is all his doing."

That little dinner party begins again, as I think of it.
Lady Charlotte Locker sits by Mr. Cayley — it is all rather
dull and supremely delightful — George Cayley does not
hold forth in his father's presence, it is the others who
talk. He becomes somewhat absorbed and preoccupied with
details, like Martha ; for the moment the A'lary in him is
absent. When we left it was the father who insisted on
seeing us to the carriage : " Don't you come out, George,"
he said to his son.

I kept a diary in those days, where all these minute
details were noted, and among other things I see that after
dinner Lady Charlotte Locker told me that Mr. Edward
Cayley's father and mother had both been born deaf and
dumb.

In that same old house under the Abbey towers, where

17 B

Recollections of George John Cayley

the chimes and the bells are part of the daily life, and the
people are to be seen as they go crossing Dean's Yard on
their way to and from the cloisters, where any day you may
meet the cheerful stream of Westminster boys pouring out
to their games, the Cayleys went on living long after the
kind old father's death. George, meanwhile, had married
a very young bride. Miss Wilmot, a cousin of his own, and
three little children were born to them as the years went
by. Sir John Millais once painted a charming picture of
the elder boy, and received in return a beautiful silver tray
with dolphin handles worked for him by George Cayley
himself, whose silver work was very striking and beautiful.
Some of it is like the modern archaic work, only with more
grace and finish. Once (still in my youth) I remember
that at some dinner everyone was speaking of a marvellous
find, an antique silver ornament of uncertain date, over
which people were speculating. Mrs. Norton was sitting
opposite to me and she looked down slowly and smiled.
" There is no uncertainty," she said ; " I recognise the
work of our friend George Cayley," and then everybody
laughed, and agreed that she was right.

Our last visit to the Cayleys' old house in Dean's Yard
was a sad one. My sister and I had driven to the steps
of the terrace on which it stands, to ask for one of
the boys who was very ill. The door was opened by
George Cayley himself, who had seen us from the window.
It was a dark winter's evening just before Christmas, and
the mists were everywhere.

" Come in," he said with a sigh, " come in, and share
our dismal jollity. Artie is very ill, there is hardly any hope
for him, but he wanted to see the Christmas-tree lighted
up, and so we are having it to-night instead of waiting
for Christmas."

i8

Recollections of George John Cayley

We followed him upstairs to the drawing-room, where
the tree was beginning to shine with its candles, the two
other children were excitedly running to and fro, little Artie
was lying back on his pillows between his mother and his
nurse ; and then George Cayley, with the tears streaming
down his cheeks, went on steadily lighting the candles and
looking to it all. Little Artie was smiling faintly, the
children still running round and round the little tree,
when we left. I remember the sad look of the lighted
windows as we drove away and looked back at the house.

It is now thirty years since George Cayley himself died
after a long illness courageously endured. The Times
obituary for October 15, 1878, ran thus : —

"On the nth October, at Munton Rectory, Kent,
George John Cayley, second son of the late Edward
Stillingfleet Cayley, Esq., M.P.,of Wydale, York, aged 52."

ANNE THACKERAY RITCHIE.

II

George Cayley's personality was brilliant, original, and
many-sided. To seek his society was to court surprise, for
he was eccentric and conventional, steadfast and capricious,
made up of contradictions. He was a wayward philosopher.
Those whom he admitted to intimacy found themselves in
the wittiest, the most resourceful, the finest company. It
is true that, like most persons of strong individuality, if he
could attract he could also repel : otherwise, how should
Nature protect her favourites against besieging hordes of
curious mediocrity ?

One after another those who knew George Cayley are

19

Recollections of George John Cayley

following him out of the world. When all who knew him
are gone, what memory will survive of his charm, powerful
and evanescent, what shadow of the substance that once
was he ?

The writer of these lines has been asked to put into a few
words her recollections of him as he was in long past days.
Such recollections tend rather to visualise than to become
articulate. They are intangible, they come and go, they
evoke a sigh or a smile, and behold ! they have taken
another shape or have vanished !

There must still be some who knew him in other aspects
than were familiar to the three sisters who, so long ago,
were his young neighbours in Algiers, one of whom now
endeavours to record — however faintly — the vivid mental
vision they all three retain of him.

The three sisters were in Algiers one winter and spring,
m a house in the Village d'Isly at the end of the Ravines.
Close by, gardens and walls, gates and lane between, was an
almost empty house awaiting the wandering occupants of
its vacant rooms. One day the first comers were idling on
their verandah, when up the garden walk came a little
girl — the blue Mediterranean was background to the small
figure in white pinafore and hat with daisies round the
crown ; in both arms, very tightly, she clasped an empty
wine bottle. Demurely she came towards the strangers,
her eyes fixed upon them. When she was close to them
she held out the bottle and asked to have it filled with
fresh water. One of the sisters carried it home for her, and
there in the next house was the newly-returned family —
Mr. Cayley and his wife, their little son, the tiny daughter.
The water supply of one house was as good as that of the
other : the little messenger had been despatched on a
diplomatic mission to report upon the neighbours.

20

Recollections of George John Cayley

The family of four had spent the summer in the island of
Majorca ; they had sailed away from Algiers with part of
their furniture and their three big Spanish donkeys. On
the island they had sparsely furnished an empty house; they
had lived sometimes in tents, riding their donkeys from
camping ground to camping ground. Now, with their
furniture and the donkeys, they had come back to their
house in Algiers. Whilst they were settling in was
opportunity for friendly relations to grow up between them
and their neighbours.

If fairy gold may turn to dry leaves, there are dry leaves
that in some hands turn to gold. Mr. Cayley took the
common things of every day and made of them adventure
and romance.

The two families met early and late. Ir, by some
mischance, there were tiffs in the morning, before the
morning ended there were meetings to explain away the
foundationless " bad dreams." With Mr. Cayley their
neighbours often rode the Spanish donkeys ; at first were
inexpert at sitting a pack, fell off" and rose from the
dusty ground to mount again, perhaps to fall again. The
riders climbed the steep, paved, narrow Arab lanes ; they sat
their steeds and drank coffee at the Arab coffee-houses
found here and there in lovely out-of-the-way places ; they
listened while Mr. Cayley, in Arabic, exchanged greetings
with the coffee-makers ; they halted on the Roman bridge
to look long at the red river that flowed under it and
curved and turned and was lost in yet another bend. The
river flowed not with water, but with red anemones. (The
red river flows no longer, it is said ; the neighbours have
not been back to see.) Then on again over the sunlit
ridges and down into the shadows of the valleys — for thus
the land lay in a region beyond the heights of Mustapha

21

Recollections of George John Cayley

— and so over many ridges and into many valleys. The
riders came home at eve counting height and depth as
day and night — to rest after a week of travelling, or so
they said.

At the simple entertainments that in those days were
given in Algiers, Mr. Cayley might be seen or he might
not. If he were in the mood he went, if he were not he
stayed away ; he indulged his moods and made no effort to
control them. Whether he went or not, he wished his
neighbours to go, and if he stopped at home he liked them
to come back and tell him who was there and what was
said. If, when they returned, lights were still burning in
the Maison Cayley, the neighbours tapped on the glass and
entered through the window, to be given supper of bread
and Majorca cheese and wine. Mr. Cayley did not despise
gossip or discourage it ; but it must be short and to the
point, and by no means of necessity charitable. He was
amused by what went on around him, by the little dramas
in real life played before him or told to him.

Once he acted " Petruchio " ; once he coached his
neighbours in their parts. He had a taste for costume,
especially for the costume of any country he was in. In
Algiers he often wore some modification of Arab dress,
which became him very well. So clothed he could be seen
hammering metal — gold, silver or brass — into strange, beauti-
ful shapes. He might then talk delightfully to a visitor or
he might be silent, replying, if reply he did, by a shrug, a
lifted eyebrow, a mouth half opened for a moment, and, on
second thoughts, shut to and nothing said. Sometimes his
gates were closed against all comers — perhaps the family
had colds, and on the gates was pinned a notice that
" Toute la famille Cayley est tres malade ; on est pri6 de ne
pas entrer."

22

Recollections of George John Cayley

Mr. Cayley had a wide knowledge of literature, and was
apt at quotation, and yet his neighbours do not associate
him very specially with books. He had seen many places,
known many people in many lands. Most of the dis-
tinguished people of his day had been his friends. But he
did not dwell in reminiscence, and of the dead the names
with which his neighbours chiefly associate him are those
of Mrs. Norton, Thackeray, Stirling-Maxwell, Monckton
Milnes. Nor do the neighbours remember that he dealt
much in anecdote — they recall one : out in the Crimea a
wounded soldier dying close to him in the trenches and
bidding farewell to a comrade : — " It's all cold cawfee with
me, Jim," and no other word spoken. It was as a corre-
spondent that George Cayley was in the Crimea, for what
paper his neighbours know not. On the Conservative
side he had fought and lost an election at Scarborough ;
he had travelled far ; he had lived in a tomb by the
Nile. He was man of the world, citizen of the world ; he
was part Bohemian, part conventional. He had pride of
birth, the prejudices of an aristocrat ; these were tempered
by contempt for the fool wherever placed, by immense
appreciation of genius, talent, capacity wherever found.
For humanity in the mass he had scant respect ; he was,
on the other hand, tender towards the individual gifted by
Nature upon whom Fortune frowned. From George Cayley
such an one would get sympathy and advice, intelligent
and practical. A younger son who had pursued no career
of money, all his life, he had very little. With what he had
he was open-handed.

He was witty, he was bitter ; he was keen and sometimes
cruel in his judgments. He was never in a hurry and he
was never idle. If he did not like you he was not very
kind ; if he liked you he had always time to give you ; if

23

Recollections of George John Cayley

he liked you he could make every hour of the day seem
worth a hundred days without him.

How hard it is to crystallise into words the remembrance
in which his long-ago neighbours hold him ! What things
tangible have come down to them from him ? A pot he
turned upon the wheel, a brooch, a comb, a bracket, verses.

For a few more years the Cayleys lived in Algiers.
They moved to another house above the Fontaine Bleue.
That house was of Moorish architecture, with a Moorish
garden. There was an outer court, rooms built round the
inner court, flat roof above. Mr. Cayley as long as it was
possible — longer, it might almost be said — played tennis in
the outer court, the "jeu de paume." His health failed
surely, if slowly. He bore the gradual loss of physical
power with stoic fortitude, ignoring it as far as might
be ; of sympathy he would have none. A friend of earlier
days bidding him what proved to be a last farewell, betrayed
more emotion than was due to an ordinary parting that
might once more have been only the prologue to their next
meeting. George Cayley said, " Ah, I see you know that
I am dying." He started to return to Algiers, and died on
the way, in Kent, at the house of a relative.

"The Bridle Roads of Spain" has been for many years
lost to the knowledge of the public, but there have always
been a few who prized it ; a few from time to time have
discovered it ; now and then strangers have fraternised over
their common knowledge of it. This book of his is said by
an authority to be of the very spirit and essence of Spain —
to the three neighbours it seems of the very essence and
spirit of George Cayley.

E. M. COBDEN SICKERT.

24

A FAREWELL SONNET

(to our next-door neighbours.)

Till you are gone, and your small cloud of smoke

Grows pale and paler while our eyes pursue,

Till the horizon blots you all in blue,

We shall not know how bitter is the stroke

Of parting. For the threadbare Spartan cloak

Muffles from touch as well as veils from view,

Slight wounds alike, and such as through and through

Would rip us were we armour-plated oak.

A weary sense of loss to eye and ear.

And all the doors and windows of the mind ;

A silence of familiar voices kind

That heralded familiar faces dear.

So dull dim distance closes cold and blind

Between us and who knows what hope or fear.

G. J. C.

{Written with the first ink out of the bequeathed bottle.)

25

CONTENTS

PAGE

INTRODUCTION BY MARTIN HUME, M.A. . . 5
RECOLLECTIONS OF GEORGE JOHN CAYLEY —

BY LADY RITCHIE . . . • ^3

BY MRS. COBDEN SICKERT . . - ^9

A FAREWELL SONNET . . . . • ^5

TITLE PAGE . . . . . • ^9

27

BY
CE0B6E JOHN CAYLEY

AUTHOR OF SIR RECINALD MOHUN

CSTEVEKS.SCtJUP

Ccn tcdc esc dijc el jD

en

Juan sera oien leer la , pues no
hay liore tan male que nc tenna
alauna ccsa hue net JJl QJ

oQpjVDOjY
ifl53

I\l CHARD BENTLEY NEW BURLINGTON S?,'

DEDICATION

Love hath an idle industry :
And foolish lovers fondly trace
The name they love in any place ;

Nor stay to think how brief may be

The record of such registry.

They carve sequestered woodland boles
Where solitude and silence reign :
They scar the hostel window-pane,

To shake when any brawler trolls

His ribald catch to careless souls :

Or wandering where with sullen roar
The vexed sea-bosom maketh moan —
Deep-murmuring echo of their own —
They linger in the sand to score
The name they love along the shore.

And yet they know the tree shall grow,

Till tortured characters forswear

Their legend : glass, though marked with care,
Shall break : they know the tide shall flow.
And leave the sand as smooth as snow.

31

Dedication

So, Mabel, on the first of these
Ephemeral leaves, at random ta'en
From scented coppice-wolds of Spain,
I trace thy name, my heart to please —
And trust them to the idle breeze !

The breeze of fashion fluttering by —
Which often sports with flimsy toys.
And makes a busy murmuring noise
'Mid rustling leaves that yearly die —
May let them fall or make them fly.

What if such foliage flew or fell —
It could but last a little while :
And, whether fortune frown or smile.
The first of these light leaves shall tell—
I care not whom — I love thee well !

32

PREFACE TO SECOND EDITION

When you have made a mistake, generally the worst
thing you can do is to enter into explanations ; and when
anybody begins with saying that something is generally
inexpedient, you may be sure that he is, individually, and
by special exception, going to do it himself. The reader
will at once perceive that the Author of these pages, having
rashly published a first, is now (perhaps still more rashly)
about to apologise in a second edition.

His work has met with, perhaps, more than its due pro-
portion of literary notice, in which, as is usual, it has
been praised and blamed for the same things by different
critics. Under these circumstances, the Author would
have been content to adopt the old expedient of accepting
the praise and ignoring the blame, if there had not been
one grave charge reiterated alike by reprovers and com-
menders (by these as "a serious blemish, which we the
more regret from the many excellences," &c. ; by those as
the head and front of offending) — namely, the "unscru-
pulous mixture of truth and fiction, which would mar a
better book than," &c.

The Author takes this opportunity of assuring the intel-
ligent and perspicacious reader, that he had no intention
whatever of misleading him. He thought that, to the

33

Preface

intelligent reader, the book would sufficiently explain its
own plan, and indicate what was truth and how much fiction
by subtile lines of demarcation not intended to catch the
eye and arouse the suspicions of the careless and credulous.

The result was, one more illustration of the danger of too
hasty and general classifications. The intelligent were not
vigilant enough, and the credulous not blind enough, for the
Author's purpose. The critic (whose course through the
wastes of light literature is often kangaroo-lilce) overlooked
and overleapt all the cunning countersigns intended to warn
him where a toil was spread for the unwary. When the
Author steps modestly forward, in a foot note, to disen-
tangle the meshes and beg pardon, it is too late. The critic
has taken offence, and refusing to be comforted, lays about
him, tearing the flimsy fabric in pieces, like the bee in this
fable by Loqman el hakim.

THE SPIDER AND THE BEE.

An ingenious little spider had spread her nets amid the
tall rank stalks of certain weeds that grew over the remnant
of a carcass. The lion had left it to the wolves, the wolves
to the vultures, and the vultures to the flies, which last
were still buzzing in countless swarms among the putrid
bones. Many were already caught in the toils, when a brisk
young bee came booming across the wilderness, who, when
he heard the collective buzzing, mistook it for the hum of
his own tribe. He at once plunged into the weed-clump to
look for flowers, and became entangled in the cobwebs.
These he was indignantly demolishing, when the spider thus
accosted him : —

" Oh vagrant son of the hive — an evil hour hath borne
thee hither ! wherefore didst thou not stay to observe that

34

to Second Edition

these be base weeds barren of honey, and these slender
toils woven for foolish flies ! Now, thou hast rent my poor
web, and set free my legitimate prey, while thy blustering
outcries have alarmed the frivolous race on which I make
my living, so that now, on thy departure, I may mend my
broken nets in vain." But the bee answered — " Out upon
thee, mother of snares! Let this warn thee not to catch bees
any more ; and be thankful thou hast escaped my sting."
" Had I meant to catch bees," she replied, " I would have
spun my nets of stronger line, and spread them among
flowers. I trusted to the wisdom of bees for my safety, as
I did to the folly of flies for my subsistence." So the bee
flew away in great dudgeon ; and when the spider had
mended her web, the flies (who would never have found it
out for themselves) were aware of the danger, and left the
spider to starve.

This fable is, of course, no more to be found in the
original Arabic than the " Cronica de los Sultanes de
Granada, por el Sabio Abou Kizeb " (father of lies),
p. 216.

The Author, being very much in the position of an unfor-
tunate wit, who has made an elaborate joke which a prosaic
company, taking it (as the French say) "at the foot of the
letter," are inclined to consider a perversion of facts, will
now, with the best grace he can, relinquish his unsuccessful
attempt at pleasantry, in the hope of rescuing, at least, his
impeached veracity.

Entertaining what he believes to be a very common
opinion, that the books of readable travel offered to the
public were usually more indebted to the embroidering
needle of fiction than the loom and shuttle of fact ; and
giving the British public credit for a general curiosity about
manufactures of all sorts, the Author conceived the idea of

35 c

Preface

writing a book of ordinarily accurate modern travel, which
should expose to the reader the process by which such books
are generated, and the relative proportion of truth and
fiction which they contain. He proposed to show how a
seed of suggestion, picked up by the way side, germinated
in the note-book, and finally expanded in printed leaves of
florid narrative.

Man is a practical animal, with a few romantic aspirations
which affect his thoughts much more than his actions. The
romance of every man's life consists, not half so much in
what he does or has done, as in what he thinks of doing, or
thinks he might have done. We were two gentlemen of
letters travelling through Spain, and our original plan was
to write two parallel streams of narrative, in which the
companion of the present Author was to tell what we did ;
and the present Author himself relate, as verisimilarly as
possible, what we thought of doing and thought we might
have done. If this plan had been carried into effect, it
might have proved a curiosity to the loungers of literature
behind the scenes ; but what would the public in front of
the footlights have thought of Siamese-twin Authors flatly
contradicting one another in parallel columns ?

The fabulist would practically have had no chance at all.
But the veracious collahorateur was prevented by circum-
stances from appearing. The decorating artist, being thus
left alone, at first thought of writing both the plain and
adorned himself, and setting them side by side. But the
crooked cannot run evenly with the straight. He found
that he could not write fiction so entertaining that it would
bear constant contradiction, and he compromised the matter
by taking the main line of truth for his general narrative,
and indulging in occasional diversions, which (set off by the
confession of his being an embellishing Author, with occa-

36

to Second Edition

sional hints and inuendoes not conspicuous enough to
frighten the careless skimmer) he hoped would be at once
perceived and understood by the critic as illustrations of his
modified original scheme.

It appears he was mistaken. His manner of relating
real and imaginary events is accused by the reviewers as so
uniform, that they were unsuspiciously led at first to believe
several cock-and-bull stories, which the Author a few pages
subsequent confesses to be such ; and they are afterwards
led to disbelieve other stories which they cannot satisfac-
torily make out whether he means to vouch for or discredit.
The real mistake was not having made a general prefatory
confession (which nobody would have read), a fault he is
now rectifying in the second edition, by a candid avowal
which will, at any rate, ease his literary conscience ; and if,
as he hopes, no one reads it before reading the book, it will
do no harm. Towards this desirable end he has made his
preface rather long and tedious ; and is now about to hide
his confessions in the midst of an interminable paragraph.
The first idea of the scheme of the work arose from the
scene in the water-colour shop (p. 45). The first instance of
pure invention is the Legend of Beaucaire (p. 52). Then
• there is that terrible catastrophe of the slaughtered robber,
which is true up to the point of hearing the pistol report in
the dehesa, and the Author's imagination accounting for the
report (p. 122). "Still the shot had to be accounted for.
Has your imagination prepared you for something dreadful ?
Mine had ! Something like what follows.^'' Observe, only
something like^ and all those italics to put the wary reader
on his guard. In the original draught this letter was fol-
lowed by a postscript, exposing the many points of extreme
improbability which the most casual reader must detect in
the story, and explaining the fact, which was thus : — In his

37

Preface

sudden pursuit of the ponies, the Author had carried away
all the pipe-lights. The redoubtable brigand-slayer Harry
was exercising his matchless prowess in blank cartridge
practice at the end of his cigar, which he succeeded in
lighting at the expense of his companion's vivid appre-
hensions. This postscript was suppressed from biblio-
polical motives, against the Author's better judgment, and
the hint that, after all, it might not be really true (vol. i.
p. 214, 1st edition), was slipped in afterwards, a sop to
conscience, and as bank-notes are sent by surreptitious
penitents to the Chancellor of the Exchequer. The story
of Joshua (p. 177), who had cheated one of the faithful in
the sale of a bewitched donkey, is an invention ; though it is
true that we found the prison, following a fair daughter of
Israel carrying relief to her father. Of course, the Lady
Jane in muleteer's costume is an imaginary sketch : it
arose from a conversation on the possibility of travelling, as
we were doing, in married life. The beggar on assback was
a real man, and the Author did earnestly advocate robbing
him, but could not persuade his companion to enlist in the
undertaking. The only other acknowledged fabrication is
the monomaniac planter of onions and lath crosses at Coca.
But there are a number of what might seem, to the careless
reader, to be narrations, which are, in fact, nothing more
than suggestions of what ?night have happened. The extra-
vagant buccaneering expedition (p. 165) ; the imaginary
imprisonment (p. 203) ; and the theoretical robbery of two
British clergymen, all related as what might have happened,
are surely not to be quoted against the work as clumsy
attempts to deceive, throwing discredit by implication on
all the rest of it, which, with the palpable and self-evident
exceptions specified, is strictly faithful to the fact. In
conclusion, the Author hopes and trusts that, after this

38

to Second Edition

full and minute, though not improbably or undesignedly
tedious account of exceptional instances, his word may be
taken for the strict, literal, and unvarnished truth of the
remainder.

39

The Bridle Roads of Spain

CHAPTER I

On Thursday, October i6th, of the year of the Great
Exhibition, I embarked at the Waterloo station, where
I booked myself through to Paris for two-and-twenty
shillings.

The carriage was full of foreigners. Opposite me was a
young German, by a curious coincidence, also on the way
to Spain. He was going by Lisbon, and I by Barcelona.
I begged him to call on me as he passed through Seville in
the winter ; but, separating at Southampton for our several
packets, we forgot to exchange names.

At Southampton — which we reached about midnight —
we were rattled down in an omnibus to the pier. Here we
had to pay harbour dues, amounting to twopence each
individual, and a penny each package.

A Frenchman who had been a fortnight in London, and
had not an atom of luggage, made great outcries at having
to pay his twopence.

" Mais c'est infame ! Comment deux pence — puisque je
n'ai point de bagages — absolument rien ! 'Cr6 coquin de
pays ou Ton fait tout payer, meme les choses qui n'existent
pas, 'cristie ! "

41

Perfide Albion

I explained to him that it was for himself^ not any " effets
suppositjfs "; and consoled him with the reflection that the
most Spartanesque traveller must at least carry a body
about with him ; and it ought not to vex his spirit having
to pay twopence for so important a vehicle, for, after all,
twopence was not a heavy ad valorem duty.

I met him again on deck. He was a hard-featured,
weather-beaten man. One of his eyes opened wider than
the other, with a ludicrous, half-fierce, half-bewildered
expression. His shirt was curiously dirty, even by the
light of the fusee with which he lit a cigarette I made for
him to calm his nerves. He approved of the Exhibition,
and said he had occupied himself in it going "p et la pour
voir ce qu'il y avait de curieux ; car le pays riest pas amusant."
He could not speak a word of English, and had the impres-
sion that everybody wanted to cheat him.

There is a theory wherein the wisdom of our ancestors is
supposed to dwell, that much virtue lies between the sheets
of a bed, and that at all hazards travellers should undress
before they attempt to sleep. To me it would appear that
there is neither comfort nor amusement in the taking off
and putting on of garments (unless these functions are
intercalated by a satisfactory means of general ablution,
which on a steamer is not the case), but much the
contrary.

Again, where the beds are cofllins, and the sheets about
the breadth and texture of long-towelling, there is a diffi-
culty in keeping the narrow strip of bedclothes balanced
on one's knees and shoulders. The coarse sheets, especially,
show a strong constitutional tendency to revert to their
proper destination, converting themselves into tightly-
twisted cables, and writhing themselves round their victim,
who, if he be a person of classical imagination, dreams he is

42

Laocoon in a Berth

a childless Laocoon in a cold climate, and wakes up at once
stifled and chilled.

The prejudice against sleeping dressed has doubtless
come down to us, by tradition, from days when dress was
much tighter and more uncomfortable than in these loose
and easy days of long waistcoats and tweed shooting-
jackets.

Having made these reflections, I took off my shoes, but-
toned the straps of my trousers to prevent them ruckling
up, put my feet into the sleeves of my great-coat, whose
skirts I turned up over my knees, spread my plaid over all,
and went to sleep.

43

CHAPTER II

Friaay, October 17.

It was a fine sunshiny morning. We got into Havre at
a quarter to ten. I immediately went ashore and break-
fasted, leaving my portmanto to its fate.

Returning from breakfast in about half an hour, my
portmanto was still on the deck, unmoved and immovable.
I told the douaniers that I must have my malle^ for I was
going off by the eleven o'clock train. They shrugged their
shoulders and said it was impossible. The luggage would
not be looked over till two o'clock — that it was not their
fault if the boat came too late to catch the train.

Knowing that the most formidable of French impossi-
bilities are always routable by a charge of cavalry, I got a
boat, and succeeded — not without a considerable amount of
personal exertion and blustering — in getting my portmanto
on shore before the departure of the eleven o'clock
train — too late, however, to be registered ; and I was hur-
ried into my carriage with some misgivings, though the
porter said he would put it in. I was aware that in France
nothing can be done without the greatest amount of absurd
and useless formality, and that they are always determined
to protect you, whether you think the risk worth the incon-
venience of the remedy or not ; but it seemed too monstrous
that they should separate a man from his luggage, merely
because the registry had closed.

44

A Detruncation

When, in the front rank of an anxious crowd, I rushed to
those awful folding portals whereover is written distribu-
tion DE BAGAGEs (but where should be written, lasciate
OGNi SPERANZA, VOX CHE NGN registrate), I waited there
with agonising sensations, and saw, through the grating,
trunk after trunk, and valise after valise, and every other
sort of luggage, borne in on the shoulders of brawny and
blousy porters. It came not. I made my complaint. It
would come by the next train, five in the morning. I
signed my name in a book — sighed, and sallied forth.

It was about six. The night was falling fast. I had
intended to go direct to the Lyons railway, and take up
my night's quarters at some neighbouring hostel. That
was now impossible, so I put into the Hotel de Normandie,
close to the station — hired an apartment — rolled up my
great-coat, with the revolver and three rouleaux of nine
Napoleons each, put up in separate fingers cut off an old
glove, in its pockets — stuffed the bundle into a closet,
locked the door, and went forth into the night, bearing
with me the key of my arsenal, treasury, and ward-
robe.

I dined — called on a friend in the Boulevard des Italiens,
and asked him where I could get water-colours.

Following his directions, I went to the Place de la
Bourse.

I was some time selecting my paints and brushes. The
shopman, a smart young democrat, seemed to take no
interest whatever in selling his wares. Probably he was
the prodigal son of the establishment, with a fixed income.
He seemed, " not to put too fine a point on it," intensely
bored, and ever and anon would ejaculate, sotto voce^ "Oh,
mon Dieu, est-il possible ! " At last I finished my selec-
tion of paints, and began to try the points of the brushes.

45

A Brush with the Enemy

This overcame his last detachment of patience, and he
said, —

" Oh ciel ! les pinceaux ne sont pas long a choisir ! ! ! "

" II me parait que je vous ennuie ? "

" Un peu, vraiment ! "

" Comme ce n'est que pour vous distraire, monsieur, dans
vos moments de loisir que j'achete ces objets, et comme il
m'est parfaitement indifferent qu'ils soient bien ou mal
choisis, je continuerai avec deliberation I'accomplissement
de mon affaire."

This speech acted, of course, as a declaration of v/zr.
Amid much violence and undiplomatic language, I with-
drew the golden ambassador I held in my hand ready to
drop into his capital. He, on the other hand, undid my
parcel and put each particular paint in its place, under the
glass counter, with a flourish ; making an extra flourish
with the vermilion — I suppose by way of expressing his
political preference for that hue.

Thus I should have lost, my only chance of being able to
make any water-colour drawings in Spain (for there are no
materials to be bought in the country, says the infallible
Mr. Ford), had I spoken as I have written.

Instead of this, at the point where he delivered himself
or the apophthegm " that paint-brushes were not things
that took long to choose," I reflected that the poor young
man was probably in love, or had a headache, or an appoint-
ment, or had been recently reproved by his parents. There-
fore, though I composed the little speech in my head, and
had it ready in case my patience should happen to give way,
I managed to keep it to myself, and went on with a specious
calmness choosing my brushes, and at length, paying my
money, departed in peace ; I doubt not with the young
man's blessing. Nay, also with his alms, for in his haste to

46

Saturn at a Discount

be rid of me, I think he gave me about a franc too much
change. However, out of pity for his weariness, and as the
paints were quite dear enough as it was, I did not trouble
him with restoring it.

I now wandered about, and travelled a considerable dis-
tance, attempting to steer by the stars ; but, though in
former days I used to know the quartier between the Seine
and the Boulevard pretty well, after about an hour I came
unexpectedly on the Place de la Bourse again.

There was a man with a great telescope planted on the
pavement.

" Approchez-vous, messieurs ! Saturne avec son anneau !
vingt-cinq centimes ! "

I had a look at the dull old grandfather of the planets
trudging his weary round through space, with his broad
baldrick slanting across his shoulder. A cold bath at the
Bains Chinois took the day's dust ofF me on my way home
to the hotel, where I straitly charged the concierge to call
me betimes.

47

CHAPTER III

Saturday, October 1 8.
At a little before six I went over the way to the station.

The stars were shining. Orion was high in the southern
heaven, and bright-eyed Sirius hunting at his heel. The
Twins were almost in the zenith, and the moon within her
own breadth of Mars.

I was just in time to see my lost one pulled out of the
luggage-van ; and, after surmounting several impossibilities,
I set off in a citadine for the Lyons railway-station.

Dawn was grizzling the beard of night (by the way,
night is classically an old woman ; but what of that,
since some old women have beards ?) as I mounted my
vehicle : and as my jaded and superannuated cart-horse
stumbled along the Boulevard, broad streaks of light
rose horizontally, as if Phoebus was drawing up his Venetian
blinds.

At last he put his head out of his window ; and the first
of his beams fell on the brazen mountebank who cuts his
continual caper and blows his own trumpet on the column
of the Bastille.

Having deposited my luggage at the foot of a wood
column, and having taken advice of the railway authorities
as to the train to go by, I found I had just three hours and
three-quarters to get my breakfast in. It was during the
long blank interval which succeeded my meal that I be-

48

Stationary and the Book-Trade

thought me of a certain little book, seven inches by four —
prepared paper — lead point. I sought my portmanto at
the foot of the pillar, brought the volume back to the Cafe
du Chem'in de Fer de Lyon^ and began this history of my
travels.

I began it in the hope it might be an amusement to my-
self, and a safety-valve for the observations I am accus-
tomed to pour into the ears of my travelling companion,
when I have one. But it proved more trouble to write than
I expected, and, on looking over, seemed deplorably dull.
Let us hope it will look rather better in print.

Moreover, I found an agreeable and instructive fellow-
passenger in Major Rawlinson, the arrow-headed character.
He almost persuaded me to become an Assyrian, and go out
to Bagdad instead of Seville, which, if I had done, the
reader should have had an abstruse treatise on

THE VNIFORM CVNEIFORM ;

OR,

ALL THE ALPHABETS OF THE WORLD FROM THE ARROWHEAD.

By random shott, f.r.s.

instead of this transpicuous volume, which those that run
may read.

The recital of my exceedingly ordinary and unimportant
adventures has therefore slumbered for a few days.

The railway took us as far as Chalons, whence the Saone
steamer carried us forward and placed us to the debit of the
city of Lyons.

In Lyons they did not take me, like Lord Chatham, " to
see where the Rhone and the Saone, different as they are,

49

Rhone and Saone

meet at last." And if they had, it would have been of
little use, as we arrived in the dusk of evening, and went
away by the early twilight of dawn.

I could see, however, that Lyons was a very remarkable
town ; and as we ran rapidly along the deep gorge by which
the Saone enters the city, where houses with bright windows
seemed perched among the dark masses of rock, the bell of
our steamboat, which kept ringing incessantly, awoke a
garrulous society of shifting echoes.

The Rhone below Lyons begins to grow gradually from
picturesque to striking, and from that to sublime. The
hills become larger and ruggeder, and their grey rocks are
clothed with the ibronzed and tawny verdure of autumnal-
tinted vineyards. Valence, Rochemaure, and Viviers are
striking places ; the C6te-d'Or, Ventou, &c., are respect-
able mountains ; and further down the real Alps themselves,
which I had never seen before, lifted their snowy summits
far away to the left. It seems to me a much finer river
than the Rhine.

We performed our voyage in a lean, gaunt, sheet-iron
mammoth, 420 feet long, gorged with boxes, and barrels,
and bales of all sizes and shapes. We were ill-accommo-
dated, and charged dear. This great river-serpent dragged
its slow length along to Avignon, where we dined, but saw
little of the place, except the Saracenic-looking walls, and
the coup d'ceii from the train. The railway carried us in
three or four hours to Marseilles, where Major R. was just
in time to start for his caliphate in Bagdad by the Con-
stantinople steamer.

50

CHAPTER IV

Perpignan, October 28.
Marseilles is a polyphylic, cosmopolitan, picturesque
seaport, varied with every costume, and smelling of every-
thing in the world, but especially garlic.

Having nothing on earth to do, I went and sat on the
endmost post of the pier at the left jaw of the square basin,
to enjoy the beauty of the weather, and admire the bright
blue waters of the Mediterranean, as the sunlit sails
scudded over it hither and thither. This is the first time I
have seen it. We are aware its shores are empires.

There were a good many fruit-stalls along the quays, and
I ate a few dozen figs, which did not at all spoil my appetite
for dinner ; after which I wrote letters home, and made up
my mind not to go to Barcelona by steamboat.

On the morrow, at noon, I set ofF for Perpignan, taking
my place, as I supposed, all the way. But I was swindled
by the administrateur — a most amiable, civil man, — who
gave me a Corsican contraband cigar.

I had to retrace my trams on the railway as far as
Tarascon, which is more than half-way back to Avignon.
At Tarascon there was an interval of a mile or two in
omnibuses, and we crossed the Rhone by a suspension-
bridge. Tarascon has a fine old castle, now used as a
prison. On the opposite bank is Beaucaire, with its rival
fortress. In the days of Bertrand du Guesclin, the

5i D

Tarascon and Beaucaire

respective lords of these strongholds were at deadly feud.
Olivier de Beaucaire, a sly old fox, succeeded at last in
entrapping the gay young baron of Tarascon ; and, while
he kept him a prisoner, and continual boats were crossing
and re-crossing the Rhone with negotiations for the exor-
bitant ransom demanded, the captive managed to captivate
the heart of Mademoiselle Beaucaire. She, of course, let
him out by an underground passage. They were married ;
their heir inherited both baronies ; and the castle of Beau-
caire fell into premature decay. I wonder whether the
prisoners of the period at Tarascon make love to the
jailer's daughter. Old Francois de Rastaignac, from whom
I have this legend, adds : " Entre ces beaulx chasteaulx
il y avoit aultrefoys une rude chayne ; et on faisoit force
octroyes, ostant maintes foys les meilleurs barrycqs de ce
bon vin du Coste d'or, que tant aymaient les pyeux prestres
d'Avignon." ^ I found his quaint old chronicle on a book-
stall in Narbonne, and might have bought it for two francs
and a half, if it had not been too bulky a folio to carry all
through the Peninsula and back.

The run by rail from Beaucaire to Montpellier, along the
side of a broad and fertile valley full of olives and orange-
groves, with rocky hills in the distance, all brought out by
the slanting beams of sunset, was very pretty and pleasant.

The summer which left England about two months before
me is now decidedly overtaken. Leaving Montpellier in
the banquette^ which is the windiest place in the diligence,
and wrapping myself up for a considerable change in tem-
perature after sundown, I was too hot in the night.

' " Between these fair castles there was of old a stout chain,
and they exercised a considerable tallage, abstracting often the
best barrels of that good wine of Cote d'Or, which the pious priests
of Avignon so loved."

52

Narbonne

In B6ziers I had to wait from half-past four to six in
the morning for a change of carriages, and got a little
sleep on the marble slab of a cafe-table. The new carriage
proved a wretched rattletrap ; and it turned out that I was
booked no further than Narbonne.

What was worse than the " dis2:race and dishonour " of
being taken in, was " the infinite loss " of time ; for it
arrived ten minutes too late to catch the diligence for
Perpignan, and I had in consequence to wait ten hours in
Narbonne.

I amused myself prowling about among the Roman
remains heaped in great quantities in the Museum Gardens.
There is a fine church, too — especially the inside — stone
roof and handsome columns. It is hung with a quantity
of wretched daubs, which my informant (a sea-captain,
lately from the Gambia river, who made my acquaintance
on the strength of his knowing a little English, and who
was kind enough to show me about the place) assured me
were principally by Rubens.

The streets were here and there blocked up by great
wine-presses, which, as they were screwed down, gushed
with purple spouts into all sorts of tubs, and jars, and pan-
nikins. I got more grapes for two sous than I could eat ;
excellent grapes too.

At eight o'clock, very weary of Narbonne, I set off for
Perpignan, which I reached at two in the morning, and
went to bed.

Next morning I wandered about the town, and up to the
citadel. I inquired for the commandant, and was shown
into the presence of a polite colonel with a wooden leg, and
a long straggling stringy red beard.

He called out of his window, which overlooked the prin-
cipal court of the fortress, and there came up a smiling old

53

Perpignan

corporal, carrying a gigantic key or two. The chatelain led
me up through a sort of cloister into another higher and
smaller court, and thence up into the high tower.

There is a fine view from the top. Perpignan lies towards
the southern angle of a fertile little province, inclosed
between the sea and the mountains. The blue Mediter-
ranean rounds the horizon beyond about three leagues of
hamlet-chequered plain with white towers, olive-groves,
and vineyards.

At about the same distance the Pyrenees come up from
the sea ; and, growing taller and taller as they advance
inland, curve round to the sea again about Narbonne.

54

CHAPTER V

La Junquera, October 27.
The Pyrenees are very pretty mountains ; wild and
picturesque, but not very grand hereabouts. The diligence
started at three in the morning, and reached the entrance
of the pass about daybreak, vi^hile the rosy hues of the yet
unrisen sun vi^ere creeping from peak to peak among the
distant hills.

We passed the embattled brow^ of lofty Bellegarde, which
looms like a great pyramid with some steps cut in the top
of it ; and I got out of France at El Boulou without having
my passport examined on my passage through the country.
But, alas ! at Junquera, the very first place in Spain, I was
brought to a dead stand.

My passport — a Foreign-office one, I had got counter-
signed at the Spanish Legation, in Cavendish-square ; and
as it ran, " Visto en esta Legacion de su Majestad Catolica.
Bueno para Espaiia," I naturally supposed it was good for
all Spain, or at least to enter the country anywhere I chose
as a person warranted respectable.

But it now appeared that the signature of the Spanish
secretary of legation, to whom I had taken the trouble to
get a formal letter of introduction, was of no value without
the indorsement of some trumpery Spanish consul at Per-
pignan, who could know nothing about my respectability,
except that I was in possession of a genuine five-franc-piece.

55

A Spanish Impossibility

This little investigation, however, he appears to think it
important to make on all travellers passing this way ; and,
doubtless, gives the functionaries at the frontier something
handsome for every passport they turn back to his
office.

Among the rushes of Junquera, therefore, I am planted
for twenty-four hours, till my passport can be sent back, to
be rectified, and return. My entreaties and representations
were all in vain ; and I now look back with affectionate
regret upon my late elastic French impossibilities, where,
after all, there is a substratum of reason and benevolence
beneath the frothy surface of official formality.

I drank chocolate, smoked cigarillos, wrote an indignant
letter, dined on garlicky victuals, slept well, and set off
next morning about the same hour I had arrived the day
before.

The diligence which brought back my passport and took
me on to Figueras, brought me also a companion ; — a merry
little pot-bellied, snub-nosed Andalusian shipowner, lately
from the Brazils, who spoke French in a sort of pentameter
cadence.

He was of some use to me as an interpreter (for though
I have been studying a book of dialogues all through
France, I have not yet acquired the Spanish idiom), and
managed well enough when there was plain sailing ; but in
any difficulty he fell soft and was easily done. But he had
his merits, which consisted principally in eating and drinking,
and laughing heartily.

At Figueras I ate more garlic, and nearly made myself
sick by inhaling a cigarito of English tobacco. My com-
panions at the mesa redonda (table d'hote) said they had
never seen an Englishman smoke the cigarette before. I
told them that I did that and ate ajo (garlic), " pour faire

56

Idiomatic Stimulants

sortir la langue Espagnole en m'accoutument la bouche aux
usages du pays," — to bring out the Spanish tongue by
accustoming my mouth to the usages of the country.

The diligence stopped at Gerona to sup and sleep. It
seems a stirring little city, all the inhabitants walking about
in the lamplight. We set off again at two in the morning.
Our road lay along the sea-coast, and was sometimes cut
out of the face of the rocks overhanging the beach. We
breakfasted at Mataro, and took the railway (which also
skirts the sea) to Barcelona.

Here I washed myself, and my companion shaved and
dressed himself very smart in new clothes which he had
brought from Marseilles. I was admitted to his levee^ and
was consulted as to the several articles of apparel he
selected from his trunk ; for, like David with respect to
Saul's regimentals, " he had not proved them."

It was rather comical to see this squat, swarthy little
object trundling about in his dirty stockings and drawers,
sorting and selecting his gaudy garments with as much
care and hopeful anxiety about the effect he was about to
produce on Barcelona, as if — but there is no difference
between Hyperion and the Satyr when they look at them-
selves in the glass. It is a beautiful arrangement of Nature,
that the snub-noses and pudding-faces, which so trans-
parently mask the vanity behind them, are objects of such
genuine interest to us.

More bother with my passport before I could take my
place in the steamer for Valencia — more cheating of com-
missioners— more triple bars of inefficient douanerie^ which
pretends to examine, whether you come in or go out, and
is bribed by ignoble sums to let it alone.

The steamer stops a day at Valencia. I went up from
El Grao in a tartana, breakfasted, and ascended the cathe-

57

Valencia

dral tower. The view is fine. A large huddled city
scattering itself and its innumerable steeples and towers
through straggling suburbs and orange-groves into the
fertile huerta^ bounded by barren mountains and the sea.

58

CHAPTER VI

Carthagena, October 30.

Alicante has a picturesque but somewhat tumble-down
ortress.

There are some Americans aboard, one of whom charac-
terised the above-mentioned citadel as " rather a high old
hill."

We v/ent ashore, ate figs and grapes in the market,
climbed the high old hill, and saw a noble panorama of
yellow, jagged, oriental-looking mountains.

There is another steamer lying off here ; the engineers
are, of course, Britons in both.

A voice over the blue waters — "Jim, my lad, can't you
come aboard here ? "

Answer — " Ain't got no time to dav."

"Blow yer, you never ain't got no time; if you'll come
aboord, I'll give yer a drop of blazing good gin." I made
acquaintance with one of our engineers, giving him a pipe
of British shag tobacco, which went to his heart, and
awakened all the fragrant memories of his long-deserted
home. He was a broad beefy man from Glasgow ; had
settled his family in Barcelona ; the little boy was at school
there, but his mother had taught him to read English. He
was a sharp lad, and he wanted to send him back to school
in England ; the little girl could read Spanish, but English
fairly puzzled her.

59

Carthagena

From Alicante to Carthagena we had cloudy and rough
weather, wind ahead ; indeed, the Spaniards say we were
in some danger. I slept while the tossing lasted ; but
about two in the morning, when we got into the still water
of Carthagena's harbour, I was waked up by the bustle of
arriving, and could not get to sleep again for the bugs,
which began biting furiously, as if they had been sea-sick,
and just recovered their appetites.

At Valencia I had lost my greasy Andalusian, of whom I
was about tired, and fallen in at the Fonda del Cid (where
I breakfasted) with a Castillian — a dry, spare, high-featured,
polite little man, in every respect, contrasted with my
former companion. He talks more and better Spanish,
and understands less French, from which I get thus gradu-
ally weaned, as I have to mix with it all the Spanish I can
pick up, to make Don Alonzo understand. Sometimes I
venture on a sentence of Spanish neat, and am beginning to
understand a little of what is talked. To listen carefully
and to talk rashly is the way to get a language.

Carthagena has a noble harbour, deeply sheltered beneath
mountain-barriers of rock. There is also a vast and splen-
did arsenal. In the first are a few fishing-boats ; in the
second, about enough material to set up a blacksmith, cord-
maker, and gunsmith in British private life.

I next went up to the old ruined Moorish castle, and
coming down rather heated, took a boat and bathed in the
sea, at which the people on the pier were greatly surprised,
for the day was cold, as we might wonder at a Greenlander
bathing in a snow-storm. The water was warm enough.
Afterwards we dined ; the party consisting of Don Alonzo,
his friend Don Manuel (a grave man, something like pic-
tures of the Emperor Napoleon, who is rather deranged in
his stomach from our late rough work at sea), and myself.

60

Vermin Guerillas

We then adjourned to a cafe, where we met another friend
of Don Alonzo's, an airified, black-bearded, young etnpleado ;
that is to say, Government official.

He had lately been married, and wished to show his
house and wife to his friends, and a specimen of the majo
costume to me : so we all went with him. His wife was
young and pretty, and his holiday costume very gorgeous
— rich green velvet all covered with silver spangles. I
admired both, but expressed my admiration of the dress.
He instantly said it was much at my disposal ; and I re-
plied, in a useful phrase out of the handbook, that it could
not change its master without disadvantage. We took our
leave, and retired to rest in our cam de huespedesJ We
had three beds in the same room. All three having: un-
dressed, lit a long cigar apiece, and went to bed. The
lamp was put out, and the glowing cigar-ends were all we
could see of one another. I observed, " Ouando se pone
la luna, las estrellas se ven " (when the moon sets, the stars
appear), which was received as a brilliant sally by the com-
pany, who are very good-natured, and often much amused
with my efforts at the language.

We talked and laughed till our cigars were done ; and as
we were getting drowsy, and dropping off, Don Alonzo
cried out lustily for a light, saying, " Los animalitos ya me
pican muchisimo" (the little animals have begun to sting
me exceedingly). I had nearly choked myself smoking
under the bedclothes, by way of dissuading the little animals
from approaching me ; but my torments shortly began, as
by little and little the love of blood overcame the dislike to
tobacco in the minds of my bedstead population. I waged
a blind and ineffectual warfare all night, to the loss of my
rest, and the maculation of my countenance.

' House of guests.
6i

Canopus

Algeciras, November i.

Left Carthagena towards evening ; slept on deck for fear
of the bugs, with which my berth abounds. In the morn-
ing we arrived at Almeria, where I lost my friend Don
Alonzo. His wife and family came aboard the steamer to
meet him, and seemed very glad to get him back. He had
been to Marseilles with Don Manuel, to see after a ship
they had chartered for that port.

I now fell in with an English wine-merchant on his way
to Malaga, and a priggish little Portuguese. Together we
marched up to the citadel, which we entered at the point
of the cigar. It is an old ruined fortress of the Moors, full
of "stones of emptiness," and prickly pears, garrisoned with
a single sentry.

Leaving Almeria, we skirted along the rocky coast, above
which, far inland, rose the gleaming ridges of the Sierra
Nevada, mantled in their eternal winding-sheet of snow.
I slept on deck again. The night was windy and cold.
Towards morning, a large star rose in the south, in a line
from the lower horn of the Bull, through the belt of Orion,
produced to about thrice the distance between them. I
have never seen so far into the southern heaven before, but
I suspect the star is Canopus. The fore-horse of Charles's
team nearly dips his nose into the sea as he wheels his wain
round the sunken pole.

Malaga is a dull place, celebrated only ror sweet wine
and invalids. It has a clumsy cathedral, handsomer inside
than out. In one part the stonework is gilt, and the
churchwardens have probably only been prevented by their
poverty from defacing it all in the same expensive way ;
at least to us, gilding and paint detract from the idea of
simple magnificence which belongs to highly-wrought

62

Gibraltar

stone-carving, because we never paint and gild it ourselves,
and are accustomed to connect all such appearances with
woodwork and stucco. Besides, gilding does not go well
with the delicate fawn-colour of stone, and destroys all that
intricate and minute shading which otherwise falls so softly
over the tracery of a sculptured surface. It is like gilding
the features of a statue.

After dining at the Fonda de la Alameda^ I went on
board and slept on deck. Awakened by cold in the middle
of the night, I found we were approaching a small rocky
island. As we passed, its form changed suddenly, showing
a very sharp leaning peak. This was Gibraltar.

I re-arranged myself among some sails, one of which I
half-unfurled and crept into. When I woke, we were
lying off Algeciras. Seen from this point, across the bay,
Gibraltar looks like an old man lying on his back upon a
couch nearly level with the sea, — some huge giant of the
prime who had gone to sleep there, and proved a Rip van
Winkle on a large and permanent scale. The face, with a
round bald head, resting on its pillow to the north, and the
articulation of the knee, are very distinct. There is a
ruckle in the bedclothes over his breast, as if his arms were
crossed.

Gibraltar has no appearance of fortification in the dis-
tance— " no towers along the steep," and I should think it
must disappoint some hundreds of highly-fortified expecta-
tions annually. It is, on the whole, certainly a striking
rock ; but I should say you might easily pick fifty such
along the west coast of Scotland. But as you could not
carry away these little pebbles in your pocket, and drop
them at the mouths of important channels and seas, I
suppose it does not much signify.

The straits, in passing outward beyond the ends of the

63

Gibraltar

world (of ancient navigation), look like the mouth of some
gigantic river ; and I feel sure, that if the Mediterranean
had been discovered from the outside, its finder would have
been astonished as he proceeded to see so much water, — in
fact to get into so large a bottle by so narrow a neck.

64

CHAPTER VII

Cadiz has been compared to a dish of silver. It is more
like a service of white china on a blue tea-tray — cups and
saucers, and teapots and coffee-pots, and butter-boats and
sugar-basins, of all heights and shapes and sizes, but with
an undue proportion of coffee-pots.

I steamed across the blue bay, and breakfasted with Don
Francisco Morgan, a wine-merchant of Puerto de Santa
Maria, to whom I had a letter. According to the custom
of the country, there was wine on the table, and after
breakfast I drank a glass of better sherry than I remember
tasting before.

Happening to say so, he replied, " Do you like it ?
Very few Englishmen do at first. It is the pure wine."

" What ! " said I, " do you adulterate your wines, and
own it without contrition ? "

" Without the slightest, for the mixture increases the
cost of the wine. The natural dry wine which grows
about Xeres is seldom sent to England unless specially
ordered. It is flavoured, to suit the market, with a luscious
sweet wine of the same neighbourhood, and tinted with
what is called burnt wine, that is, wine boiled down till it
is thick and dark-coloured. This creates a confusion of
flavour, and destroys the fine clear twang of a natural vin-
tage. We ourselves much prefer it unmixed, finding it
much wholesomer, as well as more palatable; and if our

65

Wady'l Kubir (Arabice, Big River)

English customers would learn to like sherry in its simple
state, it would save us a good deal of trouble, and them
some expense."

He took me over a large bodega (cellar), and made me
taste a few dozen pipes, of different ages ; also the sweet
sherry and burnt wine, neither of which were bad by them-
selves, though I don't think they improve the original sherry.

The Senora Morgan had a sister married to a marques in
Seville, and to him Don Francisco gave me a letter of
introduction. He also gave me a letter of credit on a
banker in Cadiz, which, with singular providence, I had
entirely omitted to take into consideration before leaving
England, as I then had my pockets full of money. It was
quite an accident my having any letters of introduction
even, of which some kind friend, whom I never asked nor
thanked, threw a few into my portmanto.

Guadalquivir is a flat-banked, muddy river, adorned only
by some distant mountains of the Sierra de Ronda to the
right. Seven hours brought us in sight of the Giralda and
the Golden Tower.

A cosmopolitan vagabond from Gibraltar conducted me
to the Fonda de Madrid, a clean and respectable hotel.
He took me in by the gate of Triana. Let everybody
coming to Seville by the steamer insist on entering by the
gate of San Fernando, which is not a hundred yards out of
his way whatever hotel he is going to ; as by doing so he
will pass the Cathedral and Plaza^ and get a favourable first
impression of the city.

I resisted the overtures of the Gibraltese laquais de place^
conceiving I should have leisure to grope about, and find
out what was worth seeing in the course of the winter
without being led or driven.

The second day after my arrival in Seville some pas-

66

A Re-encounter

sengers came in from the steamer during the table d'hote
dinner, and among them was the young German I had met
at the Waterloo station, and travelled to Southampton with.
We agreed that the world cannot be half so big as is sup-
posed, since if you meet a man once, it is always even
betting that you will meet him again. i Together, we
explored the city, discovered the cathedral, and wandered
through its dim, vast, echoing aisles, where innumerable
quaintly-carved and painted virgins stand amid their several
constellations of candles ; and here and there some divine
picture by Murillo or Alonso Cano, looks graciously down
from its dark recess, through massive gates of gilded iron.
We stood before the famous Guardian Angel. New-lighted
from the clouds, and looking down with serious eyes of love
upon his charge, he leads the baby soul with one hand, and
with the other points to a brightening Heaven. We stood
and gazed, while, murmuring far away in mellow cadence,
rose and fell the many-voiced chant ; and, faintly wafted
from the swinging censers, came fragrant incense in trans-
parent wreaths.

I called on the Marques de Castilleja and delivered my
letter. He was an amiable, intelligent man, with very quiet
manners, light complexion, and talked excellent French.
He bade me be seated in a comfortable arm-chair, and made
no sort of fuss about my hat, which rather took me aback ;
as I had carefully got up all the ancient ceremonial de-
scribed in Ford, and was prepared to struggle at least a
quarter of an hour which of us should set it down. Instead

' I met him again at Malaga, and three years afterward in
Naples. He told me he was engaged to a Malagan lady, and
was about to settle there in the wine-trade. Any reader about
to order sweet or dry Malaga is recommended to Herr Rudolph
Dill.

67 E

Introductions

of this, he sat down again on the sofa from which he had
risen to make me welcome, and opened the conference by
offering me a cigar.

As we sat smoking, another gentleman came in, and was
introduced to me as the Marques de Esquibel, the vice-
president of the Casino or club, who promised to send me a
card of presentacion^ whereby the person presented becomes
a member by invitation for twenty days, after which time,
if he continues in Seville, he is balloted for, and becomes a
subscribing member at about six shillings a month.

When our cigars were ended, I took my leave ; on which
the marques placed his house at my disposal, and I replied
that he also possessed a house at the Fonda de Madrid.

In a day or two he called, and told me that he was now
in mourning for his father (who had died a few months
ago), and therefore went about but little ; also having a
great deal of business, settling his mayorazgo (entail), and
paying off his brother's and sister's fortunes. He would
therefore present me to a great friend of his, who was
" moving in circles," and could introduce me to his friends
at the club and opera.

We went out together, and arrived at a stately marble
gateway of a large house, just opposite the Museum, in the
Calle de las Armas. Here, through the slender and grace-
ful tracery of the reja or filigree gate, could be seen a
marble-floored and pillared and fountained patio. We rang.
" Quien es ? " was exclaimed, in the shrill voice of the
portress. (Who is it?) " Gente de paz" (People of
peace), I replied, to show I knew what to say ; on which
the door opened by a hidden spring, and the marques
laughed, and wondered where I got that old-fashioned
answer. I said I had a red book full of cosas (T Espana.

Don Jose Laso de la Vega was finishing a small concert,

68

Murillo

in which he played the flute. We begged him to proceed
while we smoked our cigars. The marques left me here,
and went back to his papers and lawyers. After a while
the musicians departed, and I went out with Don Jose and
visited the Museo.

After getting weary in long galleries of indifferent pic-
tures, we came into the Sala de Murillo, a large room hung
round with Murillo's best pictures. I never saw such
pictures before — such soft, transparent, airy, and yet real
imaging of things divine. His cherubs look as if a slight
draught would float them out of their frames. It is worth
while to go to Seville if it were only to see this room.

We took a walk afterwards in the town ; and a shower
coming on, sought shelter in an estanco de tabacos, where
the Calle de las Sierpes debouches on the Plaza de la
Constitucion. Here behind the counter sat a lady of great
beauty and wit, entertaining a handful of loitering admirers
with brilliant things, which made them laugh very much,
and which I was grieved not to understand. This was the
celebrated Asuncion Gonzalez. Don Jose formally intro-
duced me, and she received me with gracious condescension.
I was surprised at the respectful deference with which the
young men treated her ; but I shortly learned that she was
a formidable sort of Aspasia, and a match for any Pericles
that Seville could produce. As the Calle de las Sierpes is
the principal thoroughfare of Seville, which one passes
every day wherever one is bound, I made a practice of
buying my cigarillos in her estanco^ and carried on during
my stay in Seville a serio-comic, but strictly Platonic court-
ship, which greatly improved my Spanish. The only excep-
tion to the Platonic character of our friendship was one
kiss fairly bargained for and received, in the way of busi-
ness, for a portrait of herself, executed in mv best style in

69

How to Learn Spanish

water-colours. I made sonnets to her eyebrows in the
most Castalian Castillian I was master of, and sat on the
counter reading them in my most impressive manner. I
made her a silver heart, engraved with a bolted and pad-
locked folding-door, and a weeping Cupid waiting on the
door-step ; which, being worn round her neck, was to
cause her heart to open to me in the course of nine days ;
but I never got any forwarder, except in the language.
Here is one of the lays : —

A ti dichosa amar parece broma,

Apinado tu corazon de amores.

El que se aguarda un rate entre las Acres
Luego per harto perdera el aroma.

Amada de tantos tu dulce flor,

Por tan amada pierdes el amor.

Medroso, como con alas cansadas

Por media mar un ave a barco viene,
Mi desterrado corazon que tiene

Ninguna percha de sus aletadas,
Llegaba descansar sobre tu pecho —
Ay, de que frio encuentra el rico lecho !

Translated thus (after the manner of the Ancients) : —

To thee, the portals of whose heart serene
A hundred lovers throng, love seems a jest.

One that in sweetest flowers long couch'd hath been
Shall find their fragrant perfume lose its zest.

Thou by so many prized, most rarest flower,

From being so much loved, know'st not love's power.

As in mid-ocean comes with weary wings

Some timid bird upon a sail to light,
Mine exiled heart with weary flutterings,

Without a resting-place to ease its flight,
Hath come at last to perch upon thy breast —
Alas, how cold a spot to seek for rest !

70

Sevillised Life

I suppose I contrived to amuse her, for she tolerated me
as one of her most troublesome adorers : she certainly
amused me, and I hope the reader will not be scandalised.

I lived in the house of one Juliana, once a celebrated
beauty ; here also lived my Spanish master, Senor Vasquez
— the only master of languages in all Seville. He speaks
and teaches English, French, and his native language. The
course of my life used to be something like this : —

In the morning I read Don Ouixote w^ith Senor Vasquez.
Breakfast on chocolate and toast. Feeling rather cold, I
open my window and go out to smoke a cigarillo on the
sunny balcony, during which I divide my attention between
the stream of cloaked and mantilla'd figures passing through
the Calle de Velasquez, and a beautiful seiiora over the
way. She is separated from her husband, and sits stitching,
or reading her missal at the window all day.

Then I sit reading, writing, or engraving ; and perhaps
Miguel Laso de la Vega, or Ramon Ponce de Leon, or
Antonio Rueda, come in and smoke a cigar. Then we go
out for a walk, and coming about three o'clock down to
the Or ilia quay (which is both the Serpentine's shore and
the Rotten-row of Seville), there pace about among the
beauty and fashion of the place on the pleasant shore of
Guadalquivir.

This is really the drawing-room of Sevillian society, for
there is no general society anywhere else. A few houses
make a feeble effort at evening parties, but it is contrary to
the habits of the city, and does not succeed. Houses are
looked upon as home ; merely places to live, and eat, and
sleep, as privately as possible. In the opera or theatre and
the paseo (public walks) they manage to see enough of their
acquaintances. Intimate friends are of course a part of
home, and may sit in a corner of the sala, lighted only by

71

The Casino

the dim smouldering embers of the brasero, while the
sefiora madre mends her stockings by the solitary lamp.

I dine at home and go to the Casino for coffee. Here,
in a long narrow room, a group are standing in animated
conversation before the blazing wood-fire at the end ; and
all along the sofa-range on either side, are rows of gentle-
men with little tables standing before them, and cups of
very black coffee or very pale tea, according as the table's
occupant may emulate English or French manners.

" Buenos tardes, Don Jorge ; Good evening, Don Jorge ;

como va ? how goes it ?

" Sin novedad ; y Vmd. Senor Without novelty ; and your

Conde ? worship, Sir Count ?

" Perfectamente. To perfection.

" M'alegro. I rejoice.

" Va Vmd. al teatro ? Do you go to the Opera ?

" No tengo inconveniente. I don't mind.

" Luego iremos juntos. Presently we will go together.

" Hasta luego. Till then—"

I sit down and cry "Juan ! " The waiter comes.

" Me traiga Vmd. cafe. May your worship bring me

coffee.
" Ya voy. Already I go."

As he brings the coffee, Don Lorenzo, who is a captain
of artillery, comes and sits down by me. He is " muy
formal y politico" (very punctilious and polite), and justly
proud of his French.

" Bon soir, mon ami."

"Bon soir, M. le Capitaine. Qu'iere Vmd. cafeF" — (Do
you desire coffee .'') (If you are eating or drinking, and a
person comes and speaks to you, it is indispensable to offer
him some.) He says " Muchas gracias " (many thanks),
which means No.

72

and its Habitues

I "

" Allons ! un cigare ?

"■ Avec plaisir. Savez-vous les dernieres nouvelles de la
Reine ? "

" J'espere qu'elle se porte mieux."

" On dit que la blessure tient neuf pouces de profondeur."

" Quelle merveille qu'elle n'est pas morte ! Comment
trouvez-vous le cigare ? "

" C'est de tres bon tabac."

As I increased in my Spanish, my friends, who had
formerly talked French to me, began to give it up ; for,
whatever persons may intend to do, they do always practic-
ally converse in that tongue which is, on the whole, the
easiest means of communication ; and I could mark my
progress in the language as it rose and flooded, one by one,
nearly all the French of my acquaintance.

A large party generally adjourned to the opera soon after
seven. Don Jose Laso assured me that his box [palco) was
my house, and I used often to go there, not for the music,
which was third-rate, but being a large sheltered box over
the stage, it was a convenient place to talk and smoke, and
there were usually assembled in it half a dozen or so of my
most intimate friends. After the theatre I either went to
bed, an evening party, or back to sup on chocolate and pan
fr'ito I at the Casino,

Sometimes, of mornings, I used to go and sit in the
studio of Egron Lundgren, a very clever artist and agree-
able young man. He is a Swede, and speaks English,
French, Spanish, Italian, German, and I do not know how
many other languages, all very well. His paintings were
usually the costumes of the country, which he did with
great truth, spirit, and taste ; and great force and tone of
colouring. He also does admirable rapid sketches in water-

' Bread fried in oil.

73

Lundgren's Studio

colours, and he used to give me a hint or two now and
then, and let me copy what I liked out of his portfolio,
which was full of gems.

Sometimes I used to take a long walk by myself, and
once got as far as Santi Ponce, when I slept in the pajar
(straw-loft) of the venta there ; and next day went on to
the ruins of the ancient city of Italica, where there are the
remains of a Roman theatre. But this is described else-
where.

Once the Marques de Castilleja took me out for a day or
two to a country-house of his in the Campo de Carmona,
where he has olive-farms. I wrote at the time some little
account of the expedition, and here it is.

74

CHAPTER VIII

VISIT TO AN OLIVE-FARM

Sevilla, Pasqua de los Reyes, 1852.
On Saturday, January 4, 1852, I dressed myself in my
Andalusian costume, breakfasted, put up a couple of shirts
and other things, "tan claras y tan necessarias que no es
menester de describirlas " ; ^ besides w^hich, I stuck the six-
barrelled revolver in my faja (sash).

I sat smoking my cigarillo over a chapter of Thomas a
Kempis. There came a knock at the door, and I cried,
'■^ Jdelantes'''' (forward), and he entered, — not the person I
vi^as w^aiting for, but my preceptor in the Spanish. It was
not his day, but he had missed the preceding, his hours
having been, as they often are, deranged by saints' days,
and he came now instead. Though I had no idea we should
have time to finish it, I began my lesson, to fill up the
moral vacuum which is always caused by expecting any-
body, and was busy translating "The Bible in Spain" into
my best extempore Spanish, when an ancient serving-man
of the Marques de Castilleja arrived, and informed me that
the marques was waiting in the Calle de la Muela, my
own street (the Calle de Velasquez) being too narrow for

carriages.

' " So evident and so necessary that it is not needful to describe
them," — Don Quixote.

75

Commencement of Journey

I put on my Calanies hat, which is about the shape and
size of a small cheese or a large skittle-ball, and my coarse
capa (cloak) of panno pardo (brown cloth) turned up with
scarlet, under the ample folds of which I carried my little
linen bag of movables, and sallied forth. I found the
marques (also got up for the country in the national cos-
tume) seated in a very red and yellow calesa^ and we jogged
slowly out of the town by the gate of Triana.

This gate is exactly on the opposite side of the town
from our direction ; but we took it because the streets are
in that direction passable, which those towards the Caiios
de Carmona scarcely are.

Having made half the circuit of the city outside the
walls, we turned towards the open country by the road
which skirts the ancient Moorish aqueduct [cams) which
supplies the city with water. The famous Guadalquivir
supplies it only with a limited navigation and unlimited mud.

The roads were very bad, and we went along at a foot-
pace, till, passing the Cruz del Campo, we came to Torre
Blanca, where there is a white tower (from which the place
takes its name), a toll-bar, and a venta. Here we descended
to drink a glass of manzanilla and eat a little round sponge-
cake whitened with sugar outside, which the ventero in-
formed us were " muy buenos, de Alcala." At Torre
Blanca we left the camino real^ and struck off on the old
arrec'ife (by-road) de Carmona ; and the dark green orange-
groves, interspersed with still darker cypress spires, which
had lined the approach to Seville, changed into the bushy
dehesa^ or wilderness.

The narrow track was lined with wild olives and palmitas^
and here and there the aloe lifted its gigantic spikes.

The road did not improve, being in places hidden by long
pools of water. The day was beautiful, and we went along

76

Description of the Road

talking and laughing, without troubling ourselves about the
pace we went, more than an occasional word of banter with
the steady old calesero, who sat at the marques's feet, with
his legs dangling over the shafts.

To the left appeared, through the misty mid-day sunshine
of the plain, the brown range of the Sierra Morena ; and to
the right, in the far distance, arose the blue mountains of
Ronda.

After a while the dehesa changed to olive-groves, and we
got into mazy private roads which wound among the trees.
At last, after about three hours and a half, we came in sight
of a long low mass of white building, with a pinnacle-
mounted gateway, through which we passed, amid the
greetings of a motley crowd of retainers, into a vast court-
yard, around which were the establishments for grinding
the olives and storing the oil, besides stables and dwellings
for the retainers.

Here, leaving the calesa^ we went through an iron gate
into a patio (court) with a fountain and marble arches and
columns. The house was a curious, rambling arrangement
of corridors and passages, and galleries hung with quaint
old family portraits in wigs and brocade, and likenesses of
the kings of Judah, signalised with their respective names
in yellow paint.

Having inspected the house, and lastly reached the
dining-room, the basket which had come with us from
Seville was unpacked, and out of it came cold fowls, and
ham and beef, butter, chocolate, and a paper of tea. As it
was three o'clock, we lunched, and ordered dinner at nine,
being waited upon by a stout old lady, the wife of the steward.

Each of us now armed himself with a polished yew club,
which appears to be the legitimate companion of predial
inspection, and sallied forth. This stick (called porro) is

77

The Olive-Mill

five or six feet long, usually forked at the smaller end,
and is held a little above the middle, with the heavy knob
on the ground ; so that when you walk, it swings between
its planting-places like a pendulum. The one the marques
used was a sort of hereditary rural sceptre, which had
descended to him from the hands of his father and grand-
father, and very likely from their fathers and grandfathers
to them.

We first went to see the olive-mill. In form it very
much resembles a chocolate-mill : — a huge wheel of granite,
shaped like the thick end of a cone, rolls round a piece of
timber on which it is pivoted, being drawn by a mule
yoked to a crooked beam. This beam, jutting from the
central timber, bends over the wheel, receiving half-way
the other end of its axle.

On the opposite side of the central timber (which is also
pivoted in the stone crushing-floor and a beam of the roof)
there is a wooden funnel full of olives. This keeps slowly
laying down the plump purple berries, which the roller, as
it comes round, crushes with a fat crackling sound, not
unlike that which proceeds from the basting of meat, only
on a larger scale.

The pulp, as it accumulates, is shovelled off and placed
in layers between round mats under the press. These mats
are about six feet in diameter, and have a hole in the middle.
When there is a sufficient pile of pulp and mat sandwiches,
the whole is wetted with hot water, and the press (an
immense lever, about forty feet long) comes down upon it,
being lifted at the other end by a screw with spokes like a
capstan. The oil, of course, floats on the surface of the
water and is run off into tanks.

Having seen how the oil was made, we went out to see
how the olives were gathered, accompanied by Ramoncillo,

78

The Gathering

the gamekeeper, — a strange, lurching vagabond, who squinted
at right angles, and had all his arms and legs of different
lengths. He wore the dress of the country, much the
worse for wear ; over his broad, red, slovenly-arranged faja
were strapped a profusion of outlandish belts and baldricks,
and in his hand he bore a musket ornamented with silver.

After wandering some time among the devious paths of
the olive-grove, we found the little colony of gatherers ; for
colony it seemed, being composed of men, won?en, and
children down to the smallest possible dimensions. The
babies, who had usually a very little girl to take care of
them (unless they were slung up in a manta out of the way,
among their metaphorical brotherhood of olive-branches),
sprawled and babbled around headquarters.

Here, by a purple mountain of spoil, stood the general
of the army, who in all directions were waging war with the
trees of peace, besieging them with scaling-ladders, and
belabouring them with long staves. The women (whose
petticoats were tucked up above their waists, but who, to
make up for this little deficit of decency, wore breeches) were
on their knees underneath, picking up the bright little berries
as they rained from the beaten boughs. I tasted an olive,
though 1 was aware it was not likely to be good. Let the
reader imagine a rotten morel cherry soaked in oil, and he
will not be far from having an idea of a ripe olive, except
that there is a bitter, astringent after-taste, which sticks in
the throat, and prickles on the tongue for some time.

The green olives, which we eat in their pickled state, are
no more like the ripe, than pickled walnuts are like the
walnuts of dessert.

When any of the women had filled their baskets, they
came with them on their heads to the purple mountain
aforesaid, and discharged their gatherings upon the heap.

79

The Tallies

If there was much leaf and rubbish mixed with the fruit,
the woman tilted up her basket behind, and let a slender
stream of olives fall from above her forehead, while a man
with a flapping sack winnowed away the lighter matters.

Over the heap stood guard the steward or capataz^ an
ancient man, with a grizzly stubble on his chin (for it was
Saturday), standing with his legs apart, broadly planted in
the dignity of his oflice. The straddling supporters of this
weight of importance were incased in what seemed in front
to be a pair of brown sheepskin breeches, but from behind
revealed themselves to be but a slit apron, fastened with
thongs round each leg. Both his hands were on his hips,
with each thumb hooked in the folds ofhxsfaja^ and in the
fingers of his right was a crooked whittle, with which ever
and anon, as the basketfuls arrived, he would nick the score
upon notch-sticks which hung in a curve of string between
two branches of an olive hard by.

These sticks were regular tallies. Each basket had a couple
of loops, in which the gatherer's stick rested, and when the
basket was discharged, the bearer presented it to the
capataz. He, fitting it on to its brother on the line, nicked
them both with his eagle-beaked blade.

The sun went down, and we returned to the hacienda
(farm). The marques said that the cura would probably
have arrived by the time we got home. He came from
Carmona every Saturday to say mass on the Sunday morn-
ing, being chaplain of the establishment. We found the
olive-mill still working, lighted by flaring wicks in iron
saucers of its own oil. At one of these we lighted our
cigars, and were talking to the millers, when there entered
a corpulent old figure, dressed in a rusty-brown jacket
and breeches, a Calanles hat, black leathern hotines (the
embroidered greave of the country), and a broad hXzckfaja:

80

The Curate

he embraced the marques with great affection and a profuse
ejaculation of "vayas."^ The marques presented me as "un
Ingles amigo mio." — " Y muy amigo mio — Vaya, vaya,
vaya ! " answered the courteous cura^ for so he effectively
turned out, though at first I took him to be some superin-
tendent over the head of the stout Madruga.

We now entered the house, where, at the end of one of
the galleries, a great wood fire was burning on the hearth.
Here we whiled away the time till supper, which, though
bespoken at nine, made its appearance at eight ; for in
Spain meals, as well as all other arrangements, are ruled
more by a sort of general approximation to the fitness of
things than by any precise hours. The supper comprised
gazpacho, and salad, and eggs fried in oil, with a little cold
chicken and ham to eke out. We then returned to our
blazing fire-side, which flared with a brilliant white fiame,
some borruja (the oily offal of the olive-press) having been
thrown on the embers.

Here we smoked and talked, and were shortly joined by
Madruga, who seated himself also by the fire, and discoursed
in a somewhat sententious and confidential manner concern-
ing the interests of the hacienda^ the price of oil, &c. The
marques from time to time supplied him with cigarillos
from a special parcel which he brought on purpose for his
people. It was an edifying sight to see the solemn and
deliberate manner in which he lighted them. In a pause
of his talk, he would take a wooden ember in the tongs,
and, holding it several minutes in suspense, he would pro-
ceed to dilate on matters of state ; then, in another pause,
he would blow the cinder to keep it alight, and after a while

' Literally "Go !" an interjection which, according to the
tone, expresses encouragement or reprobation. " Get along " is
perhaps nearest to it in our idiom.

8i

The Mass

apply the end of his cigar, drawing a succession of whifFs
between his words, which (the whifFs) came out again in
long streams from his nostrils ; for in this country the
fumes of the cigarillo are breathed down into the bottom of
the lungs, and come out in volumes unknown to the short
mouthful-puff of cigar and pipe-smoking nations.

At about half-past nine we went to bed. The cura and
Madruga attended our coucMe^ smoking and talking, and
assisting us in undressing ; after which they took away the
lamp, and departed with a good night from the capataz and
the euro's blessing.

On Sunday morning, at a quarter to seven, the cura and
capataz made their appearance, and woke us up to hear
mass. I jumped out of bed, and, to the great astonishment
of the company, washed myself in cold water. The old cura^
I believe, at first thought I had been seized with a sudden
madness, and declared that such a process, he was certain,
would kill him on the spot ; by which statement it plainly
appeared that he had never tried it.

We dressed, and wrapping ourselves in our capas^ entered
a gallery of the chapel opposite the altar, where the cura,
attired in his robes, was already officiating, the people being
gathered under the gallery. The gamekeeper officiated as
sacristano. The altar was profusely decorated with paint and
gilding, and possessed two very handsome wooden statues of
the Virgin — the one above, about two feet high ; the other
below, the size of life. These decorations had belonged to
a private chapel of the marques's family in one of the con-
vents at Seville, at whose dismantling they had been
removed to this place. The chapel itself was a small high
room at the end of a cloister, under the columns of the
patioy upon which it opened with wide folding doors ; so
that when these were flung open, the cloister became the
/ 82

The Wolf-Dogs

body of the chapel, where all the labourers collected. The
gallery above the doors we entered from the house. After
mass, the marques and cura sat by the fire while I danced a
mixture of a Highland fling and hornpipe up and down the
long gallery, to warm myself, after my ablutions and
devotions.

After a little while the marques retired with a pan of hot
water to make his toilette, and I went out to take a walk.
The men were all loitering about the court smoking and
talking, and saluted me with a " Faya Vmd. con Dios " (may
your worship go with God), as I passed the portal arch. I
turned to the right, and set off to make the circuit of the
fortifications. A wall about fifteen feet high and about half
a mile in length inclosed the whole house, with its courts
and gardens, in an irregular figure, something like a
pentagon. I had not got above halfway round, when I
was assailed by a great dog, about two feet and a half high,
long and broad in proportion, and a very formidable and
fierce opponent to my further passage in that direction.

I was ashamed to turn back, though there was nobody
looking on, the great stimulus of faltering fortitude, without
which, as Sancho well says, " Pues no haya quien nos vea,
menos habra quien nos note de cobardes." i I therefore
wrapped my left arm in my cloak, and picked up a large
round stone, with which to fortify my knuckles in case of
an actual encounter, and proceeded slowly, facing my
antagonist, who kept growling lustily, and snarling at me
with ravenous teeth.

Paving gone some way in the company of the enemy,
who kept making unpleasant little rushes at me, — coming
within a few feet, and then springing on one side, as if not

' "Since none see us, fewer will remark our cowardice." — Don
Quixote.

83 F

Miga Fare

liking to lay hold of me while I showed fight, — I heard
another burst of barking a little way off, and perceived a
second dog of the same dimensions, and apparently of the
same political opinions. I now thought I was in for it, and
began to wonder how it would feel to be worried by these
two wolf-dogs ; and remembered the death of a badger
under similar circumstances, at which, I am sorry to say, I
was once present. But when things are at their worst, the
remedy often arises in the midst ; and I perceived that the
other dog was chained in the immediate neighbourhood of
some clothes, and implements, and victuals belonging to
the labourers, who had left them to attend mass. It imme-
diately occurred to me that this was the object which the
loose dog wished to deter me from approaching. I there-
fore jumped over a little stream and made a slight detour to
the left, conceiving that a compromise under the circum-
stances was not dishonourable ; for, as Sancho says again,
" Retirarse no es huir, ni el esperar cordura, quando el
peligro sobrepuja a la esperanza." ^

On my return we breakfasted. Eggs fried in oil — Miga
(bread-crumbs steeped in water and sprinkled with salt,
with hot oil poured over it, in which a little bit of garlic has
been boiled). This is eaten with chocolate, and is not bad.

The English have a strange unfounded prejudice against
oil, and in favour of butter, which is as near as possible the
same thing, only that oil is a clean, pure, vegetable fat,
which keeps better, and is infinitely easier to have good
than butter ; while butter is the result of a greasy animal
secretion, milked out of unpleasant udders by a dirty-fisted
wench. Butter is not good after three days' keeping ; and
accordingly, is much oftener eaten bad than good. Never-

' " To retreat is not to fly, nor to wait wisdom, when the peril
is greater than the prize." — Don Quixote.

84

Oil V, Butter

theless good butter is a good thing ; and we eat it, because
we know it to be so, in spite of all the disagreeable ideas
which are connected with its origin. But of oil, from
unfamiliarity, we have an abhorrence. Our first acquaint-
ance with it in childhood is through that unencouraging
sample called after the elder of the constellated twins ; our
next is in the smell of the lamp. When subsequently we see
oil in a salad, it shocks our prejudices. On tasting it with
a candid determination, we find it good ; but still there are
few Englishmen who, in tasting a sample of oil, would
swallow a spoonful, which a Spaniard would do as uncon-
cernedly as we should a spoonful of cream. I have the
national horror of oil, but I cannot say that, on honest
experiment, I find that in good cookery it is a bit worse
than the best butter ; and in some cases it is better.

After breakfast, I drew a likeness of the cura. We then
went out to see the labourers at work, for it was past
twelve. I took my pistol, and discharged its six barrels in
succession at the trunk of an old olive-tree. The cura^ as
well as the olive-tree, was much struck, and the people
astonished. The labourers were finishing their dinners, and
I took a sketch of the group, which was very picturesque,
being composed of men, women, and children, in very hete-
rogeneous attire and attitudes. After this I took another
sketch of the donkeys, with their great eitera (matting)
panniers on their backs, resting under the trees, waiting to
carry away the fruit. The sun was very pleasant, and
having finished my sketches, I spread my cloak, and lying
upon it, with my head on a pannier, and a cigarillo in my
mouth, I went to sleep, and did not wake till three o'clock.
The marques, who woke up about the same time, proposed
that we should return to the hacienda mounted on the
donkeys, which we accordingly did.

85

Gazpacho and Portrait

We sat a little while in the olive-mill, on which the sun
was shining, while the thin melancholy mule, with matting
blinders, walked his dreary round. I here made another
sketch of the premises and machinery ; and Ramoncillo, the
gamekeeper, who had seen me draw his father, the capataz,
requested me to draw one of the millers, a very grim per-
sonage in a scarlet cap, something like those of Catalonia.
I told Ramoncillo himself to come upstairs to be drawn after
dinner, for he was too picturesque a vagabond to be left
out of my sketch-book.

After dinner, he accordingly presented himself; and as
his mother had just summoned me to witness the confection
o( gazpacho^ I compromised the matter by painting in the
kitchen. As to the gazpacho^ it is made by breaking up
a tomato, a pimento, and a little bit of garlic, about as big
as half of a split kidney-bean. This is done in a strong
pot with a wooden pestle. About three table-spoonfuls of
oil, four or five of vinegar, and a dozen of water, mixed with
the vegetable pulp, form the sauce, in which a mass of
bread-crumbs are steeped, which being accomplished, the
compound is gazpacho.

While this operation was going on, I set up Ramoncillo
in a corner of the kitchen, leaning on his musket, and drew
and painted him. The old lady would now call my attention
to some fresh ingredient in the mortar, and then come and
exclaim over the growing likeness.

" They were his very eyes ! " (The portrait squinted it
possible more horribly than the original.) "And only see
how the breeches are exactly of the same colour." They
were of a sky-blue. But what most delighted her, and the
other relatives of the victim who gathered round his execu-
tion, was, that I did not omit even the little jet brooch
which he wore in his shirt-front. The representation of

86

A Cup of Tea

this remarkable object by an oblong spot of black paint was
considered a master-stroke of art.

When I had done, there were murmurs of applause,
mingled with eager whisperings, which I guessed were to
the point of whether I could be persuaded to leave this
portrait with his family ; and sure enough in the evening,
after supper, the cura opened this delicate question with
much diplomatic skill, and I finally had to cut him out of
my book. After a short visit to the olive harvest, we
returned and sat by our blazing chimney, to which resorted
the patriarch Madruga, several of his sons, and a few of the
labourers. These last were not accommodated with chairs,
but squatted round the hearth on their hams, and were
supplied with cigars occasionally from the marques's special
paper. Madruga^ which, in Spanish, means the dawn, is
not the patronymic of the capataz^ though he is invariably
called by it. It is an honourable sobriquet which he had
acquired in his youth by habits of early rising. The marques
made some strong aniseed-brandy (aguardiente) punch, and
regaled the company.

After the tag-rag of the party had retired, the marques
made some very strong tea, which, with slices of bread and
butter, was our supper. Old Madruga and his wife looked
on at this un-Spanish meal as the simple inhabitants of
some farm-house in Yorkshire might do, if a travelled son
of the landlord were to make a bowl of gazpacho for his
shooting-luncheon. When we had done, the remains of the
pot were administered to them, and they drank it, for the
honour of the thing, with some wry faces. The cura enter-
tained us after tea with passages from his life : he had been
a soldier up to the fall of Napoleon, and had broken some
of his limbs in amateur bull-fighting. Next day we
returned to Seville.

87

CHAPTER IX I

SEVitLE, Jan. 9, 1852.
The enchanted city still encircles me with her Moorish
girdle of battlements and towers. The winter continues to
be as sultry as usual, and the roses by the banks of Guadal-
quivir bloom unwashed save by the dews and the Infanta's
gardeners. Often in my early morning walk, I see young
men, in the gay costume of the Andalusians, scale the little
palisade defences, and with the hasty hand of stealth pluck
a flower or two, eluding the truly Spanish vigilance of the
horticultural staff, to say nothing of the military point of
honour (bayonet, of course) which guards the palace portal
just over the way, I see these depredations and sigh, not
for the national disregard of royal property, but because I
know the happy pilferer will soon see his fragrant spoil
twined in the raven tresses of his dark-eyed Andaluza.

Talking about dark eyes, there are some very dangerous
lightnings shot from the dusk of the cloudy mantilla (if the
semi-transparent black blonde which deeply borders it may
poetically license that shiny silk piece of attire to be called
cloudy, but you see my clouds were necessary for my light-
ning), and I have been much struck many times.

' The remainder of the volume is chiefly extracted from letters.
The indulgent reader, bearing this in mind, will perhaps be more
ready to pardon what might seem an undue familiarity of style,
if addressed directly to the public.

88

Spirit of Adventure

Harry has written that he is coming out by the steamer
of the 27th to console me in my exile. In any case, it
would be a very kind deed to go such a distance to console
a cheerful invalid (who has next to nothing the matter with
him), even if he were not otherwise than in the mind to
travel, for a start of fifteen hundred miles alone is not a
light undertaking; but in his case, wearied as he is with
that dreadful expedition over the western deserts, whose
hardships have made him cling the more to happy England,
it is an act of self-sacrificing friendship to exchange the
peace and quiet, and comfortable living of home, for the
stringy ollas and ravenous fleas of Spanish travel.

It is my custom to take a walk during the hour or two
before sunset ; and one afternoon, having crossed Guadal-
quivir by the bridge of boats connecting Seville with Triana,
I passed through that suburb of gipsies, and the orange-
groves which line the road beyond, and coming out upon
the open country, continued my walk about half across the
plain lying between the river and the western range of hills.
It is true that this plain is not more than a league in
width ; but I knew that if I crossed it I should want to
ascend the hill, in order to look down upon the beautiful
city, lit with the slanting rays of sunset. Now, if I got to
the top of the hill within the sunset hour, I should have to
come back about five miles to Seville, in the dark. I thought
of going on, and taking my chance where I slept and what
became of me, and the spirit of adventure seized me there
and then.

But I reflected, that in making an expedition of that sort
it would be better to set out prepared with a little money
for support, my six-barrelled revolver for defence, and a
more Iberian cast of get-up ; for as I then stood, or rather
sat, on the parapet of a little bridge, my costume was such

89

My Disguise

as London might have looked upon without either admira-
tion or astonishment.

Next morning after breakfast I loaded my revolver, and
went out to purchase my outfit. This consisted of half a
dozen filigree buttons and a faja. The faja is a scarf,
usually of a scarlet woollen stuff, something like close
thick-wove bunting, about a foot wide, and varying from .
three and a half to seven yards in length. This is wrapped
round and round the waist, and at last tucked in beneath
the folds over one of the hips, with the fringed end hanging
out a little. It is a comfortable thing, giving both warmth
and support to the body. An Andalusian can no more do
without )\\i faja than a lady could cast her stays.

I returned to my lodging and dressed. A pair of black
trousers and a black waistcoat (with the filigree buttons)
were divided by my scarlet faja gaily striped with yellow
and blue, and purple and green. I wore, besides, a seedy
old black shooting-jacket, and a brown Scotch plaid, with a
red stripe in it, slung over my shoulder, to look as much
like a ynanta as possible ; and on my head a gigantic wide-
awake, such as the peasants wear in lower Brittany, where
I got it last summer. It is a good hat for a hot climate,
being very thick, and having a rim about nine inches
wide.

Thus attired in the costume of a nondescript vagabond, I
stuck my revolver well out of sight in the folds oi my faja^
and sallied forth. I was in great fear lest I should meet
some of my fashionable Sevillian acquaintance in this guise,
but I was lucky enough to clear the gate of Triana without
any such mischance. It reassured me, to observe that the
tag-rag-and-bobtail who lounge about, and sell and buy fish
and vegetables on the bank of Guadalquivir, and who are
very picturesque and irregular in their own attire, stared at

90

Pride in Rags

me less now than they were accustomed to do in my ordi-
nary dress.

I felt a sort of independent pride in being thus tacitly
admitted into the fraternity of vagabonds, whose privilege
it is to avoid being stared at and begged of.

I crossed the bridge of boats, lifting my hat devoutly as
I passed by the painted wooden shrine of San Jos6, in the
middle of it. On reaching the main street of Triana, which
runs parallel with the river, I turned to the right, intending
to skirt the banks, and go up to Alcala del Rio by Santi
Ponce ; but getting into some brick-fields and tileries, 1
changed my mind, and cut across to the road I had followed
the day before, resolving to ascend the hill.

As I cleared the suburb, advancing across the plain, and
often turning, the Giralda, and then the huge body of the
cathedral, appeared to rise higher and higher, as smaller
surrounding objects were dwarfed by distance. Hereupon
I made these reflections : —

"In a city, the great cathedral attracts our attention,
and lifts our eyes a moment, and is lost as we turn the
corner of some insignificant little street ; but as we depart
from the city, the great cathedral becomes more and more
its crowning point — its sole feature.

" So, in the throng and bustle of life, is religion. The
greatness of God and the beauty of holiness may strike
our imagination, or even lift our heart in momentary
adoration, shut out of view too soon by the narrow and
crooked mazes of the world's pleasures and cares.

" It is as we remove from the world, and withdraw our-
selves from its cares and pleasures, — it is in the departure
of our faculties, and the hazy distance of old age, that the
ONE object of our existence here towers up to its true
proportions.

91

The Distant View

((

We then perceive, perhaps too late, how much more
great, and excellent, and beautiful that was, than those
paltry intervening things which screened it from our eyes
so long."

Near the foot of the hill, the cam'im real turned to the
left, so I followed a bridle-road which ascended it more
directly. This way, which deeply scars the steep hill-side
with several channels, seems as if it must have been worn
by the footsteps of many ages, and was probably once the
principal road ; but it is now almost deserted, the great
road, which slants more easily, having drawn the old traffic
away.

From the brow there is a fine view of Seville the Mar-
vellous, with her hundred graceful spires, gathered, as in a
drawing-room of churches, around their giant and majestic
queen. A silvery bend or two of the river gleamed, folded
on the purple bosom of the plain. I sat down, partly
because I wanted to take a sketch, and partly because I was
out of breath with toiling up the rise, and felt a slight pain
in my lungs. However, I managed to draw my breath
better than my landscape. But the pain in my lungs had
reminded me I was mortal, and liable to accidents ; and,
indeed, when one is alone, and far away from help, a very
slight ailment is sufficient to act upon the imagination.
So, before proceeding further, in order to be prepared for
the worst that could happen, I wrote, as legibly as I could,
a short notice in the fly-leaf of my pocket-book, setting
forth, in a proclamatory style, " who I was, and what was
to be done with my body, in case it should be found
by well-disposed persons, who would be handsomely
rewarded," &c.

Proceeding a little along the road, I came to a small
village, where I inquired my way to Castilleja de la

92

Castilleja de la Cuesta

Cuesta of a crusty old man, who, finding I came from
Seville, scolded me severely for coming so much out of
the right road, as if it was anything to him. What dis-
concerted me more than the snarling of the old man was,
that all the dogs barked after me as I passed through the
village, indicating that there was something peculiar and
suspicious about my appearance.

The aloe-bordered lane into which I had turned ran
along the brow of the hill, and after about half a league
descended into Castilleja, a pretty little village (where
Fernando Cortez departed this life, as I since found in
the guide-book, which I should have done better to study
before I set out), in a hollow of the cuesta (hill-side).
Here I met a beggar, and asked my way to Santi Ponce.
Reflecting that I should not have inquired of such a person
if I had overtaken instead of meeting him, I amused myself
by fashioning the reason why into a refrain : —

No preguntes tu caraino

De mezquino —
Que quiza has de tenerlo

Compaiiero.

Never, in asking your way,

Question a tatterdemalion,
Who, on informing you, may

Offer to be your companion.

\
Turning to the left at the lower end of the village, the
path slanted across abruptly-undulating spurs of the cuesta,
down toward the plain again ; and descending upon Cama,
the tall towers of Santi Ponce's convent appeared about
four miles to the north. I had heard that there was a little
village about half a mile beyond the convent, and there I

93

Santi Ponce

resolved to sleep. As I stepped along briskly (for I was
beginning to feel very hungry towards my usual dinner-
hour), the sun gradually descended ; the shadow of the
western range widened across the plain, and rose like a
deepening flood of darkness, leaving only the church-towers
and atalayas ^ illuminated ; and by the time I reached the
village, twilight had drawn its rapidly-deepening film over
all the broad valley which Batis waters.

Santi Ponce is a poor-looking, low-hutted hamlet, sprin-
kled on some knolly undulations of the plain. Many of
the small houses are flat-roofed, and it has rather the look
of a desolate little eastern town, than of a European village.
I had to go right through it, running the gauntlet of
women, children, and dogs in great numbers, to whom I
afforded a fertile source of speculation, remark, and rebark.
At length I reached the posada^ at the further extremity
of the place, not in any street, but facing the open country.
There was a large doorway without a door, inside of which
the vestibule looked very much like a waggon-shed. Fur-
ther in appeared a long narrow room — if room it could be
called, the walls being of rough unplastered stone, smoke-
blackened, like those of a forge, and the window without
glass.

This receptacle, such as it was, proved to be the kitchen
of the establishment, and the family were seated at supper
round a table at the further end. A flaring little lamp lit up
the swarthy faces of the party, making their dim shadows
waver upon the walls. Altogether the scene was more
picturesque than comfortable.

I walked up to the table and saluted them with " Dios

guard' V"""-, Caballeros" (God keep you, gentlemen),

and proceeded to make inquiries what there was to be had

' Moorish watch-towers.

94

Una Limitada Cena

for supper. The landlady, to whom I was referred, apathe-
tically announced that there was nothing whatever in the
house ; but the rest of the party supping, begged me to be
seated, and sup with them. The elements before them were
nothing more than bread, and a large salad-bowl with some
remains of lettuce floating in much vinegar and water, dotted
with little yellow blebs of oil. I was too hungry to stand
on ceremony, and sat down at once. They gave me a great
hunch of bread and a wooden spoon, and I followed the
example of the company, dipping in the dish and eating the
sopped bread, with such shreds and tatters of lettuce as I
could fish up with my spoon.

When all the verdura (green stuff) was finished, the
bowl was passed round, and one after another tilting it up,
took a long drink. One of the men, as he put it down
with a gasp, remarked that it was a capital thing to refresh
the blood [rifrescar la sangre).

My hunger was by no means satisfied ; but examining
the table more narrowly after the party had risen, all except
myself and the mozo de la cuadra (ostler), I discovered a
small plate covered over with an inverted saucer. This
concealed treasure was a fractional reserve of olla^ set aside
for the supper of the landlady's little girl, as I discovered
without much compunction after it had been devoured ; for
I fell upon it without asking questions, though it smelt and
tasted powerfully of garlic. The landlady now bethought
herself to ask me if I would have a jarro (pitcher) of wine
and some olives. With the aid of these accessories and
more bread, I managed at last to replenish the vacuum
which a long walk (about twelve miles) had caused in my
vitals.

The jarro held more than I could drink, so I shared it
with the ;n(5Z(7, a polite, hard-featured man, who seemed

95

Bacalao

above his station in point of intelligence. He spoke French
and said he had been exiled for his political opinions, and
had lived at Bayonne.

It was beginning to be cold, and they lighted a blazing
fire ; not in any fire-place, but on the mud floor, opposite
the window, which aperture had more the effect of blowing
the smoke about into all parts of the kitchen than of letting
any out. Meanwhile a large party of exceedingly out-
landish figures in zamarras (fur jackets), and sheepskin
breeches, and red stockings, and leggings of panno pardo,
had arrived, and were busy about preparing their supper.

They produced a certain number of what, by the uncer-
tain firelight, seemed to be triangular pieces of thin board.
These they stuffed into the flame, and held them there
a little while ; then taking them out, and bending and
breaking them up, I discovered that they were dried fish,
which they were singeing thus to soften previous to stew-
ing. I asked what it was called, and being told that it was
bacalao^ rejoiced greatly that I had at least seen what Don
Quixote supped upon in the venta, the first night of his
Primer a Salida (first sally).

These men told me they were come with several carros
(waggons) of wool from Estremadura, and, hearing I was
an Englishman, concluded I was going to the copper-mines
at Rio Tinto. They admired my manta^ and asked where
it was made, and what it cost.

I asked if I could have a cup of chocolate before I went
to bed. The mo'z.o went out and bought a cake, and the
posadera made it in a copper pot, stirring it with a stick
stuck into a nicked wooden wheel at the bottom, which she
trundled, — rolling the protruding handle between the palms
of her hands. The chocolate was good, but as to goino- to
bed, that was not feasible, for there was none.

96

The Straw-Loft

The unusualness of the requirement appeared from the
fact, that by this time the greater part of the wool-carriers
were strev/n about here and there on the mud floor of the
windy vestibule ; some of them without even a manta to lie
upon. I did not feel that this would exactly suit me, and
began to make inquiries about the straw-loft. " Oh yes,
there was a pcijar^ — would his worship like to inspect it ? "
A ladder was brought, and set up against a wall in the
stable-yard, up which went the polite mo'z.o with his flaring
lamp, and I followed.

A straw-loft does not sound an uncomfortable place to
sleep in ; and if you have long straw, you cannot be better
off : but the straw here was short, that is to say, cut into
bits about half an inch long, to mix with barley, and my
prospect for the night's accommodation looked more like a
great heap of loose chaff than anything else. The ostler
remarked that it was " una condicion muy suelta para
acostar " (very loose stuff to lie among), but, if I liked to
sleep here, he would get a couple of sacks to lay over it.
The slightest touch loosened and sent rustling down an
avalanche from the crumbling heap. We strewed a plain
below, and spread the two broad sacks. I drew my plaid
over me, the mo-LO bid me sleep well, and, taking away the
lamp, left me to my reflections.

The pajar had a doorway but no door, and the aperture
afforded plenty of fresh air and a favourable view of the
constellation Cassiopeia. I was, nevertheless, quite warm
enough, and should have been in perfect tranquillity but for
the fear of chopped straw falling into my eyes, nose, and
mouth, if I stirred otherwise than very gingerly. Still, to
set off against this drawback, there certainly was some
romance in sleeping in a real straw-loft, a dream of adven-
ture I had never put in act before.

97

Theory of Romance

Indeed, when I contrast my English experience of hos-
telries, — when I call to mind those civilised abominations,
the tap, the coffee-room, tea and muffins, and mutton chops ;
wound up by a simpering chambermaid, a carpeted stair-
case, a japan candlestick, and a chintz four-poster, — I cannot
but remark a very striking difference between this picture
and that.

And in what does the romantic consist, but in unfami-
liarity ? It would be as much a romance to the beggar to
be clothed in fine linen, and treated, by some mistake, as a
great lord, as for the great lord to dress himself in rags,
and try the life of a beggar by way of a change. The only
difference is, that one changes for the better, the other for
the worse. The advantage in point of romance is clearly
all on the side of the beggar.

This is the reason why heroes of romance are usually
born under strong suspicion of illegitimacy, begin as vaga-
bonds, and turn out peers of the realm in the third volume.
This accounts for the delight snobs take in writing, and the
populace in reading, dark and mysterious romances of
fashionable life, which fashionable livers, according to their
(wax) lights, find neither dark nor mysterious at all.

Having been delivered of these reflections in the straw,
I was falling gradually into that drowsy twilight of reason
which intervenes between the setting of the mind's eye and
the star-spangled darkness of dreams, when a vivacious discus-
sion was opened in the court below, in which the word paja
(straw) frequently recurred: pending which I fell asleep,
with my revolver under my hand, ready for defence in case
of danger.

I don't know how long I had been asleep, when I was
suddenly startled by the bump of a ladder against the wall ;
and, opening my eyes, saw the constellation of Cassiopeia

98

Visions not Unratified

darkened by the figure of a man. I sat up with my pistol
ready, but he passed by me, and, filling a large estera (mat-
ting) basket with straw, departed as he came. He had
doubtless been the applicant for straw, whom the friendly
mo%o had attempted to persuade not to disturb me, but who
had now found the ladder, and come to right himself against
such oppression.

Falling asleep again, I dreamed I had been out on some
wild expedition in England, and had been brought back
quite helpless on a shutter ; that I had been put to bed, and
indeed the nurse was tucking me up, when, in stooping to
arrange the pillow, her sleeves tickled my nose, on which I
woke, and rubbing my nose, frightened away a rat who had
been snuffing round my face, probably suggesting the idea
of being tucked in. He scampered away, making a great
rustling among the loose straw, and I perceived the dark-
ness was growing pale, and that it wanted not above an
hour of sunrise. So I did not go to sleep again, and when
it was light enough to see, got up and shook myself.

I paid a peseta (about I0;^d.) for my supper and night's
lodging. After about half a mile of road, I saw on the left
of the road some stony excrescences among the olive-trees,
towards which I turned up a slope of barley-field. The
irregular masses of grouting proved, as I approached, to be
undermined and perforated by arched cellars and passages.
Scrambling in among these ruins of Italica, I found, at
length, the amphitheatre, which is oval, and not near so
large as a modern bull-ring.

On the side by which I entered, there were remains of a
broad passage, vaulted with a semicircular arch, which had
once surrounded the amphitheatre, into which there were
entrances from it very much like those of a pla-z^a de toros.
Here, no doubt, the Roman youth of the period loitered

99 G

Ruins of Italica

between the acts and smoked their cigarillos (or did what-
ever in those days corresponded with this modern delasse-
ment)j while the last wounded gladiator was dying behind
the scenes, and made their bets while the next pair were
buckling on their armour. The broken terraces of stone
seats remain, but the grass grows green, for the benefit of a
few scrambling goats, in the arena.

It is natural to fill up the blank gap which time has made
with imagination's reproduction of the gaiety, eagerness,
and agony of victims who bled, and crowds who shouted,
where now reign the silence, and solitude, and ruin of near
two thousand years. But what prevented my indulging
very long in these musings on the past was, that I began to
be very hungry for my breakfast ; so scrambling out of the
city founded by Scipio, and the birth-place of Trajan, I
returned to the road, and, following it still to the north-
ward, came before long to a small venta^ with a broad shed
of thatch, supported on posts in front of it.

Here I found a woman sitting over an earthenware copa
of charcoal, and asked for breakfast. She set bread and
wine, and a great pie-dish full of large salted sardines, before
me. Cold fish is a favourite food of the poor people here,
and with excellent bread (which you get everywhere in
Spain I believe, but especially in the neighbourhood of
Seville), a icw olives, and a jar of decent manzanilla^ my
cold sardines were by no means a contemptible breakfast,
for which I paid five-pence.

While I was eating, a soldier came in, and I had a sort
of vague impression that this road-guard would find me in
the wrong some way, and take me up. He turned out a
good-humoured fellow, coming, not on a domiciliary visit, but
with the same object as myself, — to get his breakfast. He
and the landlady had a considerable gossip, of which I, being

100

Pious Salutations

a novelty, formed the staple subject. You will perhaps
be surprised at the venteras taste, but I can assure you I
overheard her remark that I was a very pretty youth, " y
que rubios tiene los cabellos " (and what nice red hair and
beard). Now, though I was obliged to her for the compli-
ment of thinking me a pretty youth, I don't so much
appreciate having my hair called red. As to my beard, I
have been accustomed to consider it of a somewhat ferrugi-
nous straw-colour ; but my hair is brown, and has never
been called red by my bitterest enemies.

The soldier, before I went away, civilly insinuated that he
should like to see my passport, and was highly delighted
and edified by the engraving of the arms of England, and
those of Lord Palmerston. " For the writing, he could
read the letters," he said, " but as to the words, being
written in English, they were far from being perspicuous :
and, indeed, he had been informed that there was no lan-
guage in the world so clear and intelligible as the Castilian ; "
to which the ventcra^ as if she was assenting to an ingenious
philological theory, replied, " Mas claro " (doubtless). They
settled also, between them, that I was, without doubt, a
pottery -man from the English porcelain manufactory in the
Cartuja convent.

I now bid the ventera and militar " quedar se con Dios "
(remain with God), and they bid me go under His protection.
These pious salutations and farewells are in everybody's
mouth. If two men meet on the road, each says in passing,
" Vaya V"*^- con Dios" (may your worship go with God).
If you pass a man standing by the side of the road, you
cry, " Dios guard' V^"^- " (God keep your worship). The
same salutation is good on entering a posada^ only you put
their worships in the plural (V'°'*°'), They reply, "Venga
V"^- con Dios " (may your worship come with God). And

lOI

A Judgment upon Parsimony

when you depart, your farewell is, " Oueden V°"*®^' con
Dios."i '"

Soon after leaving the venta^ I turned off the main road
along a bridle-way slanting to the right, and leading to a
village with a white tower. The path was crossed by a
stream six or seven yards wide and a foot deep. A peasant
appeared unforeseenly, and offered to carry me across for a
halfpenny ; but I thought it would be derogatory to my
vagabond character to accept his services ; so, taking off my
shoes and stockings, and doubling up my trousers, I waded
in. About the middle I found it rather deeper than I had
calculated, and in twitching up a corner of my plaid, which
was trailing in the water, one of my shoes dropped, and was
floating away in the ripples, when, making a dash for it, I
lost one of my socks, and gained the further bank only one
dry foot better that if I had walked through. The peasant
whose services I had rejected grinned over my misfortunes
as a judgment upon my parsimony.

I shook the water out of my shoe, and wrung the sock as
dry as I could, and sat down on a sunny bank scruffling my
feet in the warm sand ; for dry sand will soak up water as it
does ink, and supply the place of a towel as well as blotting-
paper. By the time I had made and smoked a cigarilloy
the powerful sun of January had dried the sock to a wear-
able state, and I proceeded to the village of the white watch-
tower, whose name is Algaba, which, passing without adven-
ture, I came after a while to the banks of Guadalquivir.

It now became matter of debate whether I should ascend
the river to Alcala (which was now in sight, but much
further off than it looked, because of an awkward bend of
the river, unless I could find means of crossing it in two

" Vmd. and Vntdes. are contractions of Vuesa Merced (your wor-
ship), and its plural, — pronounced Uste and Ustedes.

102

The Ayes and Noes

places), or descend it to Seville. I was beginning to be
footsore, and felt dusty and unclean. On the one hand was
the desire of adventures ; on the other, the desire of washing,
clean linen, and rest for the soles of my feet. Alcala del
Rio, crowning a steep bank, was not without attraction to
my eyes ; but the noes had it, and I turned down stream
towards the Giralda, which seemed nine or ten miles
distant.

While I was wandering wearily along the bank, a boat
came ploughing up the stream with a fresh breeze full
behind a great belly of white canvas. The steady, easy-
going motion made me wish to be on board, sitting at leisure
to be blown along to fresh adventures. Not long after
came another, and I had more than half a mind to hail her,
and see whether they would take me up to Alcala.

Against this project there was the uncertainty whether
they would go as far ; whether the wind would not be con-
trary in the next reach, and whether they would stop for
me if I asked them. Besides which, it was to be considered
that I was weary and footsore, and in want of washing and
clean linen, and should probably be still more so, and still
less fit to prosecute my adventures on the morrow, when I
might find myself, perhaps, quite knocked up, at a consider-
able distance from home.

These considerations only lasted long enough for the boat
to sail by ; and by the time she was fairly out of my reach,
I was very sorry I had been so irresolute and prudent. I
determined that I was destined to go by a third and luckier
boat, for which, however, I did not think it wise to wait
here, in case it should never come. Continuing to approach
Seville by the bank, I came at last to a reed hut. Here
were an old man and woman, and a little boy about
twelve.

103

The Fisherman's Hut

They were sitting round a smouldering wood fire, which
burnt upon a circular mud hearth, sunk in the floor like
the mouth of a well, and about a foot and a half deep, so
that the edges of the floor served to sit upon, while the feet
of the family rested upon the sunken hearth. They made me
welcome, and the fisherman asked what he could do for me.
I said I was waiting for a boat to take me up to Alcala, and
should be happy to avail myself of the shelter of his roof,
and should be much obliged to him if he would stop the
next boat for me, whether up or down stream, for I was
indifferent whether I went to Alcala or Seville.

I got a drink of water, and lay down on a great heap of
nets, which would have been a more comfortable couch, but
for the cork floats. The fisherman went out to watch for
sails. His wife was stitching away at a very ragged pair of
trousers belonging to the little boy. It appeared, neverthe-
less, that they were his best ; for, during the operation, he
sat shivering without any, and encouraging his mother to
make haste.

I asked her whether her husband caught many fish, and
what sort, and whether he made a good living. She said
" that they were very poor and wretched now, because el
buen Dios had sent no rain." I did not see precisely how
dry weather could make them poor ; but she continued :
" When the rains fall, and there is a fresh in the river, then
the savalo (shad) comes up from the sea in great plenty ; but
now the river is so low, he can catch nothing at all."

Having answered my questions, she began to interrogate
me, in return, as to my nation, and what I was. She
admired the good condition of my clothes, saying they were
muy decentesy so that I was evidently not shabby enough for
a real vagabond. I rested in the hut about two hours, when,
as no boat appeared, I took my leave of the picturesque

104

Genuine Goodwill

hut, and its equally picturesque inhabitants, giving the old
woman a silver real.

This sum, which is a shade more than twopence-halfpenny,
seemed to strike the whole family in heaps of gratitude and
astonishment. The old woman said they had done nothing
to deserve it, and the fisherman begged me to let him put
me across the river in his boat, that he might earn it with
some shadow of justice. But the shortest way to Seville
did not cross the river here, so I begged him to accept it
amistosamente (in a friendly manner), and' he might put me
across in his boat some other day, when I returned on my
way to Alcala. I had previously won the little boy's heart
with a few cigarillos^ so that I departed with a greater mass
of genuine goodwill and hearty benedictions than I suppose
are usually purchased for twopence-halfpenny.

Cutting across the fields to another angle of the river, I
passed it in the ferry-boat, and trudged home to Seville,
where I arrived in time to dress for dinner. My landlady,
Juliana, had almost given me up for lost, and Sefior Vasquez,
my Spanish master, had afforded her very little consolation,
merely caramha'ing about the rashness of Britons, and the
ruffianlv character of the natives in the neighbourhood of
Seville.

After dinner, I went, as usual, to get my coffee at the
casino, where my friends raised their eyebrows some inches
at the recital of my adventures. One of them wondered
why I had not told him, and he would have taken me in
his carriage-and-four to see the ruins of Italica. But
Ramon Ponce de Leon, who is a young man of some genius,
and of an adventurous spirit, said it was an " expedicion muy
graciosa (a very quaint expedition), and it was natural I
should wish to see the sort of life of which I had read in
Don Quixote and Quevedo " ; an idea which most of the

105

Civilisation in Seville

party seemed scarcely to see the force of when it was
explained. The romance of their lives is generally to
become as European and un-Spanish as possible. It is one
of the privileges of imagination to perceive the romantic
element in what is familiar. Perhaps the greatest triumph
of the genius of Cervantes was in laying the scene of the
best romance ever written in the immediate neighbourhood
of his own home.

We adjourned to the opera, and saw the troublesome
Suppositiy which is wearisomely popular.

1 06

CHAPTER X

Seville, Feb. 9, 1852.
As this was the day I expected Harry, I was determined
not to go to the orilla (quay) early, for I felt sure my
impatience, waiting on the spot, would prevent his arriving.
I had inquired, in my morning walk, what was the steamer's
hour, and determined to hit it exactly. Rushing down at
the appointed moment, I found my informant had told me
wrong ; the boat had arrived a quarter of an hour.

On the quay (down a broad, sloping causeway, railed oflF
from the public) there was a pile of luggage. A remnant
of passengers yet bustled around it, arguing, struggling,
and bargaining with a contentious company of porters.
Alas ! Harry was not to be seen among them. There was
still a chance ; he might be one of the passengers who had
got ashore before my coming down, and I was just pre-
paring to rush back to the city to ransack the hotels. Just
then, an internal convulsion shook the swarm a'ound the
luggage pile ; out burst a little Gallego, staggering under a
huge British portmanto, and followed by its much-desired
and now almost despaired-of proprietor.

I saw him come bowling up the slope with his familiar
gait, evidently unconscious of my presence, and wearing
that sturdy and almost hostile demeanour with which a
true Briton marches into a strange city, through the army
of officious importunates, who never fail to welcome the

107

The Arrival

true Briton's arrival. As he passed the barrier, he came
close to me in the crowd, still without recognising me,
though straight before his nose, for I was dressed in the
costume of the people. I touched his elbow, and he turned
upon me with a look of impatient defiance, thinking me one
persecutor more.

How quickly the expression changed, and to what, I
leave you to imagine. We rushed into each other's arms,
as much as the many great-coats slung over his shoulders,
and the deep folds of cloak in which I was enveloped,
would mutually permit. Then, saying more than a
thousand things in a breath, or rather in no breath at all,
we set off in great glee for my lodgings, forgetting, in the
excitement, the poor little porter who was following us at
full trot, panting and puffing under the heavy portmanto.

After dinner, we sallied forth beneath the stars, to see
Seville by moonlight from the top of the Giralda. Having
come to where that wonderful wand, lifted by the magic
hand of the Moor, points whither all pinnacles, whether of
mosque or cathedral, do point, however much the way to
heaven may differ on the lower story, we entered the
dwelling at its base, where some of the family were going
to bed. A young man got ready a lantern, and leading us
through a sloppy back-kitchen and other damp premises,
preceded us up the succession of inclined planes which
ascend the tower.

Imagine an interminable sloping gallery in the wall,
corkscrewing round and round the tower, or rather square
and square, with landing-places at the corners, and here
and there large niches, where two arabesque arches, divided
by a slender column of glittering marble, let in the night,
thwarted by the graceful balustrade of a jutting balcony.

The dark ascent of the echoing corridor,— the cloaked

1 08

Ascent of the Giralda

figure of our guide ahead, with the moving, downcast flare
of his lantern on the stony slope, — these richly-framed,
momentary pictures of the enchanted, moonlight-sprinkled
city, as from glimpse to glimpse it sank beneath our feet,
and exposed a widening rim of hazy horizon ; — all these
things together struck us with that delicate impression of
the mysterious and romantic which is so difficult to put on
paper, or even to describe afterwards with spoken words.
We were content to explain ourselves to each other by
agreeing that it seemed like one of the Arabian nights.

Well, there is an end to all things, even to square cork-
screws, and at last we emerged where the muezzin used to
cry, " La ela ilia Allah " (There is no God but the God),
and where now the most powerfully unmusical jangle of
bells in the world ring at random hours without any
ascertainable rule or intention whatever. Looking down
over the dizzy parapet on one side, we could see here and
there little cloaked mannikins crawling over the straitened
pavement ; on the other, also far beneath, expanded the
broad stone roofs of the body of the cathedral, whose
massive flying buttresses, touched by the moonbeams,
seemed the hoary ribs of some old mammoth skeleton.

Around, irregularly grouped clusters of quaint, fantastic
housetops and towers and gables strung like charms on
tangled street-lines, extended a chequered labyrinth. Along
the dark line of the Guadalquivir lay the white range of
Triana. On this side of the river, but still distant, the
bull-ring looked about the shape and size of a quoit. On
the left, near the foot of the tower, stood the rich
Arabesque alcazar of the Moorish kings of Seville. Beyond,
spread a vaster edifice, square, covering five or six acres,
and seeming a palace too. What do you think it was ?
The tobacco-manufactory. Isabel II. is the sole tobacconist

109

Seville by Moonlight

in her realm, and as all its denizens are her customers, she
must do a very pretty business.

Beyond the orange and lemon-groves of the De/kias, the
vi'atery serpent coiled away along the plain, vi^ith here and
there a distant reach that caught the silver of the skies.
Going round to the east side of the tower, where, by the
way, we came out but did not stop (deeming, with that
restless impatience to which humanity is prone, that what
first presented itself must be least worth looking at), we
beheld in the far horizon the converging ranges of the
Sierra Morena and the mountains of Ronda. The dim
intervening plain was dotted here and there with bright
towers, that rose against the slanting rays. The moon was
full, and such a moon ! We singled out the loftiest point
in the horizon, part of the Sierra di Ronda, whither to
direct our steps when we leave this place. We have
determined to take no guide, but to ride from peak to peak,
always selecting the most ambitious land-mark we can
get sight of, and trusting to Providence for supper and
adventures.

no

CHAPTER XI

Seville, Feb. 21, 1852.
We have just come in from a midnight ramble through
the streets, with vistas, and clair-obscures, and shady angles,
and salient corners, and arches, and columns, and twinkling
lights, and serenaders with tinkling guitars, and senoritas
robed in white, waving cambric kerchiefs from balconies,
and watchmen crying, " Ave Maria puriiiiisimaaaaaa," to
a narrow strip of stars peeping down between the leaning
eaves.

We are to start now in a day or two, having got our
beasts of burden. Mine I bought of a baker, a good trade
to buy a horse from ! Why ? — He is likely to be the
better bred. I cannot describe him now, but I dare say I
shall have plenty to say about him on the road. He is a
charming, vicious little black beauty, and the livery-man,
who has the charge of him, says he is a " demonio " in
the stable.

Harry has got a more peaceable chestnut ; both seem
good and sound. During these our last days in Seville, the
population has been in a hubbub of rejoicing for the queen's
happy delivery from her physicians and priest ; it cannot be
ascertained from which she ran the greater risk, since her
constitution (can it be a Spanish one ?) has weathered both.
As a humane way of rejoicing for the queen's escape,
there was, among other things, a bull-fight ; and, like

III

The Bull-Ring

naughty, cruel wretches, we went to see it. Bull-fights
have often been described ; I will, therefore, endeavour to
make mine as short and disgusting as my powers of con-
densation will admit.

An arena about a hundred yards in diameter, girt by a
sloping amphitheatre, and half surrounded above by arched
and columned galleries, is filled by twelve thousand men,
women, and children, all impatient. A score or so of men,
arrayed in scarlet and yellow and purple and pink and
green and blue, embroidered and laced and frogged and
tasselled and tagged with gold and silver and silk, are
strutting about upon the sand.

There is a flourish of trumpets. A door is opened in
the wooden barrier, which defends the lower benches of
spectators, and in rushes a broad-nosed, innocent, astonished-
looking bull. He looks here and there, and round about
him, and has every reason to be surprised, if not alarmed.
The men in gaudy colours at first keep a respectful distance,
and observe whether he is very fierce ; then the boldest of
them goes forward. The foolish bull now thinks he has
discovered his principal enemy, and canters towards him
with the full intention of playing cup and ball with his body
on the points of his horns.

As the bull reaches him, he flings out his cloak and skips
aside, so that the horns impinge on nothing but a cloud of
floating drapery. Sometimes it is carried away on the
points, and the disappointed beast shakes it off his face, and
gores and tramples it in the dust. The other men do the
same as the first, with more or less agility, and there is a
good deal of running about and jumping over the barriers,
into which the pursuer comes full tilt. The public are soon
tired of these first performers, who are called the burladores
(jokers) or chuUllos.

112

Burladores and Bandarilleros

Then come in the bandarilleros. Each man has a pair of
barbed javelins, wreathed and resetted with gay-coloured
strips of paper. The first performer places himself in front
of the bull, standing with his heels together, and leaning
slightly forward ; he waves his rustling wands, something
in the manner of lagrace sticks, or as if he were fortifying
his challenge by some magnetic spell, for he points his
weapons toward the forehead of his antagonist, and traces
mysterious diagrams in the air.

The bull, as if some superstitious element in his character
were awakened by these exorcisms, usually pauses some
moments to contemplate this double-wanded wizard, the
first man who has faced him yet, without the aid of that
bewildering volubility of cloak. At length the bull starts
like an express-train, and the bandarillero runs lightly
forward to meet him, like a dancing-master in pumps
caught in a shower. As they meet, he skips nimbly aside
on light fantastic toe, planting in the same instant his pair
of bandarillas on either side of the poor beast's neck. The
rest do likewise, till he has a great stiff mane of javelins
tossing up and down as he plunges about, bellowing in great
agony, with the barbs working in his flesh at a great
leverage.

Then another flourish of trumpets, and in come the
picadores on their blindfold steeds, wearing a broad-brimmed
stiffish wide-awake with many-coloured plumes, their legs
cased in buff-leather and wood, entrenched in a tall but-
tressed fortification of saddle, and armed with a stout lance.
One of them challenges the bull, poising his heavy weapon
under his arm. The bull butts at him, and receives the
lance's point between the neck and shoulder. The point is
guarded so as not to pierce more than an inch or two ;
there is then a desperate pushing bout, the man and bull

"3

Picadores and Matador

thrusting for safety and for vengeance at either end. When
the struggle lasts long it is called " dormir sobre cl palo "
(to sleep upon the stick).

At last the bull either goes away disheartened, or forcing
in the picador's guard, gores the horse deeply in the flank
as he swerves away. The other picadores do likewise. The
noble, patient horses go on at this work, bleeding bucketfuls
all the time, and some of them with their torn-out entrails
in festoons, till they drop down fainting from loss of blood.
Lying flat they do not bleed so fast, and recover their con-
sciousness to receive an occasional lift from the sharp horns,
as the bull in pursuit of his persecutors recognises in his
path the corse of a fallen foe.

When the bull is getting tired the company call for the
matador. He is the smartest of the party. He marches
solemnly forward to make his bow in front of the
president's balcony, throws away his hat, and goes forth to
slay and make an end. His victim, sated with fruitless
victory over superior numbers, and weary of bloodshed, has
to be provoked with many flouts and indignities before he
will deign to engage in this single-handed and, seemingly,
insignificant combat.

At last he comes. The matador whips a long gleaming
rapier out of the scarlet flag with which he draws the beast's
attention to his left, while, stepping to the right, he plunges
his sword through the left shoulder down into the heart.
For a few moments the bull staggers about, snorting little
crimson clouds, seeming bewildered by the new sensation
of dying. He soon feels how it is, and goes majestically
down on his knees, with his bold, broad face of honest
defiance towards his destroyer.

The butcher now runs up behind, and strikes him with
his knife in the back of the head : the spine is separated

114

Our Feelings

and he rolls over and dies. A flourish of trumpets — a buzz
of twelve thousand voices criticising his end — and a team
of four mules abreast are harnessed to the carcase. They
gallop out, while the music sounds again, dragging by the
heels along the sand the Hector of the ring, leaving a long
wake of dust-cloud behind.

So it ends, and begins again. Some of the bulls are
more savage than others. One declined to fight, and the
indignant populace called for dogs to worry him. Another,
in making a sudden turn upon his enemies, dislocated his
spine and lost the use of his hind legs. The poor creature
could not tell what was the matter, and struggled about
with his forelegs, dragging the paralysed remainder of
himself along the ground.

We sat and smoked, and were not so much horrified
as would suit the ideas of a British public, nor so much
excited as would flatter a Spanish one, but we were occa-
sionally both one and the other to a moderate degree.
They say that this is child's-play, because the bulls are
feeble and tame now in the cool weather. After all, in
spite of the atrocity of the thing, it is a fine sight, and there
is enough of the savage, wild-beast element in the heart of
man to make these desperate and bloody struggles interest-
ing to him.

What I felt to be more objectionable than the bloodshed
was, that the bull had not fair play, nor any chance of
escape. Besides which, poetical justice demanded that there
should be a fair equivalent of men killed in proportion
to the horses. I felt, at the time, I should have liked to
be a good, strong, active bull, aware of the stratagems of
the art, to have made havoc among the gaudy bullies ; and
I believe we should have shouted with all the rest of the
company if one of the human wretches had been caught

H5 H

Fireworks

and mangled. However, it is fair to say, that there were no
men hurt, and if there had, our human would probably have
overpowered our brutal sympathies.

As we are prepared to set out in a day or two, heavily
armed with pistols, and determined not to surrender except
to overwhelming numbers of banditti, we thought it
prudent to sit up last night to make our wills.

This evening fireworks were let off from the new iron
bridge over the Guadalquivir, which is to be opened to-
morrow. We, with a large party of our Spanish friends,
saw everything to great advantage from a barge on the
river. Such a mass of many-coloured fire on the dappled
mirror of the flowing waters, with dark, crowded boats
glancing here and there athwart the burning ripples ; the
shores around all hung with myriad lamps ; and the planet
Venus, like a permanent rocket-star, looking down over the
eaves of Triana on the perishable efforts of pyrotechny —
altogether resulted in what is familiarly termed a striking
scene.

The other day, we and some other Englishmen got up a

funclon of gipsy-dancing in the court of a great building on

the bank of the river, originally erected, I believe, by an

embryo gas company, which was rendered abortive by a

combination of the Sevillian oil-sellers.

Terpsichore is not my favourite muse, and I found it
rather melancholy mirth. The dance is a barbarous
Oriental gesticulating wriggle ; the performers stooping,
swaying their bodies, and waving their arms, and clacking
their castanets to the sound of the guitar. It was a
picturesque scene, but the weather and the spirits of the
party were rather cold. The gipsies made us taste the
victuals we had provided, under an impression that we were
about to make them eat roast dog, and would not get tipsy

lib

The Gitanas

as was expected of them in reason as well as rhyme. The
gipsies of Seville differ but little in appearance from the
Spaniards, except that the men are more hangdog-looking,
and the women plainer than usual ; their complexions are
perhaps a shade swarthier.

Their singing is like any other wild, barbarous, melan-
choly howling, fit to mingle with the murmurs of a dreary
wind whistling through an uncomfortable tent on the
corner or a wilderness. A plaintive gusty wail, with long
quavering cadences, that begin loud and die away to
nothing. It reminds one of the crying of a child, which,
weary of the monotony of plain prosaic weeping, begins
to play with its lamentation and fashion it into the rude
resemblance of a song. I have heard semi-barbarous women
among other Southern nations, who, when almost delirious
with grief, bemoaned themselves in a sort of chanted rhythm
— the earliest type, no doubt, of elegiac poetry.

117

CHAPTER XII

Utrera, February 24.
The world keeps whirling round, and remote contin-
gencies come to pass almost by waiting for them ! How
distant and improbable it seemed two months ago that we
should ever make this expedition, which I used to talk
about with faithless enthusiasm like any other castle in the
air. Then Harry actually came, and we set about our pre-
parations. Even then, how far off our start appeared !
How impossible to get suitably mounted at a purchasable
figure among the cheateries of Andalusian chalanes^ whom
it is impossible to persuade that one is " Yorkshire too ! "
Here, as everywhere, the old impression pervades that
Englishmen are (very loosely) made of money, and con-
tinually dropping to (gold) pieces. However, we got
ourselves up in costume, and attended the beast fair in the
Plaza de la Paja twice a week, and bargained and turned
up our noses at the animals, and stimulated a patient
confidence that we should meet with what we wanted at
our own price in good time, and, in the end, got a couple
of useful ponies for about eight pounds apiece.

Then they had to be fitted with trappings, and we led
them through the streets to a variety of saddlers' shops,
where we tried on and bargained for the necessary articles
of apparel. Then there was the packing— which to me is
always two-thirds of a journey's fatigue— in this case aggra-

118

Our Get Up and Set Off

vated by the harrowingly dubious separation, of things
absolutely necessary on the road to go in the alforjas^ from
the chaos of a voluminous portmanto, containing almost all
my worldly goods of any importance.

However, one after another, all things came about : and
on Tuesday, February 24th, with our voluminous cloaks
and plethoric alforjas over our shoulders, many pistols in
our fajas (scarf-belts), and all got up in the thorough con-
trabandtsta style, we sallied forth from the numero tres
segundo Calle de Velasquez, where I had lived during my
sojourn of four months in Seville. We wended our way
across the vast dismantled gap in the heart of the city, left
by the destruction of the great convent of San Francisco,
and came to the stables. We had a slight altercation with
the livery-man, a fat thief, who wished to charge us for
more days than our ponies had been in pupilage.

It was about ten o'clock of a bright, warm morning,
when, aiming at the Puerta de Carmona, we hit that of La
Carne, and therethrough sallied forth upon Spain at large.
Having studiously avoided to study the maps and guide-
books (which we, nevertheless, carried with us, in case of
need), we rode directly towards our favourite peak in the
horizon, conversing — a-propos of our late brush with the
stableman — on the most effectual way of dealing with
Spanish louts. In this controversy, Harry advocated the
sharp and decisive sternness of an assumed superiority, and
I a mild and persuasive gentleness ; so it was agreed that,
in our next difficulty, I was to shine first, and if fair weather
failed, then he should thunder afterwards.

Passing, in discussion, the dark-green, golden-dotted
orange groves and spiry cypresses which encircle the city,
we came to a little bridge with a great hole broken through
its arch, and, strange to say, workmen mending it. Then,

119

The Dehesa

fording the Guadaira below the dam of a picturesque mill,
we reached, after a mile or two, the edge of the dehesa, or
wilderness. Here we picketed our ponies, — that is to say,
we drove an iron spike into the ground ; and to that spike
there is a ring, and through that ring there is a cord ;
which cord, being tied at about seven yards' length round
the pony's neck, allows him to graze with much more fresh
air and liberty to sweeten his vegetable diet than ever the
prisoner of Chillon had.

Not satisfied with this, however, my little black beast
must needs break away, and pulling up his spike, scamper
back towards Seville, whose spires and towers still appeared
in the distance. The other pony followed his example, and
we ran after them.

I will leave the whole party running while I tell you
why we stopped on the margin of the dehesa. If you ever
were a bad little boy run away from school, you will know
that the first thing one does on emerging from one's
immediate troubles, upon the world at large, is to stop and
think. We had broken loose from the trammels of society,
disguised in a strange garb, with ponies to carry us where-
ever we chose, and were about to realise the romance of
many dreams.

We had besides to load our pistols (for we were full of
ideas of the dangers of the road), to arrange our saddles,
and cloaks, and manias, which, in the hurry of setting off,
had been badly organised; we also intended to take a sketch
of the last appearance of Seville. In Spain, the preface to
everything is a cigarillo, a little squib of tobacco rolled in
thin paper, which it takes a man of average talent six months
to learn to make. We had just accomplished this delicate
operation, and were about to light, when the ponies ran
away, and we after them.

120

Flight of the Ponies

We had not gone far, though far enough to see clearly
that they could go much faster than we could follow, when
the thought of our innocent and helpless alforjas^ left a prey-
to any ravening marauder who might cross the wilderness,
brought us up short, Harry went back to guard the baggage,
and I followed the ponies, expecting I should have to go back
all the way to the livery-stable in the Calle del Viscaino.

At the picturesque mill I heard they had re-crossed the
Guadaira at full gallop, and I trudged along beneath the
sultry sun of February, in much despondence and perspira-
tion, till I happened to think of the broken bridge, where
the workmen must have stopped them. So it turned out,
for soon after I was met bv two of them leading the truants.
They had got their saddles turned round, and each had
trampled off one of his stirrups.

Having tried in vain riding the one to lead the other, I
led them back, and arriving hot and breathless within half a
mile of our encampment, I was startled bv the report of a
pistol in that direction. Approaching cautiously, I could
see nothing of Harry, and the terrible idea flashed across
my mind that robbers had found him alone guarding the
baggage, and had shot him. Then it occurred to me, that
when they found two alforjas^ they would presume he had a
companion (who might institute a search, unless also dis-
posed of), and were therefore perhaps lying in wait among
the low brushwood to shoot me also as soon as I should
come within range.

I therefore approached by as open ground as possible,
that they might not get too easy a shot at me ; and when I
came as near as I thought safe, I shouted his name. After
an anxious moment or two an answer was returned in well-
known accents, which relieved me from my apprehensions.
Still the shot was to be accounted for.

121

A Horrible Suspicion

Has your imagination prepared you for something dread-
ful ? Mine had — something like what follows.

I approached the spot, and found Harry sitting among
the cloaks and luggage, smoking ; but I saw in an instant,
by the expression of his face, and the nervous twitch of his
lips, which made the cigar-end shake, that something serious
had happened.

" I have been and done it, and there he lies, poor fellow ;
but it was his own fault."

" Good heavens ! " I exclaimed, as, turning where he
pointed, I saw, at about seven yards' distance, the foot of a
man sticking out of a plot of brushwood. " Good Heavens !
is he dead ? What is the meaning of all this ? — what has
happened ? — and here is another saddle ! — and what is
that grey horse ? "

" I will tell you ; but, in the meanwhile we had better
pack our beasts, and be off as quick as we can. I was
sitting here about a quarter of an hour ago, when this man
came riding across the dehesa^ and seeing me, turned this
way. I had loaded my long pistols, and had one of them
ready cocked in my hand, under a fold of the cloak I was
lying on. After asking me a good many impudent ques-
tions, which I answered with as much patience as I could,
he said, at last, —

" ' Ah I I see you are a foreigner, probably on a long
journey. Es regular que tienes diner o (it is to be supposed
you have money). That is what I am come for, with your
permission. I am Pedro Paredes, for that which your
worship may please to command — a notable bandit, at
whose name the civil guards tremble.' Saying this, he
unslung his escopet from the hinder peak of his saddle, and
dismounted, to take a steadier shot, in case of need.

" Instead of getting up, I pulled the saddle-bags and

122

Something Like What Follows

cloaks into a heap, and lying on my stomach, presented the
muzzle of my pistol over the battery. ' Now then, you
impudent rascal,' I said, 'lay down your gun and go away,
or I'll shoot you, before you can coax your rusty old piece
to go off; and I should advise you never again to try your
hand on Englishmen with English pistols ! '

" He hesitated, and turned pale, and was stepping back,
when I said, 'If you move without leaving your gun, I fire.
Here, I have the advantage — at a distance, you might.'

" ' No English dog shall make a jest of the Andaluz,' he
said, a sudden fury flushing his face. He presented his
gun as quickly as he could, and we both fired at the same
moment ; but my pistol had been on his heart during the
discussion, and through his heart it went. But I had a
nearish escape : look at the rim of my hat."

Sure enough, there was a round hole in the broad
upturned brim of the Calanies.

" Thank God you are no worse, but what are we to do ? "

" We had better leave him as he is ; he has fallen with
the gun clutched in his hand. If we don't disturb him, and
they find him after a day or two, with money in his pocket,
and all those silver buttons on his clothes, they will think
he has destroyed himself ; I have unsaddled his horse, and
turned him loose. He will probably stray away, and not
attract immediate attention ; we must throw the saddle and
bridle into another bush. There now — we had better put
earth between us, as they say."

I could easily perceive that he was deeply shocked,
though the excitement gave a sort of painful levity to his
manner.

Before mounting, I went to look at the corpse, the first I
had ever seen of one who had died a violent death. He
had staggered backwards and fallen flat on his back, his

123

The Bandit's Corpse

arms and legs stretched out ; one hand grasped the barrel
of his musket, and the other a bunch of slender palmita
stems, whose fan-like heads, rustling to the almost imper-
ceptible breeze, seemed as if the dead hand stirred them. I
bent aside a bush of rosemary which shadowed the face.
One eyelid was propped up by a rosemary sprig, and the
eye beneath still glared upwards with a glazed and stupefied
look of fierceness and terror. In bending the bush back to
look into his £ice, I had stirred the sprig, and at first it
seemed that he was alive. However, letting go the twigs
in my horror, I saw how it was.

He was a fine, broad-built young man, with marked and
striking features, denoting, however, more strength of
passion than intellect. The healthy sun-burnt browns of
his swarthy face were turned to ghastly yellows on the
bloodless and ashy skin. The bright-coloured facings and
glittering silver tags and brooches of his dress, too, added a
painful contrast of holiday splendour to the faded hues of
death.

We mounted and rode away, following a bridle-road
which led us shortly into the olive-farms, which are crossed
in all directions by a great variety of sandy tracks. We
kept our direction as well as we could, and met nobody,
which we thought lucky. At length we came to a road
which seemed larger and more important. This soon split
into two at a picturesque, but apparently deserted hacienda
(homestead), and as we could not see our peak in the undu-
lating country in which we were, we tossed up a broad
ounce-piece of gold, whether we should take the right or left.

The left one won, which looked sinister ; but we took it,
and rode along till we came to a great road, which must
evidently be a camino real. On this we had not gone far
before we came to a venta. Here we asked how far it was

124

The Road by Twilight

to Seville, and found it was only four leagues, Alcala de
Guadaira being about half-way on the great road.

We wanted to stop at the venta for the night, but they
had no stables, so we got some bread and wine to satisfy
the cravings of hunger, and hearing there was a town two
leagues further on, we determined to press on, though it
was near sunset, and we should have a good way to ride in
the dark. The woman at the venta stared at us a good
deal ; so, talcing pity on her curiosity, I asked her confiden-
tially what she took us for, and gave her full liberty to
guess as many times as she chose.

" It appears to me that your worships are without doubt
French caballeros^ and it is regular that you travel with per-
fumery ; but I never saw Frenchmen with so many pistols
and poniards."

" We are no Frenchmen, seTiora^ but English artists, at
your service ; and pistols and knives are to an Englishman
indispensable necessaries of life."

" There are not so many of the ' mala gente ' about now
since the Guardia Civil are so rife on the road. Vamos !
do you not take the rest of your loaf with you ? "

"It is much at your disposal — remain with God,

ienoray

" The English are of a truth very rich and noble — may
your worships go with God, caballeros."

As we rode on, the sun soon went down, and the dusk
deepened rapidly. We were joined by a man on an ass,
who entered into conversation.

" By your speech, caballeros^ I should say you were not
of these parts ; are you not afraid to travel on these roads
after dark ? There is a formidable band which greatly
infests the neighbourhood of Utrera. They robbed a traveller
last week of three hundred dollars."

125

Pedro is Missing

" We are Englishmen, and therefore afraid of nothing.
We carry pistols enough to shoot ten men, and if there were
a dozen, it is probable the two others would run away. We
are on our way to Gibraltar, and if anything were to happen
to us, the governor, who of course expects us, would imme-
diately shoot a bomb-shell over La Mancha into the Cortes
at Madrid, which would blow up all the Spains in one

ruin."

Ha ! ha ! you talk roundly ; but we know the English
are a dangerous people, and it is asserted that they season
their ollas with gunpowder instead of salt."

Here we heard voices behind, and a sound, of horses*
hoofs. Our companion hailed them with some cry which
we did not understand, and as our imaginations were pre-
pared for robbers, we took it for a signal, and concluded
that the man on the donkey was an accomplice sent on to
reconnoitre. We therefore had our pistols ready. Two
men on a white horse, emerging from the darkness, over-
took us, and shortly afterwards another horse, also with two
men on it, came up. We congratulated one another on
this arrangement, for two bodies close together would of
course be much easier than one to hit in the dark. How-
over, the men saluted us civilly, and fell into conversation
with our companion. They were coming back from a fair
at Alcala de Guadaira, and were slightly elevated. Harry
and I were talking to one another in English about the pro-
babilities of thier being thieves ; and it is a sort of axiom
with the lower classes here, who are not much used to
foreigners, that people, who talk to one another in a lan-
guage which they do not understand, will not understand
what they say to each other in plain Spanish.

" What has come of Pedro that he does not return with
you ? " said the man on the ass.

126

Our Profession

(C

Oiiien sale ! probably he dances wxth fandango.^''

"According to my view," said one of the men on the
second horse, " he is engaged in another affair. I saw him
watching a horse-dealer as he put up the price of a very
pretty chestnut mare — sixty-three dollars, and not dear
either : I think Master Perrico has an eye to the gentle-
man's purse."

"Hush ! these strangers may overhear you."

" By no means, you hear their tongue is not the same as
ours. Gentlemen," he continued, addressing us, " is it
long that you travel in Spain ? "

" Three months, and my companion three weeks."

" Indeed, so little, and already you speak a few words of
the Castillian. What may be the business on which your
worships travel ? "

" We are portrait-painters, very much at your service,"
replied Harry.

"At what price do you work ? " said a man on the white
horse, which was a little ahead.

" From three reals to six, according to the size ; and if
the work of art does not give satisfaction to the sitter, he
can leave it, and pay nothing."

" Carajo ! that is an exceedingly honourable way of deal-
ing ; and if these gentlemen do not leave Utrera very early
to-morrow, I will have my picture, and give it to my wife,
carajo ! "

" We are entirely at the disposition of your worship, for
that which your worship may please to command."

In such discourse we began to see distant twinkling
lights, and to hear the chiming bells {ias animas\ which
were ringing for the departed souls of Utrera, — for that was
the place on which we had stumbled in the dark on our
south-east passage. As we rode up the long straggling

127

Anxious Inquiries

street, the white horse stopped before a house, out of which
came two women. One embraced her husband, as he dis-
mounted ; the other, who seemed young and beautiful, as
far as the dim light of the street (which only came from a
few straggling windows and stars) allowed us to judge,
after glancing anxiously about among the horsemen, ex-
claimed,—

" Where is my Pedro ? Why have you not brought him
back to me ! "

" Do you expect me to carry your pet hawk on my wrist,
pretty Rosita ? "

"I don't know what can be the matter with Rosa," said
the elder woman, "she has been moping and fretting about
her Perrico all day."

Here we said good-night, and rode on, still hearing indis-
tinctly through the thickening veil of darkness the maiden's
eager tones of inquiry after her lover. It was evident she
had felt some mournful presentiment of his fate, which we
but too probably connected with our adventure of the
dehesa. We went, as we had been recommended, to the
Posada de la Spada (Sword Inn), were received as distin-
guished guests, supped on a clean tablecloth, and were
recognised by the ostler in the stable, when we went to see
our ponies fed, as having passed a year ago. This we did
not deny, but applauded his memory.

128

CHAPTER XIII

Moron, February 27.

The reader will easily imagine we did not wake very
early next morning. I had sat up till very late writing
after a hard day's work. We both awoke suddenly, and
found a couple of carabineros standing at the foot of our
beds. We started up, thinking ourselves arrested ; but it
appeared they had only come to inspect our passports, which
were shown, and found satisfactory. Harry handed a paper
of clgarillos to them from under his pillow, and they began
to smoke.

There was another tap at the door, and in walked a tall,
long-nosed, bushy-whiskered man, with sharp eyes, glancing
rather furtively from beneath dark shaggy eyebrows. We
soon recognised him by his voice to be the master of the
grey horse, who had bespoken a portrait over night. He
begged, with a profusion of politeness, to have the pleasure
of receiving us at his house, which was entirely at our dis-
position, where we might proceed to business. He seemed
slightly uneasy in the presence of the soldiers, and as soon
as we told him that we should wait upon him after break-
fast, he decamped, with a sort of half-slink, half-swagger.
When he was gone, one of the soldiers said, —

" May I be pardoned for my curiosity in inquiring what
business your worship may have to transact with that
man r

129

Our Dreams

"Simply to take his portrait in water-colours," replied
Harry. "You see, by our passports, we are travelling
artists : we met casually on the road last night. Is there
anything against him ? "

"Why, not exactly against him, for there is nothing
proved ; but he is shrewdly suspected of having a hand in
two or three murders, and a dozen robberies or so. But he
is sly— indeed, he may be said to know some few points
more than the devil,— and we have never yet been able to
lay our hands upon him."

With this the carabineros made their bows, and departed.
Over our breakfast we compared notes on our dreams.
Harry had been taken up before the alcalde, and received
sentence of death. I had dreamed that Harry was shot,
and that I sat by his body watching the blood come bubbling
out of a round wound in his breast so fast, that the whole
dehesa was flooded, and turned to a great sea of blood ; and
then the body turned into an island, and I was the corpse
lying upon it. Though I was dead, and in a very ghastly
state, lying stark and stiff, I could see perfectly well that a
shallop, with a gleaming sail, came towards me over the

vermilion sea, and I lay still, knowing that was m that

shallop. It neared, and touched the rocks,-she recognised
the corpse, shrieked, and fell into the sea. I, entirely irre-
spective of my social position as an inanimate body, started
up, and dived to the rescue, in which inappropriate act I

awoke. r • j»

We went, after breakfast, to our respectable friends

dwelling. Harry drew him, and I persuaded the mournful

Rosita to let me take her. She was more beautiful than we

had any idea of in the dark the night before-large, deep,

black, flashing eyes, and the richest mass of glossy raven

tresses. The fault of her face was in the size of her nostrils,

130

The Robber's Affianced

and a somewhat fierce expression, which from time to time
flickered about the corners of her mouth.

She was sad now, mostly, for she was afraid something
had happened ; but now and then a thought would cross
her of her Pedro's having gone to visit a certain Conchita,
whom she usually mentioned by the uncomplimentary nick-
name "La Zorra" (the she-fox). She talked in a rambling
sort of way, everything that came in her head all the time
I was drawing her, and answered all the questions I put
with perfect freedom. It appeared that she had had a most
severe quarrel with Pedro the night before he had gone to
Alcald, and after it had dreamed he was dead.

While I was colouring the portrait, there arose a sound
of voices outside, and drew nearer. The women were out
in a moment, and we followed. Four of the Guardia Civil,
with a horse, were surrounded by a crowd of men, women,
and children. All were eagerly pressing round and peeping
under the gay Valencian manta which covered the horse's
burden. We were just in time to see Rosita dash fran-
tically through the crowd, and tear off the manta.

She shrieked with a more terrible cry than I heard in my
own bloody dream, and fell among the horse's feet. The
body of her lover was slung across the saddle, with its head
and feet dangling on either side. They had found and
recognised the body, and corded it over the horse's back ;
but the stifFarms and legs stuck out awkwardly ; and, indeed,
it was a very horrid sight.

In the hurry and dismay of our host's establishment, we
disappeared unobserved, and as we had not been paid, we
thought it no robbery to carry away our drawings.

We set off shortly for Arahal, and rode by an old con-
vent, through olive-groves, until we came to a bare, arid,
undulating plain. The road skirted the mountain range at

131 J

Calmness is Catching

about three leagues' distance. We rode along, conversing
on the strange romance in which we had so unforeseenly
become implicated, and congratulating ourselves that we
had got so well out of it.

Getting tired of the monotony of the road, and the
uncomfort of our rude, straw-stufFed pads, we dismounted,
hobbled our ponies' fore-legs with the trabas (a soft woollen
bandage in the manner of a cow-tie), and sat down to smoke
by the wayside. During this operation Harry's pony tried
to roll, and broke his traba^ whereupon he calmly observed,
that this escape would probably form the adventure of the
day. To this I agreed ; but suggested, that as our troubles
and trials would probably come soon enough, we had better
finish our pipes in peace, before we made any overt demon-
stration of catching the little beast. This apathetic conduct
turned out well ; for the pony soon entangled its legs in
the trailing bridle-reins, and was pounced upon by his
master. We continued our course and shortly saw Arahal,
an unremarkable white town, on a slight eminence. Harry
asked me how far I thought it was, and I guessed it about
three or four miles.

" It is further than that. Do you see that turnip-field
on the knoll, which is, if anything, nearer to us than the
town ? "

Yes — very plain."

Well, that turnip-field is an olive-garden, and the
turnips are great olive-trees,"

We now had passed the shoulder of the mountain spur,
and behind it we saw a town, to which we resolved to direct
our steps as soon as a road branched off to the right, which
we surmised could not be long ; but there was nothing of
the kind till our arrival at Arahal. As we rode up the hill
into the town the sunset was gilding the ruined arches of

132

1 Arahal

the broken-down, but not ancient, church, and doing its
best to make this unpicturesque place as pretty as possible ;
and it succeeded very well, for, after all, everything depends
on the light you see it in. The broad valley between us
and the mountain range was all filled with golden splendour,
which burst in upon us through gaps in the stragglino; street.

We got to the posada^ and ordered supper. While it
was cooking we studied the guide-book. Here we dis-
covered that the town we had seen at the foot of the moun-
tains was Moron, a celebrated den of thieves ; and that the
next town on the way to Ronda was still worse, no other
than the notorious Olvera mentioned in the proverb —
" Mata al hombre y ve te a Olvera " (kill your man and get
you to Olvera) ; being the most safe and congenial refuge
for the desperately wicked, which Spain could afford. How-
ever, we congratulated ourselves that if we had less safety
we should have all the more adventures. At supper, being
very hungry, we ate ravenously of fried pork : which, for
want of a sufficient peptic pause before going to bed, gave
me an indigestion, and made me quite unable to eat any
breakfast next morning. I, however, foreseeing that I
might be hungry further on in the day, sallied forth, and
bought a small loaf, a few oranges, and a bit of Dutch
cheese, as a provision for the way.

We were, to the best of our judgment, over-charged by
the host of the posada ; and when we made our indignant
protest, he appealed to a most sinister-looking personage
with one eye, whom we at once had picked out of the
assembly round the chimney corner, as the captain of a
band of robbers. This impartial umpire at once took the
side of the Senor huesped, and I thought Harry and he
would have come to blows. In the end we, of course, had
to pay.

133

We are Worth Many a Button

As we were departing, the bandit captain inquired if the
buttons (with which we were profusely ornamented) were
silver, and this settled our conviction that we should be
waylaid this day, if any. Everything seemed unlucky. I
felt sick and ill ; and, as I was leading my pony, which
kicked and reared, and was very unruly, out of the market-
place, my alforjas rolled off his back. A man, who came
forward civilly to hold it on again, remarked to the crowd
how heavy it was ; and as they always conclude that Eng-
lishmen are laden only with precious metals, this would,
of course, afford an additional incentive to the marauders
of the district. We, however, had all our pistols ostenta-
tiously displayed in our fajaSy and tried to look as fierce
as we could, in hopes they might think us dangerous.

We descended the hill and mounted. So full were we
of the idea of robbers, that we seriously suspected a poor
man, with a donkey laden with pipkins, whom we overtook
on the road, of being in some way or other implicated in
the conspiracy against our lives and property. The road
across the valley was not very clear at best, and in crossing
a puddly stream we missed it.

After wandering about some time we came in sight of a
miserable hut ; hard by there was a miserable little garden,
and in the garden a miserable little man, hoeing languidly.
To him we shouted, but got no reply ; as I felt sure he
must have heard us, I rode up in great wrath, and began to
upbraid him for not attending when he was spoken to.

Thereupon he left his cabbages and came up, looking very
timid, half-witted, and sickly. We inquired our way to
Moron, and he offered to put us in it. I, seeing he was
about to make a job of showing us the way, began to speak
sharply to him ; but Harry said he was evidently a poor
wretch on whom some coppers would not be thrown away.

The Most Benevolent of Medicos

and we had better let him show us. The man, seeing he
had an advocate in the enemy's ranks, immediately began to
beg, and to state a very piteous case, of which ague and
want of money were the principal ingredients.

Harry had provided himself in England with lots of
drugs to physic the barbarians, and here was a case. He
immediately jumped off, pulled his medicine stocking out of
the alforjas^ and began studying his receipt-book of cottage-
physic and cookery. Making a desk of his saddle, he stood
turning over the leaves. " How to make suet dumplings ! "
that wouldn't do, " A good receipt for brewing beer at
threepence a gallon," &c. ; but nothing was said about the
proper way of treating tertian ague. Hereupon I was
called into consultation, and I su2:2;ested that, " an he had
never tasted blue-pill before, it should go near to remove
his fit." I So Harry discharged a raking fire of blue-pills
upon his patient.

" But," said the poor man, "I cannot buy your remedies,
for I have nothing," and he seemed greatly distressed by
the idea of losing these wonderful little bullets, on whose
sovereign merits we had been lecturing him.

" Never mind that," said Harry ; " we require no money
from those who have none ; but it is the custom of English
professional men to cure everybody who is sick."

"God will repay your worship, most benevolent of
medicos" said the invalid, with a meek and lowly reverence.

I added two-pence in copper, to give the prescription a
flavour of sincerity, for I thought that, perhaps, upon
reflection, he might be afraid to take the pills from unknown
hands, for fear they might prove poison. The huge blue-
pill-box was replaced in the stocking, and we proceeded by
the instructions of our patient. It was about two o'clock,

■ " The Tempest."

The Moor and Cid

and I was beginning to feel hungry and weak, having been
inwardly deranged all the morning.

About halfway to Moron we got off and sat in a ditch
by the wayside under the tall green spikes of the aloe.
Here I ate some of my loaf and cheese, but not the oranges,
for reasons which I will not explain. On the contrary, I
seasoned the simple aqueous contents of my bottle with
fifteen drops of laudanum, which, with the concurrence of
the " most benevolent of medicos," I ventured to prescribe
for myself.

While I ate, and Harry smoked, my pony observed a
great herd of horses feeding in the dehesa at about a quarter
of a mile off. He got his feet out of the traboy and galloped
away. Harry had bought a new one at Arahal to supply
the place of that broken the day before, so that the Cid had
to follow the Moor with his feet tied, for the new hopple
resisted all his efforts. He, however, managed to go a sur-
prising pace, much quicker than Harry could run after him.
I, being an invalid, lay still to await the result, and of course
expected to be attacked in Harry's absence on the model
of our former day's sad experience. We have christened
Harry's pony the Cid, and we intend to christen, or rather
paganise, mine when we discover the name of the Cid's
principal antagonist, for which we are not sufficiently
extemporaneous historians. In abeyance, mine is pro-
visionally invested with the general title of " the Moor,"
sometimes Othello, for short.

After a while, Harry returned with the ponies. He had
been helped to catch them by two horse-herds, who were
tending the flock of horses. The Moor had been received
with kicks and bites and all sorts of indignities by the
society with whom he had amiably desired to be better
acquainted. The Cid, who was an older hoof, had not

13^

Moron

galloped so confidently into the fray. We proceeded, and
were within about a league of the broad-topped citadel of
Moron, when the Moor become unruly and troublesome,
and in the little misunderstanding which ensued, my saddle
slipped round and rolled me off. The bridle, which I still
held in my hand, also slipped off, as tugging hard with
outstretched nose he got his ears squeezed through and
galloped away.

Harry, who had just had a good deal of trouble with the
ponies, and who had a just right to complain of my manage-
ment in letting the little beast get away (for I had lost my
temper over the Moor's troublesome caperings, and laid
about his head and ears with my switch), did not say any-
thing about what I ought or ought not to have done, but
with great patience and good humour galloped back on the
Cid after the runaway.

I carried his alforjas and mine to a little gully in the
dehesa^ whence, through the rustling reeds and palmitas, I
could see the ramparts of Moron. I wrote my journal, and
grubbed up what I supposed to be a palmita-root with my
navaja (clasp-knife).

When I had eaten it, I found by the top that it was a
sort of lily, which might be rank poison for anything I
knew ; for, in my anxiety to get at the root, I had neglected
to examine the leaves, which bore only so slight and general
a resemblance to those of the palmita, that I wondered how
I could have been so stupid. I then did a little sketch of
Moron, as it appeared through the reeds, which carried
me on without impatience to Harry's return with the
ponies.

We rode up into the town, which is quaint, antique, and
compact, and got to the Posada de los Caballeros^ a very
good sample of a queer old massive posada. The stables

An Artistic Proclamation

were a dark, low, heavy-vaulted, round-arched sort of
cloister-crypt. After seeing to our horses, we ordered
dinner, and sat waiting for it in a long deep gallery
(something like the Rows of Chester), which ran along one
side of the crooked little courtyard.

To wear away the time, we got out our sketch-books, and
tried to get the crooked angles, and nooks, and crannies of
the tenement into perspective. Apropos of the sketch-
books, I delivered from the gallery a neat little address to
the courtyard, informing all whom it might concern that
we were celebrated artists from London, come to take the
portraits of the beauty and valour of Moron, at from three
to six reals, and that any one who wished to have a portrait
must give notice over-night ; otherwise, we should depart
early, and Moron would probably never again enjoy a
similar opportunity.

We dined on eggs and salad, and bread fried in oil ; then
went out, and turned up the main street, which rises with a
gentle slope to the foot of the castle-hill. At the end of
the street, and below the castle, is a nice-looking church,
whose tower reminded us faintly of the Giralda. Thence
the ascent of the mound is very steep climbing. The
castle is a vast ruin, the remains of a Moorish one patched
up by the French, who occupied Moron three years.

The sun had disappeared before we got to the top, and
the faint glow of the western sky was fading rapidly away
on the spires and towers of the town below us. We wan-
dered round the lofty ramparts, which commanded on one
side the deep blue mass of mountains, and on the other,
the vast expanse of undulating, variegated plains, darken-
ing away to where the Sierra Morena mingled with the sky.

Venus came forth like a brilliant afterthought of sun-
shine, and all the jewelled company of heaven appeared in

■38

Sleeping in the Saddle

the order of their magnitudes and dignities at the levee ot
their radiant queen. The dim lamplight, too, began to
flicker through the windows of the town below, and the
night-winds sighed coldly from the snowy mountain-range.

I am getting sleepy, and must go to bed, — that is, I must
lie down as I am, wrapped in my cloak, on a complicated
substitute which I have laid together on the floor. The
saddle turned upside down, and eked out with a folded
plaid, forms the bed, and my alforjas the pillow. Good-
night !

P.S. — In spite of the unpromising preparations I de-
scribed last night, I slept well till near daybreak. Then,
feeling rather cold, I got up and shook myself, and went
down-stairs, where I found a crowd of muleteers lying
about in the court on their manias. I got the great archway-
door open, and went up to the castle to see the sun rise.

The morning was cold, as I sat at the top of the great
tower, while Phosphor faded in the flushing east ; and the
mountains, peak after peak, were touched with amethyst
lights, while the baby day crept along the plain. And at
last the sun arose from behind the mountain-range, and
cast the tall shadow of Moron across the land, almost to the
horizon ; but as the chorus of all the cocks grew louder, the
shadow shortened.

So I went down and gave a feed of barley to the ponies,
and ordered chocolate, and wrote this postscript. Harry is
getting up. He has been terribly bitten by fleas. He had
a mattress, which, in consider^ion of my being an invalid,
he wanted me to sleep on ; but I liked my own inventions
better, for it was a suspicious-looking article. Harry is so
disgusted with the fleas, that he will not stop here to paint
a customer who called last night to order a portrait. The
chocolate is ready.

CHAPTER XIV

RoNDA, March i.

Fairly in among the mountains. In among the toppling
crags, that lean with rugged elbows on the brink of rushing
mountain-streams, — and glass their overhanging brows in
dark clear pools, — and dip long-trailing branches down to
catch the floating flakes of froth that slowly sail on oily-
dimpling eddies round and round.

In among the tall, majestic giantesses of the prime, who
awfully look down through leagues of filmy distance on the
green winding valleys and ravines of the fairy-land they
guard. To woo them, clouds, those vague and mournful
bridegroom-ghosts, exiled from their native ocean-plains,
come trooping sullenly before the shrill host of iEolus, and
here find refuge.

Here they throw their long pale arms around the stately
maidens of the Sierra, on whose broad bosoms pillowed,
they weep themselves away. They perish, but leave a noble
race of rivers that, in the pride of youth, and led by an inborn
instinct, leap joyously down to the sea. There they enlist
among the turbulent billows, that clap their hands with a
shout, and wrestle with the blast, till, slain by a treacherous
smile of sunshine, the thin and vaporous ghosts are dispersed
and driven away to revive, Anteus-Hke, by the touch of their
mother earth.

In order to mislead any of the blood-hounds who might

140

Roderick Dhu

be upon our track, leaving Moron, we inquired for Saucejo,
and set off by the map and the sun's guidance for Olvera,
which lies in the contrary direction. We left the Rosa
Spur to the right, and plunged into the heart of the
hills. After winding in and out and up and down rugged,
and, in places, almost impassable roads, which in the
metaphoric idiom of the country are called caminos de
perdices^^ freely translated " paths to perdition," we found
ourselves in a wild, solitary, picturesque valley, where it
was often difficult to distinguish the way from the bed of
the rivulet by which it ran.

As we were threading our way with cautious steps, among
the boulder stones, we saw a cloaked horseman overtaking
us. As he came near we saw he had an escopet slung
behind his saddle. We immediately settled that he was the
Roderick Dhu of a numerous band, and expected him as he
approached to blow his bugle and raise a crop of bristling
muskets from the thick brushwood which surrounded us.

He turned out, on nearer inspection, to be an amiable
young squire who was riding to overlook a farm of his
father's, called "La Gallina," after which this beautiful
valley was named. I gave him a cigar and his heart
opened. He praised our ponies, and pressed us to bait
our horses ■ and descansar (untire) ourselves at his farm.
I o;ot him to tell me the names of the various beautiful
and fragrant shrubs which clothed the vale and scented
the gale ; a whole family of barbarous Arabic botanical
names, such as retama, lantico^ lechera^ tomillo^ aelfa^ &c.,
which I took down in my pocket-book, with notes for
subsequent descriptive scenery.

Our friend turned off to his farm, where the valley
widened and a grassy knoll was dotted with park-like

' Partridge roads.
141

Ol

vera

trees, a striking contrast with the wilderness surrounding
it. We dived down a ravine which seemed most in
our direction, and came, after much rough winding work,
upon the picturesque venta of Zaframogon, where we baited.

We rode on along this charming valley, which had now a
better road. Indeed, we had missed the best road in the
morning, and had been struggling through inconvenient but
very beautiful by-paths all day. On a green hill slope, we
saw a little boy and a bull-calf playing at matador and toro
to an audience of five cows and a cow-keeper. The boy had
a stick to represent a sword, and as the calf bobbed at him
he stepped aside and poked the stick at his shoulder. The
cowherd seemed much interested, and alternately cried,
" bravo spada^^ and " bravo toro^'' as the sword or bull got
the best of it. Oh, seeds of bloodshed sown in infancy !

We topped a high level of mountain road and saw Olvera,
a pyramidal group of spires and towers crowned with a
pointed castle-rock. It seemed much nearer than it was, for
about half a league brought us to an unforeseen deep, broad
valley, whose sides had to be gone down and up before we
could get to our resting-place.

The flood of sunset was beginning to break in billows of
fire over the ragged sky-line of the mountain summits as
we crossed the valley, overtaking troops of peasants and
donkeys crowding in from the field : and when we reached
the foot of the long, steep ascent into Olvera, there must have
been a hundred and fifty men, women, and children, to climb
the hill with us. The road ran straight up the mountain's
flank, from which the stony ribs protruded. Higher and
higher, the stony excrescences grew larger and larger ; first
as big as waggons, then as haystacks, then as houses, and at
last churches.

At the top of a mile of steep climbing, the straight road

142

Works of Supper-Arrogation

became a corkscrew-staircase-street, winding in and out
among the huge-protruding hulks of rock, patched here and
there with buildings, which seemed in comparison as small
and frail as cobwebs in a quarry. After another half mile
of this corkscrew street, still steeper than the road, we came
to the market-place, from whence we saw the castled crag
still towering high above us. However, we were luckily at
the end of our day's journey, for here we entered the Posada
de la Plaza.

It was choke full and in a great bustle. The stable, more-
over, was, if possible, still fuller, and indeed two mares had
to be turned out somewhere else to make way for our ponies.
My little black stallion made a tremendous uproar on going
into the stable ; and in passing them no doubt very much
shocked the nerves of the unprotected mares who were so
ungallantly turned out for his accommodation.'

I gave him his barley, but instead of eating it he kept
pawing and whinnying over the sore backs of some peace-
able decrepit old mules, at another entero^ who snorted back
contemptuous defiance in return. I left him to go and pro-
vide our own supper ; and after my manner when I am
hungry and impatient, began to order everybody about in a
great hurry, speaking with much authority.

The landlady seemed impressed with the necessity of
making an effort towards getting our supper ready, but the
landlady's son, who acted also in the capacity of mozo de la
cuadra (ostler), set up his bristles and said, " Who is this
man in the garments of a muleteer who gives himself the
airs of a gran duque^ that the suppers of all our guests should
be postponed for the convenience of his belly ? "

" I am an English gentleman, and hungry — therefore,
though the sun and moon and all the planets were brought
to a stand, I must have my supper, and that presently."

H3

A Fellow Countryman

" An English gentleman ! that alters the case greatly. I
judged by his lordship's accent in speaking the Castilian
(which, by the way, his lordship speaks perfectamente)^ that
his lordship was an Italian. His lordship will be glad to
hear that there are two of his countrymen arrived here this
evening : another lord of Gibraltar similar tp his lordship,
attended by a pretty young gentleman, who shall perchance
be brother to his excellency. They have a supper in pre-
paration, muy r'lco (very rich), partridges and rabbits, with
a dish of eggs and bacon ; there will be well enough for all
four, and it will be a pleasure to your lordships to sup with
your countrymen."

He did not wait to hear what I had begun to grumble
about my having seen a considerable number of English in
my time, and indeed the mention of partridges and rabbits
almost balanced that natural antipathy which an English-
man usually feels to encountering another Englishman any-
where, but especially abroad.

My eye naturally followed the now obsequious mo%o as he
elbowed through the crowd towards a dark recess in the
chimney-corner. I felt sure there would be some awkward-
ness from the exceedingly vicious principle on which our
self-constituted ambassador was about to act — viz., that
Englishmen meeting with one another in a far country
must be glad to see one another and eat at the same table.
Therefore, feeling that it was better to be impudently than
bashfully intrusive, I followed up my corps diplomatique^
and emboldened also by hunger, approached the awful
strangers.

The mo7.o had stopped on the great hearth to rake up
some embers which smouldered dimly round a huge rooty
log something of the size and shape of a sheep (and, indeed,
with the heterogeneous company of sticks around it, it

144

We Fraternize

reminded me of Isaac and the ram caught in the thicket),
and was giving, in a sort of casual manner, an account of
our arrival. Meanwhile the twigs, which did not under-
stand being raked at for nothing, took fire, and by the blaze
I saw the little group in the corner.

A tall, lathy, good-looking man of five-and-twenty, dressed
in the dzrk. zamarra (lamb's-wool jacket) and black-leathered
riding trowsers, black silk fajoy and a jaunty calanies of the
last fashion, sat smoking the cigarilla of patience, and
watching a stout earthen jar among the embers before him.
His companion, who fully came up to the mozo's descrip-
tion, as "a very pretty young gentleman," seemed about
fifteen.

He was apparently wearied with the day's journey, and
leaned with his glossy auburn curls spread on the shoulder
of the other, who held him tenderly with an arm round his
waist, and now and then blew away the smoke, and peeped
down into the innocent, sleepy face. He seemed to take
very little notice of the garrulous relation of the mozo.
However, at length he cast his eyes across the blaze, and
our glances met.

" Adios, Senor A ; m'alegro muchissimo de ver a

Vmd.," said I, for I saw it was no other than A , who

was a great friend of mine at Cambridge, though I have
seen very little of him since.

"Adios, Sefior," he replied in Spanish; "tambien
m'alegro yo, pero francamente no m'acuerdo de Vmd. :
tampoco sabre como Vmd. conoce mi apellido."

" Tuve el gusto de pasar dos o tres afios de mi vida con
Vmd. en la universidad de Cantabrigia y me llamo Jorge
Juan Cayley."

At this he started and laughed so loud that the sleepy
boy started up, and we shook hands over the fire. At this

145

A Situation

moment Harry came up, too, who was also a great friend of
his. Amid the general ebullition of cordiality, the mo%o^
who had almost despaired of establishing any sort of rela-
tions, but now concluded that his representations had sud-
denly taken effect, conceived it a fit time to effect a coalition
of suppers. His suggestions were at once agreed to, and

in the meantime A introduced to us his younger

brother, Juanito, who blushed and shook hands — very soft
hands, more like a lady's than a boy's. But I was busy

asking A fifty questions, and took no notice of that or

the blush, and went on.

" Why, I thought you were to have been married to the
lovely Lady Jane before this. I heard it was to be in
November for certain."

" So I was ; but she had the scarlet-fever, poor
child."

" And so you left her to recover at her leisure, while you
travel about to amuse yourself ! "

" Not exactly, — but they are dishing up the olloy so let
us to supper ! "

We supped in a spacious apartment upstairs, whose walls
were hung with frying-pans and gridirons, and other
utensils of cookery. On inquiry, we were informed by the
handmaid, that in the summer families come here from
Ronda ; for it appears, that when the inhabitants of the
sultry plains are baked out of their cities, and come to
Ronda for fresh mountain-breezes, the inhabitants of Ronda
retreat to a still loftier level, and this is then used as their
kitchen.

It came out, in the course of the meal, as the superior
perspicacity of my reader may have anticipated, that Master J

Juanito (who had got into a great perplexity under cross- J
examination about Eton, whence he was said lately to have

146

Something Romantic

emerged, but of which seat of learning he seemed to have
preserved very limited and equivocal recollections) turned
out to be no young gentleman at all, and, by vi^ay of explana-
tion, was, to his great confusion, introduced to us as Lady
Jane A .

" The fact is," said A , "Johnny, like most other new-
married young ladies, had a strong desire to travel, and do
something strictly romantic. I, who had observed, in the
course of my European experience, the misery and bother
of trailing about a cumbersome train of serving-men and
women, immediately laid it down as an irrefragable axiom
that nothing romantic could possibly be done with a courier
and lady's-maid.

"I thought this would be final, and that we should have
gone down home and improved the place, which has been
a good deal neglected during my long minority. I laid out
a pretty little programme, in which I was to figure as the
gay backwoodsman, and Johnny was to come, stealing like
a sunbeam in among the crowded boles, to surprise me with
a nice little napkin-basket of sandwiches and grapes ; and
sit on mossy mounds, singing ' Woodman, spare that tree,'
while I thinned the timber ; which, I am sorry to say, is
sadly choked up.

"But Johnny (who is getting a little wiser now from sad
experience, poor young man !) at that time infinitely pre-
ferred romance to reality. She observed, with some show
of plausibility, that she could do without her maid very well
(now that her bonny brown hair had been cut short in that
cruel scarlet fever) ; that is, if I could fasten her dress. Now,
if there is a strong point in my character, it is an inherent
aptitude for fastening hooks and eyes, especially in a small
cabin, where there is no room for one's elbows, and in a
rough sea. I, therefore, had my little shrimp of a yacht

147 K

By Sea and Land

got ready, and we prepared to do something romantic, upon
the corsair model, in the Mediterranean."

" But where have you left the yacht ? "

" Why, if it had been possible, I ought to have landed
my Princess Dorothea-Micomicoma at Osuna ; but as
Osuna is among the inland mountains, it could not be
accomplished. After we had seen Lisbon, and Cadiz, and
Gibraltar, we put in, in stress of weather, into the deep-
sheltered rock-basin of Carthagena. Here we went ashore ;
and Johnny was so struck with the gay costumes — which are
certainly more picturesque there than anywhere else, — that
she must needs get fitted out, as you see, in all the colours of
the rainbow ; and a nice respectable dress it is for an amiable,
interesting young gentleman of sober taste and discretion.
Well ! after a masquerade or so in the little cabin, with
myself and the cracked looking-glass for audience, she was
so much delighted with herself, that she thought it a pity
not to exhibit herself to all the Spains ; so I was forced to
buy a couple of mules, and we have been on the tramp ever

since."

So far from taking the part of this cruel and perverse
husband, we very much applauded what Lady Jane had
done, and inquired if the expedition had proved satisfactory.
She said it was charming, and she was quite ready to ride
all over the world. They had ridden by Murcia, Lorca, and
Guadix to Granada.

" The principal romance of the journey was at Baza,
where the posadero's pretty daughter made most serious
love to Master Johnny, so that the young lady's novio was
terribly jealous, and I thought there would have been blood-
shed ; for, though you would hardly imagine it of the young
man, now he is so mild and modest, after being found out,
he then, when his imposture was unsuspected, played the

148

The Demonio in the Stable

successful lover with a most theatrical and coxcombical
swagger, pointing also his discourse with many appropriate
expletives, of whose meaning he is wholly unaware, but
which he has learnt on the road to introduce with great
effect in the genteel, school-room Spanish which he brought
out with him. From Granada we are on our way to
Seville ; to-day we left Ronda. You are now in posses-
sion of our history, and we have a fair right to your
adventures."

When we had lit our cigars, and Lady Jane had conde-
scended to accept a very thin little cigarUlo^ which Harry
made up for her, I proceeded to narrate our adventure of
the dehesa^ and was in the most palpitating part of it, when
the mozo came up in a flurry from the stable, and said that
my pony had broken his halter, and was fighting furiously.
I left Harry to finish off the story, and went down in among
a great crowd of horses, and mules, and asses. My little
demonio had broken away, and gone to his principal enemy,
a large black entero^ who was luckily tied up rather tighter,
or else he would probably have killed the little ninny before
I got there. The traha was fortunately fast on the latter's
fore-legs. There they were, snorting, and whinnying, and
biting, and trying to strike one another with their fore-
feet.

The Moor, at last, got his manacled hands into a high
manger, to which his enemy's head was tied, and had some
difficulty in getting them out again. At this conjuncture I
rushed in among the fray, and getting hold of the remains
of the broken halter round his neck, pulled him down, and
drew him struggling, and kicking, and rearing with great
vehemence, back to his own barley, and tied him up very
tight between a pacific mule and the Cid.

Soon after I went up-stairs again the party broke up.

149

The Sketches

A broad mattress was laid where the table had been ; we
rolled ourselves in our cloaks, turning the esclavlna (cape)
over our heads, then, standing at the foot of the mattress,
we fell back like tragic heroes, so as not to unswaddle our
feet in lying down. We were considerably eaten by fleas.
Harry next morning counted forty-two separate bites on one
knee.

Accordingly, we got up at sunrise, and while our choco-
late was being made ready investigated the little level
ground at the top of the rock-city, where there is a large
building that contains a church, a town hall, and a school,
apparently once a convent. It forms the massive mural
crown of the pyramid. We ascended the castle still
higher up, and had a fine view of mountain-tops. On our

return, breakfast was ready, and the A s stirring. We

breakfasted together, and after breakfast sketched the castle
apex, which, from the other side of the phza^ appeared high
above the posadcHs roof. Here fifty or sixty inhabitants
gathered to observe the performance. Lady Jane made a
very nice drawing, and we a couple of very nasty ones.
The spectators exclaimed with wonder and delight, when
el job en (the young man) put in what they called \\\% golpe%
de maestro (master-strokes), and kept telling one another,
" There is Juliana's chimney ! That is the roof of Pedro's
stable ! " &c.

We said good-bye to the A s, regretting much that

our routes lay in opposite directions. Down the other side
of Olvera, and up over a long bare hill, — so bare that there
was not anywhere a scrub to cut a switch out of, and we
were about to make a rush-whip, when we found a heap of
vine-cuttings for firewood by a hut on the roadside. After
a while we came to a cortijo (farmstead) picturesquely
perched on a rock. Here we learnt that we had missed

150

Anticipation

our way, as usual, and were going to Alcala de la Calle
instead of Setenii.

As we began to climb a very long and steep mountain-
flank, a slight shower came on. Looking back, we saw a
most striking atmospheric effect. A great shaft of sunshine
streamed through the broken clouds upon Olvera's fairy-
palace-crowned pinnacle, which gleamed transparent through
a spangled robe of showers, girt with the rainbow for a
baldrick.

Having stumbled on these remarkable places by accident,
and without any particular recommendation, we naturally
concluded that the whole mountain region was full of
such. What, then, must Ronda be herself, the queen of
them all ?

Of course, we conceived that the approach to this city of
refuge for the smuggler, — this massive ganglion of the
rugged and inaccessible paths of contraband traffic, — this
lofty-perched eyrie of desperados, would lead us by inter-
minable staircase-roads up precipitous zig-zag ledges to a
fortress-crested city, terraced in and out among the jags and
chasms of the rock.

But this is not the case. We rode along some wooded
table-land at the top of the mountain we had climbed, and
after awhile found Alcala in a dip — a dismal, poor, wintry,
greystone village. Here we baited. On our way to Ronda
we met with nothing remarkable, except a board which set
forth that a caballero had there been killed by a fall from
his horse. The spot seemed eminently appropriate, — a
rocky, sudden drop in the road, which, if the road had been
the bed of a torrent, would have made a picturesque little
waterfall. We rode down it carefully, and without
accident.

It began to rain, and we put on our cloaks, which are

151

Ronda

inconvenient heavy things to ride in, though they certainly
keep one dry ; we were rather impatient to get to Ronda
before the day ended, and were trotting briskly on, when
Harry's pony fell, and he and his beast, all enveloped in a
voluminous mass of cloak, rolled among the sand and stones.
I expected to have to put up another board ; but he got up,
and was no worse.

Still, Ronda did not appear, which seemed distressing, as
we could now see a league and more before us, and there was
nothing but a great, blank, round-backed ordinary hill, over
which our road lay ; and beyond which, from the nature of
the ground, Ronda, such as we fancied Ronda, could not
possibly be. After an hour's riding we got over the bleak
round hill, and descended a gentle slope into a straggling
unremarkable town, which might have been a suburb of
Bradford. Very much disgusted, we rode down the long
sloping street, and came to the Cristobal Posada. Here
we put up, and supped and grumbled.

The rain had ceased, and the broad moon was rising like
a great fire-balloon above the mountains, the silver of her
beams frosted on the snowy summits around. We went
out, for it was cold and wretched in the posada, and came to
the edge of a very deep precipice, which falls off like a
tremendous sunk fence from the lower end of the new
town. We discovered the celebrated bridge, and looked
down through gratings upon a dizzy depth of darkness,
where, in the indistinct abyss, a rushing of waters echoed.

The view from the bridge, if we had come upon it in a
state of mind unembittered by previous disappointment,
might have struck us very favourably ; for the roaring chasm
beneath, the broad shadowy valley, sunk six hundred preci-
pitous feet before us, and the moonlit snow mountains
beyond, formed, no doubt, a tolerable combination in their

152

Previous Eulogy Ensures Detraction

way. But we had made up our minds to be sulky, and
growled at the whole affair ; saying that the chasm was no
better than Knaresborough, and the torrent a mere fiz and
gush of soda water.

153

CHAPTER XV

We stayed three days in Ronda — descended into the
chasm — sketched the flight of Moorish mills (through
which, one after another, the headlong torrent plunges down
into the valley), and the high and heavy freestone bridge
which joins the cleft-rock summits on which stand the old
and new town.

There are certainly some " cleverish " precipices here-
about. From the bluffs at the edge of the new town one
can throw a stone down six or seven hundred feet into the
valley. One day, I was kneeling with my face over the
edge to set off paper parachutes, when both my pistols
slipped out of my faja^ and clashed on the rock, within a few
inches of the brink. They did not, luckily, go over, for I
grabbed them in the nick of time ; but it quite gave me a
turn, and I gave up letting off paper parachutes for fear of
tumbling over myself.

The day before we left, we felt a desire for meat, which
we had not eaten for some time, living on eggs and choco-
late and salad. We sallied forth to the shambles. It was
late, and we only found one old woman. She, however, had
a whole sheep, lately killed. We got a choice cut, which
Harry carried off under his cloak in his fingers ; while I
went to the vegetable market over the bridge, and bought
half a peck of potatoes. The latter I sliced thin with
my dagger, while he haggled the mutton into tatters. He

154

An Advantageous Opening

subsequently officiated over the frying-pan in a most
artistic manner, but the mutton-steaks turned out lament-
ably tough.

I made acquaintance with a gun-malcer, at whose shop I
loitered. He admired my pistols. The conversation turned
on engraving, and I gave him an extempore specimen of my
execution in that department, on a copper coin. He said he
could not engrave so well, nor was there any one in Ronda
who could:, he showed me some of his own handiwork,
which was of a very rude character. He took me to be a
professional man, and hinted, that if I would work for him,
I might make a decent livelihood ornamenting the locks of
muskets. He seemed a very good sort of man, and had a
pretty daughter.

Riding away from Ronda, it appeared much more to
advantage than we had ever seen it before. The old town
stands compactly on a moundy hill, behind which the new
town is only seen crowning the edges of the precipice ; and
anybody who wants to be enthusiastic about Ronda, ought
to enter it by the way we left it. From Ronda the road
rose a good deal, and we got among the snow. Losing our-
selves, according to custom, and scrambling along a very
rocky little track which skirted the brow of one of the
highest mountains, a vista opened downwards through the
peaks, and there stood " the Rock," at about forty miles
distance. The straits of Gibraltar looked like a o-reat blue
river, over whose further bank arose the snowy mountains
of Africa.

However, we were evidently in the wrong road, in which
impression we were confirmed by a not very lucid peasant,
who could not clearly explain which was the right way.
Another peasant came up, who said he was going in our
direction. We followed his guidance down by horribly

155

Valley of the Xenar

narrow paths along precipice-ledges, into a valley which had
no road to speak of, except the bed of the Xenar, but the
scenery was very beautiful. On inquiring whether people
ever came that way from Gibraltar, he said he had come
that way sometimes on smuggling expeditions.

At one time we thought he was leading us into a trap,
when he was hailed by a party of men with guns sitting on
the hill above us. We were not robbed, and parted with
him amicably, giving him a cigar and some copper coins.
At a mill, by his parting directions, we went up a very
steep zig-zag path into the mountains ; and some time after
crossed a very deep valley, and climbed, about sunset, hot
and breathless, into a picturesque village on the opposite
hill-brow.

As we went up the steep winding street of the village,
some women asked us eagerly what wares we brought, and
seemed disappointed that we had only materials to make
portraits. Near the summit of the place stood a shabby old
posada. The stable was entered by a door lower down the
hill, but the communication between it and the posada was
by a flight of steep, mossy stone steps, which emerged on
the higher level of the court-yard, like the mouth of a well.
We had some ?niga'^ and chocolate, and fried eggs, sitting in
the deep-niched window of a large vaulted room with arched
alcoves, whose nooks and angles took picturesque lights and
shadows in the fading hues of sunset.

While we were eating, we heard a step at the door, and
in walked a serious-looking visitor, with shaggy grey hair ;
he said nothing, but stood gazing, motionless, with long
down-dropped ears, for he was a donkey. He was shortly
discovered by the daughter of the house, who was waiting

' Miga is made of bread-crumbs, damped and salted, and fried

in oil.

156

El Hornipipo

upon us ; she instantly flapped a dishclout in his placid,
pensive countenance, and he retired without further demon-
stration of his feelings than slightly shaking his ears.

After supper, when it was dark, we sat by the crackling
kitchen-fire. The medico of the place (Ben el Aurin) had
dropped in to smoke his cigar by the fire. He was rather
a prosaic and sententious personage, who had been in Russia
with Napoleon. He inquired about London, which he had
understood was "not so large as Paris, and that it was all
pedaxos (disjointed fragments), and mixed up with the sea."
The women requested to hear us speak English, and then
said, " that it was a language which nobody could under-
stand, not even the birds. There were Englishmen came
now and then from Gibraltar ; there was Don Jos6, a man
of great wealth and dignity, he spoke very clear ; he came
for shooting- in the mountains with his son ; he was a
sastre (tailor) at Gibraltar. There were English came
through sometimes who could not speak clear at all."

It was evident they had no idea of another language than
Spanish in the world, only that some nations spoke it very
unintelligibly. The daughters wanted to know if there was
any dancing in our country. We told them that our nation
had no taste or genius for dancing, and never invented a
national dance of its own except the hornpipe, which they
were ashamed to dance in the first society, preferring to
imitate, in a limp and spiritless manner, the dances of
foreign countries, for to dance with much energy or grace
was in England thought muy ordinario (very vulgar).

They wished to see the hornipipo danced, and one of the
fashionable dances to compare it with ; so I danced what I
knew of a college hornpipe, eking it out with fugitive
reminiscences of the Highland fling. They clapped their
hands to keep time, and laughed, as well they might. Then

157

Fine Oranges !

Harry and I performed a vahe a deux temps^ which appeared
to them still more eminently absurd. After which the old
mother struck up on the guitar, and all the company danced
the fandango.

We slept in our clothes across a very pulicious mattress,
and woke with the sun, as he lifted his broad face from the
mountain-pillowed horizon. We breakfasted, and departed
by a road which seemed a combination of broken pig-troughs
filled with melting snow. It soon narrowed to a path not
above a foot wide, and my pony took the occasion to slip
off backward, and roll with me, end over end, down a drop
of about nine feet (it might just as easily have happened to
be ninety). I was luckily no worse, and managed to
scramble up to the road again at an easier place a little
farther on. It is rather a happy accident, as it will pro-
bably make the Moor more cautious. He is very clumsy
with his feet, and unused to mountain roads. The day
before, when we were scrambling on the rocks, off the road
which we had lost, both he and I fell head over heels
into a small chasm, which luckily had bushes at the
bottom.

At last, we got into the regular road from Ronda to
Caucin, from which there was another splendid view of
Gibraltar and Africa. A league or so after passing the
latter place, the road descended suddenly to the valley of
the Guadiaro. At the bottom grew some orange-trees,
thirty or forty feet high, and thickly laden with gigantic
fruit. We had not had any good oranges among the moun-
tains, where only the refuse come in a bruised state, so we
called the man who was up a ladder among the branches.
He brought us as many as we could stuff into the vacant
capacities of our alforjas^ and we gave him a few cuartos.^

' The cuarto is a shade more than a farthing.

158

shall We Show an Intention ?

The oranges were about five inches in diameter, and excel-
lent. There is a fine, fresh, aromatic flavour about new-
gathered oranges from the tree, which those who only know
the flat, tasteless, green-picked, box-ripened trash we get in
England would not imagine.

We skirted the banks of the rushing Guadiaro — oleander-
fringed — by a good road, the first our horses' feet have
touched for a hundred miles. Harry cut an oleander
switch for his pony, who was lazy, and it proved tough and
useful. As we rode along, we began to talk about what we
should do in Gibraltar, which there was some possibility of
reaching by a hard push this very night. It was probable we
should know some of the officers ; but then we were shock-
ing figures in our muleteer's costume to present ourselves in
civilised society. To be sure, we had some shabby old
trousers and shooting-coats for a change in case of wet in
the alforjas ; but it was my opinion that we should do
better to go in boldly on the strength of our present vagrant
character than to make a servile and seedy effort at respect-
ability, which no traveller can pack in less than a heavy
portmanto with appurtenances, viz., hat-box, dressing-case,
and an umbrella.

Harry was decidedly of opinion that we ought to show at
least an intention of respectability, so as not to outrage the
sensibilities of British subjects. I argued that it did not
signify what one did in this world, so long as the perpetrator
himself was not ashamed of it. All awkwardness produced
in the minds of persons witnessing odd things said or done,
arose from the sense of awkwardness in the person doing
them communicated by sympathy ; and that the most extra-
vagant things might be done with impunity, as long as they
were done with an appearance o{ bond fide confidence.

" People will not abuse you to your face," he replied ;

Value of Public Opinion

" but you may depend they will not omit to do so behind
your back."

" What people say behind my back I don't so much care
for, as long as I have no good-natured friend to report it to
me." Here you see we were launched upon a general issue
of a very vague and desultory character.

" What is the consequence of the world's good opinion of
you, except as it affects the world's manner of treating you?
Now, I am quite satisfied with the world's treatment of
me, which I feel confident is fully equal to, if not beyond,
my deserts. If people abuse me behind my back, I am
consoled by the idea that they also abuse everybody
else, and are abused themselves in turn by me and
others."

" If you only care for the opinion of others, as far as you
hear it yourself, why should you care for fame after your
death, which, or course, you can't hear from anybody's
mouth, unless, indeed, you were to make a special injunc-
tion to your executors that your body should be eaten by
bookworms ? "

" I care nothing," said I, " about posthumous fame.
When I am dead, it could not cause me to be asked to
dinners and balls, and dejeuners and drums, and that is all
the worldly use of fame, except the very equivocal gratifica-
tion which may arise from having one's worst jokes and
most maudlin sentiments laughed at, and listened to with
as much appreciation as one's best, because one is famous ;
and we certainly do see pottering old-established reputations
who seem to enjoy it."

"If you don't care about posthumous fame," said Harry
(you see how soon our argument fell plump into personali-
ties), " why do you take care of such a lot of old scraps and
papers, which you never mean to publish while you are

1 60

what is Fame ?

alive ! Perhaps, you will say, they are not at all likely to
add to your reputation after death, and therefore are not to
be interpreted into any such design."

" I am an author," I replied, growing somewhat senten-
tious, " and I believe that I live for some purpose, other-
wise I should not have been created. If I happen to enter-
tain the wish that when I go from this world I may leave
upon the prepared paper of literature, some photographic
record of how the world's image looked in through the
peculiar lens of my individual mind — it certainly is not out
of love for that particular stone which falls heir to my name,
and stands at the head of my grave. What would it
signify to the mouldering dust beneath, or the disembodied
spirit steeped in joy or anguish which no trifle could dis-
turb, to know that innumerable Smiths, and Jacksons, and
Thomsons had got into the way, some hundred years after
my demise, of making pic-nic pilgrimages to the picturesque
churchyard, and eating pigeon-pie over my graven epitaph-
slab ? Do you think my spirit would have nothing better
to do than come and chuckle unseen, while they scrawled
their names upon my monument, erasing a cloud of pre-
vious Smiths, and Jacksons, and Thomsons, to make a space
for themselves ? This is a true vision of that kind of fame
which men promise themselves when they say in their hearts
* we will leave a name,' No — when I am dead, I care no
more for my name than for an old hat which can be worn
no more. But I would, and I hope I shall, leave some-
thing, which shall remain, a tissue or a tangle of those
rays of beauty and of truth I have been able to draw out,
unbroken, as I was unravelling away the web of my exist-
ence. I would leave something that would either stand for
ever, like an ancient walnut dropping a perennial shower of
nuts to be cracked by generation after generation, and only

l6i

Posthumous Indifference

bearing the more for having its lower branches beaten by
the staves of successive critics ; or, at least, like an old
apple-tree, which, after the original stump is worn out and
forgotten, leaves a fruitful family of grafts in many
orchards."

" That sounds all very fine and plausible in theory,"
replied Harry, " but it is not true in practice ; for nobody,
while he is working in this world, thinks of himself in the
result otherwise than as a living man, which is natural
enough, having no experience of what being dead feels like.
A man likes to leave a good name after he is de?d, because
he has found it a pleasant thing while he was alive. How
would you like, to put the case the other way, to have some
indelible infamy attached to your name for ever ?"

"If it was undeserved," said I, "and it came on after
death, I should find it no more inconvenient than rotten-
ness— but I should of course be sorry for my relations and
descendants, to whom it would be an inconvenience to have
an unpleasant, unburiable moral corpse of an unjustly sup-
posed immoral ancestor always lying at their door, and
oflFending the metaphorical nostrils of their friends."

In this discourse we arrived before the door of a venta by
the banks of the Guadiaro, and as we were hungry, and our
ponies had come a long way we dismounted. There was a
family of gipsies on the tramp, sitting and lying about in
picturesque groups, basking in the sun. Two handsome
olive-complexioned boys started up and began to help us to
unsaddle. They all, from the wrinkled and bleached old
o-randmother to the baby in arms, had something sinister
and ominous in their sv/arthy faces, which gave us an impres-
sion that, in spite of their fair words and courteous smiles,
they were cursing us by their devils even when we presented
them with the remains of our loaf.

162

San Roque

We rode awav with all the maledictions on our heads,
troubling our heads as little as their own vermin did theirs.
We crossed the Guadiaro, which was broad and rapid, and
came up to our girths. Passing the venta del Guadiaro^ we
came to some hills, from the brows of which we looked back
on the lofty, ragged mountains which we had slept among
last night, and saw their blue peaks all purpled with the
carmine sunset. The darkness came upon us in the hollows
and dino;les of the s;reat cork wood.

Afterwards we emerged upon a dehesa^ which seemed
endless, and the road was hard to keep by the light of the
evening star, which, however, shone very broad and clear,
as if she meant to do all she could for us. Once I took a
ridge of rocks for San Roque ; but it appeared as if we
should never get to the end of our day's work. We heard
the eight-o'clock gun boom over the bay of Gibraltar, and
echo from the cliffs of Algeciras, and we hailed with enthu-
siasm the voice of the British lion. Still on and on, over
hill and vallev, and knoll and dell, till at last the lights of a
real and final San Roque twinkled in the distance.

I was quite knocked up, and on reaching Macrea's Hotel,
was unable to do justice to the mutton chops and Bass's
pale ale, on which we supped. I had just strength remain-
ing to go round the room and rejoice with patriotic eye over
the truly British prints with which the walls were hung,
principally sporting pieces and illustrations of Harrison
Ainsworth's romances. The mahogany sideboard, too, was
ranged with many decanters and cruet-stands, and mustard-
pots, and forks, and spoons, — things unknown to the hostels
of Spain, where you have your plate and pipkin set before
you, and pull your own navaja (clasp-knife) out of your
sash to despatch the comestibles. Sometimes by earnest
entreaty one may get a wooden spoon among a large party ;

163 L

Gibraltar

and with the wine-jug they never think of giving two
persons more than a glass — but then, of course, the other
may drink out of the jug.

I ate a mouthful, and immediately fell asleep, with a long
cigar in my mouth. Harry, however, considerately routed
me up, and got me off to bed. He said next morning that
he did not believe I ever woke up at all, for I held my
candle at right-angles and talked incoherently in Spanish to
the English waiter, who seemed much shocked.

This morning I rose quite rested, and on my feed again.
Gibraltar was now within a league and a half of us, and
looked much more striking than any view I had seen of it,
going round by sea on the other side.

Crossing a great number of drawbridges over broad fosses,
between successive rims of battery, we pass at length be-
neath the shoulder of the great rock. The market was
crowded with all nations : Turks and Jews, and Moors and
Greeks, in turbans and jillabiahs and fezzes, chattering an
immense variety of languages. The long street was full ot
familiar English faces, and the shop-windows surmounted
with familiar English names. People stared at us a little as
we rode in, and we heard a gentleman with a white tie and
spectacles say to a young gentleman in a very long waist-
coat, with a very large gold cable-chain (evidently his
travelling pupil), " Look there ! — here is doubtless a pair of
those picturesque Ronda smugglers Mr. Ford speaks of." —
" All serene ! " replied the young gentleman, without any
tokens of tempestuous interest.

The waiters of the Clubhouse Hotel seemed quite aghast
at such an abnormous pair of Englishmen, but we faced them
with calm indifference, as if we were quite convinced that all
travellers arriving from Spain came in a similar disguise.
But it appeared, from the curiosity we excited, that there

164

Foreign Climbs

was something singular about our get-up or get-down,
for a crowd gathered together to see us alight at the
door.

The first thing was to rush to the post-office ; the second,
to fortify our disappointments with a light lunch of bread
and (double Gloucester) cheese and beer ; and after writing an
hour or so, we sallied forth, when, with that aspiring energy
which characterises the youth of Britain, we scaled the rock
by its most rugged and steep ascent, which, scorning the
idea of a guide, we of course hit upon with our usual felicity.
After toiling up an interminable and dilapidated flight of
steps, on the edge of a wall, we reached the signal-
station hot and breathless, giving vent to many palpitating
maledictions on the oppressive sultriness of foreign clivibs.

Here the fresh breeze blowing over the razor-edge of the
rock's backbone, freshened us up, and we looked over the
dizzy precipice, which goes down like a wall on the other
side to the rippling blue of the Mediterranean, 1,300 feet
beneath. " The stately ships sailed in and out of their haven
under the hill," and in the excitement of the scene, with two
seas and two continents within our horizon, the wandering
spirit of the buccaneer of old came strong upon us, and we
spake of selling our ponies and buving a shallop, of which
Harry (late midshipman, R.N.) was to be captain, and I
crew. In this we were to sail by Scylla and Charybdis to
Carthage, and crossing northward, glide among the Ionian
islands ; then, coasting along the winding bays of Asia
Minor, touch at Tyre and Sidon, put in at -Joppa, and
visit Jerusalem.

We descended to be in time for dinner ; and learning
that it would be dished at gun-fire, went out and waited
upon the line-wall to see the ceremony. The following
sonnet, in the mild tourist style, will save description.

165

The Evening Gun

THE EVENING GUN,

Behind the cloudy cope of Algezir,
The sun upon the western heaven has spread
The glowing curtains of his golden bed —

Night's ebon steeds advancing in his rear,

With shadowy wings pursuing swift, draw near ;
While dark'ning vapours, from their nostrils sped,
Athwart the ridge come sailing overhead,

Where Calpe frowns deep-bastion'd tier o'er tier.

Lo ! from her brow a gush of bursting flame.
Whose hot sulphureous breath in silence roU'd,
Mixes among the fleeting vapours cold ; —

Hark ! the slow thunder breaks with dread acclaim ;
And the hush'd ocean trembles, being told
The proud supremacy of Albion's name.

At dinner all the people were talking about the new
ministry, which had come in while we had been wandering
among the mountains, thinking of nobody in the world less
than Lord John and Lord Derby.

March 7.

Now, that I have got news from home, I have agreed to
go over the Straits to Africa, which, by the way, though
Harry had been daily talking of it, we could not safely have
done yet, for there has been a most tremendous storm
raging almost ever since we arrived. A great man-of-war
has run aground in the harbour, and all the shores are
strewed with wrecks.

Since writing the above we have been down to the
" water-gate," and arranged to go over to-morrow morning
if the wind abate, which there is some hope of, as the even-
ing is rather finer. The captain says his vessel will be
laden with corn and Jews — a curious cargo. We have

166

A Funny Old Turk

done and seen nothing worth mentioning here in the last
three or four days, because of the foul weather. We have
sat at our window sketching the strange figures of Jews and
Pagans standing on the line-wall, apparently anxious for the
arrival of expected crafts, perhaps sunk in the tempest.
They are usually very restless and difficult to draw. There
is one funny old Turk in particular, who amuses us the
most — a crooked old figure in a large white turban and blue
boornoos^^ who goes flapping about in his wet yellow slippers,
peeping anxiously through a large pair of spectacles under

a hu2:e green umbrella.

' Hooded cloak.

167

CHAPTER XVI

Africa, March 9.
I THINK my reader will allow that there is a solemn
grandeur of simplicity in this date — an assumption of
continental completeness ; as if, by the first step on shore,
one had put one's foot into the whole boot of Africa. You
would have laughed if you could have seen us land. A
quantity of yelling savages, above their knees in the surf,
hardly waited for the keel to cleave the sand, before they
plunged upon us, like schoolboys over a handful of nuts,
and carried us off, after a severe scramble. The three or
four, who set me down on the sand, immediately became
vociferous for bakshish. To keep them a little at bay till
I could get out a small bit of silver, it occurred to me to
twirl rapidly round, clearing a circle in the press with the
heavy swing of my cloak held by the collar.

But I have begun in the middle, and ought first to have
told you how we got across the Straits. The wind had
gradually fallen in the night, and at breakfast a message
came from the captain that he was only waiting for us.
The felucca which we were to sail in seemed very deep
laden. Arriving aboard, the captain asked us if we had our
bills of health, which we had not.

" Then you will have to go back," said he, " otherwise
you will not be able to go ashore at Tangier." He sent
his mate back with us.

i68

/

The Moorish Corn Merchant

The old Moorish merchant, who was in a tremendous
stickle to get his wheat to the market at Tangier, and who
had probably been already using disrespectful language
towards our great-grandmothers for their somewhat remote
instrumentality in keeping the vessel waiting — now finding
that something was forgotten, and that still further delay
was about to take place — grew pale with fury, and began
to scream and gesticulate in the most frantic manner,
wringing his hands and tearing his turban ; so that he had
to be held by the sailors, to prevent him from doing some-
thing desperate.

The stout old Cerberus guarding the portals of the Bill
of Health Office, on the quay, told us in Spanish to wait.
With a great burst of indignant breath, I cried " Porque ? "
(why?)

" Porqui ; because his worship the commissioner is
engaged."

" Engaged ! What is that to us ? Let him engage
himself without delay in making out our bill of health.
Engaged, forsooth ! when very principal caballeros have
their vessel waiting, with a fair wind for Africa ! "

All this bluster did not move him in the least ; but the
mate bethou2:ht himself of a remark which we should never
have hit on.

"These are English gentlemen," said he ; and this simple
truism had the most electrical eSect on the old Gibraltese
porter, who, by our dresses, had taken us for Spaniards.
Up he jumped, with, " Beg pardon, gentlemen," and
showed us in — where the old clerk, who must have heard
all that passed at the door, looked rather ashamed of himself,
— and we had what we came for in a jiffy. He made a job
of us, nevertheless, drawing us out two separate bills where
one would have done for a whole ship's company, as ours, in

169

The Pillars of Hercules

fact, did. This accounted to us for the seemingly inexpli-
cable patience with which the captain waited for us, though
we had made a bargain to go very cheap. He had no other
bill of health on board, and without us could not have
landed. On our re-arrival aboard, as all our small change
had been expended on the bills of health, the old Moor, in
his anxiety, gave us money to pay the boatmen, and the
felucca was under sail in less than two minutes, tumbling
heavily along over the rolling seas which the late storms
had left behind. From the an2;le of Algeciras we steered
towards the Gibel Moosa (Mountain of Moses), the other
Pillar of Hercules, and a much larger one than Calpe, being
nearly 6,000 precipitous feet above the beach, — a fine
rugged pile of dark rock, frowning like an iEthiop giant,
a vast continent's worthy sentinel, with a fillet of white
cloud circling his swarthy brow.

On board, beside the corn-merchant, there were two
other Moors, younger men, whom we took to be his sons,
and about thirty Jews of all ages. They seemed to be in a
state of exuberant hilarity on their approaching return to
their native country. They were now crowding round the
purser of the vessel, a Hebrew also, who had in his hand a
roll, written in the cursive Hebrew character, seeming to be
a list of names, with sums in dollars and reals opposite each.
Set on the closed hatchway, which served as his comptoir^
was an open money-bag, from which he was disbursing
small sums to a group with greedy eyes, and hooked,
avaricious fingers outstretched for their share. So eager
and clamorous were his customers, that one of the sailors
had to be stationed near with a rope's-end to keep them
a little in order.

It appeared, on inquiry, that they were a party of
beggars, brought over on speculation by the purser, to

170

Judas, the Purse-Holder

exercise their calling on the British sympathies and pockets
of Gibraltar. He had kept their purse, and was now
distributing the proceeds of their respective earnings, after
deducting their passage and keep on the Rock, with, no
doubt, a moderate per-centage to remunerate himself for
the risk and trouble of the undertaking. The man's
hypocritical smooth oily face, with twinkling sharp grey
eyes, under a sloping, wicked cast of brow, would have
made a good study for a Judas ; whom I imagine always as
a smiling, plausible rogue, not the scowling, perspicuous
traitor he is usually painted.

Among the others, too, there was a great number of
picturesque heads, with a variety of beards ; but the nobly-
cut features were generally disfigured by a mean, servile
expression. Our sketch-books were brought out of the
faithful alforjas^ which still accompanied us ; but the
Israelites seemed to entertain a strong objection to having
their likeness, which they considered as part of themselves,
taken from them. The victim usually covered up his head
in the cowl of his jillabiah (a sort of grey striped coarse
woollen shirt, with a peak and tasselled hood), and it was
only from stolen glances, when his curiosity to see what
was going on overcame his horror of being drawn, that we
could gather a few faint resemblances. These, however,
were immediately recognised as exact portraits by the
bystanders, who, as long as they were not pitched upon
themselves, were much amused and delighted.

The sketch-books were soon shut up by a sharp shower,
and all the company huddled together under bits of
tarpaulin and bits of board, which four or five would prop
on the tops of their heads. The Moor and his family
crept into some empty wooden boxes, in which they had
probably brought merchandise to Gibraltar. We in the

171

I am called " The Christian "

stern were tolerably protected by the three-cornered mizzen-
sail. A little Hebrew boy, who crept for shelter nearer to
me than the purser's ideas of etiquette approved, was
commanded to " quitarse d'arriba del Cristiano " (to remove
himself from above the Christian), which rather struck my
fancy, it having never occurred to me before to be so
specially designated by my father.

When the shower was over, and the accounts of the
mendicity scheme settled, I asked Judas Iscariot to let me
look at the list, and to explain the alphabet to me. I wrote
out a few of the first lines of Genesis, and got him to write
it in the cursive character. The two young Moors, seeing
a writing-lesson going on, came to look ; so I suddenly
changed my pencil, and ran off into a verse of the Koran ;
whereupon the infidels began to exclaim, and we at once
fraternised on the strength of a mutual, though probably on
both sides a very slight, acquaintance with the writings of
Mahomet.

We entered into a sort of heterogeneous conversation,
mingling for its elements the little they knew of Spanish
with the little I knew of Arabic. One of them, who
proved to be a barber, had a talent for drawing, and
illustrated his discourse on the beauty and magnificence of
Tangier with a sketch of the mosque tower. He drew
quite in the mediaeval style, with broad black lines. At
the top of his tower was a turbaned Muezzin with a
speaking-trumpet, which if he had dropped it perpendicu-
larly from the mouthpiece would have touched the ground.
Still higher was a tremendous square stiff flag, with a
crescent in the middle, drawn with a gigantic minuteness
of attention to the rings, and pulleys, and cords which were
to hoist it on the staff. Beside it, in the same style, he
drew a fort, with bomb-shells flying in all directions.

172

Samson

On approaching Tangier the hilarity of the Jews, which
had been damped by the shower, revived in such force, that
the functionary of the rope's-end thought it necessary to
admonish them playfully over their heads and shoulders.
They all received his chastisements with a cringing
humility except one, whom the Christian bully evidently
held in respect.

This was a young man, the most uproarious of the
party ; but his figure was a model for a young Samson in
all the pride of his strength, — such a brawny breadth of
back and shoulders, depth of chest, and massive mould of
limbs ! The consciousness of superior power gave him
both dignity and impudence. The sailor, who was bully-
ing the rest, seemed ashamed to spare the worst offender
altogether, and occasionally gave him a mild flick ; where-
upon he would lay hold of him, and turn him about like a
child, and laugh, showing a wide mouthful of teeth set in
all directions, like chevaux-de-frise. His whole countenance
was equally hideous ; but there was a broad bestial good-
humour and boldness, and wealth of animal spirits in the
expression, which invested the man, taken all together, with
a kind of ugly beauty and coarse nobility. He had offered
to carry us ashore. He set his services at a peseta^ about
elevenpence, which we rejected with scorn. He immedi-
ately went off in an extempore Gitanesque style of song, in
the indifferent Spanish which is the habitual language of the
Tangier Jews : —

SAMSON'S SONG.

As our vessel swept the billows,

Sailing into Tangier bay,
To the haughty, rich Inglese,

Thus I spoke, and this did say : —

^73

Mohammed

"See the surf is white and frothy,

Lashed upon the yellow sand —
I am poor, and wear no small-clothes,

I will bear my lord to land,"

" If j^ou bear me through the water,
What's your price — the smallest sum?"

For Inglese loves to bargain.
And the gold sticks to his thumb.

"I demand but one peseta,

One peseta and no more."
" Dog ! " he cried, " thou shalt not cheat me,

Sooner will I wade ashore."

This impromptu, delivered in a rough sonorous voice, with
much spirit and humour, in a lively trochaic (that is to
say, trundling) metre, was received w^ith laughter and
applause.

The town of Tangier stands on a slope within the
western horn of the bay. On the horn is a ruinous old
fortress, up to which the town rises in a flight of flat-topped
houses, with here and there a few towers and minarets ; it
is in fact like an ordinary picture of an Eastern city.

When we emerged from the skirmish on the beach, we
were still followed by a stately old Moor, with a clean
white turban, who seemed in a tranquil manner to have
made up his mind that we were now become part of his
private property. He talked a peculiar Spanish.

"Senora Inglesa tengo fonda aqui riba." (An English
lady has an hotel up here.)

" Oh, that's it," said Harry. " He belongs to Miss
Duncan's hotel, that's all right."

"Yez, gen-men, me Mohammed, all right, belongy
to Miss Duncan Hotel. Tought gen-men was Spanis ;
me talk Inglis same as Spanis. Zat mosky ! musleman

^74

and Moses

jurje," said he, as we passed the arched doorway of the
mosque, and saw turbaned figures kneeling here and there
within.

We followed him up the main street to the market-place,
the inhabitants staring at us out of their pigeon-hole shops.
At last, through narrow, dirty, winding streets, we reached
the hotel, and slammed the door in the face of a train of
infidel ragamuffins, who were following us for bakshish.
The house, a curious old Moorish dwelling, is fitted up with
English comfort and furniture. At dinner, we were waited
on by the majestic Mahomet and a meek Jew, Moses,
whose shambling gait and down-cast look formed a contrast
to the imperial port and solemn strut of the picturesque old
Moor. Moses, however, was practically far the more
serviceable man of the two.

Our venerable and attentive hostess paid us a visit, and
told us about many remarkable persons, who have been here
during the nine-and-twenty years she has lived in Tangier,
with many things which they did and said ; but the only
vivid picture which this chronicle has left on my memory is
of the amiable and condescending manner in which the

Marquis of G dried a pair of silk socks over the

charcoal brazier in the kitchen ; an historical fact, which
occurred about nine years ago.

The moon is glancing in through the open window from
the spangled ripples of the bay, but I am too sleepy to be
poetical.

This morning, before breakfast, I stopped before one of
the little shop-nooks in the main street, where a grim and
bearded Pagan sat cross-legged, and began to bargain with
him for a pair of bright-yellow morocco-leather slippers.
While the treaty was proceeding, a sleek and officious Jew
came up, under pretence of interpreting, and insinuated that

i75

slippery Dealing

he had better and cheaper slippers at his shop. I thought,
perhaps, he was no greater rogue than others, and so I went
with him, and found a very smart estabHshment upstairs,
with a great variety of shawls and scarfs, and jillabiahs, and
Moorish cushions, and daggers, and every sort of curiosity ;
the only thing which appeared to be deficient were yellow
slippers. In the court of the house there was a plasterer or
whitewasher. While I was looking over the things, he had
slipped out, and when I came into the street, he fell upon
me with strong entreaties to inspect his shop somewhere
else, but I told him he was a whited sepulchre, and went
back to breakfast.

Wandering about the town, we came to the foot of the
castle hill. At the top there was a gateless and dilapidated
arch, amenable to pacific entry ; and within, a picturesque,
irregular court-yard, partially in ruins, with horse-shoe
arches, and slender arabesque columns. Sauntering in
through the archway, we had been passed by a handsome
maiden, bearing a basket, whom we knew, by being
unveiled, to be a Jewess. At a modest distance we followed
the fair Susannah among the winding angles and corners of
the ruin. She went in at a low broad arch. Here we
were received by a grizzly-bearded old man in a turban,
with a couple of large keys in his belt. Him we saluted
with " essaldm aleykom " and a bow.

" Waleykom essaldm" he replied. " Ye, oh caballeros,
are apparently Spanish," he continued, in slow strangely-
accented Castilian, " and are doubtless come to see the

prison."

We are come to see the prison, truly, but we are not
Spanish, being, shokr Allah^ of the family of the Inkleez."
" Thrice welcome, sons of the Inkleez ; I am the father

' Thanks be to God !
176

The Children of Captivity

of the prison," said he, making a salaam ; " and ye shall see
the children of captivity." He then poured out some
coffee from a pipkin which stood over a few charcoal
embers. He made many excuses for only having one cup
in his coffee-service, and lit a long chibouque, from which
we each smoked a few whiffs after we had taken a sip or
two of the coffee.

" But who is that fair maiden whispering through the
hole in the door ? "

" She is Rahab, the daughter of one Joshua, an old rogue,
who lately sold a donkey to one of the faithful for more
dirhems'^ than it was worth,ieven had it not been bewitched ;
but bewitched it was, and within a week was visited by the
annuller of possessions and the reliever of burdens ; there-
fore the old dog will remain in my family till the price be
refunded. His daughter often brings him food in her
basket. The ill-omened old man fares well, with redun-
dance ; and were he starved a little, it might hasten the
disgorgement of his dishonest gains ; but heretofore, when
I told her she must come no more, she cried so bitterly,
saying the old man would die, that I found it not in my
heart to refuse her ; for the she-wolf of an unbelieving
Jewess has fair eyes, and it pinches my heart to see her
weep. Daughter of the accursed, stand aside, and let these
princes of the Franks look through the door."

A most foul, black, damp and dismal place it was ; the
crowded prisoners squatting about here and there on the
floor, which was like the pavement of a stable, on an old-
fashioned farm where ammonia is not economised. The
ancient Joshua was standing near the door, his long white
beard was^o-inp; as he chewed.

While we were looking, there was a noise at the outer
' Pieces of silver money.
177

Staves of Doctrine

gate, and a fresh offender was brought in. He was an old
acquaintance, having only been let out of prison a week ago,
and now he had been caught again, stealing a bunch of
carrots in the market-place. He was very vociferous in his
defence, but in the most brilliant crisis of his harangue, as
soon as he had been shouldered opposite the prison-door, it
opened with a crash of bolts and chains — they gave him a
slap on the back, and in he leapt, head foremost, over the
high stone threshold ; the door crashed to again, and there
was an end of him. There was something irresistibly
ludicrous in the extremely sudden disposal of this turbulent
purloiner of vegetables, of which a description, necessarily
telling a number of simultaneous occurrences one after
another, can give but little idea.

We presented the prisoners with a small contribution for
bread, which they clamorously demanded, and gave the
father of the prison a large cigar. Going out of the castle,
we sat down on a stone bench along the wall, beneath the
shade of a tower. Here a small crowd of infidels gathered
to see us light our pipes with a burning glass, after which
they wished to have their fingers burned ; and we fell into
a religious discussion, carried on at first by short staves from
the Koran, of which, having exhausted our stock ineffec-
tually, we finished off the argument with our long broom-
sticks ; these we applied to their shins ; for they could not
keep their tempers when we quoted Mahomet to prove that
both Christians and Jews might be saved, if they believed in
God and the last day, and did virtuously.

As we descended through the town, we were seized
upon by Israelites and carried into many shops, where they
tempted us ; but we would not buy anything, none of
them being equal to the upstairs establishment, which I had
seen before breakfast. Thither we went and instituted

178

Oriental Attire

a general rummage. Jillabiahs, haiks, boornooses, fez-caps,
cushions, &c. Harry told me that a haik was considered
a most desirable thing by young ladies, as a dress to go
away from evening parties in.

I always wonder, for my part, why fair creatures are so
particular about a costume to go home in their dark
carriages ; but perhaps it is for the sake of the last
impression they leave on the carpeted door-step, to haunt
the dreams of some shivering adorer, who stands in the
night air till John has slumped the tight door into the panel,
the sleepy horses plunge heavily forward, and Lady
Something Else's carriage stops the way.

While I was wavering whether to lay out on one of these
Moorish veils, which are of a curious white woollen texture,
striped or shot, or something of that sort, with silk, the
cunning old Jew sent for his daughter.

She came up very slovenly attired, but they hung the haik
upon her, and she looked so pretty in it that I purchased
one without more ado. It, indeed, effected in her a great
metamorphosis, covering up all the slovenly attire in soft
white drapery, and showing only a most fascinating pair of
Jewess's eyes (worth more than Jews' eyes), some stray
tresses of deepest jet, and part of a forehead like rose-tinted
alabaster.

Afterwards we looked in at the place where they smoke
keef; a dirty, sloppy court-yard, little better than the
prison. The smokers were squatting about inhaling the
fumes of the very small pipes, and rolling up their eyes as
if it was very delightful. In the corner a man sat whittling
pipe-stems in curious arabesque patterns. The demand
apparently exceeded the supply, for he had only one on
hand, which was also in hand, and on my off'ering to buy
it, he said he must finish it ; I said I had rather not wait,

179 M

Keef-Smoking

for I could finish the other end, copying the pattern of the
one already done. We bought keef^ which appears to be a
small leaf, growing along a certain kind of hemp-stalk, and
retired to our housetop to make the experiment.

Our imaginations were filled with a forecast of the
brilliant dreams about to draw their magic-lantern shadows
across the white sheet of the lulled mind. I knew well
enough whither away my spirit would flee, to be at rest, and
my heart beat loudly as I lit the little pipeful of what
seemed very like sawdust. But though I drew breath after
breath, down to the very bottom of my lungs, and vigorously
prepared to be much affected, I could not perceive that it pro-
duced any effect whatever, nor could Harry. He disliked
the peculiar flavour of the herb, which I found rather agree-
able than otherwise. After smoking three or four pipes,
the experiment was given up as a failure.

In the meantime a (no doubt) lovely creature, entirely
enveloped in her haik^ was walking about on the adjoining
roof. She seemed inclined to pay us, at least, the compli-
ment of curiosity, and stared us so much out of countenance
through her eye-holes, that we were forced to go to the
other side of the roof. Here we saw a cat take a run and
a flying-leap over the narrow street, and we could not help
observing that the gay Lotharios of the East no doubt
watch circumspectly how the cat jumps. The houses, which
are very inaccessible every way but from the top, stand so
close together, that a good leaper might easily travel from
one end of the town to the other on their roofs. They
are all detached from one another, at a distance which is no
doubt deemed safe by lethargic old Orientals, bundled in
long robes, against all eaves-droppers. Besides, lepers are
turned out of Eastern cities.

Summoned downstairs by the Jews coming with what we

i8o

African Hospitalities

had bought in the morning, they nearly cleared us out of
all our little means ; for in Gibraltar we could not raise any
money, because Harry had left all his Coutts's circular-
notes packed up in his portmanto at Seville ; and as there
appears to be no vessel going back to Europe, it is more
than probable that our excellent landladies, the Misses
Duncan, u^ill have to distrain upon our bodies, and sell us to
the Algerines to indemnify themselves for our sustenance.

While I sat carving the pipe-stem, our early dinner was
ready, after which we wandered forth with Mohammed.
The corn-merchant of th^ felucca met us, shook hands with
great cordiality, and insisted on taking us to a coffee-house
to be treated, up a narrow flight of dark stairs into a narrow
court-yard covered with matting. Here were assembled a
group of chattering Moors all standing, for there was no
place in the floor clean enough to sit down upon.

Coming down from the cafe^ we were met by another of
our fellow passengers, the young Moor who had drawn the
mosque-towers and fort in Harry's book. He also shook
hands most affectionately, and carried us over the way to
his shop, for it turned out he was a barber, and not a son
of the old corn-merchant. His shop was surrounded by a
sort of divan, covered with matting, on which we sat cross-
legged and smoked and drank more coffee, and talked as
well as we could in Alcoranic Arabic, which is very different
from Berber.

A lame man came in and sat down. He addressed us in
broken English. He was from Mogador, and had been in
London with Batty's company as a Bedouin. He had been
in other parts of " London," viz., " Littlepol and My Sister
(Liverpool and Manchester), had married wife in England "
("not lowsy woman"); he had had an accident which
caused his leg to be very " sick " ever since — had come

i8i

Lovely Women

back to go home to Mogador, but had here set up as a
gunsmith — he had a gun which he could sell us ("not lowsy
gun") at a moderate price.

The dark had crept upon us unperceived. A }pious faquir
came by, and stopping on the threshold, swang about a
censer scattering incense, and vociferating prayers. This
itinerant mass-performer was rewarded with a copper coin,
and departed. Then came a man with a young cock. The
barber jumped up and cut oflF its head with a razor in a
most expeditious manner, and the fowl-bearer departed. I
asked if people did not kill their own chickens in this
country, and was informed that many persons had an objec-
tion to shedding blood, and were in the habit of sending
to him. Doubtless he must have shed a considerable
amount of the blood of the faithful, if he shaves their heads
with the same razor which decapitates poultry.

Mohammed now informed us that he had heard there was
a Jewish wedding to-night, whither he would conduct us if
we pleased. As the Hebrews hold open house on these
occasions to all creeds and nations, we followed him through
the dark winding streets, till we came to an open portal,
where flaring torches gleamed on a swarm of people going
in and out.

The supper was just concluding ; the tables were removed,
and we were seated in the banqueting-room in the highest
place, that is to say, nearest the right-hand corner of the
nuptial bed, which filled the whole end of the room. What
do you think there was on the bed ? — why, about six-and-
thirty Jewesses, the loveliest collection of women huddled
in the smallest space I ever saw — positively all beautiful ;
and if my heart had not been otherwise engaged, I should
not have minded marrying the whole bevy at once — foolish,
indeed 1 — nevertheless, an idea worthy of Solomon. The

182

A Hebrew Wedding

young ladies, it appears, were only invited to adorn the
banquet with their presence, and sat up there to be looked
at while their male relatives ate. In the furthest corner,
as much out of sight as possible, and veiled, sat the bride.
Poor thing ! she must have been very nearly smothered
under that cloth, for we could hardly breathe, and the heat
and crush were tremendous even to us, who sat on a bench,
unveiled, and unsurrounded by a compact huddle of three
dozen fair friends on one four-poster.

But now there was a stir, and the chief rabbi was con-
ducted to the head of the bench opposite us. In his hand
he bore a fiddle, on which he began to play across his knee,
as if it had been a bass ; but it was a small violin, and he
was a large man with a long white beard and a pair of
silver spectacles over a very large hooked nose. When he
began to play, the guests began to howl an accompaniment
with great unction. Shortly a ring was formed, and a
blooming Herodias was picked from that hot-bed of lilies
and carnations to dance before the company. The dance
seemed to be more of gesture than steps ; she swayed about
her body, and waved about her arms, but the steps seemed
hardly more than occasionally beating time with her feet.
The company beat time with their hands, and howled still
more than before, so as nearly to drown the screeches of the
7'abbi'd fiddle.

When the dance was done, the bride was brought in
unveiled : she had been smuggled out behind the bed, and
attired in the first of a series of suits, which she subsequently
showed off in succession. She was a beautiful creature,
with that brilliant pearly complexion, those lustrous eyes
and glossy raven tresses which only Tangerine Jewesses
possess in such perfection. The bridegroom, I am grieved
to say, was a sorryish-looking individual, who seemed in

i«3

A Commotion

no wise to appreciate the happiness he was about to
undergo : he appeared nervous and melancholy ; and, to
make the matter worse, they set him down in a chair in the
middle of the room, and shaved him before the audience.
After this there was a contribution, — whether to pay the
barber or the supper, or to increase the dower of the bride,
we could not clearly ascertain ; but we paid up our bachelor's
mite and departed, much gratified, and nearly baked.

This morning, as we were sitting on the brow of the
castle hill, there appeared to be a commotion of some sort
in a broad open space near one of the gates of the city below.
Going down to see what it was, we were soon met by a
crowd coming up the narrow street. They were headed by
musicians with tamtams (a sort of kettle-drums), and
trumpets, and fifes. A Moor, with a white beard, led a
calf. Next came a turbaned figure, enveloped in much dra-
pery, riding on a black horse with two huge panniers, out
of which appeared the mild, resigned faces of two venerable
old rams. A few men, with very long firelock-muskets,
followed, — the rest were tagrag-and-bobtail. Under the
last denomination we enlisted ourselves, and returned with
the crowd to the castle hill, from which we commanded the
house of the bride, — for it was a marriage procession — at
least, one of the preparatory measures.

The band played a strange discordant combination of
noises, interrupted at irregular intervals by the explosion
of firelocks. The firing of these unwieldy engines was
curious. The musketeer about to discharge, balances him-
self gingerly on his left heel, points the muzzle at the
ground, and applies the smoking end of his long saltpetred
cord — fizz! flash! bang! — and round he spins, twirled on
his heel by the recoil of his long rusty piece. We could see
inside the open door a good many veiled Moriscas. What

184

Moorish Nuptials

came of the calf and rams we did not see ; they probably were
wedding gifts, not sacrifices, and destined to figure in the
capacity of veal and mutton at some subsequent ceremony.

Waiting for the muezzins call to prayer, with many of
the faithful around us in the market-place, a shoemaker over
the way invited us all to his stall to drink verbena tea,
which, he assured us, along with a pipe of keef^ would have
the same effect upon us as brandy. The yerba buena
(Arabice, luisa) makes a pleasant infusion, but does not
possess any intoxicating qualities ; at least, we departed as
sober as we came.

To-day I have gone about in the Moorish costume, but
have not been less stared at from dressing like any other
Pagan, — a crimson skull-cap with a blue silk tassel ; a loose
blue and white striped shirt-like robe of woollen ; with a
long cowl, either drooping behind the shoulders, or pulled
up over the head. I call the cowl long, because it goes back
in a long peak like the tail of a fishing-net, and has a tassel
at the end. A pair of bare ankles and yellow slippers com-
plete the costume as far as visible to the world at large.

It is night. We have just come in from a most awful
scene. Rolling clouds of smoke, lit by the red flash, and
rent and shaken by the explosion of musketry ; parties of
Arabs charging about here and there beneath the sulphurous
canopy, shouting as well as shooting. What do you think
it was ? An insurrection ? No — a wedding ! The red
heifer and the rams had only been preparatory, and to-night
the bride was to be conducted to the house of the bride-
groom. These skirmishers were merely making ready an
atmosphere with the smoke of their feux de joie for the
procession to pass through.

At last it appeared. Around the howdah (a sort of sedan-
chair, in which the bride is carried) the Arab soldiers

185

Taking Home the Bride

redoubled their activity, charging — one party upon another
— and discharging their long guns into the air. Flaring
torches flung a flickering and uncertain light over the
tumultuous but rather formidable chaos through which the
timid Moorish maiden goes from the nursery to housekeep-
ing. We could not help thinking that in happy England
some of our hardened and experienced spinsters, who have
braved the link-boys and "carriage-stops-the-way-coming-
out" struggles of three or four seasons, would hardly go
through such a trial in the cause of matrimony : but perhaps
we are wrong !

i86

CHAPTER XVII

Gibraltar, March 14.

We were almost in despair of ever getting away from
Tangier, when one morning a great steamer ran into the
bay. It proved to be a French war-steamer, bringing a
consul-general ; for the republic has made up some little
difference with the empire of Morocco which caused the
consul to retire some time ago. This steamer was going
back to Gibraltar next morning, so we lost no time in
calling to pay our respects to the newly-arrived functionary.
We were shown up into a Parisian-looking drawing-room,
and a beau monsieur, of about thirty-five, dressed in a smart
official uniform, arose to receive us. His good manners
could hardly prevent a look of surprise from mingling with
that appropriate listening face with which he bowed and
stood waiting for us to explain our errand. We felt that
in our soiled but still flaring muleteer's dress we did not
look like the proper sort of individuals to ask for a free
passage on board a man-of-war of a foreign power. I
waited for Harry to say something, but he said nothing ;
and so, after a slight pause, I began to state our
case : —

" Sans trop en avoir Pair, M. le Consul, nous sommes des
gentilshommes Anglais, — we are dressed as contrabandiers,
because we have been travelling among the mountains of
Spain, and have no other clothes, otherwise we would not

187

A Diplomatic Overture

have ventured to present ourselves attired so little a la

modeP

" Mais, messieurs, n'en parlez pas, je vous en prie. Cela se

voit fort bien, et du reste, c'est une mise assez commode

pour voyager. Moi aussi, j'ai voyage en Espagne. Is there

anything I can do for you ? "

" We are au dhespoir for a vessel to take us back to

Europe ; and we understand that the steamer which

brought your excellency is going back to Gibraltar ; we are

ashamed to derange you on your arrival, but we have no

alternative."

" With the greatest pleasure, gentlemen : ce sont des

petites complaisances que les nations se font mutuellement."
With which, having been thus made an international
affair, we were handed two small state-papers, requesting
the captain to receive us aboard ; and we took leave of our
polite benefactor with many thanks.

That evening, taking a turn through the city for a fare-
well look, some camels, with wilder-looking Arabs than
common, came in at the western gate from the distant
deserts of the interior. We felt, on seeing them, more iden-
tified with the real inhabitants of Africa than we had been
by our intercourse with the tame barbarians of Tangier, so
much handled by Europeans as to be comparatively harm-
less, like Zoological Garden lions. Two Ethiopians, in the
same quarter of the city, which seems devoted to strangers
from the interior, sat cross-legged on the ground, rocking
themselves, and nodding their heads, and rolling up the
yellow whites of their idiotic eyes ; their thick lips were
dropped, and their dark brown oily features (without the
slightest vestige of consciousness) shining in the sunset.
We asked what was the matter with them, and found they
had been chewing hasheesh.

l88

Right of Self-Defence

But I must get away from Tangier. And yet I must tell
you of a conversation we had with a worthy clergyman, who
arrived the day before our departure, and with whom we
partook of our last African tea. It was about carrying
arms or not, travelling in Spain. He was strongly against
the practice, for fear we might shoot some of the banditti.
We said we were much more afraid of the banditti shooting
us, and very much preferred being on equal terms with
them.

" But," said he, " you have no right to shoot a fellow-
creature, merely to prevent yourself from being robbed ;
and if, as you say, you are called upon to go down on your
face, and give up your money, you should do so much
rather than shed blood."

" No doubt," I replied, " if they amiably took what you
gave them, and your word for it that you had no more
valuables, and did not proceed to strip you of your clothes,
and take your horse ; and if, after all, when dissatisfied
with their gleanings, they had not an unkind habit of
rubbing the traveller's nose on a flinty road ; nay, sometimes
killing him outright — I agree that your argument would be
good. But, as it is, with all these possibilities, added to the
inconvenience of losing one's money, costume, and horse,
my impression is, that the most reasonable thing, when an
evident and acknowledged bandit rushes out of the bushes
and seizes your rein, is not to say, 'Sir, I have money which
I am ready to surrender, and pistols, with which I will fight
if you intend to use me uncivilly ; ' for then he would have
time to throw his cloak over your head, and whip his
knife into your bowels."

"Then, sir, what is the most reasonable thing to do ? "

" Why, to shoot him down at once, and do the same to
the next man " (suiting the action to the word, and taking

189

Political Economy of Robbery

my revolver out of my belt, on which the ancient and
reverend gentleman cried, " Oh ! pray don't ! " in a tone
of some anxiety), " and the third man v/ould probably run
away."

"It is the squeamishness about shooting robbers that
causes robbery to continue," said Harry. " A friend of
mine lately killed two with a right and left rifle-shot in
Mexico, and the road has been much safer since. The
common view to take is, that the robber is to be considered
more than the traveller."

"Yes ! " said I. " Now the robber who selects this pro-
fession is (if he has studied Adam Smith) conscious that
the little industry required, the rapid profits returned, and
the exciting and romantic character of his trade, would draw
so many persons into it, that there would soon be nobody
left to rob, unless^ observe me, unless there were certain
drawbacks. One of those drawbacks, the bandit is well
aware, consists in the liability to be shot in the ordinary
course of his business."

" But," replied the reverend gentleman, " if you shoot
him, you precipitate a human soul into eternity unprepared ;
and what an awful thought is that ! "

" I am by no means sure that a prudent and pious thief,
going on what he knew to be a perilous expedition (and if
he was going to rob us, who carry an arsenal of pistols
openly, he ought to pay us the compliment of thinking it a
perilous expedition) — I am by no means sure, I say, that
he would not get himself specially and provisionally shrived
of his sins in case of accident ; and, indeed, I think the
scrupulous traveller has a right to suppose that such would
be the case, and despatch him accordingly at so advantageous
a conjuncture."

" By-the-bye," said he, " the robbers sometimes shoot

190

The "Narval"

themselves — perhaps because they feel it is part of their
profession to be shot now and then, and find the scrupulous
public object to performing their legitimate share in the
transaction. I read in the Granada newspaper, a curious
story of the suicide of a notorious robber the other day,
near Seville. It appeared that he had been robbing a horse-
dealer, but whether his desperation proceeded from remorse,
which seemed improbable, or from a quarrel with his sweet-
heart, which is, perhaps, still more so, the writer had not
been able to make out."

" Perhaps he shot himself by accident," said I ; and the
conversation turned.

Well, the pilot's boat took us aboard the Narva/y a for-
midable large black war-steamer. We were relieved of
some slight uncertainty, as to how such strange figures
would be received, by the lieutenant, who politely addressed
us in very good English, and after making our acquaint-
ance in about two minutes, introduced us to his brother
officers.

We breakfasted with the gamelle^'^ and afterwards smoked
and delivered a lecture on the English language, for several
of the officers were learning it, but our lieutenant (Morin)
had a surprisingly accurate and critical knowledge. The
surgeon was musical, and had a book full of Spanish airs,
which he had written after Rousseau's method, which, he
says, is coming very much into use. The reader will
remember that Jean Jacques' first effort was to publish a
system of musical notation by numerical figures, instead of
those mysterious dots and lines ; but at the time the idea
met with no attention. The surgeon played the guitar and
sang.

Morin, from English literature, came to French. His

• Mess.
191

Paul Louis Courrier

favourite author was Paul Louis Courrier, a name we had
neither of us heard. He produced the volume, read us
some extracts, and seeing we very much appreciated them,
gave it us.

Paul Louis Courrier was a republican and bitter anti-
Bonapartist, witty and whimsical, amiable, though rather
caustic. He was always getting into quarrels with the
mayor of his commune, who, according to Courrier's very
amusing account, disliked his politics, and encouraged
everybody in bullying and cheating him. One might have
thought, from the quaint and fanciful way in which he
complains of his grievances, that they were next door to
imaginary ones, if it did not appear in his life that he was
finally assassinated by his enemies.

While our time thus passed tranquilly in the cabin, a
storm was brewing outside. The wind was dead ahead,
and grew stronger and stronger. The motion began to be
unpleasant, and going on deck it was found to be raining
fast. Shortly it rained faster, and then torrents ; the
pitching of the vessel, too, had become so unpleasant, that
I could not stand the cabin atmosphere.

The whole mess each recommended me to take a several
sovereign thing against nausea ; but at last it was unani-
mously carried that, for an English stomach, tea w^as the
sovereignest thing of all ; so a cup was made and admin-
istered, and, I must say, tasted a good deal like physic.

We had established ourselves in as sheltered a corner as
wc could find on deck, wrapped in our cloaks, which shed
the torrents very successfully. However, as the rain fell
much faster than it could run off by the sluice-holes at the
sides, there was soon a great flood. This, as the ship rolled,
came rushing down upon us, and washing back again in a
tidal wave about a foot deep. Of course our feet got rather

192

A Gale

wet. I never was in such a storm of rain in my life ; sky
as black as ink ; great clouds sweeping over the dark sea
before a very violent gusty wind ; now and then the tops of
the African mountains looking down through a break in the
mist. The moan of the gale through the vibrating shrouds,
the splash of the paddles, and the plank-deafened metallic
din of machinery straining against the tempest, made a sort
of melancholy, unmusical accompaniment to our uncomfort,
which was so complete, and on so grand a scale, as to gather
a sort of consolation from its own sublimity.

You may imagine what sort of work it was, from the fact
of our taking about nine hours to go thirty miles in a great
steamer. However, there is an end to all things, and we
got ashore before gunfire.

The next day was Sunday, and it rained and blew great
guns. As we sat painting, Morin came in ; we asked him to
dine, and he greatly enlivened our evening. I gave him my
Sevillian navaja to cut the pages of his new Courrier when
he got to Paris. Our conversation with Morin shifted from
French to English, and from English to French, as often as
the speaker came to a difficulty and relapsed into his own
language to explain himself better.

To-day (Monday) is our last day, and now or never we
must see the wonders of the Rock. We were waked early
by Morin, who came to say his adieux and mille choses. He,
of course, had to sleep on shore ; because the fortress is
locked up at sunset, and nobody can go in or out on pain of
death. Since breakfast I have been out buying a variety of
things — tape, a packing-needle, a pair of spurs (English spurs
are much sharper than Spanish, and we are preparing a plea-
sant little surprise for the flanks of our lazy ponies), half-a-
pound of gunpowder, a pencil. Sec. The diplomatic waiter
has gone to get us permission to see the galleries.

193

Galleries of the Rock

Well, the diplomate of the hotel brought us our permit,
and we climbed one of the steep staircase streets, and entered
beneath the Arabesque arch of an old Moorish castle, which
stands forth, picturesque and ruinous, above the smug,
scientific masses of modern fortification. The court-yard
within seemed full of guard-houses ; here the British soldier
smokes clay-pipes, and drinks beer, with an accompaniment
of familiar British imprecations, where once the Moslem
warriors, cased in Cordovan steel, drank their coff"ee and
stroked their beards with pious inshalldhs and other solemn
ejaculations.

An Irish artillery corporal took charge of us — a very civil
engineer. He conducted us along zig-zag passages, among
fortifications with cannons here and there, which have left
only a vague impression on my mind, but I dare say there
were ravelins, and curtains, and covered ways, and counter-
scarps enough, if described accurately, to be quite impreg-
nable to any civilian understanding. At length we came to
a black arch, and plunged into the rock. Our corporal led
us up dark, steep, dripping, sloppy caverns — the celebrated
galleries of Gibraltar. Here and there, in the ascent, were
deep-niched portholes, through which, at airy depth, burst
in upon the darkness, what seemed by contrast bright views
of sea and mountain, though the day was rainy and dark and
windy. Of course, in each port-hole was a great gun. After
getting very hot and steamy in the damp caverns, we
emerged on a point where there was a mighty rushing wind,
pleasant and cool, but so violent that it seemed likely to blow
us off the precipice. Here we stood, keeping our feet as
well as 'we could, on Calpe's brow to admire the view.

This northern extremity of the rock breaks away from
Spain with an abrupt precipice of goodness knows how many
hundred feet, as if solidly resolved to have nothing whatever

194

St. George's Hall

to do with the adjacent country, to which it is only attached
by a low strip of tawny sand. On either side the leaden

" Waters chafe to meet,
But pause and crouch beneath her feet. "

This quotation led us to discuss whether Gibraltar was to
be considered the Corinth of the moderns, or Corinth the
Gibraltar of the ancients ; and then (as we entered St.
George's Hall, a great frontal sinus in the forehead of the
Rock), having been carried back upon history, we naturally
proceeded to carry ourselves forward upon futurity. It was
agreed, that as long as England lasted, Gibraltar would never
yield ; but that when Macaulay's " Australian native sat
upon his broken arch of London Bridge to sketch the ruins
of St. Paul's," some civilised barbarian of somewhere else
might come to the deserted Rock.

He will wind his way, in some fear of wild beasts, up the
galleries, and come to what some ancient record of the place
(for we will suppose him an antiquarian savage) informs him
" was called by that warlike nation, the Britons, the hall of
St. George, their patron saint, a fabulous warrior-god. I
dare say they sacrificed to him here, perhaps human victims,
for they mingled many barbarous customs of remotest anti-
quity with their faint and inefficient notions of religion."
Here he will stride across the cavern thoughtfully, as if to
measure its size, and stumbling over the rusty old remains
of a 32-pounder, awake from his reverie and continue,
"Truly, they must have hacked and hewed with great perse-
verance to hollow out these halls and passages in the solid
stone, and much energy and zeal were thrown away in the
worship of that once powerful but now broken-down demon,
War. In the days when the nations were so little aware of

195 N

We take up our Parabola

their interests as to send out great ships to batter one an-
other to pieces with these deadly engines, whose name I
forget," kicking the old cannon again, "a great master of
those hellish arts, called Nelson, is said to have feasted in
this cave — doubtless, after a sacrifice of human flesh. Yet
this monster, at the time, was the idol of popularity among
his people. It seems to me that soon after his era, and, by
the way, the great Frank Napoleon's bloody career, that the
nations began to conceive peace was an advantage, led by one
Cobden, also celebrated for having introduced corn into his
country, which formerly had only potatoes — both important
vegetables, I fancy, before we discovered the system of feed-
ing by electricity."

Our Irish gunner seemed much taken aback by these
anticipations, and I have little doubt, in confidence, thought
us slightly deranged. But to reassure him, we began to
cross-question him with scientific projectile questions in gun-
nery, and from that branched off to personal inquiries as to
his duties, and the sort of life on the Rock ; for the private
soldiers are not allowed to go beyond the Spanish lines. He
said it was not a disagreeable life, but they now and then
had some very " witty fatiggs," which we found out to be
weighty fatigues, such as taking guns up and down, &c.

To-morrow we set off for Malaga as early as we can get
our limited washing back from the laundress, being, in spite
of our true British pride and glory in the spot, rather sick
of Gibraltar.

196

CHAPTER XVIII

Malaga, March 20.
Upon the road again, and, after our little oasis of decent
living in Gibraltar and Africa, restored to the romantic
luxury of Spanish hunger and Spanish fleas. Harry woke
me early on Tuesday morning, and made me get up, though
I murmured in my sleep about the impossibility of getting
away while our linen remained in the hands of the faithless
lavandera. However, when I was fairly awake and up, I
joined him in caramhaing severely at the chamber-maid.
Such, indeed, was the force of our language, that it brought
the shirts and stockings home wringing wet, and of course
we had to send them back. While they were being ironed
we ate our breakfasts, and had the last touch put to
our passports, so that by the time our shifts returned, we
were prepared to stuiF them into the alforjas and be off.

Leading our ponies out of the stables, where they had
been nearly a fortnight, we found them so stiff that they
could hardly stir, and I actually thought mine had had his
back broken by some unfair usage, and accordingly began to
revile the stable-keeper — having my suspicions of him the
more because he had wanted to buy our ponies ; and now I
thought he had made them drunk to prevent their going
away, for they staggered about, and seemed, moreover, as
much excited in their minds as they were infirm upon their
legs.

197

0(a)tium

These suspicions, which were of course eminently absurd
and unstable-minded, wore off as our little beasts, recovering
the use of their legs (but not the serenity of their minds),
began to prance, and kick, and rear, and jump bodily three
or four feet up in the air, greatly endangering the equilibrium
of the cloaks, and manias^ and alforjas^ piled upon their
backs.

The Moor, at last, in an extra fit of violence, managed to
throw himself down, and scatter all that was on him in the
dust. It occurred to us, as we had got out of the town, that
if we were to mount, eleven stone or so additional on their
backs might add to the gravity of their deportment. This
succeeded very tolerably, and having passed the Spanish
lines (where they did not search us, I am happy to say, for I
had a lot of Cavendish tobacco), we came to deep sandy
roads, which soon took the extra shine out of our animals,
whom a crapulence of British corn, without any work, had
thus stimulated to rebellion — oats being much stronger
food than their accustomed barley.

Turning back for a farewell glance at the Rock, it struck
us that it was rather in the form of a tomahawk, and it was
suggested that it might as well have been called Scalpe instead
of Calpe. The handle is, of course, the low end at the south.
However, it was the sharp-notched edge seen in perspective
which gave the idea.

The deep sandy road along which we were riding was, in
fact, the beach of the sea, and for firmer footing I wanted to
ride on the narrow rim of wet sand left by the slight ebb :
but to this the Moor, for whose sole benefit the design
had been entertained, resolutely objected, being strongly of
opinion that some of the waves that kept bellowing and
smacking their foamy lips, would certainly eat him up
at a mouthful if he gave them a chance.

198

The Wreck

So I, being of course nearly as obstinate and unreasonable
as himself, spurred him, and kicked him, and buffeted him,
and got him very nearly as foamy and lathery as the sea, all
for his own sake (originally), and to save him trouble. I
could not help being reminded of philanthropists, and
abolitionists, and Exeter Hall, and religious persecutions.

These speculations vi^ere put out of joint by arriving at a
place where a great ship had been wrecked, evidently very
recently. Huge flakes of massive, closely-pegged plank-
work, torn to ragged pieces like brown paper ; masts, sails,
and cordage, strewn about the beach, with the sea tumbling
and roaring and booming close by the remains of what it
had demolished, and hungry for more. Some men on horse-
back, who came from Gibraltar to see after her, said she had
gone to pieces in the great gale on Sunday (the day, by the
way, we came over from Africa), and her cargo was all
lost.

We inquired of the men the way and distance to Estepona.
The distance appeared much further than we had calculated
on, and the way turned inland from the beach, for the river
Guadiaro could not be forded at its mouth, and we must go
about a league inland to find a ferry. So we turned inland
through mazy and uncertain paths across the dehesa^ which,
with its fragrant flowers and bushes, here sloped down to
the sea.

" It seems a pity," said Harry, with a sigh, " that so
many sweet and pretty things should be almost thrown
away. This is quite a fancy-sample of a wilderness, such as
Don Quixote's Cardenios, and Marcellas, and Dorotheas,
might have chosen to hide their woes in."

" I have an idea," said I, interrupting him ; " we will put
some of them at least (gathering a handful of lilies, and
anemones, and other unknown flowers) to some poetical use,

199

A Floral Rite

and that is the legitimate end of flowers." (Here the other
honourable gentleman was understood to suggest, "Bees
also, perhaps ! ") " Well, honey is the food of poets."
("Possibly prose writers also," says he.) "However that
may be," continued I, overriding these unimportant pro-
tests in the impetus of my enthusiasm, " here shall be per-
formed a rite," — kneeling down before a smooth sandy
place, and with my dagger tracing a certain lady's name
upon the ground (while I was doing which, the Moor also
went down on his knees three times — wishing very much to
have a roll in the warm sun-baked sand), and on each letter
of that name I strewed a little heap of the wild flowers of
the wilderness, that the winds and the rain might be longer
in wearing that frail monument away.

Well, we jogged on, and on Guadiaro's further bank
nearly came to dagger's-drawings with the ferryman about
some inconsiderable amount of which he felt it his privilege
to cheat us.

After this we approached the coast again, and got into
very rough riding among mountain-tops from which we saw
the white towers of Estepona rising from the blue sea at a
great distance — in fact, a hopeless distance, as it was sloping
towards sunset. However, we plunged recklessly down
almost impassable gorges and lost ourselves in deep valleys
(and were shouted at by peasants from the other side of
one, for riding over precipitous, swampy barley-fields), and
climbed out again, and at last, when it was dark, scram-
bled down to the sea-side where we found a fort and a
vent a.

Here we bought some fish of a little boy with a basket.
A great heap of corn had to be moved out of the only spare
place where we could sleep. They gave us one large mat-
tress, and after supper we went to bed, I in vny jillabiah

200

Venta del Castillo

and cloak, and Harry more as a Christian. Some way, I
fancy, the fleas do not bite so much when one sleeps in
one's clothes. As our venta was what Major Pendennis's
man would have called " rayther a shy place," I went to
sleep with my revolver in my hand — by the way, I do
usually lay my little arsenal of pistols and dagger by me —
but this night, for greater security that it should not
be removed, I had kept it in my hand. A dangerous
bedfellow.

Before my going to sleep, the family had come crouching
through our room to theirs, of which this was an ante-
chamber without a door. However, I had pinned up a quilt
with the forks of supper, and under this they had come,
stepping noiselessly, and gone to bed in the dark. They
did not seem over-respectable people, and perhaps this dark
and hushed procession had given my subsequent dreams a
turn ; for in the middle of the night I woke up suddenly,
feeling myself touched, grabbled for my revolver, which had
got lost among the bed-clothes and cloaks and manias, and
then in a sort of somnolent despair hit out wildly in the
dark, and pitched into Harry, who woke up, and after
mutual explanations, we went to sleep again.

Next morning before daybreak I was up — (and ye shall
note, that when a man sleepeth in his clothes, getting up
becometh a simpler operation, for he hath but to arise and
shake himself and his toilet is accomplished, which avoid-
ance of complicities much encourageth early rising) — and,
after objurgating the drowsy host and shrill hostess for not
having a chocolate-pot, had to make it (we luckily carried
chocolate with us) with a pipkin and a wooden spoon, and
burnt my fingers with the hot splashes. Harry was up by
the time it was made, and we ate it before the venta
door.

201

A Robber Host

Now, as we prepared to go, and asked for our account,
though we had eaten our own fish, and drunk our own cho-
colate, and there was nothing to pay for but the cooking of
the fish, the mattress, and the two horses, say, a real and a
half for the cooking, four reals for the bed, and six reals for
the two ponies, altogether eleven and a half reals (about
half-a-crown), our fat thief of a landlord charged us nine-
teen. This we refused to pay, telling him we were no
absurd spendthrifts from Gibraltar, but prudent men, who
had travelled through all the Spains, seeing men and ventas^
and acquiring an accurate knowledge of prices.

" You are Englishmen, and that is sufficient for me. I
have known a ventero to charge a dollar to an English-
man for entering his venta and drinking a glass of
water."

" That ventero was a thief, and that Englishman was a
fool. We are not fools, and we hope you are not a thief.
One thing is certain, we will give you no more than twelve
reals"

Here the money was thrown on the ground, and we made
as to ride away.

"You shall not depart thus — thieves yourselves and
niggards," said the fat host, who had been stimulated in
the meantime by the shrill hostess, and advanced to seize
Harry's bridle.

Here Harry dismounted in haste and drew a pistol ;
whereat all the tag-rag of the venta ran like rabbits into the
door, and the master retreated ; the mozo de la cuadra^ the
bravest man of the party, stood his ground, and took up a
great stone. While the pistol yet remained directed
towards the still uplifted-stone, another power entered the
field, in the person of an aged and rather shaky old corporal
of the carabineers in the adjoining fort. However, Harry

202

what Might Have Happened

resisted his attempts at mediation, and called him an old
donkey, which, as a man in authority, seemed quite to take
him aback.

During the temporary lull, I may go into a slight diver-
sion, describing what you have a right to expect would be
the result of such an unwarranted and rash appeal to arms.
The corporal, finding two refractory strangers who will not
pay the reckoning of his friend and neighbour, and who, to
make the matter worse, address himself as an old donkey,
of course calls out the guard.

Nine men, in seedy uniform, appear with carabines, and
take us into custody. We are put in a basket and hoisted
up into the entrance hole of the tower, high above the
ground. The guard return to their breakfast, of which,
with customary Spanish politeness, they beg us to partake :
we civilly decline ; but finding them not bad fellows, enter
into conversational relations, and finally win the corporal's
heart with a long cigar.

Meanwhile we put in a fair statement of our case to a
now willing audience. They agree that, to be sure, it was
a villainous imposition ; and, moreover, the ventero always
cheats them in their aguardiente. We do a portrait of the
corporal and a caricature of the ventero^ and, moreover,
doctor a sick carabineer, who has a fever, and lies in a
dark corner of the donjon. Finally, we sally forth by the
basket, the corporal (having been told he is the most
valiant corporal in Spain, or the known world, which is the
same thing) blusters for us, and threatens the ventero^ who
takes the twelve reals^ and we find we have gained six reals
and an adventure at the expense of half a day's journey, and
a good many cigars.

However, this little history, which, if expanded with much
interesting discourse, might look very well in print, would

203

What Did Happen

not be, strictly speaking, historical, except in Sir Robert
Walpole's sense of the word, as it did not — in confidence —
take place : for, seeing that the sun was going up upon our
wrath, and that we were likely to lose time, and only get
deeper into the mess, I recommended Harry to pay the
money, and come away, though I had previously been of
opinion, that if he had sat on his pony, and kept his rein
clear by means of his pistol, we might have gone away, and
left the money on the neutral ground. However, we had our
scene, and perhaps it afforded its fourteen-penn'orth and
twenty minutes' worth of amusement.

Leaving the Venta del Castillo, our road ran along the
bay to Estepona, where we baited in a respectable posada^
and breakfasted on turkeys' eggs (not bad things), fried
bread, and the famous amber wine of the place, made in the
posadas own vineyard. The hostess and her sister, cheerful
young women, entertained us with much pleasant badi-
nage while our breakfast was being cooked and eaten, and
wished to have their portraits taken ; but we said it was a
long ride to Marbella, and we must press on.

To-day we had to pass a more than infernal number of
rivers ; eleven swollen torrents rushing down from the
precipitous range of mountains which skirt the coast.
These torrents were all level with the banks, some more
than a hundred yards wide, running like salmon-leaps ; and
as the ground had been much torn and cut about by the
recent floods (which must have been serious, for uprooted
trees were lying about in all directions, and great tracts of
the dehesa were smeared with mud and sand), we had no
assurance that the current — usually up to our ponies'
breasts — might not deepen into unforeseen channels, and
swamp us in the surging tide. Harry, who got used to
fording unknown rivers in the American deserts, took the

204

A Ruined City

lead, selecting the most turbulent places in the surface as
the safest ; for, as another great navigator says, — •

" Passions are likened best to floods and streams,
The shallow murmur, but the deep are dumb ; " '

and we met with no worse accident than wetting our feet,
and the bottoms of our saddle-bags.

By the side of the sea, between Estepona and Marbella,
we rode among the ruins of an ancient town, — whether of
the Romans or the Moors, we could not say ; perhaps a little
of both. Nevertheless, our want of antiquarian erudition
did not prevent us moralising on the old masses of grey
masonry, which the excellent grouting-cement of other days
still holds together in grotesque forms of dilapidation, while
around them and among them branch and bloom the shrubs
of the dehesa.

" Where now the wilderness is silent, save to the rustle
of the pabnita stem, the hum of bees and the sailing sea-
bird's scream, there were noisy streets, and bustling market-
places, and columned angles of public buildings, at which
hook-nosed, hawk-eyed Romans discussed the lately arrived
proconsul. Or here arose the mosque, and shrill muezzins
called the faithful to prayer, and kneeling Moslems muttered
and bobbed their turbaned heads to the carpeted level of
their slipperless feet.

Now, whatever it may have been, the place is deserted ;
not a habitation of man within miles of it. The wreck of
ages reminded us of the wreck we saw on the other side of
Estepona.

Entering Marbella, and inquiring for the Posada de la
Corona^ we were directed this way and that way by inter-

' Sir Walter Raleigh.
205

Nasal Cadence

ested parties, and at last had to give up looking for it, and
take up with the San yose^ which we stumbled upon in our
fruitless search for the one recommended by Ford. Before
the gateway a swaggering carabineer demanded our pass-
ports. We said he had no business to be in such a hurry,
and that at night they would go in the proper way to the
jefe politico (political chief) ; but he began to bluster vio-
lently, and be very troublesome, and evinced himself to be
the worse for liquor ; so we told him he was an impudent
borracho (sot), and went to the stables, leaving him in the
courtyard to vent his offended military dignity on the land-
lady, who seemed rather afraid of him. In the stables we had
a parallel scene of dissension between the Moor and another
horse. Afterwards, with much trouble, we got some sar-
dines for supper, and I helped the posadera to salt and flour
their shiny sides for the frying-pan.

Next morning we were off early, though the weather was
not very promising, and rode along heavy sandy shores in a
drizzling rain (I in my Moorish jillabiah^ with the hood up,
which kept me pretty dry), with nothing to enliven the road
except a wearisome succession of watch-towers, at about
two miles' distance from one another. The weather
cleared up.

I had made a paper cigar, and had dropped the rein on
the Moor's neck, to strike a light, when he suddenly started
off, and plunging down a steep place, threw me on my face.
My nose was considerably bruised, though I fell only on
sand. If it had been anything harder, I don't think I should
have got up with any nose at all.

At Fuengirola we baited at a new clean posada^ whose
master spoke to us in English ; he was a brisk little man
from Gibraltar, and had a most melancholy-looking blind
wife. I was rather tired, and lay down on the sanded

206

Ben el Medina

kitchen floor before the fire, ate some bread and cold sar-
dines, and smoked a pipe ; after which a short nap.

Roused up to go on again, in hopes of getting to Malaga
that night, we went along, till some fellow-travellers we
overtook on the road told us we must turn inland up the
mountains, as the rocks rose out of the water, and we could
not get round, the tide being high. After toiling up moun-
tain-roads some time, a picturesque village came in sight ;
and as Malaga was two or three leagues further, with bad
roads, and not much more daylight, and weary beasts, which
had been wading all day in the deep loose sand of the shore,
we gave up all idea of going farther.

So we turned our ponies adrift, and sat down among the
rocks to sketch the village, which some passers-by told us
was Ben el Medina. Its church stands on a rock-ridge, the
village in the cleft below, and there were two convenient
palm-trees in the fore-ground. Harry, who is hopeless of
colouring, did a creditable sketch in less ambitious sepia. I
got tired of the village, and drew my pony, as he scrambled
among the aloe-spiked rocks, nibbling at the tufts of grass.
As the sun descended, and the peasants came flocking into
the village with their cattle, we joined the rout. I don't
think there is anything to relate about the posada more re-
markable than that they gave us some walnuts rather bigger
than hen's eggs.

Next morning we wound over the ups and downs of the
mountain promontory we were crossing, till we came to a
village on the brow overlooking a narrow plain between the
hills and the sea, at the further end of which the towers of
Malaga appeared. This plain was shockingly muddy, and
there was an impassably flooded river, so we had to turn out
of our way to find a ferry. The Moor was much alarmed at
the idea of crossing, and I had to bandage his eyes with my
pocket-handkerchief.

207

Malaga

Before reaching Malaga we sat down to eat some bread
and cheese by the road-side, and were much stared at by
some evident Englishmen riding out of Malaga. The hedge-
rows hereabouts are peculiarly luxuriant ; great aloe-spikes,
like elephant's tusks, ten or twelve feet long, waving bul-
rushes bigger than pike-rods, and prickly pears, like gro-
tesque aerial battles of huge green-winged toads, the great
flat cactus-leaves growing out of one another in the most
fantastic combinations. We overtook a man travelling with
a heavy-panniered ass, who, to help himself along in the
noonday heat, was holding on to the tail, and I drew him in
my pocket-book as a sample of Andalusian industry.

Malaga is an uninteresting town, famous for its wine
(which is to my taste sweet and nauseous), and for its
climate, to which invalids come in numbers, though they all
say the place bores them to death. The harbour is full of
wrecks, half sunk, and full of water ; some of them with
their decks torn off and floating loose. We climbed to the
castle, very steep, and with a good view of the town and
harbour.

In a courtyard, at the top, some soldiers were pitching a
32-pound shot from a scratch on the ground, and could throw
it about eight or nine yards. They did it something in the
manner of roundhand bowling, and we were rash enough to
try, but failed signally. I was very hot, and as I have had a
Niagara of sneezes since my damp ride on the beach yester-
day, I thought it a good opportunity to rush down violently
into a cold bath, which Harry said would probably kill me
on the spot. Natheless, being an hydropathist in some
degree, I persevered, and my cold has stopped at once.

As I was coming to the hotel I saw some silver buttons
(Cordovese filigree), which I had seen and wished for in the
same shop, as I passed through Malaga coming out to

208

Affectionate Reception

Seville, of a sort I have never seen elsewhere ; so I bought
them to adorn my waistcoat. Then losing my way I came
to a fruit-market, where eating a very large orange, I was
saluted by some boy, whom I shortly recognised to be the
servant of a Frenchman we met at Olvera. I don't know if
I told you about him, or that we had made acquaintance
with his wife at the Christobal Posada, in Ronda.

She lived in the room opposite, and fell heir to the
remains of our tough mutton, when we went away. How-
ever, the boy would have me come with him to pay a visit
to his master. The Frenchman received me in a large bare
room of an out-of-the-way but vast old posada^ with much
cordiality. He said his wife had told him she met us at the
Christobal. He sent for her, and when she came she fairly
rushed into my arms.

I was a little embarrassed by so affectionate a reception,
for I thought her husband might be jealous. However, he
took it as a matter of course, and they fell to questioning
me, with much interest in my prosperity, as to how I was
getting on in my profession.

I opened my eyes, forgetting at the moment what my
profession precisely was, but he proceeded to ask if we had
done any portraits. I said, we were only arrived to-day,
and told him the name of our posada^ and we should be most
thankful if he could recommend us to any customers.
" Ma fo'i^'' said he, ^^ je ferai mon possible ! " so I went home to
dinner.

After dinner we wandered about the town, and came to a
motley and gilt obelisk, set up, I believe, to Espartero's
friends who were shot. Here we sat together on a stone
bench in the p/aza, where I had sat alone as I loitered about
Malaga, a forlorn and solitary wanderer, on my way out.
This is the first place in which our present journey has

209

A Pleasant Contrast

crossed my former one, and I could not help being struck
by the pleasant contrast. It certainly was rather desolate
work then, and I felt a fresh gratitude to Harry, which I
fear, as is usual with stoical young men, I did not sufficiently
express.

To-day, being Sunday, we remain here ; to-morrow we go
on to Granada by Velez and Alhama.

210

CHAPTER XIX

Granada, March 25.
We only stayed two nights in Malaga, for we were anxious
to see Granada.

Velez is the first stage, and as it is a short one, we did not
start early, intending to sleep there. The road for a league
or so out of Malaga, I suppose out of compliment to the
numerous English invalids, was more alive with beggars than
any part of Spain we have seen before. They were also more
elaborately squalid, in the extreme picturesque of misery.
This showing a design upon the sympathies of our country-
men, the British spirit rebelled against the idea of being
taken in, and we passed great numbers crawling like aged
broken-down vermin, out of caves and crannies in the road-
side. But then, reflecting that we had lately given very little
by way of alms, I said to Harry, " I don't see why we
shouldn't give these wretches something ! After all, the
determined congregation of beggars to a place where English
people are plentiful h a compliment to our national bene-
volence. These beggars are very old and wretched, and they
only cultivate their misery and dirt like any other estate,
and bring it to the best market."

Hereupon Harry, who happened to have a good deal of
copper money, began to disburse liberally — so much so, that
an old man riding behind us on an ass with empty panniers,
seeing him throw the immense sum of a couple of tvfo-cuarto

211 o

A Mounted Mendicant

pieces to an old hag with one eye and a grizzly beard,
thought it a pity to lose the opportunity of getting some-
thing himself, since little fortunes were in process of being
scattered about the road with such reckless and unbounded
profusion. He came up alongside, and entered into a
piteous detail of his immediate losses and general poverty.

At first we did not make out exactly what he would be
at and listened to his grievances civilly ; but when he
wound up with plain begging, the originality and boldness
of the idea of a mounted beggar struck us in so humorous
a lio-ht that we could not help laughing in his face. His
story was, that he had come into Malaga that morning from
a distance, and had sold some garden-stuff for two dollars,
of which he had been in some way robbed or cheated, and
now he had not an ochavo in the world. We rode along
before him talking about his case, when, as the road had
turned in from the coast and become lonely, an idea struck
me of a sudden.

" Suppose we rob him," I said to Harry ; " I'll be bound
he has the money for his cabbages safe in his pocket ; at
any rate we will see." He protested that it was emi-
nently absurd, and that we might get into a tremendous
scrape— but I would not listen to reason. I foresaw it
would be an original adventure. So I turned my pony's
head and waited for him to come up. He quickened his
pace and overtook us again, making a still more piteous
face than before, in the evident impression that we had
taken his misfortunes into consideration, and were about to
do something handsome for him. What, therefore, must
his surprise and horror have been, when, as he got fairly
between us, I drew my six-barrelled revolver, and thus

addressed him.

"Impudent old scoundrel, stand still— if thou stirr'st

212

San Robino Hoodo

hand or foot, or openest thy mouth, I will slay thee like a
dog ! Thou, greedy miscreant, who art evidently a man of
property and hast an ass to ride upon, art not satisfied
without trying to rob the truly poor of the alms we give
them. Now, it is the religion of the Ingleses, founded on the
precept and practice of the celebrated Saint Robino Hoodo^
to levy funds from stingy old curmudgeons like thyself and
distribute to the poor. Therefore at once hand over the

two dollars of which thou spakest, otherwise " Here I

clicked the cock of the pistol.

During this harangue, which was delivered gravely
(though Harry was obliged to turn away his face at the
mention of Robin Hood as a '■'■ santo muy famoso")^ the old
culprit had gone down on his knees, and was trembling
violently, and muttering deprecations, for the love of the
Virgin. But as I did not relax the stern expression of mv
countenance, he said in a shaky voice —

" One moment, caballeros^ and I will give you all I
possess. But I am poor, very poor, and I have a sick wife
at the disposition of your worships "

" Wherefore art thou fumbling at thy foot ? Thou carriest
not thy sick wife in thy shoe ? "

" I can't untie the string, my hand trembles so ; will
your worship permit me to take out my knife ? "

I nodded, seeing he was really frightened, and not at all
likely to do any mischief with it. He cut the thong, which
had been knotted over and over again, and taking the shoe
off his stockingless and filthy foot, turned out a handful of
small silver, chiefly two-real pieces, into my hand. He
then groped in his breeches' pocket, and brought out a
good deal of copper, which he also gave up with a very sub-
missive air. I replaced my pistol in my faja^ and made as
if I would ride on. As soon as he saw his life was no

213

Velez Malaga

longer in danger, his pecuniary loss began to work on his
constitution, and he burst into tears.

"Come, now! Make an end — or we shall feel it our duty
to shoot thy donkey, that thou may'st have something to
whimper for."

It was a piteous sight to see the grey-haired old impostor
crying like a child, and I thought we had punished him
enough ; so I said —

" Now we know thou art poor, since we have taken thy
money ; we will give thee a trifle. There" (dropping his
money into his hat, which he held out timidly) "is some-
thing by way of charity ; and take heed that thou begg'st
not again when thou hast money in thy pocket, and so
remain with God, my friend."

With this we rode on, and were in some slight fear for
the rest of the day, that he might find some of the Guardia
Civil, and send them after us to take us up. But I dare
say it never occurred to him, as we left him no poorer, that
our offence was actionable.

Velez Malaga is not a very interesting place. I know
nothing remarkable about it, except that the Cautivo in
Don Quixote landed here with his fair Morisca, on his
escape from Algiers. I trudged to the market-place and
bought a pound of sardines for dinner, and afterwards
helped to cook them. The landlady and her pretty sister
came up after dinner, and told us that there was a company
of players about to perform, so we went. It was a shabby
little theatre, with bad actors, the prompter being the most
audible of the company ; so we left the second act, and
came home to bed.

Next morning, in saddling, I discovered a great misfor-
tune which has fallen upon me. A small running sore has
come on the shoulder of the Moor. Harry says it is only

214

Puerto del Comar

to be expected with such clumsy, straw-stufFed saddles ;
especially as I have ridden all the way, since our first disaster
close to Seville, without stirrups, which of course works the
saddle more about on his back than if there were a support
to balance one's self by. I cut the pad open, and pulled a
good deal of the stuffing out in the obnoxious place ; and
led him, determining to walk as much as I could, till we
got to Granada.

Acting on this intention with vigour, I walked the
first two leagues, Harry entertaining me on the way
with a treatise on sore backs, of which so many of his
party's horses died in the desert. He says, if we were
obliged to press on without stopping, as they had to do, the
Moor's term of life would be about a month ; and then,
after passing through a state when at every staggering
step the spurs forced a groan out of his wasted body, he
would drop at last, and be eaten by wolves and vultures.
But we should have a chance of curing him at Granada,
staying there ten days or so.

We discussed many of the sovereignest things for a sore
back, but I have declared myself for treating the Moor like
a Christian, that is, at least, as I should treat myself. I
shall poultice at first to get out the inflammation, and then
wash the place with a solution of lunar caustic. At Vifiuela,
where we breakfasted, I washed his back with hot water,
and left a wet rag on to cool the place. Soon after Vifiuela
the road begins to steepen.

At Velez we had turned inland to go up over the moun-
tain-ridge which runs paralled with the coast. High above
us appeared a deep round-bottomed nick between two flat-
topped mountains, across which gap lay a great white
bolster of cloud. I am aware it would be more in the
acknowledged style of descriptive scenery to call it a "giant

215

A Moorish Chronicle

portal of the mountain fastnesses, curtained, &c.," but that
would not give you so true an idea.

To this pass we rose by weary zig-zags. The rocic-walls
at its entrance are precipitous and full of fissures and caves,
especially on the left. One of these, "El nido del Moro "
(the Moor's nest), high up in the almost perpendicular face
of the rock, is said to have been the lair of that celebrated
marauder, Sahib-el-Comr, or rather his principal entrance,
for the whole mountain was supposed to be perforated
with a labyrinth of winding passages leading to and from
innumerable vaulted halls.

STORY OF SAHIB-EL-COMR AND THE
QUEEN AELFA.'

In these caves Sahib and his band dwelt at ease,
nourishing their hearts in luxury, and served by the sons
and daughters of Eblis. The road from Granada to the
sea passed immediately below the nest of this vulture, who,
with the claw of rapine, appropriated many of King
Ibnulahmar's choicest importations, wherefore that poten-
tate sundry times had sharpened for his neck the sword of
retribution.

But the search proved fruitless, and manifold expe-
ditions returned, reporting that the Jinns had closed up
the old passages against them, and opened others for the
depredator's escape. At length, a favourite of the harem,
having been dispossessed of several bales of embroidery
from Fez, she, being a lady of great spirit, declared that she
herself would find a way to chastise the marauder. She
first persuaded the old king to close the eyes of circum-

' Abou Kizeb. — Cronica de los Sultanes de Granada, traducida
per Gazmono de Mentiras.

2l6

Queen Aelfa's Scheme

spection with the seal of confidence, and he swore before-
hand to abide by the plan which she thus disclosed : —

" It is well known, O king, that force will not overcome
this traitor, who is assisted by the powers of the air ; but
though man can do nothing in such a case, it does not
follow that a woman might not. Send me, therefore, with
a dozen of the most worthless of thy guard, as if I were
going down to the sea."

^'■Wallah aalyekiV cried the old king; "and if thou hadst
fifty of my best men, what are they to this hornets' nest,
which exceedeth an hundred, beside the Jinns of the moun-
tain ? This dog would certainly slay thy escort, and take
possession of thyself."

"That is what I anticipate. He will take me to his
bosom, and when I have obtained his confidence, I will
betray him into thy hand."

"But in the meantime, and perchance for ever, I lose
thee, O daughter of my soul. Cannot some of thy women
do this in thy place ? "

" It was said by the sage, Wisaakir, that there is no
great gain without some little loss ; as to sending one of
my women, which of them can I trust r How can I tell
that she might not prefer the robber's cave to Alhambra's
gilded prison, and never attempt to return ? "

" Thou sayest well. Nay," added the old king, thought-
fully stroking his beard, " how am I sure even of thee ?
As the singer hath said,

' Deem not that any oath can bind
The fickle troth of womankind !
They change their minds and break their oaths,
As they break bread and change their clothes.
Their love and hate in treacherous trim
Are poised upon a captious whim '"

217

A Lovers' Quarrel

None but a prophet can affirm with certainty how far the
king might have extended this derogatory quotation. But
at the sixth line Queen Aelfa arose in silence, and as a
flask of vinegar might be corked with a rose-bud, she
stopped his ungracious rhymes with her lips. For, as the
singer saith again,

" The silent touch of woman's lips,
To warp man's will to hers,
All sweetest eloquence outstrips
Of wisest counsellors."

The conference closed, and the queen did as she would.

Now, of the chroniclers of the reign of Ibnulahmar
(peace be upon him), some affirm that there had been a
previous acquaintance between Queen Aelfa (who was the
daughter of a worker in the precious metals dwelling in the
Zacatin) and this noted robber. One relates that, when
Sahib once had entered Granada, in the disguise or a fakir^
to sell some rich spoil, they had met clandestinely, and
became enamoured mutually.

It is certain, however, that when the queen was captured
according to her preconcerted scheme, she dwelt in the
caves happy and contented, without retrospection or regret.
In the third year occurred a quarrel between the lovers,
and the fountain of their affections became, as it were, ink
and vinegar. The cause is not ascertained, but it is said to
have occurred shortly after a large capture of damsels at a
village wedding in the vicinity. The virtuous and constant
Aelfa casually happened at this conjuncture to remember
the promise she had made to the old king, and resolved to
betray the robber.

Treachery never lacks an instrument. There was a black
humpbacked rogue of great bodily strength, though of but

2l8

Caleb-esh-Sheytan

little intelligence, bv name Caleb-esh-Sheytan, which, being
interpreted, signifies the Hound of Satan. He had long
arms and legs, a very broad back, all doubled up into an
expanse of shoulders on which you might have set a pack-
saddle. He was used as a beast of burden to carry off
plunder, being very swift and sure-footed on the mountains.
He was also of use in countenancing an idea that the
robber was assisted by Eblis, from his plausibly fiendish
appearance.

This man, having been much beaten for attempts to pilfer
portions of the booty committed to his back (for, in that he
was so stupid, his defalcations were usually discovered), a
continual course of castigation had soured his temper, so
that the fuel of vengeance ready piled in the bedarkened
chamber of his heart, awaited only a spark from the forge
of suggestive invention to be kindled to a conflagration.

What he wanted in ingenuity Aelfa supplied ; and she
despatched him with a letter to the king, further command-
ing Caleb to conduct the troops which would be intrusted
to his guidance by an unfrequented approach down a long
sloping corridor, whose mouth opened on the top of the
mountain. He had not been gone many hours, when she,
with that rapid decision of purpose which characterises
the female sex, changed her mind ; therefore, with tears
and contrition, she confessed her guilt, and disclosed the
plot.

Having reproached her with the bitterest of reproaches,
and poured forth upon her head the uttermost revilings of
scorn, till the colour of her countenance was changed by
the blankness of her confusion and her shame, Sahib finally
forgave her, and they addressed themselves to prepare
against the enemy. He blocked up the passage with great
masses of rock, leaving a huge heap of subtile explosive

219

The Catastrophe

powder, of which he knew the secret, and which in these
days it is thought may be applied to projectile purposes.
Aelfa and Sahib waited behind the obstruction at the
appointed hour of the night. They heard the stealthy
approach of feet, and then the thick voice of the negro
saying, " Here is a great heap of sand ! " for his feet were
in the powder. " The queen has doubtless strewn it along
the way that our steps make not a noise on the rocks,"
replied the captain of the troop.

" We are betrayed," cried the negro, as his hands came
against the great stones which blocked up the way. " If
we are betrayed, thou shalt not escape," said the soldier,
as it would seem, despatching Caleb, who shrieked, and was
afterwards silent ; whereupon Sahib dropped his touchwood
into the train, and retreated with the feet of celerity.
After a little, the powder exploded, and the whole expedi-
tion were killed except one man, who had hung back in the
dark, and stood at the mouth of the cavern, irresolute what
to do.

The fire-blast knocked him down, and burnt off the
greater part of his beard. He recovered, and in due time
repaired to Granada, where he reported " that he had been
the first man to follow the black demon down a bottomless
pit, to which Gehennah was as a rat-hole ; that when they
had gone several furlongs into the heart of the mountain,
Eblis had appeared in their way in the form of a fiery
dragon, into whose mouth Caleb had walked, as if it had
been his own house, and sat down among the dreadful teeth,
as if they had been palm-trees in his own courtyard. Here-
upon the dragon snorted fire and brimstone for the space of
a quarter of an hour, the negro imp grinning with satisfac-
tion in the midst of it all the while, and clapping his long
black bony hands. All the men were soon burnt and

220

Royal Consolation

smothered, as he himself should have been, if he had not
(knowing the sort of work he was going to undertake) used
the precaution to extract the whole chapter of Alkafireen
out of the Koran (which his wife sewed, leaf by leaf, all
under his dress), and to carry the soorat el fatihat el kitab ^
in his hand, which he had set over his eyes and nose and
mouth ; but it was unluckily not large enough to cover his
beard.

The king, being very much disheartened with the failure
of his expedition, and Aelfa's treachery, saw no better way
to soothe his despondency than by cutting off the singed
head of the narrator ; which v^^as accordingly done.

After passing the great gap in the mountain-barrier, the
road, without descending, crossed a flat green plain, or vega^
very fertile, and in which, if you had been dropped there,
you would never have guessed you vi^ere three or four thou-
sand feet above the level of the sea. Around, still high
above us, stood the snow-capped hills, with great white
clouds leaning upon them. As we rode along, the wind
rose, and the clouds descended upon us. We had now
passed the flat land, and were winding among the turns of
low hills over which swept the galloping vapours. Every
now and then we could see the distant peaks of snow
through a momentary rent in this rushing mist, and fitful
gleams of sunshine would light up specious semblances of
embattled towns among the nearer outlines of the rocky
hills, and then roll the landscape up again in a moist
blanket, through which it was impossible to see more than
twenty yards ahead of us.

I was very tired, and, impatient with the long-delayed
hope of getting to our day's work's end, ejaculated the

' The opening prayer of the Koran.
221

Alhama

appropriate " Ay de mi, Alhama " with much fervour many-
times. The few peasants we met on the way seemed in
league with one another to put us out of heart ; for
the nearer we approached, the further they represented
Alhama to be. At last, at the top of a hill, when we
had almost given up Alhama, as a Mrs. Harris Gamped
up by Lord Byron and Mr. Ford, the mist suddenly
blew away, and a little greystone, rock-girt nest of a town,
very different from what we had expected, appeared in the
hollow beneath. The main street, down which we scrambled,
is a steep slope of solid rock, across which grooves are cut
to give some little foothold. The Casa de los Caballeros^
recommended by the guide-book, seemed an unpromising
place, and we had to put our ponies in a sort of coal-hole.
I was dreadfully tired and hungry, which resulted in a cer-
tain impatience of temper against which my philosophy is
not proof under such trials. There was no mo%o de la cuadra
to get a place made for our ponies among the fuel in the
coal-hole, except an imbecile grandfather of the establish-
ment, a very helpless and garrulous old man, who could not
even get us any barley.

The woman of the house, too, was stupidly inquisitive
about the hot water which I had asked for to wash the
Moor's sore shoulder j and I showered the effect of my
irascible exhaustion upon both their heads in such a volley
of arriero language, that Harry was obliged to remind me
of my official capacity as the mild and persuasive spokesman
of the party. So the huespeda^ by degrees, heated some
water in the frying-pan, and the old man gabbled, and
fussed, and pottered about till the ponies were finally provided
for. I washed the Moor's shoulder, and found it had not
got so much worse as I expected. The landlady made us an
excellent supper of water-souchet^ fried anchovies, and salad.

222

Calculation of Mileage

The old grandfather sat in the blazing chimney-corner,
playing with his grandchild, a stout little boy about five
years old, of whom he was very proud. In intellect they
were about on a level ; but the little boy, in the vivacious
wilfulness of his youth, had entirely the upper hand of the
pottering old patriarch, who seemed quite happy and uncon-
scious of the infant tyranny under which he laboured.

The ride from Alhama to Granada is grand and dreary.
Barren undulating table-land, without a tree to break the
sky-line of rugged mountain summits all around. The day
was dark and windless, and the vapours, which had been
scouring about overnight, lay in great, soft, lazy pillows and
feather-beds among the snowy jags.

We overtook a crippled soldier with his crutches, charged
on an ass, whose master encouraged him to keep up his
pace with many thwacks from behind. The soldier was in
great spirits, returning to his native Granada after an
absence of a dozen years, singing and loquacious, and quite
confident that his native air would soon set him on his legs
again. He had been broken down by some artillery acci-
dent at Tarifa. It appeared he paid a real a league for
being carried on the donkey — about l\d. We began to
compare our own expenses, and cast up our account to
form an average of our expense per mile. It cost us about
three shillings and sixpence to four shillings each day for
ourselves and our beasts. This, divided by twenty, the
number of miles we generally go in a day, makes an average
of a little over id. a mile, which is not ruinous. Of course
in the large towns it is more, this being calculated for the
scale of costs on the road.

We had been descending gradually towards an isolated
mound, which stood at the bottom of a long slope, and had
been in sight many miles ; in fact, ever since turning the

223

The Vega

steep brow out of the valley of Cacin. As we approached
this mound in the bottom of a broad space among the
mountains, it grew larger and larger ; and when we had
baited at La Mala^ and came to ascend it, it turned out
quite a mountain in itself. We were in a high state of
anxiety to catch the first glimpse of Granada, and busy
building all sorts of impossible Alhambras in the air.
Ronda, we recollected, had belied our fond anticipations,
but Granada was an acknowledged wonder of the world,
and must at any rate be very striking.

Meanwhile the edge of the hill was turned, and Granada
lay before us, about four miles off. Do you expect a burst
of enthusiasm ? Alas ! I fear there is nothing earthly can
bear the fatal ordeal of a previous reputation — not even the
great Niagara, which a disappointed American once said
was a " perfect failure." Granada from our first view was
a plain-looking largish town, on a slight slope at the foot of
an ordinary mountain. We could hardly make out the
Alhambra from the hill-side. The famous Vega, over a
corner of which we were looking, was of a dingy green.
The day was cloudy, and the fine amphitheatre of moun-
tains looked cold and dreary ; besides, we were used to
mountains. However, as we rode along, some glimpses of
sunshine kindled purple gleams among the distant peaks,
and sprinkled emerald lights about the Vega, and here and
there brought out bright towers and spires, marking the
scattered hamlets of the plain.

Our arrival took place about the hour of sunset, when
the good people of Granada, as well as the bad and indif-
ferent I suppose, were sauntering about the pa$eo in a
body. We were very considerably stared at, being, I should
think, about as remarkable objects as Buckstone and Wright
got up as elaborate Adelphi countrymen might be, riding

224

Guides

into London by Rotten-row on cart hobby-horses. We had
forgotten the name of our hotel too, and had to go about
making inquiries among the staring crowd. The people
were all dressed in the pink of Parisian fashion, and no
doubt looked upon us as a pair of exceedingly quaint bar-
barians from some rustic village of the Sierras. At last we
found some one who knew the name of our landlord, which
was all we recollected, and directed us to the Fonda de la
Arnistad.

To our great delight the portmantos had arrived from
Seville, and we should be able to dress ourselves like
Christians once again. They had come some days before,
and had been got through the Custom-house (locked and
sealed up) by the persuasion of the fair Sefiora Vasquez,
whose lindos ojos [beaux yeux) had smiled away the official
punctilios of the doganero. We rushed into the luxuries of
soap and water and clean linen.

While we were dressing, our door was beaten by not less
than a dozen applicants, who expressed, through the key-
hole, in various degrees of approximation to French and
English, a desire to guide us about Granada. Everybody
here is a guide, from the ostler in the stables — who took
occasion, while I was washing the Moor's sore shoulder, to
recommend himself — to the man who showed us up to our
rooms, and mentioned that he was not the waiter, but a
guide, as he brought the hot water. This was a good-
looking young man, dressed in the pink of 7najo fashion, all
over silver brooches and tags, whom we had taken to be the
brother of our hostess. He proved to be a son of the cele-
brated Bensaken ; and while we were at dinner he returned
to the charge, bringing two volumes of testimonies to his
father's qualities as a guide. We told him that it was
against our principles ever to be led about, and that, in fact,

225

A Vow

we had made a vow to stumble through Spain without
guidance ; a course which might be the means of our miss-
ing many remarkable objects, to whose possible loss we
reconciled ourselves, in consideration of the pleasure we
took in going our own way.

226

CHAPTER XX

Granada, March 27.
We had been up sketching in the Torre de la Vela ; that
is to say, the watch-tower, or Tower of the Candle, for I
believe vela means both, acquiring its metaphorical sense
from the vigilous uses of a rushlight. From the Torre de
la Vela, which stands out on the end of Alhambra's hill-
spur, and highest of Alhambra's towers, we had been
sketching the broken arches of Alkasabah.

I was cramped with lying along a deep little window-
niche in the stair, about as big as half a stone coffin, into
which cool and shady hole I had stowed myself to avoid the
glare and heat at the top of the tower. Lying on my left
elbow to draw, and screwing my back and neck to peep out
of the aperture of this limited studio, exhausted my patience
rapidly ; and I scrambled out of my lair backwards, and
went up to the top to see how Harry was coming on. He
was in process of executing a very superior work of art, but
it was not half finished.

Descending by the Post-office (which is in the same
street with our Fonda de la Amistad^ and in the direct way
between it and the Alhambra), we found the postmaster
sorting letters. On inquiring with a palpitating heart if
there was a letter for my name, I was told it was " regular
que no " (probable there was not), but that the list would
be out in a few minutes. When that portentous document

227 p

La Bella Sofia

was wafered up, it proved a blank as far as I was con-
cerned ; but knowing, that as many things in Spain are
very inefficiently done with much pomp and circum-
stance, the names on the list bear often but a very vague
resemblance to the real address on letters, I lingered
pensively studying the column of " cartas estranjeras" till
I fixed upon "No. 381, Don Gregorio Esqua," which I
asked to look at.

I had but slight hopes, and the official seemed to hesitate
in giving it me, having so suddenly changed my name. But
I suppose he judged by my exclamation of delight on seeing
the handwriting, that I was the rightful owner, for he
allowed me to purchase it (at about twice its weight in
silver) and carry it away in triumph. In transcribing the
address he had begun boldly with the first Christian name
George, which he had rendered Gregorio — passing over
the intermediate writing as works of supererogation he had
taken the Esquire — slightly modified — for the patronymic.
However, I got my letter.

By the way, we have met here the loveliest creature we
have ever seen in all Spain. We had a letter of " recomen-

dacion " to her mother, the accomplished Marquesa P .

We had heard she was very lovely from our friends in
Seville (but have learnt to mistrust the agreement of
Spanish and English tastes). Nevertheless on calling, the
day after our arrival, we were both struck, to use a base but
forcible metaphor, all of heaps.

She has a splendid figure, tall and stately ; a beautiful fresh
clear complexion, rosy cheeks, and cherry lips (which are
very rarely combined with the raven tresses and flashing
eyes — the common, often the only, ornaments of her coun-
trywomen) ; and is besides very clever and fascinating.
We were both much struck, I said ; but Harry, whose

228

Jinnat-al-Aarif

heart was "without incumbrance," of course much the most
of the two.

Here ladies are much more free and easy on a short
acquaintance than in our arctic zone, where the heart takes
a whole season of stuffy drawing-room atmosphere just to
begin to thaw a little. Last night (which was only our
third visit, though by the way we had met another night at
the Opera) I had in my button-hole a largish little bunch
of violets, which had been given me by the woman showing
the gardens of the Generalife. This beautiful palace, which
stands a little higher up the mountain than the Alhambra,
is not called from any distinguished general having lived
there, but from jinndt-al-aari/] meaning, in Arabic, the
gardens of the cunning man — that is to say, the architect,
who, after building the Alhambra, made himself, to my
mind, a much pleasanter dwelling-place among terraces and
hanging-gardens on the brow of the Sierra del Sol.

These fatal violets I bore in my button-hole, and their
history you may read in the following lines : —

THE VIOLETS AND THE ROSE.

The gardens of the cunning man that framed the fairy halls
Which grim Alhambra hides within her rough red sandstone

walls ;
The gardens of the cunning man, 'mid terraces of flowers,
Perched higher still o'erlook the hill of battlements and towers ;
Up there I got some violets, that wooed the mountain breeze,
And vi'ore them in my button-hole till we had had our teas !
Then I put on my smartest clothes to pay an evening visit
At the Marquesa What" s-her-name's ! Her name's no matter —

is it ?
Now this Marquesa What's-her-name a daughter fair she had, a
More lovely creature to my mind than any in Granada.
To her I gave the violets ; and, as you may suppose.
Because the violets were sweet she put them to her nose !

229

The Alhambra

She raised her hand up to her head of long, black, glossy hair,
And from its folds undid the rose which Andaluzas wear !
She held the two in either hand — she seemed in doubt to be —
She kept the violets herself, and gave the rose to me.
I stuck it in my button-hole, she twined them in her hair —
There was some room for sentiment, but I have none to spare.
Indeed, I could not help but think, upon my homeward way,
Were she aware of this affair, what would my say ? "

But now I must set seriously to work to tell you some-
thing about the Alhambra. As we went up into it the first
time, I said to Harry that it reminded me of Windsor
Castle. He said, " That may be very true, but it won't do
to say in our book, at least as an original remark, for Ford
has said the same." Indeed, Ford's description of the
Alhambra, which I read for the first time after Harry's
remark, is so perfect that it leaves little to be said. There-
fore, if you want to know about the Alhambra, read Ford's
account.

But, as so minute a description necessarily travels over this
massive pile like a telescopic field of vision, creeping bit by
bit along the surface, I may as well give you a sketch in
coarse outline, that you may catch a rude general idea more
easily.

The Alhambra stands on two toes of the foot of the Sierra
del Sol. There is a long mound (about 300 feet above
the level of the town), cut off from the mountain by a
rocky ravine, and towards the town, forked into the two toes
above-mentioned. On the great-toe end stands the Torre
de la Vela, backed by all the principal buildings of the
Alhambra. On the little-toe end are the Torres Bermejas
(something like Windsor Castle's crump end), backed by
straggling battlement-towers.

Between these toes there is a deep corry, full of tall, thin-

230

Charles V., his Palace

boled trees, which slopes up to the level of the hill, and
expands into gardens and gravel-walk parades. You enter
by a Janus-faced gate at the bottom (it is of a tolerable
Christian aspect out, and indifferent Moorish inside), and
you see some dingy red towers peeping down through the
trees on either band. There are three paths, but you turn
to the left, slanting zig-zag up the steep side of the corry.
After a while you get to a Moorish archway in a tall red
tower. Over the gateway is the magic hand, engraved like
an Egyptian hieroglyphic in the stone. You go up a shab-
byish passage, open to the sky, and come out in a large
courtyard at the top of the hill. Here you see before you
the square yellow sandstone palace, begun by Charles V.
The inside is unfinished, and through one of its round win-
dows we saw a goat skip across a gap between two blocks of
unfinished stonework. Behind this great solecism, and
tacked on to it anyhow, without any attempt at harmony, or
even straightness, are the remains of the palace of the
Moorish kings of Granada, which I will not stop here to
describe. They run along the precipice-edge above the
deep ravine, at whose bottom murmurs the Darro. It is
only seen from this valley that the Alhambra presents any
remarkable beauty on the outside.

And here sitting, after sunset, among the slender marble
shafts of the breezy galleries, it is, to a certain degree, a
realisation of romance to watch the stars glimmering out of
the darkening sky, and the lamps from the blackening town
below, and to say to one's self: "This is the Alhambra.
This is the palace of dreams which Washington Irving set
up in our imaginations, sculptured with more graceful
forms, painted with richer colours, and enamelled with
brighter azulejos and tarkeeshes^ than even the cunning
man could accomplish, or the lavish Ibnulahmar could pay

231

Washington Irving Elaarif

for." For truly, when we compare the reality (by day-
light) with the description, Washington Irving appears the
cunninger man of the two.

But when the moon arises above the pass of Loja, and
strikes across the Vega, pointing its towers with silver, and
dancing on its streams ; then, as her beams creep slowly
from corner to corner along Alhambra's walls, piercing the
slender-shafted arches, and lighting up the delicate tracery
of the interior — then, reality, robed in moonshine, becomes
romance indeed — then, the shadowy outlines of a real
enchanted palace tremble upside down in the Berkah's
watery mirror ; and the very indifferent lions which stand
(godfathers to their court) round the alabaster fountain
become imposing quadrupeds, and vindicate their high
renown.

We had formerly been disappointed with the Alhambra,
having, with our usual luck, seen it first on the wrong side,
where it hardly can be seen at all. Then within, though
very fine, it is not so richly decorated as the Alcazar of
Seville, the site and extent of which are, however, greatly
inferior. Altogether, let the traveller prepare to be disap-
pointed as much with Granada as he has been accustomed
to be at other celebrated places, and with other celebrated
beauties or celebrated men. Where was there ever a first
impression which could stand against the fatal reaction of
previous eulogy ?

We went to see the Cartuxa Convent this morning, where
there is a large series of cleverish amateur paintings of
martyrdoms, &c., by one Cotan, an ancient monk of the
Carthusian order. There was one picture of a saint, sup-
posed by himself and his pious friends to have died in the
odour of sanctity, who on arriving in the other world
appears to have been most unpleasantly undeceived.

23^

La Cartuja

The picture represents his coffin being opened in the pre-
sence of San Bruno ; and the supposed saint, with his hair
on end, and his features distorted into the most agonising
expression, is explaining to his former fraternity some fatal
mistake in their system. There are sundry familiar spirits
from limbo attending in the capacity of sheriffs' officers —
very quaint devils. The pictures are curious and spirited :
some of the faces very well painted : but the artist evidently
never studied anatomy or perspective, and his drawing is
generally out of proportion.

We have given up the idea of going back to the ferias at
Seville, and the Holy Week. We should lose a long while
going back ; as it is, we shall miss Cordova, vi^hich we
ought to have seen. But Harry is in a hurry to move
northwards.

233

CHAPTER XXI

Jaen, April 5 .
Poulticing to begin with, and washing with strong
solution of lunar caustic, took the inflammation out of the
Moor's shoulder, and helped the place to heal up in time
to leave Granada, after the ten or twelve days we had pro-
posed to stay. The new saddles we have bought are of
better construction, and do not touch the obnoxious
place ; so I think we have now reason to be thankful that
this rather formidable difficulty is well over for the
present.

We rode out of the city by the Camino real de Jaen, and
soon we came in sight of the arco de media legua^ a single
arch (of an aqueduct, I think), which crosses the road at
about half a league from Granada. It grew nearer and
nearer, as the feet of our unconscious ponies pattered along
the road ; and as the pattering turned to a deep hollow
sound beneath the echoes of the arch, " Goodness me ! " I
cried, "my cloak is gone!" This great, heavy, folded mass,
weighing, I should say, at least ten pounds, had slipped off
from where I had laid it across the pommel of the saddle
and my thighs, without either my feeling it go, or Harry
seeing it.

We turned our ponies' heads, and saw a man running
towards us in the distance. Luckily, we had been riding
only at a foot's pace. The man came up very much out of

A Recovery

breath, and said some workmen had found the cloak, and had
wanted to keep it ; but he, being — as he left us to infer — an
honest man, had run to overtake us, if possible. I returned
with him, and found, sure enough, that there was an indis-
position on the part of the workmen to give up their booty.
The spokesman made difficulties about believing me to be
the real owner ; but I gave him a specification of the cloak,
— that it had vueltas rojas (red facings) and silver clasps,
and moreover that it had been ensanchado atras^ por no ser
antes capa redonda ; that is to say, a broad gusset or goar
had been let in to make it wider. These specifications,
properly seasoned with imprecational expletives, obtained
me the capa^ and having given my informant a peseta^ I
cantered back.

Harry was waiting for me at the door of a venta^ where I
had turned back. He had found a companion, who, on my
return, saluted me with congratulations on the recovery of
my cloak. This man walked along with us some way. His
name was Jose Vigil — a blacksmith and farrier in some
village at the other side of Granada, — travelling on foot as
far as Jaen, where he was going to pass the Holy Week
with some relations. He hoped to see " El rostro del
Senor'^ before his return. We did not know exactly what
he meant at first, till we recollected that there is one of the
numerous duplicates of the '■'■ santa rostro'''' (holy face) im-
pressed in the napkin of, I believe, St^. Veronica in the
reliquary of Jaen.

" And of what nation may you be, cahalleros ? "

" You shall guess. What do you think ? "

" Perchance Italians ? "

" No ; I am an Englishman, and my friend here is a
Frenchman. It is a custom in our countries, which are
neighbouring, as it were La Mancha and Andalusia, for the

235

A Piece of Gratuitous Fiction

children to learn the languages of both. My father had a
friend in France, and they made an agreement that for three
years I should stay during half of each year with them in
Paris, and he the other six months with us in London. So
we became friends — much the same as brothers. And,
besides, my companion has a sister very amiable. I have
long loved her, and this year we were to have been married,
only my health was not good ; and as my companion, who is
in the wine-trade, had some business in Andalusia, it was
agreed that we should pass this winter together in a southern
climate, for up there it is very cold. Now, as the summer
is coming on, we are returning northwards ; and as we
came out by sea, we have bought these ponies, and are
returning by land to see the country."

" You are fortunate caballeros to have the means of tra-
velling. I have often wished I could travel myself, for it
must be a pleasant thing to see the world. But I am not
a rich man, like you. I have no spare money to wear in
horse-shoes and wheel-tires : I live by making them."

" Every man is rich, my good man, who can make an
honest living, and who has wisdom enough to be content.
Happiness dwells quite as much at home in the workshop
of healthy labour as on the road ; and discontent often
travels both on horseback and in coaches."

" That is true, senor ; and, thanks be to God, I am not
dissatisfied with my lot. But God made the world for us
all, and doubtless it is well worth seeing. They tell me
our country is far behind France and England in science.
With you, men fly and travel with incredible swiftness in
steamboats and railways, which we have never seen. I
much wonder what a railroad is like."

" A railroad is a level tract cut through whatever uneven
ground may come in the way. Sometimes it runs in a

236

A Traveller's Tale

trench dug fifty or sixty feet deep in a hill ; sometimes it goes
across a valley on arches as high as the Alhambra stands
above Granada ; sometimes it plunges through the stony
heart of a mountain, and comes out, after a league of dark-
ness underground. It is laid with continuous bars of iron,
on which the wheels fit, so that whatever pace it goes the
carriages cannot run off the road."

" But in what sort of a carriage do they travel on these
iron roads ? "

" There is a long string of forty or fifty carriages, each
four or five times as big as a diligencia. It looks like a
gigantic caterpillar, with a hundred wheels instead of legs.
It has a great iron head like a dragon, containing the
engine, which pulls the whole line, and snorts great clouds
of steam from its nostrils, and breathes flame, and drops
bright burning coals from its fiery mouth. You hear a great
panting sound like a giant out of breath afar ofF. You see a
square spot in the distance, which grows rapidly bigger and
bigger in your eye as it comes pulF — puff — puffing. In a mo-
ment it is here with a crashing noise ; and the next moment
it has passed you as quick as a swallow on the wing, and is
rumbling and puffing away in the distance at the other side.
They can go five-and-twenty leagues in an hour, though
they seldom do, for such a speed would wear the carriages
out too quickly ; and, indeed, it is almost enough to rattle
them to pieces."

In this discourse we passed a small shed, too wretched to
be called a venta^ though they sold wine there. As it
was a hot and thirsty day, I called for a reaTs worth of
wine, and they brought us about a quart, which we drank,
and went on.

He said they had given us less than our money's worth.
I said I had asked for a reaPs worth, and as long as they

237

Bridges and Women

gave us what we wanted to drink, I was indifferent what the
regular price might be,

"Oh ! " said he, "if you hajVe more money than you want,
you might give it away to more deserving men than those
rogues the venteros^ who rob many more honest men in their
time than do the regular bandits of the highway. But one
ought not to be too hard upon them, poor fellows ; they
live in constant temptation to be rogues, and their con-
science gets as much trodden under foot and worn away as
the stone step at their threshold."

We passed a bridge with a very high pointed arch, which
he said he had always admired as peculiarly graceful.
" Yes," we replied, " but it is not so convenient as a flatter
one ; for you have to go up and down a very steep hill on
either side."

" Beauty and convenience," he rejoined, " are seldom
compatible. In that respect a bridge resembles a woman ;
all are dangerous, and the beautiful are less convenient and
useful than the plain ; but, still, without a bridge and a
woman, you cannot pass your river or your life ; unless you
ford the one wet-shod, or pass the other uncomfortably as a
bachelor."

As he talked and walked away at a great pace, the day
growing hotter and hotter, he got out of breath ; and as we
had to reach the Venta de Cegri, which was, for us, a good
day's journey from Granada ; and we had been going slower
than usual, for the sake of Mr. Vigil's company, we now
thanked him for the same, and said we must pass on, and
we hoped he would overtake us where we should stop to
bait. He thanked us for our cortesla y filantropia (courtesy
and philanthropy), and bid us go with God.

It is striking to us, who are accustomed to connect the
use of complicated Latinised words with a studious classical

238

The Revolver

education, to hear them flow naturally from the mouth of a
peasant ; but to the Spaniard, the Latin is what the Saxon
in our language is to our own peasantry — the ground-work
of his language, and the pabulum f^qm which all his most
homely and household words are fashfbned ; whereas the
Latin element with us is an after-polish, glazed on by
education.

We now trotted forward, and shortly reached a venta^
where some clumsy carts and oxen were standing before the
gateway. Entering, we put up our ponies. The host took
very little notice of us — a lazy varlet, smoking the cigarillo
of tranquility in the sun ; we could hardly persuade him
to get us out the barley we asked for. He shortly began to
eat a hunch of bread, with a slice of raw ham laid on it ;
and we, being very hungry, and finding there was nothing
better to be had, got some too. It rather went against my
stomach, but Harry said the salting was nearly the same
thing as cooking, and he had eaten a great deal of raw ham
on the plains in America.

Afterwards, as we sat smoking, it occurred to us to fire
off our pistols, to see if they would go off, and to charge
again, so that robbers should find us in an efficiently explo-
sive state of preparation, in case they came, though we have
now almost given up all hopes of having any more adven-
tures of that kind.

A considerable number of men were attracted to the spot
by the report of our pistols, which we fired at the swallows
on the rafters of the shed beneath which we were sitting.
They (not the swallows) were particularly struck with the
revolver, and one of them said, —

" Carajo^ it is already evident that it would be a bad
speculation to rob these men " ; showing plainly that his
sympathies were all on the side of the thieves, whose fatal

239

A Short Cut

mistake, in case they attempted such a thing, they seemed
cordially to commiserate. I fired the six barrels in
rapid succession, saying, " Un ladron — dos ladrones — tres
ladrones — cuatro ladrones — cinco ladrones — seis ladrones —
y el capitan,"i finally discharging the large-muzzled, single-
barrelled pistol of Harry's, which I also carried in my faja^
his three others being as much as he could conveniently do
with.

We now rode on, and coming to another venta^ found our
friend Vigil finishing his dinner. He came along with us,
limping a little, for he was getting foot-sore. Our ponies
were rather tired, and we got off and led them. I felt that
to the poor, weary, foot-sore man it must seem unreasonable
that ponies should go with empty backs ; however, I could
not afford to make the Moor, with his still doubtful remains
of a sore shoulder, do more work than I myself required,
and so I compromised the matter with my conscience, by
offering to carry his cloak, which relieved him considerably,
without sensibly affecting the Moor.

Towards the end of our day's work, when we were all
very weary, with the advice and sanction of Vigil — who had
been this road before, though long ago — we took one of
those short cuts which profess to slice something off across
an angle of the road, but which generally more than balance
the account by steepness and roughness. This one fully
came up to the usual short-cut character; and after climbing
up a ladder of rocks, we found that our wretched bad road
was diverging away over the hill from the right direction,
and never likely to meet the camino real more. At right
angles to our present direction appeared a large square
white building in the valley below ; and as no part of the
hill-side was, or could well be, more rocky than this by-path,

' One robber — two robbers, &c., and the captain.

240

Venta de Cegri

we left it, and performing a slow steeple-chase across the
country, reached the Venta de Cegri.

Before the gateway a number of women and children and
soldiers were scattered in picturesque groups ; the women
sewing, peeling potatoes, or picking lettuces for salad.
The carabineros (who have a station here) were loitering
about, talking to the women, or playing with the children.
They were all gathered there to take the last out of the
warmth and light of the sun, which was fast sloping to the
western hills. We unsaddled our beasts. Vigil gave a
favourable professional opinion of the Moor's shoulder,
which he said was quite well and healed up, without likeli-
hood of relapse. Coming out to take our share of the
sunset, innumerable mules and arrieros kept arriving, and
there was a great bustle. A man brought a donkey, whose
ample panniers were piled with lettuces, and I purchased
three at a cuarto each (three cuartos are about a penny),
and gave them to a daughter of the house, to pick for
salad.

The ventero now came up, and asked us, " Would we be
pleased to sup ? There were some partridges and rabbits
in the ollaT This was a great windfall : but we were now
travelling on a great road, where the ventas are on a larger
scale, and can make preparations for the chance comers of
the evening, with more probability of customers turning up
to pay for the stew. We had some rice fried in oil to eat
with the olby which, with our salad, made an excellent
supper. We invited Vigil. He was off his feed, however,
and could only be persuaded to eat some bread and salad,
and drink a little wine.

It was now a question where to sleep. All the dwelling-
rooms in the upper story of the venta were occupied by the
company of carabineros. We therefore disposed ourselves

241

Puerto de Arenas

on the stone benches which surround the chimney-corner,
arranging our saddles and alforjas for pillows, and wrapping
our " martial cloaks around us."

"Who sleep on couches hard are up betimes."

When the dawn looked in upon the smouldering ashes of the
hearth, we arose, shook ourselves, fed our ponies, and
departed. About five miles on the road we stopped to
breakfast. While the ponies were feeding, I sat on the
village fountain, smoking in the sun. Here Vigil came for
a drink as he was passing. I asked him to go into our
Posada^ which was just opposite the fountain, and have a
cup of chocolate, which he accepted. Here we took leave
of him for good, and he thanked us for our caballeresque
conduct and benevolence towards him.

The valley along which the road ran, shortly after this
began to straiten, till it came at last to so narrow a gorge
between lofty precipitous crags, that there was not room
for both the stream and the way. The latter was tunnelled
through the rock. The day was very hot, and the breeze
blowing through the cool cavern was delicious. Emerging
at the other end, the clear stream, gurgling among its rocky
basins, reminded us that we might at least wash our hands
and faces here for the first time to-day.

'* The place seems made for the purpose ! "

" No doubt, and specially for us."

" Well, let this be my washhand-stand, and that
yours" (pointing to the two gigantic precipices on either
side of the stream). Having relieved ourselves of this
little burst of the enthusiastic egotism which belongs to
travellers, we washed our hands and faces at the Puerto
de Arenas,

242

My Cloak

Know, people of all climes and races,

Who pass the " gate of sands,"
That in the stream, which laves the bases
Of these tall rocks, we washed our faces,
And likewise washed our hands.

Signed, I g;

I. C.
I. c.

P.S. — We therefore take our solemn dick.
These are the rocks of Hie and Gic.

This inscription was not carved on the face of the free-
stone in letters a foot high and three inches deep ; because,
though cherishing that reverential desire to perpetuate the
initial letters of our names in lasting materials which is one
of the noblest features of a travelling Briton's character, we
could not afford to sacrifice a day even to so memorable an
occasion.

An hour or two after, a diligence appeared behind us, and
we drew up to let it pass. They suddenly quickened their
pace, and galloped past us at full speed. Perhaps they took
us for thieves ; at any rate it suggested the idea to us —
What, if we should rob them ? They would certainly give
up their money ; but the question was how we should escape
afterwards. Ourselves we could disguise, by changing our
Andalusian dress for shooting-jackets and trousers ; but our
ponies — could we arrange our cloaks and fnantas so as to
alter their appearance ? Here I looked round for my cloak,
which I had rolled up in my little manta and tied with tape
to the tin loops behind the saddle. But the loops, which
were rather rough, had cut the tape, and the cloak was gone.
This time it did not seem v/orth while to go back for it, as
we had already made a long day's work, and a league and
a half yet remained to Jaen. Besides, the cloak was not
worth much, and very heavy ; and I still had my Scotch
plaid to keep the rain off", which would be enough, unless

243 Q

Sadly Disturbed

we had to sleep without beds again. I was therefore thank-
ful not to have lost it the day before, for I should have been
wretchedly off without it last night on the stone bench. I
now understood its evident predisposition to get lost the day
before at the Arco de Media Legua. I have often observed,
that when a thing is about to be shortly lost altogether, it
loosens itself gradually from your possession by several pre-
vious delinquencies. So I made up my mind to buy a
better one in Madrid.

Since the Puerto de Arenas, the ravine had widened into
a valley again, and the stream to a strong torrent. Jaen
stands where the valley opens out, among ragged spurs of
the mountains, upon the plain. On one of these stands the
Moorish castle of Jaen, with ruined fortifications following
the ridge in zig-zags down to the city.

We crossed the river, and rode up into the town. Near
the gate was the Posada del Santo Rostro. Here we supped,
and I went to sleep at once in my clothes, lying on my bed.
In the middle of the night, or rather about three o'clock in
the morning, I woke up, severely bitten by bugs. I heard
a clattering of horses below. The last thing on one's mind
over-night will strike one the first thing in the morning.
I suppose I had some drowsy consciousness that I ought to
have unsaddled the Moor before going to bed, and that the
clattering might be some unscrupulous muleteer departing
early to get away unobserved with my saddle. Going
downstairs, I found it was only an arriero leading his mules
to drink at a clear broad trough of running water, near the
entrance of the posada. The gate however was shut, and
nobody appeared to have departed yet.

I now made an excursion through about sixty or seventy
yards of stabling, edging my way between the tails of two
long rows of mules, standing as close together as they could

244

False Alarm

be packed. The Moor was lying like a dead horse, with
his head down and his legs stretched out ; but he had no
saddle on. This looked bad, and I went to see if the mo%o
de la cuadra was anywhere to be found. In the space near
the entrance and fireplace, the floor was covered with mule-
teers lying on the ground, with a manta beneath and a capa
to cover them.

I could find no mozo moving about, nor did I remember
his face, so as to wake up the right man among the sleepers.
At last, the man who had been watering his mules came to
lie down. I asked him what the mo-z.os name was, and on
his authority went about crying — " Alfonz666666 ! " At
length, out of a sort of dust-hole closet near the corn-bin,
came a man, rubbing his eyes. I told him my grievance,
and we went together and inspected all the premises with
no success. At last he suggested that it might be in my
room. I said I thought not, for I had left it on, and gone
to sleep without taking it to a place of safety. However,
when we came upstairs with a lamp, there it was in the
anteroom of our chamber, where Harry, seeing me fast
asleep, had deposited it. I was rather ashamed at the trouble
I had caused, and gave the mo'z.o 3. cigar, by way of a sop.
He went away quite satisfied, nor the least vexed at his rest
being broken on an emergency which ended in smoke. As
I was now thoroughly awake, and had no desire to go to
sleep again, I lit the lamp, and got my inkstand and blotting-
book out of the alforj'as. My lamp has just burned out for
want of oil, and I finish this by daylight, which has luckily
supervened. I had slept from about eight to three in the
morning, which is seven hours. It is now time to wake
Harry up, and go and feed the ponies.

There, I have given them a medio apiece, and they are
munching away heartily. Harry is dressing, and grumbles

245

Bug Tortures

considerably about being bitten. It appears they attacked
him during the early part of the night, so that he could not
get to sleep ; and that when they took pity on him, they
came over to me, and waked me up. However, you are
obliged to them and the saddle, and the arriero watering
his mules, for this chapter.

The moza (chamber-maid) is bringing our two jicaras of
chocolate, so I must clear the table.

246

CHAPTER XXII

La Mancha, Jpril 7.

Leaving Jaen by the great Madrid road, we followed the
same for about a league, and then turned off to the right,
taking a by-path for Torre Quebradilla.

In sight of this pretty village, we halted by the border of
a barley-field ; Harry, to sketch the place, and I — as my
forte does not lie in landscape — to draw the Cid and his
master. They formed a picturesque group ; Harry sitting
cross-legged on the grassy bank, and the Cid, his bridle
looped round the artist's knee, nibbling the herbage.

The impatient little jerks of the rein, when the latter
strained towards some tempting tuft just beyond his reach,
were shortly found so detrimental to the artistic process,
that the Cid was turned adrift ; and I followed this example
with the equally troublesome Moor.

Our steeds, being now free to adopt a diet of their own
choosing, began to show a decided preference for the tender
green barley, into which they unceremoniously waded knee-
deep. We were soon interrupted in finishing our sketches
by an indignant protest from the owner of the barley-field,
who came up in breathless wrath, anathematising both the
animals and ourselves. We begged him to dhhnular (excuse)
our indiscretion, caught our marauders, and entered the
village.

At the posada^ where we stopped to breakfast, the unso-

247

Picturesque Rock

phisticated inhabitants gathered to looic at the unaccus-
tomed sight of foreigners. Our arms, and especially the
revolver, astonished and delighted them. " They had heard
England was the most wonderful country in the w^orld. In
Biscay, indeed, were made arms — terrible weapons ; but
nothing so astute as this." They were almost equally
astonished at our drawings ; and were altogether charmingly
fresh and innocent, after the callous, indifferent folks of the
main road.

On our way down the other side of the rounded hill,
after leaving Torre Quebradilla, a bold isolated crag pierced
the soil on our right. It was a mere trifle, not more than
forty or fifty yards high, but pretty, with much breadth of
massive shade, and gracefully plumed with shrubs.

" How this would draw picnics in a county where rocks
are not plentiful ! — say Lincolnshire."

" Yes, truly, a picnic is a choice thought in this hungry
land."

Here, in the grassy hollow, would be spread

The snowy cloth — dimpled with various viands.

Ah ! cleanly damask of our native land !

Ah ! pleasant memory of pigeon-pie,

Short-crusted — savoury-j ellied — floury-yolked !

Ah ! fair white-bosomed fowl with tawny tongue

Well married ! lobster-salad, crisp and cool.

With polished silver from clean crockery

Forked up — washed down with drinks that make me now

Thirsty to think of.

Yes, with ginger-pop
These crags should echo.

Ah ! rare golden gleam
Of sack in silver goblets gilt within ! —
Bright evanescent raptures of champagne —
Brisk bottled stout in pewters creamy crowned !

248

Blank Reminiscences

And here should sit, 'neath gay-fringed parasols,
Fair creatures with blue eyes and golden curls
(Not drenched with scents as foreign ladies are),
Smelling of kid gloves and Eau de Cologne.
Shiny black-belted youths, in braided caps
And braided blue frock-coats, should wait on them,
Making substantial laughter and slight jests —
Heroes undress from the next garrison,
With much-Macassared ringlets auburn-hued.
And corkscrew-twirled moustache of brighter red —
Arch conquerors of hearts in county towns.

And the repast now ended — Cornet Phibbs
Would bear the camp-stool to yon mossy mound —
Would spread the sketch-book, and the tumbler fill
(For Cornet Phibbs is quite the ladies' man) ;
While sweet Miss Flora Fubbs, with much ado,
Seating herself in graceful attitude,
And choosing paint-brushes and mixing paints.
Declares she always makes a wretched daub
When people stand and watch her as she draws.

But Cornet Phibbs replies — " It is too bad !
'Pon honour, 'tis too bad. Gweat artists like
To make a mystewy and monopoly,
Hiding the secwets of their art. Now I
Thought I should get a winkle watching you.
You didn't know I dwew ? — I learnt at school."

" Perhaps you only learnt to draw your sword."

" Why, that I can, of course — and also corks —
And covers — haw ! — haw ! — haw ! But what I mean,
Fortification — haw ! — in Indian ink.
That sort of thing — and though I dwaw it mild —
Yet that — haw ! — haw ! — that may be called my foiie."

" Oh fie ! for shame ! where do you think you'll go
For making such a heap of foolish puns ? "

" Why to the Punjaub I should think — haw ! — haw !
That sort of job you know would suit me best."

We knew we must soon pass Guadalquivir, which would
here meet us for the first time since leaving Seville, and
probably for the last time in our lives. We expected his

249

Guadalquivir

appearance with impatience, as it were the face of an old
friend ; and, at length, we heard the rushing of waters,
which we figured to ourselves a clear trout-stream rippling
among rocks.

" Hail ! infant prince of Andalusian rivers, which (since
we left thy royal court on Seville's strand, deep-ranged with
fairy palaces) hast younger grown, while we wax stale upon
our toilsome way. We heard the nursery-babblings of thy
youth, and deemed that here, not far remote from thy
mountain cradle, we might behold thee clear and unpolluted
yet, with that rich wealth of mud which, lower down, thou
takest as tribute from thine alluvial dominions. We find
thee turbid in thy youth, as in thine after-age ; rolling foul
ripples of a livid red, as 'twere pink madder mixed with
Vandyk brown !

" Flow on, unworthy heir of noble destinies ! for thou
shalt pass by glorious Cordova — eloquent Cordova ; the gem
of the South ; the flower of science and of valour ; the birth-
place of Lucan and the Senecas ; the city of the great captain.
Thou shalt wash the Moorish piers of Sevilla la Maravilla^
and shalt mix thy mud at last with the blue Mediterranean ! "

I shouldn't wonder if my reader was a little tired of
rhapsodies. Come, now, we will hatch a little adventure
expressly for your amusement.

Riding down the curious sloping bridge, whose graduated
arches connect the high bank of the river with the low one,
we saw, about half a mile ahead, a knot of people moving
on the road.

" It is about time for another batch of robbers," I said ;
" and if these be thieves, how many are we a match for ? "

" We may reckon ourselves a match for four Spaniards,
or two Englishmen," replied Harry, "and no more ; let us
be moderate."

250

How Many are we a Match For ?

" I think that is rather too moderate, considering our far
more than ordinary supply of arms, our valour, and extreme
readiness to fight. Life is a lottery, and so is literature,
and it's great odds we shouldn't both of us be killed ; and
if one of us really was killed, it would make the fortune
of our joint work, half of which would have to be posthu-
mous. It would give such reality to the incident, to have
read in the newspapers about the banditti killing one of the
authors named in the title-page."

" Good Heavens, how shocking ! What do you think

would say, if she heard you talk in that careless way

about an event which "

" She would say I was an unfeeling wretch. But talking
about it doesn't m.ake me any more likely to be killed ; and
one can't pick this rose, Adventure, without our fingers
coming near that thorn, Danger. Of course, it would be
very shocking, and all that. But I have no sort of expec-
tation of its happening. Moreover, I think you underrate
what we could do with all these pistols. We are more than
a match for two average Englishmen. For instance ; we
overtake these three men on their lazy mules — we shall
soon reach them. Ha ! by their dress, they are not
Spaniards ! They are two travelling Englishmen, with a
Spanish servant. Look ! — by Jove, they have both of them
silver spectacles astride of their pug noses. They are
clergymen just presented with livings, seeing a little of the
world through glasses before they settle. Have at them !
These men shall never show fight ; I warrant you they will
have a bag of dollars apiece to give to robbers, as nervous
old ladies sometimes carry sugar-plums, to keep children
quiet. Have at them, say I ; it is a pity they should carry
their money-bags for nothing, and it is as well it shouldn't
go out of the family — nation, I mean. Of course, you say

251

Cheaper to Rob than to be Robbed

it is ridiculous — so is the beginning of every adventure.
But having stepped upon that rolling rail Imprudence, you
slip over head and ears into this river Necessity, and then
Prudence shall bid you swim as best you can, to get your-
self out. It is the first step only ! Come, we want robbers
in this part of our work, and it is both cheaper and more
convenient to rob than to be robbed ! "

Hereupon we ride up — pull out our pistols, and are about
to cry " Abajo ! bocca a tierra ! " ^ with voices of thunder,
when we discover them to be neither bandits nor pug-nosed
parsons, but cutlers of Albacete returning from Jaen, where
they had been selling their wares. I bought a poniard of
them for a dollar and a half. The punales of Albacete
are famous : long, narrow-pointed, murderous weapons,
not opening like a Sevillian navaja^ but sheathed as a
dagger.

When we had passed them, we fell to discoursing upon
imagination, and the degree with which fancy may be
brought to resemble fact. As an instance of wonderful
power in this way, we lit upon Don Quixote's meeting
with the barber on his ass. First he sees something shining
bright, like gold, in the distance, on the top of a horseman's
head. The reader wonders what strange and incredible
thing is to appear. It turns out to be a barber, returning
on his ass from a neighbouring village, where there was no
resident member of his profession, and he had put his basin
over his hat, which was a new one, because it was raining
slightly.

The reader being satisfied with this circumstantial solu-
tion of the apparent improbability, and knowing Don
Quixote's peculiar insanity, and his previous difficulties
with the pasteboard substitute, is quite prepared for the

' " Down ! mouth to the ground ! "
252

Mambrino's Helmet

delusion of Mambrino's helmet. The scene being thus in
action, the continuation is easy enough. The barber runs
away ; Don Quixote rejoices over the helmet ; and Sancho,
with his practical eye to solid advantages, exchanges his
ass's shabby harness for that of the barber.

The difficulty and the triumph of invention was to get
the copper shaving-dish reasonably on the barber's head ;
or rather to hit upon the incident of a barber so peculiarly
helmed. This appears to me to be so difficult a thing to
have imagined, that I should prefer the supposition that
Cervantes had actually seen some barber with his basin on
his head to keep his new hat from the rain ; and being
struck with some vague similitude of a helmet, his imagina-
tion fell to shaping circumstances in which such an incident
could be employed. As it must have been an imaginative
lunatic, full of strange ideas of knight-errantry, who could
be fairly carried av/ay by a belief in its being really a
helmet, it is possible that hence may have arisen the very
idea of a Don Quixote, Indeed, this apparently very
random theory is strengthened by the fact that on Don
Quixote's first appearance, his very earliest difficulty is with
the imperfect celada^ which was just defective in that part
(the morion^ I think) which the shaving-dish was destined
to supply. In imaginative minds there is no telling how
small a matter may be the nucleus round which materials
gather, that again suggest other and larger matters, so that
the original idea often becomes merely an episode in the
complete result.

As we were ascending the long hill which rises from the
river up to the town, the sun went down over Jaen, and
the red sunset, slanting along the wide valley, lit up the
broad craggy shoulders of the mountain-range facing Baeza
to the south. Along the darkening plain a few winding

253

Our North-East Passage

reaches still caught the golden sky ; and so we saw the
last of Guadalquivir.

Baeza, not very remarkable as you approach, is a curious
place inside. There is a vast circular plaza surrounded by
columns and arches. Lighted up at night by lamps in the
windows, with groups sauntering about in the broad dark
space, it struck us as a singular town, unlike anything we had
yet seen. We found the Posada de los Jardlnes^ where we
supped on asparagus-omelette and salad. The asparagus-
omelette is made by frying the ends of the shoots in oil ;
and, when they are done enough, the broken eggs are
poured into the frying-pan, and the whole mess stirred up.
The pan is not set on again, being hot enough to cook
the eggs without further application to the fire. A good
omelette is founded in the same manner on crisp fried
potatoes.

Up at five next morning, and set off in a mizzling rain.
Not having made sufficiently particular inquiries, we of
course went wrong ; and as we were busy talking, we got
within a mile of Uveda before we found it out. An old
man and his son arrived as we stood pondering on our
difficulty. He answered our questions about Arquillos
civilly enough ; but when we began to consider whether
we could not rectify our error now, by going to Vilche and
get into our route further on than Arquillos, the old man
lost his patience.

"Vilche, my good sirs, is by no means in the way to
Arquillos."

"That is indifferent to us : we desire to go in a north-
east direction, and shall be obliged if you will tell us
whether this by-path here, leaving the road, will take us
in that line ? " This was too metaphysical an abstraction
for him, and he turned to his son :

254

The Moor puts his Foot in it

" Come along, my son, since it is evident that these
cahalleros neither know their way, nor where they wish to
go, — let us continue our day's work ! "

So we took the by-path, which proved very circuitous
and stony, winding among vineyards and olive-groves along
the brow of a hill, till it descended to El Marmol,^ in the
valley. This, so far from being a city of marble palaces, as
its name would suggest, was a miserable little village, which
had no posada. We managed, however, to purchase some
barley at a private house, and stood in the porch while our
beasts picked a little of the corn out of the flat matting
basket. They were neither of them hungry, and the Moor
was pertinaciously determined to put his foot in it instead
of his nose, and would snufF, and nibble, and twitch at the
rim of the basket ; and if by any accident he did get a
mouthful of corn, he was sure to lift up his head out of the
extempore manger, and scatter most of it in the street. As
it was raining, and we were stopping merely for their ad-
vantage, you may be sure we gave our refractory beasts
several severe reprimands ; but to no purpose ; we could
not persuade them to be hungry, nor inform them they
would not have another chance till evening.

Here they told us that Vilche was out of our way, and
that Las Navas was the shortest cut to San Esteban, where
we proposed to sleep. On our way along this weary cross-
country road we overtook a farmer, who seemed suspicious
of us at first ; but was reassured of our respectability on
hearing we were Englishmen. He said he wondered we
were not afraid to travel alone in a strange country. We
asked him what there was to be afraid of, telling him we
had ten pistol-barrels between us. We had not made this

' Written El Marnal in the map, but called El Marmol by the
people.

Red River

boast long, when Harry discovered that he had lost one of
his long pistols out of his faja.

This was on the bank of the brickdust-coloured Guadal-
ahmar [Arabice red river), near a wooden cross set up to
the memory of a murdered man. We turned back as far
as the bridge over the river, which we had crossed about a
mile before, and met some muleteers. We suspected by
their manner that they had found it, though they stoutly
denied it.

I was for searching them by main force ; but Harry
thought it better to bribe them ; so he offered half an ounce
of gold to any well-disposed person who would bring it to
us at San Esteban, if it was found by anybody they met
during the day. It has not yet appeared, and I fear there
is little chance. I wish we had searched the men, which
would have been easily done.

On to Las Navas — small venta ; a little further two roads
diverge at a well : here our ponies drank, and we went to
the right, the narrower track of the two. It led along a
broad valley. A sharp shower overtook us, and we begged
for shelter at a cortijo or farm-house.

When the chaparron had blown over, a Valencian lad,
from the Venta San Esteban^ who had come on a message
from the ventero to his uncle (the farmer with whom we
had taken refuge), undertook to accompany us to our des-
tination. This was lucky, as the night came on very dark,
and the way lay across a stony, sloppy wilderness, through
which it would have been extremely difficult to see any
way at all, without guidance, by that light, or rather
darkness.

We reached the venta^ not before we were very tired ;
and as we had dined at Las Navas, and were not hungry
for supper, we made some aguardiente egg-flip in a great

256

Making Game of Travellers

glass mug with a handle, holding more than a quart. The
flip was not good, for want of sugar : there was none in the
house. There were no beds either, and we had to sleep on
two wretched narrow mattresses, or broad bolsters (bags
stuffed with straw and fleas), in the immediate vicinity of
the horses. Indeed they were only walled off by a low
partition ; and we could hear the Cid and Moor munching
their barley over our heads till we fell asleep.

We had requested to sleep in the straw-loft, but our host
absolutely refused, saying that " St. John the Baptist him-
self should not go up into his pajar^

Next morning we were up betimes, and made our first
stage to Montizon. The country hereabouts changes from
broad cultivated valleys to the rolling hills of the dehesa.
Riding over one of these, we heard numerous voices in the
brushwood — a partridge got up — bang — no effect — bang —
this time the bird fell. We stopped a little while to see
the sport, and shortly about twenty men armed with
muskets came out upon the road. We were a little afraid
they might think it came well into their day's work to do
a stroke of business in the way of traveller-shooting. How-
ever, deeming it better not to seem to entertain the possi-
bility, we rode up to the party, and in a patronising manner
asked to see the contents of the bag, as we might prove
purchasers. There was only one rabbit besides the partridge
we had just seen slain ; but that was enough for our dinner,
so we bought them, and strung them on the iron rings of
our respective halters.

On reaching Venta Quemada, we had our rabbit and
partridge hacked up and fried in oil ; and it was very good
and tender, not having had time to cool.

There was a man smoking a pipe, a very rare thing in
these parts, where the paper cigar is almost universal. This

257

A Calumet

pipe was made seven years ago. He had cut the bowl out
of a soft black stone, and the stem was a twig from the
dehesa^ with the pith pushed out. This pipe at once struck
my fancy. It had a quaint barbarian character, and looked
something like one of the Red Indians' calumets on a small
scale.

Harry was smoking a filthy white halfpenny clay, bought
at Gibraltar. I saw, by the man's looking at it, that he
thought Harry's the best of the two, and I said I had one
of that sort which I would swop with him. He jumped at
the idea, and I got mine out of the alforjas^ where it was
carefully stowed as a corps de rherve^ in case I broke my
own faithful black clay, which has served a year or
more.

The man, seeing what a number of old gloves stiffened with
cards it came out of, conceived my halfpenny pipe must be
an object of great value, and evidently thought he had taken
advantage of my simplicity. But after all, perhaps he did
take me in. We value what is rare to us. To him the
civilised pipe was a rarity, to me the barbarian ; and if civili-
sation be the better state of the two, of course he had the
best of it. But then his pipe was unique — made by hand,
with much labour ; the other, turned out of a mould which
had fashioned fifty thousand.

Riding on among the winding hills, a theory was started
to show why mountain scenery was more popular than dead
levels. We agreed that, more than superior beauty, rapid
change, and the uncertainty of what you are coming to, make
the reputation of mountains. Looking over a long plain,
and seeing all the towns and towers you can reach in a day
or two, is a limited species of foreknowledge, which is too
much for humanity. If we had the gift of prophecy, life
would be a dead level. That beautiful and accomplished

258

Foreknowledge Makes Life Plain

young lady, Miss Amusement, derives her origin from old
Grandfather Doubt and old Grandmother Curiosity.

Amusement is the business of foolish men — to them every-
thing is uncertainty, and the smallest trifles exciting. The
wise man, who sees much further before his nose, is not so
easily amused : he requires to be engaged in deeper and
more perplexing matters, in order to obtain that anxiety
which is necessary to the enjoyment of life.

But though the fool is more easily amused, he is also
more easily impatient. To see your way before you, shortens
your way. Uncertainty gives excitement — foreknowledge
patience.

Descending rrom the hills into a broad green vega^ we
crossed a rapid, red, muddy stream, which divides Andalusia
from La Mancha. Crossing it, we saw a great castle not far
off to the left. A little further on, turning round for
another view of it, it was gone, and there was no apparent
reason in the lying of the land ; and I immediately decided
it was an enchanted castle, and I said I would invent a legend
for it. Round about this vega there seem a good many
castles.

A little after sunset we rode into La Torre, a straggling
village, which, however, had a decent posada. Here we found
a knife-grinder, who put an edge on our daggers, which are
rather blunted with cutting Cavendish for our pipes. The
host, seeing our pistols, was astonished ; and as he of course
told everybody, we soon had a levee of all the magnates or
the place. They agreed my revolver was " una cosa tnuy
linda y digna de verse " (a thing very beautiful and worthy
to be seen) ; and the alcalde, seeing the name of Palmerston
on our passports, fell into the usual raptures over that great
and terrible signature. There is no European reputation
like his. He is the ever-wakeful Jupiter of diplomacy,

259 R

Palmerston Tonans

ready to hurl a neat and effective packet of thunder, tied up
with lightning-coloured tape, from his Olympus in Downing-
street, on anybody rash enough to ill-use a British subject,
and he deserves and possesses the filial reverence of all
young gentlemen on their travels, for his paternal care and
affection.

To return to the village of La Torre. The authorities,
seeing we had such magnificent passports, asked if we
belonged to the Embassy at Madrid. This was a severe
blow to our muleteer disguise.

260

CHAPTER XXIII

ViLLARTA, April 12.

On leaving La Torre, our road lay through Cozar, and
then across a plain covered with young wheat. Towards
noon we reached Cubillas, a very ruinous village. Entering
it, we asked our way to the posada ; and as we went on, we
heard one of the persons we had asked say to the other,
" There go two Andaluzes." This is the first time we have
been taken for Spaniards after opening our mouths. Here
we baited, and ordered a potato-omelette. In cooking it, the
old posadera^ not having sufficient nerve to toss the omelette
(a dexterous manoeuvre, by which it performs a somersault
in the air and lights in the frying-pan the other way up),
appealed to her daughter.

This young lady, who was one or the most beautiful
women we have seen in the Peninsula, set down the tambour-
frame, on which she was embroidering some fine linen, rose
with that majestic and queenly air which the supremacy of
loveliness seldom fails to give a woman of whatever rank,
and tossed it quite in a manner to give one an appetite.
She had a fine figure, rather tall ; delicately regular features,
large dark-fringed eyes, and a splendid mass of hair looped
up in glossy folds behind her neck.

Both Harry and myself fell in love at first sight. We
ate our luncheon, and then I seated myself beside her in
the chimney-corner.

261

The Wedding Pillow-case

By way of opening the conversation with an interesting
topic, I asked her when she was to be married ? She,
instead of, as I supposed she would, entirely denying all
thought or intention of such an undertaking, simply
answered, " In August."

" And so you are embroidering lilies and roses on the
wedding-sheets ? " I continued.

" On the pillow," said she.

" How long was the courtship ?" said I.

" Two years," said she.

" And how old is the novio ? " (sweetheart), said I.

" Twenty-two," said she.

" And you ? " said I.

" Nineteen," said she.

*' It sounds like a discreet preparation for happiness, and
I hope your pillow may be strewed with real roses and
lilies," said I.

" I thank your worship," said she ; and so we mounted
and rode away.

After crossi'ng a league or two more of the plain, we were
within about the same distance of a range of hills, when the
road disappeared in the midst of a wheat-field. Here it
was very heavy riding, and, to make it worse, rain came on.
Good fortune at last brought us to another road, by which
we got to El-Christo de la Valle, whose minaret-like towers
and steeples rise in a narrow cleft through the range of hills.

Riding into the town with my long brown Scotch plaid
hanging nearly to the ground on either side, with the front
corners knotted over the Moor's mane, so that I dare say
he looked very like a hobby-horse at Astley's, the children
of the place, who probably had never seen so strange a
figure, shouted and laughed with such enthusiasm, that we
were glad to take shelter in a poiada.

262

Malo Paflo

When we had dried ourselves at a blazing fire, and eaten
a salad, we rode over three more weary leagues of plain to
Manzanares. Our beasts got very tired, and so did I; for
the dangling plaid, heavy with rain, dragged my shoulders.
We must have ridden rather more than thirty miles to-day.
I went to sleep by the kitchen-fire, and was waked by
Harry, to eat very tough chicken for supper.

Next day, Good Friday, we gave our ponies a half-holi-
day, and at three o'clock were just starting for the Venta
Quesada^ intending to sleep there. You are, or should be
aware, that this is the venta of Don Quixote. Here he
arrived on the evening of his first sally, was knighted, and
performed the vigil, watching his armour over the well-
trough.

Our host of the Posada del Carilloy who was standing at
the folding-gates of his courtyard to see us oflF, happened to
ask where we intended to sleep, and we told him.

" That is a bad place to sleep, Senores. The venta is a
miserable hut, and the people of the house are malo pano
(bad cloth). There are no beds there."

" We had heard it was a large venta^ Senor huesped ; is
it not a verv ancient venta f "

" Oh, no, Senores ; it is only a wretched hovel, to supply
a station of carabineros with aguardiente. There was once
a great and commodious venta there, but that was burnt
down in the war time."

" Was that an old building ? "

" Oh, yes ! a cosa de sie?npre (thing or always). There
is nothing left of it but the well, and a great stone
trough."

As we had no intention of passing the night watching a
row of pistols and daggers on the edge of the well-trough,
this information altered our plans. We decided now to

263

Argamasilla del Alba

turn towards Argamasilla del Alba, where the first part of
Don Quixote was written in prison. The church-tower of
this celebrated place soon appeared ; but we found the road
much longer than it seemed ; for distances on the dead levels
of La Mancha, with a clear atmosphere, are very deceptive.

It was half an hour after sunset as we entered Argama-
silla. While our hostess of the Posada de la M'lna was
preparing our supper, we inquired if she had ever heard of
Miguel Cervantes, who had lived in the carcel (prison).

" No, Sefiores. I think I have heard of one Cervantes,
but he does not live here at present."

" Do you know anything of Don Quixote ? "

" Oh, yes ; he was a great cahallcro^ who lived in the
pueblo (township) some years ago. His house is over the
way, on the other side of the plaza^ with the arms over the
door. The father of the alcalde is the oldest man in the
place, and perhaps he may remember him."

This was encouraging. The author, indeed, was for-
gotten ; but the hero of his novel had become a real man,
whose house remained to testify of him to this day.

While we were undressing to go to bed, three gentlemen
were announced and shown in. We begged them to be seated,
and they were so, on three chairs at the end of the room ;
and we sat opposite, at the feet of our respective beds, to
hear what they might have to communicate. A venerable
old man opened the conference :

" We have understood, gentlemen, that you have come
hither, seeking for information respecting the famous Don
Quixote, and we have come to give you such information as
we may ; but perhaps you will understand me better ir I
speak in Latin."

" We have learnt the Latin at school, but are more
accustomed to converse in the Castilian ; pray proceed."

264

The Deputation

" I am the medico of the place — an old man, as you see —
and what little I know has reached me by tradition. It is
reported that Cervantes was paying his addresses to a young
lady, niece of the then alcalde^ whose name was Ouijana, or
Quijada. The alcalde^ disapproving of the suit, put him
into a dungeon under his house, and kept him there a year.
Once he escaped and fled, but he was taken in Toboso
and brought back. Cervantes wrote * Don Quixote' as a
satire on the alcalde^ who was a very proud man, full of
chivalresque ideas. You can see the dungeon to-morrow ;
but you should also see the batanes (water-mills) of the
Guadiana, whose {golpear) clapping so terrified Sancho
Panza. They are at about three leagues' distance. Going
a little further, you will see a powder-mill, and will be asto-
nished at the water-power. Ah ! in your country these
things would be fructified, but here we take advantage of
nothing. My house is at your disposition, Senores. We
are proud to receive, with all courtesy, strangers who come
here, doing honour to the memory of our illustrious towns-
man. If you will favour my house to-morrow, at five
o'clock, on your return from the batanes^ it will give me
great pleasure to conduct you to the house of Quijana, and
the dungeon where Cervantes wrote."

They departed, and we went to bed.

Next morning we were up early, and leaving our alforjas
behind, cantered away much more lightly than usual. After
about a league and a half, we got to a slight dip, which
gradually deepened into a shallowish valley. Passing a
ruinous Moorish castle on the left (which, by the way, I
wonder Cervantes made no use of), we came at last to the
mills. These clumsy ancient machines are composed of a
couple of huge wooden mallets, slung in a timber frame-
work, which, being pushed out of the perpendicular by

265

Los Batanes

knobs on a water-wheel, clash back again alternately in two
troughs, pounding severely whatever may be put in between
the face of the mallet and the end of the trough, into
which water runs. I believe they are used for washing
cloth.

They were not working when we arrived, but the gushing
of the waters over the dam frightened the Moor so much
that I had a struggle to get him past, in order to tether
him to a descendant of those tall trees under which the
knight and squire waited for the dawn in so great perturba-
tion. During this struggle arrived three sturdy knaves in
shaggy sheepskin garments, two of them with muskets over
their shoulders.

When I had tethered the Moor, I discovered I had lost
a pistol from the loosened folds of vay faja ; and on going
back to look for it where I had wrestled with the Moor, it
was not to be found. I asked the men, but they had not seen
it. While I was still looking, and was growing somewhat
disheartened — for the pistol was Harry's, and its loss would
break his second pair — the men began to move off. One of
them was already fifty yards away. Remembering, in the
other case, a day or two ago, we had been sorry not to have
searched the muleteer, and Harry being out of the way in
the thicket tying up the Cid, so that I had nobody to con-
sult, I ventured, on the impulse of the occasion, to suggest
to the two men who remained, " that as they had formed
part of the premises when I lost my pistol, and were about
to convey themselves away, I should not feel satisfied unless
I also searched their pockets." They slightly objected,
saying they were honourable men, and had not seen my
pistol ; however, I did it, and found nothing.

I now ran after the other man, and overtook him about
two hundred yards further on. He was the sturdiest villain

266

Suffering a Recovery

of the three, and stoutly denying he knew anything of my
pistol, told me to go back and look where I lost it. I
again informed him that at the time of my loss he had
been a part of the premises ; moreover, that I had searched
his companions.

" But you shall not search me," he said, taking his gun
from his shoulder, and holding it ready. I observed that it
had a fresh bright copper cap on the nipple, so that it might
possibly go off; but I reflected, that if he had the pistol,
and I continued resolute, he would probably rather give it
up than fight, as I had my revolver still in ray faja. So I
advanced upon him as he retreated, keeping my eye upon
him, and my hand on my revolver, so as not to let him have
the first shot, if possible.

Just at the moment when I thought the combat was about
to commence, and was on the point of drawing my weapon,
he — I suppose, being convinced I was in earnest, and meant
to see the adventure through to the end — fell soft, and said,
" You shall have your pistol." He rather opened the flap
of his zamarray^ and I saw the muzzle of the pistol peeping
out of an inside pocket.

As he still showed a reluctance to part with it, without
much politeness I at once grabbed it with my left hand,
still keeping my right on the revolver.

So I left him with a Faya Vmd. con Diosj^ and came back
in great glee to tell Harry what a great feat of (small)
arms I had performed. He, like the captain in the ballad
of "Billy Taylor," very much applauded what I had
done.

The day was hot, and we began to make preparations for
a bath above the mill-dam, putting the saddles, and cloaks,

' Fur-jacket.

- May your worship go with God.

267 ^

Amicable Relations

and clothes, and pistols in a heap, over which one was to
mount guard, while the other bathed.

As Harry was undressing, our friends of the late transac-
tion came back with a large herd of goats — for they were
cahreros — to go over the bridge at the dam. The principal
thief looked rather ashamed of himself, and said — I suppose,
by way of excuse, —

" If it had not been for me, you would never have found
your pistol."

" If it had not been for you, I should never have had any
chance of losing it, that 1 know of. As it is, I feel more
obliged to my good luck and the other pistol (patting the
revolver's butt) than to you."

" That is truly a formidable weapon ; how many barrels
may it have ? "

"Seis tiros, bien cuentados ; salen uno tras otro ; y
dichoso es Vmd. que no tuve precision de matar a Vmd. o
media docena tales." ^ He also admired our other arms,
knives, daggers, &c. ; and pointing to the pistol he had
lately had in his possession, with a lingering sentiment of
affection, he said, ^^ Buena boca t'tene aquella" (She has a
pretty mouth). It had a very large bore for so small a
pistol, carrying a ball of about ten to the pound. As he
went away on the other side of the river (we having
enjoined them to betake themselves to a decent distance
while we bathed), he said, in a contrite manner, —

" Perdonad me^ homhre ! " which, being freely translated,
means, " Pardon me, that's a good fellow." " Ta le U
perdonado'' (already I have pardoned you), I replied, and
we saw no more of him.

' Six barrels, well counted ; they go off one after another ; and
happy is your worship that I had not occasion to slay your worship,
or half a dozen such.

268

Guardia Civil

Both of us having bathed in the cold clear pool, Harry
began to sketch the mill, and I to try to set it in motion.
It was very old and rickety. The half-rotten wheel had
lost some of its paddles, and was so soddened and heavy
that I could not for a long while, by stamping and kicking,
get it round a foot or so, to let the gush of water come
upon anything it could take hold of ; and it was so slippery,
I was afraid that if I set it off it might knock me down,
and dash me to pieces in the sluice. At last I got it to
go, and round went the splashing wheel. Bang — bang —
bang clumped the ponderous mallets alternately in the
sloppy trough. After about twenty strokes, however, one
of them fell out of the frame with a crash, and the wheel
was locked ; so I gave it up, and began to sketch. For
this I had not patience, it being a complicated job to give
an idea of the machinery ; but while Harry drew, I wrote
in my journal.

As I wrote, two men, who had come up unperceived,
stood before me in sheepskin breeches with broad belts, and
a musket apiece.

" Adios sefioresy whence are you ? "

" From Seville," we replied.

" Are you not foreigners ? "

" Retratistas (portrait-painters), at your service. Would
you like your portrait taken at three reals ? "

*' Not thus," said he, pointing to his sheepskin inex-
pressibles ; " but I have a wife lives not half a league
further up the valley ; I should like to have her portrait
taken."

" I am sorry we have not time to go further, we must be
back at Argamasilla by five ; with whom may we have the
honour to speak ? "

" The Guardia Mayor."

269

Where " Don Quixote " was Written

" Will your worship smoke ? " offering him a cigarillo.

" Thank you ; we have tobacco."

" Tomady homhre " (help yourselfj my dear sir), said I,
with much cordiality. The fact was, 1 wished to draw a
cloud before the eyes of these officials, to prevent them from
observing that I had broken the rotten old mill, which they
would have as much felt it incumbent on them to punish
me for, as if it had been the soundest institution in Spain.

Before going away, we hewed two pieces of wood out of
the huge decayed stump of a tree, which must have been
growing in Don Quixote's time, as relics.

On our return to the posada^ we found the medico waiting
or us, and proceeded to the house of Ouijana. A civil old
woman brought a lamp, and we went down a flight of seven
steps into a long, narrow, round-arched vault. This damp
and dismal apartment is about ten feet broad, and twenty-
four feet long, and seven feet high along the middle of the
vault. She said, with as much certainty as if she had been
on the spot at the time, and brought him his meals, that
Cervantes sat at this end (turning to the left from the
entrance), and he was allowed a lamp to write by.

We tried to fancy him there. A smallish, spare, high-
featured man, with long hair and a neglected beard, a manta
or two from his bed wrapped round his legs, and thrown
over his shoulders ; he sits, scratching away by fits and
starts, in a quaint, beady hand, illegible to us moderns, as
we peep inquisitively at the papers before him. Now and
then he pauses, and looks at the flame of the lamp, — a
smile flickers over the worn features, — some bright idea has
crossed his mind, — he laughs aloud. We wonder the damp,
dull echo of his prison-roof does not startle and chill his
hilarity. But he is used to it, and takes no heed of where
he is. His fancy is lit, — he is free now, and revelling in

270

Quieren Vmdes. Comer ?

some merry scene, which is word by word trickling into
immortality from the nib of that worn and grub-nosed quill.
Oh ! thou rare heart, bright focus of human sympathies,
which in one book couldst stuff so much good-fellowship,
and wit, and truth, that all thy fellow-men, generation after
generation, must go on reading it for ever and a day ; while
every one of the millions who read, feels towards thee as a
personal friend !

The medico afterwards took us to see the church, which
is rather handsome inside, with large round columns. It is
unfinished ; for Miguel Lopez, the architect, died before it
was done. He also insisted on taking us to the casino and
introducing us to the elite of Argamasillian society. We
were ravenously hungry, not having eaten since our break-
fast at half-past six in the morning, and it was now seven.
A large body of the cawio accompanied us to our hostel,
and we had to go through the ceremony of asking them all
to dine on one polio con arroz (chicken and rice), which
they politely declined, and retired. All except one man,
whom we had not remarked before, but who was evidently a
soldier of fortune, and had made up his mind to dine with
us if it could be done. Seeing that he had a hungry and
malevolent look, we only pressed him very slightly, and set
to ourselves.

He sat in our room and entertained us with his conversa-
tion in the French language, which he spoke well, but in a
stiff and precise manner. He had lived at Bayonne some
years, probably obliged to quit Spain for some political
offence.

He had also learned French opinions, and probably read
a little of Voltaire's writings. When he dragged in his
unbelief by the head and shoulders, saying that Christianity
was " la religion des singes," I replied, " C'est bien possible,

271

Pickwick and Quixote

mais cela n'empeche point le Christianisme d'etre bon pour
I'homme, qui est le plus grand des singes." I also took
occasion to use " plus bete qu'un philosophe " as an intensa-
tive of common folly.

When dinner was over, the medico appeared again, and
the alcalde of the town, and others. We shortly adjourned
to the house of the medico^ where he gave us honey from
Cuenca, which is celebrated for its bees, and aguardiente.

By the bye, you know from Baeza, we were aiming across
country to Cuenca ; but finding that we should necessarily
pass within one day's journey of Don Quixote's country, we
thought it a pity to pass it by : so instead of going on by
Infantes, San Clemente, and Valverde, as our first plan was,
we turned back at Venta Quonada^ towards the great road,
which we reached at Manzanares, and now we shall go
straight on to Madrid, and leave our ponies there to rest,
which they will want very much, while we make expeditions
to Cuenca, Toledo, &c., by diligence.

Ten or twelve more people stepped in, one after another,
at the inedico's^ and when we went away accompanied us
back to the posada^ where we thanked them, ail for their
finura and politica (attention and urbanity), and bade them
good night. By the fuss they make with us, and by our
having nothing to pay for seeing the dungeon, we argue
that this pilgrimage is not very commonly made.

Next morning, at eight, we started to ride to the Venta
Quesada. It was a fine day, and we were in good spirits,
talking over our adventures of the day before. There had
been a grumbling old woman at the posada^ who reminded
us of Mrs. Gummidge in '* David Copperfield " ; and it was
a natural transition from the Cervantes of the locality, to our
own Cervantes of the present day.

I have always looked upon Pickwick (which will live as

272

Cervantes and Dickens

Dickens's great work) as a free translation of Don Quixote
into the manners of modern England. Mr. Pickwick, in
the simple enthusiasm of his heart, resolves to be the
redresser of grievances. Sam Weller, the shrewd and
humorous valet, is the natural Sancho of British low life ;
always ready, like his prototype, with a quaint and homely
common-sense view, to contrast with the flighty visions of
his master. Jingle is Gines de Pasamonte, Wardle the
hospitable sylvan duke. I remember once asking Lord
Jeffrey about this likeness between Pickwick and Quixote,
and he said it had not struck him before, but he thought
there was some truth in it.

Cervantes was older when he wrote Don Quixote, and
had seen a great deal more of the world. If Dickens had
lost his arm at Lepanto — been a captive at Algiers — and
seen twenty years of the very miscellaneous life of a soldier-
ing poet in those romantic days, I see no reason to think
he might not have written as good a book as Don Quixote.
As it is, the deficiencies of the models he worked from are
reflected in his work. But the singular and surpassing
genius he displayed, at once gave him a blaze of popularity,
too rapid for safety. Instead of going on improving his
taste, and struggling earnestly to produce some perfect
work, which should live for ever, and be a wonder to coming
times (as he might have done, if he had not succeeded so
rapidly), he fell to imitating himself profusely ; as if he
meant to out-Herod Herod, or, to use a more simple
expression, play the Dickens with himself. And he would
have done it before this, had not his exquisite genius
struggled with a much less exquisite taste ; for his mind
cannot help yielding gems, however little careful he is to
set them as they deserve.

That is why the young men of the present day prefer

273

Dickeray and Thackens

Thackeray to Dickens. Thackeray has seen more of the
world they live in. Besides, he has more power of putting
a story cleverly together ; which, I believe, critics (who are
usually men that have the education of authors, without
sufficient genius to write good books, or rashness to write
bad) call the divine creative power. I take this to be
merely imagination corrected by knowledge of the world.
If there is less of the high poetical element in Thackeray's
writing, he has the power of framing a much more con-
sistent and credible body of fiction. Dickens imagines, as
it were, through a microscope, and patches the minutely-
painted pictures together higgledy-piggledy. Thackeray
takes the whole of his history into his telescopic field. In
fact, he imagines in larger pieces, or at any rate has
the art to make his work hang together by a subtile
tissue of unconscious evidence ; whereas the manage-
ment of Dickens's stories is often full of unconscious
inconsistencies.

We now began to consider what we should do on our
visit to the celebrated venta. It was proposed and seconded
that we should revive, in the person of the present ventero^
the right, as by tenure, of investing fit and proper persons
with the order of knighthood. If he was a man of humour,
like the real ventero in Don Quixote's time, he would easily
enter into the joke. But what should we call the order ?
As there was nothing remaining of the old premises but the
well, it was suggested we should be called " Caballeros de la
Orden del Pozo " (Knights of the Order of the Well). He
should slap our shoulders with his navaja (clasp-knife), for
want of a better sword, and sprinkle us with a little water
from the well. We would previously watch our pistols and
daggers for the space of time in which we could smoke a
cigarilloy and it should be counted a vigil.

274

Military Opposition

Engaged in such discourse, it suddenly occurred to us
that the road had disappeared in the midst of a rough field,
and we had a considerable amount of trouble and anxiety
among the trackless broken ground of the plain before we
could discover the Venta Quesada.

In the distance, curiously enough, it did look like a castle,
as Don Quixote took it to be. There were two embattled
turrets, which had been built in the war time, when it had
been made a military station. We entered the courtyard
of this building, supposing it to be the venta^ but the soldiers
pointed us through a doorway further on. As we were going
through, a soldier started up and cried —

" Hollo ! come back ! where are your passports ? "

" Who are you," said I, " that have so little idea how
you should address gentlemen of distinction ? After we have
attended to our beasts we will attend to vou."

" Gentlemen of distinction, indeed ! you look more like
Andalusian contrabandistas. Come here, sirs ! "

"Come to us, if you have anything to say, you varlet of
an inconsequent mi/itar!" Here we went into the wretched
little shed of a stable, and two soldiers followed us. After
we had set barley before our ponies, we said, " Now, if you
will ask civilly to see our papers, we will show you them,
though it is exceedingly probable you cannot read." On
seeing their great size, and the complication of signatures
and stamps attached to our passports, they became civiller,
and began to exculpate themselves ; a polite corporal came
up and tried to smooth down the contention. But our
opponents, finding our papers were all right, now hit on a
new point of attack in our pistols. We showed our license
to carry arms. "Yes," said they, "an escopet (musket),
but these pistols are forbidden weapons, and require a special
license."

275 s

A " Troughy "

" Nothing is forbidden to Englishmen," I remarked, in a
confident manner, as if I was delivering a well-known axiom ;
" besides, it is specified in the papers that we are personas de
toda conjianza " (persons of all confidence). This clenched
our defence. So we went and ate a very dirty potato-
omelette. Afterwards we found the well : but it did not
come up to our expectations, having been new-plastered.
However, there was the old trough, cracked through the
middle. I chipped a little bit off for a relic, or rather a
trophy. Harry sketched the well. I sat before the venta
door on a stool, writing at my journal, while the ventero^ a
bad-looking young man, with round idiotic eyes, played at
cards with his wife, who was older and still more disagree-
able in appearance than himself.

We thought no more about the Orden del Pozo ; but rode
away as soon as the ponies had eaten their corn. Near the
point where we had lately emerged upon the camino real^
there was a great new venta^ outwardly fair to view ; but
when we came to inquire for beds, it proved to be un-
finished, and full of bricks and mortar of emptiness. The
people here had seen us go by before, and now asked what
we had been to see at the Venta Quesada. We told them
it was because the famous Don Quixote had been there.
"Ah," said the landlord, "I myself have the fourth volume
of his history, and know all about the beautiful Dulcinea del
Toboso."

A little after sun-down we reached Villarta. Lent ended
yesterday, I believe ; and we certainly saw more meat con-
sumed at this venta than we have yet seen on our way
altogether. We got some excellent fried ham, the first
unreesty sample we have met with since Seville, except, of
course, in the great towns.

As we sat in our apartment, before going to bed, a con-

276

A Future State

versation arose, I don't remember out of what, concerning a
future state, and whether it would be final or not. Harry
thought it must : otherwise it would be most unsatisfactory,
after being buffeted through this world with an expectation
of final peace in the next, to find there was yet a struggle
and an uncertainty beyond the grave.

" Yes, but we may wake and remember nothing of this
state in the next, having in the baby germ of our nature the
seeds of all the improvement our life in this world has
wrought in us : and go to work fresh again, with as much
spirit and cheerfulness as a man who went to sleep
weary and dawled over-night, sets to his task again next
morning."

" That is more unsatisfactory still ; for then we should
forget all those friendships, and ties of affection and kindred,
which alone make life tolerable."

"But you must remember that all these ties and relations
have been formed in this planet ; and similar, nay better,
may be formed in the next. We perhaps may meet the same
souls again, and love them, though we do not remember
them ; nor can we be sure that we are not here drawn
towards the friends of some state prior to this, by a
previous though unremembered sympathy. Life as it is, is
well worth having ; there is much more pleasure than pain
in it."

" I do not know that : doubt makes us miserable."

" It don't make me miserable. I feel quite satisfied that
I am in the hands of All-Wisdom, and All-Love, and All-
Power ; and I argue from past experience that I shall be
treated better than I deserve. I am happy now, and thankful
for my life. I am neither hungry, nor thirsty, nor cold. I am
for the present interested with this discussion. If I want
to smoke, I can light my pipe ; and if I grow sleepy, I can go

277

Happiness in Progress

to bed ; and these are the only pressing wants likely to occur
I am prepared to go through fifty thousand worlds, and with
forty-nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine deaths
between, so long as each (whether I can remember or com-
pare them or not) be intrinsically better than the one before,
and enjoyment continue to bear the same proportion to
anxiety. As long as we can imagine any perfection to which
we have not attained, we shall not rest completely satisfied.
Perfect happiness, like all other perfection, can belong only
to the Deity. It is only in the gradual approach and
advancement towards this state, that the happiness of inferior
natures can consist. We are made after God's own image,
which probably means, that the nature of man contains in
vague embryo, and much clogged besides with the material
engine through which it now has to operate, a germ of all
those attributes which, in their fulness and splendour of per-
fection, constitute the Being who created him. It is there-
fore impossible to over-estimate the height of glory to which
man is capable of growing. But we see here that his pro-
gress is slow, and the presumption is, there will be many, in
fact endless states, ' because,' as Tennyson says in that
sublime speculation (the Two Voices) — 'because the scale
is infinite.' So we may go on, 'moving up from high to
higher,' till ' we lose ourselves in light.' "

" Well, but what does your theory make of those who go
the wrong way ? "

" Why, of course, they move down from low to lower, till
they lose themselves in darkness. As the first become
'angels and ministers of grace,' the others become demons
and ministers of disgrace ; and as the terminus of the one
is perfection, that of the other is annihilation."

278

CHAPTER XXIV

Madrid, April i6.
Here we are, safely arrived in Madrid. Our way from
Villarta hither has not been fruitful in adventures, and the
scenery could not easily have been more dreary and deso-
late. The only variation of the vast and wearisome plain
consists of occasional broad, flat valleys, which look as if
the surface, undermined by some volcanic action below, had
given way, and gone down like the trap-door of a stage,
leaving slovenly, crumbling, precipitous edges, some four or
five hundred feet deep on either side.

Often the towns are hidden in these great gaps, so that
there is no sign of any human habitation within the blank
horizon.

We entered this sort of country at Puerto Lapiche, where
we breakfasted after leaving Villarta. Here, on either side
of the hills we were deserting, stood a crowd of Don Quixote's
windmills. Here he turned off the camino real to do penance
at the Fe'ha pohre. The landlord knew nothing about this last
place, but had a vague idea that Don Quixote had been in
the place, and qui'z.a (perhaps) the history had been written
here.

I don't know whether it was Don Quixote's windmills
which gave a romantic turn to our discourse, but it ran
upon the strange and startling occurrences which do, from
time to time, chequer the usually prosy pages of real life.

279

Cheops's Billets-doux

*'But is real life really prosy ? Or does it merely appear
so, because men and women bury all their life's truly stirring
incident, of highest rapture and of deepest anguish, in the
silent archives of the soul ; and uttering only what is com-
mon-place, make the faint echoes of written romance seem
caricature ? — or an obsolete picture of how men thought and
felt in ruder and more serious times ? "

" Man is still the same. There were no black-letter
editions of the human heart, nor are its feelings now a bit
more gilt-edged or satin-wove than when Cheops wrote his
hieroglyphic billets-doux on papyrus."

" The world has never changed, nor ever will. The only
difference is, that we see too much of what is before our
eyes ; and familiarity breeds contempt. Gigantic qualities
alone can pierce the haze of antiquity, and thence we con-
clude that all were then modelled on the proportions of the
few great men we know. And those, too — how little we
know them. If we were to summon up Abelard's cook-
maid, and ask how her master looked on that Friday after-
noon when he had just received Eloisa's most touching
letter, describing how, * as time creeps on, all human affec-
tions,' &c. — what account of Abelard would his cook-maid
give? She would probably describe him as a red-nosed
testy old fellow of about fifty-eight, in a greasy old soutane ;
and that, on the particular occasion above mentioned, he
was reprimanding her severely for allowing the bishop to
set his foot in a dish of parsnips dressed with cream."

" To be sure. And, on the other hand, I see no reason
to doubt that there are Pyramuses and Thisbes who peep
at one another through opera-glasses instead of holes in the
wall ; and Romeos and Juliets who meet (whether at Devon-
shire House or the Whittington Club balls), and love just
as suddenly, desperately, and fatally."

280

What were our Ancestors About ?

"Talking about Romeo and Juliet, do you know, when I
was at Warsaw, or Cracow, or somewhere, after the siege of
Vienna, I saw the mummy of a beautiful princess who had
died on her wedding-day ; and that was all that was known
about her ; and what an open field for speculation on possible
loves, disgusts, jealousies, poisonings, heart-breakings, &c.,
does it leave to the imagination ! She had been well dried
up, and there was the remnant of great beauty still trace-
able in the wizened features. There she lay in her glass
case ; a real young lady of the dark ages in her wedding-
dress."

"And yet, after all, it is possible she died of angina
pectoris ; and neither poisoned herself to escape the arms of
a detested bridegroom, nor was poisoned by a black-hearted
rival beauty, nor broke her heart for another young man.
But what times those middle-ages must have been, since, in
spite of theories, one cannot help believing them to have
been full of romance and adventure. Think of the Crusades;
though, perhaps, our wars in India and at the Cape will
seem as romantic to readers a thousand years to come.
But then, those Norman skippers, making a run of contra-
band lances upon the coast of a kingdom, and cutting a
whole province out of its side ! In those days dynasties
were founded as easily as you now may get a peerage. What
were our ancestors about, when the bastard duke and the
Guiscards were coolly taking possession of England and
Naples ? Why did they stand with their hands in their
pockets, and not take a kingdom and leave it to us ? But
if they had, we should only have been princes of the blood,
for our elder brothers would have sacked the kingdom.
And I should think it would be very indifferent fun being a
prince of the blood ; — all the restraint of greatness, with
none of the power."

281

New Dynasties

" But I don't see why we should want to be princes or
the blood, and the effete descendants of some great man.
Dynasties have not ceased to be formed. Napoleon was a
much greater man than Alexander the Great ; and Berna-
dottewill leave a dynasty as long as the Ptolemies. Besides,
Louis Buonaparte iscoming up, and will play young Octavius
to his uncle's Caesar."

" I hope he will succeed ; not because I know or care
anything about his politics, but because I should like to see
a real new dynasty formed, just to show people that they
remain precisely in the same state as when Saul was chosen
from the family of Kish to rule over Israel. Once, when I
was wandering through the royal crypts of Saint Denis,
and came to the massive portals (armed with bars of bronze
and complicated locks and bolts), where Napoleon had pre-
pared himself a last resting-place, I felt there was a want
of completeness in his not being there, and I felt sorry. I
have no sympathy with the man ; but I like the incident or
an emperor of half Europe being born in a country town or
a little island, and turning the whole world topsy-turvy. I
feel no disloyal indifference towards our excellent Queen
Victoria — whom, with all her progeny. Heaven preserve ! —
but if it could have happened without disadvantage to her,
and the dear little princes and princesses, I wish Richard
Cromwell had been a competent man, and reigned over
England ; and that the great Oliver had died with the crown
on the top of his bedstead. A change is a good thing now
and then. He had very near as good a right to be king as
Henry Tudor before he married the heiress of York. But
come ; the ferment of Napoleon's times has not settled
down yet, and we may have a chance before we die.
When the revolution comes, whoever, like Themistocles,
can always of a sudden say what is most fit to be said,

282

Transcendental Toryism

and do what is most fit to be done, will be the Cromwell
of his day.

" ' Shake but a scuttlef ul
Of gravel, the big pebbles come atop.
When times are troublous, great men, jostled forth,
Stand in the front of action. When the mind
Is moved, great qualities, before unknown,
Rise on emergency. For, while kind Heaven
Is liberal of much-neglected means,
Man neither knows his weakness nor his strength,
Till time and trial shape his destiny.' "

" You are getting dreadfully republican, if not revolu-
tionary, all of a sudden. I thought you were a Tory."

" I am, as yet, a dreamer, and therefore hold all politics
and creeds of which I have a sufficient smattering to form
an element in the hodge-podge of my opinions. A man
does not form his opinions really till he begins to act. The
weight of responsibility on the shoulders is like an hydraulic
press : it leaves no room for froth. But I am not sure that
the most transcendental Toryism would not be a belief such
as I profess at present. Mind you, for this half hour only.
The world is nothing but a great machine for milling the
souls of men. It was just as fit for the purpose in Adam's
time as now. But physical and intellectual effort being a
necessary part of his probation, physical truths of great
commercial value and convenience are scattered liberally in
his way. However these be, one by one, grubbed out by
the snout of science ; however systems of government shift,
and split, and fall away ; the world remains the same in its
moral relation to the soul of man ; nor does it alter, as far
as I can see, in its effectual capacity of training our spiritual
nature. What difference does it make to my soul whether
I dig or plough, or whether I travel by mule or locomotive

283

Tembleque and Ocana

engine ? I believe that in different ways, varying by pro-
gression, the same passions and temptations come with the
same force to generation after generation, from the apple
and twig of Adam to the sceptre and ball of Napoleon. Man,
with all his boasted advancement, gets no further. He is
working in a spacious house of correction, with science for
his treadmill-wheel. Or he is picking the arts, instead of
oakum, with a vague yearning for some dimly-conceived
ideal of beauty. Alas, if we come out of our house of cor-
rection worse than we went in ! "

" Yes ; but, my dear sir, you must allow that man is in a
better state since the spread of Christianity."

" Certainly ; but that is the free gift of God, and not any
merit of man's own. I argue that the only real advantage
which man gets from his boasted march of intellect is
physical convenience and intellectual activity — a condition,
not a result. I deny any strictly essential good arising directly
from the results of his labour. They will all probably perish
with the world, when a higher range of truth opens to our
eyes, and be resolved into a mere supplementary nothing to
the original nothingness out of which the world was made."

We rode down into Tembleque — a cold-looking, miserable
place ; supped on mutton-chops (evidently off some tough
old ram), fried potatoes, and salad. There was a large
party supping in the kitchen, and after a little conversation,
one of the company asked us if we were Andalusians. An
older man answered for us, " The dress is the dress of the
Andaluzes, but the tongue not."

Next day we passed Ocana. Our ponies were weak on
their legs, and cut their fetlocks a good deal. I filed off the
heads of some obnoxious nails, but it did little good. I then
tied up the wounded fetlock in a silk handkerchief, so that the
Moor could do it no more harm for the present ; but he was

284

/

Aranjuez

already rather lame. At Ocana we left the main road for a
short cut which came out at Montivola, a village chiefly
formed of troglodyte habitations, burrowed out of the loamy
hill ; and from the flats above the village, we saw a fine
range of snow mountains, which must be beyond Madrid.

Here we descended to a somewhat lower level. Towards
dusk we came in sight of water, a large sheet. At first we
took it for the Ta2:us, but it turned out to be a lake, where
innumerable frogs were croaking vociferously. I fired my
revolver in among them, and they stopped a moment, and
then began louder than ever, as if the report had given them
a fresh topic of conversation. After a while we descended
into the valley of the Tagus.

Aranjuez seemed a pretty place, full of trees and gardens,
quite a paradise after the dreary country through which we
had just travelled ; but unluckily it was very nearly dark
when we got there. The moxa^ with whom I had carried on
a considerable conversation while she was arranging the
beds, ended by asking me whether I was an Andaluz. It
appears our disguise is beginning to take effect. The Cas-
tilians have a great contempt for the orthoepy of their
southern neighbours, so that it is but a slight compliment
to our Spanish after all.

Next morning we passed out of Aranjuez. It is a pictu-
resque, gay tea-garden-looking town ; full of brick and stucco
colonnades and gingerbread triumphal arches, and avenues
of really fine trees, and glittering fountains, and bridges and
waterfalls, and flowers and statues and columns ; altogether
making a brilliant though somewhat French and artificial
ensemble. The palace has a faint resemblance to the
Tuileries. I dare say it is a very pleasant place for the
Court to lounge through the hot summer months.

Along the last seventy or eighty miles of road, we have

285

First View of Madrid

seen, every mile or so, a party of camineros^ with muskets
pitched and implements to mend the way. All, without
one exception, have been either eating, drinking, smoking,
or sleeping : to-day, however, we actually saw one of them
tightening his belt, as if he really was going to work. We
wondered whether Dean Swift had ever seen Spain — Laputa
has a Spanish sound. Baited at Val de Moro. Soon after
leaving this place we topped a long rise, and saw Madrid
about eight or nine miles before us.

It was a better-looking place than we had imagined — a
good, compact mass of towers and steeples, and pinnacles
crowning the brow of a hill. We forded the Manzanares,
which was broad and deepish for us on our little ponies. It
was now dusk, and the soldier at the octroi (excise-office)
stopped us as suspicious-looking countrymen, likely to be
smugglers.

" Whom have we here ? '* cried he.

" Caballeros Ingleses en viage^^ I replied glibly ; and it
appeared we so little came up to his ideas of English gen-
tlemen on their travels, that he preferred to consider it as
an excellent joke.

" Ha, ha, ha ! Tou English gentlemen ! You are contra-
handistas from Malaga, more likely ; and I'll be bound
you have some excellent bottles in your alforjas ! " Here
he began feeling and ferreting in them. " Ha ! the
bottom is wet ; there is a broken bottle in them some-
where."

" Caramba ! Senor doganero ; I should have thought you
knew the water of Manzanares from the wine of Malaga.
We have ridden through the river, and have no contraband
drinks about us. It is a verdad catoUca (Catholic truth)
that we are English gentlemen, and that the sooner you can
satisfy yourself that these are only dirty shirts and^stockings

286

Puerta del Sol

in our saddle-bags, the sooner we shall sup, si Dios quiere "
(please God). As he found nothing in the bottle line, he
let us go. What we really were afraid he might find, was
our pistols ; for we had heard that the law against wearing
arms is much more stringently enforced in the capital than
the provinces.

The Fonda de la Vhcaina^ to which we had been recom-
mended by our hostess at Granada, is an apartment in the
great Casa del Maragato, near the Puerta del Sol, the
centre of Madrid. Thither we threaded our way by inquiry
among real metropolitan crowded streets. The Puerta del
Sol is not a gate, though I suppose it once was, but a not
very remarkable butt-end of buildings, situated between the
Calle de Alcala and the Carrera San Hieronimo, which
streets here form a fork, of which the Calle Mayor (still
larger than either) is the handle. This butt-end is princi-
pally distinguished in the darker hours by an illuminated
clock-face — the Horse-Guards of Madrid.

Opposite the lofty-arched portals of the Casa del Maragato,
while we were debating how to attack so huge an edifice,
which bore no signs of containing any fonda^ and looked
more like some great official building, we were addressed in
English : —

" Beg pardon, sir, I suppose you will be the gentlemen
from Granada ; allow me to take your horses. Pedro, carry
these cahalleros' alforjas up into the fotida."

" That's all very fine ; but where are you going to take
our ponies to, and who are you ? "

"I'm the English interpreter to the establishment.
Mrs. Vasquez wrote about you coming. I'll just take the
horses round to Lamb's livery-stables." We felt a certain
doubt whether we should ever see the Moor and Cid again,
and a twitch of conscience, for fear, if we did not give them

287

The British Lion and Lamb

their barley, and unlace their cinchas^^ they might be badly
looked after by less affectionate and accustomed hands.
But we were tired and hungry, and the stable was reported
to be a long way off, to which we objected, and threatened
to go to a posada ; but they told us there were no posadas
with stables attached to them, except in the suburbs ; so
we went in under the lofty arch, and up an interminable
flight of stairs. When we got there, we found the house
was full. Some other gentlemen had arrived from Granada,
who had been mistaken for us, and the rooms kept for us
had been filled ; but a story higher, a widow kept lodgings,
and we might be accommodated, if we would. Here, at the
very top of the house, we found a very comfortable apart-
ment. We washed and supped, and sallied forth upon the
crowded lamplight ; had iced orchata (almond milk) at the
Cafe Suizo, in the Calle de Alcala. Since then, I have been
writing, and it is time now to go to bed ; the clock in the
Puerta del Sol has just struck twelve.

This morning, after breakfast, we were waited upon by a
shabby, little, silly, chattering pretendiente^ or place-hunter.
He had heard of us from his friends in Granada, and came
to offer his services to be generally useful. I went with the
English interpreter to the livery-stables, where I agreed
with Mr. Lamb, a most disreputable, groomy-looking rogue,
with a long waistcoat, drab trowsers, and a straw in his
mouth, to keep the ponies at six reals each a day. Harry
has been with the pretendiente to get our luggage out of
the galera office. They have just returned, and are in an
altercation with the porters.

They appealed to me, and I took out my watch, and said,
if they did not take what was offered in the course of two

' A barbarous circingle, going over the saddle, fastened by an
iron hoop, a cross splint of wood, and a thong.

288

What is Patriotism ?

minutes, they should have two reals less. Now they are
gone, and I can write again, Harry's hat is dreadfully
mangled, indeed desperately. He has sent out the pre-
tendiente to buy him another, and borrow a fiddle. Madrid
is a cheerful-looking town by daylight. At breakfast this
morning we met an agreeable Englishman, a contemporary
of mine at Eton, and now a fellow of King's. He got the
Latin poem medal the same year I did the English one.
We have fraternised, and already talk of making an excur-
sion to Toledo together. His name is B .

We shall stay here a fortnight or three weeks, till we
have made our excursions, and seen the place. Then we
shall turn our bridle-reins towards our native land. What
is patriotism r Nothing but the love of my country, because
it happens to be my country, — the land of my ancestors, —
my home, — to say nothing of being the somewhat ample
shrine of my little patroness saint. The true, unselfish,
ethereal, abstract sort of thing would be to feel patriotism
because it was somebody else's country.

289

CHAPTER XXV

Madrid, Apr'u 22.

I HAVE kept no journal since we reached Madrid, and
must write something, or I shall forget all about it, and have
no materials to work upon.

Oh, stern necessity of authors, to be always preserving
and potting the amusement of the day for future profit !
Oh, literature, literature ! thou art indeed a base and servile
trade. From suggestive scraps here and there, out of these
matter-of-fact rambling epistles, I shall have to construct a
brisk and sparkling narrative of things which never hap-
pened, and sentiments I never felt, — and all because the
British public has an acquired taste for artificial writing, as
they have for doctored wines. The pure vintage of the
heart, like genuine clarets, seems poor and sour. It must
be brandied with forced hilarity, and Burgundied with a
body of rich and racy shams. It must have a bouquet of
chemically-prepared sentiment, and then it is fit to be
volumed from the rough cask of MS., and decanted into the
reviews.

We shall have to write something very careful this time
to establish our reputations, for we are getting stricken in
years (Harry and I are twenty-five and twenty-six) ; and if
we are to be famous, we ought to make haste ; for what's
the fun of being famous when we are fat puffy men or

290

The Twilight of Dawn

forty ? Everybody is famous then ; it is too common to be
worth mentioning.

But fame when young, if there's a possibility
Of getting it, is worth the wear and tear :
It almost equals money or nobility
To help you to the candid world's esteem —
Their dinners, balls, and general civility.

I quote from an vmpublished piece in ter%a r'lma^ written
when I was about eighteen, and, in confidence, I don't see
I write any better now than I did then. Criticism, and
prudence, and acquired facts to work upon, are all, or nearly
all, a man gets by years, more than he had when he was a
boy ; perhaps a little more mental endurance, but I don't
think the actual creative energy of the mind increases much
after fifteen or sixteen.

If I ever write a novel, I will certainly begin with my
hero at seventeen, and leave him at twenty very much the
same as I found him, in a practical point of view, but
having gone through a splendid career of romance and
experience.

By the way, "Vivian Grey" is an excellent instance of
the success of this. With an older hero, whom you are led
to believe is in every way fitted to become a prominent man
in his country, you begin, towards the end of the third
volume, to wonder why he is not Secretary of State, or
Chancellor of the Exchequer ; and the fact that these ofBces
are filled by other functionaries, destroys the truth-seeming
of the tale ; whereas the triumphs and glory of a boy are all
permitted to be legitimately in the clouds, and we look upon
them with the same un-matter-of-fact feelings as on a
gorgeous sunrise.

Now I must tell you a little about how we have been

291 T

A False Start

passing the last week or so since our arrival in La Corte ;
for so Madrid is called. After gaping and staring about us
in a bewildered sort of way for a day or two, we agreed to

go to Toledo with Mr. A • B . We caused the pre-

tendiente^ who proves a very inefficient pretender (in fact, a
frightened, half-witted, chattering, melancholy impostor), to
inquire about the most convenient way of going. He went
hither and thither, and made a great to do, but could not
form an opinion between the advantages of the direct dili-
gence and the railway to Aranjuez. We selected the latter,
and having conveyed ourselves to the station, found that we
had an hour and a quarter to wait. This was an unlucky
start, but, by the help of conversation, we got through the
interregnum.

When we reached Aranjuez, we of course made diligent
inquiry for the Toledo diligencia^ and learnt that it started
from 2i posada about three-quarters of a mile off. Hurrying
to secure places, we were told at the 'Posada de Santa Isabel
that the diligence had gone to the station. Rushing back
to the station, we found that the diligence had been waiting
there all the time, but out of sight behind some buildings,
and had lately started in apathetic despair of passengers,
quite empty, for Toledo. Its conductor had probably been
smoking the cigar of resignation, while he ought to have
been looking for travellers ; and the railway officials, of
whom we had inquired, had not thought fit to do his business
for him.

With sundry maledictions on the way affairs are managed
in the Peninsula, we entered the town once more, and
inquired for a private conveyance ; but the charges were so
high, and the rate of going so slow, that it appeared to us
the cheapest and simplest way to pass the afternoon (which
had now turned out fine, after an unpromising morning) in

292

Aranjuez and Eton

Aranjuez, and return by rail, to take the direct diligence,
after all.

So we made the best of our unfortunate experiment, and
loitered about among the gardens, and pleasure-grounds,
and groves, discoursing peripatetic philosophy on many

subjects, but chiefly education ; apropos of B having

that morning received a letter, calling him up to Eton, as a
master.

To me — leaving Eton as a little boy of fourteen, and
sealing up, as one always does, my memories of the place as
I left it, without allowance for changes moving on unseen —
it seemed strange, and a sudden accession of great age to
myself, to find a boy of the form below me all at once
become one of those dreaded potentates — vicegerents of
Jupiter himself — wrapped in a rustling cloud of dignity and
black silk.

To B , however, who had grown up at Eton, and

known some slight foretaste of his present responsibilities
as a sixth-form boy, and still more as captain of the school —
who had lived with present masters as companions, both at
Eton and King's — the appointment suggested a long future
of patient drudgery, among troublesome little boys, con-
trasted with the happy recollections of his own school days.

We consoled him over his good fortune (for you must
know that an Eton mastership is a very comfortable thing
in many points of view, and all good fortune has its draw-
backs), by placing his profession in the most poetical light
we could. While he and Harry sat on a magnificently
carved but dampish marble bench, I, who was afraid it
might, as the phrase is, strike cold if I sat down, stood
before them, and delivered something like the following-
charge, whose intermittent pauses in the cigar-pufF were
taken up by the bubbling murmurs of that quaintly-graven

293

A Charge on Education

fountain whose portrait by the great Velasquez hangs in
the royal gallery of Madrid.

"When a man enters upon any profession, he is always
met in the vestibule of it by a troublesome crowd of atten-
dant difficulties and disadvantages. And this is well ; for
the incompetent may as well be disheartened at once, while
the able master must familiarise himself with adverse
influences which he has in the sequel to correct and
overcome.

"Let us consider these difficulties and disadvantages in
the case of the teacher. There is a daily trial of patience
with refractory little imps ; a daily pounding over the
same short road of juvenile study. There is the temptation
to neglect — the temptation to tyranny — the temptation to
favouritism. A short-sighted, ambitious man might slur
over the education of his boys, to cultivate his own mind.
A hasty man might easily slip into the habit of using his
almost despotic power without due conscientious consider-
ation. An enthusiastic man would naturally be led to
expend all his attention on promising and congenial pupils,
to the prejudice of others.

" You may say such a profession is a death-blow to ambi-
tious prospects. I answer, that a calling in which a young
man acquires scrupulous care, discrimination, and justice,
cannot be throwing time away ; and that learning to rule
boys is the first step towards ruling men. You will say,
' There is no instance ! A man gets lazy, and loses his
mettle like a horse in a mill. A pedagogue never becomes
anything more.'

" Great men are rare, I answer, and still rarer are those
who have grown great in comfortable situations.

"But say that the profession of a teacher leads to nothing
but a very improbable bishopric, which is of no service to a

294

Genuine Dignity

layman's anticipations. What is ambition of any reasonable
and noble kind, but a desire to influence the minds of men
in your day ? Agreed ; but you think it an unsatisfactory
substitute to influence the minds of boys. All ambition is
too eager for rapid results. Those boys will be men — and
when do you think you will find their minds so open and
accessible to worthy influences as in the tender and com-
paratively pure season of their youth ?

"Do you think, if you were a clever, harassed leader of
the House of Commons, with a pack of wrong-headed
country gentlemen at your back, you would be influencing
the mind of your fellow-creatures more effectually ?

" I know it is difficult to influence without being a com-
panion as well as a teacher ; and it is difficult not to lose
some of the magisterial awe and grandeur in that familiar
frankness which alone can make a man agreeable to boys.
But however the shams of this world demand reserve,
whatever is real may be safely open and free. True power
comes from real capability, true dignity from real virtue.
A truly capable and good man will never lose his power or
his dignity among his boys by being too familiarly known :
familiarity only breeds contempt when the person we are
familiar with is more or less contemptible, which, I fear, in
some points, is more or less the case with us all.

" To be a good teacher requires a more perfect combina-
tion of great and well-balanced qualities than any other
profession whatever. Other powers are checked, and kept
in order by republican elements, out of the clash of which a
tolerable approximation to truth and justice is jostled. But
the master is a despot, and on him alone depends whether
his despotism be for good or evil. It is a very arduous task ;
enough to make anybody anxious and uncertain of his
capacity for it.

295

Long Chamber

"Still I think it possible for a very good, and prudent, and
earnest-minded man (let us say one man in ten thousand)
to be a good schoolmaster ; and depend upon it, it is a very
noble ambition to be that man. The more so, as he may
be one of the greatest and most useful men in his country,
without being distressed by the stupid blockheads whose
voices make the noise of Fame, finding out that he is any-
thing more than ' a very good schoolmaster — a most excel-
lent man to trust with one's boys ! '

" And this, I hope, will be the report I shall hear from
some great blockhead, when I am determined to take up

two or three of my little blockheads to Dr, B , then

head-master of Eton. And as I hand you my envelope of
ten-pound notes (as if it was a letter of parental instruc-
tions), I shall refer you, for my wishes with regard to my
children, to a conversation some five-and-twenty years ago
in the gardens of Aranjuez. And my eldest little boy, as
we come out of the door at the bottom of the tower, where
we had been registering our names, will say, —

" ' I think Dr. B looks rather a good old boy, papa,

but where is Arrang-hweth, papa ? '

"'Aranjuez, my son, is the Windsor of Spain, or rather
the Versailles.'

" ' Was it built by Louis Quatorze, papa ? ' "

We wandered about among the leafy avenues and glades,

while B told us amusing stories about life in Long

Chamber, where all the collegers used formerly to live in a
sort of prison republic ; but it is now cut up into separate
bedrooms, and glazed : in my time there were only iron
gratings in the windows. There used to be fancy balls and
theatricals, and masquerades and hot suppers, up in that
Long Chamber, and there was a tradition that, in earlier
times, an old sow had been carried up the narrow stairs, and

296

Her Catholic Majesty

kept on the roof till she littered, and furnished roast-pig for
a month.

When we came to all the little pigs, it reminded us we
were hungry, and we returned to our restaurant^ inquiring,
as we passed the palace gates, what time the Queen was
likely to come out ; but they said it was uncertain. So we
dined, and returned to the gardens, and loitered about
among the flowers and statues, till the gay manta of sunset
was weaving in the western sky, and it was almost time to
think of returning to Madrid.

Just as we were moving away, there was a trampling of
horses in the distance, and the royal cortege of trundling
carriages and trotting guards came by. We saw her
Catholic Majesty very tolerably as she passed. But our
acquaintance was not to be so transitory. The whole line
wheeled round in a semicircle, and drew up before a house
in the great plaxa^ next the garden.

An old lady and a bald-headed gentleman came out on the
balcony over the colonnade. These were the Queen Mother
and Sefior Munoz. We drew near to see and hear
what passed, and stood, with our hats off, under the
colonnade, within three or four yards of the Queen's
panel, while she talked over our heads to her relatives on
the balcony.

She spoke in a clear, pleasant, natural voice, so that every
word could be heard both by those above and below. The
matter was entirely domestic : inquiring about Christina's
children, who had the measles (which, by the way, accounted
for this sort of visit, by the fear of the little Princess of
Asturias catching them) ; she related how her own baby had
been, and took it from the gaily-dressed Asturian nurse, and
held it up to be looked at.

As far as I remember, the presumptive heiress of all the

297

Toledo

Spains had slept rather badly the night before, and certainly-
seemed sleepy now. The Queen is a prettyish, lady-like
woman, and looks about twenty-five. Her nose certainly is
not a very choice feature, but not near so bad as those
frightful snub-nosed caricatures on her coins would lead
one to expect.

There was something singular in the perfectly easy,
unembarrassed, and unaffected manner in which she talked
of her household interests before a gathering crowd of her
subjects ; as if she saw no reason why a queen should
pretend to be more than a woman, or be ashamed of her
maternal anxieties and filial duties. But kings and queens
are accustomed to live in public, and I dare say she thought
no more of the hundred and fifty people or so who sur-
rounded her than if they had been half a dozen busts in her
own bedroom.

So we went back to Madrid, on the whole not dissatisfied
with our day, nor altogether sorry we had missed the Toledo
diligence.

Next day we learnt by inquiries, made this time in person,
that the diligence only went alternate days, and would not
go till the morrow. I passed the evening at the house of

the Duque de R , a poet, historian, and an agreeable

man : formerly ambassador of Naples. He has some lively
and pleasant daughters, and there was a good deal of cheerful
conversation. I went without invitation, having been
made free of the house, and the Duquesa receiving every
evening. I had made the Duque's acquaintance in Seville,
when he asked me to come and see him as I passed
Madrid.

At last we got off to Toledo by the direct diligence. After
six or seven hours of bleak uninteresting country, we went
up a steep hill, and under a great Moorish gateway. I am

298

The Armeria

sorry to say that the expectations we had formed of Toledo
were not realised. We immediately set about seeing what
was to be seen ; but the cathedral, which we began with, did
not strike us much ; it has neither much grace nor magni-
ficence. What struck me most, were some large and rather
brilliant frescoes along the arched walls of the cloister.
They are, I believe, neither very antique nor very excellent
in point of art ; but the effect was peculiar.

The view of the city from the tower was cold and stony,
with but little beauty or irregularity of form in the hill on

which it stands. B had to go back on the morrow

early, and we determined to accompany him, instead of
waiting two days more for the diligence's next trip. I think,
perhaps, if it had not been for the sake of his agreeable
society, we might have stayed, on the chance of Toledo's
improving on further acquaintance. But this overbalanced
our further curiosity ; so, as I wanted to have a real Toledo
blade for my court sword, I made haste, and left them
in the cathedral-tower, and hurried down to the armeria^
which lies below the city, about a mile out, that I might get
there before it closed.

It is a huge building, where the clash and clang of ham-
mers and the roar of furnaces resound. It is a government
fabric, but there is a bureau where they keep samples for
sale. I bought the lightest small-sword I could find, and a
dagger for Harry. As I was coming away I met Harry and

B . We went and sat by the banks of the Tagus, near

a watermill.

The view of Toledo here, where the river sweeps round
the foot of the long battlement-crowned hill, is picturesque ;
and Harry got out his sketch-book, while we sat and extem-
porised little better than nonsense verses on the sunset, and
the Tagus, and Toledo ; and while I washed and rubbed

299

A Sordid Muse

the grimy handle of my blade (which had already con-
siderably blackened my hand) in the water and sand of the
river.

I.

It was the sunset hour —
On battlement and tower
Gleam'd the red slanting rays :
High up Toledo, piled
In massive grandeur, smiled
Grimly, like some old warrior lit with battle's blaze.

n.

Upon the tawny sand,
A sword-blade in his hand,
A northern youth there knelt —
He plunged the weapon keen
In Tajo's ripples sheen :
"Tajador, I do baptize thee, thou new glory of my belt!

III.

" Perchance, long hid beneath

Thy silver-clasped sheath,
Worn but for courtly show —
Who knows ? — a day may dawn.
When in right earnest drawn,
Thy temper may be put to proof by parry and by blow ! "

" Bravo, most valiant bard ! " said B , "and Tajadir

(the cutter) would be a most excellent name for a sword
baptized in the Tajo, if it only had a trenchant edge ; but
this one, being a small-sword with no edge at all, gives me
scruples."

"What of that ? It has a point, and so has my joke ; and
if my joke's point don't make people laugh, my sword's point
shall make them cry. Come, make me a good Latin pun,
apropos of a Toledo blade, while I turn some English ones ;
for I will engrave it all over with epigrams, and make it the

300

A Comical Blade

most comical blade in all Christendom." He took out a
pencil and the back of a letter, and began to turn about his
materials. In a minute or two he hit off this —

TIMETOLETVM,
which (I need scarcely tell the erudite reader) reads, either

TIME TOLETVM (honour Toledo), or
TIMETO LETVM (fear death).

Here are some of mine, merely general mottoes for a
small-sword, without reference to Toledo, which I could
make nothing of.

I.

Though slight I am, no slight I stand,
Saving my master's sleight of hand.

II.

'Gainst words or deeds my wearer may resent,
I'm a cool, polished, pointed argument.

III.

Come to the point — unless you do,
The point will shortly come to you.

IV.

If the hints written on my blade.
Through eye or ear may not persuade ;
I to your heart a way can find,
Perhaps not so much to your mind.

B also suggested, as a proper motto for the hilt, this

Spanish one, which Ford gives as used on some old Toledo

blade : —

No me saques sin razon,
No m' envaines sin honor.

(Do not draw me without reason —
Do not sheathe me without honour.)
301

Piously Truculent

Gayangos, the great Moorish antiquarian of Spain, who
happened to call on me the day after our return, gave me
the following inscription : —

(I will slay thine enemy by the help of the Lord.)

We returned to Madrid early next morning without
adventures, and have equally without adventures passed
three or four days since our return, chiefly in the picture-
galleries, on which I don't feel inclined at present, if ever,
to enlarge. We have got tickets for a bull-fight to-morrow.
In a few days we shall go to Cuenca.

The following is a letter written from Madrid, of which
the author has by fair words recovered the copyright from
its fair proprietress, and of which the reader, if he or she be
not of a sentimental turn, may skip as much as he or she
chooses.

302

CHAPTER XXVI

Letter to

Madrid, April 29.
You were once pleased to observe, dearest critic, that my
letters were generally the most amusing when they were
about nothing at all. It would have been more compli-
mentary to have put it, " When they were about nothing
particular," for that is my favourite and most usual style :
and indeed I now take up my pen to scribble you a line or
two before we start for Cuenca, being precisely in the pre-
dicament of having nothing particular to say.

The first axiom of letter-writing is, "Put pen to paper, and
you may depend something will come of it." What a com-
mon and ridiculous excuse heads half the letters of one's
dearest friends : — " I have been intending to write to you
the last six months, but I had nothing particular to say."
I always answer on such occasions, " Then why the deuce
didn't you write, and %ay nothing particular ? "

It is a week since I wrote last ; and I have got so much
infected with a vicious habit of correspondence, that the
desire of writing comes upon me independent of any
plethoric secretion of epistolary elements.

I am drawn to my blotting-book as the best representa-
tive I can find in Madrid of your portals in Berkeley Square.
While I write to you, I am in your society, as much as

303

Learnt by Heart

memory and imagination can patch up a counterfeit ot
reality. I fancy I hear your voice, answering the foolish
things I write.

You seem to sit near me in that great old damask chair
whose ebony elbows are carved with lions' heads and claws,
where you so often sit in the library after breakfast. I see
the lights move on the rich, brown, wavy clusters of your
hair, as you look up at me, with an incredulous smile light-
ing the delicate transparent features, to cross-question me
whether I can really call up a fair familiar spirit, the double
of yourself.

I see you very plainly (or let us say, very prettily) at this
moment. I see the stained sunlight of the library's oriel
flicker on the loose pleats of a longish-waisted dress, as you
breathe. " Come, what colour is my dress ? " you say sud-
denly, thinking I shall not be able to tell, on the emergency,
and so be exposed in a mild attempt at second sight. My
dear madam, I have not studied your dresses with the same
attention I have devoted to yourself : but your dress is grey,
a lightish French grey, and it has a shiny look, like poplin,
or something of that sort ; but I am not learned in
stuffs.

But, suffice it to say, I have a general and picturesque
consciousness of your presence, which catches all the prin-
cipal points distinctly, and leaves the rest undefined. For
instance, I can see your chatelaine^ and your pocket-hand-
kerchief trimmed with Valenciennes, and I can plainly smell
that there is eau-de-cologne among the cambric-folds. I
assure you, I felt just now a distinct temporary scruple in
lighting my cigarillo in your presence.

How is it in your case ? When you are reading one or
my letters, for instance, do you imagine me talking in the
genuine unmusical tones of my own voice ? — do you see me

304

A Spanish Comedy

twirling impatiently round, like a Hindoo votary in torture,
on the music-stool (which I have brought up near your
chair), when you think some cruel and unkind remark ?
" It is just like one of your impertinent questions. Don't
talk nonsense, but tell me something amusing, for example,
something about your life in Madrid, now ! "

But, of course, I prefer to talk nonsense. How much of
my life in Madrid do you think I should tell you if I was
sitting on the twirly music-stool at this moment, instead of
where I am at the top of the Casa del Maragato^ with my
swealing candle only for company, for Harry has been in
bed in the little room adjoining some time, and the other
candle lately burnt out ?

It is past twelve. We came home at eleven from the
Teatro del Principe, where we saw a comedy that would
have amused you. It is called El Ingles y el Vtscaino.
The Biscayan is ruined, and contemplating suicide, repairs
to the river. When he is about to throw himself in, he
finds he is observed by a melancholy man, in a drab great-
coat with a cape, who he feels sure will have him fished out.
He retires to wait till the coast is clear.

The melancholy drab man comes forward, and proves to
be an English milord^ who, finding life a bore, has deter-
mined to make an end of it. He contemplates his past life.
" Here I am, a man with fifty thousand guineas of rent, in
perfect health, possessing everything, in fact, which people
who haven't got, wish for ; and yet I am miserable.

"I have tried everything. I bought a ship and sailed
round the world. I am tired of travelling. Once I tried
sleeping twenty hours a day : but I got tired of my bed.

"There is nothing for it but drowning, — the only thing
I have not yet tried. The famous Shikkypeer has written a
noble soliloquy on suicide. Come, I will repeat it : Ser^

305

Despair and Disgust

i, no ser—eso es el Caso^ (a pause) ;— there is an impediment
to my finishing the soliloquy, for, now I come to thmk of it,
I never could remember more than the first line. I must
drown myself, evidently, without repeating the soliloquy.
He goes to the bank, and meets the Biscayan.

"What do you mean, sir, by spying upon my movements .

" If you come to that, what do you mean by watchmg

me ? " „

«I am not watching you— I have business here.

" So have I." .

" How can that be ; I am about to drown myself m the

river r

"So am I!" ,

" Singular coincidence ! Why are you going to drown

yourself ? "

« I am a ruined man. I have lost everything— my name
as a man of commercial honour will be stigmatised ! "

« What an absurd reason ! Why, I should think there
must be something very exciting and novel in the feeling of

being ruined ? " ^^

" Do not jest with me, sir ! I am desperate.

" I am not jesting. Come, to show you I am in earnest,
let us go and drown ourselves in company."

" But why do you drown yourself ?

" I find life an insufferable bore. I have tried everything
except drowning and being ruined. I think it might
interest me though, to hear your history before I die. Let

me hear it !" ^ j o<-

" It is very cold here for conversation. Come and sup at
my house, and we will relate our histories, for I cannot con-
sent to drown myself in your company until I am convinced
you have just cause for so desperate an action."
I " To be or not to be," &c.
306

Another Bull-Fight

They adjourn to the merchant's house. The Englishman
falls in love with his daughter. They drink a few bottles of
rom. The Englishman keeps perfectly steady and melan-
choly, while the Biscayan gets very drunk. The result of
course is, that the milord is struck with the idea of liqui-
dating the bankrupt's liabilities, finds benevolence a new
and delightful sensation worth living for, marries the
Biscayan 's daughter, and the piece ends happily and drily —
at any rate not in the river.

The bull-fight I mentioned as in prospect, came off pretty
well, but not brilliantly. The weather had been coldish,
and the ganado (cattle) were sulky and truculent, instead
of being brisk and furious, which is the most favourable as
well as safest phase of taurine humour. They showed a
disposition to be wary and false, running at the men rather
than the gaudy draperies flourished in their faces to draw
them.

The audience were not in good humour, especially some
aficionados (amateurs) near us, who seemed greatly to dis-
approve of the performance of one of the picador es.

There was a very savage beast in the arena, who had
made terrible havoc among the horses ; and this picador^
who had been the most unfortunate, was manifestly dis-
heartened, and seemed divided in his mind whether
to be more afraid of the bull below or the taunting
remarks which rained upon his head from the indignant
galleries.

His reputation was at stake, and I felt sorry for the poor
fellow. He spurred his bleeding and disembowelled horse,
and went to the charge apparently with an uncomfortable
presentiment. The bull rushed at him with a tremendous
impetus, which his lance was powerless to resist. The
horns were plunged into the breast of the horse, who

307 u

shorter than the Former

reared and fell backwards with his rider all of a heap.
The chulos did not come readily enough to distract the
bull's attention, and he trampled and gored his victim at
leisure.

The wretches near us cried, " Bravo toro — rrialegro. It
serves you rightly for pricking so badly." But when the
picador was taken up ^nseless, with his face covered with
blood, and carried round on a shutter, they, thinking he
would probably die shortly, reconsidered the poor man's
feelings a little, and how unpleasant it must be to perish in
the hour of his ill success, in the midst of outcries and
execrations on his want of skill and courage ; so they
changed their cries of nialegro for " Que lastima ! " (what a
pity), a mildish reparation under the circumstances.

The whole affair, from beginning to end, was infinitely
more bloody and horrid than anything in the sample at
Seville, which I remember describing with tolerable accuracy.
It has quite satisfied us that bull-fights are not to our taste,
and we never intend to go again. One of the bulls had a
marked objection to fight, though he was strong and active,
as plainly appeared, by his jumping over the barrier (about
six feet high) five times in rapid succession. However,
when he found he could not get away, he fought
buUfully.

There was another bull-fight yesterday, in which two men
were killed. All Madrid is saying, " Que lastima ! " about
it to-day. They say the bulls are in a very exceptionally-
dangerous frame of mind this season.

It is bedtime, and I must end this letter, which you will
think a very short and shabby one, though it covers a
closely-written sheet of letter-paper. But the gigantic
proportions of my ordinary paquets must have distended
your capacities of letter-reading to an exorbitant pitch.

308

Madrid

What a sum they must cost you in postage ; for here letters
to England cannot be paid for. Your delicate foreign
letter-paper sheets cost me about three shillings ; but my
revenge is something terrible to think of. If we come back
alive from Cuenca, you shall have a ponderous account of
our expedition.

Ever, &c.

P.S. — As we have breakfasted earlier than we need have
done, and the Cuenca diligence does not set off till noon, I
have time to spare ; so I have determined to cover my letter
with another half-sheet, and write a postscript on it about
Madrid.

It is a vaguish affair to have to squeeze a whole capital
into a postscript ; but I have no time to individualise, and
a postscript on something in general will follow well enough
after a letter about nothing particular.

Madrid is built in a roundish square, with a wall and
boulevard squaring the circle. On the western brow of the
plateau is the palace, which has some handsome rooms in it.
We saw a very good copy of Murillo's best picture (in the
Madrid gallery) hung in the palace, and thinking it might
be a duplicate of the artist himself, learnt it was a copy by
the queen.

Next door to the palace is the great armoury. Here we
saw the swords and suits of many heroes of high fame, and
exquisite workmanship. It made me wish I had lived in
those times, that I might have inlaid myself a suit of black
steel with silver patterns of my own device. The Christian
patterns showed a paucity of invention ; but the Moorish
were good in device, though I think not so graceful in form.
The armour of Boabdil is very nicely inlaid. But what do
you care about bosses and borders, and jewel-hilted rapiers ?

309

Statue of Cervantes

About as much as I do about bonnet-ribbons, and ruches^
and mother-of-pearl-handled parasols !

Now we will skip, if you please, to the north-east corner
of the city. Here is the famous Prado. Prado means
meadow ; and this pleasaunce is so called, because there is
not an inch square of grass. It is all boscage, cut into ten
thousand pieces by gravel- walks— making a pleasant laby-
rinth to wander and make love, — with stone seats. The
broad walk up the centre is lined by immense numbers of
the largish-sized kings, and princes, and queens, from Wamba
and his lady downwards. There are reservoirs of muddyish
water, and ducks and geese.

Returning, we cross the Paseo^ a noble avenue, where, as
by the Serpentine, —

Smooth-trundling fashion courts, in cushioned ease,
A dusty freshness from the evening breeze.

On the other side, crowning the sHght rise of the fan-
shaped hoca-calle (street-mouth) of the Carrera San
Hieronymo, stands the statue of Cervantes, which, though
quite modern, is the thing which pleases me most m
Madrid ; not because it is particularly good, but because
the nation has attempted to do justice, at last, to her long-
neglected son. On the pedestal is graven " al principe
DE LOS iNGENios ESPANOLEs" (To the chief of Spanish
wits). I wish he could have seen it before he died. He
must often have walked over the place. Ford's excellent
joke, " To him whom his country refused bread while living,
they have at last given a stone," is unfortunately not exact.
The statue is a bronze. His country, by way of posthumous
charity, have presented him with a copper.

310

CHAPTER XXVII

CuENCA, May I.

We set off at twelve in the banqueta at the top of the
diligence. After a tedious day of barren, uninteresting
country, a still more tedious night came on. We luckily
had it to ourselves, and tossing up for choice of places,
disposed ourselves, Harry under foot, below the leather
apron, and I along the seat.

The relative advantages were nearly balanced. He had
more shelter from the wind ; I had a hard leather seat
instead of a bare foot-board to lie upon. It grew colder and
colder. The wind whistled and howled in the cabriolet-
head, whose leather curtains, as a matter of course, would
not meet by full two feet.

I did something temporary with my silk pocket-hand-
kerchief, tying it at the corners to stop the gap. It sagged
in like a bellying sail, and the cold air blew in through it
as if it was a sieve, and only let the most rarified and
piercing particles pass. Harry, in a melancholy sleepy
voice from below, said that it acted as a wind-sail, and
turned the draught down below decks.

We were in our Madrid dresses, and had not brought
our capas (mine, indeed, was in the neighbourhood of Jaen,
but I might have brought my plaid). I can't think how
we could have been so stupid ; but at our outset there was

Clarence a Little Altered

a fine blazing noonday sun, and we thought our great-coats
would be enough.

" Oh, Lord ! methought, what pain it was to starve ! "
I was sleepy too, to add to my torments, and could not
doze three minutes together without being awakened by
the cold or the jolting. At last the day began to break,
but the light made it no warmer ; and even when the
broad red sun slanted over the dark masses of Cuenca
among the hills, he seemed powerless.

However, in half an hour or so his genial beams began
to tell. The postilion, who had ridden all night, beginning
to feel more comfortable, fell asleep. These poor wretches,
who have to ride three or four hundred miles on end with-
out stoppage of more than two hours, would be badly off
if they could not sleep a little in the saddle. This boy
would have to go all the way to Valencia. It is the same
in Seville diligences, which have a still longer distance.

I had made this wonderful functionary's acquaintance
(when we stopped at Tarancon) while he ate his beefsteak
and smoked. He was a sinewy stolid youth, who seemed
to possess no particular forte besides his long endurance in
the saddle, and, indeed, such a course of life is enough to
turn both body and soul into leather. I should have said
that he was more tough than witty.

The near approach to Cuenca is pretty ; a corner of the
town rises on the rock-edge beyond a picturesque bridge.
Crossing the river, we entered a long, broad street in the
lower town, which is commonplace enough. Here the
diligence stops to breakfast at the Parador de la Diligencia ;
and as Old Cuenca (the high town) is very imperfectly
seen from this street, many people, who only stop to
breakfast, must go away with the impression that the place
is nothing very remarkable. They only see the round end

312

Cuenca

of the rock-perched city, where it fans out and sweeps down
into the level. They see nothing, or at best only a passing
glimpse of the least-striking corner of those precipitous
rock-walls, crowned with qviaint buildings, which overhang
the deep ravines on either side. But of this and more anon.

At the moment, we neither knew nor much cared about
such things, but rushed into the Parador^ where our first
thought was to warm ourselves at a blazing cedar-log fire,
whose ambrosial warmth soon tempered our principal
grievance to a level where our second thought could thrust
up its head. Of course, the second thought was breakfast.
The third thought was a cigar, in combination with a
saunter in search of the picturesque.

We were in a more hopeful state of mind now ; in the
sunshine, after a decent meal of poached eggs and choco-
late ; but still we felt prepared ito be disappointed, after
coming eighteen hours' journey merely to see it. However,
we had not come so far without excellent testimonials to
the meritorious features of the place ; Stirling, before I left
England, Gayangos in Madrid, and Ford in the Hand-book,
were all eloquent in its praise ; and their collective opinion
on any co%a de Espana is probably better worth having than
that of any other three men living. Still Ronda stuck in
our gizzard, for a disappointed tourist is suspicious of com-
mended cities. I think the scalded dog in the proverb
would hardly recognise himself in this genteel and somewhat
diluted paraphrase.

A street at right angles to the one in which the Parador
stands, whose houses were mostly in ruins, led us to the
foot of the city. Instead of entering the gate at the bottom
of the hill, we turned to the right up the narrow, deep
ravine, over which the quaint, irregular crowd of narrow,
many-storied buildings impend, as if they had been jostled

Siesta al Fresco

and elbowed by the press to the very edge of the dizzy
verge, and were propping themselves up, as a temporary but
desperate shift, with jutting heels and stanchions of timber.

Along this deep cleft ripples the crystal Huecar, whose
stream we ascended till we came to an obstruction of rocks
near a water-mill. Managing to scramble over our difficulty,
we proceeded along the winding ravine, while at every angle
fresh views broke upon us, and at each step we were more
and more delighted and astonished with the ever-varying
wonders of this truly enchanted city.

A little further on appeared the noble but dilapidated
bridge, 150 feet high, spanning the chasm of the Huecar.
Of course the next thing was to get upon the bridge. The
view of the chasm, on either hand, is very striking. The
time-worn edges of the precipices have fallen into curious
forms. Huge detached crag-heads stand out against the
sky-line ; the predominant type of these rocks bears some
resemblance to the form of an anvil, probably a Vulcanic
formation. Here, on the bridge, we were arrested by a
distant plaintive murmur of cathedral music from above,
and we climbed into the town. After taking a glance at
the Cathedral, and trying the Post-office in the faint hope
of a letter, we descended by the steep, narrow street to our
Parador.

It was now about twelve ; but as we had begun the day
on arriving at six in the morning, and besides had never
satisfactorily finished our night, we thought something to
eat and a siesta mio;ht suit our case better than further
investigations for the present. Harry retired to his
mattress ; and I, thinking it would be pleasanter to sleep
al fresco^ resorted once more to the ravine.

It now became a matter of speculation where to find a
warm sequestered place, which did not seem so easy as I

My Dream

had expected. At our first entry, about seven in the
morning, the glen had been nearly a monopoly, but now the
grassy banks of the Huecar were occupied by a promiscuous
array of washerwomen, kneading, and dipping, and clapping
a great variety of tawdry rags.

I saw nothing for it but to climb the precipice to secure
some inaccessible place of refuge ; and about 200 feet above
the level of the stream, I lighted on a little grassy ledge,
before the mouth of a small cave. Here, by disposing my
head towards the cave, and my feet to the precipice, I could —

" Sans souci du reveil,
Dormir, la tete a I'ombre et les pieds au soleil."

I lit a cigartUo with my burning-glass, and shortly went
to sleep, while the distant music of the cathedral still
murmured its plaintive lullaby.

Shall I tell you my dream ? Methought (what would a
dream be worth, if it did not begin with methought ?) as I
lay in the mouth of the cavern, a distant trumpet's silver
tones called to me from within. I rose and entered, leaving
the light of day. Spell-bound, without the power to stop
and hesitate whether I should proceed or return, I went
down the steep declivity. The slope of the cavern's floor
was rough and rocky, but my feet seemed lightened and
guided by some onward destiny.

A strange, dim twilight grew upon the dark — a deep
purple light, which as it increased, the mysterious impulse
urging me forward seemed to strengthen, and I found myself
plunging down from crag to crag at a desperate speed, leaping
over great yawning gaps of apparently impossible width.

And yet I felt no fear — only a sort of dumb and dreamy
wonder. I could see, as I flew across them, that beneath
these abysses there flowed a dark torrent, breaking in foam

Pandemonium

that flashed phosphorically, like the foam before the prow of
a great ship plunging through a midnight sea ; only that the
thousand sparkles scattered from this black surge were as
large and bright as Venus in her perigee.

It was their lustre which made the growing twilight of
the cavern, which I could now see arched vaster than before,
and made a larger, hollower echo to the roaring stream
below. At length, when I was beginning to feel weary and
my heart was sinking, I came to a hopeless breadth of chasm,
whose further verge rose perpendicular to the top of the
cavern. The light of the whirling gulf below showed me,
beneath its wall, an arch through which the tide was sucked
with a dreadful gurgling tumult.

I could not pause. I cried. The end is come — now we
shall see what lies behind the veil. I did not fear — a mad-
ness possessed alike my heels and brain. I sprang — a
hissing plunge — a bubbling tumult of waters, and I felt
myself washed like a feather through this infernal mill-race,
expecting every moment (though with an unaccountable
complacency) to have my head split on some jutting rock.

Before my breath was quite exhausted (for from habit I
had filled my lungs before plunging in), I was rolled out
into the bosom of a broad, calm river, where I could swim
at leisure. It was twilight still ; but I was now beneath a
broad, calm, starlit heaven — but it was not the same heaven,
nor the stars I knew. It seemed as vast, but not trans-
parent— a solid dome, in which greater stars were swung
like lamps, for their beams were reflected as it were on a
polished vault of lapis lazuli.

This great vault's rim, like that of an inverted bowl,
seemed to rest on the brow of that lofty mountain- barrier,
beneath whose precipitous wall the placid river wound, and
from whose base spouted — through a round aperture, like a

316

Liquid Fire

huge sewer-mouth — the sparkling torrent which had brought
me down.

On the further side of the broad river, I saw a tall
fountain of rosy fire, beneath what appeared a temple, whose
great columns seemed to tremble as the flickering fountain
rose and fell. I knew at once that this was my destination,
and I swam towards the beacon, breaking the warm, dark
waters into sparkling ripples, as I struck out lustily for the
undiscovered shore.

The quality of the water seemed strange. It had an
ambrosial perfume, unlike anything I have smelt with waking
nostrils : and so far from exhausting or chilling, it gave a
sort of prickly, burning glow and vigour to the body. Indeed,
my frame appeared to undergo a change as I swam. At last
I reached the bank — a shore of shelving flowers, which
seemed like violets set with a self-luminous dewdrop in the
centre. In the midst of the perfume of these sweet flowers,
I perceived a smell of burning.

Startled and rather alarmed, I found that all my clothes
were in a smouldering state, smoking slightly, and dimly
luminous. I hurriedly began to undress, but at the first
touch the whole fell off like a husk of tinder ; and I cast
the consuming heap into the water, where it shot up a
small dull flame. This floated away in the languid current
of the river, and soon disappeared.

I found I had been swimming in a kind of liquid fire, which
luckily had the property of respecting flesh and blood. I
lay down and rolled, like a horse relieved of his trappings, in
the soft and fragrant crush of jewel-spangled flowers. A
drowsiness fell upon me ; I might have slept, when I was
roused by the same trumpet call, not faint as before, but
ringing a shrill clear note that echoed up to the dark blue
vault, and seemed to make the stars that hung there tremble.

Limited Conversation

I started, and wading up the slope knee-deep in flowers,
and leaving a lustrous line where my footsteps had shaken
the fiery dew, I soon reached the gate of the temple I had
seen. It was like some of the great gateways you have seen
in Layard's Nineveh, only on the two huge granite blocks
on either side couched living winged bulls with ghastly,
solemn human faces.

These rolled their large fiery eyes and fixed them on me ;
still I advanced, drawn towards the rosy fountain of flame
which sprang from the black marble threshold, and shut the
whole portal as with a broad curtain of fire.

As my feet touched the first step of the great black
marble flight, both these beasts rose slowly and spread their
wide wings across the entrance, and looking down upon me
with a very sinister expression, spoke in an awful voice
which sounded like the roaring of a mighty furnace. The
one on the right hand said —

"MENE-MENE!"

And the one on the left hand —

"TEKEL UPHARSIN!"

The beasts were probably aware that the phrase they thus
cut in two was all I should probably understand of the
Assyrian tongue, and so made the most of it. I replied at
once to the beast on the right hand —

"WAALEYCOM ESSALAM,"
And to the one on the left —

"BISMILLAHIRRAHMAN IRRAHIM;"

The Fiery Veil

which pious and polite salutations seemed to strike them
with a terrible horror, for a pang of torture twitched the
solemn features, and they trembled violently, making a
rustling sound with their quivering pinions, like the
rustling of a great palm-tree when the simoon is on the
desert. «

Beneath these awful wings I stood and watched the
flame. It sunk a little, and left a space of darkness at the
top of the doorway, in which the sparks hovered like
stars in the mirror of a flowing river. These star-like
sparks were gathered like wild geese in the sky, and fell
into the form of successive characters one after another.

K

n
h

When it came to the Lamed, no more letters were formed,
and the flame rose to the top of the doorway again. I was
aware that the word which had been spelt means ENTER
in the Chaldaic.

It seemed a dangerous enterprise to go into this flaming
fiery furnace, but I remembered the quality of the water,
and had an impression that I was someway seasoned against
burning ; moreover, the trumpet sounded again behind the
veil, and in I dashed, not without a vague suspicion that I
might be converting myself into a dish of broiled bones to
make a meal for some winged-lion fiend inside.

I got safe through, however, without a hair of my head
being singed, and found myself in a vast circular court,
crystal-floored and surrounded by a lofty peristyle of
gleaming golden columns. In the centre, a great fountain
cast up a glowing volume of what seemed like molten silver.

The Spirit of Sleep

Below was a broad golden basin, sunk in the floor, in
which the falling fluid tumbled and seethed as molten silver
does in the primrose heat of a crucible. Before the foun-
tain, on an ebon throne, sat a swarthy giant with dark
folded wings ; he was crowned and zoned with gold, and in
his hand he held a golden trumpet, which, as I entered, he
raised to his lips ; but just as I was preparing to be effec-
tually deafened, I heard a gentle dreamy voice from behind
the fountain call my name.

I passed the giant's throne, and going round the fountain,
saw that in a channel flowing from the central basin a
shadowy shallop rocked upon the glowing stream.

It was not moored, and would have drifted away through
an arch opposite my entrance, but on its prow there stood
a dark maiden with a silver paddle, with which she kept its
head against the current. Her eyelids drooped, her form
was beautiful, but dark as night, and darker still than night
the flowing hair contrasted with the loosely flowing robe of
snowy white ; and robe and hair floated around her listless
arms, she stooping down upon her weary toil.

She said, nor raised her eyes, " I wait for thee. Come ! "
And I entered and sat down ; and she sat down beside me,
and said, " I am weary," and threw her languid arms around
me, and pillowed her drowsy head upon my shoulder, and
clothed me with her wealth of raven tresses.

Meanwhile, our boat sprang forward through the arch —
away — down the rapid stream of fire.

But where we came to at last, and what we saw by the
way, I will not relate, at least for the present, for fear of
being tedious ; for I am tired of relating my dream, and
there is a hopeless quantity more of it, enough, indeed, if I
told it now, to smother the whole description of Cuenca
and its environs.

320

Huecar and Jucar

Therefore, with your permission, I shall abruptly wake
at once.

On getting up, and shaking my clothes and faculties into
their proper places, I found my seclusion had not been so
perfect as I supposed. A knot of soldiers had gathered on
a path-ledge of the opposite side of the glen (which, though
so deep, was only fifty or sixty yards across), who seemed
to be pointing me out and observing on my motions, as if
they considered me some troglodyte animal, in a grey frieze
coat, who had crept out of the caverns to bask in the
sunshine.

I descended from my rocky perch, and retracing my steps
to where the Huecar debouches from its chasm, crossed the
foot of the town, and wandered up the Jucar glen at the
other side. This is as abrupt and striking as the former,
but a thought wider, and watered by a much more copious
stream : at first a deep dark-green mirror reflecting the
crag-perched city which overhangs it, but higher up it
boils and whirls among protruding rocks and in deep
pools.

By the northern margin of the stream, a charming wooded
and swarded walk beneath the precipice led me to a wooden
bridge, after crossing which I still kept on following the
other bank, under the impression that some path would
shortly occur to lead me back to the town. I found none,
and came to the conclusion that the two glens must meet
further up, and so went along still as far as that idea would
support my patience. When I had come in sight of some
gardens beneath the clifF, and perceived that the glen
turned rather the wrong way, as the day was now hot and
nobody in sight, I undressed, and bathed in a clear whirling
pool.

Being now refreshed and cool, it struck me that it would

321

A Scramble

be a humiliating alternative to turn back. I therefore
adopted the imprudent, but exciting course, of scaling the
precipice directly opposite the spot which I had accidentally-
come to. It looked very pretty climbing, but on experi-
ment I found it difficult to make a start up the first perpen-
dicular twenty or thirty feet, which was so ticklish work
that it effectually cut off my retreat ; for as one has not
any eyes in one's heels, it is much more difficult to climb
down than up. I therefore, as in prudence bound, now
launched in my difficulty, crawled slowly and carefully up a
wrinkle in the rock's face.

It was all so hazardous for three hundred feet or so, that
the slightest slip would have rolled me away to perdition.
I began to be seriously alarmed, for I felt sure that if I
came to actual impossibilities further up, I should very
improbably be able to get down again alive. I was espe-
cially afraid of a great tuft of brambles which blocked up
my wrinkle, and was very hard to get over. My footing
was not improved in safety by my having on an old pair
of dress-boots which had danced through a season on the
polished floors of the metropolis, and were very slippery-
soled. But it is no use to try to make one's own dangers
excitinw in the narration. Like all other narrators of hair-
breadth escapes, I got to the top, the reaching of which, I
assure you, caused me a very pleasurable sensation.

There certainly is a luxury in danger. The mind enjoys
excitement too much to be particular as to whether the
excitement is for the moment pleasurable or painful. I
certainly don't think it is a pleasant sensation to be afraid ;
and yet I know by experience, that since the time when I
could walk across a gate, whether there was anybody to
look on or not, it has always been a sort of instinct with
me to do those things which engender fear.

322

Luxury of Danger

The suspense, while you are in the scrape, is perhaps
about evenly balanced by the consciousness of skill which
wrestles with the difficulty ; but when one is fairly through,
one congratulates one's self so cordially, and common earth
seems such a luxury to one's feet ; besides a certain rebel-
lious triumph over the detracting whisper of Prudence, who
certainly has the best of the argument, when to Rashness
making the boast, " I have done it ! " she answers — " Yes !
but you had no business to try."

But how very flat the world would be if one only did
what one has any business to do. I never had such a climb
since a pleasant precipice at Niagara, nine years ago, when
I was seventeen, and had very near as much of the better
part of valour as at present.

Now that I was at the top, I sat down on the edge of a
broad mass of rock overhanging the precipice, which fell
away about 200 feet in a plumb-line. Between this and
another similar rock-head was the fissure, whose irregu-
larities of surface had been the rounds of my ladder. Below
lay huge lumps, forty or fifty feet square, which had fallen
off the brow in ages past.

In the narrow glen below, the edges of the precipice on
either side had formed the horizon : but from the height to
which I had climbed, I now saw that from the brow above
the abrupt crags, sloped back a considerable forehead of
rugged mountain, sprinkled with great boulder-stones, many
of which had apparently rolled down to the very verge, and
been hesitating for centuries whether to go over or not.
The foamy Jucar roaring through its rocks, 500 feet below
me, made a pleasant solemn murmur in the still windless
abyss, which began to darken down below, as the sun
declined towards the mountain-flank.

When the blood is heated, and the mind excited

323 X

Las Piedras Encantadas

by climbing, you enjoy the beauties of scenery much
more than when a steamboat or a diligence carries you
lazily by.

After I had made the most of these sensations and
reflections, and taken my breath, with a slight admixture
of tobacco-smoke, I crossed the narrow neck of the rock-
isthmus, and looked back upon the city, and down upon the
Huecar glen, from a brow of the precipice which we had
seen from the bridge. We had remarked the spot from
the appearance of something like a ruined building in the
face of the rock, though in the distance we could not
assure ourselves that it was not one of the fantastic natural
formations in which these very singular crags abound.
It turned out to be the front wall of the lower story of a
house built down a chip in the edge of the clifF, which
tenement, having probably tottered on the brink to an
extreme old age, had at length fallen over.

Returning to the Parador^ I found Harry had returned
from making a sketch in the Huecar glen.

While he was sketching, a man had come up, and
entered into conversation with him about the pictur-
esque, who said that Cuenca was nothing compared with
another place in the hills, about three leagues off, called
Las Piedras Encantadas (the enchanted stones). The
name struck our fancy, and we resolved to go, being
not at all discouraged by the dissuasion of a man at the
Parador^ who said it was a bad place — nada d'lgna de verse
(nothing worth seeing) — only rocks and pine-trees.

The director of the diligence, a polite cahallero^ whose
bureau is in the Parador^ and who fraternised with us at
breakfast, informed us that Piedras Encantadas was a nice
place in z pat ^ age muy Undo (pretty scenery), also that there
were good shooting and fishing. Our best way, he said,

324

Means of Conveyance

would be to find some of the Val de Cabras people, who
come down daily with loads of firewood, and they would take
us back for a trifle on their discharo;ed mules. We dined,
and went to bed early, in consideration of our last night's
want of sleep in the diligence.

325

CHAPTER XXVIII

Next morning, after breakfast, we went out, accompanied
by the polite diligence-director. In the market-place of the
high town he stopped two sturdy damsels, browned and
blowzed as to their complexions, with dark flowing tresses
and sparkling eyes. These maidens were leading a long string
of mules and asses charged with faggots. They agreed to call
for us at two o'clock, and carry us back to Val de Cabras.

In the mean time we continued our walk. Passing
through the gate of the ruined fortress which guards the
narrow neck of the rock-plateau, and forms the upper
entrance into Cuenca, we turned to the left, and found a
winding-path which led us down into the glen of the Jucar.
Here we bathed, and on our return at two o'clock found the
damsels with their caballerias waiting in the court of the
Parador.

We entreated them in vain to allow us to give them
something to drink. They had three mules and a donkey
tied in a string. I mounted the first, and Harry the second.
The tallest and comeliest of our arrieras took the halter of
mine, — the other brought up the rear with a switch, to
encourage loiterers to keep up their pace. In this peculiar
sort of procession we passed along the great street, emerged
from the town where we first entered it in the diligence,
turned down below the arches of the bridge, and followed
the banks of Jucar.

326

Order of March

When we had got some little way beyond my bathing-
place of the morning, and a bend in the ravine had shut out
the last of the towering heights of Cuenca, our young ladies
thought fit to dissolve the tie which bound us, and we were
permitted to direct and manage our several animals as best
we could by admonitory flicks over the head and ears with
our halter-ends. Thus we threaded our way, riding two and
two (for our fair guides had also mounted) along the narrow
path, winding in and out among the huge masses of fallen
rocks between the echoing precipice and the murmuring river.

I rode by the side of my original conductress. Some
introductory conversation ensued. Her name was Facunda ;
the other was not her sister,^but her cousin, — she was called
Casta. They did not live in the same house, — Casta lived
over the way. Casta's house was a posada — not a regular
posada^ but guests could be received. She was not married,
nor would confess a novio (sweetheart). She had not yet
been told her eyes were beautiful, nor was altogether pre-
pared to believe it now.

We overtook other villagers, and our cavalcade soon
amounted to about forty animals — horses, mules, and asses,
— mostly mounted by young women and little girls. There
were, however, two old women, a man, and two boys. The
party reached these final dimensions when, about a league
from Cuenca, the glen widened out into a fair green valley.
Here the driving of those beasts which were not mounted
caused some diversion, and some of the young ladies fell off
now and then in the pursuit of pervicacious donkeys who
diverged into the green barley.

It was a merry party, and we rode promiscuously among
them, saying all the fine things we could make intelligible —
and, indeed, more ; for their language was a rough country
dialect, and they could not keep up with our florid classical

327

Val de Cabras

style of complimentary dialogue, which was principally
modelled on Don Quixote's conversations with princesses
and shepherdesses. Nevertheless, they took it all as a
compliment, and laughed as much as if they understood all
our best jokes and sublimest metaphors.

There was none of the party who, in my eyes, eclipsed the
charms of my original Facunda ; but Harry, I am sorry to
say, proved faithless to his Casta, who being mounted on a
slow donkey, rather lagged behind : but I did not see that
he bettered himself greatly ; and, indeed, to say the truth,
any three of the whole party might have sat for the portraits
of those feas aldeanas ^ whom Sancho persuaded his master
to believe beauteous princesses.

The road now turned to the right, and leaving the broad
valley of the Jucar, entered a narrow, picturesque defile,
watered by a smaller tributary stream. Great pines, which
had planted themselves in the clefts and ledges of its rocky
walls, waved their dark arms overhead, and here and there
the surrounding mountains lifted their lofty eaves into our
narrow-bounded horizon.

The ravine widened, and along the expanding valley we
caught a glimpse of Val de Cabras through the pines. Our
party's spirits rose higher and higher as they approached
their hearths and ollas ; and the motley rout, amid much
clatter of tongues, and laughter, and snatches of songs,
entered the little village about sunset.

Casta had assured us that her house was amply provided
with all things ; but we knew the specious hay de todo (there
is of everything) too well, and insisted on the maiden's taking
a dishful of cold mutton-chops from the Parador. These had
been wrapped in a rag, and stowed in their alforjas^ and they
came in well at our supper ; for the house only possessed

' Ugly villageresses.

328

The Hon. Robert Dundas Murray-
eggs and salad, though there were immense quantities of
handsome pots and pans hanging in burnished array round
the kitchen.

Our hostess was obh'ging and unsophisticated, but garru-
lous to an extent that impeded the supper.

" So you are countrymen of Don Roberto ? Don Roberto
dwelt here for some weeks. Probably these gentlemen have
been recommended to our house by Don Roberto. Seiiores,
are you acquainted with Don Roberto ? "

" Caramba ! Senora huespeda^ quien sabe (who knows) ?
Will you please to be quick with the salad ? There are at
least five hundred thousand Don Robertos in England uno
mas inconocido que otro (one more unknown than the other) ;
and unless you know his other name, como se puede averiguar
(how can it be verified) ? "

" His worship's apellido (surname) was Duendas^ was it
not, Pedrillo ? " referring to her nephew, who sat smoking
in the corner. "Pedrillo, gentlemen, guided his worship
about the country ; and who knows but he would have
taken Pedrillo back to England, only Pedrillo would not
leave his novia (sweetheart) ? "

"Yes, he was called Don Roberto Duendas de Monroy,
and I used to go with him to fish and shoot. Don Ro-
berto was muy aficionado a la caza (a great sportsman),
and carried an escopet (musket) of the richest, with two
strokes."

" Don Roberto was buen mozo (a handsome youth),"
continued the landlady, " muy guapo y liberal (very pretty
and generous) ; we all loved him, and were sorry when
he went away ; and we love all Englishmen for his
sake."

" If you love «5, don't talk so much, most affable of hos-
tesses, but use your endeavours to bring the supper to a

329

V

Evening Party and Morning Call

head, for, mira Fmd. (look you), while your tongue is danc-
ing our teeth are standing still."

" Cachaza^ hijo (patience, my son) ; p'lerda Vmd. cuidado
(may your worship be relieved of solitude)." And then
she would return to her chattering about Don Roberto.

During the interval before supper was ready, the fair
Facunda paid us a visit, and said that she hoped we should
be comfortable, and that her house was at our disposition
whenever it pleased us to honour it. I said I would do
myself the honour of paying her an evening visit after
supper. She sat there knitting a stocking, and, by way of
diversion, I knitted a i^sfj rounds, which created a proper
degree of astonishment. When she departed, I told stories
to the children about little boys lost in the mountains, and
distressed by lions, and tigers, and wild bulls, and rescued
by fairies in winged cars drawn by media docena mariposas
(half a dozen butterflies) : but at last the supper was ready.
We ate ravenously, and immediately after became very
sleepy over our pipes. Harry judiciously went to bed at
once ; but I, with a lingering intention of going to pay my
visit over the way, if I could wake up enough at any future
period, dozed in the chimney-corner till it was too late,
and then waking up, wrote my journal, and went to bed.

Next morning, Sunday, we had arranged to ride up to
the Piedras Encantadas, a league up among the hills ; but
after breakfast, while the mules were being caught, which
caused an unforeseen delay, I went and made a morning call
over the way.

The beauteous Facunda was dressed for mass, and was
coifing her little sisters for the same occasion. It was an
irregular, dark interior, with nooks and chimney-corners
something like a Highland bothy, only larger. In one
corner of the chimney lay an old bedridden grandsire, to

Abou-Kizeb Again

whom I presented a cigar. After a while Casta came to
say the mules were ready, and we set off, accompanied by
the old posadero and Facunda's father.

Riding along the valley, we came to a zig-zag path, by
which we ascended the mountain. Facunda's father
attended me. He was a striking, picturesque man, with
long black hair curling down to his shoulders. A broad
and nobly-cut brow, fringed with shaggy eyebrows,
overhung serious, deep-set eyes. He was dressed in black
sheepskin. Altogether his appearance was calculated
to produce a sensation on the Adelphi boards in the
character of an unfortunate monarch in the disguise of
a shepherd.

I naturally supposed he would be a character of some
sort, and took pains to beat about for original sayings and
local traditions ; but I could get nothing out of him. He
was not sulky, but simply dull, and afforded one more
confirmation to the axiom, that "appearances are often
deceitful."

Finding I could elicit nothing, out of benevolence to
future travellers who might make the same inquiries, I
thought fit to lay the foundations of a tradition myself.
So I told him that the Piedras Encantadas were mentioned
in an ancient manuscript. Las Cronicas de los Reyes Moros^
written in the Arabic language by el sah'io Abou-kizeb.

By this account it appeared, that a certain sultan, called
Faseq el Mesquin, reigned very wickedly over a tract of
country from Catalayud to Albacete, and from Tuejar to
Guadalajara.

This malignant potentate was favoured and abetted in his
cruelty and crimes by certain evil spirits called chinnes and
afritos^ who constructed for him a magnificent city of
palaces and towers, and alcaxaresy with prisons and deep

The Christian Sultana

dark dungeons underground, where he kept many of
his oppressed subjects in great torture and anguish. He
had many wives and an immense miscellaneous seraglio.
One of his favourite slaves was a captive Christian lady,
the daughter of a knight in Burgos, and affianced to a
caballero muy principal of Valencia.

On her journey thither, she had been taken. From her
virtues and prudence she soon acquired a considerable
influence over Faseq ; so much so that his principal astro-
loger and ambassador at the court of the powers of dark-
ness grew jealous of her, and began to entertain serious
fears that she might convert the wicked old man, in his
dotage, to become a Christian. What the astrologer cared
for more than this, was the danger that her son Cuenc el
Salahyn might be named successor to the sultanic divan.

Cuenc was the favourite son of the old king, and it was
strongly suspected that his mother (called Abiadah by the
Moors, though her real name was Blanca) had made him a
Christian already. Indeed, it is now ascertained that she
prayed daily during her pregnancy to the blessed Virgin
that no pagan might be born of her.

Cuenc was in every respect the reverse of his father, but
the old man was proud of him, for he was the best horse-
man in the realm, and could throw a spear more than three
hundred varas (so says the historian, whose statement, how-
ever, I can scarcely credit) ; besides which, he was so gentle
and amiable, by the peculiar favour of the Virgin, that
those who saw him could not help loving him.

The chief astrologer, dreading the ascendancy of the
young prince, caused an afrtto to appear to the king in a
bloody dream, holding a sword in one hand and a golden
bowl of clotted blood in the other. He thus addressed the
terrified old pecador in awful accents : —

A Catastrophe

" Choose, oh king ! Here is thy sword to slay. Here
is thine own gore to spill. Treachery lurks within thy
doors ; and a son of thy loins, whom thou least suspectest,
goeth about to slay thee. I may not tell thee his name.
But he warned — farewell."

The cunning astrologer, Arif el Cauaqueb, had justly cal-
culated on the cruel disposition of King Faseq. He, with-
out more ado, not knowing which of his sons might be the
culprit, slew them all. But the Virgin, who had not been
idle durinor these diabolical transactions, sent a messenger
to Abiadah, in a dream simultaneous with the king's, warn-
ing her to fly with her son; which she accordingly did before
daybreak, and came to a cave in the rocks between the Jucar
and the Huecar, which were then bare and solitary, without
any habitation of man.

The king, with his astrologer, was preparing to search the
whole region, when the vengeance of Heaven overtook
them. It rained a shower of flame on the wicked city,
which smelted the very stones together, sealing up Faseq
and Arif, with all their infamous company of evil spirits, in
the molten ruins. But yet it is said that one may trace
the lines of the streets running between great masses
of crumbling rock which seem to have been blocks of
building.

As to Cuenc and his mother, after this catastrophe, they
gathered their subjects together and built the city of
Cuenca on the rock beneath which they had taken shelter
in their flight.

" I never yet heard this history," said my companion,
*' and it seems indeed too strange to be credible ; but in
some points it is verisimilar, for the lines of the streets may
be traced, and it is sometimes called the Ciudad encantada^
from its resemblance to the form of a city."

333

La Ciudad Encantada

About half-way up the zig-zag path by which we were
ascending the mountain, there was a huge block of stone
which had fallen from the impending cliff. It was some-
thing like the size and shape of a great whale, about sixty
feet long, and twenty-five high in the round of its back. We
inquired about it, and the old posadero said that it was
called the piedra d-e las almas^ because it had fallen at the
vesper-time of las almas. It fell in the year 1797, and he
remembered the tremendous noise it made in the glen. He
was a lad at the time, and was out with his father cutting
wood.

On the top of the hill we entered a large pine forest,
among which, here and there, great rocks began to appear ;
and at length we reached an open space, beyond which
stood several heavy-headed stones about thirty feet high,
set upon narrow necks, and looking something like clumsy
columns. Our guides told us this was the beginning of the
enchanted city. We shortly entered it.

It is composed of long ranges of generally perpendicular
rock, thirty or forty feet high, between which are narrow
lanes of green closely-cropped sward. Sheep and shepherds
are the city's only inhabitants. Here and there the lanes
narrowed, and the leaning walls joined over-head like a rude
gateway. Here and there, too, were heavy-headed projec-
tions from the walls, which bore some remote resemblance
to clumsy Egyptian pilasters.

Still, after hunting up and down the grassy streets of the
labyrinth for a spacious point of view, I found nothing which
could pass, when drawn, for a street, in even the most ante-
Cheopsean style of architecture. In hopes of a more exten-
sive prospect, and being moreover stimulated by Harry's
surmising that it could not be done, I climbed one of the rock
walls, which being of a honey-combed, sponge-like surface

334

The Shepherd's Clock

afforded good hand and foot hold, though at the outset it
leaned over a little, which gave the experiment a certain air
of difficulty.

The tops are mostly of the same level, and were varied
only by occasional pines and cedars lifting their heads above
the alleys.

It would be an admirable place for pic-nics ; and the cool
shady lanes seem made for loving loiterers to lose their way
among, when pigeon-pie and champagne have a little
obfuscated their notions of locality.

Emerging from the city, we met in the piny suburbs a
venerable shepherd with flowing silver hair. His hut was
near at hand, and as we were hungry, he gave us to eat of a
sort of cake resembling the broad bakstones of Yorkshire.
We in return presented him with c'lgarillos.

We wanted to know what time it was, and after a careful
observation of the sun's altitude, he assured us with con-
fidence it was half-past eleven. " Pues el cielo es su reloj,
muy cuerdo tiene Vmd. su relojero, que no se enganen
horoscopos de su hechura."*

On our return to Val de Cabras, we dined magnificently
on a roasted kid, and a kind of fritters, made of crumbs
moulded in little lumps with egg and sugar, fried in oil, and
served with wine sauce. They were very good — better than
our English sample of Spanish fritters. After dinner, Don
Roberto's guide conducted us home to Cuenca, that he might
bring back our mules. On our way we bathed in the Jucar
where it enters the gorge, and arrived about sunset.

Next day we returned to Madrid in the interior of the
diligence, which was nearly as much too hot as the banqueta

* Since the heaven is your dial, your worship has an excellent
clockmaker ; for time-pieces of his workmanship are never out
of order.

335

A Real Robbery

was too cold. But heat is the better fault of the two. One
of our companions was a gay and voluble young Murcian,
coming to Madrid to show his lately-married wife the wonders
of La Corte. He told us many amusing stories ; among
others a history of his being robbed, which, as we have not
been robbed ourselves, I will give you as a sample.

" Pues^ Senores, the casualty was in this manner. We
were a party of three. Our journey was towards Caravaca.
One of my companions was the old capataz (factor) of a
friend of mine. He was bringing up the rents of a small
estate in the vicinity of Moratalla. We had one rusty old
escopet, which was not loaded. But, to say the truth, we
had no idea of being robbed. Sa/ta la liebre de donde menos
se aspetaba (the hare starts where she is least expected),
and as we had just passed the river Segura, they leapt out
of the bushes, and pounced upon us unawares.

" They were seven, all armed with muskets. We were
only three. One an old man, myself a lad of seventeen, and
the other a servant. There was no time for flight or resist-
ance. ' Jhajo ! ' they cried, and down we went, with our
noses on the road. They rifled us of all we had worth
taking, even to the marsellh jacket I wore. Indeed it
was algo vistoso (rather smart), and had massive silver broches
on it.

" After they had robbed us, they bound us hand and foot,
and carried us into the bush. Here they threw us down,
and held a consultation whether to kill us or not. I don't
know whether it was to frighten us and make us quiet, but
one of them seemed very anxious to despatch us at once.
En resolucion^* they determined to leave three men to watch
us there till night. The other four decamped with our
horses and the plunder. They were afraid to leave us,

* In the end.

The Sympathy of Smoke

though we were tied so tight, for fear some one might pass
along the road, and, hearing our cries, come to the rescue. It
was ten o'clock in the morning when we were attacked, and
all through that long sultry summer day, they sat and watched
us. Several times we heard passers-by within twenty yards
of us ; but our guard would have stabbed us at once if we
had cried out. The cords cut my wrists painfully, and I
was dying of thirst.

"I begged and prayed one of the robbers to loosen my
wrists a little, but he refused. I entreated him, in the name
of Christ, to get me a drink of water, for the river was
not fifty yards off. He said, if I was not quiet he would
make an end of me.

" ' At any rate, for the sake of the blessed Virgin, let me
smoke something ! ' On this last piteous request the
robber's heart relented, and he said,

" ' Quiere Vmd. puro u papel ? ' (will you have a cigar, or
a cigarillo ?)

" ' Tan a seca boca puro no se puede fumar ' (with so dry
a mouth cigars are not smokeable), I replied, and he set
about making me a few papeles. Soon after sunset they left
us. The servant at last got one hand loose, but his navaja was
in the other pocket of his calzones^ so that he could not get
at it. I told him to roll towards me if he could, and he
would be able to get at mine, which he accordingly did,
and opening it with his teeth, cut us all clear of our
bonds.

"The old factor was the worst off; he had hurt his face
on some root or stump, when they threw him down ; his head
had got in a hole, and his legs were lying uphill, so that
when we took him up he was speechless, and we thought he
would have died. The robbers, doubtless, had private infor-
mation. They got six hundred dollars by the day's work,

337

Madrid

besides our horses, and my marselles^ and about a dozen
dollars from me."

" But were the robbers never caught ? " we inquired.

" Oh, no ! One of them I myself recognised by his voice,
though I took good care not to let him see I did, or he
would have made away with me on the spot.'*

" And did you not inform against him afterwards ? "

" No ! I thought it better not ; for it would have been
difficult to prove, and he was a very desperate character,
who would have killed me as soon as a fat capon, if he
had borne a grudge against me. Besides, I had not lost
much — perhaps fifty dollars' worth altogether. It was
not worth while to make a fuss about it, and run into
danger."

" But, my dear sir, your friend's rents ! the cause of
public security ! " &c., &c., in a long discourse on the
deplorable moral result of an acquiescence in such dis-
orders. It had not struck him that there was any immo-
rality in being robbed.

We reached Madrid to-day at six in the morning, and
went to bed at once by broad daylight. We got up and
breakfasted at two. It is now night.

338

CHAPTER XXIX

Segovia, May 9.

On our way to London we determined to take the
Escorial. Leaving Madrid, therefore, by the first gate we
could find (that at the end of the Calle de Alcala, Madrid's
Piccadilly), we turned to the left and skirted the city walls,
till we reached the pleasant avenues which line the margin
of Manzanares.

Passing under a lofty triumphal arch, we bade farewell to
the precincts of La Corte, and crossed the river by a bridge
adorned with a few broken-nosed stone statues. Three or
four hours' ride across a bare, bleak, undulating plain carried
us out of sight of Madrid, which, being a city set on a hill,
takes some little hiding, and looks well in the distance.

Turning the ridge of a low, dark range of hills, the huge
grey masses and lofty spires of the Escorial appeared at the
foot of its snow-sprinkled mountains on the other side of
a broad, flat, wooded valley. From its great size it seemed
nearer than it was, and the night fell before we reached the
small town which has grown up in its vicinity.

The Fonda of Callisto Burgilios is a comfortable house,
and there were stewed pigeons in the olla. We supped in
the kitchen. Don Callisto, our host, judging, I suppose from
our soiled and seedy arriero costume, that we were hawkers
of some sort, asked us what we had to sell in the alforjas.

We disabused him of his error, telling him our usual

339 Y

Escorial

story, that we were poor portrait-painters. But it struck
me that it would be a good idea to keep up the impression
of our being ignorant tramping vagabonds, by way of getting
a few rises out of him, for he seemed an affable and jocose

personage.

" Entrando en el pueblo, vimos un tal desaforado edeficio,
que parece iglesia grandemente desigual conforme es pequeno
el lugar. Pero quiza sera convento u fabrica. Siempre mas
se parece a un convento." (Entering the place, we saw a
whacking great building, which seems far too big a church
for so small a town. But perhaps it is a convent, or a
manufactory. However, it looks more like a convent than

anything else.)

« Hombre ! " he replied ; " can it be possible that there is
any one who has not heard of the Escorial, the eighth
wonder of the world ; if, indeed, it be not the first, and
before all the other seven ? The Escorial, which people come
to see from the ends of the e^rth.—Caramba ! "

"And pray what may Escorial mean, I have not before

heard the word ? "

« He who says Escorial says all ; for there is more than
a little of everything in it. Palace— church— convent-
sepulchre. Philip the Prudent vowed it on the field of St.
Quentin (where he conquered the French), and built it to
be the pious retreat of his old age, and a tomb more stupen-
dous than the pyramids (which are in Egypt, seHores), for
the bones of Catholic kings."

"If this be the case, we had perhaps better delay our
journey towards Segovia a few hours to-morrow morning,
and take a look at this Escorial, que segun dice Vmd. debe
ser cosa muy linda, y digna de verse " (which, from what your
worship remarks, appears to be a thing fair and worthy to

be seen).

340

The Blind Guide

"I have had the honour of receiving many distinguished
guests, vi^ho have come from distant countries to visit the
Escorial. The celebrated Doomas v/as here, and spoke ?nuy
am'istosamente with me in this very kitchen. There was a
large party with him. They insisted on cooking several
dishes for themselves. They drank a considerable quantity
of wine and were very lively. Afterwards they must needs
get up a ball, and Doomas danced with my eldest daughter."

Next morning at breakfast, a sound of shuffling steps,
accompanied by frequent tappings of a staff along the
passage, heralded the appearance of Cornelio, the celebrated
blind guide of the Escorial. He seems to be about sixty,
and has a mild, fat, vacant, uplifted, listening face. He
seemed to consider it a matter of course that we should
employ him, and so we did.

The tappings of his staff on the flag-stones soon awoke
the echoes of a vast cloistered court, and a functionary
appeared who conducted us by a back entrance up into the
palace department of the edifice. Here the first thing which
struck us was a quantity of the most brilliant-coloured
tapestry we had ever seen. Indeed, most of the rooms are
covered with it, — scenes from the chase, the battle-field, and
bull-ring. One suite of apartments was illustrated with the
adventures of Telemachus, as our usher informed us. After
hearing a great deal about this worthy Ithacan, we thought
on the strength of our costume we might ask for an histo-
rical commentary ; so I said —

*' Pues quien era este Telemaco ? parece que fuese
caballero muy principal en su tiempo ; es regular que era
Espaiiol." (After all, who was this Telemachus ? it seems
he was a very considerable person in his day ; probably he
was a Spaniard.)

" Que ! hombre, era Frances." (" My dear sir," — in a

Three English Sages

tone of expostulatory surprise at such an error — " he was a
Frenchman.")

Happening to see three small Wedgewood porcelain busts
of familiar faces on the chimney-piece, we inquired who they
were.

" Tres filosofos Ingleses." (Three English philosophers.)
" This." he said, pointing to Pope, " is the famous Chiquiper ;
this," pointing to Johnson, " is the wise Poppy ; and this,"
laying his hand on Shakespeare's round forehead, "is the
prudent Honsoon."

There was one set of rooms prettily decorated in mar-
queterie wainscot, by Carlos IV., who himself worked at it.
A cipher of his name is shown as the royal handiwork. All
the door-handles and hardware fittings were of elaborate cut
steel, inlaid with gold.

Philip II. 's bedroom — a dark, cold, uncomfortable cell as
need be — is only separated by a glass-door from the vast
and lofty church. We were made to sit down in its
ante-chamber, on a straight-backed armchair and backless
stool ; and when thus seated opposite each other, were
informed that here and thus sat Philip and his prime
minister Olivarez. We were not so much affected by our
unforeseen position as our conductor seemed to expect,
only remarking, that if Philip and Olivarez had been
informed that we were about to fill their places, they would
probably have been more astonished and ashamed, than we
were proud and delighted.

We now descended into the sacristia, where our blind
man met us again ; also a fat young man, and the sacristano^
who conducted us all down into the Panteon^ by a dark
flight of steps, plunging into the entrails of the earth. The
vault was not to be entered, the gates being closed during
the lying in state of the little Prince of Asturias.

The Puff Interjectional

The sacristano lighted a line of candles, just within the
gilded bars, which dimly lighted up this somewhat tawdry
sepulchre. The poor little pocket-edition of Catholic
Majesty^ bound in crimson velvet and gold, suppressed so
soon after publication, with the hot-pressed leaves of his
kingly destiny uncut, lay on an altar-table in the middle of
the vault, and afforded a topic of moralising speculation on
his probable escape from many troubles. Around him, in
their carved and gilded bins, reposed the ashes of his less
fortunate ancestry, many of whom had better been buried
in their first than in their second childhood. The sacristan
pointed out the positions of various kings and queens ; and
I asked him, as we were about to depart, which receptacle
was reserved for Isabella II.

" No se sabe todavia." (It is not yet known.)

"Que importa?" (What does it matter?) said the fat
young man in an irreverent tone of levity ; " despues de la
muerte, para mi todo es bueno " (after death, one place, as
far as I am concerned, is as good as another),

" Hombre ! " cried the sacristan, as he stooped down to
blow out the row of candles within the grating, " you should
not (pufF) talk lightly (pufF) in the presence of the sacred
(puff) remains of their Catholic (puff) Majesties."

The assertion of Death's levelling republicanism by the
fat young man, and the undignified official remonstrance of
the wheezy little sacristan, as he stooped and puffed over
his flaring and swealing candles, — contrasting so strangely
with all that solemn gloom and visible darkness of funereal
pomp, — awakened a sense of the ludicrous, much stronger
than description can give an idea of ; and we laughed with
such irreverent heartiness, that I do not doubt but the old
sexton (who laughed a little too himself) would ease his con-
science by cursing us all for a set of blasphemous heretics.

343

St. Pablo not St. Paul

From the foundations we ascended to the summit of the
pile, at least as high as could be reached, which was only
the gallery round the dome : this, however, commanded a
view of the gridiron-shaped building below, and the sur-
rounding country, vast and grand, but not particularly
beautiful ; a dark, frowning range of mountains on the one
hand, and the boundless plains of Castille on the other.

Our blind Cornelio pointed out different places in the
horizon. He had shown a wonderful memory in conducting
us through the labyrinth of narrow passages in the walls,
and corkscrew staircases, telling us about each statue, as he
came to its pedestal, when we emerged on the gallery within
the dome. This is ornamented with great gilt statues of
the Apostles, and he specially informed us that this St. Pablo
was not the St. Paul of London, which he chuckled over as a
most excellent joke for heretics of the Anglican persuasion.
In the picture-galleries, however, where he had no corners
and angles to guide himself by, and had to guess his dis-
tances, he usually pointed to one picture, and described the
next.

In the church there are a great number of gigantic
music-books, said to be written and illuminated by one
monk. They are about four feet by three, each containing
sixty or seventy leaves of vellum richly illuminated. One
would not have thought a single individual's lifetime could
have sufficed for such voluminously velluminous works.
We also saw the library, where they showed us a manuscript
Alcoran on vellum : and many other things we saw, which,
if they were written in a book, it might be set up on a
shelf of the Escorial library, and remain till called for. The
fact is, we were weary of this great magnificently-ugly
place before we had half done it, and were very glad when
we were allowed by our guides to go away.

344

Fonda San Rafael

Riding to Guadarrama, we turned up the mountain, and
had to ascend by the zigzag road to, I should think, about
two thousand feet above the level of the plain. It was very
cold towards the top, and there was here and there a patch
or two of snow. We had been afraid to go by La Granja,
as it was not known whether the road was passable for snow,
that pass being much higher. There was a mighty rushing
wind, very keen and piercing, which blew our cloaks about
our ears in a manner very trying to our tempers.

There is nothing, perhaps, more annoying in the category
of grievances incident to clothing, than the disposal of a
vast mass of heavy drapery on a gusty day ; when you fling
it over your shoulders and the whole thing flaps in your face
like an avalanche, smothering up all your frantic indigna-
tion and endeavours. Then the beasts you ride, finding, as
they are sure to do, that they have you at a disadvantage,
are sure to be as inconvenient as possible. We came to the
conclusion that the capa^ which is not a bad thing for slow
travelling on horseback in rain, is eminently unadapted for
wind.

The aspect of the country on the other side of the moun-
tain-range we had passed was more barren and desolate,
even, than the country surrounding Madrid. However, it
was not so flat. It looked like a volcanic formation of
eruptive hills with loosish sandy slopes, on which vege-
tation found scanty footing and seemed liable to slip
away.

We could not see Segovia, as we had hoped. Descending
to Fonda San Rafael^ we supped on a rabbit, and walked out
to see the sun set. We came to where a flock of o-oats were
being milked near a farm-house by the banks of the stream.
The manners of the goats towards one another are curious.
They seem to take a pleasure in a sort of sham fight, as

345

Segovia

regular in its tactics as a hick-hack, smick-smack cutlass-
encounter between two desperate smugglers at Astleys.
The combatants push with their heads down, leaning against
each other's horns ; shortly they rear high up, and coming
down mutually tap their fore-feet sharply together. Some
of them would do this eight or nine times running. We got
a bowl of goat's milk to drink. It is not quite so good as
cow's milk, but there is no great difference.

Here, next morning, we turned off the Salamanca road
towards Segovia. About half-way stands on a barish hill
the Real Sitio of Rio Frio. This is a hunting-box of the
kings of Spain ; but being a vast oblong building, it was
objected that it was too big for a box, and might be more
properly called a hunting imperial, or at least a chase-seat.
Soon after, the spires and towers of Segovia overtopped an
intervening hill.

The entrance of the city by this way passes through a
long, straggling, dilapidated suburb on a low ridge. Pro-
jecting beam-crossed gables, propped on posts of wood and
granite, or here and there a few Moorish columns, frown
above deep-arched portals. Between this suburb and the
main body of the city is a valley spanned by the celebrated
Roman aqueduct, the honour of whose construction is how-
ever disputed by Hercules, the Moors, and the Devil. It is
built arch over arch, growing lighter towards the top, and is
a very graceful piece of masonry.

At length we reached the irregular-shaped, unevenly-built
pla%a. The shabbiest, wretched old tumble-down house-front
in the whole place was that of the principal Segovian posada.
We were assured, however, by the mozo de la cuadra^ whom
we met under the rickety gateway, that there were splendid
new apartments at our disposition ; and effectually the
inside turned out both much better and more ample than the

The Alcazar

dismal narrow front led us to anticipate. Our window com-
manded a good view of the pla-za^ at the opposite side of
which is the rounded chancel-end of the cathedral, rich with
flying buttresses. The inside is fine ; the stone roof struck
us as rather heavy ; there are beautiful windows of stained
glass.

Next to the alcazar — a noble top-heavyish Gothic tower
surrounded by a mass of peak-roofed French-chateau-like
buildings. Before the courtyard was an iron railing. As
we walked in, the porter at the gate, judging by our get-up
that we were a couple of inquisitive Andalusian arrierosj
stopped us.

" Nobody can enter ; it is the hour of the siesta^ and all
the garrison are asleep."

" Cararnba ! we cannot help that. Nosotros somos cabal-
leros Ingleses que tenemos bula special para ver a todo.
(We are English gentlemen who have special license to see
everything) ; get you speedily to the snoring captain of the
garrison, and tell him that, with permission, we desire to
inspect the premises."

The guardian of the gate, on hearing this, bowed very low,
and entering the fortress, shortly emerged with an artillery
captain, whom we begged to excuse {disimular) our disturbing
him, as we had only a short time in Segovia, and should not
like to leave it without inspecting this precious stone in the
battled tiara of Castille. He received us with great courtesy,
and showed us over the whole place. We fraternised the
more from finding we had many common friends among the
artillery officers at Seville. This alcazar is now converted
into a great (I believe the great) college of artillery. It
contains many magnificent rooms with richly-carved, embla-
zoned, and gilded ceilings.

We saw the schools of design and of models, the

347

Segovia by Sunset

gymnasium, and the miniature cannons and mortars which
the boys are taught to manoeuvre with little ponies.
Taking leave of the captain, we now descended to the
banks of the Eresma, whence the view of the alcazar which
crowns the abutting end of a rocky promontory, whose base
is washed by a turn of the stream, tempted Harry to sketch
it in his pocket-book.

While he was at work, and I sat by eating oranges under
a shady tree, two men drew near from behind. We were
rather afraid they would take us up before the authorities
for sketching the fortress ; but they only begged us to
d'lsimulate their curiosity in wishing to see the sketch, and
entered into conversation. Among other things they asked
if we were not Italians, as they judged us to be from our
manner of speaking the Castilian.

Afterwards we endeavoured in vain to get into the
Templars' church, and the Parral convent. Ascending the
wooded and grassy glade, along which the river runs
beneath the long rocky ridge, the city above, lit by sunset,
flickered in the watery mirror like palaces of fire. The
aspect of Segovia from this valley is very striking and
beautiful. The brow of the rock is fringed with dilapidated
battlements, beyond which slope irregular terraces of quaint
old-fashioned houses, and the sky-line is broken by many
lofty towers and spires besides those of the alcazar and
cathedral. Far away beyond the gorge, snowy peaks deeply
tinged with purple carmine "stood up and took the

evening."

We agreed that Segovia and Cuenca were commendable
termini for a romantic honeymoon tour, supposing the
parties to be of suitable disposition ; that is to say, that the
lovely bride should have a taste for water-colours, and the
noble and stalwart bridegroom should be willing to carry

348

Mellilunacy

the paint-box and camp-stool, and make himself generally
useful as a moveable figure of the foreground. I wonder if
I shall ever revisit these places in my mellilunacy. We
shall start for Valladolid to-morrow.

I have been loading my revolver, which I had discharged
as we rode into Segovia. I blew, as my custom is, down
the barrels, to see if they were clear, and finding one
stopped up, I fired a cap to free the stoppage. To my
surprise, instead of a slight snap and flash, there was a
tremendous report, and a great piece of plaster fell out of a
hole in the wall. One of the barrels had missed fire, it
appeared, and the charge remained. Harry, who had been
in bed an hour, woke up and asked if I had killed anybody ;
and when I told him it was an accident, he begged me not
to do it again, and went to sleep.

349

CHAPTER XXX

Valladolid, May 12.
On Monday, May loth, early in the morning, we set off
for Valladolid. By some little misapprehension of the
points of the compass, we took the direct north road,
instead of the north-west. When we had got to the top of
the hill to the north of Segovia, and seen a view of the city
by sunrise, — if possible more lovely than yester-evening's
sunset, — we discovered, by inquiry, that we were in the
way to Escarabajos instead of Coca. So we went down into
the valley again, and followed the course of the Eresma.

The country soon became dreary and sterile. The soil
is a sharp white sand, less adapted for vegetation than for
the sprinkling of kitchen-flags. After crossing the Eresma
again a league or so on this side of Santa Maria de la Nieva,
we came upon a forest of huge pines. This sort of pine I
had never seen before. It is in character more like Scotch
fir than any I know ; but its shape is more cabbage-headed,
and the colour a most brilliant emerald-green. The
feathery hair (for I don't think a pine can properly be said
to possess foliage) was about five inches long, the cones as
big as a smallish cocoa-nut.

As there were a good many lying about which seemed
fresh fallen, Harry, whose brother is rather a pine-fancier,
made an onslaught upon one to get some seeds to carry
home ; and when I saw they were as big as an almond, I

350

Pinocchi and Pignuoli

began to chop away with my dagger on my own account.
These little pine-nuts, which have a hardish thin shell, are
very good to eat, and taste like the grains of soft, scarcely-
ripened wheat, only richer, — perhaps more like a butter-nut
than anything else ; they are not easy to get at, for the
cones are hard to split, and exude a varnishing gum, very
annoying to the fingers.

Though we did not rise much from the banks of the
Eresma to Santa Maria, the country thence to Naba de la
Cova has all the character of bleak, desolate table-land on a
mountain-top. After Naba, however, it began to show
more signs of cultivation, and the sandy excoriation of the
country's face was here and there plastered with patches of
grass.

At Naba, where we had stopped to inquire our way of a
knot of loiterers before the posada door (and to light our
cigars), after some little conversation an old man had asked
us whether we v/ere Spaniards or foreigners, himself
inclining to believe that we were Andaluzes. Not very
far out of the village a party of women and children,
weeding near the edge of a barley-field, cried out to us, and
begged to know when the Funclon at Coca was to take
place.

" What Funcion F " said we.

''Surely you, caballeros^ arc the oficiales toreros (bull-
fighting officials) who are coming from Segovia to have a
jieita de toros on the day of San Fulano."

" Your pardon, fair ladies, we are no bull-fighters, but
English gentlemen, on their travels, at your service." On
this they laughed, and exclaimed,

" Mentiras ! (fibs) carai que embusteros son los Anda-
luzes ! " (good lack, what story-tellers are the Andalusians !)
So we left them under their delusion.

Coca

The castle of Coca soon appeared in the distance. It
did not seem anything very remarkable, though we had
read in the guide-book that it was a splendid specimen of a
Castilian fortress. We inquired of an old man, who was
driving a herd of horses into the town, what sort of an
edifice it was? He replied, "Poco" (a mere nothing),
and shook his head contemptuously over the insignificance
of the ruin.

However, as we had arrived early, and had dined before
sunset, we repaired to the castle, and found it indeed a very
striking ruin. It rises from the bottom of a great hole
about forty feet deep, excavated near the brow of a hill.
This deep cavity is walled round like a well. From its
edge, of course, when you see all the bottom of the castle,
otherwise concealed in the pit, the grandeur of the building
is much increased.

It is a regular old-fashioned, heraldic-looking castle, with
pepper-box turrets at the top corners. It is entered by a
bridge on the north side. The interior is of a somewhat
modern Arabesque. The old posadero of La Cruz, to
whom we were recommended for information, knew
nothing about it, but thought the Duques de Alva had been
its alcaides in the old time.

There is a tall watch-tower standing on higher ground
than the castle, 400 or 500 yards distant.

At sunset, on my way back to the posada, passing through
the straggling outskirts of the town, I stopped before the
gate of an untidy little garden. Here an aged priest in a
very seedy, old, ragged sotana^ with a greasy black skullcap
on the top of his head, was stooping down, and sticking
little lath crosses in the ground.

He had a little boy helping him, who carried an armful
of these crosses, which he took one by one, held it up before

352

Monomaniac Cura

him, mumbled something that seemed like a prayer in
Latin, stooped down and made a hole with the end of it,
into which he dropped a pinch of some powder out of a
paper parcel, planted the cross in the hole, and then holding
his hand over it, seemed to be giving it his blessing.

All this was done quickly, but with much seriousness
and solemnity on the part of the priest, and seemed to be
an affair of daily business, for the whole of one end of his
garden was planted as close as could be with these little
crosses (interspersed with onions), and indeed must have
contained some thousands. But there was something
comic in the appearance of the old figure, who had a very
long, crooked, hooked nose, and a back bent double. He
was, moreover, blind of an eye, and the other had a sort
of oblique tendency to peep round the corner of his nose,
which prevented one from doubting that he would have
squinted if he had possessed two.

As he rose from planting a cross, and was taking another
from the boy, he caught sight of me looking over his gate.

" Adios, Seiior Andaluz," said he, beckoning me with the
cross in his hand, — " Welcome to the garden of the souls ! "
(En hora buena sea entrado Vmd. en el jardin de las
almas !) "Shall I plant a cross for the benefit of your soul,
amigo ? Vamos — this very one shall be for you."

" Muchisimo le agradezco a su reverencia, Senor Cura "
(I am extremely obliged to your reverence, Sir Priest), said
I, taking off my sombrero^ and entering the garden. As I
approached, he was stooping down over the cross ; and the
boy, to whom his Sack was turned, made a sign (putting
his finger to his temple, and turning it backwards and
forwards as one bores a hole with a pricker), to signify to
me that there was a screw loose in his master's under-
standing.

353

The Garden of Souls

When my cross had been duly consecrated, I ventured
to inquire in what manner its establishment would benefit
my soul ?

" Perhaps you may not be aware," he replied, " that
every cross which is set up here on earth deprives the devil
of a soul ; for the number of souls received into heaven will
be exactly measured by the number of crosses set up on
earth. As I have nothing particular to do, I make fifty of
these holy symbols of our faith every morning, and set
them up here in my garden every evening before sunset.
You see I drop in a few onion-seeds beneath each. When
the onion comes to be of a good size, I pull it up and
the cross with it. The onion goes into the o/Zo, and the
cross (which is by that time nearly rotten) into the fire.
But at the moment when I pull up the onion and the cross,
a man dies, and a soul is saved."

" But when you pull up my cross and onion, shall I die
too ? "

" Es regular que si (probably) ; but what signifies that ?
You will be saved as sure as my onion is cooked."

" But if the devil is continually losing souls in this
wholesale manner, I wonder he does not come by in the
night and pull up your crosses."

" I should like to see him try, or any of his demons.
They dare not, my son, — they dare not touch my crosses
with their own impious hands ; but they do what they can
to instigate wicked little boys to come by when I am out
of the way, and pull up my crosses in great numbers. And
sometimes the demons will undo the sneck of the gate, and
drive in a score or so of malditos puercos (cursed pigs), who
make great havoc both with my crosses and my onions ;
and I have to plant them again as it pleases Providence, it
being impossible for me to tell, unless I were a prophet,

354

Cross Purposes with Satan

which cross belongs to which onion ; and this no doubt
makes considerable confusion in the dates of salvation in
particular souls ; and probably some unlucky ones who
happen to die while the pigs are in the garden are cast
away altogether."

" But why is the devil obliged to overturn crosses by
deputy ? "

" You see, my son, if the devil were to touch one of
these sacred emblems, it would cleave to him for ever. If
the cross were so large and heavy that he could not carry it
away with him, he would be held there in shame and
torture to the end of time. That is the reason why it is so
much the custom to have huge stone crosses in the centre
of market-places ; for where men are selling and buying,
and gossiping and lying, there the devil always would like
to be in the midst of them. But in the case of the smaller
crosses, of this size for instance, if he touched it, it would
stick to him, and brand him for ever among his execrable
brethren with a mark of the most indelible shame ; and
moreover, its holy influence would neutralise a great part
of his malign efficacy in doing mischief."

" It seems a pity that some saint did not, in times past,
find an opportunity of clapping a cross on the devil's back

unawares."

" It has often and often been tried, but Saint lago himself
is not man enough to take Satan at a disadvantage. This
desirable climax is reserved for the triumph of the last day.
Then the angels Michael and Gabriel will pin him between
the crosses of the good and bad thief. These will stick to
him like pitch. They will cast him down headlong into
the darkest bottom of hell, where he will lie between these
crosses, gnashing his teeth in great anguish, for all the rest
of eternity."

355 7.

A Difficult Subtlety

" But will these holy engines, remaining in contact with
him for so long a time, effect no salutary influence on his
destiny ? "

" Doubtless they would, if the cross of the good thief
were to happen to come uppermost ; but it is to be
presumed that Michael, who owes him an old grudge, will
send down some trustworthy angel along with Satan in his
fall, to turn him in case of accidents, and leave him with
the bad cross uppermost. But the devil, who never neglects
a chance, and is desperately persevering, will spend all his
time in attempting to wriggle himself round ; and who
knows what time may bring to pass ? "

"I thank your reverence much for this most valuable
disquisition, which I shall take care to make known to the
world at large. I kiss your hand, Sefior cura."
*' I kiss yours," said he. " Adieu."

Next day we set off early for Valladolid, not by Olmedo
as we had intended, but by Mojados, a road which does not
appear on the map, and does not appear very clearly on the
face of the country, being often lost in the sand ; however,
they told us that it was a shorter way.

We rode the greater part of the day through vast and
sombre pine-forests. The conversation, partly apropos of
the crazy old cur^^s theories, and partly, perhaps, influenced
by the gloomy scenery of the forest, turned on the future
punishment of sin. Harry advocated rather universalist
doctrines : but I said I could not conceive that sin should
not leave some indelible mark ; seared and furrowed traces
of the soul's disease, which even eternity could never wear
away.

" Here, where we can exist only in the shifting, momen-
tary Present, life's distractions cloud over the memory alike
of good and evil. If it were not for oblivion, experience

A Vision of Judgment

would be too heavy a burden for man to bear upon his
shoulders — he would sink in the mire, broken down before
his time, and life would become at once a state of torment
instead of trial.

" But when the trial is ended, there is no reason why-
reward or punishment should not be complete. For this
end, memory of all the predominant good or evil of our
past lives will be sufficient : and supposing the evil prevails,
imagine what a revelation that would be. Stripped of the
semi-transparent bandage in which she went half-blindfold
upon earth, the soul will be laid bare, to be haunted without
respite by all those hideous nightmares of sin, and shame,
and horror, which now and then, one at a time, peep,
dimly seen, beneath the corner of the curtain.

" We shall awake, amid a confused huddle of ghosts — a
cloud is still before our eyes. A trumpet sounds behind
the veil 1 It opens, and rolling away on either side, reveals
a blinding blaze of glory — to these how beautiful — to those
how dreadful ! An influence like a mighty rushing wind
divides the multitude. On one hand kneel myriads of
bright and blessed spirits, bowed in adoration ; on the
other, shivering, stand a crowd of dismal demons, self-
convinced of their just condemnation !

" To the one a smiling heaven of sunshine opens, with a
voice of heavenly music, crying, 'Come, ye faithful !' — to
the other, through falling darkness, a thunder-tone of wrath
muttering, ' Depart, ye wicked 1 ' "

We emerged from the forest at a small village called
Cazar6n. Here, in the middle of the market-place, were a
party of men and women, with a great heap of the cones of
the pine and a fire. They singe them in the flames to get
rid of the stickiness, and then open them on a block with a
small one-handed adze. We bought a cUartillo (about a

357

A Dead Flat

quart) of them for about three half-pence, and kept crack-
ing and eating them all the way to Mojados.

The country round about all seems a sunken plain,
whose flat-topped hills, with crumbling sandy sides, look as
if by some accident they had remained of the original level.

We crossed one of these flat tops to get to Mojados, and
thence overlooking the broad arid valley, fancied we saw
Valladolid about twelve miles off, but could not be certain.
At Mojados we dined in the Parador of the diligence, for
we had now struck upon a camino real. After dinner there
was a guitar funcion^ in which a professional gentleman, the
mozo de la cuadra^ and Harry, were all strumming more or
less together.

Valladolid lies on a dead flat, and is an ugly city, in a
frightful country, by no means worth riding through or
riding to. Even the sunset-lights, by which we saw it
first, failed to gild it with any colour of enthusiasm.

Observing a grassy lane that diverged from the road
within a mile or so of the city, and as we were in no hurry
to enter Valladolid, we turned into it, and lying down on a
flowery bank, lit our cigars, and prepared to enjoy the

sunset.

We had lightened the ponies of their alforjas^ and freed
them of their bridles, so that they could pick the fresh grass
at ease. They seemed to like it so much that we began to
pity their case for having been kept so long on dry barley.
They had not had any green meat all the way from
Granada, and all the time they stood in Madrid.

Two men with great green bundles of lucerne on their
heads came by in the most apposite manner. They at once
offered to sell, and we bought the largest of their bundles,
thinking what a treat this lush herbage would be to the dry
vitals of our beasts. We strewed it on the ground, and

Latet Anguis in Herba

they fell upon it voraciously enough at first ; but soon the
ingenious obstinacy of the animals discovered that we took
a pleasure in seeing them eat the lucerne, and they began to
draw oflF the green heap, which they could devour by great
mouthfuls, to nibble at foolish little points of grass-blades,
which they pretended to consider sweeter.

We attempted for some little time to disabuse them of
their error, jerking their stupid heads back over the heap
again, and only allowing them to eat in peace when they
ate our lucerne. This course, however, was found equally
to disturb the tranquillity of our smoke and their meal ; so
we let the ungrateful fools feed where they liked ; and
when the sun was down rode into Valladolid.

Like our ponies, however, possessing in some degree the
quality of firmness, we were resolved not to relinquish the
valuable vegetation for which we had paid a considerable
sum, not exceeding threepence. It was agreed, that if
Harry (who is handy with cords and lashings) would make
it up in a neat roll, and cord it with one of our halters, I
would carry it in, and we would leave it in their mangers
all night, and see if they did not repent before morning.

As we entered the gate of the city (it being now dark),
this great bundle of green stuff greatly excited the suspicion
of the dogana.

"Ou'es esto, — what's this? (holding the lamp to it),
Vam.os a ver que tal es la sierpe que debajo desta yerba
s'esconde, — Let us see what sort of serpent lurks beneath
the grass (ferreting for bottles as he spoke). It is probable
that in such a meadow we shall meet some dew."

" Nada hay senor Doganero sino unas mielgas — nada mas
(it is nothing but lucerne)."

" What the deuce do your worships bring lucerne into
Valladolid for, carajo ? "

359

Valladolid

"A slight salad for our beasts, con licenzia. They have
had a long journey, and eaten nothing but barley since they
left Granada, de tnodo que bastante secas tienen las trlpas (so
that their tripes are sufficiently dried up)."

Finding that there was no hay to be made of our grass,
one of them seized my dagger, and examining it unsheathed,
very much as if he wished to become its owner, said —

" What business have you to carry forbidden arms ? "

I now began to swagger in earnest. " We are very
principal English cavaliers, and have a written license in our
passport to carry what arms we like. We are not accus-
tomed to be kept from our suppers in the gates of insig-
nificant cities, but rather to ride in with an escort, and sup
with ambassadors ; and if we are now travelling incognito
by way of amusement, it is no reason why we should be
treated in a manner unbeseeming our rank and importance."

This speech, which I delivered in a serious tone of
offended dignity over my beggarly bundle of herbs, had
more eflPect than I had anticipated, for the man at once gave
up the dagger, and begged pardon for having treated so
distinguished foreigners in a manner for which, we must
allow, that the darkness and our disguise had given some
excuse.

We now entered the city by the Puerta del Campo, a
wide and rather handsome street, up and down which we
wandered some time without being able to find a posada.
At last we found one, and went through into the stable,
where I cast the green stuff into the manger, and began to
unsaddle. We had been followed into the stable by the
old huesped of the inn, who was unfortunately both imbecile
and drunk ; we told him to take away some donkeys who
were running loose in the stable, and who showed an imme-
diate and obstinate proclivity to the vegetation our ponies

A Landlord in Liquor

had despised, and thrust their outstretched noses into it
again while I was busy unsaddling, regardless of the inter-
calary kicks and cuffs I could give them meanwhile. But
he only stood hiccuping irrelevant matters, till, on being
spoken sharply to, he began to revile us.

" Who the devil are you, cursed Biscayan muleteers, that
come and order me about in my own stable, carajo ? Turn
out the burricos^ quotha — turn them out yourselves, and
turn yourselves out with them, Biscayan burros as you are,
carajo ! "

" Be silent, you old numskull. Have you lived long
enough to lose nine-tenths of the little wits you ever had,
and to put nine of your ten toes on the threshold of Death,
without learning how to receive guests of distinction, when
by any remote chance they casually honour your dilapidated
kennel of a Posadilla F "

But he was too far gone in drink and dotage to be able
at all to perceive the distinction of those guests who at
present honoured him, or, indeed, to do anything but totter
and stagger about, holding a very unsteady candil. So we
adopted his suggestion, and turned out the donkeys into a
small courtyard ourselves, he cursing us all the time for
insolent, beggarly Biscayan varlets.

As we carried our alforjas^ and saddles and bridles up-
stairs, we were met and civilly received by the posadera^ his
young and melancholy-looking wife, who made signs to us
that he was not all right in his wits, and tried to calm his
indignation. She showed us up to a rather desolate bed-
room, but could not prevent him following and making an
exceedingly inconvenient tumult over our baggage. We
thought of going to another place ; but remembering the
difficulty of finding a posada at all, and the trouble of
saddling again, and, to crown all, the lucerne now lying

361

The Museum

loose in the manger, we concluded it was best to lock up
our room and leave our things, and go out to sup anywhere
we could find in the cafes of the city.

Taking a look in at the stable, we found one of our per-
severing donkeys had got in again by some means, and was
eating voraciously out of the Moor's manger. We kicked
him out ignominiously with the vehement foot of im-
patience, fastened the door of the courtyard, and left the
Moor and Cid munching languidly alone.

We wandered among gay crowds of people taking the
fresco under the colonnades of Valladolid's Quadrant, found
the Cafe de Cervantes, supped, and went home to bed.

Next morning our host was sober and civil, and it
seemed that, when out of his cups, the young wife could
manage him like a child. We breakfasted at the cafe^ saw
the museum, where there are very few good pictures, and
a great many bad and clumsy and vulgar statues by
Hernandez, a celebrated sculptor, in painted wood. There
was a striking little statue of a tall meagre St. Francis, which
did not look as if it had been cut by the same chisel, though
the showman said it was. It looked more like the
handiwork of Cano. There was some very fine oak
carving by Berruguete.

We took a Gothic and Vandalic glance at the university
and library, and went to the other side of the city to look at
the silversmiths' shops, which are said to have a style
peculiar to Valladolid. The Puenta de la Plateria had
been pulled down, but the Calle de la Plateria has a good
many silversmiths' shops. I saw nothing that attracted the
eye of cupidity, except a little hook-and-eye of silver filigree,
which I bought, though I am very poor. On the most
moderate calculation, we shall be ten days getting to Irun,
and I have only nine five-franc pieces. Harry has twelve.

362

A Financial Tightness

We shall have no means of drawing money at Irun, there-
fore, in order to get across the frontier, we depend on the
sale of our ponies.

We are to set ofF at four this afternoon to make an easy
stage of three leagues to the Fenta de Tijero in the cool of
the evening.

363

CHAPTER XXXI

Burgos, May i6.
Leaving Valladolid by the gate of Burgos, we crossed
the river Pisuerga by a long and handsome old bridge at
Cabezon, and arrived at the Fenta de Tijero about an hour
after dark. It was a large, square, new, clean-looking
place, very different from the rambling, dirty old ventas of
Andalucia.

Having disposed oi our ponies, and told the 7nozo to carry
the alforjas up into our room, we entered the kitchen under
the gateway, and began to forage for our supper. There
were some fishes like dace lying about, and we inquired
what they were a dozen.

" Your worships are not about to eat them raw ? " said
the fat old host, who seemed to be somewhat of a character.

" Not so, sefior huesped^ but fried in oil, which also we
shall be happy to purchase of you."

" Caramba^ that is not our way of doing business in the
north. The venteros here are not impostors and robbers, as
they are in your Andalucia. My wife shall cook you as
many as you can eat, and I shall charge you to-morrow
morning according as it pleases Providence to bless your
worships with an appetite."

There was a good deal of company in the kitchen, and
one of them, a tall, lean old man, of a sombre cast of coun-
tenance, took up his parable and said, " These gentlemen, it

Railway Engineers

seems to me, are not Andaluzes, but English ; and it is
regular (probable) that they are engineers of the railway
which is to be constructed from Madrid to Paris."

We confessed we were Englishmen, and the company took
the rest of his proposition as a self-evident corollary ; for
they began inquiring eagerly whether the country was prac-
ticable, and how long it would be before Jthe railway was
constructed. We, who had never heard that such a thing
was contemplated, nevertheless thought it a pity to disap-
point them of the official information they anticipated ; so
we assured them that the country from Madrid, as far as we
had gone, was eminently suited to the construction of a line ;
that the main difficulty we foresaw was in crossing the
Pyrenees ; but that to English engineers everything was
possible ; for, if they could find no valley to go through,
they thought nothing of cutting a hole through several
leagues of the heart of a mountain : nathless the ventero
need not make himself uneasy about the loss of his traffic on
the road as yet, for there was no probability that the rail-
way would be in working order before at least seven or eight
years. This announcement seemed satisfactory to all parties.
The conversation changed ; and apropos of something which
I forget, the lean old man asserted very solemnly that no
animal would eat Christian flesh ; and that this was an
eminent proof of the supremacy of man over the rest of
creation.

" But, my dear sir, don't you remember the case of ' that
prophet ' whom the lion ate, and the donkey stood in the
way ? It is written in the Old Testament, so there can be
no doubt of it."

" If it be written in the Old Testament, it becomes
evident that that prophet was no Christian, but a Jew."

"But, if lions eat Hebrews, how much more will they eat

Christian Flesh

Christians ; since it is a notable fact that Christians are by
far the tenderest diet ? Besides which, sharks [lohos marinos)
have eaten many Christians in the West Indies."

" With respect to marine animals I do not speak ; but no
animal of the earth eats Christian flesh, and this is a
Catholic truth."

" Is not the worm an animal of the earth, and does it not
eat the most pious Christians? In the church of the Caridad,
in Seville, there is a picture of an archbishop in an open
coffin. All over his body great maggots are creeping in
every direction, and, indeed, seem to have eaten the greater
part of him, for in many parts the bones are bare. Now, as
this picture is exposed in so sacred a place, it must be pre-
sumed, on the authority of the Catholic Church, that arch-
bishops (whose flesh is rather more Christian than ordinary)
are actually eaten by worms. The picture is called the
* Triumph of Death ' [El triunfo de la Muerte)^ and was
painted by Valdes de Leal."

" This ' Triumph of Death,' and the case of being eaten
by worms, which is indeed ignominious, has been doubtless
ordained for the humiliation of fleshly pride. Death is no
respecter of persons. He brings down both young and old.
The Sefiora huespeda here, for example, has had ten children
(' Eleven,' cried the landlady, from above the hissing frying-
pan) — eleven children, I say, and death has removed them
all except one."

" To soy ^/," (I am he) cried a piping little voice in the
back-ground ; and we saw a poor little sickly boy, who did
not look otherwise than rather likely food for the worms
himself.

As a plateful of fish was now ready, we retired to the
comedor (eating-place), and enjoined the bereaved mother to
make haste with another relay.

366

Mahomet and the Fountain

After supper, going out to feed the ponies, the Moor was
not hungry. I thought he might be thirsty, and led him
along the stable towards the well-trough ; but when he got
opposite the heels of an entero^ he became so violent that I
could not get him further, and was glad to get him back safe
to his manger, after a severe fencing-match, in which both
sides snorted and screamed and lunged backwards, and
flourished their heels very truculently.

As Mahomet could not be persuaded to go to the foun-
tain, I had to untie the bucket-rope and bring him his drink,
after which he ate his supper peaceably, whilst I lay among
the straw smoking and listening to his munchings and
champings. This sound is musical to the ear of a traveller
homeward bound, whose horse's legs depend upon his teeth.

We were off about seven next morning, and stopped to
breakfast at Dueiias. About twelve o'clock, as we were
riding along by the side of the road, a caminero (road-mender
and guard) called out to us : —

" Hallo, you there, are you contrabandistas ? — stop ! " We
stopped a moment, and said :

" Is that the way you address gentlemen, and begin by
throwing imputations upon their character ? You deserve
no answer — adieu ; " and we rode on. He seized his musket,
and crying "Stop thieves !" gave chase, now and then pre-
sentino; his musket as if he meant to shoot. We took no
notice of this, and cantered gently on, a little quicker than
he could run, for about a mile.

As our ponies were not very fresh, and mine rather lame,
we thought it would take too much out of them to distance
him altogether ; so we pulled up and waited for him. He
arrived panting and puffing, in great perspiration and choler.

" Now, sir," said I, before he had breath enough to speak,
" we have given you a slight lesson of civility, which it is

An Uncivil Spaniard

not generally requisite to teach Spaniards, whom we have
found a courteous people. You appear to be an unfortunate
exception ; and, feeling that your education had been neg-
lected, we thought a little practical instruction would do
you good. If you had spoken civilly to us at first, we
should have been happy to show you our papers, and con-
vince you of our respectability on the spot ; but, as it is, we
have given you a slight run in the sunshine, to sweat the
surplus acerbity out of your manners."

" Carajo J Spaniards are not accustomed to be made a jest
of. I shall arrest you — you shall be fined and imprisoned,
carajo ! " cried he, panting and puffing, and wiping his face
with his sleeve.

" You seem a gentleman of great importance and autho-
rity ! perhaps you are an alcalde ! "

" Yes, alcalde I am ; and I will alcadeise you when we
come to the next village.

" What is it called ? "

" Magas ; and its prison is much at your service."

" Ah ! sefior alcalde of Magas, your principality seems to
contain but a few shabbyish cottages ; and indeed it must
be a poor place which sends its alcalde to work on the road.
Still it is something to reign at all. How does su senora^
the alcaldesa^ and all the little alcaldesitos of Magas ? "

" Be silent, insolent man. I said I was an alcalde on the
road, and there I will make my authority respected."

" Oh ! then you are only governor of pickaxes and ham-
mers, with a stone-heap for your throne. But come along,
we like your company, and indeed it seems you prefer wear-
ing the road to mending it. We shall feel it our duty, as
you have treated us uncivilly, to take you before the alcalde
of the next place ; for, though the little eccentricities of your
manner (he had cursed us by all the most indecent oaths he

368

Chaff Against the Grain

could think of) only divert «j, they might annoy other tra-
vellers. Therefore we shall, in a friendly manner, represent
to the alcalde that, from the peculiar turn of your mind, you
are not so much adapted for this as you might be in some
other equally honourable employment. In the meantime
pray don't distress yourself by disturbing the serenity of
your temper (he w^as almost black in the face w^ith rage).
Would your worship smoke ? (offering a paper o{ cigari/los).
No? (lighting one myself). No haga Vmd. desaires^ pr:a.y
don't stand on ceremony." He said " No, thank you," very
sulkily ; but, about this stage of the discourse, he appeared
to begin to surmise that he had, metaphorically speaking,
put his foot in it. He was a great hulking fellow, more than
six feet high, with a stupid, fierce countenance, and a squint.
The expression of his face reminded us of a baited bull.

However, now we had begun it, we thought it a pity not
to see our funcion to an end : so for the next mile, till we
reached Magas, I kept sticking bandartUas of chaff into the
tough hide of his bovine intellect. Harry suggested that
we might lose a good deal of time, and had perhaps better
buy him off ; but I was decidedly for going before the
authorities, " for," said I, " there will ten to one be some-
thing to make a story of, and we have had lamentably few
adventures lately. It would even be worth while almost to
pass a night in prison."

Reaching the village, we inquired for the house of the
alcalde. He was not at home, but his wife and daughter
appeared at the door. In the meantime, what with the
sultry weather, and much conversation with the caminero^ I
was very thirsty, and persuaded the alcalde's pretty daughter
to bring me a glass of water. A crowd of forty or fifty,
chiefly women and children, had gathered by the time the
alcalde arrived ; and I made the best of my time, to have

The Alcalde

public opinion on our side, by making civil speeches to the
bystanders — giving a cigarlllo or two to the men — admiring
a baby or two in the arms of influential matrons, and insinu-
ating a compliment or two on their own charms to the
younger ladies.

The jefe politico (political chief) of the place was a quiet,
respectable-looking man, dressed in pano pardo (brown
cloth). I saluted him with respectful ceremony, handed
him our papers, and from the saddle delivered a dignified
and moderate statement of our case, while he stood in
judgment beneath the porch of his house. When I had
done, the caminero demanded a private audience, and they
entered the house together. When they came out again,
the alcalde looked rather perplexed and irresolute. Of
course he could not understand a word of our passports,
which were in English and French. He said copies must
be taken of them, and sent to Madrid ; that he could not
see we had been to blame ; but as we had brought the
man ofF his work, we had better give him a gratuity of a
peseta.

" Our papers are in order, as you must clearly see, Senor
Alcalde. They are already registered in the archives of all
the ambassadors in Madrid. Therefore our names will be
sufficient, and these we are prepared to give you. As to
giving a gratuity to this man, the trouble he has had is only
the result of his little judgment and want of discrimination,
in mistaking so principal cavaliers for suspicious persons.
He has been insolent, also, to the full extent of his conver-
sational powers. If we encourage this ill-behaviour by
rewards, we make other travellers on the road all the more
liable to be annoyed and impeded by any caminero^ mas
tonto que regular (more foolish than usual), who may take
it into his head to stop them. Therefore, with all respect

I am in Possession of the Street

for you, we shall not act on your suggestion, and have
the honour of wishing you a good day."

Hereupon, I put spurs to the Moor, waved my sombrero
to the company, and we rode along. But our friend the
caminero did not at all approve of this arrangement. He
ran after us, crying, "Stop thief!" Harry stopped, and I
was slowly moving on, when the man got before me, pre-
sented his musket, and shouted, " Will you stop, caraio ' or
shall I fire ? "

" Fire, you old ass ! " said I ; « you know as well as I do,
that there is no more charge in your musket than there are
brains in your head ; and if it would go off, you can no more
shoot straight than you can look straight with your squint-
eyes. Will you rob me in the street, ladron, after the
alcalde has said you had no cause to molest us ? "

In the midst of this, the alcalde came running up in a
great pucker, and said :

" Put down your gun, man ! This is out of all course ot
law ; we must refer the matter to the maestro'''

Harry now departed with the alcalde and the passports,
and I remained entertaining the crowd with an improved
rkhauffi of the gravelling things I had said to my enemy
before. He, thinking me the more dangerous man of the
two, had remained to keep an eye upon me, which I was
glad of, because I knew his absence would enable Harry to
get his statement made in peace and quiet, without inter-
ruption. Besides which, the audience was by this time
unanimously on my side, and laughed so much at the play-
ful little sarcasms with which I kept him in torture, that he
found it at last intolerably unpleasant, and, shouldering his
musket, departed, amid the jeers of the company.

When he was gone, they told me he was not of this but
the next village, and they had always heard he was a very

371 AA

" My Oracular Tongue

i>

honourable man, but it appeared his conduct in this instance
had been inexcusable. One of the women asked me if we
were not Portuguese, and seemed to be all the better
pleased to hear I was not. The caminero had confidently-
asserted we were Alemanes (Germans).

After about a quarter of an hour Harry returned : the
maestro had decided in his favour, and reprimanded the
camineroy telling him " that to create obstructions on the
highway was not a means to make foreigners of distinction
travel through their country." Who this maestro was it
did not clearly appear. Harry said he seemed a venerable
old man, to whom the alcalde listened with supreme defer-
ence. Perhaps he was the schoolmaster, and most learned
man of the place.

I was considerably elated with my success as a mob
orator, this being the most public display I ever had to
make in a foreign language ; and though my opponent was
certainly a very stupid and sulky fellow, still they seemed to
listen impartially to all he said, and only by degrees came
over to my side of the quarrel, so that I think I may con-
sider it to a certain extent a triumph in the Spanish idiom.
It cost us about an hour and a half's delay.

At Torquemada we dined, and took a siesta^ the day being
very hot. The Moor cuts and stumbles a good deal, and is
getting lame. The eight or nine hundred miles we have
travelled has told on his constitution. All the latter part
of our journey, indeed ever since we left Granada, we have
been going as far every day as our ponies could be got to
go ; and though they had three weeks' rest at Madrid, as
we were not there to see after them, I fear they were not
fairly treated.

Towards sunset we set off for Quintana, and made the
greater part of our stage by starlight. The posada was

Gadshill

very full, and the hostess and her daughters in a great
bustle. We could only be accommodated by having beds
set up in the store-room ; and while w^e were going to bed,
they were constantly coming in, to get cakes and boUos out
of a large chest. At last we lost our patience, and said
that they had better take all they wanted once for all, for if
they came again, we would not let them in. The old woman
had asked us whether we were not Spaniards — somebody
had suggested we were French, but she did not believe it.
I asked her what she thought we were. She answered
Madrilenians, and we did not contradict her. I suppose on
the strength of this she settled the question among the
gossips of the household ; for next morning, when a little
boy helping in the stables talked about the French gentle-
man's hack, the mozo de la cuadra rebuked him, saying he
ought to know better than to mistake Spaniards for
Frenchmen.

We were up very early, and started half an hour before
sunrise. The confusion of arrieros getting their mules
packed in the dark court-yard, and going about with lan-
terns, reminded us of the Carriers' scene in the hostel of
Gadshill : —

1st Carrier. — "I think this be the most rascally house
for fleas in all London-road."

2nd Carrier. — "It must be near four of the clock.
Charles's wain is over the new chimney."

3rd Carrier. — " Lend me thy lantern, friend ! "

ist Carrier. — "Lend thee my lantern? ay! when?
Lend me thy lantern, quotha ! I know a trick worth two
of that."

We had eaten a little chocolate before starting. We
baited our beasts at Villa Nueva, but did not breakfast,
though I, being very hungry, had a pennyworth of aguardi-

373

The Moor at Buriel

ente^ and a halfpennyworth of bread, which I discussed in
haste, sitting on the corn-bin. At Celada, we breakfasted
on two bad watery fishes, made still more nauseous with
garlic. After breakfast, and feeding our ponies, we loosened
the Moor, and he immediately lay down in our presence,
with his head on the stone threshold of the stable-door.
He looked so wretched and weary and lean, and so changed
from the round, sleek, pincushion-plumpness in which he
left Seville, that we felt sorry and conscience-stricken. I
took his portrait lying at full length.

A party of Biscayans arrived in a lumbering old rattle-
trap ; they were troublesomely inquisitive, and, besides,
gratuitously remarked that my Spanish was better than
Harry's, whom they had scarcely heard open his mouth.

Here we were four leagues from Burgos, and the Moor
was so lame, I determined to walk all the way to ease him.
On leaving the village, I took off my Marselles jacket and
calzones^ and walked in my elastica and white drawers, to
be cooler. At Buriel, the Moor showed that, though worn
and lean and lame, his spirit was not subdued ; for, as I
stopped to get a drink, he perceived another entero on the
other side of the street, when, in spite of all I could do, he
pulled violently back, and began kicking at his enemy. In
this unruly proceeding he shook off the alforjas and upper
clothing, which I laid across the saddle, into the dust. I
begin to lose all hope that the Moor will ever learn to
benefit by the uses of adversity. The owner of the ill-used
beast, though he swore vigorously at first, when I begged
his pardon was very good-natured, and helped me to pick
up my scattered valuables. The woman of the house where
I got a drink asked me if I was a play-actor, judging I sup-
pose from the gay colours of my dress, which was, indeed,
theatrical enough. A sky-blue knitted woollen vest opening

374

Our Nations and Callings

down the front, with a broad embroidered border of yellow
and scarlet, clasped with the filigree broche I had got in
Valladolid — my loins girt with a crimson faja^ striped with
white, green, and purple — my lower extremities in tight-
fitting white drawers, continued below the knee by embroi-
dered bottines of yellow leather. My sombrero^ too, was very
high-peaked, and adorned with two huge tufts of black silk
on the rim and crown. Each particular item of attire I have
had occasion to purchase, has always been selected with an
arrive pensee to my arriero costume having some day to
figure on the boards of the Hovingham theatre. We intend
to write a Piece with Brigands in it on purpose ; and
between our wardrobes, I think we could turn out a gang
of eight or nine very respectable ruffians in the digagie
demi-toilette of the robbers' cave.

We have passed as belonging to sundry nations on our
way : Italians, Portuguese, French, Germans, Andalusians,
Madrilenians, Biscayans ; and sundry professions — pottery-
men, equestrian performers, railway-engineers, pedlars, bull-
fighters, miners, and play-actors.

The country, as we approached Burgos, had been im-
proving, the hills getting rounder at the top, and the soil
less sandy. From a windy height we saw the twin-spires of
Burgos's beautiful cathedral.

As we were entering beneath the dark-arched gateway,
the doganero^ who was loitering some little way off outside,
came running up, and calling out, — " Hallo, stop, you Man-
chegos ! I must see what you have in the alforjas ! " We
stopped and told him who we were, and he let us pass
without examination. We have really, on the whole, been
very little troubled with custom-house regulations. But
these abuses (I mean custom-houses), being the relic of
barbarous times, to which they were greatly better adapted

375

Burgos

than the present day, are very much less felt when you
travel in the old barbarous fashion on horseback, when they
can feel your saddle-bags and let you go, than when you are
a passenger in steamboats and railways. Then, instead of
filtering through by driblets, suspicious packages come in a
great volley ; and, as is the case in almost all grievances, the
ceremony and delay are much more than the hardship of
having your luggage searched.

I was not so much tired with my twelve miles' walk as I
expected to be, and indeed am much stronger than I was.
I think I may congratulate myself now fairly on having
quitted the condition of an invalid : for, during the greater
part of this journey, I have been ten or twelve hours a day
in the saddle, and find myself no worse, but the better — •
only rather thinner than I was when I left Seville.

Arrived in Burgos, we had to settle whether, in the
present dilapidated state of our finances, it was prudent to
go to the best inn ; but being weary and hungry and dusty,
the desire of comfortable washing and food and beds, over-
came our economical scruples. Leading our beasts in under
the lofty portal of the Fonda de las Diligencias^ it appeared
that our outward men did not carry any conviction of our
respectability to the minds of the hostelry's understrappers.
One of them, a handsome, stupid-looking giant about seven
feet high, superciliously looking down upon us, inquired
what we were come for ?

No doubt, he simply meant to inform himself what gentle-
man's baggage we had undertaken to transport somewhere,
and he was merely treating us to the ordinary patronising airs
it was his wont to use towards muleteers. But the hungry
and weary British lion is not accustomed to such usage.

" Come for?" we cried in one breath, " Come for? tontillol
(you little simpleton !). Is it a custom to ask gentlemen,

The Cid's Portmanto

when they brighten your posada^s portals with their presence,
what they come for ? Come for ? Why, dinner — supper
— beds — breakfast — and provender for our horses ! Here,
take them to the stables ; and you, other one, carry these
alforjas up to our apartment ! "

We had a very decent dinner, which we did all the more
justice to from having been starved since the Escorial. Our
room was comfortable, and the beds not infested with
vermin. Before going to bed I put wet bandages on the
Moor's fetlock, which he cuts with the heel of his ofF shoe.
I hope it may take out the inflammation. I have been
keeping it wet all day.

The post-office was not open this morning when we went
at first. The cathedral, with which we solaced our impa-
tience, is a mass of the richest carving inside and out. In
one of the sacristias they showed us a carved oak chest,
which the Cid had sent for from Valencia, charged with his
eflfects ; but it had never reached its destination, and is kept
here as a relic. Instead of being affected with pity of the
Cid for the loss of his wardrobe, our thoughts turned to our
own portmantos, now on the road from the metropolis to the
frontier, per galera. Alas ! how much more interesting to
the unlearned are contemporary events than those of history.

We now returned through the sombre Gothic gateway,
niched with statues of Burgalese worthies, which opens from
the old town upon the bridge over the Arlanzon, and
seeking the post-office once more, were this time successful.

I found in the list. No. 981, the name Tagtagy which, as
it seemed about as near as a Spanish post-officer was likely
to transcribe the word Cayley from an English superscrip-
tion, I asked to see. I recognised with delight a well-known,
much-loved specimen of excellent penwomanship, and broke
the blossom branch of hawthorn waving over the bell of the
device in wax of roseate hue.

377

CHAPTER XXXII

ViTORiA, May 1 8.
The Moor's fetlock was better for his two days' rest and
wet bandaging. Before starting, I made a sort of boot, or
rather gaiter, for him, by folding a silk handkerchief square-
wise into a broad belt, which, wrapping it round the joint,
I lashed on with tape ; so that now, though he often clashes
his clumsy fore-legs together, he cannot cut his wound open
again.

Our conversation, as we rode out of Burgos, treated of
literary thefts ; and how, after thinking some modern author
a clever fellow for a long while on the strength of some
excellent thing or two, perhaps the only bits of him which
stick in your memory, you find the very same excellent
things in some dark corner of Montaigne, or Rabelais, or
Quevedo.

I take it, the law of literary honesty is something of this
sort. What is simply true and useful and solid information,
you acquire indifferently from the observation of yourself
and others. For what you borrow of this kind no acknow-
ledgment is necessary : it would be troublesome to the
reader, and almost impossible to the writer, to chronicle the
particular digging where he got each particular lump of
Sacramental mud, which scattered grains of wisdom made it
worth while to throw into his basket.

But who that wanders with his mule and pickaxe and

Plagiarism

cradle along the banks of Time's golden river, shall not
remember the aspect and the name of that spot where he
found some massive nugget of vv^it or truth, such as nature
can only aflford to sprinicle here and there ?

Wherever we pick up, in the dusty treasuries and
armories of old, a lump of golden truth condensed in an
apophthegm, or a rusty old arrow-head of ancient wit, we
have no business to mint the one, or set the other in our
bow, without letting the world know from whose crucible
and quiver they came.

I fear too many of our modern authors, "whose wit is not
so perfect as their memory," — this sarcasm Edmund Burke
let fly at first, but Sheridan picked it up and sharpened the
point, and ground the twin barbs into a more elaborately
balanced epigram, — too many of our modern authors live by
putting a new polish upon old plate, and new shafting and
feathering old arrow-heads.

Wordsworth was not ashamed to steal from so well-known
an author as Pascal. Do you remember where he says —

"And the most difficult of tasks to keep
Heights which the soul is competent to gain " ?

Pascal writes, if I remember right —

"Ces grands efforts de I'esprit ou I'ame touche quelquefois,
sent choses oii elle ne se tient pas : elle y saute seulement
pour retomber aussitot." But let us hope that it was a
coincidence.

Sterne, I fear, is guilty of stealing his " Flattering
Beggar," without acknowledgment, from Quevedo. And
he has not even the poor excuse of poverty to cover his dis-
honesty with rags. I have always thought Sterne the most
European of our English wits ; and perhaps the reason is

379

Characters of Moor and Cid

that he purloined largely from all the best authors of the
Continent. His " Koran " is full of the best wit and
wisdom in small pieces that I remember.

Shortly after this Harry fell behind rather : the paces of
the ponies are not very even, the Moor walking faster : and
a walk with breaks of fadge is our pace. Soon before
reaching Monasterio, I heard a pattering of feet, and up
came the Cid without his master, without alforjaSy and with
the cloak, only held by one tie of the tape, trailing along the
ground. I was afraid some serious accident had happened.
I tried to catch the Cid, who refused to be so treated, pre-
ferring to expatiate free in a barley-field. I was on the
point of leaving him and returning along the road, when
Harry appeared in the distance, con las alforjas al cuello
(the saddle-bags on his shoulder), and I went to meet him.
Charging both alforjas on the Moor, we walked back
together ; and after about a quarter of an hour Harry caught
the Cid, showing great patience and subtlety, which indeed
were requisite ; for the Cid is a sly brute, greatly superior
in intellect and experience of the world to the Moor, who,
on the other hand, is of a much nobler and more courageous
nature.

We now descended into Monasterio. Here there was a
respectable posada with nobody in it except the hostess, who
seemed dazed and giddy, and we thought at first she was
drunk, and next that she was insane. She could not be
persuaded to make any effort towards our supper ; and stood,
with dreamy wandering eyes, leaning against the wall, while
we vainly attempted to impress upon her the urgency of
the occasion.

While this difficulty was still pending, and we were
beginning to think we should have to make up the fire on
the cold ashes of the kitchen-hearth, and forage in the place

380

Empty Praise and Solid Pudding

for something to cook, the strumming of guitars and the
gingling thump of tambourines, and a sound of voices, came
along the street. Soon after this musical procession had
passed, the husband and two sisters of our hostess came in.

To the younger of these, who seemed a brisk little body,
we addressed our petition for supper ; and while she was
kindling the kitchen-fire, by way of stimulus to her activity,
I complimented her on her good looks.

She turned upon me rather fiercely, and said in a tragic
tone, " Yo no ^oy guapa " (I am not pretty), and seemed dis-
posed to think I was speaking ironically. And, indeed, I
saw the reason why, when, by the flame springing from the
kindling, it was apparent that her face was marked with a
slight fret-work of small-pox, illustrating the decided advan-
tage of chiselled features over gouged.

I saw no way out of my dilemma, but by roundly
affirming, that I meant what I said, and would affirm to all
contradicentes except herself, that she was muy guapita.
And though she continued sulky for a while, she shortly
began to relent, as her vanity persuaded her to surmise that
I might have been in earnest. By the time supper was
ready, the compliment had worked on her constitution, and
she waited upon us and stopped to converse in a most
affable manner.

She told us her sister had been very ill ever since her
confinement three weeks ago, and was queer in her head,
poor thing : but the baby was a beautiful baby. She
admired our silver buttons and clasps, told us about the
procession, which, in the absorption of supper, I grieve to
say I did not pay sufficient attention to, and have forgotten
all about.

Next morning we rode along a pretty valley to Briviesca.
The stream ran northward, and the blue mountains of the

381

Briviesca and Pancorvo

Pyrenees looked in through the opening vista. We are
dehghted to be getting into a mountain district again after
all those horrid plains of La Mancha and Valladolid. At
Briviesca there is a good inn, and a civil landlord. He took
us to see the retablo of Santa Clara, a beautiful oak carving
thirty feet high.

I thought I should have had a chance of selling my
revolver, vi^hich would have eased our financial tightness.
But vi'hen I had astonished the company w^ith tw^o or three
barrels, and the important man likely to buy had been
dravirn to witness the miracle, the other barrels (having been
loaded long before, and the nipples being rusty) did not go
oflF, and the purchaser did.

If we had got ten or twelve dollars for the pistol, it would
have made us independent of selling our ponies at Yrun.
The ponies, both of them, were off their feed at Briviesca.
About two leagues further on we stopped to let them graze
in a clovery ditch by the road-side. The limestone dust of
the highway encourages the growth of clover. They say,
if you put lime on a moor, it brings up this grass.

Reaching Pancorvo we found the posada stable under
repairs, and had to clear the manger of crumbling mortar to
feed our beasts ; but it appeared the slight sprinkling of
lime which remained fertilised their appetites, for this time
they ate their barley.

At Pancorvo we fairly entered the mountains by a re-
markable gorge. The great green hills, crested and sprinkled
with hoary ragged crags, seem like huge diluvian waves
solidified and changed to turf and stone.

We stopped for the night at Miranda, and soon after
sunset there came on a violent thunder-storm. The rosy
flashes playing among the mountain-peaks, and the rolling
thunder echoing down the valleys, were so pleasantly

382

Vitoria

sublime that I stood well on to ten minutes beneath the
pelting rain to admire it. I dare say you think it was very
absurd to expose myself to the wet in such a cause ; but I
was sheltered beneath the ample folds of my capa^ or I should
not have been so chiId-(Harold)-ish.

Next day we rode into Vitoria, an uninteresting town,
celebrated for tobacco and a battle. We filled our pouches
with the former, but about the latter I cannot speak, for I
grieve to say I never reached that volume of the " History
of Europe," and this excellent work is not of dimensions
amenable to form part of a travelling library on horseback.

But I suppose everybody who comes by, that knows a
little about history and battles, contributes his mite of
explanation to the previous labyrinthine confusion which the
civilian mind is afflicted with at the very mention of battle-
fields. We shall not sleep here, but go on in the evening
to Salinas. You see our expedition is in its dregs — weary,
both man and beast, with hard travelling. We have thus
neither patience to go out of our way to find, wait for, or
even invent adventures.

383

CHAPTER XXXIII

Villa Franca, May 19.
The day, which had been very rainy, cleared up towards
evening, and we rode across a plain to the north of Vitoria,
which we understood to be the battle-field. When we had
got across it, and were beginning to rise a little towards the
hills, a small village, called Arrayabe, was the scene of a
combat, — not so important to the destinies of Europe
perhaps, — but fraught with much more lively interest to
us than that which took place on the plain we were leaving
behind.

I was riding about thirty yards ahead, doing all I could
to keep the limping and weary Moor to a brisk walk ; he
drooping his head and stumbling along as if every step were
to be his last. In the midst of the village we encountered
the enemy, which was no other than a stout, slashing cock-

\ tail mare and her foal.

\ The Moor at once forgot his languishing state, pricked
ip his ears, arched his neck, and shook his flowing mane.
Ke sounded the powerful clarion of his nostrils, and was
arewered by shriller notes of defiance in return. His
moive, probably no more than a polite ambition to make a
gallant show as he passed the presence of this sleek mother
of th° stud, was sadly misconstrued by the maternal sus-
picions of that prudent matron.

She hastily made up her mind that the Moor's intentions

384

Battle (not) of Vitoria

were hostile towards her offspring, and, turning her heels,
backed towards him, launching out furiously. The Moor,
losing his temper at this unkind reception of his com-
plimentary overtures, also turned his heels and backed
towards her, snorting and kicking in like manner. I, on
the other hand, in great bodily fear of being smashed to
atoms in the encounter, kicked and spurred with great
vehemence to get him out of harm's way, and just suc-
ceeded in escaping a shower of armed hoofs flashing in the
immediate vicinity of my head and shoulders.

Turning round, I saw that Harry and the peaceable Cid
^who had never uttered an offensive remark) were falling
heirs to the catastrophe which the Moor had so nearly drawn
down upon himself and his master.

I saw Harry fly off, and fall entangled among the heavy
drapery of his cloak in the middle of the muddy road. The
Cid retreated in great terror. I was considerably alarmed,
thinking Harry must be killed by the kick, which seemed to
have shot him off his saddle like a cricket-ball from a cata-
pult. However, he jumped up in a moment, and finding a
great stone, flung it at the mare, who, satisfied with victory,
now returned to her foal.

But the mare's owner appearing in the nick of time, far
from pitying Harry in his fallen and muddy plight, or con-
gratulating him on his escape, began to use vituperative
language to him for throwing stones at the mare. Here-
upon Harry, whose feelings had been doubtless roused by
the sudden emergency, immediately replied, that if he did
not hold his tongue, he would throw a bigger stone at him ;
so, as there was nothing more to be said, he mounted the
Cid again, and we rode on.

It was dark before we descended to Salinas, which, as
far as we could see, appeared to be situated on one side

385

Basque Provinces

of a deep valley, where the road begins to plunge down-
wards in zig-zags, from the high plateau levels of Central
Spain.

We were spoken to, but not molested, by the Custom-
house here, on entering the Provincias Bascongadas. We
found we were in Biscay, too, in another way. The Basque
race is reported to be proud, honest, and independent ; but
one never acts upon the character of hearsay till it is con-
firmed by experience.

Near the entrance of the town, we presented ourselves
before a large house, which we had been told was the posada.
The door was closed, and we called and knocked lustily.
At length a maiden appeared at a wicket.

" Caramba ! is this a way to keep gentlemen waiting in
the dark ? Send the mozo de la cuadra to take our beasts,
carajo ! ''^ But the young lady, not liking our salutation,
which certainly savoured more of impatience than politeness,
and observing by the flaring lamp in her hand that we
looked more like bandits than gentlemen, told us demurely
to go about our business, and would listen to no appeal, but
shut the wicket in our faces.

Thus left in outer darkness, where we were at liberty
to weep a dhcretion^ but were less likely to find materials
to gnash our hungry teeth upon, Harry calmly suggested
that, had our language been civiller, our reception might
have been more cordial, and that we must polish up our
free-and-easy Andalusian manners to suit the Provincias
Bascongadas.

Turning our ponies' heads pensively down the steep
street, we came to an humbler roof, where we had to put up
our ponies in a sort of pig-sty cellar. Groping our way up
an exceeding crooked staircase, under the conduct of a
damsel of the house, we were introduced to our hostess, a

386

Resignation and Sausages

tall, high-featured, stately dame, in a small kitchen com-
pletely hung with festoons of red sausages, depending there
to dry for the Vitoria market to-morrow morning.

We sat among the sausages smoking and trying to make
the best of our fate, and conversing with our venerable
hostess, while she dressed our supper. She was a respect-
able, motherly old lady, with a dignified gravity of manner,
very different from the ordinary type of shrill, gossiping,
slatternly posaderas in Spain at large. She and her
daughters talked usually in Basque to one another, though
they could all speak Spanish after a fashion.

She told us that her husband had been killed in the
troubles, and she herself had been in prison five years for
oponion {oposicion) to Christina, although she had no
political preference for one party over another, but false
witnesses had been her ruin. She was now poorer than she
had been in her youth, and was obliged to keep a casa de
huespedes for her livelihood, which she eked out with keeping
pigs. I dare say, if we had not found the kitchen full of
sausages, we should have found the stable full of swine.

By this time one of the daughters came up to say our
room was ready, and our landlady recommended us to have
supper served there. We went down and found a very
decent bedroom, with clean and comfortable beds ; so that,
after all, we had had our lesson of Biscayan manners, and
not suffered so much inconvenience as we might have
expected.

From Salinas, the road winds through fertile and populous
valleys, among large green mountains, by the side of a
swift and copious river. On the bank, a graven stone set
forth that here a youth of happiest promise, the only pride
of now childless parents, had been drowned while fishing ;
from which we argued there must be fish in the stream ;

387 BB

Basque Language

and indeed it looked as if good-sized trout were to be
caught.

I cannot imagine a pleasanter excursion for people who
like scenery and angling than to wander with a rod and
sketch-book through these beautiful, well-watered valleys.

At Mondragon we baited, and I hung my cloak, damp
with the rains of yesterday, from the railing of the balcony
over the river, to dry in the sun. Below were a bevy of
washerwomen chattering away in their language, which
sounds a little like Welsh, but a nobler breadth of enuncia-
tion, and without that horrid lisping LI. Here I took my
first lesson in the Basque language of our landlady, and this
is what I learnt : —

Egg-en-noon (good day).

Gab-boon (good night).

Khat-t^n (to eat).

Err-rat-t6n (to drink).

On to Villa Real. Here a man treated for our ponies,
but we could not do any business. We came in sight of a
very grand, massive mountain, with a peak in front some-
thing like a saddle. We learned it was called Peria del
Mezqueta, which sounds like a Moorish title.

At Villa Franca, a quaint, compact, old-fashioned little
town, we stopped for the night. We fed the ponies on
maize, which they ate greedily. A man in the stables
treated for our horses, at least disparaged them, showing a
disposition to buy ; but we had rather work them through
to the end, for the frontier is only ten leagues further,
which we hope to accomplish to-morrow.

Next morning, in high spirits, we began our last day's
march among the winding valleys and over the round
green mountain-flanks of the Pyrenees. We breakfasted at
Tolosa on strawberries and cream. The people of this

388

The Pyrenees

mountain district seem honest, heartv, industrious folk.
The dress is not unpicturesque. The blue or scarlet berreta
of Bayonne, a large round flat cap, very like the Kilmarnock
bonnet of our northern Celts ; the elastic knitted woollen
vest of crimson, covered with a fret of blue, and a faja^
make a more graceful costume at any rate than that of the
short-waisted, dangle-capped men at the Catalonian end of
the same range.

The cultivation of the land is peculiar ; you see a row of
five or six men and women, each handling a sort of forked
spade composed of two broad flat prongs ; with this they
dig in a line, and by a simultaneous leverage, turn up a long
deep sod.

Cart-wheels are of a simple construction ; instead of a
nave and spokes, the wheel is merely a round thick board,
three or four feet in diameter. Oxen are shod in a singular
manner. The smithies have a stout frame-work of timber,
where the ox is hoisted up by a broad belt under his belly,
and all his legs lashed fast, in a position for the smith to
work upon the hoofs at leisure. They have a very comical,
if not tragical appearance, poor beasts, when stretched
upon the rack in this manner.

At Ernani we dined. About half a mile before entering
this village, as I crossed a bridge, or rather a viaduct, a
walnut had stretched up its fragrant branches from below,
and offered to my notice three green nuts, in excellent
condition to make pickles.

I had been fasting since six in the morning (except that
small plate of Alpine strawberries at Tolosa,) and was
desperately hungry and thirsty. In this condition of gastric
craving, the idea of walnut-pickle crossed my mind as a
refreshing reminiscence.

I stretched forth my hand, gathered the nuts, and ate the

389

My Moorish Pouch

greater part of one of them, which I found very pungent
and astringent, but of a fine aromatic flavour, acting as an
agreeable stimulant to my exhausted vitals. But I had not
eaten this trash above two minutes, when I was seized with
qualms, and began to vomit violently.

As I had but little wherewithal, I seemed in a fair way to
throw up all my inwards, and remain on the roadside com-
pletely turned inside out, with an Andalusian suit lining
my intestinal canal, and the mucous membrane by way of
costume. Several peasant women passed by while I was
retching in a terrible manner ; but they said nothing and
went on, with a look of suspicious horror, as if I were some
plague-stricken wretch, whom it would be unsafe to help.

I lay down in a ditch (with my head pillowed on a grassy
bank), but I had the good fortune not to die in it, though
the occasion seemed apposite ; and feeling better after a
quarter of an hour or so, rode into Ernani. Harry, who was
riding a hundred yards in advance at the time, had gone on,
unaware of my sudden seizure ; for though he was not out
of sight when my indisposition seized me, I felt so faint that
I could not cry out.

I was not in the least the worse, and ate a very hearty
dinner at the posada^ where there was a great feast going on ;
it being Ascension-day, and the house full of carousing
people, and overflowing with good cheer of all kinds.

I discovered here that I had lost my Moorish pouch,
which I should grieve for in itself, but it contained other
valuables, including two sets of studs, four of my vestal
virgin buttons, the drum-shaped silver seal I made at Cailly,
my mermaid ring, and all my collection of coins; except my
luck-money, which I carry strung round my neck. I think
I must have left it at Villa Franca ; so good bye to them.

Some of them, I do not doubt, will circulate in Europe as

From Sea to Sea

genuine antiques, and if so, I shall not so much regret the
trouble they cost me in making.

Yrun, May 20.

All Spain lies behind us ! We are at the end of our
journey. This afternoon, as we threaded the green valleys
of the Pyrenees, a flutter stirred the sultry air, and the sea-
breeze met us as we trudged along, leading our weary beasts
by the bridle.

As the sunset was wreathing the mountain-peaks with
rose and lilac garlands, we pressed on over ridge after ridge,
often disappointed, but still hoping to get a view out of
Spain before the day should fade.

At length, at the very point of sunset, we turned the
shoulder of the last hill, and the great blue ocean-plains lay
below us. Eight hundred weary miles of zig-zag riding had
brought us from Velez, where we saw the last of the Medi-
terranean, and now the unquiet Bay of Biscay slept like a
mill-pond between us and England.

The sunset died away into dusk as we rode down into
Yrun, beyond whose river darkened away in dim perspec-
tive the undulating frontier of La belle France.

The poor ponies, unconscious of their destiny, and I
suppose catching some touch of enthusiasm by sympathy
with their masters, went into the end of their last stage
with more spirit than has been their wont of late.

Since coming in and giving them their corn, I have been
to see them and dressed the Moor's fetlock. Poor beasts,
we cannot tell what will become of them now. We have
worked them hard : but I fear they may find still harsher
taskmasters, who will feed them ill and work them till they

391 *

An Yrun Thing

are wretched bags of bones, with sore backs, like many of
their brethren we have seen on the road.

They have been our companions and our daily care now
for three or four months ; we have had much trouble and
many differences of opinion with them since our first
struggles in the dehesa^ near Seville ; they are not par-
ticularly amiable or engaging in their dispositions ; for the
Moor is a stupid, hot-headed fool, and the Cid a cunning,
sulky, cowardly beast, and yet we feel as if a close domestic
tie was about to be snapped ; and the unconsciousness of
the poor wretches, as we hear them chumping their last
feed of corn administered by our hands, makes the impending
separation more melancholy.

But sell them we must, for we have no other means of
raising money to get to Bayonne. I have come in with two
reals and a half (about sevenpence sterling), as the total
residue of the funds with which I left Madrid ; so that my
getting to Yrun at all may be said to have been a near-run
thing.

Since Madrid we have travelled loo leagues, or about 270
miles, for the modern league is not three miles, as the ancient
one was. In some of the by-roads of Andalusia the nominal
league was often nearer four miles than three, but on
the high roads the leagues are always short.

392

CHAPTER XXXIV

Yrun, Ffiiiay, May 21.

" It is nought, it is nought, saith the buyer," (especially
of horse-flesh), "but when he goeth his way then he
boasteth ! " i

Solomon must in his time have had occasion to sell some-
thing ; for he speaks more feelingly than if he had always
been a buyer himself, and never experienced the wearisome
disgust of waiting for reluctant customers.

But to return to our ponies. To-day we have been doing
our endeavours to dispose of them. Our first step was,
early in the morning, to execute an attractive affiche. At
the top of this document pranced a black and a chestnut
charger. The legend ran thus: —

AQUI ESTAN PARA VENDERSE
DOS JAQUITAS ANDALUZAS,
MUY BONITAS Y MUY FUERTES.
EN SEVILLA HAN NACIDO,
DE SANGRE ARABA RANCIA.
HASTA YRUN YA HAN LEGADO
POR RONDA, GIBRALTAR, GRANADA,
MADRID, SEGOVIA, VALLADOLID,
PONIENDO DIEZ LEGUAS AL DIA.

' Proverbs.

393

The Placard

PUES JUZGUEN VMDES. SI SON BUENAS
LAS JAQUlTAS.i

Aplicarse a Don Enriquez,
Parador de Las Postas,

This notice is posted up on the stable-door, which opens
on the main street of the town. Quantities of people have
been looking at it, and some have been in to inspect the
ponies.

We have given out that we are in no hurry to sell, and
finding Yrun a pleasant place, we shall take our leisure
and wait till we have an offer that suits us. It is twelve
o'clock.

By the bye, in the anxiety about our ponies, I have never
been to the post-ofSce. I will thither at once, for who
knows but I may find a letter.

It is night. I have just come back from the sea-shore,
where I waited to see the sun go down upon the waters —
listening to the music of the waves, which, as they now are
all that lie between me and my native land, seem as they
come tumbling on the beach to bring soft murmuring mes-
sages from my home ; and the whispering sea-breeze too,
that lightly brushes across the feathery fringes of foam.
Mere fanciful nonsense is this ; for the real fountain of
sweet thoughts and reveries was the letter I carried there
to read over and over again, till the last flush faded in the

' Translation : — " Here are to be sold two Andalusian ponies,
very pretty and stout. They were born in Seville, of ancient
Arab race. They have already arrived as far as Yrun by Ronda,
Gibraltar, Granada, Madrid, Segovia, Valladolid, doing ten
leagues per day. Let your worships therefore judge whether the
ponies are good.

" Apply to Don Enriquez, Diligence Inn."

394

Like a Glow- Worm in the Sky

western heaven ; while the murmuring waves and the whis-
pering sea-breeeze only made a pleasant accompaniment to
the music of those loving words.

The evening star came out in the purpling sky like a glow-
worm in a violet. By the way, I suppose violets shut up
their fragrant chalices at sundown : therefore, no glow-worm
probably ever did appear in a violet, so let us drop the
simile ; and indeed I don't see that the evening star gains
anything by being likened to a dirty little phosphoric worm.

But poor Venus is used to these odious comparisons by
this time, for she has always been a favourite piece of furni-
ture with poets and novelists — an officious set of fellows,
who never can inform their readers that something does
something, without gratuitously adding that it does it in the
same manner as some other thing does something else.

Be this as it may, Venus came out as Venus is in the
habit of coming out of clear evenings at this time of year,
and obligingly lighted me home to the Parador^ where we
had our tea ; and Harry, who has been sitting at home all
day at the receipt of customers, told me he had got a bid of
two-and-twenty dollars for the two beasts, which, though it
was an ignominiously small sum, he thought it would be
better to accept rather than lose time, for we have had our
money's worth out of them on the road.

We went out to get our passports v'lskd^ so as to be ready
to set off to-morrow morning by the Bayonne diligence. As
we were discoursing with one of the officers of police before
the door of the bureau^ and advertising our ponies by telling
the price they would probably have to go at if they were not
rescued by some more worthy bidder, we were joined by a
blustering corporal.

" He had heard of our case, and it was a shame to
take advantage of the hurry of travellers, to get valuable

395

The Corporal's Tale

animals for nothing but a mere carajo of an old song. If it
was his case, he would do as an officer in his regiment had
done at Valencia.

"This officer had a splendid horse, and when his regiment
was suddenly ordered away to Tarifa, carajo ! nobody would
make him a bid for the horse, though he was worth at
least three hundred dollars, carajo ! thinking, no doubt,
that by hanging back they would get him for almost a
carajo.

" But when he was going to embark, he had the horse led
down to the shore, and some thought he would take the
horse aboard with him ; but that was impossible, for it was
a foot regiment, and he had no permission. So when he had
to go aboard himself, in the presence of those scoundrelly
dealers who had come to beat him down to the lowest he
would take, he said, < Carajo! you shall not cheat me, carajo!
You would not give me a fair price, and, carajo ! you shall
have him for nothing — but, at the same time, I will make it
a fair price, for he shall not be worth a carajo.' Whereupon
he unclasped his navaja and cut the horse's throat, and
gashed the hide all over, so that the skin should be worth
nothing either, carajo ! and I saw it done, carajo ! and,
carajo ! I would advise you to do the same, carajo ! ! ! "

Soon after returning to our hotel, the customer appeared.
He is the administrador of the government lottery-office
here, and has a bad, hellite, hang-dog cast of countenance.

He beat us down from thirty dollars, at which we had
resolutely stood for some time, to twenty-five ; and finally
we closed the bargain at twenty-three — about five guineas.
The ponies originally cost us sixteen. So that we have
practically paid about five guineas and a half each for a
thousand miles of locomotion, which is not very dear.

Being now restored to a state of solvency, we have taken

Conclusion

our places in the diligence. To-morrow we shall cross the
Bidasoa, and be able to reinforce our exchequer at a civilised
banker's in Bayonne. A few days of rapid modern travelling
are all now between us and home.

ONWIN BBOTHEES, LIMITED, THE QBE8HAM PEESB, WOKING AND LONDON.

397

■ yfts University