The Bible in Spain

G >> George Borrow >> The Bible in Spain

Pages:
1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 | 15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35 | 36 | 37 | 38 | 39 | 40 | 41 | 42 | 43 | 44 | 45 | 46 | 47 | 48 | 49

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Myself.--Is your reverence a Castilian?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lady.--Not in that of Toro.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XXII

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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