The Bible in Spain

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The alley led directly to what appeared to be the market-place, at
a corner house of which our guide stopped and knocked. After a
long pause an upper window was opened, and a female voice demanded
who we were. The old man replied, that two travellers had arrived
who were in need of lodging. "I cannot be disturbed at this time
of night," said the woman; "they will be wanting supper, and there
is nothing in the house; they must go elsewhere." She was going to
shut the window, but I cried that we wanted no supper, but merely
resting place for ourselves and horses--that we had come that day
from Astorga, and were dying with fatigue. "Who is that speaking?"
cried the woman. "Surely that is the voice of Gil, the German
clock-maker from Pontevedra. Welcome, old companion; you are come
at the right time, for my own is out of order. I am sorry I have
kept you waiting, but I will admit you in a moment."

The window was slammed to, presently a light shone through the
crevices of the door, a key turned in the lock, and we were
admitted.

CHAPTER XXV

Villafranca--The Pass--Gallegan Simplicity--The Frontier Guard--The
Horse-shoe--Gallegan Peculiarities--A Word on Language--The
Courier--Wretched Cabins--Host and Guests--Andalusians.

"Ave Maria," said the woman; "whom have we here? This is not Gil
the clock-maker." "Whether it be Gil or Juan," said I, "we are in
need of your hospitality, and can pay for it." Our first care was
to stable the horses, who were much exhausted. We then went in
search of some accommodation for ourselves. The house was large
and commodious, and having tasted a little water, I stretched
myself on the floor of one of the rooms on some mattresses which
the woman produced, and in less than a minute was sound asleep.

The sun was shining bright when I awoke. I walked forth into the
market-place, which was crowded with people, I looked up, and could
see the peaks of tall black mountains peeping over the tops of the
houses. The town lay in a deep hollow, and appeared to be
surrounded by hills on almost every side. "Quel pays barbare!"
said Antonio, who now joined me; "the farther we go, my master, the
wilder everything looks. I am half afraid to venture into Galicia;
they tell me that to get to it we must clamber up those hills: the
horses will founder." Leaving the market-place I ascended the wall
of the town, and endeavoured to discover the gate by which we
should have entered the preceding night; but I was not more
successful in the bright sunshine than in the darkness. The town
in the direction of Astorga appeared to be hermetically sealed.

I was eager to enter Galicia, and finding that the horses were to a
certain extent recovered from the fatigue of the journey of the
preceding day, we again mounted and proceeded on our way. Crossing
a bridge, we presently found ourselves in a deep gorge amongst the
mountains, down which rushed an impetuous rivulet, overhung by the
high road which leads into Galicia. We were in the far-famed pass
of Fuencebadon.

It is impossible to describe this pass or the circumjacent region,
which contains some of the most extraordinary scenery in all Spain;
a feeble and imperfect outline is all that I can hope to effect.
The traveller who ascends it follows for nearly a league the course
of the torrent, whose banks are in some places precipitous, and in
others slope down to the waters, and are covered with lofty trees,
oaks, poplars, and chestnuts. Small villages are at first
continually seen, with low walls, and roofs formed of immense
slates, the eaves nearly touching the ground; these hamlets,
however, gradually become less frequent as the path grows more
steep and narrow, until they finally cease at a short distance
before the spot is attained where the rivulet is abandoned, and is
no more seen, though its tributaries may yet be heard in many a
gully, or descried in tiny rills dashing down the steeps.
Everything here is wild, strange, and beautiful: the hill up which
winds the path towers above on the right, whilst on the farther
side of a profound ravine rises an immense mountain, to whose
extreme altitudes the eye is scarcely able to attain; but the most
singular feature of this pass are the hanging fields or meadows
which cover its sides. In these, as I passed, the grass was
growing luxuriantly, and in many the mowers were plying their
scythes, though it seemed scarcely possible that their feet could
find support on ground so precipitous: above and below were drift-
ways, so small as to seem threads along the mountain side. A car,
drawn by oxen, is creeping round yon airy eminence; the nearer
wheel is actually hanging over the horrid descent; giddiness seizes
the brain, and the eye is rapidly withdrawn. A cloud intervenes,
and when again you turn to watch their progress, the objects of
your anxiety have disappeared. Still more narrow becomes the path
along which you yourself are toiling, and its turns more frequent.
You have already come a distance of two leagues, and still one-
third of the ascent remains unsurmounted. You are not yet in
Galicia; and you still hear Castilian, coarse and unpolished, it is
true, spoken in the miserable cabins placed in the sequestered
nooks which you pass by in your route.

Shortly before we reached the summit of the pass thick mists began
to envelop the tops of the hills, and a drizzling rain descended.
"These mists," said Antonio, "are what the Gallegans call bretima;
and it is said there is never any lack of them in their country."
"Have you ever visited the country before?" I demanded. "Non, mon
maitre; but I have frequently lived in houses where the domestics
were in part Gallegans, on which account I know not a little of
their ways, and even something of their language." "Is the opinion
which you have formed of them at all in their favour?" I inquired.
"By no means, mon maitre; the men in general seem clownish and
simple, yet they are capable of deceiving the most clever filou of
Paris; and as for the women, it is impossible to live in the same
house with them, more especially if they are Camareras, and wait
upon the Senora; they are continually breeding dissensions and
disputes in the house, and telling tales of the other domestics. I
have already lost two or three excellent situations in Madrid,
solely owing to these Gallegan chambermaids. We have now come to
the frontier, mon maitre, for such I conceive this village to be."

We entered the village, which stood on the summit of the mountain,
and as our horses and ourselves were by this time much fatigued, we
looked round for a place in which to obtain refreshment. Close by
the gate stood a building which, from the circumstance of a mule or
two and a wretched pony standing before it, we concluded was the
posada, as in effect it proved to be. We entered: several
soldiers were lolling on heaps of coarse hay, with which the place,
which much resembled a stable, was half filled. All were
exceedingly ill-looking fellows, and very dirty. They were
conversing with each other in a strange-sounding dialect, which I
supposed to be Gallegan. Scarcely did they perceive us when two or
three of them, starting from their couch, ran up to Antonio, whom
they welcomed with much affection, calling him companheiro. "How
came you to know these men?" I demanded in French. "Ces messieurs
sont presque tous de ma connoissance," he replied, "et, entre nous,
ce sont des veritables vauriens; they are almost all robbers and
assassins. That fellow, with one eye, who is the corporal, escaped
a little time ago from Madrid, more than suspected of being
concerned in an affair of poisoning; but he is safe enough here in
his own country, and is placed to guard the frontier, as you see;
but we must treat them civilly, mon maitre; we must give them wine,
or they will be offended. I know them, mon maitre--I know them.
Here, hostess, bring an azumbre of wine."

Whilst Antonio was engaged in treating his friends, I led the
horses to the stable; this was through the house, inn, or whatever
it might be called. The stable was a wretched shed, in which the
horses sank to their fetlocks in mud and puddle. On inquiring for
barley, I was told that I was now in Galicia, where barley was not
used for provender, and was very rare. I was offered in lieu of it
Indian corn, which, however, the horses ate without hesitation.
There was no straw to be had; coarse hay, half green, being the
substitute. By trampling about in the mud of the stable my horse
soon lost a shoe, for which I searched in vain. "Is there a
blacksmith in the village?" I demanded of a shock-headed fellow who
officiated as ostler.

Ostler.--Si, Senhor; but I suppose you have brought horse-shoes
with you, or that large beast of yours cannot be shod in this
village.

Myself.--What do you mean? Is the blacksmith unequal to his trade?
Cannot he put on a horse-shoe?

Ostler.--Si, Senhor; he can put on a horse-shoe if you give it him;
but there are no horse-shoes in Galicia, at least in these parts.

Myself.--Is it not customary then to shoe the horses in Galicia?

Ostler.--Senhor, there are no horses in Galicia, there are only
ponies; and those who bring horses to Galicia, and none but madmen
ever do, must bring shoes to fit them; only shoes of ponies are to
be found here.

Myself.--What do you mean by saying that only madmen bring horses
to Galicia?

Ostler.--Senhor, no horse can stand the food of Galicia and the
mountains of Galicia long, without falling sick; and then if he
does not die at once, he will cost you in farriers more than he is
worth; besides, a horse is of no use here, and cannot perform
amongst the broken ground the tenth part of the service which a
little pony mare can. By the by, Senhor, I perceive that yours is
an entire horse; now out of twenty ponies that you see on the roads
of Galicia, nineteen are mares; the males are sent down into
Castile to be sold. Senhor, your horse will become heated on our
roads, and will catch the bad glanders, for which there is no
remedy. Senhor, a man must be mad to bring any horse to Galicia,
but twice mad to bring an entero, as you have done.

"A strange country this of Galicia," said I, and went to consult
with Antonio.

It appeared that the information of the ostler was literally true
with regard to the horse-shoe; at least the blacksmith of the
village, to whom we conducted the animal, confessed his inability
to shoe him, having none that would fit his hoof: he said it was
very probable that we should be obliged to lead the animal to Lugo,
which, being a cavalry station, we might perhaps find there what we
wanted. He added, however, that the greatest part of the cavalry
soldiers were mounted on the ponies of the country, the mortality
amongst the horses brought from the level ground into Galicia being
frightful. Lugo was ten leagues distant: there seemed, however,
to be no remedy at hand but patience, and, having refreshed
ourselves, we proceeded, leading our horses by the bridle.

We were now on level ground, being upon the very top of one of the
highest mountains in Galicia. This level continued for about a
league, when we began to descend. Before we had crossed the plain,
which was overgrown with furze and brushwood, we came suddenly upon
half a dozen fellows armed with muskets and wearing a tattered
uniform. We at first supposed them to be banditti: they were,
however, only a party of soldiers who had been detached from the
station we had just quitted to escort one of the provincial posts
or couriers. They were clamorous for cigars, but offered us no
farther incivility. Having no cigars to bestow, I gave them in
lieu thereof a small piece of silver. Two of the worst looking
were very eager to be permitted to escort us to Nogales, the
village where we proposed to spend the night. "By no means permit
them, mon maitre," said Antonio, "they are two famous assassins of
my acquaintance; I have known them at Madrid: in the first ravine
they will shoot and plunder us." I therefore civilly declined
their offer and departed. "You seem to be acquainted with all the
cut-throats in Galicia," said I to Antonio, as we descended the
hill.

"With respect to those two fellows," he replied, "I knew them when
I lived as cook in the family of General Q-, who is a Gallegan:
they were sworn friends of the repostero. All the Gallegans in
Madrid know each other, whether high or low makes no difference;
there, at least, they are all good friends, and assist each other
on all imaginable occasions; and if there be a Gallegan domestic in
a house, the kitchen is sure to be filled with his countrymen, as
the cook frequently knows to his cost, for they generally contrive
to eat up any little perquisites which he may have reserved for
himself and family."

Somewhat less than half way down the mountain we reached a small
village. On observing a blacksmith's shop, we stopped, in the
faint hope of finding a shoe for the horse, who, for want of one,
was rapidly becoming lame. To our great joy we found that the
smith was in possession of one single horse-shoe, which some time
previously he had found upon the way. This, after undergoing much
hammering and alteration, was pronounced by the Gallegan vulcan to
be capable of serving in lieu of a better; whereupon we again
mounted, and slowly continued our descent.

Shortly ere sunset we arrived at Nogales, a hamlet situate in a
narrow valley at the foot of the mountain, in traversing which we
had spent the day. Nothing could be more picturesque than the
appearance of this spot: steep hills, thickly clad with groves and
forests of chestnuts, surrounded it on every side; the village
itself was almost embowered in trees, and close beside it ran a
purling brook. Here we found a tolerably large and commodious
posada.

I was languid and fatigued, but felt little desire to sleep.
Antonio cooked our supper, or rather his own, for I had no
appetite. I sat by the door, gazing on the wood-covered heights
above me, or on the waters of the rivulet, occasionally listening
to the people who lounged about the house, conversing in the
country dialect. What a strange tongue is the Gallegan, with its
half singing half whining accent, and with its confused jumble of
words from many languages, but chiefly from the Spanish and
Portuguese. "Can you understand this conversation?" I demanded of
Antonio, who had by this time rejoined me. "I cannot, mon maitre,"
he replied; "I have acquired at various times a great many words
amongst the Gallegan domestics in the kitchens where I have
officiated as cook, but am quite unable to understand any long
conversation. I have heard the Gallegans say that in no two
villages is it spoken in one and the same manner, and that very
frequently they do not understand each other. The worst of this
language is, that everybody on first hearing it thinks that nothing
is more easy than to understand it, as words are continually
occurring which he has heard before: but these merely serve to
bewilder and puzzle him, causing him to misunderstand everything
that is said; whereas, if he were totally ignorant of the tongue,
he would occasionally give a shrewd guess at what was meant, as I
myself frequently do when I hear Basque spoken, though the only
word which I know of that language is jaunguicoa."

As the night closed in I retired to bed, where I remained four or
five hours, restless and tossing about; the fever of Leon still
clinging to my system. It was considerably past midnight when,
just as I was sinking into a slumber, I was aroused by a confused
noise in the village, and the glare of lights through the lattice
of the window of the room where I lay; presently entered Antonio,
half dressed. "Mon maitre," said he, "the grand post from Madrid
to Coruna has just arrived in the village, attended by a
considerable escort, and an immense number of travellers. The road
they say, between here and Lugo, is infested with robbers and
Carlists, who are committing all kinds of atrocities; let us,
therefore, avail ourselves of the opportunity, and by midday to-
morrow we shall find ourselves safe in Lugo." On hearing these
words, I instantly sprang out of bed and dressed myself, telling
Antonio to prepare the horses with all speed.

We were soon mounted and in the street, amidst a confused throng of
men and quadrupeds. The light of a couple of flambeaux, which were
borne before the courier, shone on the arms of several soldiers,
seemingly drawn up on either side of the road; the darkness,
however, prevented me from distinguishing objects very clearly.
The courier himself was mounted on a little shaggy pony; before and
behind him were two immense portmanteaux, or leather sacks, the
ends of which nearly touched the ground. For about a quarter of an
hour there was much hubbub, shouting, and trampling, at the end of
which period the order was given to proceed. Scarcely had we left
the village when the flambeaux were extinguished, and we were left
in almost total darkness; for some time we were amongst woods and
trees, as was evident from the rustling of leaves on every side.
My horse was very uneasy and neighed fearfully, occasionally
raising himself bolt upright. "If your horse is not more quiet,
cavalier, we shall be obliged to shoot him," said a voice in an
Andalusian accent; "he disturbs the whole cavalcade." "That would
be a pity, sergeant," I replied, "for he is a Cordovese by the four
sides; he is not used to the ways of this barbarous country." "Oh,
he is a Cordovese," said the voice, "vaya, I did not know that; I
am from Cordova myself. Pobrecito! let me pat him--yes, I know by
his coat that he is my countryman--shoot him, indeed! vaya, I would
fain see the Gallegan devil who would dare to harm him. Barbarous
country, io lo creo: neither oil nor olives, bread nor barley.
You have been at Cordova. Vaya; oblige me, cavalier, by taking
this cigar."

In this manner we proceeded for several hours, up hill and down
dale, but generally at a very slow pace. The soldiers who escorted
us from time to time sang patriotic songs, breathing love and
attachment to the young Queen Isabel, and detestation of the grim
tyrant Carlos. One of the stanzas which reached my ears, ran
something in the following style:-

"Don Carlos is a hoary churl,
Of cruel heart and cold;
But Isabel's a harmless girl,
Of only six years old."

At last the day began to break, and I found myself amidst a train
of two or three hundred people, some on foot, but the greater part
mounted, either on mules or the pony mares: I could not
distinguish a single horse except my own and Antonio's. A few
soldiers were thinly scattered along the road. The country was
hilly, but less mountainous and picturesque than the one which we
had traversed the preceding day; it was for the most part
partitioned into small fields, which were planted with maize. At
the distance of every two or three leagues we changed our escort,
at some village where was stationed a detachment. The villages
were mostly an assemblage of wretched cabins; the roofs were
thatched, dank, and moist, and not unfrequently covered with rank
vegetation. There were dunghills before the doors, and no lack of
pools and puddles. Immense swine were stalking about, intermingled
with naked children. The interior of the cabins corresponded with
their external appearance: they were filled with filth and misery.

We reached Lugo about two hours past noon: during the last two or
three leagues, I became so overpowered with weariness, the result
of want of sleep and my late illness, that I was continually dozing
in my saddle, so that I took but little notice of what was passing.
We put up at a large posada without the wall of the town, built
upon a steep bank, and commanding an extensive view of the country
towards the east. Shortly after our arrival, the rain began to
descend in torrents, and continued without intermission during the
next two days, which was, however, to me but a slight source of
regret, as I passed the entire time in bed, and I may almost say in
slumber. On the evening of the third day I arose.

There was much bustle in the house, caused by the arrival of a
family from Coruna; they came in a large jaunting car, escorted by
four carabineers. The family was rather numerous, consisting of a
father, son, and eleven daughters, the eldest of whom might be
about eighteen. A shabby-looking fellow, dressed in a jerkin and
wearing a high-crowned hat, attended as domestic. They arrived
very wet and shivering, and all seemed very disconsolate,
especially the father, who was a well-looking middle-aged man.
"Can we be accommodated?" he demanded in a gentle voice of the man
of the house; "can we be accommodated in this fonda?"

"Certainly, your worship," replied the other; "our house is large.
How many apartments does your worship require for your family?"

"One will be sufficient," replied the stranger.

The host, who was a gouty personage and leaned upon a stick, looked
for a moment at the traveller, then at every member of his family,
not forgetting the domestic, and, without any farther comment than
a slight shrug, led the way to the door of an apartment containing
two or three flock beds, and which on my arrival I had objected to
as being small, dark, and incommodious; this he flung open, and
demanded whether it would serve.

"It is rather small," replied the gentleman; "I think, however,
that it will do."

"I am glad of it," replied the host. "Shall we make any
preparations for the supper of your worship and family?"

"No, I thank you," replied the stranger, "my own domestic will
prepare the slight refreshment we are in need of."

The key was delivered to the domestic, and the whole family
ensconced themselves in their apartment: before, however, this was
effected, the escort were dismissed, the principal carabineer being
presented with a peseta. The man stood surveying the gratuity for
about half a minute, as it glittered in the palm of his hand; then
with an abrupt Vamos! he turned upon his heel, and without a word
of salutation to any person, departed with the men under his
command.

"Who can these strangers be?" said I to the host, as we sat
together in a large corridor open on one side, and which occupied
the entire front of the house.

"I know not," he replied, "but by their escort I suppose they are
people holding some official situation. They are not of this
province, however, and I more than suspect them to be Andalusians."

In a few minutes the door of the apartment occupied by the
strangers was opened, and the domestic appeared bearing a cruse in
his hand. "Pray, Senor Patron," demanded he, "where can I buy some
oil?"

"There is oil in the house," replied the host, "if you want to
purchase any; but if, as is probable, you suppose that we shall
gain a cuarto by selling it, you will find some over the way. It
is as I suspected," continued the host, when the man had departed
on his errand, "they are Andalusians, and are about to make what
they call gaspacho, on which they will all sup. Oh, the meanness
of these Andalusians! they are come here to suck the vitals of
Galicia, and yet envy the poor innkeeper the gain of a cuarto in
the oil which they require for their gaspacho. I tell you one
thing, master, when that fellow returns, and demands bread and
garlic to mix with the oil, I will tell him there is none in the
house: as he has bought the oil abroad, so he may the bread and
garlic; aye, and the water too for that matter."

CHAPTER XXVI

Lugo--The Baths--A Family History--Miguelets--The Three Heads--A
Farrier--English Squadron--Sale of Testaments--Coruna--The
Recognition--Luigi Piozzi--The Speculation--A Blank Prospect--John
Moore.

At Lugo I found a wealthy bookseller, to whom I brought a letter of
recommendation from Madrid. He willingly undertook the sale of my
books. The Lord deigned to favour my feeble exertions in his cause
at Lugo. I brought thither thirty Testaments, all of which were
disposed of in one day; the bishop of the place, for Lugo is an
episcopal see, purchasing two copies for himself, whilst several
priests and ex-friars, instead of following the example of their
brethren at Leon, by persecuting the work, spoke well of it and
recommended its perusal. I was much grieved that my stock of these
holy books was exhausted, there being a great demand; and had I
been able to supply them, quadruple the quantity might have been
sold during the few days that I continued at Lugo.

Lugo contains about six thousand inhabitants. It is situated on
lofty ground, and is defended by ancient walls. It possesses no
very remarkable edifice, and the cathedral church itself is a small
mean building. In the centre of the town is the principal square,
a light cheerful place, not surrounded by those heavy cumbrous
buildings with which the Spaniards both in ancient and modern times
have encircled their plazas. It is singular enough that Lugo, at
present a place of very little importance, should at one period
have been the capital of Spain: yet such it was in the time of the
Romans, who, as they were a people not much guided by caprice, had
doubtless very excellent reasons for the preference which they gave
to the locality.