The Bible in Spain

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I will," said I.

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

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

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

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

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

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

Stranger.--May I take a seat?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

CHAPTER XXIX

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

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