The Bible in Spain Volume II Part 16

I had flattered myself, previous to my departure from Madrid, that I should experience but little difficulty in the circulation of the Gospel in Andalusia, at least for a time, as the field was new, and myself and the object of my mission less known and dreaded than in New Castile. It appeared, however, that the government at Madrid had fulfilled its threat, transmitting orders throughout Spain for the seizure of my books wherever found. The Testaments that arrived from Madrid were seized at the custom-house, to which place all goods on their arrival, even from the interior, are carried, in order that a duty be imposed upon them.

Through the management of Antonio, however, I procured one of the two chests, whilst the other was sent down to San Lucar, to be embarked for a foreign land as soon as I could make arrangements for that purpose.

I did not permit myself to be discouraged by this slight _contretemps_, although I heartily regretted the loss of the books which had been seized, and which I could no longer hope to circulate in these parts, where they were so much wanted; but I consoled myself with the reflection, that I had still several hundred at my disposal, from the distribution of which, if it pleased the Lord, a blessed harvest might still proceed.

I did not commence operations for some time, for I was in a strange place, and scarcely knew what course to pursue. I had no one to a.s.sist me but poor Antonio, who was as ignorant of the place as myself.

Providence, however, soon sent me a coadjutor in rather a singular manner. I was standing in the courtyard of the Reyna Posada, where I occasionally dined, when a man, singularly dressed and gigantically tall, entered. My curiosity was excited, and I inquired of the master of the house who he was. He informed me that he was a foreigner, who had resided a considerable time in Seville, and he believed a Greek. Upon hearing this, I instantly went up to the stranger, and accosted him in the Greek language, in which, though I speak it very ill, I can make myself understood. He replied in the same idiom, and, flattered by the interest which I, a foreigner, expressed for his nation, was not slow in communicating to me his history. He told me that his name was Dionysius, that he was a native of Cephalonia, and had been educated for the Church, which, not suiting his temper, he had abandoned, in order to follow the profession of the sea, for which he had an early inclination. That after many adventures and changes of fortune, he found himself one morning on the coast of Spain, a s.h.i.+pwrecked mariner, and that, ashamed to return to his own country in poverty and distress, he had remained in the Peninsula, residing chiefly in Seville, where he now carried on a small trade in books. He said that he was of the Greek religion, to which he professed strong attachment, and, soon discovering that I was a Protestant, spoke with unbounded abhorrence of the papal system; nay, of its followers in general, whom he called Latins, and whom he charged with the ruin of his own country, inasmuch as they sold it to the Turk. It instantly struck me, that this individual would be an excellent a.s.sistant in the work which had brought me to Seville, namely, the propagation of the eternal Gospel; and, accordingly, after some more conversation, in which he exhibited considerable learning, I explained myself to him. He entered into my views with eagerness, and, in the sequel, I had no reason to regret my confidence, he having disposed of a considerable number of New Testaments, and even contrived to send a certain number of copies to two small towns at some distance from Seville.

Another helper in the circulation of the Gospel I found in an aged professor of music, who, with much stiffness and ceremoniousness, united much that was excellent and admirable. This venerable individual, only three days after I had made his acquaintance, brought me the price of six Testaments and a Gypsy Gospel, which he had sold under the heat of an Andalusian sun. What was his motive? A Christian one truly. He said that his unfortunate countrymen, who were then robbing and murdering each other, might probably be rendered better by the reading of the Gospel, but could never be injured. Adding, that many a man had been reformed by the Scriptures, but that no one ever yet became a thief or a.s.sa.s.sin from its perusal.

But my most extraordinary agent was one whom I occasionally employed in circulating the Scriptures amongst the lower cla.s.ses. I might have turned the services of this individual to far greater account had the quant.i.ty of books at my disposal been greater; but they were now diminis.h.i.+ng rapidly, and as I had no hopes of a fresh supply, I was almost tempted to be n.i.g.g.ard of the few which remained. This agent was a Greek bricklayer, by name Johannes Chrysostom, who had been introduced to me by Dionysius. He was a native of the Morea, but had been upwards of thirty-five years in Spain, so that he had almost entirely lost his native language. Nevertheless, his attachment to his own country was so strong that he considered whatever was not Greek as utterly barbarous and bad. Though entirely dest.i.tute of education, he had, by his strength of character and by a kind of rude eloquence which he possessed, obtained such a mastery over the minds of the labouring cla.s.ses of Seville, that they a.s.sented to almost everything he said, notwithstanding the shocks which their prejudices were continually receiving. So that, although he was a foreigner, he could at any time have become the Masaniello {256} of Seville. A more honest creature I never saw, and I soon found that if I employed him, notwithstanding his eccentricities, I might entertain perfect confidence that his actions would be no disparagement to the book he vended.

We were continually pressed for Bibles, which of course we could not supply. Testaments were held in comparatively little esteem. I had by this time made the discovery of a fact which it would have been well had I been aware of three years before: but we live and learn. I mean the inexpediency of printing Testaments, and Testaments _alone_, for Catholic countries. The reason is plain: the Catholic, unused to Scripture reading, finds a thousand things which he cannot possibly understand in the New Testament, the foundation of which is the Old. "Search the Scriptures, for they bear witness of me," may well be applied to this point. It may be replied, that New Testaments separate are in great demand and of infinite utility in England; but England, thanks be to the Lord, is not a papal country; and though an English labourer may read a Testament, and derive from it the most blessed fruit, it does not follow that a Spanish or Italian peasant will enjoy similar success, as he will find many dark things with which the other is well acquainted, and competent to understand, being versed in the Bible history from his childhood. I confess, however, that in my summer campaign of the preceding year, I could not have accomplished with Bibles what Providence permitted me to effect with Testaments, the former being far too bulky for rural journeys.

CHAPTER XLIX.

The Solitary House-The Dehesa-Johannes Chrysostom-Manuel-Bookselling at Seville-Dionysius and the Priests-Athens and Rome-Proselytism-Seizure of Testaments-Departure from Seville.

I have already stated that I had hired an empty house in Seville, wherein I purposed to reside for some months. It stood in a solitary situation, occupying one side of a small square. It was built quite in the beautiful taste of Andalusia, with a court paved with small slabs of white and blue marble. In the middle of this court was a fountain well supplied with the crystal lymph, the murmur of which, as it fell from its slender pillar into an octangular basin, might be heard in every apartment. The house itself was large and s.p.a.cious, consisting of two stories, and containing room sufficient for at least ten times the number of inmates which now occupied it. I generally kept during the day in the lower apartments, on account of the refres.h.i.+ng coolness which pervaded them. In one of these was an immense stone water-trough, ever overflowing with water from the fountain, in which I immersed myself every morning. Such were the premises to which, after having provided myself with a few indispensable articles of furniture, I now retreated with Antonio and my two horses.

I was fortunate in the possession of these quadrupeds, inasmuch as it afforded me an opportunity of enjoying to a greater extent the beauties of the surrounding country. I know of few things in this life more delicious than a ride in the spring or summer season in the neighbourhood of Seville. My favourite one was in the direction of Xeres, over the wide Dehesa, as it is called, which extends from Seville to the gates of the former town, a distance of nearly fifty miles, with scarcely a town or village intervening. The ground is irregular and broken, and is for the most part covered with that species of brushwood called _carrasco_, amongst which winds a bridle-path, by no means well defined, chiefly trodden by the _arrieros_, with their long trains of mules and _borricos_. It is here that the balmy air of beautiful Andalusia is to be inhaled in full perfection. Aromatic herbs and flowers are growing in abundance, diffusing their perfume around. Here dark and gloomy cares are dispelled as if by magic from the bosom, as the eyes wander over the prospect, lighted by unequalled suns.h.i.+ne, in which gaily painted b.u.t.terflies wanton, and green and golden _salamanquesas_ lie extended, enjoying the luxurious warmth, and occasionally startling the traveller, by springing up and making off with portentous speed to the nearest coverts, whence they stare upon him with their sharp and l.u.s.trous eyes.

I repeat, that it is impossible to continue melancholy in regions like these, and the ancient Greeks and Romans were right in making them the site of their Elysian fields. Most beautiful they are, even in their present desolation, for the hand of man has not cultivated them since the fatal era of the expulsion of the Moors, which drained Andalusia of at least two-thirds of its population.

Every evening it was my custom to ride along the Dehesa, until the topmost towers of Seville were no longer in sight. I then turned about, and pressing my knees against the sides of Sidi Habismilk, my Arabian, the fleet creature, to whom spur or lash had never been applied, would set off in the direction of the town with the speed of a whirlwind, seeming in his headlong course to devour the ground of the waste, until he had left it behind, then das.h.i.+ng through the elm-covered road of the Delicias, his thundering hoofs were soon heard beneath the vaulted archway of the Puerta de Xeres, and in another moment he would stand stone-still before the door of my solitary house in the little silent square of the Pila Seca.

It is eight o'clock at night, I am returned from the Dehesa, and am standing on the _sotea_, or flat roof of my house, enjoying the cool breeze. Johannes Chrysostom has just arrived from his labour. I have not spoken to him, but I hear him below in the courtyard, detailing to Antonio the progress he has made in the last two days. He speaks barbarous Greek, plentifully interlarded with Spanish words; but I gather from his discourse, that he has already sold twelve Testaments among his fellow-labourers. I hear copper coin falling on the pavement, and Antonio, who is not of a very Christian temper, reproving him for not having brought the proceeds of the sale in silver. He now asks for fifteen more, as he says the demand is becoming great, and that he shall have no difficulty in disposing of them in the course of the morrow, whilst pursuing his occupations. Antonio goes to fetch them, and he now stands alone by the marble fountain, singing a wild song, which I believe to be a hymn of his beloved Greek Church. Behold one of the helpers which the Lord has sent me in my Gospel labours on the sh.o.r.es of the Guadalquivir.

I lived in the greatest retirement during the whole time that I pa.s.sed at Seville, spending the greater part of each day in study, or in that half dreamy state of inactivity which is the natural effect of the influence of a warm climate. There was little in the character of the people around to induce me to enter much into society. The higher cla.s.s of the Andalusians are probably upon the whole the most vain and foolish of human beings, with a taste for nothing but sensual amus.e.m.e.nts, foppery in dress, and ribald discourse. Their insolence is only equalled by their meanness, and their prodigality by their avarice. The lower cla.s.ses are a shade or two better than their superiors in station: little, it is true, can be said for the tone of their morality; they are overreaching, quarrelsome, and revengeful, but they are upon the whole more courteous, and certainly not more ignorant.

The Andalusians are in general held in the lowest estimation by the rest of the Spaniards, even those in opulent circ.u.mstances finding some difficulty at Madrid in procuring admission into respectable society, where, if they find their way, they are invariably the objects of ridicule, from the absurd airs and grimaces in which they indulge,-their tendency to boasting and exaggeration, their curious accent, and the incorrect manner in which they speak and p.r.o.nounce the Castilian language. {261}

In a word, the Andalusians, in all estimable traits of character, are as far below the other Spaniards as the country which they inhabit is superior in beauty and fertility to the other provinces of Spain.

Yet let it not for a moment be supposed that I have any intention of a.s.serting, that excellent and estimable individuals are not to be found amongst the Andalusians; it was amongst _them_ that I myself discovered one, whom I have no hesitation in a.s.serting to be the most extraordinary character that has ever come within the sphere of my knowledge; but this was no scion of a n.o.ble or knightly house, "no wearer of soft clothing,"

no sleek highly perfumed personage, none of the romanticos who walk in languis.h.i.+ng att.i.tudes about the streets of Seville, with long black hair hanging upon their shoulders in luxuriant curls: but one of those whom the proud and unfeeling style the dregs of the populace, a haggard, houseless, penniless man, in rags and tatters. I allude to Manuel, the-what shall I call him?-seller of lottery tickets, driver of death carts, or poet laureate in gypsy songs? I wonder whether thou art still living, my friend Manuel; thou gentleman of nature's forming-honest, pure-minded, humble, yet dignified being! Art thou still wandering through the courts of beautiful Safacoro, or on the banks of the Len Baro, {262} thine eyes fixed in vacancy, and thy mind striving to recall some half-forgotten couplet of Luis Lobo; or art thou gone to thy long rest, out beyond the Xeres gate within the wall of the Campo Santo, to which, in times of pest and sickness, thou wast wont to carry so many, gypsy and Gentile, in thy cart of the tinkling bell? Oft in the _reunions_ of the lettered and learned in this land of universal literature, when weary of the display of pedantry and egotism, have I recurred with yearning to our gypsy recitations at the old house in the Pila Seca. Oft, when sickened by the high-wrought professions of those who bear the cross in gilded chariots, have I thought on thee, thy calm faith, without pretence,-thy patience in poverty, and fort.i.tude in affliction; and as oft, when thinking of my speedily approaching end, have I wished that I might meet thee once again, and that thy hands might help to bear me to "the dead man's acre" yonder on the sunny plain, O Manuel! {263}

My princ.i.p.al visitor was Dionysius, who seldom failed to make his appearance every forenoon: the poor fellow came for sympathy and conversation. It is difficult to imagine a situation more forlorn and isolated than that of this man,-a Greek at Seville, with scarcely a single acquaintance, and depending for subsistence on the miserable pittance to be derived from selling a few books, for the most part hawked about from door to door. "What could have first induced you to commence bookselling in Seville?" said I to him, as he arrived one sultry day, heated and fatigued, with a small bundle of books secured together by a leather strap.

_Dionysius_.-For want of a better employment, _Kyrie_, {264a} I have adopted this most unprofitable and despised one. Oft have I regretted not having been bred up as a shoemaker, or having learnt in my youth some other useful handicraft, for gladly would I follow it now. Such, at least, would procure me the respect of my fellow-creatures, inasmuch as they needed me; but now all avoid me and look upon me with contempt; for what have I to offer in this place that any one cares about? Books in Seville! where no one reads, or at least nothing but new romances, translated from the French, and obscenity. Books! Would I were a gypsy and could trim donkeys, for then I were at least independent and were more respected than I am at present.

_Myself_.-Of what kind of books does your stock-in-trade consist?

_Dionysius_.-Of those not likely to suit the Seville market, _Kyrie_; books of sterling and intrinsic value; many of them in ancient Greek, which I picked up upon the dissolution of the convents, when the contents of the libraries were hurled into the courtyards, and there sold by the _arroba_. I thought at first that I was about to make a fortune, and in fact my books would be so in any other place; but here I have offered an Elzevir {264b} for half a dollar in vain. I should starve were it not for the strangers who occasionally purchase of me.

_Myself_.-Seville is a large cathedral city, abounding with priests and canons; surely some of these occasionally visit you to make purchases of cla.s.sic works and books connected with ecclesiastical literature.

_Dionysius_.-If you think so, _Kyrie_, you know little respecting the ecclesiastics of Seville. I am acquainted with many of them, and can a.s.sure you that a tribe of beings can scarcely be found with a more confirmed aversion to intellectual pursuits of every kind. Their reading is confined to newspapers, which they take up in the hope of seeing that their friend Don Carlos is at length reinstated at Madrid; but they prefer their chocolate and biscuits, and nap before dinner, to the wisdom of Plato and the eloquence of Tully. They occasionally visit me, but it is only to pa.s.s away a heavy hour in chattering nonsense. Once on a time three of them came, in the hope of making me a convert to their Latin superst.i.tion. "_Signor Donatio_," said they (for so they called me), "how is it that an unprejudiced person like yourself, a man really with some pretension to knowledge, can still cling to this absurd religion of yours? Surely, after having resided so many years in a civilized country like this of Spain, it is high time to abandon your half-pagan form of wors.h.i.+p, and to enter the bosom of the Church; now pray be advised, and you shall be none the worse for it." "Thank you, gentlemen," I replied, "for the interest you take in my welfare; I am always open to conviction; let us proceed to discuss the subject. What are the points of my religion which do not meet your approbation? You are of course well acquainted with all our dogmas and ceremonies." "We know nothing about your religion, _Signor Donatio_, save that it is a very absurd one, and therefore it is inc.u.mbent upon you, as an unprejudiced and well-informed man, to renounce it." "But, gentlemen, if you know nothing of my religion, why call it absurd? Surely it is not the part of unprejudiced people to disparage that of which they are ignorant." "But, _Signor Donatio_, it is not the Catholic Apostolic Roman religion, is it?" "It may be, gentlemen, for what you appear to know of it; for your information, however, I will tell you that it is not; it is the Greek Apostolic religion. I do not call it catholic, for it is absurd to call that catholic which is not universally acknowledged." "But, _Signor Donatio_, does not the matter speak for itself? What can a set of ignorant Greek barbarians know about religion? If they set aside the authority of Rome, whence should they derive any rational ideas of religion? whence should they get the Gospel?" "The Gospel, gentlemen?

Allow me to show you a book. Here it is; what is your opinion of it?"

"_Signor Donati_, what does this mean? What characters of the devil are these, are they Moorish? Who is able to understand them?" "I suppose your wors.h.i.+ps, being Roman priests, know something of Latin; if you inspect the t.i.tle-page to the bottom, you will find, in the language of your own Church, 'the Gospel of our Lord and Saviour Jesus Christ, in the original Greek,' of which your Vulgate is merely a translation, and not a very correct one. With respect to the barbarism of Greece, it appears that you are not aware that Athens was a city, and a famed one, centuries before the first mud cabin of Rome was thatched, and the gypsy vagabonds who first peopled it had escaped from the hands of justice." "_Signor Donatio_, you are an ignorant heretic, and insolent withal: _what nonsense is this_! . . ." But I will not weary your ears, _Kyrie_, with all the absurdities which the poor Latin _Papas_ {266} poured into mine; the burden of their song being invariably, _what nonsense is this_! which was certainly applicable enough to what they themselves were saying.

Seeing, however, that I was more than their match in religious controversy, they fell foul of my country. "Spain is a better country than Greece," said one. "You never tasted bread before you came to Spain," cried another. "And little enough since," thought I. "You never before saw such a city as Seville," said the third. But then ensued the best part of the comedy: my visitors chanced to be natives of three different places; one was of Seville, another of Utrera, and the third of Miguel Turra, a miserable village in La Mancha. At the mention of Seville, the other two instantly began to sing the praises of their respective places of birth; this brought on comparisons, and a violent dispute was the consequence. Much abuse pa.s.sed between them, whilst I stood by, shrugged my shoulders, and said _tipotas_. {267} At last, as they were leaving the house, I said, "Who would have thought, gentlemen, that the polemics of the Greek and Latin Churches were so closely connected with the comparative merits of Seville, Utrera, and Miguel Turra?"

_Myself_.-Is the spirit of proselytism very prevalent here? Of what description of people do their converts generally consist?

_Dionysius_.-I will tell you, _Kyrie_; the generality of their converts consist of German or English Protestant adventurers, who come here to settle, and in course of time take to themselves wives from amongst the Spanish, prior to which it is necessary to become members of the Latin Church. A few are vagabond Jews, from Gibraltar or Tangier, who have fled for their crimes into Spain, and who renounce their faith to escape from starvation. These gentry, however, it is necessary to pay, on which account the priests procure for them _padrinos_, or G.o.dfathers; these generally consist of rich devotees over whom the priests have influence, and who esteem it a glory and a meritorious act to a.s.sist in bringing back lost souls to the Church. The neophyte allows himself to be convinced on the promise of a _peseta_ a day, which is generally paid by the G.o.dfathers for the first year, but seldom for a longer period. About forty years ago, however, they made a somewhat notable convert. A civil war arose in Morocco, caused by the separate pretensions of two brothers to the throne. One of these being worsted, fled over to Spain, imploring the protection of Charles IV. He soon became an object of particular attention to the priests, who were not slow in converting him, and induced Charles to settle upon him a pension of a dollar per day. He died some few years since in Seville, a despised vagabond. He left behind him a son, who is at present a notary, and outwardly very devout, but a greater hypocrite and _picaron_ does not exist. I would you could see his face, _Kyrie_, it is that of Judas Iscariot. I think you would say so, for you are a physiognomist. He lives next door to me, and notwithstanding his pretensions to religion, is permitted to remain in a state of great poverty.

And now nothing further for the present about Dionysius.

About the middle of July our work was concluded at Seville, and for the very efficient reason that I had no more Testaments to sell; somewhat more than two hundred having been circulated since my arrival.

About ten days before the time of which I am speaking, I was visited by various _alguazils_, accompanied by a kind of headborough, who made a small seizure of Testaments and gypsy Gospels, which happened to be lying about. This visit was far from being disagreeable to me, as I considered it to be a very satisfactory proof of the effect of our exertions in Seville. I cannot help here relating an anecdote:-A day or two subsequent, having occasion to call at the house of the headborough respecting my pa.s.sport, I found him lying on his bed, for it was the hour of _siesta_, reading intently one of the Testaments which he had taken away, all of which, if he had obeyed his orders, would have been deposited in the office of the civil governor. So intently, indeed, was he engaged in reading, that he did not at first observe my entrance; when he did, however, he sprang up in great confusion, and locked the book up in his cabinet, whereupon I smiled, and told him to be under no alarm, as I was glad to see him so usefully employed. Recovering himself, he said that he had read the book nearly through, and that he had found no harm in it, but, on the contrary, everything to praise. Adding, he believed that the clergy must be possessed with devils (_endemoniados_) to persecute it in the manner they did.

It was Sunday when the seizure was made, and I happened to be reading the Liturgy. One of the _alguazils_, when going away, made an observation respecting the very different manner in which the Protestants and Catholics keep the Sabbath; the former being in their own houses reading good books, and the latter abroad in the bull-ring, seeing the wild bulls tear out the gory bowels of the poor horses. The bull amphitheatre at Seville is the finest in all Spain, and is invariably on a Sunday (the only day on which it is open) filled with applauding mult.i.tudes.

I now made preparations for leaving Seville for a few months, my destination being the coast of Barbary. Antonio, who did not wish to leave Spain, in which were his wife and children, returned to Madrid, rejoicing in a handsome gratuity with which I presented him. As it was my intention to return to Seville, I left my house and horses in the charge of a friend in whom I could confide, and departed.

The reasons which induced me to visit Barbary will be seen in the following chapters.

CHAPTER L.

Night on the Guadalquivir-Gospel Light-Bonanza-Strand of San Lucar-Andalusian Scenery-History of a Chest-Cosas de los Ingleses-The Two Gypsies-The Driver-The Red Nightcap-The Steam-Boat-Christian Language.

On the night of the 31st of July I departed from Seville upon my expedition, going on board one of the steamers which ply on the Guadalquivir between Seville and Cadiz.

It was my intention to stop at San Lucar, for the purpose of recovering the chest of Testaments which had been placed in embargo there, until such time as they could be removed from the kingdom of Spain. These Testaments I intended for distribution amongst the Christians whom I hoped to meet on the sh.o.r.es of Barbary. San Lucar is about fifteen leagues distant from Seville, at the entrance of the bay of Cadiz, where the yellow waters of the Guadalquivir unite with the brine. The steamer shot from the little quay, or wharf, at about half-past nine, and then arose a loud cry-it was the voices of those on board and on sh.o.r.e wis.h.i.+ng farewell to their friends. Amongst the tumult I thought I could distinguish the accents of some friends of my own who had accompanied me to the bank, and I instantly raised my own voice louder than all. The night was very dark, so much so, indeed, that as we pa.s.sed along we could scarcely distinguish the trees which cover the eastern sh.o.r.e of the river until it takes its first turn. A _calmazo_ had reigned during the day at Seville, by which is meant exceedingly sultry weather, unenlivened by the slightest breeze. The night likewise was calm and sultry. As I had frequently made the voyage of the Guadalquivir, ascending and descending this celebrated river, I felt nothing of that restlessness and curiosity which people experience in a strange place, whether in light or darkness, and being acquainted with none of the other pa.s.sengers, who were talking on the deck, I thought my best plan would be to retire to the cabin and enjoy some rest, if possible. The cabin was solitary and tolerably cool, all its windows on either side being open for the admission of air.

Flinging myself on one of the cus.h.i.+oned benches, I was soon asleep, in which state I continued for about two hours, when I was aroused by the furious biting of a thousand bugs, which compelled me to seek the deck, where, wrapping myself in my cloak, I again fell asleep. It was near daybreak when I awoke; we were then about two leagues from San Lucar. I arose and looked towards the east, watching the gradual progress of dawn, first the dull light, then the streak, then the tinge, then the bright blush, till at last the golden disk of that orb which giveth day emerged from the abyss of immensity, and in a moment the whole prospect was covered with brightness and glory. The land smiled, the waters sparkled, the birds sang, and men arose from their resting-places and rejoiced: for it was day, and the sun was gone forth on the errand of its Creator, the diffusion of light and gladness, and the dispelling of darkness and sorrow.

"Behold the morning sun Begins his glorious way; His beams through all the nations run, And life and light convey.

"But where the Gospel comes, It spreads diviner light; It calls dead sinners from their tombs, And gives the blind their sight."

We now stopped before Bonanza: this is, properly speaking, the port of San Lucar, although it is half a league distant from the latter place.

It is called Bonanza on account of its good anchorage, and its being secured from the boisterous winds of the ocean; its literal meaning is "fair weather." {273} It consists of several large white buildings, princ.i.p.ally government store-houses, and is inhabited by the coastguard, dependents on the custom-house, and a few fishermen. A boat came off to receive those pa.s.sengers whose destination was San Lucar, and to bring on board about half a dozen who were bound for Cadiz: I entered with the rest. A young Spaniard of very diminutive stature addressed some questions to me in French as to what I thought of the scenery and climate of Andalusia. I replied that I admired both, which evidently gave him great pleasure. The boatman now came demanding two _reals_ for conveying me on sh.o.r.e. I had no small money, and offered him a dollar to change.

He said that it was impossible. I asked him what was to be done: whereupon he replied, uncivilly, that he knew not, but could not lose time, and expected to be paid instantly. The young Spaniard, observing my embarra.s.sment, took out two _reals_ and paid the fellow. I thanked him heartily for this act of civility, for which I felt really grateful; as there are few situations more unpleasant than to be in a crowd in want of change, whilst you are importuned by people for payment. A loose character once told me that it was far preferable to be without money at all, as you then knew what course to take. I subsequently met the young Spaniard at Cadiz, and repaid him, with thanks.

A few cabriolets were waiting near the wharf, in order to convey us to San Lucar. I ascended one, and we proceeded slowly along the _playa_ or strand. This place is famous in the ancient novels of Spain, of that cla.s.s called Picaresque, or those devoted to the adventures of notorious scoundrels, the father of which, as also of others of the same kind, in whatever language, is _Lazarillo de Tormes_. Cervantes himself has immortalized this strand in the most amusing of his smaller tales, _La Il.u.s.tre Fregona_. {274} In a word, the strand of San Lucar in ancient times, if not in modern, was a rendezvous for ruffians, _contrabandistas_, and vagabonds of every description, who nested there in wooden sheds, which have now vanished. San Lucar itself was always noted for the thievish propensities of its inhabitants-the worst in all Andalusia. The roguish innkeeper in Don Quixote perfected his education at San Lucar. All these recollections crowded into my mind as we proceeded along the strand, which was beautifully gilded by the Andalusian sun. We at last arrived nearly opposite to San Lucar, which stands at some distance from the waterside. Here a lively spectacle presented itself to us: the sh.o.r.e was covered with a mult.i.tude of females either dressing or undressing themselves, while (I speak within bounds) hundreds were in the water, sporting and playing: some were close by the beach, stretched at their full length on the sand and pebbles, allowing the little billows to dash over their heads and bosoms; whilst others were swimming boldly out into the firth. There was a confused hubbub of female cries, thin shrieks, and shrill laughter; couplets likewise were being sung, on what subject it is easy to guess-for we were in sunny Andalusia, and what can its black-eyed daughters think, speak, or sing of but _amor_, _amor_, which now sounded from the land and the waters?

Further on along the beach we perceived likewise a crowd of men bathing; we pa.s.sed not by them, but turned to the left up an alley or avenue which leads to San Lucar, and which may be a quarter of a mile long. The view from hence was truly magnificent: before us lay the town, occupying the side and top of a tolerably high hill, extending from east to west. It appeared to be of considerable size; and I was subsequently informed that it contained at least twenty thousand inhabitants. Several immense edifices and walls towered up in a style of grandeur which can be but feebly described by words; but the princ.i.p.al object was an ancient castle towards the left. The houses were all white, and would have shone brilliantly in the sun had it been higher; but at this early hour they lay comparatively in shade. The _tout ensemble_ was very Moorish and Oriental; and, indeed, in ancient times San Lucar was a celebrated stronghold of the Moors, and, next to Almeria, the most frequented of the commercial places in Spain. Everything, indeed, in these parts of Andalusia is perfectly Oriental. Behold the heavens, as cloudless and as brightly azure as those of Ind; the fiery sun which tans the fairest cheek in a moment, and which fills the air with flickering flame; and oh!

remark the scenery and the vegetable productions. The alley up which we were moving was planted on each side with that remarkable tree or plant, for I know not which to call it, the giant aloe, which is called in Spanish, _pita_, and in Moorish, _gursean_. It rises here to a height almost as magnificent as on the African sh.o.r.e. Need I say that the stem, which springs up from the middle of the bush of green blades, which shoot out from the root on all sides, is as high as a palm-tree; and need I say that those blades, which are of an immense thickness at the root, are at the tip sharper than the point of a spear, and would inflict a terrible wound on any animal which might inadvertently rush against them?

One of the first houses at San Lucar was the _posada_ at which we stopped. It confronted, with some others, the avenue up which we had come. As it was still early, I betook myself to rest for a few hours, at the end of which time I went out to visit Mr. Phillipi, the British vice-consul, who was already acquainted with me by name, as I had been recommended to him in a letter from a relation of his at Seville. Mr.

Phillipi was at home in his counting-house, and received me with much kindness and civility. I told him the motive of my visit to San Lucar, and requested his a.s.sistance towards obtaining the books from the custom-house, in order to transport them out of the country, as I was very well acquainted with the difficulties which every one has to encounter in Spain who has any business to transact with the government authorities. He a.s.sured me that he should be most happy to a.s.sist me; and, accordingly, despatched with me to the custom-house his head clerk, a person well known and much respected at San Lucar.

It may be as well here at once to give the history of these books, which might otherwise tend to embarra.s.s the narrative. They consisted of a chest of Testaments in Spanish, and a small box of Saint Luke's Gospel in the _Gitano_ language of the Spanish gypsies. I obtained them from the custom-house at San Lucar, with a pa.s.s for that of Cadiz. At Cadiz I was occupied two days, and also a person whom I employed, in going through all the formalities, and in procuring the necessary papers. The expense was great, as money was demanded at every step I had to take, though I was simply complying, in this instance, with the orders of the Spanish government in removing prohibited books from Spain. The farce did not end until my arrival at Gibraltar, where I paid the Spanish consul a dollar for certifying on the back of the pa.s.s, which I had to return to Cadiz, that the books were arrived at the former place. It is true that he never saw the books, nor inquired about them; but he received the money, for which he alone seemed to be anxious.