The Druids’ Stone—The Young Spaniard—Ruffianly Soldiers—Evils of
War—Estremoz—The Brawl—Ruined Watch Tower—Glimpse of Spain—Old Times and
New.
After proceeding about a league and a half, a blast came booming from the
north, rolling before it immense clouds of dust; happily it did not blow
in our faces, or it would have been difficult to proceed, so great was
its violence. We had left the road in order to take advantage of one of
those short cuts, which, though possible for a horse or a mule, are far
too rough to permit any species of carriage to travel along them. We
were in the midst of sands, brushwood, and huge pieces of rock, which
thickly studded the ground. These are the stones which form the sierras
of Spain and Portugal; those singular mountains which rise in naked
horridness, like the ribs of some mighty carcass from which the flesh has
been torn. Many of these stones, or rocks, grew out of the earth, and
many lay on its surface unattached, perhaps wrested from their bed by the
waters of the deluge. Whilst toiling along these wild wastes, I
observed, a little way to my left, a pile of stones of rather a singular
appearance, and rode up to it. It was a druidical altar, and the most
perfect and beautiful one of the kind which I had ever seen. It was
circular, and consisted of stones immensely large and heavy at the
bottom, which towards the top became thinner and thinner, having been
fashioned by the hand of art to something of the shape of scollop shells.
These were surmounted by a very large flat stone, which slanted down
towards the south, where was a door. Three or four individuals might
have taken shelter within the interior, in which was growing a small
thorn tree.
I gazed with reverence and awe upon the pile where the first colonies of
Europe offered their worship to the unknown God. The temples of the
mighty and skilful Roman, comparatively of modern date, have crumbled to
dust in its neighbourhood. The churches of the Arian Goth, his successor
in power, have sunk beneath the earth, and are not to be found; and the
mosques of the Moor, the conqueror of the Goth, where and what are they?
Upon the rock, masses of hoary and vanishing ruin. Not so the Druids’
stone; there it stands on the hill of winds, as strong and as freshly new
as the day, perhaps thirty centuries back, when it was first raised, by
means which are a mystery. Earthquakes have heaved it, but its copestone
has not fallen; rain floods have deluged it, but failed to sweep it from
its station; the burning sun has flashed upon it, but neither split nor
crumbled it; and time, stern old time, has rubbed it with his iron tooth,
and with what effect let those who view it declare. There it stands, and
he who wishes to study the literature, the learning, and the history of
the ancient Celt and Cymbrian, may gaze on its broad covering, and glean
from that blank stone the whole known amount. The Roman has left behind
him his deathless writings, his history, and his songs; the Goth his
liturgy, his traditions, and the germs of noble institutions; the Moor
his chivalry, his discoveries in medicine, and the foundations of modern
commerce; and where is the memorial of the Druidic races? Yonder: that
pile of eternal stone!
We arrived at Arroyolos about seven at night. I took possession of a
large two-bedded room, and, as I was preparing to sit down to supper, the
hostess came to inquire whether I had any objection to receive a young
Spaniard for the night. She said he had just arrived with a train of
muleteers, and that she had no other room in which she could lodge him.
I replied that I was willing, and in about half an hour he made his
appearance, having first supped with his companions. He was a very
gentlemanly, good-looking lad of seventeen. He addressed me in his
native language, and, finding that I understood him, he commenced talking
with astonishing volubility. In the space of five minutes he informed me
that, having a desire to see the world, he had run away from his friends,
who were people of opulence at Madrid, and that he did not intend to
return until he had travelled through various countries. I told him that
if what he said was true, he had done a very wicked and foolish action;
wicked, because he must have overwhelmed those with grief whom he was
bound to honour and love, and foolish, inasmuch as he was going to expose
himself to inconceivable miseries and hardships, which would shortly
cause him to rue the step he had taken; that he would be only welcome in
foreign countries so long as he had money to spend, and when he had none,
he would be repulsed as a vagabond, and would perhaps be allowed to
perish of hunger. He replied that he had a considerable sum of money
with him, no less than a hundred dollars, which would last him a long
time, and that when it was spent he should perhaps be able to obtain
more. “Your hundred dollars,” said I, “will scarcely last you three
months in the country in which you are, even if it be not stolen from
you; and you may as well hope to gather money on the tops of the
mountains as expect to procure more by honourable means.” But he had not
yet sufficiently drank of the cup of experience to attend much to what I
said, and I soon after changed the subject. About five next morning he
came to my bedside to take leave, as his muleteers were preparing to
depart. I gave him the usual Spanish valediction (_Vaya usted con
Dios_), and saw no more of him.
At nine, after having paid a most exorbitant sum for slight
accommodation, I started from Arroyolos, which is a town or large village
situated on very elevated ground, and discernible afar off. It can boast
of the remains of a large ancient and seemingly Moorish castle, which
stands on a hill on the left as you take the road to Estremoz.
About a mile from Arroyolos I overtook a train of carts escorted by a
number of Portuguese soldiers, conveying stores and ammunition into
Spain. Six or seven of these soldiers marched a considerable way in
front; they were villainous looking ruffians upon whose livid and ghastly
countenances were written murder, and all the other crimes which the
decalogue forbids. As I passed by, one of them, with a harsh, croaking
voice, commenced cursing all foreigners. “There,” said he, “is this
Frenchman riding on horseback” (I was on a mule), “with a man” (the
idiot) “to take care of him, and all because he is rich; whilst I, who am
a poor soldier, am obliged to tramp on foot. I could find it in my heart
to shoot him dead, for in what respect is he better than I? But he is a
foreigner, and the devil helps foreigners and hates the Portuguese.” He
continued shouting his remarks until I got about forty yards in advance,
when I commenced laughing; but it would have been more prudent in me to
have held my peace, for the next moment, with bang—bang, two bullets,
well aimed, came whizzing past my ears. A small river lay just before
me, though the bridge was a considerable way on my left. I spurred my
animal through it, closely followed by my terrified guide, and commenced
galloping along a sandy plain on the other side, and so escaped with my
life.
These fellows, with the look of banditti, were in no respect better; and
the traveller who should meet them in a solitary place would have little
reason to bless his good fortune. One of the carriers (all of whom were
Spaniards from the neighbourhood of Badajoz, and had been despatched into
Portugal for the purpose of conveying the stores), whom I afterwards met
in the aforesaid town, informed me that the whole party were equally bad,
and that he and his companions had been plundered by them of various
articles, and threatened with death if they attempted to complain. How
frightful to figure to oneself an army of such beings in a foreign land,
sent thither either to invade or defend; and yet Spain, at the time I am
writing this, is looking forward to armed assistance from Portugal. May
the Lord in his mercy grant that the soldiers who proceed to her
assistance may be of a different stamp: and yet, from the lax state of
discipline which exists in the Portuguese army, in comparison with that
of England and France, I am afraid that the inoffensive population of the
disturbed provinces will say that wolves have been summoned to chase away
foxes from the sheepfold. O! may I live to see the day when soldiery
will no longer be tolerated in any civilized, or at least Christian,
country!
I pursued my route to Estremoz, passing by Monte Moro Novo, which is a
tall dusky hill, surmounted by an ancient edifice, probably Moorish. The
country was dreary and deserted, but offering here and there a valley
studded with cork trees and azinheiras. After midday the wind, which
during the night and morning had much abated, again blew with such
violence as nearly to deprive me of my senses, though it was still in our
rear.
I was heartily glad when, on ascending a rising ground, at about four
o’clock, I saw Estremoz on its hill at something less than a league’s
distance. Here the view became wildly interesting; the sun was sinking
in the midst of red and stormy clouds, and its rays were reflected on the
dun walls of the lofty town to which we were wending. Nor far distant to
the south-west rose Serra Dorso, which I had seen from Evora, and which
is the most beautiful mountain in the Alemtejo. My idiot guide turned
his uncouth visage towards it, and becoming suddenly inspired, opened his
mouth for the first time during the day, I might almost say since we had
left Aldea Gallega, and began to tell me what rare hunting was to be
obtained in that mountain. He likewise described with great minuteness a
wonderful dog, which was kept in the neighbourhood for the purpose of
catching the wolves and wild boars, and for which the proprietor had
refused twenty moidores.
At length we reached Estremoz, and took up our quarters at the principal
inn, which looks upon a large plain or market-place occupying the centre
of the town, and which is so extensive that I should think ten thousand
soldiers at least might perform their evolutions there with ease.
The cold was far too terrible to permit me to remain in the chamber to
which I had been conducted; I therefore went down to a kind of kitchen on
one side of the arched passage, which led under the house to the yard and
stables. A tremendous withering blast poured through this passage, like
the water through the flush of a mill. A large cork tree was blazing in
the kitchen beneath a spacious chimney; and around it were gathered a
noisy crew of peasants and farmers from the neighbourhood, and three or
four Spanish smugglers from the frontier. I with difficulty obtained a
place amongst them, as a Portuguese or a Spaniard will seldom make way
for a stranger, till called upon or pushed aside, but prefers gazing upon
him with an expression which seems to say, I know what you want, but I
prefer remaining where I am.
I now first began to observe an alteration in the language spoken; it had
become less sibilant, and more guttural; and, when addressing each other,
the speakers used the Spanish title of courtesy _usted_, or your
worthiness, instead of the Portuguese high flowing _vossem se_, or your
lordship. This is the result of constant communication with the natives
of Spain, who never condescend to speak Portuguese, even when in
Portugal, but persist in the use of their own beautiful language, which,
perhaps, at some future period, the Portuguese will generally adopt.
This would greatly facilitate the union of the two countries, hitherto
kept asunder by the natural waywardness of mankind.
I had not been seated long before the blazing pile, when a fellow,
mounted on a fine spirited horse, dashed from the stables through the
passage into the kitchen, where he commenced displaying his horsemanship,
by causing the animal to wheel about with the velocity of a millstone, to
the great danger of everybody in the apartment. He then galloped out
upon the plain, and after half an hour’s absence returned, and having
placed his horse once more in the stable, came and seated himself next to
me, to whom he commenced talking in a gibberish of which I understood
very little, but which he intended for French. He was half intoxicated,
and soon became three parts so, by swallowing glass after glass of
aguardiente. Finding that I made him no answer, he directed his
discourse to one of the contrabandistas, to whom he talked in bad
Spanish. The latter either did not or would not understand him; but at
last, losing patience, called him a drunkard, and told him to hold his
tongue. The fellow, enraged at this contempt, flung the glass out of
which he was drinking at the Spaniard’s head, who sprang up like a tiger,
and unsheathing instantly a snick and snee knife, made an upward cut at
the fellow’s cheek, and would have infallibly laid it open, had I not
pulled his arm down just in time to prevent worse effects than a scratch
above the lower jawbone, which, however, drew blood.
The smuggler’s companions interfered, and with much difficulty led him
off to a small apartment in the rear of the house, where they slept, and
kept the furniture of their mules. The drunkard then commenced singing,
or rather yelling, the Marseillois hymn; and after having annoyed every
one for nearly an hour, was persuaded to mount his horse and depart,
accompanied by one of his neighbours. He was a pig merchant of the
vicinity, but had formerly been a trooper in the army of Napoleon, where,
I suppose, like the drunken coachman of Evora, he had picked up his
French and his habits of intoxication.
From Estremoz to Elvas the distance is six leagues. I started at nine
next morning; the first part of the way lay through an enclosed country,
but we soon emerged upon wild bleak downs, over which the wind, which
still pursued us, howled most mournfully. We met no one on the route;
and the scene was desolate in the extreme; the heaven was of a dark grey,
through which no glimpse of the sun was to be perceived. Before us, at a
great distance, on an elevated ground, rose a tower—the only object which
broke the monotony of the waste. In about two hours from the time when
we first discovered it, we reached a fountain, at the foot of the hill on
which it stood; the water, which gushed into a long stone trough, was
beautifully clear and transparent, and we stopped here to water the
animals.
Having dismounted, I left the guide, and proceeded to ascend the hill on
which the tower stood. Though the ascent was very gentle I did not
accomplish it without difficulty; the ground was covered with sharp
stones, which, in two or three instances, cut through my boots and
wounded my feet; and the distance was much greater than I had expected.
I at last arrived at the ruin, for such it was. I found it had been one
of those watch towers or small fortresses called in Portuguese
_atalaias_; it was square, and surrounded by a wall, broken down in many
places. The tower itself had no door, the lower part being of solid
stone work; but on one side were crevices at intervals between the
stones, for the purpose of placing the feet, and up this rude staircase I
climbed to a small apartment, about five feet square, from which the top
had fallen. It commanded an extensive view from all sides, and had
evidently been built for the accommodation of those whose business it was
to keep watch on the frontier, and at the appearance of an enemy to alarm
the country by signals—probably by a fire. Resolute men might have
defended themselves in this little fastness against many assailants, who
must have been completely exposed to their arrows or musketry in the
ascent.
Being about to leave the place, I heard a strange cry behind a part of
the wall which I had not visited, and hastening thither, I found a
miserable object in rags, seated upon a stone. It was a maniac—a man
about thirty years of age, and I believe deaf and dumb; there he sat,
gibbering and mowing, and distorting his wild features into various
dreadful appearances. There wanted nothing but this object to render the
scene complete; banditti amongst such melancholy desolation would have
been by no means so much in keeping. But the maniac, on his stone, in
the rear of the wind-beaten ruin, overlooking the blasted heath, above
which scowled the leaden heaven, presented such a picture of gloom and
misery as I believe neither painter nor poet ever conceived in the
saddest of their musings. This is not the first instance in which it has
been my lot to verify the wisdom of the saying, that truth is sometimes
wilder than fiction.
I remounted my mule, and proceeded till, on the top of another hill, my
guide suddenly exclaimed, “there is Elvas.” I looked in the direction in
which he pointed, and beheld a town perched on the top of a lofty hill.
On the other side of a deep valley towards the left rose another hill,
much higher, on the top of which is the celebrated fort of Elvas,
believed to be the strongest place in Portugal. Through the opening
between the fort and the town, but in the background and far in Spain, I
discerned the misty sides and cloudy head of a stately mountain, which I
afterwards learned was Albuquerque, one of the loftiest of Estremadura.
We now got into a cultivated country, and following the road, which wound
amongst hedgerows, we arrived at a place where the ground began gradually
to shelve down. Here, on the right, was the commencement of an aqueduct
by means of which the town on the opposite hill was supplied; it was at
this point scarcely two feet in altitude, but, as we descended, it became
higher and higher, and its proportions more colossal. Near the bottom of
the valley it took a turn to the left, bestriding the road with one of
its arches. I looked up, after passing under it; the water must have
been flowing near a hundred feet above my head, and I was filled with
wonder at the immensity of the structure which conveyed it. There was,
however, one feature which was no slight drawback to its pretensions to
grandeur and magnificence; the water was supported not by gigantic single
arches, like those of the aqueduct of Lisbon, which stalk over the valley
like legs of Titans, but by three layers of arches, which, like three
distinct aqueducts, rise above each other. The expense and labour
necessary for the erection of such a structure must have been enormous;
and, when we reflect with what comparative ease modern art would confer
the same advantage, we cannot help congratulating ourselves that we live
in times when it is not necessary to exhaust the wealth of a province to
supply a town on a hill with one of the first necessaries of existence.