Elvas—Extraordinary Longevity—The English Nation—Portuguese
Ingratitude—Illiberality—Fortifications—Spanish Beggar—Badajoz—The Custom
House.
Arrived at the gate of Elvas, an officer came out of a kind of guard
house, and, having asked me some questions, despatched a soldier with me
to the police office, that my passport might be viséed, as upon the
frontier they are much more particular with respect to passports than in
other parts. This matter having been settled, I entered an hostelry near
the same gate, which had been recommended to me by my host at Vendas
Novas, and which was kept by a person of the name of Joze Rosado. It was
the best in the town, though, for convenience and accommodation, inferior
to a hedge alehouse in England. The cold still pursued me, and I was
glad to take refuge in an inner kitchen, which, when the door was not
open, was only lighted by a fire burning somewhat dimly on the hearth.
An elderly female sat beside it in her chair, telling her beads: there
was something singular and extraordinary in her look, as well as I could
discern by the imperfect light of the apartment. I put a few unimportant
questions to her, to which she replied, but seemed to be afflicted to a
slight degree with deafness. Her hair was becoming grey, and I said that
I believed she was older than myself, but that I was confident she had
less snow on her head.
“How old may you be, cavalier?” said she, giving me that title which in
Spain is generally used when an extraordinary degree of respect is wished
to be exhibited. I answered that I was near thirty. “Then,” said she,
“you were right in supposing that I am older than yourself; I am older
than your mother, or your mother’s mother: it is more than a hundred
years since I was a girl, and sported with the daughters of the town on
the hillside.” “In that case,” said I, “you doubtless remember the
earthquake.” “Yes,” she replied, “if there is any occurrence in my life
that I remember, it is that: I was in the church of Elvas at the moment,
hearing the mass of the king, and the priest fell on the ground, and let
fall the Host from his hands. I shall never forget how the earth shook;
it made us all sick; and the houses and walls reeled like drunkards.
Since that happened I have seen fourscore years pass by me, yet I was
older then than you are now.”
I looked with wonder at this surprising female, and could scarcely
believe her words. I was, however, assured that she was in fact upwards
of a hundred and ten years of age, and was considered the oldest person
in Portugal. She still retained the use of her faculties in as full a
degree as the generality of people who have scarcely attained the half of
her age. She was related to the people of the house.
As the night advanced, several persons entered for the purpose of
enjoying the comfort of the fire and for the sake of conversation, for
the house was a kind of news room, where the principal speaker was the
host, a man of some shrewdness and experience, who had served as a
soldier in the British army. Amongst others was the officer who
commanded at the gate. After a few observations, this gentleman, who was
a good-looking young man of five-and-twenty, began to burst forth in
violent declamation against the English nation and government, who, he
said, had at all times proved themselves selfish and deceitful, but that
their present conduct in respect to Spain was particularly infamous, for
though it was in their power to put an end to the war at once, by sending
a large army thither, they preferred sending a handful of troops, in
order that the war might be prolonged, for no other reason than that it
was of advantage to them. Having paid him an ironical compliment for his
politeness and urbanity, I asked whether he reckoned amongst the selfish
actions of the English government and nation, their having expended
hundreds of millions of pounds sterling, and an ocean of precious blood,
in fighting the battles of Spain and Portugal against Napoleon.
“Surely,” said I, “the fort of Elvas above our heads, and still more the
castle of Badajoz over the water, speak volumes respecting English
selfishness, and must, every time you view them, confirm you in the
opinion which you have just expressed. And then, with respect to the
present combat in Spain, the gratitude which that country evinced to
England after the French, by means of English armies, had been
expelled,—gratitude evinced by discouraging the trade of England on all
occasions, and by offering up masses in thanksgiving when the English
heretics quitted the Spanish shores,—ought now to induce England to
exhaust and ruin herself, for the sake of hunting Don Carlos out of his
mountains. In deference to your superior judgment,” continued I to the
officer, “I will endeavour to believe that it would be for the advantage
of England were the war prolonged for an indefinite period; nevertheless,
you would do me a particular favour by explaining by what process in
chemistry blood shed in Spain will find its way into the English treasury
in the shape of gold.”
As he was not ready with his answer, I took up a plate of fruit which
stood on the table beside me, and said, “What do you call these fruits?”
“Pomegranates and bolotas,” he replied. “Right,” said I, “a home-bred
Englishman could not have given me that answer; yet he is as much
acquainted with pomegranates and bolotas as your lordship is with the
line of conduct which it is incumbent upon England to pursue in her
foreign and domestic policy.”
This answer of mine, I confess, was not that of a Christian, and proved
to me how much of the leaven of the ancient man still pervaded me; yet I
must be permitted to add, that I believe no other provocation would have
elicited from me a reply so full of angry feeling: but I could not
command myself when I heard my own glorious land traduced in this
unmerited manner. By whom? A Portuguese! A native of a country which
has been twice liberated from horrid and detestable thraldom by the hands
of Englishmen. But for Wellington and his heroes, Portugal would have
been French at this day; but for Napier and his mariners, Miguel would
now be lording it in Lisbon. To return, however, to the officer; every
one laughed at him, and he presently went away.
The next day I became acquainted with a respectable tradesman of the name
of Almeida, a man of talent, though rather rough in his manners. He
expressed great abhorrence of the papal system, which had so long spread
a darkness like that of death over his unfortunate country, and I had no
sooner informed him that I had brought with me a certain quantity of
Testaments, which it was my intention to leave for sale at Elvas, than he
expressed a great desire to undertake the charge, and said that he would
do the utmost in his power to procure a sale for them amongst his
numerous customers. Upon showing him a copy, I remarked, your name is
upon the title page; the Portuguese version of the Holy Scriptures,
circulated by the Bible Society, having been executed by a Protestant of
the name of Almeida, and first published in the year 1712; whereupon he
smiled, and observed that he esteemed it an honour to be connected in
name at least with such a man. He scoffed at the idea of receiving any
remuneration, and assured me that the feeling of being permitted to
co-operate in so holy and useful a cause as the circulation of the
Scriptures was quite a sufficient reward.
After having accomplished this matter, I proceeded to survey the environs
of the place, and strolled up the hill to the fort on the north side of
the town. The lower part of the hill is planted with azinheiras, which
give it a picturesque appearance, and at the bottom is a small brook,
which I crossed by means of stepping stones. Arrived at the gate of the
fort, I was stopped by the sentry, who, however, civilly told me, that if
I sent in my name to the commanding officer he would make no objection to
my visiting the interior. I accordingly sent in my card by a soldier who
was lounging about, and, sitting down on a stone, waited his return. He
presently appeared, and inquired whether I was an Englishman; to which,
having replied in the affirmative, he said, “In that case, sir, you
cannot enter; indeed, it is not the custom to permit any foreigners to
visit the fort.” I answered that it was perfectly indifferent to me
whether I visited it or not; and, having taken a survey of Badajoz from
the eastern side of the hill, descended by the way I came.
This is one of the beneficial results of protecting a nation and
squandering blood and treasure in its defence. The English, who have
never been at war with Portugal, who have fought for its independence on
land and sea, and always with success, who have forced themselves by a
treaty of commerce to drink its coarse and filthy wines, which no other
nation cares to taste, are the most unpopular people who visit Portugal.
The French have ravaged the country with fire and sword, and shed the
blood of its sons like water; the French buy not its fruits and loathe
its wines, yet there is no bad spirit in Portugal towards the French.
The reason of this is no mystery; it is the nature not of the Portuguese
only, but of corrupt and unregenerate man, to dislike his benefactors,
who, by conferring benefits upon him, mortify in the most generous manner
his miserable vanity.
There is no country in which the English are so popular as in France;
but, though the French have been frequently roughly handled by the
English, and have seen their capital occupied by an English army, they
have never been subjected to the supposed ignominy of receiving
assistance from them.
The fortifications of Elvas are models of their kind, and, at the first
view, it would seem that the town, if well garrisoned, might bid defiance
to any hostile power; but it has its weak point: the western side is
commanded by a hill, at the distance of half a mile, from which an
experienced general would cannonade it, and probably with success. It is
the last town in this part of Portugal, the distance to the Spanish
frontier being barely two leagues. It was evidently built as a rival to
Badajoz, upon which it looks down from its height across a sandy plain
and over the sullen waters of the Guadiana; but, though a strong town, it
can scarcely be called a defence to the frontier, which is open on all
sides, so that there would not be the slightest necessity for an invading
army to approach within a dozen leagues of its walls, should it be
disposed to avoid them. Its fortifications are so extensive that ten
thousand men at least would be required to man them, who, in the event of
an invasion, might be far better employed in meeting the enemy in the
open field. The French, during their occupation of Portugal, kept a
small force in this place, who, at the approach of the British, retreated
to the fort, where they shortly after capitulated.
Having nothing farther to detain me at Elvas, I proceeded to cross the
frontier into Spain. My idiot guide was on his way back to Aldea
Gallega; and, on the fifth of January, I mounted a sorry mule without
bridle or stirrups, which I guided by a species of halter, and followed
by a lad who was to attend me on another, I spurred down the hill of
Elvas to the plain, eager to arrive in old chivalrous romantic Spain.
But I soon found that I had no need to quicken the beast which bore me,
for though covered with sores, wall-eyed, and with a kind of halt in its
gait, it cantered along like the wind.
In little more than half an hour we arrived at a brook, whose waters ran
vigorously between steep banks. A man who was standing on the side
directed me to the ford in the squeaking dialect of Portugal; but whilst
I was yet splashing through the water, a voice from the other bank hailed
me, in the magnificent language of Spain, in this guise: “_O Senor
Caballero_, _que me de usted una limosna por amor de Dios_, _una
limosnita para que io me compre un traguillo de vino tinto_” (Charity,
Sir Cavalier, for the love of God, bestow an alms upon me, that I may
purchase a mouthful of red wine). In a moment I was on Spanish ground,
as the brook, which is called Acaia, is the boundary here of the two
kingdoms, and having flung the beggar a small piece of silver, I cried in
ecstasy “_Santiago y cierra Espana_!” and scoured on my way with more
speed than before, paying, as Gil Blas says, little heed to the torrent
of blessings which the mendicant poured forth in my rear: yet never was
charity more unwisely bestowed, for I was subsequently informed that the
fellow was a confirmed drunkard, who took his station every morning at
the ford, where he remained the whole day for the purpose of extorting
money from the passengers, which he regularly spent every night in the
wine-shops of Badajoz. To those who gave him money he returned
blessings, and to those who refused, curses; being equally skilled and
fluent in the use of either.
Badajoz was now in view, at the distance of little more than half a
league. We soon took a turn to the left, towards a bridge of many arches
across the Guadiana, which, though so famed in song and ballad, is a very
unpicturesque stream, shallow and sluggish, though tolerably wide; its
banks were white with linen which the washer-women had spread out to dry
in the sun, which was shining brightly; I heard their singing at a great
distance, and the theme seemed to be the praises of the river where they
were toiling, for as I approached, I could distinguish Guadiana,
Guadiana, which reverberated far and wide, pronounced by the clear and
strong voices of many a dark-cheeked maid and matron. I thought there
was some analogy between their employment and my own: I was about to tan
my northern complexion by exposing myself to the hot sun of Spain, in the
humble hope of being able to cleanse some of the foul stains of Popery
from the minds of its children, with whom I had little acquaintance,
whilst they were bronzing themselves on the banks of the river in order
to make white the garments of strangers: the words of an eastern poet
returned forcibly to my mind.
“I’ll weary myself each night and each day,
To aid my unfortunate brothers;
As the laundress tans her own face in the ray,
To cleanse the garments of others.”
Having crossed the bridge, we arrived at the northern gate, when out
rushed from a species of sentry box a fellow wearing on his head a
high-peaked Andalusian hat, with his figure wrapped up in one of those
immense cloaks so well known to those who have travelled in Spain, and
which none but a Spaniard can wear in a becoming manner: without saying a
word, he laid hold of the halter of the mule, and began to lead it
through the gate up a dirty street, crowded with long-cloaked people like
himself. I asked him what he meant, but he deigned not to return an
answer, the boy, however, who waited upon me said that it was one of the
gate-keepers, and that he was conducting us to the Custom House or
Alfandega, where the baggage would be examined. Having arrived there,
the fellow, who still maintained a dogged silence, began to pull the
trunks off the sumpter mule, and commenced uncording them. I was about
to give him a severe reproof for his brutality, but before I could open
my mouth a stout elderly personage appeared at the door, who I soon found
was the principal officer. He looked at me for a moment and then asked
me, in the English language, if I was an Englishman. On my replying in
the affirmative, he demanded of the fellow how he dared to have the
insolence to touch the baggage, without orders, and sternly bade him cord
up the trunks again and place them on the mule, which he performed
without uttering a word. The gentleman then asked what the trunks
contained: I answered clothes and linen; when he begged pardon for the
insolence of the subordinate, and informed him that I was at liberty to
proceed where I thought proper. I thanked him for his exceeding
politeness, and, under guidance of the boy, made the best of my way to
the Inn of the Three Nations, to which I had been recommended at Elvas.