I have already had occasion to mention this castle. It is the remains of
what was once a Norman stronghold, and is perched upon a round mound or
monticle, in the midst of the old city. Steep is this mound and scarped,
evidently by the hand of man; a deep gorge, over which is flung a bridge,
separates it, on the south, from a broad swell of open ground called 'the
hill;' of old the scene of many a tournament and feat of Norman chivalry,
but now much used as a show-place for cattle, where those who buy and
sell beeves and other beasts resort at stated periods.
So it came to pass that I stood upon this hill, observing a fair of
horses.
The reader is already aware that I had long since conceived a passion for
the equine race, a passion in which circumstances had of late not
permitted me to indulge. I had no horses to ride, but I took pleasure in
looking at them; and I had already attended more than one of these fairs:
the present was lively enough, indeed, horse fairs are seldom dull. There
was shouting and whooping, neighing and braying; there was galloping and
trotting; fellows with highlows and white stockings, and with many a
string dangling from the knees of their tight breeches, were running
desperately, holding horses by the halter, and in some cases dragging
them along; there were long-tailed steeds, and dock-tailed steeds of
every degree and breed; there were droves of wild ponies, and long rows
of sober cart horses; there were donkeys and even mules: the last rare
things to be seen in damp, misty England, for the mule pines in mud and
rain, and thrives best with a hot sun above and a burning sand below.
There were--oh, the gallant creatures! I hear their neigh upon the wind;
there were--goodliest sight of all--certain enormous quadrupeds only seen
to perfection in our native isle, led about by dapper grooms, their manes
ribanded and their tails curiously clubbed and balled. Ha! ha!--how
distinctly do they say, ha! ha!
An old man draws nigh, he is mounted on a lean pony, and he leads by the
bridle one of these animals; nothing very remarkable about that creature,
unless in being smaller than the rest and gentle, which they are not; he
is not of the sightliest look; he is almost dun, and over one eye a thick
film has gathered. But stay! there is something remarkable about that
horse, there is something in his action in which he differs from the
rest. As he advances, the clamour is hushed! all eyes are turned upon
him--what looks of interest--of respect--and, what is this? people are
taking off their hats--surely not to that steed! Yes, verily! men,
especially old men, are taking off their hats to that one-eyed steed, and
I hear more than one deep-drawn ah!
'What horse is that?' said I to a very old fellow, the counterpart of the
old man on the pony, save that the last wore a faded suit of velveteen,
and this one was dressed in a white frock.
'The best in mother England,' said the very old man, taking a knobbed
stick from his mouth, and looking me in the face, at first carelessly,
but presently with something like interest; 'he is old, like myself, but
can still trot his twenty miles an hour. You won't live long, my swain;
tall and overgrown ones like thee never does; yet, if you should chance
to reach my years, you may boast to thy great grand boys, thou hast seen
Marshland Shales.'
Amain I did for the horse what I would neither do for earl or baron,
doffed my hat; yes! I doffed my hat to the wondrous horse, the fast
trotter, the best in mother England; and I, too, drew a deep ah! and
repeated the words of the old fellows around. 'Such a horse as this we
shall never see again; a pity that he is so old!'
* * * * *
In Spain I passed five years, which, if not the most eventful, were, I
have no hesitation in saying, the most happy years of my existence. Of
Spain at the present time, now that the day-dream has vanished never,
alas! to return, I entertain the warmest admiration: she is the most
magnificent country in the world, probably the most fertile, and
certainly with the finest climate. Whether her children are worthy of
their mother, is another question, which I shall not attempt to answer;
but content myself with observing that, amongst much that is lamentable
and reprehensible, I have found much that is noble and to be admired:
much stern heroic virtue; much savage and horrible crime; of low vulgar
vice very little, at least amongst the great body of the Spanish nation,
with which my mission lay; for it will be as well here to observe that I
advance no claim to an intimate acquaintance with the Spanish nobility,
from whom I kept as remote as circumstances would permit me; en revanche,
however, I have had the honour to live on familiar terms with the
peasants, shepherds, and muleteers of Spain, whose bread and bacallao I
have eaten; who always treated me with kindness and courtesy, and to whom
I have not unfrequently been indebted for shelter and protection.
'The generous bearing of Francisco Gonzales, and the high deeds of Ruy
Diaz the Cid, are still sung amongst the fastnesses of the Sierra
Morena.'
I believe that no stronger argument can be brought forward in proof of
the natural vigour and resources of Spain, and the sterling character of
her population, than the fact that, at the present day, she is still a
powerful and unexhausted country, and her children still, to a certain
extent, a high-minded and great people. Yes, notwithstanding the misrule
of the brutal and sensual Austrian, the doting Bourbon, and, above all,
the spiritual tyranny of the court of Rome, Spain can still maintain her
own, fight her own combat, and Spaniards are not yet fanatic slaves and
crouching beggars. This is saying much, very much: she has undergone far
more than Naples had ever to bear, and yet the fate of Naples has not
been hers. There is still valour in Asturia, generosity in Aragon,
probity in Old Castile, and the peasant women of La Mancha can still
afford to place a silver fork and a showy napkin beside the plate of
their guest. Yes, in spite of Austrian, Bourbon, and Rome, there is
still a wide gulf between Spain and Naples.
Strange as it may sound, Spain is not a fanatic country. I know
something about her, and declare that she is not, nor has ever been:
Spain never changes. It is true that, for nearly two centuries, she was
the she-butcher, La Verduga, of malignant Rome; the chosen instrument for
carrying into effect the atrocious projects of that power; yet fanaticism
was not the spring which impelled her to the work of butchery: another
feeling, in her the predominant one, was worked upon--her fatal pride. It
was by humouring her pride that she was induced to waste her precious
blood and treasure in the Low Country wars, to launch the Armada, and to
many other equally insane actions. Love of Rome had ever slight
influence over her policy; but, flattered by the title of Gonfaloniera of
the Vicar of Jesus, and eager to prove herself not unworthy of the same,
she shut her eyes, and rushed upon her own destruction with the cry of
'Charge, Spain!'
* * * * *
On the afternoon of the 6th of December I set out for Evora, accompanied
by my servant. I had been informed that the tide would serve for the
regular passage-boats, or felouks, as they are called, at about four
o'clock; but on reaching the side of the Tagus opposite to Aldea Gallega,
between which place and Lisbon the boats ply, I found that the tide would
not permit them to start before eight o'clock. Had I waited for them I
should have probably landed at Aldea Gallega about midnight, and I felt
little inclination to make my entree in the Alemtejo at that hour;
therefore, as I saw small boats which can push off at any time lying near
in abundance, I determined upon hiring one of them for the passage,
though the expense would be thus considerably increased. I soon agreed
with a wild-looking lad, who told me that he was in part owner of one of
the boats, to take me over. I was not aware of the danger in crossing
the Tagus at its broadest part, which is opposite Aldea Gallega, at any
time, but especially at close of day in the winter season, or I should
certainly not have ventured. The lad and his comrade, a
miserable-looking object, whose only clothing, notwithstanding the
season, was a tattered jerkin and trousers, rowed until we had advanced
about half a mile from the land; they then set up a large sail, and the
lad, who seemed to direct everything, and to be the principal, took the
helm and steered. The evening was now setting in; the sun was not far
from its bourne in the horizon; the air was very cold, the wind was
rising, and the waves of the noble Tagus began to be crested with foam. I
told the boy that it was scarcely possible for the boat to carry so much
sail without upsetting, upon which he laughed, and began to gabble in a
most incoherent manner. He had the most harsh and rapid articulation
that has ever come under my observation in any human being; it was the
scream of the hyena blended with the bark of the terrier, though it was
by no means an index of his disposition, which I soon found to be light,
merry, and anything but malevolent; for when I, in order to show him that
I cared little about him, began to hum 'Eu que sou contrabandista,'
{147a} he laughed heartily, and said, clapping me on the shoulder, that
he would not drown us if he could help it. The other poor fellow seemed
by no means averse to go to the bottom: he sat at the fore part of the
boat, looking the image of famine, and only smiled when the waters broke
over the weather side and soaked his scanty habiliments. In a little
time I had made up my mind that our last hour was come; the wind was
getting higher, the short dangerous waves were more foamy, the boat was
frequently on its beam, and the water came over the lee side in torrents.
But still the wild lad at the helm held on, laughing and chattering, and
occasionally yelling out part of the Miguelite air, 'Quando el Rey
chegou,' {147b} the singing of which in Lisbon is imprisonment.
The stream was against us, but the wind was in our favour, and we sprang
along at a wonderful rate, and I saw that our only chance of escape was
in speedily passing the farther bank of the Tagus, where the bight or bay
at the extremity of which stands Aldea Gallega commences, for we should
not then have to battle with the waves of the stream, which the adverse
wind lashed into fury. It was the will of the Almighty to permit us
speedily to gain this shelter, but not before the boat was nearly filled
with water, and we were all wet to the skin. At about seven o'clock in
the evening we reached Aldea Gallega, shivering with cold and in a most
deplorable plight.
* * * * *
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
sunshine, in which gaily painted butterflies 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 lustrous 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 dashing 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 was not without reason that the Latins gave the name of Finis terrae
to this district. We had arrived exactly at such a place as in my
boyhood I had pictured to myself as the termination of the world, beyond
which there was a wild sea, or abyss, or chaos. I now saw far before me
an immense ocean, and below me a long and irregular line of lofty and
precipitous coast. Certainly in the whole world there is no bolder coast
than the Gallegan shore, from the debouchment of the Minho to Cape
Finisterre. It consists of a granite wall of savage mountains for the
most part serrated at the top, and occasionally broken, where bays and
firths like those of Vigo and Pontevedra intervene, running deep into the
land. These bays and firths are invariably of an immense depth, and
sufficiently capacious to shelter the navies of the proudest maritime
nations.
There is an air of stern and savage grandeur in everything around, which
strongly captivates the imagination. This savage coast is the first
glimpse of Spain which the voyager from the north catches, or he who has
ploughed his way across the wide Atlantic: and well does it seem to
realize all his visions of this strange land. 'Yes,' he exclaims, 'this
is indeed Spain--stern, flinty Spain--land emblematic of those spirits to
which she has given birth. From what land but that before me could have
proceeded those portentous beings who astounded the Old World and filled
the New with horror and blood? Alva and Philip, Cortez and Pizzaro--stern
colossal spectres looming through the gloom of bygone years, like yonder
granite mountains through the haze, upon the eye of the mariner. Yes,
yonder is indeed Spain, flinty, indomitable Spain, land emblematic of its
sons!'
As for myself, when I viewed that wide ocean and its savage shore, I
cried, 'Such is the grave, and such are its terrific sides, those moors
and wilds, over which I have passed, are the rough and dreary journey of
life. Cheered with hope, we struggle along through all the difficulties
of moor, bog, and mountain, to arrive at--what? The grave and its dreary
sides. Oh, may hope not desert us in the last hour--hope in the Redeemer
and in God!'
* * * * *
A propos of bull-fighters:--Shortly after my arrival, I one day entered a
low tavern in a neighbourhood notorious for robbery and murder, and in
which for the last two hours I had been wandering on a voyage of
discovery. I was fatigued, and required refreshment. I found the place
thronged with people, who had all the appearance of ruffians. I saluted
them, upon which they made way for me to the bar, taking off their
sombreros with great ceremony. I emptied a glass of val de penas, and
was about to pay for it and depart, when a horrible-looking fellow,
dressed in a buff jerkin, leather breeches, and jackboots, which came
halfway up his thighs, and having on his head a white hat, the rims of
which were at least a yard and a half in circumference, pushed through
the crowd, and confronting me, roared:--
'Otra copita! vamos Inglesito: Otra copita!'
'Thank you, my good sir, you are very kind. You appear to know me, but I
have not the honour of knowing you.'
'Not know me!' replied the being. 'I am Sevilla, the torero. I know you
well; you are the friend of Baltasarito, the national, who is a friend of
mine, and a very good subject.'
Then turning to the company, he said in a sonorous tone, laying a strong
emphasis on the last syllable of every word, according to the custom of
the gente rufianesca throughout Spain--
'Cavaliers, and strong men, this cavalier is the friend of a friend of
mine. Es mucho hombre. There is none like him in Spain. He speaks the
crabbed Gitano, though he is an Inglesito.'
'We do not believe it,' replied several grave voices. 'It is not
possible.'
'It is not possible, say you? I tell you it is. Come forward, Balseiro,
you who have been in prison all your life, and are always boasting that
you can speak the crabbed Gitano, though I say you know nothing of
it--come forward and speak to his worship in the crabbed Gitano.'
A low, slight, but active figure stepped forward. He was in his shirt-
sleeves, and wore a montero cap; his features were handsome but they were
those of a demon.
He spoke a few words in the broken gypsy slang of the prison, inquiring
of me whether I had ever been in the condemned cell, and whether I knew
what a Gitana was.
'Vamos Inglesito,' shouted Sevilla, in a voice of thunder; 'answer the
monro in the crabbed Gitano.'
I answered the robber, for such he was, and one too whose name will live
for many a year in the ruffian histories of Madrid; I answered him in a
speech of some length, in the dialect of the Estremenian gypsies.
'I believe it is the crabbed Gitano,' muttered Balseiro. 'It is either
that or English, for I understand not a word of it.'
'Did I not say to you,' cried the bullfighter, 'that you knew nothing of
the crabbed Gitano? But this Ingleisto does. I understood all he said.
Vaya, there is none like him for the crabbed Gitano. He is a good
ginete, too; next to myself, there is none like him, only he rides with
stirrup leathers too short. Inglesito, if you have need of money, I will
lend you my purse. All I have is at your service, and that is not a
little; I have just gained four thousand chules by the lottery. Courage,
Englishman! Another cup. I will pay all--I, Sevilla!'
And he clapped his hand repeatedly on his breast, reiterating, 'I,
Sevilla! I--
* * * * *
'The waiter drew the cork, and filled the glasses with a pinky liquor,
which bubbled, hissed and foamed. 'How do you like it?' said the jockey,
after I had imitated the example of my companions, by despatching my
portion at a draught.
'It is wonderful wine,' said I; 'I have never tasted champagne before,
though I have frequently heard it praised; it more than answers my
expectations; but, I confess, I should not wish to be obliged to drink it
every day.'
'Nor I,' said the jockey, 'for everyday drinking give me a glass of old
port, or--'
'Of hard old ale,' I interposed, 'which, according to my mind, is better
than all the wine in the world.'
'Well said, Romany Rye,' said the jockey, 'just my own opinion; now,
William, make yourself scarce.'
* * * * *
Leaving the bridge, I ascended a gentle acclivity, and presently reached
what appeared to be a tract of moory undulating ground. It was now
tolerably light, but there was a mist or haze abroad which prevented my
seeing objects with much precision. I felt chill in the damp air of the
early morn, and walked rapidly forward. In about half an hour I arrived
where the road divided into two at an angle or tongue of dark green
sward. 'To the right or the left?' said I, and forthwith took, without
knowing why, the left-hand road, along which I proceeded about a hundred
yards, when, in the midst of the tongue of sward formed by the two roads,
collaterally with myself, I perceived what I at first conceived to be a
small grove of blighted trunks of oaks, barked and grey. I stood still
for a moment, and then, turning off the road, advanced slowly towards it
over the sward; as I drew nearer, I perceived that the objects which had
attracted my curiosity, and which formed a kind of circle, were not
trees, but immense upright stones. A thrill pervaded my system; just
before me were two, the mightiest of the whole, tall as the stems of
proud oaks, supporting on their tops a huge transverse stone, and forming
a wonderful doorway. I knew now where I was, and, laying down my stick
and bundle, and taking off my hat, I advanced slowly, and cast myself--it
was folly, perhaps, but I could not help what I did--cast myself, with my
face on the dewy earth, in the middle of the portal of giants, beneath
the transverse stone. The spirit of Stonehenge was strong upon me!
* * * * *
I went to Belle's habitation, and informed her that Mr. and Mrs.
Petulengro had paid us a visit of ceremony, and were awaiting her at the
fire-place. 'Pray go and tell them that I am busy,' said Belle, who was
engaged with her needle. 'I do not feel disposed to take part in any
such nonsense.' 'I shall do no such thing,' said I; 'and I insist upon
your coming forthwith, and showing proper courtesy to your visitors. If
you do not, their feelings will be hurt, and you are aware that I cannot
bear that people's feelings should be outraged. Come this moment, or--'
'Or what?' said Belle, half smiling. 'I was about to say something in
Armenian,' said I. 'Well,' said Belle, laying down her work, 'I will
come.' 'Stay,' said I, 'your hair is hanging about your ears, and your
dress is in disorder; you had better stay a minute or two to prepare
yourself to appear before your visitors, who have come in their very best
attire.' 'No,' said Belle, 'I will make no alteration in my appearance;
you told me to come this moment, and you shall be obeyed.' So Belle and
I advanced towards our guests. As we drew nigh, Mr. Petulengro took off
his hat and made a profound obeisance to Belle, whilst Mrs. Petulengro
rose from the stool and made a profound courtesy. Belle, who had flung
her hair back over her shoulders, returned their salutations by bending
her head, and after slightly glancing at Mr. Petulengro, fixed her large
blue eyes full upon his wife. Both these females were very handsome--but
how unlike! Belle fair, with blue eyes and flaxen hair; Mrs. Petulengro
with olive complexion, eyes black, and hair dark--as dark as could be.
Belle, in demeanour calm and proud; the gypsy graceful, but full of
movement and agitation. And then how different were those two in
stature! The head of the Romany rawnie scarcely ascended to the breast
of Isopel Berners. I could see that Mrs. Petulengro gazed on Belle with
unmixed admiration; so did her husband. 'Well,' said the latter, 'one
thing I will say, which is, that there is only one on earth worthy to
stand up in front of this she and that is the beauty of the world, as far
as man flesh is concerned, Tawno Chikno; what a pity he did not come
down!'
'Tawno Chikno,' said Mrs. Petulengro, flaring up; 'a pretty fellow he to
stand up in front of this gentlewoman, a pity he didn't come, quotha? not
at all, the fellow is a sneak, afraid of his wife. He stand up against
this rawnie! why, the look she has given me would knock the fellow down.'
'It is easier to knock him down with a look than with a fist,' said Mr.
Petulengro; 'that is, if the look comes from a woman: not that I am
disposed to doubt that this female gentlewoman is able to knock him down
either one way or the other. I have heard of her often enough, and have
seen her once or twice, though not so near as now. Well, ma'am, my wife
and I are come to pay our respects to you; we are both glad to find that
you have left off keeping company with Flaming Bosville, and have taken
up with my pal; he is not very handsome, but a better--'
'I take up with your pal, as you call him! you had better mind what you
say,' said Isopel Berners; 'I take up with nobody.'
'I merely mean taking up your quarters with him,' said Mr. Petulengro;
'and I was only about to say a better fellow-lodger you cannot have, or a
more instructive, especially if you have a desire to be inoculated with
tongues, as he calls them. I wonder whether you and he have had any
tongue-work already.'
'Have you and your wife anything particular to say? If you have nothing
but this kind of conversation I must leave you, as I am going to make a
journey this afternoon, and should be getting ready.'
'You must excuse my husband, madam,' said Mrs. Petulengro; 'he is not
overburdened with understanding, and has said but one word of sense since
he has been here, which was that we came to pay our respects to you. We
have dressed ourselves in our best Roman way, in order to do honour to
you; perhaps you do not like it; if so, I am sorry. I have no French
clothes, madam; if I had any, madam, I would have come in them, in order
to do you more honour.'
'I like to see you much better as you are,' said Belle; 'people should
keep to their own fashions, and yours is very pretty.'
'I am glad you are pleased to think it so, madam; it has been admired in
the great city; it created what they call a sensation, and some of the
great ladies, the court ladies, imitated it, else I should not appear in
it so often as I am accustomed; for I am not very fond of what is Roman,
having an imagination that what is Roman is ungenteel; in fact, I once
heard the wife of a rich citizen say that gypsies were vulgar creatures.
I should have taken her saying very much to heart, but for her improper
pronunciation; she could not pronounce her words, madam, which we
gypsies, as they call us, usually can, so I thought she was no very high
purchase. You are very beautiful, madam, though you are not dressed as I
could wish to see you, and your hair is hanging down in sad confusion;
allow me to assist you in arranging your hair, madam; I will dress it for
you in our fashion; I would fain see how your hair would look in our poor
gypsy fashion; pray allow me, madam?' and she took Belle by the hand.
'I really can do no such thing,' said Belle, withdrawing her hand; 'I
thank you for coming to see me, but--'
'Do allow me to officiate upon your hair, madam,' said Mrs. Petulengro.
'I should esteem your allowing me a great mark of condescension. You are
very beautiful, madam, and I think you doubly so, because you are so
fair; I have a great esteem for persons with fair complexions and hair; I
have a less regard for people with dark hair and complexions, madam.'
'Then why did you turn off the lord, and take up with me?' said Mr.
Petulengro; 'that same lord was fair enough all about him.'
'People do when they are young and silly what they sometimes repent of
when they are of riper years and understandings. I sometimes think that
had I not been something of a simpleton, I might at this time be a great
court lady. Now, madam,' said she, again taking Belle by the hand, 'do
oblige me by allowing me to plait your hair a little?'
'I have really a good mind to be angry with you,' said Belle, giving Mrs.
Petulengro a peculiar glance.
'Do allow her to arrange your hair,' said I; 'she means no harm, and
wishes to do you honour; do oblige her and me too, for I should like to
see how your hair would look dressed in her fashion.'
'You hear what the young rye says?' said Mrs. Petulengro. 'I am sure you
will oblige the young rye, if not myself. Many people would be willing
to oblige the young rye, if he would but ask them; but he is not in the
habit of asking favours. He has a nose of his own, which he keeps
tolerably exalted; he does not think small beer of himself, madam; and
all the time I have been with him, I never heard him ask a favour before;
therefore, madam, I am sure you will oblige him. My sister Ursula would
be very willing to oblige him in many things, but he will not ask her for
anything, except for such a favour as a word, which is a poor favour
after all. I don't mean for her word; perhaps he will some day ask you
for your word. If so--'
'Why, here you are, after railing at me for catching at words, catching
at a word yourself,' said Mr. Petulengro.
'Hold your tongue, sir,' said Mrs. Petulengro. 'Don't interrupt me in my
discourse; if I caught at a word now, I am not in the habit of doing so.
I am no conceited body; no newspaper Neddy; no pothouse witty person. I
was about to say, madam, that if the young rye asks you at any time for
your word, you will do as you deem convenient; but I am sure you will
oblige him by allowing me to braid your hair.'
'I shall not do it to oblige him,' said Belle; 'the young rye, as you
call him, is nothing to me.'
'Well, then, to oblige me,' said Mrs. Petulengro; 'do allow me to become
your poor tire-woman.'
'It is great nonsense,' said Belle, reddening; 'however, as you came to
see me, and ask the matter as a particular favour to yourself--'
'Thank you, madam,' said Mrs. Petulengro, leading Belle to the stool;
'please to sit down here. Thank you; your hair is very beautiful,
madam,' she continued, as she proceeded to braid Belle's hair; 'so is
your countenance. Should you ever go to the great city, among the grand
folks, you would make a sensation, madam. I have made one myself, who am
dark; the chi she is kauley, which last word signifies black, which I am
not, though rather dark. There's no colour like white, madam; it's so
lasting, so genteel. Gentility will carry the day, madam, even with the
young rye. He will ask words of the black lass, but beg the word of the
fair.'
* * * * *
I found Belle seated by a fire, over which her kettle was suspended.
During my absence she had prepared herself a kind of tent, consisting of
large hoops covered over with tarpaulin, quite impenetrable to rain,
however violent. 'I am glad you are returned,' said she, as soon as she
perceived me; 'I began to be anxious about you. Did you take my advice?'
'Yes,' said I; 'I went to the public-house and drank ale as you advised
me; it cheered, strengthened, and drove away the horror from my mind--I
am much beholden to you.'
'I knew it would do you good,' said Belle; 'I remembered that when the
poor women in the great house were afflicted with hysterics and fearful
imaginings, the surgeon, who was a good, kind man, used to say: "Ale,
give them ale, and let it be strong."'
'He was no advocate for tea, then?' said I.
'He had no objection to tea; but he used to say, "Everything in its
season." Shall we take ours now--I have waited for you.'
'I have no objection,' said I; 'I feel rather heated, and at present
should prefer tea to ale--"Everything in its season," as the surgeon
said.'
* * * * *
I put some fresh wood on the fire, which was nearly out, and hung the
kettle over it. I then issued forth from the dingle, and strolled round
the wood that surrounded it; for a long time I was busied in meditation,
looking at the ground, striking with my foot, half unconsciously, the
tufts of grass and thistles that I met in my way. After some time, I
lifted up my eyes to the sky, at first vacantly, and then with more
attention, turning my head in all directions for a minute or two; after
which I returned to the dingle. Isopel was seated near the fire, over
which the kettle was now hung; she had changed her dress--no signs of the
dust and fatigue of her late excursion remained; she had just added to
the fire a small billet of wood, two or three of which I had left beside
it; the fire cracked, and a sweet odour filled the dingle.
'I am fond of sitting by a wood fire,' said Belle, 'when abroad, whether
it be hot or cold; I love to see the flames dart out of the wood; but
what kind is this, and where did you get it?'
'It is ash,' said I, 'green ash. Somewhat less than a week ago, whilst I
was wandering along the road by the side of a wood, I came to a place
where some peasants were engaged in cutting up and clearing away a
confused mass of fallen timber: a mighty-aged oak had given way the night
before, and in its fall had shivered some smaller trees; the upper part
of the oak, and the fragments of the rest, lay across the road. I
purchased, for a trifle, a bundle or two, and the wood on the fire is
part of it--ash, green ash.'
'That makes good the old rhyme,' said Belle, 'which I have heard sung by
the old woman in the great house:--
'"Ash, when green,
Is fire for a queen."'
'And on fairer form of queen, ash fire never shone,' said I, 'than on
thine, O beauteous queen of the dingle.'
'I am half disposed to be angry with you, young man,' said Belle.
* * * * *
After ordering dinner I said that as I was thirsty I should like to have
some ale forthwith.
'Ale you shall have, your honour,' said Tom, 'and some of the best ale
that can be drunk. This house is famous for ale.'
'I suppose you get your ale from Llangollen,' said I, 'which is
celebrated for its ale over Wales.'
'Get our ale from Llangollen?' said Tom, with a sneer of contempt, 'no,
nor anything else. As for the ale it was brewed in this house by your
honour's humble servant.'
'Oh,' said I, 'if you brewed it, it must of course be good. Pray bring
me some immediately, for I am anxious to drink ale of your brewing.'
'Your honour shall be obeyed,' said Tom, and disappearing returned in a
twinkling with a tray on which stood a jug filled with liquor and a
glass. He forthwith filled the glass, and pointing to its contents said:
'There, your honour, did you ever see such ale? Observe its colour! Does
it not look for all the world as pale and delicate as cowslip wine?'
'I wish it may not taste like cowslip wine,' said I; 'to tell you the
truth, I am no particular admirer of ale that looks pale and delicate;
for I always think there is no strength in it.'
'Taste it, your honour,' said Tom, 'and tell me if you ever tasted such
ale.'
I tasted it, and then took a copious draught. The ale was indeed
admirable, equal to the best that I had ever before drunk--rich and
mellow, with scarcely any smack of the hop in it, and though so pale and
delicate to the eye nearly as strong as brandy. I commended it highly to
the worthy Jenkins.
'That Llangollen ale indeed! no, no! ale like that, your honour, was
never brewed in that trumpery hole Llangollen,'
'You seem to have a very low opinion of Llangollen?' said I.
'How can I have anything but a low opinion of it, your honour? A
trumpery hole it is, and ever will remain so.'
'Many people of the first quality go to visit it,' said I.
'That is because it lies so handy for England, your honour. If it did
not, nobody would go to see it. What is there to see in Llangollen?'
'There is not much to see in the town, I admit,' said I, 'but the scenery
about it is beautiful: what mountains!'
'Mountains, your honour, mountains! well, we have mountains too, and as
beautiful as those of Llangollen. Then we have our lake, our Llyn Tegid,
the lake of beauty. Show me anything like that near Llangollen?'
'Then,' said I, 'there is your mound, your Tomen Bala. The Llangollen
people can show nothing like that.'
Tom Jenkins looked at me for a moment with some surprise, and then said:
'I see you have been here before, sir.'
'No,' said I, 'never, but I have read about the Tomen Bala in books, both
Welsh and English.'
'You have, sir,' said Tom. 'Well, I am rejoiced to see so book-learned a
gentleman in our house. The Tomen Bala has puzzled many a head. What do
the books which mention it say about it, your honour?'
'Very little,' said I, 'beyond mentioning it; what do the people here say
of it?'
'All kinds of strange things, your honour.'
'Do they say who built it?'
'Some say the Tylwyth Teg built it, others that it was cast up over a
dead king by his people. The truth is, nobody here knows who built it,
or anything about it, save that it is a wonder. Ah, those people of
Llangollen can show nothing like it.'
* * * * *
The strength of the ox,
The wit of the fox,
And the leveret's speed
Full oft to oppose
To their numerous foes,
The Rommany need.
Our horses they take,
Our waggons they break,
And ourselves they seize,
In their prisons to coop,
Where we pine and droop,
For want of breeze.
When the dead swallow
The fly shall follow
O'er Burra-panee,
Then we will forget
The wrongs we have met
And forgiving be.
* * * * *
I began to think: 'What was likely to be the profit of my present way of
life; the living in dingles, making pony and donkey shoes, conversing
with gypsy-women under hedges, and extracting from them their odd
secrets?' What was likely to be the profit of such a kind of life, even
should it continue for a length of time?--a supposition not very
probable, for I was earning nothing to support me, and the funds with
which I had entered upon this life were gradually disappearing. I was
living, it is true, not unpleasantly, enjoying the healthy air of heaven;
but, upon the whole, was I not sadly misspending my time? Surely I was;
and, as I looked back, it appeared to me that I had always been doing so.
What had been the profit of the tongues which I had learnt? had they ever
assisted me in the day of hunger? No, no! it appeared to me that I had
always misspent my time, save in one instance, when by a desperate effort
I had collected all the powers of my imagination, and written the Life of
Joseph Sell; but even when I wrote the Life of Sell, was I not in a false
position? Provided I had not misspent my time, would it have been
necessary to make that effort, which, after all, had only enabled me to
leave London, and wander about the country for a time? But could I,
taking all circumstances into consideration, have done better than I had?
With my peculiar temperament and ideas, could I have pursued with
advantage the profession to which my respectable parents had endeavoured
to bring me up? It appeared to me that I could not, and that the hand of
necessity had guided me from my earliest years, until the present night,
in which I found myself seated in the dingle, staring on the brands of
the fire. But ceasing to think of the past which, as irrecoverably gone,
it was useless to regret, even were there cause to regret it, what should
I do in future? Should I write another book like the Life of Joseph
Sell; take it to London, and offer it to a publisher? But when I
reflected on the grisly sufferings which I had undergone whilst engaged
in writing the Life of Sell, I shrank from the idea of a similar attempt;
moreover, I doubted whether I possessed the power to write a similar
work--whether the materials for the life of another Sell lurked within
the recesses of my brain? Had I not better become in reality what I had
hitherto been merely playing at--a tinker or a gypsy? But I soon saw
that I was not fitted to become either in reality. It was much more
agreeable to play the gypsy or the tinker than to become either in
reality. I had seen enough of gypsying and tinkering to be convinced of
that. All of a sudden the idea of tilling the soil came into my head;
tilling the soil was a healthful and noble pursuit! but my idea of
tilling the soil had no connection with Britain; for I could only expect
to till the soil in Britain as a serf. I thought of tilling it in
America, in which it was said there was plenty of wild, unclaimed land,
of which any one, who chose to clear it of its trees, might take
possession. I figured myself in America, in an immense forest, clearing
the land destined, by my exertions, to become a fruitful and smiling
plain. Methought I heard the crash of the huge trees as they fell
beneath my axe; and then I bethought me that a man was intended to
marry--I ought to marry; and if I married, where was I likely to be more
happy as a husband and a father than in America, engaged in tilling the
ground? I fancied myself in America, engaged in tilling the ground,
assisted by an enormous progeny. Well, why not marry, and go and till
the ground in America? I was young, and youth was the time to marry in,
and to labour in. I had the use of all my faculties; my eyes, it is
true, were rather dull from early study, and from writing the Life of
Joseph Sell; but I could see tolerably well with them, and they were not
bleared. I felt my arms, and thighs, and teeth--they were strong and
sound enough; so now was the time to labour, to marry, eat strong flesh,
and beget strong children--the power of doing all this would pass away
with youth, which was terribly transitory. I bethought me that a time
would come when my eyes would be bleared, and, perhaps, sightless; my
arms and thighs strengthless and sapless; when my teeth would shake in my
jaws, even supposing they did not drop out. No going a wooing then, no
labouring, no eating strong flesh, and begetting lusty children then; and
I bethought me how, when all this should be, I should bewail the days of
my youth as misspent, provided I had not in them founded for myself a
home, and begotten strong children to take care of me in the days when I
could not take care of myself; and thinking of these things, I became
sadder and sadder, and stared vacantly upon the fire till my eyes closed
in a doze.
* * * * *
On I went in my journey, traversing England from west to east, ascending
and descending hills, crossing rivers by bridge and ferry, and passing
over extensive plains. What a beautiful country is England! People run
abroad to see beautiful countries, and leave their own behind unknown,
unnoticed--their own the most beautiful! And then, again, what a country
for adventures! especially to those who travel it on foot, or on
horseback. People run abroad in quest of adventures, and traverse Spain
or Portugal on mule or on horseback; whereas there are ten times more
adventures to be met with in England than in Spain, Portugal, or stupid
Germany to boot. Witness the number of adventures narrated in the
present book--a book entirely devoted to England. Why, there is not a
chapter in the present book which is not full of adventures, with the
exception of the present one, and this is not yet terminated.
After traversing two or three counties, I reached the confines of
Lincolnshire. During one particularly hot day I put up at a
public-house, to which, in the evening, came a party of harvesters to
make merry, who, finding me wandering about the house a stranger, invited
me to partake of their ale; so I drank with the harvesters, who sang me
songs about rural life, such as:--
Sitting in the swale; and listening to the swindle of the flail, as it
sounds dub-a-dub on the corn, from the neighbouring barn.
In requital for which I treated them with a song, not of Romanvile, but
the song of 'Sivord and the horse Grayman.' I remained with them till it
was dark, having, after sunset, entered into deep discourse with a
celebrated ratcatcher, who communicated to me the secrets of his trade,
saying, amongst other things: 'When you see the rats pouring out of their
holes, and running up my hands and arms, it's not after me they comes,
but after the oils I carries about me they comes'; and who subsequently
spoke in the most enthusiastic manner of his trade, saying that it was
the best trade in the world, and most diverting, and that it was likely
to last for ever; for whereas all other kinds of vermin were fast
disappearing from England, rats were every day becoming more abundant. I
had quitted this good company, and having mounted my horse, was making my
way towards a town at about six miles distance, at a swinging trot, my
thoughts deeply engaged on what I had gathered from the ratcatcher, when
all on a sudden a light glared upon the horse's face, who purled round in
great terror, and flung me out of the saddle, as from a sling, or with as
much violence as the horse Grayman, in the ballad, flings Sivord the
Snareswayne. I fell upon the ground--felt a kind of crashing about my
neck--and forthwith became senseless.
* * * * *
As I was gazing on the prospect an old man driving a peat cart came from
the direction in which I was going. I asked him the name of the ravine
and he told me it was Ceunant Coomb or hollow-dingle coomb. I asked the
name of the brook, and he told me that it was called the brook of the
hollow-dingle coomb, adding that it ran under Pont Newydd, though where
that was I knew not. Whilst he was talking with me he stood uncovered.
Yes, the old peat driver stood with his hat in his hand whilst answering
the questions of the poor, dusty foot-traveller. What a fine thing to be
an Englishman in Wales!
In about an hour I came to a wild moor; the moor extended for miles and
miles. It was bounded on the east and south by immense hills and moels.
On I walked at a round pace, the sun scorching me sore, along a dusty,
hilly road, now up, now down. Nothing could be conceived more cheerless
than the scenery around. The ground on each side of the road was mossy
and rushy--no houses--instead of them were peat stacks, here and there,
standing in their blackness. Nothing living to be seen except a few
miserable sheep picking the wretched herbage, or lying panting on the
shady side of the peat clumps. At length I saw something which appeared
to be a sheet of water at the bottom of a low ground on my right. It
looked far off--'Shall I go and see what it is?' thought I to myself.
'No,' thought I. 'It is too far off'--so on I walked till I lost sight
of it, when I repented and thought I would go and see what it was. So I
dashed down the moory slope on my right, and presently saw the object
again--and now I saw that it was water. I sped towards it through gorse
and heather, occasionally leaping a deep drain. At last I reached it. It
was a small lake. Wearied and panting I flung myself on its bank and
gazed upon it.
There lay the lake in the low bottom, surrounded by the heathery
hillocks; there it lay quite still, the hot sun reflected upon its
surface, which shone like a polished blue shield. Near the shore it was
shallow, at least near that shore upon which I lay. But farther on, my
eye, practised in deciding upon the depths of waters, saw reason to
suppose that its depth was very great. As I gazed upon it my mind
indulged in strange musings. I thought of the afanc, a creature which
some have supposed to be the harmless and industrious beaver, others the
frightful and destructive crocodile. I wondered whether the afanc was
the crocodile or the beaver, and speedily had no doubt that the name was
originally applied to the crocodile.
'Oh, who can doubt,' thought I, 'that the word was originally intended
for something monstrous and horrible? Is there not something horrible in
the look and sound of the word afanc, something connected with the
opening and shutting of immense jaws, and the swallowing of writhing
prey? Is not the word a fitting brother of the Arabic timsah, denoting
the dread horny lizard of the waters? Moreover, have we not the voice of
tradition that the afanc was something monstrous? Does it not say that
Hu the Mighty, the inventor of husbandry, who brought the Cumry from the
summer-country, drew the old afanc out of the lake of lakes with his four
gigantic oxen? Would he have had recourse to them to draw out the little
harmless beaver? Oh, surely not. Yet have I no doubt that when the
crocodile had disappeared from the lands, where the Cumric language was
spoken, the name afanc was applied to the beaver, probably his successor
in the pool, the beaver now called in Cumric Llostlydan, or the broad-
tailed, for tradition's voice is strong that the beaver has at one time
been called the afanc.' Then I wondered whether the pool before me had
been the haunt of the afanc, considered both as crocodile and beaver. I
saw no reason to suppose that it had not. 'If crocodiles,' thought I,
'ever existed in Britain, and who shall say that they have not, seeing
that their remains have been discovered, why should they not have haunted
this pool? If beavers ever existed in Britain, and do not tradition and
Giraldus say that they have, why should they not have existed in this
pool?
'At a time almost inconceivably remote, when the hills around were
covered with woods, through which the elk and the bison and the wild cow
strolled, when men were rare throughout the lands and unlike in most
things to the present race--at such a period--and such a period there has
been--I can easily conceive that the afanc-crocodile haunted this pool,
and that when the elk or bison or wild cow came to drink of its waters
the grim beast would occasionally rush forth, and seizing his bellowing
victim, would return with it to the deeps before me to luxuriate at his
ease upon its flesh. And at a time less remote, when the crocodile was
no more, and though the woods still covered the hills, and wild cattle
strolled about, men were more numerous than before, and less unlike the
present race, I can easily conceive this lake to have been the haunt of
the afanc-beaver, that he here built cunningly his house of trees and
clay, and that to this lake the native would come with his net and his
spear to hunt the animal for his precious fur. Probably if the depths of
that pool were searched relics of the crocodile and the beaver might be
found, along with other strange things connected with the periods in
which they respectively lived. Happy were I if for a brief space I could
become a Cingalese that I might swim out far into that pool, dive down
into its deepest part and endeavour to discover any strange things which
beneath its surface may lie.' Much in this guise rolled my thoughts as I
lay stretched on the margin of the lake.
* * * * *
'Pray, gentleman, walk in!' said the miller; 'we are going to have our
afternoon's meal, and shall be rejoiced if you will join us.'
'Yes, do, gentleman,' said the miller's wife, for such the good woman
was; 'and many a welcome shall you have.'