Messina; the first of these cities he admired for the advantages of its
position and its beauty, and the second for the convenience of its port;
while to the whole island he could not but offer the tribute of his
praise for that abundance which causes it to be justly denominated the
granary of all Italy.
Returning from Sicily to Naples and Rome, Rodaja thence proceeded to Our
Lady of Loretto, in whose Holy Temple he could see neither walls nor
partitions, since every part was covered with crutches, biers, shrouds,
chains, padlocks, fetters, and locks of hair; with arms, hands, legs, or
busts in wax, to say nothing of pictures and prints, all giving manifest
indication of the mercies and favours innumerable which hundreds of men
have received in that place from the hand of God, by the intercession of
his Divine Mother, whose sacred Image (there preserved) He has been
pleased to exalt and sanction by a vast number of miracles, which have
been performed in recompense of the devotion of her votaries; for by
them it is that the walls of her house have been adorned in the manner
described.[52]
[52] The _ex-votos_, or pictures and figures here described, are too
familiar to the visitor of Catholic churches to need any explanation.
Here Rodaja beheld that very chamber of the Virgin, wherein was
delivered the most stupendous embassy ever heard or witnessed by all the
heavens, all the angels, and all the archangels, or other inhabitants of
the everlasting abodes.
From this place our traveller proceeded to Ancona, where he embarked and
repaired to Venice, a city which, had Columbus never appeared in the
world, would certainly be still supposed to have no equal; but, by the
favour of heaven, and thanks to the great Fernando Cortez who conquered
Mexico, the magnificent Venice has now found a city that may be compared
to herself. The streets of these two renowned capitals, which are almost
wholly of water, make them the admiration and terror of all
mankind--that of Europe dominating the old world, and that of America
the new. For of the former it would appear that her riches are infinite,
her position impregnable, her government most wise, the abundance of her
products inexhaustible; in a word, she is herself, as a whole, and in
all her parts, entirely worthy of that fame for greatness and majesty
which has penetrated to all the regions of the world: the justice of the
praise bestowed on Venice is, besides, accredited by her renowned
arsenal, wherein are constructed her potent galleys, with other vessels
of which the number is not to be told.
To our curious traveller the delights and pastimes found in Venice had
almost proved fatal as those of Calypso, since they had nearly caused
him to forget his first intentions. Yet when he had passed a month in
that enchanting place, he found resolution to continue his journey,
passing by Ferrara, Parma, and Placentia, to Milan, that workshop of
Vulcan--that grudge and despair of France--that superb city of which
more wonders are reported than words can tell, her own grandeur being
increased by that of her famous Temple, and by the marvellous abundance
of all things necessary to human life that are to be found therein.
From Milan, Rodaja journeyed to Asti, where he arrived in very good
time, since the regiment of Don Diego was to depart for Flanders on the
following day. He was received very kindly by his friend the captain,
with whom he passed into Flanders, and arrived at Antwerp, a city no
less worthy of admiration than those which he had seen in Italy. He
visited Ghent and Brussels likewise, finding the whole country preparing
to take arms, and well disposed to enter on the campaign of the
following year.
Rodaja having now seen all that he had desired to behold, resolved to
return to his native Spain, and to the city of Salamanca, there to
complete his studies. He had no sooner determined than he instantly put
his purpose into execution, to the great regret of his friend, who,
finding him resolved to depart, entreated him at least to write him word
of his safe arrival, and likewise of his future success. This Rodaja
promised to do, and then returned to Spain through France, but he did
not see Paris, which was at that time in arms. At length he arrived at
Salamanca, where he was well received by his friends, and with the
facilities which they procured him, he continued his studies until he
finally attained to the degree of doctor of laws.
Now it chanced that, about this time, there arrived in Salamanca one of
those ladies who belong to all the points of the compass; she was
besides well furnished with devices of every colour. To the whistle and
bird-call of this fowler there instantly came flocking all the birds of
the place; nor was there a _vade mecum_[53] who refrained from paying a
visit to that gay decoy. Among the rest our Thomas was informed that the
Señora said she had been in Italy and Flanders when he, to ascertain if
he were acquainted with the dame, likewise paid her a visit. She, on her
part, immediately fell in love with Rodaja, but he rejected her
advances, and never approached her house but when led thither by others,
and almost by force. Attending much more zealously to his studies than
his amusements, he did not in any manner return her affection, even when
she had made it known to him by the offer of her hand and all her
possessions.
[53] Student: they are so called from the name given to the portfolio in
which they carry their books and papers to the university, and which
they always have with them.
Seeing herself thus scorned, and perceiving that she could not bend the
will of Rodaja by ordinary means, the woman determined to seek others,
which in her opinion would be more efficacious, and must, as she
thought, ensure the desired effect. So, by the advice of a Morisca
woman, she took a Toledan quince, and in that fruit she gave him one of
those contrivances called charms, thinking that she was thereby forcing
him to love her; as if there were, in this world, herbs, enchantments,
or words of power, sufficient to enchain the free-will of any creature.
These things are called charms, but they are in fact poisons: and those
who administer them are actual poisoners, as has been proved by sundry
experiences.
In an unhappy moment Rodaja ate the quince, but had scarcely done so
when he began to tremble from head to foot as if struck by apoplexy,
remaining many hours before he could be brought to himself. At the end
of that time he partially recovered, but appeared to have become almost
an idiot. He complained, with a stammering tongue and feeble voice, that
a quince which he had eaten had poisoned him, and also found means to
intimate by whom it had been given, when justice at once began to move
in quest of the criminal; but she, perceiving the failure of her
attempt, took care to hide herself, and never appeared again.
Six months did Thomas remain confined to his bed; and during that time
he not only became reduced to a skeleton, but seemed also to have lost
the use of his faculties. Every remedy that could be thought of was
tried in his behalf; but although the physicians succeeded in curing the
physical malady, they could not remove that of the mind; so that when he
was at last pronounced cured, he was still afflicted with the strangest
madness that was ever heard of among the many kinds by which humanity
has been assailed. The unhappy man imagined that he was entirely made of
glass; and, possessed with this idea, when any one approached him he
would utter the most terrible outcries, begging and beseeching them not
to come near him, or they would assuredly break him to pieces, as he was
not like other men but entirely of glass from head to foot.
In the hope of rousing him from this strange hallucination, many
persons, without regard to his prayers and cries, threw themselves upon
him and embraced him, bidding him observe that he was not broken for all
that. But all they gained by this was to see the poor creature sink to
the earth, uttering lamentable moans, and instantly fall into a fainting
fit, from which he could not be recovered for several hours; nay, when
he did recover, it was but to renew his complaints, from which he never
desisted but to implore that such a misfortune might not be suffered to
happen again.
He exhorted every one to speak to him from a great distance; declaring
that on this condition they might ask him what they pleased, and that he
could reply with all the more effect, now he was a man of glass and not
of flesh and bones, since glass, being a substance of more delicate
subtlety, permits the soul to act with more promptitude and efficacy
than it can be expected to do in the heavier body formed of mere earth.
Certain persons then desiring to ascertain if what he had said were
true, asked him many questions of great difficulty respecting various
circumstances; to all these he replied with the utmost acuteness,
insomuch that his answers awakened astonishment in the most learned
professors of medicine and philosophy whom that university could boast.
And well they might be amazed at seeing a man who was subject to so
strange an hallucination as that of believing himself to be made of
glass, still retain such extraordinary judgment on other points as to be
capable of answering difficult questions with the marvellous propriety
and truth which distinguished the replies of Rodaja.
The poor man had often entreated that some case might be given to him
wherein he might enclose the brittle vase of his body, so that he might
not break it in putting on the ordinary clothing. He was consequently
furnished with a surplice of ample width, and a cloth wrapper, which he
folded around him with much care, confining it to his waist with a
girdle of soft cotton, but he would not wear any kind of shoes. The
method he adopted to prevent any one from approaching him when they
brought him food, was to fix an earthen pot into the cleft of a stick
prepared for that purpose, and in this vessel he would receive such
fruits as the season presented. He would not eat flesh or fish; nor
would he drink anything but the water of the river, which he lapped from
his hands.
In passing through the streets, Rodaja was in the habit of walking
carefully in the middle of them, lest a tile should fall from the houses
upon his head and break it. In the summer he slept in the open air, and
in the winter he lodged at one of the inns, where he buried himself in
straw to his throat, remarking that this was the most proper and secure
bed for men of glass. When it thundered, Rodaja trembled like an aspen
leaf, and would rush out into the fields, not returning to the city
until the storm had passed.
His friends kept him shut up for some time, but perceiving that his
malady increased, they at last complied with his earnest request that
they would let him go about freely; and he might be seen walking through
the streets of the city, dressed as we have described, to the
astonishment and regret of all who knew him.
The boys soon got about him, but he kept them off with his staff,
requesting them to speak to him from a distance, lest they should break
him, seeing that he, being a man of glass, was exceedingly tender and
brittle. But far from listening to his request, the boys, who are the
most perverse generation in the world, soon began to throw various
missiles and even stones at him, notwithstanding all his prayers and
exclamations. They declared that they wished to see if he were in truth
of glass, as he affirmed; but the lamentations and outcries of the poor
maniac induced the grown persons who were near to reprove and even beat
the boys, whom they drove away for the moment, but who did not fail to
return at the next opportunity.
One day, that a horde of these tormentors had pursued him with more than
their usual pertinacity, and had worn out his patience, he turned to
them, saying--"What do you want with me you varlets? more obstinate than
flies, more disgusting than _Chinches_,[54] and bolder than the boldest
fleas. Am I, perchance, the Monte Testacio[55] of Rome, that you cast
upon me so many potsherds and tiles?" But Rodaja was followed by many
who kept about him for the purpose of hearing him reply to the questions
asked, or reprove the questioner, as the case might be. And after a
time, even the boys found it more amusing to listen to his words than to
throw tiles at him; when they gave him, for the most part, somewhat less
annoyance.
[54] The reader will be pleased to guess the name of that insufferable
insect which the Spaniards denominate _Chinche_, and with the English
equivalent of which I am unwilling to offend his eyes. Happy, indeed, if
he cannot guess; but then he cannot have seen either Seville or Granada,
and one might almost encounter an acquaintance with the animal called
_Chinche_ rather than renounce _them_.
[55] Such of our readers as have visited Rome, will remember that
enormous mound which is seen rising on the right hand as you leave the
city, by the Porta Salaria, and is said to have been formed by the
numberless fragments of pottery cast on the spot from time immemorial.
The maniac Bodaja was one day passing through the Ropery at Salamanca,
when a woman who was working there accosted him, and said, "By my soul,
Señor Doctor, I am sorry for your misfortune, but what shall I do for
you, since, try as I may, I cannot weep?" To which Rodaja, fixedly
regarding her, gravely replied, "_Filiæ Jerusalem, plorate super vos et
super filios vestros_." The husband of the ropeworker was standing by,
and comprehending the reply, he said to Rodaja, "Brother Glasscase, for
so they tell me you are to be called, you have more of the rogue than
the fool in you!" "You are not called on to give me an obolus," rejoined
Rodaja, "for I have not a grain of the fool about me!" One day that he
was passing near a house well known as the resort of thieves and other
disorderly persons, he saw several of the inhabitants assembled round
the door, and called out, "See, here you have baggage belonging to the
army of Satan, and it is lodged in the house of hell accordingly."
A man once asked him what advice he should give to a friend whose wife
had left him for another, and who was in great sorrow for her loss. "You
shall bid him thank God," replied Rodaja, "for the favour he has
obtained, in that his enemy is removed from his house."
"Then you would not have him go seek her?" inquired the other.
"Let him not even think of doing so," returned Rodaja, "for if he find
her, what will he have gained but the perpetual evidence of his
dishonour?"
"And what shall I do to keep peace with my own wife?" inquired the same
person.
"Give her all that she can need or rightfully claim," said the maniac,
"and let her be mistress of every person and thing thy house contains,
but take care that she be not mistress of thyself."
A boy one day said to him, "Señor Glasscase, I have a mind to run away
from my father, and leave my home for ever, because he beats me." "I
would have thee beware, boy," replied Rodaja; "the stripes given by a
father are no dishonour to the son, and may save him from those of the
hangman, which are indeed a disgrace."
Intelligence of his peculiar state, with a description of the replies he
gave, and the remarks he uttered, was much spread abroad, more
especially among those who had known him in different parts, and great
sorrow was expressed for the loss of a man who had given so fair a
promise of distinction. A person of high rank then at Court wrote to a
friend of his at Salamanca, begging that Rodaja might be sent to him at
Valladolid, and charging his friend to make all needful arrangements for
that purpose. The gentleman consequently accosted Vidriera the next time
he met him, and said, "Señor Glasscase, you are to know that a great
noble of the Court is anxious to have you go to Valladolid;" whereupon
Rodaja replied, "Your worship will excuse me to that nobleman, and say
that I am not fit to dwell at Court, nor in the Palace, because I have
some sense of shame left, and do not know how to flatter." He was
nevertheless persuaded to go, and the mode in which he travelled was as
follows: a large pannier of that kind in which glass is transported was
prepared, and in this Rodaja was placed, well defended by straw, which
was brought up to his neck, the opposite pannier being carefully
balanced by means of stones, among which appeared the necks of bottles,
since Rodaja desired it to be understood that he was sent as a vessel of
glass. In this fashion he journeyed to Valladolid, which city he entered
by night, and was not unpacked until he had first been carefully
deposited in the house of the noble who had requested his presence.
By this gentleman he was received with much kindness, and the latter
said to him, "You are extremely welcome, Doctor Glasscase; I hope you
have had a pleasant journey." Rodaja replied, that no journey could be
called a bad one if it took you safe to your end, unless indeed it were
that which led to the gallows.
Being one day shown the Falconry, wherein were numerous falcons and
other birds of similar kind, he remarked that the sport pursued by means
of those birds was entirely suitable to great nobles, since the cost was
as two thousand to one of the profit.
When it pleased Rodaja to go forth into the city, the nobleman caused
him to be attended by a servant, whose office it was to protect him from
intrusion, and see that he was not molested by the boys of the place, by
whom he was at once remarked; indeed but few days had elapsed before he
became known to the whole city, since he never failed to find a reply
for all who questioned or consulted him.
Among those of the former class, there once came a student, who inquired
if he were a poet, to which Rodaja replied, that up to the moment they
had then arrived at, he had neither been so stupid nor so bold as to
become a poet. "I do not understand what you mean by so stupid or so
bold, Señor Glasscase," rejoined the student; to which Rodaja made
answer, "I am not so stupid as to be a bad poet, nor so bold as to think
myself capable of being a good one." The student then inquired in what
estimation he held poets, to which he answered that he held the poets
themselves in but little esteem; but as to their art, that he esteemed
greatly. His hearer inquiring further what he meant by that, Rodaja said
that among the innumerable poets, by courtesy so called, the number of
good ones was so small as scarcely to count at all, and that as the bad
were not true poets, he could not admire them: but that he admired and
even reverenced greatly the art of poetry, which does in fact comprise
every other in itself, since it avails itself of all things, and
purifies and beautifies all things, bringing its own marvellous
productions to light for the advantage, the delectation, and the wonder
of the world, which it fills with its benefits. He added further, "I
know thoroughly to what extent, and for what qualities, we ought to
estimate the good poet, since I perfectly well remember those verses of
Ovid, wherein he says:--
"'Cura ducum fuerunt olim regumque poetæ,
Præmiaque antiqui magna tulere chori.
Sanctaque majestas, et erat venerabile nomen
Vatibus; et largæ sæpe dabantur opes.'
And still less do I forget the high quality of the poets whom Plato
calls the interpreters of the Gods, while Ovid says of them--
"'Est deus in nobis; agitante calescimus illo.'
And again--
"'At sacri vates et divum cura vocamur.'
"These things are said of good poets; but, as respects the bad ones--the
gabbling pretenders--what can we say, save only that they are the idiocy
and the arrogance of the world.
"Who is there that has not seen one of this sort when he is longing to
bring forth some sonnet to the ears of his neighbours? How he goes round
and round them with--'Will your worships excuse me if I read you a
little sonnet, which I made one night on a certain occasion; for it
appears to me, although indeed it be worth nothing, to have yet a
certain something--a _je ne scai quoi_ of pretty, and pleasing.' Then
shall he twist his lips, and arch his eyebrows, and make a thousand
antics, diving into his pockets meanwhile and bringing out half a
hundred scraps of paper, greasy and torn, as if he had made a good
million of sonnets; he then recites that which he proffered to the
company, reading it in a chanting and affected voice.
"If, perchance, those who hear him, whether because of their knowledge
or their ignorance, should fail to commend him, he says, 'Either your
worships have not listened to the verses, or I have not been able to
read them properly, for indeed and in truth they deserve to be heard;'
and he begins, as before, to recite his poem, with new gestures and
varied pauses.
"Then to hear these poetasters censure and tear one another to pieces!
And what shall I say of the thefts committed by these cubs and whelps of
modern pretence on the grave and ancient masters of the art, or of their
malevolent carpings at those excellent persons of their own day in whom
shines the true light of poetry; who, making a solace and recreation of
their arduous labours, prove the divinity of their genius and the
elevation of their thoughts to the despite and vexation of these
ignorant pretenders, who presume to judge that of which they know
nothing, and abhor the beauties which they are not able to comprehend?
What will you have me esteem in the nullity which seeks to find place
for itself under the canopy spread for others--in the ignorance which is
ever leaning for support on another man's chair?"
Rodaja was once asked how it happened that poets are always poor; to
which he replied, "That if they were poor, it was because they chose to
be so, since it was always in their power to be rich if they would only
take advantage of the opportunities in their hands. For see how rich are
their ladies," he added; "have they not all a very profusion of wealth
in their possession? Is not their hair of gold, their brows of burnished
silver, their eyes of the most precious jewels, their lips of coral,
their throats of ivory and transparent crystal? Are not their tears
liquid pearls, and where they plant the soles of their feet do not
jasmine and roses spring up at the moment, however rebellious and
sterile the earth may previously have been? Then what is their breath
but pure amber, musk, and frankincense? Yet to whom do all these things
belong, if not to the poets? They are, therefore, manifest signs and
proofs of their great riches."
In this manner he always spoke of bad poets; as to the good ones, he was
loud in their praise, and exalted them above the horns of the moon.
Being at San Francisco, he one day saw some very indifferent pictures,
by an incapable hand; whereupon he remarked that the good painters
imitate nature, while the bad ones have the impertinence to daub her
face.
Having planted himself one day in front of a bookseller's shop with
great care, to avoid being broken, he began to talk to the owner, and
said, "This trade would please me greatly, were it not for one fault
that it has." The bookseller inquiring what that might be, Rodaja
replied, "It is the tricks you play on the writers when you purchase the
copyright of a book, and the sport you make of the author if, perchance,
he desire to print at his own cost. For what is your method of
proceeding? Instead of the one thousand five hundred copies which you
agree to print for him, you print three thousand; and when the author
supposes that you are selling his books, you are but disposing of your
own."
One of those men who carry sedan-chairs, once standing by while Rodaja
was enumerating the faults committed by various trades and occupations,
remarked to the latter, "Of us, Señor Doctor, you can find nothing amiss
to say." "Nothing," replied Rodaja, "except that you are made acquainted
with more sins than are known to the confessor; but with this
difference, that the confessor learns them to keep all secret, but you
to make them the public talk of the taverns."