LEGEND OF THE FAIRY'S BRIDGE.
"_My companions said to me, 'Do you visit her monument?' but I
answered, 'Where but in my heart should she have a tomb?'_"
ARABIC ELEGY.
You must know, Don Carlos, commenced the worthy Padre, "_con voz
reposada y clara_"[101]--You must know, that the bridge you have just
visited has usurped the name it bears, which was given to a much more
extraordinary structure--if such it may be called--that formerly
occupied its place; or, I should rather say, that was situated near the
present edifice; for the supernatural bridge of which I am about to
speak was thrown across the ravine somewhat lower down the stream;
where, as you may have observed, the cliff on the left bank falls quite
perpendicularly along the river, and is at this day entirely overgrown
with ivy.
This bridge was formed of a single tree; a huge _acebuche_[102]--a tree
often employed as an agent in working miracles--which, having grown for
ages on the brink of the precipice, was one night marvellously felled to
the earth. That it had been prostrated by supernatural means was
evident; for the trunk bore no marks of the axe; and though still
adhering to the stump by the bark and some slight fibres, yet it had
been most curiously blackened and charred; whilst a wild vine, which
(having entwined itself gracefully round its wide-spreading branches)
had accompanied it in his fall, remained unscorched, and seemed to have
been purposely left unhurt, to serve as a hand-rope to steady the
footsteps of the venturous passenger over the tremulous bridge.
The further extremity of the tree rested on a ledge that projected
slightly from the opposite cliff; above which, a fissure in the rock
appeared to lead into a dark cavern. But so curiously was the rustic
bridge balanced, that as sure as any mortal attempted to cross by it to
the opposite side of the river, so sure was he to be precipitated into
the abyss below.
It is supposed that this chink in the cliff had served to admit light
and air to some spacious caverns which, in remote times, had been formed
in the rocks, and from which a rude staircase had communicated with a
_quinta_, or country house, situated in the midst of the vineyards and
olive grounds that clothe the hill side. But of these, Don Carlos, no
vestige now remains; indeed all traces of them were lost soon after the
occurrence of the events I am about to relate.
The last possessor of this villa was a wealthy Moor--Abenhabuz by
name--of the tribe of the Ganzules, and one of the most distinguished
_Alfaquies_ of the proud city of Ronda. To the treachery of this Moor
the capture of the Moslem stronghold by the Catholic kings[103] was
mainly attributed; for the bravery of its _Alcaide_, the strength of its
garrison, and the triple circuit of walls by which in those days its
assailable points were defended, rendered it too formidable a post even
for such indomitable spirits as Ferdinand and Isabella to think of
attacking. But Hamet Zeli, surnamed _El Zegri_, the fierce governor of
Ronda, dreamed not of treason, and least of all did he suppose that
Abenhabuz, his bosom friend, could betray him. But what will not envy
stoop to do? He was persuaded by his deceitful confidant that the
Spaniards were laying close siege to Malaga, and that a most favourable
opportunity thereby was presented for making a foray in their country.
Sallying forth, therefore, with his brave _Gomeles_--the principal
strength of the garrison--El Zegri crossed the mountains to the
westward of the city, and fell upon the unprotected country round Arcos
and Xeres de la Frontera.
Ferdinand and Isabella were quickly informed of his departure from
Ronda, and, breaking up their camp before Malaga without loss of time,
pressed forward through the rugged and now unguarded defiles of El
Burgo, to seize upon their prey.
El Zegri, loaded with plunder, and breathing further vengeance, bent his
steps also towards his sequestered fortress; little, however,
anticipating the blow that awaited him. It was only at his bivouac in
the dark cork forest under the lofty _Sierra del Pinar_ that the thunder
of the Castillian artillery burst upon his astounded ear.--He mounted
his courser in all haste, and, dashing forward with mad speed, stopped
not until he had gained the pass of _Montejaque_. You see it there, Don
Carlos, (said the Padre, pointing to a deep gap in the summit of the
serrated ridge that bounds the basin of Ronda to the west) it is still
known in the country as _El Puerto del Pasmo del Moro_.[104]--What a
sight there met his eager, searching eye! The proud city entrusted to
his care, hemmed in on all sides by Christian lances!--the sumptuous
mosques and stately palaces of his ancestors, crumbling to dust, under
the all-destroying projectiles of the implacable enemies of his
creed!--A cry of rage burst from him; but his prudence even in that
trying moment did not forsake him. Checking his advancing troops, so as
to keep them out of sight of the beleaguering army, he sent forward a
trusty messenger, who, gaining admission to the Fortress, cheered its
feeble garrison with the news of his being at hand, and of his intention
to force his way into the city during the night. But Abenhabuz took care
to have this information conveyed to the besiegers; and El Zegris' bold
attempt was consequently foiled.
The inhabitants, seeing all hope of relief now cut off, their store of
provisions nearly exhausted, and large gaps formed in the walls of their
until-now unconquered city, deemed it prudent to negotiate for a
capitulation; and the sagacious Ferdinand, aware that El Zegri was still
in the field--that the place could yet hold out some weeks--that his own
supplies might be cut off,--and that to carry the city by storm would be
attended with immense loss of life,--willingly granted most favourable
terms; the garrison and inhabitants were permitted to depart with all
their effects; such of them as chose to remain in Spain having even
lands assigned to them, and being permitted the free exercise of their
religion.
But whilst the wily Ferdinand hesitated not to grant these liberal
terms, yet, as in duty bound, he forthwith transmitted to Rome a formal
declaration of his resolve to extirpate the abominable heresy of
Mohammed from his dominions, whenever a fitting opportunity should
occur; thus piously reserving to himself the right of infringing the
terms of capitulation, wherever his doing so should seem most conducive
to the interests of our holy religion.
The traitor Abenhabuz, besides the indulgences granted by the terms of
the surrender, was, as the price of his treason, permitted to reside
within the city, and to retain possession of his estates. But some years
after, (when, by the capture of Granada, the Catholic Monarchs were
relieved from all apprehension of evil consequences ensuing from
carrying their long meditated plans into effect) he, as well as the
other Moslems who had chosen to remain in Spain, was offered the
alternative of Christianity or expatriation. He balanced not in the
choice; but forthwith repairing to the altar of Our Lady of griefs,
declared himself a convert to the true faith.
In consequence of this act--with the piety and generosity which have at
all times distinguished the Spanish nation above all others--the Moor
was graciously allowed to keep possession of the lovely _quinta_ and its
surrounding vineyards; the rest of his vast estates being made
over--for the good of his soul--as an expiatory offering to the
chivalric brotherhood of Santiago.
Abenhabuz retired to his country retreat, accompanied only by his
daughter, the beauteous Hinzára; for his sons--true scions of an Arabic
stock--chose rather to seek a home on the parched shores of Africa, than
abandon the accursed dogmas of their Prophet.
Hinzára was the youngest of the Moor's children, and the sole issue of a
Christian maiden who had been captured in a foray some time previous to
the fall of Ronda, and who--meditating his future treason--Abenhabuz had
considered it conducive to his interest to marry.
At the period of his expulsion from the city, his wife had been dead
some time, and his daughter had just reached the age when a maiden's
footsteps most require the guidance of a mother's care. But Hinzára was
a being of no common order. The rosebud bursting through the petals of
its mossy calyx, spreading its delicious fragrance to the summer breeze,
exceeds not more in loveliness every other flower of the field, than the
beauty of Hinzára surpassed that of all the maidens of the
neighbourhood. To you, Don Carlos, whose eyes are daily feasted on the
charms of our comely Andalusians, it will suffice to say, that in the
daughter of Abenhabuz were combined the regular features and soft
expression of the dark-eyed _Malagueña_; the blooming cheek and polished
brow of the fair _Serrana_[105] of Casarabonela; and the form and
carriage of the graceful _Gaditana_![106] Her person, in fact, was a
bouquet, of the choicest flowers culled from this our Hesperian garden;
whilst her mind might be likened to a book, in which, as in the pages of
our incomparable Cervantes, were to be found united the most brilliant
wit, the soundest discretion, the purest sentiment, and the nicest
judgment.
Courted by all the principal chieftains of the day--Spaniards as well as
Moriscoes--Hinzára appeared alike regardless of their adulation, and
unmoved by their importunity. But the Moorish maiden was not insensible,
and--unknown to all besides--had pledged her hand to a noble Biscayian
youth, long the possessor of her guileless heart.
The ancestors of Don Ramiro--for such was her lover's
appellation--though rich in deeds of renown, had left him little else
than an untarnished sword, to support the glorious names of Segastibelza
y Bigorre which he inherited from them. And besides his poverty, Hinzára
had other reasons (which will be stated as I proceed with my tale) to
fear that her father's consent to their union would not be easily
obtained.
Abenhabuz was, to all appearance, fully sensible of the generosity that
had been so manifestly shown to him; and though now the possessor of but
the few vineyards and olive grounds that encircled his _quinta_, he was
nevertheless generally considered a wealthy man:--a reputation for which
he was as much indebted to his imagined knowledge of Alchymy, as for the
hords he was supposed to have collected during a long life of rapine and
plunder.
This character for wealth, whilst it excited the cupidity of many,
secured to him the protection of the governor of Ronda, Don Guiterre
Mondejar; who, captivated by the charms of the beauteous Hinzára, hoped,
together with her hand, to obtain, what he coveted yet more, the
imaginary treasures of the Alchymist.
The crafty Moor readily promised him the immediate possession of the
one, and the inheritance of the other; but he had no intention of
fulfilling his engagements. The protection of a powerful friend was
needful for a time, to screen his proceedings from a too-vigilant
observation; particularly, since the establishment of the Holy
Inquisition by Ferdinand and Isabella of blessed memory (here the worthy
Father crossed himself most devoutly) was a thorn in the side of these
backsliding Christians that obliged them to be extremely circumspect;
but the implacable Abenhabuz cherished hopes of wreaking vengeance on
those by whom he chose to conceive he had been wronged; and the Spanish
governor was one of his marked victims.
In the prosecution of his horrible designs, the Moor was prepared to
immolate even his own daughter to satisfy his revenge; though this was
an extremity to which he hoped not to be driven. It may, however, be
readily imagined that his stock of parental affection was not very
great, and that he concerned himself but little in his daughter's
affairs. He enjoined her to be strict in the outward observance of her
religious duties, the better to conceal his own delinquency; but of her
actual conversion to Christianity, and her acquaintance with Don Ramiro,
he was altogether ignorant.
For a considerable time, Abenhabuz succeeded, under various pretences,
in deferring the fulfilment of his contract with Don Guiterre; but, at
length, finding his projects of vengeance not yet ripe for execution,
and that the amorous Spaniard was becoming every day more urgent for the
possession of Hinzára, he determined to overcome the few weak qualms of
conscience that had hitherto withheld him from sacrificing his daughter,
and intimated to her that she was shortly to become the wife of the
abhorred Guiterre. To his surprise, however--for it was for the first
time in her life--Hinzára refused obedience to his will. Commands and
entreaties were alike unavailing:--to the first she opposed a calm but
resolute refusal; to the latter a flood of tears. But when the
infuriated father employed threats, and assailed her with
invectives,--"Hold!" exclaimed the daughter of the cross. "Though, in
casting off the execrable heresy of Mohammed, I cast not off my Moslem
father, yet in embracing this," and she drew from her bosom a small gold
crucifix, "I obtained a Protector against all outrage; and should he at
the cost of my plighted word,--my word, for the observance of which I
have pledged my belief in a crucified redeemer--persist in exacting
obedience to his will; amongst the Holy Sisterhood of Santa Ursula shall
I seek, and readily find, a refuge from his tyranny."
The Infidel was thunderstruck--his rage unbounded. Scarcely admitting
that a woman had a soul to be saved, he had thought it mattered little
whether his daughter was a Mohammedan or a Christian; conceiving that,
in either case, her duty to him prescribed passive obedience. But he had
always imagined that Hinzára's abjuration of Islamism, like his own, was
a mere mockery, and that he should find in her a willing instrument to
work his purpose of taking vengeance on his Christian rulers. Awakened
now to a sense of his error,--and as he considered of his danger--he
feared that she might, on the contrary, prove an insuperable bar to the
execution of his plans; and he determined to lose no time in removing
her.
Dissimulation was, however, necessary. Smothering, therefore, his anger,
he affected to be moved by her tears. He alluded no more to the marriage
contract entered into with Don Guiterre; and, treating her with more
than wonted kindness, lulled her into forgetfulness of his former
harshness, whilst he matured the most hellish plot that ever was
conceived by man, to render her subservient to his designs.
Informing the governor of Hinzára's determined opposition to their
wishes, he imparted to him the diabolical scheme he contemplated to
force her into compliance; and in the vile Spaniard he unfortunately
found a too willing abettor of his infamous project.
The cavern under the Moor's habitation contained numerous chambers
opening into each other, the innermost of which was known only to
Abenhabuz himself; the entrance being concealed by tapestry, and closed
by means of secret springs. On the plea of having some repairs executed
to the quinta, Hinzára and her father retired to the subterranean
apartments; Abenhabuz occupying that which communicated with the
staircase, Hinzára the one from which the secret chamber opened; the
intermediate chamber serving as their common refectory.
One afternoon, as the sun was closing his diurnal course, an officer of
the Holy Inquisition, accompanied by numerous Aquazils and masked
attendants, appeared suddenly before the abode of the renegade Moor. The
terrified domestics fell on their knees, repeating their _Pater
nosters_, too much alarmed to give notice of the approach of the
visiters; and the officer, followed by his satellites, proceeded
straight to the entrance of the Souterrain, and demanded instant
admission.
"Who is he," inquired Abenhabuz from within, "that thus unannounced
requires entry? If his business be of worldly affairs, let him choose
some more fitting time, nor disturb a good Christian at his evening
devotions; but, if aught else, enter--the latch is now raised." The
party immediately rushed forward, but the superior stopped short at the
scene before him--Abenhabuz, clothed in sackcloth, stretched prostrate
on the bare floor before an image of the blessed Virgin! Beside him lay
a scourge, with which he had evidently been inflicting self-punishment!
"What want ye of me?" demanded the Moor, without rising from the rocky
floor.--"With _you_ we have _now_ no further business, good Abenhabuz,"
replied the officer. "We must however see your daughter--for such is our
duty--though doubtless she follows the example of her pious
father."--"Hinzára," said the Moor, "is within that second chamber,"
pointing to the door--then raising his voice, he called out in
Spanish--"Hinzára, my child, open, that these worthy Señores may bear
witness to the piety of Abenhabuz' daughter;" but Hinzára answered not.
"What is this?" exclaimed the Moor--"the heat of the summer sun has
surely overcome her.--Hinzára, my beloved, open quickly"--but still
Hinzára replied not.
"Force open the door, then," said the officer, "but quietly--disturb not
her sleep, if such be the cause of her silence. Excuse this apparent
rudeness, worthy _Alfaqui_; our orders are imperative."
Admittance was quickly gained, and disclosed to the spectators the
lovely form of Hinzára, extended on a divan, her eyes closed in profound
sleep. Her right arm, passed across her gently heaving bosom, hung over
the side of the couch, and on the floor beneath it lay a book, which to
all appearance had fallen from it.--That book was the _Koran_!
The exclamations of the astonished spectators, but, above all, the
wailings of old Abenhabuz, soon brought the sleeper to her senses. But
not to detain you, Don Carlos, with superfluous details: suffice it to
say, that further search was made; the secret doorway was discovered,
and exposed to view a small apartment furnished with the _Mehrab_,[107]
denoting it to be a Mohammedan place of worship.
No one of the assembled group was, or rather appeared to be, so much
shocked as Abenhabuz.--"Father! Father!" exclaimed the frantic Hinzára
in tones of the most piercing anguish:--but, overcome by the intensity
of her emotion, she could utter no more, and fell senseless to the
ground.
Happy had it been for the wretched Hinzára had this insensibility to
mundane ills been the perpetual sleep of death! But inscrutable, my
friend, are the ways of Providence! The innocent victim of this fiendish
plot woke only to the torments of the Inquisition!--Oh that an
institution, ordained to effect so much good, should in this instance
have been the means of inflicting such unmerited anguish! But what human
works are all perfect?
I must not attempt, Don Carlos, to raise the veil that covered the
events which followed. The disappearance of Hinzára, whose virtues yet
more than her beauty caused her to be universally beloved, excited much
solicitude. But time swept on; and at length all, save _one_, seemed to
have forgotten the existence of the ill-fated maiden. That _one_,
however, persisted in his endeavours to trace her out; and, dangerous as
was the attempt, to penetrate even the secrets of the Holy Inquisition.
But all his efforts were unavailing.
Still, however, Ramiro clung to the idea that she had not been removed
from Ronda; and despising the alluring prospects of wealth and
distinction, at that time held out by the discovery of a new world, he
remained rooted to the spot. At length his sad presentiment was but too
truly realized. A mysteriously-worded billet, left by an unknown hand,
warned him of approaching calamity; shortly after, public notice was
given that an execution of heretics was about to take place; and on the
appointed day, headmost of the wretched criminals, and clothed in a
dress of surge, representing flames and demons,--indicative of her
impending fate,--was the hapless daughter of Abenhabuz.
The frantic Ramiro soon distinguished her from the rest. The pile that
was to immolate his lovely, innocent Hinzára was already lighted--the
criminals destined for execution were about to be given over to the
secular power--when, rushing to the feet of the Grand Inquisitor, the
proud descendant of the bluest blood in Spain, on his bent knees,
supplicated for mercy. With the eloquence of despair, he pleaded her
youth, her virtues, her piety;--but, alas! he pleaded in vain!--"Let me
at least," said he at length, "make one effort to induce her to
confess?--my known loyalty--my birth--my station--entitle me to this
boon."
The Inquisitor was moved;--Ramiro's entreaties were seconded by a faint
murmur that ran through the crowd; and his request was granted, despite
the frowns of Don Guiterre, into whose hands, as governor of the city,
the condemned were about to pass.
A passage was quickly opened for Ramiro through the dense multitude,
and, amidst loud _vivas_, he flew to his Hinzára. The maiden's
countenance brightened at the approach of her long separated lover.
Starting from the posture of prayer, in which she was devoutly attending
to the exhortations of one of the holy brotherhood appointed to the sad
office of attending her in her last moments--yet not without first
raising her eyes in gratitude to the great disposer of all
things--"Thanks, beloved Ramiro," said she, "for this last, convincing
proof of affection! I almost fear, however, to ask--didst thou receive
my message?"--"I did," replied her lover; "but let me implore thee,
adored Hinzára, to change thy purpose--alas! beloved of my soul, hope
not that thy silence will aught avail thy father. Be assured his fate is
sealed--nay--I know not but that he may already have been sacrificed;
for, during many weeks past, I have in vain sought to gain tidings of
him.--Declare then all thou knowest, and at least save thyself, and
me--who cannot survive thy loss--from the fate that hangs over
us."----"No, Ramiro," replied the maiden, in slow but steady accents,
"my resolve is fixed. Since there is yet a _chance_ of saving my father,
_we_ must part--let us hope to meet again hereafter.--I trust thou hast
been able to comply with my desire?"--He motioned assent.--"Then Heaven
bless thee, dearest Ramiro! as thou lovest me, obey my last
injunctions--return not evil for evil--there is another and a better
world--risk not our chance of possessing in it the happiness denied to
us here."
One moment of human weakness succeeded--it was but one--Hinzára's head
fell upon her lover's breast--her bloodless lips met his for the
first--the last time. Recovering herself quickly, "Now, beloved," she
exclaimed, "thy promise!--and thou, oh blessed Saviour, before whose
holy image I now, on bended knees, offer up my last supplication!--who
seest the pile already laid to torment with infamous publicity thy too
weak servant!--plead, oh plead forgiveness for this act, which hastens
me, by but a few short moments, into the presence of an omnipotent,
all-merciful creator!"
Ramiro listened to the words of the prostrate maiden with intense and
agonised attention, and at the conclusion of her short but earnest
prayer drew from his breast a glittering poignard--Hinzára snatched it
hastily from his hand,--and the next moment fell a corpse at his feet!
The horror of the spectators, at this unlooked-for termination of
Ramiro's interference--the consternation of the officials of the Holy
Inquisition--the rage and invectives of the Governor--were such that,
amidst the general confusion which ensued, Ramiro, snatching the
poignard from the reeking body of his mistress, darted through the
crowd, and effected his escape.--Don Guiterre vented his impotent rage
on the lifeless body of his victim, by having it burnt, amidst the
groans and indignant cries of the assembled multitude.
Every attempt to trace the flight of Don Ramiro failed; but information
was eventually received, that an individual answering his description
had embarked at Malaga, in a vessel bound to some Italian port.
The excitement caused by this tragic affair gradually subsided. Years
rolled on--Abenhabuz was never again seen--and the fate of his daughter
was nearly forgotten;--when one morning the Governor of Ronda was no
where to be found. Diligent search was of course made, and at length his
corpse was discovered in the rocky bed of the Guadiaro, immediately
beneath the miraculous bridge, which was now seen for the first
time!--On examining the body, it was found to be much bruised and
mutilated, as if--which indeed was evident--Don Guiterre had fallen in
an attempt to cross the hazardous bridge, and although one deep wound
seemed to have been inflicted by some sharp instrument, yet it might
have been given by the pointed rocks with which the bed of the rivulet
is strewed, and there was no other reason to suppose that he had fallen
by the hands of bandits; since nothing had been taken from his person.
His sword was found lying near him, but it might have dropt from its
scabbard.
The cause of the Governor's visit to this secluded spot nobody could
divine; but the general astonishment on this head was still further
increased, when, a few days after, the body of a near relative of Don
Guiterre--one of the principal officers of the Holy Inquisition--was
discovered at the very same spot, and bearing marks of having met with a
similar death.
A clue to the solution of these mysterious and appalling events was at
length, however, obtained; though it still left many of the particulars
open to conjecture. An old and faithful servant of the late Governor
was, not many days after, found in the bed of the stream, having also,
as it appeared, fallen from the enchanted bridge. Life, however, was not
extinct. He was conveyed to a neighbouring monastery, where every
attention was paid to his wounds, though without the slightest hope of
his ultimate recovery. The excessive pain, caused by a severe wound in
the head, brought on delirium; so that little information could be
gathered from him; but in his paroxysms he raved of a brilliant light
that shone constantly before his eyes, which, with piercing cries for
mercy, intermixed with frightful imprecations on Don Guiterre, he
fervently invoked.--But in the last moments of his wretched existence,
he became somewhat more tranquil; and the monk who attended him, (a
brother of one of my distant ancestors) collected at intervals the
following particulars of his melancholy story.
His master it appeared had willingly entered into the plot--already
alluded to--projected by the old Moor. The inquisitorial visit, planned
by these two fiends in human form, was brought about by information
secretly furnished to the Holy Tribunal, by the wretched maniac himself.
Their _professed_ object in procuring Hinzára's incarceration was, to
frighten her into a marriage with Don Guiterre, whose influence over the
Inquisitor, his relative, was to be employed in procuring her
liberation, on condition that she gave proof of her innocence by
consenting to marry him.--Each of these miscreants imagined, however,
that he was making a dupe of his confederate; for each breathed only
vengeance on the innocent Hinzára. Don Guiterre could not forgive her
contemptuous rejection of his suit; and, his ungovernable passion
continuing unabated, he hoped, by acceding to the terms on which only
it was proposed, she should obtain her liberation,--to have her in his
power to satisfy his revenge, after he had gratified his yet more
hateful passion: or, should she, contrary to his expectations, continue
obdurate, to feast his eyes on the tortures of his hapless victim.
Abenhabuz, on the other hand, knew his daughter too well to imagine she
would consent to purchase life on the terms proposed. His sole object
was to procure her death,--which, as he conceived, was merited as much
by her disobedience to his commands, as by the unpardonable sin of
deserting the faith of her forefathers;--and, as he himself could not
inflict the punishment without exciting suspicion, he hit upon the plan
of making Don Guiterre a tool to effect his purpose. But, in the words
of the Roman Fabulist, "_Vindictæ cupidus sibi malum accersit_." Each of
these monsters reaped the just fruit of his crime.
Whether the terms of liberation before alluded to were ever proposed to
the daughter of Abenhabuz, I cannot inform you, Don Carlos:--most
probably not, however.--Don Guiterre doubtless overrated his influence
with the Holy Tribunal,--the vast powers and inaccessible character of
which were at that early period of its establishment not known even to
Spaniards themselves. At all events, the governor, finding that the doom
of his victim was irrevocably fixed, and--ignorant of the secret wishes
of the Moor--fearing that the full weight of Abenhabuz's resentment
would fall upon him on the discovery of the failure of their
scheme,--resolved, ere the _Auto da fé_ was announced to take place, to
prevent the possibility of the Moor's attempting to save his daughter,
by confessing the plot, and making known the share he--Guiterre--had
taken in it.
The wretch, who, in his dying moments, confessed these atrocities, was
an accomplice in the crime by which this object was attained.--The foul
deed committed, the corpse of Abenhabuz was destroyed by quick lime, and
his papers were minutely examined, lest any proof should be furnished by
them of the plot against Hinzára. Letters were then found from the sons
of the murdered Moor, (who it appeared had joined the discontented
inhabitants of the Alpujarras, at that time about to take up arms
against the government,) which brought to light a project on the eve of
being carried into execution, to seize upon the city of Ronda. These,
after being made up in a sealed parcel, were dropt, by the governor's
faithful agent, on the road to Marbella, and, being picked up by a
chance traveller, were brought to Don Guiterre.
The importance of their contents caused them of course to be forwarded
to the seat of government, accompanied by a statement, that diligent
but unavailing search having been made for Abenhabuz, it was supposed he
had escaped to the mountains, and must, in the hurry of his flight, have
lost these papers, containing indubitable proofs of his treason.
The policy of keeping these events secret was suggested by the artful
Guiterre, on the plea, that it might lead to the detection of other
persons engaged in the conspiracy; which recommendation, having been
approved of, it soon came to be believed that the missing Abenhabuz was,
as well as his daughter, an inmate of the dungeon of the Inquisition.
By what means Don Guiterre met with his death still remained a matter of
mystery.--By his servant's statement it appeared that he had fallen in
an attempt to pass over the rustic bridge, leading to the cavern under
the _quinta_ of the deceased Moor; whither by an anonymous communication
he had been invited to repair unattended, under the promise of having
the spot shown to him where the Alchymist's riches were buried.--The
wretched Lopez, who had followed his master at a distance, saw a bright
light shining to point out the passage made across the deep chasm, and
heard his cries on falling; but, overcome by fear, he immediately took
to flight, and for obvious reasons had not given any information on the
subject.
Whatever further particulars--if any--were gathered from him ere his
death, never became public. Sufficient, however, was known to cause the
spot to be held in great awe; so much so, indeed, that, after the
miraculous abstraction of various goats, sheep, &c., from the flocks
grazing in the neighbourhood, not a soul would venture near it; the
common opinion being, that some vindictive fairy had taken up his abode
in the cavern, and amused himself by playing off his malicious pranks
upon mankind.
After a lapse of some years, a Hermit applied to the owner of the
property, for permission to make the haunted cavern his cell; and,
trusting that his prayers would be instrumental in laying the
troublesome Sprite, his request was readily granted.
The holy man who thus proffered his good offices, though bent down and
infirm, had not the eye of one stricken in years; neither did his
flowing beard, though white as the undrifted snow on the surrounding
mountain tops, appear to have been blanched so much by time, as by
privations and sufferings. He went out but seldom, and then only to
attend upon the sick and poor. Within the city walls he was never known
to enter. He had travelled much--had made a pilgrimage to Jerusalem, and
visited the Holy house at Loreto--was known to carry on a correspondence
with some of the first dignitaries of the Pontifical City,--and never
wanted money.
By his piety, munificence, and benevolence, Father Anselmo at length
attained such celebrity throughout the country, that his prayers were
considered nearly as efficacious as those of most saints.--He sunk
gradually and quietly to his grave. Not having been seen for several
days, those to whose wants he was in the daily habit of administering
consulted together as to the steps to be taken to ascertain his fate.
They determined to enter his cell, and, as he would never permit a soul
to cross the bridge, procured a long ladder to enable them to effect
their purpose. On gaining admission, they discovered Anselmo's body,
stiffened unto death, in the attitude of prayer. His knees were bent
before an Altar, on which stood a small gold crucifix, of exquisite
workmanship; but his head had fallen forwards on his clasped hands.--By
his side lay a poignard. Its point was corroded with the deep rust of
years; but every other part of the shining blade bore evidence of the
peculiar care which has been taken of its preservation. Its hilt was a
glittering mass of costly diamonds.
From the deceased hermit's neck a small packet was suspended, containing
a lock of auburn hair, and on the envelope, the following words were
written, in Anselmo's hand. "For thee have I passed a life of celibacy
and seclusion!--for disobeying thy sacred injunctions have I been sorely
chastened!--Sainted Virgin! plead for me with our Heavenly Father, that
the sins I have committed in this world may be forgiven in that which is
to come!"
It was evident,--said the worthy Padre, concluding his long story,--it
was evident, Don Carlos, that his prayer could be addressed to no other
than the Holy Virgin, Mother of our blessed Saviour,--and, consequently,
that the lock of hair must have been her's. It was accordingly sent to
Toledo, and deposited in the church of _San Juan de los Reyes_,--where a
magnificent urn--now probably melted down into some atheistical French
Marshal's soup tureen--enclosed for many years the precious relic. What
became of the poignard I know not.
The pious Anselmo was buried with great pomp, and numberless miracles
have been wrought at his grave;--the mischievous fairy feared to return
to a place purified by so holy a person;--the passage leading to the
subterranean apartments has long been filled up;--and the miraculous
bridge decayed and was carried away by the stream.
We have put up a cross to scare away evil spirits; but they nevertheless
say, that strange noises are yet heard, and flickering lights
occasionally seen in the vicinity. I do not attach much credit to such
tales. "_Fallax vulgi judicium_," (the good Father loved a scrap of
Latin) and--producing from his pocket a white cambric handkerchief, and
wiping his forehead with it, as if to show he had some notion of the use
to which the cavern was at the present day applied, he added--"I dare
say you are equally sceptical."--I will now, Don Carlos, wish you a
pleasant _Siesta_--"_Dios guard' usted._"[108]