WAITING FOR EMPLOYMENT—JOSÉ MARIA. 1834.
In 1834, I travelled through Andalusia with my tutor, and visited,
amongst other towns, Seville, where I had been requested by my father
to rent a furnished house for three months, as he had obtained leave
of absence and intended to spend it there with his family. Mr. Ford,
the author of the _Handbook on Spain_, and father of Sir Francis Clare
Ford, afterwards Ambassador at Madrid, then resided at Seville; and,
as he was about to leave, I hired his house.
Ford had made the acquaintance of José Maria, the famous
brigand—the ‘Little John’ of Spain—who had been pardoned by
the Queen on condition of his acting as chief of a body of ‘guardia
civil’ and devoting himself to suppressing brigandage. He asked me
if I would like to see this notorious ex-robber and hear, from his
own lips, anecdotes of his life as a brigand. I readily assented,
so José Maria was invited to a luncheon at which I was present.
José Maria told us that all the robbers and thieves in the Southern
provinces of Spain had been for some years under his control—he
could collect when required a body of about forty well-mounted and
armed men—and related how his pardon and present appointment had
been obtained.
Hearing that Queen Christina, attended by an escort of cavalry,
was about to pass, on her return to Madrid from a visit to Granada,
through a wooded country known to be infested by banditti, José
Maria collected his well-mounted brigands, armed and dressed in
handsome ‘majo’ costume, and placed them at the entrance of the
forest through which Her Majesty would pass.
On the approach of the royal cortège, José Maria, observing a
trooper posted as vedette in advance of Her Majesty’s escort,
accosted the man and informed him that, as a loyal subject of the
Queen, he had brought a body of well-armed and mounted inhabitants of
the neighbourhood to escort Her Majesty through the woods in safety.
The trooper rode back and reported this language to the officer in
command of the escort, adding that he suspected from the appearance
of their chief that the men were banditti.
This was repeated to the Queen by the officer, who also informed
Her Majesty that he was prepared to attack the supposed banditti.
Queen Christina, however, ordered him not to attack, but, after
taking the necessary precautions against treachery, to bring the
chief of the band to her carriage.
José Maria, at the request of the officer, then came forward. The
Queen thanked him for his loyalty in having assembled a body of
mounted men to ensure her safety in a district said to be infested
by brigands. ‘Place your men,’ said Her Majesty, ‘in front of
the escort, and then come yourself to the one side of my carriage,
whilst the officer in command of the cavalry rides on the other.’
After traversing the forest, José Maria asked permission to retire
with his mounted followers, and at the same time announced that he
had a boon to beg.
‘What is it?’ said Her Majesty. ‘I shall be glad to make my
acknowledgement of the service you have rendered.’
Bowing low, he answered, ‘I am José Maria, the chief of the
banditti who infest your realms. I ask for pardon for myself and for
those of my followers who may be ready to accept it: for those who
do not accept, as they have accompanied me on the present occasion
without knowledge of my intended petition, I beg that they be allowed
to depart without hindrance.’
The Queen, after conferring with the officer in command, granted José
Maria’s prayer, on condition, however, that he should become a chief
of the ‘guardia civil’ and assist in putting down brigandage.
All the brigands accepted Her Majesty’s pardon, with the exception
of a man nicknamed ‘Veneno’ (poison), who had been José Maria’s
lieutenant.
José Maria related to us stories of the most daring robberies
he had committed, in various parts of Spain, on passengers by
diligence and other travellers. He declared that his band had never
robbed or molested the farmers or peasantry; but, on the contrary,
when they heard that a wedding or other feast was taking place,
he would appear with some of his men in smart ‘majo’ costume
and bring presents for the bridegroom and bride. Also that the
Alcaldes, or petty magistrates of the villages, were all bribed by
him when a robbery was committed in other districts than their own;
and when cavalry were sent in pursuit of the banditti, the country
people never betrayed them, but kept José Maria informed of their
movements whilst they misled his pursuers.
The brigand told us that on one occasion he had robbed an English
gentleman travelling in Andalusia on horseback, with a Spanish guide,
of their horses and everything they possessed except the clothes they
wore. ‘The Englishman,’ he added, ‘was a bright, pleasant youth,
and submitted with good humour to the robbery; so I felt sorry, as
he was forty miles from Seville, whither he was going, that he should
have to walk that distance, and I gave him back his servant’s horse
and a doubloon (sixteen dollars) out of the two hundred dollars I
had taken from him, mentioning that he might require that money for
lodging and food on the road before he had reached his destination.’
‘My young friend,’ José continued, ‘thanked me warmly,
adding that since I had been so kind he had a great favour to ask,
which was that I should return him his gold watch as it had been
the parting gift of his dear father.’
‘Is your father alive, and does he love you very much?’
‘Oh, yes,’ replied the youth, ‘he lives and loves me.’
‘Then,’ said José Maria, ‘I shall keep this watch, and as
your father loves you so dearly he is sure to give you another!’
José then gave the young Englishman a signed pass, requiring that
all brigands or thieves in Andalusia or Estramadura should refrain
from robbing or molesting the bearer. He also told him, if robbed
at any time, where to send a note which would be sure to find him.
The Englishman spent some weeks at Seville, and, returning one evening
from Alcalá, was attacked and robbed by a man armed with a gun. He
showed the pass to the footpad, who only remarked that he was not
going to have the bread taken out of his mouth by the brigand José
Maria or any other man.
The Englishman then had a note written in Spanish and sent to the
care of the head man of a village mentioned by José Maria, to be
forwarded to the great brigand, stating the sum of money that had
been stolen from him. Within a week a Spaniard called at the hotel
where the traveller lodged and returned the money, adding, ‘The
“ratero” (thief) has been stabbed for paying no attention to
José Maria’s pass.’
After luncheon, José Maria had his horse brought for us to see. It
was a well-made Spanish ‘jinete,’ standing about 15.1, and had
the appearance of being fast. He mounted the nag and rode rapidly up
a street, presently returned at a gallop, jumped off, and, removing
the bridle, gave the animal a slap and then ran into the house. The
horse went off at full gallop and disappeared up one of the streets.
‘Now,’ said José Maria, ‘I am supposed to have committed
a robbery and to have been pursued by cavalry in a wood. I have
taken off the bridle, and my horse, if chased, will be sure from his
swiftness and being riderless, to escape. Suppose me to have climbed a
tree or hidden amongst bushes or rocks and thus eluded my enemies.’
After a short interval he continued, ‘I must now recall the horse,
who, not being pursued, will not have gone far and is listening for
my summons.’ So, taking a large whistle from his pocket, he walked
up the street and commenced whistling. In a few minutes the horse
galloped up, neighing as he recognised his master, who put on the
bridle and caressed the intelligent beast.
‘For two years I have been employed,’ said José Maria, ‘in
putting down brigandage, and have succeeded in arresting many robbers
and “rateros,” but my late lieutenant “Veneno” has hitherto
escaped us, and some day he will kill me!’
A year after my meeting with José Maria, I saw in the newspapers
that ‘Veneno’ had been tracked by him to a cave in the mountains,
frequented by this robber and his band. The ex-brigand entered the
cave one night at the head of a body of ‘guardia civil’ and was
killed by ‘Veneno’ while in the act of arresting him. ‘Veneno’
and his companions were then shot by José Maria’s men.
Whilst residing with my father and family in the house he had rented
in Seville, it happened on one occasion that I had dined and spent
the evening with my friend Don ———, and did not leave his house
until nearly eleven o’clock. It was fortunately bright moonlight,
for Seville was then but dimly lighted. On saying good-night, my
host accompanied me to his door and warned me to keep well in the
centre of the streets, as at that late hour wayfarers were often
attacked and robbed.
I had no weapon—not even a stick—with me. The evening was fresh,
so I threw my Spanish ‘capa’ round me and walked briskly down
the centre of the narrow streets which led to the great Plaza,
about a mile distant, near which our house was situated. Presently
I heard footsteps and, looking back, saw a figure following me,
but keeping in the shadow.
I knew I was fleet of foot, so set off running at a good pace, feeling
sure that if the fellow were dodging me he would follow. As soon as I
quickened my speed the man sprang into the light and came after me,
and I dashed on with him in pursuit. As I turned a corner I caught
sight of his long ‘navaja’ gleaming in the moonlight. Finding my
cloak heavy, I unfastened it and let it trail behind, determined to
hold on to my new capa as long as I could. However, I soon outstripped
my pursuer, and on reaching the Plaza paused to again wrap my capa
about me and to reconnoitre well before venturing into the street
where our house stood. The footpad had vanished on seeing me reach
the lit and frequented Plaza.
After this I never ventured out at night without a pistol.
At this time Mr. Hay had become very proficient in Arabic, and
his family have still in their possession some examples of Arabic
writing, then beautifully executed by him in the highest style of
Oriental manuscript; and a friend, writing from London to his mother,
Mrs. Drummond Hay, says, ‘I met the other evening Mr. Burchardt
Barker, the Oriental translator to the Foreign Office; he told me that
a letter from the Sultan of Morocco had been sent home by your son,
Mr. John Hay, and that he had never seen anything more beautifully
translated by any Orientalist.’
It was either during this stay at Seville, or on a subsequent
occasion, that Mr. Hay visited the Alcazar, then in course of
restoration.
The architect was employed in reconstructing the beautiful arabesque
stucco-work on the walls, by taking moulds of the injured portions,
and, after remodelling the defaced parts, casting from these moulds
fresh plaques to replace those injured or missing.
After gazing for some time on these restorations, and vainly
endeavouring to puzzle out the Arabic inscriptions which enter so
largely into arabesque decorations, Mr. Hay asked for the architect
and inquired of him whether he was aware that he had reversed all
the inscriptions!
The poor man was horrified. He declared he would undo and rectify his
work, begging Mr. Hay, for pity’s sake, not to betray to any one
his discovery: as, if it were made known, he would be a ruined man,
and he and his children would starve. Mr. Hay having shown him exactly
what his error had been, left Seville without betraying the architect.
In the summer of 1838 Mr. Hay made an expedition into the interior of
Morocco, of which he wrote an account entitled _Western Barbary_. This
little book, written with all the vigour and freshness inspired by
youth, and with a thorough knowledge of the wild people amongst whom
he travelled and whose sport he shared, was published by Mr. Murray
and attracted much attention and praise from the press at the time.
During a visit to England in 1838, Mr. Hay made an application to
Lord Palmerston for a diplomatic appointment in the East, and in this
connection relates the following incident, which occurred after his
return to Tangier in the next year.
A respectable Moor, named Selam Lamarti, who was employed by my
father to attend as guard upon my younger brothers and sisters,
and who was very anxious about my future career, inquired one day
whether I should like to have my fortune told by one who had never
failed to predict correctly the life and fortune of any man or woman
whom she might have happened to see, and the chief events of whose
future life she felt intuitively that she could foretell. I replied,
‘As you say _she_, you refer, I suppose, to a woman, and probably
to an Arab gossip, who expects that I shall reward her handsomely
for telling me a parcel of lies about the happiness and good fortune
which are in store for me.’
‘No,’ he said, ‘she is not an Arab gipsy, but my first cousin,
a young Moorish maiden named Leila, with whom I have been brought up
from infancy as with a sister. If she tells your fortune she will not
take money, nor even a present, in return for her predictions. The
Most High God, who foresees and knows all things, has gifted her with
this incomprehensible power, for which she has attained great fame;
but it is not every one whose fortune can be told by her, only those
whom she occasionally selects, from feeling—as she describes—a
sudden innate inspiration which she cannot explain. Last Friday,’ he
continued, ‘she and her mother were seated, muffled in their haiks,
praying at the grave of a relative in the Mohammedan cemetery. You,
whom she knows by sight, were walking with a companion on the high
road through the cemetery, and you stopped for some minutes near
to the spot where Leila was seated, and she had a good view of your
features. After you had passed Leila told her mother, and afterwards
myself on her return home, that your future life was seen by her
clearly, as in a mirror.’
‘Is she fair? Is she pretty? Can I hear from her own lips my
future?’ I exclaimed, foolishly flattering myself that this maiden
might have fallen in love with me and sought an excuse for a meeting.
‘Hasha’ (God forbid), cried Selam, ‘that you or any man should
visit, or even speak to her, until she meet her bridegroom on her
wedding night, except it be her father, or I as her foster-brother,
in the presence of her mother. Yes, she is very fair and pretty,
with a sweet gentle voice and manner. If you wish to learn the chief
events of your future life, Leila says she must see you again and
have a long look at your features and expression. I will arrange
to-night the hour when you are to accompany me to stand below the
lattice window of her house, where she will be able to gaze at you,
though, as you know, her features will not thus be visible to you.’
This was agreed upon, and the next day Selam accompanied me to the
door of Leila’s house, where, leaving me standing in the street,
he entered, but shortly rejoined me, saying, ‘She is now at the
window.’ I could just see there was some one behind the lattice,
so I looked up and smiled, hoping she might show herself; but not a
glimpse had I of the fair Leila. After waiting a few minutes there
was a tap at the window, and Selam said,
‘That is the signal that you may leave. To-night I shall learn
from Leila, in presence of her mother, the chief events of your
future life. She is a clever girl, and, what is rare with our women,
can read and write Arabic.’
The following day Selam related Leila’s predictions as follows:
‘John, whom I have so often seen as he passes through the cemetery
on Fridays, will in a few months return to London, and will be
appointed “Katseb” (secretary) to the English “Bashador”
(ambassador) at Stambul; he will rise in favour and become his
confidential secretary. He will be sent by the Bashador on missions
to several countries in the East and return to Stambul. After a few
years he will go back to England, and then on his intended return to
Stambul he will visit Tangier, where he will find his father in bad
health. His father will die and he will be appointed in his place. He
will be in great favour with the present and future Sultans, and
will attain to a much higher rank than his father now holds. There
are two maidens who will love him—one dark, the other fair. He will
marry the fair one, who lives in a distant land. He will have a long
and happy life, and when he is old he will retire to his own country
with high honours from his sovereign and from other sovereigns of
foreign countries. He will live to an advanced age.’
Leila declined an offer of money or a present, and I was never allowed
to see her fair face or hear her sweet voice. Without narrating
here the various events which have happened in my long life I may
say that Leila’s predictions, by an extraordinary combination of
circumstances or chances, have all been verified. Though I never
had an opportunity of letting Leila know that I had fulfilled her
expectations, I hope she may have continued to take an interest in
my career, whether she be in this or in the other world.