LETTER XIII.

_Seville, July 30, 1808._

Whether Murat began to suspect that his cruel method of intimidating the capital would rouse the provinces into open resistance, or whether (with the unsteadiness of purpose which often attends a narrow mind, acting more from impulse than judgment,) he wished to efface the impressions which his insolent cruelty had left upon the Spaniards; he soon turned his attention to the restoration of confidence. The folly, however, of such an endeavour, while (independent of the alarm and indignation which spread like wildfire over the country,) every gate of Madrid was kept by a strong guard of French infantry, must have been evident to any one but the thoughtless man who directed it. The people, it is true, ventured again freely out of the houses: but the public walks were deserted, and the theatres left almost entirely to the invaders.

Yet it was visible that the French had a party, which, though feeble in numbers, contained some of the ablest, and not a few of the most respectable men at Madrid. Nay, I firmly believe, that had not the Spaniards of the middle and higher classes been from time immemorial brought up in the strictest habits of reserve on public measures, and without a sufficient boldness to form and express their opinions; the new French Dynasty would have obtained a considerable majority among our gentry. In the first place, two-thirds of the above description hold situations under Government, which they would have hoped to preserve by adherence to the new rulers. Next, we should consider the impression which the last twenty years had left on the thinking part of the community. Under the most profligate and despicable Court in Europe, a sense of political degradation had been produced among such of the Spaniards as were not blinded by a nationality of mere instinct. The true source of the enthusiasm which appeared on the accession of Ferdinand, was joy at the removal of his father; for hopes of a better government, under a young Prince of the common stamp, seated on an arbitrary throne, must have been wild and visionary indeed. As for the state of dependance on France, which would follow the acknowledgement of Joseph Bonaparte, it could not be more abject or helpless than under Ferdinand, had his wishes of a family alliance been granted by Napoleon. It cannot be denied that indignation at the treatment we have experienced strongly urged the nation to revenge; but passion is a blind guide, which thinking men will seldom trust on political measures. To declare war against an army of veterans already in the heart of Spain, might be, indeed, an act of sublime patriotism; but was it not, too, a provocation more likely to bring ruin and permanent slavery on the country, than the admission of a new King, who, though a foreigner, had not been educated a despot, and who, for want of any constitutional claims, would be anxious to ground his rights on the acknowledgment of the nation?

Answers innumerable might be given to these arguments--and that I was far from allowing them great weight on my mind I can clearly prove, by my presence in the capital of Andalusia. But I cannot endure that blind, headlong, unhesitating patriotism which I find uniformly displayed in this town and province--a loud popular cry which every individual is afraid not to swell with his whole might, and which, though it may express the feeling of a great majority, does not deserve the name of public _opinion_, any more than the unanimous acclamations at an _Auto da Fé_. Dissent is the great characteristic of liberty. I am, indeed, as willing as any man to give my feeble aid to the Spanish cause against France; but I feel indignant at the compulsion which deprives my views of all individuality--which, from the national habits of implicit submission to whatever happens to be established, forces every man into the crowd, so that nothing can save him but running for his life with the foremost.

I repeat, that I need not an apology for my political conduct on this momentous occasion. Feelings which will, indeed, bear examination, but on which I ground no merit, have brought me to the more honourable side of the question. Yet I must plead for candour and humanity in favour of such as, from the influence of the views I have touched upon, and in some cases, with a more upright intention than many an outrageous patriot, have opposed the beginning of hostilities. The name of traitor, with which they have been indiscriminately branded, must cut them off irrevocably from our party; and even the fear of being too late to avoid suspicion among us, may oblige those whom chance or the watchfulness of the Madrid Government, has hitherto prevented from joining us, to make at last, common interest with the French.

To escape from Madrid, after the news of the insurrection of Andalusia had reached that capital, was, in fact, an undertaking of considerable difficulty, and, as I have found by experience, attended with no small danger. Dupont’s army had occupied the usual road through La Mancha, and no carriages were allowed by the French to set off for the refractory provinces. My decision, however, to join my countrymen, had been formed as soon as they took up arms against the French; and though my friend shuddered at the idea of casting his lot with the defenders of the Pope and the Inquisition, he soon forgot all personal interest, in a question between a foreign army and his own natural friends.

There were no means of reaching Andalusia but through the province of Estremadura, and no other conveyance, at that time, than two Aragonese waggons, which having stopped at a small inn, or _venta_, three miles from Madrid, were not under the immediate control of the French police. The attention of the new Government was, besides, too much divided by the increasing difficulties of their situation, to extend itself beyond the gates of the town. We had only to make our way through the French guard, and walk to the _venta_ on the day appointed by the waggoners. But if a single person met with no impediment at the gates, luggage of any description was sure to be intercepted; and we had to take our choice between staying, or travelling a fortnight, without more than a shirt in our pocket.

Thus lightly accoutred, however, we left Madrid at three in the afternoon of the 15th of June, and walked under a burning sun to meet our waggons. Summer is, of all seasons, in Spain, the most inconvenient for travellers; and nothing but necessity will induce the natives to cross the burning plains, which abound in the country. To avoid the fierceness of the sun, the coaches start between three and four in the morning, stop from nine till four in the afternoon, and complete the day’s journey between nine and ten in the evening. We, alas! could not expect that indulgence. Each of us confined with our respective waggoner, within the small space which the load had left near the awning, had to endure the intolerable closeness of the waggon, under the dead stillness of a burning atmosphere, so impregnated with floating dust, as often to produce a feeling of suffocation. Our stages required not only early rising, but travelling till noon. After a disgusting dinner at the most miserable inns of the unfrequented road we were following, our task began again, till night, when we could rarely expect the enjoyment even of such a bed as the Spanish _ventas_ afford. Our stock of linen allowed us but one change, and we could not stop to have it washed. The consequences might be easily foreseen. The heat, and the company of our waggoners, who often passed the night by our side, soon completed our wretchedness, by giving us a sample of one, perhaps the worst, of the Egyptian plagues; which, as we had not yet got through one-half of our journey, held out a sad prospect of increase till our arrival at Seville.

There was something so cheering in the consciousness of the sacrifice both of ease and private views we were making, in the idea of relieving our friends from the anxiety in which the fear of our joining the French party must have kept them--in the hopes of being received with open arms by those with whom we had made common interest at a time when every chance seemed to be against them--that our state of utter discomfort could not at first make any impression on our spirits. The slip of New Castille, which lies between Madrid and the frontiers of Estremadura, presented nothing that could in the least disturb these agreeable impressions; and the reception we met with from the inhabitants was in every respect as friendly as we had expected. An instance of simple unaffected kindness shewn to us by a poor woman near Móstoles, would hardly deserve being mentioned, but for the painful contrast by which the rest of our journey has endeared it to my memory.--Oppressed by the heat and closeness of our situation, and preferring a direct exposure to the rays of the sun in the open air, we had left our heavy vehicles at some distance, when the desire of enjoying a more refreshing draught than could be obtained from the heated jars which hung by the side of our waggons, induced us to approach a cottage, at a short distance from the road. A poor woman sat alone near the door, and though there was nothing in our dress that could give us even the appearance of gentlemen, she answered our request for a glass of water, by eagerly pressing us to sit and rest ourselves. “Water,” she said, “in the state I see you in, is sure, Gentlemen, to do you harm. I fortunately have some milk in the cottage, and must beg you to accept it.--You, dear Sirs,” she added, “are, I know, making your escape from the French at Madrid. God bless you, and prosper your journey!” Her sympathy was so truly affecting, that it actually brought tears into our eyes. To decline the offer of the milk, as well as to speak of payment, would have been an affront to the kind-hearted female; and giving her back the blessing she had so cordially bestowed upon us, was all we could do to shew our gratitude.

Cheered up by this humble, yet hearty welcome among our countrymen, we proceeded for two or three days; our feelings of security increasing all the while with the distance from Madrid. It was, however, just in that proportion that we were approaching danger. We had, about nine in the morning, reached the Calzada de Oropesa, on the borders of Estremadura, when we observed, with painful surprise, a crowd of country people, who, collecting hastily round us, began to inquire who we were, accompanying their questions with the fierce and rude tone which forebodes mischief, among the testy inhabitants of our southern provinces. The _Alcalde_ soon presented himself, and, having heard the account we gave of ourselves and our journey, wisely declared to the people that, our language being genuine Spanish, we might be allowed to proceed. He added, however, a word of advice, desiring us to be prepared to meet with people more inquisitive and suspicious than those of Oropesa, who would make us pay dear for any flaw they might discover in our narrative. As if to try our veracity by means of intimidation, he acquainted us with the insurrections which had taken place in every town and village, and the victims which had scarcely failed in any instance, to fall under the knives of the peasantry.

The truth and accuracy of this warning became more and more evident as we advanced through Estremadura. The notice we attracted at the approach of every village, the threats of the labourers whom we met near the road, and the accounts we heard at every inn, fully convinced us that we could not reach our journey’s end without considerable danger. The unfortunate propensity to shed blood, which tarnishes many a noble quality in the southern Spaniards, had been indulged in most towns of any note, under the cloak of patriotism. Frenchmen, of course, though long established in Spain, were pointed objects of the popular fury; but most of the murders which we heard of, were committed on Spaniards who, probably, owed their fate to private pique and revenge, and not to political opinions. We found the _Alcaldes_ and _Corregidores_, to whom we applied for protection, perfectly intimidated, and fearing the consequences of any attempt to check the blind fury of the people under them. But no description of mine can give so clear a view of the state of the country, as the simple narrative of the popular rising at Almaraz, the little town which gives its name to a well-known bridge on the Tagus, as it was delivered to us by the _Alcalde_, a rich farmer of that place. The people of his district, upon hearing the accounts from Madrid, and the insurrections of the chief towns of their province, flocked, on a certain day, before the Alcalde’s house, armed with whatever weapons they had been able to collect, including sickles, pick-axes, and similar implements of husbandry. Most happily for the worthy magistrate, the insurgents had no complaint against him: and on the approach of the rustic mob, he confidently came out to meet them. Having with no small difficulty obtained a hearing, the Alcalde desired to be informed of their designs and wishes. The answer appears to me unparalleled in the history of mobs. “We wish, Sir, to kill somebody,” said the spokesman of the insurgents. “Some one has been killed at Truxillo; one or two others at Badajoz, another at Merida, and we will not be behind our neighbours. Sir, we will kill a traitor.” As this commodity could not be procured in the village, it was fortunate for us that we did not make our appearance at a time when the good people of Almaraz might have made us a substitute, on whom to display their loyalty. The fact, however, of their having no animosities to indulge under the mask of patriotism, is a creditable circumstance in their character. A meeting which we had, soon after leaving the village, with an armed party of these patriots, confirmed our opinion that they were among the least savage of their province.

The bridge of Almaraz stands at the distance of between three and four miles from the village. It was built in the time of Charles the fifth, by the town of Plasencia; but it would not have disgraced an ancient Roman architect. The Tagus, carrying, even at this season, a prodigious quantity of water, passes under the greater of the two arches, which support the bridge. Though the height and span of these arches give to the whole an air of boldness which borders upon grandeur, the want of symmetry in their size and shape, and the narrow, though very deep, channel to which the rocky banks confine the river, abate considerably the effect it might have been made to produce. Yet there is something impressive in a bold work of art standing single in a wild tract of country, where neither great towns, nor a numerous and well distributed population, with all the attending marks of industry, luxury, and refinement, have prepared the imagination to expect it. As soon, therefore, as the bridge was seen at a distance, we left the waggons, and allowing them to proceed before us, lingered to enjoy the view.

Just as we stood admiring the solidity and magnitude of the structure, casting by chance our eyes towards the mountain which rises on the opposite side, and confines the road to a narrow space on the precipitous bank of the river, we saw a band of from fifteen to twenty men, armed with guns, leaving the wood where they had been concealed, and coming down towards the waggons. The character of the place, combined with the dresses, arms, and movements of the men, convinced us at once that we had fallen into the hands of banditti. But as they could take very little from us, we thought we should meet with milder treatment if we approached them without any signs of fear. On our coming up to the place, we observed some of the party searching the waggons; but seeing the rest talking quietly with the carriers, our suspicions of robbery were at an end. The whole band, we found, consisted of peasants, who, upon an absurd report that the French intended to send arms and ammunition to the frontiers of Portugal, had been stationed on that spot to examine every cart and waggon, and stop all suspicious persons. Had these people been less good-natured and civil, we could not have escaped being sent, in that dangerous character, to some of the Juntas which had been established in Spain. But being told by my friend that he was a clergyman, and hearing us curse the French in a true patriotic style; they wished us a happy journey, and allowed us to proceed unmolested.

We expected to arrive at Merida on a Saturday evening, and to have left it early on Sunday after the first mass, which, for the benefit of travellers and labourers, is performed before dawn. But the axletree of one of our waggons breaking down, we were obliged to sleep that night at a _Venta_, and to spend the next day in the above-mentioned city. The remarkable ruins which still shew the ancient splendour of the Roman _Emerita Augusta_ would, in more tranquil times, have afforded us a pleasant walk round the town, and more than repaid us for the delay. Fatigue, however, induced us to confine ourselves to the inn, where we expected, by the repose of one day, to recruit our strength for the rest of our journey. Having taken a luncheon, we retired to our beds for a long _siesta_, when the noise of a mob rushing down the street and gathering in front of the inn, drew us, nearly undressed, to the window. As far as the eye could reach, nothing was to be seen but a compact crowd of peasants, most of them with clasp knives in their hands. At the sight of us, such as were near began to brandish their weapons, threatening they would make mince-meat of every Frenchman in the inn. Unable to comprehend the cause of this tumult, and fearing the consequences of the blind fury which prevailed in the country, we hurried on our clothes, and ran down to the front hall of the inn. There we found twelve dragoons standing in two lines on the inside of the gate, holding their carbines ready to fire, as the officer who commanded them warned the people that were blockading the gate they should do upon the first who ventured into the house. The innkeeper walked up and down the empty hall, bewailing the fate of his house, which he assured us would soon be set on fire by the mob. We now gathered from him the cause of this turmoil and confusion. A young Frenchman had been taken on the road to Portugal, with letters to Junot, and on this ground was forwarded under an escort of soldiers to the Captain-general of the Province at Badajoz. The crowd in the street consisted of about two thousand peasants, who having volunteered their services, were under training at the expense of the city. The poor prisoner had been imprudently brought into the town when the recruits were in the principal square indulging in the idleness of a Sunday. On hearing that he was a Frenchman, they drew their knives and would have cut him to pieces, but for the haste which the soldiers made with him towards the inn.

The crowd, by this time, was so fierce and vociferous, that we could not doubt they would break in without delay. My companion, being fully aware of our dangerous position, urged me to follow him to the gate, in order to obtain a hearing, while the people still hesitated to make their way between the two lines of soldiers. We approached the impenetrable mass; but before coming within the reach of the knives, my friend called loudly to the foremost to abstain from doing us any injury; for though without any marks of his profession about him, he was a priest, who, with a brother, (pointing to me,) had made his escape from Madrid to join his countrymen. I verily believe, that as fear is said sometimes to lend wings, it did on this occasion prompt my dear friend with words; for a more fluent and animated speech than his has seldom been delivered in Spanish. The effects of this unusual eloquence were soon visible among those of the rioters that stood nearest; and one of the ringleaders assured the orator, that no harm was meant against us. On our requesting to leave the house, we were allowed to proceed into the great square.

My friend there inquired the name of the Bishop’s substitute, or _Vicar General_; and, with an agreeable surprise, we learnt that it was Señor Valenzuela. We instantly recognised one of our fellow students at the University of Seville. He had been elected a Member of the Revolutionary Junta of Merida, and though not more confident of his influence over the populace than the rest of his colleagues, whom the present mob had reduced to a state of visible consternation, he instantly offered us his house as an asylum for the night, and engaged to obtain for us a passport for the remainder of the journey. In the mean time, the military commander of the place, attended by some of the magistrates, had promised the crowd to throw the young Frenchman into a dungeon, as he had done a few nights before with his own adjutant, against whom these very same recruits had risen on the parade, with so murderous a spirit, that though protected by a few regulars, they wounded him severely, and would have taken his life but for the interference of the Vicar, who, bearing the consecrated host in his hands, placed the officer under the protection of that powerful charm. The Frenchman was, accordingly, conducted to prison; but neither the soldiers nor the magistrates, who surrounded him, could fully protect him from the savage fierceness of the peasants, who crowding upon him, as half dead with terror, he was slowly dragged to the town gaol, stuck the points of their knives into several parts of his body. Whether he finally was sacrificed to the popular fury, or, by some happy chance, escaped with life, I have not been able to learn.

Though not far from our journey’s end, we were by no means relieved from our fears and misgivings. Often were we surrounded by bands of reapers, who, armed with their sickles, made us go through the ordeal of a minute interrogatory. But what cast the thickest gloom on our minds was, the detailed account we received from an Alcalde, of the events which had taken place at Seville. A revolution, however laudable its object, is seldom without some features which nothing but distance of time or place, can soften into tolerable regularity. We were too well acquainted with the inefficiency of most of the men who had suddenly been raised into power, not to feel a strong reluctance to place ourselves under their government and protection. The only man of talents in the Junta of Seville was Saavedra, the ex-minister.[54] Dull ignorance, mixed with a small portion of inactive honesty, was the general character of that body. But a man of blood had found a place in it, and we could not but fear the repetition of the horrid scene with which he opened the revolution that was to give him a share in the supreme government of the province.

[54] See Letter X.

The Count Tilly, a titled Andalusian gentleman, of some talents, unbounded ambition, and no principle, had, on the first appearance of a general disposition to resist the French, employed himself in the organization of the intended revolt. His principal agents were men of low rank, highly endowed with the characteristic shrewdness, quickness, and loquacity of that class of Andalusians, and thereby admirably fitted to appear at the head of the populace. Tilly, however, either from the maxim that a successful revolution must be cemented with blood--a notion which the French Jacobins have too widely spread among us--or, what is more probable, from private motives of revenge, had made the death of the Count del Aguila an essential part of his plan.

That unfortunate man was a member of the town corporation of Seville, and as such he joined the established authorities in their endeavours to stop the popular ferment. But no sooner had the insurrection burst out, than both he and his colleagues made the most absolute surrender of themselves and their power into the hands of the people. This, however, was not enough to save the victim whom Tilly had doomed to fall. One of the inferior leaders of the populace, one Luque, an usher at a grammar-school, had engaged to procure the death of the Count del Aguila. Assisted by his armed associates, he dragged the unhappy man to the prison-room for noblemen, or Hidalgos, which stands over one of the gates of the town; and, deaf to his intreaties, the vile assassin had him shot on the spot. The corpse, bound to the arm chair, in which the Count expired, was exposed for that and the next day to the public. The ruffian who performed the atrocious deed, was instantly raised to the rank of lieutenant in the army. Tilly himself is one of the Junta; and so selfish and narrow are the views which prevail in that body, that, if the concentration of the now disjointed power of the provinces should happen, the members, it is said, will rid themselves of his presence, by sending a man they fear and detest, to take a share in the supreme authority of the kingdom.[55]

[55] This was actually the case at the creation of the Central Junta.

The effects of the revolutionary success on a people at large, like those of slight intoxication on the individual, call forth every good and bad quality in a state of exaggeration. To an acute but indifferent observer, Seville, as we found it on our return, would have been a most interesting study. He could not but admire the patriotic energy of the inhabitants, their unbounded devotion to the cause of their country, and the wonderful effort by which, in spite of their passive habits of submission, they had ventured to dare both the authority of their rulers, and the approaching bayonets of the French. He must, however, have looked with pity on the multiplied instances of ignorance and superstition which the extraordinary circumstances of the country had produced.

To my friend and companion, whose anti-catholic prejudices are the main source of his mental sufferings, the religious character which the revolution has assumed, is like a dense mist concealing or disfiguring every object which otherwise would gratify his mind. He can see no prospect of liberty behind the cloud of priests who every where stand foremost to take the lead of our patriots. It is in vain to remind him that many among those priests, whose professional creed he detests, are far from being sincere; that if, by the powerful assistance of England, we succeed in driving the French out of the country, the moral and political state of the nation must benefit by the exertion. The absence of the King, also, is a fair opening for the restoration of our ancient liberties; and the actual existence of popular Juntas, must eventually lead to the re-establishment of the Cortes. To this he answers that he cannot look for any direct advantage from the feeling which prompts the present resistance to the ambition of Napoleon, as it chiefly arises from an inveterate attachment to the religious system whence our present degradation takes source. That if the course of events should enable those who have secretly cast off the yoke of superstition, to attempt a political reform, it will be by grafting the feeble shoots of Liberty upon the stock of Catholicism; an experiment which has hitherto, and must ever prove abortive. That from the partial and imperfect knowledge of politics and government which the state of the nation permits, no less than from the feelings produced by the monstrous abuse of power under which Spain has groaned for ages, too much will be attempted against the crown; which, thus weakened in a nation whose habits, forms, and manners, are moulded and shaped to despotism, will leave it for a time a prey either to an active or an indolent anarchy, and finally resume its ancient influence.

Partial as I must own myself to every thing that falls from my friend, I will not deny that these views are too general, and that, though the principles on which he grounds them are sound, the inferences are drawn much too independently of future events and circumstances. Yet the dim coloured medium through which he sees the state of a country, whence he derives a constant feeling of unhappiness, will make him, I fear, but little fit to assist with his talents the work of Spanish reform, so long, at least, as he shall feel the iron yoke which Spain has laid on his neck. I have, therefore, formed a plan for his removal to England, whenever the progress of the French arms, which our present advantages cannot permanently check, shall enable him to take his departure, so as to shew that if his own country oppresses him, he will not seek relief among her enemies.

APPENDIX TO LETTERS III. AND VII.[56]

[56] The account in Letter VII. of the anxiety manifested by Charles III. on the occasion of sending to Rome a manuscript in the hand of a Spanish simpleton, whom the superstition of that country wished to invest with the honours of Saintship, was compiled from local tradition, and the recollections preserved from a former perusal of the present Appendix. Its noble author, whose love of the literature of Spain, and great acquaintance with that country, would be enough to designate him, were he not best known by a peculiar benevolence of heart, which no man ever expressed so faithfully in the affability of his manners; has subsequently favoured the writer of the preceding Letters with his permission to publish this sketch. The attentive reader will observe some slight variations between my story of Brother Sebastian and that given in this Appendix. But as they all relate to circumstances connected with the city of Seville, I am unwilling to omit or to alter what I have heard from my townsmen and the contemporaries of Sebastian himself.

AN ACCOUNT OF THE SUPPRESSION OF THE JESUITS IN SPAIN.

Extracted from a Letter of Lord ----.

The suppression of the Jesuits in Spain always appeared to me a very extraordinary occurrence; and the more I heard of the character of Charles III. by whose edict they were expelled, the more singular the event appeared. Don Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos, who had been acquainted with all, and intimate with many, of those who accomplished this object, related several curious circumstances attending it; gave me a very interesting and diverting account of the characters concerned, and sent me, in 1809, two or three letters, which are still in my possession, containing some of the secret history of this very remarkable transaction. I send you the substance of his conversation, with some additional anecdotes related to me by other Spaniards. They may throw light on the accidents and combinations which led to the suppression of that formidable body of men.

Charles III. came to the throne of Spain with dispositions very unfavourable to the Jesuits. Not only the disputes with the Court of Rome, to which the government of Naples was at all times exposed, but the personal affronts which he conceived himself to have received from Father Rávago, the Jesuit, Confessor to his brother Ferdinand, estranged him from that formidable company. The jealousy entertained by Barbara, Queen of Spain, of any influence which the Court of Naples might obtain in the councils of her husband, and the opposite system of politics adopted by the two Courts, had convinced the Jesuits of the impossibility of being well with both. Not foreseeing the premature death of Ferdinand, and the sterility of his wife, they had very naturally exerted all their arts to ingratiate themselves with the powerful crown of Spain, rather than with the less important Court of Naples. They were accordingly satisfied with placing Padre Rávago about Ferdinand, and, either from policy or neglect, allowed Charles to select his Confessor from another order of regular clergy. Queen Barbara was a patroness of the Jesuits; and, very possibly, her favourite, the eunuch Farinelli, exerted his influence in their favour. The Marquis of Ensenada, long the minister of Ferdinand, was their avowed protector, ally, and partizan; and the Queen’s ascendancy over her husband’s mind was too firmly established to be shaken even by the removal of that minister. But upon the failure of that Princess, and the subsequent death of the King himself, the Jesuits experienced a sudden and fatal reverse of fortune. The policy of the Court of Madrid was altered. Charles felt deep resentment against England for the transactions in the Bay of Naples. The influence of the Court of Versailles was gradually restored. It may be easily supposed that the active enemies of the Jesuits in France and Italy began to turn their eyes to the Court of Madrid with more hopes of co-operation in that quarter than they had hitherto ever ventured to entertain. There is, however, no reason to imagine that till the nomination of Roda, to the place of Minister of Grace and Justice, any actual design was formed by persons in trust or power, of having recourse to such violent expedients as were afterwards resorted to for the expulsion of the Jesuits.

Don Manuel de Roda, an Aragonese by birth, and an eminent lawyer at Madrid, had imbibed very early both the theological and political tenets of the Jansenists. He had been distinguished at the bar by his resolute and virulent opposition to the members of the _Colegios Mayores_. That institution, founded for the education and assistance of poor students, had been perverted from its original intentions: for though no one could be admitted but upon competition and a plurality of voices, it consisted _de facto_ entirely of persons of family. Its members, by the aid of exclusive privileges in the career of the law, by mutual assistance, and a corporation spirit, not unlike that of the Jesuits themselves, had obtained a large portion of ecclesiastical and legal patronage, and enjoyed almost a monopoly of the highest judicial offices in Castile. The members of these colleges were enabled to succeed to the offices of _Fiscal, Oydor_, and other magistracies, without the previous ceremony of passing advocates, which was a gradation none but those who were _Colegiales_ could dispense with. These privileges gave them great influence, and the expense which attended their elections, (especially that of the Rectors of each College, an annual office of great consideration among them,) served as an effectual bar to the pretensions of any who had not birth and wealth to recommend them. It is just, however, to observe, that if they were infected with the narrow spirit of corporations, they retained to the last the high sense of honour which is always the boast, and sometimes the characteristic, of privileged orders of men. It has ever been acknowledged by their enemies, that since the abolition of their exclusive privileges, which Roda lived to accomplish, and, yet more, since their further discouragement by the Prince of Peace, the judicial offices have not been filled by persons of equal character for integrity, learning, and honour. But those who studied the laws without the advantages of an education at the _Colegios Mayores_, were naturally and justly indignant at the privileges which they enjoyed. The boldness of Don Manuel de Roda’s opposition to an order of men so invidiously distinguished, ingratiated him with the lawyers, who, in Spain as elsewhere, constitute a large, active, and formidable body of men. But the same high spirit having involved him in a dispute with a man of rank and influence, his friend and protector the Duke of Alva thought it prudent for him to withdraw from Court; and with a view of enabling him to do so with credit to himself, entrusted him with a public commission to Rome, where he was received as the agent of the King of Spain. He here, no doubt, acquired that knowledge which was so useful to him afterwards in the prosecution of his important design. By what fatality he became minister, I know not. Charles III. must have departed from his general rule of appointing every Minister at the recommendation of his predecessor, for Roda succeeded a Marquis of Campo Villar, who had been educated at the _Colegios Mayores_, and was attached to the Jesuits. Possibly the interest of the Duke of Alva was the cause of his promotion. He was appointed Minister of Grace and Justice, I believe, as early as 1763, though Jovellanos implies that he was not Minister till 1765 or even 1766. From the period of his nomination, however, one may safely date the design of suppressing the Jesuits in Spain. It was systematically, though slowly and secretly pursued, by a portion of the Spanish Cabinet. Indeed the views, not only of the ministry, but of the understanding of Roda, were so exclusively directed to such objects, that Azara sarcastically observed, that he wore spectacles, through one glass of which he could perceive nothing but a _Colegial_, and through the other nothing but a _Jesuit_. If, however, his views were contracted, he had the advantage often attributed to a short sight--a clear and more accurate perception of every thing that came within the limited scope of his organs. He had the discernment to discover those, who, with dispositions congenial to his own had talents to assist him. He had cunning enough to devise the means of converting to his purpose the weaknesses of such as without predisposition to co-operate with him, were from station or accident necessary to his design. Though a strict Jansenist himself, he selected his associates and partizans indiscriminately from Jansenists and philosophers or freethinkers. Among the first, the most remarkable was Tavira, bishop of Salamanca; among the latter Campomanes and the Count de Aranda.

Before we speak of the co-operation of these powerful men, it is necessary to explain the difficulties which occurred in securing the sanction and assistance of the King himself. Charles III., though no friend to the Jesuits, was still less a friend, either by habit or principle, to innovation. He was not less averse by constitution to all danger. Moreover, he was religious and conscientious in the extreme. The acquiescence and sanction of his Confessor was indispensably necessary to the adoption of any measure affecting the interests of the Church. Neither would the bare consent of the Confessor (in itself no easy matter to obtain) be sufficient. He must be zealous in the cause, and cautious as well as active in the promotion of it. Great secrecy must be observed; for the scheme might be defeated as effectually by indifference or indiscretion as by direct resistance or intrigue. There was little in the character of the Confessor to encourage a man less enterprising or less cunning than Roda.

Fr. Joaquin de Elita, or Father Osma, (so called from the place of his birth) was a friar of little education and less ability, attached by habit to the order to which he belonged, and in other respects exempt from those passions of affection or ambition, as well as from that ardour of temper or force of opinion, which either excite men to great undertakings or render them subservient to those of others. Roda, however, from personal observation, and from an intimate knowledge of those passions which a monastic life generally engenders, discovered the means of engaging even Father Osma in his views. None who have not witnessed it can conceive the effect of institutions, of which vows of perpetual celibacy form a necessary part. Their convent, their order, the place of their nativity, the village or church to which they belong, often engage in the minds of religious men the affections which in the course of nature would have been bestowed on their kindred, their wives, or their children. Padre Elita was born in the city of which the venerable and illustrious Palafox had been bishop. The sanctity of that eminent prelate’s life, the fervour of his devotion, the active benevolence and Christian fortitude of his character, had insured him the reputation of a saint, and might, it was thought, by many Catholics, entitle him to canonization.[57] Roda, however, well knew that the Jesuits bore great enmity to his memory on account of his disputes with them in South America; he foresaw that every exertion of that powerful body would be made to resist the introduction of his name into the Rubric. He therefore suggested very adroitly to Father Osma the glory which would redound to his native town if this object could be accomplished. He painted in glowing colours the gratitude he would inspire in Spain, and the admiration he would excite in the Catholic world if through his means a Spaniard of so illustrious a name and of such acknowledged virtue could be actually sainted at Rome. He had the satisfaction of finding that Father Osma espoused the cause with a fervour hardly to be expected from his character. He not only advised but instigated and urged the King to support the pretensions of the bishop of Osma with all his influence and authority. But here an apparent difficulty arose, which Roda turned to advantage, and converted to the instrument of involving the Court of Madrid in an additional dispute with the Roman Pontiff. Charles III. was not unwilling to support the pretensions of his Confessor’s favourite Saint; but he had a job of his own in that branch to drive with the Court of Rome, and he accordingly solicited in his turn the co-operation of Father Osma, to obtain the canonization of Brother Sebastian.

[57] There is a Life of Palafox, published at Paris, in 1767. The design of the unknown author is evidently to mortify and prejudice the Jesuits by exalting the character of one of their earliest and fiercest opponents. The author is, however, either an ardent fanatic of the Jansenist party, and as superstitious as those he wishes to expose; or he promotes the cause of the Philosophers of France and Spain by affecting devotion, and conciliating many true believers to the measure of suppressing the Jesuits.--Palafox was the illegitimate child of Don Jayme de Palafox y Mendoza, by a lady of rank, who, to conceal her pregnancy, retired to the waters of Fitero in Navarre, and being delivered on the 24th June, 1600, to avoid the scandal, took the wicked resolution of drowning her child in the neighbouring river. The woman employed to perpetrate this murder was detected before she effected her purpose, the child saved, and brought up by an old dependant of the house of Ariza till he was ten years old, when his father returned from Rome, acknowledged, relieved, and educated him at Alcalá and Salamanca. His mother became a nun of the barefooted Carmelite order. Palafox was introduced at Court, and to the Count Duke de Olivares in 1626, and was soon after named to the council of India. An illness of his paternal sister, the funeral of two remarkable men, and the piety of his mother, made such impression upon him, that he gave himself up to the most fervent devotion, and soon after took orders. He became chaplain to the Queen of Hungary, Philip IVth’s sister, and travelled through Italy, Germany, Flanders, and France. In 1639, he was consecrated Bishop of Angelopolis, or Puebla de los Angeles, in America. His first quarrel with the Jesuits was on the subject of tithes. Lands on which tithes were payable had been alienated in favour of the Company, and they pretended, that when once the property of their body, they were exempt from that tax. The second ground was a pretended privilege of the Jesuits to preach without the permission of the Diocesan, against which Palafox contended. The Jesuits, having the Viceroy of New Spain on their side, obliged Palafox to fly; on which occasion he wrote his celebrated letters against his enemies. A brief of the Pope in his favour did not prevent his being recalled in civil terms, by the King. At the petition of the Jesuits, who dreaded his return to America, the King named him to the bishopric of Osma. Of the austerity and extravagance of his principles, the following resolutions of the pious bishop are specimens: Not to admit any woman to his presence, and never to speak to one but with his eyes on the ground, and the door open. Never to pay a woman a compliment, but when the not doing so would appear singular or scandalous; and never to look a female in the face. Whenever compelled to visit a woman, to wear a cross with sharp points next the skin.

The story of this last-mentioned obscure personage is so curious, and illustrates so forcibly the singular character of Charles, that it will not be foreign to my purpose to relate it.

During Philip the Fifth’s residence in Seville, Hermano Sebastian, a sort of lay-brother[58] of the Convent of San Francisco el Grande, was accustomed to visit the principal houses of the place with an image of the Infant Jesus, in quest of alms for his order. The affected sanctity of his life, the demure humility of his manner, and the little sentences of morality with which he was accustomed to address the women and children whom he visited, acquired him the reputation of a saint in a small circle of simple devotees. The good man began to think himself inspired, to compose short works of devotion, and even to venture occasionally on the character of a prophet. Accident or design brought him to the palace: he was introduced to the apartments of the princes, and Charles then a child, took a prodigious fancy to Brother Sebastian of the _Niño Jesus_, as he was generally called in the neighbourhood, from the image he carried when soliciting alms for his convent. To ingratiate himself with the royal infant, the old man made Charles a present of some prayers written in his own hand, and told him, with an air of sanctified mystery, that he would one day be King of Spain, in reward, no doubt, of his early indications of piety and resignation. The present delighted Charles, and, young as he was, the words and sense of the prophecy sunk deep in his superstitious and retentive mind. Though he was seldom known to mention the circumstance for years, yet he never parted with the manuscript. It was his companion by day and by night, at home and in the field. When he was up, it was constantly in his pocket; and it was placed under his pillow during his hours of rest. But when, by his accession to the crown of Spain, its author’s prediction was fulfilled, the work acquired new charms in his eyes, his confidence in Brother Sebastian’s sanctity was confirmed, and his memory was cherished with additional fondness by the grateful and credulous monarch. At the same time, therefore, that the pretensions of the Bishop of Osma to canonization were urged at Rome, the Spanish minister was instructed to speak a good word for the humble friar Sebastian. The lively and sarcastic Azara was entrusted with this negotiation; and, as I know that he was at some pains to preserve the documents of this curious transaction, it is not impossible that he may have left memoirs of his life, in which the whole correspondence will, no doubt, be detailed with minuteness and exquisite humour.

[58] He was not a _lay-brother_, but a _Donado_, a species of religious drudges, who, without taking vows, wear the habit of the order; and may leave it when they please. The _Donados_ are never called _Fray_, but _Hermano_.--_See Doblado’s Letter_ IX.

The Court of Rome is ever fertile in expedients, especially when the object is to start difficulties and suggest obstacles to any design. The investigation of Palafox’s pretensions was studiously protracted; and it was easy to perceive that the influence of the Jesuits in the Sacred College was exerted to throw new impediments in the way of their adversary’s canonization. Though the Court of Rome could never seriously have thought of giving Brother Sebastian a place in the Rubric, they amused Charles III. by very long discussions on his merits, and went through, with scrupulous minuteness, all the previous ceremonies for ascertaining the conduct of a saint.

It is a maxim, that the original of every writing of a person claiming to be made a saint, must be examined at Rome by the Sacred College, and that no copy, however attested, can be admitted as sufficient testimony, if the original document is in existence. The book, therefore, to which the Spanish Monarch was so attached, was required at Rome. Here was an abundant source of negotiation and delay. Charles could not bring himself to part with his treasure, and the forms of canonization precluded the College from proceeding without it. At length, the King, from his honest and disinterested zeal for the friar, was prevailed upon. But Azara was instructed to have the College summoned, and the Cardinals ready, on the day and even the hour at which it was calculated that the most expeditious courier could convey the precious book from Madrid to Rome. Relays were provided on the road, and Charles III. himself deposited the precious manuscript in the hands of his most trusty messenger, with long and anxious injunctions to preserve it most religiously, and not to lose a moment in sallying forth from Rome on his return, when the interesting contents of the volume should have been perused.

The interim was to Charles III. a “phantasma, or a hideous dream.” He never slept, and scarcely took any nourishment during the few days he was separated from the beloved paper. His domestic economy, and the regulation of his hours, which neither public business nor private affliction in any other instance disturbed, was altered; and the chase, which was not interrupted even by the illness and death of his children, was suspended till Brother Sebastian’s original MS. could again accompany him to the field. He stood at the window of his palace counting the drops of rain on the glasses, and sighing deeply. Business, pleasure, conversation, and meals, were suspended, till the long-expected treasure returned, and restored the monarch to his usual avocations.

When, however, his Confessor discovered that the Court of Rome was trifling with their solicitations, that to Palafox there was an insurmountable repugnance, and when the King began to suspect that the sacrifice he had been compelled to make was all to no purpose, and that the pains of separation had been inflicted upon him without the slightest disposition to grant him the object for which alone he had been inclined to endure it, both he and his Confessor grew angry. The opposition to their wishes was, perhaps, truly, and certainly industriously traced to the Jesuits.

In the mean while a riot occurred at Madrid. In 1766, the people rose against the regulation of police which attempted to suppress the cloaks and large hats, as affording too great opportunities for the concealment of assassins. These and other obnoxious measures were attributed to the Marquis of Squilace, who, in his quality of favourite as well as foreigner, was an unpopular minister of finance. Charles III. was compelled to abandon him; and the Count of Aranda, disgraced under Ferdinand VI. and lately appointed to the captain-generalship of Valencia, was named President of the council of Castile, for the purpose of pacifying by his popularity, and suppressing by his vigour, the remaining discontents of the people. He entered into all Roda’s views. As an Aragonese, he was an enemy of the _Colegios Mayores_, for they admitted few subjects of that Crown to their highest distinctions: and as a freethinker, and man of letters, he was anxious to suppress the Jesuits.

Reports, founded or unfounded, were circulated in the country, and countenanced by these powerful men, that the Jesuits had instigated the riots of Madrid. It was confidently asserted, that many had been seen in the mob, though disguised; and Father Isidro Lopez, an Asturian, who was considered as one of the leading characters in the company, was expressly named as having been active in the streets. Ensenada, the great protector of the Jesuits in the former reign, had been named by the populace as the proper successor of Squilace, and there were certainly either grounds for suspecting, or pretexts for attributing the discontent of the metropolis to the machinations of the Jesuits and their protector the ex-minister Ensenada. Enquiries were instituted. Many witnesses were examined; but great secrecy was preserved. It is, however, to be presumed, that, under colour of investigating the causes of the late riot, Aranda and Roda contrived to collect every information which could inflame the mind of the King against those institutions which they were determined to subvert. They had revived the controversy respecting the conduct of the venerable Palafox, and drawn the attention both of Charles III. and the public to the celebrated letter of that prelate, in which he describes the machinations of the Jesuits in South America, and which their party had but a few years since sentenced to be publicly burnt in the great square of Madrid.

But, even with the assistance of Father Osma, the acquiescence of the King, and the concert of many foreign enemies of the Company, Roda and Aranda were in want of the additional aid which talents, assiduity, learning, and character could supply, to carry into execution a project vast in its conception, and extremely complicated, as well as delicate in its details. They found it in the famous Campomanes. Perhaps the grateful recollection of services, and the natural good-nature of Jovellanos, led him to praise too highly his early protector and precursor, in the studies which he himself brought to greater perfection. But Campomanes was an enlightened man, and a laborious as well as honest minister. He was at that time Fiscal of the Council and Chancellor of Castile, and considered by the profession of the law, as well as by the great commercial and political bodies throughout Spain, as an infallible oracle on all matters regarding the internal administration of the kingdom. _The Coleccion de Providencias tomadas por el gobierno sobre el estrañamiento y ocupacion de temporalidades de los Regulares de la Compañia_ (Collection of measures taken by the Government for the alienation and seizure of the temporalities of the Regulars of the company of Jesuits) is said to be a monument of his diligence, sagacity, and vigour.

A royal decree was issued on 27th February, 1767, and dated from _el Pardo_, by which a Junta, composed of several members of the Royal Council, was instituted, in consequence of the riot of Madrid of the preceding year. To this Junta several bishops, selected from those who were most attached to the doctrines of Saint Thomas Aquinas, and, consequently, least favourable to the Jesuits, (for they espouse the rival tenets,) were added for the purpose of giving weight and authority to their decree. In this Junta the day and form of the measure were resolved upon, and instructions drawn out for the Magistrates who were to execute it both in Spain and in America, together with directions for the nature of the preparations, the carriages to be provided at the various places inland, and the vessels to be ready in the ports. The precautions were well laid. The secret was wonderfully kept; and on the night of the first of April, at midnight precisely, every College of the Jesuits throughout Spain was surrounded by troops, and every member of each collected in their respective chapters, priests or lay-brothers, young or old, acquainted with the decree, and forcibly conveyed out of the kingdom. Their sufferings are well known; and the fortitude with which they bore them must extort praise even from those who are most convinced of the mischiefs which their long influence in the courts of Europe produced. The expulsion and persecution of the French priests during the Revolution was more bloody, but scarcely less inhuman, than the hardships inflicted by the regular and legitimate monarchies which had originally encouraged them, on the Jesuits. On the other hand, the suppression of that society was favourable to the cause of liberty, morals, and even learning;--for though their system of education has been much extolled, it must be acknowledged that in Spain, at least, the period at which the education of youth was chiefly entrusted to Jesuits, is that in which Castilian literature declined, and general ignorance prevailed. If the state of education in a country is to be judged of by its fruits, the Jesuits in Spain certainly retarded its progress. In relation to the rest of Europe, the Spaniards were farther advanced in science and learning during the fifteenth and sixteenth centuries, than during the seventeenth and eighteenth; and since the suppression of the Company, in 1767, and not till then, a taste for literature and a spirit of improvement revived among them.

NOTES.

NOTE A.

_On the Devotion of the Spaniards to the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary._--p. 22.

The history of the transactions relative to the disputes on the immaculate conception of the Virgin Mary, even when confined to those which took place at Seville, could not be compressed within the limits of one of the preceding letters. Such readers, besides, as take little interest in subjects of this nature, would probably have objected to a detailed account of absurdities, which seem at first sight scarcely to deserve any notice. Yet there are others to whom nothing is without interest which depicts any peculiar state of the human mind, and exhibits some of the innumerable modifications of society. Out of deference, therefore, to the first, we have detached the following narrative from the text of Doblado’s Letters, casting the information we have collected from the Spanish writers into a note, the length of which will, we hope, be excused by those of the latter description.

The dispute on the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin began between the Dominicans and Franciscans as early as the thirteenth century. The contending parties stood at first upon equal ground; but “the merits of faith and devotion” were so decidedly on the side of the Franciscans, that they soon had the Christian mob to support them, and it became dangerous for any Divine to assert that the _Mother of God_ (such is the established language of the Church of Rome) had been, like the rest of mankind, involved in original sin. The oracle of the Capitol allowed, however, the disputants to fight out their battles, without shewing the least partiality, till public opinion had taken a decided turn.

In 1613, a Dominican, in a sermon preached at the cathedral of Seville, threw out some doubts on the Immaculate Conception. This was conceived to be an insult not only to the Virgin Mary, but to the community at large; and the populace was kept with difficulty from taking summary vengeance on the offender and his convent. Zuñiga, the annalist of Seville, who published his work in 1677, deems it a matter of Christian forbearance not to consign the names of the preacher and his convent to the execration of posterity. But if the civil and ecclesiastical authorities exerted themselves for the protection of the offenders, they were also the first to promote a series of expiatory rites, which might avert the anger of their Patroness, and make ample reparation to her insulted honour. Processions innumerable paraded the streets, proclaiming the original purity of the Virgin Mother; and _Miguél del Cid_, a _Sevillian_ poet of that day, was urged by the Archbishop to compose the Spanish hymn, “Todo el Mundo en general,” which, though far below mediocrity, is still nightly sung at Seville by the associations called Rosarios, which have been described in Doblado’s Letters.[59]

[59] Letter I. p. 20.

The next step was to procure a decision of the Pope in favour of the _Immaculate Conception_. To promote this important object two commissioners were dispatched to Rome, both of them dignified clergymen, who had devoted their lives and fortunes to the cause of the Virgin Mary.

After four years of indescribable anxiety the long wished-for decree, which doomed to silence the opponents of Mary’s original innocence, was known to be on the point of passing the _seal of the Fisherman_,[60] and the _Sevillians_ held themselves in readiness to express their unbounded joy the very moment of its arrival in their town. This great event took place on the 22d of October 1617, at ten o’clock P.M. “The news, says Zuñiga, produced a universal stir in the town. Men left their houses to congratulate one another in the streets. The fraternity of the _Nazarenes_ joining in a procession of more than six hundred persons, with lighted candles in their hands, sallied forth from their church, singing the hymn in honour of _Original Purity_. Numerous bonfires were lighted, the streets were illuminated from the windows and terraces, and ingenious fireworks were let off in different parts of the town. At midnight the bells of the cathedral broke out into a general chime, which was answered by every parish church and convent; and many persons in masks and fancy dresses having gathered before the archbishop’s palace, his grace appeared at the balcony, moved to tears by the devout joy of his flock. At the first peal of the bells all the churches were thrown open, and the hymns and praises offered up in them lent to the stillness of night the most lively sounds of the day.”

[60] _Sigillum_ or _annulus Piscatoris_, the great seal of the Popes.

A day was subsequently fixed when all the authorities were to take a solemn oath in the Cathedral, to believe and assert the _Immaculate Conception_. An endless series of processions followed to thank Heaven for the late triumph against the unbelievers. In fact, the people of Seville could not move about, for some time, without forming a religious procession. “Any boy,” says a contemporary historian, “who, going upon an errand, chose to strike up the hymn _Todo el Mundo_, were sure to draw after him a train, which from one grew up into a multitude; for there was not a gentleman, clergyman, or friar, who did not join and follow the chorus which he thus happened to meet in the streets.”

Besides these religious ceremonies, shows of a more worldly character were exhibited. Among these was the Moorish equestrian game, called, in Arabic, _El Jeerid_, and in Spanish, _Cañas_, from the reeds which, instead of javelins, the cavaliers dart at each other, as they go through a great variety of graceful and complicated evolutions on horseback.[61] _Fiestas Reales_, or bull-fights, where gentlemen enter the arena, were also exhibited on this occasion. To diversify, however, the spectacle, and indulge the popular taste, which requires a species of comic interlude, called _Mogiganga_, a dwarf, whose diminutive limbs required to have the stirrups fixed on the flap of the saddle, mounted on a milk-white horse, and attended by four negroes of gigantic stature, dressed in a splendid oriental costume, fought with one of the bulls, and drove a full span of his lance into the animal’s body--a circumstance which was deemed too important to be omitted by the historiographers of Seville.

[61] Gentlemen of the first rank, who are members of the associations called _Maestranzas_, perform at these games on the King’s birth-day, and other public festivals. Horsemanship was formerly in great estimation among the Andalusian gentry, who joined in a variety of amusements connected with that art. Such was the _Parejas de Hachas_, a game performed by night, at which the riders bore lighted torches. When Philip the Fourth visited Seville, in 1624, one hundred gentlemen, each attended by two grooms, all with torches in their hands, ran races before the king. This was the only amusement which, according to the established notions, could be permitted in Lent.

The most curious and characteristic of the shows was, however, an allegorical tournament, exhibited at the expense of the company of silk-weavers, who, from the monopoly with the Spanish Colonies, had attained great wealth and consequence at that period. It is thus described, from the records of the times, by a modern Spanish writer.

“Near the Puerta del Pardon (one of the gates of the cathedral), a platform was erected, terminating under the altar dedicated to the Virgin, which stands over the gate.[62] Three splendid seats were placed at the foot of the altar, and two avenues railed in on both sides of the platform to admit the Judges, the challenger, the supporters or seconds, the marshal, and the adventurers. Near one of the corners of the stage was pitched the challenger’s tent of black and brown silk, and in it a seat covered with black velvet. In front stood the figure of an apple-tree bearing fruit, and hanging from its boughs a target, on which the challenge was exposed to view.

[62] The reader must be aware that this was an imitation of a foot tournament, an amusement as frequent among the ancient Spanish knights as the jousts on horseback. It is called in the Spanish Chronicles _Tornéo de a pié_.

“At five in the afternoon, the Marshal, attended by his Adjutant, presented himself in the lists. He was followed by four children, in the dress used to represent angels, with lighted torches in their hands. Another child, personating Michael the Archangel, was the leader of a second group of six angels, who were the bearers of the prizes--a Lamb and a Male Infant. The Judges, Justice and Mercy, appeared last of all, and took their appointed seats.

“The sound of drums, fifes, and clarions, announced soon after, the approach of another group, composed of two savages of gigantic dimensions, with large clubs on their shoulders, eight torch-bearers in black, and two infernal Furies, and, in the centre, the challenger’s shield-bearer, followed by the challenger’s supporter or second, dressed in black and gold, with a plume of black and yellow feathers. This band having walked round the stage, the second brought the challenger out of the tent, who, dressed uniformly with his supporter, appeared wielding a lance twenty-five hands in length.[63]

[63] Though the Spanish writer has forgotten to mention the allegory of the challenger, it is evident, from the sequel, that he was intended to represent _Sin_.

The following is a list of the Adventurers, their attendants, or torch-bearers, and supporters or seconds:--

Attendants Seconds --------------------------------------------------------- Adam 6 Clowns { Hope and { Innocence.

Cain 6 Infernal Furies Envy.

Abraham 6 Dwarfs,[64] three } Angels in the habit } Faith. of Pilgrims, } and Isaac }

Job 6 Pages Patience.

David 6 Squires Repentance.

Jeroboam 4 Jews Idolatry.

Ahab 12 Squires Covetousness.

John the Baptist 12 Squires { Divine Love { and Grace.

[64] Dwarfs were formerly very common among the servants of the Spanish nobility. But it is not easy to guess for what reason they were allotted to Abraham, on this occasion.

“The dresses (continues the historian) were all splendid, and suited to the characters.

“The Adventurers engaged the challenger in succession, and all were wounded by the first stroke of his enormous lance. In this state they drew their swords, and fought with various success, some conquering the common enemy, while others yielded to his superior force. None, however, distinguished himself so much as the Baptist, who, regardless of the wound he had received at the first onset, and being armed with fresh weapons by _Grace_, beat the adversary in every succeeding rencounter. His extraordinary success was rewarded with a seat near the Judges, and the Lamb was awarded him as a prize.

“After this, the Marshal and his Adjutant, followed by _Grace_ and _Divine Love_, left the stage. In a short time they re-appeared, followed by twelve youths, as torch-bearers, the seven Virtues[65] personated by children from four to five years of age, and nine Angels, as representatives of the nine hierarchies. Two squires attended each of the Virtues and Angels; the whole train being closed by _Grace_ and _Divine Love_, supporting the last Adventurer, a beautiful child seven years old, who, as intended to represent the Holy Virgin, was more splendidly dressed than the rest, in a suit of sky-blue and white, sprinkled with golden stars, the hair flowing down the shoulders in curls, and held round the head by a twelve-starred diadem.

[65] The Spanish Catechism enumerates seven vices and seven opposite virtues.

“When the combatants faced each other, the challenger could not conceal his trepidation. The female Adventurer, on the other hand, would not use the lance with which she had entered the lists; for it bore the words DAUGHTER OF ADAM, in a banderole which hung from it. Having thrown away that weapon, she received another from the seconds, with the inscription DAUGHTER OF THE FATHER. At this moment the challenger darted his lance; but in his fear and confusion, he could not touch his adversary, while the heroine, on the contrary, taking an unerring aim at his breast, brought him instantly upon his knees; and the victory was completed with two other lances, bearing the mottoes--MOTHER OF THE SON--SPOUSE OF THE HOLY GHOST. Unhurt by her adversary, she had now laid him on the ground, and placed her foot and sword upon his neck, amidst a shout of universal acclamation. The Judges awarded her the _Child Jesus_, as a prize, and seated her above all in a throne. Next under the Virgin took their seats _Divine Love_, _Grace_, _Michael_, and _John the Baptist_, and a general tournament ensued, in which all the other combatants engaged. The tournament being ended, the challenger and his second retired through the left avenue. The rest of the actors conducted the victor, through that on the right, attended by one hundred and forty torch-bearers, and a band of musicians singing her triumphal hymn, which was echoed by the immense concourse.” _Compendio Historico de Sevilla por Don Fermin Arana de Varflora_ (Padre Valderrama) p. 77, et seq.

NOTE B.

_On a Passage in Xenophon._--p. 46.

The passage from Xenophon translated in the text is this: Οἱ οὖν ἀμφὶ τὸν Σωκράτην πρῶτον μέν, ὥσπερ εἰκὸς ἦν, ἐπαινοῦντες τὴν κλῆσιν οὐχ ὑπισχνοῦντο συνδειπνήσειν. ὡς δὲ πάνυ ἀχθόμενος φανερὸς ἦν, εἰ μὴ ἕψοιντο, συνηκολούθησαν. Sympos. c. 1. 7. Ernesti is angry at the ὥσπερ εἰκὸς, which is soon after repeated, when speaking of the order in which the guests placed themselves at table. He wants, in the last passage, to change it into ὡς ἔτυχον. But though the emendation is plausible, there seems to be no necessity to alter the reading. Xenophon is, indeed, remarkably fond of that phrase. The εἰκὸς, in both places, probably means _according to custom_. It might be applied to the order of precedence in England, and it should seem to have been used by Xenophon to denote the Greek sense of propriety in taking a place at table. In Spain, where there is no established order, a great deal of bowing and scraping takes place before the guests can arrange that important point. But, without any settled rule, there is a tact which seldom misleads any one who wishes not to give offence. This is probably the second ὥσπερ εἰκὸς of Xenophon.

NOTE C.

“_A little work that gave an amusing Miracle of the Virgin for every Day in the Year._” p. 70.

The book alluded to in the text is the _Año Virgineo_. The moral tendency of this and similar books may be shewn by the following story--technically named an _Example_--which I will venture to give from memory:--A Spanish soldier, who had fought in the Netherlands, having returned home with some booty, was leading a profligate and desperate life. He had, however, bled for the Faith: and his own was perfectly orthodox. A large old picture of the Virgin Mary hung over the inside of the door of his lodgings, which, it seems, did not correspond in loftiness to the brave halberdier’s mind and demeanour. Early every morning he used to sally forth in pursuit of unlawful pleasure; but, though he never did bend his knees in prayer, he would not cross the threshold without a loud _Hail Mary!_ to the picture, accompanied by an inclination of the halbert, which partly from his outrageous hurry to break out of the nightly prison, partly from want of room for his military salute, inflicted many a wound on the canvass. Thus our soldier went on spending his life and money, till a sharp Spanish dagger composed him to rest, in the heat of a brawl. “He died and made no sign.” The Devil, who thought him as fair a prize as any that had ever been within his grasp, waited only for the sentence which, according to Catholics, is passed on every individual immediately after death, in what they call the _Particular Judgment_. At this critical moment the Virgin Mary presented herself in a black mantle, similar to that which she wore in the picture, but sadly rent and slit in several places. “These are the marks,” she said to the affrighted soul, “of your rude, though certainly well-meant civility. I will not, however, permit that one who has so cordially saluted me every day, should go into everlasting fire.” Thus saying, she bade the evil spirit give up his prisoner, and the gallant soldier was sent to purge off the dross of his boisterous nature, in the gentler flames of purgatory.--A portion of the book from which I recollect this story, was, for many years, read every evening in one of the principal parishes at Seville. I observed the same practice at a town not far from the capital of Andalusia; and, for any thing I know to the contrary, it may be very common all over Spain. Such is the doctrine which, disowned in theory by the divines of the Roman church, but growing out of the system of saint-worship, constitutes the main religious feeling of the vulgar, and taints strongly the minds of the higher classes in Spain. The Chronicles of the Religious Orders are full of narratives, the whole drift of which is to represent their patron saint as powerful to save from the very jaws of hell. The skill of the painter has often been engaged to exhibit these stories to the eye, and the Spanish convents abound in pictures more encouraging to vice than the most profligate prints of the Palais Royal. I recollect one at Seville in the convent of the Antonines--a species of the genus _Monachus Franciscanus_ of the _Monachologia_--so strangely absurd, that I hope the reader will forgive my lengthening this note with its description. The picture I allude to was in the cloisters of the convent of San Antonio, facing the principal entrance, so late as the year 1810, when I was last at Seville. The subject is the hairbreadth escape of a great sinner, whom St. Francis saved against all chances. An extract from the Chronicles of the Order, which is found in a corner of the painting, informs the beholder that the person whose soul is represented on the canvass, was a lawless nobleman, who, fortified in his own castle, became the terror and abhorrence of the neighbourhood. As neither the life of man, nor the honour of woman, was safe from the violence of his passions, none willingly dwelt upon his lands, or approached the gate of the castle. It chanced, however, that two Franciscan friars, having lost the way in a stormy night, applied for shelter at the wicked nobleman’s gate, where they met with nothing but insult and scorn. It was well for them that the fame of St. Francis filled the world at that time. The holy saint, with the assistance of St. Paul, had lately cut the throat of an Italian bishop, who had resisted the establishment of the Franciscans in his diocese.[66]

[66] This curious scene is the subject of another picture in the cloisters of Saint Francis, at Seville. The bishop is seen in his bed, where Saint Francis has neatly severed the head from the body with Saint Paul’s sword, which he had borrowed for this pious purpose. As the good friars might have been suspected of having a hand in this miracle, the saint performed an additional wonder. The figures of Saint Paul and Saint Francis stood side by side in a painted glass window of the principal convent of the order. The apostle had a sword in his hand, while his companion was weaponless. To the great surprise of the fathers, it was observed, one morning, that Saint Paul had given away the sword to his friend. The death of the bishop, which happened that very night, explained the wonder, and taught the world what those might expect who thwarted the plans of Heaven in the establishment of the Franciscans.

The fear of a similar punishment abated the fierceness of the nobleman, and he ordered his servants to give the friars some clean straw for a bed, and a couple of eggs for their supper. Having given this explanation, the painter trusts to the appropriate language of his art, and takes up the story immediately after the death of the noble sinner. Michael the archangel--who by a traditional belief, universal in Spain, and probably common to all Catholic countries, is considered to have the charge of weighing departed souls with their good works, against the sins they have committed--is represented with a large pair of scales in his hand. Several angels, in a group, stand near him, and a crowd of devils are watching, at a respectful distance, the result of the trial. The newly-departed soul, in the puny shape of a sickly boy, has been placed, naked, in one scale, while the opposite groans under a monstrous heap of swords, daggers, poisoned bows, love-letters, and portraits of females, who had been the victims of his fierce desires. It is evident that this ponderous mass would have greatly outweighed the slight and nearly transparent form which was to oppose its pressure, had not Saint Francis, whose figure stands prominent in the painting, assisted the distressed soul by slipping a couple of eggs and a bundle of straw into its own side of the balance. Upon this seasonable addition, the instruments and emblems of guilt are seen to fly up and kick the beam. It appears from this that the Spanish painter agrees with Milton in the system of weighing Fate; and that, since the days of Homer and Virgil, superior weight is become the sign of victory, which with them was that of defeat--_quo vergat pondere lethum_.

NOTE D.

_On the Moral Character of the Spanish Jesuits,_ p. 77.

Whatever we may think of the political delinquencies of their leaders, their bitterest enemies have never ventured to charge the Order of Jesuits with moral irregularities. The internal policy of that body precluded the possibility of gross misconduct. No Jesuit could step out of doors without calling on the superior for leave and a companion, in the choice of whom great care was taken to vary the couples. Never were they allowed to pass a single night out of the convent, except when attending a dying person: and, even then, they were under the strictest injunctions to return at whatever hour the soul departed. Nothing, however, can give a more striking view of the discipline and internal government of the Jesuits than a case well known in my family, which I shall here insert as not devoid of interest. A Jesuit of good connexions, and more than common abilities, had, during a long residence at Granada, become a general favourite, and especially in a family of distinction where there were some young ladies. On one of the three days properly named the Carnival, he happened to call at that house, and found the whole family indulging with a few intimate friends in the usual mirth of the season; but all in a private domestic manner. With the freedom and vivacity peculiar to Spanish females, the young ladies formed a conspiracy to make their favourite Jesuit stand up and dance with them. Resistance was in vain: they teased and cajoled the poor man, till he, in good-natured condescension, got up, moved in the dance for a few minutes, and retired again to his seat. Years elapsed: he was removed from Granada, and probably forgot the transient gaiety into which he had been betrayed. It is well known that the general of the Jesuits, who made Rome his constant residence, appointed from thence to every office in the order all over the world. But so little caprice influenced those nominations, that the friends of the unfortunate dancer were daily expecting to see him elected provincial governor of the Jesuits in Andalusia. To their great surprise, however, the election fell upon a much inferior man. As the elections were triennial, the strongest interest was made for the next turn. Pressed on all sides, the general desired his secretary to return a written answer. It was conceived in these words: “It cannot be: he danced at Granada.”

I have seen Capuchin friars, the most austere order of Franciscans, rattling on a guitar, and singing Boleros before a mixed company in the open fields; and I have heard of a friar, who being called to watch over a death-bed, in a decent but poor family, had the audacity to take gross liberties with a female in the very room where the sick man lay speechless. He recovered, however, strength enough to communicate this horrid insult to his son, from whom I have the fact. The convent to which this friar belonged, is notorious, among the lower classes, for profligacy.

I shall add a little trait illustrative of Spanish manners. A friar in high glee is commonly reminded of his profession, in a jeering tone, by the wags of the company. Cries of, _Cáñamo, Padre_, (hemp, my father!) are heard from all sides, alluding to the scourge used for the discipline, which is made of that substance, and recommending it as a proper cure for rebellious spirits. These two words will cut a friar to the heart.

NOTE E.

“_On the Prevalence of Scepticism among the Catholic Clergy._” p. 100.

I once heard an English gentleman, who had resided a long time in Italy, where he obtained lodgings in a convent, relate his surprise at the termination of a friendly discussion which he had with the most able individuals of the house, on the points of difference between the Churches of England and Rome. The dispute had been animated, and supported with great ability on the Catholic side by one of the youngest monks. When, at length, all, except the chief disputants, had retired, the young monk, turning to his English guest, asked him whether he really believed what he had been defending? Upon receiving a serious answer in the affirmative, he could not help exclaiming, _Allor lei crede più che tutto il convento_.

NOTE F.

“_The Child God._” p. 147.

The representation of the Deity in the form of a child is very common in Spain. The number of little figures, about a foot high, called Niño Dios, or Niño Jesus, is nearly equal to that of nuns in most convents. The nuns dress them in all the variety of the national costumes, such as clergymen, canons in their choral robes, doctors of divinity in their hoods, physicians in their wigs and gold-headed canes, &c. &c. The Niño Jesus is often found in private houses; and in some parts of Spain, where contraband trade is the main occupation of the people, is seen in the dress of a smuggler with a brace of pistols at his girdle, and a blunderbuss leaning on his arm.

NOTE G.

“_On the Town of Olbera._” p. 170.

In De Rocca’s “_Memoires sur la Guerre des Français en Espagne_,” there is a trait so perfectly in character with Don Leucadio’s description of the people of Olbera, that I must beg leave to transcribe it:--

“Nous formâmes un bivouac dans une prairie entourée de murs, attenante à l’auberge qui est sur la route au bas du village. Les habitans furent, pendant le reste du jour, assez tranquilles en apparence, et ils nous fournirent des vivres; mais, au lieu d’un jeune bœuf que j’avais demandé, ils nous apportèrent un âne coupé en quartiers: les hussards trouvèrent que ce veau, comme ils l’appellaient, avait le goût un peu fade; mais ce ne fut que long-temps après que nous apprîmes cette bizarre tromperie, par les montagnards eux-mêmes. Ils nous criaient souvent, dans la suite, en tiraillant avec nous, ‘Vous avez mangé de l’âne à Olbera.’ C’était, dans leur opinion, la plus sanglante des injures qu’on pût faire à des chrétiens.”

De Rocca’s book abounds in lively pictures of Spanish manners, especially in the account he gives of the Serrania de Ronda; without indulging national partialities, he does full justice to his mortal enemies, and represents them in the most favourable colours which were consistent with truth.

NOTE H.

“_The effectual aid given by that Crucifix in the Plague of 1649, was upon record._” p. 174.

Zuñiga, in his Annals, copies a Spanish inscription, which still exists in the convent of Saint Augustin, at Seville; of which I subjoin a translation:--

“In 1649, this town being under a most violent attack of the plague, of which great numbers died,[67] the two most illustrious Chapters, Ecclesiastical and Secular, requested that this community of our father St. Augustin, should allow the image of Christ to be carried to the Cathedral. It was, accordingly, conveyed, on the second of July of the same year, in a solemn procession, attended by the Secular Chapter (the Town Corporation), and all the religious communities, amidst the loud wailings of the people; when the most illustrious Chapter of the Cathedral walked to meet the procession at the end of the street of the _Placentines_.[68] The most holy image was left that evening and the ensuing night in the Cathedral, and returned the next day to its shrine, our Lord being pleased to ordain that the plague should begin to abate from the day when the image was brought out, and cease altogether at the end of the _Octavario_, (eight days worship), as it was attested by the physicians. Wherefore the most noble and most loyal city of Seville appointed the said second of July, for ever, to repair to this convent as an act of thanksgiving for that great benefit.”

[67] Espinosa, the modern editor and annotator of Zuñiga, states, from ancient records, that within the first six weeks after the appearance of the plague, the number of deaths amounted to eighty thousand. This, however, we consider as a palpable exaggeration; for, though Seville was nearly depopulated on that occasion, it is probable that it never contained more than one hundred thousand inhabitants.

[68] Seville has several streets bearing the name of foreign nations--a faint memorial of its former commerce and wealth. The street of the _Placentines_ is a continuation of that of the Franks (Francos). There is a Lombard Street (calle Lombardos), a _Genoa Street_, and some others of a similar denomination.

In spite of this solemn acknowledgment of the miracle, the _astrologers_ of that day were unwilling to give the crucifix the whole credit of staying the plague. Zuñiga shrewdly observes that the conjunction of Jupiter with Mars, which, according to Captain Francis de Ruesta, removed the infection, did not take place till the 12th of July, ten days after the wonderful effects of the procession had become visible; and the Captain himself, probably to keep clear of the Inquisition, declares that the favourable influence of the planets “was previously _ensured_ by the exhibition of the Holy Christ of Saint Augustin.” _Zuñiga, Anales de Sevilla_, t. iv. p. 404.

NOTE I.

“_Vicious Habits of the Religious Probationers._” p. 195.

The Spanish satirical novel, “_Fray Gerundio de Campazas_,” contains a lively picture of the adventures of a Novice. It was written by Padre Isla, a Jesuit, for the purpose of checking the foppery and absurdity of the popular preachers. Cervantes himself could not boast of greater success in banishing the books of Chivalry than Isla in shaming the friars out of the affected and often profane _concetti_, which, in his time, were mistaken for pulpit eloquence. But the Inquisition could not endure that her great props, the religious orders, should be exposed, in any of their members, to the shafts of ridicule; and _Fray Gerundio_ was prohibited.

NOTE K.

A book entitled _Memorias para la vida del Excmo. Señor D. Gaspar Melchor de Jovellanos_, was published, at Madrid, in 1814, by Cean Bermudez. This gentleman, whose uninterrupted intimacy from early youth with the subject of his Memoirs, enabled him to draw an animated picture of one of the most interesting men that Spain has produced in her decline, has, probably, from the habits of reserve and false notions of decorum, still prevalent in that country, greatly disappointed our hopes. What relates to Jovellanos himself is confined to a few pages, containing little more than the dates of events connected with his public life, some vague declamation, and a few inuendos on the great intrigues which, having raised him to the ministry, confined him soon after to the fortress of Bellver. The second part contains a catalogue, and a slight analysis of his works. The friends of Jovellanos, however, are indebted to the author of the Memorias, for the help which this collection of notes on the life of that truly excellent and amiable man will afford any future writer who, with more settled habits of freedom, and altogether under more favourable circumstances, shall undertake to draw the full-length picture of which we yet scarcely possess a sketch.

For the satisfaction of such of our readers as may wish to know the fate of Jovellanos, we subjoin a brief account of the last years of his life.

Upon the accession of Ferdinand VII., Jovellanos was, by royal order, released from his confinement, and subsequently elected a Member of the Central Junta. When the French entered Seville in 1810, and the Regency of Cadiz superseded the Junta, he wished to retire to his native place, Gijon, in Asturias.

The popular feeling, exasperated by national misfortunes, was now venting itself against the abdicated Government, to whose want of energy the advantages of the French were indiscriminately attributed; and Jovellanos, accidentally detained in the Bay of Cadiz, had the mortification of learning that he was involved in the absurd and shameful suspicion of having shared in the spoil of the Spanish treasury, with which the Central Junta was charged. A dignified appeal to the candour of the nation, which he sent to the Cadiz papers for insertion, was not permitted to see the light--so narrow and illiberal were the views of the Regency--and the feeling and high-minded Castilian had to sail under the intolerable apprehension that some of his countrymen might look upon him as a felon endeavouring to abscond from justice.

If any one circumstance could add to the painfulness of Jovellanos’s situation, it was that, while the thoughtlessness or the ingratitude of his countrymen thus involved him in a suspicion of peculation, the state of his finances was such as to have obliged him to accept the sum of little more than one hundred pounds, the savings of many year’s service, which his trusty valet pressed upon him, with tears, that he might defray the expenses of their removal from Seville.

After being almost wrecked on the coast of Galicia, Jovellanos was obliged to land at the small town of Muros. Here he had to endure a fresh insult from the petty Junta of that province, by whose orders his papers were minutely searched, and copies taken at the option of an officer sent for that purpose with a military detachment.

A temporary retreat of the French from Gijon enabled Jovellanos to revisit his native town; but an unexpected return of the invaders obliged him soon after to take ship with the utmost precipitation. His flight was so sudden that he was actually at sea without having determined upon a place of refuge. Had the venerable and unhappy fugitive listened to the repeated invitations which his intimate friend Lord Holland sent him after the first appearance of danger from the progress of the French, his life might have been prolonged under the hospitable roof of Holland House. But Jovellanos’s notions of public duty were too exalted and romantic: and he would not quit Spain while there was a single spot in the possession of her patriots.

In attempting to reach by sea the port of Ribadeo, where there lay a Spanish frigate, in which he hoped to find a passage to Cadiz, another storm kept him for eight days under the peculiar hardships of a dangerous navigation in a small and crowded ship. Exhausted both in body and mind, and with a heart almost broken by the ill-treatment he had met with at the close of a long life spent in the service of his country, he landed at Vega, where, the poverty of the town offering no better accommodations, he was placed in the same room with Valdés Llanos, an old friend and relation, who had joined him in the flight, and seemed so shattered by age and fatigue, as not to be able to survive the effects of the late storm. Here Jovellanos employed his remaining strength in nursing and comforting his fellow-sufferer, till, Valdés being near his end, his friend was, according to the notions of the country, removed to another room. But death had also laid his hand on Jovellanos. Two days after completing his sixty-sixth year, he was laid in the same grave with his friend.[69]

[69] In the Appendix No. 2, to Lord Holland’s _Life of Lope de Vega_ are found both the originals and translations of some eloquent passages from Jovellanos’s pen, to which I have made an allusion in this note. His portrait also, from a marble bust executed at Seville by Don Angel Monasterio, at his lordship’s desire, and now in his possession, is prefixed to the second volume of the same work.

THE END.

End of Project Gutenberg's Letters from Spain, by Joseph Blanco White