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