第148章

BENEDICT.- When I arrived at Coruna, I inquired after yourself, lieber herr, and they informed me that, only the day before my arrival, you had departed for Oviedo: and when Iheard that, my heart died within me, for I was now at the far end of Galicia, without a friend to help me.For a day or two I knew not what to do; at last I determined to make for the frontier of France, passing through Oviedo in the way, where Ihoped to see you and ask counsel of you.So I begged and bettled among the Germans of Coruna.I, however, got very little from them, only a few cuarts, less than the thieves had given me on the road from Saint James, and with these Ideparted for the Asturias by the way of Mondonedo.Och, what a town is that, full of canons, priests, and pfaffen, all of them more Carlist than Carlos himself.

One day I went to the bishop's palace and spoke to him, telling him I was a pilgrim from Saint James, and requesting assistance.He told me, however, that he could not relieve me, and as for my being a pilgrim from Saint James, he was glad of it, and hoped that it would be of service to my soul.So Ileft Mondonedo, and got amongst the wild mountains, begging and betting at the door of every choza that I passed, telling all Isaw that I was a pilgrim from Saint James, and showing my passport in proof that I had been there.Lieber herr, no person gave me a cuart, nor even a piece of broa, and both Gallegans and Asturians laughed at Saint James, and told me that his name was no longer a passport in Spain.I should have starved if I had not sometimes plucked an ear or two out of the maize fields; I likewise gathered grapes from the parras and berries from the brambles, and in this manner I subsisted till I arrived at the bellotas, where I slaughtered a stray kid which I met, and devoured part of the flesh raw, so great was my hunger.It made me, however, very ill, and for two days Ilay in a barranco half dead and unable to help myself; it was a mercy that I was not devoured by the wolves.I then struck across the country for Oviedo: how I reached it I do not know;I was like one walking in a dream.Last night I slept in an empty hogsty about two leagues from here, and ere I left it, Ifell down on my knees and prayed to God that I might find you, lieber herr, for you were my last hope.

MYSELF.- And what do you propose to do at present?

BENEDICT.- What can I say, lieber herr? I know not what to do.I will be guided in everything by your counsel.

MYSELF.- I shall remain at Oviedo a few days longer, during which time you can lodge at this posada, and endeavour to recover from the fatigue of your disastrous journeys;perhaps before I depart, we may hit on some plan to extricate you from your present difficulties.

Oviedo contains about fifteen thousand inhabitants.It is picturesquely situated between two mountains, Morcin and Naranco; the former is very high and rugged, and during the greater part of the year is covered with snow; the sides of the latter are cultivated and planted with vines.The principal ornament of the town is the cathedral, the tower of which is exceedingly lofty, and is perhaps one of the purest specimens of Gothic architecture at present in existence.The interior of the cathedral is neat and appropriate, but simple and unadorned.I observed but one picture, the Conversion of Saint Paul.One of the chapels is a cemetery, in which rest the bones of eleven Gothic kings; to whose souls be peace.

I bore a letter of recommendation from Coruna to a merchant of Oviedo.This person received me very courteously, and generally devoted some portion of every day to showing me the remarkable things of Oviedo.

One morning he thus addressed me: "You have doubtless heard of Feijoo, the celebrated philosophic monk of the order of Saint Benedict, whose writings have so much tended to remove the popular fallacies and superstitions so long cherished in Spain; he is buried in one of our convents, where he passed a considerable portion of his life.Come with me and I will show you his portrait.Carlos Tercero, our great king, sent his own painter from Madrid to execute it.It is now in the possession of a friend of mine, Don Ramon Valdez, an advocate."Thereupon he led me to the house of Don Ramon Valdez, who very politely exhibited the portrait of Feijoo.It was circular in shape, about a foot in diameter, and was surrounded by a little brass frame, something like the rim of a barber's basin.The countenance was large and massive but fine, the eyebrows knit, the eyes sharp and penetrating, nose aquiline.

On the head was a silken skull-cap; the collar of the coat or vest was just perceptible.The painting was decidedly good, and struck me as being one of the very best specimens of modern Spanish art which I had hitherto seen.

A day or two after this I said to Benedict Mol, "to-morrow I start from hence for Santander.It is therefore high time that you decide upon some course, whether to return to Madrid or to make the best of your way to France, and from thence proceed to your own country.""Lieber herr," said Benedict, "I will follow you to Santander by short journeys, for I am unable to make long ones amongst these hills; and when I am there, peradventure I may find some means of passing into France.It is a great comfort, in my horrible journeys, to think that I am travelling over the ground which yourself have trodden, and to hope that I am proceeding to rejoin you once more.This hope kept me alive in the bellotas, and without it I should never have reached Oviedo.I will quit Spain as soon as possible, and betake me to Lucerne, though it is a hard thing to leave the schatz behind me in the land of the Gallegans."Thereupon I presented him with a few dollars.

"A strange man is this Benedict," said Antonio to me next morning, as, accompanied by a guide, we sallied forth from Oviedo; "a strange man, mon maitre, is this same Benedict.Astrange life has he led, and a strange death he will die, - it is written on his countenance.That he will leave Spain I do not believe, or if he leave it, it will be only to return, for he is bewitched about this treasure.Last night he sent for a sorciere, whom he consulted in my presence; and she told him that he was doomed to possess it, but that first of all he must cross water.She cautioned him likewise against an enemy, which he supposes must be the canon of Saint James.I have often heard people speak of the avidity of the Swiss for money, and here is a proof of it.I would not undergo what Benedict has suffered in these last journeys of his, to possess all the treasures in Spain."