George Borrow - The Bible in Spain. Volume 2 of 2

At length we arrived at the foot of a steep ascent, up which a rough and broken pathway appeared to lead. “Can this be our way?” said I to the guide.

“There appears to be no other for us, captain,” replied the man; “let us ascend it by all means, and when we are at the top, if the sea be in the neighbourhood we shall see it.”

I then dismounted, for to ride up such a pass in such darkness would have been madness. We clambered up in a line, first the guide, next the pony, with his nose as usual on his master’s shoulder, of whom he seemed passionately fond, and I bringing up the rear, with my left hand grasping the animal’s tail. We had many a stumble, and more than one fall: once, indeed, we were all rolling down the side of the hill together. In about twenty minutes we reached the summit, and looked around us, but no sea was visible: a black moor, indistinctly seen, seemed to spread on every side.

“We shall have to take up our quarters here till morning,” said I.

Suddenly my guide seized me by the hand. “There is lúme , senhor ,” said he; “there is lúme .” I looked in the direction in which he pointed, and after straining my eyes for some time, imagined that I perceived, far below and at some distance, a faint glow. “That is lúme ,” shouted the guide, “and it proceeds from the chimney of a choza .”

On descending the eminence, we roamed about for a considerable time, until we at last found ourselves in the midst of about six or eight black huts. “Knock at the door of one of these,” said I to the guide, “and inquire of the people whether they can shelter us for the night.” He did so, and a man presently made his appearance, bearing in his hand a lighted firebrand.

“Can you shelter a Cavalheiro from the night and the Estadéa ?” said my guide.

“From both, I thank God,” said the man, who was an athletic figure, without shoes and stockings, and who, upon the whole, put me much in mind of a Munster peasant from the bogs. “Pray enter, gentlemen, we can accommodate you both and your cavalgadura besides.”

We entered the choza , which consisted of three compartments; in the first we found straw, in the second cattle and ponies, and in the third the family, consisting of the father and mother of the man who admitted us, and his wife and children.

“You are a Catalan, sir Cavalier, and are going to your countrymen at Corcuvion,” said the man in tolerable Spanish. “Ah, you are brave people, you Catalans, and fine establishments you have on the Gallegan shores; pity that you take all the money out of the country.”

Now, under all circumstances, I had not the slightest objection to pass for a Catalan; and I rather rejoiced that these wild people should suppose that I had powerful friends and countrymen in the neighbourhood who were, perhaps, expecting me. I therefore favoured their mistake, and began with a harsh Catalan accent to talk of the fish of Galicia, and the high duties on salt. The eye of my guide was upon me for an instant, with a singular expression, half serious, half droll; he, however, said nothing, but slapped his thigh as usual, and with a spring nearly touched the roof of the cabin with his grotesque head. Upon inquiry, I discovered that we were still two long leagues distant from Corcuvion, and that the road lay over moor and hill, and was hard to find. Our host now demanded whether we were hungry, and, upon being answered in the affirmative, produced about a dozen eggs and some bacon. Whilst our supper was cooking, a long conversation ensued between my guide and the family, but as it was carried on in Gallegan, I tried in vain to understand it. I believe, however, that it principally related to witches and witchcraft, as the Estadéa was frequently mentioned. After supper I demanded where I could rest: whereupon the host pointed to a trapdoor in the roof, saying that above there was a loft where I could sleep by myself, and have clean straw. For curiosity’s sake, I asked whether there was such a thing as a bed in the cabin.

“No,” replied the man; “nor nearer than Corcuvion. I never entered one in my life, nor any one of my family; we sleep around the hearth, or among the straw with the cattle.”

I was too old a traveller to complain, but forthwith ascended by a ladder into a species of loft, tolerably large and nearly empty, where I placed my cloak beneath my head, and lay down on the boards, which I preferred to the straw, for more reasons than one. I heard the people below talking in Gallegan for a considerable time, and could see the gleams of the fire through the interstices of the floor. The voices, however, gradually died away, the fire sank low and could no longer be distinguished. I dozed, started, dozed again, and dropped finally into a profound sleep, from which I was only roused by the crowing of the second cock.

Autumnal Morning – The World’s End – Corcuvion – Duyo – The Cape – A Whale – The Outer Bay – The Arrest – The Fisher-Magistrate – Calros Rey – Hard of Belief – Where is your Passport? – The Beach – A mighty Liberal – The Handmaid – The Grand Baintham – Eccentric Book – Hospitality.

It was a beautiful autumnal morning when we left the choza and pursued our way to Corcuvion. I satisfied our host by presenting him with a couple of pesetas , and he requested as a favour, that if on our return we passed that way, and were overtaken by the night, we would again take up our abode beneath his roof. This I promised, at the same time determining to do my best to guard against the contingency; as sleeping in the loft of a Gallegan hut, though preferable to passing the night on a moor or mountain, is anything but desirable.

So we again started at a rapid pace along rough bridle-ways and footpaths, amidst furze and brushwood. In about an hour we obtained a view of the sea, and, directed by a lad whom we found on the moor employed in tending a few miserable sheep, we bent our course to the north-west, and at length reached the brow of an eminence, where we stopped for some time to survey the prospect before us.

It was not without reason that the Latins gave the name of Finis terræ to this district. We had arrived exactly at such a place as in my boyhood I had pictured to myself as the termination of the world, beyond which there was a wild sea, or abyss, or chaos. I now saw far before me an immense ocean, and below me a long and irregular line of lofty and precipitous coast. Certainly in the whole world there is no bolder coast than the Gallegan shore, from the debouchement of the Minho to Cape Finisterre. It consists of a granite wall of savage mountains, for the most part serrated at the top, and occasionally broken, where bays and firths like those of Vigo and Pontevedra intervene, running deep into the land. These bays and firths are invariably of an immense depth, and sufficiently capacious to shelter the navies of the proudest maritime nations.

There is an air of stern and savage grandeur in everything around, which strongly captivates the imagination. This savage coast is the first glimpse of Spain which the voyager from the north catches, or he who has ploughed his way across the wide Atlantic: and well does it seem to realize all his visions of this strange land. “Yes,” he exclaims, “this is indeed Spain – stern, flinty Spain – land emblematic of those spirits to which she has given birth. From what land but that before me could have proceeded those portentous beings who astounded the Old World and filled the New with horror and blood. Alva and Philip, Cortez and Pizarro – stern colossal spectres looming through the gloom of bygone years, like yonder granite mountains through the haze, upon the eye of the mariner. Yes, yonder is indeed Spain; flinty, indomitable Spain; land emblematic of its sons!”