The Solitary House - The Dehesa - Johannes Chrysostom -Manuel - Bookselling at Seville - Dionysius and the Priests -Athens and Rome - Proselytism - Seizure of Testaments -Departure from Seville.
I have already stated, that I had hired an empty house in Seville, wherein I proposed to reside for some months.It stood in a solitary situation, occupying one side of a small square.It was built quite in the beautiful taste of Andalusia, with a court paved with small slabs of white and blue marble.In the middle of this court was a fountain well supplied with the crystal lymph, the murmur of which, as it fell from its slender pillar into an octangular basin, might be heard in every apartment.The house itself was large and spacious, consisting of two stories, and containing room sufficient for at least ten times the number of inmates which now occupied it.I generally kept during the day in the lower apartments, on account of the refreshing coolness which pervaded them.In one of these was an immense stone water-trough, ever overflowing with water from the fountain, in which I immersed myself every morning.Such were the premises to which, after having provided myself with a few indispensable articles of furniture, I now retreated with Antonio and my two horses.
I was fortunate in the possession of these quadrupeds, inasmuch as it afforded me an opportunity of enjoying to a greater extent the beauties of the surrounding country.I know of few things in this life more delicious than a ride in the spring or summer season in the neighbourhood of Seville.My favourite one was in the direction of Xerez, over the wide Dehesa, as it is called, which extends from Seville to the gates of the former town, a distance of nearly fifty miles, with scarcely a town or village intervening.The ground is irregular and broken, and is for the most part covered with that species of brushwood called carrasco, amongst which winds a bridle-path, by no means well defined, chiefly trodden by the arrieros, with their long train of mules and borricos.It is here that the balmy air of beautiful Andalusia is to be inhaled in full perfection.Aromatic herbs and flowers are growing in abundance, diffusing their perfume around.Here dark and gloomy cares are dispelled as if by magic from the bosom, as the eyes wander over the prospect, lighted by unequalled sunshine, in which gaily-painted butterflies wanton, and green and golden Salamanquesas lie extended, enjoying the luxurious warmth, and occasionally startling the traveller, by springing up and making off with portentous speed to the nearest coverts, whence they stare upon him with their sharp and lustrous eyes.
I repeat, that it is impossible to continue melancholy in regions like these, and the ancient Greeks and Romans were right in making them the site of their Elysian fields.Most beautiful they are even in their present desolation, for the hand of man has not cultivated them since the fatal era of the expulsion of the Moors, which drained Andalusia of at least two thirds of its population.
Every evening it was my custom to ride along the Dedesa, until the topmost towers of Seville were no longer in sight.Ithen turned about, and pressing my knees against the sides of Sidi Habismilk, my Arabian, the fleet creature, to whom spur or lash had never been applied, would set off in the direction of the town with the speed of a whirlwind, seeming in his headlong course to devour the ground of the waste, until he had left it behind, then dashing through the elm-covered road of the Delicias, his thundering hoofs were soon heard beneath the vaulted archway of the Puerta de Xerez, and in another moment he would stand stone still before the door of my solitary house in the little silent square of the Pila Seca.
It is eight o'clock at night, I am returned from the Dehesa, and am standing on the sotea, or flat roof of my house, enjoying the cool breeze.Johannes Chrysostom has just arrived from his labour.I have not spoken to him, but I hear him below in the court-yard, detailing to Antonio the progress he has made in the last two days.He speaks barbarous Greek, plentifully interlarded with Spanish words; but I gather from his discourse, that he has already sold twelve Testaments among his fellow labourers.I hear copper coin falling on the pavement, and Antonio, who is not of a very Christian temper, reproving him for not having brought the proceeds of the sale in silver.He now asks for fifteen more, as he says the demand is becoming great, and that he shall have no difficulty in disposing of them in the course of the morrow, whilst pursuing his occupations.Antonio goes to fetch them, and he now stands alone by the marble fountain, singing a wild song, which Ibelieve to be a hymn of his beloved Greek church.Behold one of the helpers which the Lord has sent me in my Gospel labours on the shores of the Guadalquivir.
I lived in the greatest retirement during the whole time that I passed at Seville, spending the greater part of each day in study, or in that half-dreamy state of inactivity which is the natural effect of the influence of a warm climate.There was little in the character of the people around to induce me to enter much into society.The higher class of the Andalusians are probably upon the whole the most vain and foolish of human beings, with a taste for nothing but sensual amusements, foppery in dress, and ribald discourse.Their insolence is only equalled by their meanness, and their prodigality by their avarice.The lower classes are a shade or two better than their superiors in station: little, it is true, can be said for the tone of their morality; they are overreaching, quarrelsome, and revengeful, but they are upon the whole more courteous, and certainly not more ignorant.