part08- 第4部分

head　and　hardest　breast。

　　And　what　came　of　the　enchanted　lute？

　　Oh；　that　is　the　most　curious　matter　of　all；　and　plainly　proves　the

truth　of　the　whole　story。　That　lute　remained　for　some　time　in　the

family；　but　was　purloined　and　carried　off；　as　was　supposed；　by　the

great　singer　Farinelli；　in　pure　jealousy。　At　his　death　it　passed

into　other　hands　in　Italy；　who　were　ignorant　of　its　mystic　powers；　and

melting　down　the　silver；　transferred　the　strings　to　an　old　Cremona

fiddle。　The　strings　still　retain　something　of　their　magic　virtues。　A

word　in　the　reader's　ear；　but　let　it　go　no　further…　that　fiddle　is　now

bewitching　the　whole　world…　it　is　the　fiddle　of　Paganini！

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　Veteran。



　　AMONG　the　curious　acquaintances　I　made　in　my　rambles　about　the

fortress；　was　a　brave　and　battered　old　colonel　of　Invalids；　who　was

nestled　like　a　hawk　in　one　of　the　Moorish　towers。　His　history；　which

he　was　fond　of　telling；　was　a　tissue　of　those　adventures；　mishaps；　and

vicissitudes　that　render　the　life　of　almost　every　Spaniard　of　note

as　varied　and　whimsical　as　the　pages　of　Gil　Blas。

　　He　was　in　America　at　twelve　years　of　age；　and　reckoned　among　the

most　signal　and　fortunate　events　of　his　life；　his　having　seen

General　Washington。　Since　then　he　had　taken　a　part　in　all　the　wars

of　his　country；　he　could　speak　experimentally　of　most　of　the　prisons

and　dungeons　of　the　Peninsula；　had　been　lamed　of　one　leg；　crippled

in　his　hands；　and　so　cut　up　and　carbonadoed　that　he　was　a　kind　of

walking　monument　of　the　troubles　of　Spain；　on　which　there　was　a　scar

for　every　battle　and　broil；　as　every　year　of　captivity　was　notched

upon　the　tree　of　Robinson　Crusoe。　The　greatest　misfortune　of　the　brave

old　cavalier；　however；　appeared　to　have　been　his　having　commanded　at

Malaga　during　a　time　of　peril　and　confusion；　and　been　made　a　general

by　the　inhabitants；　to　protect　them　from　the　invasion　of　the　French。

This　had　entailed　upon　him　a　number　of　just　claims　upon　government；

that　I　feared　would　employ　him　until　his　dying　day　in　writing　and

printing　petitions　and　memorials；　to　the　great　disquiet　of　his　mind；

exhaustion　of　his　purse；　and　penance　of　his　friends；　not　one　of　whom

could　visit　him　without　having　to　listen　to　a　mortal　document　of

half　an　hour　in　length；　and　to　carry　away　half　a　dozen　pamphlets　in

his　pocket。　This；　however；　is　the　case　throughout　Spain；　every　where

you　meet　with　some　worthy　wight　brooding　in　a　corner；　and　nursing　up

some　pet　grievance　and　cherished　wrong。　Besides；　a　Spaniard　who　has

a　lawsuit；　or　a　claim　upon　government；　may　be　considered　as

furnished　with　employment　for　the　remainder　of　his　life。

　　I　visited　the　veteran　in　his　quarters　in　the　upper　part　of　the　Torre

del　Vino；　or　Wine　Tower。　His　room　was　small　but　snug；　and　commanded

a　beautiful　view　of　the　Vega。　It　was　arranged　with　a　soldier's

precision。　Three　muskets　and　a　brace　of　pistols；　all　bright　and

shining；　were　suspended　against　the　wall；　with　a　sabre　and　a　cane

hanging　side　by　side；　and　above　them；　two　cocked　hats；　one　for　parade；

and　one　for　ordinary　use。　A　small　shelf；　containing　some　half　dozen

books；　formed　his　library；　one　of　which；　a　little　old　mouldy　volume　of

philosophical　maxims；　was　his　favorite　reading。　This　he　thumbed　and

pondered　over　day　by　day；　applying　every　maxim　to　his　own　particular

case；　provided　it　had　a　little　tinge　of　wholesome　bitterness；　and

treated　of　the　injustice　of　the　world。

　　Yet　he　was　social　and　kind…hearted；　and　provided　he　could　be

diverted　from　his　wrongs　and　his　philosophy；　was　an　entertaining

companion。　I　like　these　old　weather…beaten　sons　of　fortune；　and

enjoy　their　rough　campaigning　anecdotes。　In　the　course　of　my　visits　to

the　one　in　question；　I　learnt　some　curious　facts　about　an　old　military

commander　of　the　fortress；　who　seems　to　have　resembled　him　in　some

respects；　and　to　have　had　similar　fortunes　in　the　wars。　These

particulars　have　been　augmented　by　inquiries　among　some　of　the　old

inhabitants　of　the　place；　particularly　the　father　of　Mateo　Ximenes；　of

whose　traditional　stories　the　worthy　I　am　about　to　introduce　to　the

reader；　was　a　favorite　hero。

　　　　　　　　　　　　　　　The　Governor　and　the　Notary。



　　IN　FORMER　times　there　ruled；　as　governor　of　the　Alhambra；　a

doughty　old　cavalier；　who；　from　having　lost　one　arm　in　the　wars；　was

commonly　known　by　the　name　of　el　Gobernador　Manco；　or　〃the　one…armed

governor。〃　He　in　fact　prided　himself　upon　being　an　old　soldier；　wore

his　mustaches　curled　up　to　his　eyes；　a　pair　of　campaigning　boots；

and　a　Toledo　as　long　as　a　spit；　with　his　pocket　handkerchief　in　the

basket…hilt。

　　He　was；　moreover；　exceedingly　proud　and　punctilious；　and　tenacious

of　all　his　privileges　and　dignities。　Under　his　sway　the　immunities

of　the　Alhambra；　as　a　royal　residence　and　domain；　were　rigidly

exacted。　No　one　was　permitted　to　enter　the　fortress　with　firearms；

or　even　with　a　sword　or　staff；　unless　he　were　of　a　certain　rank；　and

every　horseman　was　obliged　to　dismount　at　the　gate；　and　lead　his　horse

by　the　bridle。　Now　as　the　hill　of　the　Alhambra　rises　from　the　very

midst　of　the　city　of　Granada；　being；　as　it　were；　an　excrescence　of　the

capital；　it　must　at　all　times　be　somewhat　irksome　to　the

captain…general；　who　commands　the　province；　to　have　thus　an　imperium

in　imperio；　a　petty　independent　post　in　the　very　centre　of　his

domains。　It　was　rendered　the　more　galling；　in　the　present　instance；

from　the　irritable　jealousy　of　the　old　governor；　that　took　fire　on　the

least　question　of　authority　and　jurisdiction；　and　from　the　loose

vagrant　character　of　the　people　who　had　gradually　nestled　themselves

within　the　fortress；　as　in　a　sanctuary；　and　thence　carried　on　a　system

of　roguery　and　depredation　at　the　expense　of　the　honest　inhabitants　of

the　city。

　　Thus　there　was　a　perpetual　feud　and　heart…burning　between　the

captain…general　and　the　governor；　the　more　virulent　on　the　part　of　the

latter；　inasmuch　as　the　smallest　of　two　neighboring　potentates　is

always　the　most　captious　about　his　dignity。　The　stately　palace　of

the　captain…general　stood　in　the　Plaza　Nueva；　immediately　at　the

foot　of　the　hill　of　the　Alhambra；　and　here　was　always　a　bustle　and

parade　of　guards；　and　domestics；　and　city　functionaries。　A　beetling

bastion　of　the　fortress　overlooked　the　palace　and　public　square　in

front　of　it；　and　on　this　bastion　the　old　governor　would　occasionally

strut　backwards　and　forwards；　with　his　Toledo　girded　by　his　side；

keeping　a　wary　eye　down　upon　his　rival；　like　a　hawk　reconnoitering　his

quarry　from　his　nest　in　a　dry　tree。

　　Whenever　he　descended　into　the　city　it　was　in　grand　parade；　on

horseback；　surrounded　by　his　guards；　or　in　his　state　coach；　an　ancient

and　unwieldy　Spanish　edifice　of　carved　timber　and　gilt　leather；

drawn　by　eight　mules；　with　running　footmen；　outriders；　and　lackeys；　on

which　occasions　he　flattered　himself　he　impressed　every　beholder

with　awe　and　admiration　as　vicegerent　of　the　king；　though　the　wits

of　Granada；　particularly　those　who　loitered　about　the　palace　of　the

captain…general；　were　apt　to　sneer　at　his　petty　parade；　and　in

allusion　to　the　vagrant　character　of　his　subjects；　to　greet　him　with

the　appellation　of　〃the　king　of　the　beggars。〃　One　of　the　most　fruitful

sources　of　dispute　between　these　two　doughty　rivals　was　the　right

claimed　by　the　governor　to　have　all　things　passed　free　of　duty　through

the　city；　that　were　intended　for　the　use　of　himself　or　his　garrison。

By　degrees　this　privilege　had　given　rise　to　extensive　smuggling。　A

nest　of　contrabandistas　took　up　their　abode　in　the　hovels　of　the

fortress；　and　the　numerous　caves　in　its　vicinity；　and　drove　a　thriving

business　under　the　connivance　of　the　soldiers　of　the　garrison。

　　The　vigilance　of　the　captain…general　was　aroused。　He　consulted　his

legal　adviser　and　factotum；　a　shrewd　meddlesome　escribano；　or

notary；　who　rejoiced　in　an　opportunity　of　perplexing　the　old　potentate

of　the　Alhambra；　and　involving　him　in　a　maze　of　legal　subtilties。　He

advised　the　captain…general　to　insist　upon　the　right　of　examining

every　convoy　passing　through　the　gates　of　his　city；　and　penned　a

long　letter　for　him　in　vindication　of　the　right。　Governor　Manco　was

a　straightforward　cut…and…thrust　old　soldier；　who　hated　an　escribano

worse　than　the　devil　and　this　one　in　particular　worse　than　all　other

escribanos。

　　〃What！〃　said　he；　curling　up　his　mustaches　fiercely；　〃does　the

captain…general　set　his　man　of　the　pen　to　practise　confusions　upon　me？

I'll　let　him　see　an　old　soldier　is　not　to　be　baffled　by　schoolcraft。〃

　　He　seized　his　pen　and　scrawled　a　short　letter　in　a　crabbed　hand；

in　which；　without　deigning　to　enter　into　argument；　he　insisted　on

the　right　of　transit　free　of　search；　and　denounced　vengeance　on　any

custom…house　officer　who　should　lay　his　unhallowed　hand　on　any

convoy　protected　by　the　flag　of　the　Alhambra。　While　this　question

was　agitated　between　the　two　pragmatical　potentates；　it　so　happened

that　a　mule　laden　with　supplies　for　the　fortress　arrived　one　day　at

the　gate　of　Xenil；　by　which　it　was　to　traverse　a　suburb　of　the　city　on

its　way　to　the　Alhambra。　The　convoy　was　headed　by　a　testy　old

corporal；　who　had　long　served　under　the　governor；　and　was　a　man

after　his　own　heart；　as　rusty　and　stanch　as　an　old　Toledo　blade。

　　As　they　approached　the　gate　of　the　city；　the　corporal　placed　the

banner　of　the　Alhambra　on　the　pack…saddle　of　the　mule；　and　drawing

himself　up　to　a　perfect　perpendicular；　advanced　with　his　head

dressed　to　the　front；　but　with　the　wary　side…glance　of　a　cur　passing

through　hostile　ground；　and　ready　for　a　snap　and　a　snarl。

　　〃Who　goes　there？〃　said　the　sentinel　at　the　gate。

　　〃Soldier　of　the　Alhambra！〃　said　the　corporal；　without　turning　his

head。

　　〃What　have　you　in　charge？〃

　　〃Provisions　for　the　garrison。〃

　　〃Proceed。〃

　　The　corporal　marched　straight　forward；　followed　by　the　convoy；　but

had　not　advanced　many　paces　before　a　posse　of　custom…house　office