CRAUFURD'S TRANSLATION OF HUBER'S STORIES OF SPANISH LIFE.

THESE volumes are a welcome and valuable addition to English literature. In their character they are true, profound, philosophi- cal, and suggestive; giving by far the best tiew of Spanish life we have yet met with, both amongst the urban classes as they are when in peace and repose, and the whole people when roused into passion by religious and political zeal. Other writers may have exhibited more liveliness in sketching manners and objects; or have presented to the reader a greater variety of subjects and details ; or gone over a larger extent of Spanish ground: but no modern writer with whom we are acquainted has so thoroughly penetrated the Spanish character in its strength and its weakness, its vices, its virtues, and its peculiarities,—indicated so clearly the causes in which these qualities originate, or so perfectly and comprehensively portrayed them. Hums not only exercised in Spans very high faculties of observation and reflection, but, what was more, he took thither a mind stored and trained by study and thought, with a dash of native German love of analysis and phi- losophizing. The period, indeed, to which these Stories relate, is not exactly of the present day ; but the fifteen or sixteen years which have elapsed since the events described by the anther, have caused little difference in Spain. The characters of people, priests, rulers, parties, and even of individuals, are as unaltered, according to all appearance, as during the Revolution of 1820-23. The Moderates seem still as timorous and uncertain in their policy, and as inca- pable of seeing that boldness and a reliance on tho popular en- thusiasm is their only safety, as they were when FERDINAND was on the throne : their attention then, as now, was chiefly occupied in endeavouring to restrain their more violent and (not without just reason) suspicious friends; whilst they left their ene- mies nearly at full liberty to intrigue and conspire against I he Liberal cause; and when accident or individual zeal detected them, either winked at their escape, or punished them in a way which exaspe- rated without depriving them of power. The country, then as now, was pretty equally divided in opinion. The rural popula- tion, ignorant, credulous, bigoted, although possessed of many wild virtues, were spontaneously, or through the excitement of priestly

influence, in favour of the absolute King. The inhabitants of towns were mostly advocates of' the Constitution. but they had several internal sources of weakness. The older and less resolute part of

the citizens were what is called " Moderates :" through the via inertia of their character, they shrunk from strong measures, and

had rather, in fact, make terms with the tiger, than be at the trouble and risk of securing him. The more vigorous characters, and the young men generally,were Exaltados; and, enrolled in the militia,

they endured hardships and often exhibited a zeal and courage worthy of a better fate ; but their spirit was rendered useless, or wasted in desultory efforts, through the want of officers and of general organization, the treachery in some of their leaders, and the lack of courage and capacity in the Government. Sometimes it broke out amongst the lower class in sad massacres. On the other band, the Absolutists were active, united, and unscrupulous; and displayed a skill in influencing the prejudices and selfish feelings, which their opponents were unable to exercise and did not counteract. And if the political condition of Spaniards is unchanged, still less likely is it that those national peculiarities, which not only survive but act upon and modify forms of govern- ment, are altered. Hence, in persons, incidents, and scenes, these Stories of Spanish Life have all the freshness, and appa- rently all the exactness, of a work of to.day.

The book consists of three parts. The first is an historical in-

troduction by the translator : whose purpose is to remind the reader of the events and results of the revolution under FERDI■ NAND, episodes of which form the principal subjects of the Stories. The second part is a philosophical essay on Spanish social life, by HUBER. In this he exhibits much judgment and discrimina- tion; and intermingles many curious and subtile, though occa- sionally too refined remarks ; whilst, unless the reader con-

stantly bear in mind that the writer seems speaking of the Spanish character in a state of undisturbed repose, be will thick the judgment more favourable upon it than it subsequently ap- pears when shown in action, with all its passions and feelings roused. The third, and by far the largest portion of the work, is properly the Stories ; and consists of a succession of scenes, descrip- tive of the landscapes, the cities, the antiquities, and the social

life of the Southern part of Spain ; the majority of which scenes, though they may stand alone, are intelligibly connected by a thread of events and persons who appear in all, and whose fortunes are affected by the conclusion. A novel, in strictness, the work cannot be called ' • and HUBER distinctly states that it must not be so con- sidered. The form is preferred to that of a narrative of travels, from the " impossibility of inserting in the latter all those single traits and pictures which present themselves in endless succession to the attentive observer in a foreign land." The adventures are stated to be actualities, of which the author was either an eye- witness himself, or the circumstances of which were related to him by those who took part in them. All that he has done is to " transpose, arrange, and connect these isolated pictures, so that they form a loosely-connected whole;" and though this process is not very like to be generally successful, either good luck or art has rendered it highly so on the present occasion. The work, though occasionally heavy, has the interest of a romance with- out its excitement : its form admits more naturally of digression than comports with the structure of a novel, theugli this tempta- tion to long discourse is never abused, and never used without necessity : and its characters are distinguished by nature, truth, and a universality which is only found in the higher class of fictions. The story which serves to thread the scenes together, turns upon the tragic fortunes of a family, which in England would be said to belong to the class of substantial yeomen. One son, Antonio, had been brought up to the church; but, owing to disgust at its abuses, he went abroad, became enlightened by foreign travel, and returned in consequence of the events which followed the military revolt of La lsla and the proclamation of the Constitution of 1812 by RIEGO. Antonio's cousin, Christoval, who is betrothed to Antonio's sister, Dolores,—a most truthful and charming character,—has been ruined in consequence of the rigid manner in which the laws against contrabandist; are enforced by the Liberals ; and has taken to the mountains and become a bandit, with a hatred of the Constitution, of which he knows nothing. A brother of Antonio is still engaged in the illicit trade for English goods with Gibraltar • and all these, with the rest of the family and several other characters, are involved in the turbulent stream of politics. Death or ruin eventually over- takes them ; sometimes, indeed, through what may be termed accidents, but obviously accidents to which almost every Spaniard is exposed in the present dreadful condition of the country.

In choosing extracts, we shall take indifferently from the gene- ral Essay and the Stories. Here is a pleasant picture of the ease of Spanish social life.

The proper societies of Spaniards, the so-called Tertullee, answer io a genera way to the conversaziones ot the Italians, and to those veillees which are com- mon in the provinces of France. Whoever is introduced into a house is seldom or ever again formally invited ; leave only isgiven him by the general impres- sion, " this house is yours," to come again as often as he likes, but with the understanding that neither he nor its inhabitants are to impose the slightest constraint upon each other. If the visitor comes at the hour of the mid-day meal, he is welcome as a guest ; if he comes during the siesta, no rase is at home to him. If he comes after the siesta, and finds the family at home, he is wel- come to conversation, music, or dancing, and sometimes (but more in the higher circle) to play : all this, however, without the slightest preparation or the least constraint. If one or two couples wish to dance, and some one is

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present who will play for them, either on the violin, pianoforte, or especially the guitar, a player of which is never wanting, they dance as long as they find it agreeable.

In general, the fundamental principle of the tertulla is, that the ordinary course of household arrangements and life is not to be in any way disturbed by it. There are also no expenses connected with it ; since usually nothing is pre- sented to the guest but a glass of water, or at most a cup of chocolate. On this account it happens, that all ranks, rich and poor, have their ter- tulles ; that is to say, that there are few families who may not assemble their friends in their house at night, provided their qualities ot mind or body are such that they can attract or fix any one. These tertulla;, however, do not oblige the family or person who gives them to remain at home to expect their guests: if they prefer going to the paseo or to another tertulla, and their waiters find the house empty, nobody thinks there is any thing to find fault with.

The same absence of constraint prevails in their dress; and people go into the tertulla and give the tertulla in the same dress which they wore the whole day during their usual occupations. The character of social life in Spain is beet desenbed by an expression which the stranger hears frequently, if he seek* there the ceremony, prudery, and vanity of ours, or takes them with him and cannot get rid of them immediately. Unfortunately this expresrion cannot be literally translated, precisely because the thing itself is not known in other countries : " Aqui bay franqueza," say the Spaniards. It may be tusked, what pleasure or what profit can arise from the assembly and intercourse of persons who are so wanting in knowledge and in subjects for conversation, and whose intellectual condition is so confined, as we imagine (in a certain sense and up to a certain point with justice) that of the Spaniards to be? My intention is here to try the weak sides of that which we praise is other countries, as education, and to examine to what degree this education, this repletion of impressions and images, which flow almost entirely from books and seldom from the external life to the internal, enriches and strengthens the mind, or blunts and enervates it ; and how far social life, to keep to that point, gains or loses by it.

I wish only to explain the grounds of the reproach which people apply to the Spaniards. I lay it down as a thing proved by experience, that a foreigner who brings with him a healthy, open mind—as it were an undepraved intellec- tual stomach—will in a very short time take a permanent liking to the social life and conversation of the Spaniards ; in a word, to the tertulla. The causes which produce this pleasure are easy to discover. The Spaniards, however confined the circle of their ideas and knowledge may be, bring to any conversation on the objects which lie within this circle a certain earnestness and well-intentioned zeal, which is necessarily the soul of conversation. They bring, on the other hand, a hearty, open feeling for a jest ; a free understanding

of the maxim, " give and take ; " and, generally, a natural wit and a lusty humour, which our over.refinement excludes. The Spanish language itself is the only One, except the English, which contains humour in copious streams.

Moreover, the Spaniard generally brings to social intercourse a capacity for the

reception of all that is beautiful and noble, a very just if not a very supple tine derstanding, a lively imagination, and efficient practical sense in his circle of

wants and wishes: frequently an ardent desire of knowledge, which, however,

only yields to conviction, and which prefers the living word to the letter ; lastly, and what is most to be remarked, a natural address and dignity of be- haviour, which excludes vulgarity, and great facility of expression in a language whose force and richness be alone can rightly estimate who has heard it in the country itself. The thing might perhaps be said in two words,—the Spaniards are less blase. than we civilized and mote highly-educated people; and they are less " sophisticate," as Shakspeare somewhere says.

One great merit of this work is the truthfulness and fairness which evidently pervade it. Nobody is painted en beau. The vices of the Spanish character—its disregard;of shedding blood, its abject superstition, its wild revenge—are drawn with vivid and startling effect : but its virtues are so equably brought out. that the horrible picture is almost redeemed, and the reader made to feel that the men and women are what circumstances have made them. The hero of the following graphic combat, which will hardly be perused without disgust, is yet honest, pious after his fashion, faithful to death, and alive to all the domestic and social affections. The scene is a booth at a fair ; and there has just been a difference between the Marquis of Penatlores and the commander of a company of suspected Serviles.

The Marquis required sonic moments to collect him-elf, and cried at last, looking proud with threatening glances, " No one shall dare, in toy presence, to Meek the Constitution and the hero of Las Cabtris."

Suddenly a deep voice, from the crowd which surrounded him, cried, " Down with the Constitution ! to the seventh hell with Itiego !" And at the same time, a man stepped forward, wrapped up in his mantle, and his large hat pulled deep over his face. The officer, uncertain what he was to think of this unexpected opponent, cried, " Who are you? What do you waut? In the name of the King and Constitution deliver yourself prisoner." At the fitst word of the disguised man, Dolores was on the point of spring-

ing to him, with the of ds, " Jesus Maria, it is Christoval But her brother and the young gipsy girl, who had joined her in. the mean time, held her back. Christoval himself, throwing hastily his hat on the ground, and swinging back his cloak, which lie at the same time twisted round his arm, stood in a moment, with his drawn knife in his hand, ready fur the conflict. Remarking the movement of Dolores, he called to her, " For the love of God, girl, keep back! Esteban, hold her back 1" Then looking sound, " Aud you, Caballeros, keep quiet. I have an accouut to settle with the young gentleman there. You do not know me, Sir, you say," he continued, as he turned toe wards the officer, " but I know you : you are one who has ruined me. [deco!. lect the Vents de Gualtliaro. You are the murderer of the brave Pedro Gomm His blood still sticks to your sabre, and blood will have blood !" With these words Christoval pressed in upon his adversary. The latter could not conceal from himself the danger of his situation. All round him be saw, by the uncertain light of the torches, either curious or indifferent collates fiances, whilst single and Embozados darted gloomy and unfriendly glances at him. He knew very well that he was hated by the lower classes of the people in the neighbourhood, and by the Serviles, on account of the seal with which he had distinguished himself in the pursuit of robbers, contrabane dists, and people of that description. He hesitated then a short time whether he should engage in a duel with such an enemy, or should call in the arm of the law to his assistance; but the desire of adventure, natural to so young a man, rose within him, and he was ashamed, when opposed only to a single ad- versary, to have the appearance of calling fur help. He was also nut certain that it would be of any use to him, for nut one of those present seemed to have

any inclination to support his cause. • • • •

The extraordinary combat had, in the mean time, begun. Not unacquainted with the fearful weapon of his antagonist, and with the only means of escaping it, the officer stood in a calm attitude on his ground, with his right arm drawn back, ready either to cut or thrust. He knew he was lost, without hope of escape, if he did not lay his antagonist low at the first stroke; and he fellowed his movements with eyes and body in high-wrought attention. Christoval, in the mean time, bent forward in an almost cowering position behind his cloak, which was stretched out far before him on his left aim, while in his right hand he held his long knife, the blade of which of two fingers' breadth, diminished gradually to a fine point, and was hollowed out below for the convenience of thrusting. In this attitude he slid round hie adversary, in circles gradually smaller, watching, with glowing eyes, his every motion. It was evident that the latter was gradually losing his patience, while his fiery courage excited him to make a speedy end of the affair.

" He is lost!" quietly remarked an old bull fighter who stood amongst the crowd, and observed the fight with the eye of a connoisseur.

The chink now seemed to slip from Christoval's left arm ; and whilst he en- deavoured to gather it up again, he exposed himself in some degree to his ad- versary, who, thinking the right moment had arrived, rushed forward and aimed a powerful blow at his advereary's head,—but sank at the same moment to the ground, with a faint cry. The apparent slipping off of the cloak was

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only. a forig of Cliristuvas, by which he might mislead his adversary into some imprudent movement. Receiving the blow on his cloak, he sprang forward at the same moment with the quickness of lightning on his adversary, like the tiger on his prey, and thrust the knife from below, under the ribs, into his left side ; and such was the force of the blow, together with that of the spring, that he tote the unhappy man's body open, completely across, so that the trunk only hung to the under body by the bones of the spine, while the numerous layers of his thick woollen cloak had defended Christoval from every injury.

" God be merciful to his poor soul !" said he, with an agitation which he with difficulty suppressed, while the persons around, keeping silence for a mo- ment, gazed on the terrific wound.

The nature of the work facilitates the introduction of scenes and persons, which serve to relieve and vary the more sombre parts. Passing natural pictures or antiquarian sketches, here is

AN ENGLISHMAN IN SPAIN.

Antonio found also another companion, whose broken French and still more broken Castilian, but, above all, his whole appearance and mariner, declared him to be an Eoglishman. This person was dressed with the greatest elegance, in wide plaited pantaloons and coat of the newest London fashion, a high stiff neckcloth, and a small hat with the narrowest possible brim. He seemed at first disposed to treat his clerical travelling companion with all the arrogance of English enlightenment ; but when Antonio kindly offered his services, on seeing his fruitless endeavours to make himself understood by the Corsario, it turned out that Antonio was one of the so called enlightened liberal clergy, and that he spoke French, and even some English, the Eng- lishman fell immediately into the other extreme, overwhelmed him with questions, with philosophical and economical treatises upon Spain, and bow every thing there ought to be differently arranged. All this, uttered about a country which the speaker had entered for the first time three days before, and in the language of which he could scarcely speak three words correctly. so thoroughly satiated, and even disgusted Antonio with his own favourite subject, that, without remarking it himself, he gradually became a zealous defender of that which his companion and himself frequently were pleased to call Spanish barbarism.

At the same time, with all this, it annoyed him not a little that the Eng. lishman always observed him with a kind of condescending curiosity. An en- lightened and well-informed Catholic priest was a kind of lusus naturce in his eyes, and the beat alone prevented his immediately laying hold of his journal and noting down his observations. All the facts which Antonio opposed to his English and Protestant prejudices about Spain, could nut shake him one moment in his conclusions, and in the triumphant wisdom of his civilization ; and it was only the increasing heat of the day which procured any repose for his harassed antagonist.

We will close u ith one of the closing scenes, when one of the sad catastrophes is drawing near.

SPANISH PRISONERS.

The entrance-wicket of the great gate, which the porter had opened to Do- lores as an acquaintance of the house, was again closed, and Antonio found himself with his sister in the dark ante-court, or zaguan of the convent, which only received light through a small strongly-hared window, looking upon the street. The space was tilled with people ; but it was only after the e)e had gradually accustomed itself to the scanty light, that it could distituttib.li objects. A patty of soldiers, whose whole appearance, their sunburnt countenances perspiring with the heat, their blood.shot eyes, and torn uniforms covered with dust, indicated a long and difficult march, stood leaning on their arms, which seemed scarcely to sustain them. Their gloomy looks and angry mien, and the muttered curses with which they sotnetimes struck the butts of their firelocks clattering against the pavement, expressed the impatience with which they waited to he relieved after their troublesome duty. Behind them, along the wall, the prisoners, who were about twelve in number, had lain themselves down, enjoying the rest of which their guard; were still deprived. Some very young men, as if completely exhausted, lay stretched out upon the pavement ; others cowered against the wall, half concealed in torn cloaks or woollen blankets. Their eyes glowed wildly from the dim obscurity, and their features expressed obstinate defiance. Without uttering a complaint or deigning a movement, they seemed ready to pierce their guards and vanquishers with their glances alone. The aspect of some women who had followed these unhappy men was heartrending. Two of them had pressed themselves against the tiarrotv grated window, and begged the assembled crowd, by all the saints, to give them food and drink ; whilst some compassionate people without endeavoured in vain to thrust something to them through the closely-barred aperture. On a stone post against the wall, sat a young woman with torn and bloody feet ; and the child in her arms sought in vain its accustomed nourishment at her feverish breast, whilst the mother watched its movements in mute affliction. Amongst the prisoners, who for the most part wore the dress of the poorer country-people of the mountains, were two who were distinguished by the remains of richer clothing. One of them lay with his hands hound along the wall against which he endeavoured to hide his face. The other sat upon a peat stone which lay there, and seemed to keep himself upright with difficulty. Nis eyes were closed, and a bloody cloth was bound round his head, which was thrown back, and reclined against the wall. A young woman kneeled before him, and hid her countenance in his lap, while she grasped one of his hands with hers.