advantage even after a perusal of the productions of tliat eminent philosopher. The accumulation of facts is here greater; the arrangement is different, and, in some respects, happier; the objects in view are distinct, and are productive of novelty in the research. Extent of reading, and good sense in its application, are characteristics of Mr. Murray's work, and create in us a favourable prepossession in respect to the additional publication which he has promised. His style, though in general correct, is open to considerable improvement. It might admit in many places of condensation, and in some of more direct alteration. Of the latter we shall give a few examples. As early as the second page of the Introduction, we have an ungrammatical sentence about the aspect of society;' in another place, (p.396.) we have the tautology, again repeat;' in a third place, (p.160.) multiplies wealth,' for "augments wealth;" and in a fourth, (p. 204.) they are not bloody,' for "they are not sanguinary," &c.

ART. III. A Second Journey in Spain, in the Spring of 1809; from Lisbon, through the Western Skirts of the Sierra Morena, to Sevilla, Cordova, Granada, Malaga, and Gibraltar; and thence to Tetuan and Tangiers. With Plates, containing 24 Figures, illustrative of the Costume and Manners of the Inhabitants of several of the Spanish Provinces. By Robert Semple, Author of Observations in a Journey through Spain and Italy to Naples, and thence to Smyrna and Constantinople, in 1805; also of Walks and Sketches at the Cape of Good Hope; and of Charles Ellis. Crown 8vo. pp. 304. 8s. Boards. Baldwin.

THE present is the third time that Mr. Semple has come

under our jurisdiction in the capacity of a traveller; the first occasion having been (Vol. 43. page 78.) as a describer of the neighbourhood of the Cape, and the next (Vol. 54. p. 46.) as a tourist in Spain. The interest excited in the public mind by the situation of that country induced him, during the last year, to resume his travels; and he has lost no time in bringing before his readers the fruit of his researches. In our former criticisms, we took occasion to censure his inelegancies and inaccuracies of style, while we paid a tribute of commendation to the fidelity of his descriptions. These impressions have been recalled to our recollection by the perusal of the work before us. It possesses an equal degree of merit with its predecessors, in regard to candour of delineation; and it continues to betray the traces of the same false taste in composition, particularly in a disposition to launch out too frequently into sentimental effusions. We have remarked

also

also several errors in regard to local circumstances, the result of too hasty observation and of too rapid a progress in travelling.

After a tedious passage of nearly a month, Mr. Semple arrived at Lisbon, in the packet from Falmouth, on the 29th January 1809. He found that capital in alarm at the recent successes of the French over the Spaniards, and the spirit of the people depressed by the retreat of General Moore. The Government-paper was at a depreciation of 30 per cent. ; the eagerness to transfer property to England caused a high premium on bills; and so impatient were our countrymen in Lisbon to return, that nine places for the home passage were engaged before Mr. Semple left the packet to step on shore. The appeals of government, however, roused the Portuguese to the appearance at least of resistance; and the squares and streets were lined with motley groupes of volunteers. After having descanted on the inefficacy of such a force for the defence of a country against regular troops, Mr. Semple proceeds to give a distressing example of the disorders which men, who had been long subjected to bad government and were armed on a sudden, are liable to commit:

The mob of Lisbon was armed, and determined to shew that it was so. Every night, at least one Frenchman, or one suspected to be so, was discovered and dragged to prison, where generally his dead body alone arrived. I myself was witness to an Englishman being murdered in this manner, and strove in vain to save his life. An Englishman! you exclaim. Yes, reader, an Englishman. It was on a Sunday evening, and I was proceeding up the principal street, when having advanced a little beyond the head-quarters of the English General, I heard the shoutings of a great mob. They drew nearer, and I presently found myself enveloped in a furious crowd, dragging along a poor wretch in the English dress; his countenance disfigured with blood, and hardly able to stagger along from the blows which he had received. I demanded his crime. They told me he was a Frenchman: but an English officer who was in the crowd exclaimed, that it was his servant, and endeavoured to reason with some who appeared as leaders of the mob. At this intelligence I made my utmost efforts to get near the unfortunate man, and just arrived in time to seize with both my hands a pike, which some brave Portuguese from behind was endeavouring to thrust into his back. I called out to the officer to assist me He replied, it was the positive order of the General, that in all such cases no Englishman should interfere, and advised me to take care of my own life. I was in the midst of pikes, swords, and daggers, which seemed to be thrust about in all directions, as if through madness or intoxication. In spite of all my struggles, I was thrown down and nearly trampled upon by the mob, and at length with difficulty escaped from amongst them. Next morning I was informed that the poor wretch had REV. Nov. 1898.

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been

been murdered in the course of the night. And this passed within one hundred yards of the English head-quarters!

Because they were armed, and the enemy was not at their gates, the Portuguese already began to utter rhodomontades. Every man finding a weapon in his hauds, perhaps for the first time, performed with it a thousand deeds of heroism. But not merely what they were going to do, what they had already done against the common enemies of Europe, was the topic of their discourses. They had gained (in conjunction with their English allies) the battle of Vimeira. It was a Portuguese soldier who made General Brenier prisoner, and they had beaten the French at Oporto. Lest there should be any doubt of these facts, an engraving of the battle of Vimeira, to be found in every shop, represented the dreadful Portuguese dragoons charging the enemy, and bearing away at least one half of the palm of victory.'

The English have supported a regency odious to the people, and have lost more by that, and the convention of Cintra, than they gained at Vimeira. The French are attacking, in all directions, old and corrupted establishments, ready to fall by their own weight. We fly to prop them up with the whole of England's strength. The natural consequence is, that the people of most countries execrate the French, but find it hard to condemn many of their measures; while on the contrary, the English are very generally beloved, and their measures execrated. The former Government of Portugal, of which the present Regency is the representative, was a very bad one. Its oppressions and its ignorance were alike notorious. Yet we have linked ourselves to this Government, and not to the people. We make no appeals, as it were, directly from nation to nation. All that we say comes to the people through the medium of magistrates, not beloved, nor respected farther than that they hold an arbitrary power in their hands.'

I beheld at Lisbon a Government, hated, yet implicitly obeyed; and this was to me a kind of clue to the national character, where the hereditary rights of tyrannising in the great, and long habits of servitude in the multitude, compose the principal traits. But the people are awakened; they are appealed to; they are armed! and habits of freedom will by degrees arise among them-Never. This nation, with all its old rites, its superstitions, and its prejudices of three centuries, is in its decrepitude. To produce any good the whole race must be renewed. Their present enthusiasm, produced by the pressure and the concurrence of wonderful circumstances, proves to me nothing.'

From Lisbon, the author set out to travel post to Seville by the way of Badajoz and the Sierra Morena; and, notwithstanding the forebodings of his friends, who endeavoured to dissuade him from the undertaking, he accomplished the journey, and reached Seville in safety. He passed a week in this antient city, and devotes a chapter to a description of the remarkable objects contained in it. He then prosecuted his journey to Cordova and Granada, not as hitherto on horseback, but in a muleteer's

muleteer's train; which mode of travelling was slow, but afforded him an undisguised view of the manners of the Spaniards in humble life. We extract a few of the passages in which he seems to have been most successful in conveying an impression of their customs and disposition :

On the afternoon of the 16th of February I repaired to the gate of Carmona, where I found the muleteers and their cattle already collected. My portmanteau was placed on one side of the back of a mule, and balanced on the other with a large bundle of bacalao, or salt fish. I rode upon an ass without a bridle, with my pistols, my cloak, and my leathern wine-bottle, fastened to the pummel of my saddle. A woman, who was also going to Cordoba, sat in a kind of chair on the back of another ass; and about three o'clock, the principal carrier having given the signal, the whole procession, consisting of five or six men, and nearly forty mules and asses, moved on along the road of Carmona.'

At this season nothing could surpass the beautiful appearance of the plain of Sevilla, covered with fields of rising corn and olive plantations. Here and there some of the later kinds of trees stood, yet hare of leaves, and presented striking contrasts to the universal green which surrounded them. As we proceeded, the fields became less cultivated, and the hedges were in general of aloes mixed with pines. It was dark before we reached Ervizo, a stage of four leagues from. Sevilla, and a place of about five hundred houses. The mules were all unloaded, and their burthens piled up together at one end of a hall paved with rough stones, which occupied the whole length of the house. At the other end was the fire-place, where the mistress of the house, expecting our arrival, was already busy in preparing our supper of salt fish, eggs, and oil. After supper, each of the muleteeis spread out the furniture and saddles of his mules for a bed; whilst for me a few bundles of straw were laid side by side ever the stones, on which, wrapped up in my cloak, I slept soundly till the morning.

It was eight o'clock on the 17th before our caravan was completely in motion. The first part of our road was through a country of continued hills and dales, cultivated in patches of beautiful green, amid vast tracts of wild and barren land. As we approach Carmona, a stage of two long leagues, the soil is in general of a sandier nature, but more extensively cultivated. This part of the country appeared to be remarkably destitute of water; I did not observe a single brook all this morning. Near the road side was a peasant girl selling water; and a Spanish soldier being drinking at the same time, I went up to follow his example: having drank a goblet full, I was proceeding to pay for it, but the girl informed me that the Senor who had just walked on had paid for me. This is a custom very common among all ranks in Spain, towards those whom they perceive to be strangers; it is meant to give an exalted idea of the generosity and magnificence of the Spanish character; and the traveller will sometimes be surprised to find his dinner paid for at a public table by some unknown, who has left the house, whom he most pro

$ 2

bably

bably will never see again, and whose very name is concealed from him. In the present instance, however, I did not long remain indebted to my bare-legged benefactor; he being on foot I speedily overtook him; and although he positively refused to accept of money, he allowed me to discharge the obligation, by a long draught out of my leathern bottle, which came away very lank from his embrace.'

I was surrounded at the village of Posadas by people of all classes, who, under various pretences, asked me a hundred questions, and examined minutely my cloak, my dress, and my English saddle. On my account a better supper was prepared than I had met with since leaving Sevilla. Five or six rabbits were broiled upon the embers, then pulled to pieces, put into a large wooden bowl, and over all was poured hot water, mixed with oil, vinegar, garlick, pimento, and salt. As usual we all sat down together, a large leathern bottle holding about three quarts was filled with tolerable wine, and being entrusted to one of the company to act as our Ganymede, the repast began. For some time hunger prevented all conversation, but our eupbearer performed his office with such dexterity, that before supper was finished our bottle was emptied, and the Andalusian peasant began to shew himself in all his vivacity. It was voted unanimously that the bottle should be replenished. They talked loud, they laughed, they sang, they cursed the French, and swore that even should all the rest of Spain be overiun, Andalusia was sufficient to protect itself from every invader. On a sudden a fierce quarrel arose high words passed, knives were drawn, and I expected to see our supper end in bloodshed; when the hostess, after various vain attempts to allay the storm, began to repeat the evening service to the Virgin. Immediately all was calm, the knives were sheathed, all hats were off, and at each pause the whole assembly murmured forth the response, and devoutly made the sign of the cross. As often as the quarrel seemed likely to be renewed, the good woman had recourse to the same expedient, and always with the same success, until the anger of the parties being wearied out rather than assuaged, we broke up in silence, if not in friendship. These Andalusians are certainly a strange, good natured, irascible, fickle, lively kind of a race. On the ensuing morning I expected to see some traces of a quarrel so violent and so recent; but far from it, the parties were now the best friends in the world, and, although it was Sunday, were very busily engaged at a game of cards.'—

Our protracted stay at Posadas enabled me to witness one of those scenes which mark, as it were, the very outskirts of war, and affect us more than those of greater horror. A poor woman of the place had been informed that her only son was killed in battle, and she of course had given herself up to grief; but this very morning a peasant arrived with certain intelligence, not only that her son was living, but that he was actually approaching the village, and not above a league distant from it. The first shock of these good tidings overpowered the mother's feelings; she ran out into the street, uttering screams of joy, and telling every one she met that he was not dead, that he was living, that he was approaching, that he would

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