with foraging caps on their heads. On they came, slowly marching; neither their officer nor themselves paying the slightest attention to the cries of "Long live the Constitution!" save and except by an occasional surly side-glance: on they marched with contracted brows and set teeth, till they came in front of the cavalry, where they halted and drew up in a rank.

'Those men mean mischief," said I to my friend D- of the Morning Chronicle;-but what can those cavalry fellows behind them mean, who are evidently of the other opinion by their shouting; why don't they charge at once this handful of foot people and overturn them? Once down, the crowd would wrest from them their muskets in a moment. You are a Liberal; why do you not go to that silly young man who commands the horse, and give him a word of counsel in time?"

'D-turned upon me his broad red good-humoured English countenance, with a peculiarly arch look, as much as to say........(whatever you think most applicable, gentle reader): then taking me by the arm, "Let us get," said he, "out of this crowd, and mount to some window, where I can write down what is about to take place, for I agree with you that mischief is meant." Just opposite the post-office was a large house, in the topmost story of which we beheld a paper displayed, importing that apartments were to let; whereupon we instantly ascended the common stair, and, having agreed with the mistress of the étage for the use of the front room for the day, we bolted the door, and the reporter, producing his pocket-book and pencil, prepared to take notes of the coming events, which were already casting their shadow before.

'What most extraordinary men are these reporters of the English newspapers! Surely, if there be any class of individuals who are entitled to the appellation of cosmopolites, it is these; who pursue their avocation in all countries indifferently, and accommodate themselves at will to the manners of all classes of society: their fluency of style as writers is only surpassed by their facility of language in conversation, and their attainments in classical and polite literature only by their profound knowledge of the world, acquired by an early introduction into its bustling scenes. The activity, energy, and courage which they occasionally display in the pursuit of information are truly remarkable. I saw them, during the three days at Paris, mingled with canaille and gamins behind the barriers, whilst the mitraille was flying in all direc tions, and the desperate cuirassiers were dashing their fierce horses. against those seemingly feeble bulwarks. There stood they, dotting down their observations in their pocket-books as unconcernedly as if reporting the proceedings of a reform meeting in Finsbury Square; whilst in Spain, several of them accompanied the Carlist and Christino guerillas in some of their most desperate raids, exposing themselves to the danger of hostile bullets, the inclemency of winter, and the fierce heat of the summer sun.

'We had scarcely been five minutes at the window when we heard the clattering of horses' feet hastening down the Calle de Carretas. As the sounds became louder and louder, the cries of the crowd below diminished, and a species of panic seemed to have fallen upon all; once or

VOL. LXXI. NO. CXLI.

twice,

twice, however, I could distinguish the words Quesada! Quesada ! The foot soldiers stood calm and motionless; but the cavalry, with the young officer who commanded them, displayed both confusion and fear, exchanging with each other some hurried words. All of a sudden that part of the crowd which stood near the mouth of the Calle de Carretas fell back in great disorder, leaving a considerable space unoc-. cupied, and the next moment Quesada, in complete general's uniform, and mounted on a bright bay thorough-bred English horse, with a drawn sword in his hand, dashed at full gallop into the area, in much the same manner as I have seen a Manchegan bull rush into the amphitheatre when the gates of his pen are suddenly flung open.

He was closely followed by two mounted officers, and at a short distance by as many dragoons. In almost less time than is sufficient to relate it, several individuals in the crowd were knocked down and lay sprawling beneath the horses of Quesada and his two friends, for, as to the dragoons, they halted as soon as they had entered the Puerta del Sol. It was a fine sight to see three men, by dint of valour and good horsemanship, strike terror into at least as many thousands. I saw Quesada spur his horse repeatedly into the dense masses of the crowd, and then extricate himself in the most masterly manner. The rabble were completely awed and gave way, retiring by the Calle del Comercio and the street of Alcala. All at once, Quesada singled out two nationals who were attempting to escape, and, setting spurs to his horse, turned them in a moment and drove them in another direction, striking them in a contemptuous manner with the flat of his sabre. He was crying out "Long live the absolute queen!" when, just beneath me, amidst a portion of the crowd which had still maintained its ground, perhaps from not having the means of escaping, I saw a small gun glitter for a moment, then there was a sharp report, and a bullet had nearly sent Quesada to his long account, passing so near to the countenance of the general as to graze his hat. I had an indistinct view for a moment of a well-known foraging cap* just about the spot from whence the gun had been discharged, then there was a rush of the crowd, and the shooter, whoever he was, escaped discovery amidst the confusion which arose.

'As for Quesada, he seemed to treat the danger from which he had escaped with the utmost contempt. He glared about him fiercely for a moment, then, leaving the two nationals, who sneaked away like whipped hounds, he went up to the young officer who commanded the cavalry, and who had been active in raising the cry of the Constitution, and to him he addressed a few words with an air of stern menace; the youth evidently quailed before him, and, probably in obedience to his orders, resigned the command of the party, and rode slowly away with a discomfited air; whereupon Quesada dismounted and walked slowly backwards and forwards before the Casa de Postas with a mien which seemed to bid defiance to mankind.

This was the glorious day of Quesada's existence, his glorious and last day. I call it the day of his glory, for he certainly never before

* Mr. Borrow means the little tailor's cap.

appeared

*

appeared under such brilliant circumstances, and he never lived to see another sun set. No action of any conqueror or hero on record is to be compared with this closing scene of the life of Quesada; for who, by his single desperate courage and impetuosity, ever before stopped a revolution in full course? Quesada did: he stopped the revolution at Madrid for one entire day, and brought back the uproarious and hostile mob of a huge city to perfect order and quiet. His burst into the Puerta del Sol was the most tremendous and successful piece of daring ever witnessed. I admired so much the spirit of the "brute bull," that I frequently, during his wild onset, shouted "Viva Quesada!" for I wished him well. Not that I am of any political party or system. No, no! I have lived too long with Rommany Chals and Petulengres to be of any politics save gipsy politics: and it is well known that, during elections, the children of Roma side with both parties so long as the event is doubtful, promising success to each; and then, when the fight is done, and the battle won, invariably range themselves in the ranks of the victorious. But I repeat that I wished well to Quesada, witnessing, as I did, his stout heart and good horsemanship. Tranquillity was restored to Madrid throughout the remainder of the day; the handful of infantry bivouacked in the Puerta del Sol. No more cries of "Long live the Constitution" were heard; and the revolution in the capital seemed to have been effectually put down. It is probable, indeed, that, had the chiefs of the moderado party but continued true to themselves for fortyeight hours longer, their cause would have triumphed, and the revolutionary soldiers at the Granja would have been glad to restore the Queen Regent to liberty, and to have come to terms, as it was well known that several regiments who still continued loyal were marching upon Madrid. The moderados, however, were not true to themselves : that very night their hearts failed them, and they fled in various directions-Isturitz and Galiano to France, and the Duke of Rivas to Gib raltar the panic of his colleagues even infected Quesada, who, disguised as a civilian, took to flight. He was not, however, so successful as the rest, but was recognised at a village about three leagues from Madrid, and cast into the prison by some friends of the constitution. Intelligence of his capture was instantly transmitted to the capital, and a vast mob of the nationals, some on foot, some on horseback, and others in cabriolets, instantly set out. "The nationals are coming," said a paisano to Quesada. Then," said he, "I am lost;" and forthwith prepared himself for death.'

The catastrophe is indicated with the skill of a real balladpoet:

There is a celebrated "coffee-house in the Calle d'Alcala capable of holding several hundred individuals. On the evening of the day in question I was seated there, sipping a cup of the brown beverage, when I heard a prodigious noise and clamour in the street: it proceeded from the nationals, who were returning from their expedition. In a few

This Gipsy word, it seems, is half-Sanscrit, and signifies Lords of the Horseshoe. Mr. Borrow adds, it is one of the private cognominations of "The Smiths," an English gipsy clan.' Their school of politics is an extensive one.

o 2

minutes

minutes I saw a body of them enter the coffee-house marching arm in arm, two by two, stamping on the ground with their feet in a kind of measure, and repeating in loud chorus as they walked round the spacious apartment, the following grisly stanza:

"Que es lo que abaja por aquel cerro? Ta ra ra.

Son los huesos de Quesada, que los trae un perro-Ta ra ra.” [What comes a-clattering down the street?

"Tis the bones of Quesada.-Dog's meat! dog's meat!]

A huge bowl of coffee was then called for, which was placed upon a table, around which gathered the national soldiers. There was silence for a moment, which was interrupted by a voice roaring out "El panuelo!" A blue kerchief was forthwith produced: it was untied, and a gory hand and three or four dissevered fingers made their appearance; and with these the contents of the bowl were stirred up. "Cups! cups!" cried the nationals. "Ho, ho, Don Jorge!" cried Baltasarito, do me the favour to drink upon this glorious occasion."-p. 301.

pray

So much for Madrid and its Patriots in February, 1836. We perceive that we have filled our allotted space, and must therefore conclude abruptly with a page from Mr. Borrow's account of his first visit to Seville. It appears that the world contains one character more who has wandered as oddly as himself.

"I had returned from a walk in the country, on a glorious sunshiny morning of the Andalusian winter, and was directing my steps towards my lodging; as I was passing by the portal of a large gloomy house near the gate of Xeres, two individuals dressed in zamarras emerged from the archway, and were about to cross my path, when one, looking in my face, suddenly started back, exclaiming. in the purest and most melodious French-"What do I see? If my eyes do not deceive me it is himself. Yes, the very same as I saw him first at Bayonne; then long subsequently beneath the brick wall at Novogorod; then beside the Bosphorus; and last at-at-oh, my respectable and cherished friend, where was it that I had last the felicity of seeing your well-remembered and most remarkable physiognomy?"

Myself. It was in the south of Ireland, if I mistake not. Was it not there that I introduced you to the sorcerer who tamed the savage horses by a single whisper into their ear? But tell me what brings you to Spain and Andalusia, the last place where I should have expected to find you?

as

?

Baron Taylor. And wherefore, my most respectable B**** Is not Spain the land of the arts, and is not Andalusia of all Spain that portion which has produced the noblest monuments of artistic excellence and inspiration? Come with me, and I will show you a Murillo, such But first allow me to introduce you to your compatriot. My dear Monsieur W., turning to his companion (an English gentleman, from whom I subsequently experienced unbounded kindness at Seville), allow me to introduce to you my most cherished and respectable friend, one who is better acquainted with gipsy ways than the Chef des Bohemiens à Triana, one who is an expert whisperer and horse

sorcerer,

sorcerer, and who, to his honour I say it, can wield hammer and tongs, and handle a horse-shoe, with the best of the smiths amongst the Alpujarras.'

In the course of my travels I have formed various friendships, but no one has more interested me than Baron Taylor. To accomplishments of the highest order he unites a kindness of heart rarely to be met with. His manners are naturally to the highest degree courtly, yet he nevertheless possesses a disposition so pliable that he finds no difficulty in accommodating himself to all kinds of company. There is a mystery about him, which, wherever he goes, serves not a little to increase the sensation naturally created by his appearance and manner.

Who he is no one pretends to assert with downright positiveness: it is whispered, however, that he is a scion of royalty; and who can gaze for a moment upon that most graceful figure, that most intelligent but singularly moulded countenance, and those large and expressive eyes, without feeling as equally convinced that he is of no common lineage as that he is no common man? He has been employed by the illustrious house to which he is said to be related, in more than one delicate and important mission, both in the East and the West. He was now collecting masterpieces of the Spanish school of painting, which were destined to adorn the saloons of the Tuileries. Whenever he descries me, whether in the street or the desert, the brilliant hall or amongst Bedouin haimas, at Novogorod or Stambul, he flings up his arms, and exclaims, "O ciel! I have again the felicity of seeing my cherished and most respectable B* "-p. 318.

We hope that we ourselves shall soon see again in print our ' cherished and most respectable Borrow;' and meantime congratulate him sincerely on a work which must vastly increase and extend his reputation-which bespeaks everywhere a noble and generous heart-a large and vigorous nature, capable of sympathising with everything but what is bad-religious feelings deep and intense, but neither gloomy nor narrow-a true eye for the picturesque, and a fund of real racy humour.

ART. VI.-Discourses on the Prophecies relating to Antichrist in the Writings of Daniel and St. Paul; preached before the University of Dublin at the Donnellan Lecture, 1838. By James Henthorn Todd, B.D., M.R.I.A., Fellow of Trinity College, and Treasurer of St. Patrick's Cathedral. Printed at the University Press. Dublin. 1840.

IN N placing Dr. Todd's lectures at the head of this article, we have no intention of minutely examining his course of argument. The subject of Scripture prophecy is scarcely fitted for the pages of a Review; but the work exhibits a depth of learning

and