Let the men of Vigo contradict
that fact if they can."
We entered a large portal and ascended a splendid staircase, at the
top of which the notary knocked at a small door: "Who is the
gentleman to whom you are about to introduce me?" demanded I.
"It is the advocate -," replied Garcia; "he is the cleverest man in
Spain, and understands all languages and sciences."
We were admitted by a respectable-looking female, to all appearance
a housekeeper, who, on being questioned, informed us that the
Advocate was at home, and forthwith conducted us to an immense
room, or rather library, the walls being covered with books, except
in two or three places, where hung some fine pictures of the
ancient Spanish school. There was a rich mellow light in the
apartment, streaming through a window of stained glass, which
looked to the west. Behind the table sat the Advocate, on whom I
looked with no little interest: his forehead was high and
wrinkled, and there was much gravity on his features, which were
quite Spanish. He was dressed in a long robe, and might be about
sixty; he sat reading behind a large table, and on our entrance
half raised himself and bowed slightly.
The notary public saluted him most profoundly, and, in an under
voice, hoped that he might be permitted to introduce a friend of
his, an English gentleman, who was travelling through Galicia.
"I am very glad to see him," said the Advocate, "but I hope he
speaks Castilian, else we can have but little communication; for,
although I can read both French and Latin, I cannot speak them."
"He speaks, sir, almost as good Spanish," said the notary, "as a
native of Pontevedra."
"The natives of Pontevedra," I replied, "appear to be better versed
in Gallegan than in Castilian, for the greater part of the
conversation which I hear in the streets is carried on in the
former dialect."
"The last gentleman which my friend Garcia introduced to me," said
the Advocate, "was a Portuguese, who spoke little or no Spanish.
It is said that the Gallegan and Portuguese are very similar, but
when we attempted to converse in the two languages, we found it
impossible. I understood little of what he said, whilst my
Gallegan was quite unintelligible to him. Can you understand our
country dialect?" he continued.
"Very little of it," I replied; "which I believe chiefly proceeds
from the peculiar accent and uncouth enunciation of the Gallegans,
for their language is certainly almost entirely composed of Spanish
and Portuguese words."
"So you are an Englishman," said the Advocate. "Your countrymen
have committed much damage in times past in these regions, if we
may trust our histories."
"Yes," said I, "they sank your galleons and burnt your finest men-
of-war in Vigo Bay, and, under old Cobham, levied a contribution of
forty thousand pounds sterling on this very town of Pontevedra."
"Any foreign power," interrupted the notary public, "has a clear
right to attack Vigo, but I cannot conceive what plea your
countrymen could urge for distressing Pontevedra, which is a
respectable town, and could never have offended them."
"Senor Cavalier," said the Advocate, "I will show you my library.
Here is a curious work, a collection of poems, written mostly in
Gallegan, by the curate of Fruime.
