ABSTRACT
Alone, and in disguise, the melancholy traveller pursued his route. Curiosity pr prompted him to take a circuit through Spain. Ere he quitted it, the beauties of Lisbon tranquillized his / mind: the rich vintages, and the luxurious gifts of nature – the temperature of the climate, and the air of serenity spreading over the scence – caused an emotion of content to pervade his bosom. From the port of Lisbon he proceeded towards the gates of Madrid, through the lonely wilderness of Estremadura. The mournful cork-trees waving to the wind, the rank grass, and a few squalid inhabitants, here again threw a gloom on his mind. Bustle, confusion, and a crowding populace, greeted him on his entrance to Madrid: it proved to be a celebration of the Auto da fé. 9 The horrors of the Inquisition 10 rushed on his mind: ‘This then is religion!’ he silently said, as the / crowd moved along – he stopped his horse. ‘How many suffer?’ asked he of a man who was eagerly rushing forwards to witness the torments of his fellow-creature. Only three heretics,’ was the answer; ‘even now they bind them to the stake’ – The man was mistaken atathat moment; they were driven along – three wretches in saffron-coloured vests, painted with flames of fire, and pursued with shouts, anguish, horror, fright, and dismay, legibly pourtrayed on their emaciated features. ‘Let them be burnt, for they are heretics!’ was the universal exclamation. They hastened towards the stake – the flames rose high in the ir – dismal shrieks were herd – Waldorf / turned pale, and, shuddering with horror, he spurred his horse, and turned his eyes from the dismal scene.
