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MOORISH REMNANTS
I
ISSY-BEN-ARAN
Though the Moors were always hated in Spain, first as a conquering and afterwards as a conquered race, yet many poetical traces of their traditions and maxims remain in the popular literature of the country; and in some of these they appear in a very advantageous light, though, of course, the national hatred loved rather to record those of a contrary import.
Issy-ben-Aran was a venerable muleteer, well-known in all the towns of Granada for his worth and integrity – an elder and a father among his tribe.
One day, as he was journeying over a wild and sequestered track of the Sierra Nevada, he heard a cry of pain proceeding from the road-side. The good old man immediately turned back to render help to the unfortunate. He found a young man lying among the sharp points of an aloe hedge, groaning as if at the last gasp.
“What ails thee? Son, speak,” said Issy-ben-Aran.
“I was journeying along the road, father, an hour agone, as full of health as you may be, when I was set upon by six robbers, who knocked me off my mule, and not satisfied with carrying off all I possessed in the world, beat me till they thought I was dead, and then flung my body into this aloe hedge.”
Issy-ben-Aran gave him a draught of water from his own bota104 and bound his head with linen cloths steeped in fresh water, then he set him on his own beast to carry him at a gentle pace to the nearest town and further care for him, with great strain of his feeble arms lifting him tenderly into the saddle.
No sooner was the stranger well mounted, with his feet firmly set in the stirrups, than, drawing himself up with no further appearance of weakness, he dug his heels into the horse’s side, and setting up a loud laugh, started off at a rapid gallop.
Issy-ben-Aran, to whom every stone of the road was known as the lines upon his right hand, immediately scrambled down the mountain-side, so as to confront the stranger at the turning of the road.
“Hold!” he cried. And the nag, who loved his master well, stood still and refused to move for all the stranger’s urging.
“Son! think not I am come to reproach you,” said the old man. “If you desire the horse, even take it at a gift; you shall not burden your conscience with a theft on my account.”
“Thank you!” scoffed the heartless stranger. “It is fine to make a merit of necessity; but I have nothing to do but ride to the nearest town, and sell the brute.”
“Beware! and do it not,” said the old man. “The nag of Issy-ben-Aran is known at every market in the kingdom, and any man of all our tribes who frequents them, finding you with him, will reckon you have killed me, and slay you in turn. Even for this have I come to you: take this scroll to show that you have it of me as a free gift, and so no harm shall come to you.
“Only one condition I exact. Bind yourself to me, that you tell no man of what has passed between us; lest peradventure, should it become known, a man hearing his brother cry out in distress might say, ‘This man is feigning, that he may take my horse like the horse of Issy-ben-Aran,’ and the man who is really in danger be thus left to perish miserably.”
II
MÓSTAFA ALVILÁ
Móstafa Alvilá was califf of a conquered province in Spain, where he reigned with oriental state. The tributary people were ground down with hard work to minister to his treasury, and the vast sums he amassed were spent in beautifying his Alcázar, and filling it with costly productions from all parts. Merchants from every climate under heaven were encouraged to come and offer him their choicest wares.
One day, a merchant of Persia brought a large pack of shawls and carpets, all woven in gold and pearls, and wools and silks of brilliant colours, but among them all the most beautiful was one carpet of great price, on which Móstafa Alvilá’s choice was immediately set; but in all his treasury there was not found the price of it. Nothing would do, he must possess it: then Ali Babá his vizier came forward and said, “Let ten thousand dogs of Christians be sold, and with the price of them you shall purchase the carpet.”
Móstafa Alvilá answered and said, “The advice is good!” So they sent and sold ten thousand Christians, and with the price of them the carpet was bought.
Móstafa Alvilá sat contemplating the curious devices, and tracing the wonderful arabesque patterns with which the carpet was covered; and there was one pattern, all shining with gold and pearls, quite prominent in the centre, which had a likeness to the characters of an inscription; and when Móstafa Alvilá saw it, he was very curious to know if it was an inscription, and what it meant, so he sent to recall the merchant; but he was gone from the Alcázar. Then he sent his servants after him, and though they travelled three days’ journey by every road, they could neither find him nor obtain any tidings of whither he had passed. Then Móstafa Alvilá was more curious, and sent and gathered all the learned men in his califate, and inquired of them what the inscription might mean. They all looked troubled, and said they could not tell, they had never seen such letters. But one there was who concealed the difficulty he was in so ill, that Móstafa Alvilá saw he knew what the writing meant, so he looked very severely upon him and threatened him with instant death if he did not tell him exactly what the writing was.
Then the interpreter, when he found there was no other way to save his life, with great fear and trembling said, this is the meaning thereof: —
“Shiroes, son of Chosroes, killed his father; and he died six months after.”
Móstafa Alvilá was greatly troubled when he heard the sentence; for he had ascended the califate by killing his father, and he had reigned six months all but one day. So he sent and commanded that the interpreter and all who had heard the sentence should be put to death, that no one might know the omen.
But that night, in the middle of the dark hours, when Móstafa Alvilá was alone in his chamber, a horrible vision came to him. He thought he saw the body of his father whom he had murdered rise up to convict him. He sunk down in his bed, and covered his face in fear and horror.
In the morning, when they came to call him, they found only his lifeless corpse.
III
THE EMIR IN SEARCH OF AN EYE
The Emir Abu-Bekir lost an eye in battle against the Christians. “The Christians shall pay me what they have taken from me,” he said; and he sent for a number of Christian captives, and had one of their eyes taken out, in the idea of replacing his own; but it was found that none of them agreed with his in size, and form, and colour. The Emir Abu-Bekir was of very comely person, and his eyes had been so mild and soft, that it was at last thought only the eye of a woman could replace the missing one; the choice fell upon a beautiful maiden named Sancha. Sancha was brought into the Emir’s presence, and his physician was ordered to take out her eye, and place it in the vacant socket.
Now Sancha stood trembling and wailing, and by her very crying damaging the perfection of the coveted feature. Then there stood up a travelling doctor who was in great fame among the people, and begged a hearing of the Emir; for albeit he was a Turk, yet he possessed pity and gratitude. He knew that the operation, while a torment to the Christian maiden, would be of no service to the Emir; and he pitied the waste of pain. It happened further, that once, when on a journey he had sunk fainting by the way-side, this very Sancha had comforted and relieved him; and now he determined to rescue her.
Accordingly, he stepped up to the Emir, and told him that he had eyes made of crystal, and coloured by cunning art, which no one could tell from living eyes, and which would be of much greater service and ornament than those of the Christian dogs, whose eyes he might have observed lost all their lustre and consistency the moment they were taken from their natural place. The Emir admitted the truth of the last statement, and being marvellously pleased with the glass eyes the travelling doctor displayed, asked him the price.
“The maiden for a slave,” replied the doctor.
The Emir gladly consented to so advantageous a bargain, and suffered the glass eye to be fixed in his head. All the Court applauded the appearance.
“But I cannot see with it!” cried the Emir.
“Oh! you must give it a little time to get used to your ways,” answered the doctor, readily; “you can’t expect it all of a sudden to do as well as the other, that you have had in use so long.”
So the Emir was content to wait; meantime, the doctor made off with his fair prize, whom he conducted safely back to Spain, and restored her faithfully to her friends and her liberty.
IV
YUSSUF’S FRIEND
The merchant Yussuf took great pains to train up his only son in prudence, that he might be able, when he was no more, to carry on his business, as he had done before him, with credit and success. But in spite of all his lessons, he would be continually putting his confidence in worthless persons; and in particular he fostered an intimacy with a young Jew of dangerous character, who had several times, by fraud and cunning, cheated him out of large sums, all the while leading young Yussuf to believe that what he had done was fair and just; nor would he listen to his father’s suspicion of him.
The merchant Yussuf had to take a journey to Africa with his son; and while preparing for it, he lamented loudly over the difficulty he was in as to placing his money in safety during his absence.
“Now, if you had not been so suspicious of my friend the Jew,” said young Yussuf, “there’s a man who would have taken care of it for you!”
“You know my opinion of him,” replied his father.
“Ah! you’re so suspicious,” replied young Yussuf, “I know him better.”
“Well, if you think so well of him, I will on your advice ask him to take care of a strong-box for me.”
“Well done, father!” replied the young man; “you’ll see you’ll never repent it.”
The same evening, the merchant Yussuf sent a large chest, heavy enough to contain a vast amount of treasure, to the Jew, by the hand of his son; and the next day they set out for Africa.
Having brought their affairs to a prosperous termination, the two Yussufs returned home to Granada.
On the morrow of their arrival, the merchant sent his son to the Jew, to reclaim the strong-box. Young Yussuf returned presently, full of indignation.
“Father, you have insulted my friend beyond all possibility of reconciliation. He tells me it was not money you entrusted to his keeping, but a parcel of broken stones!”
“And pray,” replied his father, “how did your honourable friend discover what was in my strong-box? To find this out, he must have broken my locks; which will, I think, show you it was very well I gave no greater value into his keeping.”
Young Yussuf hung his head, and suffered himself to be guided after that by his father’s experience in his judgment of mankind.
V
THE SULTANA’S PERFUMER-IN-CHIEF
Of all the luxurious appointments of the Moorish houses, none were more prominent than the baths. And you must not think that means a bath just big enough to get into, like those in our houses. At Seville and Granada, and wherever the Moors lived and built, you may see remains of the vast constructions which served them for baths, all of white marble, and situated in the midst of scented shrubs and sweet and brilliant flowers.
In their own hotter country, their baths received a still greater development. There was once a sultana, Moorka-Hama, who had a fancy to have her baths always filled with rose-water. One day, when she came to bathe, she found the air perfumed to a most unusual degree; and on her causing an inquiry into it, they found that the heat of the sun had expressed the essential oil, which was floating on the surface. The process thus suggested by accident, was immediately imitated by art; and by it is produced the delicious scent which is now an article of commerce, and which we call attar of roses.
EL MORO SANTON105
Just as it was permitted to the heathen soothsayer Balaam to foretell true things to the Lord’s people, so it is narrated that, a little before the taking of Granada by the Christians, great consternation was produced among the infidel population by the predictions of a Moorish dervish who was held in great veneration.
He was an ancient man, more than a hundred years old; his long white beard seemed to be falling snow, it was more than a yard long, and he could gird it round his waist. He lived out on the mountains of Granada a life of great austerity; though it was long since he had never a hair left, he wore no covering on his head, and the action of the sun and rain had worn it into the appearance of a skull; his eyebrows grew long and bushy, and served as a protection to his eyes; and no clothing wore he but a tunic of camel’s hide; his feet, too, were bare, and his skin was yellow and shrivelled by long exposure. He slept in a cave upon the cold ground, with a stone for his pillow. And for all the hundred years of his life, he had never taken but one meal a day, nor tasted aught but honey and milk, which other Moors brought him by orders of the king.
All looked up to him as to a saint, in all Andalusia; and whatever words he uttered, they respected it as Al Korán, and next to the words of Mahomet himself.
One day, when the king and many people were gathered together to hear him, he spoke to them these words: “When you shall see joined together Aragon and Castille, then know for certain that Granada shall be taken.
“And the king who shall take it, know that his name shall begin with F., for in his time faith106 shall reign throughout his kingdom.
“And the queen his wife, her name will begin with Y., which may be taken to stand for ygual; for his equal she shall be, in courage and prudence.
“These two shall likewise turn Judaism out of Spain, and set up the Inquisition, by which the wicked shall be sentenced to death.
“They shall acquire three kingdoms, and conquer the Indies.
“And they shall have a grandson, who shall be called Emperor of Germany, also King of Hungary, who shall lay siege to the city of the Pope, and lay low the three lilies of France in the field of Pavia.
“Of the three laws now prevailing in Spain, one only shall remain, and that shall be that one which commences with the font and blessed water, and ends with blessed oils107.
“And thus they will make an end of the sect of Mahomet; for it had but a thousand years given it, and as more than eight hundred are past, it will soon now come to its end.”
This is said to have been pronounced about fifty years before its fulfilment, in the persons of Ferdinand of Aragon and Isabella of Castille.
TRADITIONS DE ULTRAMAR
HERNAN CORTES IN SANCTUARY
Hernan Cortes was a Spanish gentleman whose achievements in the new world earned him a fame almost as great and almost as fantastic as that of any of the mediæval heroes. He was first taken out to the West Indies as secretary to Diego Velasquez, Governor of Cuba, whose arbitrary acts excited so much discontent, that a commission of inquiry was sent out from Spain, which established its head-quarters at Hispaniola108. It was a perilous enterprise to carry the complaint of Cuba over to the commission; and as no one could be found to undertake the service, Hernan Cortes resolved to go himself, though he had to cross the straits in an open boat. The governor had been on the watch, and one of the swiftest boats under his orders succeeded in overtaking Cortes’s boat, and putting him in irons to bring him back to shore.
Hernan Cortes was one of the handsomest of men; and his beauty and misfortunes exciting the sympathy of his keepers, he was not very vigilantly watched. Possessing great natural pluck and dexterity, he managed in the night, as they neared the land, to slip his chains and gain the shore. Here he hid himself in the jungle till daybreak, when he found sanctuary in a little church. For several days he remained here in safety, but among the frequenters of the shrine was Melinda Xuares, whose piety, and modest demeanour in spite of her exceeding beauty, attracted his attention and won his heart. Her brother, Juan Xuares, with whom she lived, for she was an orphan, was delighted to cultivate the acquaintance of a man he admired so much, and therefore received him cordially.
In his remote retreat he thought himself so safe that he ventured daily to spend some hours at Juan Xuares’ house; but the governor’s spies were down upon him. They caught him one day outside the limits of the sanctuary, and clapped him in prison.
When he had been seized before, it was by an arbitrary stretch of power: now there was a formal charge against him, for having broken prison; and he was liable to be hanged.
Melinda’s grief was indescribable: but she was brave as beautiful; she no sooner heard of Hernan’s imprisonment than she hastened to the governor, and so successfully pleaded her lover’s cause, that he ordered him to be set free and restored to her.
Thus a noble life was spared; and Hernan Cortes afterwards became the conqueror of Mexico.
ARAUCANIA THE INDOMITABLE
I
Among the many traditions of Spanish adventures in the West Indies and Americas, none are more interesting than those concerning Araucania. Araucania is a province of Chili, which was inhabited by the bravest and noblest tribe of aborigines. Their courage and patriotism preserved them from ever succumbing to the invaders. When the rule of Spain was at length effected, it was through the conversion of the natives and their voluntary acceptance of a Christian government – never by their subjugation; so much so, that for years it was commonly known by the name of “El Estado indomito” (the unconquered province).
Various stories are told of heroism on both sides which deserve a place beside the noblest and most celebrated deeds of any history. Don Alonso de Ercilla y Zuñiga was a page in attendance on Philip II. at the Court of our Queen Mary, when news came of a fresh outbreak of the indomitable Araucanians. Though a mere lad, he pleaded for permission to join the expedition which was immediately formed to quell the insurrection. He presents a marked instance of the best type of Spanish character – brave and patriotic, and at the same time chivalrous and generous. The intervals of leisure he could snatch from the business of the campaign were spent in recording in a heroic poem (which he wrote on any scraps of paper he could procure, and when these failed on dried skins of animals) the incidents of the war which struck his poetic fancy. Far from attributing all the merit to those of his own side with the spirit of a partisan, he has left a series of most touching pictures of the nobleness and bravery of his antagonists. His poem begins, after the manner of the Iliad, with a list of all the valiant chiefs, detailing their qualities and the numbers they commanded. Then it goes on to give a stirring description of their meeting to excite each other to rise in the defence of their country. There was no hanging back or cowardly fear, every one was anxious to be foremost to the fray. When they had well eaten, and warmed their courage with deep potations from their tinajas109 of wine, up rose Tucápel the audacious, and declared he was ready to head the expedition. The universe knew he was the bravest of them all; and if any one disputed the boast, he was ready there and then to make it good. Not suffering him to conclude his speech, Elicura broke in full of boldness, “To me it is given to lead the affair; and if any one dispute the claim, he must taste the point of my lance.”
“To my arm! to my arm,” cried Ongolmo, “it behoves to brandish the iron club.”
“Folly!” shouted Lincoya, mad with rage. “It is mine to be lord of the world, as certainly as my hand holds the oaken staff.”
“None surely,” interposed Argol, “is so vain as to put his prowess on a par with mine.”
But Cayocupil, shaking his heavy spear, cleared a free space around him, and roared, “Who will dispute my right to be first? Let him come on, come on! I can match you, one or all.”
“I accept the challenge!” responded Lemolemo, darting towards him, “it is no effort to me to prove what is already mine of right.”
But Puren110, who was drinking at a distance, here dashed furiously through the crowd, and proudly asked who dared harbour so insane a thought; declaring that where Puren stood no one else could bear command. When the storm was at its highest, all shouting and shaking their spears, the venerable Colócolo, the most ancient of all the caciques, came forward, and silence was made before him.
“Caciques, defenders of the State!” he said, “no desire of command animates me; already by my great age I half belong to the other world; my love of you all alone impels me to give you the counsel of the white-haired. But spend not against one another the courage which is needed against our common foe; fight not as to which of you is most valiant, for you are all equal in prowess as in birth and possessions, and any one of you is worthy to govern the world. But as to which shall lead in this present expedition, be advised by me: there must be one, and let the choice be decided by a trial of endurance. Whichever of you shall longest support a baulk of timber of exceeding weight without wearying, he shall take the lead.”
He spoke, and not one voice was raised against the voice of the ancient. So the baulk of timber was brought – a vast trunk of ebony which a man could scarcely clasp round with his arms. Paycabi came forward to make the essay, and planted it on his broad shoulders; six hours he bore it with a steady strain, but he could not complete the seventh. Cayocupil with an agile step walked up to the beam, and bore it five hours; Gualemo, a well-grown youth, tried it after him, but could not endure it so long; Argol took it next, but gave way at the sixth hour, and Ongolmo only kept it half an hour more. Puren after him bore it half a day; Lebopia, four hours and a half. Elicura stood up under it manfully longer than any, but at the ninth hour he gave in. Tucápel supported it fourteen hours, and went round to all the caciques boasting of the feat; which, when Lincoya perceived, he tore the cloak from his terrible shoulders, and raising the ponderous bulk without the least apparent strain, planted it on his back curved ready to receive it. Then he ran hither and thither to show how slight was the effort to him. He took it up at the rising sun, and he bore it till the sun had returned to his rest, and through the dread night Diana kept watch with him; and the sun rose again upon his labours, yet he laid it not down till mid-day. And all the people were astonished to find there was one so powerful among them, and they began already to attribute to him the honours of the generalship.
Then Caupólican came up to take his turn quietly and alone – from his birth one of his eyes had been deprived of light; but what was wanting in his power of vision was made up to him in his surpassing strength.
He was a noble fellow, comely and strong, dignified in his bearing and made for command, upright and unflinching, and a strict maintainer of that which is right. His form was muscular, lithe and agile, deep-chested and erect. With the ready confidence of assured superiority, he lifted the wood as if it had been a straw, and poised it gracefully on his shoulders. And all the people praised the movement with a shout of admiration; then Lincoya quailed, for he began to fear the victory would be taken from him. But how much more, when the hours passed by and the hero gave no sign of weariness: he paced up and down, conquering fatigue by resistance, and increasing his power by the habit of endurance. Thus through two days and two nights he never flinched, and then, as if because he had done enough – not because he was exhausted, he lifted down the weight and flung it from him to a mighty distance, showing his strength still unimpaired.
Then all the people shouted and said Caupólican was their leader, and the fear of him was so great, that even those at a distance obeyed his word as if he had been present. Caupólican first exerted his command in setting order among his ranks, and assigning a place to each cacique and his followers. Then he made out a sagacious plan of attack on the Spaniards, and stirred up the brave Araucanians to the contest by assuring them of a speedy victory. Some advised this, and some that, but Caupólican, with his serene word of command, reduced all to willing obedience.
The Spaniards had set up three forts to strengthen their hold on the territory, and against the most formidable of these the first attack was directed. The rising being quite unsuspected, the natives approached the fort easily; but when the Spaniards saw the horde approaching, they quickly raised the cry to arms, and sallied out to meet them with supercilious impetuosity. They soon found, however, they had no mean foes to deal with; though weary and footsore with their hasty march, the Araucanians no sooner came in presence of the foe, than they fought with all the pride and confidence of assured victory. Resistance met resistance, for hours neither side wavered, till at last the Spaniards were glad to secure their retreat in good order into the fort.
Now there was in the Spanish army a brave youth, who, seeing his countrymen give way before the barbarians, was moved to indignation; and when the gate of the fort had closed on the last of them, he stood alone111 on the drawbridge, and cried to the insurgents, “Come on! come on, the most valiant of you! One at a time, I will match thirty of you – nay I refuse not to a thousand.”
More than a hundred Araucanians ran hotly to the encounter; but undismayed, that Spanish youth stood boldly on the bridge, and yet he called to them to come on. Firm and erect he met them, and with a well-placed stroke of his trusty sword laid one and again another and another on the ground. His comrades, watching the unequal contest, sallied through a postern of the fort, and made a diversion for his relief. Many such devoted deeds were done on both sides that day; but it was vain the Spaniards fought like lions, for on and on the Araucanians poured, and for every Spaniard they were twenty. Then, when it was useless to resist longer against their overpowering numbers, they agreed during the night-time to abandon the fort; and trusting to the swiftness of their steeds, they rode away to a place of greater safety. So Caupólican and his caciques with great rejoicing took possession of the place, and laid the fort even with the ground.
II
TEGUALDA
It happened once, after there had been a desperate encounter between the Spaniards and Araucanians, that Don Alonso de Ercilla went out late at night to meditate on the lessons of the battle-field strewn with the bodies of those who had been well and brave but a few hours before. The night was dark and gloomy, and yet he thought he discerned indistinctly a form moving from place to place, quietly and noiselessly as a spirit might move; and anon there came from it sighs and groans dismal to hear. Bending down, and hiding himself in the long grass, he tracked the figure, not without some fear at heart; but clasping his trusty sword, he came swiftly upon it. Then it rose erect, and addressed him in humble, timorous accents: “Señor, Señor, have pity on me; I am but a woman, and never have I offended you! If my misery does not move you to spare me, at least consider that there is no glory to be gained by killing a woman – or rather, slay me, but first let me fulfil my work.” Then Don Ercilla asked her what it was had brought her there. And she in dolorous tones answered, “Never was grief like mine; I loved him with true love and purest constancy, and to-day he was taken from me, and slain. Let me but seek the body of him who was my soul, and let me lay it in a decent grave, and then take my life, lay my body beside his, for so great is my grief that I dread living without him more than lying beside him in death.”
Don Ercilla was greatly moved by her sorrow, but still he had his duty as a soldier to consider; she might have come to spy the situation of the Spanish camp, under the idea that, as a woman, she would be less easily suspected; and her grief might be assumed in order to induce him to release her. Yet his compassion swayed him at last, so he let her live, and moreover assisted her in her search, leading her to relieve her oppressed heart by pouring out all her story.
“Woe is me!” she said, “for no relief is possible for me, no rest till death. He is gone, and if I open now the old wounds by thinking of him, it is but in the hope that in the violent effort I may sink and die.
“Know then, that I am Tegualda, daughter of the Cacique Brancol. Vain of the attentions that were paid me through many young years, I refused to listen to the suits of any of the young Caciques whom my father presented to me; nor when they danced or wrestled before me would I regard them with favour.
“One day my father took me to the shady thicket where gentle Gualebo pours its limpid stream into the floods of broad Itata with a soothing murmur, and where the sunlight playing through the thick foliage of the breeze-shaken trees, diapered the perfumed air.
“Scarcely had we sat down, when there entered on the plain that spread away before us a band of youths, earnest and silent. At a sign from Brancol various games began, in which each exerted himself to the utmost only to win a glance from me. To me, however, it was a greater pleasure to stand detached from them all, and while they ran, and fought, and showed strange feats of endurance, rather than gratify them by a look, to rest my eyes on the murmuring stream, watching the polished stones, now bathed in snow-like foam, now piercing, black and stark through the mimic waves; or on the waving trees, flinging their lithesome limbs in every graceful attitude, now wide apart, now interlaced in one another’s thrall; or on the far-off sky, sparkling and peering through the leafy shade; on any thing rather than on the contending youths; and thus I sat there, disdaining all interest in the games, and, as I deemed, fancy-free, when all at once a loud cry rose from the contending throng: this was no unusual occurrence, but it was so exulting and prolonged that I could not choose but ask the cause. The youth who stood nearest me made answer, ‘Did you not observe, Señora, how the brave Mareguano has won the victory over every other combatant? and now when, with joyous haste, we were leading him to receive the conqueror’s wreath from your hand, to gird his temples in token that he is the first and bravest of our company – all at once that handsome lad yonder, wearing green and scarlet for his device, suddenly confronted him, and at their first contest laid him low on the green sward. Mareguano no sooner regained his feet than he required to be allowed another trial; but as this is against all our rules, it was refused him. So the stranger youth comes to be crowned by you, unless you, whose power is absolute over us, suffer them to renew the contest.’
