The Adventures and Misadventures of the Extraordinary and Admirable Joan Orpí, Conquistador and Founder of New Catalonia

by Max Besora

  “Worry not, kind sir, for I hath a Castilian friend who is a soothfast man and liveth in these parts; and while I beest poor as a churchmouse, he art rich & affluent, and moreover he owes mee a favour. Let us visit him anon and thou shallt seeth … thou shant want for employ.”

  No sooner said than done. The two men walked to pay the gentleman a visit, as we shall see in the coming Chapter.

  ___________

  38. i.e. With a degree in canon and civil law.

  39. i.e. Pierre Pathelin is the protagonist of La Farce de Maître Pathelin (1464), an anonymous work featuring a dishonest lawyer.

  40. i.e. An expression used by demonologists to refer to the coven, relating to the pagan cults of the goddess Diana.

  41. i.e. Curses.

  42. i.e. Possessed by spirits.

  43. i.e. The act of cleansing, or purifying, has historically been associated with witchcraft.

  Chapter XVIII

  In which young Orpí enters the service of a gentleman and realizes that being rich is better than being poor

  The man who hired our hero goes by the sickly name of Manuel de Rubeola. And despite claiming to be an “old Christian” from a family of low-ranking, titled nobility, and the distant cousin of the cousin of the cousin of Isabella I of Castile, he was in sooth a Sephardi descended from Jews, whose name was originally Yehuda Abrabanel. He had become moderately wealthy with his crafts business and, in order to avoid expulsion from the Iberian Peninsula, lived under a Christian identity, contravening, in this case, the Jewish proverb that says “By his name shall ye know a man.”

  “I need an attorney to looke after mine finanzes,” said Mr. Abrabanel in Ladino-inflected Spanish. “If thou entereth into my zervice thou shalt ne’er again have ekonomic problems. Hath ve a deal?”

  “Yessir,” said Orpí.

  Our hero thanked Miguel de Cervantes and bade him farewell to continue on his way to Italy. Orpí and Mr. Abrabanel quickly got into a groove and our hero worked for his new employer handling his tributes, the taxes, and tariffs of his property in Barcelona and the small palace he had in Girona, as well as his letters, provisions, commands and commissions, collecting his employer’s debts and resolving all the legal hindrances that arose: “Here thou hast the property survey, five t’ousand six hundred pounds in gold, in renewal of the hereditary lease for thine palace and to refreshe the memory of the allodial lord of the rights conferr’d from the landes and assets subjekt to the rule of milord.” Or “Whatsoever alienations for foriscapi be owed and in what summes?” Et cetera, et cetera.

  The sumptuousness in which Lord Abrabanel lived made a huge impression on young Orpí. His enormous estate was built with Sevillian marble floors, had flatware made from silver from the Indies, and many mahogany chairs, gilded curtains, and other luxurious brocades. The Sephardi enjoyed the good life, and dressed in very expensive Neapolitan silk robes and the latest velvet shoes imported from Germany, and as Orpí came and went from his various properties in his carriage pulled by Arabian horses, the nobleman spent his days sniffing snuff, uncorking bottles of fine wine, and playing cards with the friends who came to visit him on the only day of rest he allowed himself, which was Saturday, when he sang zemirots44 at the breakfast hour.

  Lord Abrabanel also had six servants in his service. Two of them had been imported directly from the Indies, along with a butler named Josué Mandinga, a Black from Cuba sold as a slave in the Canary Islands whom Lord Abrabanel had bought at a very dear price. Mandinga, following the orders of his lord, was dressed in the latest style, with buckled shoes, pink stockings, a red dress coat, and a white wig that contrasted spectacularly with his face dark as night, revealed only when he smiled and showed his perfectly white teeth.

  “Whither goe’t milord, I too chall go,” the Cuban would say.

  The Sephardic businessman had, among other luxuries, a small private orchestra of musicians who played sarabandes and saetas at dinner: oboe, harpsichord, viola da gamba, two transverse flutes, marine trumpet, and a violin whose precise, energetic strokes got everyone dancing to the music. The indigenous maids with pierced ears danced, Josué the Cuban danced, and young Orpí danced. It was a celebration every night!

  As the months passed, Lord Abrabanel grew fond of our young attorney, so much so that he treated him like his protégé. Our hero dressed in the French style, with his face covered in white makeup of flour and rice powder, his cheeks painted red, a fake beauty mark on his right cheekbone, and a white wig as enormous as it was ludicrous, all imitating the lifestyle of his lord. He spent a good bit of his salary on visits to the tailor, buying ostentatious regalia with neck ruffs to express a bold, self-assured masculinity. He wore his wigs long, as was the fashion of the time, and had a beard in the shape of a spade. And what he didn’t spend on clothes and accessories, he spent on prostitutes or revelries with his friends from university. At that pace, he had little savings, but that didn’t seem to bother our hero much, because since becoming acquainted with that new world of luxury and wealth, he resolved to become rich no matter the cost.

  In the service of Lord Abrabanel, Orpí seemed to have a promising future, but bad luck once again found our hero from Piera and, on the rebound, the country as a whole. The agrarian economic crisis that Catalonia was experiencing caused the banks to fail; the failure of the banks provoked a currency crisis that was the ruin of the artisanal sector and at the same time made prices shoot up, and soon everyone stopped paying tariffs. It was every man for himself. Lord Abrabanel was racking up more and more debts and soon was so insolvent he was unable to pay them. First he had to sell his palace in Girona for next to naught. Then he let go the orchestra and sold his carriages. After that came the servants, all except for Josué the Cuban. Then the law went for his jugular, because he was a Jew. One day our hero confessed, “Milord, I’ve come to fetch thee, for I’ve something paramount to inform.”

  “Whatsoever iz the matter?” asked Abrabanel.

  “If I err not thou art soone to be without a penny to thine name. Thou hast spent oodles & oodles, and the usurers be all over us like a veritable shiver of sharkes. They demandeth compulsoree payment on debts, forthwith. Thou hast spent a tonne living a pipe dream. Basically, thou art flat broke. And furthermore, I heard tell in the courts that the authorities seek to regaliar-vos45 and expel thee from the Penynsula for being a Jew!”

  “Juanito, don’t you go vorrying ’bout me,” said the man. “Spain no longer views anykthing as ugly, infamous, and offensive as deskending from a line of Jews. Not blasphemers, thieves, highwaymen, adulterers, nor the sacrilegious. Not since the ekpulsion edict of 1492 hath there been such persekution with this ‘blood purity’. But don’t you vorry, I’m forsaking this (land of rabbits),46 and heading to Italy, vhere I haff powerful friends. But vat shall thee do now?”

  “Mayhaps I shall request work at the Diputació del General. Becoming a government bureaucrat behooves anyone ‘ankering for a decent salary at the present daye.”

  “Oy … thou needest connections to get vork there. Ye best skip town, for this kingdom is of interest only to government spekulators. If thou wants to live vell, thou must be either a politician or a highvayman. Thou hath been loyal to me, Urpín and, as the saying goes: ‘Whosever is a friend to everyone is either very poor or very rich.’ I’ve on good worde that a spot for a government attorney hath opened up in Seville. That be the city where all good things are happening now. I vill write thee a fine letter of rekommendation.”

  As young Orpí gathered up his papers, Lord Abrabanel waved him down to the courtyard of the house, near the stable. There a powerful white horse was waiting for him, snorting impatiently, its nostrils intermittently flaring.

  “This pureblood is my gift, Urpín. He vill be more faithful to thee than any woman. His name be Acephalus (to differentiate it from Bucephalus, Alexander the Great’s steed).”

  “Thanks unto thee, Yer Worship,” said our hero, thrilled and hugging his benefactor.

>   And thus, mounting Acephalus, Orpí tearfully bade farewell to Abrabanel, who had been like a father to him. He also said goodbye to Cirrhotic Liver and his other friends from the university, with whom he’d shared many a late night, amid sad rejoicing. It had been five years since he’d arrived in Barcelona as a boy, and now he was leaving a grown man. When he passed by the two soldiers guarding the entrance to the city—the same ones as on the day our hero had first come through its gates, one of them barked, without recognizing him, “Quo vadis?”

  “Joan Orpí del Pou, Esquire,” shouted out our hero, who wore a large wide-brimmed felt hat adorned with two peacock feathers, a leather doublet, silk stockings, velvet breeches, pointy shoes, and was shrouded in a cape, all his fine clothes giving him the appearance of an absolute gentleman.

  “Fare thee well, milord,” said the soldiers, as they stepped aside with a theatrical bow and Orpí’s equus caballus let out flatulences in the soldiers’ face and neighed showing bright white teeth.

  With Lord Abrabanel’s letter of recommendation safely tucked away in his bag, our hero headed toward Piera to bid farewell to his family as he dreamed of a dazzling future in the service of the crown, as an adviser to the Court, or a magistrate in the Royal Audiencia.

  ___________

  44. i.e. Jewish hymns.

  45. i.e. Take away privileges.

  46. i.e. Hebrew name meaning “Sefarad” that denoted the Iberian Peninsula following the expulsion of the Jews, in 1492. From this name comes the later deformation into “Sephardim” meaning descendants of the Jews of the Peninsula.

  Chapter XIX

  In which young Orpí, in this final Chapter of Book One, returns to Piera and is beset by great misfortune

  Our hero returned to his hometown along the same road with which he had taken his leave of it, and there Piera appeared amid the iridescent halos of morning clouds. He rode Acephalus slowly through the narrow streets as kids followed him laughing and he greeted first the bailiff, then the barber, then the blacksmith, as they all wondered how the feebleminded elder son of House Orpí had managed to turn himself into such a success. However, when he reached his home, he was greeted with bad tidings. His father had fallen ill with gout and was in bed about to receive last rites.

  “Father,” exclaimed Orpí, kneeling beside the bed. “Whatso … whatever’s wrong with you?”

  “What dost thou think be wrong with me?” he bellowed. “I’m dying, that’s what! Years of study and thou still be the same nincompoop as ever! And wherefor art thou going, dressed as a pansy? Now I seeth whichfore thou never married … thou art a right pouf!”

  “Father, don’t get madd with me, and prey listen: I hath found work in the Court,” said Orpí, pulling off his French wig. “I planne to travelle to Seville and become a gentleman. Now that I hath earned my degree, I am prepared to adminst’r our lands here, in Piera. I shall do it all.”

  “Not on thine life, goldbrick!” said his father in a cold, mercantile voice. “Thy younger brother hath demonstrath’d much more love & commitment to these here lands. Furthermore, you hath ne’er had nor the strength nor the skill to work them. Twill be thine brother what taketh the reins. I’ve already made mine will.”

  “But father … with mine studies I clearly be the best choice! Besides, in cumplyance with Catalan customary law, I be the bona fide heir!”

  “Wastrel scattergood heir, tis what you are! Contumacious pettifogger, slugabed, dastard! I’d sooner give all my worlldly goods to the mule … surely she wouldst do a better job! I shall tell thee one thing, son: since thou hath always had bats in thy belfry, there is but one future for thee: a bad one! Now let me croak in peace, gottdamn it!”

  Indeed, after that parley, ole Orpí shuffled off this mortal coil with a smile from ear to ear, widely regarded as virtuous and held in eternal memory, in name of the Holy Trinity, Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, amen. The family kept watch over his body throughout the night and the next morning; at the cemetery, a family friend, Father Francesc Vicent Garcia47 officiated the burial, even ending on a sonnet:

  Those whose wish is to be read must have memory,

  those whose wish is to be soldiers, speak of war

  and go forth, if gallant, as did Absalom;

  and forget thee not how labor glory be

  hold most holy those who work the land therefore,

  all is but appearances till Kingdom come.

  After singing a very heartfelt Teu Deum laudamus with his family members at the grave, our hero made a barefoot pilgrimage to Montserrat to honor the memory of his father and, while there, ask the Black Virgin to bless his trip to Seville. Fate is cruel when it takes a beloved relative, and Orpí needed someone to mitigate all that suffering. Lost in his thoughts, disconsolate, sad, and lonely, he had not a shoulder to cry upon. As he ascended the sacred mountain, he decided to wash the wounds on his feet in a spring. Beside the fount he found a skull with Praeter nomen inane, nihil inscribed on its forehead. That made our hero ponder life’s disillusionment. As he was about to pick up the skull, he heard a commanding voice from behind him.

  “Who traveleth along this Strasse48 that bee mine alone?”

  When Orpí turned, he found himself face to face with the same German hermit he’d met in the wood five years earlier.

  “Meester ascetic! Dostt thou not remember me? I’m the man whose wounds thou cured some twelfemonths back in thine cabin!”

  “I hath no recollection,” said the old man, who was naked but whose private parts were covered by his long white beard. “Whence doth thou come and where art thou heading, Jugendlicher?”49

  “I now be a lawyer and I seeketh the Virgins blessing and interdicktion for mine good fortune and gaynfull employ in Seville, since mine father hath no use for mee in Piera.”

  “Heading downe south be a blighty ill-fated voyage, mine son. Few reache there, and even fewer return,” said the old hermit. “And as the Bible dixith: Peregrinus, sicut omnes patres mei.”

  “I’m not afeered of nuffin’, meester asceetic,” confessed Orpí.

  “Mere becaws thou art too full of yourself, like ev’ry young gent,” said the hermit. “Go ahead … laufen Sie50! But befor thee splittest, bestowe an alms: a long hundredweight of pork to the monastery!”

  Orpí agreed to the hermit’s wish and, after praying to the Virgin, returned to Piera with his feet once again bloody. The penitence and high levels of Catholic faith seemed to have an effect on that gallant young man, who, upon reaching his hometown and placing some flowers on his father’s grave, was seeing everything through rose-colored glasses. It is well known that faith moves mountains, and Orpí had his cup filled to the brim.

  Once in Piera, he wanted to depart for Seville posthaste. He bid farewell to his mother, who gave him clothes, money, victuals for the road ahead, and a piece of advice:

  “Fyrst & formost, son, bee mindfull of the highwaymen, the shysters, the bohemians, the heretics, the rapists, the energumen, the thieves, the crooked, the plague-stricken, the sadists, the overbold, the ’ostile, the snobs, the improodent, the habituat’d, the wretch’d, the pedantic, the wiseacres, the curmuggenly, the simple-minded, the ’pologists, the unworldely, the feather-‘eaded, the clever, the onlookers, the bullies, the poets, the pernickety, the simple and the scoundrels, the swagger’rs, the bootless, the affright’d and the fickle, the priggish, the cynics, the foul-mouthed and the foul-minded, the incompetent, the equivicators, the spoiled, the extravagant, the pusillanimous, the braggarts, the insolent, the supercilious, the organised and the disorganized, the peevish, the fantasts, the egotistickal, the nonplusss’d, the malleable, the naive, the egocentric, the naughty, the temerarious, the beguiling, the narcissistic, the witty, the parsimonious, the smug, the oversplendid, the weak and the fungus, the Franks and the French, the brilliant, the yronic, the punctiliouse, the normall, the observant, the cockproud, the sated, the multiloquent, and, above alle, the dimwitted!”

  “Indeed I shall, mother
.”

  Then he said goodbye to all his siblings.

  “Seconde & formost,” they recommended, in unison, “rather than retornne home without a farthing to thy name … don’t come home at all!”

  “Thanks unto ye, brothers and sisters. I love ye, too.”

  And, forthwith, Orpí felt the need to leave. He packed up a dozen indispensable books into a bundle, which was his only baggage. Wearing breeches and a black leather baldric across his chest, his cape and hat, and with two blunderbusses on his belt, he left the town of Piera as the churchbells rang out. It seemed as if with each chime they were saying, “Ge-ron-i-mo and a-way you go!” And thus, away he went, forward never rearward, amid an earthly solitude, spurring on Acephalus and vanishing into the fog of a chilly morn.

  When he’d been trotting through the mountains for a couple of hours, our hero heard the noise of rocks splintering. As he approached he was met with a fantastic surprise: a giant named Trucafort51 was playing ball with a rock as enormous as the Barcelona cathedral. Upon seeing Orpí, he asked, “Whence comest thou?”

  “Out of your mouth,” replied Orpí.

  “And wherewith didst thou live? What didst thou drink?”

  “My lord, of the same that you did, and of the daintiest morsels that passed through your throat I took toll.” “Yea but,” said the giant, “where didst thou shite?” “In your throat, my lord,” said Orpí.

  [Hold on a moment, Captain! A giant? Stop the tale right this instant!]

  1714: The infantry captain pauses In the telling of his tale and engages in a fairly intellectual discussion with his soldiers:

  As bombs fall on the city of Barcelona, and explosions and harquebus fire are heard, inside the half-destroyed theater the Captain stands before his soldiers, with eyebrows equal parts inquiring and shocked.