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“Domestic happiness thou only bliss

Of Paradise that has survived the fall.”—COWPER.

The boundless ambition of Napoleon, unsatisfied by the success of his military career,—success that in modern times has no parallel,—still lured him forward with the hope of the conquest of Europe, and if that could be achieved with the subjugation of the world.

In 1812, England and Russia alone opposed a bulwark to his power. The naval superiority of England rendered a successful invasion impossible; therefore he planned his celebrated expedition against the northern empire, where his colossal power was destined to find a grave.

As France alone could not furnish troops for his armies, the conscription became general in all those countries into which his conquests had extended. These allies also furnished him with troops and equipments. The conscription resembles, in some respects, our own levies of the militia, with this essential difference; that the conscript becomes a soldier, and is engaged to serve in foreign wars, while the militia-man is only called upon to defend his own country, a duty that every citizen is bound to fulfil. We may readily imagine the general indignation this new conscription excited in those countries, where the inhabitants had struggled hard for liberty and had been but lately subdued. In Germany, Prussia, and the Tyrol, the new recruits murmured loudly at the moral wrong that forced them into an unholy warfare against a brave people struggling for their independence. In that part of Spain still occupied by the armies of Napoleon, the oppressive levy filled up the measure of the national hatred against the French, and was remembered with interest in the day of reckoning,—that fearful day of vengeance, then not distant, when the injured Spaniard would in his turn, cross the Pyrenees to rush down upon the fertile plains of France, carrying war and desolation with him.

Many Spaniards, who had shrunk from sharing the patriotic struggle, in which their gallant countrymen were then engaged, found themselves compelled to serve in the far northern war, without a motive that could justify, or a feeling that could console them. Among these victims, the Spanish shepherd, Pedro Alvez, found himself speedily enrolled.

Accustomed from childhood to tend a flock of merino sheep, upon the northern ridge of the Catalonian Pyrenees, Pedro’s disposition seemed to combine the gentleness of his fleecy charge, with the courage and fidelity of the dog, who shared his toils and dangers. Never had his powerful arm been raised against a fellow-creature, though its prowess had often been exercised upon the bear and the wolf. The bold free spirit of the Catalan, from the time of the Romans to our own day, found no entrance in his placid bosom—patient under injury, and unaccustomed to return evil for evil, but rather good, even the invasion of his native country could not rouse him to fierce activity. Isolated by his pastoral habits from the stirring scenes of life, he refused to join the guerrilla bands of Catalonia, withstood the upbraidings, entreaties and scornful reproaches of his brothers and cousins, and contented himself with removing his family and flock to a higher ridge of the Pyrenees, where he hoped to remain unmolested by the horrors that devastated the plains and vallies below. So ably were his plans laid, that the French soldiers would sooner have sought among these wilds the eagle’s nest, than the shepherd and his merinos. Surrounded by his flock, and dwelling with his beloved wife and children, Pedro thought little of the war at his feet, while love and peace were the companions of his rocky home. In his affection for his wife and children, deep and devoted as it was, there was something of selfishness; for the sufferings of his countrymen could not wring his bosom while they were safe. Sometimes the sound of the destroying cannon would reach his mountain dwelling, and turning to his wife, he would calmly say, “They are fighting below, my Blanca, but thou art safe—yes, thou and our children are safe with me. The French will never find us among the fastnesses of these hills; we are well provided with provisions; my rifle will furnish us with game, as well as keep the wolf and bear away; the sheep are healthy; the dogs brave and faithful; God I trust is with us, and we are very happy.” Then Pedro would draw his frightened children closer to the bosom into which they had stolen for shelter, and kissing Teresa and Carlos tenderly soothed their fears with fond caresses.

Thus while the domestic virtues filled the breast of Pedro, the love of country, that pure and ennobling principle, found no entrance there; and while the bold Catalonian peasantry were spending their richest blood in the defence of their native land, and even his pastoral brethren abandoned their flocks to repel the human inundation that poured down through the passes of the Pyrenees, he lent no arm to save his country. That arm was bold and strong that guided the mountain flock; the eye, keen as an eagle’s, took an unerring aim, and sorely did the savage beast that menaced the fold, rue the sharp ringing of his rifle, that ever found a true and deadly mark. Having described the character and habits of the shepherd, let us now look at his flock.

The merino sheep, whose wool forms an extensive article in Spanish commerce, deserves a minute description, as its habits differ from those of other countries, nature having fitted it for a southern climate and elevated pastures. The breed takes its name from the Sierra Morena, because the fine-woolled sheep of the two Castiles pass the winter on that mountain where the climate is milder. The Pyrenean sheep of Catalonia is hardy, and merely takes a lower ridge of mountain pasture in winter, though, like the migrating merino, it is never folded at night. On the contrary, the coarse-woolled Spanish sheep is always sheltered and housed, generally in the vicinity of large manufacturing towns.

As Pedro was a Catalonian shepherd, I shall confine myself to the description of the particular race of which he had the charge, and the range of pasture upon which it feeds. “The Annals of Agriculture,” has given so minute and graphic an account of the Catalonian merino that I shall transcribe it at length:—

“On the northern ridge of the Catalonian Pyrenees, bearing to the west, are the pastures of the Spanish flocks. This ridge is not, however, the whole; there are two other mountains quite in a different situation, and the sheep travel from one to the other as the pasturage is short or plentiful. I examined the soil of these mountain pastures, and found it, in general, stony, what in the west of England would be called a stone-brash, with some mixture of loam, and in a few places a little peaty. The plants are many of them untouched by the sheep: many ferns, narcissus, and violets, but burnet (Poterium Sanguisorba) and the narrow-leaved plantain (Plantago lanceolata,) were eaten, as we may suppose, close. I looked for trefoils, but found scarcely any; it was very apparent, that soil and peculiarity of herbage had little to do in rendering these heights proper for sheep. Here the tops of the mountains, unlike those of England, were very dry. Now a great range of dry land, let the plants be what they may, will always suit sheep. The flock is brought every night to one spot, which is situated at the end of a valley, on a river, near the port or passage of Picada. It is a level spot sheltered from wind. The soil is eight or nine inches thick with old dung,^[A] the place is not enclosed, but, from the freedom from wood all around, it seems to be chosen partly for safety from bears and wolves. Near it, is a very large stone, or rather a rock, fallen from the mountain. This the shepherds have taken for a shelter, and built a hut against it. Their beds are sheep skins, and then the door so low that they crawl in. I saw no place for fire, but they have it, since they dress here the flesh of their sheep, and in the night sometimes keep off the bears by whirling fire-brands, four of them belonging to the flock lie here. I viewed their flock very carefully, and by means of our guide and interpreter, made some enquiries of the shepherds, which they answered readily and civilly. A Spaniard of Venasque, a city in the Pyrenees, gives six-hundred French livres (the livre is 11½d. English) per year for the pasturage of this flock of two thousand sheep. In the winter he sends them into the lower parts of Catalonia, a journey of twelve or thirteen days, and when the snow is melted in the spring, they are conducted back again. They are the whole year kept in motion, moving from place to place, having a great range of pasture. They are always in the open air, and never taste of any food but what they can find on the hills. Four shepherds, and from four to six Spanish dogs, have the care of this flock: the dogs in France are called the Pyrenees breed; they are black and white, of the size of a large wolf, and have a large head and neck: they wear large collars armed with iron spikes. No wolf can stand against them, but bears are more potent adversaries: if a bear can reach a tree, he is safe from them: he rises upon his hind legs with his back to the tree, and sets the dogs at defiance. In the night, the shepherds rely upon these canine guardians for the defence of the flocks; but if they hear them bark, they are ready with their fire-arms, as a dog rarely barks unless a bear is at hand. I am surprised to find that these dogs are only fed with bread and milk. The head shepherd is paid one hundred and twenty livres per year wages, and bread; the others eighty livres and bread. Their food is milk and bread, except the flesh of such sheep and lambs as accident gives them. The head shepherd keeps on the mountain top, or on an elevated spot, from whence he can better see around while the flock traverses the declivities. In doing this, the sheep are exposed to great danger in places that are stony; for by walking among the rocks, they move the stones, which rolling down the hills, often kill them. Yet we saw how alert they were to shun such stones, and how cautiously on their guard to avoid them.

“I examined the sheep attentively. They are in general polled, but some have horns, which in the rams twine backwards behind the ears and project half a circle forward; the ewes’ horns turn also behind the ears, but do not project; the legs white or reddish; speckled faces, some white some reddish; they would weigh from fifteen to eighteen pounds the quarter. A few black sheep among them, some with a very little tuft of wool on the forehead; some had long tails, some short. On the whole they resemble the Southdown breed; their shape is very good, round ribs and flat straight backs. One of the shepherds caught a ram, that I might examine the wool, which I found was very thick and good, of the carding sort. The fleece on his back weighed about eight English pounds, but the average quantity is about four or five. This ram had the wool of the back part of his neck tied close, and the upper tuft tied a second time by way of ornament; nor do they ever shear this part of the fleece for this reason.

“A circumstance that cannot be too much commended, is the extreme docility the shepherds accustom them to. When I desired the shepherd to catch one of his rams, I supposed he would do it with his crook, or probably not be able to do it at all, but he walked into the flock and singling out a ram and a goat, bade them follow him, which they did immediately, and he talked to them while they were obeying him, holding out his hand as if to give them something. By this method he brought me the ram, which I caught and held without difficulty. This description reminds us forcibly of the beautiful parable of the Good Shepherd in the New Testament. “He calleth his own sheep by name, and leadeth them out, and when he putteth forth his own sheep, he goeth before them, and the sheep follow him for they know his voice.” The same custom is observed by travellers in Palestine to this day. There is a curious historical circumstance relating to this breed, for it appears by contemporary historians that the Cotswold sheep is descended from some that were brought from Spain by Eleanor of Castile; and that the wool was so improved in quality by the climate, that in the time of Henry the Seventh, a flock of Cotswold sheep was given to Ferdinand the Seventh, to improve the native stock, and it is conjectured, that the present Spanish merino is descended from this breed. George the Third, like a truly patriot king, cultivated agriculture, and becoming sensible of the value of the merino in giving fineness to the British wools, obtained a flock, which were quickly dispersed through the kingdom. They have also been introduced into Australia with good effect.”

Having thus minutely described the habits and qualities of the flock, we will now proceed to observe those of the shepherd and his family.

[A]	Agriculture is at a low ebb in Spain, or this valuable deposit of manure would be employed in top-dressings for pastures, and other uses, instead of remaining idle.