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Stuart departed from Muret
in no pleasant mood, having a conviction that he was the most unfortunate
fellow in the army, because, when any disagreeable duty was to be
performed, by some strange fatality the lot always fell upon him. But his
displeasure evaporated as the distance between Muret and himself
increased. It was a clear and beautiful night. Millions of sparklers
studded the firmament, and, although no moon was visible, the scenery
around was distinctly discernible. Afar off lay Toulouse, the direction of
which was marked only by the hazy halo of light around it, arising from
amidst the bosky forests, which extend over nearly a hundred thousand
acres of ground.
Before him spread a clear
and open country, over which his horse was now carrying him at a rapid
pace. It was midnight before the lights of Muret vanished behind him. The
road became more lonely, and no sound broke upon the silence of the way,
save the clang of Egypt's hoofs, ringing with a sharp iron sound on the
hard-trodden road.
After riding nearly twenty
miles, he found himself becoming tired and drowsy; and dismounting, he led
his horse into a copse by the roadside, where, fastening the bridle to a
tree, he lay down on the dewy sward, and, placing his claymore under his
head, fell fast asleep. Before sun-rise he was again in the saddle, and,
without breaking his fast, reached the town of Saint Gaudens, on the
Garonne, forty-four miles from Toulouse. Unwilling to waste farther the
strength of the noble animal which had borne him so far, and with such
speed, he halted at Saint Gaudens for twelve hours, and again set forward
on the direct road for the province of Beam.
The well-known chain of the
Pyrenees, the scene of so many a recent contest, began to rise before him,
and as he proceeded, every object which met his view became more familiar.
On nearing the Pass of
Roncesvalles, he reached the block-house which his light company had
garrisoned and defended so stoutly. It was now falling into ruin, and the
skeletons of the French were lying around it, with the rank dog-grass
sprouting among their mouldering bones. A ghastly sight!—but many such
occurred as he journeyed' among the mountains. Near the block-house he
fell in with an encampment of gitanos, or gipsies, a people whose ferocity
is equalled only by their cunning and roguery. They were at dinner, and
bade him welcome to the feast, which consisted of broiled rabbits, olives,
rice, and bacallao, with wine— stolen, of course—to wash it down. He took
his share of the viands seated by a fire, around which the ragged
wayfarers crowded,, male and female ; but he was very well pleased when he
took his departure from these singular people, who would not accept a
single maravedi for his entertainment.
Near midnight he arrived at
the village of Roncesvalles, which consists of one straggling street,
closed by an arched gateway at each end. The barriers were shut, and no
admittance was given. He thundered loudly, first at one -gate and then at
the other ; but he was unheard or uncared for by the drowsy porters, who
occupied the houses above the arches. He therefore prepared to pass the
night in the open air, which, although nothing new to a campaigner, was
sufficiently provoking on that occasion, especially as a shower was
beginning to descend, and sheet lightning, red and flaming, shot at times
across the distant sky, revealing the peaks of the mountains, and the
moaning voice of the wind announced a tempestuous night. Wishing the
warders of Roncesvalles in a hotter climate than Spain, he looked about
for some place of shelter, and perceived, not far off, a solitary little
chapel, or oratory, which was revealed by the pale altar-lights twinkling
through its tinted windows and open doorway.
In this rude edifice he
resolved to take shelter, rather than pass the night in the open air; and
just as he gained its arched porch, the storm, which had long been
threatening, burst forth with sudden and appalling fury. The wind howled
in the pass, and swept over the mountains like a tornado, and with a
terrible sound, as if, in the words of a Gaelic bard, the spirits of the
storm were shrieking to each other. The forked lightning shot athwart the
sky, cleaving the masses of cloud, and the rattling rain thundered
furiously on the chapel roof and windows, as if to beat the little fabric
to the earth. His horse was startled by the uproar of the elements, and
snorted, grew restive, and shot fire from his prominent eyes as the
passing gleams illuminated the porch, within which Stuart had stabled him
by fastening the bridle to the figure of an old saint or apostle that
presided over a stone font, from which the old troop-horse soon sucked up
the holy water. Ronald wrapped a cloak round him, and flung himself on the
stone pavement of the chapel, to rest his aching limbs, which were
beginning to stiffen with so long a journey on horseback.
The building was totally
destitute of ornament, and its rude construction gave evidence of its
great antiquity. There were several shrines around it, with wax tapers
flickering before them, revealing the strange little monsters in wood or
stone which represented certain saints. In front of one of these knelt a
stout but wild-looking Spanish peasant, devoutly praying and telling over
his chaplet. The entrance of Stuart caused him hurriedly to start,—to
snatch his broad-leaved hat from the floor, to grasp the haft of his
dagger, and glance round him with frowning brow and eyes gleaming with
apprehension. But on perceiving the uniform of the intruder, his dark
features relaxed into a smile; he bowed his head politely, and resumed his
orisons, which Stuart never interrupted, although they lasted for a weary
hour. There was something very grotesque in the aspect of one particular
image, which appeared to be thrust unceremoniously into a dark niche,
where no taper burned ; from which Ronald inferred that the saint had no
worshippers, or was not a favourite in the neighbourhood of Roncesvalles.
The appearance of the image was calculated to excite laughter and
derision, rather than piety or awe. It resembled the figure of Johnny
Wilkes or Guy Fawkes, rather than a grim and ghostly saint. The effigy was
upwards of six feet high, and had a painted mask, well bewhiskered, and
surmounted by a cocked hat. It was arrayed in leather breeches and
jack-boots, a blue uniform coat, and tarnished epaulettes. A sash
encircled its waist, and in it were stuck a pair of pistols and a sabre.
Its tout ensemble was quite ludicrous, as it stood erect in the gloomy
niche of the solemn little chapel, and was seen by the 'dim religious
light' of distant tapers.
With the hilt of his
broadsword under his head for a pillow, Stuart lay on the pavement, and
viewed this singular apparition with considerable amusement; and if he
restrained a violent inclination to laugh, it was only from a reluctance
to offend the peasant, who was praying before an image which, by its long
robe and bunch of rusty keys, seemed meant for a representation of San
Pedro.
From the devotee, who, when
his prayers were ended, seated himself by his side, Stuart learned that
the strange image represented St. Anthony of Portugal, one of those
redoubtable seven champions whose 'history' has made such a noise in the
world from time immemorial. Notwithstanding the mist which ignorance,
superstition, and priestcraft had cast over his mind, the sturdy paisano
laughed till the chapel rang again at the appearance of the Portuguese
patron, and acquainted Stuart with some pleasant facts, which accounted
for the military garb of the saint. By virtue of a decree in that behalf
on the part of is Holiness, St. Anthony was, in 1706, formally enlisted
into the Portuguese army; and in the same year received the rank of
captain,—so rapid was his promotion. His image was always clad in
successive uniforms, as he was hurried through the different grades, until
he reached the rank of Marshal-general of the armies of Portugal and
Algarve, a post which, I believe, he yet holds, with a pension of one
hundred and fifty ducats per annum, which every year is punctually
deposited in a splendid purse, in the Chapel Royal, by the Portuguese
sovereign. Awful was the wrath, and terrible were the denunciations and
holy indignation, when a cannon-ball carried off the head and cocked hat
of the unfortunate image, which had been placed in an open carriage on one
occasion, when commanding the Portuguese army in battle.
The image in the chapel at
Roncesvalles had been placed there by the soldiers of the Condé
d'Amarante's brigade, the condeé himself furnishing the saint with some of
his cast uniform; but, since the departure of the Portuguese, the shrine
had been totally deserted, as no true Spaniard would bend his knee to a
Lusitanian saint. Such was the account given by the peasant, and it
illustrates rather oddly the religious feelings of the Portuguese. After
sharing together the contents of a flask of brandy, with which Ronald had
learned to provide himself, they composed themselves to sleep. The
peasant, who had also been shut out of Roncesvalles, drew his broad
sombrero over his dusky visage, and wrapping his brown mantle around him,
laid his head against the base of a column, and fell fast asleep. Those
suspicions which a long intercourse with Spaniards had taught Stuart to
entertain of every casual acquaintance, kept him for some time from sleep.
He narrowly watched his olive-cheeked companion, and it was not until,
from his hard breathing, he was sure he slept, that he too resigned
himself to the drowsy deity. He awoke about sunrise, and found that his
companion had departed. A sudden misgiving shot across his mind, and he
sprang to the porch to look for his horse, which stood there, fair and
sleek, as he left him on the preceding evening. He took him by the bridle,
and advanced towards Roncesvalles.
The storm, and all traces
of it, had passed away. The sky was clear and sunny, and the distant
mountains mingled with its azure. The air was laden with rich perfume from
little shrubs, of which I know not the name, but which flourish everywhere
over the Peninsula ; and every bush and blade of grass glittered like
silver with the moisture which bedewed them. The gates of Roncesvalles
stood open, and passing through one of the archways, Ronald asked the
first person he met whether there was an inn, cafe, taberna, or any house
of entertainment, where he could procure refreshment for himself and
horse, but was informed that the wretched mountain village could boast of
none. The man to whom he spoke was a miserably-clad peasant, and, like
most Spanish villagers, appeared to belong to no trade or profession. He
was returning from the public fountain with water, which he carried on his
head, in a huge brown jug. He seemed both surprised and pleased to be
accosted by a British officer, and said that if the noble caballero would
honour him by coming to his house, he would do his best to provide
refreshment. This offer Stuart at once accepted, and placing a dollar in
the hand of the aguadore, desired him to lead the way. After seeing his
horse fed and watered, and after discussing breakfast, which consisted of
a miserable mess of milk, peas, goat's-flesh, and roasted castanos, he
mounted, and again went forth on his mission, glad to leave Roncesvalles
far behind him. He expected to reach Elizondo before night; but soon found
that his horse had become so jaded and worn out, that the hope was vain.
The pace of the animal had become languid and slow ; his eyes had lost
their fire, and his neck and ears began to droop.
That he might advance
faster, Stuart was fain to lead him by the bridle up the steep and winding
tracks by which his journey lay. Once only Egypt showed some signs of his
former spirit. In a narrow dell between two hills, in a rugged gorge, like
the bed of a departed river, an iron howitzer and a few shells lay rusting
and half sunk in the earth; close by lay the skeletons of a man and a
horse, adding sadly to the effect of the naked and silent wilderness
around. At the sudden sight of these ghastly objects lying among the weeds
and long grass, the steed snorted, shied, and then sprung away at a speed
which soon left the dell, and what it contained, miles behind.
As he rode through a
solitary place, Stuart was startled on perceiving a party of men, to the
number of fifteen or twenty, all well armed and on horseback, rising as it
seemed from the earth, or appearing suddenly above the surface
successively, as spectres rise through the stage. The fellows were all
gaily attired in gaudy jackets, red sashes, and high-crowned hats; but the
appearance of their arms, a long Spanish gun slung over the back, a
cutlass, and double brace of pistols, together with various packages of
goods with which their horses were laden, gave them the aspect of a band
of robbers. Stuart thought of the gang of Captain Rolando, as he saw them
appearing from the bowels of the earth, within about twenty paces of where
he stopped his horse. He next thought of his own safely, and had drawn
forth his pistols, when one of the strangers, perceiving him, waved his
hat, crying, 'Amigos, senor, amigos!' and, to put a bold face on the
matter, Ronald rode straight towards him. They proved to be a party of
contrabandistas, travelling to Vittona with a store of chocolate, soap,
butter, cigars, etc., which they had been purchasing in France. A sort of
hatchway, or trap-door, of turf was laid over the mouth of the cavern from
which they arose, after which they set off at full speed for Errazu.
Ronald was very well
pleased to see them depart, as contrabandistas are, at best, but
indifferent characters, although few travellers are more welcome at
Spanish inns, where they may generally be seen at the door, or in the
yard, recounting to their laughing auditors strange tales of adventures
which they had encountered in the course of their roving and romantic
life; and, as they are always gaily-attired, they are generally favourites
with the peasant-girls on the different roads they frequent. Their cavern,
which Ronald felt a strong wish to explore, was probably some deserted
mine, or one of those subterranean abodes dug by the Spaniards in the days
of the Moors, and now appropriated by these land-smugglers as a place for
holding their wares. Had Ronald worn any other garb than that of a British
officer, the contraband gentry might, by an ounce bullet, have secured for
ever his silence regarding their retreat, but they well knew that it
mattered not to him: so, after an interchange of a few civilities and
cigars, they rode off at a gallop, without once looking behind them.
As he proceeded on his way,
the scenery became more interesting, the landscape being interspersed with
all that can render it beautiful. A ruined chapel towered on a green
eminence above a tufted grove, through which swept a brawling mountain
torrent, spanned by a pointed arch; while a cascade appeared below, where
the stream, grappling and jarring with the rocks that interrupted its
course, rushed in a sheet of foam to a cleft in the earth many feet
beneath. Around were groves of the olive-tree, with its soft green leaves
and bright yellow flowers ; and beyond was Errazu, with its vine-covered
cottages, its larger mansions of brick and plaster, with heavy-tiled roofs
and broad projecting eaves, its great old monastery and its church spire,
the vane of which was gleaming in the light of the setting sun. As he was
travelling on duty, Stuart was entitled to billets; he therefore set about
procuring one. The alcalde was at confession, and the escrivano, to whom
he applied, gave him orders for a quarter in the house of a solitary widow
lady, who, with her daughter, resided in a lonely house at the end of the
town.
Considering their
circumstances, this was the last house upon which a billet should have
been given; but the escrivano had a piece of revenge to gratify. The old
lady was a widow of a syndic,—a magistrate chosen by the people, like the
Roman tribunes,—who, during his whole life, had been at feud with him, and
the escrivano hoped that Stuart's being billeted there would give rise to
some pleasant piece of scandal, for the benefit of the gossiping old maids
and duennas of Errazu.
The appearance of the
widow's mansion did not prepossess Ronald much in its favour. The French
had not left Errazu unscathed on their retreat through it; and, like many
others, the domicile of Donna Aminta della Ronda showed signs of their
vindictive feeling. One half had suffered from fire, and was in ruins; but
two apartments were yet habitable, and into one of these Stuart was shown
by an aged and saffron-coloured female domestic, to whom he presented the
billet-order, by which he was entitled to occupy the best room and best
bed in the house. The chamber, which was paved with tiles, was on the
ground floor; the window was glazed, but the walls were in a deplorable
state of dilapidation; and many choice pieces of French wit appeared
scribbled on various parts of the plaster. Among other things was a copy
of verses addressed to Donna Aminta, written in rather indelicate French,
and signed 'M. de Mesmai, 10th Cuirassiers, or Devil's Own,' which
informed Stuart that his former acquaintance had once occupied that
apartment.
Two antique chairs,
high-backed and richly-carved, a massive oak table, and a brass
candlestick, composed the furniture. A chamber, containing an
old-fashioned bed, with crimson feathers and hangings, opened out of this
apartment, with which it communicated by means of an arch, from which the
French had torn the door, probably for fuel. But this snug couch did not
appear destined for Stuart, as the old domestic laid a paillasse upon the
tiled floor for his use ; and placing wine, cigars, and a light upon the
table, laid the poker and shovel crosswise, and withdrew, leaving him to
his own reflections.
He was somewhat displeased
at not being received by the ladies in person, especially as the escrivano
had informed him, with a sly look, that the youngest possessed
considerable attractions; but consoling himself with the wine and cigars,
he resolved to care not a jot about their discourtesy. After he had amused
himself by thoroughly inspecting every nook and corner of the room, and
grown weary of conning over the 'History of the famous Preacher, Friar
Gerund de Campazas,' which he found when ransacking the bed-closet, he
began to think of retiring to rest. He debated with himself for a moment
which berth to take possession of, because by his billet he was entitled
to the best bed the house contained; and the four-post and paillasse
seemed the very antipodes of each other. But his doubts were resolved at
once by the sudden entrance of the ladies, who sailed into the room with
their long trains and flowing veils, and bowing, coldly bid him 'Buena
noche, senor!' as they retired to their bedroom. Ye gods! a bedroom
destitute of door, and a foreign official to sleep in the next room!
Stuart was puzzled, dumbfoundered in fact, and his Scottish modesty was
quite shocked. But, lighting another cigar, he affected to read very
attentively 'Friar Gerund de Campazas,' and wondered how all this was to
end; while the ladies, favoured by the gloom of the chamber, undressed and
betook themselves to their couch, around which they drew the dark and
massive folds of the drapery. Ronald laid down the book, and stared about
him. There was something very peculiar in the affair, and it outdid the
most singular Spanish stories he had ever heard related, even at the mess.
The elder lady had nothing
very enchanting about her, certainly; but Ronald's keen eye had observed
that the young donna had a melting black Spanish eye, a cherry lip, and
white hand. He thought of these things, and glanced furtively towards the
mysterious closet, where the black outline of the couch, surmounted by its
plumage, seemed like that of a hearse or mausoleum. Not a sound came from
it after Donna Aminta had mumbled her ave! but the trampling of heavy feet
arrested Stuart's attention; the door opened, and two tall and muscular
Spaniards entered. One wore a broad hat, with a sprig of romero stuck in
the band of it, as a guard against evil spirits and danger. The other wore
a long cap of yellow cotton. They were shirtless and shoeless, and their
ragged cotton breeches and zamarra jackets displayed, through various
holes, their dark and swarthy skins, giving them a wild and savage
appearance, which their brown bull-like necks and ferocious visages,
fringed with masses of dark hair, did not belie. As usual, each was girt
about the middle by a yellow sash ; but stuck in it, each had a dagger and
brace of pistols. They were beetle-browed, and most cutthroat-looking
fellows. At first sight Ronald knew them to be valientes,—villains whose
poniards are ever at the service of any base employer who pays well. He
started up on their entering, and drew his sword an inch or so from the
sheath. The fellows smiled grimly at the demonstration : upon which, he
inquired sternly the reason of their intrusion, and why thus armed?
'Donna Aminta can best
answer your questions,' answered one fellow with surly impudence, as they
swaggered into the bedchamber. With his hand on his claymore Ronald strode
towards them.
'Stand, senor cavalier!'
said the one who had spoken; 'standI We seek not to quarrel with you; but
life is sweet, and if we are set upon -You understand us: the good lady
shall see that we are worthy of our wages. We mount guard on her chamber:
cross this one,' added he, drawing one on the tiles with his poniard; '
cross this line, and, Santo demonio! we will whet our daggers on your
backbone.'
Insolent as this reply was,
Stuart resolved to put up with the affront rather than come to blows with
two desperadoes, whose firearms gave them such advantage. He deeply
regretted that he had left his loaded pistols in the holsters of the
saddle; and remembering that he was alone, and among jealous strangers, he
thought that a brawl would be well avoided. The bravoes seated themselves
on the floor within the ladies' chamber, and remained perfectly quiet,
without stirring or speaking, but their fierce dark eyes seemed to be
watching the stranger keenly. Ronald retired to his paillasse, and laid
his drawn dirk and claymore beside him, ready to grasp them on the least
alarm. He remained watching the intruders by the light of the candle,
until it flickered down in the socket and expired, leaving the place
involved in deep gloom. The silence of the chamber was broken only by the
real or pretended snoring of these modern Cids, who had so suddenly become
the guardians of the ladies' bower. When he first committed himself to his
miserable couch, Ronald had determined to lie awake; but, growing weary of
listening and watching in the dark, he dropped insensibly asleep, and did
not awake until the morning was far advanced. The instant sleep departed
from his eyelids, the remembrance of last night flashed upon his memory.
He rose and looked about him. The bravoes had withdrawn; the ladies also
were gone, and the couch was tenantless. Sheathing his weapons, he drained
the wine-jar; and snatching up his bonnet, he departed from the house
unseen by its inmates, whom he bequeathed to the devil for their
discourtesy.
Fetching his horse from the
stable of the escrivano, where he had left it overnight, he again resumed
his journey, feeling heartily tired of Spain, and wishing himself again at
Toulouse, where his comrades were awaiting the order to embark. |
