The Bible in Spain. Volume 2 of 2. Borrow George
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and which waked me in the morning with its call. Eh bien, mon maître, things went on in this way during the three years that I continued in the family, out and in; at the end of which time it was determined that the young gentleman should travel, and it was proposed that I should attend him as valet. This I wished very much to do. However, par malheur, I was at this time very much dissatisfied with madame his mother about the quail, and insisted that before I accompanied him the bird should be slaughtered for the kitchen. To this madame would by no means consent; and even the young gentleman, who had always taken my part on other occasions, said that I was unreasonable: so I left the house in a huff, and never entered it again.
“Eh bien, mon maître, the young gentleman went upon his travels, and continued abroad several years; and from the time of his departure until we met him at Colunga, I have not set eyes upon, nor indeed heard of him. I have heard enough, however, of his family; of monsieur the father, of madame, and of the brother, who was an officer of cavalry. A short time before the troubles, I mean before the death of Ferdinand, monsieur the father was appointed captain-general of Corunna. Now monsieur, though a good master, was rather a proud man, and fond of discipline, and all that kind of thing, and of obedience. He was, moreover, no friend to the populace, to the canaille, and he had a particular aversion to the nationals. So, when Ferdinand died, it was whispered about at Corunna that the general was no liberal, and that he was a better friend to Carlos than Christina. Eh bien, it chanced that there was a grand fête, or festival, at Corunna, on the water, and the nationals were there, and the soldiers. And I know not how it befell, but there was an émeute, and the nationals laid hands on monsieur the general, and tying a rope round his neck, flung him overboard from the barge in which he was, and then dragged him astern about the harbour until he was drowned. They then went to his house, and pillaged it, and so ill-treated madame, who at that time happened to be enceinte, that in a few hours she expired.
“I tell you what, mon maître, when I heard of the misfortune of madame and the general, you would scarcely believe it, but I actually shed tears, and was sorry that I had parted with them in unkindness on account of that pernicious quail.
“Eh bien, mon maître, nous poursuivrons notre histoire. The eldest son, as I told you before, was a cavalry officer, and a man of resolution, and when he heard of the death of his father and mother, he vowed revenge. Poor fellow! So what does he do but desert, with two or three discontented spirits of his troop, and going to the frontier of Galicia, he raised a small faction, and proclaimed Don Carlos. For some little time he did considerable damage to the liberals, burning and destroying their possessions, and putting to death several nationals that fell into his hands. However, this did not last long; his faction was soon dispersed, and he himself taken and hanged, and his head stuck on a pole.
“Nous sommes déjà presque au bout. When we arrived at the inn, the young man took me above, as you saw, and there for some time he could do nothing but weep and sob. His story is soon told: – he returned from his travels, and the first intelligence which awaited him on his arrival in Spain was, that his father was drowned, his mother dead, and his brother hanged, and, moreover, all the possessions of his family confiscated. This was not all: wherever he went, he found himself considered in the light of a factious and discontented person, and was frequently assailed by the nationals with blows of sabres and cudgels. He applied to his relations, and some of these, who were of the Carlist persuasion, advised him to betake himself to the army of Don Carlos, and the Pretender himself, who was a friend of his father, and remembered the services of his brother, offered to give him a command in his army. But, mon maître, as I told you before, he was a pacific young gentleman, and as mild as a lamb, and hated the idea of shedding blood. He was, moreover, not of the Carlist opinion, for during his studies he had read books written a long time ago by countrymen of mine, all about republics and liberties, and the rights of man, so that he was much more inclined to the liberal than the Carlist system; he therefore declined the offer of Don Carlos, whereupon all his relations deserted him, whilst the liberals hunted him from one place to another like a wild beast. At last, he sold some little property which still remained to him, and with the proceeds he came to this remote place of Colunga, where no one knew him, and where he has been residing for several months, in a most melancholy manner, with no other amusement than that which he derives from a book or two, or occasionally hunting a leveret with his spaniel.
“He asked me for counsel, but I had none to give him, and could only weep with him. At last he said, ‘Dear Antonio, I see there is no remedy. You say your master is below; beg him, I pray, to stay till tomorrow, and we will send for the maidens of the neighbourhood, and for a violin and bagpipe, and we will dance and cast away care for a moment.’ And then he said something in old Greek, which I scarcely understood, but which I think was equivalent to, ‘Let us eat, drink, and be merry, for to-morrow we die!’
“Eh bien, mon maître, I told him that you were a serious gentleman, who never took any amusement, and that you were in a hurry. Whereupon he wept again, and embraced me, and bade me farewell. And now, mon maître, I have told you the history of the young man of the inn.”
We slept at Ribida de Sella, and the next day at noon arrived at Llanes. Our route lay between the coast and an immense range of mountains, which rose up like huge ramparts at about a league’s distance from the sea. The ground over which we passed was tolerably level, and seemingly well cultivated. There was no lack of vines and trees, whilst at short intervals rose the cortijos of the proprietors – square stone buildings surrounded with an outer wall. Llanes is an old town, formerly of considerable strength. In its neighbourhood is the convent of San Cilorio, one of the largest monastic edifices in all Spain. It is now deserted, and stands alone and desolate upon one of the peninsulas of the Cantabrian shore. Leaving Llanes, we soon entered one of the most dreary and barren regions imaginable, a region of rock and stone, where neither grass nor trees were to be seen. Night overtook us in these places. We wandered on, however, until we reached a small village, termed Santo Colombo. Here we passed the night, in the house of a carabineer of the revenue, a tall athletic figure, who met us at the gate, armed with a gun. He was a Castilian, and with all that ceremonious formality and grave politeness for which his countrymen were at one time so celebrated. He chid his wife for conversing with her handmaid about the concerns of the house before us. “Barbara,” said he, “this is not conversation calculated to interest the strange cavaliers; hold your peace, or go aside with the muchacha.” In the morning he refused any remuneration for his hospitality, “I am a caballero,” said he, “even as yourselves. It is not my custom to admit people into my house for the sake of lucre. I received you because you were benighted and the posada distant.”
Rising early in the morning, we pursued our way through a country equally stony and dreary as that which we had entered upon the preceding day. In about four hours we reached San Vicente, a large and dilapidated town, chiefly inhabited by miserable fishermen. It retains, however, many remarkable relics of former magnificence: the bridge, which bestrides the broad and deep firth on which stands the town, has no less than thirty-two arches, and is built of grey granite. It is very ancient, and in some parts in so ruinous a condition as to be dangerous.
Leaving San Vicente behind us, we travelled for some leagues on the seashore, crossing occasionally a narrow inlet or firth. The country at last began to improve, and in the neighbourhood of Santillana was both beautiful and fertile. About a league before we reached the country of Gil Blas we passed through an extensive wood, in which were rocks and precipices; it was exactly such a place as that in which the cave of Rolando was situated, as described in the novel. The wood has an evil name, and our guide informed us that robberies were occasionally committed in it. No adventure, however, befell us, and we reached Santillana at about six in the evening.
We did not enter the town, but halted at a large venta, or posada, at the entrance, before which stood an immense ash tree. We had scarcely housed ourselves when a tremendous storm of rain and wind commenced, accompanied with thunder and lightning, which continued without much interruption for several hours, and the effects of which were visible in our journey of the following day, the streams over which we passed being much swollen, and several trees lying uptorn by the wayside. Santillana contains four thousand