A FRONTIER INCIDENT
I was finishing my second term at Woolwich and the Christmas holidays
were close at hand.
I had, during the term, been closely following the fortunes of Don Carlos
and his army in the northern provinces of Spain. Year after year he had
been getting a stronger and stronger hold, and the weakness of the
Republican Governments in Madrid had assisted him very materially. There
was no one--had been no one--for some years to lead the then so-called
Government troops to any military advantage in the field against him.
General Prim, the Warwick of Spain, had been assassinated in Madrid. The
Italian Prince, Asmodeus, to whom he had offered the Crown and who for
just over a year had reigned as King of Spain, was glad to make himself
scarce by quietly disappearing over the borders to Portugal. A further
period of Republican Government was imposed upon the country, equally as
inefficient as it had been before. The star of the Carlist Cause seemed
to be in the ascendant. Never--up to that date--had Don Carlos's army
been so numerous or better equipped. The Carlist factories were turning
out their own guns and munitions. They held excellent positions from
which to strike southwards towards Madrid, and on which to fall back for
protection if necessary.
Everything pointed to a successful issue of their enterprise, backed up
as it was by the Church of Rome, and tired and worn out as the country
was by successive revolutions, mutinies of troops, unstable Governments
and hopeless bankruptcy. So I thought my chance had come to see some
fighting of real ding-dong nature by paying Don Carlos a personal visit.
Not that I thought my military qualifications, attained by a few months'
residence at the "Shop" as a cadet, in any way qualified me to be of any
real military value to Don Carlos, but rather because I thought that Don
Carlos's experience, after several years of the waging of war, would be
of some considerable value to myself. Thus it came about that I decided
to spend the forthcoming Christmas holidays attached to his army, being
satisfied that I should be welcome, for I had a first cousin and two
other relations who had been A.D.C.'s to Don Carlos from the beginning of
the campaign.
I duly made application to our Governor at the "Shop," General Sir
Lintorn Simmons, R.E., for permission to proceed to Spain during the
holidays and be accredited as an English officer. This, of course, was
refused, as I was not an officer, only a cadet, and fairly young at that.
But I was told that if I chose to proceed to Spain on my own
responsibility I was at liberty to do so, provided I returned to Woolwich
on the date at which the new term began.
I have my doubts whether any young fellow of eighteen ever felt so
elated, so important, so contented as I did on my journey from London to
Bayonne. As I had my British passport I did not feel in the least
concerned as to not being allowed to cross the frontier, which happened
to be at the time in the hands of the Government troops, into Spain. The
railways in the north of Spain had practically ceased to exist. The
journey was made along the old roads in every kind of coach that had been
on the road previous to the construction of the railways across the
Pyrenees. One particular coach I travelled in was practically a box on
four wheels, with a very narrow seat running on each side, and very low
in the roof. Going downhill the horses--such as they were--went as fast
as they could, and every time we struck a hole in the road down went the
box, up we banged our heads against the roof, and then we collapsed
quietly on to the floor, beautifully mixed up.
This little affair happened often, and it was made especially interesting
by the fact that we had two apparently youthful lady travellers. They had
started with us from Bayonne. They were very quietly dressed, and--so far
as we could see, through the extremely thick veils which they wore about
their heads, and from occasional ringlets of hair peeping out here and
there--they were quite the type of the dark Spanish beauties. They had
chosen the two innermost seats inside the coach, and I happened to occupy
the seat on one side next to one of them.
In those days cigarette-smoking by ladies was quite uncommon, much less
was the smell of a strong cigar acceptable to them. However, the journey
from Bayonne to the border was somewhat long. I wanted a smoke. I had a
cigar. I politely asked the ladies whether they objected to my lighting
up. They did not speak, but they--as it seemed to me--gracefully nodded
"Yes." So I lit up, and presently I began to notice that the one next to
me, towards whose face the smoke sometimes drifted, seemed to like it
very much, and, I would almost have said that she was trying to sniff
some of it herself. A little later on, when we came to an unusually big
rut in the road, we all went up as usual against the roof, and all came
down again, missing the narrow seat. Extracting ourselves from our
awkward positions, I came across a foot which certainly seemed to me not
to belong to a lady, but, as it happened, it _was_ a foot belonging to
one of the ladies. I began to think but said nothing, and I also began to
watch and look. Their hands had woollen gloves on, very thick, so that it
was difficult to say what the hand was like inside. I may say that the
three other passengers were Frenchmen, two of whom were very young and
apparently unable to speak Spanish. As we were nearing the frontier I
spoke to the ladies on some trivial matter, and mentioned the fact that I
was going into Spain and that I hoped to see something of the fighting;
that I was an Englishman, but that I had been born in Spain and that I
knew personally Don Carlos and several of his officers, as well as many
officers belonging to the Government troops. I noticed them interchanging
looks as I told them my story, and presently we pulled up by the roadside
at a little inn on the French side of the frontier. We were to wait there
for some little time while the horses were changed, and we were glad to
get out and stretch our limbs after our bumping experiences.
I watched them getting out of the coach, and it was quite evident to me
that, considering they were ladies, they were blessed, each of them, with
a very useful, handsome pair of understandings. I went inside the little
inn, which boasted only, as far as I could see, one little room besides
the big kitchen, and was having some tea when one of the ladies came into
the room and, to my surprise, closed the door, put her back against it
and said, "Will you promise not to give us away if we confide in you?" I
said, "Certainly. I am not old enough yet to have given any ladies away,
and I am not going to begin just now; so tell me anything you like. If I
can help you I will."
For an answer her woollen gloves were whipped off, her hands, which were
a very healthy brown colour, went up to her face, and--quite in a very
awkward manner for a lady--she battled with her veil. Up it went,
finally. A very, very clean-shaved face, but showing that very dark
complexion which many black-bearded men have, no matter how very, very
cleanly they shave, was looking right at me. There was no need for much
further explanation. He told me that she and her companion were two
Carlist officers who were hoping to join their regiments but had to cross
the belt of the Government troops to do so, and had decided to disguise
themselves as women and take the risk. I suggested that the other lady
should be asked to come in and hold a council of war. I told them that I
myself was going to Don Carlos's headquarters as soon as I got the
opportunity, and that the only trouble I foresaw was in dealing with the
sentries and the guard at the frontier. Once past that it would be easy
enough for them to get away unmolested. My next question was, "How much
money have you ladies got? We all know the Spanish sentries, and I think
their hands are always ready to receive some little douceur. There is but
little luggage to be examined by them. If you two ladies remain inside
the coach and be careful to cover your feet up, I'll keep them employed
as far as possible in overhauling the luggage. I'll square, as far as I
can, the driver not to leave his box, but to be ready to start as quick
as I tell him to, and, by generous application of douceurs, I'll try to
so interest the guards that they will have but little time to make any
inquiries as regards your two selves." All went well. We got to the
frontier, the commandant of the guard and the sentries were so taken up
in counting the tips I gave them and dividing them equitably amongst
themselves that they neither examined the luggage nor did they even look
inside the coach. I hustled the three Frenchmen into the coach, after
telling them that it was very, very important that we should proceed at
once, shouted to the driver, "Anda, amigo--corre!" with the result that
the horses jumped off at a bound, and I just managed to throw myself into
the inside of the coach, very nearly reaching the ample laps of my two
delicate lady friends.
The next day we arrived without incident at a small village, somewhat
north of Elisondo, which village was then in the hands of the Carlists.
Here my two lady friends changed their sex, and we passed a very pleasant
evening with the Mayor of the town, who had been able for some months
previously, to be a Republican of the most determined character while the
town was occupied by the Government troops, and to be a Carlist, second
to none in his enthusiasm for the Carlist cause, as soon as the Carlist
troops took possession of it again.
[Illustration: Alfonso XII. (1874-1886) at the time of his accession]
[Illustration: The Prince Imperial
His last portrait, painted from life at Woolwich by Olivier Pichat]