field-sports, and public business, take up the mornings of the
gentlemen; the fine arts, the interchange of neighbouring courtesies,
and the visiting of the village give occupation to the ladies.
Hospitality, and the sweetest display of domestic elegance, shed
an indescribable charm over the cheerful evenings passed in their
society,--the family are the honour and main stay of the parish, and,
indeed, of many an adjoining one; while the house and grounds are the
pride and boast of all that side of the county.
EVENINGS AT SEA.--NO. III.
THE ship's surgeon was a favourite with us all, he was a pale sickly
little man, of some five or six-and-thirty years of age, with lank
yellow hair, and very little of it, even such as it was. He was so
quiet and unassuming, that he rarely joined in the conversation, but he
listened with great attention, even to the dullest among the narrators,
and whenever any thing pathetic was brought forward, a misty twinkling
was sure to be visible in the tender-hearted little doctor's small
green eyes. The qualities of his head were unfortunately not equal to
those of his heart; every effort he had made to establish himself in a
practice had failed; in these attempts he had consumed the pittance of
his inheritance, and he was now obliged to obtain a living in the not
very lucrative or agreeable situation of surgeon to a sailing packet.
As he seldom spoke on any subject, and scarcely ever of himself, it was
some time before we discovered, that, in the pursuit of professional
advancement, he had for a short period given his services to the
unfortunate British Legion, during the late civil war in Spain. With
great difficulty we persuaded the modest little man to give us the
benefit of some of his recollections, while an actor in those scenes
of stirring and melancholy interest. He commenced timidly, but warmed
with his theme as it continued, and although somewhat discursive and
unconnected in his narrative, he did not fail to interest his hearers.
Thus he spoke.
THE SURGEON.
My father had been a medical officer in the East India Company's
service, but died while I was still very young. My mother was left with
me and two sisters, many years older than myself, to provide for, out
of her widow's pension, and a small sum of money her husband had saved
during his stay in India. We took up our abode in an humble but neat
house, not far from London, and as soon as I was of sufficient age, I
was set to work to prepare myself for my late father's branch of the
service, as inexpensively as possible.
My progress was not very rapid, although I was by no means an idle boy;
indeed, on the contrary, I did my very utmost to get on, as the best
way to reward my poor mother for the strict economy that enabled me to
be kept at school. On account of my steady ways, the other boys often
teased me, and laughed at me a good deal, but being convinced that I
was doing what was right, I bore it as I best could.
However, on one occasion I did give way to bad temper; on returning to
school after the vacation, I was about to unpack my little trunk, and
arrange its contents, in the chest of drawers, when one of the boys who
used to annoy me most came into the room. He saw that my clothes were
not very new, though they were as well brushed and as tidily packed as
if they had been better; and my linen was, perhaps, a little coarse,
but then my mother had mended it all very neatly, and had it washed
as white as snow before I left home. He teased me about having such
"poor things," as he called them, and threw some dirty water upon them.
This made me very angry, but when he laughed at the careful way my
mother had packed them, my passion got the better of me, and I tried to
put him out of the room. I was but a weak boy, however, and he was a
strong one, so he beat me till I was not able to stir, and then threw
all my neat clothes out over the floor and stamped upon them. This
made a great impression on me at the time; I do not think I shall ever
altogether forget it, but I am very proud to feel that I soon forgave
it, and the day came some years after when I had the power to do this
boy a great kindness; I gladly did what I could for him, but he proved
himself altogether ungrateful for it.
In due time I left school, and entered upon the study of medicine; it
was necessary for me to work hard for my final examination, not being
as I before said, naturally very quick in learning. When the time
came I was so frightened and anxious, that I could scarcely answer a
word, and although, perhaps, better prepared than some of those who
passed, I was turned back. My poor mother was much grieved at this, but
tried to cheer me on to better success next time. I was also greatly
discouraged; nevertheless I sat down patiently to begin my studies over
again, and at last succeeded in getting my certificates.
My next step was to place over our door a board, bearing my name
in gilt letters, with "Surgeon" under it, and a hand with a finger
pointing round the corner to the little side door where the patients
were to enter. I also put an advertisement in a newspaper, and told
those among the neighbours with whom we were acquainted that I had
now started in business. Being of a hopeful disposition, I expected
that every day some lucky chance would occur to bring me at once into
great practice; as I had often read and heard of this having happened
with other people. But a long time passed away, and no sudden occasion
arrived where my help was called for; except, indeed, one frosty
morning when a poor old man slipped on the pavement close by our house,
and broke his arm. Seeing "Surgeon" over my door, some people carried
the sufferer there, and as I was in waiting, left him in my charge. I
took great pains with this my first case, but was very nervous about
it, feeling sure that all eyes were upon me; besides, the poor old man
told me that, if the use of his arm were not soon restored to him, he
should be driven to go to the workhouse. He could not move that day, so
I made up a sort of bed for him in the surgery; the following evening
his son came for him, and took him away. I had no money to give him,
but seeing that his shoes were very bad, I let him have a pair of
mine, that were not quite worn out; he then went his way, after having
thanked me heartily. I pitied the poor old man very much, and would
have been glad to have heard that he had done well; besides, there was
my professional vanity interested in the business; it so happened,
however, that I never heard any thing more of my patient.
At last, I began to fear that my gilt sign-board, advertisement and
all, had fairly failed; no one called for me. I was very unhappy to be
such a burden to my mother, instead of helping her on, as I had hoped
to do; but she never complained of this; she knew I would willingly
work if I had the opportunity, and--as she said, "I could not make the
people break their arms."
While thinking over my affairs, one January morning, at the door of the
surgery, a young man passed by, whose face appeared familiar: he first
looked at me, then at the sign-board, and at once claimed acquaintance
as an old school-fellow. I invited him in, and we sat down together; he
asked me if I was getting on well, and had many patients. I told him
no, but did not omit to say that some months before I had set an old
man's arm with great skill. As we talked on, however, it came out that,
in spite of my old man's arm, I was in very low estate, and willing
to undertake any honest labour, to get my bread, and help my mother.
After a little thought, he asked me if I should like to be a military
surgeon. I supposed he was bantering me as they used to do at school,
for I had no great friends to get me such promotion; but he seemed
serious, and said, "I think I can get you a commission as surgeon in
the army, that is, in General Evans' army in Spain." I had not heard or
read of that General at the time, for I never saw newspapers, except
the old one, in which my advertisement was printed. I was, however,
rejoiced to hear of this opening, and when my old school-fellow left
me, promising to let me know in a day or two as to what he could do for
me, I went straight to my mother to tell her of my good fortune. She,
good soul! did nothing but cry all the evening, and try to dissuade
me from going; but I had made up my mind, come what might, to be a
burthen upon her no longer. I did not tell her this as a reason, for
it would have had no weight with her; but I dwelt very much upon the
great advantage it would certainly be to me, and how getting such an
appointment would be the high road to my fortune. In short, if she was
not convinced, she at least saw there was no use in opposing me, so
she reluctantly consented. In a short time my friend came to inform me
that I had been appointed a supernumerary assistant surgeon upon the
staff of the British Legion, then at San Sebastian; that a steamer was
to sail from Greenwich in a few days, to carry out stores, and some
recruits to the army, and that I was to take medical charge of the
latter. My friend was also to go in the same vessel. I was very busy
till I sailed in selling whatever I could part with, getting my outfit,
and above all, in trying to comfort my mother and sisters. I provided
myself with a Spanish grammar, that while on the voyage I might lose
no time in learning the language of the country where I was going. At
length the day of parting came; I shall say nothing about that; indeed,
I have said a great deal too much of myself already, but I wanted to
show how I came to be in Spain. For the future I shall speak more of
other people.
The men on board the steamer were a very turbulent and evil disposed
set, apparently the dregs of the population; most of them were
Londoners, probably well-known to the police. There was one among them,
seemingly a broken down gentleman, the most desperate character I ever
met. He struck his officer soon after we started, and vowed he would
throw him overboard, for refusing to allow more brandy; but for this
he was cruelly flogged, and as he was of a tender constitution, he
remained under my care all the rest of the voyage.
We arrived at San Sebastian on the forenoon of the sixth day after
our departure. The climate had changed rapidly since we left England
behind us. On this morning the sun was shining cheerily, and the air
genial as in our May. The harbour is a wondrously beautiful sight.
Two high rocks rise boldly out of the sea; the little bay lies,
crescent-shaped, between them, its waters deep blue, the sandy shore a
golden yellow. The country beyond, for some distance, is undulating,
of a rich verdure, saddened and beautified by ruined convents and
villages. Next come the Pyrenees, clothed with dark-oak forests nearly
to their summits; their crests huge rocks strangely shaped. Those great
mountains are thrown together confusedly; you might think they were
the waves of some stormy sea suddenly turned into stone. Many among
them are of a great size; far as the eye can reach rises peak over
peak, bluer and fainter in the distance, the outline more irregular
and indistinct, till at last the blue of earth and the blue of heaven
are one. The rugged little island of Santa Clara is midway between
the rocky points of the crescent-harbour; it lies to the right hand
as we enter the shallow and dangerous waters. On the headland beyond
stands a lighthouse, now turned into a fortress. We could see in the
distance little dark figures moving about this tower like mites on a
cheese, and swarming up to the top, probably to look at us. "Those are
Carlists," said my friend. How I strained my eyes to see them! Real,
living enemies--men pledged to slay us with shot and steel--in fight or
in calm vengeance! But we have left our homes and come over the sea to
slay them! A few days, and we shall meet once, we who have never met
before--some of us not to part again, but to lie down in a long sleep
close together, perhaps to cross each other's path no more in this wide
world. Away, among those blue mountains, mothers are sadly thinking of
their soldier sons, the little moving specks before us, perhaps almost
as sadly as mine thinks of me. That sun warms us and our foes alike;
and, from far beyond, He who bade men to "love one another," looks down
with sorrowing pity on us both. I spoke some of these thoughts to my
schoolfellow; they did not please him much; so he told me that I was
only a doctor, and knew nothing about glory. I had then no more to say.
The town of San Sebastian lay on our left hand, walled and bastioned
in with jealous care. A sandy peninsula connects it with the land; a
huge rock, crowned with an embattled citadel, shelters it from the
sea. This was the first time I had ever seen a strange country, but
I have been much about the world since then, and have not seen so
foreign a looking place any where else, or any fairer sight than on
that January morning. Three large war-steamers lay as near the quays as
the depth of water would allow; some thousand of Spanish troops were
disembarking from them in dozens of boats and barges, each regiment, as
it was completed, throwing themselves into a long line upon the beach,
while their magnificent bands cheered them, after their weary voyage,
with hymns of liberty. Then, in a little time, they marched away to
the undulating green hills, to take up their stations among some of
the ruined villages within the lines. Thousands of the town's people,
in bright gay dresses, welcomed their landing with loud cries of joy;
hundreds of banners waved over the throng, and from a distant hill,
where the red coats of the legion caught the eye, the English cannon
thundered a salute.
My schoolfellow and I were soon ashore; and, after some little delay,
found our billets in two rooms next each other, looking out upon the
great square. Then we went forth again to see the town. Oh such strange
sights! such tall, gloomy Gothic churches, and such gaudy French shops!
such bright eyes and such glossy hair! Oh the long black veils, in
folds of wondrous grace, and the proud neck, and tiny feet, and stately
step! And sullen men, wrapped in dark heavy cloaks, and gay dragoons,
and plumed aides-de-camp, and plaided Highlanders, and sombre riflemen,
and nuns and priests, sailors and muleteers, soldiers with crutches,
bandaged heads, and pale faces, and hardy peasants with scarlet cap and
sash, and Biscayan girls with ruddy checks and long fair hair hanging
in plaits over their falling shoulders. We could scarce win our way
through this vast masquerade--our eyes confused by bright and varied
colours, and our ears by martial music, distant firing, rattling of
hoofs and wheels, and the ceaseless clamour of Babel voices. Now a
string of fifty mules would trot past us, with their jingling bells and
gay caparisons; then a half-naked crowd of drunken legionaries burst
through the throng with frantic cries and gestures; again a battalion
of Spanish grenadiers, clothed in dark gray coats, with measured step
and glittering bayonets, press up the narrow streets.
Soon after nightfall all was still in the town; the loiterers had gone
to their homes, the soldiers were recalled to their barracks, the
shops and markets were deserted. Few cared to pace the streets when
unprotected by the light of day, for the thirst for gold and blood
was strong among the fierce men brought here in those evil days; and
the turbulent legionaries at times did frightful outrage in their
drunken fury. My friend and I dined at a small inn, and about ten
o'clock at night bent our steps towards the billets. As we went our
way, we suddenly saw a bright flame shoot up from behind a street at
some distance, and, urged by curiosity, hastened to the place whence
it arose. We found a large wooden stable on fire. Many noble English
horses, belonging to the officers of the Legion were in the building;
some of the soldiers, the grooms and their families, occupied the
loft above. The mischief had but just begun; some straw was blazing
at the door; on it was lying a drunken soldier with a pipe in his
mouth, probably the cause of the fire. Though he must have been
somewhat scorched, he seemed to regard the whole matter with stupid
indifference. My friend rushed at him and shook him vigorously, calling
out, "You are on fire--the city is on fire." The drunken man barely
winked his eyes, and tried to go to sleep again, mumbling--"City! city!
what do I care for this city or any other city--barrin' the city of
Cork." However, we dragged him away, and put out the fire, already
consuming his clothes, in a wet gutter, where he went to sleep again
more at his ease, as soon as he had ceased abusing us for disturbing
him.
Meanwhile crowds of people assembled, uselessly swarming about the
burning stables, and embarrassing those really at work. The blaze
spread rapidly, and in a very short time the roof took fire. All
the horses, and, as we thought, all the people had been got out of
the building, so we stood looking on in indifference, when a poor
Irishwoman, apparently in a transport of despair, rushed through the
throng, and cried, "Oh my child! my poor child!"
"Where--where?" shouted a dozen eager voices.
"Oh God help me! up in the loft, to be sure. Oh good gentlemen! save my
child!"
It was a fearful risk--the wooden beams were blazing fiercely, smoke
and even flame burst out of the upper windows now and then; one end
of the building already tottered under the fiery storm, but the
woman's shriek sounded louder in my brave friend's ear than the roar
of the furious flame. His stout English heart was a ready prompter.
In a moment he seized a ladder, placed it against an open window, ran
up rapidly, and plunged into the smoke and flame, while a cheer of
admiration burst from the crowd below. There was a minute of terrible
suspense; he was seeking the lost child in vain. Again he rushes to
the window, half-suffocated with the smoke--"Where was the child?" he
cried; "I cannot find it." My heart sank within me as I thought of
the mother's despair; but she seemed less desperate than before, and,
running under the window, cried--"Sorra a child I have at all, your
honour; but since you _are_ up there, will you just throw me down the
bit of a mattrass that's in the corner, for it's all I have in the
world."
My friend sprang out of the window and slipped down the ladder. He
was just in time; the next moment, with a tremendous crash, the main
props gave way, and the whole, building fell into a heap of blazing
ruins. Now I only tell you this long story, to show what quaint, wild
creatures where those Irish that General Evans took with him to Spain.
In the room next to mine a young Spanish cadet, belonging to the 2d
light infantry, was billeted. He was about fourteen years of age, the
son of a grandee of Spain. As his family was great and powerful, it
was only necessary for him to go through the form of joining the army
on service, when a commission in the royal guard would be given him.
We soon made acquaintance. He was amused by my odd attempts to speak
Spanish, and I was charmed with him. He was a rarely beautiful boy;
his, regular features, long curling hair, small hands and feet, would
have given him the appearance of effeminacy, but for the vigorous
activity of his movements, and his bright bold eye. The best blood of
Old Castile flowed in his veins and mantled in his cheek. The little
cadet was most dainty in his dress; his uniform was the smartest, his
plume the gayest, his boots the brightest, his gold lace the freshest
in his regiment. His cap, epaulettes, and sword made expressly for him
very small and light, in proportion to his size; and a beautiful black
Andalusian pony to match, completed his equipments.
He rode out with me one day--that is, he rode, and I walked, soon
after we became known to each other. Our way lay through the principal
street of the town; the tall, white, solid-looking houses on each side
had balconies for every window, some of them filled with gay groups of
Spanish ladies, honouring us with their notice, as we passed. When we
approached a large handsome dwelling, with huge gates opening into a
court-yard, the black pony began to show symptoms of excitement, and
by the time we got directly opposite, he was dancing about a great
rate. The little animal was evidently accustomed at this place to such
hints of the spur and rein as would make him display his paces to the
greatest advantage. A tall, noble-looking woman and a graceful girl
leant over the railing of the balcony, and kissed their hands to the
cadet as he rode up. He answered by taking, off his gay cap and making
a low bow, while the pony pranced more than ever. "Come, Doctor," said
the youth to me, "You must know Dolòres and Pepìta." He threw his
bridle-rein to a boy, and before I could recover from my surprise, had
hurried me up stairs, and into the presence of his fair friends.
They were, sisters--Dolòres ten years older than Pepìta; both much
alike, except in the stamp of years, so deep and unsparing in that
sunny land. Their hair and eyes were black, glossy, and bright; their
complexion deep olive; their teeth of dazzling whiteness; and there
was something about the head and neck that made me, in spite of
myself, think of swans and empresses. With what stately grace they
welcomed us--with what a soft rich accent they spoke, telling us to
"live a thousand years!" The little cadet declared that he was "at
their feet;" but I suppose this was only a Spanish compliment, for
instead of placing himself there, he kissed Pepìta's hand, sat down
beside her, and began talking with perfect familiarity. Dolòres said
something to me, but I could not understand it; and being dreadfully
confused, I went to the balcony, and looked up the street. The young
girl and the little cadet had a great deal to say to each other; they
chattered and laughed merrily; then at times Pepìta would try to look
grave, and, with a solemn face, lecture the beautiful boy, shaking her
fan threateningly at him, when they would laugh more than ever.
At last I saw them looking at me, and heard him say that I was a
doctor. Pepìta seemed struck with a sudden thought at this, and rose
up, beckoning to him and me to follow. She led us across the court-yard
into a long, passage; a large heavy door was at the end. She pointed
to it, and said something to my companion in a pitying voice; then,
instantly resuming her gaiety, pulled off the cadet's cap, threw it
at him, and ran off, laughing merrily. At the end of the passage she
turned, kissed her little white hand, and we saw no more of her.
"I do love Pepìta," said the boy; "I must win a ribbon in the battle,
and then she will be so proud of her playfellow."
We opened the door and entered.
Near an open window lay an emaciated man upon a small camp bed. The
fair complexion and blue eye bespoke him an Englishman. His face was
covered with a bushy beard; his checks were hollow, his features
pinched and sharpened. Pillows supported his head and shoulders; his
arms lay helplessly on the outside of the bed, worn and thin; but the
large joints, broad bony hand, and square-built shoulders, showed how
powerful had been the frame that now lay wrecked before us. He raised
his dull sunken eyes, as if by an effort, as we entered, and when he
observed me, something like a smile of recognition passed over his wan
face. I knew him at once, though he was strangely altered; he it was
who, when a boy at school, had done me the insulting wrong. The blood
rushed red to my face for a moment; but when I thought how pale and
faint he was, it went back again, to my heart I suppose, for my pity
yearned towards the poor sufferer.
He told me in a few words, slowly and painfully, that he had been
wounded in a skirmish some weeks before, and afterwards attacked with
typhus fever. His servant had that morning deserted, carrying off the
little money he possessed, and every thing of value in the room. He was
on unfriendly terms with all his brother officers, had quarrelled with
the regimental doctor, and was now utterly destitute and helpless. The
Spanish family, in whose house he was billeted, were very kind to him,
particularly the two sisters; but they were in great poverty from these
troublous times, and had sickness also among themselves.