Two years after the events just recorded, a still greater sorrow befell
this worthy family, so united and so affectionate, as the families of the
peasantry usually are. Michael drew the lot in a second conscription, as
Gaspar had done before; and as he was thus obliged to serve on his own
account, the son of his adopted parents, whom he could not now serve as a
substitute, was once more called to the ranks. Four years more passed; and
just when they were expecting Michael home, his time of service having
expired, and while Catherine was preparing her wedding garments, a cry,
uttered by the Queen of Spain, resounded through the country, electrifying
the people and producing a universal outburst of patriotic enthusiasm--
Long live Spain! Death to the Moor who has insulted her! This cry was
re-echoed throughout the length and breadth of he Peninsula, accompanied
by the clash of the warrior's sword and the chink of the rich man's gold,
offered on the altar of the country's honor; it was repeated by the
people, who gave their blood; by the sacred episcopate, who blessed the
cause of the country and of Christianity, and whose words powerfully
influenced not only timid and pious consciences, but all by their wisdom,
prudence, and judgment. The Sisters of Charity offered their devoted
services; the nuns made lint and sacred scapulars of the Virgin; the
ladies also made lint and bandages which they moistened with their tears;
and even schoolboys, fired with enthusiasm, asked to be allowed to go to
the popular war against the Moors.
[Note: This assertion might be proved by many examples; but it will
suffice to transcribe here a letter written by a nephew of mine, the son
of Marquis C----.
"SENOR GOVERNOR: Although I am only a boy of eight I am moved to say to
you that I would like to die for the country, and that, being fond of
military things, I wish you would permit me to go fight the Moors.--
Written by P---- P----."
It is to be observed that this boy is docile, and gentle and modest in
disposition, rather than daring or arrogant.--Note of the Author]
Michael, who shared in the general enthusiasm for the war, on receiving
his discharge, enlisted again, refusing to accept the premium for
re-enlisting, for such time as the war in Africa should last.
John Joseph, who in winter followed the occupation of a muleteer, brought
home this news on his return from one of his trips, in which he had seen
his sons, who were both serving in the King's regiment, in Africa. Maria,
on hearing it, burst into tears.
"They were right in saying last year, when the saddle-shaped comet
appeared, that it came to foretell a war with the Moors!" she exclaimed
disconsolately.
"The comet had no resemblance to a saddle," answered her husband, with
martial ardor; "you know very well that what they said was that it was the
same star that had guided the kings who went to Bethlehem to declare that
Christ was the true Messiah; very well, our people will go to the Moorish
country now to tell them that Spanish Christians are tired of putting up
with the atrocities and the insults of the accursed Moors."
"But a great many people will be killed in this war, John Joseph, and that
is heartbreaking to think of; yes heartbreaking, although you with your
warlike notions say it is not."
"Oh, yes, you would like this war to be like a war between women; a war to
the knife, but without any one killed; well, war with those who use a
beard, and especially if they wear the King's uniform and have the flag of
Spain, under which they are fighting, to defend, is another matter; with
them, the question is to conquer or die."
"For that very reason," replied Maria disconsolately, "couldn't he have
come back and stayed quietly at home, after he had fulfilled his duty?"
"Yes, like you, at the spinning-wheel; but you must know that no new
sailing vessel ever yet wanted to be a pontoon. Don't you know that?"
Maria and Catherine kept on crying.
"If you had even told me that you were going to see them," said the
former, "I would have given you some scapulars to take them."
"They have them already, they have them already, and blessed by the bishop
of Malaga. I told you before, wife, that this war is a holy war, which
will rejoice St. Ferdinand in heaven. But you are in a crying humor, it
seems," he added impatiently, seeing that his wife and daughter were still
shedding tears. "Why, what would you have? That they should remain here
like women, instead of going to throttle those accursed Moors who don't
believe in Christ, who deny His Holy Mother, and who call the Spaniards
'hens' and 'Christian dogs'? But let them wait a bit, and I'll warrant
they won't want a second taste of the broth those hens will make them!
They never catch a Spaniard, even in time of peace, that they don't
quarter or impale him; you see that makes every Spaniard's blood boil! I
don't know how I can contain myself that I don't go too, for I tell you
that the soles of my feet are itching to go, and the day you least expect
it, I'll take my gun and my blanket and join the camp."
"John Joseph! In the Virgin's name! Isn't it enough to have your sons
there? Would you leave us entirely alone?"
"It wouldn't be for long."
"Hush, hush! God only knows how long it might be, for those people are in
their own country, defending their homes, and you know that they are
ferocious, savage, fearless, and valiant."
"That they are, but as far as being fearless and valiant is concerned, we
Spaniards are more so."
"And God knows what hunger and privation they are going to suffer!"
"Don't imagine it, but even if it should be so, give the Spanish soldier
plenty of water to drink and he has all he needs. Why, the joy of that
regiment as they went on board was plain to be seen! And to think that I
couldn't have gone with them!"
"John Joseph, in the Virgin's name, don't indulge in those boyish
explosions; remember, you are sixty-five years old."
"To-day I am twenty, wife, I am twenty; do you hear?"
"Your fiery spirit deceives you; and I won't hear you talk about going to
the war, when you have two sons in it already."
"And if I had more sons they should be in it, too. Do you think that I
should be behind the father of the first soldier killed at the taking of
the Serrallo, who when he heard of his son's death called another son,
took him to the alcalde of his village, and said: 'My son has been killed
in the war in Africa; here is another to take his place'?"
"From what you say, I shouldn't wonder if you had urged Michael to go to
the war?"
"Michael didn't need any urging, Michael has done well, and so I told him.
'Go without fear,' I cried to him, as I came away, 'the weather-vane in
your village points for Spain; and don't lose heart, if there should be
some reverse, for reverses there must be in war, unless it be by a miracle
of God; but many there won't be; and the devil will have little chance to
get at the weather-vane of the peak of the Alpujarras, for the one who has
charge of it now is an archangel, your patron saint, Michael, and the
patron saint of Spain, and he won't neglect his business, and he knows how
to keep the devil at a respectful distance!"