[3] The Drunkard; the Spanish origin of this title is endeavoured to
to be recognised in its title.
Not long since, a couple resided in the suburbs of Madrid, named Perez
and Juana Donilla; and a happy couple they might have been, had not
Perez contracted a sad habit of drinking, which became more and more
confirmed after every draught of good wine; and such draughts were
certainly more frequent than his finances were in a state to allow.
Night after night was spent at the tavern; fairly might he be said to
_swallow_ all that he earned by his daily labour; and Juana and himself
(fortunately they had no children to maintain) must have been reduced
to absolute mendicity, but for the exemplary conduct of the former, who
contrived to support her spouse and herself upon the scanty produce of
her unwearied industry. If ever a sentiment of gratitude for undeserved
favours animated the bosom of Perez Donilla, he took, it must be
confessed, a strange method of declaring it; not only would he, upon his
return from his lawless carousals, grumble over that humble fare, the
possession of which at all he ought to have considered as scarce less
than a miracle, but, in his madness, unmerciful strappings were sure to
be the portion of his miserable wife. Poor Juana bore these cruelties
with a patience that ought to have canonized her under the title of St.
Grizzle: she could not, indeed, forbear crying out, under these frequent
and severe castigations; nor could she refrain from soliciting the aid
of three or four favourite gentlemen saints, who, little to the credit
of their gallantry and good-nature, always turned a deaf ear upon her
plaints and entreaties; not a word, however, of the inhuman conduct of
her _worser_ half did she breathe to _mortal_ ear. Neighbours, however,
have auricular organs like walls and little pitchers, tongues like
bells, and a spice of meddling and mischief in them like asses; so that
no wise person will suppose the conduct of Perez Donilla to his wife was
long a secret in Madrid. Juana had two brothers and a cousin resident in
the city--Gomez Arias, chief cook to his reverence the Canon Fernando;
Hernan Arias, head groom to Don Miguel de Corcoba, a knight of
Calatrava; and Pedro Pedrillo, a young barber-surgeon, in business for
himself. Gomez and Hernan, hearing of Juana's misfortunes, said, like
affectionate brothers. "God help our poor sister, and may her own
relations help her also; for if _they_ do not, nobody else will, and she
certainly can't help herself." The like words they repeated to Pedro
Pedrillo, until he, being a sharp, handsome young fellow, and
particularly fond of showing forth his fine person and finer wit, agreed
to visit his cousin, and contrive some plan to extricate her from the
cruelty of Perez. Making himself, therefore, as fascinating as possible,
he marched directly to the house, or rather cabin, of Juana Donilla, and
stood before her, smiling and watching her small, thin fingers plaitting
straw for hats, some minutes ere she was aware of his presence. "Pedro!"
exclaimed she, with a countenance and voice of pleasure, as she
recognised the intruder.--"Ay, _Pedro_ it is, indeed, Juana; but,
improved as _I_ am. O, mercy upon me, how black _you_ are
looking!"--"_Black_, cousin? Nay, then, I'm sure 'tis not for want of
washing. Come, come, Pedro, no jokes, if you please."--"By St. Jago,
fair cousin, I'm as far from a joke as I am from a diploma; and my
business in this house, as in most houses, is no _jest_, I assure you.
In a word, the cries which you utter when suffering from the insane fury
of your sottish husband have reached even me, and I'm come to offer you
a little advice and assistance. No denial of the fact, Juana; those
black bruises avouch it without a tongue."--Juana held down her head,
colour mounted into her cheeks, tears suffused her eyes, her bosom
heaved convulsively, and for some moments she was silent from confusion,
shame, grief, and gratitude. At length, withdrawing her hand from the
affectionate grasp of Pedro, and dashing it athwart her eyes, she looked
up and said mildly, "Thanks, many thanks, dear cousin, for your
kindness. I cannot dissemble with you; what would you have me do? I
could not _beat_ him in return; and, oh! save him from the arm of
my brothers!"--"What have you always done?"--"Borne his stripes, and
called for help upon St. Jago, St. Francis Xavier, St. Benedict, and
St. Nicholas!"--"And did you never invoke the three holy Maries?"--
"Never."--"Then that's what you ought to have done," returned Senor
Pedrillo, with the utmost gravity. "Now mind me,--call upon _them_
for aid next time your husband maltreats you."--"Alas!" sighed the
afflicted wife, "_that_ will most surely be to-night. I've not much
faith in your remedy, Pedro; but may be there's no harm in trying
it."--"Farewell, then, my poor, pretty, patient, black-bruised cousin,"
cried Pedrillo; "next time you see the _doctor_, let him know how his
remedy has sped;" and with a comical expression of countenance, half
melancholy, half mirthful, the "trusty and well-beloved cousin"
departed.
Late that night, Perez Donilla entered his own habitation as intoxicated
and belligerent as ever. "Where's my supper?"--"Here," said his wife,
trembling, as she placed before him a few heads of garlic, a piece of
salted trout, a little oil, and a crust of barley bread. "What's all
this, woman?" exclaimed Perez, in a voice of thunder; and with glaring
eyes and demoniacal fury he dashed the fish at her head, and the rest of
his supper upon the floor. "Wretch! how durst _you_ fatten upon olios
and ragouts, and set trash like _this_ before your _husband?_"--"My
dear," replied Juana, meekly, "I am starving; nothing have I tasted
since breakfast."--"Don't lie, you jade! Where's the wild-fowl and the
Bologna sausage sent you by that rogue, Gomez? Stolen were they from
the canon's kitchen, and you know it! And where's the skin of excellent
Calcavella, from the Caballero's overflowing vaults? Give it to me this
_instant_, you hussy, you vixen, you--"--"Indeed, _indeed_," cried the
unfortunate wife in deep anguish, "I take all the saints in heaven to
witness--."--"That, and that, and _that_," interrupted the furious
tyrant, lashing her severely, according to custom, with a thick thong of
leather, and now and then adding a blow with his fist; "let's see if
_that_ will bring me a supper fit for a Christian, and a draught of Don
Miguel's Calcavella!" Juana remembered Pedrillo's advice, and after
roaring out more loudly than usual for aid from St. Jago, St. Francis,
St. Benedict, and St. Nicholas, shrieked at the highest pitch of her
voice, "May the three blessed Maries help me!" No sooner were the words
uttered, than in rushed three apparitions, arrayed in white, but so
enfolded in lined, that it was impossible to determine whether they
represented men or women; of their visages, only their eyes were
visible, peering frightfully from the white covering of their heads;
each brandished a good stout cudgel, and each, without uttering a word,
falling quick as thought upon Perez Donilla, repaid him the blows he had
lavished on his unhappy wife with such interest, as would have sealed
his fate indubitably, had not she interposed; but upon the entreaties of
that exemplary wife, the three holy Maries remitted the remainder of
their flagellation, and retired, leaving Perez senseless on the floor.
Poor Juana was agonized at beholding the state to which her graceless
partner was reduced, and hauling him, as well as her own exhausted
strength would permit, upon his miserable pallet, washed the blood and
dust from his wounds, and watched his return to consciousness with
unexampled tenderness and dutiful fidelity. Perez at length opened his
eyes, and said, in the mild voice which was natural to him when sober,
"My poor Juana, I wish you could fetch your cousin Pedro to see me; I
think I shall die." Juana was half distracted at this speech; and
running to the next house, bribed a neighbour's child by the promise of
a broad-brimmed straw hat, to shade his complexion from the sun, to run
for Doctor Pedrillo. Pedro soon arrived, and was evidently more puzzled
respecting his deportment than the case of his patient. Sundry "nods,
and becks, and wreathed smiles," and sundry eloquent glances of his
bright black eyes, were covertly bestowed upon his _fair_ cousin; anon,
with ludicrous solemnity, he felt the pulse of Perez, shook his head,
and, in short, imitated with inimitable exactness all the technical
airs and graces of a regular graduate of Salamanca.--"Cousin," cried he
at length, with a sly look at Juana, "I pity your plight--from my soul I
do; but your case is, I am grieved to say, desperate, unless I am
informed of the _cause_ of these monstrous weals, bruises, slashes, and
chafings, in order that my prescription, may--"--"The _cause_ of them,"
said Perez, almost frightened to death, "is, having to my cost a _saint_
of a wife."--"How! that a _misfortune?_ explain yourself, my poor
fellow."--"Readily," replied Donilla, "if that will help to heal
me."--He then explained minutely the circumstances of the case,
concluding thus:--"Not but what I am, after all, remarkably indebted to
Juana, for had she only called the eleven thousand Virgins to her
assistance, their zeal would undoubtedly have divided my body amongst
them; since, then, my wife has such friends in heaven; I shall
henceforth be careful how I enrage them again."--Perez Donilla kept to
his resolution, and the _Three Maries_, whom, without doubt, the
intelligent reader has recognised through their disguise, lived for many
years to rejoice in the blessed effects of a severe, but merited
infliction. M.L.B.
* * * * *