FEAR SAYS "NO" TO HAPPINESS.
We passed during the day a military post and several squads of armed
men. Poor fellows! they were wretchedly equipped, so far as garments
went. They all examined us curiously, but did not offer to stop or
question us while I marched on ahead of the cavalcade like a drum major,
giving the military salute to each party as we passed. I ought to have
been fatigued, but I was not. After about five miles of uphill work we
began to descend. The road was a masterpiece of engineering, and well it
might be, for it was one of five military roads the great Napoleon
ordered to be constructed across the Pyrenees, and it was done in a
thoroughly workmanlike manner. It wound in and out and along defiles of
stern beauty.
We halted for rest and refreshment at noon, and again at 4 o'clock for
an hour. At the last place we found some Carlist officers, one a young
Englishman, who was a good fellow and most attentive. He was an
aide-de-camp on Don Carlos' staff. He told me there was no chance of his
side winning, but he was in it for the fun of the thing and in hope of
seeing some fighting. He had taken part in a number of skirmishes, and
was by no means satisfied yet. He volunteered to escort us through the
lines, and was evidently more than pleased to meet an English lady in
the person of my wife.
It was beautiful to see him order about my muleteers and bully them up
hill and down dale, not hesitating to use his whip on them. About 5
o'clock we started off in great shape, having some twenty miles to go to
the little town on the railway south of the Pyrenees. We had two
lanterns and a number of torches; it was a picturesque caravan in the
darkness. The young officer rode beside the first cart, conversing with
my wife, while I walked in the rear. We had reason to congratulate
ourselves over our escort, he being a brave and brilliant fellow and
evidently a person of importance. He little thought whom he was
escorting. I was pleased on my wife's account, as he was company for
her, and, altogether, she thoroughly enjoyed the novelty of the whole
situation.
We had made a fine bed of hay and blankets for our sick man.
Nevertheless, he was a source of much anxiety and trouble. At last, to
the intense relief of all, we heard far away the shrill whistle of a
locomotive. It was sweet music to my ears, for I realized the peril of
the delay. We had now arrived at the base of the southern slope of the
Pyrenees and the plain stretched out before us. We had just passed
through an intrenched camp that guarded the entrance to the valley. Our
escort had ridden ahead, and not satisfied with smoothing the way for
us, had turned out the guard to do us honor. We halted for a few
minutes, and several uniformed officers came forward and were introduced
to my wife and me. It was a picturesque scene. The mantle of snow
covering all, the strange-looking mountaineers, the eager-faced, boyish
officers--French, English, Austrian--all soldiers of fortune, who, in
the dearth of great wars, were seeking fame in the inglorious civil
contest; our torches casting fantastic shadows until the forest-covered
mountain, dark and frowning, though snow lay everywhere, seemed peopled
with hosts of men--all made a picture never to be forgotten by some of
the observers.
Another mile and our escort had to leave us, but the town, standing dark
against the snow, was in plain view. By his advice I went ahead on foot
with two men, in case any of "the enemy" were prowling around, but found
none until we arrived in the town; then a scene of great excitement to
the townspeople arose.
We were examined and cross-examined, and our statements taken down in
writing and sworn to by all hands. In the mean time I had made beds for
our sick man and the ladies in the waiting room of the station, and
about 2 o'clock I went to sleep. The station was fortified and full of
soldiers, but I did not care, being told the Madrid train would start at
daylight; if so, I would be in time for El Rey Felipe, and would be
sailing out of Cadiz harbor on Monday over the blue water, westward ho!
After a two hours' nap I was up, paid off my lucky thirteen, giving them
a present in addition to their due, with a written paper certifying that
they were honest and brave, and had delivered me and mine in safety.
The weather continued very cold, and when the train, consisting of two
passenger and one baggage car, arrived we found there were no heating
arrangements, and we shivered at the thought of an all-day's ride
without fire or heat across that windy plain. I determined to have a
compartment to ourselves, for my wife and I had not had a moment's
privacy since the smash-up of the train. So we fixed up a bed on the
floor of a compartment for our sick man, and I put his family in to look
out for him. When the train left we found ourselves, very much to our
satisfaction, alone. I had telegraphed ahead to Burges to have hot water
cases, then the only mode of heating cars in Europe, ready on our
arrival.
The engineer of our train was an Englishman. As it was so important that
I should not be delayed I gave him a sovereign and his stoker another,
and asked him as a favor to make time. He said he would and kept his
word. But arriving at Burgos we found that the train from Santander
going south was two hours late, so my wife and I started out to see the
famous town.
After a short view we made our way to the Cathedral, and it was a sight!
It is one of the many sacred edifices which the piety of former ages
bequeathed our own. One of these sacred buildings--like the Strasbourg
and Cologne Cathedrals, in the construction of which generation after
generation of pious souls--pious according to the fashion of their
times--had given their days to the building and decoration of the
cloister or church where their lives were lived, and all was done with
loving and patient care.
We in our day may sneer at the monks and brothers of the Dark Ages, but
in those times of rude violence all gentle hearted, scholarly souls
found in the sanctity and quiet of the cloister the only refuge open to
them, and they did good work, both in the domain of mind and in the
world of material things. Much that was "piety" and much that was
"faith" in their day is termed superstition in ours; but who will deny
that the simple piety and credulous faith of their day was a million
times better than the restless skepticism and sad unrest of ours?
At Burgos I tried to get an English paper, but none was to be had and no
one there had ever seen one.
But here some startling news came flashing over the wires. Nothing less
than that there had been a revolution at Madrid, the capital. Amadeo,
the lately elected king, had suddenly resigned, and a republic had been
proclaimed with Castelar at the head.
I began to see more and more what a fool I was to let myself be caught
at such a time in such a land, but still had so much confidence in my
good fortune that I felt I would be on time for the steamer on Monday.
It was now 3 o'clock Friday. We were all aboard for Madrid and just
pulling out of the station. We would be due there the next morning. From
Madrid to Cadiz there is only one through train in twenty-four hours,
and that leaves seven mornings a week; but, as it runs only fifteen
miles an hour, and is seldom on time at that, one must figure on taking
an entire twenty-four hours for the journey. Still, as we would be due
Saturday morning, I had a big margin for delay.
At last we were off. On the train and in every group we passed there
were signs of subdued excitement. Between Royalists and Republicans
sharp lines were evidently drawn which soon were to culminate in bloody
conflict.
Soon after 10 o'clock we arrived in the walled town of Avila, about
eighty miles from the famous Escurial built by the second Philip, and
about 150 miles from Madrid. Here we got an excellent dinner and good
coffee. But dinner was spoiled for me by the disastrous intelligence
that martial law had been proclaimed and that the Government had seized
the roads running north from Madrid to transport troops.
Here was a pretty pickle! I was enraged. I saw the chief of the railway
at Avila, but he was a fool, and under the unwonted state of affairs had
lost what little head he ever had.
So once more our baggage was all piled out of the train, and once more
we had to go into camp on the floor of the station, with a terrific din
around us.
I arose early, and looking up the telegraph clerk and railway chief, I
made them both rich by the present to each of five escudos.
Then I telegraphed Castelar and the Minister of War that I was an
Englishman, that I had my family with me, and having important business
in Madrid I must not be detained in Avila. I demanded that he should at
once direct the military officials to send me on to Madrid by special
train. I also sent a telegram to Hernandez, president of the road in
Paris, offering 5,000 francs for a special train. Another urgent message
was sent to the superintendent in Madrid repeating the offer for a
special train, the same sum to himself if he expedited the train. I also
authorized him to spend a similar amount if necessary in bribing the
military authorities.
[Illustration: TRIAL OF THE FOUR AMERICANS AT THE "OLD BAILEY," LONDON.]
At 11 o'clock I had a long telegram from him saying a train would be
made up at Avila. But an hour having passed away, I sent him a message
to order up an engine and one car from Madrid. Another message arrived
at 12 o'clock, and down came an engine and car.
Our baggage was hustled into the three front compartments. I put Nunn
and the Portuguese party in one and my wife and I occupied the rear
compartment. Thank Heaven! once more alone together. The soldiers and
inhabitants flocked around, and we were the observed of all observers.
The local railway chief was more than anxious to see us off, as I added
another five to the five escudos already given. Just then the telegraph
operator flew out with an order for our train to await the arrival of
the train from Madrid.
I stormed. I kept the wire hot with messages of protest to officials.
Two messages came from Madrid saying the delay was but temporary. So
there I sat in that musty compartment, my wife by my side and with a
heart full of bitterness, for I saw the precious hours slipping away,
and with them my chance of taking the Sunday morning train so as to
catch the Cadiz steamer. To miss it, I thought, meant ruin.
Hour after hour passed by, and there we sat. My secret cause of unrest
had to be kept locked in my breast, while my young wife, all
unsuspecting, was merry and happy, chanting little snatches of song and
telling me a hundred times she was the happiest of women. She did not
care for revolutions, nor for delays. Was she not with me! The sun
began to go down the sky, and the shadows fell. Still we sat on,
expecting every moment an order to proceed. The suspense was terrible.
At last about 6 o'clock an order came to have everything ready to pull
out for Madrid at 7, so very reluctantly we dismounted to take supper in
the station, and once more got into the car. But no order came. The
hours dragged on, and I saw fate closing her hand on me.
The night wore on, when suddenly, toward midnight, the operator rushed
out of his office and, shouting to the engineer, flew up to our
compartment, said good-bye and in a minute we were off. After that long
and terrible day it was happiness to be moving.
I had given the engineer a tip; he put on steam, and as we flew over the
road hope returned. I felt we were safe. At the rate we were going I
should have two or three hours to spare. We soon were at the Escurial.
As fate would have it we found here an order to run us on a side line
and to keep the track clear for a train going north. For two miserable
hours we waited and no train. Then I set the wires in motion again, and
just as the eastern skies grew gray we started.
Soon after midnight I telegraphed to the railway authorities at Madrid
to hold the train going south to Cadiz until my arrival, offering $100
an hour for every hour's detention.
Madrid is situated on a high sandy plain, storm-swept in Winter worse
than any plains in Northern Europe. We had a wheezy engine. Four miles
out it broke down, and then I gave up the struggle.
At 4 o'clock Sunday afternoon, nine hours too late for the Cadiz train,
we arrived at Madrid, too late to reach Cadiz by a special train. Not
too late could the train have been started off as soon as ordered, but
in Spain a special train is an unheard-of thing.
Mine from Avila was an innovation, only possible because there was so
much money behind it to all concerned at both ends of the line. No
Spaniard was ever known to be in a hurry, and no particle of matter
between his chin and his sombrero holds any lurking suspicion that
anything born of a woman could be in a hurry or have any reason for any
such insanity.
Here I was at last in the much-longed-for Madrid, but not on time, and I
had nothing to do but to put in execution some new plan. Had I even at
that late date resolved to go to New York, I could have returned to
France by the Eastern route, via Barcelona, and all might have been
well.
I telegraphed to Lopez & Co. to Cadiz inquiring if they would hold the
El Rey Felipe for twenty hours. They replied they were under contract
with the Government and had to sail on time. So I said good-bye to that
plan.
On consulting my memorandum I saw there was a French steamer sailing
from St. Nazaire, on the west coast of France, for Vera Cruz, Mexico,
which would touch at Santander on Saturday for mails and passengers, and
I resolved to go by her; this, of course, meant retracing our way
through the hated Avila to Burgos, and changing there for Santander.
Here we saw the last of the Portuguese family with their sick member.
They said good-bye with every expression of gratitude, and in truth I
was glad to see them off. We were all very tired of them, and they had
been a serious expense. That is, might have been serious, but as I paid
that expense out of the Bank of England's cash I naturally could be
liberal in the extreme, and gave a salve to my conscience by reflecting
what a good-souled, charitable young man I was in looking out for these
strangers and putting my hand freely in my pocket in their behalf.
As soon as breakfast was over I hurried to the English Embassy, and
there securing files of the London papers looked eagerly and nervously
through them. To my intense relief I saw there was nothing in them.
Therefore, I knew all was serene in London and that the Old Lady was
without doubt giving out sovereigns by the tens of thousands for us.
Very much relieved in mind I returned to the hotel, and we set out to
see Madrid.
[Illustration: A DETECTIVE IDENTIFYING OLD OFFENDERS AT NEWGATE.]