THE TERTULIA.
In the morning, after coffee, a devilled bone and a cigar, we sallied
forth to deliver the dispatch of our Governor to the captain general,
and resolved, soon after, to bid farewell to Seville; for Jack was
full of fears that the whole corps would be off, bag and baggage, to
fight the Russians before we could return. The hour was somewhat
early, so we rambled about the beautiful city; but I do not mean to
inflict upon the reader a description of all we saw--of the gay
crowds who thronged the Plaza de Toros and the Alameda, with fan and
mantilla, sombrero and mantle; of the cathedral of Santa Maria, with
its carved buttresses and stupendous spires; of the Alcazar or palace
of the Moorish kings, with all its arabesques and oval arches; of the
Lonja and the huge tobacco factory. I beg my reader to imagine them
all, for I could easily devote five several chapters to describing
these five several edifices. It is enough that the Sevillanos have
an ancient proverb, that he who never saw Seville has never seen a
wonder; to wit--
"Que en no ha visto Sevilla,
Ne ha visto Maravilla."
As we issued from the cathedral, Jack's loquacity was somewhat
stilled by the grandeur of that stupendous pile and its dark
Murillos, the chief of which is the adoration of the Saviour by St.
Anthony of Padua--I beg pardon--of Lisbon and of Lagos--and full of
thoughts, which were rather solemn for such fellows as we are, we
walked slowly on with our eyes fixed on the far-famed tower of the
weathercock--the Giralda--which rises at the north-east angle of the
church, when a personage, whose eyes were raised to the same
altitude, came somewhat violently against us, and then we poured
forth mutual apologies.
"Maldito--come esta, señores; well met."
"Come esta, señor major--who would have thought of meeting you here?"
"Why so?" asked Don Joaquim, for he proved to be our friend of the
noble regiment of Lagos; "I think that I mentioned Seville as my
native city--so you have reached the end of your journey?"
"Yes, and mean to leave this to-morrow," said Jack.
"So early! Maldito--a short visit. Is your business so soon
concluded?"
"It is not yet begun; we have a dispatch for the captain general."
"Indeed!" said he, with wonder in his face.
"Where is his palace? We were just about to inquire the way."
"You must pass the Lonja, our famous Exchange, a triumph of the
genius of Juan de Herrera--the architect of the Escurial; well, you
must pass it, and cross the Plaza de Toros; but allow me to have the
pleasure of escorting you."
"Many thanks."
"None are necessary, señores--hut this dispatch for the captain
general--Maldito! I am bursting with irrepressible curiosity to know
what it is about. Are we going to war with Russia too?"
"Then, señor," said I, "we may as well inform you that it concerns
the killing of a man on board of a Spanish government guarda costa,
by a chance shot from the Mole Fort at Gibraltar."
"He was in pursuit of a contrabandista, I presume?"
"Exactly so."
"Ah, those rascally contrabandistas! It is too bad of your
Government to protect them--quite as bad as making war on the Chinese
because they would not poison themselves with opium. I heard that
some of your people had shot at a guarda costa, and killed some one
on hoard. It has excited considerable animosity, and been much
spoken of."
He led us through several dark and narrow streets, so narrow, indeed,
that people could easily have shaken hands from the windows on each
side of these quaint old Moorish thoroughfares. Issuing suddenly
into the full Haze of the scorching Spanish sunshine, we found
ourselves before a handsome palace decorated by Corinthian pilasters,
and having its lofty windows covered by external shades of brilliant
red and white striped stuff. Two sentinels of the line stood at the
portal under sunshades, with their muskets "ordered;" and they stared
at our uniform with black and lacklustre eyes.
"The palace of the captain general," said Don Joaquim, bowing; "he
has just returned from Jaen, having gone on a pilgrimage to the Holy
Face."
"We must have the pleasure of meeting you again," said I.
"Our hotel is the Queen's--de la Reyna--near the Exchange," added
Slingsby.
"Oh, I know the place very well," replied the Don, producing his
card, a token of civilisation little known in Spain; "my mother gives
a tertulia to-night, and we shall be delighted to see you--her
reception hour is eight--Donna Dominga de Lucena--Calle del Alcazar."
"You are the son of Donna Dominga, whom we had the pleasure of
knowing in Gibraltar?"
"The same, señores. Are you the gentlemen who were so kind and
attentive to her? It is quite a little romance this meeting. How
odd, to think that we sat a whole night in the venta of Castellar and
knew nothing about this! Then, doubtless, one of you must be that
accomplished cavalier, Don Leja Mag Leja, concerning whom she wrote
me so many letters when I was at Lagos."
With some laughter, we professed that neither of us was the portly
Leechy Mac Leechy, to whose name the Donna had given somewhat of a
Castilian character in her epistles to the major.
"But about the tertulia? we have no full uniform," urged Jack.
"Full uniform--bagatella!--stuff--come just as you are; but as your
business here is about that unlucky guarda costa, 'tis as well my
brother Hernan has not arrived; for he is in our naval service, and
might feel piqued on the subject. Well, addio--I shall see you at
eight to-night--don't forget, the street of the Alcazar," and with a
salute he left us.
The sentinels at the door "handled" their arms as we ascended the
flight of marble steps which led to the door of the captain general's
palace.
"The last general officer with whom I had the honour of an interview
was old Towler, of the Kilkenny district," said Slingsby; "I have no
idea what manner of man our Spaniard may be."
As the interview with the captain-general and all the various pros
and cons thereanent--as a Scotsman would say--may have appeared
already among the public intelligence of "our own correspondent," who
most likely was not in Seville, and knew nothing about the matter, I
will only state that we were received with great urbanity and
politeness by the Spanish officer who held the important post of
Governor of the four kingdoms. He was a fine old cavalier, and in
earlier years had served in the Peninsular war; he told us that he
had commanded a regiment under Cuesta; a brigade of Cazadores under
Hill, and a division under Murillo; that he had been wounded at
Vittoria in attacking the heights of La Puebla, and had received the
Grand Cross of the Bath from the hand of the Duke of Wellington, and
latterly the Order of Carlos III., which devoted him "to the pure
conception of the blessed Virgin Mary," from the Queen and the
Patriarch of the Indies, at the solemn chapter held in 1853. The old
fellow's eyes kindled with pleasure as he invited us to lunch, and to
share with him a bottle of choice Valdepenas, saying that he loved
the sight of the red coat for the memory of the olden time that would
never come again--the poor red coats--he had often seen them lying
thick enough on many a Spanish plain, and in many a crumbling breach
and trench--at Badajoz, at Ciudad Rodrigo, San Sebastian and Tarifa.
Here, at least, was one noble old Spanish soldier--one true
cavalier--whose lively recollection of those great campaigns (which
are second to none the world has seen) and whose sense of what his
country owed to ours, formed a strong contrast to that cold
ingratitude which desecrated the tomb of the Scottish hero of
Corunna, and ploughed up the graves of our brave men, who were buried
in the little field beneath the ramparts of Tarifa; and for the
repose of whose bones our Government had to pay a sum to Spain.
We received from him a letter to the Governor of Gibraltar, stating
that our explanations of the affair of the guarda costa had perfectly
satisfied him; and on our rising to retire he made us an offer of a
cavalry escort as far as San Roque, which lies within a few miles of
our garrison; but being aware that we should be obliged to maintain
both the horses and the men, and to make them a handsome donation at
parting, I declined, saying that we had an idea of returning by San
Lucar de Barameda, and would there take the steamer for Gibraltar.
"But remember there is that restless gentleman, Don Fabrique de
Urquija," said the general, smiling; "he makes the roads very unsafe,
and does not hesitate to commit such outrages as have not been known
in the land since Marshal Massena marched through it."
We assured him of our being without fear in the matter; on which he
laughed, saying that he knew "los Brittanicos, of old, and that, like
our fathers who fought under Wellington, Hill, and Grahame, we also
were without fear," and we parted, highly flattered and delighted by
our interview with this old Castilian hidalgo.
We lounged long in the Alameda, where the notice our uniform
attracted was rather an annoyance. After dining at the hotel and
making the most of our costume that our light marching order would
admit, we appeared at the door of Donna Dominga's residence in the
Calle del Alcazar, just as the cathedral clock struck eight; for the
Spaniards are too well bred to esteem any one the more for being late
at a conversazione, for such is a tertulia in fact and in effect.
A number of sedans, borne by servants in livery, were standing about
the steps of the mansion; and the links and torches flared on the
coats of arms that decorated the panels and the collars of Santiago
and Calatrava which surrounded them. Various long-visaged and
spindle-shanked representatives of the pure did blood of los Cuatros
Reinos, untainted by the stain of Moor, or Jew, or heretic, were
stalking through the vestibule with due gravity and grandeur.
We were ushered forward by one servant, and were announced by another
on entering the saloon, where our old friend Donna Dominga sat with
fan and snuff-box in hand receiving her guests; and as her son had
prepared her for our visit, she was in a prodigious flutter, with her
fat round face forming the apex of a pyramid of black satin and black
Cadiz lace; for her veil, which was of the finest texture, fell over
all her person.
By her side sat the pretty Paulina on a rich low tabourette,
gracefully as a Spanish lady sits at mass, or a Moorish maiden on her
little carpet, for it is from their Arabian conquerors that the low
seats of the Spanish dames are borrowed.
The major, who wore the blue uniform and massive silver epaulettes of
"the noble Regiment of St. Anthony," and who had the order of St.
John of Portugal on his breast, hurried forward to meet and to
present us. Then the younger donna blushed crimson, while the elder
wished very much to do so too, and dropping her eyelids, fanned
herself, and affected to be much agitated. We bowed very low and
then stepped back, as it is not the custom in Spain to shake hands.
After a few of those complimentary remarks and those commonplaces,
which are customary in every country, we should have withdrawn a
little to make way for other tertulianos, had not Donna Dominga
especially invited us to remain beside her; and while the
presentation continued, and all that were noble (being rich or
beautiful went for nought in Seville) appeared in succession, and
while caballeros and grave and solemn hidalgos, with the red cross of
Calatrava, and the little sword of San Jago dangling at their
button-holes, advanced slowly, and with a faint smile and courtly bow
laid a hand on their heart and lisped the usual and invariable "A los
pies de usted, señoras" (I am at your feet, ladies), and then
retired; I was chatting gaily with Paulina, who had now become more
assured, and who overwhelmed me with a thousand inquiries about
Gibraltar and her friends. Meantime that rogue Jack Slingsby poured
into her mother's ear pretended messages from MacLeechy, our
doctor--messages so tender and so pitiful that the old lady relented
and forgave him being married, saying it was "his misfortune, not his
fault, poor man;" Jack asserted his belief that the doctor was quite
of her opinion; and then the bulbous-shaped fair one made a vigorous
use of her fan and snuff-box, as she conjured up the image of the
"gay deceiver."
The saloon was a large apartment; the floor was of polished oak, and
was varnished until it shone like glass; the ceiling was of cedar,
and divided into deep, dark panels; the walls were painted white, and
were hung with several dusky pictures, principally of religious
subjects; one of these was by Roelas; another by Murillo, and both
had narrowly escaped abstraction by the French, during the War of
Independence, for Messrs. Soult, Suchet, and Co., made everything
march over the Pyrenees that was neither too hot nor too heavy.
Our garrison evening parties in Gibraltar had shown Donna Dominga
that considerable improvements might be made upon the solemn gravity
of the Spanish tertulia; thus the company were pressed to stay longer
than usual in honour of us; we had a few airs on the piano--a very
antique instrument, said to have been found among Joseph's baggage at
Vittoria, and in no way calculated to give full effect to the
compositions of Donizetti, Verdi, or Orsini, which Paulina and her
companions attempted to give us; but then they had their guitars, and
the lively songs of old Spain, and legendary ballads of the brave
Avalos of the Ronda, which if destitute of science, had at least the
merit of being full of music and melody.
Every sound was hushed as Paulina sang the song which was wont to
turn the heads of half Her Majesty's garrison.
"Since for kissing thee, Minguillo,
Mother's ever scolding me;
Give me swiftly back, O dear one,
Give the kiss I gave to thee!"
Either by chance, or an irresistible inclination, our eyes met just
as she sang these very tender and pointed words, and a soft tinge
shot over her pure white cheek. My own heart filled with a tumult of
emotion, for the aspect of this noble Spanish girl, as she sat on the
low tabourette, in an attitude full of grace, with her high proud
head and the long veil of black lace that fell from it over her back
and shoulders, was so bewildering, that I felt convinced my peace of
mind would require an explanation with her before my bantering mentor
and I turned our horses' heads once more towards Gibraltar.
We had now a little waltzing, and a quadrille or two, with plenty of
groseille and fleur d'orange.
I had a thousand things to tell Paulina; but when she was the centre
of almost every eye in the room, it was no easy matter to be tender;
besides, whenever I looked round, the comical eye of Jack Slingsby,
with a glass stuck in it, was sure to meet mine; for whatever he was
about, in the waltz, the quadrille, in a quiet two-handed flirtation
(which, by the way, made the old hidalgos of Seville, who are not
wont to tolerate such things, shrug their shoulders and elevate their
eyebrows) in the middle of a tender speech, when handing fleur
d'orange, restoring a fallen fan, or reclasping a bracelet, he seemed
to watch all my proceedings with a species of amused interest--so
that nothing passed between Paulina and me but the merest
commonplaces.
"The moment so ardently wished for has arrived at last," thought I;
"she is beside me, and I have not one word of interest for her."
"And you leave Seville to-morrow?" said she, to break an awkward
pause.
"No, señora, in two days."
"A short visit--there are so many things to see here. There is the
great tower of Cabildo with its enchanted weathercock, a Pallas with
a standard which always indicates the quarter from which an enemy is
approaching Seville."
"Ah--yes; I remember in the adventure of Don Quixotte with the Knight
of the Wood, the latter boasts, that among other deeds done in honour
of his mistress, he 'had challenged the famous fighting giantess, La
Giralda of Seville, who is strong and undaunted as one who is made of
brass.'"
"And who without changing place is the most inconstant woman in the
world. Oh, Don Quixotte, he is charming! And then in Seville we
have the letters of Francisco Pizzaro, of Columbus and the valiant
Hernan Cortes; and more than all, we have the cathedral with its
Puerta de Perdon, which was the work of a Moorish necromancer, and
was all built by a spell between the night and morning. In two days
you can never see all these things."
"Your own presence, Donna Paulina, is more than enough to detain me
here for ever."
"Then why go so soon?" she asked, with her pretty Spanish lisp, while
her long lashes drooped.
"Go I must, señora, for, being a soldier, I have nothing to urge;
but----"
"But what?"
"The stern necessity of obedience."
"Ay de mi!" said she, gazing fully and honestly at me; "I am so sorry
to hear all this."
"I am full of gratitude to hear you say so, señora; but there is no
remedy."
"Señor," said she, smiling, "para todo hay remedio sino para la
muerte."
"True, there is a remedy for everything but death, it is a good old
Spanish proverb," said I; "but is not absence from those we love but
a living death? so when I am far from Seville I shall have but the
memory of one most beautiful face, and one bright happy night."
"Take this rose," said she, disengaging one from her bouquet; "it
will be a memento, though a small one."
"Thanks, señora; but the rose will wither and fade."
"So will the memory of the beautiful face and the one happy night,"
said she, with a winning smile.
"Never, never Paulina--you are so charming--so gentle and so good,
that----"
"Hush, Dios Mio! the people are observing us, and--but ave Maria
purissima! what is the matter with my mother?"
During this brief conversation, the servant Pedrillo had delivered a
note to Donna Dominga, who, on hurriedly glancing at its contents,
uttered a faint cry and fell upon the sofa, where all the ladies
crowded in an excited manner round her. Don Joaquim snatched up the
letter and read it with flaming eyes.
"What, in Heaven's name, is the matter?" I asked, pressing forward.
"A letter has come from the captain of the guarda costa, stating that
the son of Donna Dominga, his lieutenant, had been killed by a shot
from the garrison of Gibraltar," said Slingsby, in a rapid whisper.
"The absence of the captain general at Jaen prevented the Sevillanos
from learning that the person slain was a townsman. I find we are in
a mess here, and think we had better be off, my boy."
Though Spain had a post-office in those days when James III. of
Scotland was fighting the battles of the people against his
traitorous nobility, and when the brutal Henry of England was
murdering his wives and burning Catholics and Protestants together at
Smithfield, she has so far receded in the arts of peace that this
unfortunate letter had been all these many weeks in finding its way
from the sea port of Malaga to Seville.
Don Joaquim now said something to Paulina, who turned upon us with
eyes full of grief and dismay.
"'T is my brother Hernan you have slain," she exclaimed, in tones
that went through me like a sword; "O madre mia, madre mia! they have
murdered our dear, dear Hernan!" and she threw herself beside her
mother.
"Yes, señores," said Don Joaquim, folding up the letter with an air
of sombre ferocity; "her accusation is right, you have heard her; 't
is my brother Don Hernan who was killed by your accursed shot from
the mole fort of Gibraltar,--Hernan, lieutenant of the guarda costa,
and this letter is from his captain, detailing the circumstances of
that outrage on the Spanish flag--an outrage of which I have heard so
much since I left Portugal; but which I little thought--O Dios Mio!
how little indeed, that it would bring such sorrow to my own house,
and to hearts to me so dear. My poor boy brother, Hernan! So,
señores, you it is, who were the perpetrators of this foul act? Fit
men you were, and proper too, to detail it to our blockhead of a
captain general, who was worshipping an old rag at Jaen, when he
should have been seeking vengeance at Madrid. But look ye, señores,
I'll have it, sure and deep, and as certainly as there is a saint in
heaven, sure as my name is Joaquim de Lucena of the regiment of
Lagos!"
"Mueran los gabachos--death to the miscreants!" growled a number of
voices, and I laid a hand on my sword. It was a natural impulse.
The ladies clustered like a brood of terrified doves round Donna
Dominga and her daughter; the gentlemen drew round her son; Slingsby
and I were left together in the middle of the large saloon.
"A pleasant predicament this!" said Jack, shrugging his shoulders:
"Ramble, I think we had better retire."
"To remain is useless, for these people are alike past listening to
explanation or apology," I replied; and with an emotion of
mortification and sorrow, which the reader may easily imagine, we
took up our swords, made a profound bow to this ungracious company
(none of whom responded), and quitted the house.
"Awful business this," said Jack, "is it not, Dick
Ramble?--speak--have you lost your tongue?"
"A strange combination of unfortunate circumstances! To find
ourselves the honoured guests of the very woman whose son we slew!
In what light will Paulina view us, and Don Joaquim too?"
"As an officer he ought to be aware that we did but our duty," urged
poor Jack, who felt himself the most guilty party; "but I did not
half like the expression of his eyes as we left the saloon."
"How?"
"I read in them more of hatred and malice, than of horror for the
event, or natural grief for his brother's fate."
"You think so?"
"I am sure of it!"
"Well, the man is a Spaniard."
"And being so, will not let us off easily."
"We shall have a message from him in the morning, challenging us both
to fight, you think?" said I.
"Not at all; your Spaniards don't fight duels; he will lay some
desperate snare for us between this and San Roque; so, depend upon
it, the sooner we make ourselves scarce in Seville the better. But
here is the hotel--for Heaven's sake let us have some iced champagne,
for this horrid business has made me as thirsty as if I had crossed a
whole county in the hottest hunting season."
I must own that though I was pretty well assured of the truth of
Jack's surmises and suspicions, fear for my own safety was quite a
secondary emotion to my sincere sorrow for the bereavement we had
occasioned to poor old Donna Dominga and the lively Paulina. As for
that stormy fellow Joaquim, I felt no compunction for him in the
least; his grief was too noisy, and his sudden hostility too deep to
leave much room for natural sorrow; and so, while surmising,
considering, revolving, and talking the matter threadbare, we
finished several bottles of champagne; through the medium of these we
easily came to the conclusion that we were the most injured parties;
that we had been grossly insulted somehow, over night--that the usual
satisfaction was necessary; and then we retired to bed in a state of
just and proper indignation at the malevolent threats of Don Joaquim
and his friends, to whom the affair formed a notable subject for
discussion at those morning meetings, which are so dearly prized by
the Spaniards, who then debate everything from a ballet girl's ancle
to a rising in Catalonia; and for these gossips, the place of
rendezvous in Seville is the Plaza de San Domingo.