Stories by Foreign Authors: Spanish
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Various >> Stories by Foreign Authors: Spanish
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"I am leaving this valley of tears," she said, in a faint voice, "and
through the mercy of God I am going to His presence to ask Him to watch
over this poor boy, this poor orphan--"
"Orphan, did you say?" cried John Joseph. "Don't you know, then, that he
is our son?"
The dying woman leaned her pale face against her son's forehead, on which
a tear fell, and said to him, "Child of my heart, pay to our benefactors
your own debt and that of your parents; as for me, I can only pray to God
that He will bless them as I bless them."
"John Joseph," said the priest, "the blessing of the dying is the most
precious legacy they can leave to those who survive them."
CHAPTER III.
In 1853, Gaspar and Michael, who had grown up together like two brothers,
had arrived at the age of manhood; and they were as honest and industrious
as the father who had guided them. Catherine was a beautiful girl, as
modest and as diligent as the mother at whose side she had grown up.
Michael, who had a noble and affectionate, and consequently a grateful
heart, loved the family who had adopted him with ardent affection; but
especially did he love Catherine, for whom he felt all the affection of a
brother, joined to all the tenderness of a lover toward her whom he
desired to make the companion of his life.
Many days of tranquil happiness were enjoyed by these united and worthy
people; but as happiness, like the blue of the sky, cannot be lasting, for
the earth, to yield its fruits, requires the rain, and man, to estimate at
their true value this life and the next, has need of tears, a time came in
which many were shed in this house, to prove to its inmates that God
bestows this blessing, almost preferably, on the poor and the righteous.
The draft was proclaimed and both sons were enrolled for the drawing.
Those who know how passionate is the affection which the mothers of the
people have for their children can understand Maria's inconsolable grief.
She believed that she loved both sons equally; she feared for both with
the same anguish; with the same fervor she prayed to God and to the Virgin
that both might escape the draft; but when they returned from the drawing
and she learned that the soldier's lot had fallen on her own son, the cry
which this intelligence drew from her mother's heart--"Child of my soul, I
knew that it must fall upon you!"--showed that a mother's love can be
equalled by no other.
Michael saw Maria's grief with a breaking heart, a grief which not all his
own efforts nor those of her husband could diminish or soothe.
On the following day John Joseph took his son to the barrack, but what was
the astonishment of both when the commandant told Gaspar that he was free
and that he might return home.
"Free!" cried Gaspar in amazement. "And why?"
"Because you have a substitute," answered the officer.
"'I!" said Gaspar, with ever-increasing astonishment; "why, that can't be
so!"
"Why do you say it can't be so? If the substitute is already accepted and
enrolled it is so."
"But who is he?" asked Gaspar, amazed.
"That young man, there," answered the officer, pointing to the man whom
his parents, in their beneficence, had brought up as a son.
"Michael, what have you done?" exclaimed Gaspar, strongly moved.
"What my mother charged me on her death-bed to do," answered Michael; "I
have paid a debt.'
"You owed me nothing," answered Gaspar; "but I now owe you a debt; and God
grant me the opportunity to pay it, brother; if the occasion presents
itself, you may be sure I will not let it pass; that I will not."
CHAPTER IV.
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!"
CHAPTER V.
Not long afterward, John Joseph went with his mule for a load of pears to
Ronda. He found that from there he could go without much difficulty to the
Christian camp in Africa. "Why, then," he said to himself, "I can sell my
pears there as well as in Jerez or Malaga; there I will go, then; in that
way I shall see my boys and the fighting that is going on, which will be
something worth seeing." And so he went.
Catherine and Maria were far from suspecting anything of this when, six or
eight days later, John Joseph returned home. After he had taken the mule
to the stable and put away his things with much deliberation, he sat down
and said to his wife and daughter:
"The boys send many remembrances, and hope that when you receive them you
will be enjoying as good health as they are enjoying at present."
"Why, what are you saying, John Joseph?"
"I am saying that the boys have sent you many remembrances."
"Have you had a letter from them?"
"No, I am the letter myself."
"You! Why, what do you mean by that?"
"That I went to Morocco and have come back again without losing my way,
with my mule Orejero, who showed little surprise when, on arriving in that
strange country, we found ourselves in the midst of noise and confusion--
Moors everywhere, bands playing, guns firing."
"Holy Mary! And what did you go there for, rash man?"
"To sell some pears that I got an excellent price for; to see the boys,
whom I found in good health and as gay as larks; and to kill three Moors
who will never again call any Spaniard 'Christian dog.' So you see, wife,
that I have not lost my journey."
"And you did that? God help us! God help us!" cried the good woman,
crossing herself. "You killed three Moors, did you say? You would not have
been able to do that unless they had been unarmed, or had been taken
prisoners, or had surrendered; and you did that?"
"Maria, what are you saying?" responded her husband. "Don't you know that
to kill an unarmed man would be contrary to the laws of honor and the work
of an executioner? Don't you know that to kill a man who had surrendered
would be a vile deed and would be to make one's self a butcher of men?
Don't you know that to kill a man who asks quarter would be the deed of a
miscreant and a coward, and would disgrace the name of Christian and
dishonor the name of Spaniard? In honorable combat I killed them, Maria,
when with arms in their hands they tried to kill me and my companions. I
know well that the glory is not in killing but in conquering the enemy,
and I wouldn't want at the hour of my death to have to remember killing
any man by treachery. I tell you, so help me God, that I killed them
honorably, like a brave man, and may they all die thus, for they won't
surrender, not even with the bayonet at their breasts."
"Mercy!" cried Maria, "and why not?"
"Because their holy men have made them believe that the Spaniards are as
ferocious as themselves, and that we burn alive the wounded and the
prisoners we take. You thought that only young chaps were good for the
war, and that I, with my sixty-five years, would be of no use in it; well,
you were mistaken, you see, you were mistaken, for I am of good quality,
and although the steel is worn off, the non remains. Do you understand?
And I am a brave soldier, but not an assassin, do you understand?"
"Forgive me, John Joseph, I didn't stop to think--"
"It is plain you didn't stop to think; and you didn't remember, either,
that your husband is a Christian of the old stock, and a well-born
Spaniard, and that he knows how to fight the enemies of his faith, of his
country, and of his queen; but that he will never dishonor himself by
killing a defenceless man, nor debase himself by putting to death a man
who has surrendered, nor make a tiger of himself by refusing his life to a
man who asks it, not even if he were Barabbas himself."
"Were ours winning, John Joseph?"
"To be sure they were. Winning all the time, past, present, and future."
"But I have heard them say that a great many more Moors are coming, with a
brother of their king, whom they call Muley Abbas."
"Let them come! That is just what we want; but don't imagine that those
Moors that are with the king are like the Riff Moors, who are the most
savage and the fiercest of all the Moors. But all of them together could
do nothing against the division of Echague, which has covered itself with
glory in the war. Queen Isabel may well be proud of her soldiers. But as I
was telling you, when I arrived at Algeciras I embarked with my mule and
my pears; and you know that I have no fancy for travelling by sea; for the
mule that falls on that road doesn't get up again. I landed at Ceuta and
from there I went with my mule and my pears to the camp; and when I saw
the flag of Spain floating over the Serrallo, my heart swelled so that my
breast could hardly contain it. I reached the camp and sold my pears like
lightning, for there is no want of money there, nor of the will to spend
it. What a hubbub, Maria! It seemed like the gayest kind of a fair;
nothing was to be heard but the twang of guitars, singing, and hurrahs for
the queen. I need only tell you that the commander-in-chief has had to
forbid so much singing and guitar playing at night, because it served as a
guide to the accursed Moors. I was just inquiring for the King's regiment,
when the bugle sounded, our soldiers seized their guns, crying, 'Long live
Spain!' and advanced to the attack. I left my mule there and followed
them; and you may believe me that the sight was worth seeing, and one that
would have set the blood coursing in a dead man's veins. Each of our
soldiers was a Bernardo, every officer a Pizarro, every general a Cid. One
might have thought that Santiago himself, on his white horse, was at the
head of the army, so completely did they rout the Moors, who are all
warriors, and who were three times as many as we. I could not tell you all
I saw, not if I had a hundred tongues. I saw General Quesada seize a gun
and lead the bayonet charge himself. 'Ah, brave son of a brave father!' I
said to myself; for I had served under his father, and he was another of
the right kind. But why do I say another, when they are all of the right
kind! I saw the bullets flying over the head of the commander-in-chief, as
thick as comfits in Carnival. I saw the regiment of Granada, with its
valiant commander, Colonel Trillo, at its head, make a bayonet charge
crying, 'Long live the Queen!' that made the Moors fly in terror from the
field; and I heard the commander-in-chief say to the colonel, that that
exploit deserved a decoration; to which the generous colonel replied:
'Nothing for me, General, the credit belongs to my battalion.' I heard the
commander-in-chief say to a group of soldiers of the Granada regiment,
'How goes it, boys? Have you received your baptism yet?' 'Yes, General,'
answered the soldiers, 'and the Moors have paid dear for the christening.'
In short, Maria, if I was to tell you of all I saw there, I should keep on
talking till the Day of Judgment. But the ones I never lost sight of,
Maria, were our two boys; and you may imagine how well they must have
fought when the commander-in-chief, who was nearby, observed them, and
going up to Michael, he said, 'You have fought well. Now tell me, what do
you wish?' 'To keep on fighting, General,' answered Michael; and on the
instant the general gave him the cross of St. Ferdinand. I cannot tell you
how I felt; but I thought I should go out of my wits with joy; I could not
contain myself, and I was running to embrace him, when I saw one of those
crazy howlers stab one of our soldiers, who fell down beside me. 'So?' I
said, seizing the wounded man's gun; 'you won't have a chance to kill
another brave Christian;' and with that I despatched him; and as I had
joined the dance, I despatched two others, and I made a bayonet charge
with the boys that put wings to the feet of the Moors, for if they have a
heavy hand for the fight they have a light foot for flight. Then, night
coming on, I gave up the gun and went to look for my mule, who evidently
had not found that dance of Moors and Christians to his liking, and who, I
learned on inquiry, had gone, like a mule of peace, to the shelter of the
walls of Ceuta.
"That night a storm arose that I don't believe had its equal since the
world began. I thought the sea, the wind, and the rain together would
bring the world to an end. But the next morning we were all as if nothing
had happened, and if the devil had sent that, and others like it, at the
instance of his friend, Mahoma, to terrify his enemies, they might both
have been convinced that Spaniards are not to be terrified either by the
roaring of the elements or the howling of their ferocious Moors.
"Well, as I was saying, next morning I got up and walked to the camp to
have a chat with the boys; for, as I have told you, the Moors had
prevented me from doing so the day before. When I arrived I found the
King's regiment drawn up in line, with its band and all! 'What may this be
for?' I said to myself. The sentry on guard was as mute and as motionless
as a statue, so that it isn't because there are Moors in sight. And why is
this regiment drawn up and not the others? This was beginning to excite my
curiosity. I drew near. The band was playing away when the colonel, taking
his place in front of the regiment, commanded silence, and said in a loud
voice, so that all might hear him:
"'The commander-in-chief has learned with great satisfaction that on the
afternoon of the 24th of November, a soldier of the King's regiment, which
I have the honor to command, seeing his companion and friend wounded and
in the hands of the Moors, and animated by the noblest sentiments, fixed
his bayonet, and throwing himself heroically upon the Moors, and striking
down those who attempted to stop him, seized his wounded friend, threw him
over his shoulder, more regardful of his friend's life than of his own,
and, snatching him from certain death, carried him back to the ranks; and
desiring to recompense, in view of the whole regiment, the soldier who, in
so admirable a manner, unites in himself the gallantry of the soldier and
the piety of the Christian, transmits to him this gold medal, which the
Cadiz Athenaeum has provided and caused to be engraved, with the object of
making it an honorable reward for an act of surpassing merit, to be given
to him before his regiment drawn up in line, so that it may serve as a
stimulus to the brave and generous soldier referred to--'"
The old man's voice, up to this time so animated, here failed him, and he
was unable to proceed.
"Well," said his wife, deeply moved by the story she had been listening
to, "why do you stop, John Joseph? Go on."
"I can't get the words out, there's a lump in my throat; for the soldier
whose name was called and who stepped from the ranks to receive the gold
medal was--"
"Was who? Why do you stop?"
"He was--my son. He was Gaspar!"
"Child of my heart! And the Virgin has kept him safe for me!" cried Maria.
"My darling brother! And he saved Michael's life!" murmured Catherine.
"And he killed three Moors! Ah, good son, honor of my gray hairs!" added
John Joseph, with enthusiastic tenderness.
There was a moment's silence during which tears choked the utterance of
these simple people, and they could only clasp their hands and raise their
eyes to heaven.
When he had somewhat recovered from his emotion, John Joseph continued his
recital in these words:
"When the ceremony was over I went in search of my boys. I cannot
describe, Maria, what I felt when I saw them, the one with his gold medal
and the other with his cross of St. Ferdinand. But what I can say is that
the queen herself can't feel prouder, with her crown and sceptre, than I
felt with my Gaspar and my Michael! If Gaspar was happy, Michael was
happier still; his eyes danced with joy; the other seemed dazed. 'Good, my
son, good,' I said to him, 'that's the way Spaniards behave when they are
fighting for their country, their queen, and their faith, remembering that
the soldier who is brave and not humane is brave only as the brutes are.
You have deserved the medal, son, and your father's blessing with it.'"
"'Why, what did I do?' said Gaspar, who like all really brave men is
neither proud nor boastful, and holds himself for less, not more than he
is really worth.
"'You saved your brother's life,' I replied.
"'And by so heroic an act that it will be written in letters of gold,'
added Michael.
"'Why, nonsense," answered Gaspar, putting his arm around his brother's
neck; 'I have done nothing but pay a debt I owed.'
"'And Spain has paid the debt she owed to the Moors, and with interest,' I
said; and I fancy they won't be likely to try their tricks again. So you
see, wife, all the advantages the war has brought us. Hurrah for the war!"
"John Joseph," returned his wife, "we mustn't forget, because it has been
favorable to us--and that, perhaps, owing to that poor mother's dying
blessing--the many evils to which war gives rise: the unhappy people who
suffer, those who are left disabled, those who die, and all the families
who are at this moment weeping and in mourning; for war is a calamity, and
therefore we ought to pray to God with all our hearts and souls for peace,
for the song of the angels is: 'Glory to God in the highest; and peace on
earth, to men of goodwill!'"
CHAPTER VI
Two months later, that is to say, toward the middle of January, John
Joseph, his wife, and his daughter were seated one evening around the
brazier. The sky had been covered for several days with heavy clouds that
sent down their rain with a steadiness not usual in storms. The wind that
came from the Levant roared as if it brought with it, to terrify Spain,
the menacing howls of the savage children of Africa and the growling of
its lions.
"Who knows what they may be going through now!" said Catherine, in a voice
choked with emotion.
"Ah, merciful God," answered her mother, "with swamps for a floor, tents
that let the water through for shelter, and the cholera killing them by
hundreds, and the Moors lying in ambush for them or treacherously
following them, and those eternal nights that swallow up the days! There
is no strength nor courage that could bear up against so many ills."
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