As For Quesada, He Seemed To Treat The Danger From Which He Had
Escaped With The Utmost Contempt.
He glared about him fiercely for
a moment, then leaving the two nationals, who sneaked away like
whipped hounds,
He went up to the young officer who commanded the
cavalry, and who had been active in raising the cry of the
constitution, and to him he addressed a few words with an air of
stern menace; the youth evidently quailed before him, and probably
in obedience to his orders, resigned the command of the party, and
rode slowly away with a discomfited air; whereupon Quesada
dismounted and walked slowly backwards and forwards before the Casa
de Postas with a mien which seemed to bid defiance to mankind.
This was the glorious day of Quesada's existence, his glorious and
last day. I call it the day of his glory, for he certainly never
before appeared under such brilliant circumstances, and he never
lived to see another sun set. No action of any conqueror or hero
on record is to be compared with this closing scene of the life of
Quesada, for who, by his single desperate courage and impetuosity,
ever before stopped a revolution in full course? Quesada did: he
stopped the revolution at Madrid for one entire day, and brought
back the uproarious and hostile mob of a huge city to perfect order
and quiet. His burst into the Puerta del Sol was the most
tremendous and successful piece of daring ever witnessed. I
admired so much the spirit of the "brute bull" that I frequently,
during his wild onset, shouted "Viva Quesada!" for I wished him
well. Not that I am of any political party or system. No, no! I
have lived too long with Rommany Chals and Petulengres {9} to be of
any politics save Gypsy politics; and it is well known that, during
elections, the children of Roma side with both parties so long as
the event is doubtful, promising success to each; and then when the
fight is done, and the battle won, invariably range themselves in
the ranks of the victorious. But I repeat that I wished well to
Quesada, witnessing, as I did, his stout heart and good
horsemanship. Tranquillity was restored to Madrid throughout the
remainder of the day; the handful of infantry bivouacked in the
Puerta del Sol. No more cries of long live the constitution were
heard; and the revolution in the capital seemed to have been
effectually put down. It is probable, indeed, that had the chiefs
of the moderado party but continued true to themselves for forty-
eight hours longer, their cause would have triumphed, and the
revolutionary soldiers at the Granja would have been glad to
restore the Queen Regent to liberty, and to have come to terms, as
it was well known that several regiments, who still continued
loyal, were marching upon Madrid. The moderados, however, were not
true to themselves; that very night their hearts failed them, and
they fled in various directions. Isturitz and Galiano to France;
and the Duke of Rivas to Gibraltar: the panic of his colleagues
even infected Quesada, who, disguised as a civilian, took to
flight. He was not, however, so successful as the rest, but was
recognised at a village about three leagues from Madrid, and cast
into prison by some friends of the constitution. Intelligence of
his capture was instantly transmitted to the capital, and a vast
mob of the nationals, some on foot, some on horseback, and others
in cabriolets, instantly set out. "The nationals are coming," said
a paisano to Quesada. "Then," said he, "I am lost," and forthwith
prepared himself for death.
There is a celebrated coffee-house in the Calle d'Alcala at Madrid,
capable of holding several hundred individuals. On the evening of
the day in question, I was seated there, sipping a cup of the brown
beverage, when I heard a prodigious noise and clamour in the
street; it proceeded from the nationals, who were returning from
their expedition. In a few minutes I saw a body of them enter the
coffee-house marching arm in arm, two by two, stamping on the
ground with their feet in a kind of measure, and repeating in loud
chorus as they walked round the spacious apartment, the following
grisly stanza:-
"Que es lo que abaja
Por aquel cerro?
Ta ra ra ra ra.
Son los huesos de Quesada,
Que los trae un perro -
Ta ra ra ra ra." {10}
"What down the hill comes hurrying there? -
With a hey, with a ho, a sword, and a gun!
Quesada's bones, which a hound doth bear. -
Hurrah, brave brothers! - the work is done."
A huge bowl of coffee was then called for, which was placed upon a
table, around which gathered the national soldiers: there was
silence for a moment, which was interrupted by a voice roaring out,
"el panuelo!" A blue kerchief was forthwith produced, which
appeared to contain a substance of some kind; it was untied, and a
gory hand and three or four dissevered fingers made their
appearance, and with these the contents of the bowl were stirred
up. "Cups! cups!" cried the nationals.
"Ho, ho, Don Jorge," cried Baltasarito, coming up to me with a cup
of coffee, "pray do me the favour to drink upon this glorious
occasion. This is a pleasant day for Spain, and for the gallant
nationals of Madrid. I have seen many a bull funcion, but none
which has given me so much pleasure as this. Yesterday the brute
had it all his own way, but to-day the toreros have prevailed, as
you see, Don Jorge. Pray drink; for I must now run home to fetch
my pajandi to play my brethren a tune, and sing a copla. What
shall it be? Something in Gitano?
"Una noche sinava en tucue."
You shake your head, Don Jorge. Ha, ha; I am young, and youth is
the time for pleasure; well, well, out of compliment to you, who
are an Englishman and a monro, it shall not be that, but something
liberal, something patriotic, the Hymn of Riego - Hasta despues, Don
Jorge!"
CHAPTER XV
The Steamer - Cape Finisterre - The Storm - Arrival at Cadiz - The New
Testament - Seville - Italica - The Amphitheatre - The Prisoners - The
Encounter - Baron Taylor - The Street and Desert.
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