Trafalgar & Saragossa. Benito Pérez Galdós

great damage by loading a gun with the keys of the church—however, they did not go far, and as a last and desperate resource I loaded the cannon with my own keys, my watch, my money, a few trifles I found in my pockets and, at last, with my decorations. The strange thing is that one of the crosses found its billet on the breast of a French general, to which it stuck as if it had been glued there and did him no harm whatever. He kept it, and when he went to Paris, the Convention condemned him to death or exile—I forget which—for having allowed himself to accept an order from the hand of an enemy.”

      “The devil they did!” said my master, highly delighted with these audacious romances.

      “When I was in England,” continued the old soldier, “you know of course, that I was sent for by the English to make improvements in their artillery—I dined every day with Pitt, with Burke, with Lord North, Lord Cornwallis, and other distinguished personages, who always called me ‘the amusing Spaniard.’ I remember that once, when I was at the Palace, they entreated me to show them what a bull-fight was like and I had to throw my cloak over a chair and to prick it and kill it, which vastly diverted all the court, and especially King George III., who was very great friends with me, and was always saying that I must send to my country to fetch some good olive-trees. Oh! we were on the best terms possible. All his anxiety was that I should teach him a few words of Spanish, and above all some of our beautiful Andalusian—but he could never learn more than ‘otro toro’ (another bull) and ‘vengan esos cinco’ (that makes five), and he greeted me with these phrases every day when I went to breakfast with him off pescadillas2 and a few cañitas of Manzanilla.”

      “That was what he took for breakfast?”

      “That was what he preferred. I had some pescadillas bottled and brought from Cadiz. They kept very well by a recipe I invented and have at home.”

      “Wonderful! And you succeeded in reforming the English artillery?” asked my master, encouraging him to go on for he was greatly amused.

      “Perfectly. I invented a cannon which could never be fired, for all London, including the ministers and parliament, came to entreat me not to attempt it, because they feared that the explosion would throw down a number of houses.”

      “So that the great gun has been laid aside and forgotten?”

      “The Emperor of Russia wanted to buy it, but it was impossible to move it from the spot where it stood.”

      “Then you surely can get us out of our present difficulties by inventing a cannon to destroy the whole English fleet at one discharge.”

      “Yes,” replied Malespina. “I have been thinking of it, and I believe I may realize my idea. I will show you the calculations I have made, not only with regard to increasing the calibre of guns to a fabulous degree, but also for constructing armor plates to protect ships and bastions. It is the absorbing idea of my life.”

      By this time the meal was ended. Marcial and I disposed of the fragments in less than no time, and we set out again; the Malespinas on horseback by the side of the chaise and we, as before, in the tumble-down vehicle. The effects of the dinner, and of the copious draughts of liquor with which he had moistened it, had stimulated the old gentleman’s inventive powers and he went on all the way, pouring out a flood of nonsense. The conversation returned to the subject with which it had begun, the war in Roussillon, and as Don José was preparing to relate fresh deeds of valor, my master, weary of so many falsehoods, tried to divert him to something else, by saying: “It was a disastrous and impolitic war. We should have done better never to have undertaken it.”

      “Oh! the Conde de Aranda, as you know,” exclaimed Malespina, “condemned that unlucky war with the Republic from the first. How often have we discussed the question—for we have been friends from our childhood. When I was in Aragon we lived together for six months at Moncayo. Indeed, it was for him that I had a very curious gun constructed. …”

      “Yes, Aranda was always opposed to it,” interrupted Don Alonso, intercepting him on the dangerous ground of gunnery.

      “So he did,” said Don José to whom rodomontade was irresistible, “and I may say that when that distinguished man so warmly advocated peace with the republicans, it was because I advised it, being convinced from the first that the war was a mistake. But Godoy, who was then supreme, persisted in it, simply and solely to contradict me, as I have learnt since. But the best of it is that Godoy himself was obliged to put an end to the war in 1795, when he understood what it really was, and at the same time he adopted the high-sounding title of Prince of Peace.”

      “How much we want a good statesman, my worthy friend,” said my master. “A man on a level with the times, who would not throw us into useless wars but who could maintain the dignity of the crown.”

      “Well, when I was at Madrid last year,” continued Don José, “proposals were made to me to accept the post of Secretary of State. The Queen was most anxious for it—the King said nothing. I went with him every day to the Prado to fire a few shots.—Even Godoy would have agreed, recognizing my superior qualifications; and indeed, if he had not I should have had no difficulty in finding some snug little fortress where I might lock him up so that he might give me no trouble. However, I declined, preferring to live in peace in my own country-town; I left the management of public affairs in Godoy’s hands. There you have a man whose father was a mule-boy on my father-in-law’s estate in Estremadura. …”

      “I did not know that. …” said Don Alonso. “Although he is a man of obscure origin I always supposed the Prince of Peace to belong to a family of good birth, whose fortune was impaired but whose ancestry was respectable.”

      And so the dialogue went on; Señor Malespina uttering his falsehoods as if they were gospel, and my master listening with angelic calmness, sometimes annoyed by them, and sometimes amused at listening to such nonsense. If I remember rightly, Don José Maria took the credit of having advised Napoleon to the bold deeds of the 18th Brumaire.

      Talking of these and of other matters we reached Chiclana as night overtook us, and my master, who was utterly tired and worn out by the villainous chaise, remained in the town, while the others went on, being anxious to reach Cadiz the same night. While we were at supper Malespina poured out a fresh farrago of lies, and I could see that his son heard them with pain, as if he were horrified at having for his father the most romancing liar in the world probably. We took leave of them and rested there till next day when we proceeded on our journey by day-break, and as the road from Chiclana to Cadiz was much easier than that we had already traversed, we reached the end of our journey by about eleven o’clock in the morning, without adventure, safe in body and in excellent spirits.

      CHAPTER VIII.

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      I cannot describe the enthusiasm that fired my mind at the sight of Cadiz. As soon as I had a moment to myself—as soon, that is to say, as my master was fairly settled in his cousin’s house—I went out into the streets and ran to and fro without any fixed destination, intoxicated as it were by the atmosphere of my beloved native city. After so long an absence all I saw attracted my attention as though it were something new and beautiful. In how many of the passers-by did I recognize a familiar face? everything charmed me and appealed to my feelings—men, women, old folks, children—the dogs, nay the houses even; for my youthful imagination discovered in each a personal and living individuality; I felt towards them as towards intelligent creatures; they seemed to me to express, like all else, their satisfaction at seeing me, and to wear, in their balconies and windows, the expression of gay and cheerful faces. In short my spirit saw its own gladness reflected in every surrounding object.

      I hurried through the streets with eager curiosity, as if I wanted to see them all at once. In the Plaza San Juan I bought a handful of sweetmeats, less for the satisfaction of eating them than for that of introducing myself under a new aspect to the sellers, whom I addressed as an old friend; some of them with gratitude as having been kind to me in my former misery and others as victims,