The cardinal

Introduction

In the year 1719, George I. filled the throne of Great Britain. Still his seat was by no means a secure one. The Stuarts, the rightful heirs to the Crown, if there be aught of Divine right in the succession of kingdoms, had a strong party in the country ; and though the Jacobite Eebellion of 1715 had been successfully put down, it was notorious that its embers rather slumbered than were extinguished. What contributed, perhaps, even more than internal discontent to keep up its dormant fires, was external agency.

In all the continental wars which England had waged since 1688, the cause of the exiled family had, as a matter of course, been taken up by her opponents, as the simplest and most natural mode of diverting the strength of the British Government from foreign objects, by giving it employment at home. Such had been the constant policy of Louis XIV. during the long struggle which terminated in the Peace of Utrecht ; and since his death, the system had been continued by every nation which threatened or offered hostilities, and more especially by Spain.

That monarchy, while Charles of Austria ruled it, had been the most powerful in Europe, from the talents of its Sovereign, the character of its population, and its immense territorial extent. The three causes of supremacy were short-lived. Under Philip II., indeed, the still unexhausted energy of the empire continued to impart to its successor a momentary vitality ; but each tenant of the throne grew weaker, in proportion as he was removed from the parent intellect ; and under Philip III., Philip IV., and Charles II., the royalty of Spain descended in turns from the bigot to the voluptuary, and from the voluptuary to the dotard. The people, too, shared the decay. A common object, the conquest of the Moors, had forced them into greatness by the necessity for daily and combined action ; but the virtue disappeared with the cause which produced it. Then came the effect of the gold of the New "World. The wealth won without labour demoralized them ; the folly of one king by the expulsion of the Moriscoes, exiled the most industrious part of the population ; the superior fanaticism of another lost the one half of the Netherlands, and paralyzed the remainder ; while the younger branch of the royal house possessed themselves of the original patrimony of their race — the German territory, and no small portion of the north of Italy. Thus

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4 INTRODUCTION.

weakened alike by the deterioration of rulers and subjects, and the dismemberment of many of its fairest provinces, Spain at the death of Charles II. without children, presented but an enfeebled kingdom. Such as it was, however, its possession became an object of ambition to the greater dynasties of Europe.

The History of the War of the Succession is well known. On the one side, Louis XIV insisted on placing the crown of Spain on the head of his grandson, partly on the ground of a will of King Charles II. in his favour, and partly on account of his descent from Maria Teresa, the wife of Louis, and the Infanta of Spain. England, on the other hand, and Austria supported the claims of the Arch-Duke Charles, a prince of the house of Hapsburg.

The contest was long and varied in its fortunes. The Catalonians and Valencians adopted the cause of the Austrian — the Castilians that of the Duke of Anjou, or as he was called Philip V- The two competitors for the throne, equally contemptible in character and conduct, possessed and exercised little influence over the events with which their names were connected. The real struggle was between France and England. On the one side was Lord Peterborough, better known as the chivalrous Lord Mordaunt, together with Lord Stanhope and the Earl of Galway. On the other, were the Duke of Orleans, the Duke of Venddme, and the Duke of Berwick, the son of Arabella Churchill by King James, and nephew of Marlborough. The fortunes of the French prevailed. The battles of Almanza and Villa Viciosa secured the crown to the grandson of Louis, and the peace of Utrecht terminated a war which involved England in an enormous mass of debt, and was as unjustifiable in its objects as the partition of Poland.

While the hostile armies were alternately conquering or losing the Spanish provinces, the semblance of a government was carried on at Madrid by Philip V., or rather by the Princess of "Drsins. This extraordinary woman — the Camerera Mayor, or, as we should phrase it, the Mistress of the Robes to the Queen— ruled over Spain for twelve years with absolute authority. The influence she possessed, though, in some degree, the consequence of her own talent and energies, derived its chief strength from the facility of temper of the two sovereigns. On the Queen's death, it was decided that the King should marry again, and when to the female Prime Minister was loft the selection of the bride, it became to her a matter of the last importance, that the future mate of the head of the monarchy should resemble her predecessor and her husband in her disposition to obey. The possession of this quality by a Princess of Panna had been guaranteed to Madame des Ursins by an Italian abbe' of the name of Alberoni ; and it formed, in fact, the chief reason for the elevation of Elizabeth Farnese to the Spanish throne.

The praise, if it were praise, was undeserved. Alberoni had deceived his patroness. The now consort of Philip possessed a spirit not only haughty but imperious, and on her first interview

INTRODUCTION. 5

with the Camerera Mayor, had her arrested and sent into exile. The scheme had been devised beforehand by Alberoni himself, and the Queen (for Philip's indolence prevented his interfering) repaid the obligation by making her wily counsellor Prime Minister. The Pope, ever eager to honour risiDg power, bestowed a Cardinal's hat, and an unknown priest became at once one of the princes of the Church, and the wielder of the destinies of a mighty empire.

The political neophyte was not unequal to the task. He had considerable talents, and had they been applied to the peaceful development of the wealth of the Peninsula, his name would have gone down to posterity as that of a great minister. Unfortunately, his useful qualities were neutralized by an extravagant ambition, and the state of Europe offered an apparent facility for the gratification of it.

Louis XIV. was dead ; Louis XV., his great grandson, was a boy ; and the Duke of Orleans, the first prince of the blood, was at the head of the French government under the name of Regent. This office Alberoni claimed for his master, who was the young King's uncle and nearest relative ; while at the same time he demanded for the children of the new Queen of i^pain a sovereignty in Italy. The propositions were not extravagant in themselves, but behind them lurked schemes which threatened the tranquillity of half Europe, and these, as they became developed, awoke general alarm and opposition.

The minister of Philip met the storm bravely. His talents breathed at once into the Spanish executive a vitality which it had not known for a century. Troops were raised, fleets built and manned, and money liberally contributed by the middle-classes and the grandees. Nor were his exertions merely confined to the interior of Spain. They made themselves felt in every part of Europe. He had to fear the opposition of Austria, of England, of Holland, and of France. He determined to find them employment at home. He bribed the Turks to attack the Emperor. He persuaded Charles XII. of Sweden, just returned from his Ottoman prison, and in want of somebody to fight with, to take up the cause of the Pretender, and support the Jacobite party in England. He lulled the Dutch into neutrality by a commercial treaty ; and, through the medium of his ambassador at Paris, the Prince of Cellamare, formed a powerful conspiracy against the regent Duke of Orleans.

In the first instance fortune favoured him, and the Spanish troops took with facility possession of Sardinia and Sicily. But all at once the luck turned. The English fleet, under Byng, annihilated the Spanish navy off Syracuse ; the Turks were defeated by the Imperialists ; Charles XII. was killed at Frederickshall ; the conspiracy of the Prince of Cellamare was discovered ; and the Duke of Berwick, at the head of a French army, entered Spain, and after besieging with success Fontarabia, and St. Sebastian, threatened the very existence of the monarchy.

O INTRODUCTION.

The near approach of danger terrified Philip and his Queen out of their apathy, and they insisted on the Cardinal accepting the truce which the allies offered, and peace once more reigned in Europe.

Alberoni did not intend it to be permanent. He had accepted the suspension of arms merely to gain time for arranging his future operations, and while in public he breathed only the most pacific intentions, he was in fact busily employed in collecting forces and funds for a future struggle. Nor were the allies idle. They were not deceived by the meek professions of their ecclesiastical opponent ; and as George I. had no wish to go back to his electorate, or the Eegent Orleans to descend from sovereign power to the rank of a prince of the blood, they determined on removing from the Spanish executive, a man, who had proved himself alike to have the means and the will to endanger their position.

Many and various were the discussions on the subject between the representatives of the allied princes, and it is while the Italian priest is still all powerful at Madrid, and France and England are combining in the hope of effecting his downfall, that begins our story.

THE CARDINAL.

CHAPTEK I.

IRUN.

There are few more lovely localities on earth than that which meets the eye of the traveller who approaches from Prance the Spanish frontier. The undulating country through which he pursues his southward route is dotted over with villages, and has its inequalities richly clothed with oak and chestnut. On the right is the ocean, lashing against the iron-bound coast of Spain. On the left, and further inland, towers the great mountain wall of the Pyrenees ; while in front runs the Bidassoa, bathing with its waters the picturesque Moorish stronghold of Fontarabia.

The ancient highway which leads from Paris to Madrid crosses the river, (the boundary of the rival empires,) near the island which was the celebrated seat of the conference that ended in the marriage of Louis XIV with the Infanta Maria Theresa. Almost from its bank, the road rises rapidly until it reaches Irun, the northernmost of the Spanish post-towns, and distant a league and a-half from the French frontier.

It was about six o'clock of the morning of the 23rd of October, 1719, that the little burgh seemed gradually throwing off its slumbers and preparing for the labours of the day. In the main street was the principal inn, distinguished by its superior size to the buildings around it, but more especially by some muleteers, who were partly congregated near its entrance, and partly employed in leading backwards and forwards their mules to water at a stream in the neighbourhood. Over the great gate, and in one of the verandahs opening from the solitary sitting-room, stood the host himself, in dirty shirt, loose brown cloth small-clothes, and worsted stockings, all somewhat the worst for wear. A pair of sandals were upon his feet, and his face and chin showed a perfect unacquaintance with soap or razor since last fete-day. The Boniface was enjoying his cigarito, or paper cigar, and occasionally interchanging with the group below a half sentence, uttered with that listless apathy which marks in Spain the man and the class. For though a Spanish innkeeper understands making out a bill and pillaging the unfortunate victims who trust themselves to the protection of his roof as well as any of the fraternity, he is still too

° THE CARDINAL.

conscious of his rank and personal importance to trouble himself about the wants or comforts of his guests.

The apathy, however, of the posadero of Irun, and that of his. companions, was in some degree broken by the appearance of an ecclesiastic, evidently the parish priest, who approached for the purpose of taking his usual cup of chocolate, and hearing the news of the day. The new comer was a little thin man, with a hooked nose, and a deep-set, piercing black eye. The physiognomy and person had something of an Arab character ; they were spare and thin ; and, if any opinion might be formed from their outline and expression, with abundance of latent energy. The step, notwithstanding, affected timidity, and the whole manner was that of one who plays a part, yet is not sufficiently an actor to leave others unconscious of his acting. To a Spaniard, however, a churchman is always an object of veneration ; and the hats of the muleteers and the host were reverentially moved from their heads as they respectfully acknowledged his presence.

The priest, in reply, responded to the courtesy by sweeping the ground with his enormous beaver, whose brim, some eighteen inches in breadth, projected before and behind, but was drawn up tight, on either side, and lapped over the crown. He then made his way through the great gate, and by that to the staircase which led from, the stable to the apartments of the guests. On mounting it, he entered the public room, from one of the windows of which, the host had been airing himself in the verandah. Again did the master of the house welcome his distinguished visitor, and again the courtesy was replied to by the clerical sombrero sweeping the floor.

' The best of the morning to your reverence !' said the host ; ' I trust I see you well.'

' Thanks to the Virgin, Don Esteban, never better.'

' And your reverence comes, no doubt, for your chocolate. It shall be prepared on the instant. Jacinta,' cried he, ' the chocolate for his reverence ;' and without waiting to ascertain whether his instructions were heard, or likely to be obeyed, he advanced to the priest and held out his cigarito. He seemed to be well understood, for the holy father, with a smile and a nod, acknowledged the attention, produced from his side-pocket a bundle of paper cigars, selected one from the number, and availed himself of the light offered him. This done, the parties flung themselves upon benches opposite each other, and continued to smoke gravely for some time without uttering a syllable.

' Well, Don Esteban,' said the priest, at length, ' what news this, morning ?' ' None, your reverence.'

' What ! no arrivals last night ? 1 should have thought that the truce after the long war would have covered the road with travellers, and made the fortunes of the innkeepers.'

' Why, no, Don Jcronimo ; not much doing. No arrivals since tl.ose of the two ladies I told you of yesterday moriiin°\'

'What! are they still here Y 'Even so.'

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'And their names ?' ' Quien sabe.'

' But how is it I have never seen them in the public room ?'

' They keep their chamber, and are waited on by an old gentlemanusher and a waiting-maid.'

'And where are they going?' 'They are bound for Madrid; and have engaged two litters, and mules for their baggage enough for a grandee.'

' And with all this, man, can't you find out their names ?' ' Why, Don Jeronimo, it is no business of mine ; and I never put my spoon into other people's porridge. All that I know is, the two dames are — one old, and one young ; and from their dress, are clearly enough a senorita and her duenna.'

' You are sure that neither of them is a man ?'

' Ca — your reverence, you are mocking me. As for the senorita, she is as handsome a creature as ever wore mantilla, and high-born too, I warrant ; and I have enough of the caballero in me to know when I see blue blood in the veins. And then, such eyes — and such a waist ! Ca. There's not a girl in Aspeitia or Ascoytia fit to hold the candle to her ; and they are the handsomest women in the Three Provinces.'

'No blue blood there, Don Esteban,' said the priest, laughing. ' If old stories be true, the Arabs camped there for a year, and that,' continued he, with a nod, ' if it spoiled the blood, may have something to do with the beauty.'

' Ho ! ho ! ho ! your reverence is a wag. But blue blood or not, I'll warrant the senorita as handsome as Donna Florinda.'

' But the other ?' said the persevering priest, who seemed to have some reason for his curiosity.

' No, Don Jeronimo, she is not a man either, but a thorough-bred duenna, with a toque on her head, and steel busks to her stays, and a hoop so large, that I doubt much if they get her into the litter. But your reverence is curious ? Do you expect any one ?'

' No, no, no,' said the priest, hurriedly ; ' I am expecting nothing, Don Esteban, but my chocolate.'

' Madre de Dios, that's true ; I had forgot the chocolate. Jacinta,' cried he, raising his voice, but without moving from his seat, ' his reverence's chocolate ;' and having thus satisfied his conscience as to the proper discharge of his duties as a host, he once mor& resumed smoking his cigarito.

'And so,' continued the priest, 'you have had no men travellers ?'

' None whatever. But I had forgotten : last night there did take place an arrival in which your reverence would have been much interested.' ' Ha !' said the cure, and Don Jeronimo's sleepy eyessparkled with fire. ' And who was that ?'

' The deacon and under-deacon of St. Jago de Compostella, bearing a new periwig and pair of small-clothes for the Saint,' and Don Esteban crossed himself reverentially.

So did the padre, and with well-affected devotion ; but there was a contemptuous curl on the upper lip, which, to a close observer might have intimated that he did not attach much consequence to the intelligence. He appeared to reflect for some time, and at last, as if uncertain what to say or do, returned to his original subject, and once more asked for his chocolate. This third intimation of the wants of the holy father, together, perhaps, with a certain irritation in the tones of his voice, seemed to rouse Don Esteban into something more than ordinary activity, for he gathered himself up from his seat and proceeded lazily towards the kitchen to stimulate, by his presence, the lagging movements of the kitchen maid.

The priest took immediate advantage of his absence, and proceeded with a rapid but quiet step to the window, from which he cast an eager look up and down the street. There was nothing apparently important enough to attract his notice, for the loungers at the door had disappeared, and had made their way to the kitchen, where their attentions completely monopolizing the thoughts of the gay Jacinta, had been the cause of the delay in the preparation of the priest's chocolate. The only other tenants of the thoroughfare were some peasants, taking their tomatoes to market, and a man in a muleteer's dress, who was conducting to the river three remarkably fine mules in high condition. The priest seemed to watch him closely ; and then, as he heard Don Esteban returning, retreated hastily to his seat, muttering to himself, ' That can't be the man — and I am ruined for ever with the Cardinal if I make a blunder ; but I must fish out of that stupid owl of a posadero, if he knows anything of him, for he is no member of my flock, or of this neighbourhood.'

The host returned, and was followed by Jacinta, bearing the chocolate. The damsel, confident in her beauty, seemed to have no fears of any reproaches for her delay, and by the coquettish curtsey which she dropped to the cure in presenting it, intimated distinctly enough that the admiration which she had excited in the kitchen, by no means indisposed her for admiration in the parlour.

Whatever reply her roguish glance might have received in the confessional, it awoke on the present occasion no sympathetic answer. On the contrary, the priest regarded her with a grave but a steady glance, and having slightly waved his hand, accompanied with a bevrdico te mi hija, accepted the chocolate. Jacinta seemed abashed by the holy father's eye, and, without exhibiting further giddiness, retired, and the cur6 and the host were once more left alone.

Don Jeronimo sipped for some time his chocolate in silence

The Boniface bad lighted another cigarito.

The priest spoke at length, scarcely moving the cup from his lips, with his eyes half closed, and his words dropped lazily from his mouth, as if the exertion of utterance was great, and the subject one in which he took little interest.

' You are getting rich, Don Esteban.'

' Holy mother how can your reverence say that ! Since the year of our Lord 1700, and the accession of Don Philip, this miserable

IRUN. 11

kingdom of Spain has been the seat of almost perpetual war, and how can an innkeeper make money if there be no travellers ?'

' Tut, tut, my good friend, you have had plenty of French officers passing backwards and forwards, and Spanish officers ; and English prisoners by the dozen.'

' Ah, senor cure, it sounds well, but " fine words butter no parsnips." These sort of customers are ruin to a posada. The soldiers are too strong to pay, and the prisoners too poor. Though I am an innkeeper, I am an old Christian ; but though my blood is as blue as the Cids, I have scarcely a peseta. Madre de Bios J what made your reverence think 1 was rich ?'

' Why, those three fine mules that I see coming up the street there. They have been here for a week, and I doubted not they were yours.' ' Vayal I wish they were, but I have no such luck ; they belong to that caballero who is leading them.'

' And who is he ?' ' Que se yo ;' and Don Esteban moved uneasily in his seat, as if the very exertion of thinking who the stranger might be was too much for him.

' And what does he call himself?' said the persevering cur6. ' Why, I believe he is in the arriero hue, and wants to let his mules to travellers.'

' If he has been here for a week, he must have had many opportunities.' ' That's possible ; and, indeed, I recollect hearing say that the senoras up-stairs would have hired him, but he asked too high a price.'

' The fellow must be well to do in the world ; for his capa is of the newest, and his mules, though it's little that a churchman knows of such matters, seem to be good.'

' Good, your reverence ! They are the envy of every arriero that enters the stable ; better were never sold at Astorga.' ' The

fellow,' said the priest, ' appears to me to be something like a Gitauo.* ' No, no, a true Christian, Don Jeronimo ; it was but yesterday I saw him stick his fork into a lump of pork from the puchero ; by our Lady of Pilar he swallowed it up in a moment. No, no, a true Christian, and no Jew.'

' You think, then, my worthy friend, Don Esteban, that those who are not Jews must be Christians,' said the priest, with a contemptuous smile ; ' but if this fellow be no Gitano by blood, he is a Gitano at least by trade ; for if your opinion be correct, no gipsy horse-dealer in Spain could have chosen better cattle. And how long is he going to remain here ?'

' Co., who knows ! But, as your reverence says, he must be rich, for he does not spare the chopped straw or the barley ; and so much the better for the posada,' continued the Boniface, with a grin. ' At the price he asks for his mules, he'll wait some time for a job.' ' You are fortunate, Don Esteban, in having such permanent customers. And the ladies upstairs, are they going to remain here long ?'

' By the law, you know (may my malediction be on it) they can only remain three days, and they have been two already. But do you expect any one, Don Jeronimo ? I cannot else think how you can take the trouble to inquire into other people's affairs. Do you expect any one, I say ?' ' No, no, my worthy friend, a bad habit and pure idleness. But who comes here ?'

The priest's question was suggested by the well-known crack of a French postilion's whip, and, hurrying to the window, Don Jeronimo, whose curiosity appeared insatiable, beheld advancing at a rapid pace two horsemen. One was a traveller, the other a postilion from the French post-house. They made for the door of the inn, and as soon as they had reached it the former jumped from his steed, and having received a pair of small saddle-bags from his companion, paid and dismissed him. The post-boy and his horses immediately proceeded to retrace their steps towards Behobia. The traveller remained in the street and watched their progress, till they had got beyond the town and its lounging population. He then made his way into the stable, and with the air of one who well understood the character of the locality, mounted the staircase which led from it, and entered the room in which had taken place the conversation now related, and which was still tenanted by the master of the house and Don Jeronimo.

Chapter II. The Contrabandista

The new comer was a young man of about three and twenty. Ha was tall and well made, and with a face which, remarkably handsome, owed its charms less to the features, regular and classic though they were, than to its expression. There was a joyousness in the blue eye, and a humour about the mouth which irresistibly attracted the spectator, and which lost nothing of their power from the dare-devil recklessness that, on most occasions under control, still displayed itself at intervals in the confidence of the step, the motions of the body, or even when it was most gay in the glance of the bright eye. His hair was auburn, and was worn in natural curls, while a moustache of the same colour covered his upper lip.

He was dressed in a dark-blue velvet jacket which scarcely met in front, and was slashed at the elbows and wrists. The waistcoat was richly embroidered with gold thread, while a pair of short breeches of the same material as the jacket, open at the knees, and profusely ornamented there and up the sides with silver buttons dangling from short chains, completed the costume. Round his waist was a broad belt or sash of crimson silk, called a faja, while the loose collar of the shirt turned down, as we should say at the present day ' a la Byron,' was confined by a handkerchief of a showy French pattern, having its ends fastened in front by being passed through a seal ring. The lower part of his limbs was covered with jaunty leather gaiters, worked on the edges in Arabesque, and un-

THE CONTRABANDISTS. 13

buttoned towards the middle of the calf so as to display his stocking of fine material. Over the instep was buckled a pair of large spurs. On his head was a narrow-brimmed peaked hat of velvet, and in his sash the invariable navaja or knife. He carried in his left hand a short double-barrelled carbine, while his right supported his saddle-bags.

All this, which has taken us some time to describe, was gathered at a glance by the two inmates of the chamber. The traveller in the first instance had been apparently unaware of their existence, and had entered the room singing in a joyous tone, ' Yo qui soy contraliandista.' As soon, however, as he became conscious of their presence he flung down his saddle-bags, and sweeping the floor with his hat, he exclaimed in tones of the greatest politeness, ' Good morning, cavaliers ; good morning to your reverence ; good morning, Senor posadero.' The courtesy was eagerly returned, and the parties took a survey of each other. Upon the part of the innkeeper the investigation was slight, and the glance careless. On that of the priest the curiosity was more active, for though he endeavoured carefully to veil it from the observation of its object, he did not the less when he thought himself unremarked watch anxiously his looks, person, motions, and every word which fell from his lips. ' Breakfast, my noble host, breakfast immediately,' said the new comer. ' I've been a-foot since four o'clock, and am nigh fkmished.'

' You forget, your worship,' said the innkeeper, 'that this is not a fonda but a posada ; but I dare say Jacinta, if you supply her with money, will find the necessary materials.'