Departure from Oviedo - Villa Viciosa - The Young Man of the Inn -Antonio's Tale - The General and his Family - Woful Tidings -To-morrow we Die - San Vincente - Santander - An Harangue -Flinter the Irishman.
So we left Oviedo and directed our course towards Santander.The man who accompanied us as guide, and from whom I hired the pony on which I rode, had been recommended to me by my friend the merchant of Oviedo.He proved, however, a lazy indolent fellow; he was generally loitering two or three hundred yards in our rear, and instead of enlivening the way with song and tale, like our late guide, Martin of Rivadeo, he scarcely ever opened his lips, save to tell us not to go so fast, or that I should burst his pony if I spurred him so.He was thievish withal, and though he had engaged to make the journey SECO, that is, to defray the charges of himself and beast, he contrived throughout to keep both at our expense.
When journeying in Spain, it is invariably the cheapest plan to agree to maintain the guide and his horse or mule, for by so doing the hire is diminished at least one third, and the bills upon the road are seldom increased: whereas, in the other case, he pockets the difference, and yet goes shot free, and at the expense of the traveller, through the connivance of the innkeepers, who have a kind of fellow feeling with the guides.
Late in the afternoon we reached Villa Viciosa, a small dirty town, at the distance of eight leagues from Oviedo: it stands beside a creek which communicates with the Bay of Biscay.It is sometimes called La Capital de las Avellanas, or the capital of the Filberts, from the immense quantity of this fruit which is grown in the neighbourhood; and the greatest part of which is exported to England.As we drew nigh we overtook numerous cars laden with avellanas proceeding in the direction of the town.I was informed that several small English vessels were lying in the harbour.Singular as it may seem, however, notwithstanding we were in the capital of the Avellanas, it was with the utmost difficulty that I procured a scanty handful for my dessert, and of these more than one half were decayed.The people of the house informed me that the nuts were intended for exportation, and that they never dreamt either of partaking of them themselves or of offering them to their guests.
At an early hour on the following day we reached Colunga, a beautiful village on a rising ground, thickly planted with chestnut trees.It is celebrated, at least in the Asturias, as being the birthplace of Arguelles, the father of the Spanish constitution.
As we dismounted at the door of the posada, where we intended to refresh ourselves, a person who was leaning out of an upper window uttered an exclamation and disappeared.We were yet at the door, when the same individual came running forth and cast himself on the neck of Antonio.He was a good-looking young man, apparently about five and twenty, genteelly dressed, with a Montero cap on his head.Antonio looked at him for a moment, and then with a AH, MONSIEUR, EST CE BIEN VOUS?
shook him affectionately by the hand.The stranger then motioned him to follow him, and they forthwith proceeded to the room above.
Wondering what this could mean, I sat down to my morning repast.Nearly an hour elapsed, and still Antonio did not make his appearance; through the boards, however, which composed the ceiling of the kitchen where I sat, I could hear the voices of himself and his acquaintance, and thought that I could occasionally distinguish the sound of broken sobs and groans;at last there was a long pause.I became impatient, and was about to summon Antonio, when he made his appearance, but unaccompanied by the stranger."What, in the name of all that is singular," I demanded, "have you been about? Who is that man?" "Mon maitre," said Antonio, "C'EST UN MONSIEUR DE MACONNOISSANCE.With your permission I will now take a mouthful, and as we journey along I will tell you all that I know of him.""Monsieur," said Antonio, as we rode out of Colunga, "you are anxious to know the history of the gentleman whom you saw embrace me at the inn.Know, mon maitre, that these Carlist and Christino wars have been the cause of much misery and misfortune in this country, but a being so thoroughly unfortunate as that poor young gentleman of the inn, I do not believe is to be found in Spain, and his misfortunes proceed entirely from the spirit of party and faction which for some time past has been so prevalent.