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.Iadmired so much the spirit of the "brute bull" that Ifrequently, 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 * 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.
* A compound of the modern Greek [Greek word which cannot be reproduced], and the Sanskrit KARA, the literal meaning being LORD of the horse-shoe (i.e.MAKER); it is one of the private cognominations of "The Smiths," an English Gypsy clan.
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." *
* Of these lines the following translation, in the style of the old English ballad, will, perhaps, not be unacceptable:-"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!"