The Conde nodded agreement and went on to castigate a new measure, by which a huge loan was to be raised to compensate the Religious Orders for the damage they had sustained during the Revolution of 1868. He roundly declared that for the Government to accept liability for such a claim after a lapse of half-a-century and, above all, at the present time, was nothing less than a piece of financial madness.
De Vendôme, however, owing to his strong religious feelings and friendship with many of the leading prelates, argued that the majority of priests lived in dire poverty, and that any nation which did not put the work of God before any other consideration did not deserve to prosper. He then went on to attack the Generals for their incompetence, lack of true patriotism and the high-handed manner in which at times they combined to defy even the King.
Later, in the drawing-room, de Richleau learnt from Gulia further particulars about her husband’s trip to South America. The Conde had left Spain early in May and gone first to the Argentine. After a fortnight there he had crossed the Andes to Chile and Peru, returned to stay for a few days in Uruguay, then travelled up the coast to the principal cities of Brazil. He had last written that having completed his business in Bahia he intended to go on an expedition up the Amazon for a few weeks to hunt the wonderful tropical butterflies in which the banks of the river abounded. He would then go on to Venezuela and the capitals of the Central American Republics; so he did not expect to get back much before the end of October.
When the Duke was taking his leave Gulia did not offer him any further invitation, and it was de Vendôme who asked him to come out to bathe with them from the private beach next morning. Only then did she endorse the Prince’s pressing with a vague apology for not having thought of suggesting it herself. In view of Gulia’s attitude he almost felt that he ought to refuse; but since he was staying in an hotel and all of them must know it to be highly unlikely that he would have any other engagement, to do so would have struck them as very strange, so he accepted.
While he was being driven back to his hotel in one of the Cordoba carriages his mind was occupied in succession by two very different sets of thoughts.
First, distress and sympathy for the young King in his Herculean task of trying to keep the peace between the greedy hidebound Church, semi-mutinous Generals, and the large section of his subjects who was now clamouring for the blood of both.
Secondly, pique at Gulia’s attitude towards himself. He had meant to take every possible precaution against being left alone with her. But clearly she had not the least desire for a tête-à-tête with him. It was evident that no vestige remained of the burning passion she had felt for him three years ago. That, he could not help feeling, was not very flattering to him; but at least it would enable him to see as much of the Cordobas as he liked without fear of a renewal of their entanglement which, in view of her husband’s absence abroad, could have proved all the more dangerous.
His reaction to her apparent coldness only went to show how easily a man of even exceptional intelligence and shrewdness can be fooled by a clever woman who desires him. If he could have seen into Gulia’s mind an hour or two later, as she tossed and turned restlessly in her big canopied bed, he would have thought very differently.
18
Put on a chain
The beach party the next day was a large one for, in addition to those staying in the villa, Gulia had invited several friends, but what should have been a carefree gathering was overshadowed by the morning’s news. The papers, although still reticent, had been allowed by the Censor to print enough to show that a really serious state of affairs existed in Catalonia.
One of the party, named Señor Dencás, a wealthy Barcelona industrialist on holiday, who had been invited by Conde Ruiz, told them that he felt certain that a General Strike would lead to armed risings and, perhaps, even civil war. He added that for several years past the movement for Catalan independence had become so generally accepted that if the workers rose in revolt the majority of the upper and middle classes would give them their support.
Challenged by de Vendôme on his statement that responsible people would join with Marxists and anarchists in fighting the Government, Señor Dencás shrugged his broad shoulders and said, ‘After the way in which we Catalans have been treated, what can you expect? We are business people and our principal concern is to earn a decent living. We contribute a far greater share of taxes than any other part of Spain; yet the Government is not content with that but permits the livelihood of many of us to be threatened by iniquitously unfair competition.’
‘In what way?’ inquired de Richleau.
‘By allowing the Church to engage in commerce,’ came the prompt reply. ‘The Religious Houses have, of course, always had their industries: farming, the cultivation of vineyards, the manufacture of various local products and so on. No harm in that as long as these things were for the support of their own communities. But in recent years the Church has gone into business. I mean real business, with advertising campaigns, export departments and Fathers who are sales-managers. It gets its labour free so can, anyway, undersell us; but that is not the end of the story. We have to pay a tax on everything we make, but everything made by the Religious Houses is tax free.’
Conde Ruiz nodded. ‘Yes, it is utterly wrong. Spain’s trade in liqueurs is an example. We have our Anis del Mono, Calisay, Cuarenta y Tres, and may others which could rival the best productions of the French and the Dutch; but abroad they are almost unknown, because the firms that make them are too heavily taxed to be able to afford to popularise them. Whereas Chartreuse swamps the market; and the Fathers who make it at Tarragona, since they were expelled from France at the turn of the century, are positively rolling in money.’
‘It is the Church, too,’ remarked Dencás, ‘that is responsible for the repressive laws that prevent progress. We Catalans are a go-ahead people. We resent being forced to have our children only partially educated because there are so many things that the Church prefers that they should not know, and the absurd censorship which is still maintained on great numbers of foreign books solely because they deal with the lives of men and women in a realistic manner.’
‘I suppose there are certain matters in which the Church should adopt a more progressive attitude,’ de Vendôme agreed reluctantly, ‘but if one once opened the gates to doubt it might result in a landslide towards free-thinking. The Church is the great bulwark protecting family life and the discipline which it inculcates ensures millions of people maintaining a high standard of conduct. In Spain, too, the Church has played a greater part than in any other country.’
‘Ah, now you are talking of the distant past, Prince,’ Dencás replied. ‘It is true that in the days of Ferdinand and Isabella our great Cardinal Cisneros emancipated the Church of Spain from the domination of Rome, and purged it of all the abuses which were rife among the priesthood all over Europe during the Middle Ages. That is why there was no Reformation here. By the time Cisneros had done his great work there was no more need for reform; so he saved the Spanish people from becoming infected both by the Protestant heresies and the religious civil wars that caused so much misery in other countries. But the state of the Church today is very different from that in which he left it. Under his rule even the highest prelates led the lives of the greatest simplicity and self-denial. They were a strength and example to the nation, and Spain’s greatness in the sixteenth century was largely due to them. Now the State subsidises the Church to the tune of 300,000,000 pesetas per annum and in return for it has been so shackled as to become one of the most backward countries in Europe.’
De Vendôme flushed and was obviously about to make an indignant protest in defence of his friends the Fathers, but de Tarancón, who had played the part of a listener during the conversation, prevented a possible quarrel by saying that it was quite time for them to go in for another swim.
A few days later the storm broke. A General Strike was declared throughout Catalonia and in Barcelona the wor
kers threw up barricades in the streets. There were anti-Government demonstrations in many other cities but San Sebastian, being so largely a holiday resort, remained free from any serious trouble. Life there went on much as usual, except for the rush to secure a paper every time a new edition was put on sale.
After the first beach party to which de Richleau had gone, on the 21st, he became swiftly absorbed into the de Cordoba circle. The Dencás and two other couples at it had asked him to lunch or dine, and Gulia had said pleasantly, if without enthusiasm, that she hoped he would use the beach regularly for his morning bathe.
On the 24th, Conde Ruiz left in haste for Madrid to take charge, at this time of crisis of the bank’s affairs, from its headquarters; but the Infanta, her lady-in-waiting, the de Tarancóns and de Vendôme all remained at the Villa, and several other friends, like de Richleau, had been made free of the private beach, so most mornings there was a party of from eight to a dozen people swimming and paddling there.
For three days there was desperate fighting in Barcelona, buildings were fired, convents sacked, priests and nuns maltreated; but the discipline and superior weapons of the troops gave them the upper hand. Several hundred rioters were killed and several score of soldiers; the organised resistance to authority collapsed.
At the end of the week the King returned to San Sebastian and next day he sent for de Richleau. The Duke found him working in a small, open-fronted marquee in the garden of the Palace. Don Alfonso sent away the secretary who was with him and, having waved de Richleau to a chair, said:
‘When last you were here I had this Barcelona business on my mind, but the situation there is now in hand, so I would like to hear what it is that you wanted to say to me.’
De Richleau gave an account of Benigno’s attack on him in Yalta, then went on to say, ‘I squared accounts with the younger Ferrer brother in Cadiz before I was shipped off to South America. The other is, by this time, in Siberia and it is most unlikely that he will ever return to plague us further. But I was amazed to hear from him that he and his father were never brought to trial, and that after a year’s imprisonment they were allowed to go free. Would Your Majesty care to enlighten me about this extraordinary failure on the part of the authorities to administer justice?’
Don Alfonso made a wry face. ‘Yes; to you, Duke, whom these people did their best to murder, it must seem extraordinary. But remember, their friends had succeeded in getting you out of the way, so that you could not have appeared had they been brought to trial; and you were the key witness.’
‘But you, Sir, assured me that even if I was prevented from giving evidence against them they would still be awarded the death penalty, or at least a life sentence.’
‘I know it! I know it!’ the King shrugged impatiently. ‘But despite all their efforts the police failed to secure really damning evidence against these people. At least, that is what they said. And at that time I had a Liberal Cabinet. You should have heard the fuss they kicked up in defence of this man Ferrer and his associates. They actually argued that with this Escuela Moderna he had been doing a service to the country, because he provided an opportunity for a part of the youth of Barcelona to acquire a much broader education than it could have received in any of our national Church-sponsored establishments.’
‘They may have been right about that,’ de Richleau replied, ‘but they seem to have left out of account that these people also corrupted youth. Advanced teaching may be desirable in many ways, but not if it is of the kind that would do away with law and order. The freedom to express an opinion is all very well, but not when it is an older person telling admiring youngsters that if they do not approve of your Government it is an heroic thing to murder the officials appointed by it, and that it is nothing to worry about if they kill a score of bystanders into the bargain.’
‘I entirely agree with you, and I was most loathe to consent to the release of the prisoners. Before doing so I had de Cordoba write to you asking if there was any prospect of you returning to Europe in the fairly near future. Had there been I would have insisted on their being held until you were here and could give evidence at their trial. But de Cordoba received no reply to his letter. After waiting a final month I had no alternative, short of quarrelling with my Ministers, but to allow Ferrer and his friends to be set at liberty.’
The Duke shook his head. ‘If de Cordoba’s letter was written ten or eleven months after I left Spain, by the time it should have reached me I was probably many miles from civilisation, buried deep in one of the Central American jungles. No doubt the bag of mail in which it was fell off a mule into some swamp or river. Anyhow, it never reached me. Had it done so, Sir, I can assure you I would have returned to see to it that Ferrer and Co. got their deserts. It is for that purpose that I have now come back to Spain.’
‘If only you had returned a month or so ago,’ Don Alfonso murmured.
‘What difference would that have made, Sir?’
‘It would have made a world of difference. Ferrer and his friends were then living openly just outside Barcelona, once more spreading their pernicious doctrines. The police could easily have picked them up and we could have had them brought to trial. That might well have proved the stitch in time that would have prevented the recent out-break of armed revolt in the city. There can be no question about it, the anarchists were behind that, and if only we could have roped in their leaders a few weeks ago it would have saved many lives, much bloodshed and a great deal of bitterness.’
‘There is, then, more reason than ever to arrest them and bring them to trial.’
‘True; but that is easier said than done. Warrants are out for them on a charge of having incited the workers to rebellion; but yesterday I had a report that they have already gone to earth, and it may now prove extremely difficult to trace them.’
De Richleau leaned forward and said earnestly, ‘Your Majesty. As you are aware, after accepting the mission with which you charged me, I spent the best part of two months in Barcelona posing as a Russian refugee. During that time I got to know a considerable number of people with whom the Ferrers had dealings. Not all of them were anarchists. Many of them must still be living normal lives and it is most unlikely that your police would know that they have ever been acquainted with Ferrer. Through one or more of them I feel confident that I could get on his track. I request Your Majesty’s permission to proceed to Barcelona and collaborate with your police in hunting Ferrer down.’
‘No.’ The young King’s voice was firm. ‘You served me well, Duke, three years ago in enabling me to break up the original Escuela Moderna; but you very nearly lost your life in the process and have since been a marked man. Barcelona is now a veritable hornet’s nest, and I’ll not allow you to stick your head into it. I refuse to have the blood of so good a friend on my head.’
The Duke sighed. ‘I appreciate Your Majesty’s consideration for me. But I am a soldier and used to taking my life in my hands, I am determined to get the man Ferrer sooner or later; so I beg you to reconsider your decision.’
‘Sooner or later,’ repeated the King. ‘That is another matter. And nothing would please me better. For the year that Ferrer was in prison anarchist activities in Barcelona practically ceased. Soon after he was released they recommenced and for the past year they have steadily mounted in numbers and violence. There was only one lull. Last November a squadron of the Fleet of Austria-Hungary paid a courtesy visit to Barcelona. My Ministers did their utmost to persuade me not to go there to receive it; but I insisted. The celebrations lasted for three days and during them not one bomb was thrown. Three days without a bomb! It was a record against the sort of thing that had been going on for months, and considered quite remarkable. That gives you the picture.’
‘It also gives me a picture of Your Majesty’s popularity,’ de Richleau smiled.
‘True. The reason given for the lull was that anyone who had thrown a bomb at me would have been torn to pieces by the crowd; and that the great majority of m
y subjects should feel that way about me is most gratifying. But it does not console me for the loss of the hundreds of my loyal officials and soldiers who have been murdered by these evil men. And no sooner had I left Barcelona than their outrages recommenced.’
‘May I ask, Sir, what the situation is there now?’
‘The back of the revolt has been broken, but mopping up operations are not yet completed. My new Home Secretary, Juan de La Cierva, is a good man. He feels that this may be a chance to clear things up in Barcelona once and for all, and he is taking strong measures. Among others, a house-to-house search is being conducted for arms. But hundreds of the malcontents must still have them and that is why I don’t wish you to go there yet. There is too great a risk of your being shot in the back or from a window.’
‘Things will never be cleared up in Barcelona until Ferrer is brought to book.’
‘No; I fear you are right there.’
‘Then when does Your Majesty feel that you might be disposed to let me off my chain, so that I can attend to him?’
‘Not until the arrests have ceased and the excitement has died down. Even then it would be better to wait for a little because when the city has been back to normal for a while the ringleaders who have escaped the net will begin to take risks by coming out of hiding now and then. That should make it easier for you to catch your man. May I take it that you are enjoying yourself in San Sebastian?’
‘Yes; all my friends are being most kind, Sir.’
‘Then you had better remain here, and when the time is ripe I will send for you again.’
Seeing that the interview was over, de Richleau stood up, bowed, and said with a smile, ‘I only hope, Sir, that you will refrain from putting too great a strain on my impatience to see this matter through.’
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