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to swallow a cup of chocolate." Certainly," answered the officer, a young man of about five-and-twenty, and of courteous manner. The guard followed him, and drew up at the door. "I shall detain you but a very short time. You will do me a favour by coming up-stairs to my room, and share my refreshments.' Many thanks; but we remain here." The priest appeared so quiet in tone and manner, so utterly unconscious of having done anything to merit harsh treatment, that the of ficer, and probably his men, thought that, towards a person so inoffensive and so zealous, it was an act of wanton tyranny. This favourable opinion was strengthened when a young man, the sacristan of the parish, brought out on a small tray six or seven cups of thick chocolate, with the indispensable glasses of sparkling cold water, azucarillas, and cigarettes. Twenty minutes, half an hour soon passed by; three-quarters; and the officer was growing impatient. He was about to summon his prisoner to descend, and had mounted a few steps, when he was met by a peasant on the staircase, bearing on his head a large basket of apples and maize-stalks, who stepped aside respectfully to make way for him. Ten minutes more elapsed, and the officer called cut to the priest to come down. There was no answer. He called still louder; still no answer. He made a sign to two of his men to follow. They ascended the creaking staircase, and entered the little room where the prisoner was supposed to be taking his repast. On a small round table there was indeed a cup of chocolate, flanked by a bit of dry toast and a glass of water, but no one was there. The officer darted into the next room; it was empty. He searched every hole and corner of the house-which was a small one-but in vain. The windows were shut, and there was no sign on

the balcony of any person passing that way. The officer came to the conclusion that the peasant with the fruit-basket, who had made way for him on the staircase, and the priest, were one and the same. The peasant was he whose name is now so well known in the north of Spain, among the foremost and most daring of the Carlist chiefs, MANUEL SANTA CRUZ, Curé of Hernialde.

Santa Cruz was born in 1842 in Elduayen, a village of Guipuzcoa not much more populous than that of which he was parish priest. It is four miles from Tolosa, and half that distance from the Navarrese border. Like Gil Blas, he was indebted to his uncle, an ecclesiastic, for the rudiments of Latin; and as he evinced a vocation for the Church, he was placed in a seminary at Bergara, and, by the generosity of the same relation, was enabled to complete his studies. He received orders at the usual canonical age. He said his first mass in 1866, and two years afterwards was appointed Curé of the parish of Hernialde. By those who knew him while a student, he is said to have been quiet and unassuming, of blameless life, and even austere in morals, -a fanatic, if you will, in what he believed to be the cause of religion and the cause of legitimacy, but sincere and disinterested. Next in love for the Prince whom he regards as the true heir to the crown of Spain, is his admiration of Zumalacarreguy, the famous champion of the Carlists in the former war, and who, like himself, was a native of Guipuzcoa. The companions of his school-days tell how he used to pore over the story of the combats and the triumphs of the man whom he looked on as a hero; and how his pale features flushed and his eyes glowed when he read of "Judas," as he called Maroto, betraying the king to whom he had sworn fidelity, and the army

who implicitly trusted him, in Bergara. But in all probability, were it not for the events which followed the downfall of Isabella II., Santa Cruz would have lived and died the pastor of his village, devoting himself to study and the performance of his priestly duties.

In the early part of 1870 he was informed that a rising was imminent in the north-west, in favour of the grandson of the Don Carlos about whom he had read so much in the history of the seven years' war. It did not occur to him that there was anything irregular in an ecclesiastic taking active part with arms in the field, in defence of religion, and of legitimate monarchy against the enemies of both. He was conversant with the history of the priests and monks, and even nuns, who roused the enthusiasm of the Spanish people against the French invaders in the war of independence, and who led the guerillas against the foreign traitors and rebels who had murdered their king;-of the friars of Saragossa, whose memory is preserved in poetry and painting, who braved the terrors of the battlefield, and, indifferent to danger and to death, with the crucifix in their hand, pointed the cannon against the enemies of mankind. There was, too, the famous Curé Merino, who, after figuring in that war of giants, reappeared, after years of retirement, at the head of his free companions, and long roamed over the plains of Old Castile. Zumalacarreguy himself had renounced the clerical profession, for which he was originally intended, to combat the French, as he many years after combated for the legitimate king; and, more than all, was not the Bishop of Leon foremost among the most daring partisans of Charles V.?

I have observed that, but for the military insurrection of 1868,—an

insurrection plotted and carried out by men noted for the blackest ingratitude that our times have witnessed, some of whom retributive justice has already overtaken,-the name of the priest of Hernialde would not have been known beyond the precincts of his native province. In 1870 a first attempt was made in favour of Don Carlos, and failed, owing, according to his friends, to the treachery of one or two of the chiefs, but also, doubtless, to the imperfect preparations for the campaign, and the scanty armament. There were men enough, at all events, for an opening-probably 6000-but arms and ammunition were wanting; and when the combat of Orosquieta ended in the defeat of the insurgents, there were 2000 more ready to take part in it, but they had not a single musket among them. It had been settled after long deliberation in Paris (Rue Chauveau-Lagarde) and in Geneva, that the proclamation of Don Carlos as King of Spain should be made simultaneously in the four northern provinces, Navarre, Guipuzcoa, Biscay, and Alava, in each of which depots of arms were established. It happened that a couple of hundred stand of muskets, of the old pattern the greater part, were hid in the village of Hernialde: one of the chiefs informed his old schoolfellow and friend, Santa Cruz, of the fact, and requested him to watch as diligently as possible over their safe keeping. The spot where they were concealed and the person in charge of them were soon denounced to the Alcalde of the village, the informer being, as was alleged, the young woman who was not long afterwards shot by the Curé. Orders were given for his immediate arrest, and a party of soldiers with an officer despatched to execute them. How he succeeded in escaping from them has just been mentioned.

For the next twelve months and

to

more Santa Cruz wandered among the mountains, hiding by day in a peasant's hut, travelling by night knee-deep in snow, crossing and recrossing the frontier whenever he had occasion to do so, holding frequent interviews with Carlist chiefs near Ainhoa, Sarre, and other villages on the French side of the Pyrenees, rousing the apathetic, deciding the hesitating, fanning the flame of the enthusiastic, collecting money, providing resources, and otherwise labouring for the triumph of the cause with which he was now bound up, body and soul. He was denounced to the Madrid Government as the most active and the most dangerous agent of the Pretender, and one whose name had even then great weight with the party. Representations of the most pressing kind were repeatedly made the French Government. It was complained that the Prefect of the Lower Pyrenees showed great apathy in carrying out the orders of his superiors for the arrest of these agents, which amounted to connivance. The Prefect and SubPrefects of the department were remonstrated with, and became more vigilant. The police were sent about in all directions: but it was by mere accident that he was at last captured, after many hairbreadth escapes. He had been for a few days in Socoa, a little marine town situated at the entrance of the bay of St. Jean de Luz, near the group of rocks against which the waves of the Cantabrian ocean are broken. He was waiting a favourable moment to visit the environs of Bayonne, where he had appointed to meet a personage of some importance with whom he had been in communication. As he was crossing the bridge of the Nivelle which connects the suburban village of Ciboure with St. Jean de Luz, he encountered two gendarmes who evidently did not know him, and who at first

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seemed disposed to let him pass without asking questions. They, however, turned back the moment he was about to clear the bridge, and called upon him to produce his papers." My papers!" he said readily; "with pleasure-here they are." putting his hand into his pockets, one after the other. Again and again they were searched and turned inside out, but no papers were there, as Santa Cruz of course well knew. With a look of the deepest vexation, he had, he said, through forgetfulness, left them behind at Ciboure or Socoa; and his manner was SO earnest that the gendarmes, though not easily deceived in such matters, were thrown off their guard, and had little doubt that the stranger was really in possession of the necessary documents, and was a bona fide traveller. While they were parleying, the attention of one of the gendarmes was attracted to an empty canoe floating down the stream, and his comrade was exchanging a few words with an acquaintance who happened to come up at the moment. Santa Cruz dashed by them, and began to run with the utmost speed towards St. Jean de Luz. The idlers who were lounging about clapped their hands and laughed heartily on seeing a Spanish priest running as if for his life, and followed hard, after a few instants' surprise, by two gendarmes, whose heavy jack-boots and loose accoutrements were not favourable for this sort of exercise. The lower orders of the French are seldom ready or willing to lend a hand to the guardians of the peace in capturing an offender : he continued to give chase for half an hour, amid the cheers of men and boys; and but for the intervention of two peasants who were coming in an opposite direction with a cart and oxen, and who probably thought that the runaway was a thief, or it may be something worse, dis

guised in clerical habiliments, the gendarmes would have been baffled, as was the officer at Hernialde. He was overtaken and lodged that night in the guard-house; the next day he was conducted to the citadel of Bayonne, and thence sent on under escort to Nantes.

by

At Nantes Santa Cruz was not destined to remain long. Scarcely had Don Carlos made his second appeal to the Spanish people in 1872-which was responded to by some thousands of partisans, though still scantily supplied with armswhen Santa Cruz once more appeared in the mountains. He crossed the frontier, and when on Spanish soil offered his services as chaplain to a band of about four hundred Guipuzcoans, commanded by one Recindo. The vicissitudes during this attempt, the disastrous combats of Oñate and Mañaria, and the defeat and dispersion of Orosquieta, are of too recent occurrence to be forgotten. They were followed by the negotiations between Serrano and some of the leading Carlists of Biscay, and the Convention of Amorovieta, which, as was believed, the cause of Don Carlos was ruined for ever. The main body of the partisans dispersed in all directions; many of them hid their arms in places only known to themselves, and returned to their homes, sad and sorrowful enough, but by no means despairing. Of the chiefs, several who refused to submit made their way to France, and were at once removed to the interior; others rémained in concealment close to the frontier, but still on Spanish soil; and as for Don Carlos, none except a very few of his intimates could tell what had become of him. For some time it was rumoured that he had died of his wounds, aggravated by a fall from a horse. Others reported that he had left Spain, and that the danger he had gone through in that combat disgusted him with the

part of Pretender; and, in fact, that he had resigned in favour of his younger and more energetic brother, Don Alfonso. Persons who had been or who professed to be devoted to his cause, seemed now disposed to abandon it, and spoke in bitter terms of the Prince whose pusillanimity had ruined and disgraced it. There was, perhaps, great exaggeration in what said about him; probably they who censured him most severely after that defeat, did so to justify their own too ready assent to the Convention of Amorovieta; and we all know how rarely people are just or tolerant towards the unfortunate.

was

The main body of the Carlists of Guipuzcoa was indeed driven from its position and broken up, but parties of a hundred, or half that number, persisted in carrying on the guerilla in the fastnesses of Navarre. Santa Cruz was one of those who escaped after the defeat of Orosquieta, and we soon find him again in France. In France he remained but a short time; for, knowing that the struggle was still carried on in spite of all difficulties, he returned to Spain, and, as before, proffered his services as chaplain. This time the cause of the Pretender was manifestly gaining ground; the bands were increasing in number, and spreading throughout Biscay, and had actually hemmed in a column of troops, among whom the disaffection which was rapidly dissolving the Spanish army had not yet reached, in the Amescoas. It happened that in one of the forays Santa Cruz was cut off from the party to which he was attached, and taken prisoner. On being brought into the presence of the commanding officer he made no attempt at concealment. "I am," he said, "Santa Cruz, Curé of Hernialde. I am in your power through my own rashness-do with me as you please; my life is in your hands." "Then, my good friend,"

answered the other, "there is nothing more to be said but to recommend you to make your peace with heaven, for in a few hours you shall be shot." "So be it it is a consolation to know that I die in a righteous cause." His arms were bound with cords, he was thrown upon a mule, conducted under a strong escort to a neighbouring village, and locked up in a room in the upper story of a house, next to a loft where maize was stored, and then his bonds were loosened. From this room, which was to serve as a capilla or chapel, where the condemned criminal spends his last night, he was to be taken next morning for execution. The house was ill guarded, for the detachment, tired and worn out by marching and countermarching in pursuit of an enemy they could never come up with, had moreover to guard against surprise in the village church, and could spare but few men for the prisoner. It was rumoured, too, that some of the soldiers were not over solicitous as to his safe custody. It spread like wildfire through the village and the country round that the priest of Hernialde was in the hands of his enemies, and already in capilla. All the inhabitants, women as well as men, were Carlists, and of course friends to the prisoner, whom they had known from childhood. He saw a group of them as he was led to his prison, and threw out a signal which they well understood, and which escaped the notice of his guards. He entered his room and after partaking of refreshment-for it is considered a sacred duty to give a prisoner under such circumstances whatever he may have a fancy for-he desired to be left alone, to prepare for death. On inspecting the bed on which he was to sleep his last, he saw it was furnished with the usual allowance of sheets of strong coarse linen. No time was to be lost,

as the officer of the guard would soon make his visit. He set to work, and made a rope of the sheets, which he cut into proper lengths. While his guards were eating their rations at the door below, Santa Cruz quietly opened the small window, the only one in the room, which was at the back, looking into a garden planted with fruit trees, made fast the rope to an iron bar which ran across over the window-frame, slid down, and, when within three or four feet of the ground, found himself in the arms of his friends, who had understood his signal, and were waiting for him. In half an hour the sergeant of the guard made his visit, and, to his consternation (at least apparently), found that his prisoner was gone. The open window and the improvised rope told which way he had passed. The officer sent out as many men as he could spare in pursuit of the fugitive, and spent the greater part of the night searching every house in the village-but in vain. Santa Cruz's hiding-place was indeed not far off: it was a marsh or swamp covered over with reeds and bulrushes, and in this he remained for eight or ten hours, up to the neck in water. When he saw that the coast was clear he emerged from his unpleasant bath, and made his way to the hut of a woodcutter which had already been more than once searched by the soldiers, so that it was probable it would not again be visited. The woodcutter, who, by the way, was more Carlist than Don Carlos himself, gave him a few dollars.

The next people heard of him was that he was again across the frontier living quietly in some obscure village not far from Cambo, in the Basque country. Those narrow escapes from certain death, his indomitable courage, pushed to rashness, and the ingenuity of his plans, soon gave him a certain celebrity among the Royalists.