It was an hour past midday when Don Carlos Evaña galloped from the scene of the skirmish. Judging that Don Roderigo would proceed by the high road for Cordova, he cut straight across camp for the town of Pergamino, where he halted for half an hour to make cautious enquiries. His uniform and his announcement that he was on government service, procured him every attention from the townspeople, who were eager in their offers of assistance, and he soon learned, without exciting suspicion, that the galera had arrived there late on the preceding night, and had started again at sunrise.
Onwards he galloped, and soon after sundown reached an estancia near to the Arroyo del Medio, which divides the province of Buenos Aires from the province of Santa Fè. Here he found it was useless for him to attempt to go any further, as, though a good horseman, he was quite knocked up, not having galloped for any distance for several months. The estanciero pressed him to remain, and at once sent some peons to slaughter a cow for his men.
"I am dead beat," he said to Venceslao, taking him to one side; "I must trust to you to catch this galera for me and bring it back."
"Pues! that is not strange, Señor Don Carlos," said Venceslao; "but you know you have only to tell me what to do and I will do it."
"The gentleman who is in this galera is Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon. He is on his way to Cordova to join Don Santiago Liniers in raising an insurrection against the Junta. All who joins this insurrection will be shot, so we must stop Don Roderigo at any cost."
"Have no fear, Don Carlos, even if I have to go to Cordova I will bring him back. I do not forget that he is a relation of mine, and you know that the family has its obligations."
"You must stop him before he reaches Cordova, or it will be too late, and above all you must let no one know who he is. I shall wait here for you."
"And if he will not come?" said Venceslao thoughtfully.
"If the men he has with him resist, shoot them, but do not touch him on any account. He does not anticipate pursuit, so I do not think he is prepared to resist. You have nothing to do but to turn the galera round when you overtake it, and drive back. Speak to him as little as possible. Everything depends upon your speed; if you start at dawn you may catch him to-morrow."
Evaña asked the hospitable estanciero for a bed, and, in spite of thefever of fatigue, was soon in a dreamless sleep; but soon after midnight he woke and heard the jingling of spurs and the rattle of sabres in their iron scabbards, as Viana with his men mounted and rode away.
Viana took fifteen men with him, leaving the other five behind in charge of the spare horses; by sunrise he had reached the first post-house in the province of Santa Fè on the main road to Cordova. All day he travelled rapidly, changing horses at the post-houses as he went on, encouraged by finding that the roads were heavy, and led through many swamps and bad passes, which would seriously impede the progress of a wheeled vehicle. At every post-house he heard that the galera was before him, at the place where he halted at sundown he learned that it had passed about two hours before.
Mounting again at midnight, he reached the next post-house at dawn, just as the galera was leaving. Don Roderigo, supposing his party to be a detachment of Asneiros' men, waited for him to come up. Venceslao rode alone to the galera.
"You have mistaken the road, Señor Don Roderigo," said he.
"Are not you Venceslao Viana?" replied Don Roderigo.
"Your servant," replied Venceslao. "The Señor Major Evaña has detached me with this escort to secure your safety, there are many bad characters about."
"Evaña!" exclaimed Don Roderigo; "I thought he was in Buenos Aires."
"He left the day after you did, Señor Don Roderigo. The day before yesterday we arranged those vagabonds, so now with this escort you need fear nothing."
"And the Señor Major Asneiros, what of him? Where is he?"
"He died, Señor."
"And the Señor Major Evaña, where is he?"
"He was tired and could come no further, he is waiting for you at an estancia on the Arroyo del Medio."
Don Roderigo looked fixedly at Venceslao, asking with his eyes a question he did not care to speak. Venceslao bowed his head in reply.
"Carry out your orders, whatever they are." So saying Don Roderigo shut the window of the galera through which he had leaned during this colloquy, and, seating himself in a corner, wrapped himself in his cloak.
Viana then rode up to the postillions, telling them to turn and go back the way they had come, silencing their objections by throwing back his poncho, and laying his hand on the butt of a pistol.
On the afternoon of the day following Don Carlos Evaña, now quite recovered from his fatigue, sat talking with the estanciero who had given him shelter, when one of his troopers came to the door of the room and announced that a galera had crossed the arroyo and was coming up towards the estancia, escorted by a party of dragoons. Don Carlos sprang joyfully to his feet, and went out with his host to watch the galera as it came swiftly towards them. At the tranquera it stopped, Don Carlos himself opened the door.
"My friend," said he, "I am rejoiced to see you in safety."
"I am your prisoner I suppose, Señor Don Carlos?" replied Don Roderigo, stepping out, but refusing the hand which Evaña stretched out to him in welcome.
"My prisoner, no," said Don Carlos; "I shall be happy to escort you to Buenos Aires, or any other place to which you may wish to go."
"I am on my way to Cordova and have lost four days by your interference."
"To Cordova! that is impossible, Cordova is in the hands of a party of rebels against government."
"Cordova is the present station of the only legitimate government of the Viceroyalty of Buenos Aires. I see what you wish, Don Carlos, I see that you wish others to believe that I have taken no part in this insurrection as I suppose you call it. You have not introduced me to this good gentleman, who is, I presume, the owner of this estancia."
"The Señor Don Luis Peña," said Evaña, on which the estanciero stepped forward, raising his hat.
"I have much pleasure in welcoming you to my house, Señor, and put it and all I have at your service," said Don Luis, shaking hands with Don Roderigo.
"Peña!" said Don Roderigo, "I know your father well, and a worthy old gentleman he is but I fear me infected with the disloyalty of the present time. I am Roderigo Ponce de Leon, Señor Don Luis, I am a member of the Cabildo and of the Audencia Real of Buenos Aires, and I am on my way to Cordova to join Marshal Liniers and to concert measures with him for the upsetting of this rebel Junta which has been established by the mob in Buenos Aires. If you still offer your services you can aid me very much, Don Luis, by raising the partidarios in this district and liberating me from these dragoons."
"I am sorry, Don Roderigo, to have to refuse your first request," replied Don Luis; "we all here recognise the Junta of Buenos Aires as the only legitimate government of the Viceroyalty."
"Then, Don Carlos," said Don Roderigo, turning brusquely away from Don Luis, "I am your prisoner."
"If you think well over it," said Don Carlos, "you will see that in turning your back on your journey I have been actuated only by a desire to prevent great unhappiness to your family."
"And have acted as a traitor to your country," replied Don Roderigo, then turning his back upon him he walked with Don Luis up to the house.
Don Luis Peña strove by every means in his power to render the compulsory visit of Don Roderigo pleasant to him, but Don Roderigo declined to look upon himself in any other light than as a prisoner. He absolutely refused to return to Buenos Aires, although both Don Carlos and Don Luis gave him every assurance that he should suffer no molestation; he considered that to reside quietly in Buenos Aires, taking no part in public affairs, would be equivalent to acknowledging the authority of the Junta.
Thus two days passed; on the third Colonel Lopez arrived with the rest of his regiment and encamped near to the estancia. Incompany with the Colonel came Don Andres Zapiola and several other wealthy hacendados from Arrecifes and Pergamino. To many of these Don Roderigo was known personally, to all he was known by repute.
Don Carlos Evaña was sorely perplexed; some of these new arrivals spoke of Don Roderigo as the man who had induced the desertion on the 10th June from the "Espedicion Auxiliadora." This expedition had already left Buenos Aires, and might probably reach the frontier in a day or two. He himself was now under the orders of a superior officer, on the arrival of the expedition both would be under the orders of Colonel Ocampo, who would unquestionably send Don Roderigo to Buenos Aires as a prisoner, for trial on a charge of treason. He consulted with Colonel Lopez, who had declined to visit the estancia.
"Do what you will, Don Carlos, and lose no time," said the Colonel; "I do not require your services with the regiment for a day or two, and if you wish to go anywhere you can take an escort. In your report to me of the defeat of Asneiros you have mentioned that you started at once after the action in pursuit of a detachment which had gone in advance. Since that you have made no further report, I suppose the other party escaped, but I have instructions from Buenos Aires to arrest Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon if he is in the neighbourhood; if I see him I shall carry out my orders, but I have also letters which inform me that he is in Monte Video."
Don Carlos returned to the estancia, and offered to escort Don Roderigo to San Nicolas if he would promise him to go thence by water to Monte Video, and give up all thoughts of joining Marshal Liniers. For long Don Roderigo refused, the news of the approach of the volunteers under Colonel Ocampo had no effect upon him, and it was only when Don Carlos entreated him to secure his safety for the sake of his wife and daughter that he at last consented.
As soon as it was dark that night, Viana's troop of dragoons left the encampment and marched away eastward, passing close to the estancia of the Señor Peña, where they were joined by five men well mounted, who rode with them through the night at a rapid pace, and left them at dawn near to the frontier town of San Nicolas. The dragoons encamped till the next morning, when they were joined by Don Carlos Evaña and Don Luis Peña; returning immediately to the estancia of the latter gentleman, they were there met by the intelligence that the "Espedicion Auxiliadora" was encamped near at hand on the Cañada de Cepeda.
The Spanish adherents of Marshal Liniers, had done their best to excite enthusiasm for the cause of Spain, in the hearts of the citizens of the learned city of Cordova, a city of which it was said at that time, that even the waiters in the cafés talked Latin, and that the favourite amusement of the peons at the street-corners, was to discuss among themselves the most abstruse questions of philosophy and metaphysics.
Among other reports which were diligently circulated, was one that a great part of the troops in Buenos Aires had mutinied, and were on the march to join Marshal Liniers under the command of Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, who had been appointed by Cisneros as his delegate in the provinces. The news of the skirmish on the Estancia Pico, in which these troops were stated to have been cut to pieces, consequently produced great consternation among these Spaniards, but made little impression upon the good citizens of Cordova, who for the most part heard of all these events with indifference, not considering matters of government to be any affair of theirs.
Marshal Liniers was better informed concerning the particulars of that skirmish. The aid he looked for was not from Buenos Aires but from Peru, yet still he lingered at Cordova, hoping to be joined by Don Roderigo, of whom he had heard nothing, save that he had left Buenos Aires for the purpose of joining him. So passed the month of July, his adherents falling away from him, till he lost all hope of making any effectual stand where he was against the patriot army.
Meantime the patriots had met with great difficulties on their march across the Pampas to Santa Fè, and it was already August when they ascended the high lands which surround the city of Cordova, marching with great precautions, for they knew not what resistance they might meet.
It was a fine morning, it seemed as though the spring had already come, the air was so balmy, the vegetation so luxuriant, when on the 5th August, Don Carlos Evaña with a troop of dragoons, which formed the advanced guard of the patriot army, debouched from the thick wood, and looked down upon the pleasant city of Cordova, snugly nestling among the hills in the valley below him; upon Cordova, the city of churches and convents, the city of monks and nuns, the city of learned doctors and of eager seekers after a knowledge void of all practical value; upon Cordova, a city of which no nativewas ever known to be in a hurry, and where men were well content to sleep away their lifetime, sheltered from the storms of nature by those encircling hills, sheltered from the storms of men by their ignorance of all those varied aspirations, which make life in other climes a never-ending race after prizes for ever vanishing away; upon Cordova, the peaceful and the learned, where Spain was thought of as the empress of the world, and where more was known of the history of Carlo-Magno and his Paladins than of that of Frederick the Great or of Napoleon, where the greatest war that the world had ever known was supposed to be the war against the Moors waged by Ferdinand the Catholic and his Queen.
Upon Cordova looked down from those wooded heights, the vanguard of the patriot army; upon Cordova looked down Don Carlos Evaña, a man to whom the learning of Cordova was but as an idle dream, a man in whose eyes its peacefulness was sloth, and its religion hypocrisy.
But no thought of all this passed through the brain of Major Evaña as he gazed upon the learned city, whose white domes and towers filled up the small valley beneath him; he thought but of that one man whom he considered as the most dangerous enemy of the Argentine people; he had determined within himself to crush this man, and as he looked down upon the city, where he had set up the standard of Spain, he thought only of how best that standard might be trampled in the dust, he dreaded only lest his foe might have escaped him by timely flight.
As his men cleared the wood, he gave the word to trot, and with much jingling of spurs and clattering of iron scabbards, each man with his loaded carbine resting on his thigh, the little force wound its way rapidly along the tortuous path, and, descending the hill without meeting a foe, trotted swiftly up the main street of the city to the Plaza.
Men standing in doorways, gazed curiously upon them as they passed; between the iron bars of many a window peered many a fair face, looking upon the rough soldiers as though they formed part of some unwonted pageant.
Both men and women looked upon these swarthy troopers, and women looked much upon the pale, stern face of him who rode at their head; but the men spoke no word of welcome, and the women gazed after them with foreboding hearts. The steady tramp of the horses, the clattering of the iron scabbards, were sounds unfamiliar to their ears, they recognised intuitively that these men were the heralds of a new era, and that there was little in common between them and the black-robed priests and bearded monks who were the more usual occupants of their streets.
Major Evaña drew up his troop across the sandy Plaza in front of the cathedral, and himself rode up to the hall of justice. Here he was met by a group of the civil authorities, who stood in the sun before him bare-headed, and invited him to dismount. Evana replied by asking them a question.
"Where is the Señor Mariscal Don Santiago Liniers?"
"Marshal Liniers had left the city on the preceding day."
"What troops had he with him?"
"None. Only a few friends had accompanied him."
"What road did he take?"
"The northern road."
As the last question was answered, the great doors of the cathedral were thrown wide open, a procession of priests issued forth, bearing an image bedecked with jewels, seated on a throne under a canopy heavy with golden fringe. In front walked a number of boys bare-headed, dressed in white robes, with long hair which flowed down over their shoulders. Some of these boys carried censers, which they swung to and fro, filling the air with perfume, others carried small silver bells, which they shook as they walked, producing a medley of sweet sounds which announced the approach of the procession. Immediately before the canopy, walked a young priest bearing a tall crucifix of massive silver, behind came other priests bearing a crozier and crosses of silver, while on either hand, and further behind, came a number of citizens, bare-headed and in long white robes, carrying immense wax candles, which were lighted and burned in the bright sunshine with a dull, yellow flame.
Evaña, with a gesture of impatience, wheeled his horse round, and placing himself in front of his troop drew his sword, while Viana shouted the word of command, "Present arms!"
Straight for the centre of the troop marched the procession, but Evaña stirred neither foot nor hand, each swarthy trooper sat motionless on his horse. An aged priest, with an angry scowl at the dragoons, spoke a word to the boys, they turned to the right, and the whole procession passed on in front of the line of horsemen and took its slow way down the main street by which the dragoons had come, bells tinkling, and censers swinging before it. The citizens in their doorways, and the women-folk behind the barred windows, who had gazed so apathetically upon the dragoons, now kneeling down with uncovered heads, devoutly crossed themselves, muttered an "Ave" and a "Credo," and gazed with admiring eyes upon the gorgeous canopy and upon the jewelled figure beneath it.
No sooner was the front of his line free than Evaña, sheathing his sword, gave a signal to Viana, the troop wheeled at once into column, and trotted swiftly away by the northern road, watched by many a wondering eye as it crossed the Rio Primero and wound its way up the steep hillside, till it was lost to view among the abrupt peaks of the sierra.
As simple shepherds tending their flocks by night gaze wonderingly at the track of some fiery meteor, so the simple citizens of Cordova gazed wonderingly at the cloud of dust which marked the track of the fast-receding soldiery. They were accustomed to think of Spain as of a great nation, empress of the world; they had heard of revolution as of a deadly sin, as of a whirlwind sweeping over the earth, destroying nations in its course, and inflicting unutterable woes upon the people; now the whirlwind had descended into their peaceful valley, the deadly sin had passed along their streets, the authority of Spain was uprooted from amongst them.
Cordova was as the heart of the southern continent, her universitieswere renowned teachers of theology and jurisprudence, and to her flocked students from all the Spanish colonies of South America. Of late there had come among them, men telling them that their learning was folly, talking to them of the right of men to make their own laws, and to worship God according to the dictates of their own conscience. These men had spoken of the revolution of the 25th May as of a glorious event.
The townsfolk had looked upon Marshal Liniers as the man who was to vindicate the authority of Spain, who was to uphold the integrity of those laws and religious customs, the teaching of which was the glory of their city. But Marshal Liniers had fled from among them, and now came this troop of horsemen pressing after him in pursuit, passing through their midst and injuring no one, neither halting to eat nor to drink, but pressing on with the steady purpose of a relentless fate.
The genius of liberty rode unseen at the head of that small party of dragoons, and, passing through Cordova, brought the knowledge of a new era into the heart of South America.
Leagues beyond the sierra, on the road to Tucuman, there stood a large estancia, used also as a post-house, which went by the name of "La Cabeza del Tigre." About noon, on the day after Evaña with his dragoons passed through the city of Cordova, Marshal Liniers with General Concha, Bishop Orellana, Colonel Allende, and two others, were seated at dinner in the principal room of this estancia. The faces of all present were clouded and anxious; news had been received that morning that it was not safe for them to proceed on their way to Tucuman, that province, the garden of South America, had pronounced as one man in favour of the Junta of Buenos Aires; the route to Peru was closed. San Juan and Mendoza, lying at the foot of the Andes, had also declared in favour of the Junta, barring the way to Chili. On every side there were enemies, wide desolate plains, or impenetrable forests.
As they conferred together, there came a sound through the open doorway of the galloping of horses, then came hoarse words of command, and the jingling of spurs, as of horsemen dismounting.
"See what it is, Anselmo," said Marshal Liniers to the serving-man, while his companions looked upon him in consternation.
Anselmo went out a handsome, smooth-faced mulatto, he came back at once, his face of a pale-green colour, his eyes almost starting from his forehead with terror.
"Señor! Señores! my General! the revolution!" he gasped out.
Then there came a heavy step with the jingling of a spur, a hand was laid upon his shoulder, he was pulled roughly back, and Don Carlos Evaña strode into the room.
"Señores, all of you, surrender yourselves prisoners to the orders of the Junta Gubernativa."
Liniers started to his feet, stared wildly at Evaña, then turned deadly pale and sank back into his chair, muttering between his teeth—
"It is he. All is lost!"
"What is this? who are you?" said the Bishop angrily, while Colonel Allende drew his sword.
"It is madness to think of resistance, the house is surrounded," said Evaña.
"Promise us our lives," said General Concha.
"I promise nothing. Give up you arms," replied Evaña, stamping his foot.
At this signal, in at the doorway came Venceslao Viana with his drawn sabre in one hand and a pistol in the other, behind him filed into the room a strong party of dragoons. Marshal Liniers, unbuckling his belt, handed his sword to Viana.
It was the afternoon of the 25th August. The large dining-room of the Estancia "La Cabeza del Tigre" was the scene of a court-martial.
At one end of the room, at the head of the table, sat Dr. Don Juan José Castelli, member of the Junta Gubernativa, who had come express from Buenos Aires on learning the capture of Marshal Liniers in order to preside at this court-martial. On each hand sat several field-officers of the patriot army, who formed the court. At the other end of the room, and facing the President, stood Marshal Liniers, General Concha, Colonel Allende, and two civil officials named Rodriguez and Moreno, who had been captured at the same time. Behind them stood a party of the Patricios, with grounded arms and bayonets fixed. Several other officers of the patriot army, who had not been summoned to sit on the court-martial, stood grouped about the doorway.
About half-way down the table stood Don Carlos Evaña, in full uniform as a major of dragoons. He had just concluded his speech as public prosecutor, demanding in vehement language that sentence of death should be passed upon the five prisoners who stood before them, as guilty of treason against the legally-constituted government of the provinces of the Rio de la Plata; warning the members of the court not to permit their private feelings to interfere with their duty to their country, for if they allowed the authority of the Junta to be set at defiance with impunity, they would deliver their country over to anarchy, entailing upon it greater evils than had ever been inflicted by the tyranny of Spain.
As he sat down a deep silence fell upon all present. Then Dr Castelli addressed the prisoners, calling upon them for their defence against the charges which had been brought with sufficient witness against them, charges of attempting to foment rebellion against the royal authority of King Ferdinand VII., and against the Junta governing in his name.
"If my acts and services do not attest my loyalty, I have no other defence to offer," replied Marshal Liniers.
General Concha and the others denied the authority of the court, and demanded to be sent for trial to Buenos Aires.
When the prisoners had been removed, many of the officers who had served under Liniers, and were anxious to save him, demurred to the sentence of death, but the influence of Dr Castelli, seconded by Don Carlos Evaña, overcame all opposition. It was determined that the five prisoners should be shot on the following day, and buried with military honours, in consideration of the past services of Marshal Liniers.
The prisoners being recalled, the sentence of the court was read out to them by Dr Castelli. General Concha and the three others protested against the sentence as unjustifiable, but Marshal Liniers had given up all hope of life when he surrendered his sword.
"What would you from the agents of a revolutionary Junta?" said he to his fellow-prisoners; then turning to the court, he added:
"To one only of you have I a word to say—to you, Don Carlos Evaña. My fate I have brought upon myself, by listening to the words of those who induced me to spare you, when I had you in my power. I have long known you as a dangerous conspirator. I have known you as one of those reckless men, who care nothing what evils they bring upon a people in the prosecution of their own extravagant ideas. But beware! this people whom you have led to rebellion against their legitimate rulers, will learn quickly the lesson you would teach them. As ruthlessly as they now cast aside that authority and allegiance which has for centuries watched over them, so will they trample underfoot any such ephemeral government as you may attempt to set up. The people know no gratitude for past services, and the day will come when they will turn upon you and destroy you, in payment for the lessons you have taught them.
"Beware, Don Carlos Evaña! Here in America you have raised up the fiend of revolution. You, and those who work with you, take to yourselves pride, in that you have liberated a great people from the power of a crushing despotism. You have done no such thing. You have but raised up among them an evil spirit whom your puny efforts will be powerless to curb. This people, this Argentine people, will themselves destroy the work which you labour to accomplish. You are to-day the murderer of five innocent men, condemned to death for no crime but because they stand in the way of your own insensate ambition."
Here Marshal Liniers was interrupted by Dr Castelli, who commanded the officer of the guard to remove the prisoners.
"I pray you, Señor Presidente, to let him speak," said Don Carlos Evaña. "We, conscious of the rectitude of our own hearts, may well suffer our motives to be impugned; it is but another sacrifice we make upon the altar of our country."
"You are to-day my judges, to-morrow you will be my executioners," continued Marshal Liniers, looking haughtily round him, heedless of the interruption; "but I tell you that the day is not far distant, when the Argentine people shall themselves call you to account for the blood so unjustly shed, and shall deliver you over to be torn in pieces by the evil spirit you yourselves have raised—a spirit which will soon deluge in blood those same streets of Buenos Aires in which I have twice led you to victory—you who are to-day my murderers."
He spoke no more, but, with a proud inclination of the head, retired surrounded by his guards.
Many efforts were made during the night by inferior officers who had served under Liniers to procure a commutation of his sentence, but after this farewell address the members of the court were moreconvinced than before, of the necessity of ridding themselves of so dangerous an enemy.
On the following day, the 26th August, a volley terminated the existence of the man who had first led the people of Buenos Aires to victory, of the man who had first organized their militia into an effective force, who had first taught them their strength, and had so made liberty and independence possible to them. Marshal Liniers fell before the fire of a platoon drawn from the ranks of a volunteer army, the offspring of his own exertions, which Buenos Aires had sent forth to vindicate in the provinces, the liberty she had already achieved for herself.
Once more, in the balmy springtime, they stood in the porch together, Marcelino and Magdalen. The storms of winter had passed over, again the trees clothed themselves in brilliant green, again the shrubs decked themselves with flowers, and all nature rejoiced in the renewal of life and strength. Together they stood in the porch, looking out into the mellow sunshine, she leaning upon his arm with happy confidence, with a sweet sense of ownership, for she was his wife.
Seated in an easy-chair under the shade of the trees, with the soft wind playing round him and tossing lightly about the scant white hairs which lay upon his temples, sat an old, old man. Don Alfonso had survived his illness, but he rose from his bed older by apparently twenty years, since the night when Magdalen had found him lying on the floor of his room beside the brass-bound coffer, from which his treasure had been stolen. He might yet live long, although the zest of life had gone from him, leaving him only a monotonous, aimless existence, but he had now both a son and a daughter to watch over the comforts of his declining years. He accepted their attentions, passively submitting himself to their care, and seeming happy, though taking no interest in anything that went on around. Still his eye would brighten as they spoke to him of the devastation and ruin which had fallen upon Spain, and of the success which attended the measures of the new Junta of Buenos Aires. One day he asked Marcelino for $1000, a sum which it was no easy matter for Marcelino to procure, and he was curious to know what it was required for, but for days the old man would do nothing except repeat his demand, till Marcelino promised him that he should have the money. Then he rubbed his hands together, saying:
"Such a good stroke, it should be well paid."
"What stroke, papa?" said Magdalen.
"That man who saved Don Carlos and killed that traitorous Spaniard."
Then Marcelino gave him the money, and he locked it up himself in the black coffer, till Venceslao Viana should come back and receive the gift from his own hands. Magdalen sighed as she saw that her father had not yet fully learned the lesson of forgiveness, but to Marcelino she spoke only of his gratitude.
Together they stood in the porch, watching the old man as he sat under the trees, looking out into the mellow sunshine, thinking of troubles past, fearing little for troubles to come, confident that theirmutual faith and trust, would bear them through whatever trials might yet be in store for them.
"You have not told me if you have been successful," said Magdalen.
"I have had no difficulty at all," replied Marcelino. "My father can come back and remain here as long as he chooses, but I fear there is little chance of his remaining long, I fear he has made up his mind to return to Spain, and will take my mother and Lola with him."
"And is Doña Constancia willing to go?"
"Yes, she is even anxious; she dreads nothing so much as that my father should take an active part in the hostile measures of the Spaniards of Monte Video. Dolores rejoices at the idea."
"That I can understand very well," said Magdalen, smiling.
"She was always more a Spaniard than a Porteña," said Marcelino. "Though she does not say anything to me, yet I know she sorrows over me as a hopeless rebel. When my father returns I think that both she and my mother will come to see you."
"Does she ever speak of Don Carlos Evaña?"
"Yes, and you would be surprised to hear her. She will not allow any one to say a word against him. She calls the execution of Marshal Liniers a foul murder, but is angry when any one says that he had anything to do with it. She says she knows that it was for quite another purpose that he joined the army."
"Yet every one says that he went only to pursue Marshal Liniers. Don Fausto says that when he marched from Arrecifes he was not in pursuit of Major Asneiros, but of some one else, and that he had false information that Don Santiago Liniers was with the mutineers."
"One thing is certain, that he went away after the fight on Pico's estancia with twenty men, and that nothing was known of him for more than a week after, but Marshal Liniers was at that time in Cordova."
"Do you think it is true that he sat on the court-martial?"
"Of that there is no doubt. My uncle Gregorio refused, and they named him instead. Dr Castelli told me that, when he returned."
"Is that the reason why Don Gregorio came back and left the command of the regiment to Don Carlos?"
"I believe so, but I have not seen my uncle since, he only remained one night in the city."
"When you write to Don Carlos do not forget to tell him that Don Roderigo is going to Spain, and will take Doña Constancia and Lola with him," said Magdalen.
"I will not forget," replied Marcelino.
Spring drew on towards summer; everywhere the patriot arms carried everything before them. Goyeneche, general-in-chief of the Spanish armies of the Viceroyalty of Peru, maddened by repeated defeats and the loss of some of his most trusted officers, gathered his forces together for one last effort to retrieve the cause of Spain in the late Viceroyalty of Buenos Aires, of which he, a Peruvian, was the champion. The fight was fierce and bloody; the cavalry of Diaz Velez, charging with true Argentine impetuosity, broke through the lines of the partidarios of Peru, and scattered them in hopelessconfusion; the infantry of Buenos Aires, pressing on through showers of grape and musketry, stormed with the bayonet the centre of the Spanish position, but, broken by their rapid advance, their ranks in disorder, they here found themselves opposed by a regiment of Spanish infantry, which had been kept in reserve, and whose steady fire mowed down their men by scores. Diaz Velez was far off; to retreat was utter ruin, to reform the column under this murderous fire was impossible. Already the signs of panic were visible, soldiers throwing down their arms and seeking shelter, officers running wildly about, striving to collect their men and make some reply to the volleys which shattered each rank as it was formed. One young officer seized a standard, and waving it over his head, calling upon his men to follow him, rushed upon the levelled muskets of the Spaniards, who, in close ranks and steady as on parade, loaded and fired with the rapidity only acquired by long practice; alone he stood unflinchingly, under a tempest of balls, which tore the flag he held into streamers, and shattered the shaft till it fell in pieces in his hands. Other Spanish corps began to rally on the flanks of the patriot column; all seemed lost, when through the smoke and dust a small band of horsemen came rushing at full gallop, and hurled themselves upon that serried line of infantry. At their head rode a tall man with pale olive features and high square forehead, who neither waved his sword nor shouted, but, taking his bridle in both hands and plying his spurs, forced his horse into the thickest of the levelled bayonets; he never looked behind, but rode straight on, knowing that those who followed his lead, would follow it to the death. With wild shouts his troopers galloped close behind, and their sabres drank deep of Spanish blood that day.
The murderous fire was stopped, the panic was at an end, his men answered to the voice of the young officer, who again called upon them to rally to the standard, the ranks were reformed, the patriot column rushed on, and the field of Suipacha was won.
"Major Evaña," said General Balcarce, as he strained that officer in his arms, when covered with blood and dust he retired from the hard-fought field, "to you our country owes the greatest victory she has yet achieved. The enemy is totally routed, to-morrow there will not remain one armed foeman on Argentine soil."
"Not to me alone," said Evaña; "let me ask you a favour for a young officer, who did even more than me to-day."
Evaña stepping back laid his hand upon the shoulder of a young officer of the Patricios, and continued:
"You have granted me leave of absence, let Don Evaristo Ponce de Leon accompany me, he will be back ere you have need for him again."
"He shall carry my despatches for me to the Junta," replied General Balcarce, "and shall carry his shattered flag-shaft with him as a proof of the gallantry of the youth of Buenos Aires."
The year 1810 drew near to its close; a few days more and 1810 was merely a date in the past, a date replete with memories both sad and joyful to many of those whose lives and deeds have furnished the materials for this book.
In the roadstead of Buenos Aires there lay a noble ship, with anchor apeak, sails hanging in the brails, the blue-and-white flag, signal of departure, flying from the truck of the fore-mast. On the quarter-deck of this ship were collected several of those of whom we have just spoken. Over them floated the flag of England, under whose shelter political animosities were forgotten, and the close ties of relationship and of friendship were once more acknowledged.
Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon had settled his affairs in Buenos Aires, and shaking off the dust from his feet, was on his way to Europe; rending asunder the liens which bound him to the country of his adoption, he turned himself again to the country which had given him birth, determined to devote the rest of his life to her service. But he went not alone, with him went his wife and daughter, and he said to himself that he had yet a son left, who, uninfected with the heresies of the present age, was still a loyal child of Spain. Yet as the moment of departure drew nigh his heart yearned towards the son who had at one time been his pride, his anger towards him melted away, and forcing himself to forget the present and the immediate past, he talked only to him of the future; talked to him of the day when Ferdinand of Bourbon, reinstated on the throne of Spain, should re-establish his authority over his subjects in America who yet acknowledged their allegiance to him, and, grateful for their past loyalty and devotion, should forgive their present disloyalty to Spain.
Side by side he and Marcelino paced the deck together. Marcelino, deeply grateful for the love his father yet displayed to him, seizing eagerly at any topic of conversation in which he could agree with him, and speaking confidently of the day as not far distant, when Spain and her colonies should again be united under one sceptre.
"You have forgiven me, my father," said he. "God bless you for it. When you are far away, and in your own country are striving to substitute the will of an entire people for the tyranny of a few, when you establish a cortes at Cadiz, and so direct the valour of a noble people, fighting for rulers in whom they can trust, that this unbroken series of defeats shall be changed into one of victories, till not a Frenchman tread the soil of Spain, then, father, you will do me justice. Buenos Aires is my country, as Spain is yours; what I have done for Buenos Aires you will do for Spain, and under free institutions, Spain and her colonies shall all acknowledge one king."
Then as Don Roderigo answered nothing, but paced the deck with a flush of pride on his face as he thought of down-trodden Spain, and of the future which lay before him, should he contribute to her certain triumph, Marcelino continued:
"You have forgiven me, my father, there is one here to whom you owe no forgiveness, who has never wronged you, and who, if you love me, has every claim upon your love also, for she is your daughter. Father, you have never spoken to Magdalen, she is my wife, and only waits permission to share with me, all the love and respect I have for you. Father, will you not speak to Magdalen? May I not bring her to you, and will you not bless her for my sake if not for her own?"
"Magdalen! Your wife! Yes, let me see her," replied Don Roderigo.
Apart from the others, sitting by Doña Constancia and soothing her sorrow with many gentle words, was Magdalen Miranda, who had already found in Doña Constancia a second mother, and had learned to love her dearly, only to lose her. Marcelino went up to her, and taking her hand in his said:
"Come, Magdalen."
And Magdalen knew why he spoke, for her eyes had followed him wherever he had gone, and her heart was with him in its one hope, that Marcelino's father might yet bless her and call her his daughter ere they parted, never to meet again.
She rose, and with her hand m his, walked with him to where Don Roderigo stood awaiting them. Don Roderigo raised his hat, bowing to her with courtly politeness, but without speaking, till seeing the yearning look in her gray eyes, eyes which reminded him so much of those of his own daughter, Lola, he forgot that she was the daughter of the man whose life he had blasted, of the man who had ruined for him his hopes when life was at its brightest, he saw in her only the wife whom his son loved; opening his arms he took her to his breast and kissed her, then raising his hand he laid it upon her head and blessed her, calling her his daughter, and thanking her for the happiness she had brought into the life of his son.
Taking her hand he led her to a seat, and seating himself beside her began talking to her, questioning her much concerning herself, and listening with ever-increasing pleasure to the sound of her voice, which fell upon his ear with the melody of soft music.
Marcelino sat beside his mother with her hand in his, trying to speak cheerfully to her of the future time when they should meet again, and Dolores, flitting to and fro, kept the others from approaching these two couples, so as to prolong for them the few minutes they might yet have together.
"Here he comes at last," said a voice.
It was the English captain who arrived in a boat from shore, for his arrival alone the ship was waiting. As he set his foot upon the deck, the boom of a gun drew all eyes towards the distant city, then there came the boom of another gun, then another.
"The guns are firing from the fort, papa," said Dolores, and as she spoke, the continued roar of the guns came to them mingled with the joyful clash of bells, coming to them with a softened sound across the wide waste of water which separated them from the land.
"What is it?" asked several, of the English captain.
"They have just received news of a great victory somewhere in the north," replied he; "they were making no end of a hullabulloo about it when I left."
"Oh! my son! my son!" cried Doña Constancia, when these words were translated to her, "I shall never see Evaristo again; but he could not know, poor boy!" and she covered her face with her hands.
But her son was nearer to her than she thought. In the wake of the captain's boat came another, swiftly propelled by six stout oarsmen. As it drew near, it was seen to contain two passengers, whose eyes eagerly scanned the row of faces peering over the bulwarks atthem. Both were in uniform, but in uniforms travel-stained and sun-browned.
"Evaristo!" said Dolores, with a cry of joy.
"And Evaña," echoed Marcelino.
Hardly had the boat touched the side, ere the younger officer, springing lightly up the ladder, stood on the deck looking eagerly about him, then bursting from those who pressed round him with congratulations and many questioning words, he ran to where his mother sat, even yet barely comprehending what she heard.
"Mamita!" he said, clasping her in his arms.
Leaving mother and son together, the rest crowded round Evaña, pressing his hands and listening eagerly, as he told them of the great victory which had freed Argentine soil from the footstep of a foe. Even Don Roderigo, forgetful of all else, came up to him, and taking his hand, listened with a father's pride, to the words in which Evaña spoke of the gallantry displayed by his youngest son, attributing to him more than to any other, the glories of Suipacha.
Evaña spoke with head erect, he stood among them with the bearing of a conqueror, he felt that the dream of his life was rapidly approaching its full accomplishment. Though he spoke but little of his own deeds, he knew that had he not marched from Cordova with the army of the north, the victories which had crowned the standards of the patriots, had never been won. He it was who had infused determination into the counsels of the chiefs; he it was who had set his foot with ruthless energy upon every attempt to shackle in any way the authority of the Junta; he it was who had interpreted to them the orders of that Junta, and had dared to trample in the dust the standard of Spain, when upheld by those who equally with the Junta claimed to rule by the authority of King Ferdinand.
Evaña spoke proudly and haughtily as a free citizen of a free people, but as he spoke, his eye wandered from them who hung upon his words, wandered unceasingly, till his gaze fell at last upon her he sought, his eye had found Dolores, seated at some distance from him with her mother and Evaristo; then his voice faltered, and he answered at random the questions which were put to him.
"And General Nieto, is it true that he fell in some action?" asked Don Roderigo.
"No," replied Evaña fiercely, "I took him prisoner. Two file of grenadiers and a priest, you remember his counsel to Marshal Liniers, such mercy as he would have shown to me, such mercy I gave to him."
Then heedless of more questions, he made his way through them, and walking up to Doña Constancia took her hand and raised it to his lips.
"Oh, Carlos, how good you have been to my son," said Doña Constancia. "If you had not brought him, he could not have come, and I should have gone away without seeing him."
"He might have been here before," said Evaña, "but Evaristo is a brave soldier, and his country could not spare him on the eve of a battle. I never told him you were going till the fight was over."
"I never saw any one in such a hurry to finish a fight," saidEvaristo; "but for Viana he would have been killed twice over. Then when all was over he told me and we have galloped ever since."
"Don Carlos, I am so glad you have come," said Dolores, putting her hand in his.
Evaña drew her away from the others to a vacant corner behind the wheel, where they stood side by side, looking together at the shore.
"You are glad to see me, Lola," said Evaña.
Dolores started and her face was troubled as he spoke to her by this name, which he had never used but once before during all their long friendship, but quickly recovering herself she answered:
"Yes, so glad. You have been a true friend to me and mine, I have so much to thank you for, you managed it all so well. No one knows here that papa went with the mutineers, no one, not even mamma or Marcelino."
"I told you that I would be your friend, Lola, I have kept my word and you have kept yours. I have left the army and come here on purpose to see you once more, I have come to ask you to give me yet one promise."
"Tell me, you have only to ask me, I will promise what you wish."
"Listen first. You see that fair city stretched white and smiling, with its towers and glistening domes, before us on the shore. That city is the city of your birthplace, this country which you leave behind you to-day is your country. You are going to Spain, you love Spain because Spain is your father's country, when you have lived in Spain you will know better what Spain is. I am glad you are going, but some day you will come back, and to make sure that you do come back, I want you to make me one promise, the promise I have come here to ask from you. Promise me that you will never forget the land of your birth, promise me that you will never forget that you are a Porteña."
"I will promise," said Dolores, "I can make that promise very easily, for I am a Porteña. I love Spain as you say, because it is papa's country, but I am a Porteña."
"Away across the ocean in the land to which you are going there is a gallant soldier, whose heart will beat with a wild joy when he hears that you tread the same soil as he. Some day you will be his wife, Lola, remember then that your country is his also. He has promised us, he has promised me and Marcelino, that when his own country no longer needs his sword, he will come and join us, and will fight beside us till the independence of your country and my country is secure."
Dolores flushed scarlet, her hand trembled as it lay in Evaña's firm grasp, and she answered hurriedly:
"But the war is over, is it not? After this great victory there will be no more fighting?"
"The war is but commencing," replied Evaña; "so long as Spain holds one foot of ground on American soil, our independence is not secure."
The white sails came fluttering down from the brails where they hung in festoons, the monotonous clank of the capstan ceased, thecheery cry of the sailors announced that the anchor was aboard, and the noble ship, swinging round, spread her wings to the wind. No longer an inert mass lying lifeless on the waters, she became a thing of life, and cleaving her way through the dancing waves, began her voyage back to Europe, bearing within her the mingled joys and sorrows, hopes and cares, which make a ship a small epitome of the world.
"Remember!" said Evaña to Dolores, then bending over her he pressed his lips upon her forehead and so left her.
Again they stood in the porch together, Marcelino and Magdalen. Evaña had just left them, and the evening breeze tossed about the branches of the trees which had waved over him as he disappeared, going from them with his heart full of proud hopes of which he had eloquently spoken to them, going forth into a life such as he had planned out for himself long ago, a life full of proud hopes and high resolves, a busy, turbulent life, the life of a politician in a young democracy. They stood in the porch together, and through the evening air came again to them, as it had come to them in the morning across the waste of waters, the loud boom of the cannon, the joyful clangour of the bells.
"Again!" said Magdalen. "Have they not made noise enough over Suipacha?"
"Again," replied Marcelino, "but for another cause; this is to celebrate another victory. Belgrano has forced the passage of the Parana, and the army of Velazco has fled before him. Everywhere the Junta is victorious."
So joyously and gloriously ended the year 1810, with the booming of cannon and the loud clangour of the bells. So, decking her brows right early with the laurel leaves of victory, there rose up in the New World a new nation. As a young man, glorying in his strength, rejoices in the difficulties and dangers which beset his path, so Buenos Aires, recking nothing of the toils and dangers she entailed upon herself, set her hand zealously to the task she had undertaken, scorning to count the cost of the great work she purposed to accomplish. Manumission from the thraldom of a tyrant is purchased by the lives of men, and Buenos Aires sent forth her best and her bravest to bear the standard of freedom in the fore-front of the battle. Over the whole continent of South America the sun of May rose resplendent, awakening enslaved peoples from the sloth in which they wallowed, calling upon them to claim their place among the nations.
"Then there will be no more fighting now," said Magdalen; "the authority of the Junta is established."
"That I cannot tell," said Marcelino; "but one truth I know, which you have taught me, that he who works out zealously the life-task which God gives him to do, need fear nothing that may befall him in the future—as his day is so will his strength be."
The Spanish colonies of La Plata were, from the conquest up to the year 1776, annexed to the Viceroyalty of Peru, but in that year, the same in which the revolted colonies of Great Britain declared themselves an independent republic, King Charles III. of Spain created by royal edict the Viceroyalty of Buenos Aires.
"Its limits extended from ten and a half degrees south latitude to Tierra del Fuego, and from the Cordillera of the Andes to the hills from whence flow the upper affluents of the Paraguay, Paranà, and Uruguay; this immense line terminating at the opening where the Rio Grande de San Pedro falls into the sea. This territory, equal to a quarter part of the whole of South America, comprehended the most beautiful fluvial system of the world, and might compete in fertility, riches, and natural beauties with the finest empire of the universe. It contained within its limits six out of the seven climates into which Humboldt has divided the globe—from the region where bloom the cinnamon and the spice-trees to far beyond the agricultural countries; thus it produced all that man requires for his sustenance, comfort, and delight."[14]
The first Viceroy, Don Pedro de Ceballos, landed at Buenos Aires on the 15th October, 1777; the last actual Viceroy was deposed by the people of Buenos Aires on the 25th May, 1810.
The Viceroyalty of Buenos Aires was divided into several provinces and "intendencias," which later on became provinces. Of the Viceroyalty Buenos Aires was the capital city, being the seat of the Viceregal government, and the general residence of the Viceroy. The province of Buenos Aires was thus under the immediate rule of the Viceroy. The other provinces were ruled by governors appointed by him, but were in their internal administration, completely independent of Buenos Aires.
The Spanish colonial system, not only prohibited direct commercial intercourse with foreign nations, but also imposed great restrictions upon the intercourse of the several provinces with each other, the aim of Spanish rule, being to secure the dependence of each separate colony upon herself.
The whole of these provinces were independent colonies, bound together only by their common allegiance to Spain, under the rule of one Viceroy. The conquest of Spain by Napoleon destroyed the only bond which held these provinces together.
The several events which followed the capture of Buenos Aires by Beresford in the year 1806, and which it is the object of this book to elucidate, gradually raised the citizens of Buenos Aires from a state of blind subservience to Spanish rule, taught them their strength, and accustomed them to criticise the acts of their rulers. Thus the revolution of the 25th May, 1810, was nothing more to them than the spontaneous outburst of popular will, a will which they had already exercised on previous occasions with most glorious results. But the provinces had undergone no such training. Thus, when the conquest of Spain was apparently complete, and the whole Viceroyalty was left without any legal authority, the citizens of Buenos Aires did not hesitate as to what they should do. They saw at once that the appointment of a new government rested with themselves, and, taking such means of expressing their will as they had already in other cases found efficient, they named the Junta Gubernativa. But upon the provinces the news of the conquest of Spain fell as a thunderbolt. The fall of Spain left them at the mercy of any ruler who should call upon them to obey.
Such was the condition of the masses of the Argentine people on the 25th May, 1810, but both in Buenos Aires and in the provincial cities, there was a small minority of educated men who had learned and had accepted with eagerness, the principles inculcated by the revolutionary leaders of France. "Le Contrat Social" and "Les Droits de l'Homme" were for these men the gospel.[15]It was they who directed the popular enthusiasm of Buenos Aires to one definite object, the establishment of a Junta composed for the most part of men of Argentine birth; it was they who throughout the provinces echoed the cry of "Liberty" raised by the patriots of the capital.