TACON'S SUMMARY MODE OF JUSTICE.
Probably of all the governors-general that have filled the post in Cuba
none is better known abroad, or has left more monuments of his
enterprise, than Tacon. His reputation at Havana is of a somewhat
doubtful character; for, though he followed out with energy the various
improvements suggested by Aranjo, yet his modes of procedure were so
violent, that he was an object of terror to the people generally, rather
than of gratitude. He vastly improved the appearance of the capital and
its vicinity, built the new prison, rebuilt the governor's palace,
constructed a military road to the neighboring forts, erected a spacious
theatre and market-house (as related in connection with Marti), arranged
a new public walk, and opened a vast parade ground without the city
walls, thus laying the foundation of the new city which has now sprung
up in this formerly desolate suburb. He suppressed the gaming-houses,
and rendered the streets, formerly infested with robbers, as secure as
those of Boston or New York. But all this was done with a bold military
arm. Life was counted of little value, and many of the first people fell
before his orders.
Throughout all his career, there seemed ever to be within him a romantic
love of justice, and a desire to administer it impartially; and some of
the stories, well authenticated, illustrating this fact, are still
current in Havana. One of these, as characteristic of Tacon and his
rule, is given in this connection, as nearly in the words of the
narrator as the writer can remember them, listened to in "La
Dominica's."
During the first year of Tacon's governorship, there was a young Creole
girl, named Miralda Estalez, who kept a little cigar-store in the _Calle
de Mercaderes_, and whose shop was the resort of all the young men of
the town who loved a choicely-made and superior cigar. Miralda was only
seventeen, without mother or father living, and earned an humble though
sufficient support by her industry in the manufactory we have named, and
by the sales of her little store. She was a picture of ripened tropical
beauty, with a finely rounded form, a lovely face, of soft, olive tint,
and teeth that a Tuscarora might envy her. At times, there was a dash of
languor in her dreamy eye that would have warmed an anchorite; and then
her cheerful jests were so delicate, yet free, that she had unwittingly
turned the heads, not to say hearts, of half the young merchants in the
_Calle de Mercaderes_. But she dispensed her favors without partiality;
none of the rich and gay exquisites of Havana could say they had ever
received any particular acknowledgment from the fair young girl to
their warm and constant attention. For this one she had a pleasant
smile, for another a few words of pleasing gossip, and for a third a
snatch of a Spanish song; but to none did she give her confidence,
except to young Pedro Mantanez, a fine-looking boatman, who plied
between the Punta and Moro Castle, on the opposite side of the harbor.
Pedro was a manly and courageous young fellow, rather above his class in
intelligence, appearance and associations, and pulled his oars with a
strong arm and light heart, and loved the beautiful Miralda with an
ardor romantic in its fidelity and truth. He was a sort of leader among
the boatmen of the harbor for reason of his superior cultivation and
intelligence, and his quick-witted sagacity was often turned for the
benefit of his comrades. Many were the noble deeds he had done in and
about the harbor since a boy, for he had followed his calling of a
waterman from boyhood, as his fathers had done before him. Miralda in
turn ardently loved Pedro; and, when he came at night and sat in the
back part of her little shop, she had always a neat and fragrant cigar
for his lips. Now and then, when she could steal away from her shop on
some holiday, Pedro would hoist a tiny sail in the prow of his boat, and
securing the little stern awning over Miralda's head, would steer out
into the gulf, and coast along the romantic shore.
There was a famous roue, well known at this time in Havana, named Count
Almonte, who had frequently visited Miralda's shop, and conceived quite
a passion for the girl, and, indeed, he had grown to be one of her most
liberal customers. With a cunning shrewdness and knowledge of human
nature, the count besieged the heart of his intended victim without
appearing to do so, and carried on his plan of operations for many weeks
before the innocent girl even suspected his possessing a partiality for
her, until one day she was surprised by a present from him of so rare
and costly a nature as to lead her to suspect the donor's intentions at
once, and to promptly decline the offered gift. Undismayed by this,
still the count continued his profuse patronage in a way to which
Miralda could find no plausible pretext of complaint.
At last, seizing upon what he considered a favorable moment, Count
Almonte declared his passion to Miralda, besought her to come and be the
mistress of his broad and rich estates at Cerito, near the city, and
offered all the promises of wealth, favor and fortune; but in vain. The
pure-minded girl scorned his offer, and bade him never more to insult
her by visiting her shop. Abashed but not confounded, the count retired,
but only to weave a new snare whereby he could entangle her, for he was
not one to be so easily thwarted.
One afternoon, not long after this, as the twilight was settling over
the town, a file of soldiers halted just opposite the door of the little
cigar-shop, when a young man, wearing a lieutenant's insignia, entered,
and asked the attendant if her name was Miralda Estalez, to which she
timidly responded.
"Then you will please to come with me."
"By what authority?" asked the trembling girl.
"The order of the governor-general."
"Then I must obey you," she answered; and prepared to follow him at
once.
Stepping to the door with her, the young officer directed his men to
march on; and, getting into a volante, told Miralda they would drive to
the guard-house. But, to the surprise of the girl, she soon after
discovered that they were rapidly passing the city gates, and
immediately after were dashing off on the road to Cerito. Then it was
that she began to fear some trick had been played upon her; and these
fears were soon confirmed by the volante's turning down the long alley
of palms that led to the estate of Count Almonte. It was in vain to
expostulate now; she felt that she was in the power of the reckless
nobleman, and the pretended officer and soldiers were his own people,
who had adopted the disguise of the Spanish army uniform.
Count Almonte met her at the door, told her to fear no violence, that
her wishes should be respected in all things save her personal
liberty,--that he trusted, in time, to persuade her to look more
favorably upon him, and that in all things he was her slave. She replied
contemptuously to his words, and charged him with the cowardly trick by
which he had gained control of her liberty. But she was left by
herself, though watched by his orders at all times to prevent her
escape.
She knew very well that the power and will of Count Almonte were too
strong for any humble friend of hers to attempt to thwart; and yet she
somehow felt a conscious strength in Pedro, and secretly cherished the
idea that he would discover her place of confinement, and adopt some
means to deliver her. The stiletto is the constant companion of the
lower classes, and Miralda had been used to wear one even in her store
against contingency; but she now regarded the tiny weapon with peculiar
satisfaction, and slept with it in her bosom!
Small was the clue by which Pedro Mantanez discovered the trick of Count
Almonte. First this was found out, then that circumstance, and these,
being put together, they led to other results, until the indefatigable
lover was at last fully satisfied that he had discovered her place of
confinement. Disguised as a friar of the order of San Felipe, he sought
Count Almonte's gates at a favorable moment, met Miralda, cheered her
with fresh hopes, and retired to arrange some certain plan for her
delivery. There was time to think _now_; heretofore he had not permitted
himself even an hour's sleep; but she was safe,--that is, not in
immediate danger,--and he could breathe more freely. He knew not with
whom to advise; he feared to speak to those above him in society, lest
they might betray his purpose to the count, and his own liberty, by some
means, be thus jeopardized. He could only consider with himself; he
must be his own counsellor in this critical case.
At last, as if in despair, he started to his feet, one day, and
exclaimed to himself, "Why not go to head-quarters at once? why not see
the governor-general, and tell him the whole truth? Ah! see him?--how is
that to be effected? And then this Count Almonte is a _nobleman_! They
say Tacon loves justice. We shall see. I _will_ go to the
governor-general; it cannot do any harm, if it does not do any good. I
can but try." And Pedro did seek the governor. True, he did not at once
get audience of him,--not the first, nor the second, nor third time: but
he persevered, and was admitted at last. Here he told his story in a
free, manly voice, undisguisedly and open in all things, so that Tacon
was pleased.
"And the girl?" asked the governor-general, over whose countenance a
dark scowl had gathered. "Is she thy sister?"
"No, Excelencia, she is dearer still; she is my betrothed."
The governor, bidding him come nearer, took a golden cross from his
table, and, handing it to the boatman, as he regarded him searchingly,
said,
"Swear that what you have related to me is true, as you hope for
heaven!"
"I swear!" said Pedro, kneeling and kissing the emblem with simple
reverence.
The governor turned to his table, wrote a few brief lines, and, touching
a bell, summoned a page from an adjoining room, whom he ordered to send
the captain of the guard to him. Prompt as were all who had any
connection with the governor's household, the officer appeared at once,
and received the written order, with directions to bring Count Almonte
and a young girl named Miralda immediately before him. Pedro was sent to
an anteroom, and the business of the day passed on as usual in the
reception-hall of the governor.
Less than two hours had transpired when the count and Miralda stood
before Tacon. Neither knew, the nature of the business which had
summoned them there. Almonte half suspected the truth, and the poor girl
argued to herself that her fate could not but be improved by the
interference, let its nature be what it might.
"Count Almonte, you doubtless know why I have ordered you to appear
here."
"Excelencia, I fear that I have been indiscreet," was the reply.
"You adopted the uniform of the guards for your own private purposes
upon this young girl, did you not?"
"Excelencia, I cannot deny it."
"Declare, upon your honor, Count Almonte, whether she is unharmed whom
you have thus kept a prisoner."
"Excelencia, she is as pure as when she entered beneath my roof," was
the truthful reply.
The governor turned, and whispered something to his page, then continued
his questions to the count, while he made some minutes upon paper. Pedro
was now summoned to explain some matter, and, as he entered, the
governor-general turned his back for one moment as if to seek for some
papers upon his table, while Miralda was pressed in the boatman's arms.
It was but for a moment, and the next, Pedro was bowing humbly before
Tacon. A few moments more and the governor's page returned, accompanied
by a monk of the church of Santa Clara, with the emblems of his office.
"Holy father," said Tacon, "you will bind the hands of this Count
Almonte and Miralda Estalez together in the bonds of wedlock!"
"Excelencia!" exclaimed the count, in amazement.
"Not a word, Senor; it is your part to obey!"
"My nobility, Excelencia!"
"Is forfeited!" said Tacon.
Count Almonte had too many evidences before his mind's eye of Tacon's
mode of administering justice and of enforcing his own will to dare to
rebel, and he doggedly yielded in silence. Poor Pedro, not daring to
speak, was half-crazed to see the prize he had so long coveted thus
about to be torn from him. In a few moments the ceremony was performed,
the trembling and bewildered girl not daring to thwart the governor's
orders, and the priest declared them husband and wife. The captain of
the guard was summoned and despatched with some written order, and, in
a few subsequent moments, Count Almonte, completely subdued and
broken-spirited, was ordered to return to his plantation. Pedro and
Miralda were directed to remain in an adjoining apartment to that which
had been the scene of this singular procedure. Count Almonte mounted his
horse, and, with a single attendant, soon passed out of the city gates.
But hardly had he passed the corner of the Paseo, when a dozen
musketeers fired a volley upon him, and he fell a corpse upon the road!
His body was quietly removed, and the captain of the guard, who had
witnessed the act, made a minute upon his order as to the time and
place, and, mounting his horse, rode to the governor's palace, entering
the presence chamber just as Pedro and Miralda were once more summoned
before the governor.
"Excelencia," said the officer, returning the order, "it is executed!"
"Is the count dead?"
"Excelencia, yes."
"Proclaim, in the usual manner, the marriage of Count Almonte and
Miralda Estalez, and also that she is his legal widow, possessed of his
titles and estates. See that a proper officer attends her to the count's
estate, and enforces this decision." Then, turning to Pedro Mantanez, he
said, "No man nor woman in this island is so humble but that they may
claim justice of Tacon!"
The story furnishes its own moral.