_Montbar the Fanatic._
Partial Solution of a Mystery.--Montbar’s Birth.--His Education
and Delusions.--Anecdote of the Dramatic Performance.--Montbar
Runs Away from Home.--Enters the Navy.--His Ferocious
Exploits.--Joins the Buccaneers.--Desperate Battles on the Land
and on the Sea.--His Final Disappearance.
In reading the narrative of the cruelties practised by the pirates upon
the Spaniards, the mind is often oppressed with the thought that a God
of infinite love and power should have allowed such scenes to have
been enacted. There is nothing conceivable, in intense and protracted
torture, which was not inflicted upon men, women, and children. There
is no satisfactory explanation of this great mystery of earth. Still
there are considerations which may perhaps point in the direction of a
solution.
The pirates seem to have been permitted to revenge upon the Spaniards
the awful sufferings which they had inflicted upon the Indians. The
Spanish armies of Cortez and Pizarro ravaged the homes of the innocent
native inhabitants of those countries with ferocity and cruelty which
Satan and his legions could not possibly have surpassed. The Spaniards
had thrown the Indian into the flames of the most awful misery. And
then God allowed the pirate to throw the Spaniard into the same flames.
There was a celebrated pirate by the name of Montbar, who seemed to
have been inspired with fanatical frenzy approaching maniacal fury
against the whole Spanish nation. He was the child of one of the most
opulent and respected families in Languedoc, in France. He had received
all the advantages of education which wealth could afford. In the
process of this education he had read the account of the atrocities
practised by the Spaniards in their conquest of the islands and the
continents of the New World.
The blood of this ardent young man seemed to boil in his veins, while
pondering these fiend-like crimes. As a child he brooded over these
tortures until he became almost insane. Soon he devoted himself to all
martial exercises, that he might avenge the wrongs of the Indians.
This generous but cruel determination grew rapidly into monomania. The
animal forces of a mind of unusual energy were all concentrated in
this direction. Revenge for the wrongs practised upon the Cubans, the
Peruvians, the Mexicans occupied his thoughts by day and his dreams by
night. This became the all-absorbing passion of his soul.
Even when a child, practising with his cross-bow, he said, “I wish to
shoot well, only that I may know how to kill the Spaniards.” George W.
Thornbury, in his sketch of this singular man, alluding to the Spanish
enormities in the New World, writes:
“Fanaticism, avarice, and ambition had ruled like a trinity of devils,
over the beautiful regions desolated and plague-smitten by the
Spaniards. Whole nations had become extinct. The name of Christ was
polluted into the mere cipher of an armed and aggressive commerce.
These books had impressed the gloomy boy with a deep, absorbing,
fanatical hatred of the conquerors, and a fierce pity for the conquered.
“He believed himself marked out by God, as the Gideon sent to
their relief. Dreams of riches and gratified ambition spurred him
unconsciously to the task. He thought and dreamed of nothing but the
murdered Indians. He inquired eagerly from travellers for news from
America, and testified prodigious and ungovernable joy when he heard
that the Spaniards had been defeated by the Caribs and the Bravos.
“He indeed knew by heart every deed of atrocity that history recorded
of his enemies, and would dilate upon each one, with a rude and
impatient eloquence. The following story he was frequently accustomed
to relate, and to gloat over with a look that indicated a mind capable
of even greater cruelty, if once led away by a fanatic spirit of
retaliation.
“‘A Spaniard’ the story ran, ‘was once upon a time appointed governor
of an Indian province, which was inhabited by a fierce and warlike race
of savages. He proved a cruel governor, unforgiving in his resentments,
and insatiable in his avarice. The Indians, unable any longer to endure
either his barbarities or his exactions, seized him, and showing him
gold, told him that they had at last been able, by great good luck,
to find enough to satisfy his demands. They then held him firm, and
melting the ore, poured it down his throat, till he expired in torments
under their hands.’”
The peculiarities of this young man were singularly exhibited on one
occasion, which showed that his mental operations were so deranged
that he could not calmly reflect upon anything connected with the
Spanish nation. At one of the college exhibitions, a comedy was to be
enacted by the students, in which Montbar was to take a part. During
the performance there was a dialogue to take place between a Spaniard
and a Frenchman. Montbar represented the Frenchman, and one of his
companions the Spaniard.
The Spaniard appeared first upon the stage, and began to utter a
tirade of extravagancies against France, denouncing and ridiculing the
French in unmeasured terms. Montbar listened, with ever-increasing
excitement, until he lost all self-control. The mimic scene in his mind
became a reality. In a perfect fury he broke upon the stage; assailed
the representative Spaniard like a maniac; called him a liar and a
murderer; knocked him down, and would inevitably have killed him, had
he not been dragged away by the terrified bystanders.
The boy developed a very active and powerful mind, and his wealthy
father was very proud of him. His eccentricities did not alarm him,
as he thought that contact with the world would soon remove them all.
He wished his son to study some profession. But Montbar insisted upon
entering the army. “I wish to learn to fight,” said he, “that I may
kill the Spaniards.”
As his friends opposed his entering the army, he ran away from home,
and found his way to Havre. Here he had an uncle who was in command
of one of the king’s ships. France was then at war with Spain. The
ship was just entering upon a cruise against the Spaniards. The uncle,
pleased with the enthusiasm of the boy, and with the intensity of his
desire to join the expedition, wrote to the father, and obtained his
reluctant consent. In a few days the ship sailed.
The young fanatic kept a constant watch for the foe, evincing the most
intense eagerness for an engagement. The moment any sail appeared, he
armed himself, and seemed overjoyed with the thought that he might soon
wreak vengeance on the Spaniards. At length, a Spanish ship appeared.
Soon they met and exchanged broadsides. Montbar was quite intoxicated
with joy. He was perfectly reckless. Not a thought of danger entered
his mind. When the order was given to board, Montbar, sabre in hand,
led the party, and was the first to leap on board the Spanish ship.
He seemed to bear a charmed life, and to be endowed with herculean
strength. He sought no assistance from his comrades, but plunged into
the thickest of the enemy, hewing on his right hand and his left, with
marvellous strength. Twice he rushed from end to end of the vessel,
mowing down all who opposed him. He would give no quarter.
The Spaniards were overpowered. Their slaughter was awful. Montbar,
dreaming that he was God’s appointed minister of vengeance, was in an
ecstasy of exultation, as he cut down some, ran his sabre through the
heart of others, and drove others into the sea. His spirit inspired the
rest. Nearly every Spaniard was killed. His uncle succeeded in saving
one or two.
The prize was found to be of immense value. The hold was crammed with
riches. There was one casket of diamonds of almost priceless worth.
While the captain and the crew were examining these treasures, and
rejoicing over them, Montbar regarded them with entire indifference. He
was counting the dead. Blood, not plunder, was what his soul craved.
As there was now war between France and Spain, the French buccaneers,
even when acting without any formal commission, were regarded by the
Government as engaged in legitimate warfare. The buccaneers of England,
robbing Spanish commerce and Spanish colonies, were encouraged and
aided by the French navy. The conflict we have described took place
near the shores of St. Domingo. Montbar’s uncle learned, from his
prisoners, that the ship he had captured had been separated by a storm
from two others, and that they were bound to Port Margot on the island.
He immediately sailed to the vicinity of that port, where he kept
watch. The vessel he had captured was used as a decoy. He placed French
soldiers on board, unfurled the flag of Spain, and stood off and on,
waiting the arrival of the two vessels. While thus on the watch, some
buccaneers, from the shore, came on board in canoes, with provisions to
sell. They had been wrecked upon the coast; and while a part of their
number had been at a distance from the camp hunting, the Spaniards had
fallen upon them, put them to flight, and plundered their stores.
“Why do you suffer this?” exclaimed Montbar, indignantly.
“We do not mean to suffer it,” they replied. “We know what the
Spaniards are, and what our power is. We are collecting our forces, and
will soon take signal vengeance upon them.”
“Let me go with you,” said Montbar. “I do not ask to be your leader,
but I will go at your head. I will be the first to expose myself, and
will show you how I can fight these accursed Spaniards.”
Gladly they accepted his offer. His ardor and energy inspired them with
great confidence in him. His uncle very reluctantly allowed him to
go, cursing him as a foolish, hair-brained madcap, ever eager to push
his head into danger. Yet the uncle was very proud of him. As young
Montbar descended the side of the ship into a canoe, the captain said
exultingly to one at his side, “There goes as brave a lad as ever trod
a plank.”
The buccaneers returned to their camp, and immediately, in a strong
war-party, set out in search of the Spaniards. They threaded intricate
paths through the woods, until they opened upon a small treeless
prairie, which they called a savanna. Just before entering this field,
which was surrounded by hills and woods, they saw, in the distance, a
mounted party of Spaniards who were evidently on the march to attack
them.
Montbar was transported with rage at the sight of the Spaniards. He
was ready, single-handed, to rush upon them at once--he alone, against
several hundred, regardless whether the others followed him or not. But
an old, experienced buccaneer, who led the party, held him back.
“Stop,” said he; “there is plenty of time. If you do as I tell you, not
one of those fellows shall escape.”
These words, “Not one of those fellows shall escape,” arrested the
impetuous young man. The buccaneers halted, pretending not to have
seen the Spaniards. They allowed one or two of their number to exhibit
themselves, as if belonging to a hunting party. They then pitched their
tent of linen, apparently entirely unconscious that they were near
any foe. Drawing out their brandy-flasks, they feigned a great revel,
singing songs, shouting, and passing the flasks from one to another, as
if in the wildest of drunken bouts. This was done by a small portion of
the company, while most of the buccaneers were hidden in ambush.
The Spaniards, having secreted themselves, watched all these movements.
They supposed that the buccaneers, stupefied with drink, would ere long
fall helplessly asleep. The Spaniards would then creep cautiously upon
them, and kill them all. But the cunning old buccaneer had taken good
care that the brandy-flasks should all be empty. Not a single drop of
intoxicating drink had the feigned revellers taken.
As soon as darkness veiled the scene the buccaneers all assembled in
ambuscade, anticipating a midnight attack. Every musket was in order,
and their brains were cool and uninflamed with drink. The Spaniards
delayed their attack until daylight. As the hours lingered away,
Montbar was restless, and chafed like a caged lion, saying that they
would never come, and imploring permission to march out and attack them.
At daybreak the buccaneers discerned a dark line moving noiselessly
over the ridge, and descending into the plain. They knew full well what
this meant. Every movement was watched by the ambushed buccaneers.
Cautiously the Spaniards advanced. They crossed the prairie, and
entered the forest, intending to encircle the tent, which they supposed
held the sleeping buccaneers.
Suddenly the woods seemed to burst into volcanic flame. The report of
the musketry was followed with shout and yell, and the storm of lead
swept through the ranks of the Spaniards, striking down scores, either
in death or grievously wounded. The buccaneers rushed instantaneously
upon their bewildered, staggered, bleeding foe. Montbar seemed
animated by demonaical frenzy. He rushed upon the Spaniards in utter
recklessness, regardless of their numbers, or of the support he should
receive from his comrades. His heavy sabre flashed in all directions,
as if wielded by tireless sinews of steel.
Soon he was quite in advance of his companions, and was alone in the
very thickest of the Spanish squadron. He would inevitably have been
cut down, had not the other buccaneers, astonished at his audacity,
rushed to his rescue. Montbar’s sword was dripping with blood. He
was in a frenzy of joy. Every blow he struck cut down a Spaniard. He
exulted in the carnage, and ever after declared that this was the
happiest day of his life. One grounded Spaniard clung to his knee
begging for mercy. Montbar brought down his sabre upon his head,
splitting it from crown to chin, fiercely exclaiming, “I wish that you
were the last of this accursed race.” An eye-witness of the battle
describes the carnage as horrible. Nearly every Spaniard was destroyed.
The victors, all absorbed in their bloody work, stumbled over the dying
and the dead, deaf to every cry for mercy.
The buccaneers were astonished and delighted by the prowess which
Montbar had displayed. They entreated him to remain and become their
captain. But a signal gun, fired by his uncle, called him back to the
ship. Montbar was placed as captain on board the large ship which his
uncle had captured. Many of the pirates eagerly engaged to serve under
him.
After a sail of eight days these two vessels encountered four Spanish
war-ships, each one larger than either of those commanded by Montbar
or his uncle. One of the most desperate of naval battles ensued. The
elder Montbar was attacked by two of the ships. For three hours they
struggled, grappled together, receiving and giving the most terrible
broadsides. At last the three sank together in one watery grave. The
uncle, it is said, rejoicing to drag the two other ships with him, went
down laughing.
Montbar, with his crashing shot, succeeded at length in sinking
one of the ships assailing him, and then he boarded the other. The
terror-stricken crew threw themselves into the water. The floating
bodies presented targets for the buccaneers. No quarter was shown.
Montbar rushed up and down the decks killing all he could reach. His
courage and accomplishments were so marvellous, that his comrades
regarded him with superstitious reverence, as endowed with more than
mortal powers. He himself ever averred that he was God’s appointed
messenger, to avenge the wrongs the Spaniards had inflicted upon the
Indians. It is not known that a single individual escaped from these
four Spanish ships.
Montbar had now two vessels at his command. He engaged many other
buccaneers in his service, and soon had an army of nearly eight
hundred men ready to follow him to the death. He swept the seas, and,
often landing, ravaged the coasts. We have no detailed account of his
subsequent career. One of his biographers writes:
“And this completes all that history has preserved of one of
the strangest combinations of fanatic and soldier that has ever
appeared since the days of Loyola. In another age, and under other
circumstances, he might have been a second Mohammed. Equally
remorseless, his ambition, though narrower, seems to have been no less
fervid. If he was cruel, we must allow him to have been sincere even in
his fanaticism. Daring, untiring, of unequalled courage and unmatched
resolution, the cruelty of the Spaniards he put down by greater
cruelty. He passes from us into unknown seas, and we hear of him no
more. He died probably unconscious of crime, unpitying and unpitied.
“Oexemelin, who saw Montbar at Honduras, describes him as active,
vivacious, and full of fire, like all the Gascons. He was of tall
stature, erect and firm, his air grand, noble, martial. His complexion
was sunburnt, and the color of his eyes could not be discerned under
the deep, arched vaulting of his bushy eyebrows. His very glance in
battle was said to intimidate the Spaniards, and to drive them to
despair.”
* * * * * *
Transcriber’s note:
Punctuation has been standardised. Changes to the original publication
have been made as follows:
Pages v and 29
William Kidd, the New York Merchant _changed to_
William Kidd, the New-York Merchant
Page 19
was a broad crimsom sash _changed to_
was a broad crimson sash
Page 20
queen, with charteristic tartness _changed to_
queen, with characteristic tartness
Page 26
turning upon his heel, said contemptously _changed to_
turning upon his heel, said contemptuously
Page 38
of February, 1666, that Captain Kidd _changed to_
of February, 1696, that Captain Kidd
Page 89
taken sick and died in New-York _changed to_
taken sick and died in New York
Page 105
dividing into two partions _changed to_
dividing into two parties
Page 107
employed skilled seaman to manage the ship _changed to_
employed a skilled seaman to manage the ship
Page 170
The Carousal; and the New Enterprise _changed to_
the Carousal; and the New Enterprise
Page 182
coast to render such asssistance _changed to_
coast to render such assistance
Page 183
they threatented with instant _changed to_
they threatened with instant
Page 187
mouth of the great river of Gautemala _changed to_
mouth of the great river of Guatemala
Page 192
was inhabitated by a very fierce tribe _changed to_
was inhabited by a very fierce tribe
Page 201
Mary Read and Ann Bonny _changed to_
Mary Read and Anne Bonny
Page 204
week for its maintainance _changed to_
week for its maintenance
Page 222
dying an ignominous death _changed to_
dying an ignominious death
Page 242
repel an asault from the land _changed to_
repel an assault from the land
Page 252
expressive of his astonishmeut _changed to_
expressive of his astonishment
Page 315
They roof was instantly _changed to_
The roof was instantly
Page 358
bought them up at not one hundreth _changed to_
bought them up at not one hundredth