GENERAL FRAY PELAGIO.
It is impossible to describe the enthusiasm which broke out among the
patriots at this revelation which burst upon them like a thunderclap.
In truth, it was really Father Pelagio Sandoval. The result obtained
by this surprise, which was so thoroughly to the Mexican taste, was
immense. For a moment the worthy priest literally ran a risk of being
stifled, so lovingly did his partizans press round him; everyone wished
to get near him, clasp his hand; or kiss some part of his garments.
For more than a quarter of an hour there was an indescribable tumult
and disorder in the hall; everybody spoke at once; each exalted the
remarkable qualities of the chief who had been so long lost, and who
reappeared, as if by a miracle, at the moment when they least hoped to
see him.
The two Canadians were dumb with surprise; the effervescence, however,
gradually calmed, and silence was re-established. Before aught else,
Father Pelagio was obliged to explain to his followers in what way
he had succeeded, after two years of captivity, comparable with
the Neapolitan _carcere duro_, in leaving his dungeon by the aid
of a faithful friend, in spite of the vigilant watch and constant
espionage the Spaniards had established around him. So soon as he had
satisfied their curiosity to the best of his ability, Father Sandoval,
understanding the value of time well employed, and not wishing to let
the enthusiasm of his adherents cool, asked leave to speak.
A deep silence at once fell, as if by enchantment, upon the crowd a
moment previously so turbulent and disorderly; each with body bent
forward, and an attentive ear, prepared to listen to the words which
a mouth, they had fancied closed for ever, was about to utter. Father
Pelagio still retained the calm, benign, and intellectual appearance
which illumined his face the first time when we introduced him to the
reader; a few wrinkles more, furrowed by the terrible struggle he had
carried on for so many years, marked his pale forehead; his eyes had
acquired a greater magnetic force, and his face, pale and thinned by
suffering, had assumed that appearance of asceticism which Zurbaran has
so well depicted on immortal canvas.
In spite of his common dress, so soon as the priest had thrown far
from him the broad-brimmed hat which partly covered his features, and,
under the influence of the feelings that agitated him at the moment,
drew himself up to his full height, his face changed so thoroughly, his
demeanour all at once became so majestic, that all the spectators, when
gazing on him, felt themselves filled with a respect for which they did
not even attempt to account.
"Listen to me, brothers and friends," he said in that melodious and
sympathetic voice which gained him all hearts, "Don Aníbal said to you,
only a moment ago, the time is ripe for our beloved country, the hour
of liberty has struck for Mexico. If we really wish to break the yoke
which has so long weighed on us, the moment for the final struggle
has arrived; the salvation of our country depends on you, and all is
prepared for the grand act which it is our mission to accomplish. Pay
the greatest attention to my words, for the news you are about to hear
is serious. You are ignorant, I suppose, of the name of the man who
opened the door of the dungeon in which I was buried alive, without
hope of ever leaving it; this man is Don Agustín de Iturbide, the same
man who shot Matamoros, that stoical martyr of our liberty--Iturbide,
that ferocious colonel of militia, who has hitherto proved himself
the most obstinate enemy of the Mexican insurgents. Don Agustín de
Iturbide, that skilful, active, enterprising, and ambitious chief, who
learnt the art of war in the ranks of our enemies, has all at once left
the false path on which he has hitherto marched in order to become one
of our most zealous defenders. Great changes effected in the mother
country by Riego's pronunciamiento, have led to the establishment of
the Cortés, and the abolition of the Inquisition throughout the Spanish
possessions. As you see, the times are changed, the sun is beginning
to shine for us through the clouds, our most obstinate adversaries are
becoming our warmest partizans. Lastly, the Count del Venadito has been
recalled by the Spanish government and is no longer Viceroy, his place
being taken by O'Donojú. Let us take advantage of this interregnum, let
us make our last heroic effort, and if we like we shall be free; our
fate depends on ourselves, is in our hands. Shall we hesitate to rend
our fetters?"
At those words, warmly pronounced with a cheering accent and inspired
face, the audience felt electrified; an indescribable enthusiasm
seized on them, and, drawing their sabres and swords, which they
brandished over their heads, they shouted, in a voice of thunder,
"Liberty! Liberty!" The priest waited a few minutes, until the
generous effervescence caused by his speech had slightly calmed; then,
commanding silence by a gesture full of majesty, he continued--
"Iturbide is only waiting for our signal to declare himself for
independence, and overthrow the metropolitan government; the southern
provinces are already in a flame. Shall we remain behindhand? You are
all witnesses of what took place here this very morning; the Spaniards,
advised by their spies of the meeting which was to take place at this
hacienda, and having no plausible excuse to break it up, assumed the
Indian garb to attack us, in order to deceive us, and be able, in the
case of a check, to disavow all participation in this unjustifiable
act. Their ostensible motive, it is true, señores, was to break up our
meeting; but their real motive, the important object they had in view,
was to carry me off, and thus paralyze your attempts at insurrection.
Caballeros, brothers, and countrymen, one last word, which contains our
thought, and traces our duty for us--'To arms! Liberty or death!'"
The effect of these words, pronounced with feverish energy, was immense.
"To arms! Liberty or death!" all his hearers shouted.
At this moment the door opened, and a young man appeared; it was
Don Melchior, the lad saved by Don Aníbal some fourteen years back,
and brought up by him as his son. Don Aurelio had spoken the truth;
Melchior was really a charming cavalier, tall and gracefully built,
with regular, noble features, and soft black eyes. His dress, without
being rich, was extremely neat, and held a middle place between that of
the conspirators and of the desert hunters; a straight sabre, called
a machete, unsheathed, and passed through an iron ring, hung from his
left side, and the butts of two long pistols peered out of the _faja_,
or red China crape girdle, fastened round his hips. Don Melchior, after
looking curiously around him, glided through the groups and made his
way up to Father Pelagio, in whose ear he whispered a few words; the
priest started, and his face was slightly flushed, but, recovering
himself immediately, he said, raising his voice so as to command
attention--
"Señores, I have just heard something which neither you nor I
anticipated. Count de Melgosa has just arrived at the hacienda, and
insists on being shown in to you, as he says that he has matters of the
utmost importance to communicate to us."
This news produced all the effect which the chief of the insurgents
expected. All frowned angrily, and a menacing expression of dull
irritation appeared on every face.
"What do you propose doing?" Don Aurelio asked. "If our friends give
their consent," Fray Pelagio replied, "I will receive him at once.
What good is it any longer hiding ourselves? We have sufficient force
to hold head against an enemy more dangerous than the count can be.
Let us burn our vessels bravely, and make head against the storm. What
matter whether our enemies learn two hours sooner or later, that we are
recommencing the struggle?"
"Viva Dios, you are right," Don Aníbal exclaimed impetuously; "let us
confront the storm."
"Let us show," the old man supported him, who had already taken part in
the discussion several times; "let us show these haughty Spaniards that
we are not afraid of them."
"That is talking like a man of heart," Father Pelagio said with a
smile. "Melchior, my child," he added, as he turned to the young man,
"be kind enough to introduce El Señor Conde de Melgosa. So great a
person must not be kept waiting any longer in the anteroom of a poor
Creole."
The last words were uttered with an accent of pure raillery, which
brought a smile to the lips of several of the hearers. Don Melchior,
without replying, bowed to the priest and left the room. Father Pelagio
then drew Don Aníbal and Don Aurelio on one side, and began an earnest
conversation with them in a low voice. The door ere long again opened
and Melchior appeared preceding another person, whom he introduced as
Count de Melgosa. At the time when we bring him on the stage the count
was about fifty-five years of age, although he seemed scarce forty, so
greatly had his powerful constitution hitherto preserved him against
the assaults of old age.
He was a tall and well proportioned man, with a cold and ceremonious
manner. His angular features were stern and haughty, and the expression
of his face ironical. His eyes, deep set beneath his brows, flashed
a gloomy and concentrated fire. There was about his whole person
something stiff and constrained, which prevented sympathy. He was
dressed in a rich military uniform, and wore the insignia of a colonel
in the Spanish army.
A profound silence greeted his entrance into the hall. Not appearing at
all affected by this cold and significant reception he lightly raised
his hand to his hat without deigning to uncover, and walked with a firm
and deliberate step up to Don Aníbal de Saldibar, who, at a sign from
Father Pelagio, came to meet him, moving aside the persons in his way
so as to offer a free passage to a visitor who was so little desired.
When the two men were opposite each other they bowed ceremoniously, and
Don Aníbal, as master of the house, spoke first.
"What fortunate accident, my lord," he said, "procures me the honour of
the unexpected visit which you deign to pay me?"
The count smiled bitterly, and, looking ironically round the company,
whose eyes were fixed on him with an ill restrained expression of
hatred and anger, said--
"An unexpected visit, I can believe, caballero; and, doubtless, very
little desired."
"Why so?" Señor Conde, the hacendero continued with the most exquisite
politeness; "Be assured that I shall be always highly honoured when
you, the alcade mayor of the province, deign to visit my humble
residence."
"Are you speaking seriously, Señor Don Aníbal, and can I credit the
words which it pleases you to address to me at this moment?"
"Why should it not be so, Señor Conde?" the hacendero said, with an
almost imperceptible tinge of sarcasm.
"Why?" the count remarked with considerable vehemence; but at once
checking himself he continued in that cold and lightly mocking
tone natural to him, "A truce, if you please, to compliments and
protestations in which neither of us believes, and let us come to
facts."
"Be it so, Señor Conde," Don Aníbal replied, still obsequious. "Let us
come to facts, I desire nothing more."
There was a silence for two or three moments. At length the count
continued--
"Caballero, I have come to visit you, not as alcade mayor of the
province, a title I do not possess, and to which I have no claim, but
merely as alcade of the town of Leona Vicario, in the territory of
which your property is partly included, and from the jurisdiction of
which you naturally append."
"Naturally!" the hacendero repeated. "Ah! I depend from the
jurisdiction of Leona Vicario. I thank you for the information,
Señor Conde. I confess to you that I was completely ignorant of the
fact, having, whether rightly or wrongly, a habit of recognizing no
jurisdiction but my own in matters that occur on my estates."
"As you see, caballero, you are wrong."
"Be it so; but in my turn, Señor Conde, I will say, with your
permission, enough of this. For I suppose that it is not with the
purpose of giving me this most important information, for which I thank
you, that you have ridden such a distance, and taken the trouble to
come hither."
"You are right, caballero, I had another motive in coming here."
"And may I hope that you will deign to let me know it?"
"Without further delay, señor."
"I am waiting with the most lively impatience, Señor Conde."
"I have come, caballero," the alcade mayor continued with a tinge of
threatening hauteur, "to ask you by what right you have assembled at
your hacienda so large a number of individuals who have all been long
known as haters of the king's government?"
Don Aníbal was preparing to answer this question in a manner at least
quite as haughty as that in which it was asked, but Father Pelagio,
who had hitherto seemed to attach but slight importance to the
conversation, suddenly drew himself up, and seizing Don Aníbal by the
arm gently thrust him on one side, and coldly said to the count--
"It is my place to answer this, Señor Alcade."
At this interpellation, which he was far from expecting, the count
looked with surprise at the man who was addressing him, and noticing
his shabby clothes said disdainfully--
"Who are you, my good fellow, and by what right do you take the liberty
of addressing me?"
"Ah, ah, it appears that my disguise is good, Señor Conde," the priest
said mockingly, "since you, to whom my features are so familiar, do not
recognize me."
"Can it be possible?" the count exclaimed in surprise, after examining
the speaker more attentively. "What, you here! Oh, I am no longer
astonished at the ferments of revolt which are springing up again in
all parts of the province. It is you, unworthy minister of a God of
peace, who, forgetting your holy mission, are spreading discord and
preaching insurrection to the masses."
"You are mistaken, count," the priest answered, "I preach a holy war:
but, believe me, caballero, threats or insults are unadvisable between
us; it would be neither prudent nor courteous on your part to offer
them to me, and I warn you that I will not put up with them. You want
to know what we are doing here? I will tell you. We are conspiring
the overthrow of the government you serve, and at the moment when you
arrived we were taking an oath to conquer or die in regaining our
liberty. Is there anything else you desire to know? Speak, and I am
ready to satisfy you."
The count smiled sorrowfully.
"No," he answered, "poor madmen, I have nothing more to learn. What can
you tell me that I do not already know? Was not the long struggle you
have sustained up to this day sufficient to prove to you the inutility
of a mad resistance against a power too strongly established for your
obstinate efforts to succeed even in shaking it? Listen to what I am
instructed to say to you in the name of his Excellency the Viceroy."
"Speak," Fray Pelagio said, coldly, "and speak loud, Señor Conde, so
that we may clearly hear the propositions you have to make to us."
"Propositions?" he replied haughtily. "I have none to make to you. I
have orders to intimate, nothing else."
"Orders? That is very haughty language. Have you forgotten where you
are, and who are the men surrounding you?"
"I have forgotten nothing I ought to remember, caballero, believe me.
Renounce an impossible contest; withdraw peacefully, all of you, to
your houses; and possibly the government, taking pity on you, will
consent to close its eyes upon this insensate and purposeless attempt."
A frightful outburst of yells and threats greeted this contemptuous
summons. The count, with a smile on his lips, a calm brow, and head
aloft, remained unmoved by this general indignation.
"Silence," the Father shouted; "and you, Señor Conde," he added,
addressing the alcade mayor, "how many lives have you to risk when you
dare offer us such an insult? Do you think yourself in perfect safety?
In your turn listen to our reply--it will be brief."
"I am listening," he said.
"The weapons we take up today we shall not lay down till the last
Spaniard has quitted the soil of Mexico."
Frenzied applause and shouts of joy arose from all sides at these words.
"Be it so, señores," the count replied; "the blood shed will be
on your own heads. In the name of the king I declare you infamous
traitors, and, as such, outlaws. Farewell!"
And without condescending to bow to the company, the count, after
looking defiantly around him, turned and left the hall with the same
calm and measured step as when he entered it. Father Pelagio then bent
down to Don Aníbal's ear.
"Follow him," he said in a low voice, "and do not let him quit the
hacienda till you know his instructions and the repressive measures the
government intend to employ against us."
"That will be difficult," the hacendero observed.
"Not so much so as you suppose. The count is an old friend of
yours. Take advantage of the late hour to oblige him to accept your
hospitality, and remain here till tomorrow. In our present position,
twenty-four hours gained may ensure the success of our plans. I reckon
on your skill to decide him."
"I will try," Don Aníbal answered, shaking his head doubtfully; "but I
am afraid I shall fail in this delicate mission."
"Try impossibilities, my friend," Fray Pelagio pressed him.
Don Aníbal bowed and left the hall.