THE COUNCIL OF WAR
The morrow came, and it was another day.
At sunrise the drums beat to arms all over the city; again the troops,
native militia and Spaniards, assembled at their various headquarters.
Trace of the sorrow and depression of the past night had all vanished;
all was again enthusiasm and fierce resolve. On comparing notes one with
another, the losses seemed marvelously small after the crushing defeat
they had suffered. In some regiments entire companies were missing, but
they were probably with General Liniers, of whom nothing was yet known.
It was immediately resolved by the various chiefs that the English
should not be left unmolested, and sundry companies were detailed at
once for service in the suburbs, while the rest of the forces were
employed on the central defences around the Plaza Mayor.
Captain Lorea of the Patricios was the first to march with his company.
He marched straight for the quinta which had been held the previous day
by the "Morenos de Ponce." Here he found that the English had
established an outpost. He at once opened fire and advanced against
them, upon which the enemy retired. Then posting his men along the far
fence, with instructions to fire on any of the English who should come
within range, he renewed his search for his missing friend Marcelino.
But the search was again in vain. He could find no trace of him, and the
occupants of the quinta could tell him nothing. They had fled when the
fighting commenced, and had only returned at midnight.
All day long the firing continued in the suburbs, with loss of life on
both sides, but the English withdrew any outpost that was seriously
attacked, only to reoccupy it when their foes retreated. So much powder
and shot wasted in a military point of view, but not wasted in its
effects upon the citizen soldiers, who thus became accustomed to the
whiz of the shot, and whose renewed confidence might have melted away in
forced inactivity.
There was one corps in the army of yesterday which had no headquarters
in the city, the "Morenos de Ponce." At sunrise they paraded in the
Plaza de Los Perdices, under the command of Lieutenant Asneiros, about
120 men, all told. Backwards and forwards through the ranks walked the
lieutenant, rigorously inspecting arms and accoutrements, when a
horseman drew rein in front of the line. Many of the negroes knew him,
and their dark faces brightened up as they looked upon him.
"Morenos!" said he, raising his hand, "we all know how gallantly you
followed your brave leader yesterday. The country appreciates your
services. Spain, our mother-country, whose flag you have so valiantly
defended, will reward them. Your commandant, my son," here the speaker's
voice faltered a little, "is absent; wounded or a prisoner, we know not
what has become of him. We yet need your services, Morenos; we have an
arrogant enemy before us, but the city is yet ours, and we will defend
it to the last. You have shown yourselves worthy to follow the lead of a
Ponce de Leon. When the struggle commences, if my son be not with you, I
myself will take his place. Together we will avenge the deaths of your
slaughtered comrades and the loss of your commandant upon the insolent
invader."
"Viva, Don Roderigo! Viva!" shouted the negroes after which the
horseman, waving his hand to them, spoke a few words to Asneiros and
trotted off.
About an hour afterwards an English officer with his eyes bandaged, and
escorted by a picket of the first Patricios, presented himself to the
Cabildo, having been received in the suburbs by Colonel Elio, carrying a
flag of truce, and bearing a demand from General Gower for the immediate
surrender of the city. The members present glanced curiously one at the
other and some laughed. Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon, as the one among
them most conversant with English, took upon himself to answer the
demand.
"Your general," said he, "deceives himself, he thinks that by his
victory of yesterday he has crushed us. He deceives himself. Tell him
that our troops are yet numerous and enthusiastic, and that to a man we
are all ready to die, if need be, in defence of our city. The hour has
now come for us to show our patriotism, and we shall do it."
All the members rose from their seats and bowed with great formality as
the officer retired.
As he went, a horseman in the dress of a paisano dismounted at the door
of the Cabildo, and announced himself as a chasque with a despatch from
General Liniers. He was at once led to the council-chamber, and
delivered his despatch to Don Gregorio Lopez, who acted as president
during a temporary absence of Don Martin Alzaga.
Don Gregorio read the letter, and then threw it across the table to his
son-in-law, saying contemptuously:
"Look at that."
The letter was from General Liniers to the Cabildo, announcing in terms
of humility, almost amounting to despair, the complete defeat and
dispersion of his army, and stating that he had yet 1000 men with him
and awaited orders.
"Just what one might expect," said Don Roderigo, when he had glanced
over it and handed it to another member of the Cabildo. "Men of his
fiery temperament are ever the most cast down when a reverse comes. It
will be best to order him at once back to the city to take command of
the defence."
"Give him the command again, when by his folly he has lost us an army?"
exclaimed Don Gregorio.
"Just so," replied Don Roderigo. "As we place confidence in him, so will
he strive to merit it. He is a soldier, and the men like him, he knows
better than any of us what to do. The affair of yesterday will be a
lesson to him."
"If we call him back he is at once the chief over us all, and our plan
of defence will be set aside."
"That, no; we have determined to act on the defensive without consulting
him, we must tell him that it is to take command of the defence alone
that we recall him. What do you say, Señores?" said Don Roderigo,
addressing himself to the other members. "Shall we not do better with a
soldier to command our troops?"
"Liniers is a daring soldier," said one of them. "The men will forget
yesterday when they hear his cheerful voice again among them. When they
see him they will remember only that last year he was the hero who
forced an entire army to surrender."
In this view all agreed, and Don Roderigo sat down to answer the
despatch at once in very few words. As he wrote, Don Gregorio turned to
look at the chasque who had remained in the room, looking about him with
an air of the most complete indifference.
"I have seen you before, my friend," said he. "Are you not the man who
brought from Colonel Lopez the news of the advance of the English upon
Quilmes?"
"Just so," answered the man. "The Señor General Liniers took me with him
that day, and yesterday I was with him to the end."
"Then you were present at the fight on the Plaza Miserere?"
"Yes, I saw it all, but I do not call that a fight. When they ought to
have rushed on them they stopped to shoot, and it was all disorder. But
what would you? They were on foot. I, yes; last year I saw a fight
farther away, beyond the Plaza Miserere. There, yes; there we went on to
the top of them like men, but it was all in vain; in the same, no more,
it ended. Look you that these English are the very devil, but have no
fear, in some way we shall arrange them."
"Were you with Don Juan Martin Puyrredon at Perdriel?"
"I was, and I escaped only by a miracle. That, yes; that was a fight.
When a man is on horseback he is worth three, but these people of the
city who go on foot! what would you have?"
"But these English, they were on foot, both yesterday and at Perdriel."
"And among houses and fences. Let them come and seek us in the open
camp; we will teach them."
"It appears that my son has had a warrior among his men."
"Your son, Señor! Who will he be?"
"Colonel Lopez, who was your chief two days ago."
"And your worship, will you be the Señor Don Gregorio Lopez?"
"I am he. And you, what is your name?"
"I call myself Venceslao Viana, at your service, Señor Don Gregorio."
At this Don Gregorio rose from his seat with a grave look on his face
and walked away to a window, while Don Roderigo looked up from the
letter which he had just finished, and examined attentively the face of
the chasque, who appeared somewhat disconcerted at the abrupt
termination of his conversation with Don Gregorio.
Then folding up the letter and sealing it with the official seal of the
Cabildo, Don Roderigo handed it to Venceslao Viana.
"This to the Señor General Liniers," he said. "But first tell me, have
you seen anything of the English to-day?"
"Much, I came right through their lines. There is another army of them
crossed the Riachuelo at the Zamorra Pass this morning."
"Then vaya con Dios, and don't lose a minute;" so saying, Don Roderigo
opened the door for him, and shaking him warmly by the hand dismissed
him, as much surprised at his politeness as at the sudden coolness of
Don Gregorio.
"One must be the devil himself to understand the ways of these men who
wear coats," said Venceslao to himself, as he mounted his horse. "That
old man must be in some way a relation of mine; he will be one of those
relations in the city of whom my father never speaks. He would speak to
me no more when he knew who I was. And that other! Who knows if he is
not a relation also. When one is a man of family one never knows where
one may meet relations."
Venceslao was not much given to thinking, and had soon something else to
employ his wits on, having to make diligent use of his eyes to escape
the scouting and foraging parties of the English. He reached General
Liniers in safety and delivered his despatch, which restored the
despondent soldier to his usual confident activity. Taking Venceslao as
his guide he marched rapidly by cross-roads back to town, exchanging a
few harmless shots with a party of English who were advancing towards
the Miserere, and at once took charge of the preparations for defence.
That evening, as Venceslao was lounging about under the colonnade in
front of the Cabildo, he was accosted by Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon.
"What are you doing, friend?" said Don Roderigo.
"I am waiting for nightfall. There are so many English about that it
will be dangerous to go out by daylight," replied Venceslao.
"Go out! And where are you going?"
"To present myself to my chief."
"That cannot be. Here in the city is the place for all good patriots.
You have seen fire, we need men like you."
"And what can I do here? Of these manoeuvres on foot I know nothing,
and my horse will die of hunger."
"Of that have no fear, remain with me, I will find something for you to
do."
"With very much pleasure; Señor, I am at your service," answered
Venceslao.
"Then go to my house, there you will find plenty of comrades. Go that
way," said Don Roderigo, pointing along the face of the Cabildo
northwards. "Take the second turning to the left and then go straight on
till close to the church of San Miguel. You will see a negro sentry at
the doorway, that is my house. The 'Morenos de Ponce' are quartered
there; tell Lieutenant Asneiros that Don Roderigo sent you. I shall be
there myself later on."
"Hasta luego, Señor Don Roderigo," said Venceslao, mounting his horse
and trotting off.
As he settled himself in the saddle he shook his head meditatively and
said to himself, "Certainly he must be some relation of mine. Look you,
when a man is of family he has duties of which others know nothing. This
Señor Don Roderigo must have some claim on my services, for that it is
that he sends me. It is necessary then that I obey, so here goes to join
the 'Morenos de Ponce.' I have seen something of them, and now that I
think of it, the comandante is that young man who was at my house with
the colonel months ago, before I made myself a lancer; the colonel said
he might be some relation of mine, I will ask him about it."
Here his soliloquy was cut short by his finding the street blocked up by
a huge mound of earth, beyond which was a deep ditch. On the mound a
party of the Catalan regiment were hard at work raising a stout
breastwork and laying down a platform for a heavy gun, which stood in
the street behind. On the azotea on each side a sentry paced up and down
with his firelock on his shoulder. A Spanish officer stopped him and
inquired where he was going.
"I belong to the 'Morenos de Ponce,'" answered Venceslao. "Where are
they quartered?"
"Pass," answered the officer, pointing to a narrow passage on the
side-walk. "Four squares from here on the left hand."
Venceslao passed on, found the "Morenos de Ponce," and was soon at home
among them, but he did not find the comandante, and his curiosity
concerning his relationship remained unsatisfied.
* * * * *
Meantime the news of the landing of the English had spread over the
campaña, and the chiefs of the partidarios hastily collected their men
together. On the night of the 3rd July messengers from them made their
way into the city, bearing letters asking instructions from the
Reconquistador. To all the same answer was returned, that the men who
had firearms should repair to the city and join the garrison, and that
the rest should hover about the rear of the invading army and annoy it
to the best of their ability. During the day, and more especially during
the night of the 4th July, hundreds of paisanos entered the city, and
were spread about in small detachments attached to the different
infantry corps. A strong force of them were also embodied and encamped
on the Plaza de Los Perdices, where they would be at hand should cavalry
be required.
On the 4th, Don Isidro Lorea turned his attention to fortifying his
house. He threw open all the windows of both house and almacen, blocking
them up for half their height with boxes and barrels, through which he
made two loopholes at each window. On the parapet of his azotea he
arranged tercios of yerba and boxes filled with earth, leaving a few
inches between each to serve as loopholes. In addition to his own
company he had all the men resident in that and the two neighbouring
blocks under his command, which raised his force to about 400, all
supplied with firearms and ammunition. His instructions from General
Liniers were, that he should on no account venture into the streets, but
was to defend his position to the last extremity.
It was the afternoon of the 4th July, the British army was cantonned
all along the western side of the city, the British fleet was at anchor
in the roadstead, but as yet no attack had been made. General Whitelock
with his staff occupied a small country house close to the Plaza
Miserere, to which he had been conducted by an American named White, to
whom this house had formerly belonged. Mr White had been for many years
resident in Buenos Aires; he had joined the English army at Monte Video,
and was frequently consulted by General Whitelock, who placed much
confidence in him.
General Whitelock held a council of war that afternoon, all his superior
officers being present. The council was held in the dining-room of Mr
White's house; on the table in this room lay a map of the city, on which
most of the churches and public buildings were clearly marked, but which
was full of inaccuracies.
The council had now sat for nearly an hour; the general, seated in an
arm-chair at the head of the table, seemed somewhat ruffled at what had
passed. On the faces of many of his officers there was an evident gloom;
they had not approved of the plan of attack which had been disclosed to
them, but their advice had not been asked, they had been merely summoned
to have the plan explained to them and to receive instructions. The
troops had been under arms all the morning, General Whitelock having at
first contemplated making the assault at midday, but the constant fire
kept up upon his advanced posts had decided him to postpone it until the
next morning; even he saw the danger of advancing in broad daylight down
those long, narrow streets.
But on the faces of some younger officers there sat the smile of
undoubting confidence, and many a gay jest passed among them at the
expense of the runaway Frenchman and his Creole troops, who, after the
signal proof of incapacity which they had given two days before, had yet
dared to return a defiant answer to a second summons to surrender their
city.
At this moment the door opened, and a tall man with stern, sallow
features entered the room.
"Excuse me, General," said he in very good English, but with a foreign
accent, "I knew not that you were engaged, I will retire."
"By no means, Señor," said General Whitelock. "Come in and sit down, I
thought we had left you in Monte Video."
"I landed at Quilmes this morning, and Colonel Mahon informed me where I
should find you."
"Craddock," said the general to an aide-de-camp, "a chair for the Señor
Evaña."
"Have you heard of the answer I have received from these citizens of
Buenos Aires to my summons?" asked the general as Evaña seated himself.
"I have heard that they refuse to surrender," answered Evaña coldly.
"Refuse! Yes, and in terms which would come well from a victorious army,
but not from a defeated mob of militia. See there, read for yourself,"
added the general, handing an open despatch to Evaña.
Evaña took the despatch and read it. A flush spread over his features as
he read the proud disdainful words in which the men of an open city
defied the menace of a soldier at the head of a well-appointed army. He
glanced at the signatures, and saw amongst them those of Don Gregorio
Lopez and of Don Roderigo Ponce de Leon. His own countrymen and the
Spaniards joined cordially together in the heroic resolve to defend the
city to the last, and for what? For Spain. He sighed deeply as he
refolded the despatch and returned it to the general with a low bow,
saying:
"Then there is nothing but an appeal to arms."
"And that we need think little of," answered the general. "Perda cuidao,
as your people say, the sun will shine for the last time to-morrow upon
the Spanish flag in that fort over yonder, and you will have some
shopkeeping countrymen the fewer."
"God grant that that flag come down," said Evaña; "too long has it
crushed out the soul of my country, but, General, as I told you before,
you do not know my countrymen. If you would but have made allies of
them, that flag would have come down without your risking the lives of
thousands of men in pulling it down."
"It would have given place to some new-fangled flag of a republic I
suppose. Enough of that, Señor Evaña, the flag that has to fly there
to-morrow is the English flag."
"Then you purpose taking the city by assault?" said Evaña.
"Just so," answered the general; "I intend to give those saucy citizens
of yours another taste of the cold steel, it seems that one lesson is
not enough for them."
"You will lose many men, General. You have the command of the river, I
should have thought a blockade would have been much more certain and
would have spared useless bloodshed."
"The calculation of a civilian and not of a soldier, Señor Evaña. What
do you say, Craddock? Do you think you would win your spurs by starving
them out?"
"I should precious soon tire of that work," answered the aide-de-camp;
"besides which you would have to shoot me, General, for I should begin
to smuggle provisions into the city as soon as I heard that the pretty
Porteñas were beginning to look thin on siege rations."
"Always thinking of the girls, Craddock," said the general laughing.
"Well, I can promise you that you won't have to wait much longer before
you can begin making love to them."
"He may chance to have his love-making spoiled before he even sees
them," said Evaña, bending over the table and examining the map of the
city which lay before him.
"Every bullet has its billet," said the aide-de-camp, with a sneer; "the
billets of those of your militia seem mostly up in the air from what I
hear of their shooting."
During this talk most of the officers who had taken part in the council
left the room, but two or three still remained. One of them was a
strikingly handsome man of medium stature, with curly brown hair and
hazel eyes.
"Perhaps the Señor Evaña would like to know our plan of assault," said
this officer.
"Explain it to him, Craddock," said the general.
"We shall keep 1000 men in reserve at the corrales," said Craddock,
"besides Colonel Mahon's brigade, which will advance to the Galvès
bridge to-morrow. The rest of the troops we divide into three columns of
attack, which will advance by parallel streets through the city to the
river-side, and will then unite in a combined attack upon the great
square, where we understand the principal force of the enemy is
entrenched."
"I see a great many streets marked on the plan," said Evaña.
"Exactly so," replied the aide-de-camp; "each column will march in
subdivisions by adjacent streets, which will mutually support each other
in case of need."
"And each subdivision will be separated from the next by a block of
barricaded houses 140 yards long," interrupted Evaña.
"You see, General," said the handsome officer, "he has hit upon your
weak place at once."
"What does he know?" said the general angrily; "fire away, Craddock."
"In the Spanish cities," continued Craddock, "the churches invariably
occupy the most important positions. We have thus fixed upon two
churches upon which the three columns will form their base of attack
upon the centre."
"We have learnt to-day that they are running up barricades in some parts
of the city," said the officer who had spoken before.
"Are they?" exclaimed Evaña eagerly, as he thought of the plan of
defence he had left with Don Gregorio Lopez. "Do you know where they
have placed these barricades?"
"Near to the principal square," answered the other.
"There is nothing that we know of to prevent us reaching our first
positions," said the aide-de-camp. "We shall simply march down the
streets musket on shoulder without firing a shot, till we are near
enough to inspect these barricades. We may probably have to batter them
with cannon before we make our second advance. See, these are the
churches I told you of. On the north there is this place, a large
convent, I believe."
"Las Monjas Catalinas," said Evaña.
"A convent is always a good place to occupy as a post, it is----"
"Quite in your line, eh! Craddock," interrupted the general;
"unfortunately, my boy, you won't be with that column to-morrow."
"The columns of the left and centre will concentrate upon this convent
after establishing a strong rearguard at the bull-ring here to the north
of the city," resumed Craddock. "Then in the centre there is this
church, San Miguel I think they call it."
Evaña nodded his head.
"This church stands in the highest part of the city. When the three
columns have reached their stations, we shall march a part of the
reserve upon this church so as to open communications with the attacks
from the north and south upon the great square. Then on the south, where
Crauford has the command," said Craddock, nodding to the brown-haired
officer, "we have first a large detached house surrounded by iron
railings."
"The Residencia," said Evaña.
"I believe that is what it is called. Colonel Guard will be detached to
occupy this position. Then farther on, only three blocks from the great
square, we have a large church with a dome and two lofty towers. General
Crauford with the rest of the column of the right will form his base of
attack upon this church."
"How do you call that church, Señor Evaña?" asked General Crauford.
"The church of Santo Domingo," answered Evaña.
"Crauford takes great interest in that church," said Craddock; "he has
been all day on the roof examining it through a telescope, but he can't
see much of it from here."
"Crauford wanted to take the city all by himself on Thursday night,"
said General Whitelock.
"There was nothing to oppose me after I had dispersed the militia and
that negro regiment that fought so well," said General Crauford. "If I
had not been recalled by Gower I should have marched through the city
and captured the fort. I penetrated through the suburbs to the head of a
street which Pack told me leads straight to the great square."
"It is a pity you did not," said Evaña; "the city was panic-struck from
what I hear; you would probably have captured the fort without firing a
shot. To-morrow you will find it a very different matter to march down
those long, straight streets."
"We shall lose some men, of course," said General Whitelock, "but we
shall establish ourselves on both flanks of their principal position,
and then you will see that Frenchman will have had enough of it, and he
will surrender."
"You know not what you are doing, General," said Evaña; "if you had
studied for a year you could not have devised a plan which would have
entailed greater sacrifice of life. I tell you that if you carry out
this plan of yours, those streets of Buenos Aires will be to you and
your men pathways of death."
"Señor Evaña," replied General Whitelock, rising brusquely from his
chair, "when I need the advice of so distinguished a _militaire_ as
yourself be certain that I shall not forget to ask for it."
To this Evaña made no answer, but rising from his seat he took up his
hat, bowed formally to all present, and left the room.
"This native friend of ours has somewhat nettled the general," whispered
Captain Craddock in Crauford's ear.
"He has," answered the other gloomily, "and the worst is, that what he
says is perfectly true. Give me that city and a garrison of 10,000 men,
and I defy any 50,000 troops in the world to drive me out of it, even if
they had Napoleon himself to lead them, or that new Indian general of
ours they think so much of at home, Sir Arthur Wellesley."
"Bah!" replied the aide-de-camp scornfully; "they are only militia and
dismounted gauchos, what need we fear from them? As for Liniers, you and
Gower showed us on Thursday what he is worth."
* * * * *
Long after nightfall Don Carlos Evaña walked by himself on the flat roof
of the quinta house, wrapped in a large cloak which kept the cold from
his body, and in thought which made him oblivious to all that passed
around him. He heeded nothing the buzz and bustle which pervaded all the
quinta, never noticed the mounted messengers who rode forth or came in
continually at the open gateway, his eye looked only on the glittering
lights of his native city, his ear heard only the distant hum witch told
him that there also all was busy preparation for the conflict of the
morrow.
His heart was sad, for his hopes died away within him. He had crossed
the ocean to urge on the despatch of this very expedition which now
menaced his native city. So far success had attended it, even beyond his
hopes, but the result which he desired seemed further from attainment
than ever. Should the struggle of the morrow end in favour of the
English, the result would be merely a change of masters; instead of
serving men of their own race, language, and religion, his countrymen
would serve strangers.
On the other hand, if the English were worsted in their attack upon the
city, then would his countrymen be more than ever attached to Spain,
more quiescent than ever under her most tyrannical decrees. For the
danger and the glory would be theirs, the blood that might flow would be
their blood, the city they had fought and bled to defend would be their
city, saved by them for Spain. Men love ever those for whom they have
done great service and for whom they have braved great danger.
In either case the dream of a republic of Argentines, of the rise of a
great, young nation on the banks of La Plata, was at an end, and an
Argentine Republic was the dream of Evaña's life.
Therefore Don Carlos Evaña was sad at heart, and the hope of years had
died away within him.
Yet his cheek flushed with pride as he thought of the defiant answer his
countrymen had returned to the summons of the British general. On what
grounded they their confidence? Surely the Corrales de la Miserere had
taught them plain enough that their troops could not meet those of
England on equal terms! Then Evaña thought of his own plan of defence.
"If they have adopted it only in part," said he to himself, "the plan of
attack devised by this General Whitelock will give them every possible
advantage."
"Oh! that it were not for Spain, and that I were with you! Oh! my
people," he exclaimed aloud.
His own voice startled him. He looked round hurriedly; no one was near.
He resumed his monotonous walk up and down, and now his thoughts went
back to the council upon which he had intruded in the afternoon, and he
pondered upon the talk he had had with General Whitelock and the others.
"Such manifest folly," said he to himself. "They all saw it except that
fool of an aide-de-camp. There are good soldiers among them, how is it
that the one who knows least commands them all? Have I been mistaken in
the English? Would their alliance be of no service to us? No, I have
seen them in their own country. The English are a great people, but
there are many fools among them."