THE REVOLT.
The multiplicity of the scenes we have to describe, and the exigencies
of our story, compel us to abandon Doña Rosario and the Linda,
and return to Valdivia, where the revolt had assumed the gigantic
proportions of a revolution. Electrified by the heroic conduct of the
King of Darkness, the patriots fought with the greatest obstinacy.
The Dark-Hearts appeared to have the gift of ubiquity; their numbers
increased, they were everywhere at the head of the insurgents, exciting
them by gesture and voice; but, above all, by their example. The city
was completely cut up by barricades, against which the few troops who
remained faithful to General Bustamente struggled in vain. Beaten back
by the enemies who on all sides rose up against them to the thousand
times repeated cries of "Our country!" "Chili Liberty!" the soldiers
retreated, step by step, abandoning, one after another, the different
posts of which they had been in possession at the commencement of the
action, and rallied upon the Plaza Mayor, the outlets of which they had
barricaded in their turn.
The city was in the power of the insurgents; for as the battle from this
moment was concentrated at one point, it was not difficult to foresee
with which party the victory would remain; for the soldiers, discouraged
by the ill success of their _coup de main_, and sensible of being the
champions of a lost cause, only fought to obtain honourable conditions.
General Bustamente's officers, and the senators whom he had brought
with him as partizans, trembled when thinking of the fate that awaited
them if they fell into the hands of their enemies. Success justifies
everything: from the moment they failed to succeed they became traitors
to their country, and, as such, had no right to a capitulation. They
therefore excited their soldiers to fight valiantly, promising them
speedy assistance, and trying to revive their courage by telling them
that their adversaries were merely citizens, whom they could easily
overcome if they made a bold attempt, or even resisted for an hour
longer.
The general who commanded the garrison, and whom we saw upon the steps
of the cabildo read with so much arrogance the decree which changed the
form of government, bit his lips with rage and performed prodigies of
valour, to give Bustamente time to arrive. As soon as he saw the turn
things had taken, he sent off an express for the General with the utmost
promptitude. This express was Diego, the old soldier who was so devoted
to General Bustamente.
"Lieutenant," he said, in conclusion, "you see in what a position we
are; you must reach the General at all risks."
"I will reach him, General; be at ease on that head!" Diego replied,
intrepidly.
"And I will endeavour to hold out till your return."
Don Diego, before he finished speaking, had ridden desperately at
the ranks of the insurgents, spurring on his horse, and waving
his sword with menacing rapidity round his head. The Dark-Hearts,
astonished by such an attack on the part of a single man, at the first
moment unconsciously opened their ranks before him as to a canister
shot, incapable of resisting the impetuous shock of this apparently
invulnerable demon, who mowed down all that came in his way. Diego
skilfully took advantage of the disorder produced on the enemy by his
furious assault; he kept pushing on, and, after incredible efforts,
succeeded in getting out of the city. As soon as he was in safety, the
overexcitement which till that time had sustained him, suddenly sank,
and at a few paces from the gates he was forced to stop to take breath,
and restore his confused ideas to a little order. The old soldier washed
the sides and nostrils of his horse with a little brandy and water;
and as soon as this duty was performed, aware that the fate of his
companions depended upon his speed, he sprang into his saddle and set
off with the fleetness of an arrow.
The General did not delay his return to Valdivia a minute, for he felt
that success would be an immense advantage to him; and a check, if he
were beaten, irreparable. As a conqueror, his march to Santiago would
be nothing but a triumphant march; the authorities of the cities he
passed through would rival each other in ranging themselves beneath his
standard; whereas, if he were forced to abandon Valdivia as a fugitive,
he would be tracked like a wild beast, and obliged to seek safety in
a prompt flight, either in Bolivia or Buenos Aires, and the projects
he had nourished so long, and of which he believed he had beforehand
assured the success, would be deferred, or perhaps destroyed for ever.
Thus the General was a prey to one of those cold furies, which are so
much more terrible, because they cannot be exhibited outwardly.
The horsemen advanced amidst a cloud of dust raised by their precipitate
course, rushing along the road like a whirlwind, and with a noise like
thunder. Two lances' length in advance of the soldiers, Don Pancho,
bending over the neck of his horse, with pale brow and clenched teeth,
galloped at full speed, keeping his eyes fixed upon the lofty steeples
of Valdivia, whose dark shadows became more enlarged on the horizon
every minute. Within half a mile of the city he halted his squadron. The
sharp pattering of musketry resounded strongly, mingled at intervals
with the dismal, rolling bass of cannon; the battle, therefore, must
still be going on. The General hastened to make his last preparations
before attempting an attack he hoped would prove decisive. The foot
soldiers dismounted, and formed in platoons, and firearms of all kinds
were loaded.
The troops brought up by the General were not numerous from the European
point of view, according to which we are accustomed to see great masses
in conflict; they, at most, did not exceed eight hundred men. In Europe
it is customary to say that victory is most likely to attend large
battalions: in America, where the largest armies are frequently of not
more than three thousand men, this idea becomes naturally modified,
and it is generally the most skilful or the most brave man who remains
master of the field of battle.
Don Pancho was a rough soldier, accustomed to the struggles of civil
wars, which, for the most part, consist of audacious _coups de main_.
Endowed with courage bordering on rashness, and devoured by ambition, he
prepared, with the greatest coolness, to re-establish his compromised
affairs by an irresistible attack. The country in the neighbourhood of
Valdivia is a real English garden, interspersed with thickets, apple
orchards, copses, and slender streams of water rippling away to the
river. It was very easy for the General to conceal his arrival. Two
soldiers were detached as scouts, in order to learn the state of things.
At the expiration of a few minutes they returned. The outskirts of the
city were deserted, the insurgents had driven the troops back into the
centre, and, according to the scouts, with the imprudence of citizens
metamorphosed suddenly into soldiers, they had left no reserve, or even
placed sentinels, to secure their rear against a surprise.
This information, instead of restoring confidence to the General, made
him knit his brows; he thought it must be a manoeuvre, and whilst his
officers were laughing with all their might at the able tactics of
the insurgents, he judged it necessary to redouble his precautions.
The troops were divided into two bodies, which, in case of need, were
to support each other; and, as they were attacking a city entirely
barricaded, the lancers were ordered to dismount, and reinforce the
infantry. Only one squadron of a hundred horsemen remained in the
saddle, concealed about a quarter of a mile from the place, in order to
support a retreat, or to put the fugitives to the sword, if the surprise
succeeded. These arrangements made, the General made an earnest address
to his soldiers, to whom he promised, in the event of success, the
pillage of the city. He then placed himself at the head of the first
detachment, and gave the order, "March! Forward!"
The troops advanced in the Indian fashion, taking advantage of every
inequality in the ground, and of every tree to conceal themselves, and
arrived thus, without giving alarm, to within pistol shot of the city.
The dead silence which continued to prevail around him, contrasted in
a dismal manner with the musketry and cannon which became more audible
as they advanced, and greatly increased the General's anxiety. A dark
presentiment warned him that he was threatened by some great danger,
which he knew not how to avoid, from being ignorant of what kind it
might be. The least hesitation at this critical minute might bring on
irreparable misfortunes. The General grasped the hilt of his sword
firmly in his clenched hand, and turning towards his soldiers, shouted
in a loud, clear voice, "Forward!"
The detachment, which only awaited this order, rushed forward shouting,
and, at double-quick time, cleared the space between them and the city.
Windows, doors, all were closed; and had it not been for the distant
report of musketry, the city might have been thought deserted. The first
detachment, finding no obstacles before them, continued their march;
and the second detachment also entered. But then, all at once, behind,
before, and on the flanks of the troops, a loud cry burst forth; and
at every window appeared men with muskets in their hands. Don Pancho
Bustamente was surrounded, he had allowed himself to be taken--pardon us
the triviality of the comparison--like a rat in a trap. The soldiers,
astonished for a second, soon recovered themselves; they faced front and
rear, and attacked the double barrier that enclosed them: but though
they desperately rushed against it, they could not force it. They then
plainly perceived they were lost, that they could expect no quarter, and
prepared to die like brave men.
The General cast fierce and desperate glances around him, looking,
but unsuccessfully, for a point of issue from the menacing forest of
bayonets crossed before him, and which enclosed him as in a steel
network. Some authors have amused themselves at the expense of the
wars and battles of the Americans, in which they say the two armies
always take care to place themselves out of reach of cannon shot, so as
never to have a single man killed. This pleasantry, which is in very
bad taste, has assumed the proportions of a calumny it is but just
to refute, for it attacks the honour of the Americans of the South,
who, I unhesitatingly assert, are endowed with intrepid courage--a
courage that was brilliantly displayed during the wars of independence
against the Spaniards. Unhappily, at present this courage is employed
in fratricidal struggles, without any understood object. Thrice the
soldiers rushed upon the insurgents, and thrice were they repulsed
with enormous loss. The battle was horrible, without mercy on either
side; they fought hand to hand, foot to foot, breast to breast, to
the last breath, only falling to die. The troops, decimated by this
frightful carnage, gradually gave ground; the space they occupied
became narrower and narrower, and the moment did not appear distant
when they would disappear under the popular flood which continued to
ascend, and threatened to engulf them under its irresistible mass. The
General collected about fifty men resolved to die or open a passage, and
he made a desperate attempt. It was a collision of giants. For a few
minutes, the two masses launched one against the other remained almost
motionless, from the force of the blow with which they met; Don Pancho,
flourishing his sword around him, and standing in his stirrups, struck
down all who opposed his passage.
Suddenly a man placed himself before him, like a rock which rises from
the depths of the sea. At the sight of him the General paused, in spite
of himself, with a stifled cry of surprise and rage. This man was Don
Tadeo de Leon, his mortal enemy; whom he had once condemned to death,
and who had, in a miraculous manner, survived his execution. But, now!
God seemed to place him fatally before him, to be the instrument of his
vengeance, and the cause of his ruin and his shame.