GUETZALLI.
Were we writing a romance there are many details we would leave in the
shade, many facts we should pass over in silence. Unfortunately we
are only historians, and, as such, compelled to the most scrupulous
exactitude.
In the first episode of this history we related how the Count de
Lhorailles, at the head of 150 Frenchmen, selected from the colony of
Guetzalli, which he had founded, let himself be led in pursuit of the
Apache Indians into the great Del Norte desert; and how, after wandering
about with his party in the midst of this ocean of shifting sand, and
seeing his bravest comrades fall around him, he had blown out his
brains, while, in a few hours after his death, the few Frenchmen who
survived this great disaster succeeded in emerging from the desert and
regaining the road to the colony.
The Frenchmen left at Guetzalli beheld the arrival of the relics of
the expedition with stupor, and the news of the Count de Lhorailles'
death completed their demoralisation. Abandoned without chiefs, so far
from their country, in the midst of an enemy's territory, exposed at
any moment to the attacks of the Apaches, they gave way to despair, and
seriously revolved the question of leaving the colony and returning to
the seacoast. The Count de Lhorailles, who founded the settlement, was,
in fact, the soul of it. He dead, his companions felt in themselves
neither the necessary energy nor strength to continue his work--a
work which, indeed, they knew but imperfectly, for the count had no
confidants among the men who had joined him. Jealous of his power, and
naturally of a reserved temper, he had never confided to anyone his
plans or his projects.
The Frenchmen who had followed him--for the most part greedy
adventurers, devoured by that inextinguishable thirst for gold which had
made them give up everything to go to America--had been cruelly deceived
in their hopes, when, on disembarking in Mexico, that classic land of
riches, the count, instead of leading them to gold or silver mines,
which they would have worked and filled their pockets abundantly, took
them to the Mexican frontier, and forced them to, till the soil.
Thus, when the first moment of stupor had passed, each colonist,
acting under the impression of his own will, began his preparations for
departure, in his heart well pleased at seeing an exile thus terminated
which was beset by dangers, while offering none of the advantages
of the situation. It was all over with the colony; but fortunately,
wherever a number of Frenchmen are assembled, when the indispensable
man disappears, another immediately arises, who, impelled by the
circumstances, reveals himself suddenly to the great amazement of his
comrades, and frequently of himself.
Among the colonists at Guetzalli was a young man scarce thirty years
of age, but gifted with an ardent imagination and a far from common
intellect. This young man, whose name was Charles de Laville, had left
Europe, impelled rather by a certain restlessness of character and
secret curiosity than by a desire to acquire the boasted riches of
San Francisco. In that city, to which he proceeded with his brother,
an older and more earnest man than himself, chance had made him
acquainted with the Count de Lhorailles. The count exercised, perhaps
unconsciously, an irresistible influence even over those who knew him
superficially. When ho organised his expedition he had no difficulty in
taking with him Charles de Laville, who followed him in spite of his
brother's wise recommendations.
The count, who was a connoisseur in his fellow-men, appreciated at its
full value the honourable and disinterested character of Charles de
Laville. Thus he was the only one of all his companions with whom he
at times spoke almost freely, and imparted to him some of his plans.
He knew that the young man would never turn this confidence against
him, but that, on the contrary, under all circumstances, he would aid
him to the utmost of his power. When the count was on the point of
starting on that disastrous expedition from which he was fated never to
return--an expedition which de Laville obstinately opposed--it was to
the latter gentleman that he intrusted the government and management of
the colony during his absence, persuaded that in his hands the affairs
of Guetzalli could not but prosper. De Laville accepted the confidential
situation against his will. It was a heavy burden for him, so young and
inexperienced, to maintain an active surveillance over men to whom any
restraint, however slight, was insupportable, and who only obeyed with a
secret murmur the will of the count, for whom they experienced a respect
mingled with fear.
Still, against his expectations, and perhaps his hopes, Charles de
Laville succeeded, in a very short time, not only in securing the
unmurmuring obedience of his countrymen, but also in gaining their
love. It was owing to this influence which he contrived to gain over
the colonists that, when the remnants of the expedition arrived at
Guetzalli, he succeeded in restoring some degree of order in the colony,
arousing the courage of his comrades, and taking the proper defensive
measures in the probable event of an Apache attack.
He gave the first outburst of grief time to calm; he waited the
subsidence of the exaggerated anger of one party, and the equally
exaggerated fears of another; and when he perceived that, excepting the
profound discouragement that had seized on all, and made them desire
a speedy retreat, their minds were beginning to regain their ordinary
lucidity, he summoned the colonists to a general meeting. The latter
eagerly obeyed, and assembled in the large courtyard in front of the
main building. When de Laville was assured that all the colonists were
assembled, and anxiously awaiting the communication he had to make to
them, he claimed a few moments' attention and took the word.
"Gentlemen," he said, with that facility of speech he possessed in an
eminent degree, "I am the youngest, and certainly the most inexperienced
of all present; hence it would not become me to speak at this moment,
when such grave interests, and of such great importance, occupy us.
Still, perhaps, the confidence the Count de Lhorailles was kind
enough to place in me will authorise me in taking the present step of
addressing you."
"Speak, speak--you are worthy of that confidence!" the colonists shouted
tumultuously.
Thus encouraged, the young man smiled pleasantly and continued:--
"It is true that a great disaster has fallen on us: many of our
companions have perished miserably in the great Del Norte desert. The
count who brought us here, our chief, is dead too. I repeat it, it is an
immense loss for us generally, and for the welfare of the colony. But
is the misfortune, though so terrible, irreparable? Ought we, through
this death, to lose all our courage, and abandon a task which is scarce
commenced? I do not think so, nor do you."
At these words a few slight murmurs were heard. The young man looked
calmly around his audience, and silence was re-established as if by
enchantment.
"No," he continued forcibly, "you do not think so yourselves. You are
undergoing at this moment the influence of the catastrophe that has
overwhelmed us: discouragement has seized upon you. It must be so; but
you will soon reflect on the consequences of the act you are meditating,
and the chance that will result from it for yourselves. What! two
hundred Frenchmen--that is to say, the bravest men in existence--would
fly through fear of the lances and arrows of those Apaches whom it is
their mission to hold in check? What would the Mexicans think, in whose
opinion you have stood so high up to the present day? What would your
brethren in California say? In the sight of all you would have lost
honour and reputation; for you would have betrayed your duties, and not
forced that name and title of Frenchmen, of which you are so proud, to
be respected in these savage countries."
At these rude words, uttered with that accent which comes from the
heart, so suited to move the masses, the colonists began, in spite of
themselves to regard the question under a different light, and feel
inwardly ashamed of the flight they meditated. Still they were not yet
convinced, the more so as the position remained the same; that is to
say, excessively critical. Thus the shouts, murmurs, and objections
crossed each other with extreme rapidity, each wishing to offer his
advice, and have his opinion accepted, as generally happens in popular
meetings. One of the colonists succeeded with great difficulty in
gaining the word, and addressed the young man.
"There is truth in what you say to us, M. Charles: still we cannot
remain in our present situation--a situation which becomes daily more
aggravated, and threatens soon to grow insupportable. What is the remedy
for the evil?"
"The remedy is easy to find," the young man answered quickly. "Is it my
place to point it out to you?"
"Yes, yes!" all exclaimed.
"Well, then, I consent. Listen to me."
There was immediately profound silence.
"We are two hundred strong--resolute and intelligent men. Can we not
find among us, then, a chief worthy of commanding us? We have lost the
man who has hitherto guided us; but must we say that, since he is dead,
no one can take his place? That supposition would be absurd. The Count
de Lhorailles was not immortal. We must have expected to lose him sooner
or later, and unfortunately that foreseen catastrophe has occurred
ere it was expected. Is that a reason to let ourselves be demoralised
and downcast? No; let us raise our heads again, regain our courage,
and elect as our chief the man who offers us the best guarantees of
intelligence and loyalty. Such a man may be easily found among you.
Come, comrades, let us have no delay, but vote on the spot. When our
chief is nominated and recognised by all, we shall no longer fear perils
or sufferings, for we shall have a head to guide us, and an arm to
support us."
These words raised the joy and enthusiasm of the colonists to the
highest pitch. They broke up into groups of three or four, and agitated
the question eagerly of the chief they should select.
During this period, de Laville, apparently indifferent to what was
passing, re-entered the house, leaving his companions full and entire
liberty to act as they pleased. We will observe that the advice given
by the young man was disinterested on his part: he had no intention of
taking upon himself the heavy responsibility of a command which he did
not at all desire. His object in urging the Frenchmen to elect a chief
had been to prevent the ruin of the colony, which had been founded
scarce a year, which, owing to their combined efforts and toil, was
beginning to give good results, and which, if the colonists did not
disperse, would soon enter on a career of prosperity, and repay them a
hundredfold for their troubles and fatigue.
The discussion among the colonists was lengthy: in all the groups
orators were speaking warmly; in short, there seemed no chance of an
agreement. Still, by degrees, the effervescence calmed down; the parties
drew nearer; and under the influence of a few men more intelligent or
better disposed than the rest, the discussion went on more regularly and
seriously. At length, after many disputes, the colonists were unanimous,
and selected one among them to tell Charles de Laville the result of
their deliberations. The man selected entered the house, while the
colonists arranged themselves with some degree of order before the gate.
Charles, as we have said, did not trouble himself at all about what
was going on outside. The death of the count, to whom, in spite of
the latter's eccentric character, he was really attached, had not
only saddened him, but broken the last ties that attached him to this
forgotten nook of earth, where he believed that there was nothing left
for him to do. He therefore only awaited the election of the new chief
to bid good-by to the members of the company, and then separate from
them. When the man delegated by the colonists entered the room where he
was, he raised his head, and looked earnestly at him.
"Well," he asked him, "have we a new chief at last?"
"Yes," the other answered laconically.
"Who is he?" the young man asked with some curiosity.
"Our comrades will tell you, M. Charles," he replied. "They have
authorised me to ask you to have the kindness to be present at the
election, and thus sanction it."
"That is only right," he said with a smile. "I forgot that, up to the
present, I have been your chief, and that I must hand over to the leader
you have selected the power the count delegated to me. I follow you."
The other bowed without a word, and both left the house. When they
appeared in the gateway, the colonists, hitherto silent, uttered a
formidable shout, while waving their hats and handkerchiefs in signs
of joy. The young man turned quite surprised to his companion, but the
latter merely smiled. After this explosion of shouts of welcome, silence
was at once restored. Then the delegate removed his hat, and after
bowing respectfully to the young man, who was all confused, and hardly
knew which way to look, said in a loud and perfectly distinct voice,--
"Charles de Laville, we, the colonists of Guetzalli, after assembling,
in accordance with your advice, to proceed to the election of a new
chief, have recognised that you alone combine all the conditions
necessary worthily to fill that post to which the confidence of the
chief we have lost called you. In consequence, wishing to honour in you
the memory of our deceased chief, at the same time as we desire to prove
to you our gratitude for the way in which you have governed us since you
have been at our head, we unanimously appoint you captain of Guetzalli,
persuaded that you will continue to command us with as much nobility,
intelligence, and justice as you have hitherto displayed."
Then, taking from one of the colonists the charter which united all the
members of the colony, and which the count had made them all sign when
he enlisted them, he unfolded it.
"Captain," he said, "this charter-party, read in a loud voice by me,
will be immediately sworn to by all. Will you swear on your side to
protect us, to defend us, and give us good and loyal justice toward and
against all?"
The young man took off his hat, extended his arm toward the crowd, and
said in a firm voice,--
"I swear it."
"Long live the captain!" the colonists shouted enthusiastically. "The
charter--the charter!"
The reading commenced. After each article the colonists answered in one
voice,--
"I swear it."
There was something imposing in the aspect of this scene. These men,
with their energetic features and bronzed faces, thus assembled in
the heart of the desert, surrounded by the grand scenery, swearing in
the face of heaven unbounded devotion and obedience, bore a striking
likeness to the famous filibusters of the sixteenth century preparing to
attempt one of their bold expeditions, and swearing on the charter in
the hands of Montbars the exterminator, or any other renowned chief of
Tortoise Island.
When the reading was completed a fresh outbreak of shouts closed this
simple ceremony of the election of a chief of adventurers in the deserts
of the New World. This time--accidentally, perchance--the choice of
all had fallen on the most worthy. Charles de Laville was really the
only man capable of repairing the disasters of the late expedition,
and leading the colony back to that prosperous path on which it was
progressing previously to the death of Lhorailles.