Читать книгу Ponce de Leon: The Rise of the Argentine Republic - William Pilling - Страница 10

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Buenos Aires became an English city, and throughout the city there was shame and despair; men exchanged fierce looks one with another, muttering low words in their anger, and women wept. And presently a question went circling round from household to household, at a safe distance from the British bayonets:

"What shall we do?"

To this question no man answered, but each one looked to some other who should answer for him.

It was the evening of the third day since the triumphal entry of the British, the badly lighted and unpaved streets were almost deserted, it was bitterly cold, and a thin, drizzling rain was falling. Here and there figures muffled in large cloaks wended their way about the streets; several such figures passed along the street in which stood the house of Don Gregorio Lopez, and entered by the great double door which stood half open. Beyond the door was a covered passage called a "zaguan"; from the centre of the roof of this zaguan there hung a lamp, under which a tall negro paced up and down. Each man as he passed the doorway and entered the zaguan paused and threw back the fold of his cloak which covered his face, saying to the negro in a low voice:

"España."

"Pass forward to the second patio," answered the negro to each one.

Each man as he heard the answer replied by a slight inclination of the head, and again muffling his face in his cloak, walked across the brick-paved patio to a second zaguan, where another lamp was swinging. Here he was met by a youth to whom he said one word:

"Rey."

"Good-night and pass forward," answered the youth.

One after another they passed forward through this zaguan to a second patio, where each man paused till he was accosted by another youth, who led him to a door on the left hand, which he opened, ushering him into a large, well-lighted room, with a long massive table running down the centre, and chairs ranged all along the walls.

In half-an-hour a numerous company were assembled in this room, they had removed their hats, but most of them kept on their cloaks. This room was the dining-room of Don Gregorio Lopez, these men there assembled were citizens of Buenos Aires, invited by him to confer together upon what answer should be given to the question which occupied all minds:

"What shall we do?"

Don Gregorio had taken such precautions as he thought necessary to keep the meeting a secret from General Beresford, and also from such citizens as were not specially invited. Those whom he had invited were not only citizens of Buenos Aires but were exclusively men of American birth. They walked up and down the room in couples, or stood in groups conversing together in low tones.

To each man as he entered the room Don Gregorio had extended his hand in cordial welcome; as the room filled he passed from group to group saying a few complimentary words, or asking an adroit question on any subject upon which they might happen to be speaking, but carefully avoiding the question which had called them together. Don Gregorio was a stout-built man of medium stature, with short hair which had once been black, but was now plentifully sprinkled with grey, he had small dark eyes, heavy eyebrows, and bushy grey whiskers, his lip and chin being clean shaven. He wore a coat of brown cloth with brass buttons, the tails of which sloped away from his hips, till they came almost to a point behind his knees, his waistcoat came down over his hips, and was open in front, showing a large frill of the finest cambric, on each side of which hung the ends of the white lace cravat which enveloped his throat. Both waistcoat and small-clothes were of black cloth, and he wore black silk stockings with massive gold buckles in his shoes. He had a strong, deep voice, and looked about him with the air of one having authority, but his manners were exceedingly affable. On the present occasion his face wore an air of great satisfaction; each question addressed to him he answered in carefully subdued tones, accompanying his words with frequent inclinations of the head and with approving smiles.

Again the door opened, a youth stepping in announced:

"Don Manuel Belgrano," and a man of middle height, with a high forehead and a thoughtful expression on his face, which gave him the appearance of being older than he really was, entered the room.

Don Gregorio, who was at that moment standing in the centre of a group of his guests conversing with them, swung round on his heel as he heard the name, leaving the sentence which was on his lips incomplete, and walked towards the door with both hands stretched out to welcome the new-comer. Conversation instantly ceased; and as the name Belgrano passed from mouth to mouth, the hands hidden away under the cloaks issued forth and clapped themselves together, while a low murmur of "Viva Belgrano!" too low to be a cheer, went round the room.

Manuel Belgrano was at this time a man of mature age. Born in Buenos Aires in the year 1770, he had in his sixteenth year gone to Spain, where he passed several years studying at the University of Salamanca, and afterwards at Valladolid, but his studies embraced a wider range of subjects than were taught at these seats of learning. Of a generous and thoughtful temperament, he had eagerly imbibed the ideas spread throughout Europe by the French Revolution, had learned to look upon all men as equal, and to hate all manner of tyranny and oppression. When he left Spain, in the year 1794, he thought only of how he might make his studies of service to his own countrymen. He took with him his appointment as secretary to the "Consulado" of Buenos Aires, a body entrusted with the official supervision of the mercantile relations of the colony with the mother-country, and in this post had distinguished himself by his efforts to ameliorate the effect of the ruinous restrictions which were at that time imposed upon all commercial intercourse. Not content with his official duties, he had further exerted himself to establish a Nautical School, and a School of Design, which under his able supervision flourished rapidly, and promised great benefits to the colony. But his efforts found little support among his own countrymen, encountered great opposition from the jealousy of the Spanish authorities, and both schools were eventually closed by a positive order from the Court of Aranjuez, in which the Consulado was severely censured for having permitted them to be established.

On the occupation of the city by the British army, Belgrano had been summoned by General Beresford to deliver up the archives of his department, but had not only refused to do so but had also refused to give in his own formal submission to the new authorities, saying that he was responsible to the Viceroy, could only receive orders from him, and would rejoin him so soon as he could discover where he had gone.

"You come late, my friend," said Don Gregorio, "but I knew you would not fail us, so I waited for you."

"I had much to do, I was busy with my preparations, for I have no time to lose," answered Belgrano, shaking hands with several friends of his who pressed round him.

"What are you about to do?"

"To fly. You do not know what happened me to-day, I will tell you. When General Beresford first sent for me I obeyed him, and when I refused to give up to him the official seal and the archives of the Consulado, saying that I could only obey an order from the Viceroy, he accepted my excuse and dismissed me with much politeness and consideration. I believe he thought that Sobremonte would present himself in a day or two. But Sobremonte has gone off no one knows where, and many of us, as you know, have given in our papers to the English general. This afternoon he sent to me an order to present myself at once. To present myself is to submit. I will not submit, therefore I must fly, and that at once. You, my friends, will judge me. Do I not act rightly?"

"Perfectly! perfectly!" echoed from all sides; and again a low murmur of "Viva Belgrano" ran round the room.

"But before you go you will spare us an hour or two," said Don Gregorio. "You have more experience than many of us who are older than you, and your counsel may be of great service to us."

"Assuredly," replied Belgrano. "I do not see what you can do for the present but just quietly submit; you have——"

"Submit! we submit!" exclaimed Marcelino Ponce de Leon, who was one of those present. "For each one man that they have we can put ten, why then should we submit?"

"They are trained soldiers, and are well armed. Do you know what my men said to me when we got the order to retreat? They said, 'It is well, for this sort of work is not for us.'"

"They said well," said another who stood by, Don Juan Martin Puyrredon by name. "They know what they are worth, your city militia, they do not like the cold steel, and it appears that these English do not waste time shooting at a distance, they like the bayonet better," he added with a scornful laugh.

"Give us time to arm a few hundred paisanos, and the militia may remain in their houses," said Marcelino. "We will drive the English into the river without their help."

"The paisanos are brave men, but they cannot fight against trained troops," answered Belgrano quietly.

"If our men were trained they would stand their ground as well as any men," said another, named Don Isidro Lorea, who was a captain in the city militia.

"They had arms and had nothing to do but to stand still and use them the other day," said Puyrredon, "but they did not even do that. You set to work firing before the English came within range, and then when they came nearer you ran. All the effective resistance that the English met was at the Puente Galvés, where Don Marcelino stopped them for an hour or two by burning the bridge."

"When the English charged them with the bayonet your partidarios ran quick enough," replied Lorea in an angry tone. "And Don Marcelino it appears may thank his horse that he got away at all."

"Don Marcelino bore himself like a brave man," said Don Gregorio, laying his hand upon the shoulder of his grandson, and speaking in a loud voice, which had the effect of putting a stop at once to the dispute. "It matters not now what has been done. What we shall do is what you have done me the honour to come here to discuss quietly among ourselves. Do me the favour, my friends, to arrange yourselves round the room; and, Don Manuel, come with me to the head of the table."

So saying, Don Gregorio walked to one end of the table, where he seated himself in an arm-chair, with Don Manuel Belgrano at his right hand and Marcelino Ponce de Leon at his left; the latter having some sheets of paper and pens and ink before him, while the rest seated themselves on chairs round the room, with the exception of one group who remained standing round Don Juan Martin Puyrredon at the far end.

When all were settled in their places, Don Gregorio rose from his seat, and with many signs of hesitation, for he had never before attempted to make a speech, began:

"Señores, my friends, I have invited you to meet in my house with one sole object; our city is in the power of foreigners, our Viceroy has fled, such troops as we had are dispersed. What shall we do? Shall we submit to these foreigners, to these heretics who are the enemies of Spain, and of our Holy Church?"

"No, no!" arose in answer from all sides.

"You have all of you read the proclamation of this Beresford, in which he offers us freedom in the exercise of our religion, freedom of commerce, and reduction of taxation, styling himself governor of this city of ours by the authority of his Majesty the King of Great Britain. The advantages he offers us are great; shall we not, then, accept this Beresford as our governor?"

"No, no!" again rose in answer.

"Then if we will neither be bribed into treachery to our legitimate king, nor tamely submit, we must fight and drive these English back to their ships. But it was easier to keep them out than to drive them out now they are in."

"It will be difficult, but we will do it," said Puyrredon.

"It will be done, I doubt not," continued Don Gregorio. "Let us then consider carefully the means we should adopt. As yet the first requisite is wanting to us—not one of us here present is a soldier who has seen service. There is one whom I hoped to have seen here, who has served in Europe, and only the other day showed us that he has not forgotten what he learnt there. With a handful of men he beat off all the English army, with their fleet to back them, at Ensenada, and now he has retired without the loss of one man. You know who I mean—Don Santiago Liniers. My son set off yesterday to confer with him, and to bring him here to us to-night; as yet he does not appear, but even in his absence we may agree to appoint him our chief, and when he comes he will tell us what to do."

At that moment there came a knock at the door, which had been locked when Don Gregorio took his seat at the head of the table; one of those near at hand opened it, and gave entrance to the youth who had acted as usher. He walked up to Don Gregorio, and spoke to him in a low voice.

"Tell him to give his name," said Don Gregorio.

"He refuses, but says he must see you."

"Go you, Marcelino, and see if you know him. He may be some messenger from Liniers."

Marcelino went out, but quickly returned, bringing with him a tall man of middle age, with strikingly handsome features. The stranger entered first, and throwing aside his cloak and hat disclosed the undress uniform of a field-officer.

"Don Gregorio, I kiss your feet," said he, bowing to that gentleman. "Señores todos, felices noches," he added, as he cast a quick, searching glance round the room.

"No fear; all are friends," said Marcelino, as he closed the door.

"Liniers! Liniers!" exclaimed many of those present, as they rose from their seats to bid him welcome, and to congratulate him upon his recent feat of arms, while Don Gregorio left his place at the table and walked towards him with outstretched hand.

"My friend, I am glad to see you," said Don Gregorio. "A number of my friends have come here together this evening to consult upon what measures we shall adopt now that the authorities have either submitted to the English or have fled. You are a soldier; this is not the first time you have seen service; we should be glad to hear your opinion."

"And what do these gentlemen say?" answered Liniers, walking up to the table, and leaning his hand upon it, while an expression of anxious thought came over his handsome features.

"There are some who say that we ought to organise the militia of the city and the partidarios into an army at some safe distance from the city, and then attack the English, and crush them before any reinforcement can reach them. There are not 2000 of them, but to form an army we require a chief."

"And something more too than a chief," replied Liniers, with a complacent smile, "something more than a chief; time is wanting. Do you think one could make soldiers of your militia in a week?"

"What we want in discipline we will make up by numbers," said Don Isidro Lorea. "The other day we had no leader, if we had had one the affair would have been very different."

"We were mustered at the fort, and marched off anyhow," said Belgrano; "what more could we expect than what happened? I agree with you, Don Santiago, time is wanting before we can hope to do anything with the militia."

"Then there are others," continued Don Gregorio, "who say that we should do nothing at all at present, but wait until our Viceroy can collect troops sufficient. There is a strong force in Monte Video, and small detachments are scattered about the provinces."

"And they are the most sensible men," said Liniers.

"I am going to rejoin the Viceroy if I can find him," said Belgrano. "Come with me, Don Santiago, he will give you authority to collect troops."

"Better go to Monte Video," said Marcelino Ponce de Leon; "Huidobro can give you both men and arms. You may be back by the end of the month, and we will have an army ready for you by then."

During all this time there was one man there who had hardly spoken to any. He sat on a chair beyond the end of the table, with his cloak folded round him, his arms crossed over his chest, listening quietly to all that was said, neither assenting to nor dissenting from anything that was proposed, his quick, dark eyes alone showing the interest he took in the discussion. His high, square forehead betokened him a man of powerful intellect, while his pale, olive complexion, and the delicacy of his long, thin hands bespoke him a student. As he sat he seemed to be only of medium stature, and slightly built; now he rose and stood beside the table, stretching himself to his full height, half-a-head taller than any other man there present, and spoke as follows:—

"Señores, I have listened quietly to all that has been said. Were you Spaniards I would applaud your patriotism, I would praise your brave determination to risk your lives in an unequal conflict against men trained to arms. Were I a Spaniard I would join you, and would think my life well lost could I spend it in thrusting out from my country an audacious invader. But this soil on which I stand is not Spain, neither am I a Spaniard, nor are you, my countrymen, Spaniards. You, I, all of us are Americans, the soil upon which we stand is American soil, the air which we breathe is American air. True we are of Spanish blood, our ancestors were Spaniards, they crossed the ocean and spent their lives in conquering a new world. We are the sons of those gallant men who built up the seats of new nations on a new continent; day by day we spread ourselves further over these wide plains, drawing riches from their luxuriant pastures; we explore the mighty rivers which bring down to us the wealth of other provinces; and for whom do we so labour and spend our lives? For Spain! What has Spain ever done for us that we should spend our lives in her service? Spain sends us rulers and tax-gatherers, who live here in plenty and go back to Spain laden with riches for which we have toiled. Spain forces upon us her merchandise when we could buy better and cheaper elsewhere, and so robs us of the fruit of our labours. Spain sends us priests to instruct our youth in knowledge which is of no avail, to prevent the spread of anything like real education, and to keep our consciences in bondage to a slavish superstition. This is what Spain has done for us up to now, and will do for us to the end.

"There are men among you who have travelled in other lands as I have done, who have seen the great uprising of the people which now shakes the earth. Returning to their own land, they have sought to do something to enlighten the ignorance of their own countrymen, they have sought to raise them from the barbarism in which they live. How have their efforts prospered? They have been reviled as infidels, they have been stigmatised as rebels, and have been fortunate when they have escaped fines and imprisonment as dangerous to the State. Why then should we risk our lives for Spain? This land which our fathers conquered and we possess is our land, it is nothing but a worn-out tradition which holds us in bondage to Spain. Give ear to me, my countrymen, and know that this disaster which has fallen upon our city is no disaster, but is the first step towards our deliverance. There are many among you would think it sacrilege to stretch out your hand and tear down the flag under which you were born, under which you have lived, but if a foreigner tear it down for you and cast it forth from our country he in no wise injures you, he does but free us from a tyranny under which we have groaned for centuries.

"We cannot look upon these English as friends, for they come to take our country into their possession, but neither need we fear them as enemies. They could not hold their own colonies in subjection when they rose against them, although half the colonists were their friends, as many of you to-day are the friends of Spain. How then shall they bring us into subjection among whom they have not one friend to aid them? This enterprise of these English is rash folly which will recoil upon their own heads, but they may do us good service in driving out from among us these Spanish rulers who have too long tyrannised over us.

"Why should we fear these English? Far distant from their own country, they can but obtain a temporary footing on our soil. Let these dogs of war, the paid agents of tyranny and misrule, rend each other in their struggle for a dominion which is not theirs. Let the Spaniards and the English fight out their quarrel by themselves, while we steadfastly prepare to assert against either or both our own dominion on our own soil, the inalienable right of all free-born men to make their own laws and govern themselves. I have spoken!"

As the speaker ceased he struck the table with his hand, and looked round him proudly, as though he would defy anyone to dissent from any word he had spoken, and a deep silence fell upon all.

To most there present these words and ideas were entirely new. They had listened in wonder, now they looked one at another in doubt and dismay; what had been said was nothing less than treason, and they knew not but that in listening, merely, they were themselves traitors.

But there were others there to whom these ideas were far from new, they were ideas which they themselves had cherished, but had hidden in their hearts, saying to themselves that the time had not yet come. Don Manuel Belgrano sat with his elbows on the table, covering his face with his hands. Marcelino Ponce de Leon made strokes on the paper which lay before him with a pen which had no ink in it, ever and anon glancing up at the speaker, and as quickly again dropping his eyes to the paper, while his thoughts wandered to a time not long past when Don Carlos Evaña had told him how he had met in London an exile from Venezuela, who had spoken to him just such words as these.

And there was one there present upon whom these words had a different effect to what they had on any other. This was not the first time that Don Santiago Liniers had heard such words as these; they carried him back in memory into the far-off past, when he had learned to look upon men holding such opinions as impious in the sight of God, outcasts among men, and had hated them with a bitter hatred, envenomed since then by the losses he had suffered at their hands. In silence he listened, leaning upon the back of a chair; there was to him a fascination in the sound of that deep sonorous voice which spoke treason in accents of firm conviction. His heart sank within him, and as that voice ceased, a cold shiver, for which he could not account, ran through his frame. He looked up at the speaker, and met the glance of a pair of dark eyes fixed sternly upon him; again the cold shiver ran through him, he turned away his gaze and looked anxiously around him, eager to note the effect of these words on others.

Then rose Don Gregorio Lopez from his seat, and leaning with both hands upon the table before him, said in a low voice, and speaking with great deliberation:

"My friends, each man has a right to entertain such ideas as he please, but we are not met together this evening to discuss ideas. I am sorry to see that there is much division of opinion amongst us; it is thus impossible that we unite cordially together in any one plan of action. The object for which I invited you to meet me this evening has thus failed. For my part I say, 'Out with these English!' Those who think as I do will each act as he thinks best, in his own way, to bring about this result."

"Afuera Los Ingleses! Fueran!!" was the answer from all sides. After which the meeting resolved itself into groups, in which men talked eagerly together for some minutes, discussing together their several plans, and announcing their intentions. Then the door being thrown open they gradually dispersed to their several homes.

Don Carlos Evaña was one of the last to leave. As he shook hands with Don Gregorio, the latter said to him:

"Ah, Carlos! you boys learn many ideas in your travels, but, believe me, it is at times dangerous to expose them so publicly."

"And believe me," answered Don Carlos, "that the day is not far off when these ideas of mine will be the law of a new nation in America."

As he went out he was joined by Marcelino.

"Will you take no part with any of us?" asked Marcelino.

"To raise again that emblem of tyranny which has been torn down? Not I. Have you so soon forgotten the lessons we have learned together?"

"I have not forgotten them, Carlos; but how shall I think of them when a foreigner rules in my native country?"

"All tyrants are foreigners, Marcelino. When once we are fairly rid of our tyrants then it will be time enough to turn out these English. If it were to gain our country for ourselves none would be more forward than Carlos Evaña."

"Let us turn out the English, and then we will work together."

"You do not know it, but these English are our best friends, Marcelino."

"Such friends are better at a distance," replied Marcelino.