CHAPTER VIII.
A MEXICAN'S PROGRESS.
The Hispano-Americans usually drink nothing with their meals: it is onlywhen the _dulces_, or cakes and sweetmeats, have been eaten, and eachguest has swallowed the glass of water intended to facilitate digestion,that the liquors are put on the table, and the Catalonian _refino_begins to circulate; then the _puros_ and _pajillos_ are lighted, andthe conversation, always rather stiff during the meal, becomes moreintimate and friendly, owing to the absence of the inferior guests, whothen retire, leaving the master of the house and his guests at perfectliberty.
The captain had judiciously chosen this moment to commence his attack.Not that he hoped to have a better chance with the young man at thetermination of the meal--for the sobriety of the Southern Americans isproverbial--but because at that moment Don Sebastian, being freed fromall cares, must more easily yield to the influence the captain fanciedhe could exercise over him.
The captain poured some refino into a large glass, which he filled withwater, lit a puro, leant his elbows on the table, and looked fixedly atthe young man.
"Muchacho," he said to him abruptly, "does the life you lead in thedesert possess a great charm for you?"
Surprised at this question, which he was far from expecting, DonSebastian hesitated ere he replied.
"Yes," the captain said, emptying his glass, "do you amuse yourselfgreatly here? Answer me frankly."
"On my word, captain, as I never knew any other existence than that I amleading at this moment, I cannot answer your question thoroughly: it iscertain that I feel myself hipped at times."
The captain struck his tongue against his palate with evidentsatisfaction.
"Ah, ah!" he said, "I am glad to hear you speak so."
"Why?"
"Because I hope you will easily accept the proposition I am about tomake to you."
"You!"
"Who else, then, if not I?"
"Speak!" the young man said with a careless air; "I am listening."
The captain threw away his cigar, gave vent to two or three sonorous_hums_, and at length said in a sharp voice,--
"Sebastian, my dear fellow! Do you think that, if your worthy fathercould return to this world, he would be well pleased to see you thusidly wasting the precious hours of your youth?"
"I do not at all understand your meaning, captain."
"That is possible. I never pretended to be a great orator, and todayless than at any other period of my long career. I will, however, try toexplain myself so clearly that, if you do not understand me, _caray!_ Itis because you will not."
"Go on; I am listening."
"Your father, muchacho, whose history you probably do not know, was atonce a brave soldier and a good officer. He was one of the founders ofour liberty, and his name is a symbol of loyalty and devotion to everyMexican. For ten years your father fought the enemies of his country onevery battlefield, enduring, though rich and a gentleman, hunger andthirst, heat and cold, gaily and without complaining; and yet, had hewished it, he might have led a luxurious and thoroughly easy life. Youloved your father?"
"Alas, captain! Can I ever be consoled for his loss?"
"You will be consoled. You have many things to learn yet, and that amongothers. Poor boy! There is nothing eternal in the world--neither joy,nor sorrow, nor pleasure. But let us return to what I was saying. Wereyour father permitted to quit the abode of the just, where he isdoubtlessly sojourning, and return for a few moments to earth, he wouldspeak to you as I am now doing; he would ask an account of the uselessindolence in which you spend your youth, thinking no more of yourcountry, which you can and ought to serve, than if you lived in theheart of a desert. Did your father endure so many sacrifices in order tocreate such an existence--tell me, muchacho?"
The worthy captain, who had probably never preached so much in his life,stopped, awaiting a reply to the question he had asked; but this replydid not come. The young man, with his arms crossed on his chest, hisbody thrown back, and his eyes obstinately fixed on the ground, seemedplunged in deep thought. The captain continued after a lengtheneddelay,--
"We," he said, "demolished; you young men must rebuild. No one at thepresent day has the right to deprive the Republic of his services. Eachmust, under penalty of being considered a bad citizen, carry his stoneto the social edifice, and you more than anyone else, muchacho--you, theson of one of the most celebrated heroes of the War of Independence.Your country calls you--it claims you: you can no longer remain deaf toits voice. What are you doing here among your dogs and horses, wastingingloriously your courage, dissipating your energy without profit toanyone, and growing daily more brutalised in a disgraceful solitude?_Cuerpo de Cristo!_ I can understand that a man may love his father, andeven weep for him--for that is the duty of a good son, and your fathercertainly deserves the sacred recollection you give him--but to make ofthat grief a pretext to caress and satisfy your egotism, that is worsethan a bad action--it is cowardice!"
At this word the young man's tawny eye flashed lightning.
"Captain!" he shouted, as he struck the table with his clenched fist.
"_Rayo de Dios!_" the old soldier continued boldly, "the word is spoken,and I will not withdraw it: your father, if he hear me, must approve me.Now, muchacho, I have emptied my heart; I have spoken frankly andloyally, as it was my duty to do. I owed it to myself to fulfil thispainful duty. If you do not understand the feeling that dictated therough words I uttered, all the worse for you; it is because your heartis dead to every generous impulse, and you are incapable of feeling howmuch I must have loved you to find the courage to speak to you in thatway. Now do as you think proper; I shall not have to reproach myself forhaving hidden the truth from you. It is late. Good night, muchacho. Iwill go to bed, for I start early tomorrow. Reflect on what I have saidto you. The night is a good counsellor, if you will listen in goodfaith to the voices that chatter round your pillow in the darkness."
And the captain emptied his glass and rose. Don Sebastian imitated him,took a step toward him, and laid his hand on his shoulder.
"One moment," he said to him.
"What do you want?"
"Listen to me in your turn," the young man said in a gloomy voice. "Youhave been harsh with me, captain. Those truths you have told me youmight perhaps have expressed in milder language, in consideration of myage, and the solitude and isolation in which I have hitherto lived.Still I am not angry at your rude frankness; on the contrary, I amgrateful to you for it, for I know that you love me, and the interestyou take in me alone urged you to be so severe. You say that you departtomorrow?"
"Yes."
"Where do you intend going?"
"To Mexico."
"Very good, captain; you will not go alone. I shall accompany you."
The old soldier looked at the young man for a moment tenderly; thenpressing with feverish energy the hand held out to him,--
"It is well, muchacho," he said to him with great emotion. "I was notmistaken in you; you are a brave lad, and, _caray!_ I am satisfied withyou."
The two men left Palmar together the next morning, and rode towardMexico, which city they reached after a ten days' journey. But duringthose ten days, spent _tete-a-tete_ with the captain, the young man'sideas were completely modified, and a perfect change came over hisaspirations.
General Guerrero's son belonged unconsciously to that numerous class ofmen who are utterly ignorant of themselves, and pass their lives inindolence until the moment when, an object being suddenly offered them,their imagination is inflamed, their ambition is aroused, and theybecome as eager in the chase as they had been previously negligent andindifferent as to their future.
Captain Don Isidro Vargas heartily praised the intelligence with whichthe young man he emphatically called his pupil understood the lessons hegave him as to his behaviour in the world.
Don Sebastian experienced no difficulty--thanks to his name, and thereputation his father so justly enjoyed--in obtaining his grade aslieutenant in the arm
y. This step was, for the young man, the first rungof the ladder, which he prepared to climb as rapidly as possible.
It was fine work at that day, in Mexico, for an intelligent man to fishin troubled waters; and, unfortunately, we are obliged to confess that,in spite of the long years that have passed since the proclamation ofits independence, nothing is as yet changed in that unhappy country,where anarchy has been systematised.
If ever a country could do without an army, it was Mexico after therecognition of her liberty and the entire expulsion of the Spaniards,owing to her isolation in the midst of peaceful nations, and thesecurity of her frontiers, which no enemy menaced. Unhappily, the war ofindependence had lasted ten years. During that long period the peacefuland gentle population of that country, held in guardianship by itsoppressors, had become transformed. A warlike ardour had seized on allclasses of society, and a species of martial fever had aroused in everybrain a love of arms.
Hence that naturally came about which all sensible people expected; thatis to say, when the army had no longer enemies before it to combat, thetroops turned their arms against their fellow citizens, vexing andtyrannising over them at their pleasure.
The government, instead of disbanding this turbulent army, or at anyrate reducing it to a _minimum_ by only keeping up the depots of thevarious corps, considered it far more advantageous to lean on it, andorganise a military oligarchy, which pressed heavily on the country.This deplorable system has plunged this unhappy country into disastrouscomplications, against which it struggles in vain, and has dug the abyssin which its nationality will sooner or later be swallowed up.
The army, then, after the war, assumed an influence which it has eversince retained, and which increased in proportion as the men placed atthe head of the government more fully understood that it alone couldmaintain them in power or overthrow them at its good pleasure. The army,therefore, made revolutions that its leaders might become powerful. Fromthe lowest _alferez_ up to the general of division, all the officerslook to troubles for promotion--the alferez to become lieutenant, thecolonel to exchange his red scarf for the green one of the brigadiergeneral, and the general of division to become President of theRepublic.
Hence pronunciamientos are continual; for every officer wearied of asubaltern grade, and who aspires to a higher rank, pronounces himself;that is to say, aided by a nucleus of malcontents like himself, which isnever wanting, he revolts by refusing obedience to the government, andthat the more easily because, whether conqueror or conquered, the rankhe has thus appropriated always remains his.
The military career is, therefore, a perfect steeplechase. We know acertain general, whose name we could write here in full if we wished,who attained the presidency by stepping from pronunciamiento topronunciamiento without ever having smelt fire, or knowing the firstmovement of platoon drill--an ignorance which is not at allextraordinary in a country where one of our sergeant conductors would besuperior to the most renowned generals.
Don Sebastian judged his position with the infallible eye of anambitious man; and suddenly attacked by a fever of immense activity, heresolved to profit cleverly by the general anarchy to gain a position.He clambered up the first steps at full speed and became a full colonelwith startling rapidity. On reaching that position he married, in orderto secure himself, and to give him that solidity he desired for thegreat game he intended to play, and which, in his mind, only ended withthe presidential chair.
Already very rich, his marriage increased his fortune, which he soughtto augment, however, by every possible scheme; for he was aware what thecost of a successful pronunciamiento was, and he did not mean to suffera defeat.
As if everything was destined to favour this man in all he undertook,his wife, a dear and charming woman, whose love and devotion he nevercomprehended, died after a short illness, and left him father of a girlas charming and amiable as herself--that lovely Angela whom we havealready met several times in the course of our narrative.
Don Sebastian could have married again if he liked; but by his firstmarriage he had obtained what he wanted, and preferred to remain free.At the period we have now reached he had attained general's rank, andsecured the appointment of political governor of the state of Sonora,the first stepping-stone for his ambitious projects.
Colossally rich, he was interested in all the great industrialenterprises, and a shareholder in most of the mining operations. It wasfor the object of watching these operations more closely, that he hadasked for the government of Sonora, a new country, almost unknown, wherehe hoped to fish more easily in troubled waters, owing to its distancefrom the capital, and the slight surveillance he had to fear from thegovernment, in which he had, moreover, all-powerful influences.
In a word, General Guerrero was one of those gloomy personages who,under a most fascinating exterior, the most affable manners, and mostseductive smiles, conceal the most perverse instincts, the coldestferocity, and the most rotten soul.
Still this man had in his heart one feeling which, by its intensity,expiated many faults.
He loved his daughter.
He loved her passionately, without calculation or afterthought; yet thispaternal love had something terrible about it: he loved his daughter asthe jaguar or the panther loves its cubs, with fury and jealousy.
Dona Angela, though she had never tried to sound her father'simpenetrable heart, had still divined the uncontrolled power sheexercised over this haughty nature which crushed everything, but becamesuddenly weak and almost timid in her presence. The charming maidemployed her power despotically, but ever with the intention of doing agood deed, as, for instance, to commute the sentence of a prisoner orsuccour the unfortunate; in a word, to render lighter the yoke of ironunder which the general, with his feline manners, crushed hissubordinates.
Thus the girl was as much adored by all those who approached her as thegeneral was feared and hated. God had doubtlessly wished, in Hisineffable goodness, to place an angel by the side of a demon, so thatthe wounds inflicted by the latter might be cured by the former.
Now that we have described these two persons to the best of our ability,whose characters will be more fully developed in the course of ourstory, we will resume our narrative at the point where we interruptedit.