CHAPTER XII.
CONVERSATION.
During the few thousand years since the world on which we vegetateissued from the hands of the Creator, many revolutions have taken place,many extraordinary facts have been accomplished. How many nations havesucceeded each other, rising and falling in turn, disappearing withouteven leaving a trace, after traversing history like dazzling meteors,and then going out eternally in the night of ages!
But of all the strange facts of which the memory has been preserved,none in our opinion can be compared with what we have seen accomplishedunder our own eyes, with extraordinary audacity and success, duringabout three-quarters of a century.
Adventurers bursting from every quarter of the globe--some impelled bythe fanaticism of religious faith, others by a spirit of adventure,others again, and the large majority, urged on by wretchedness--afterlanding as pilgrims on the American shores, asking shelter from the poorand innocent inhabitants of those hospitable countries, and purchasingfor a song fertile estates, gradually congregated, expelled the firstpossessors of the soil, founded cities and ports, built arsenals, andone day shaking off the yoke of the mother country under whose aegis theyhad timidly sought shelter, constituted themselves an independent state,and founded that colossus, with feet of clay, body of gold, and head ofmud, which is called the United States of America.
Humble at the outset, this poor Republic, singing in a loud voice thewords, "Liberty and Fraternity!"--words whose noble and grandsignificance it never comprehended--displaying a rigid tolerance, anexaggerated virtue and puritanism, stepped insidiously into the councilsof the European powers, climbed cunningly up to the thrones ofsovereigns, and, beneath the mask of disinterestedness, gainedacceptance from all. Suddenly, when the favourable moment arrived, theUnited States rose and assumed a haughty posture. They who had laid downin their Act of Independence that they would never consent to anyaggrandisement, said in a domineering voice to Europe, surprised andalmost terrified by such audacity, "This quarter of the globe is ours.We are a powerful nation. You must henceforth settle with us."
Unfortunately for themselves, in uttering these proud words, theNorthern Americans did not believe them. On the one hand they wereperfectly aware of their weakness; and, on the other, they knew verywell that a multitude of individuals collected from all sides, withoutany tie of family or language among them, cannot form a people--that, isto say, a nation--in one century, not even in two.
Still, to be just and impartial to the United States, we must allow thattheir inhabitants possess to a supreme degree that feverish ardourwhich, if well directed, produces great results.
It is evident that these bold adventurers are accomplishing, though theylittle suspect it, a providential mission. What it is no one can say,themselves least of all. These men who stifle on the frontiers, whichtheir population, though daily increasing, cannot fill; who aspirecontinually to leap over the barriers which other nations oppose tothem; who only dream of the unknown, and are perpetually gazing at thedistant horizon--these men, in whose ear a secret voice constantlymurmurs, as to the Jew of the legend, "Onward, onward!"--these men aredestined, ere long, to play a grand, glorious, and noble part in moderncivilisation, if the profound egotism that undermines, and the thirstfor gold which devours them, does not kill in them those regeneratingvirtues with which they are unconsciously endowed; and if, forgettingthe spirit of conquest and desire for further aggrandisement, they drawmore closely together the ties between the several states, and practiseamong themselves that liberty and fraternity of which they talk sojactantly abroad, but know so little at home.
No people equals the Americans in the art of founding towns. In a fewdays, on the spot where a virgin forest full of mystery and shadowstood, they lay out streets, build houses, light gas; and in the midstof these streets and squares, created as if by enchantment, the foresttrees are not yet dead, and a few forgotten oaks flourish with amelancholy air.
It is true that many of these towns, improvised for the exigencies ofthe moment, are frequently deserted as rapidly as they were built; forthe North American is the true nomadic race. Nothing attaches it to thesoil: convenience alone can keep it at any given spot. It has none ofthose heart affections, none of those memories of childhood or youth,which induce us often to endure suffering in a place rather than quit itfor others where we should be comparatively much better off. In a word,the American has no _home_, that word so endearing to Europeans. To himthe most agreeable and comfortable abode is that where he can piledollar on dollar with the greatest facility.
San Francisco, that city which now counts more than 60,000 inhabitants,and in which all the refinements of luxury can be found, is an evidentproof of the marvellous facility with which the Americans improvisetowns. We can remember bartering, scarce fifteen years back, withFlat-head Indians, beneath the shade of secular trees, on sites wheresplendid edifices now rise. We have fished alone in this immense bay,the finest in the world, which is at present almost too small to holdthe innumerable vessels that follow each other in rapid succession.
At the period of our story San Francisco was not yet a city in the trueacceptation of the word. It was a conglomeration of huts and clumsycabins built of wood, and which afforded some sort of shelter to theadventurers of every nation whom the gold fever cast on its shores, andwho only stopped there long enough to prepare for proceeding to themines, or throw into the bottomless abysses of the gambling houses thenuggets they had collected with so much difficulty and suffering.
The police were almost non-existing: the stronger man made the law. Theknife and revolver were the _ultima ratio_, and lorded it over thisheterogeneous population, composed of the worst specimens the five partsof the globe could throw up.
A population incessantly renewed, never the same, lived in this Hades, aprey to that constant and fatal intoxication which the sight of thatterrible metal called gold produces in even the strongest-minded men.
Still, at the period of which we are writing, the first fury of the raceto the placers had somewhat cooled down. Owing to the impulse given by afew resolute men, gifted with lofty intellects and generous hearts, thenormal life was beginning to be gradually organised; the bandits nolonger daringly held the top of the causeway, honest men could at lengthbreathe and raise their heads, all foreboded better days, and the dawnof an era of order, peace, and tranquillity had arrived.
About two months after the events we narrated in our preceding chapterwe will lead the reader to a charming house built a little out of thethrong, as if the inhabitants had sought to isolate themselves as muchas possible; and after introducing him into a room modestly furnishedwith a few common chairs and a table, on which lay a large map ofMexico, we will listen to the conversation of the two men who wereleaning over this map.
One of them is already well known to us, for he is the Count Louis; theother was a man of middle age, with a fine and intelligent face, whoseeye sparkled with boldness and frankness; his manners were also veryelegant. He appeared to be a Frenchman; at least he was talking in thatlanguage. At the moment we joined them the two gentlemen were insertingblack-headed pins into certain districts of the map spread out beforethem.
"I am perfectly of your opinion, my dear count," the stranger said as herose: "that road is the most direct, and at the same time the safest."
"Is it not?" Louis answered.
"Without any doubt. But tell me--you are quite resolved to disembark atGuaymas?"
"That is the most favourable point."
"I ask you that question, my dear countryman, because I have written toour representative in that town."
"Well?" the count said quickly, rising in his turn.
"All goes well; at least he tells me so in his letter."
"He has answered you?"
"Courier for courier. The Mexican authorities will see your arrival withthe greatest pleasure; a barrack will be prepared for your men, and theprincipal posts of the town intrusted to them. You are expected with themost lively impatienc
e."
"All the better, for I confess to you that I feared much annoyance inthat quarter: the Mexicans have such a singular character, that onenever knows how to deal with them."
"What you say is perfectly true, my friend; but remember that yourposition is an exceptional one, and can in no possible manner causeumbrage to the authorities of the town. You are the owner of a placer ofincalculable richness, situated in a country where you will havecontinually to apprehend attacks from the Indians; you will, therefore,only pass through Guaymas."
"Literally so; for I declare to you that I shall set out with the leastpossible delay for the mine."
"Another thing, too: most of the men whose hatred or envy you might haveoccasion to fear are shareholders in the company you represent. If theyshow you any ill will, or try to impede your operations, they willcarry on the war at their own expense, and naturally will be the firstpunished."
"That is true."
"And then you have no political object: your conduct is clearly laiddown. Your desire is to find gold."
"Yes, and to insure a happy and independent position for the brave menwho accompany me."
"What more noble task could you undertake?"
"So you are satisfied, sir?"
"I could not be more so, my dear count. Everything smiles on you: thecompany is definitively formed at Mexico."
"I knew that before. During my stay in that city I drew up the plans andprepared everything; besides, I believe I can reckon on the friends wehave there."
"I believe so too. Did not the President of the Republic himself seem toadopt your views?"
"Enthusiastically."
"Very good. Now, in Sonora, the governor, with whom you will have aloneto deal, is one of our largest shareholders, so you have nothing to fearin that quarter."
"Tell me, sir, do you know our representative at Guaymas?"
At this question a cloud passed over the stranger's forehead.
"Not personally," he answered, after a certain degree of hesitation.
"Then you can give me no information about him? You understand that itis important for me to know the character of the man with whom I shalldoubtlessly enter into permanent relations, and from whom I shall becompelled to ask protection in certain difficult circumstances, such asmay occur at any moment."
"That is true, my dear count. As you observe, you know not in whatposition accident may place you; it is, therefore, necessary that Ishould instruct you, so listen to me."
"I am giving you the most earnest attention."
"Guaymas, as you are very well aware, is of very slight importance toour nation in a commercial point of view. During the whole year not adozen ships bearing our flag put in there. The French Government,therefore, considered it useless to send a French agent to that town,and acted like most of the powers--it selected one of the mostrespectable merchants in Guaymas, and made him its representative."
"Ah, ah!" the count said thoughtfully; "then our consular agent in thatport is not a Frenchman?"
"No; he is a Mexican. It is unlucky for you; for I will not hide fromyou that our countrymen have several times complained of not obtainingfrom him that protection which it is his duty to give them. It seems,too, that this man is wonderfully greedy for gain."
"As far as that is concerned I do not alarm myself at all."
"The rest need not trouble you either. The Mexicans generally are notbad. They are children--that is all. You will easily master this man bytalking to him firmly, and not yielding an inch of what you consideryour right."
"Trust to me for doing that."
"There is nothing else to be done."
"Thanks for this precious information, which I shall profit by, beassured, at the proper time and place. What is his name?"
"Don Antonio Mendez Pavo; but, before your departure, I will give you aletter for him, which I am sure will prevent your having any vexatiousdisputes with the fellow."
"I accept with great pleasure."
"And now another point."
"Go on."
"Are your enlistments completed?"
"Nearly so; I only need ten more men at the most."
"You are organising your expedition in a military manner?"
"I wished to avoid it, but that is impossible, owing to the Indiantribes through which we must pass, and with whom we shall havedoubtlessly a tussle."
"You may expect it."
"So you see, my dear sir, I take my precautions in consequence."
"You act wisely. What will be the strength of your company?"
"Two hundred and fifty to three hundred men at the outside."
"You are right: a larger force would arouse the susceptibility of theMexicans, and perhaps cause them alarm as to the purity and loyalty ofyour intentions."
"That is what I wish to avoid at any price."
"Are your men French?"
"All. I do not wish to have any men with me on whose devotion I cannotcalculate. I should be afraid, by mixing strangers among my fellows,that I might relax those family ties so necessary for the success of anexpedition like mine, and which can be easily established among men allbelonging to the same nation."
"That is extremely logical."
"And then," the count went on, "I only enlist old soldiers or sailors,all men accustomed to military discipline, and who are familiar with theuse of arms."
"Then your organisation is terminated?"
"Nearly so, as I told you."
"All the better. In spite of the pleasure I feel in your delightfulsociety, I should like to see you at work already."
"Thank you, but that will not be long first: the vessel is chartered,and if nothing happen to derange my plans, I shall say good-by to youwithin a week. You know that, in an affair like this, speed is the greatpoint."
"Success depends, above all, on celerity and decision."
"I shall be deficient in neither, be assured."
"Above all, do not forget to take with you two or three men you cantrust, and who are thoroughly acquainted with the country you are aboutexplore."
"I have with me two wood rangers, from whom the desert has no secrets."
"You can trust in them?"
"As in myself."
"Bravo! I feel a presentiment that we shall succeed."
"Heaven grant it! For my part, I will do all to deserve it."
The stranger took his hat.
"Ah, ah! I have been here a long time, and forget that people may bewaiting for me at the office. I must leave you, my dear count."
"Already?"
"Needs must. Shall I see you this evening?"
"I cannot promise. You know that I am not my own master either,especially at this moment."
"That is true; still try to come."
"I will."
"That's right. Good-by till I see you again."
The two men shook hands affectionately, and the stranger departed.
So soon as he was alone the count bent again over the map, which hestudied carefully: it was not till night had completely set in that hegave up his task.
"How is it," he said to himself thoughtfully, "that Valentine has notyet arrived? He should have been here."
As he finished this monologue he heard a rap at the door.