Democratic Sentinel, Volume 6, Number 28, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 11 August 1882 — THE STORY OF A PATRIOT. [ARTICLE]

THE STORY OF A PATRIOT.

CHAPTER L It was during the height of Maximilian’s prosperity. At every comer of the capital you were elbowed by the red and blue uniforms of the French, and every now and then the “ ran-tan-plan ” of some company on a march echoed and re-echoed along the streets and lanes of the City of Mexico. At the .Palace gates squads of zouaves, on guard with bristling bayonets, denoted the presence of royalty, - and kept off all unwarranted intrusion. The unconcerned look of the populace appeared to have accepted the present state as a matter of fact, and they either made way for passing foreigners or respectfully bowed to the Emperor as he whirled by iu his three-mule volante. A sound of martial music is heard coming toward the palace. It is Marshal Bazaine and his staff, with a battalion of Zouaves. The populace gathers and forms a hedge on each side of the approaching phalanx, the French stepping along briskly at the sound of the inspiring strains ; they do not notice the lowering looks from under the wide brims of the “ sombreros,” and the little Marshal twirls his mustache with perfect contempt at the conquered rabble. He was in high spirits ; thirty guerrillas had been shot that morning outside of the gates, and to-night lie was invited to a select game of twonty-one, at the little Jewess* on “Calle Grande.” “ Friend,” says my companion, a Mexican, after viewing the scene just described, “the French are certainly blind. They undervalue the power of resistance existing in this country. Not a house but what is the abode of conspirators, and every Mexican in the country is an actor in some way or other in the drama of which we have just viewed a scene. ” I replied ; “ How can it be? We hear of no positive resistance, except in cases of brigandage, which are summarily punished. A condition of the country, as geneial as you speak of, would come under the notice of the Government and at once be suppressed. ” “ Well,” said my friend, “to-morrow night I invite you to come with me, and without any explanation you can judge for yourself, only you must understand that whatever you see or hear must be kept to yourself. Any delation would meet with immediate punishment, and whatever might be the fate of the persons accused or arrested.”

It was dusk when we started to pay our visit. After turning several corners we entered one of the narrow lanes leading, as a general thing, to a main street. The house was like all Mexican houses, with a wide coach gate leading to an inner paved court. After pounding a few seconds the gate was cautiously opened, aud, a password having been exchanged, we were ushered in. My friend led the way up a flight of steps iuto a dimlyliglitcd room, in which a great many people were congregated, men and women. My guide introduced me to Gen. Gonzales, who appeared to preside, and having been led around to each one I was soon at home with both sexes. “Friends,” said Gen. Gonzales, “I have received a courier from Oxaaca and one from Guadalajara ; the organization of the forces of the republic is progressing, and, although the lives of patriots are being daily sacrificed, we will soon see the dawn of our independence.” The young men who had acted as couriers were then introduced, both wearing the costume of cattle-herders, # and both being fine specimens of guer"rillas; one especially took my fancy, Henrique Martinez from Guadalajara. He was about five feet seven or eight, with an elegant, sinewy frame ; his wellbronzed countenance heightening the black luster of his eyes and hair ; as he gracefully bowed to the company the dignity cf his manners denoted the most accomplished gentleman. He at once joined a young lady who with smiles and extended hands forced him to sit by her side. Hers was a face worth studying. She was dark, like all Mexicans, but her features were of a cast fit to have stood for a model to Titian’s Madonna. As Henrique was relating his hairbreadth escapes, depicted with enthusiasm in which self was entirely forgotten and sacrificed to the future independence of his country, Mathilda Castellado would follow every word of his narrative, with her countenance denoting the interest she took in the speaker.

“Henrique,” Baid Gen. Gonzales, " I give you till day after to-morrow morning to stay with and visit your friends (casting a side glance at Mathilda); you must then be ready to return. To-morrow evening call at my honse ; I will give yon dispatches for Gen. Diaz, which must be delivered without delay.” My destination being Guadalajara, I asked Henrique to accompany him, to which he graciously consented; he gave me the address of the place where I should meet him the day after to-mor-row early in the morning. CHAPTER IL Daylight found me at the place appointed, and under the arch of the wide coaoh gate stood Henrique holding his horse by the bridle and bidding farewell to Mathilda. “ Oh, Henrique,” said the girl, "my heart fails me; this constant anxiety, this everlasting shedding of blood makes me shudder. Be careful for my sake. If duty calls you do not be rash. Remember that in losing you I will lose all. Daily, at the altar, I will offer my prayers for your safety.” Henrique’s knit brow showed how hard it was for him to control his feelings ; he seized the girl in his strong arms, imprinted an impassioned kiss on her forehead, and vaulting in his saddle he beckoned me to follow. When I overtook him the traces of tears were still on his face. Onr passports being duly vised, we were soon beyond the causeway leading to the capital, and on our way toward the West of Mexico. My companion was in a morose humor, and spoke but little. At each post he' showed his passport with indifference, and as soon as we were out of hearing he would anathematize the foreigners. Every now and then a passer-by and he exchanged- signs of recognition. We

pawed the first night in a regular wood house. The second day Henrique became more loquatcoos, spoke of his intentions, of Mathilda, of the war, and he entered into details of the organization of the guerrillas. We had been on the road nearly all day, constantly ascending toward the summit of the table-lands of Mexico, when, at a turn of the road, a Mexican stood np from the bushes; he was dressed like a peon, breast and legs bare, wearing sandals. He uttered a word, to which Henrique answered, the latter dismounting, giving me his horse to hold; after a while Henriqne returned, and said: "The roads are all patrolled and it would be unsafe for me to pass through Qneretaro. If yon wish to proceed yon can go through unmolested. We separate here, as I have to take a byroad.” "By no means,” I answered. “You and I will proceed together, and whatever dangers may be encountered I will share them with you.” He seemed pleased with my determination to go with him and he grasped my hand. "Yon and I will then be friends,” he said; “but what if we should be taken?” “If we are captured,” I replied, “we will their take the chances of escaping or being shot.” Henrique called the Mexican, ordering him to lead the way. The sun was slowly losing itself behind the high peaks of the table-lands and the shadows of the fast-advancing darkness were making the mountain paths almost invisible. Leaving the main road we descended into a mountain gorge by a path so narrow that we had to dismount and lead our horses, our guide in the lead motioning when to stop and when to go forward. Our steps were guided only by the dim twilight reflected from the overtowering mountain hips and by a stream, whose gurgling clalter as it sped on its rocky bottom guided us to a light ahead; the light proved to be a small adobe hut. “Give your horse to the man,” said Henrique, “and follow me.” We went down to enter the hut in which were two men and a woman ; the men were lying down on their blankets, the woman was leaning over a charcoal furnace preparing supper. Two or three stools were lying about.

“Ramon! What news?” said Henrique, addressing one of the men. “Signor, the roads are alive with troops. Senor Cristoval has been captured, with ten of his men. They were executed at Queretaro this morning.” “ Were ydu there ?” asked Henrique. “Yes, Signor, and they all died like men, shouting ‘Viva the Republic !’ ’ “ Ramon, I must be off before day. You shall have to precede us and see if the road to Toluca is clear; in case of any danger, retrace your steps to meet us.” . CHAPTER lIL Before day, on the call of our peon guide, we mounted our horses held by him at the door. Without a word he started, followed by Henrique and myself. We were ascending a regular road; the dark outlines of the mountains were plainly delineated on the clear horizon, bespangled with its myriad of stars ; and as the approaching daylight began to peep over the towering head, each peak seemed decked with a luminous crown. When we reached the summit the sun was slowly emerging from the mass of mountains, and as its spreading rays illuminated the valley, the uncertain, increasing light appeared to dance from dome to dome and roof to roof of the city of Queretaro, lying directly under us. Just then the sharp blast of a bugle, accompanied by the roll of drums beating the reveille, warning us to hurry up on our march, and, leaving our guide, we then started on a brisk trot toward Toluca. It was some two hours by sun when the sound of a gallop behind us made Henrique stop. A Mexican soon overtook ns, his horse in foam and panting from the swiftness of the run. “In a gallop for your lives,” he exclaimed, “ the French are after you. By speed you can reach a hacienda and hide for the night. You have been betrayed by your peon guide. ” It was no time for words ; a lash of the whip and both spurs iu the flanks of our horses sent us whirling on our road. We had already covered a long distance, at a gait which was telling on our steeds, when we came to a long ascending road, whose winding course we could see rising for some two miles ahead of us. “Caramba,” s iid Henrique, “ this is the worst part of the road. If we come within sight of the French as we ascend yon mountain, it will be a race for life and death. We ought to have overtaken Ramon ere this. ” The declining sun was almost touching the dome of the mountain, and we had barely readied midway of the rising road when we heard the ominous clatter of a troop of cavalry; looking back, we would see iu the dim twilight the French emerging iu the valley below. We must have been seen by the French, for the company raised a cheer which was echoed and re echoed from mountaintop to mountain-top, Ramon had come back toward us, and the three together we hastened up as fast as our jaded steeds would permit. Darkness had then fairly covered the mountain and dale.' Once on the summit, ready to descend, Henrique dismounted. “Dismount!” he ordered. “Each one fasten his reins to the pommel of his saddle so as not to interfere with the horse; and hold the reins with one hand and your whip with the other. At my signal, on the French drawing near, let go the reins, lash your horses, and fall back on your face some distance from the road. My horse knows the roads, yours will follow, and the French can. if they will. We did as ordered, and waited in silence on the declivity of the mountain for the approaching of the French. Nearer and nearer came the sound of the horses’ feet, the voices of the soldiers becoming more and more distinct. They seemed to be almost upon us, so close that Ramon and I held on nervously to our reins. Henrique was as immovable as a statue. Seconds counted as minutes; we could hear the panting of -their horses. Henrique whispered: “ Ready ! Let go ! Lash 1” He rolled back from the road. Ramon and I followed. The three loosened steeds, in one bound, were thundering down the descending road; • and the echo beingcaught up by the yelling French, who swept by us in a whirling mass. When the rumbling sound of the pursuing host had almost died away in the distance, Henrique called us to him, and we . groped our way to where he was. “Friends,” he whispered, “we must retrace our steps to the capital. Let us reach the hacienda of Rinaldo, and there decide what road to take.” Feeling sure that at this time of night the roads were secure, we started on our way back, thankful for onr escape and hopeful of meeting with no more mishaps. CHAPTER IV. We walked on in silent mood, with our hands on our weapons, retracing every step we had just been over, each one intently peering through the darkness of the valley in which we now were; darkness rendered still more impenetrable by the shadows of the mountains to the right and left. Wearied by the march and the excitement of the day before, we soon became listless, half nodding and mechanically marching on in the beaten path of the highway, Henriqne being some twenty feet in advance of us. All at once a cry of " Halt I” the flash <« a musket, a souffle of jnany men, end-

I found myself dragged on by Ramon, scrambling ap the steep ascent of a hilL After about half an hour of tumbling and running, Ramon stopped. " Where ?” I started to ask. Ramon struck his hand on my month. “Silence," he whispered; “the French are below us, and Henrique is either killed or a prisoner. We must make our way to Queretaro; I know the paths, follow me, day will soon break.” I found afterward that we bad fallen in with a French company of the line, who were resting on the roadside until daylight should appear. Ramon took the lead, and soon struck a by-path which he appeared to know. I followed. The stars were shining in all their brilliancy, and the horizon to the east was now and then flecked with indefinite streaks of reddish hue, which announced approaching day. I was certainly dreaming; Henrique, Mathilda, passed and repassed before my eyes; when suddenly Ramon seized me by the arm and brought me back on my knees. “Hist!” he almost hissed. “The French ! Not a step forward !” Sure enough the French were within two gunshots of us ; they had retraced their steps, and our path was leading us exactly on them. “They are on the road to the capital,” said Ramon; "they must be taking Henrique there. He is not killed. ” We waited. The steady tramp of the escort, the metallic click of the arms of the soldiers, keeping time to the regular step of the company, sounded to me as the death knell of Henrique. So young and yet so true to his cause ! As soon as the sound of the passing French was far enough away to make it safe for us to proceed, Ramon started at a rapid rate, and, after a long, weary march, we reached the hut we had left the day before. “Are you not afraid of the peon who betrayed us ?” I asked.

Ramon smiled a ghastly smile. “He is where tongue never tells and eyes can’t see,” pointing to the ground. Having a regular American passport, I hastened to Queretaro to take the stage and be- at the capital to try and help Henrique, if such a thing was possible. CHAPTER V. Once in the City of Mexico, I bethought myself of a Dr. Bertalli, who was a large contractor, and in favor with the Government. I hastened to his residence, and, fortunately, found him alone. “Doctor, I have called on you for a service which you can render.” “My friend,” he answered, "I am at your service, provided it is neither a conspiracy nor an elopement.” I entered at once into the details of Henrique’s misfortune, and entreated him to see for me if anything could be done. “I must hasten then,” said the doctor, “ for you know French court-martials are cot ceremonious, and the execution follow? immediately after the conviction. But there is very little hope. These are had times, the end of which no one can tell.” The good doctor started at once, with the promise to let me know the result at my hotel, and there 1 went, hoping almost against hope. In due time the doctor made his appearance. I dared not speak. He shook his head in an ominous way, and seized my hands. “No earthly hope,” he said. “I will relate to you what happened, as the scene has left an impression on my mind which I never can forget. When I reached headquarters the court-mar-tial had been in session for some time, and a score of prisoners had already been disposed of. The Judge Advocate was calling for Henrique Martinez. “At his name the young man stood up, his eyes glaring defiance at the array of brilliant uniforms before him.

“‘You are accused of sedition,’ said the Judge Advocate, ‘caarying arms against the empire, and being bearer of dispatches to the insurgents. ’ “ * What have you to say ?’ added the Judge Advocate. “ Henrique remained silent. “ ‘ His Majesty, the Emperor,’ continued the Judge, * has been pleased, in consideration of your youth and high standing of your family, to offer you your pardon, on condition of your abandoning the cause of the insurgents. In case of your accepting the generous boon offered you by his Majesty, he further tenders you the command of a company in his service, and he will assign you on the staff of General Uragr..’ “Henrique, with flashing eyes, made a few steps forward. “ 1 Me a pardon ! Thavk you, friends, (gracios amioos)! All the doubloons purloined from my country by the invaders, all the titles in the gift of the usurper will never make the knees of Henrique Martinez cringe to his power. Forward, then, to the execution ! lam ready.’ “To-morrow morning,” continued the doctor, “they will be executed. There will be a long file of victims, as they wish to clear off the docket, day after to-morrow being Christmas. And,” added the doctor, with a quizzing expression, “you know that we French transact no business on holidays.” I wended my way toward the house where Mathilda lived. I inquired for her. An old Mexican servant, who had answered my summons, seemed doubtful how to answer, bul, on my mentioning the name of Henrique, she came up close to me and whispered that Mathilda had gone to the Ursuline Convent. “ To stay ?” I asked, astonished. “ Yes, sir,” she answered, and, courtesying, the left me standing on the porch. CHAPTER YL Next morning I rode by day, determined to assist at the execution bf the prisoners, hoping I might receive some message from Henrique. When I reached the doomed place the bulk of the prisoners had already been executed, having been shot in squads of ten. The remaining victims were being placed in position; Henrique was one of the number. A great many spectators were present ; nearly all natives of the low class, men and women, and. a few foreigners. Kneeling outside and on the front of the idle lookers-on, was a lady almost entirely covered with a silk mantilla; her subdued sobs had called enough of sympathy from the surrounding crowd to make them stand back, leaving her isolated next to the line of the platoon, who were the executioners of the day. A shriek followed the volley of musketry, and Mathilda had cast herself on the body of Henrique. At a word of command, the soldiers formed a square, surrounding Mathilda and the corpses; the two pieces of artillery, which formed part of the escort, wheeling so as to face the spectators. The officer of the day rode forward and ordered the crowd to disperse. The French were not prepared for such a soene, and were anxious to avoid every sensation which might excite the populace. Dr. Bertolli called on me that evening ; he grasped my band: “I was just looking for you. These are squally times, and the less we allow our minds to prey on the events of each day, the quieter will be our sleep, the more regular our digestion, and the safer our heads; therefore I have come for yon to come with me on an entertainment; from thence we will go and attend midnight mass. It you are fond of music, the Ursuline Convent will more than satisfy the most exacting dilettante.” We entered the chapel just as the organ was intoning the Introit of the mass, flje grave notqs of the Gregorian

chant echoing from arch to arch of the vast edifice. The huge assemblage; the gorgeonsness of the altar, resplendent with innumerable lights; the richness of the vestments and the sublime music of the choir brought ns to onr knees. It was at the elevation; the host is raised before the kneeling multitude, and the organ, swelling in majestic notes, raises aloft the heavenly melody of the sacred chant. As the ponderous bells in the dome above enswer in solemn tones to the suppliants beneath, a voice of silvery purity soars above the symphony of the choir and mingles with the solemn toll as it vibrates among the arches of the dome. A faint cry is heard 1 A commotion in the choir! But all remains unuotioed during the ending ceremonies of the mass. Next day, in the daily papers, was the report of the sudden death of Miss Mathilda Caste 11 ado ; she was about to enter her novitiate at the Drsuline Convent, and while singing in the choir at midnight mass fell insensible, and expired.