usted con Dios Excelencia!” said the Padre, gravely. “I come from Acauhtzin—from Don Hypolito Xuarez, with a message to the Junta.”
“A message to the Junta from rebels, Reverend Father?”
“It is my duty to prevent this fratricidal war, if possible,” replied Ignatius, mildly. “I have spoken with Xuarez, and have persuaded him to send me hither with a message of peace.”
“And that message?”
“Cannot be spoken here, my son. Let us go to the Palacio Nacional!”
“By all means, my father. Will you not ride thither. One of my officers will give you his horse.”
Three or four of the officers at once dismounted, and begged Padre Ignatius to mount; but he refused their offers gently with a wave of his hand.
“No, my children. I will walk thither. Ride on, Excelencia I will be with you soon.”
“But The Pizarro, Padre!”
“Will lie off there till my message is delivered and the answer given. If the terms are accepted, one gun will be the sign; if refused, two guns, and the war-ship will return to the north.”
“Ah!” said Gomez, with a meaning smile, as he turned his horse’s head towards the gate, “they are afraid to trust themselves in the lion’s mouth.”
Chapter X.
Padre Ignatius
With cross in hand, the pious father goes
From camp to camp on Heaven’s errand bent;
Soothing the wretched, overborne with woes,
And to the weary bringing sweet content.
Oh, gentle soul, too kind for this rude earth,
What virtues doth thy being comprehend;
Thou shouldst have lived in times of peaceful mirth,
When war was not, and man ne’er lacked a friend.
Of what avail those peaceful words of thine,
When for the battle armies are arrayed;
What use thy mission of good will divine,
When to the foe war’s standard is displayed.
The drums are beaten, trumpets shrill resound,
Two gifts alone thou canst bestow on all;
Salute with smiles all those with honour crowned,
And for the dead a single tear let fall.
Tim was ubiquitous. He seemed neither to eat nor sleep, but, note-book in hand, followed the President about everywhere, with the idea of gathering material for his letters to The Morning Planet. From the Plaza de San Jago he had gone down to the sea gate of Tlatonac, where the meeting with Padre Ignatius took place, and from thence returned to the Palacio Nacional, at the heels of Gomez. In view of the message from Xuarez, the Junta had been hastily convened, and now the great hall of the palace was crowded with deputies waiting to hear the words of the Padre.
Owing to the influence of Don Miguel, which was supreme in Tlatonac, Jack and Philip were admitted to the meeting, and they, in company with Tim, who was present by virtue of his office, watched the scene with great interest. It is not every day that one has the chance of seeing the naked machinery of the Government. In this vast chamber was the motive force which kept the machine going. Now, the Governmental machine was out of order, and Padre Ignatius, as a moral engineer, was trying to put it right again. He advocated delicate handling of the suasive kind. Gomez, rough work, in the manner of blows, and brute strength. As to Xuarez—well, he was the wheel which had put the engine out of gear; and, until that wheel was forced back into its proper position, or taken out of the Cholacacan machine altogether, there was but little chance of the reversion to the old smooth running. This is a parable to illustrate the importance of that hastily convened meeting. Tim was the only one of the four friends who understood the matter thoroughly.
Don Francisco Gomez took his place in the Presidential chair, which stood beneath a gorgeous yellow satin canopy of anything but Republican simplicity. The opal arms of Cholacaca were above this drapery, the seat of power below; and therein sat President Gomez, with a fierce light in his eyes, and an ominous tightening of his lips. He was in a critical position, and he knew it. The ship of the Republic was among the breakers, and he, as helmsman, had to steer her into open sea again. With a disorderly crew, this was no easy task.
The members of the Junta took their seats in silence. They were like a class of schoolboys before their master, and, as Gomez cast his eyes over their ranks, he could pick out here and there the men whom he knew would be troublesome. To understand his difficulty, it is necessary to explain the exact position of politics in Cholacaca. Tim was doing this in a low, rapid voice to Philip, pending the appearance of Padre Ignatius. Jack listened to the explanation with interest, and every now and then threw in a word of enlightenment.
“As in England,” said Tim, speaking in Philip’s ear, “there are two political parties, broadly speaking. The Liberals and Conservatives. These, again, are sub-divided into smaller parties. On the Conservative side, there is the party now in power, the aristocratic party, who believe in electing one of their own order as President, and think the common people should have nothing to do with politics.”
“That is the party of Don Miguel and the President?”
“Yes; their political programme is to govern on oligarchical principles. Cholacaca and its loaves and fishes, for the aristocrats only. That is one party. The other is the clericales, who would govern through the Church, and place the supreme power of the Republic in the hands of priests. Since the expulsion of the Jesuits, however, this party is defunct, and a good thing, too. I’m a true son of the Church,” added Tim, relapsing into his brogue; “but I don’t believe in the priests meddling with politics.”
“Then there is a third party,” said, Jack, taking up the explanation; “what we may term the Liberal-Conservative party, if such a thing be possible. They believe in aristocratic government, with the consent of the people. That is, the people can elect as President one of the aristocrats, but not one of themselves.”
“And what about the Liberals?” asked Philip, deeply interested.
“Oh, one party of the Liberals want democracy—pure unadulterated Republicanism. A second party desire military rule, which would be nothing more or less than despotism, supported by a standing army under the thumbs of a few martinets in power. Then there is a Free Lance party, where each individual desires the loaves and fishes for himself.”
“Then the party of Don Xuarez?”
“Is not here,” said Tim, waving his hand towards some empty seats; “they have all gone to Acauhtzin, and are now regarded as rebels by the Government. They desire a kind of civil despotism as opposed to the military party—a dictator with supreme power, who can act as he damn well please.”
“Seven political parties!” observed Cassim, derisively. “If too many cooks spoil the broth, too many political parties will certainly spoil Cholacaca. But they all seem to be afraid of one another. Don Xuarez has at least the courage of his opinions.”
“That is because his party is now strong enough to show fight. The others are all split up into small bodies, who quarrel among themselves and disagree with the President.”
“I presume they will all oppose Don Hypolito.”
“Naturally. They are dogs in the manger; they can’t get the supreme power of Cholacaca themselves, and won’t let Xuarez have it. I wonder what proposition the Padre brings from Acauhtzin.”
“Hush! here he is.”
Padre