Gaspar Ruiz | Page 9

downfall and ruin, had disordered his
mind. To show his contempt for what we patriots could do, he affected
to laugh at his imprisonment, at the confiscation of his lands, the
burning of his houses, and the misery to which he and his womenfolk
were reduced. This habit of laughing had grown upon him, so that he
would begin to laugh and shout directly he caught sight of any stranger.
That was the form of his madness.
"I, of course, disregarded the noise of that madman with that feeling of
superiority the success of our cause inspired in us Americans. I suppose
I really despised him because he was an old Castilian, a Spaniard born,
and a Royalist. Those were certainly no reasons to scorn a man; but for
centuries Spaniards born had shown their contempt of us Americans,
men as well descended as themselves, simply because we were what
they called colonists. We had been kept in abasement and made to feel
our inferiority in social intercourse. And now it was our turn. It was
sale for us patriots to display the same sentiments; and I being a young
patriot, son of a patriot, despised that old Spaniard, and despising him I
naturally disregarded his abuse, though it was annoying to my feelings.
Others perhaps would not have been so forbearing.
"He would begin with a great yell--'I see a patriot. Another of them!'
long before I came abreast of the house. The tone of his senseless
revilings, mingled with bursts of laughter, was sometimes piercingly
shrill and sometimes grave. It was all very mad; but I felt it incumbent
upon my dignity to check my horse to a walk without even glancing
towards the house, as if that man's abusive clamour in the porch were
less than the barking of a cur. I rode by, preserving an expression of
haughty indifference on my face.
"It was no doubt very dignified; but I should have done better if I had
kept my eyes open. A military man in war time should never consider
himself off duty; and especially so if the war is a revolutionary war,
when the enemy is not at the door, but within your very house. At such

times the heat of passionate convictions, passing into hatred, removes
the restraints of honour and humanity from many men and of delicacy
and fear from some women. These last, when once they throw off the
timidity and reserve of their sex, become by the vivacity of their
intelligence and the violence of their merciless resentment more
dangerous than so many armed giants."
The General's voice rose, but his big hand stroked his white beard twice
with an effect of venerable calmness. "Si, senores! Women are ready to
rise to the heights of devotion unattainable by us men, or to sink into
the depths of abasement which amazes our masculine prejudices. I am
speaking now of exceptional women, you understand. . ."
Here one of the guests observed that he had never met a woman yet
who was not capable of turning out quite exceptional under
circumstances that would engage her feelings strongly. "That sort of
superiority in recklessness they have over us," he concluded, "makes of
them the more interesting half of mankind."
The General, who bore the interruption with gravity, nodded courteous
assent. "Si. Si. Under circumstances. . . . Precisely. They can do an
infinite deal of mischief sometimes in quite unexpected ways. For who
could have imagined that a young girl, daughter of a ruined Royalist
whose life itself was held only by the contempt of his enemies, would
have had the power to bring death and devastation upon two flourishing
provinces and cause serious anxiety to the leaders of the revolution in
the very hour of its success!" He paused to let the wonder of it
penetrate our minds.
"Death and devastation," somebody murmured in surprise: "how
shocking!"
The old General gave a glance in the direction of the murmur and went
on. "Yes. That is, war--calamity. But the means by which she obtained
the power to work this havoc on our southern frontier seem to me, who
have seen her and spoken to her, still more shocking. That particular
thing left on my mind a dreadful amazement which the further
experience of life, of more than fifty years, has done nothing to
diminish." He looked round as if to make sure of our attention, and, in a
changed voice: "I am, as you know, a republican, son of a Liberator,"
he declared. "My incomparable mother, God rest her soul, was a
Frenchwoman, the daughter of an ardent republican. As a boy I fought

for liberty; I've always believed in the equality of men; and as to their
brotherhood, that, to my mind, is even more