University of Virginia Library

2. CHAPTER II.
THE DEMAND OF SUBMISSION.

Defeated, disgraced, and burning with revenge,
caused as much, doubtless, by the indignity offered to
his person and authority from his new subjects as by
the insult to his country, the Count of Osma retired to
the Havanna, whence he shortly afterward proceeded
to Spain, for the purpose of returning with a force
sufficient to bring the refractory Louisianians into
subjection, and avenging himself for his former reception.
But other affairs of higher importance then engaging

the attention of the Cortes, farther attempts for
taking possession of the refractory province were, for
the present, suspended.

In the mean while, the citizens of Orleans fortified
their town, by erecting a low wall and digging a ditch
on the north side, and on the south by barricading the
outlets and spaces between the massive Spanish houses
that bounded it, which, by their height and the thickness
of their walls, presented formidable barriers to
any hostile approach. The front on the river, including
the public square before the governor's house,
was defended by a battery of cannon of heavy calibre,
which had been chiefly transferred from the ancient
fort of St. John, on Lake Ponchartrain, while the rear
was rendered inaccessible by impenetrable cypress
forests and numerous lagoons. Every man, from the
silver-haired grandsire to the beardless youth, became
a citizen soldier, each habitually wearing the harness
of warfare in the more peaceful pursuits of his daily
handicraft; and, from the general aspect of things, it
appeared to be the determination of the patriotic Orleannois
to defend their fair province to the last.

But two years having elapsed without any farther
intelligence from the Spaniards, they relaxed their vigilance;
and, by degrees, laying aside its warlike aspect,
the city began to wear again its more befitting
civic character.

The venerable governor, overcome by the weight of
years, and worn out with long service, at length dying,
the citizens elected six of the most substantial burghers
to constitute a council for their rule and government.
This political change, however, was not effected without
some opposition on the part of certain of the better-born
among the townspeople and a small party of
young creoles, who were clamorous for the authority
to descend into the hands of the governor's only son,
a bold, impetuous, and wild young man, scarcely twenty-three
years of age. The elected council, nevertheless,
firmly established itself, and the affairs of the
city and province went on prosperously, to the great

credit of the chosen rulers, while in the general thrift
Spain and its imperious demand was forgotten.

Such was the condition of things, when, in the autumn
of 1769, a little more than two years and a half
after his defeat and departure, the Spanish governor
again made his appearance with a large force before
the city, and demanded its surrender. It is at this
crisis in the history of Louisiana that the first scene
in the second chapter of our story opens.

The Spanish fleet consisted of two brigantines, one
carrying ten and the other twelve carronades, a polacca
schooner of six guns, and three one-masted gunboats,
each mounting a long eighteen-pounder on a
pivot in the bows, with an aggregate force on board of
seven hundred men, including one hundred and fifty
horsemen. On its first arrival it had anchored a
league below the city, whence the governor had immediately
sent to demand its submission, and to receive,
in token thereof, the keys of the government-house
and other rooms of state, giving the terrified
townsmen the six hours which intervened until sunset
to make up their minds, promising them a general amnesty
if they quietly submitted, with the menacing alternative
of being treated as rebels taken in arms if
they refused. This peremptory message was received
by the council at noon, and filled the town with consternation
and alarm. Throngs of anxious and excited
citizens rushed to the Plaza, and thence, flowing
towards the hall of council, which was in the governor's
palace, thrust themselves into the chamber, and
by their cries, some for “surrender,” others for “defence,”
completed the disorder that already began to
find its way into this body of civic rulers. Five hours
of clamorous confusion passed away; the sun, at
whose setting their fate was to be decided, was already
low in the west, and yet no decisive steps had been taken
either to comply with or resist the demand of
the Spaniard. As if the apple of discord had been
cast into it, the whole city was thrown into a state of
the wildest anarchy, and torn by opposing factions;

and, while menaced by a foe without, it seemed on the
eve of being a prey to a civil war within. The members
of the council, at first divided as their interests or
patriotism prompted, or as their fears dictated, now
magnanimously forgot themselves, and, acting in concert,
patriotically determined to hold the city against
all comers, save their royal master Louis Quinze.
But the older and more reflecting portion of the citizens
themselves, seeing that they were deserted by
France, and finding that farther opposition would be
not only useless, but draw upon their heads ruinous
consequences, were resolutely decided on submitting
to the Spanish domain; while many of the young creoles,
burning with hostility to Spain, and filled with
resentment against France, opposed every measure
for surrender, and fearlessly advanced the bold proposition
that they should hold out the city and province
against both the powers of France and Spain, and constitute
themselves a republic. Thus it happened that,
between the conflicting voices of three factions, each
so opposite to the other, the time set by the Spaniard
had nearly expired, and it was not yet determined
whether the city should give in its submission, or stand
stoutly on its defence. As the hour for returning an
answer approached, the council-chamber presented a
scene of disorder beyond the control of any authority
vested in the members of the council, who, nevertheless,
conspicuously seated upon their elevated cushions
of crimson damask at the extremity of the hall, maintained
their municipal state and civic dignity, and,
like a rock against which the vexed surges idly beat,
continued to remain firm and unmoved in the position
they had assumed, while around them roared and
heaved the human sea which the breath of the Spaniard
had agitated.

In the midst of this rife confusion and civic anarchy,
the report of a heavy gun shook the town. Its effect
was electrical. The uproar of voices ceased, as if the
angel of silence had waved his wing above the multitude,
and every eye was turned in the direction of the

windows that looked towards the setting sun, which,
appearing like a vast globe of heated iron suspended
in the sky, hung low near the horizon. They saw
that in less than half an hour it would disappear in the
bosom of the dark forest of cypresses which seemed to
girdle the earth; and the reflection that, ere it rose
again, their fair city might become the scene of massacre
and conflagration, and their hearths desolate,
blanched the cheeks of many a husband and father;
and some of those present, who, the moment before,
were for maintaining the town against all odds, now
turned away from the sun to fix their eyes upon the
faces of the unwavering council with an imploring eloquence
of expression that plainly betrayed the change
wrought in their feelings. A second report, still nearer
than the first, shook the council-house to its foundations,
and had the effect of breaking the silence which
the other had produced, for instantly it was answered
by a deep murmur from the mass of the people, that
soon rose into a wild, inarticulate cry, mingled with
stern and fierce words.

“There spoke loud warning, citizens,” said the
president of the council, rising, and waving his hand
which held his baton of office, to command attention;
“warning and menace to all traitors to France. If ye
be true men and loyal, fly forthwith to the defences,
and maintain the town!”

“To the defences, to the defences!” shouted a tall,
dark young man, with a flowing crimson feather, tipped
with sable, in his slouched hat, as he forced his way towards
the door with the hilt, and even the sharp point
of his sword, closely followed by a score of young men,
who manifested as little regard for the flesh and doublets
of those burghers who stood in their path as did
their leader; but no one of the steadier citizens moved
to second them, and the shouts of those reckless gallants
were drowned in the overwhelming cry from a
thousand voices of “No defence! no defence!”

“Children of France, will ye become serfs to Spain?”
suddenly cried a youth, in a plain gray capote, who

did not seem to be of their party, but whose words
showed that he also was for holding the town, though
it might be from other motives than those which governed
the band of young men; “will ye tarnish yonder
spotless standard, that floats in the evening sun like a
silver cloud? Shall the Spaniard again make a saddlecloth
of the colours of France? Shame on ye, Orleannois!
Shame on ye, Frenchmen! Shame on ye,
Louisianians! How will your faces redden with the
blush of degradation when in the morning you behold
the flaunting ensign of Spain waving where yesterday
your country's banner waved! To the defences! to
the defences!”

“Vive Spain! vive France! no Renault; no quadroon!
vive la republique!” confusedly filled the apartment
from the various factions at these words, while
the uproar was so loud that the firing of a third gun
was only made manifest by a vivid flash like lightning
illuminating the hall, the extremities of which were already
cast into gloom by the advancing shadows of
evening. At the same instant, a loud and appalling
cry of “The Spaniard! The Spaniard!” rent the air
from the multitude in the Plaza beneath, and, reaching
the ears of those within the council-chamber, the news
flew from lip to lip like wildfire.

“They come! They come!” were the thrilling
words that re-echoed through the vaulted chamber;
and the alarmed citizens, rushing to the windows and
balconies of the hall that overlooked the port, beheld
with fear and apprehension a Spanish brigantine of war
standing up the river under easy sail, with the gay
colours of Spain unfolded, and proudly flying above her
decks. Before they could interchange glances of surprise
and consternation with each other at this hostile
spectacle, which, though anticipated, was not now
viewed without emotion, another vessel hove in sight
from behind the southern turret of the Alaméda, with
the same royal ensign flashing in the sun that marked
the nation of the first; then came, not twice her length
behind, a light-rigged schooner, with slender masts like

pencils, and with the gliding motion of a swan, slowly
followed, one after the other, by three gunboats, each
moving steadily onward under the pressure of a clumsy
latteen sail. The level beams of the setting sun,
already broken by the irregular outlines of the forest
into which it was sinking, were gilding sail and streaming
pennant, flashing back from a thousand points of
steel on their decks, and exhibiting to the eyes of the
citizens their dark sides bristling with guns and lined
with armed men. After passing a little farther up the
river, in full view of every foreboding eye, at a signal
from the leading vessel, the whole squadron rounded
to and dropped anchor opposite the governor's palace,
with its broadsides bearing upon the town.