The Purple Land

by W. H. Hudson

  CHAPTER XXVIII

  I was soon back in Montevideo after that. When I bade Demetria good-byeshe appeared reluctant to part with me, retaining my hand in hers for anunusual time. For the first time in her life, probably, she was aboutto be left in the company of entire strangers, and for many days pastwe had been much to each other, so that it was only natural she shouldcling to me a little at parting. Once more I pressed her hand andexhorted her to be of good courage, reminding her that in a very fewdays all trouble and danger would be over; still, however, she did notrelease my hand. This tender reluctance to lose me was affecting andalso flattering, but slightly inopportune, for I was anxious to be inthe saddle and away. Presently she said, glancing down at her rustyhabiliments, "Richard, if I am to remain concealed here till I go tojoin you on board, then I must meet your wife in these poor garments."

  "Oh, _that_ is what you are thinking about, Demetria!" I exclaimed.

  At once I called in our kind hostess, and when this serious matter wasexplained to her she immediately offered to go to Montevideo to procurethe necessary outfit, a thing I had thought nothing about, but which hadevidently been preying on Demetria's mind.

  When I at length reached the little suburban retreat of my aunt (bymarriage), Paquita and I acted for some time like two demented persons,so overjoyed were we at meeting after our long separation. I hadreceived no letters from her, and only two or three of the score Ihad written had reached their destination, so that we had ten thousandquestions to ask and answers to make. She could never gaze enough at meor finish admiring my bronzed skin and the respectable moustache I hadgrown; while she, poor darling! looked unusually pale, yet withal sobeautiful that I marvelled at myself for having, after possessing her,considered any other woman even passably good-looking. I gave her acircumstantial account of my adventures, omitting only a few matters Iwas in honour bound not to disclose.

  Thus, when I told her the story of my sojourn at the _estancia_ Peralta,I said nothing to betray Demetria's confidence; nor did I think itnecessary to mention the episode of that wicked little sprite, Cleta;with the result that she was pleased at the chivalrous conduct I haddisplayed throughout the whole of that affair, and was ready to takeDemetria to her heart.

  I had not been back twenty-four hours in Montevideo before a letter fromthe Lomas de Rocha storekeeper came to justify my caution in having leftDemetria at some distance from the town. The letter informed me that DonHilario had quickly guessed that I had carried off his unhappy master'sdaughter, and that no doubt was left in his mind when he discoveredthat, on the day I left the _estancia_, a person answering to mydescription in every particular had purchased a horse and side-saddleand had ridden off towards the _estancia_ in the evening. Mycorrespondent warned me that Don Hilario would be in Montevideo evenbefore his letter, also that he had discovered something about myconnection with the late rebellion, and would be sure to place thematter in the hands of the government, so as to have me arrested, afterwhich he would have little difficulty in compelling Demetria to returnto the _estancia_.

  For a moment this intelligence dismayed me. Luckily, Paquita was out ofthe house when it came, and fearing that she might return and surpriseme while I was in that troubled state, I rushed out; then, skulkingthrough back streets and narrow lanes, peering cautiously about in fearof encountering the minions of the law, I made my escape out of thetown. My only desire just then was to get away into some place ofsafety where I would be able to think over the position quietly, and ifpossible devise some plan to defeat Don Hilario, who had been a littletoo quick for me. Of many schemes that suggested themselves to my mind,while I sat in the shade of a cactus hedge about a mile from town, Ifinally determined, in accordance with my old and well-tried rule, toadopt the boldest one, which was to go straight back to Montevideo andclaim the protection of my country. The only trouble was that on myway thither I might be caught, and then Paquita would be in terribledistress about me, and perhaps Demetria's escape would be prevented.While I was occupied with these thoughts I saw a closed carriage passby, driven towards the town by a tipsy-looking coachman. Coming out ofmy hiding-place, I managed to stop him and offered him two dollars todrive me to the British Consulate. The carriage was a private one, butthe two dollars tempted the man, so after securing the fare in advance,he allowed me to get in, and then I closed the windows, leant back onthe cushion, and was driven rapidly and comfortably to the houseof refuge. I introduced myself to the Consul, and told him a storyconcocted for the occasion, a judicious mixture of truth and lies, tothe effect that I had been unlawfully and forcibly seized and compelledto serve in the Blanco army, and that, having escaped from the rebelsand made my way to Montevideo, I was amazed to hear that the governmentproposed arresting me. He asked me a few questions, looked at thepassport which he had sent me a few days before, then, laughinggood-humouredly, put on his hat and invited me to accompany him to theWar Office close by. The secretary, Colonel Arocena, he informed me, wasa personal friend of his, and if we could see him it would be all right.Walking by his side I felt quite safe and bold again, for I was, in asense, walking with my hand resting on the superb mane of the BritishLion, whose roar was not to be provoked with impunity. At the War OfficeI was introduced by the Consul to his friend, Colonel Arocena, a genialold gentleman with a bald head and a cigarette between his lips. Helistened with some interest and a smile, slightly incredulous I thought,to the sad story of the ill-treatment I had been subjected to at thehands of Santa Coloma's rebellious rascals. When I had finished hepushed over a sheet of paper on which he had scrawled a few words to me,with the remark, "Here, my young friend, take this, and you will besafe in Montevideo. We have heard about your doings in Florida, also inRocha, but we do not propose going to war with England on your account."

  At this speech we all laughed; then when I had pocketed the paper, whichbore the sacred seal of the War Office on the margin and requested allpersons to refrain from molesting the bearer in his lawful outgoings andincomings, we thanked the pleasant old Colonel and retired. I spenthalf an hour strolling about with the Consul, then we separated. I hadnoticed two men in military uniform at some distance from us when wewere together, and now, returning homewards, I found that they werefollowing me. By and by they overtook me, and politely intimated theirintention of making me their prisoner. I smiled, and, drawing forthmy protection from the War Office, handed it to them. They lookedsurprised, and gave it back, with an apology for having molested me,then left me to pursue my way in peace.

  I had, of course, been very lucky throughout all this adventure; still,I did not wish to attribute my easy escape entirely to luck, for I had,I thought, contributed a good deal towards it by my promptness in actingand in inventing a plausible story on the spur of the moment.

  Feeling very much elated, I strolled along the sunny streets, gailyswinging my cane, when, turning a corner near Dona Isidora's house, Isuddenly came face to face with Don Hilario. This unexpected encounterthrew us both off our guard, he recoiling two or three paces backwardandturning as pale as the nature of his complexion would allow. I recoveredfirst from the shock. So far I had been able to baffle him, and knew,moreover, many things of which he was ignorant; still, he was there inthe town with me and had to be reckoned with, and I quickly resolved tomeet him as a friend, affecting entire ignorance of his object in comingto Montevideo.

  "Don Hilario--you here! Happy the eyes that behold you," I exclaimed,seizing and shaking his hand, pretending to be overjoyed at the meeting.

  In a moment he recovered his usual self-possessed manner, and when Iasked after Dona Demetria he answered after a moments hesitation thatshe was in very good health.

  "Come, Don Hilario," I said, "we are close to my aunt Isidora's house,where I am staying, and it will give me great pleasure to present youto my wife, who will be glad to thank you for your kindness to me at the_estancia_."

  "Your wife, Don Ricardo! Do you tell me that you are married?" heexclaimed in amazement, thinking probably that I was alread
y the husbandof Demetria.

  "What, did I not tell you before!" I said. "Ah, I remember speaking toDona Demetria about it. Strange that she has not mentioned it toyou. Yes, I was married before coming to this country--my wife is anArgentine. Come with me and you shall see a beautiful woman, if that isan inducement."

  He was without doubt astonished and mystified, but he had recovered hismask, and was now polite, collected, watchful.

  When we entered the house I presented him to Dona Isidora, who happenedto be in the way, and left her to entertain him. I was very glad todo so, knowing that he would seize the opportunity to try and discoversomething from the garrulous old lady, and that he would discovernothing, since she had not been let into our secrets.

  I found Paquita lying down in her room having a siesta; and while shearrayed herself at my express desire in her best dress--a black velvetwhich set off her matchless beauty better than anything else, I toldher how I wished her to treat Don Hilario. She knew all about him, ofcourse, and hated him with all her heart, looking on him as a kind ofevil genius from whose castle I had carried off the unhappy Demetria;but I made her understand that our wisest plan was to treat himgraciously. She readily consented, for Argentine women can be morecharmingly gracious than any other women on the globe, and what peopledo well they like to be called on to do.

  The subtle caution of our snaky guest did not serve to hide from mywatchful eyes that he was very much surprised when he beheld her. Sheplaced herself near him and spoke in her sweetest, artless manner ofthe pleasure my return had given her, and of the gratitude she hadfelt towards him and all the people at the _estancia_ Peralta for thehospitable treatment I had received there. He was, as I had foreseen,completely carried away by her exquisite beauty and the charm ofher manner towards him. He was flattered, and exerted himself to beagreeable, but at the same time he was very much puzzled. The baffledexpression was more apparent on his face every moment, while hisrestless glances darted here and there about the room, yet everreturned, like the doomed moth to the candle, to those lustrous violeteyes overflowing with hypocritical kindness. Paquita's acting delightedme, and I only hoped that he would long suffer from the effect of thesubtle poison she was introducing into his system. When he rose to go Iwas sure that Demetria's disappearance was a greater mystery to himthan ever; and as a parting shot I warmly invited him to come and see usfrequently while he remained in the capital, even offering him a bed inthe house; while Paquita, not to be behindhand, for she had thoroughlyentered into the fun of the thing, entrusted him with a prettily worded,affectionate message to Demetria, a person whom she already loved andhoped some day to meet.

  Two days after this adventure I heard that Don Hilario had leftMontevideo. That he had discovered nothing I was positive; it waspossible, however, that he had left some person to watch the house, and,as Paquita was now anxious to get back to her own country, I determinedto delay our departure no longer.

  Going down to the harbour, I found the captain of a small schoonertrading between Montevideo and Buenos Ayres, and, learning that heintended leaving for the last port in three days' time, I bargained withhim to take us, and got him also to consent to receive Demetria on boardat once. I then sent a message to Mr. Barker, asking him to bring hisguest up to town and put her on board the schooner without coming nearme. Two days later, early in the morning, I heard that she was safe onboard; and, having thus baffled the scoundrel Hilario, on whose ophidianskull I should have been very pleased to set my heel, and having stillan idle day before me, I went once more to visit the mountain, to takefrom its summit my last view of the Purple Land where I had spent somany eventful days.

  When I approached the crest of the great, solitary hill I did not gazeadmiringly on the magnificent view that opened before me, nor did thewind, blowing fresh from the beloved Atlantic, seem to exhilarate me. Myeyes were cast down and I dragged my feet like one that was weary. YetI was not weary, but now I began to remember that on a former occasionI had on this mountain spoken many vain and foolish things concerninga people about whose character and history I was then ignorant. I alsoremembered with exceeding bitterness that my visit to this land had beenthe cause of great and perhaps lasting sorrow to one noble heart.

  How often, said I to myself, have I repented of those cruel, scornfulwords I addressed to Dolores at our last interview; and now once more"I come to pluck the berries harsh and crude" of repentance and ofexpiation, to humble my insular pride in the dust and unsay all theunjust things I formerly spoke in my haste.

  It is not an exclusively British characteristic to regard the peopleof other nationalities with a certain amount of contempt, but with us,perhaps, the feeling is stronger than with others, or else expressedwith less reserve. Let me now at last rid myself of this error, whichis harmless and perhaps even commendable in those who stay at home,and also very natural, since it is a part of our unreasonable nature todistrust and dislike the things that are far removed and unfamiliar. Letme at last divest myself of these old English spectacles, framed in oakand with lenses of horn, to bury them for ever in this mountain, whichfor half a century and upwards has looked down on the struggles of ayoung and feeble people against foreign aggression and domestic foes,and where a few months ago I sang the praises of British civilisation,lamenting that it had been planted here and abundantly watered withblood, only to be plucked up again and cast into the sea. After myrambles in the interior, where I carried about in me only a fadingremnant of that old time-honoured superstition to prevent the mostperfect sympathy between me and the natives I mixed with, I cannot saythat I am of that opinion now. I cannot believe that if this country hadbeen conquered and re-colonised by England, and all that is crookedin it made straight according to our notions, my intercourse with thepeople would have had the wild, delightful flavour I have found in it.And if that distinctive flavour cannot be had along with the materialprosperity resulting from Anglo-Saxon energy, I must breathe the wishthat this land may never know such prosperity. I do not wish to bemurdered; no man does; yet rather than see the ostrich and deer chasedbeyond the horizon, the flamingo and black-necked swan slain on the bluelakes, and the herdsman sent to twang his romantic guitar in Hades as apreliminary to security of person, I would prefer to go about preparedat any moment to defend my life against the sudden assaults of theassassin.

  We do not live by bread alone, and British occupation does not give tothe heart all the things for which it craves. Blessings may even becomecurses when the gigantic power that bestows them on us scares from ourmidst the shy spirits of Beauty and of Poesy. Nor is it solely becauseit appeals to the poetic feelings in us that this country endears itselfto my heart. It is the perfect republic: the sense of emancipationexperienced in it by the wanderer from the Old World is indescribablysweet and novel. Even in our ultra-civilised condition at home we doperiodically escape back to nature; and, breathing the fresh mountainair and gazing over vast expanses of ocean and land, we find that she isstill very much to us. It is something more than these bodily sensationswe experience when first mingling with our fellow-creatures, where allmen are absolutely free and equal as here. I fancy I hear some wiseperson exclaiming, "No, no, no! In name only is your Purple Land arepublic; its constitution is a piece of waste paper, its government anoligarchy tempered by assassination and revolution." True; but the knotof ambitious rulers all striving to pluck each other down have no powerto make the people miserable. Theunwritten constitution, mightierthan the written one, is in the heart of every man to make him still arepublican and free with a freedom it would be hard to match anywhereelse on the globe. The Bedouin himself is not so free, since he accordsan almost superstitious reverence and implicit obedience to his sheikh.Here the lord of many leagues of land and of herds unnumbered sits downto talk with the hired shepherd, a poor, bare-footed fellow in hissmoky _rancho_, and no class or caste difference divides them, noconsciousness of their widely different positions chills the warmcurrent of sympathy between two human hearts. How refreshing it is tomeet wi
th this perfect freedom of intercourse, tempered only bythat innate courtesy and native grace of manner peculiar to SpanishAmericans! What a change to a person coming from lands with higher andlower classes, each with its innumerable hateful subdivisions--to onewho aspires not to mingle with the class above him, yet who shudders atthe slouching carriage and abject demeanour of the class beneath him! Ifthis absolute equality is inconsistent with perfect political order, Ifor one should grieve to see such order established. Moreover, it is byno means true that the communities which oftenest startle us with crimesof disorder and violence are morally worse than others. A community inwhich there are not many crimes cannot be morally healthy. Therewere practically _no_ crimes in Peru under the Inca dynasty; it was amarvellous thing for a person to commit an offence in that empire. Andthe reason for this most unnatural state of things was this--the Incasystem of government was founded on that most iniquitous and disastrousdoctrine that the individual bears the same relation to the State as achild to its parents, that its life from the cradle to the grave mustbe regulated for it by a power it is taught to regard as omniscient--apower practically omnipresent and almighty. In such a state there couldbe no individual will, no healthy play of passions, and consequently nocrime. What wonder that a system so unspeakably repugnant to a being whofeels that his will is a divinity working within him fell to pieces atthe first touch of foreign invasion, or that it left no vestige of itspernicious existence on the continent it had ruled! For the whole statewas, so to speak, putrid even before dissolution, and when it fell itmingled with the dust and was forgotten. Poland, before its conquest byRussia, a country ill-governed and disorderly as the Banda Oriental, didnot mingle with dust like that when it fell--the implacable despotismof the Czar was unable to crush its fierce spirit; its _Will_ stillsurvived to gild dreary oppression with hallowed dreams, to make itclutch with a fearful joy the dagger concealed in its bosom. But I hadno need to go away from this Green Continent to illustrate the truth ofwhat I have said. People who talk and write about the disorderly SouthAmerican republics are fond of pointing to Brazil, that great, peaceful,progressive empire, as setting an example to be followed. An orderlycountry, yes, and the people in it steeped to their lips in everyabominable vice! Compared with these emasculated children of theequator, the Orientals are Nature's noblemen.

  I can very well imagine some over-righteous person saying, "Alas, poordeluded soul, how little importance can we attach to your speciousapologies of a people's lawlessness, when your own personal narrativeshows that the moral atmosphere you have been breathing has quitecorrupted you! Go back over your own record, and you will find that youhave, according to _our_ notions, offended in various ways and on diversoccasions, and that you are even without the grace to repent of all theevil things you have thought, said, and done."

  I have not read many books of philosophy, because when I tried to be aphilosopher "happiness was always breaking in," as someone says; alsobecause I have loved to study men rather than books; but in the little Ihave read there occurs a passage I remember well, and this I shall quoteas my answer to anyone who may call me an immoral person because mypassions have not always remained in a quiescent state, like hounds--toquote the simile of a South American poet--slumbering at the feet ofthe huntsman resting against a rock at noon. "We should regard theperturbations of the mind," says Spinoza, "not in the light of vicesof human nature, but as properties just as pertinent to it as are heat,storms, thunder, and the like, to the nature of the atmosphere, whichphenomena, though inconvenient, are yet necessary, and have fixed causesby means of which we endeavour to understand their nature, and themind has just as much pleasure in seeing them aright as in knowingsuch things as flatter the senses." Let me have the phenomena which areinconvenient as well as the things which flatter the senses, and thechances are that my life will be a healthier and happier one thanthat of the person who spends his time on a cloud blushing at Nature'snaughtiness.

  It is often said that an ideal state--a Utopia where there is no folly,crime, or sorrow--has a singular fascination for the mind. Now, when Imeet with a falsehood, I care not who the great persons who proclaim itmay be, I do not try to like it or believe it or mimic the fashionableprattle of the world about it. I hate all dreams of perpetual peace,all wonderful cities of the sun, where people consume their joyful,monotonous years in mystic contemplations, or find their delight, likeBuddhist monks, in gazing on the ashes of dead generations of devotees.The state is one unnatural, unspeakably repugnant: the dreamless sleepof the grave is more tolerable to the active, healthy mind than such anexistence. If Signor Gaudentio di Lucca, still keeping himself aliveby means of his marvellous knowledge of the secrets of Nature, wereto appear before me now on this mountain to inform me that the sacredcommunity he resided with in Central Africa was no mere dream, andshould offer to conduct me to it, I should decline to go with him. Ishould prefer to remain in the Banda Oriental, even though by so doing Ishould grow at last to be as bad as any person in it, and ready to "wadethrough slaughter" to the Presidential Chair. For even in my own countryof England, which is not so perfect as old Peru or the Pophar's countryin Central Africa, I have been long divided from Nature, and now in thisOriental country, whose political misdeeds are a scandal alike to pureEngland and impure Brazil, I have been reunited to her. For this reasonI love her with all her faults. Here, like Santa Coloma, I will kneeldown and kiss this stone, as an infant might kiss the breast that feedsit; here, fearless of dirt, like John Carrickfergus, I will thrust myhands into the loose brown soil to clasp the hands, as it were, of dearmother Nature after our long separation.

  Farewell, beautiful land of sunshine and storm, of virtue and of crime;may the invaders of the future fare on your soil like those of thepast and leave you in the end to your own devices; may the chivalrousinstinct of Santa Coloma, the passion of Dolores, the loving-kindnessof Candelaria still live in your children to brighten their lives withromance and beauty; may the blight of our superior civilisation neverfall on your wild flowers, or the yoke of our progress be laid on yourherdsman--careless, graceful, music-loving as the birds--to make himlike the sullen, abject peasant of the Old World!