# Civilization and Barbarism/Chapter 11

CHAPTER XI.
SOCIAL WAR.
"A horse, a horse! my kingdom for a horse."—Shakespeare.
CHACON.
Facundo, the gaucho outlaw of the Llanos, did not return to the country this time, but went directly to Buenos Ayres, and it was this unexpected step that prevented him from falling into the hands of his pursuers. He saw that he could do nothing more in the provinces, and for this once he could not even stop to harass the peasantry on his way, for his conquerors were ready to come to their defense from all directions.
Important advantages were secured by this battle of Oncativo or Laguna Larga. Cordova, Mendoza, San Juan, San Luis, La Rioja, Catamarca, Tucuman, Salta, and Jujui, were now free from the rule of the country commandants. The unity of the Republic, which Rivadavia had hoped to bring about through parliamentary means, seemed now about to be effected by means of arms, at least in this portion of it; and General Paz called a congress of deputies from these provinces to consider what form of constitution would be desirable. Lavalle had been less fortunate in Buenos Ayres, and Rosas, who was destined to play such a terrible part in Argentine history, had already begun to influence public affairs, and to rule the city. The Republic was ​now, therefore, divided into two parts: one in the interior, which desired Buenos Ay res for the capital of the union; the other in Buenos Ayres, which made a pretense of not wishing this city to be the capital, that it might separate itself from European civilization and civil order.
Another fact had been disclosed by this battle, namely, that the Montonera had lost its primitive strength, and that civilized armies could compete with it successfully. It is a significant fact in Argentine history, that, as time passes, the pastoral bands lose their early vigor. Facundo was already obliged to spur them on with terror, and they were but a dull, disorderly set, opposed to troops disciplined and guided by rules of strategy and art. In Buenos Ayres, however, the result was different. Lavalle, notwithstanding his bravery, which had been sufficiently proved at Puente Marquez, and his large number of regular troops, yielded at the end of the campaign, shut up as he was in the city by thousands of gauchos collected by Rosas and Lopez. By a treaty which was to all purpose a capitulation, he gave up his authority, and Rosas entered Buenos Ayres. I believe that only through an unfortunate mistake of his, Lavalle lost the victory. He had been famous for the success of his cavalry charges; at the defeat of Toreta or Moquegua, I do not remember which, Lavalle made forty charges during the day to protect the retreating army, and I doubt if the cavalry of Murat ever did as much. But unfortunately, Lavalle, remembering in 1839 that the Montenera had conquered him in 1830, abandoned his military education and adopted the Montonera system. ​He equipped four thousand horse, and went into the streets of Buenos Ayres at the same time that Rosas who had conquered him in 1830, gave up his cavalry, in spite of native instincts, and finished the campaign with infantry and artillery. They exchanged parts: the gaucho assumed the military uniform, and the soldier the poncho; the former triumphed, the latter died pierced by a ball from the Montonera. A hard lesson! If Lavalle had made the campaign of 1840, according to military rules, we should now, on the banks of the Plata, be preparing for steam navigation on the rivers, and distributing farms to European emigrants. Paz was the first citizen general who triumphed over the pastoral or provincial element; because he brought to bear against it all the resources of European military art, directed by a mathematical head.
The labors of Paz in Cordova had been to such purpose that after two years Facundo found it impossible to reestablish his influence in the provinces; it, was only the civilized, the refined city of Buenos Ayres that offered an asylum for his barbarism.
The journals of Cordova at that time gave the European news, the sessions of the French assembly; the likenesses of Casimir Perier, Lamartine, Chateaubriand, served as models in the school of design. Such was the interest of Cordova in European affairs. And at this very time the "Mercantile Gazette" was assuming the semi-barbarous tone that henceforth characterized the Argentine press.
Facundo fled to Buenos Ayres, not without shooting two of his own officers for trying to maintain order among his followers. He never belied his theory of ​terror,—it was his talisman, his palladium. He would sacrifice everything rather than this weapon. On arriving at the city, he presented himself at the court of Rosas; there he happened to meet General Guido, the most courteous and ceremonious of the generals who have made their way in the world by compliments in the antechamber; he offered one of his very best to Quiroga, who replied surlily, "Am I a dog, for you to laugh at? You people here sent a nice set of doctors (Cavia and Cernadas) to get me into trouble with General Paz. Paz beat me according to rule." He often regretted not having listened to the proposals of Major Pawnero.
Facundo soon merged in the crowd of the great city, and was only occasionally heard of at the gaming-table. General Mancilla once threatened to throw a candlestick at his head, saying, "Do you think you are still in the provinces?" His gaucho dress at first attracted much attention—the poncho, and the long beard which he had sworn never to cut until he had wiped out the disgrace of the defeat at Tablada; but after a little while he was scarcely noticed.
A great expedition against Cordova was then in preparation, and six thousand men from Buenos Ayres and Santa Fé had enlisted for the enterprise. Lopez was the commander-in-chief, with Balcarce, Enrique Martinez, and other officers under him. Facundo undertook a desperate attack upon Rioja or Mendoza. He received for the purpose two hundred criminals from the prisons, collecting in addition sixty men in the city, and with this company began his march.
At Pavon, Rosas was collecting his red cavalry; ​Lopez of Santa Fé was also there, and Facundo stopped to wait for the other leaders. Here, therefore, were the three famous provincial leaders met together on the pampas: Lopez, the pupil and successor of Artigas: Facundo, the barbarian of the interior; and Rosas, the bloodhound, who had been in training, but was now about to begin the hunt on his own account. The old classics would have compared them to the triumvirate Lepidus, Mark Anthony, and Octavius, who divided the empire among themselves, a comparison quite perfect even in respect to the baseness and cruelty of the Argentine Octavius. The three leaders were now in their element, and refreshed themselves with a bit of true gaucho life; scouring the pampas daily, and making trials of skill in racing, lassoing horses, and fighting; in all of which Rosas was usually victorious. He one day invited Lopez to have a bout, but Lopez said, "No, comrade, you are too rough for me." And in fact he had left them pretty well covered with cuts and bruises.
Quiroga crossed the pampas by the same road by which, twenty years before, he had fled as an outlaw from Buenos Ayres. At the city of Rio Quarto he met with an obstinate resistance, was delayed three days by the marshes which served as a defense to the garrison, and was about to retreat when a traitor came to him with the information that they had no more cartridges. Thanks to this timely revelation, Facundo took the place without difficulty.
At Rio Quinto he had to contend with the brave Pringles, the veteran of the war of independence, who on one occasion, when he was met by the Spaniards ​in a narrow pass, spurred his horse into the sea, with the cry, "Viva la Patria!" This same Pringles, whom the viceroy Pezuela had loaded with presents, and for whom San Martin had struck off the singular medal, "Honor to the vanquished of Chancai" was now to die by the hands of Quiroga's convicts.
rExcited by this unhoped-for triumph, Facundo advanced upon San Luis, where little resistance was offered. Beyond this the road branched off into three, and Quiroga considered which to take. The one to the right led to the Llanos, the theatre of his early deeds, the cradle of his power; in this direction there were no forces superior to his own, but neither had he any resources there to fall back upon. The middle road led to San Juan, where there were a thousand men in arms, but unable to resist a charge of cavalry with Quiroga's terrible lance at its head. Finally, the road to the left led to Mendoza, where the real forces were under command of General Videla Castillo. There was a battalion of eight hundred trained men, commanded by Colonel Barcala; a squadron of cuirassiers, under command of Lieutenant-Colonel Chenaut, and also some militia-men, and pickets of cuirassiers of the Guard. Facundo had with him only three hundred undisciplined men, and was not in very good health himself. Which road should he take? He chose the road to Mendoza,—came, saw, and conquered. But how was this possible; was there cowardice or treachery? Neither. An unwise imitation of European strategy; an error in tactics in part, and in part an Argentine prejudice, caused the shameful loss of this battle. Videla Castillo knew that ​Quiroga was approaching, but did not believe, as no other general would have believed, that he would attack Mendoza; he therefore sent to the Lakes his veteran troops, who, with some other detachments from San Juan under the command of Major Castro, formed a force strong enough to resist an attack, and to force Quiroga to take the road to the Llanos. So far it was all right. But Quiroga did march upon Mendoza, and the whole army went out to meet him. In the place called Chacon there is an open field in which the army left its rear guard; but soon after, hearing the firing of a company in retreat, General Castillo ordered the army to fall back hastily, in order to occupy the level field of Chacon. This was a double error; in the first place, because a retreat at the approach of a formidable enemy paralyzes inexperienced soldiers, who do not understand the cause of the movement; and secondly, because the rougher and more broken the ground, the better it would have been for fighting Quiroga, who only had with him a small body of infantry. What could he have done in such a field against six hundred infantry with a formidable battery of artillery in front? But unfortunately the officers were all native Argentines, who were devoted to horses; for them there would be no glory except in a victory won by the sword, and therefore they thought an open field for cavalry charges was absolutely necessary; this is the mistake in Argentine strategy.
The battle began, and a squadron of militia was ordered to charge, another Argentine mistake is this of beginning the fight with a charge of cavalry, a mistake which has lost to the Republic a hundred battles. ​And in addition to this error there was a misapplication of the European art of warfare. In Europe, where the masses of the troops are in column, and where the battle-field includes several towns or hamlets, the picked troops are kept in reserve until needed. In South America, a pitched battle generally takes place in an open field, the troops are not numerous, and the heat of the contest lasts but a short time, so that it is always desirable to rush in at once with the best men. In the present case, a cavalry charge was the worst possible beginning, but if it must needs be, it should at least have been made by the best troops, in order to rout at once the three hundred men who made up both army and reserve of the enemy. Instead of this, the old routine was followed: ordering to the front a large number of awkward militia, each man afraid of wounding himself with his own lance, and when the order to charge was given, they stood stock still, then fell back, and being charged upon by the enemy, gave way and embarrassed the best troops behind. In a moment all was confusion, and the battle lost; and Facundo passed on in triumph to Mendoza, without caring for the generals, infantry, and guns, which he left to his rear guard. This was the result: of the battle of Chacon, which left exposed the flank of the army of Cordova at the moment it was about to march upon Buenos Ayres. Quiroga's inconceivable audacity was crowned with the most complete success. It was useless to try to drive him from Mendoza; terror and the prestige of victory gave him means of resistance, while defeat had left his enemies discouraged. He would only have hastened to San Juan, ​where arms and money were to be had, and commenced a useless and interminable war. The generals, therefore, went to Cordova, and the infantry and officers of Mendoza came to terms the next day. The Unitarios of San Juan emigrated to Coquimbo, to the number of two hundred, and Quiroga remained in peaceful possession of Cuyo and Rioja. These two cities had never suffered from all the evils Quiroga had hitherto brought upon them, as they did now from the interruption of business caused by such a large emigration of the wealthiest inhabitants.
But I must especially remark upon the still greater harm done to the spirit of civilization. Considering the inland situation of Mendoza, it had been a highly civilized city, with a spirit of enterprise and progress greater than any city of the Republic; it was the Barcelona of the interior. The spirit of progress had attained its height under the administration of Videla Castillo. Two forts had been built towards the south with the double advantage of extending the boundarries of the province, and of securing it permanently from the savages. The swamps had been drained, the city ornamented, societies of agriculture, industry, mines, and of public education had been formed, and directed by intelligent, enthusiastic, and enterprising men; a manufactory of woollen and flax had been established which furnished clothing for the troops, and an armory for the making of swords, cuirasses, lances, and bayonets, with none of the work imported except some parts of the cannon. A French chemist, by the name of Charron, had put up a machine for moulding bullets, and types for the printing-press, and ​investigated the metals of the province. It is impossible to conceive of a more rapid development. These things would not have attracted so much attention in Chili or Buenos Ayres, but in an inland province with only the aid of native workmen, the progress was prodigious, and in ten years it might have been one of the most remarkable places in the country; but Facundo's army crushed this promising civilization, and the monk Aldao passed his plough over it and watered the earth with blood for ten years. What could remain?
But the progress of ideas was not entirely stopped with the occupation of Quiroga; the members of the mining society, who emigrated to Chili, there gave themselves up to the study of chemistry, mineralogy, and metallurgy. Godoi Cruz, Correa, Villanueva, Doncel, and many others, looked up all books treating of the subject, and made a large collection of different metals from all parts of South America; they also examined the Chilian archives for information about the mines of Uspallata, and with much labor succeeded in establishing modes of operation by which these mines have become profitable, notwithstanding the scarcity of metal. From that time dates the new and profitable working of the mines of Mendoza. The Argentine miners, not satisfied with these results, scattered themselves throughout Chili, which afforded a rich field for the experiments of their science, and they have accomplished much at Copiapo and other places by the introduction of new machinery and tools.
Godoi Cruz had another object in his researches: he endeavored, by introducing the cultivation of the white mulberry, to solve the problem of the possible ​future of San Juan and Mendoza, which depends upon the discovery of some production of great value, yet of small compass. Silk answers this condition, imposed upon these inland cities by their great distance from the seaports, and the high price of transportation. Godoi, not satisfied with publishing at Santiago a long and complete treatise on the cultivation of the mulberry, and the care of the silkworm and cochineal, had it distributed through the provinces free of cost, kept the question of the mulberry constantly before the public for ten years, urging its cultivation, and setting forth its advantages, while he carried on a correspondence with Europe, learning the current prices, and sending over specimens of the silk he had himself obtained, thus discovering the failings or excellences in quality, and also the best methods of spinning. The results of this great, patriotic labor, were all that he could hope for; now there are already some thousands of mulberry-trees, and the silk gathered by the quintal was spun, twisted, dyed, and sold in Buenos Ayres and Santiago, for the European market, at the rate of six, or seven dollars a pound; for the silk of Mendoza was as glossy as that of the best quality in Spain or Italy.
The old man finally returned to his native place to rejoice in the sight of a whole city succeeding in a profitable change of employment, hoping that he might live to see a caravan depart for Buenos Ayres, bearing the valuable production which made the wealth of China for so many years, and for precedence in which the manufactories of Lyons, Barcelona, Paris, and all ​Italy still dispute. Mendoza preceded all Spanish America in developing this useful branch of industry.
Have Facundo or Rosas ever done the least thing for the public good, or been interested in any useful object? No. From them come nothing but blood and crimes. I have given these details at length, because in the midst of horrors such as I am obliged to describe, it is comforting to pause on the few progressive impulses which revive again and again after being apparently crushed by savage barbarians. Civilization will, however feeble its present resistance, one day resume its place. There is a new world about to unfold itself, and it only awaits some fortunate general to put aside the iron heel which has so long crushed it. Besides, history should not be considered merely a tissue of crimes, and for this reason it is desirable to bring before the mind of a subjugated people a remembrance of past epochs. If they desire for their posterity a better record than they themselves have, let them not hope for it because the cannibal, of Buenos Ayres is just now tired of shedding blood, and permits exiles to return to their homes. This fact is of no import in the progress of a people. The great evil to be dreaded is a government which fears the influence of thoughtful and enlightened men, and must either exile or kill them. This evil results from a system which gives one man such absolute power that there can be no liberty of thought or action, no public spirit the desire of self-preservation outweighing all interest for others. ​Every one for himself, and the executioner for all without discrimination, this is the résumé of the life and government of an enslaved people.
Facundo, once more master of Mendoza, adopted his old methods of raising money and soldiers. One evening his agents were all over the city arresting the officers who had capitulated at Chacon; for what purpose it was not known, but the officers felt no great fear, confiding as they did in the good faith of the treaty. Nevertheless, a number of priests were also brought in and ordered to hear the confessions of the officers, who were then placed in a line and shot, one after another, under the direction of Facundo; the execution lasting about an hour. He afterwards gave as an excuse for this horrible violation of faith, that the Unitarios had killed General Villafañe. There was some foundation for the charge, but the revenge was monstrous. At another time he said, "Paz shot nine of my officers, but I have shot ninety-six of his." Paz, however, was not responsible for that deed, which he deeply lamented, and which was also an act of retaliation.
​The death of Villafañee had happened in Chili, and had already been avenged "eye for eye, tooth for tooth," in accordance with the lex talionis. The perpetrator of this deed was a remarkable specimen of the class of men I have been endeavoring to describe, and is therefore worthy of mention. Among the San Juan emigrants who went to Coquimbo, there was a Major Navarro from the army of General Paz. This man, who came of a distinguished family of San Juan, was small in size, with a thin, flexible body, and celebrated in the army for a rash courage. At the age of eighteen he mounted guard as lieutenant of militia on the night when (in 1820) the battalions of the first division of the army of the Andes revolted, and, forming in four companies before the guard-house, ordered the city militia to surrender. Navarro alone remained in the guard-house, and defended the entrance; and then, holding one hand over three wounds in his thigh, covering with the other arm five wounds in his breast, and blinded by the blood streaming from his head, made his way home, where he was six months recovering his strength; a cure altogether unhoped for and well-nigh miraculous. Thrown out of his place by the disbanding of the militia, he devoted himself to trade, but a trade accompanied with dangers and adventures. At first he was engaged in introducing contraband goods into Cordova; afterwards he carried on a trade with the Indians, and finally married the daughter of a cacique, lived with her faithfully, took part in the wars of the savages, and accustomed himself to eat raw meat, until, in the course of three years, he became a thorough savage. While there he heard that the war ​with Brazil was about to commence, and leaving his beloved savages, entered the army with his old rank of lieutenant, where his bravery was so conspicuous that he soon became a captain and brevet major, and one of Lavalle's chosen men. At Marquez the whole army was astonished at his daring. After these expeditions he remained at Buenos Ayres with Lavalle's other officers, Arbolito, Pancho el nate, and other chiefs, who displayed their bravery in coffee-houses and hotels. The animosity against the officers of the army became greater every day, and on one occasion they were drinking to the death of Lavalle, when Navarro heard them, and stepping up, poured out a glass and drank, saying in a loud voice, "To the health of Lavalle." A duel followed on the spot, and Navarro, who killed his man, fled from the city, and overtook the army before it reached Cordova. Before reëntering the service, he went in the interior to see his family, and learned with regret the death of his wife. Taking leave of his friends, he went back to the army accompanied by two young men—his cousin and nephew.
In the battle of Chacon he got a shot in his breast which burned off his beard, and blackened his face with powder; and in this condition he emigrated to Coquimbo, still accompanied by his young relatives; but every day he felt a strong desire to go back, and could hardly be prevented from doing so. "I am a true son of the army," he would say, "and war is my element; the first drop of blood shed in the civil war was from my veins; and from them should come the last." At other times he said, "I cannot go a step farther; I am getting farther and farther from the epaulets of a ​general. What would my friends say if they knew that Major Navarro was treading a foreign soil without a squad behind him?"
The day they crossed the boundary ridge, there was quite a pathetic scene. They were obliged to give up their arms, and the Indians could not conceive of a country where one was not permitted to go about lance in hand. Navarro explained in their own language, while two great tears rolled down his cheeks; they then laid their arms upon the ground, with much emotion, and even after starting on, went back and rode slowly around them as if bidding them farewell.
It was in this state of mind that Major Navarro passed into Chili, and took up his lodging at Guanda, a place situated at the beginning of the road which leads to the cordillera. There he learned that General Villafañe was going back to join Facundo, and openly announced his intention of killing him. The emigrants, who knew what these words meant coming from Navarro, left the neighborhood, after trying in vain to dissuade him from his purpose. Villafañe was warned beforehand, and asked protection from the public authorities, who gave him some militia, by whom he was abandoned as soon as they learned what was the trouble. But Villafañe was well armed, and accompanied by six natives of Rioja. Just as he was passing through Guanda, Navarro appeared before him, with only a brook between them, gravely declared his intention, and then returned quietly into the house where he was breakfasting. That night Villafañe was so imprudent as to lodge at Tilo, a place only about four leagues off. In the night Navarro armed himself and took with him ​a company of nine men, whom he left at a convenient place near Tilo. He then approached by moonlight, entered the court-yard, and called out to Villafañe, who was sleeping with his men in the corridor, "Villafañe, arise! those who have enemies should not sleep." Villafañe seized his lance, but Navarro attacking him with his sword, ran him through the body. He then fired off a pistol, the signal agreed upon with his companions, who came up and falling upon Villafañe's men, killed or dispersed them. They then took horses and equipments and set out for the Argentine Republic to join the army. Mistaking the road, they found themselves after a while at Rio Quarto, where they encountered Colonel Echevarria, who was pursued by enemies. Navarro hastened to his aid, and the horse of his friend falling at that moment, begged him to get up behind himself; but Echevarria would not consent, and Navarro, determined not to fly without him, dismounted, shot his own horse, and both men soon shared the same fate. It was three years before his family knew what had become of him, the story being told by the men who had killed him, and who, by way of proof, dug up the skeletons of the two friends.
During Major Navarro's short absence, events had taken place which entirely changed the condition of public affairs. The famous capture of General Paz, who was caught at the head of his army by a lasso, decided the fate of the Republic. It may be said that the constitution failed to be established at that time through a singular accident; for Paz with an army of four thousand trained men, and a wisely arranged plan of operations, was sure of conquering the army of ​Buenos Ayres. Those who have since seen him triumphing in every direction, can judge if he was very presuming to take this conquest for granted. We might chime in with the moralists who so often attribute the fall of empires to the merest accidents; but if it was an accident to catch a great general with a lasso, it was not accidental that the men who did it should have used such means, being as they were of true gaucho nature, though converted into a political element.
Facundo, having so cruelly revenged the death of General Villafañe, marched upon San Juan to prepare an expedition against Tucuman, where the army had retired after the loss of its general had destroyed all hope of accomplishing anything. On his arrival, all the Federal citizens went out to receive him as they had done in 1827; but Facundo was not fond of repetitions. He therefore sent one company in advance of the assembled citizens, and another behind them; then entered the city himself by a different route, leaving his officious hosts prisoners in the street, where they passed the whole day and night, lying down among the horses' feet if overpowered with sleep.
When he reached the public square, he stopped his carriage, put an end to the noise of the bells, and ordered all the furniture of the house provided for him by the city, to be thrown into the street, carpets, curtains, chairs, tables, mirrors, all heaped in confusion in the middle of the square; nor would he go in until sure that nothing remained but the bare walls, a little table, a single chair, and a bed. While this was going on, he called a child who was passing by his carriage, and asked him what his name was, and when he ​answered "Roza," said, "Your father, Don Ignacio Roza, was a great man; give my compliments to your mother."
​A little later, Facundo, seeing an officer strike two soldiers who were fighting, with the flat of his sword, called him up and attacked him with his lance; the officer used his own for the defense of his life, and presently disarmed Quiroga, whose lance he then picked up and returned respectfully. Quiroga again attacked him; there was another encounter, and he was again disarmed. He then called six men, had the officer seized, and stretched across the window-frame with his hands and feet tied fast, and ran him through with a lance again and again, until life was entirely extinct. His rage was without bounds; General Huidobro, his second, was also threatened with his lance, and prepared to defend his life.
And yet Facundo was not cruel or blood-thirsty in comparison with other barbarians; he was only a barbarian, who did not know how to restrain his passions, and these once aroused were without limit, without restraint; he was a terrorist who, on entering a city, shoots one, and perhaps lashes another, but for a reason. The person shot is blind, or paralyzed; the unhappy victim of the lash is a respectable citizen, a young man of one of the first families. His brutalities to women come from a want of delicacy; the humiliations imposed upon the citizens from the coarse desire to ill-treat and to mortify the self-respect of those by whom he feels himself to be despised. It is the same motive which makes terror a means of government. What would Rosas have done without it in a society like that of Buenos Ayres? How else could he have commanded from an intelligent people that respect which they never willingly show for persons who are ​in themselves low and contemptible? It is incredible what an accumulation of atrocities is necessary to pervert a people, and nobody knows the amount of close observation and sagacity employed by Don Manuel Rosas in order to subject the city to that magical influence which destroyed in six years all knowledge of the just and the good; which broke the bravest spirits and put them under the yoke.
Terror in France in 1793 was an effect and not a means. Robespierre did not guillotine nobles and priests to create a reputation, nor to elevate himself upon the heaps of the slain. He was a stern man, who believed that he must remove from France all her aristocratic members to insure the object of the rebellion. "Our names," said Danton, "will be execrated by posterity, but we shall have saved the Republic." With us, terror is a method of government invented to crush out knowledge, and force men to recognize as a thinking head, the feet which are upon their necks; it is the compensation an ignorant man in power takes for the contempt which he knows his insignificance inspires in a people infinitely superior to him. This is why we have in our times a repetition of the extravagances of Caligula, who caused himself to be worshipped as a god, and associated his horse with him in the government. Caligula knew that he was the very lowest of those Romans whom he nevertheless held under his foot. Rosas caused his sacred likeness to be placed in the churches, and borne through the streets on a car, to which were harnessed officers and even ladies, for the purpose of giving celebrity to his name. But Facundo was only cruel when in a passion. His ​deliberate acts were limited to shooting or lashing a man. Rosas, on the contrary, was never in a passion. He made his plans in his closet, and gave his orders to his emissaries.