The Spanish envoy, haughty, severe in aspect, and a martinet in demanding that deferential ceremonial etiquette which was so firmly engrafted into Spanish nature, either could not or would not understand the feelings which prompted the ardent Louisianians to cling to their nationality. He expected the people to change at his coming their flag and their allegiance, the soldiers their service, and all to hasten to assume the Spanish yoke. He could not understand their refusal to do so, and when the Superior Council of the city requested him to show his credentials, he abruptly refused, although he agreed to defer taking possession till more Spanish soldiers were sent to him.
This was at least the form to which he agreed; but he proceeded to get control as far as possible, visiting in turn all the military posts, and replacing the French flag and the French commanders with Spanish ones.
Over New Orleans alone did the French flag still wave.
It may be easily understood that such high-handed deeds were not accomplished without protest on the part of the people of Louisiana. Curtailed of their possessions on every side, for by the “Treaty of Paris” much had been ceded to the English, they proposed to make as stubborn a resistance as possible.
In the remote parishes the feeling flamed almost higher than at New Orleans itself, since the sight of the detested Spanish flag was an ever-present insult.
During the year which had passed since the deputation had been sent to Paris bearing the memorial to the King, Monsieur Valvier had wasted neither time nor effort to arouse those with whom he came in contact, and keep them rigorously opposed to Spanish rule.
There were stormy meetings in the parish to which he belonged, in which he was always an impassioned leader. There were secret meetings at his and the neighbouring plantations. He became gloomy, a man with but one thought in his head,—the disgrace of belonging to Spain.
It was small wonder that with its head so distraught the plantation fell into neglect. The crops of indigo and tobacco failed, since the master’s eye no longer kept watch on careless servants.
Madame Valvier’s ill-health increased as the winter season approached, and on little Annette fell more and more the care of the family and home. Scant crops made scant money, and it was only by unceasing care that Annette kept the active little brothers clothed and fed, and saw that the languid mother had her fresh fruit and café au lait, and that her favourite gowns of delicate white were kept mended and ever fresh.
Nor were these all her duties.