In this year, too, the Indians of the missions rendered their first armed service to the State which afterwards so often drew on them in its necessity and treated them so ill.

The Governor of Buenos Ayres, Don Pedro Estevan Davila, was setting out upon an expedition against a tribe of Indians who had taken refuge in the islands of the Lake Yberá. Eighty of the Indians were sent, and, being well led and armed, contributed considerably towards success. Next year a second contingent was required by the Governor of Tucuman, and duly sent to his assistance. History seems to repeat itself, and foolish soldiers and others never to gain experience; for the Governor (Padre del Techo in his ‘Historia Paraquaiæ’ tells us), having made war in Flanders, could never be dissuaded that the same system was not suitable for warfare in America. Accordingly, he set out in good order, but neglected to send out scouts, and consequently fell into the middle of the Calchaquis strongly entrenched within a marsh, attacked them with a rush, lost heavily, and had to retire to Tucuman. But all this time Father Montoya and Diaz Taño were striving in Rome and at Madrid with the Pope and with the King.

Urban VIII., at that time God’s vicegerent for the Christian portion of the world, received Diaz Taño kindly, listened to all he had to say with interest, promised him his help, and gave him a Papal letter menacing the Mamelucos with the wrath of God. From Rome Father Taño went to Madrid, and thence to Lisbon, whence he sailed armed with the protection of the Pope and accompanied by a fresh band of zealous priests. Arrived in Rio de Janeiro, he published the Papal letter, and fixed it on the doors of the Jesuit College and on those of their church. He seems on this occasion to have been wanting in the chief Jesuit virtue, prudence, or at the least he seems to have mistaken the character of the people amongst whom he was. Most of the colonists having relations with the Mamelucos were indignant, and a mob broke in the doors both of the college and of the church. The riot grew so serious that the Governor convoked a council, and cited Father Taño to appear. He came and spoke, and in the eyes of the chief people of the place made out his case; but the multitude, caring not much for reason (and nothing for philanthropy), became more furious, but was appeased at last by a petition being sent in protest to the Pope.

But if these things passed in Rio de Janeiro (which Del Techo refers to as oppido sanctorum), what was the fury of the people in San Paulo, the very centre of the Mamelucos, when the Vicar-General published the brief by order of Don Pedro Albornoz! The people rose immediately, and menaced the Vicar-General with instant death unless he instantly withdrew the brief. This he refused to do, although forced on his knees and with a naked sword held at his throat. His courage quieted them, and they drew up an appeal which they tried hard to make him sign, but he again refused. The mob, having demanded the brief, was told it was in the college of the Jesuits. Thither they went post-haste, and were met upon the steps by the Superior, dressed in canonicals and holding the holy wafer in his hand. He spoke, and most of them fell prostrate on the ground before the Body of our Lord. Others stood upright, and said that, whilst they adored the Holy Sacrament with their whole souls, they would not suffer that their slaves, who were their chiefest property, should be set free. An atheist (or some kind of Protestant) cried out to fire upon the priest, but he had no support. The Superior then gave them a copy of the brief, and they returned to the Vicar-General to ask for absolution for any censure of the Church they might have incurred; but he for the third time was obdurate, and let them welter in their sin.

The news of the revolution which liberated Portugal from Spain having just reached the town, the Jesuits had to retreat from it, leaving the inhabitants enraged against them and more determined than before to push their forays into Paraguay. But the time was past for their incursions, for Father Ruiz Montoya had prospered at Madrid, and secured even more than he had hoped for when he started on his quest. On arriving at Madrid, which he did after a prosperous journey of four months, he waited on the King (Philip IV.), and laid before him and commissaries chosen from the Indies and Castile the following points:

1. That the law of 1611, which provided that no Indians, unless taken in a just war, should be reduced to slavery, should be put into effect.

2. That the Pope should be approached to confirm the briefs of Paul III. and Clement VIII., which contained the same provisions.

3. That those who did not conform to these instructions should be handed over to the Inquisition to be judged.

4. That the Indians who had been enslaved by the Paulistas should be at once set free and the aggressors punished.

The King after deliberation granted every point, and, further, regulated the tribute which the Indians were to pay.[111] All this was easy to enact, but, like most other laws, not quite so easy to put into effect. Moreover, as the revolution which separated Portugal from Spain had just occurred, all Spanish thunder against the Mamelucos was of but small account. Montoya then pressed the demand for license to use firearms in self-defence against the Mamelucos. The King after deliberation granted this last point, and from that time the incursions of the Mamelucos ceased in Paraguay and generally throughout the mission territory. Then also there was set on foot that Jesuit militia which rendered such good service to the crown, but was the cause of so much murmuring, as it protected the mission Indians both from the Paulistas and from the inroads of the Spanish colonists.