It was a calm night in April, when men, singly or in couples, wended their way through the streets of the city as they had done on two former occasions, and sought the house of Don Gregorio Lopez:
One password, "Libertad," admitted them to the house and to the large inner room.
Valentin Lopez y Viana, who had a list of those who had been invited, and who had accosted each man on his entrance, announced to his father that all were present, whereupon Don Gregorio took his place at the head of the table, and when his guests had arranged themselves round the room, rose to his feet and spoke:
"Señores," said he, "the question which I have invited you here this evening to discuss, is one which occupies the minds of all. We have no king, for our king is in a French prison; we have no longer a mother-country, the fall of Spain has been proclaimed aloud in our streets. How, then, shall we submit any longer to be ruled by a handful of Spaniards, who derive their authority from a power which no longer exists? We in no way disown our allegiance to Ferdinand our king, if we assert our right to provide ourselves for the government of the country until such time as he may be able to re-assume his authority over us.
"Señores, the idea of choosing from amongst ourselves the men who shall rule over us is now no novelty amongst us. Spain herself has set us the example. What we demand is a Junta. Among us there can be no question of our right to demand a Junta, the question I propose to you is this":
"Has the day come for us to demand the appointment of this Junta?"
"Yes, yes!" shouted several of the younger men, as Don Gregorio paused and looked round him.
"A Junta! a Junta! we are free," shouted the others.
Then rose up Don Carlos Evaña from the chair on which he was seated, half way down the room.
"Junta! Junta! like that of Spain," said he. "We are a free people, therefore we must take example from a people who are not free, and must have a Junta to rule over us.