CHAPTER II. THE TRAVELLERS.

At the period when our story takes place, Mexico was going through one of those terrible crises, whose periodical return has gradually brought this hapless country into the extremity to which it is now reduced, and whence it cannot possibly emerge unaided. The following are the facts that occurred:—

General Zuloaga, nominated President of the Republic, one day found—it is not known why—power too oppressive for his shoulders, and abdicated in favour of General don Miguel Miramón, who was consequently appointed interim President. The latter, an energetic and most ambitious man, began by governing at Mexico, where he was careful in the first instance to have his nomination to the first magistracy approved by Congress, who unanimously elected him, and by the ayuntamiento.

Miramón hence found himself de facto and de jure legitimate interim President; that is to say, for the period that must still elapse until the general elections.

Matters went on tolerably well for a considerable period; but Zuloaga, doubtless wearied of the obscurity in which he was living, altered his mind one fine day, and suddenly at a moment when it was least expected, issued a proclamation to the people, came to an understanding with the partisans of Juárez, who, in his quality of Vice President on Zuloaga's abdication, had not recognized the new President, but had himself elected constitutional President at Veracruz by a so-called national junta, and published a decree, by which he revoked his abdication, and took back from Miramón the power he had entrusted to him.

Miramón was but little affected by this unusual declaration, as he confided in the right he imagined he had, and which Congress had sanctioned. He went alone to the house inhabited by General Zuloaga, seized his person, and compelled him to follow him; saying with a sarcastic smile—

"As you desire to resume the power, I am going to teach you how a man becomes President of the Republic."

And, keeping him as a hostage, though treating him with a certain degree of respect, he obliged him to accompany him on a campaign, which he undertook in the interior provinces against the generals of the opposite party, who, as we have said, assumed the name of Constitutionals.

Zuloaga offered no resistance: he apparently yielded to his fate, and accepted the consequences of his position so far as to complain to Miramón about not having a command in his army. The latter allowed himself to be deceived by this feigned resignation, and promised that his desire should be satisfied at the first battle. But one fine morning, Zuloaga and his aides-de-camp, who had been appointed to guard, rather than do him honour, suddenly disappeared, and it was learnt a few days after, that they had taken refuge with Juárez, from whose capital Zuloaga began protesting again more than ever against the violence done him, and fulminating decrees against Miramón.

Juárez is a cautious, cunning Indian, a profound dissimulator, a skilful politician. He is the only President of the Republic, since the declaration of independence, who was not a military man. Issuing from the lowest classes of Mexican society, he gradually rose, by dint of tenacity, to the eminent post which he so recently occupied. Knowing better than anyone else the character of the nation which he pretended to govern, no one knew so well as he how to flatter popular passions, and excite the enthusiasm of the masses. Gifted with an immeasurable ambition, which he carefully concealed beneath the cloak of a deep love for his country, he had gradually succeeded in creating a party, which, at the period of which we write, had grown formidable. The constitutional President organized his government at Veracruz, and from his cabinet instructed his generals to fight Miramón. Although he was not recognized by any power but the United States, he acted as if he were the true and legitimate depository of the national power. The adhesion of Zuloaga, whom he despised in his heart for his cowardice and nullity, supplied him with the weapon he needed to carry out his plans successfully. He made him, so to speak, the standard of his party, by declaring that Zuloaga must first be restored to the power which had been violently torn from him by Miramón, and that they would then proceed to new elections. However, Zuloaga did not hesitate to recognize him solemnly as sole President, legitimately nominated by the free election of the citizens.

The question was distinctly laid down. Miramón represented the conservative party, that is to say, the party of the clergy, large landowners and merchants; while Juárez represented the absolute democratic party.

The war then assumed formidable dimensions. Unluckily, money is needed to wage war, and that was what Juárez was entirely without, for the following reasons:

In Mexico the public fortunes are not concentrated in the hands of the government. Each state, each province retains the free disposal and management of the private funds of the towns forming parts of its territory; so that, instead of the provinces being dependent on the government, the government and metropolis endure the yoke of the provinces, which, when they revolt, stop the subsidies, and place the power in a critical position. Moreover, two thirds of the public fortune are in the hands of the clergy, who take very good care not to part with it, and who, as they pay no taxes, or obligations of any sort, spend their time in lending out their money at a high rate of interest, and ostensibly engage in usury, which enriches them, while they run no risk of losing their capital.

Juárez, though master of Veracruz, found himself, then, in a very critical position; but he is a man of resources, and felt no embarrassment in finding the money he wanted. He first began by laying hands on the customs of Veracruz, then he organized cuadrillas, or guerillas, who had no scruples in attacking the haciendas of the partisans of Miramón, Spaniards settled in the country, and generally very rich, and of foreigners of all nations who possessed any worth taking. These guerillas did not restrict their exploits to this; they undertook to plunder travellers and attack convoys: and it must not be supposed that we are exaggerating the facts, on the contrary, we are toning them down. We must add, for the sake of being just, that Miramón, for his part, let no opportunity slip for employing the same means, when he had the chance; but this was rare, for his position was not so advantageous as that of Juárez for fishing with profit in troubled waters.

It is true that the guerilleros acted apparently on their own account, and were loudly disapproved by both governments, who feigned on some occasions to act with severity against them; but the veil was so transparent, that the farce deceived nobody.

Mexico was thus transformed into an immense brigand's cave, in which one half of the population plundered and assassinated the other. Such was the political situation of this hapless country at the epoch to which we allude. It is dubious whether it has much changed since, unless to become worse.

On the same day that our narrative commences—at the moment when the sun, still beneath the horizon, was beginning to bar the dark blue sky with brilliant beams of purple and gold, a rancho, built of reeds, and resembling—though it was very large—a hen house, offered an animated appearance, very singular at so early an hour.

This rancho, built in the centre of a grassy patch, in a delicious situation, only a few paces from the Rincón grande, had been changed a short time before into a venta, or inn, for travellers surprised by the night, or who, for some reason, preferred stopping here to pushing on to the town.

On a rather large space of ground left unoccupied in front of the venta, the bales of several convoys of mules were ranged in a semicircle, and piled on one another with some degree of symmetry. In the middle of the circle the arrieros crouching near the fire, were boucaning tasajo for their breakfast, or repairing the saddles of the animals, which, separated in troops, were eating their provender of maize placed on pesadas spread out on the ground. A berlin, loaded with trunks and boxes, was standing in a shed by the side of a diligence, which had been forced to stop here, owing to an accident to one of its wheels. Several travellers, who had spent the night in the open air, rolled up in their sarapes, were beginning to wake, while others were walking up and down, smoking their papilitos; some who were more active, had already saddled their horses, and were starting at a gallop in various directions.

Ere long, the mayoral of the diligence came out from under his vehicle, where he had slept on the grass, gave his animals their forage, washed the wounds produced by the harness, and then began summoning the travellers. The latter, aroused by his shouts, came out of the venta, half awake, and went to take their places in the coach. They were nine in number, with the exception of two individuals, dressed in the European style, and easily to be recognized as Frenchmen. All the rest wore the Mexican garb, and appeared to be true hijos del país, that is to say, children of the country.

At the moment when the driver, or mayoral—a pure-blooded Yankee—after succeeding, by dint of Yankee oaths mingled with bad Spanish, in getting his passengers into the vehicle, which was half dislocated by the jolting of the road, was taking up the reins to start, the galloping of horses, accompanied by the rattling of sabres, was heard, and a band of horsemen, dressed in a sort of uniform, though in very bad condition, halted in front of the rancho.

This troop, composed of twenty men, with hangdog faces, was commanded by an alférez, or sub-lieutenant, as poorly attired as his soldiers; but his weapons were in excellent condition.

This officer was a tall, thin, but muscular man, with a crafty face, sly eye, and bistre-coloured complexion.

"Hola, compadre," he shouted to the mayoral, "you are starting at a very early hour, it strikes me."

The Yankee, so insolent a moment before, suddenly changed his manner: he bowed humbly, with a false smile, and answered in a soothing voice, while affecting a great joy, which he probably did not feel—

"Ah! Válgame Dios! It is se?or don Jesús Domínguez! What a fortunate meeting! I was far from expecting so great a happiness this morning. Has your Excellency come to escort the diligence?"

"Not today; another duty brings me."

"Oh! Your Excellency is perfectly right; my travellers do not at all deserve so honourable an escort. They are coste?os, who do not appear to me at all rich. Besides, I shall be obliged to stop at least three hours at Orizaba, to repair my coach."

"In that case, good-bye, and go to the deuce!" the officer answered.

The mayoral hesitated a moment, but then, instead of stating as he was ordered, he rapidly got down from his box and went up to the officer.

"You have some news to give me, have you not, compadre?" the latter said.

"I have se?or," the mayoral replied with a false laugh.

"Ah, ah," said the other, "and what is it, good or bad?"

"El Rayo is ahead on the road to Mexico." The officer gave an almost imperceptible start at this revelation, but at once recovered himself.

"You are mistaken," he said.

"No, I am not, for I saw him as I see you now." The officer seemed to reflect for a minute or two.

"Very good, I thank you, compadre, I will take my precautions. And your travellers?"

"They are poor scamps, with the exception of the two servants of a French count, whose trunks fill, up the whole coach. The others do not deserve any notice. Do you intend to examine them?"

"I have not yet decided; I will think over it."

"Well, you will act as you think proper. Pardon me for leaving you, se?or don Jesús, but my passengers are growing impatient and I must be off."

"Good-bye then for the present."

The mayoral mounted to his box, lashed his mules, and the vehicle started at a pace not very reassuring for those whom it contained, and who ran a risk of breaking their bones at every turn of the road.

So soon as the officer was alone he went up to the ventero who was engaged in measuring maize for some arrieros, and addressing him haughtily, asked:

"Eh! Have you not a Spanish caballero and a lady here?"

"Yes," the ventero replied, doffing his hat with a respect mingled with fear. "Yes, se?or officer, a rather aged caballero, accompanied by a very young lady, arrived here yesterday a little after sunset, in the berlin which you can see there under the shed: they had an escort with them. From what the soldiers said, they have come from Veracruz, and are going to Mexico."

"Those are the people I am sent to serve as their escort as far as Puebla de los ángeles; but they do not seem in any hurry to start: yet, it will be a long day's journey and they would do well to hurry."

At this moment an inner door was opened, a richly dressed gentleman entered the common room, and after slightly raising his hat and uttering the usual Ave María Purísima, he walked up to the officer who, on perceiving him, had taken several steps toward him.

This new personage was a man of about fifty-five years of age, but still in his prime: he was tall and elegant, his features were handsome and noble, and an expression of frankness and kindness was spread over his countenance.

"I am don Antonio de Carrera," he said, addressing the officer; "I heard the few words you addressed to our host: I believe, sir, that I am the person you have orders to escort."

"It is true, se?or," the sub-lieutenant politely replied, "the name you have mentioned is really the one written on the order of which I am the bearer: I await your good pleasure, ready to do whatever you may desire."

"I thank you, se?or: my daughter is slightly unwell, and I should be afraid of injuring her delicate health, if I set out at so early an hour. If you have no objection, we will remain a few hours longer here, and then set out after breakfast, which I shall feel honoured by your deigning to share."

"I offer you a thousand thanks, caballero," the officer replied with a courteous bow; "but I am only a rough soldier, whose society cannot be agreeable to a lady: be kind enough, therefore, to excuse if I refuse your gracious invitation, for which, however, I feel as grateful as if I had accepted it."

"I will not press you, se?or, though I should have been flattered to have you as a guest: it is settled then that we are to remain here a little while longer?"

"As long as you please, se?or: I repeat that I am at your orders."

After this exchange of politeness the two speakers separated, the old gentleman re-entered the rancho, and the officer went out to give his squadron orders to bivouac.

The soldiers dismounted, picketed their horses, and began strolling about, smoking a cigarette, and looking at everything with the restless curiosity peculiar to Mexicans.

The officer whispered a few words to a private, and the latter, instead of imitating the example of his comrades, remounted his horse and went off at a gallop.

About ten in the morning, the servants of don Antonio de Carrera put the horses to the berlin, and a few minutes after the old gentleman came forth.

He gave his arm to a lady, so wrapped up in her veil and mantua that it was literally impossible to see anything of her face or divine the elegance of her form.

So soon as the young lady was comfortably seated in the berlin, don Antonio turned to the officer who had hurried up to him.

"We will start whenever you please, se?or lieutenant," he said to him.

Don Jesús bowed.

The escort mounted: the old gentleman then entered the carriage, the door of which was closed by a footman who seated himself by the side of the coachman: four other well armed valets got up behind the carriage.

"Forward!" the officer shouted.

One half the escort went in front, the other half formed the rear guard. The driver lashed his horses, and carriage and horsemen soon disappeared in a cloud of dust.

"May heaven protect them," the ventero muttered, as he crossed himself and tossed in his hand two gold ounces given him by don Antonio: "the old gentleman is a worthy man, but unfortunately don Jesús Domínguez is with him, and I am greatly afraid that his escort will be fatal to him."