Young reader, I need scarce tell you that the noblest of animals--the
horse--is not indigenous to America. You already know that when
Columbus discovered the New World, no animal of the horse kind was found
there; and yet the geologist has proved incontestably that at one time
horses existed in the New World,--at a period too, geologically
speaking, not very remote. The fossilised bones examined by one of the
most accomplished of modern travellers--Dr Darwin--establish this truth
beyond a doubt.
The horse that at present inhabits America, though not indigenous, has
proved a flourishing exotic. Not only in a domestic state has he
increased in numbers, but he has in many places escaped from the control
of man, and now runs wild upon the great plains both of North and South
America. Although you may find in America almost every "breed" of
horses known in Europe, yet the great majority belong to two very
distinct kinds. The first of these is the large English horse, in his
different varieties, imported by the Anglo-Americans, and existing
almost exclusively in the woodland territory of the United States. The
second kind is the Andalusian-Arab,--the horse of the Spanish
conquerors,--a much smaller breed than the English-Arabian, but quite
equal to him in mettle and beauty of form. It is the Andalusian horse
that is found throughout all Spanish America,--it is he that has
multiplied to such a wonderful extent,--it is he that has "run wild."
That the horse in his normal state is a dweller upon open plains, is
proved by his habits in America,--for in no part where the forest
predominates is he found wild,--only upon the prairies of the north, and
the llanos and pampas of the south, where a timbered tract forms the
exception.
He must have found these great steppes congenial to his natural
disposition,--since, only a very short time after the arrival of the
Spaniards in the New World, we find the horse a runaway from
civilisation,--not only existing in a wild state upon the prairies, but
in possession of many of the Indian tribes.
It would be an interesting inquiry to trace the change of habits which
the possession of the horse must have occasioned among these Arabs of
the Western world. However hostile they may have been to his European
rider, they must have welcomed the horse as a friend. No doubt they
admired the bold, free spirit of the noble animal so analogous to their
own nature. He and they soon became inseparable companions; and have
continued so from that time to the present hour. Certain it is that the
prairie, or "horse Indians" of the present day, are in many respects
essentially different from the staid and stoical sons of the forest so
often depicted in romances; and almost equally certain is it, that the
possession of the horse has contributed much to this dissimilarity. It
could not be otherwise. With the horse new habits were introduced,--new
manners and customs,--new modes of thought and action. Not only the
chase, but war itself, became a changed game,--to be played in an
entirely different manner.
We shall not go back to inquire what these Indians _were_ when afoot.
It is our purpose only to describe what they _are_ now that they are on
horseback. Literally, may we say _on horseback_; for, unless at this
present writing they are asleep, we may safely take it for granted they
are upon the backs of their horses,--young and old of them, rich and
poor,--for there is none of them so poor as not to be the master of a
"mustang" steed.
In "Prairie-land" every tribe of Indians is in possession of the horse.
On the north the Crees, Crows, and Blackfeet, the Sioux, Cheyennes, and
Arapahoes; on the plains of the Platte, the Kansas, and Osage, we find
the Pawnees, the Kansas, and Osages,--all horse Indians. West of the
great mountain range, the Apache is mounted: so likewise the Utah, the
Navajo, and the Snake, or Shoshonee,--the latter rather sparingly.
Other tribes, to a greater or less degree, possess this valuable animal;
but the true type of the "horse Indian" is to be found in the Comanche,
the lord of that wide domain that extends from the Arkansas to the Rio
Grande. He it is who gives trouble to the frontier colonists of Texas,
and equally harasses the Spanish settlements of New Mexico; he it is who
carries his forays almost into the heart of New Spain,--even to the
gates of the populous Durango.
Regarding the Comanche, then, as the type of the horse Indians, we shall
speak more particularly of him. Allowing for some slight difference in
the character of his climate and country, his habits and customs will be
found not very dissimilar to those of the other tribes who make the
prairie their home.
To say that the Comanche is the finest horseman in the world would be to
state what is not the fact. He is not more excellent in this
accomplishment than his neighbour and bitter foeman, the Pawnee,--no
better than the "vaquero" of California, the "ranchero" of Mexico, the
"llanero" of Venezuela, the "gaucho" of Buenos Ayres, and the horse
Indians of the "Gran Chaco" of Paraguay, of the Pampas, and Patagonia.
He is _equal_, however, to any of these, and that is saying enough,--in
a word, that he takes rank among the finest horsemen in the world.
The Comanche is on horseback almost from the hour of infancy,--
transferred, as it were, from his mother's arms to the withers of a
mustang. When able to walk, he is scarce allowed to practise this
natural mode of progression, but performs all his movements on the back
of a horse. A Comanche would no more think of making a journey afoot--
even if it were only to the distance of a few hundred yards--than he
would of crawling upon his hands and knees. The horse, ready saddled
and bridled, stands ever near,--it differs little whether there is
either saddle or bridle,--and flinging himself on the animal's back, or
his neck, or his croup, or hanging suspended along his side, the Indian
guides him to the destined spot, usually at a rapid gallop. It is of no
consequence to the rider how fast the horse may be going: it will not
hinder him from mounting, or dismounting at will. At any time, by
clutching the mane, he can spring upon the horse's shoulders,--just as
may be often seen in the arena of the circus.
The horse Indian is a true type of the _nomadic_ races,--a dweller in
tents, which his four-footed associate enables him to transport from
place to place with the utmost facility. Some of the tribes, however,
and even some of the Comanches, have fixed residences, or "villages,"
where at a certain season of the year they--or rather their women--
cultivate the maize, the pumpkin, the melon, the calabash, and a few
other species of plants,--all being vegetable products indigenous to
their country. No doubt, before the arrival of Europeans, this
cultivation was carried on more extensively than at present; but the
possession of the horse has enabled the prairie tribes to dispense with
a calling which they cordially contemn: the calling of the husbandman.
These misguided savages, one and all, regard agricultural pursuits as
unworthy of men; and wherever necessity compels them to practise them,
the work falls to the lot of the women and slaves,--for be it known that
the Comanche is a slave-owner; and holds in bondage not only Indians of
other tribes, but also a large number of mestizoes and whites of the
Spanish race, captured during many a sanguinary raid into the
settlements of Mexico! It would be easy to show that it is this false
pride of being hunters and warriors, with its associated aversion for an
agricultural life, that has thinned the numbers of the Indian race--far
more than any persecution they have endured at the hands of the white
man. This it is that starves them, that makes unendurable neighbours of
them, and has rendered it necessary in some instances to "civilise them
off the face of the earth."
But they are not yet all civilised from off the face of the earth; nor
is it their destiny to disappear so readily as short-seeing prophets
have declared. Their idle habits and internecine wars have done much to
thin their numbers,--far more than the white man's hostility,--but
wherever the white man has stepped in and put a stop to their tribal
contentions,--wherever he has succeeded in conquering their aversion to
industrial pursuits,--the Indian is found not only to hold his ground,
but to increase rapidly in numbers. This is the case with many
tribes,--Greeks, Choctaws, and Cherokees,--so that I can promise you,
young reader, that by the time you get to be an old man, there will be
as many Indians in the world as upon that day when Columbus first set
his foot upon "Cat" Island.
You will be inquiring how the horse could render the prairie Indian more
independent of agriculture? The answer is simple. With this valuable
auxiliary a new mode of subsistence was placed within his reach. An
article of food, which he had hitherto been able to obtain only in a
limited quantity, was now procurable in abundance,--the flesh of the
buffalo.
The prairies of North America have their own peculiarities. They are
not stocked with large droves of ruminant animals, as the plains of
Southern Africa,--where the simplest savage may easily obtain a dinner
of flesh-meat. A few species of deer, thinly distributed,--all swift,
shy animals,--the prong-horn antelope, still swifter and shyer,--and the
"big-horn," shyest of all,--were the only ruminants of Prairie-land,
with the exception of the great bison, or buffalo, as he is generally
called. But even this last was not so easily captured in those days.
The bison, though not a swift runner, is yet more than a match for the
biped man; and though the Indian might steal upon the great drove, and
succeed in bringing down a few with his arrows, it was not always a sure
game. Moreover, afoot, the hunter could not follow the buffalo in its
grand migrations,--often extending for hundreds of miles across plains,
rivers, and ravines. Once mounted, the circumstances became changed.
The Indian hunter could not only overtake the buffalo, but ride round
him at will, and pursue him, if need be, to the most distant parts of
Prairie-land. The result, therefore, of the introduction of the horse
was a plentiful supply of buffalo-meat, or, when that failed, the flesh
of the horse himself,--upon which two articles of diet the prairie
Indian has almost exclusively subsisted ever since.
The Comanche has several modes of hunting the buffalo. If alone, and he
wishes to make a grand _coup_, he will leave his horse at a distance,--
the animal being trained to remain where his master has left him. The
hunter then approaches the herd with great caution, keeping to
leeward,--lest he might be "winded" by the old sentinel bulls who keep
watch. Should there be no cover to shelter the approach of the hunter,
the result would be that the bulls would discover him; and, giving out
their bellow of alarm, cause the others to scamper off.
To guard against this, the Indian has already prepared himself by
adopting a _ruse_,--which consists in disguising himself in the skin of
a buffalo, horns and all complete, and approaching the herd, as if he
were some stray individual that had been left behind, and was just on
the way to join its fellows. Even the motions of the buffalo, when
browsing, are closely imitated by the red hunter; and, unless the wind
be in favour of his being scented by the bulls, this device will insure
the success of a shot. Sometimes the skin of the large whitish-grey
wolf is used in this masquerade with equal success. This may appear
singular, since the animal itself is one of the deadliest enemies of the
buffalo: a large pack of them hanging on the skirts of every herd, and
patiently waiting for an opportunity to attack it. But as this attack
is only directed against the younger calves,--or some disabled or
decrepit individual who may lag behind,--the strong and healthy ones
have no fear of the wolves, and permit them to squat upon the prairie
within a few feet of where they are browsing! Indeed, they could not
hinder them, even if they wished: as the long-legged wolf in a few
springs can easily get out of the way of the more clumsy ruminant; and,
therefore, does not dread the lowering frontlet of the most shaggy and
ill-tempered bull in the herd.
Of course the hunter, in the guise of a wolf, obtains the like privilege
of close quarters; and, when he has arrived at the proper distance for
his purpose, he prepares himself for the work of destruction. The bow
is the weapon he uses,--though the rifle is now a common weapon in the
hands of many of the horse Indians. But the bow is preferred for the
species of "still hunting" here described. The first crack of a rifle
would scatter the gang, leaving the hunter perhaps only an empty gun for
his pains; while an arrow at quarters is equally as deadly in its
effect; and, being a _silent_ weapon, no alarm is given to any of the
buffaloes, except that one which has felt the deadly shaft passing
through its vitals.
Often the animal thus shot--even when the wound is a mortal one--does
not immediately fall; but sinks gradually to the earth, as if lying down
for a rest. Sometimes it gets only to its knees, and dies in this
attitude; at other times it remains a long while upon its legs,
spreading its feet widely apart, as if to prop itself up, and then
rocking from side to side like a ship in a ground-swell, till at last,
weakened by loss of blood, it yields its body to the earth. Sometimes
the struggles of a wounded individual cause the herd to "stampede," and
then the hunter has to content himself with what he may already have
shot; but not unfrequently the unsuspicious gang keeps the ground till
the Indian has emptied his quiver. Nay, longer than that: for it often
occurs that the disguised buffalo or wolf (as the case may be)
approaches the bodies of those that have fallen, recovers some of his
arrows, and uses them a second time with like deadly effect! For this
purpose it is his practice, if the aim and distance favour him, to send
his shaft clear through the body of the bison, in order that the barb
may not hinder it from being extracted on the other side! This feat is
by no means of uncommon occurrence among the buffalo-hunters of the
prairies.
Of course, a grand wholesale slaughter of the kind just described is not
an everyday matter; and can only be accomplished when the buffaloes are
in a state of comparative rest, or browsing slowly. More generally they
detect the dangerous counterfeit in time to save their skins; or else
keep moving too rapidly for the hunter to follow them on foot. His only
resource, then, is to ride rapidly up on horseback, fire his arrows
without dismounting, or strike the victim with his long lance while
galloping side by side with it. If in this way he can obtain two or
three fat cows, before his horse becomes _blown_, or the herd scatters
beyond his reach, he considers that he has had good success.
But in this kind of chase the hunter is rarely alone: the whole tribe
takes part in it; and, mounted on their well-trained mustangs, often
pursue the buffalo gangs for, an hour or more, before the latter can get
off and hide themselves in the distance, or behind the swells of the
prairie. The clouds of dust raised in a _melee_ of this kind often
afford the buffalo a chance of escaping,--especially when they are
running _with_ the wind.
A "buffalo surround" is effected by a large party of hunters riding to a
great distance; deploying themselves into a circle around the herd; and
then galloping inward with loud yells. The buffaloes, thus attacked on
all sides, become frightened and confused, and are easily driven into a
close-packed mass, around the edges of which the mounted hunters wheel
and deliver their arrows, or strike those that try to escape, with their
long spears. Sometimes the infuriated bulls rush upon the horses, and
gore them to death; and the hunters, thus dismounted, often run a narrow
risk of meeting with the same fate,--more than a risk, for not
unfrequently they are killed outright. Often are they obliged to leap
up on the croup of a companion's horse, to get out of the way of danger;
and many instances are recorded where a horseman, by the stumbling of
his horse, has been pitched right into the thick of the herd, and has
made his escape by mounting on the backs of the bulls themselves, and
leaping from one to another until he has reached clear ground again.
The buffalo is never captured in a "pound," as large mammalia are in
many countries. He is too powerful a creature to be imprisoned by
anything but the strongest stockade fence; and for this the prairie
country does not afford materials. A contrivance, however, of a
somewhat similar character is occasionally resorted to by various tribes
of Indians. When it is known that the buffaloes have become habituated
to range in any part of the country, where the plain is intersected by
deep ravines,--_canons_, or _barrancas_, as they are called,--then a
grand _battue_ is got up by driving the animals pellmell over the
precipitous bluffs, which universally form the sides of these singular
ravines. To guide the herd to the point where it is intended they
should take the fatal leap, a singular contrivance is resorted to. This
consists in placing two rows of objects--which appear to the buffalo to
be human beings--in such a manner that one end of each row abuts upon
the edge of the precipice, not very distant from the other, while the
lines extend far out into the plain, until they have diverged into a
wide and extensive funnel. It is simply the contrivance used for
guiding animals into a pound; but, instead of a pair of close log
fences, the objects forming these rows stand at a considerable distance
apart; and, as already stated, appear to the not very discriminating eye
of the buffalo to be human beings. They are in reality designed to
resemble the human form in a rude fashion; and the material out of which
they are constructed is neither more nor less than the dung of the
buffaloes themselves,--the _bois de vache_, as it is called, by the
Canadian trappers, who often warm their shins, and roast their buffalo
ribs over a fire of this same material.
The decoy being thus set, the mounted hunters next make a wide sweep
around the prairie,--including in their deployment such gangs of
buffaloes as may be browsing between their line and the mouth of the
funnel. At first the buffaloes are merely guided forward, or driven
slowly and with caution,--as boys in snow-time often drive larks toward
their snares. When the animals, however, have entered between the
converging lines of mock men, a rush, accompanied by hideous yells, is
made upon them from behind: the result of which is, that they are
impelled forward in a headlong course towards the precipice.
The buffalo is, at best, but a half-blind creature. Through the long,
shaggy locks hanging over his frontlet he sees objects in a dubious
light, or not at all. He depends more on his scent than his sight; but
though he may scent a living enemy, the keenness of his organ does not
warn him of the yawning chasm that opens before him,--not till it is too
late to retire: for although he may perceive the fearful leap before
taking it, and would willingly turn on his track, and refuse it, he
finds it no longer possible to do so. In fact, he is not allowed time
for reflection. The dense crowd presses from behind, and he is left no
choice, except that of springing forward or suffering himself to be
tumbled over upon his head. In either case it is his last leap; and,
frequently, the last of a whole crowd of his companions.
With such persecutions, I need hardly say that the buffaloes are
becoming scarcer every year; and it is predicted that at no distant
period this really valuable mammal will be altogether extinct. At
present their range is greatly contracted within the wide boundaries
which it formerly occupied. Going west from the Mississippi,--at any
point below the mouth of the Missouri,--you will not meet with buffalo
for the first three hundred miles; and, though the herds formerly ranged
to the south and west of the Rio Grande, the Comanches on the banks of
that river no longer know the buffalo, except by their excursions to the
grand prairie far to the north of their country. The Great Slave Lake
is the northern terminus of the buffalo range; and westward the chain of
the Rocky Mountains; but of late years stray herds have been observed at
some points west of these,--impelled through the passes by the
hunter-pressure of the horse Indians from the eastward. Speculators
have adopted several ingenious and plausible reasons to account for the
diminution of the numbers of the buffalo. There is but one cause worth
assigning,--a very simple one too,--the horse.
With the disappearance of the buffalo,--or perhaps with the thinning of
their numbers,--the prairie Indians may be induced to throw aside their
roving habits. This would be a happy result both for them and their
neighbours; though it is even doubtful whether it might follow from such
a circumstance. No doubt some change would be effected in their mode of
life; but unfortunately these Bedouins of the Western world can live
upon the horse, even if the buffalo were entirely extirpated. Even as
it is, whole tribes of them subsist almost exclusively upon horse-flesh,
which they esteem and relish more than any other food. But this
resource would, in time, also fail them; for they have not the economy
to raise a sufficient supply for the demand that would occur were the
buffaloes once out of the way: since the _caballadas_ of wild mustangs
are by no means so easy to capture as the "gangs" of unwieldy and
lumbering buffaloes.
It is to be hoped, however, that before the horse Indians have been put
to this trial, the strong arm of civilisation shall be extended over
them, and, withholding them from those predatory incursions, which they
annually make into the Mexican settlements, will induce them to
_dismount_, and turn peaceably to the tillage of the soil,--now so
successfully practised by numerous tribes of their race, who dwell in
fixed and flourishing homes upon the eastern border of the prairies.
At this moment, however, the Comanches are in open hostility with the
settlers of the Texan frontier. The _lex talionis_ is in active
operation while we write, and every mail brings the account of some
sanguinary massacre, or some act of terrible retaliation. The deeds of
blood and savage cruelty practised alike by both sides--whites as well
as Indians--have had their parallel, it is true, but they are not the
less revolting to read about. The colonists have suffered much from
these Ishmaelites of the West,--these lordly savages, who regard
industry as a dishonourable calling; and who fancy that their vast
territory should remain an idle hunting-ground, or rather a fortress, to
which they might betake themselves during their intervals of war and
plundering. The colonists have a clear title to the land,--that title
acknowledged by all right-thinking men, who believe the good of the
majority must not be sacrificed to the obstinacy of the individual, or
the minority,--that title which gives the right to remove the dwelling
of the citizen,--his very castle,--rather than that the public way be
impeded. All admit this right; and just such a title has the Texan
colonist to the soil of the Comanche. There may be guilt in the _mode_
of establishing the claim,--there may have been scenes of cruelty, and
blood unnecessarily spilt,--but it is some consolation to know that
there has occurred nothing yet to parallel in cold-blooded atrocity the
annals of Algiers, or the similar acts committed in Southern Africa.
The crime of _smoke-murder_ is yet peculiar to Pellisier and Potgieter.
In their present outbreak, the Comanches have exhibited but a poor,
short-sighted policy. They will find they have committed a grand error
in mistaking the courageous colonists of Texas for the weak Mexicans,--
with whom they have long been at war, and whom they have almost
invariably conquered. The result is easily told: much blood may be shed
on both sides, but it is sure to end as all such contests do; and the
Comanche, like the Caffre, must "go to the wall." Perhaps it is better
that things should be brought to a climax,--it will certainly be better
for the wretched remnant of the Spano-Americans dwelling along the
Comanche frontiers,--a race who for a hundred years have not known
peace.
As this long-standing hostility with the Mexican nation has been a
predominant feature in the history of the Comanche Indian, it is
necessary to give some account of how it is usually carried on. There
was a time when the Spanish nation entertained the hope of
_Christianising_ these rude savages,--that is, taming and training them
to something of the condition to which they have brought the Aztec
descendants of Montezuma,--a condition scarce differing from slavery
itself. As no gold or silver mines had been discovered in Texas, it was
not their intention to make mine-labourers of them; but rather peons, or
field-labourers, and tenders of cattle,--precisely as they had done, and
were still doing, with the tribes of California. The soldier and the
sword had proved a failure,--as in many other parts of Spanish
America,--in fact, everywhere, except among the degenerated remnants of
monarchical misrule found in Mexico, Bogota, and Peru. In these
countries was encountered the _debris_ of a declining civilisation, and
not, as is generally believed, the children of a progressive
development; and of course they gave way,--as the people of all
corrupted monarchies must in the end.
It was different with the "Indios bravos," or warrior tribes, still free
and independent,--the so-called _savages_. Against these the soldier
and the sword proved a complete failure; and it therefore became
necessary to use the other kind of conquering power,--the monk and his
cross. Among the Comanches this kind of conquest had attained a certain
amount of success. Mission-houses sprung up through the whole province
of Texas,--the Comanche country,--though the new neophytes were not
altogether Comanches, but rather Indians of other tribes who were less
warlike. Many Comanches, however, became converts; and some of the
"missiones" became establishments on a grand scale,--each having,
according to Spanish missionary-fashion, its "presidio," or garrison of
troops, to keep the new believers within sound of the bell, and to hunt
and bring them back, whenever they endeavoured to escape from that
Christian vassalage for which they had too rashly exchanged their pagan
freedom.
All went well, so long as Spain was a power upon the earth, and the
Mexican viceroyalty was rich enough to keep the presidios stocked with
troopers. The monks led as jolly a life as their prototypes of "Bolton
Abbey in the olden time." The neophytes were simply their slaves,
receiving, in exchange for the sweat of their brow, baptism, absolution,
little pewter crucifixes, and various like valuable commodities.
But there came a time when they grew tired of the exchange, and longed
for their old life of roving freedom. Their brethren had obtained the
horse; and this was an additional attraction which a prairie life
presented. They grew tired of the petty tricks of the Christian
superstition,--to their view less rational than their own,--they grew
tired of the toil of constant work, the childlike chastisements
inflicted, and sick of the sound of that ever-clanging clapper,--the
bell. In fine, they made one desperate effort, and freed themselves
forever.
The grand establishment of San Saba, on the river of the same name, fell
first. The troops were abroad on some convert-hunting expedition. The
Comanches entered the fort,--their tomahawks and war-clubs hidden under
their great robes of buffalo-hide: the attack commenced, and ended only
with the annihilation of the settlement.
One monk alone escaped the slaughter,--a man renowned for his holy zeal.
He fled towards San Antonio, pursued by a savage band. A large river
coursed across the route it was necessary for him to take; but this did
not intercept him: its waters opened for a moment, till the bottom was
bare from bank to bank. He crossed without wetting his feet. The waves
closed immediately behind him, offering an impassable barrier to his
pursuers, who could only vent their fury in idle curses! But the monk
could curse too. He had, perhaps, taken some lessons at the Vatican;
and, turning round, he anathematised every "mother's son" of the
red-skinned savages. The wholesale excommunication produced a wonderful
effect. Every one of the accursed fell back where he stood, and lay
face upward upon the plain, dead as a post! The monk, after baptising
the river "Brazos de Dios" (arm of God), continued his flight, and
reached San Antonio in safety,--where he duly detailed his miraculous
adventure to the credulous converts of Bejar, and the other missions.
Such is the supposed origin of the name Brazos de Dios, which the second
river in Texas bears to this day. It is to be remarked, however, that
the river crossed by the monk was the present Colorado, not the Brazos:
for, by a curious error of the colonists, the two rivers have made an
exchange of titles!
The Comanches--freed from missionary rule, and now equal to their
adversaries by possession of the horse--forthwith commenced their
plundering expeditions; and, with short intervals of truce,--periods _en
paz_,--have continued them to the present hour. All Northern and
Western Texas they soon recovered; but they were not content with
territory: they wanted horses and cattle and chattels, and white wives
and slaves; and it would scarce be credited, were I to state the number
of these they have taken within the last half-century. Nearly every
year they have been in the habit of making an expedition to the Mexican
settlements of the provinces Tamaulipas, New Leon, and Chihuahua,--every
expedition a fresh conquest over their feeble and corrupt adversaries.
On every occasion they have returned with booty, consisting of horses,
cattle, sheep, household utensils, and, sad to relate, human captives.
Women and children only do they bring back,--the men they kill upon
sight. The children may be either male or female,--it matters not
which, as these are to be adopted into their tribe, to become future
warriors; and, strange to relate, many of these, when grown up, not only
refuse to return to the land of their birth, but prove the most bitter
and dangerous foes to the people from whom they have sprung! Even the
girls and women, after a period, become reconciled to their new home,
and no longer desire to leave it. Some, when afterwards discovered and
ransomed by their kindred, have refused to accept the conditions, but
prefer to continue the savage career into which misfortune has
introduced them! Many a heartrending scene has been the consequence of
such apparently unnatural predilections.
You would wonder why such a state of things has been so long submitted
to by a civilised people; but it is not so much to be wondered at. The
selfishness that springs from constant revolutions has destroyed almost
every sentiment of patriotism in the Mexican national heart; and,
indeed, many of these captives are perhaps not much worse off under the
guardianship of the brave Comanches than they would have been, exposed
to the petty tyranny and robber-rule that has so long existed in Mexico.
Besides, it is doubtful whether the Mexican government, with all her
united strength, could retake them. The Comanche country is as
inaccessible to a regular army as the territory of Timbuctoo; and it
will give even the powerful republic of the north no small trouble to
reduce these red freebooters to subjection. Mexico had quite despaired
of being able to make an effort; and in the last treaty made between her
and the United States, one of the articles was a special agreement on
the part of the latter to restrain the Comanches from future forays into
the Mexican states, and also cause them to deliver up the Mexican
captives then in the hands of the Indians!
It was computed that their number at the time amounted to four thousand!
It is with regret I have to add, that these unfortunates are still held
in bondage. The great republic, too busy with its own concerns, has not
carried out the stipulations of the treaty; and the present Comanche war
is but the result of this criminal negligence. Had energetic measures
been adopted at the close of the Mexico-American war, the Comanche would
not now be harrying the settlers of Texas.
To prove the incapacity of the Mexicans to deal with this warlike race,
it only needs to consider the present condition of the northern Mexican
states. One half the territory in that extensive region has returned to
the condition of a desert. The isolated "ranchos" have been long since
abandoned,--the fields are overgrown with weeds,--and the cattle have
run wild or been carried off by the Comanches. Only the stronger
settlements and large fortified haciendas any longer exist; and many of
these, too, have been deserted. Where children once played in the
security of innocence,--where gaily-dressed cavaliers and elegant ladies
amused themselves in the pleasant _dia de campo_, such scenes are no
longer witnessed. The rancho is in ruins,--the door hangs upon its
hinge, broken and battered, or has been torn off to feed the camp-fire
of the savage; the dwelling is empty and silent, except when the howling
wolf or coyote wakes up the echoes of its walls.
About ten years ago, the proud governor of the state of Chihuahua--one
of the most energetic soldiers of the Mexican republic--had a son taken
captive by the Comanches. Powerful though this man was, he knew it was
idle to appeal to arms; and was only too contented to recover his child
by paying a large ransom! This fact, more than a volume of words, will
illustrate the condition of unhappy Mexico.
The Comanche leads a gay, merry life,--he is far from being the Indian
of Cooper's description. In scarcely any respect does he resemble the
sombre son of the forest. He is lively, talkative, and ever ready for a
laugh. His butt is the Mexican presidio soldier, whom he holds in too
just contempt. He is rarely without a meal. If the buffalo fails him,
he can draw a steak from his spare horses, of which he possesses a large
herd: besides, there are the wild mustangs, which he can capture on
occasions. He has no work to do except war and hunting: at all other
times he has slaves to wait upon him, and perform the domestic drudgery.
When idle, he sometimes bestows great pains upon his dress,--which is
the usual deer-skin tunic of the prairie Indian, with mocassins and
fringed leggings. Sometimes a head-dress of plumes is worn; sometimes
one of the skin of the buffalo's skull, with the horns left on! The
robe of buffalo pelt hangs from his shoulders, with all the grandeur of
a toga; but when he proceeds on a plundering expedition, all these
fripperies are thrown aside, and his body appears naked from the waist
to the ears. Then only the breech-clout is worn, with leggings and
mocassins on his legs and feet. A coat of scarlet paint takes the place
of the hunting-shirt,--in order to render his presence more terrific in
the eyes of his enemy. It needs not this. Without any disguise, the
sight of him is sufficiently horrifying,--sufficiently suggestive of
"blood and murder."