Revillagigedo--The False Merchant and the Lady--The Viceroy, the Unjust
Spaniard, the Indian, and the Golden Ounces--Horrible Murder--Details--
Oath--Country Family--The Spot of Blood--The Mother unknowingly denounces
her Son--Arrest of _the Three_--Confession--Execution--The Viceroy fulfils
his Pledge--Paving of the Streets--Severity to the Monks--Solitary Damsel
--Box on the Ear--Pension--Morning Concert--New Minister--"Street of the
Sad Indian"--Traditions--A Farewell Audience--Inscription on a Tomb.
August 3rd.
A lady of fortune, owing to some combination of circumstances, found
herself in difficulties, and in immediate want of a small sum of money. Don
----- being her _compadre_, and a respectable merchant, she went to him to
state her necessities, and offered him a case of valuable jewels as
security for repayment, provided he would advance her eight hundred
dollars. He agreed, and the bargain was concluded without any written
document, the lady depositing her jewels and receiving the sum. At the end
of a few months, her temporary difficulties being ended, she went to her
_compadre's_ house to repay the money, and receive back her jewels. The man
readily received the money, but declared to his astonished _comadre_, that
as to the jewels, he had never heard of them, and that no such transaction
had taken place. The Señora, indignant at the merchant's treachery,
instantly repaired to the palace of the vice-king hoping for justice from
this Western Solomon, though unable to conceive how it could be obtained.
She was instantly received by Revillagigedo, who listened attentively to
her account of the circumstances. "Had you no witnesses?" said the count.
"None," replied she. "Did no servant pass in or out during the
transaction?" "No one." The viceroy reflected a moment. "Does your compadre
smoke?" "No, sir," said the lady, astonished at this irrelevant question,
and perhaps the more so, as the count's aversion to smoking was so well
known, that none of his smoking subjects ventured to approach him without
having taken every precaution to deaden any odour of the fragrant weed
which might lurk about their clothes or person. "Does he take snuff?" said
the viceroy. "Yes, your Excellency," said his visitor, who probably feared
that for once his Excellency's wits were wool-gathering. "That is
sufficient," said the viceroy; "retire into the adjoining chamber and _keep
quiet_--your jewels shall be restored." His Excellency then despatched a
messenger for the merchant, who immediately presented himself.
"I have sent for you," said the viceroy, "that we may talk over some
matters in which your mercantile knowledge may be of use to the state." The
merchant was overwhelmed with gratitude and joy; while the viceroy entered
into conversation with him upon various affairs connected with his
profession. Suddenly the viceroy put his hand first in one pocket, then in
the other, with the air of a man who has mislaid something. "Ah!" said he,
"my snuff-box. Excuse me for a moment while I go to fetch it from the next
room." "Sir!" said the merchant, "permit me to have the honour of offering
my box to your Excellency." His Excellency received it as if mechanically,
holding it in his hand and talking, till pretexting some business, he went
out, and calling an officer, desired him to take that snuff-box to the
merchant's house, asking his wife as from him, by that token, to deliver to
the bearer a case of jewels which he had there. The viceroy returned to the
apartment where he had left his flattered guest, and remained in
conversation with him until the officer returned, and requesting private
speech of the viceroy, delivered to him a jewel-case which he had received
from the merchant's wife.
Revillagigedo then returned to his fair complainant, and under pretence of
showing her some rooms in the palace, led her into one, where amongst many
objects of value, the jewel-case stood open. No sooner had she cast her
eyes upon it than she started forward in joy and amazement. The viceroy
requested her to wait there a little longer, and returned to his other
guest. "Now," said he, "before going further, I wish to hear the truth
concerning another affair in which you are interested. Are you acquainted
with the Señora de -----?" "Intimately, sir--she is my _comadre_." "Did you
lend her eight hundred dollars, at such a date?" "I did." "Did she give you
a case of jewels in pledge?" "Never," said the merchant, vehemently. "The
money was lent without any security; merely as an act of friendship, and
she has invented a story concerning some jewels, which has not the
slightest foundation." In vain the viceroy begged him to reflect, and not,
by adding falsehood to treachery, force him to take measures of severity.
The merchant with oaths persisted in his denial. The viceroy left the room
suddenly, and returned with the jewel-case in his hand; at which unexpected
apparition, the astonished merchant changed colour, and entirely lost his
presence of mind. The viceroy ordered him from his presence, with a severe
rebuke for his falsehood and treachery, and an order never again to enter
the palace. At the same time he commanded him to send him, the next
morning, eight hundred dollars with five hundred more; which he did, and
which were, by the viceroy's order, distributed amongst the hospitals. His
Excellency is said to have added a severe reprimand to the lady, for having
made a bargain without writing.
Another story which I recollect, is as follows: A poor Indian appeared
before the viceroy, and stated that he had found in the street a bag full
of golden ounces, which had been advertised with the promise of a handsome
reward to the person who should restore them to the owner; that upon
carrying them to this Don -----, he had received the bag, counted the
ounces, extracted two, which he had seen him slip into his pocket; and had
then reproached the poor man with having stolen part of the money, had
called him a thief and a rascal, and, instead of rewarding, had driven him
from the house. With the viceroy there was no delay. Immediate action was
his plan. Detaining the Indian, he despatched an officer to desire the
attendance of Don ----- with his bag of ounces. He came, and the viceroy
desired him to relate the circumstances, his practised eye reading his
falsehood at a glance. "May it please your Excellency, I lost a bag
containing gold. The Indian, now in your Excellency's presence, brought it
to me in hopes of a reward, having first stolen part of its contents. I
drove him from the house as a thief, who, instead of recompense, deserves
punishment."
"Stay," said the viceroy, "there is some mistake here. How many ounces were
there in the bag you lost?" "Twenty-eight." "And how many are here?" "But
twenty-six." "Count them down. I see it is as you say. The case is clear,
and we have all been mistaken. Had this Indian been a thief, he would never
have brought back the bag, and stolen merely two ounces. He would have kept
the whole. It is evident that this is not your bag but another which this
poor man has found. Sir, our interview is at an end. Continue to search for
your bag of gold; and as for you, friend, since we cannot find the true
owner, sweep up these twenty-six pieces and carry them away. They are
yours." So saying, his Excellency bowed out the discomfited cheat and the
overjoyed rustic. Mr. ----- says that this story, he thinks, is taken from
something similar in an oriental tale. However, it _may_ have occurred
twice.
A horrible murder took place in 1789, during the vice-royaltyship of
Revillagigedo, which is remarkable in two particulars; the trifling
circumstances which led to its discovery, and the energy displayed by the
viceroy, contrasting strongly with the tardy execution of justice in our
days. There lived in Mexico at that period, in the street of _Cordovanes_,
No. 15, a rich merchant of the name of Don Joaquin Dongo. A clerk named
José Joaquin Blanco, who had formerly been in his office, having fallen
into vicious courses, and joined in companionship with two other young men,
Filipe Aldama and Baltazar Quintero gamblers and cock-fighters (with
reverence be it spoken) like himself, formed, in concert with them, a plan
for robbing his former master.
They accordingly repaired to the house one evening when they knew that
Dongo was from home, and imitating the signal which Blanco knew the
coachman was in the habit of making to the porter when the carriage
returned at night, the doors were immediately thrown open, and the robbers
entered. The porter was their first victim. He was thrown down and stabbed.
A postman, who was waiting with letters for the return of the master of the
house, was the next, and then the cook, and so on, until eleven lay
weltering in their blood. The wretches then proceeded to pick the locks of
the different bureaux, guided by Blanco, who, in his former capacity, had
made himself _au fait_ of all the secrets of the house. They obtained
twenty-two thousand dollars in specie, and about seven thousand dollars'
worth of plate.
Meanwhile the unfortunate master of the house returned home, and at the
accustomed signal the doors were opened by the robbers, and on the entrance
of the carriage, instantly relocked. Seeing the porter bathed in blood, and
dead bodies lying at the foot of the staircase, he comprehended at once his
desperate situation, and advancing to Aldama, who stood near the door, he
said, "My life is in your hands; but for God's sake, show some mercy, and
do not murder me in cold blood. Say what sums of money you want. Take all
that is in the house, and leave me, and I swear to keep your secret."
Aldama consented, and Dongo passed on. As he ascended the stairs, stepping
over the body of the postman, he encountered Quintero, and to him he made
the same appeal, with the same success; when Blanco, springing forward,
held his sword to Quintero's breast, and swearing a great oath, exclaimed,
"If you do not stab him, I will kill you on the spot!" Conceive, for one
moment, the situation of the unfortunate Dongo, surrounded by the murdered
and the murderers in his own house, at the dead of the night, and without a
hope of assistance! The suspense was momentary. Thus adjured, Quintero
stabbed him to the heart.
The murderers then collected their spoil, and it being still dark, two of
them got into Dongo's carriage, the third acting as coachman, and so drove
swiftly out of the gates of the city, till, arriving at a deserted spot,
not far from a village, they turned the carriage and mules adrift, and
buried their treasure, which they transported afterwards to a house in the
Calle de la Aguila (the street of the eagle), No. 23; and went about their
avocations in the morning, as if nothing had occurred. Meanwhile, the
public consternation may be conceived, when the morning dawned upon this
bloody tragedy. As for the viceroy, he swore that the murderers should be
discovered, and hanged before his eyes, that day week.
Immediately the most energetic measures were taken, and the gates of the
city shut, to prevent all egress. Orders were given through all the
different districts of the capital, that every guest, or visitor, or
boarder, whether in inn or lodging, or private house, should have their
names given up to the police, with an account of their condition,
occupation, motives for living in Mexico, etc. Strict cognizance was taken
in all the villages near the capital, of every person who had passed
through, or entered, or left the village within a certain space of time.
All the roads near the capital were scoured by parties of soldiers. Every
hidden place was searched by the police; every suspected house entered. The
funeral of the ill-fated Dongo and of the other victims, took place the
following day; and it was afterwards remembered that Aldama was there
amongst the foremost, remarking and commenting upon this horrible wholesale
butchery, and upon the probabilities of discovering the murderers.
A country family from a neighbouring village, hearing of all these doings
in Mexico, and with that love of the marvellous which characterizes persons
uneducated, or unaccustomed to the world, determined to pay a visit to the
capital, and to hear at the fountain head, all these wonderful stories,
which had probably reached them under a hundred exaggerated forms. No
sooner had they entered their lodgings, than they were visited and examined
by the police, and their deposition taken down as to their motives for
visiting the capital, their place of birth, etc. As a gratuitous piece of
information, one of them mentioned, that, passing by a barber's shop
(probably with his eyes opened wide in the expectation of seeing horrible
sights), he had observed a man talking to the barber, who had a stain of
blood upon his _queue_ (hair being then worn powdered and tied behind).
Trifling as this circumstance appears to us, the viceroy ordered that the
person who mentioned it should instantly conduct the police officers to the
shop where he had observed it. The shop being found, the barber was
questioned as to what persons he had been conversing with that morning, and
mentioned about half-a-dozen; amongst others _Aldama_, who did not bear a
very good reputation. Aldama was sent for, confronted with the man who gave
the information, identified as the same, and the stain of blood being
observed, he was immediately committed to prison upon suspicion. Being
questioned as to the cause of the stain, he replied, that being at a
cock-fight, on such a day, at such an hour, the blood from one of the dying
cocks, which he held, had spirted up, and stained the collar of his shirt
and his hair. Inquiries being made at the cock-pit, this was corroborated
by several witnesses, and extraordinary as it is, it is most probable that
the _assertion was true_.
But meanwhile, the mother of Blanco, deeply distressed at the dissolute
courses of her son, took the resolution (which proves more than anything
else Revillagigedo's goodness, and the confidence which all classes had in
him) to consult the viceroy as to the means of converting the young man to
better habits. It seems as if the hand of an avenging Providence had
conducted this unfortunate mother to take a step so fatal to her son. She
told the viceroy that she had in vain attempted to check him, that his days
and nights were spent with profligate companions in gambling-houses and in
cock-pits, and that she feared some mischief would come some day from his
fighting and swearing and drinking; that but a few days since he had come
home late, and that she had observed that his stockings were _dabbled in
blood_; that she had questioned him upon it, and that he had answered
surlily he had got it in the cock-pit. Her narration was hardly concluded,
before Blanco was arrested and placed in a separate cell of the same prison
with Aldama. Shortly after, Quintero, only as being the intimate friend and
companion of both parties, was taken up on suspicion and lodged in the same
prison; all being separately confined, and no communication permitted
between them.
It seems as if Quintero, perhaps the least hardened of the three, was
struck with the conviction that, in the extraordinary combination of
circumstances which had led to the arrest of himself and his companions in
villany, the finger of God was too distinctly visible to permit a doubt of
ultimate discovery to rest upon his mind, for he confessed at once, and
declaring that he saw all denial was useless, gave a circumstantial account
of the whole. He begged for nine days' grace to prepare himself for death,
but the viceroy would grant but three. When Aldama confessed, he made the
avowal that he was guilty of a previous murder, when he was alcalde of a
village near Mexico, which was before the time of Revillagigedo, and for
which he had been tried and acquitted. He being alcalde, the postman of the
village was in the habit of passing by his house, giving him an account of
whatever money he had collected, etc. One evening this man stopped at
Aldama's, and told him he was intrusted with a sum of fifteen hundred
dollars to carry to a neighbouring village. At twelve o'clock he left
Aldama's house, who, taking a short cut across the fields, reached the
postman by this other direction, stabbed him, and carried back the money.
Next day, when the murder was made known, the alcalde, in his robes of
justice, visited the body, and affected to institute a strict search for
the murderer. Nevertheless he was suspected and arrested, but escaped by
bribery, and shortly after, leaving the village, came to the wider theatre
of Mexico.
The murderers having thus made their confession, were ordered to prepare
for death. A scaffold erected between the central gate of the palace, and
that which is now the principal gate of the city guards, was hung with
black to denote that the criminals were of noble blood. An immense crowd
were assembled; and the viceroy, standing on the balcony of his palace,
witnessed the execution in the great square, the _very day week_ that the
murders were committed.
The streets were then kept in perfect order, both as to paving and
lighting; and on one occasion, having rode all through the city, as was his
custom, to observe whether everything was in order for the holy week, he
observed that several parts of the different streets were unpaved, and out
of repair; whereupon, sending for the head of the police, he desired that
these streets should be paved and in order before the holy week, of which
it wanted but a few days. The officer declared the thing to be impossible.
The viceroy ordered it to be done, on the penalty of losing his place.
Early on the morning of Palm Sunday, he sent to know if all was in
readiness; and as the bells tolled for early mass, the last stone was laid
on the Calle San Francisco, which completed the work....
It is said he frequently went about _incog_., attended by one or two
aides-de-camp, by which means, like another Haroun Al Raschid, he was
enabled to discover and correct hidden abuses. By his orders, no monk could
be out of his convent after vespers. Walking one evening along the streets,
he encountered a monk in the Calle San Francisco, taking his pleasure long
after the appointed hour. The viceroy walked directly to the convent; and
on making himself known, was received by the abbot with all due respect.
"How many monks have you in your convent, father?" asked the viceroy.
"Fifty, your Excellency." "There are now only forty-nine. Call them over,
see which is the missing brother, and let his name be struck out." The list
was produced--the names called over, and only forty-five monks presented
themselves. By order of the viceroy, the five who had broken through the
rules, were never again admitted into the convent. Alas! could his
Excellency have lived in these our degenerate days, and beheld certain
monks of a certain order drinking pulque and otherwise disporting
themselves! nay, seen one, as we but just now did from the window,
strolling along the street by lamplight, with an _Yntida_ (Indian girl)
tucked under his arm!....
One more anecdote of the "immortal Revillagigedo," and I have done. It was
very late at night, when not far from the gate of the city called "The
lost child," (in commemoration of that period when "_the child Jesús
tarried behind in Jerusalem_," and that his parents sought for him
sorrowing,) his Excellency encountered a good-looking damsel, walking
briskly and alone, at these untimely hours; yet withal quiet and modest in
her demeanour. Wishing to try the temper of her steel (or brass) he left
his officers a little way behind; and perhaps they were not astonished....
"Oh! by no means, certainly not!"--when they saw the grave and severe
Revillagigedo approach the fair maiden somewhat familiarly, and request
permission to accompany her in her rambles, a proposal which was
indignantly rejected. "Anda!" (Come!) said his Excellency, "give over
these airs--you, a _mugercilla_, strolling about in search of adventures."
Imagine the feelings of his Excellency, on receiving in reply a tremendous
and well-applied box on the ear! The staff rushed forward, and were
astonished to find the viceroy with a smiling countenance, watching the
retreating steps of the adventurous damsel. "What! your Excellency--such
insolence! such audacity! such--" "Come, come," said the viceroy, "she has
proved herself worthy of our favour. Let instant inquiry be made as to her
birth and parentage, and as to her reasons for being on the streets at
this hour. They must be honest ones." The result proved the viceroy
correct in his opinion. She was a poor girl, supporting a dying mother by
giving music lessons, and obliged to trudge on foot from house to house at
all hours; and amongst her scholars was the daughter of an old lady who
lived out of the gates of the city, and from whose house, being that of
her last visited pupil, she had frequently to return late at night. On
being informed of these particulars, his Excellency ordered her a pension
of three hundred dollars per annum, to be continued to the day of her
death, and it is said she is still alive, though very old. This is making
one's fortune by a _coup de main_, or by a lucky hit!
August 6th.--This morning we had some very good music; Madame Castellan and
the tenor, and Madame Cesari having passed some hours here, together with
Madame la Baronne de ----- and a few other gentlemen and ladies. La
Castellan was very amiable, and sang beautifully, but looked pale and
fatigued. She has been very effective lately in the Somnambula. Madame
Cesari was in great beauty.
About an hour after they had gone, the new Minister and his family made
their _entree_ into Mexico. It is now, however, too late for us to return
till the autumn, as there is a great deal of fever at Vera Cruz; nor do we
entirely give up hopes, as soon as C---n shall be at leisure, of making
another journey on horseback into the interior. There are, however, rumours
of another pronunciamiento, and should this be the case, our present
quarters next to the palace will be more distinguished than agreeable.
I have always had a curiosity to know why the Calle del Indio Triste
(Street of the Sad Indian) was so called. We are on visiting terms with two
or three _houses_ in that street, and never pass those large black letters,
which tell the passenger that this is the street of "_The Sad Indian_,"
without my imagination figuring to itself that here some tragedy connected
with the conquest must have taken place. It was therefore with great joy
that I fell upon an article in the "Mosaico Mejicano," purporting to give
an explanation of this melancholy title-page to an otherwise very tolerable
(in the way of houses) but very ill-paved street, where, amongst other
handsome edifices, is the house of a rich Spaniard (Señor R---o),
remarkable for its beautiful entrance and elegant _salons_. It appears that
there are different traditions respecting it. One, that shortly after the
conquest, a rich cacique lived there, who acted as a spy on his Indian
brethren, and informed the viceroy of all their plans and combinations
against the government; but that on one occasion, having failed to inform
his patrons of an intended mutiny, they seized this pretext for
sequestrating his property:--that afterwards, poor, abandoned and despised,
he sat down in the corner of the street, weeping his misfortune and meeting
with no pity; until at length he abstained from all food for some days, and
was found dead in the corner of the street, sitting in the same melancholy
posture; that the viceroy declared his wealth crown property, and with the
intention of striking terror into the hearts of the malcontents, caused a
stone statue to be made representing the weeping Indian; that this statue
was placed at the corner of the street, with its back to the wall, and so
remained until, the house being pulled down, the statue was sent to the
Museum, where it now is; the street retaining the name of the Sad Indian.
But there is another tradition mentioned concerning the origin of the name,
more interesting and even more probable. It appears that the ground now
occupied by this street is the site of the Palace of Axayacatl, the father
of Montezuma, last Emperor of Mexico. In this spacious and magnificent
palace the Spaniards were received and lodged, and, according to
Torquemada, each in a separate apartment. There were a multitude of idols
in this dwelling, and though they had no separate temple, various feasts
were dedicated to them. After the conquest they were for the most part
broken and destroyed, and it was only lately that, by accident, the head of
the god of the waters, beautifully worked in serpentine marble, was
discovered there; still, one statue had been preserved, that of an Indian,
said to have been placed there by the Aztecs, as a memorial of their sorrow
at the death of Montezuma, to whom, on account of his misfortunes, they
gave the name of "_el Indio triste_." This was afterwards placed at the
corner of the new building erected there by the Spaniards, and gave its
name to the street. It is a melancholy looking statue, whomsoever it may
represent, of an Indian in a sitting posture, with a most dejected and
forlorn air and countenance. The material is basaltic stone.
11th.--C---n has just returned from seeing the general archives, which are
all in confusion and going to ruin. Don Ygnacio Cuevas, who has the charge
of them, has written various works--the History of the Viceroys-the
Californias, etc.--which were robbed or destroyed in the last
pronunciamiento. He related the story of Revillagigedo and the jewels, only
differing from _my_ friend's narrative in that he says it was not a
jewel-case, but a diamond bracelet. He assured C---n that Mexico in Indian
means "below this," alluding to the population who, according to tradition,
are buried beneath the _Pedregal_.
18th.--News has arrived that General Paredes _pronounced_ in Guadalajara on
the eighth of the month! Strange rumours are afloat, and it is generally
supposed that Santa Anna is or will be the prime mover of the great changes
that are predicted. By many, however, it is talked of as very trifling, as
a mere movement that will soon be put down. The plan which Paredes has
published is essentially military, but announces a congress, which renders
it very popular in the departments. It has been adopted by the departments
of Zacatecas, Durango, and Guanajvato. Meanwhile, everything continues here
as usual. We have been several times at the opera; the _paseos_ are very
crowded, and we had a musical _soirée_ the other evening, which was very
gay, but from the signs of the times, will probably be our last in Mexico.
28th.--This morning C---n took his farewell audience of the president, and
the new Minister was received.
3Oth.--These few last days have chiefly been spent in paying visits of
ceremony with the Señora -----. Nevertheless we spent an hour last evening
in the beautiful cemetery a little way out of the city, which is rather a
favourite haunt of ours, and is known as the "_Panteon de Santa María_." It
has a beautiful chapel attached to it, where the daily mass is said for the
dead, and a large garden filled with flowers. Young trees of different
kinds have been planted there, and the sight of the tombs themselves, in
their long and melancholy array of black coffins, with gold-lettered
inscriptions, even while it inspires the saddest ideas, has something
soothing in its effect. They are kept in perfect order, and the
inscriptions, though not always eloquent, are almost always full of
feeling, and sometimes extremely touching. There is one near the entrance,
which is pathetic in its native language, and though it loses much in the
translation, I shall transcribe it:
"Here lie the beloved remains of Carmen and José Pimentel y Heras. The
first died the 11th of June, 1838, aged one year and eleven months; the
second on the 5th of September of 1839, in the sixteenth month of his
existence; and to their dear memory maternal love dedicates the
following:--
"EPITAPH.
"Babes of my love! my Carmen and José!
Sons of your cherished father, Pimentel.
Why have you left your mother's side? for whom?
What motives have ye had to leave me thus?
But hark! I hear your voice--and breathlessly I listen.
I hear ye say--'To go to heaven!
Mother! we have left thee to see our God!'
Beloved shades! if this indeed be so,
Then let these bitter tears be turned to joy.
It is not meet that I should mourn for ye,
Since me ye have exchanged for my God.
To Him give thanks! and in your holy songs,
Pray that your parents' fate may be like yours."