DON MIGUEL ZARATE.
Were Mexico better governed, it would be, without contradiction, one of
the richest countries on the face of the globe. Indeed the largest
private fortunes must still be sought in that country. Since the United
States Americans have revealed to the world, by seizing one-half of
Mexico, whither their ambition tends, the inhabitants of that fine
country have slightly emerged from the torpor they enjoyed, and have
made great efforts to colonise their provinces, and summon to their
soil, which is so rich and fertile, intelligent and industrious
labourers, who might change the face of affairs, and cause abundance and
wealth to abound at spots, where, prior to their arrival, there was
naught save ruin, desolation, carelessness, and misery.
Unfortunately, the noble efforts made up to the present day have,
through an inexplicable fatality, remained without result, either owing
to the natural apathy of the inhabitants, or the fault of the Mexican
Government itself. Still the large landowners, comprehending all the
advantages of the proposed measure, and how much it is to their interest
to combat the deadly influence of the American invasions, have
generously devoted themselves to the realization of this great question
of social economy, which, unluckily is growing more and more
unrealisable.
In fact, in Northern America two hostile races--the Anglo-Saxon and the
Spanish--stand face to face. The Anglo-Saxons are devoured by an ardour
for conquest, and a rage for invasion, which nothing can arrest, or even
retard. It is impossible to see without amazement the expansive
tendencies of this active and singular people, a heterogeneous composite
of all the races which misery or evil instincts expelled from Europe
originally, and which feels restricted in the immense territory which
its numerical weakness yet prevents it entirely occupying.
Imprisoned within its vast frontiers, making a right of strength, it is
continually displacing its neighbours' landmarks, and encroaching on
territory of which it can make no use. Daily, bands of emigrants abandon
their dwellings, and with their rifles on their shoulders, their axes in
their hand, they proceed south, as if impelled by a will stronger than
themselves; and neither mountains, deserts, nor virgin forests are
sufficient obstacles to make them halt even for an instant. The Yankees
imagine themselves generally the instruments of Providence, and
appointed by the decrees of the Omnipotent to people and civilise the
New World. They count with feverish impatience the hours which must
elapse ere the day (close at hand in their ideas) arrive in which their
race and government system will occupy the entire space contained
between Cape North and the Isthmus of Panama, to the exclusion of the
Spanish republics on one side, and the English colonies on the other.
These projects, of which the Americans make no mystery, but, on the
contrary, openly boast, are perfectly well known to the Mexicans, who
cordially detest their neighbours, and employ all the means in their
power to create difficulties for them, and impede their successive
encroachments.
Among the New Mexican landowners who resolved to make sacrifices in
order to stop, or at least check, the imminent invasion from North
America, the richest, and possibly, first of all, through his
intelligence and the influence he justly enjoyed in the country, was Don
Miguel Acamarichtzin Zarate.
Whatever may be asserted, the Indian population of Mexico is nearly
double in number to the white men, and possesses an enormous influence.
Don Miguel descended in a straight line from Acamarichtzin, first king
of Mexico, whose name had been preserved in the family as a precious
relic. Possessed of an incalculable fortune, Don Miguel lived on his
enormous estates like a king in his empire, beloved and respected by the
Indians, whom he effectively protected whenever the occasion presented
itself, and who felt for him a veneration carried almost to idolatry;
for they saw in him the descendant from one of their most celebrated
kings, and the born defender of their race.
In New Mexico the Indian population has very largely increased during
the past fifty years. Some authors, indeed, assert that it is now more
numerous than prior to the conquest, which is very probable, through the
apathy of the Spaniards, and the carelessness they have ever displayed
in their struggles against it. But the Indians have remained stationary
amid the incessant progress of civilization, and still retain intact the
principal traits of their old manners. Scattered here and there in
miserable ranchos or villages, they live in separate tribes, governed by
their caciques, and they have mingled but very few Spanish words with
their idioms, which they speak as in the time of the Aztecs. The sole
apparent change in them is their conversion to Catholicism--a conversion
more than problematical, as they preserve with the utmost care all the
recollections of their ancient religion, follow its rites in secret, and
keep up all its superstitious practices.
The Indians--above all, in New Mexico--although called _Indios fideles_,
are always ready on the first opportunity to ally themselves with their
desert congeners; and in the incursions of the Apaches and Comanches it
is rare for the faithful Indians not to serve them as scouts, guides,
and spies.
The family of Don Miguel Zarate had retired to New Mexico, which country
it did not leave again--a few years after the conquests of the
adventurer Cortez. Don Miguel had closely followed the policy of his
family by maintaining the bonds of friendship and good neighbourhood
which, from time immemorial, attached it to the Indians, believers or
not. This policy had borne its fruit. Annually, in September, when the
terrible red warriors, preceded by murder and arson, rushed like a
torrent on the wretched inhabitants, whom they massacred in the farms
they plundered, without pity of age or sex, Don Miguel Zarate's estates
were respected; and not merely was no damage inflicted on them, but even
if at times a field were unwittingly trampled by the horses' hoofs, or a
few trees destroyed by plunderers, the evil was immediately repaired ere
the owner had opportunity for complaint.
This conduct of the Indians had not failed to arouse against Don Miguel
extreme jealousy on the part of the inhabitants, who saw themselves
periodically ruined by the _Indios Bravos._ Earnest complaints had been
laid against him before the Mexican Government; but whatever might be
the power of his enemies, and the means they employed to ruin him, the
rich hacendero had never been seriously disturbed: in the first place,
because New Mexico is too remote from the capital for the inhabitants to
have anything to fear from the governing classes; and secondly, Don
Miguel was too rich not to render it easy for him to impose silence on
those who were most disposed to injure him.
Don Miguel, whose portrait we drew in a previous chapter, was left a
widower after eight years' marriage, with two children, a boy and a
girl, the son being twenty-four, the daughter seventeen, at the period
when our story opens. Doña Clara--such was the daughter's name--was one
of the most delicious maidens that can be imagined. She had one of those
Murillo's virgin heads, whose black eyes, fringed with long silky
lashes, pure mouth, and dreamy brow seem to promise divine joys. Her
complexion, slightly bronzed by the warm sunbeams, wore that gilded
reflection which so well becomes the women of these intertropical
countries. She was short of stature, but exquisitely modelled. Gentle
and simple, ignorant as a Creole, this delicious child was adored by her
father, who saw in her the wife he had so loved living once more. The
Indians looked after her when she at times passed pensively, plucking a
flower before their wretched huts, and scarce bending the slants on
which she placed her delicate foot. In their hearts they compared this
frail maiden, with her soft and vaporous outline, to the "virgin of the
first loves," that sublime creation of the Indian religion which holds
so great a place in the Aztec mythology.
Don Pablo Zarate, the hacendero's son, was a powerfully built man, with
harshly marked features, and a haughty glance, although at times it was
imprinted with gentleness and kindness. Endowed with more than ordinary
strength, skilled in all bodily exercises, Don Pablo was renowned
through the whole country for his talent in taming the most spirited
horses, and the correctness of his aim when on the chase. A determined
hunter and daring wood ranger, this young man, when he had a good horse
between his legs, and his rifle in his hand, knew none, man or animal,
capable of barring his passage. The Indians, in their simple faith,
yielded to the son the same respect and veneration they entertained for
the father, and fancied they saw in him the personification of
_Huitzilopochtli_, that terrible war god of the Aztecs, to whom 62,000
human victims were sacrificed in one day, upon the inauguration of his
_teocali_.
The Zarates, then, at the period when our story opens, were real kings
of New Mexico. The felicity they enjoyed was suddenly troubled by one of
those vulgar incidents which, though unimportant in themselves, do not
fail to cause a general perturbation, and a discomfort possessing no
apparent cause, from the fact that it is impossible to foresee or
prevent them. The circumstance was as follows:--
Don Miguel possessed, in the vicinity of the Paso, vast estates
extending for a great distance, and consisting principally of haciendas,
prairies, and forests. One day Don Miguel was returning from a visit to
his haciendas. It was late, and he pressed on his horse in order to
reach ere night the ford, when, at about three or four leagues at the
most from the spot to which he was proceeding, and just as he was
entering a dense forest of cottonwood trees, through which he must pass
ere reaching the ford, his attention was attracted by cries mingled with
growls emerging from the wood he was about to enter. The hacendero
stopped in order to account for the unusual sounds he heard, and bent
his head forward to detect what was happening. But it was impossible for
him to distinguish anything through the chaos of creepers and shrubs
which intercepted vision. In the meanwhile, the noise grew louder, and
the shouts were redoubled, and mingled with oaths and passionate
exclamations.
The Mexican's horse laid back its ears, neighed, and refused to advance.
Still Don Miguel must make up his mind. Thinking that a man was probably
attacked by wild beasts, he only consulted his heart; and, in spite of
the visible repugnance of his steed, he compelled it to go forward and
enter the wood. He had scarce gone a few yards ere he stopped in
amazement at the strange spectacle that presented itself to him.