Accustomed to live under a strong government, with its well-organised
system of police, we in England have a difficulty in comprehending how a
regular band of robbers can maintain itself in the midst of a civilised
nation.
We know that we have gangs of burglars, and fraternities of thieves,
whose sole profession is to plunder. The _footpad_ is not quite
extinct; and although he occasionally enacts the _role_ of the
highwayman, and demands "your money or your life," neither in dress nor
personal appearance is he to be distinguished from the ordinary
tradesman, or labourer. More often is he like the latter.
Moreover, he does not bid open defiance to the law. He breaks it in a
sneaking, surreptitious fashion; and if by chance he resists its
execution, his resistance is inspired by the fear of capture and its
consequences--the scaffold, or penitentiary.
This defiance rarely goes further than an attempt to escape from the
policeman, with a bull's-eye in one hand and a truncheon in the other.
The idea of a band of brigands showing fight, not only to a posse of
sheriffs' officers, but to a detachment, perhaps half a regiment, of
soldiers--a band armed with swords, carbines, and pistols; costumed and
equipped in a style characteristic of their calling--is one, to
comprehend which we must fancy ourselves transported to the mountains of
Italy, or the rugged ravines of the Spanish sierras. We even wonder at
the existence of such a state of things there; and, until very lately,
were loth to believe in it. Your London shopkeeper would not credit the
stories of travellers being captured, and retained in captivity until
ransomed by their friends--or if they had no friends, shot!
Surely the government of the country could rescue them? This was the
query usually put by the incredulous.
There is now a clearer understanding of such things. The experience of
an humble English artist has established the fact: that the whole power
of Italy--backed by that of England--has been compelled to make terms
with a robber-chief, and pay him the sum of _four thousand pounds_ for
the surrender of his painter-prisoner!
The shopkeeper, as he sits in the theatre pit, or gazes down from the
second tier of boxes, will now take a stronger interest in "Fra Diavolo"
than he ever did before. He knows that the devil's brother is a
reality, and Mazzaroni something more than a romantic conceit of the
author's imagination.
But there is a robber of still more picturesque style to which the
Englishman cannot give his credibility--a bandit not only armed,
costumed, and equipped like the Fra Diavolos and Mazzaronis, but who
follows his profession _on horseback_!
And not _alone_--like the Turpins and Claude Duvals of our own past
times--but trooped along with twenty, fifty, and often a hundred of his
fellows!
For this equestrian freebooter--the true type of the highwayman--you
must seek, in modern times, among the mountains, and upon the plains, of
Mexico. There you will find him in full _fanfar_; plying his craft with
as much earnestness, and industry, as if it were the most respectable of
professions!
In the city and its suburbs, brigandage exists in the shape of the
_picaron-a-pied_--or "robber on foot"--in short, the _footpad_. In the
country it assumes a far more exalted standard--being there elevated to
the rank of a regular calling; its practitioners not going in little
groups, and afoot--after the fashion of our thieves and garotters--but
acting in large organised bands, mounted on magnificent horses, with a
discipline almost military!
These are the true "bandoleros," sometimes styled _salteadores del
camino grande_--"robbers of the great road"--in other words,
_highwaymen_.
You may meet them on the _camino grande_ leading from Vera Cruz to the
capital--by either of the routes of Jalapa or Orizava; on that between
the capital and the Pacific port of Acapulco; on the northern routes to
Queretaro, Guanaxuato, and San Luis Potosi; on the western, to
Guadalaxara and Michoacan; in short, everywhere that offers them the
chance of stripping a traveller.
Not only _may_ you meet them, but _will_, if you make but three
successive excursions over any one of the above named highways. You
will see the "salteador" on a horse much finer than that you are
yourself riding; in a suit of clothes thrice the value of your own--
sparkling with silver studs, and buttons of pearl or gold; his shoulders
covered with a _serape_, or perhaps a splendid _manga_ of finest
broadcloth--blue, purple, or scarlet.
You will see him, and feel him too--if you don't fall upon your face at
his stern summons "_A tierra_!" and afterwards deliver up to him every
article of value you have been so imprudent as to transport upon your
person.
Refuse the demand, and you will get the contents of carbine, _escopeta_,
or blunderbuss in your body, or it may be a lance-blade intruded into
your chest!
Yield graceful compliance, and he will as gracefully give you permission
to continue your journey--with, perhaps, an apology for having
interrupted it!
I know it is difficult to believe in such a state of things, in a
country called civilised--difficult to you. To me they are but
remembrances of many an actual experience.
Their existence is easily explained. You will have a clue to it, if you
can imagine a land, where, for a period of over fifty years, peace has
scarcely ever been known to continue for as many days; where all this
time anarchy has been the chronic condition; a land full of disappointed
spirits--unsatisfied aspirants to military fame, also _unpaid_; a land
of vast lonely plains and stupendous hills, whose shaggy sides form
impenetrable fastnesses--where the feeble pursued may bid defiance to
the strong pursuer.
And such is the land of Anahuac. Even within sight of its grandest
cities there are places of concealment--harbours of refuge--alike free
to the political patriot, and the outlawed _picaro_.
Like other strangers to New Spain, before setting foot upon its shores,
I was incredulous about this peculiarity of its social condition. It
was too abnormal to be true. I had read and heard tales of its
brigandage, and believed them to be tinged with exaggeration. A
_diligencia_ stopped every other day, often when accompanied by an
escort of dragoons--twenty to fifty in number; the passengers
maltreated, at times murdered--and these not always common people, but
often officers of rank in the army, representatives of the _Congresa_,
senators of the State, and even high dignitaries of the Church!
Afterwards I had reason to believe in the wholesale despoliation. I was
witness to more than one living illustration of it.
But, in truth, it is not so very different from what is daily, hourly,
occurring among ourselves. It is dishonesty under a different garb and
guise--a little bolder than that of our burglar--a little more
picturesque than that practised by the fustian-clad garotter of our
streets.
And let it be remembered, in favour of Mexican morality--that, for one
daring bandolero upon the road, we have a hundred sneaking thieves of
the attorney type--stock-jobbers--promoters of swindling speculations--
trade and skittle sharpers--to say nothing of our grand Government
swindle of over-taxation--all of which are known only exceptionally in
the land of Moctezuma.
In point of immorality--on one side stripping it of its picturesqueness,
on the other of its abominable plebbishness--I very much doubt, whether
the much-abused people of Mexico need fear comparison with the
much-bepraised people of England.
For my part, I most decidedly prefer the robber of the _road_, to him of
the _robe_; and I have had some experience of both.
This digression has been caused by my recalling an encounter with the
former, that occurred to me in La Puebla--on that same night when I
found myself forestalled.