CHAPTER III.
DON MIGUEL ZARATE.
Were Mexico better governed, it would be, without contradiction, one ofthe richest countries on the face of the globe. Indeed the largestprivate fortunes must still be sought in that country. Since the UnitedStates Americans have revealed to the world, by seizing one-half ofMexico, whither their ambition tends, the inhabitants of that finecountry have slightly emerged from the torpor they enjoyed, and havemade great efforts to colonise their provinces, and summon to theirsoil, which is so rich and fertile, intelligent and industriouslabourers, who might change the face of affairs, and cause abundance andwealth to abound at spots, where, prior to their arrival, there wasnaught 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 owingto the natural apathy of the inhabitants, or the fault of the MexicanGovernment itself. Still the large landowners, comprehending all theadvantages of the proposed measure, and how much it is to their interestto combat the deadly influence of the American invasions, havegenerously devoted themselves to the realization of this great questionof social economy, which, unluckily is growing more and moreunrealisable.
In fact, in Northern America two hostile races--the Anglo-Saxon and theSpanish--stand face to face. The Anglo-Saxons are devoured by an ardourfor conquest, and a rage for invasion, which nothing can arrest, or evenretard. It is impossible to see without amazement the expansivetendencies of this active and singular people, a heterogeneous compositeof all the races which misery or evil instincts expelled from Europeoriginally, and which feels restricted in the immense territory whichits numerical weakness yet prevents it entirely occupying.
Imprisoned within its vast frontiers, making a right of strength, it iscontinually displacing its neighbours' landmarks, and encroaching onterritory of which it can make no use. Daily, bands of emigrants abandontheir dwellings, and with their rifles on their shoulders, their axes intheir hand, they proceed south, as if impelled by a will stronger thanthemselves; and neither mountains, deserts, nor virgin forests aresufficient obstacles to make them halt even for an instant. The Yankeesimagine themselves generally the instruments of Providence, andappointed by the decrees of the Omnipotent to people and civilise theNew World. They count with feverish impatience the hours which mustelapse ere the day (close at hand in their ideas) arrive in which theirrace and government system will occupy the entire space containedbetween Cape North and the Isthmus of Panama, to the exclusion of theSpanish republics on one side, and the English colonies on the other.
These projects, of which the Americans make no mystery, but, on thecontrary, openly boast, are perfectly well known to the Mexicans, whocordially detest their neighbours, and employ all the means in theirpower to create difficulties for them, and impede their successiveencroachments.
Among the New Mexican landowners who resolved to make sacrifices inorder to stop, or at least check, the imminent invasion from NorthAmerica, the richest, and possibly, first of all, through hisintelligence and the influence he justly enjoyed in the country, was DonMiguel Acamarichtzin Zarate.
Whatever may be asserted, the Indian population of Mexico is nearlydouble in number to the white men, and possesses an enormous influence.Don Miguel descended in a straight line from Acamarichtzin, first kingof Mexico, whose name had been preserved in the family as a preciousrelic. Possessed of an incalculable fortune, Don Miguel lived on hisenormous estates like a king in his empire, beloved and respected by theIndians, whom he effectively protected whenever the occasion presenteditself, and who felt for him a veneration carried almost to idolatry;for they saw in him the descendant from one of their most celebratedkings, and the born defender of their race.
In New Mexico the Indian population has very largely increased duringthe past fifty years. Some authors, indeed, assert that it is now morenumerous than prior to the conquest, which is very probable, through theapathy of the Spaniards, and the carelessness they have ever displayedin their struggles against it. But the Indians have remained stationaryamid the incessant progress of civilization, and still retain intact theprincipal traits of their old manners. Scattered here and there inmiserable ranchos or villages, they live in separate tribes, governed bytheir caciques, and they have mingled but very few Spanish words withtheir idioms, which they speak as in the time of the Aztecs. The soleapparent change in them is their conversion to Catholicism--a conversionmore than problematical, as they preserve with the utmost care all therecollections of their ancient religion, follow its rites in secret, andkeep 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 theirdesert congeners; and in the incursions of the Apaches and Comanches itis 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 countryit did not leave again--a few years after the conquests of theadventurer Cortez. Don Miguel had closely followed the policy of hisfamily by maintaining the bonds of friendship and good neighbourhoodwhich, from time immemorial, attached it to the Indians, believers ornot. This policy had borne its fruit. Annually, in September, when theterrible red warriors, preceded by murder and arson, rushed like atorrent on the wretched inhabitants, whom they massacred in the farmsthey plundered, without pity of age or sex, Don Miguel Zarate's estateswere respected; and not merely was no damage inflicted on them, but evenif at times a field were unwittingly trampled by the horses' hoofs, or afew trees destroyed by plunderers, the evil was immediately repaired erethe owner had opportunity for complaint.
This conduct of the Indians had not failed to arouse against Don Miguelextreme jealousy on the part of the inhabitants, who saw themselvesperiodically ruined by the _Indios Bravos._ Earnest complaints had beenlaid against him before the Mexican Government; but whatever might bethe power of his enemies, and the means they employed to ruin him, therich hacendero had never been seriously disturbed: in the first place,because New Mexico is too remote from the capital for the inhabitants tohave anything to fear from the governing classes; and secondly, DonMiguel was too rich not to render it easy for him to impose silence onthose who were most disposed to injure him.
Don Miguel, whose portrait we drew in a previous chapter, was left awidower after eight years' marriage, with two children, a boy and agirl, the son being twenty-four, the daughter seventeen, at the periodwhen our story opens. Dona Clara--such was the daughter's name--was oneof the most delicious maidens that can be imagined. She had one of thoseMurillo's virgin heads, whose black eyes, fringed with long silkylashes, pure mouth, and dreamy brow seem to promise divine joys. Hercomplexion, slightly bronzed by the warm sunbeams, wore that gildedreflection which so well becomes the women of these intertropicalcountries. She was short of stature, but exquisitely modelled. Gentleand simple, ignorant as a Creole, this delicious child was adored by herfather, who saw in her the wife he had so loved living once more. TheIndians looked after her when she at times passed pensively, plucking aflower before their wretched huts, and scarce bending the slants onwhich she placed her delicate foot. In their hearts they compared thisfrail maiden, with her soft and vaporous outline, to the "virgin of thefirst loves," that sublime creation of the Indian religion which holdsso great a place in the Aztec mythology.
Don Pablo Zarate, the hacendero's son, was a powerfully built man, withharshly marked features, and a haughty glance, although at times it wasimprinted with gentleness and kindness. Endowed with more than ordinarystrength, skilled in all bodily exercises, Don Pablo was renownedthrough the whole country for his talent in taming the most spiritedhorses, and the correctness of his aim when on the chase. A determinedhunter and daring wood ranger, this young man, when he had a good horsebetween 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 forthe father, and fancied they saw in him the personification of_Huitzilopochtli_, that terrible war god of the Aztecs, to whom 62,000human victims were sacrificed in one day, upon the inauguration of his_teocali_.
The Zarates, then, at the period when our story opens, were real kingsof New Mexico. The felicity they enjoyed was suddenly troubled by one ofthose vulgar incidents which, though unimportant in themselves, do notfail to cause a general perturbation, and a discomfort possessing noapparent cause, from the fact that it is impossible to foresee orprevent them. The circumstance was as follows:--
Don Miguel possessed, in the vicinity of the Paso, vast estatesextending for a great distance, and consisting principally of haciendas,prairies, and forests. One day Don Miguel was returning from a visit tohis haciendas. It was late, and he pressed on his horse in order toreach ere night the ford, when, at about three or four leagues at themost from the spot to which he was proceeding, and just as he wasentering a dense forest of cottonwood trees, through which he must passere reaching the ford, his attention was attracted by cries mingled withgrowls emerging from the wood he was about to enter. The hacenderostopped in order to account for the unusual sounds he heard, and benthis head forward to detect what was happening. But it was impossible forhim to distinguish anything through the chaos of creepers and shrubswhich intercepted vision. In the meanwhile, the noise grew louder, andthe shouts were redoubled, and mingled with oaths and passionateexclamations.
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 probablyattacked by wild beasts, he only consulted his heart; and, in spite ofthe visible repugnance of his steed, he compelled it to go forward andenter the wood. He had scarce gone a few yards ere he stopped inamazement at the strange spectacle that presented itself to him.
The Trail-Hunter: A Tale of the Far West Page 3