by Mayne Reid
CHAPTER SEVEN.
BRIGANDAGE IN NEW SPAIN.
Accustomed to live under a strong government, with its well-organisedsystem of police, we in England have a difficulty in comprehending how aregular band of robbers can maintain itself in the midst of a civilisednation.
We know that we have gangs of burglars, and fraternities of thieves,whose sole profession is to plunder. The _footpad_ is not quiteextinct; and although he occasionally enacts the _role_ of thehighwayman, and demands "your money or your life," neither in dress norpersonal appearance is he to be distinguished from the ordinarytradesman, or labourer. More often is he like the latter.
Moreover, he does not bid open defiance to the law. He breaks it in asneaking, surreptitious fashion; and if by chance he resists itsexecution, his resistance is inspired by the fear of capture and itsconsequences--the scaffold, or penitentiary.
This defiance rarely goes further than an attempt to escape from thepoliceman, 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 ofsheriffs' officers, but to a detachment, perhaps half a regiment, ofsoldiers--a band armed with swords, carbines, and pistols; costumed andequipped in a style characteristic of their calling--is one, tocomprehend which we must fancy ourselves transported to the mountains ofItaly, or the rugged ravines of the Spanish sierras. We even wonder atthe existence of such a state of things there; and, until very lately,were loth to believe in it. Your London shopkeeper would not credit thestories of travellers being captured, and retained in captivity untilransomed by their friends--or if they had no friends, shot!
Surely the government of the country could rescue them? This was thequery usually put by the incredulous.
There is now a clearer understanding of such things. The experience ofan humble English artist has established the fact: that the whole powerof Italy--backed by that of England--has been compelled to make termswith a robber-chief, and pay him the sum of _four thousand pounds_ forthe surrender of his painter-prisoner!
The shopkeeper, as he sits in the theatre pit, or gazes down from thesecond 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 areality, and Mazzaroni something more than a romantic conceit of theauthor's imagination.
But there is a robber of still more picturesque style to which theEnglishman cannot give his credibility--a bandit not only armed,costumed, and equipped like the Fra Diavolos and Mazzaronis, but whofollows his profession _on horseback_!
And not _alone_--like the Turpins and Claude Duvals of our own pasttimes--but trooped along with twenty, fifty, and often a hundred of hisfellows!
For this equestrian freebooter--the true type of the highwayman--youmust seek, in modern times, among the mountains, and upon the plains, ofMexico. There you will find him in full _fanfar_; plying his craft withas much earnestness, and industry, as if it were the most respectable ofprofessions!
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 thecountry it assumes a far more exalted standard--being there elevated tothe rank of a regular calling; its practitioners not going in littlegroups, and afoot--after the fashion of our thieves and garotters--butacting in large organised bands, mounted on magnificent horses, with adiscipline almost military!
These are the true "bandoleros," sometimes styled _salteadores delcamino grande_--"robbers of the great road"--in other words,_highwaymen_.
You may meet them on the _camino grande_ leading from Vera Cruz to thecapital--by either of the routes of Jalapa or Orizava; on that betweenthe capital and the Pacific port of Acapulco; on the northern routes toQueretaro, Guanaxuato, and San Luis Potosi; on the western, toGuadalaxara and Michoacan; in short, everywhere that offers them thechance of stripping a traveller.
Not only _may_ you meet them, but _will_, if you make but threesuccessive excursions over any one of the above named highways. Youwill see the "salteador" on a horse much finer than that you areyourself riding; in a suit of clothes thrice the value of your own--sparkling with silver studs, and buttons of pearl or gold; his shoulderscovered with a _serape_, or perhaps a splendid _manga_ of finestbroadcloth--blue, purple, or scarlet.
You will see him, and feel him too--if you don't fall upon your face athis stern summons "_A tierra_!" and afterwards deliver up to him everyarticle of value you have been so imprudent as to transport upon yourperson.
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 intoyour chest!
Yield graceful compliance, and he will as gracefully give you permissionto continue your journey--with, perhaps, an apology for havinginterrupted it!
I know it is difficult to believe in such a state of things, in acountry called civilised--difficult to you. To me they are butremembrances of many an actual experience.
Their existence is easily explained. You will have a clue to it, if youcan imagine a land, where, for a period of over fifty years, peace hasscarcely ever been known to continue for as many days; where all thistime anarchy has been the chronic condition; a land full of disappointedspirits--unsatisfied aspirants to military fame, also _unpaid_; a landof vast lonely plains and stupendous hills, whose shaggy sides formimpenetrable fastnesses--where the feeble pursued may bid defiance tothe strong pursuer.
And such is the land of Anahuac. Even within sight of its grandestcities there are places of concealment--harbours of refuge--alike freeto 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. Itwas too abnormal to be true. I had read and heard tales of itsbrigandage, and believed them to be tinged with exaggeration. A_diligencia_ stopped every other day, often when accompanied by anescort of dragoons--twenty to fifty in number; the passengersmaltreated, at times murdered--and these not always common people, butoften 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 waswitness 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 andguise--a little bolder than that of our burglar--a little morepicturesque than that practised by the fustian-clad garotter of ourstreets.
And let it be remembered, in favour of Mexican morality--that, for onedaring bandolero upon the road, we have a hundred sneaking thieves ofthe attorney type--stock-jobbers--promoters of swindling speculations--trade and skittle sharpers--to say nothing of our grand Governmentswindle of over-taxation--all of which are known only exceptionally inthe 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, whetherthe much-abused people of Mexico need fear comparison with themuch-bepraised people of England.
For my part, I most decidedly prefer the robber of the _road_, to him ofthe _robe_; and I have had some experience of both.
This digression has been caused by my recalling an encounter with theformer, that occurred to me in La Puebla--on that same night when Ifound myself forestalled.
