Pictures of life in Mexico/Volume 1/Chapter 21
CHAPTER XXI.
OUTBREAKS DURING THE WAR.
It is not to be denied that the first hostilities between Mexico and the United States were characterized by many revolting-cruelties and uncalled-for atrocities—perpetrated for the most part by the soldiers and armed cumanches of the former country. Not to enter into any discussion as to the chief causes of quarrel, it is yet evident that the Mexicans had given their thin-skinned neighbours foundations for complaint. The most haughty and sneering refusals had been tendered to them when accommodations were proposed, and settlement of acknowledged dues demanded. A distasteful assumption of importance and superiority had been betrayed by the semi-Spaniards, on occasions when almost any other line of conduct ought to have been followed. The restless jealousy of their spirit which has so frequently given rise to rebellions and pronunciamientos among themselves, was undisguisedly manifested; and it only needed such a question as the annexation of Texas, to blow the embers of animosity into a fierce blaze, and to draw upon themselves (though the Texans strongly inclined to the new arrangement), the visitation and consequences of war.
A more detailed account is given in another chapter, of the fondness of the Mexican people for political changes, and declarations of war and independence. Suffice it to say, that on this occasion they rushed into hostilities with their usual precipitancy, confident of easy victory on account of their multitude: though the number of their armies is always much exaggerated.
They were also prepared, as the event proved, to bring cruelty itself—such barbarism as could only have been expected from the most savage nations—to aid them in their demonstrations of enmity against their adversaries.
Fastening upon a number of prisoners, some Texans and some Americans, they marshalled them in the most summary manner for the decision of their officers; ordered them out without the formality of a trial, and shot every individual of them, without mercy or delay.
Capturing other parties of Americans, part of whom were women—camp-followers and soldiers' wives—they fell upon them in indiscriminate revenge, and ruthlessly cut their throats; sparing none: their dead bodies, weltering in their blood, were afterwards discovered by their friends.
They hung and cut to pieces several Mexicans and Texans, whose only crime consisted in acting as compulsory guides to the hostile army; and left their mutilated remains exposed in conspicuous places as warnings to others.
It was their practice to extort, by the most brutal threats and unlicensed conduct, the money and property of individuals unfortunate enough to be in their vicinity; or, failing this, to outrage their families, or sacrifice a portion of them to their mean revenge. They exhibited the utmost baseness and duplicity in case of attempts at compromise, or interchange of prisoners, in relation to small parties who had been betrayed into their hands. And they stripped and plundered the bodies of the American dead, left on the field of battle; bruising' and mutilating them in the most brutish and vindictive manner.
It is consoling to know, however, that in course of time such barbarities became fewer and further between; until at length they ceased altogether, and hostilities were conducted a little more in accordance with the dictates of humanity. As the Americans approached the capital—though strenuous exertions to the contrary were made by priests and others—their advent was regarded, by the more intelligent inhabitants, rather as a token of forthcoming tranquillity than otherwise.
Such proceedings as the foregoing gave rise to reprisals on the part of the Americans: a number of the vile cumanches and rancheros—who had been foremost in several of the atrocities last named—were elevated to the dignity of high gallows-trees: others were shot, taken in the act. The Mexican officers were indignantly expostulated with and threatened on the subject and prompt and vigorous measures were resorted to, until at length the taste for such horrors was forcibly subdued.The subsequent generosity of the American general shines in happy contrast with these deeds. A large party of wounded Mexicans was left in the hospital, totally unprovided for, on the retreat of Santa Anna's army from Buena Vista. In this dreadful retreat hundreds of the wounded were left by the way-side, helpless and suffering, to be devoured piecemeal by wolves, even before their death; and numbers who had escaped unscathed from the fight, perished on their march, in the agonies of thirst and hunger. On General Taylor becoming acquainted with the fact, he despatched such medical assistance as he could spare, together with between thirty and forty mules laden with provisions, to their assistance. This is only a single instance, out of many that might be recorded, to the credit of the Americans at this period.
There was one villanous cumanche named Bacho, who had signalized himself on several occasions—leading on a troop of his associates to plunder and maltreat the dead on the field of battle; sharing the hateful spoil among his followers, after appropriating the largest portion to himself; and spending his ill-gotten gains in the most unrestrained debauchery. Many individuals of the present race of priests in Mexico, as I have elsewhere observed, are descended from the lowest grades of the populace, and have relatives and connections among them: for the original Spanish ecclesiastics are no longer to be found. This Bacho, as it happened, was the brother of a priest; and although the avocations of the two men were so different—the priest being occupied in caring for the welfare of the Church, in which was included his own, and the cumanche in herding with a troop of wretches as vile as himself, for the worst purposes—there was yet a great resemblance between the brothers. They had the same avaricious spirit, mean cunning, and revengeful passions; and each, most probably, would have acted in a precisely similar way had he been in the situation of the other.
Bacho was a most repulsive wretch in appearance; low in stature, like most Mexicans, he cowered and stooped in his gait continually, like a wild beast creeping to his lair. His eyes were quick, yet downcast; his face broad, yet sunken, protruding and retreating like that of a dog; his limbs were gaunt and sharp, the bones appearing ready to pierce the skin; and his hide was so shrivelled and darkened that his resemblance to one of the lower animals seemed, on the whole, complete. This creature during an engagement would keep the utmost distance, but seemed to riot with the wolves and vultures over the field of battle afterwards; preying on and plundering the bodies of both friends and foes after death.
Several efforts had been made by the Americans to capture this notorious rascal and his comrades; who were the means of exciting the most vindictive feelings in the invading camp against the Mexicans generally. At length the soldiers on both sides endeavoured to apprehend them as common enemies: hitherto they had attempted it without success.
One dark night—shortly after the army of General Scott had taken possession of Vera Cruz—the priest above mentioned had been called, in the exercise of his vocation, towards the western outskirts of the town. He had set out in his carriage, accompanied by his attendants, and was returning at a late hour in the same direction, when he was alarmed by the sight of a fire and several torches on the road before him. He despatched several of his attendants in a stealthy manner, to learn the cause of the lights and tumult, straining his eyes meanwhile through the darkness to discover whether any immediate danger threatened himself.
"Señora di Dios! Amor de la Virgen! What has happened?" was his inquiry on the return of his domestics.
"It is merely some Mestizoes and Indians, father," they replied, "who are rejoicing over the reward received for the apprehension of some murdering cumanches."
The priest ordered his carriage to proceed, in high disdain of such an interruption; and soon it arrived under the trees close to the crowd. At this moment, however, the father's mind underwent an unaccountable change; and, agitated by an irrepressible feeling of curiosity, he once more gave the word for the vehicle to halt, that he might behold the scene in person. Dismounting, therefore, he approached the trees where the fire and torches were, and mixed among the crowd, with his cowl drawn closely round his face that he might not be known.
What was his horror to discover almost immediately before him six dead bodies hanging on six of the trees, in a line with each other! The glare of the lights just then came upon the corpses with a fitful lustre, lending an increased ghastliness to each figure as it swayed backwards and forwards in the breeze. The priest covered both his eyes with his hands, and turned in disgust from the sight: but a word from one of the bystanders thrilled his soul with even a redoubled horror.
"Bacho is caught at last!" exclaimed a voice in the crowd.
"Oh! that villain Bacho!" repeated another.
"Look how he swings!" humorously shouted a third.
The priest rushed wildly to the foot of the tree indicated, and gazed on the features of the corpse upon it. The lineaments of the face were distorted; but as the light shone brightly, he saw it was unquestionably the face of his brother, the cumanche! With a low growl—not of grief, but of rage—he hastily retreated to his carriage; and, with loud imprecations, commanded his attendants to convey him swiftly home.
He had never cared for his brother: he had, on the contrary, hated, despised, and disowned him. But the thought that any connection of his had been executed in such a summary manner by the orders of the Americans—this was too much! The idea filled his soul with the most over whelming rage: it maddened him to the degree that he actually foamed and gurgled at the mouth; and as soon as he could subdue his passion sufficiently to think, his whole reflections were bent upon the accomplishment of a dire revenge.
He first set about ascertaining under whose direction the executions had taken place; and he learned by many inquiries that a certain Captain Barton had been the principal agent in apprehending the delinquents, and that it was under his superintendence the order for their punishment was carried into effect.
His next step was to discover if Captain Barton were at that time stationed in Vera Cruz; and he succeeded in finding that the Captain was quartered, together with a few officers of his mess, at the house of a mercer called Xelin, standing by itself in the north-west district of the town. He then made it his business to sound the mercer as to the likelihood of his participating in the scheme of revenge. Xelin was very timid and meek, for a Mexican, and would apparently be the last person in the world to embark in anything bloody or dangerous; but the father resolved to bully him into acquiescence. All the forces of the priest's persuasions and commands were brought to bear upon him: denunciations of his apathetic spiritual state were thundered into his ears; the threats which a vile priesthood are so well accustomed to keep at their command were produced on the occasion; so that the little draper was at length constrained to enter into the holy father's plans with all the soul he had—and it was not much—lest that soul should burn and suffer in the fires of purgatory for too long a term. Ave Maria! And soon the reverend priest with his submissive slave, began with all energy to arrange the plan for their murderous retaliation.
The monk first purchased the most valuable articles from the mercer's store—not a very extensive one—and had them conveyed away; then they privately removed a number of inferior goods from a small room adjoining the store, under the principal apartment of the house, which was on the second story: the little room in question had no external communication with the rear of the premises, so they would not be interrupted. The mercer then procured a quantity of sulphur, ostensibly for the purpose of dyeing draperies; and the priest furnished a pile of fine charcoal from the burner's, and also a stock of saltpetre, with a little gunpowder—not much, for that would have looked suspicious. With fingers trembling with delight, he mixed the inflammatory materials all together, neglecting no ingredient which would insure the destructive quality he so ardently desired. They placed the dried mixture in one formidable heap upon a table beneath the floor of the upper-room, laying a wide train communicating with the table, and strewing the floor of the small apartment in the same manner. After surveying their work—the father with hideous satisfaction, and the mercer with fear and trembling—they secured the door most carefully, and barred up the window; only waiting for the identical evening which was to reward them for their labours.
And now the time had come. It was quite dark and cloudy withal, and the hour when Captain Barton and the officers of his company were in the habit of assembling for the night. Every preparation had been made, the door behind which was the train of gunpowder, was partially open; the priest and his associate were on the ground opposite, the former having something carefully concealed under his vestments. They waited in breathless suspense, for at present all was gloom in the fated apartment. Half an hour elapsed;—all was darkness yet. Another quarter of an hour passed on;—and still there was no light. The holy father's indignation was aroused against his companion, because his heart beat so strongly, and his breath came so short and painfully, that he prevented his reverence hearing. But soon there came a light, and a merry voice singing, followed by a shout of laughter. They had evidently assembled.
"Lay a thick train from the doorway across the court-yard," exclaimed the priest. "But stay, I will do it myself, effectually."
The hitherto concealed light was carefully produced; the priest stooped down and applied it to the powder; a rush of air was instantaneously felt. The fire leaped wildly to the door—to the table—to the room; and with a hiss—a blinding flame—a thundering crash—the house was blown to fragments, and all within it and around it was a heap of blackened, smoking ruin!
Impotent atrocity! Futile revenge! The two miscreants were too busy with their own machinations, to perceive that, some moments before they were ready to ignite the train, the light and voice had departed from the room—and when they fired it, there was no one there! For the captain and his brother officers were unavoidably detained for the night in attendance upon the General; and the captain had only despatched his attendant—a fellow who had the habit of singing and laughing to himself—for his muster-roll, which he had forgotten.
The worthy father and sapient Xelin, therefore, expended their rage and imbecility upon vacant walls and empty apartments. And soon they had to run for their lives, for the neighbourhood and soldiers being aroused, the place became too hot for them!
END OF VOL. I.