The Red Track: A Story of Social Life in Mexico

by Gustave Aimard

Although the government appeared plunged in the most profound ignorance of what was preparing against it, and evinced complete security, still the President had made certain arrangements for the morrow's ceremonies which did not fail greatly to trouble the men interested in knowing everything, and to whom the apparently most futile thing naturally created umbrage.

The general, with the curiosity that distinguished him, was anxious to know exactly the extent of the danger he had to meet, and proceeded to the palace, merely accompanied by his two aides-de-camp. The general president received Don Sebastian with a smile on his lips, and offered him the most gracious reception. This reception, so cordial, perhaps too cordial, instead of reassuring the general, had, on the contrary, increased his anxiety, for he was a Mexican and knew the proverb of his country—"Lips that smile, and mouth that tells falsehoods."

The general was too calm to let his feelings be seen. He pretended to be delighted, remained for some time with the President, who appeared to treat him with a friendly familiarity, complained of the rarity of his visits, and his obstinacy in not asking for a command. In a word, the two men separated apparently highly satisfied with each other.

Still, the general remarked that all the courts were stuffed with soldiers, who were bivouacking in the open air; that several guns had been placed, accidentally perhaps, so as to sweep completely the chief entrance gate, and, more serious still, that the troops quartered in the palace were commanded by officers strangers to him, and who had, moreover, the reputation of being devoted to the President of the Republic.

After this daring visit, the general mounted his horse, and, under the pretext of going for a walk, went all over the city. Everywhere the preparations for the coming festival were being carried on with the greatest activity. In the square of Necatitlan, for instance, situated in one of the worst parts of the capital, a circus had been made for the bullfights at which the president intended to be present.

Numerous wooden erections, raised for the occasion, filled the space usually devoted to tauromachy, and formed an immense hall of verdure, with pleasant clumps of trees, mysterious walks, and charming retreats, prepared with the greatest care, where everybody would go on the morrow to eat and drink the atrocious productions of the Mexican art on cookery, and enjoy what is called in that country Jamaica.

Exactly in the centre of the arena a tree about twenty feet in height was planted, with its branches and leaves entirely covered with coloured pocket-handkerchiefs that floated in the breeze. This tree was the Monte Parnasso, intended to serve as a maypole for the leperos, at the moment when the bullfights begin, and a trial bull, embolado, that is to say, with its horns terminating in balls, is let into the ring.

All the pulquerías near the square were thronged with a hideous, ragged mob, who howled, sang, shouted, and whistled their loudest, while smoking, and, at intervals, exchanging knife thrusts, to the great delight of the spectators.

In all the streets the procession would pass through the houses were decorated; Mexican flags were hoisted in profusion at every spot where they could be displayed; and yet, by the side of all these holiday preparations, there was, we repeat, something gloomy and menacing that struck a chill to the heart. Through all the gates fresh troops continually entered the city, and occupied admirably chosen strategic points. The Alameda, the Paseo de Bucareli, and even the Vega, were converted into bivouacs, and though these troops ostensibly only came to Mexico to be present at the ceremony and be reviewed, they were equipped for the field, and affected an earnestness which caused much thought to those who saw them pass or visited their bivouacs.

When a serious event is preparing, there are in the atmosphere certain signs which never deceive the fosterers of revolutions; a vague and apparently causeless anxiety seizes on the masses, and unconsciously converts their joy into a species of feverish excitement, at which they are themselves startled, as they know not to what to attribute this change in their humour.