Los gringos; or, An inside view of Mexico and California

by H. A. Wise

From here we repaired, to attend one of our Commissioners on another official visit, to the Mexican President and Ministers. The reception-room was rather a mean apartment, hung with crimson curtains, and at the upper end was a chair of state, with others ranged around. The President, Peña y Peña, pleased me more than his advisers, having a mild, benignant expression, and evidently appeared worn down with care and anxiety. Anaya was a tall, bony person, with high cheek-bones—denoting his Indian origin—and a stolid striped face. Rosa, the Secretary of War, was short in stature, of swarthy complexion, with full, dark, intelligent eyes. But of all the public characters, who held office under the Mexican government, whom I had the opportunity of seeing, there was none who struck me so forcibly as one of the deputies—Señor Cauto.

At the conclusion of the Presentation, a number of polite speeches were interchanged, all of which impressed me as being very gracefully done, though destitute of a particle of sincerity, as these empty-headed formalities usually are. But indeed I felt for the pitiable position of those poor Mexicans, who were having bitter pills crammed down their throats, though gilded by so many sweet, courteous compliments; and I was glad when the audience terminated, and we had turned our backs on the miserable, cowed-looking sentinel at the gate.

The officers of the escort received many civilities from the Mexicans, and extended others in return. The Governor had obligingly furnished a full colonel, who was an excellent cicerone about the city, who ordered dinners, assisted in eating them, and made himself generally useful: he bore a surprising resemblance to the portraits of Don Quixote. On one occasion we had a call from a colonel of cavalry: a large, fine-looking fellow, flashing resplendent in gold, from the glittering plates of his fur shako, to the richly-chased scabbard of his sabre, and rowels of his bright spurs;—he must have been worth a fortune as he stood! It was his wish that all the American officers would honor him at a breakfast preparing for the occasion. The invitation was cheerfully accepted, as much, possibly, in compliment to the dashing colonel, as to the fact that our own board was not so well supplied as was altogether palatable and proper.

It was quite a grand affair—was the breakfast—laid out in the billiard-saloon of a fonda, having the bar and cooking convenient, as it were, in the same apartment; there were some twenty Mexican officers at table, besides ourselves; to say nothing of as many more casual observers, who aided vociferously in drinking all the toasts in succession, and afterwards carefully secreted the glasses—which were limited—in readiness for another toast. The first course consisted simply of a wine-glass of pure cogniac—intended for an appetizer no doubt—but it was probably subversive of the desired effect, for I noticed, immediately afterwards, a number with watery eyes, and great difficulty of articulation. This was followed by a pilaus of rice and chickens, beefsteaks, soups, frijoles, fruit, and viands in the most indiscriminate confusion. Bordeaux and sherry circulated freely, and we had speeches, toasts, and sentiments: we drank the memory of every general, living or dead, of both armies, beginning with Washington and Hidalgo, and gave, I should imagine, upon a rough calculation, as many as eighty or ninety cheers for Santa Anna, and "Skote!" I had the happiness of translating—rather freely I must confess—these different effusions, and also the sense of a long harangue delivered by an advocate, who came late, and for that reason got comfortably boracho at once.

Our gallant host, in a few disjointed observations, assured us that he was not only brave himself, and loved bravery in others, but that his horse was brave, and had been wounded in divers battles. Yo soy valiente! said the fierce colonel, pounding the orders on his capacious breast, and forthwith proclaimed to the audience his intention to pay for everything that anybody could possibly eat or drink for a fortnight to come, and seizing me by the arms, he impressively remarked that I was the most intimate friend he ever had except his wife, and requested me to throw his huge shako up to the ceiling—solely for amistad, and good fellowship of the thing—which I instantly did, and made the bearskin and golden plates ring against the rafters. Thereupon he called for more wine, and desired all who loved him to break a few glasses, commencing himself with a couple of decanters. At this stage of the action the landlord interfered, and very sensibly cut off the supplies of liquor, which reduced the party, who were "merry in the halls," to consistent behavior; when, embracing one another frequently, horses were ordered for a turn in the Alameda. They treated us with the greatest kindness and hospitality, only the manner of doing it was different from our own. All were decorated; and one handsome young officer of the Lancers had four emblems of defeated battles.

The Pasco was thronged by all the élite of Querétaro: richly-caparisoned barbs were jingling musically with multitudes of little steel or silver drops attached to the housings; pacing, and fretting, and foaming, full of fire and spirit, but curbed and trained to short steps. Then came the well-appointed carriages of the President or Governor, drawn by sleek fat mules, and close behind cumbrous masses of timber—hewn wheels and axles lashed together with hides—all hitched by ropes to half a dozen, or more, dirty beasts; the vehicles themselves filled with rare specimens of fat old women, decked off in gay haberdashery, each holding an armful of children, all bent upon a good sight of the North Americans. And there were youthful faces too—bright glances from brighter eyes—emulating those aged matrons in curiosity, peering from behind waving fans, within long lines of carriages drawn up at the sides of the promenade. Nor had the Gringos aught to fear from the investigation, for there were handsome young dragoons and riflemen, attended by their orderlies, mounted on noble chargers with arched necks and shining coats, moving with a high, proud bearing, as if regarding with great contempt the capering graces of their little brethren beside them.

After a number of turns around the park—the last at a thundering gallop, with a stride that made the natives shudder—we dashed out of the gates. On our way through the city, one of our Mexican friends espied me, and in true Californian style, shook his bridle, gave spur, and came leaping like a flash towards us. I was not a novice at the sport, and touching one of the finest horses in the army with my heel, the gallant sorrel sprang forward to greet him. We met in full career, my charger stood like the great pyramid, but the shock rolled my antagonist into the street. I should in courtesy have got down from the saddle to his assistance, but reflecting that without a ladder I never should be able to get on my high steed again, I accordingly remained quiet. However, my friend quickly remounted, and made an earnest attempt to laugh; but as there chanced to be hundreds of spectators, I hardly thought the mirth reached his heart: he may have been somewhat allegro from the good cheer at breakfast, or have eaten something indigestible, yet under either dispensation, it will caution him not to run another joust at a Kentucky-bred charger, or he may, as in this instance, get tilted from the saddle. Being a sailor, I gained a great reputation for this feat, and gave an entertainment on the strength of it.

Some days elapsed after the Treaty had finally been acted upon in the Mexican Senate, before the ratifications were exchanged. Mexican diplomacy is proverbial, and they chose the most tortuous track to gain the goal. The delay was in some degree attributable, so said the Government, to the absence of the official seal, and certain time required to make proper copies and translations; but it was with equal reason surmised, that it arose from causes relative to a division of the first instalment of the indemnity, as a new ministry was to be elected, and the old cared not to assume the odium of signing the Peace, without being fortified with the assurances of their successors that they should receive the reward of their services. But here subterfuge was unavailing—the armistice expired on the 2d of June, and time was flying. At length, after refusing permission for the American cavalry and artillery to take up their line of march by land to the Northern frontier, on the night of the 30th of May, the final signatures were affixed to the Treaty, and an hour later, Herrera was chosen President of the Republic.