Chapter Forty Six. Saint Augustine of the Caves
One of the pleasantest villages in the valley of Mexico is San Augustin de las Cuevas —Tlalpam by Aztec designation – both names due to some remarkable caverns in the immediate neighbourhood. It is some ten or twelve miles from the capital, on the southern or Acapulco road, just where this, forsaking the valley level, begins to ascend the Sierra, passing over which by Cruz del Marques, it continues on through the tierras calentes of Cuernavaca and Guerrero to the famed port of the Pacific.
San Augustin is a pueblo, endowed with certain municipal privileges. It boasts of an alcalde-mayor with other corporate officers, and a staff of alguezils, or policemen.
The heads of departments are mostly men of pure Spanish race – “gente de razon,” as they proudly proclaim themselves – though many are in reality of mixed blood, Mestizos. Of this are the better class of shopkeepers, few in number, the gente de razon at best forming a scarce discernible element in the population, which is mainly made up of the brown aborigines.
At a certain season of the year, however, paler complexions show in the ascendant. This during carnival time – “Las Pascuas.” Then the streets of San Augustin are crowded with gay promenaders; while carriages and men on horseback may be seen in continuous stream passing to and fro between it and the capital. In Las Pascuas week, one day with another, half Mexico is there engaged in a gambling orgie, as Londoners at Epsom during the Derby. More like Homburg and Monaco, though; since the betting at Tlalpam is not upon the swiftness of horses, but done with dice and cards. The national game, “monté,” there finds fullest illustration, grand marquees being erected for its play – real temples erected to the goddess Fortuna. Inside these may be seen crowds of the strangest composition, in every sense heterogeneous; military officers, generals and colonels, down to the lowest grade, even sergeants and corporals, sitting at the same table and staking on the same cards; members of Congress, Senators, Cabinet Ministers, and, upon occasions, the Chief of the State, jostling the ragged lepero, and not unfrequently standing elbow to elbow with the footpad and salteador! – Something stranger still, ladies compose part of this miscellaneous assemblage; dames of high birth and proud bearing, but in this carnival of cupidity not disdaining to “punt” on the sota or cavallo, while brushing skirts with bare-armed, barefooted rustic damsels, and poblanas, more elaborately robed, but with scantier reputation.
After all, it is only Baden on the other side of the Atlantic; and it may be said in favour of San Augustin, the fury lasts for only a few days, instead of a whole season. Then the monté banks disappear, with their dealers and croupiers; the great tents are taken down; the gamesters, gentle and simple, scatter off, most going back to the city; and the little pueblo Tlalpam, resuming its wonted tranquillity, is scarce thought of till Carnival comes again.
In its normal condition, though some might deem it rather dull, it is nevertheless one of the pleasantest residential villages in the Valley. Picturesquely situated at the foot of the southern Sierras, which form a bold mountain background, it has on the other side water scenery in the curious Laguna de Xochimilco, while the grim Pedregal also approaches it, giving variety to its surroundings.
Besides its fixed population there is one that may be termed floating or intermittent; people who come and go. These are certain “ricos,” who chiefly affect its suburbs, where they have handsome houses —casas de campo. Not in hundreds, as at San Anjel and Tacubaya, Tlalpam being at a greater and more inconvenient distance from the capital. Still there are several around it of first-class, belonging to familias principales, though occupied by them only at intervals, and for a few days or weeks at a time.
One of these, owned by Don Ignacio Valverde, was a favourite place of residence with him; a tranquil retreat of which he was accustomed to avail himself whenever he could get away from his ministerial duties. Just such an interregnum had arisen some time after the stirring incidents we have recorded, and he went to stay at his San Augustin house with his daughter, the Condesa Almonté going with them as their guest. Since their last appearance before the reader, all three had passed through scenes of trial. An investigation had been gone into regarding the Callé de Plateros affair – private, however, before Santa Anna himself, the world not being made the wiser for it. Its results were all in their favour, thanks to the stern, stubborn fidelity of José, who lied like a very varlet. Such a circumstantial story told he, no one could suspect him of complicity in the escape of the forsados; far less that his mistress, or the Condesa Almonté had to do with it.
Don Ignacio, too, had done his share to hinder discovery of the truth. For, in the end, it was found necessary to take him into the secret, the missing cloak and pistols, with several mysterious incidents, calling for explanation. But in making a clean breast of it, his daughter had felt no fear of being betrayed by him. He was not the father to deal harshly with his child; besides, it was something more – a real danger. In addition, she knew how he was affected towards the man she had aided to escape – that he held Don Florencio in highest esteem; looked upon him as a dear friend, and in a certain tacit way had long ago signified approval of him for a son-in-law. All these thoughts passed through Luisa Valverde’s mind while approaching her father, and steeling herself to make confession of that secret she might otherwise have kept from him.
The result was not disappointing. Don Ignacio consented to the deception, and they were saved. Whatever the suspicions of Santa Anna and his adjutant, both were baffled about that affair, at least for the time.
Alike had they been frustrated in their pursuit of the escapados. Despite the most zealous search through the Pedregal and elsewhere, these could not be found, nor even a trace of them. Still, they were not given up. Every town and village in the valley, in the mountains around, and the country outside were visited by soldiers or spies – every spot likely to harbour the fugitives. Pickets were placed everywhere and patrols despatched, riding the roads by night as by day, all proving abortive.
After a time, however, this vigorous action became relaxed. Not that they who had dictated were less desirous of continuing it; but because a matter of more importance than mere personal spite or vengeance was soon likely to declare itself, and threaten their own safety. Talk was beginning to be heard, though only in whispers, and at a far distance from the capital, of a new pronunciamento in preparation. And in making counter-preparations, the Dictator had now enough to occupy all his energies; not knowing the day or the hour he might again hear the cry he so dreaded, “Patria y Libertad.”
Meanwhile the people had ceased to speak of the stirring episode which had occurred in the Callé de Plateros; thought strange only from the odd circumstances attendant, and the fact of two of the fugitives being Tejanos. The city of Mexico has its daily newspapers, and on the morning after a full account of it appeared in El Diario and El Monitor. For all it was but the topic of a week; in ten days no more heard of it; in a month quite forgotten, save by those whom it specially concerned. So varied are the events, so frequent the changes, so strange the Cosas de Mexico!