Read Michener, James A. Online
Authors: Texas
Michener, James A. (29 page)
is this the inn of Sefior Galindez?' he asked, his slight accent betraying the fact that he was not Spanish. He had barely asked the question when he saw Dorotea; recognizing her, he bowed low and said with great charm and no sense of extravagance: 'The young princess I saw last night.'
Trinidad noticed all this and also that he stood at attention, waiting to be asked properly to join their party. Don Ramon rose, brought his heels together, and bowed like the grandee he was: 'Young sir, my family and I would be most honored if you would sit with us and tell us what's happening in that strange city of New Orleans.'
The young man bowed with equal gravity and said in a voice so low that Trinidad could barely hear: 'I am Rene-Claude d'Ambreuze, and I would be most honored to join you and your two daughters.'
Tm of the Galindez family,' Dorotea said boldly as he took his
seat beside her. These are the Saldanas of Bejar in Tejas. And this is my dear friend Trinidad de Saldana.'
Rene-Claude scarcely acknowledged the introduction, for little Trinidad seemed quite youthful compared to the dazzling Dorotea. 'I passed through Bejar some weeks ago. Very small. But this Saltillo! Ah, this is a little Paris.'
'Have you been to Paris?' Trinidad found herself blurting out.
'I was born in Paris.'
'Oh, what is it like?' For the first time young D'Ambreuze looked directly at Trinidad, saw her brilliant eyes, her strangely formed mouth, and thought what a pleasing sister she'd make.
'I know little of Paris,' he said honestly. 'They took me away when I was a child.' Then, turning as was proper to Don Ramon, he said: 'New Orleans, on the other hand! Ah! Queen of the Mississippi.'
'Is the Mississippi really so big?' Trinidad asked.
He turned once more to face her inquisitive eyes: 'Saltillo could be tossed between its banks and we'd all be lost.'
It was a splendid day in that spring of 1789, with Rene-Claude paying great attention to Don Ramon, much courtesy to Senora Engracia, and distinct respect to the Galindez elders; he had been well reared by loving aunts and governesses, and he showed it. At four-thirty in the afternoon he took lunch, Mexican style, with the Saldanas, again sitting with Dorotea, and at eight in the evening he helped Engracia escort the two girls to the paseo, where he saluted them graciously each time he passed.
On the next day two things happened to disturb Trinidad: through unladylike questioning she learned that whereas the Saldanas were going to leave Saltillo three days hence, Rene-Claude's business interests would hold him here for two more weeks, which meant that she would be leaving the young Frenchman entirely to Dorotea. And swinging around a corner of the inn late that afternoon, she came upon him and Dorotea eagerly kissing and clinging to each other. They did not see her, and she drew back, flushed and trembling, as if she herself had participated in this embrace. While she did not begrudge Dorotea her good fortune, she was chagrined that she had not been the girl in Rene-Claude's arms.
When she joined her grandfather for lunch, which was served at five, she found that her mother was staying in bed to rest for the next leg of the journey. Alone with Don Ramon, she felt immeasurably old, as if she were coeval with him, and she spoke in that way: 'I doubt that New Orleans will ever be a Spanish city.'
'It is now, silly girl.'
'But I mean truly. French ways, they seem to be very strong wherever the French go.'
'Now, what do you know about French ways, young lady?'
She did not say so, but she felt that she knew an enormous amount, really, an enormous amount. Then she heard her grandfather speaking.
'I've always thought that God placed Spain where He did to keep things organized.' Don Ramon arranged dishes and rolls to represent Europe. 'Lesser nations all around her. Portugal here, and what a sorry land that is. France up here, a bunch of troublemakers. England over here, accch!' The harsh guttural showed what he thought of England. 'And down here the despicable Moors, enemies of God and man.' In the center of this maelstrom of failed nations and infidels he placed a bright orange: 'Spain: God's bastion of reason, and stability, and all the things that represent goodness in this life.'
'Then why has England grown so strong?' Trinidad asked like a philosopher. 'From what we hear, that is?'
'God is preparing them for a fall. They strayed from the true religion, and it's impossible that Protestants should ever triumph. That's why los Estados del Norte ... .'
The table now became North America: 'Up here the French used to be, but they could never govern themselves, as we've seen in New Orleans. Over here godless americanos, who are doomed.'
'They won their freedom from England,' Trinidad said.
'With French help. Two godless nations fighting it out. And here . . .' Now the orange became Tejas: 'In the middle of this mess, Tejas, Spanish to the core, God's bastion, just as in Europe.' He patted the orange, reveling in its security, and said: 'God arranges these things according to His grand design. Believe me, Trinidad, Tejas is not where it is by accident. And you're not in Tejas by accident. Your destiny is to rear Spanish sons who will build there cities much finer than New Orleans.'
But three days south of Saltillo, during the long ride to Potosi, even Don Ramon had to wonder whether God did not sometimes forget His assignment in Tejas, for the Saldana caravan, traveling with three other families heading for the capital, came upon a detachment of soldiers marching north, bringing with them the latest gang of conscripts destined for duty in Bejar. And what a sickening lot they were.
'My God!' Don Ramon cried. 'You're not taking them to Tejas?'
'We are,' the commander of the troops said. 'I chain them only when we stop at night.'
And well he might! For he had in his charge a sweeping of Mexican jails: a group of seven who were spared hanging if they would serve in the north, sixteen younger men whose families had abandoned them shortly after birth, and a score who had proven themselves to be worthless workers. Behind them trailed a scruffy collection of women, young and old, whose lives were somehow entangled with those of the prisoners. They were indeed prisoners, and to call them settlers or soldiers was preposterous.
'You're turning them loose in Tejas?' Don Ramon cried in disbelief.
'No great worry. Two-thirds of them will run away and get back to the capital before I do.'
Don Ramon studied the sorry detachment and whispered a suggestion to the commander: 'Couldn't you march them into a swamp 7 Or just shoot them?'
The commander chuckled: 'The really bad ones we send to Yucatan. These are what we call the hopefuls.'
Don Ramon had to laugh, but the experience fortified his resolve to find for his granddaughter a respectable Spanish husband.
On the nineteenth day after their departure from Saltillo two of the soldiers bringing up the rear galloped forward. 'Party overtaking us from the rear,' one reported.
Everyone turned around, and saw that the soldiers were right; a column of some kind was approaching at a worrisome speed, and a hasty consultation took place. The commander asked: 'Am I right? No unit is supposed to be on this road?'
'None that we know of, sir.'
'Comanche 7 '
'I think so.'
Men instinctively fingered their guns.
'Women to the front! Immediate!' The captain hesitated: 'I mean to the rear, as we face them.'
The approaching column, which appeared to be some fifteen or sixteen Indians, must have seen the soldiers halt and take up defensive positions, but on they came, and as the dust rose, Don Ramon, his white hair unprotected by any hat, rode back to take position in front of the women: 'You are not to cry panic. You are not to run. I will hold them off.' He saluted his two women, but the effect of his words was lost when Trinidad cried joyously: 'It's Rene-Claude!' And deftly she spurred her horse and dashed out to meet the Frenchman, whose party had left Saltillo almost two weeks later than the Saldanas but had been able, by means of long rides each day, to overtake them.
It was a lively meeting there in the great empty upland of Mexico, with blue mountains in the distance and spring flowers covering the swales. Soldiers from both groups swapped stories, and the two other merchants who had been invited by young D'Ambreuze to join his entourage talked with Don Ramon about conditions in both Coahuila and Te]as.
But the two who reveled most in the fortunate meeting were Trinidad and Rene-Claude, for without the distracting presence of Dorotea Galindez, the young Frenchman was free to discover what a delightful young woman Trinidad was. They rode their horses ahead of the line, or off to one side, chattering easily and endlessly. One morning Trinidad thought: Today I wish he would try to kiss me, and when they were off toward the mountains he did just that. She encouraged him at first, then pushed him away and said: 'I saw you kissing Dorotea,' and he explained: 'Sometimes that happens, but this is forever.'
'Did you enjoy kissing her?' she asked, and he said: 'Of course, but it was your funny little smile I saw at night when I was alone.'
'You may kiss me,' she said, leaning across her horse's neck.
When they were in the presence of the elders they had to be more circumspect; then they sat and talked, and one evening Trmidad asked him to explain his name.
'Many French boys have two names, like mine. And the little d' is your de. Means the same, the place where your family came from, an honorable designation.' He tried to teach her how to pronounce his last name with a French twirl, and when her tongue could not master it he accused her of being dull-witted.
'How about you?' And she mimicked him by saying Trinidad the way he did, with heavy accent on the last syllable as if it really were dod, rhyming with nod. 'It's not that way at all,' she protested, it's dthodth. Soft ... a whispering song.'
Now it was he whose tongue became twisted, but at last, with her gentle coaching, he mastered this beautiful name: 'Tree-nee-dthodth! It really is a song!' And so they continued, two young people in love, finding music in each other's names, respect for each other's traditions.
In fact, the pair became so open in their affection that Don Ramon told Engracia: 'Well or sick, you must go out and act as duena for your child.' Then, in some confusion but with his jaw set, he ordered Trinidad to get into the wagon and sit with Engracia while he rode ahead to talk with the young Frenchman.
There is always the matter of honor, young man. Surely you will agree to that?'
D'Ambreuze, bewildered that Trinidad had left him and that
Don Ramon had taken her place, mumbled something about men always being beholden to the demands of honor: 'Duels, and things like that.' He spoke as if he certainly did not expect to be challenged to a duel.
'1 mean,' Don Ramon said, turning sideways on his horse, 'those ancient rules which have always governed the behavior of gentlemen.'
'Oh, that! Yes. Women first into the carriage. Men to hold the horses lest they bolt. Oh, yes!' He spoke with such enthusiasm that one might have thought he was Europe's champion of the ancient rules, that he would lay down his life in furtherance of them.
'I mean the subtler kind, young man.'
'Well . . .' Rene-Claude's voice trailed off, for now he was truly bewildered.
it has always been a rule among gentlemen, rigorously observed by all who presume to call themselves that . .' Now Don Ramon hesitated. 'Are you a gentleman 7 ' Before Rene-Claude could respond, he added: 'I mean, your father is in trade, isn't he 7 ' He spat out the words distastefully.
The young man drew to attention: 'The D'Ambreuze family own large vineyards near Beaune, and do you know where Beaune is? Burgundy, its own principality. No one owns large vineyards there unless they're gentlemen. Nobility, really.'
'But in New Orleans, your father is in trade?'
'My father's an inventor. He devises machines used in mines. I'm a gentleman, so educated and trained, as were my greatgrandfather before me and his greatgrandfather before him. But more important, I'm a Burgundian.'
'Well, yes,' Don Ramon said, shifting his weight to bring his face closer to D'Ambreuze. 'What I mean, there's a rule among gentlemen that no one can come into another man's castle and seduce his daughter. Not while the visitor is a guest in the castle.'
D'Ambreuze said nothing, for now he knew the burden of the old man's warning. By joining the Saldana party without an invitation, he had assumed the role of guest whether he intended so or not, and he was bound by the most ancient code not to take advantage of the daughter of the house, not while he was in this privileged position. In the fluid life of San Luis Potosi or on the wide avenues of the capital he might feel free to seduce her, if his charms and stratagems prevailed, but not while he was a guest in the home, as it were, of Don Ramon.
it would never have occurred to me to take advantage,' he said.
it occurred to me,' Don Ramon replied. 'Now shall we stop for our morning rest 7 '
It was this unnecessary halt which made up the minds of the two guest merchants: 'We do not like to say this, but this dallying . . . these picnics. . . we're wasting valuable time. Our soldiers too, they want to move ahead.'
'We shall. I've been inconsiderate of you gentlemen, and I'm sorry,' and Rene-Claude announced to the group resting by the side of the road—a rather good highway now, since it had been in use two centuries longer than the miserable roads in Tejas— that he and his company must, reluctantly, forge ahead. He went to Trinidad, and taking her by the hands, he drew her to him and embraced her in front of the others, then bowed low as if wearing a plumed hat in the old days: 'Mademoiselle, we shall meet again in Potosi, or Mexico, or New Orleans, but wherever it is, it will be heaven.' Saluting Don Ramon and the soldiers who would be staying with the slower party, he went to the head of his column and led his entourage across the beautiful spaces of upland Mexico.
Days later, as the Saldanas approached Potosi, Trinidad rode with her grandfather and confided: 'I shall pray tonight that Rene-Claude's negotiations have kept him here longer then he intended.'
'I doubrt, dearest child, that you could ever marry a Frenchman. They're not dependable. I've never believed that they're serious Catholics.' He poured forth a century of Spanish apprehensions about their northern neighbors, ending with a prophetic warning: 'I even doubt that New Orleans will remain Spanish till the end of the century.'
'What possibly could happen 7 ' Trinidad asked. 'Rene-Claude himself told me they have no armies in America.'
'With the French something always happens. Do not count on young D'Ambreuze.'
'Don't you like him?'
'Too much,' her grandfather confessed. 'And I see that you like him too much, also. Be careful, Trinidad. He comes with the wind. He goes with the sunrise.'
But his granddaughter's ardent hopes were realized. By one device and another, Rene-Claude had managed to linger on in the mining town, attending to business which he did not have and wasting so much time that his two companions had proceeded to Mexico City without him.
Each day he had watched El Camino Real for signs of travelers :ommg down from the north, and on a bright July day two men, :raveling without military guard, rode into town with the exciting lews that Don Ramon Saldaria from the distant town of Bejar in
Tejas would be arriving, if his current slow speed held, on the morrow.
Upon receipt of this news Rene-Claude saddled his horse, hired three companions, and rode north to escort the travelers properly. Trinidad had supposed that this might happen, for she had paid the two men to seek out the young Frenchman and inform him of her coming. She was therefore at the head of her column when she spied the four horsemen, and without waiting for confirmation she dashed ahead, waved vigorously when she saw Rene-Claude, and brought her horse close to his so that she could kiss him.
When the two groups met formally, Don Ramon said brusquely: i had hoped you were in Mexico City.'
i should be, but I had to see you and your daughter again.'
'Let us not deter you. You've made your welcome. You will show us to our inn, I feel sure, and then you will hurry on.'
That I shall, Don Ramon, but first I must speak seriously with you.'
That can wait till we've cleaned up,' he said, and he would speak no more until he had seen his women properly ensconced in their quarters at the inn. It was a place of thick walls and many rooms, in one of which the two men met over drinks of cool pomegranate juice.
'Don Ramon, I seek your permission to pay serious court to your granddaughter.'
'She's not fifteen.'
'She will be when you've returned to Bejar and I stop by to claim her.'
'What are your prospects?'
The best, Don Ramon, as you will find when you inquire about me in the capital. I am a younger son, it's true, and my older brothers have the vineyards. But I've done well in New Orleans. And in Saltillo. And Potosi. And I'm sure I'll do even better in the capital. For that you need have no concern.'
'In Saltillo you seemed quite enamored of the innkeeper's daughter.'
'In spring the birds inspect many trees before they build their nests.'
'They do, they do,' Don Ramon said, recalling his own casual courtships. But then he spoke forcefully: 'I'm a Spaniard, and I'm taking my granddaughter to the capital so that she can meet Spaniards. French and Spanish, it's never been any good.'
'You've had Frenchmen as your kings.'
'And that's been worst of all!'
There in Potosi the battle lines were drawn: it was obvious that
the young Frenchman would continue to pay ardent suit to Trinidad, while the old Spaniard would do all he could to keep the young lovers separated, or at least under close surveillance. Don Ramon, accepting the challenge, said: 'I doubt that a granddaughter of mine would ever want to marry a Frenchman.'
'With all respect, Don Ramon, I disagree.'
'I doubt that 1 could ever give my consent.' But he liked the young man's spirit and did not try to prevent him from taking rooms at the same inn.
Now began a clever game of cat and mouse, with the Frenchman testing every gambit to place himself alone with Trinidad, and her grandfather using his talents to outwit him. Alas, Don Ramon's own grandchild sided with the enemy, exchanging surreptitious messages of love and stolen kisses. But with Engracia's determined help, Saldana did succeed in protecting his child's honor.
After four days of this he suggested bluntly that D'Ambreuze move on: 'Your business waits,' and to his surprise the brash young fellow said: 'It does indeed. But I also shall wait ... in the capital.' And he was off, this time without escort, for south of Potosi, El Camino Real became a major road in the silver trade, and soldiers guarded it on a permanent basis.
Two weeks later the Saldanas started their own hundred-and-twenty-league trip south, which they took at a pace more leisurely than before, so that it was early August before they entered upon that splendid final plateau on which stood the marvel of the New World.
If Trinidad had been impressed by Saltillo as a major center, she was dumfounded by the capital, for it exceeded even the stories that soldiers had recited during the long journey. The cathedral was three times the size of the lovely church in Saltillo, the plaza fifteen or twenty times larger, and if the shops in the northern town had been lavish, the ones in Mexico City were true cornucopias, crowded with elegant wares from all over Europe: brocades and silks and intricately woven cottons and hammered gold for women; guns and silver-handled swords and burnished leather-ware from Toledo and fine suitings for the men.
What made the capital even more exciting was that on the second morning Rene-Claude appeared at the Saldanas' inn, prepared to escort Trinidad and her mother to various parts of the metropolis: the bullring, where masters from Spain performed; the concert halls, where fine singers from all over Europe entertained; and those unique taverns which started serving delectable dinners at eleven o'clock at night. Here Trinidad could listen to the wan-
dering Negro poets recite impudent impromptu verses cataloguing the scandals of the day. Standing before her table one night, the best of the black poets cried with obvious joy:
'Little girl with the laughing smile, Please stay among us for a while. Mexico is criminal, it's true, That's why we need a prettv little . . That's why we need a witty little . That's why we need a lovely little girl like you.'
The poetry wasn't very good, but it was delivered with great enthusiasm and considerable boldness. To Don Ramon, the poet declaimed:
'While you spend money wildly in the city,
The clerks back home are checking on your books.
They scratch their heads and say "The pity:
These figures prove that you're the chief of crooks." '
At this sally the crowded tavern applauded, and other diners pointed their fingers at Don Ramon and chided him for being a thief. He was required to nod and smile and tip the insulting poet handsomely, for if he failed to do any of these things, the black man would remain there shouting really damaging verses. However, on this occasion the minstrel achieved his greatest success with the lines he launched at Rene-Claude:
'My fine young lad with eyes of blue, I see you come from France. But our police are on to you, So do not take a chance.
'For if you try to steal our girl This entire town will rise. And knock your head into a whirl And boot you to the skies.
'Take my advice, young man of France, Forget the old man's threats. Lead forth your lady to the dance And you will cash your bets.'
With this, he threw his arms wide, reached down and kissed Trinidad, embraced Rene-Claude, and after gathering coins from the latter, danced his way through the restaurant, a figure of whirling grace, black as the night and free to exercise privileges no
one else in that room would have dared. At the exit he leaped, turned in midair, and threw the entire assembly kisses with his long, agile fingers.
There was nothing in Tejas like this black poet, nor was there anything like the grandeur of Mexico City or its university more than two centuries old, and as Trinidad came to know the metropolis in which she would remain for half a year, she also came to understand something of Spain's glory. She knew now why her grandfather was so proud of his heritage and wanted her to share it with a Spanish husband who might even take her back to the homeland. One night, after they had attended one of the city's dozen theaters for a program of one-act plays and singing, she confided: 'It seems so old and so learned and the buildings so important . . . It's not at all like our poor Tejas,' and Don Ramon said: 'Spain itself is even better.'
But his search for a Spanish son-in-law was not going well, and he was relieved when D'Ambreuze announced that he must go down to Vera Cruz to supervise the arrival of mining equipment from France, but was appalled when the young man suggested that the Saldanas accompany him, for it would be a distance of some seventy leagues through fever-ridden jungle. However, Trinidad made such an outcry about wishing to visit Puebla, one of the most gracious cities in the entire Spanish empire, that he did agree to lead his family that far. There, in what was called the City of the Angels, with the great volcanoes looming over the myriad churches —three hundred and sixty-five in outlying Cholula alone—they said farewell to D'Ambreuze. Don Ramon saluted him, Engracia allowed him to kiss her, and Trinidad clung to him as the horses were brought up for the dangerous journey down to where the ships from Europe arrived almost every week.
Back in the capital, Don Ramon made serious inquiry concerning D'Ambreuze, and learned from officials who had served in both Spain and New Orleans that he did indeed come from an excellent family and that his people in Louisiana had been among the first to accept Spanish rule back in the 1760s.
One diplomat said: 'We had to hang a dozen French leaders, you know. They were stubborn, would accept nothing Spanish, so we strung them up. But the D'Ambreuze clan were different. Good Frenchmen. Good Catholics. And now they're good Spaniards. There's been talk that Rene-Claude's father, or perhaps Rene-Claude himself, in due course, might be our Spanish governor in New Orleans. So the young man is not a nobody, of that you can be sure, Don Ramon.'
Over the weeks Saldana pondered his problem, and one after-
noon when Trinidad was out with friends visiting the architectural masterpieces of the capital, he said to her mother: 'By sixteen our precious little lady ought to be married. I'm afraid my dream of Spain was fruitless. I have the sad feeling that our good friend Veramendi was correct when he predicted that the real power would be coming down El Camino Real from the north and not up from the south.'
'Are you saying . . . ?'
'I'm saying that when I study the decline of Spain in the New World, our young French friend begins to look better every day.'
'Oh dear.' Engracia was not prepared for a French son-in-law, nor for the French to have a foothold of any kind in Mexico, especially Tejas. 'In the old days things were so much simpler.'
When D'Ambreuze returned from Vera Cruz, bronzed and temporarily underweight because of fever, so that he seemed almost a wraith, he insisted that everyone accompany him on an expedition to the ruins of some pyramids north of the city. A field trip involving many horses and servants was arranged, and when the Saldanas stood at the base of the major pyramid, its sides encrusted with growing trees and small shrubs, they marveled at the building talents of the ancients. For the first time Don Ramon contemplated the fact that before the Spanish came to Mexico, Indians of great ability must have lived here, capable of building edifices ten times more grand than anything yet seen in Tejas. It was a disturbing thought to a man who had always scorned Indians, but the impact of the pyramids was even greater on Trinidad, for she could not believe that these wonders looming out of the wasteland could have been built by the ancestors of the Indians she had known, and a most strange thought occurred to her, which she shared with her parents. 'They must have been different Indians from the ones we see. That Indian maiden who married the Spanish soldier Garza, she must have been quite different.' And when she returned to the city she began looking into the faces of the Indians, staring at them impolitely, trying to find in them any indication of the master-builders who had constructed those pyramids.
When the Saldanas returned to the capital from this excursion, Don Ramon slumped in a chair and told Engracia: 'I don't think we're going to find a proper husband for Trinidad.'
'Not here,' she agreed. 'It looks as if Spain has already surrendered Mexico. She's surely not sending any young officers here.'
Therefore, Don Ramon did not immediately reject Rene-Claude's impertinent suggestion that he accompany the Saldana expedition back to Bejar, but something the young man said