# Pictures of life in Mexico/Volume 2/Chapter 26

Contents
CHAPTER XXVI.
INDEPENDENT MEXICANS.
One feature of the Mexican character obtrudes itself forcibly upon the attention of a foreign resident at an early stage of his experiences—their braggart pride and lofty assertion of personal independence. You will seldom encounter a Mexican at all removed from the lowest grade, who has not such an overwhelming idea of his own grandeur and importance that he will admit of superiority in no shape or form. If you meet him on equal terms, and desire to enter into conversation, he immediately gives you to perceive that he patronizes you. Employ him in the meanest capacity—whether he waits upon you at table, feeds your mule, or furnishes you with boots, ​spurs or wearing apparel and you remunerate him fourfold—he is still your patron.
Confer an obligation upon him or put yourself to inconvenience to serve him still he patronizes you; and his acceptance of your kindness is a condescension. Nay I verily believe that if you were to save his life at the peril of your own he would even then patronize you, and account you his debtor that he did you the honour to allow his life to be saved!
This peculiarity however, is more whimsical than offensive; for no affront is intended by it. But there is, however, a kind of drunken independence—if I may be allowed the expression—in which an ignorant mind is apt to clothe itself as with a garment, whenever the body is prostrated by intoxication. I do not consider the Mexicans generally an intemperate people; but their favourite liquors drunk to excess, have as powerful an effect upon them as more fiery alcohol has on the natives of other countries: and when a Mexican of the patronizing stamp has his natural independence augmented by his potations he is a remarkable specimen of human nature indeed—sometimes very ​disagreeable, but often excessively whimsical and diverting.
Of an exhibition of these two qualities in happy unison, I was unexpectedly a witness, at a public room adjoining a fonda, to which I had gone for my usual evening meal of mutton, frijoles, and tortilla-cakes.
A good-looking postilion was standing—or rather drooping, with a swaying motion of the body—at one of the side tables, in the midst of a group of boon companions, who were profiting by his generosity; for he was treating them to divers cups of aguardiente at his own cost. He was in the condition I have named: a very impersonation of patronage, he lorded it over his comrades with mock-majestic mien and out-stretched hand; his head rolled from side to side in an important manner; his eyes glared fiercely and brightly from under his slightly-raised eyebrows—his long hair was pushed backwards on his shoulders—and he appeared to have appropriated the whole of the conversation to himself.
His dress and entire accoutrements also partook of the portentous swagger and solemn joviality of the man: his broad sombrero was set smartly on one side of his cranium; but ​its dignity was marred by the ragged appearance of the crown which had started up from the other parts from the effect of some cruel crush it had received: the scarlet handkerchief beneath it too would have looked attractive, only that it partially hung in shreds down to his waist behind. His finely embroidered shirt was wofully stained and bespattered with mud and liquor; stray tufts of straw were visible from the pockets of his smart round jacket; the bells which usually added such a charming finish to his lower garments were, for the most part, flattened or incomplete; and his spurs!—Holy Virgin! were it possible to arouse and sober him by any earthly consideration, it would have been the soiled state in which his spurs—those jewels of his heart—were to be seen at that moment!
The chief points of his discourse appeared to relate to those subjects of his patronage—his employers. No words can adequately depict the oracular majesty of his speech, or the braggadocio of his manner, as he delivered himself of his opinions.
"The Señor and Señora who employed him," he said, "were utterly unworthy of his services: they were no better than himself; ​and some people whom he could name"—here he winked upon his companions—"assured him they were not half so good. Then why should he serve them and wear their clothing? He had often told them he should quit their service and be his own master; and now, then, he would do it. Why should he be dependent upon them for the food he ate? He would bear it no longer, but would demand a pension for his services, and retire, and employ a postilion of his own. He was acquainted with their secrets; and if they denied him his request, he would make public a few little matters that they would give any money to conceal, he was sure!"
The poor postilion rambled on after this fashion for some time, and lashed himself and his independent opinions into such a fury, that he madly tore the hat and handkerchief from his head, and the bells from his inexpressibles, and dashed them indignantly against the wall of the apartment.
Ere long, however, his violence seemed exhausted, and a revulsion of feeling took place. Conscience, it was evident, began to accuse him; and he became as cringing and abject, as he had been elevated and uproarious; and ​his speech, when he resumed it—which he did in mild extenuation—afforded the strongest possible contrast to his former boastfulness.
"Had he said anything disrespectful? Queen of Heaven! Nothing was further from his intentions than to say anything disrespectful. He believed he had said nothing which could possibly be construed into anything disrespectful. Especially of the good and dear Cavallero and his lady who employed him; he would not say anything disrespectful for the world! Again he hoped that he had not said anything disrespectful?"
He now proceeded, in his humility, to poke his face close to the countenance of every individual round him, and inquire from each in turn, if he had given utterance to anything disrespectful? And each assured him with the utmost promptitude (for they were drinking his aguardiente at the moment) that he had done nothing of the kind.
All but one man—a little fellow on short allowance of drapery—upon whom drink was beginning to have the same effect as it had previously had on the postilion. This individual stoutly contended that the other had been disrespectful,—very,—and a violent ​quarrel was the result. The little man was wofully beaten and punished before he would relinquish his point; and the postilion was thrust into the street by the late recipients of his bounty—bleeding and wounded, minus hat, bells, and scarlet handkerchief; his clothes hanging in miserable shreds and tatters about his person.
A yet more grotesque assertion of this independence shewed itself on another occasion, as I was travelling from the city of Puebla to the town of Perote, in the company of a small caravan of pedlars, guards, and carriers.
We had arrived within three hours riding from the latter place. It was early in the evening, and very hot; so as we had the remainder of the day before us, we allowed our animals to take their own time in carrying us to our journey's end. Proceeding very leisurely, therefore, we were overtaken by a man mounted upon a sorry mule, and a female with a child, who walked in a faltering and hesitating manner beside him. They had come from one of the little villages on our right hand, and were anxious to reach Perote before nightfall. They were both intoxicated; and the female produced a small coin—I could not see the amount—to secure ​the protection of the troop for herself and family.
The first act of this worthy trio was for the man to inform the company "that his name was Zarios—Señor Zarios—that the lady near him was his wife and that the child was their son; and furthermore that they were proceeding on a little social visit to some particular friends of theirs in Perote." I never saw a more comical expression of drunken gravity, than his face assumed as he favoured us with these particulars; and the wonder was, considering his tottering motion that he contrived to keep upon the back of his mule from one moment to another.
​Yes; they were going to pay a little social visit then to some particular friends of theirs, in Perote!"
The stammering grandeur of their manner, and their familiar questions to persons who had never set eyes upon them before, afforded no little diversion to the troop; yet it had no effect in moderating the garrulity and condescending patronage of Señor Zarios and his buxom dame.
They then introduced their hopeful son and heir to the notice of the company. "Was there such another child to be found anywhere? Was he not beautiful?—a fit subject to dedicate to the service of Our Lady herself? He was so sweet-tempered, and not at all tired of walking yet; when he was, he should ride beside his father. They were very fond of him, and so were their friends. They were, even then, on their way to pay a little social visit to some particular friends of theirs in Perote!"
What must the lady do the next moment—in her misty apprehension of things—but mistake me, mounted upon my little pony, for her husband! She stumbled up to me, and began to pinch my elbows and knees, in a playful ​manner humorously inserting her fingers between my ribs, at short intervals, by way of variety. As I did not respond to these affectionate endearments, however, she laid her hand so heavily on my shoulder, as almost to upset me as well as my gravity, and bawled into my ear, "I have paid for our protection, love! Do not look so downcast, for we shall soon be with our friends at Perote! "Then she pinched my arms and knees and sides again, and hung about the neck of my pony; so that for some time I was unable to assure her of her mistake, and to convince her that I was not indeed her liege lord and master.
By-and-bye Señor and Señora Zarios began to perceive that the favours of their conversation were lavished upon indifferent and unworthy auditors; for a kind of horse-laugh was the only reward generally bestowed upon their attentions. Their dignity became aroused, and their patronizing and independent spirit speedily found other ways of venting itself. They were now excessively solemn and unyielding; and jogged on together in offended silence, a little in advance of the irreverent company.
Amused by their indignant bearing, we ​halted to refresh our animals before sunset. And now their high spirit urged them to shew their independence of us in the strongest manner. "They would do no such thing as wait; not they! They would go on without us!" So, much to their own satisfaction and amid the unrestrained laughter of our party, they left us behind; the woman and her son riding, and Señor Zarios staggering on, in his old imposing manner, close behind.
As we approached the walls of the town, at dusk, some of our troop thought they could see a mule lying on the ground, to our left, with one figure or more hanging over him as he lay. We drew nearer to the spot, and the true state of the case presented itself to our view.
I must say it was with a grim satisfaction that I beheld, not only the mule, but Señor Zarios himself, lying forlornly helpless and bedraggled, in a pool of slime and mud; into which they had strayed, ignoring the proper path. There they floundered as they might have done in a comic dance; the mud rising in the richest profusion at every movement, till it seemed likely that both man and animal would soon be covered over. The mule kicked ​Señor Zarios and Señor Zarios kicked the mule; while the lady and her little boy struggled wildly to release them tugging first at one limb and then at another, and screaming loudly to aid their endeavours. "And this," thought I, "is the party who were proceeding to pay a little social visit to some particular friends of theirs, in Perote!"
We assisted the woe-begone, well-assorted couple to their feet; yet, as we did so, Señor Zarios, stupid and unconscious, muttered words of patronage and independence. But, by this time, some friends whom he had not expected, arrived upon the scene; and bore him and his good lady away with them, to share their quiet hospitality.