So, as we have seen, religion and superstition are much combined in the mind of the Mexicans, the result of both ancient and modern creeds. As to the antique beliefs and cult, there is much that appeals to the philosopher in the religious structures and history of the prehistoric, semi-civilised peoples of Mexico, or indeed of Spanish-America, whether North or South. The pyramids and temples, which the Toltecs and the Aztecs and the Incas built, have something grand and broad underlying their main idea, the idea of being able to getontheir temples rather thaninthem. There is ever a source of inspiration in being upon the point of an eminence, to commune with Providence, rather than being immured within some gloomy walls, with toppling spires overhead. The spirit ever tries to getout, to ascend, and is exalted in accordance with its altitude. Did not Moses at Sinai bring forth the enduring Decalogue from the summit of a great natural pyramid, rather than from the gloomy interior of a temple? The exceedingly numerous pyramids throughout ancient Mexico seem to attest some exalted idea of a natural religion, which found outlet and habitation in the great Teocallis.
Man, semi-civilised or modern, ever strives to commune with a God, an unseen Being. Is it not nobler and more inspiring to gaze towards the setting sun with solitude around us? An environment of Nature, the nearest approach to the "unknown God" which exists, subtly attracts us as the handiwork of a power unknown. Well may the altar lights and emblems, and the oppressive enclosure of temples, be more and more rejected by the thinking mind, as the dark ages of religion leave us and true reverential knowledge unfolds. We might almost be tempted to say that the cathedrals of Mexico are not a philosophical exchange for its Teocallis, nor that the stake and axe of the Inquisition were much advance upon the sacrificial stone of the Aztec war-god! The frenzied priest who cut open the breast of the human sacrificial victim with anobsidian knife, and tore out the palpitating heart to cast it before his fanciful gods, does not present a picture of such refined cruelty as that of civilised European man, the Inquisitors in long black cloaks, calmly sitting by whilst their victims were slowly roasted to death at the stake because they would not change their faith, or for other equally reasonless cause. There is, and ever will be, something peculiarly sinister and abominable about the recollection of the Inquisition and its operations, under the sky of the New World. And to the philosophical observer, who pins his thoughts to no mere creed of whatever designation, the fact seems palpable that the sinister authority which did those things is only slumbering, and did not civilisation and antagonism restrain it those scenes would be repeated. The germs of an Inquisition exist in almost every religious organisation, but the old original one would burn its victims again if it could!
As to the Teocallis, perhaps their form was suggested by the natural pyramidal hills of the mountain landscape, whereon men must have stood to watch the sunset and feel nearer heaven, even in those savage lands. Even to-day this hill-ascending influence is not banished among the primitive class of the Mexican people. Every hill in the neighbourhood of a hamlet is surmounted by a cross, up to which culminating point processions constantly ascend. Indeed, at times the devout—or fanatic—Indian andpeonascends these rocky steeps upon his knees, leaving blood-spots to mark his way! Processions of fanatic Indians were formerly common; they journeyed over great distances upon their knees towards some popular shrine, and although the law now prohibits these, they are surreptitiously carried out at times, and I have witnessed them myself. Onwards and upwards towards the "Unknown God" these poor people grope their way—
"Upon the great world's altar stairs."
"Upon the great world's altar stairs."
Can we say much more of the most civilised among us?
Much of beauty and interest there is in a study of both the old and new religions of this land; much of the romance of the former we may feel, as, standing on the pyramid whence the rays of the orb of day were flashed back from the golden breastplate of Tonatiah in days of yore, we mark the sun-god of the Aztecs sink in the Occident.
Anthropogeographical conditions—The Great Plateau—The tropical belt—Primitive villages—Incidents of travel on the plateau—Lack of water—Hydrographic conditions—Venomous vermin—Travel by roads anddiligencias—A journey with a priest—Courtesy of thepeonclass—The curse of alcohol—The dress of the working classes—The women of thepeonclass—Dexterity of the natives—The bull-fights—A narrow escape—Mexican horse equipment—Thevaqueroand the lasso—Native sports—A challenge to a duel—Foreigners in Mexico—Unexplored Guerrero—Sporting conditions—Camp life—A day's hunting.
The picturesque incidents of life and travel in Mexico vary much according to the particular part of the country we may be sojourning in or passing through. Civilisation has advanced more upon the great plateau, threaded by numerous railway systems, than in the less accessible regions of the Pacific and Atlantic slopes. Mexican national life has not developed much upon the littoral. A harbourless and riverless country, aboriginal civilisation made little use of its coasts, and the same natural conditions have existed until to-day, although now, at great cost, harbours are being created and transverse railway lines being built.
Yet upon the great plateau, which, indeed, embodies a large part of Mexico, life is harder—at any rate for the labouring classes—than in the tropical regions bordering upon the Pacific and Atlantic slopes, and of that equally or more tropical region to the south of the Sierra Madres. Scantily clad, thepeonsuffers from the brusque change from torrid day to bitterly cold night which the climateof the great tableland produces. The ground is generally sterile by nature—as elsewhere described—and all produce is grown under irrigation. In many parts of the region water is scarce, or is employed for the irrigation of highly remunerative crops, such as cotton, leaving a minimum for the growing of food products. In this arid region natural pasture is scarce, with a consequent dearth of cattle and their produce, whilst cereals, fruits, and vegetables are far from plentiful. Consequently thepeonhas but a small choice of comestibles.
In the more tropical belt, however, the vegetation is profuse, and fruits, cereals, and any product of the vegetable world grows almost spontaneously, or with a minimum of care. Bananas, oranges, sweet potatoes, sugar-cane, and a variety of eatables—all easily acquired—increase his range of food products, even if they do not augment his working powers.
Not all thepeoninhabitants of Mexico are necessarily attached to the large estates. Upon the great tableland the traveller, as he pursues his sun-beat and dusty road, will constantly come upon small hamlets and even single dwellings, set near the base of some hill or in the broken ground of a ravine, orarroyo, where perchance a feeble stream or spring provides the inhabitants with the means of satisfying their thirst. Failing that a dammed-up pond may form the only supply of water.
These places are generally of the most primitive and miserable character. Often, were it not for the sterile nature of the land and the lack of water they would not be in the possession of the people at all, but would long ago have been taken by the nearesthacienda. Indeed, possibly they may be upon the territory claimed by such, but of too insignificant a nature to be disturbed. Let us survey briefly these poor dwellers on Nature's waste places. We have ridden for hours under the sun and wind; our faces are scorched and our lips are cracked. "Is there nosombrawhere we can eat our lunch and take asiesta?" I ask of my servant, who is acting in the double capacity ofmozoand guide. He shakes his headdoubtfully. "Quien sabe, señor," he replies, but recollects apublecito, a little farther on, where we may obtain shade. We ride on. Oh for a drink from some crystal stream! The water in the bottle is lukewarm; it is not a bottle, but a gourd, such as in Mexico are fashioned from the wildcalabazasfor this purpose, stoppered with maize-cob freed from the grain, and it preserves the water fairly fresh.
The vociferous barking of a legion of dogs announces our approach, for however poor the inhabitants of these places may be the bands of mongrel curs which they keep seem to find means of living. We approach the huts, our horses kicking and snorting at the attacks of the dogs. A few of the houses are built of the usualadobebricks; the major portion—there may be a dozen or so—are simplyjacales, as the Mexican wattle-hut is termed. Dirt, rags, and evil odours surround the place, for primitive man is a filthy being, and defiles the environs of his habitation for a considerable area around him. My visions of the crystal stream vanish. Close at hand is a foul pond of waters collected from the last rainstorm, wherein a lean-backed hog wallows, and we learn that this is the villagers' water supply! Naked children of both sexes run about under our horses' legs, and supplicate me for acentavito. A horse, or at least the framework of a horse—for the animal is attenuated beyond description—stands tethered under the shade of a rude roof of boughs and whinnies feebly to our sturdy mounts.
"There is no water, señor," the old crone, who has emerged from one of the huts, replies. "God has sent us no rain for many days, but if the señor would like somepulque—" I close with the suggestion and instruct themozoto try it, to see if, in his experienced judgment, it is good. This he does, nothing loath, and pronounces it fresh.Pulqueis a refreshing and not unwholesome drink. It is not a spirit, although in quantities it is intoxicating. Its manufacture is unknown outside Mexico, and in Peru thechicha, ormaizbeer of the natives, takes its place.
I quaff a gourd of the liquid; custom has rendered it not unpleasant to the palate, and its singular odour I disregard. And in the cool shade of the interior of the most respectable of theadobehuts we rest awhile until the sun's fiery disc has descended somewhat from the zenith. Then I distribute some small largesse to the woman and her numerous progeny, for am I not aninglés, of that famous race whose pockets are ever lined with silver and who are known even throughout these remote regions?
How do these people live? The only vegetation at hand is some gauntnopalesor prickly pear cactus, forming a protective hedge around the settlement, and a few other specimens, all armed with spines and prickles after the fashion of Nature's handiwork in arid regions. Truly, these outcasts must gather "grapes of thorns and figs of thistles" if they reap anything here! But probably at the head of thearroyothere is a little tilled patch ofmaizandalfalfa, such as supply the inevitabletortillafor the denizens of the place, and fodder—and thereby some small revenue, as in our own case—for the beasts of passing travellers.
But this region is not always dry. At certain seasons heavy rainstorms occur, and a veritable deluge descends upon the cracked ground and fills the dry river-beds andarroyoswith a turgid flood. In some situations, as, for example, on the river Nazas, a wave of water comes down, covering 10 or 15 feet deep and 500 feet wide in an irresistible flood what a few moments before was a parched and sandy bottom. In the great gullies of the plains similar conditions occur, and woebetide the unfortunate horseman or foot passenger who may be journeying along them at the moment! These sudden freshets are a remarkable feature of the hydrography of the great plateau, and have been more fully described in another chapter.
Such a storm we shall have encountered in our expeditions. The rain comes down in torrents, and the lightning flashes and the thunder reverberates amongthe rocks and canyons; for we have approached a mountain spur, perhaps, in our examination of its mineral resources.
Thepeonin such situations, if there be no shelter at hand, not infrequently, when alone or only with his companions, takes off his clothing and places it in some sheltered rock-crevice, where it keeps dry, until the storm has passed, he himself remaining nude and unconcerned amid the downpour. A mouthful ofmezcal, or fiery native spirit, will ward off a chill.
At night we have sought the hospitality of the owner of someadobehut. He has done his best for me, but sleeping on the floor is ever trying, and the pack-mule with my baggage and camp-bed has tarried on the road. A rainstorm in this region has the effect of bringing out the noxious vermin from the soil, where they have lain during the heat. Among the most uncomfortable of these are thealacran, or scorpion, and the centipede, both of which reptiles are found freely upon the walls and roofs of theadobedwellings. For my peace of mind we have carefully examined the interior, with a candle, before turning in, and themozo, with a piece of firewood, has smashed the offending centipedes, of which there were a number. Both the scorpion and centipede have a venomous sting, the former sometimes fatal. As to thepeones, they display small concern at the presence of these vermin. "God willing we shall not be stung," they say, and, rolling themselves in theirponchoson the bare floor in a corner of the habitation, they are soon asleep. But sleep does not visit me so easily. An uncomfortable impression remains, which has not been lessened by the casual remark of the owner of the hut regarding the habits of the scorpions. "Very knowing creatures, señor," he says, as he obsequiously helps to arrange my couch in the middle of the floor—a position chosen by myself—"they have a habit of dropping from the roof on to a person sleeping beneath"!
Mexico, unlike other Cordilleran countries, lends itself to travel in certain directions by means of roads andvehicles. Thediligenciaswhich give communication from remote places to the wayside stations of the railways, where the nature of the topography admits of roads for wheeled vehicles, are canvas-topped carriages drawn by half a dozen mules. Over the dusty plains of the tableland and through the rugged scenery of hill-passes these somewhat crazy vehicles perform their journeys, starting often before sunrise and arriving after sunset in order to accomplish their toilsome trajectory. Jolting over the ruts andarroyosof the scarcely-tended "roads"—if by courtesy they may be termed such—and baked by the sun blazing upon the carriage-hood, the traveller would often prefer to exchange his uncomfortable seat for that of the saddle. Often a more agreeable method is by alternating these methods.
I journeyed, on one occasion, with apadre, or village priest; not, however, in a publicdiligencia, but in a vehicle of similar nature which I had chartered to convey me to a distant point. As I was starting some Mexican friends of a neighbouringhaciendaapproached the vehicle, accompanied by a stoutpadre. "Would I do them and thepadrethe great favour of taking the latter in my coach, which would save the worthy representative of the Church a long, hot ride?" they asked. "Of course I would; nothing would afford me greater pleasure," I replied, although in strict truth this was an expression of courtesy rather than of actual fact, for thepadrelooked very heavy, and I had desired to journey rapidly without a change of mules. The reverend gentleman was of a type commonly met with in Spanish-America, of little education and predominant native physiognomy, but jovial withal. A basket containing good and liberal provisions to sustain thepadreupon his arduous journey was put into the coach by his friends, and simultaneously put at my service, as a matter of course. From the covering of the basket protruded the tops of various bottles of wine and beer, which my travelling companion eyed with satisfaction, and indeed before we started he insisted upon openingone—of cognac—and giving us acopaall round. This habit of drinking brandy in the early morning is a common one in Latin America—it is said to ward off malaria!—but is not an acceptable one to the temperate Briton.
Well, the coach started. Thepeonwho held the mules' heads—a necessary precaution—let go, and the half-broken animals bounded forward along the rough and dusty road, in a way which rendered both thepadreand myself quite speechless for a space. However, they soon settled down into their rapid jog-trot, and I found my companion quite loquacious. His mission had been to marry a number ofpeonesat thehacienda, who, at such places, where the visits of a representative of the Church are apt to be few and delayed, have to wait for the Church's blessing for some time, and then receive it in batches. This delay, however, does not necessarily cause a postponement of their matrimonial relations in other respects—as, indeed, the reverend father informed me! Other interesting matters and views of men (and women) and their customs thepadreunfolded as we went along, drawn from his professional experience, and recounted, perhaps, with more freedom to a foreigner who understood his language, and doubtless rendered of more facile delivery by the frequent investigations of the contents of the bottles which he made as the day wore on.
As evening approached my coach halted at a small village at the foot of a range of hills which intersected the desert, in order that the mules might water. The inhabitants of the place, eager for the least distraction, approached; and, learning that apadrewas within the vehicle, the women and girls crowded round to receive the good man's benediction and kiss his hand, which he graciously extended from the carriage window. But the throng was considerable, and our stay short, and it seemed that many of them would not be able to kiss the brown hand of the priest. And now I absolve myself from having done it on purpose! My own hand layupon the sill of the window upon my side of the coach, and suddenly I felt the pressure of a pair of lips upon it! Looking out, I saw that some of the girls and women had come round to that side of the vehicle, and, doubtless, supposing that I was also a padre, had begun to kiss my hand. A certain feeling of pity or delicacy caused me to refrain from removing it—let them be happy in thinking they were also the recipient of some attention; and so I left it there. No one peered into the gloom of the vehicle's interior, or the supposedpadrewould have been discovered as a clean-shaven young Englishman, dressed, not in priestly black and cassock, but in riding garments! And when the vehicle started I did not consider it necessary to inform my companion of therôleI had unwittingly played.
But the day's adventures were not over. In crossing the dry bed of anarroyoa wheel gave way and the coach overturned, fortunately for me on the side of thepadre! Had it been otherwise the weight of the good priest might have caused me much inconvenience; but as it was I felluponhim. It was in no irreverent spirit that I afterwards cogitated that, at least on one occasion of my life, the Romish Church had interposed between me and injury! And as the priest was not hurt, I could afford to impart this view to him.
The poorpeonclass is there much under the influence of the priest, especially the women, and, indeed, among the upper classes the confessional and other priestly operations are attended with as much rigidity as in past centuries, although the male sex has very greatly emancipated itself therefrom, and receives any allusions to the priest with a shrug of the shoulders, or, at times, with coldness or open hostility towards that worthy. The Church has fallen into disrepute in Mexico, and it is impossible that it should ever regain its former preeminence. The humblepeonesarouse the foreigner's pity. Poor people! they are bound by centuries of class-distinction and priestly craft transplanted from an old-world monarchy. These people are generally affectionateand respectful; they will undergo hardship and toil to serve us if we have by justice and tolerance won their respect and sympathy; and with a faithfulness that is almost canine. Their feasts, ceremonies, griefs, are quaint and full of colour and the human touch. Their simple state of life and humble dress take nothing from their native courtesy. Behold yon sandalled andmanta- (cheap calico) clad worker. He will never think of addressing us without taking off his grimy and battered hat, nor will he speak to his acquaintance or fellow worker save as "Don"—Don Tomás, Don Juan, or whatever it may be. His first salutation in the morning is always to ask how we have slept. Indeed this is a common form of salutation with all classes in Mexico, "Como ha pasado usted la noche?" And it is but an indication of that importance which they attach to sleep. None would think to disturb oursiesta, no matter who might be waiting to see us, and nothing short of actual danger to us would cause us to be awakened before the usual hour, or aroused after we had retired.
The great enemy of thepeonand Indian class is alcohol. Whether it be the mild intoxicantpulqueof the plateau—for the beverage will not keep in thetierra caliente—or whether the fieryaguadiente, or cane-rum, or the potentmezcal, also made frommaguey, the habit of drinking to excess is the ruination of the working class. Wherever it may be, whether under the shade of a tree in the noonday sun, or riding an attenuated horse across the plains, or at the dwelling of somecompadreor other acquaintance, there is a bottle protruding from pocket or saddle-bags, and the odour of spirits in the air. The remedy lies largely in prohibition, but, alas! the country's legislators are generally great landowners, and part of their revenue comes from the growing of themaguey, or of the sugar-cane, and in the making and sale ofpulqueandaguadiente.
The dress of thepeonis picturesque, and to the foreign observer ever strikes a note of almost operatic strain. As the sun sets thepeondons hisponcho, orserape, as thered blanket which is his invariable outer garment is termed. In the cool air of the morning or evening he speaks but little, covering his mouth with a corner of theserape, for he has a constant and, as far as the foreigner can observe, unfounded fear of pneumonia. The crowning point of his dress is the great conical, broad-brimmed hat, which is the main and peculiar characteristic of the inhabitants of this land; a national and remarkable headgear which is met with nowhere else. There is ever a brigand-like local colour about the Mexicanpeon, and indeed of some of the upper classes in their national dress. Thepeon, or thevaquero,[32]as he stalks muffled through the streets orplaza, or lurks within his habitation with a corner of theserapethrown over his shoulder and a knife stuck in his belt, is a subject which might have stepped from the boards of a theatre! Although he is respectful in his demeanour, and often devout in his language, the open greeting and confident demeanour of the Anglo-Saxon is absent. Who can blame him? The oppression of centuries weighs upon him; he has been doomed to ignorance and poverty ever since his Iberian conquerors set foot upon the soil which was his, and the descendants of this same conquering race do little but perpetuate his melancholy state. In the years since the Republic was established he has been constantly dragged from his peaceful labours to serve this or that revolutionary malcontent, and so made to destroy rather than create industry. And to-day he is the subject of such unequal wealth and class distinction whose change it seems impossible to hope for. Yet there is some progress.
32 Cowboy.
As to the women of thepeones, their dress is generally sombre-hued and modest. No scarlet blanket covers them, but a bluereboso, or shawl, which is generally placed over the head in lieu of a hat. The women of the poorer classes accept, with what to the foreigner seems almost a pathetic resignation, the style of dress which custom has dictated to their class. There is no aping of therich in their attire. Whether it be the fine lacemantillaor the Parisian hat which the far-distant-from-her señorita wears, as in temple orplazashe takes her dainty way, or the pretty frock or delicate shoes, the poor woman of thepeon, or themujerof the petty shopkeeper, casts no envious glance—but no, that would not be true! She casts them, but she will not strive to imitate. Is there not some virtue in such non-emulation, or is it but the spirit of a deadened race? Yet this rather sombre and unattractive apparel is found more among thepeonclass; the Indian girl in some parts of Mexico—as at Tehuantepec—wears a handsome native costume, derived from Aztec days, at holiday time.
Thereboso, or shawl, is a useful article of clothing of the women of this class. We shall meet her trudging along dusty roads or over steep mountain trails, sad-faced and patient, with her baby slung behind her in arebosotied round her waist; or possibly she has utilised it to collect some scantyleña, or firewood, from among the dry scrub of thearroyo, just as her man uses hisserapeas a universal hold-all on occasions for potatoes, maize, or other articles which he has purchased at the village market.
The complexion of the Mexicanpeonclass is generally exceedingly dark, approaching coffee-colour, although they have, of course, no strain of African blood in their composition. But the types of faces vary much for different parts of the country—due to the numerous distinct races. Some purely aboriginal faces are almost clear-cut and attractive, especially among the women. Thepeonwomen, too, are often soft and pretty, and attract, and are attracted, by the foreigner. Near the lines of the railroads the progeny of Mexican women—Anglo-Saxon in type—are often seen!
The Mexicans,peonesand Indians, have a remarkable aptitude—like those other peoples of aboriginal blood in America, as Peru—for making things by hand which require care and patience. The exquisite figures with delicately carved features and dress, pottery, wovenmaterial, as mats and pouches, straw (and Panama) hats, and so forth, are such in delicacy and texture as it is improbable could be made by the workmen of Europe.
Indeed, the elements of care and patience are much developed among these semi-civilised peoples. A Mexicanpeonwill not miss his way on the plains or in the mountains—the least indication will serve his recollection of the route, and, indeed, it is not necessary to enlarge upon the aborigine's natural science of woodcraft. Moreover, thepeonwill carry any delicate object—a theodolite or barometer, or other scientific instrument, for example—with such care over the roughest and most precipitous places that it will never be injured, and where in similar situations, the clumsy European or American would inevitably bring it to disaster.
The Mexicans are dexterous in pottery-making, and they fashion greatollasto a wonderfully symmetrical form without other appliance than that of a small wooden paddle or beater, with which the red earth-mortar is shaped and patted into form. This method, indeed, dates from Aztec time, when there was no potter's wheel. They are sun-dried first and then baked. The makers of these, or the vendors, carry numbers of them about bound up in crates, a huge load on their backs; and as they are much in demand, the women rush out of their houses eager to purchase, as theolla-carriers enter the villages. These huge pots are mainly used for carrying water from the spring, and with arebosoor shawl as a pad upon their shoulder or their head, the women walk gracefully along with their heavy burden of the necessary water-supply, at morning or evening.
Thepeonis ever ready to exchange work for play, or indeed to shelve the former altogether at times, and the numerous feast-days—thedias de fiesta—which are the despair of the foreign employer of labour in Mexico, fall in well with this disposition. The spectacle of the bull-fight appeals greatly to him, ever the national sport. Even in the small villages andhaciendas, remote from the capitals, bull-fighting is the favourite sport, and localtorerosfrom among the middle-class young men of the place enter the arena to display their valour. A bull-ring is easily made in theplaza, or acorralor courtyard, and young bulls, sometimes with their horns blunted to render the pastime less dangerous, are harried about the improvised arena in the usual style, thepicadores,bandillerosandcapeadoresall taking up their office in approved style. The sport tries the mettle of theseaficionados, as the amateur bull-fighters are termed, and many, considering discretion the better part of valour, promptly retreat and hurriedly climb the barrier as the angry bovine makes his entrance to the ring. As a rule, however, the young Spanish-Mexicans show a bold front to the animal. Is this not the sacred and national sport of the land of their forefathers? Does not thesangre españolarun in their veins? None so low as to turn before a bull, or if he does the howls of thepeonspectators who line the walls will make him blush for shame.
In such a scene I found myself on one occasion. A remotehacienda, and bull-fight, ofaficionadonature, inaugurated in honour of some occasion of birthday or other anniversary of the proprietor, whose guest I was. Some lively bulls were performing in the arena, and more than one ambitious amateur bull-fighter had retired the worse for his temerity. "Señor," said one of the guests turning to me, "doubtless you would like to try your hand!" The idea met with instant approval by the others present, and the word went round that theingléswas to enter the ring. I confess the invitation did not appeal to me. The bull at that moment occupying the arena had already drawn blood from one of his tormentors, who was outside repairing his injuries, and the animal stood in the centre of the space, lashing his tail and throwing earth over his shoulder after the manner of his kind, what time he wrathfully eyed the audience. My host—he was a Spaniard, a large landowner—possibly seeing some disinclination reflected on my face, interposed: "There is no shame in refusing," he said. "It isnot to be expected that an Englishman knows anything about this sport." But the ladies of the party looked, I thought, disappointed, and thepeonesaround the walls were already shouting my name, and calling upon me to "entrar"! This would never do. "Señores," I said in the most grandiloquent Spanish I could muster, "you are much mistaken if you think an Englishman is any more afraid of a bull than a Mexican or a Spaniard"; and, taking a proffered pair ofbanderillas, I descended from the platform and entered the arena.
The cheers and yells which arose from thepeonaudience were deafening, and then an ominous calm. The bull advanced towards me and—I must confess it—loomed large as a locomotive! But perhaps fortune favours the brave, and whether from often having seen it done or whether from good luck alone, I placed the decoratedbanderillassuccessfully in the animal's neck, and instantly leaped aside with instinctive agility, having felt the breath from his nostrils upon my face, whilst the animal, smarting with the pain from the barbed points, bounded some paces away, and the audience cheered itself hoarse and gave repealedvivasfor theinglés. Now was the moment to retire in "peace with honour," but desirous of showing how little I cared for the animal—a sentiment I did not really feel—I turned my back to the bull, and ostentatiously unrolled a Havana cigar from its lead-foil covering, and calmly cutting off the end, I proceeded to light it. The bull saw it. With a bound he was upon me, and as I turned to leap aside his horns passed clean under my waistcoat and shirt, and ripped them open to the flesh. Hurled aside by the impact, I lost my balance and staggered wildly, but faced the brute again, whilst deafening yells—whether of delight at possible disaster or encouragement to go on, I could not tell—arose from the spectators who thronged the barriers. But up came thecapeadores, and diverting the animal's attention as was their office, I retired, not without dignity, and received the congratulations of my friends, and a Spanish sash from the presiding "queen" of the entertainment. But Itook no credit for it myself; rather I felt that I had done wrong and barely escaped punishment, in countenancing and taking part in what every Englishman must consider an uncivilising form of sport.
Horsemanship and its accompanying callings play a prominent part in rural life in Mexico. Thehacendado, or estate owner, orranchero, mounts his horse directly after early morning coffee, in order to make the round of his plantations. Thevaquero, or cowboy of Mexico, is possibly the most expert horseman in the world, and the method of training the horse to the lightest touch of the rein, and the comfortable yet swiftpaso, or rapid march to which the animal is trained, are such as the foreign observer notes with interest. Indeed, is he wise he adopts thispasohimself, instead of the English trot.
A distinctive riding dress is used by the Mexican horseman—thecharrocostume, which is a remarkable and even gorgeous habiliment, both as regards man and horse. The short coat and tightly-fitting trousers are made of soft deerskin, tanned to a rich burnt-sienna hue. Down the edges of the coat and upon its lappels a border of luxuriant gold or silver lace is worked, and round the buttonhole similar profuse ornament is planted, and upon the cuffs. A stripe of intricately patterned gold lace runs down the seams of the trousers, which latter, tight-fitting at the top, are adjusted very closely at the calf of the leg. For riding in rough country a further leg-covering is worn; a kind of loose trousers put over the others and buckled round the waist, calledchaparreras, made and ornamented with similar material. The crowning glory of the whole is the huge Mexican hat. This is made of thick beaver-looking felt, with a soft silky surface. Its form is well known with a very high tapering dome-like crown and very broad brim. This great headgear is also profusely ornamented with gold or silver lace, worn principally by therancheros, and the owner's initials are generally worked upon the front of the crown in large gold letters. The hat is of considerable weight. To return to the lower members again, the feet arearmed with a pair of spurs of appalling size and weight, the "wheel" portion being several inches in diameter, and the whole weighing several pounds each. These are often of steel inlaid with gold or silver, and are buckled upon the foot with an elaborate strap and embossed medallion. These spurs do not lacerate the horse, as their points are blunt. The effect of the whole dress is almost dazzling, but the big hat set over the tight trousers and short coat gives a somewhat top-heavy appearance.
The trappings of the horse are not unworthy of the gorgeous habiliments of thejinete, or horseman. The Mexicanmontura, or saddle, is of beautifully tanned leather of a high colour, and profusely-embroidered with silver patterns and ornamentations, and the whole is exceedingly heavy. It is, however, remarkably comfortable, and "the horse carries the weight," the Mexican will inform you if you criticise its bulk in comparison with an English saddle. For work in the country no experienced traveller would ever think of using the English form of saddle. In Mexico or South American countries it is altogether unsuitable, both for horse and rider, giving a maximum of fatigue and minimum of comfort. Also the heavy Mexican bit and single rein are better for travel in these regions, as ever used by the natives. This bit is not necessarily cruel, and in fact the Mexican horses are so remarkably trained as to their mouths, that the faintest touch of a single finger on the bridle is sufficient for instant obedience. As to the huge spurs they are not necessarily cruel, indeed they are less so than the sharp English kind, which draw blood easily where the native instrument does not abrade the skin.
The remarkable and dexterous management of the lasso, orriata, by the rural Mexican is such as fills the beholder with admiration and surprise that so skilful a combination of hemp and horseflesh, managed by a man's hand, could exist. Behold thevaquero, with hisriatawhirling aloft as at full gallop he pursues a fleeing bull! Closing upon it a few yards away the lasso swings its unerring coils through the air, the noose descendsupon horns or hoofs at the will of thevaquero, and it is quite common to lasso the two hind legs of the animal whilst he is in full gallop. And now the horse plays his intelligent part. The noose has fallen with the accuracy desired; thevaquerowinds his end rapidly around the horn of the saddle; the horse gives a half-turn in the quickness of thought, in obedience to his own knowledge and a touch of the bridle, so presenting his flank and a long base to the direction of the strain; the rope tightens tense and smoking with the pull; horse and rider stand unmoved, but the great bulk of the arrested bovine falls prone to the ground. It is an art, a wonderful dexterity we have witnessed, acquired from birth. I ambitiously tried it once, but failed to turn the horse quickly enough, and was pulled over to the ground. Of sports on horseback the Mexicans indulge in several. Mark our friend theranchero, in his holiday dress, upon adia de fiesta. He is going to show us the "raya." His man marks a spot on the flat ground; the horseman retires with his steed to a short distance, put spurs to the animal, comes thundering along towards us at full gallop, and as he reaches the mark on the soil he suddenly draws rein, and the obedient horse putting his legs rigidly together, slides forward on his hoofs with his own momentum, scoring out a mark about his own length on the ground, and stops dead without moving a muscle. This mark is the "raya." Another diversion is that where gaily-be-ribboned chickens—alive—are provided by thenovias, or sweethearts of the young men: and these, mounted on their steeds, ride fast and furious to capture the bird from the one who holds it. The unfortunate chicken is generally torn to pieces, and sometimes in jealous anger and rivalry other blood is shed than that of the innocent bird!
Theriataat times serves the Mexican as a lethal weapon. Perhaps a quarrel between two hot-bloodedvaqueroshas taken place. One draws his revolver—if his circumstances permit him the possession of so expensive a weapon, and they are generally carried—whilst theother lays hand to hisriata. It might be supposed that the man with the revolver would triumph, but woebetide him if he fails to bring down his enemy—both are darting about on their agile horses—before the chambers are exhausted, for the other, whirling the rope aloft, lassoes him, and putting spurs to his own beast, drags the unfortunate man from his horse and gallops away across the plain, dragging him mercilessly to death among the rocks and thorns. For the Mexican when aroused to anger—and his fiercest passions are generally the outcome of love affairs or of drink—is mercilessly cruel and revengeful, and thinks little of shedding the blood of a fellow-creature in the heat of a personal encounter. Among the lower class the knife, orpuñal, is a ready weapon, and a stab, whether in the dark or in the daylight, is a common way of terminating a personal question. This is the shadow of the Aztec war-god thus thrown across the ages! Again it may be said of the Mexicans—love blood, wine, dust!
Among the upper class Mexicans such matters are, of course, unknown, but the challenge and the duel is still a custom of the country, as it is throughout Spanish-America generally. It fell to my lot in one Spanish-American country to receive a challenge. The gentleman who thought himself aggrieved formally sent two friends to wait upon me, requesting that I would name my seconds and select weapons. There was something operatic about the matter to my mind, although they appeared to be in earnest, and I could not help reminding my two visitors of the proposal of a famous American humourist regarding a choice of weapons in such a case—"brick-bats at half-a-mile, or gatling-guns," or something of that nature. However, they would not be turned from their purpose even when I seriously asked if they really desired the shedding of gore. I gravely replied that Englishmen did not enter into such affairs and that I considered it uncivilised; and absolutely refused to have anything to do with them. This they pretended to attribute to cowardice, and said that in sucha case I should be exposed to affront or attack in the street, to which I made reply that I expected to be able to take care of myself and to punish any one who should dare to attempt such a course. I easily gathered that an elaborate duel was in their minds, a show or scene, such the Latin races love and the Anglo-Saxon abhors, and I accused them of this. At length, in order to get rid of them I made the following proposal: "If your friend is really desirous that his blood or mine shall be shed, let him meet me alone—I want no seconds, nor friends nor any other fanfare. I go out every morning on horseback along a certain mountain road. To-morrow I will go alone—let your friend meet me, also alone, and there, without more witnesses than Heaven, we can settle all accounts." This grandiloquent-sounding exhortation had the advantage of coming straight from the heart; it was what I had resolved to do, and moreover my side was the just one. The two seconds departed without much comment, and on the following morning I mounted my horse and went out alone, along the described road. But in the front holster of the saddle there was a long-barrelled Colts revolver, and the Winchester carbine I had occasionally brought down a deer with was strapped in its usual place alongside the saddle. Yet upon all that expanse of road not a soul did I meet, neither that day nor on the several following ones during which I remained in the vicinity.
But such matters are comparatively rare, and the Spanish-American is generally a warm and courteous friend, with a considerable regard for Englishmen, and ever ready to show his hospitality, and those general qualities which are ever esteemed of thecaballero.
Theriata, which appliance or weapon has been described, is ever the accompaniment of the Mexican horseman, and part of his equipment. No rider would ever go forth without, for its multiplicity of uses in woodcraft and travel is remarkable. It is one of the main accoutrements of therurales, the fine body of county police which were called into being by PresidentDiaz. At the time of the war with the French of Maximilian theriatawas sometimes employed by the Mexican soldiers with deadly effect in foraging or scouting parties. Two Mexicans, each with the end of ariatawound round the horn of his saddle, would charge suddenly from ambush upon some unsuspectingFranceses, tearing them from their horses with the taut rope. "The Mexicans have a terrible and barbarous weapon—theriata!"—was recorded by the French soldiery at that time.
As to foreigners in Mexico at the present time, those most in evidence are the Spaniards and the Americans of the United States. Spaniards are continually arriving, and they generally settle down and make good and useful citizens, and often amass much wealth. They are not, however, of the upper or cultivated class from Spain, and their manners and language are far inferior to those of the cultured Mexicans. The Spaniard of a certain class is possibly the worst-spoken man to be met with. His speech teems with indecent words and profane oaths, and whilst he does not mean to use these except as a mere habit, it marks him out from other races, even from the American with his own peculiar and constant "god-dam" and other characteristic terms, both profane and indecent. The most noticeable and objectionable American habit, however, which is shared by the Mexican and South American to the full, is that of continually expectorating. The Anglo-American never leaves it off, whilst, as to the Spanish-American, it is necessary to put up notices in the churches in some places requesting people "not to spit in the house of God!" There is a considerable population of Americans in Mexico, and some of these are of doubtful class and antecedents. But it would be unjust to pretend that only the Americans have furnished a doubtful element for Mexico's floating population. The shores of Albion have furnished a good many examples in the form of "unspeakable" Scotchmen, Englishmen, and Irishmen, at times. Yet the British name has, as a rule, been wellestablished throughout Mexico and Spanish-America, and the American from the United States has often enjoyed the benefit of a reputation he had not earned, for, to the native mind, the distinction between the two English-speaking races is not always apparent at first sight, although it is upon closer acquaintance.
Whilst there is a growing sense of respect and esteem between the Mexicans and the Americans, the former have never quite forgotten that the latter despoiled them of an empire—from their point of view—by the Texan war, half a century ago or more, and only recently have the Mexicans come to believe that the big republic to the north no longer cherishes desires of further annexation of territory. The Americans, for their part, have given up dubbing the Mexicans as "greasers," and have acknowledged the pleasing and refined civilisation of their southern neighbours. The North American, orAmericano, is often known in Mexico as the "Yankee"—not used in an offensive sense, but as a convenient designation. This is varied by the still less distinguished term of "gringo," and indeed, both these terms are employed, not only in Mexico, but thousands of miles below, in South America—Ecuador, Peru, Chile. The latter is not necessarily an opprobrious term, and it is applied to all Anglo-Saxons, British or American, and, indeed, in South America, to all Europeans of a fair complexion. Its derivation has been expounded by various writers as having come from the words of a song sung by some British or American sailors upon landing at a Mexican port, but the etymology seems doubtful. That of "Yankee" is more assured—the corruption of "English," or "Anglais," or "Ingles," employed by the Indians of North America towards the early settlers.
Conditions of life and travel in Mexico vary greatly according to the region we may be called upon to traverse. On the great plateau such as I have described, the hand of civilisation prevails, even if its evidences are at times far apart. In the tropical lowlands, whether of the Gulf or of the Pacific side of the country, we maybe much more seriously thrown upon our own resources, whether for food, transport, or habitation. In the State of Guerrero there are yet large tracts of land absolutely unexplored, and the numerous tribes of Indians inhabiting certain of the tropical regions are under scarcely more than the semblance of control. Yet it cannot be said that they are ferocious or dangerous. Some of them, indeed, are cowardly, and will not even venture far from their villages for fear of wild beasts, whilst others form the most active and fearless guides, varying characteristics which show the wide range of peoples embodied in the country, as set forth in a previous chapter. Whilst Mexico cannot be called a "sportsman's paradise," there is in certain regions a great profusion of game, from turkeys to crocodiles. Theguajalote, or Mexican wild turkey, with its great red beard and shimmering blue-black plumage, is a conspicuous inhabitant of Tamaulipas and other wild regions, and its low flight and plump body render it comparatively easy of securing, whilst it forms an excellent addition to the bill of fare. Huge wild cats abound in the broken country, andosos, or Mexican bears. Of sport, adventure, and romantic travel we may take our fill among these semi-tropical valleys, rivers, and mountains. Of noxious insects, malaria, wild beasts; of flooded streams and parched deserts; of sand-storms, snow-storms, and rain-storms; of precipitous mountains, tracts, and dangerous bogs; of gloomy forest and appalling crags; of delay, danger, and hardship, we shall have all that adventurous spirits may seek, and count the time well lost. Of pleasure in nature and solitude we shall have much, and of the study of primitive and civilised man, and of coquettish maidens and Indian maids, we shall carry away enduring recollections.
We are in camp. The exigencies of our travel have bid us take up our abode in that hastily-constructedjacal, or hut built of branches and plastered outside with mud, such as thepeonknows cunningly how to contrive. Indeed, in such habitations a large part of Mexico'sfifteen million inhabitants dwell. I inspect the well-ventilated walls, for numerous open chinks are left. "The wind will come in," I say. "Yes, señor," José, mypeon-constructor, replies with unconscious wit, "it will not only come in but it will go out"—and he proceeds to remedy the defect.
Our residence in this spot may be for some weeks whilst at our leisure we examine mines, hydrographic conditions, flora, or other matters of scientific or commercial interest which our self-chosen exile demands. The simple habitation is pitched when possible, of course, near to a water supply, a clear running stream, or lake, and if the latter we can take a morning plunge. This excites the surprise of ourmozo, or servant, and the other men in our employ.
"No, señor," they hasten to urge us, "it is dangerous to bathe the body." This objection to the use of cold water in this way does not arise from a dislike of cleanliness necessarily. The traveller in Western America soon finds that care must be exercised in bathing in the open, for the effect of the sun and the water is to bring on malaria sometimes, which is more easily acquired than cured.
On the edge of our lake great white herons stand in the cool of the early morning, and the wild ducks swimming lazily on its surface invite a shot. If it is winter and we are upon the high regions of the great plateau, the lake may freeze at its edges, imprisoning the unfortunate birds in the ice. The heat of the midday sun at these high elevations is succeeded at night by the bitter cold of the rarefied air, and the white drill suit we have worn must be supplemented by heavier garments.
The sun sets in gorgeous splendour over the plain and upon the grey-blue hills, and the short tropic twilight gives place to darkness, save perchance as the silvery moon of Mexico may cast its peaceful beams over the desolate landscape. Cigarettes and coffee are finished. No sound breaks the silence; our men's tales are all told as they crouch round the campfire. We have soughtour couch and turned in, bidding thepeoneslook to the horses, which, tethered near at hand, champ their oats or maize contentedly, giving from time to time that half-human sign with which the equine expresses his contentment and comfortable weariness. All is still. Sleep falls upon us.... Hark! what is that? A long mournful howl comes from the plain and winds through the canyon, and is repeated in chorus. "What is it, José?" I call to mymozoand the other men. "Coyotes, Señor," he replies, "they are crying to heaven for rain." Of course, I had forgotten for a moment that they have this habit, and the sound seemed almost unearthly.
To return to the game. We are going a-hunting to-day. The great barren plains and sterile rocky ribs which intersect them, the stony foothills and the dryarroyosdo not seem to offer much prospect of sport. But our friend the Mexicanhacendado, who has ridden up from hishaciendafor the purpose of inviting us, assures us to the contrary. And, indeed, his words are soon justified. He and his men have led us far away towards the head of the canyon, and the dry stream-bed is fringed withmesquiteand cactus which might offer shelter to quarry of some nature. A dozen dark forms start suddenly from the shadow of the bank upon whose verge we stand. Bang! bang! bang! In the twinkling of an eye we had dismounted, flung our horses' reins to the attendantmozos, and pointed our Winchesters. Several of the dark forms lie upon the sand below, inert; the others, already squealing far enough off, scrambling away. What are they? "Javelines, Señor," themozosmake reply. They are peccaries. A good bag indeed and excellent eating, as their ribs, roasted over a fire at the bottom of thearroyo, attest. Later on we look round for our host, but he is away after a plumpvenado—deer—which, passing near at hand, proves too strong for the sportsman's instinct. But the night falls ere he returns. "Never mind," is his greeting, "although we have to sleep here we may eat good venison," and across the horse of hismozolies the drooping body of the deer, its eyes glazed in death, andthe blood still dripping from the bullet wound which laid it low.
And so ourhacendadofriend, who owns the land we are upon for leagues away, and knows it well, leads us to a cave snugly hidden in the rocky wall, with a floor of purest quartz sand, and a limpid rivulet flowing thereby. The saddle bags are brought in; they are full of bread and tinned meats and native fruits, brandy and wine from his own vineyards. We are his honoured guest, and he plies us with all this fare, not forgetting the venison roasting outside. And filled and comforted with good food we discourse far into the night of weird things tinged with our friend's strange superstition and curious lore. Outside the coyotes howl, far away on the plain, and the mournful cry of thetecolote, or Mexican night owl, faintly reaches my ears, as, wrapped in my blankets with a saddle for a pillow, I fall asleep upon the cavern floor.