THE PEAK OF ORIZABA.THE PEAK OF ORIZABA.
Long before we made the land, the grand and lofty peak of Orizaba, with its spotless mantle of eternal snow, rearing its hoary head seventeen thousand feet above us, presented itself to our view. The highest ranges of the Alleghanies, and the lofty summits of the Catskill, of my own country, were familiar to my boyish days—but, I was little prepared to behold a scene like this—a scene which caused the wonders of my childhood to dwindle almost into nothing. Art, with all her charms, may, and often does, disappoint us—but Nature, never. The conception of Him who laid the foundations of the mountains, cannot be approached even by the most aspiring flight of the imagination.
CASTLE OF SAN JUAN DE ULLOA.CASTLE OF SAN JUAN DE ULLOA.
The first object that strikes the eye, in approaching Vera Cruz by water, is the Castle of San Juan de Ulloa, with the spires and domes of the churches peering up in the distance behind it. It stands alone, upon a small rocky island, on one side of the main entrance to the harbor, and only about half a mile from the wall of the city, and consequently has complete command of the port. The entrance on the other side, is so barred withbroken reefs and ledges, that it can only be used by small craft in favorable weather.
The Castle is circular, strongly built, and heavily mounted. Its principal strength, however, is in its position, inaccessible except by water, and its guns pointing every way, leave no side open to the attack of an enemy. It has never been reduced but once, and then its natural ally, the city, was against it. The sea was in the hands of its enemies, and all communication with the outer world was cut off. It held out bravely while its provisions lasted, and then yielded to famine, and not to arms. This was in 1829, during the last dying struggles of Spain to hold on to her revolted provinces in Central America.
Our pilot brought us to anchor in the harbor, or roadstead, under the walls of this celebrated old castle, and within a few rods of the landing. An unexpected visit from a "Norther," gave me an opportunity which would not otherwise have presented itself, of paying my respects to the town.
"Vera Cruz Triunfante," the Heroic City, as it is styled in all public documents, in consequence of the prowess of its citizens in taking the Castle San Juan de Ulloa, which, as above stated, surrendered from starvation, lies in a low, sandy shore; and, like all American Spanish towns, has few attractions for the stranger, either in its general appearance, or in the style of its architecture. The town is laid out with great regularity. The streets are broad and straight, at right angles with each other, and are well paved, which, unfortunately, is more than can be said of many of the paved cities in the United States. The side-walks arecovered with cement, and are altogether superior to those of Havana. The houses are generally well constructed to suit the climate. Many of them are large, some three stories high, built in the old Spanish or Moorish style, and generally enclosing a square courtyard, with covered galleries. They have flat roofs, and parti-colored awnings, displaying beneath the latter a profusion of flowers.
The best view of Tera Cruz is from the water. There are, within and outside the walls, seventeen church establishments, the domes or cupolas of which may be seen in approaching it from that direction, with quite an imposing effect. The port is easy of access, but very insecure, being open to the north, and consequently subject to the terrible "northers," which, in more senses than one, during the winter season, prove a scourge to this coast. It is well defended by a strong fort, situated on a rock of the island of St. Juan de Ulloa, about half a mile distant. The name of this island, and the castle upon it, are associated with some of the most terrible scenes of blood and cruelty, that have given to the many revolutionary struggles of that ill-fated country, an unenviable pre-eminence of horror.
The form of the city is semi-circular, fronting the sea. It is situated on an arid plain, surrounded by sand hills, and is very badly supplied with water,—the chief reliance being upon rain collected in cisterns, which are often so poorly constructed as to answer but very little purpose. The chief resource of the lower classes, is the water of a ditch, so impure as frequently to occasion disease. An attempt was made, more than a centuryago, to remedy this evil, by the construction of a stone aqueduct from the river Xamapa; but, unfortunately, after a very large sum had been expended on the work, it was discovered that the engineer who projected it, had committed a fatal mistake, in not ascertaining the true level, and the work was abandoned in despair.
The outside of the city looks solitary and miserable enough. The ruins of deserted dwelling houses, dilapidated public edifices, neglected agriculture, and streets, once populous and busy, now still and overgrown with weeds, give an air of melancholy to the scene, which it is absolutely distressing to look upon, and which the drillings of the soldiery, and "all the pomp and circumstance" of warlike parade, were insufficient to dispel.
The population of this place is now about six thousand. In 1842, two thousand died of black vomit, the greater portion of whom were the poor, half-enslaved Indians, brought from their healthy mountain homes, to serve as soldiers on the deadly coast. This dreadful scourge made its appearance on the continent of America, in 1699, where it was introduced by an English ship from the coast of Africa, loaded with slaves; inflicting upon the country, at the same instant, two of the greatest curses which the arch-enemy of our race could have devised. The infectious disease we cannot lay to the charge of England. It was one of those accidents which can only be referred to the mysterious visitations of that all-wise, but inscrutable providence, which rules over all the affairs of our little world. But for the other, and not less hideous evil, the introduction of slavery, that Government is directly responsible;and, however high and noble the principles of benevolence, by which the present race of Englishmen are actuated in their endeavors to procure universal emancipation, it ill becomes them to reproach us, or our fathers, for the existence of a curse among us, which their own government forced upon us, and their own fathers supplied and sustained, with a zeal and perseverance worthy of a better cause. Ages of penance and contrition, will not wipe out this dark stain from the British escutcheon.
Vera Cruz is more subject to the yellow fever, than perhaps any other place on the coast. This is chiefly owing to the filthy ditch before spoken of, from which the lower classes are compelled to obtain a part of their supply of water, and to the pools of stagnant water, which abound among the sand hills in the vicinity. If these could be drained off, and the city supplied with wholesome water, there can be no doubt it would fare as well in the matter of health, as any other place on the coast, instead of being regarded, as it is now, by the Spanish physicians, as the source and fountain-head of yellow fever for the whole country. There is scarcely any season of the year exempt from its ravages, but it prevails most in the rainy season, particularly in September and October.
The history of Vera Cruz, as a place of importance to the Spaniards, commences with the very first steps of the conquest. The name of San Juan do Ulloa, was given to the island where the Castle now stands, by Grijalva, on his pioneer visit to the place, in 1518, where he was so roughly handled by the "natives." Cortes, after touching at Cozumel, made a landing atthis place, in 1519. He afterwards laid the foundation of a colony in the vicinity, at the mouth of the river Antigua. It was from this point that he set out on his adventurous march to the capital of the Aztec empire—an adventure seemingly the most rash and ill advised, but in its results, the most triumphant, in the annals of history.
The present site of Vera Cruz, which was founded by Count de Monterey, near the close of the sixteenth century, and is sometimes, by way of distinction, called Vera Cruz Nueva, is not the same as that of the ancient city, planted by Cortes. That was situated fifteen miles to the north from the city of our day, and was called "La Villa Rica de la Vera Cruz"—The rich town of the true cross. The harbor of the old town is far better than that of the new, which, in fact, is no harbor at all, but an open roadsted, exposed to every blast from the north. No good reason has been assigned for the removal. One historian has suggested that it was owing to the unhealthiness of the old town. If so, it is no mean illustration of the sagacity of the unfortunate fish, that, in attempting to escape his inevitable fate, "jumped out of the frying-pan into the fire."
The old and new towns.—The French Hotel.—Early history of the place.—Remains of an ancient Indian town.—Situation of Pueblo Nuevo.—Health of the place.—Commerce.—Smuggling.—Corruption in Public Offices.—Letters and Mails.—Architecture.—Expense of living.—Tone of morals. Gaming.—The soldiery.—Degraded condition of the Indians.—The Cargadores.—The market place.—Monument to Santa Anna.—The Bluff.—Pueblo Viejo.—Visit to the ruins.—Desolate appearance of the place.—"La Fuente."—Return at sunset.—The Rancheros of Mexico.—The Arrieros.
The old and new towns.—The French Hotel.—Early history of the place.—Remains of an ancient Indian town.—Situation of Pueblo Nuevo.—Health of the place.—Commerce.—Smuggling.—Corruption in Public Offices.—Letters and Mails.—Architecture.—Expense of living.—Tone of morals. Gaming.—The soldiery.—Degraded condition of the Indians.—The Cargadores.—The market place.—Monument to Santa Anna.—The Bluff.—Pueblo Viejo.—Visit to the ruins.—Desolate appearance of the place.—"La Fuente."—Return at sunset.—The Rancheros of Mexico.—The Arrieros.
On the 17th of February, we bade adieu to Vera Cruz, and sailed along the coast, northwardly, for Tampico, distant over two hundred miles. The passage was a very favorable one; and we arrived at our destination on the evening of the following day. Coming to anchor outside the bar, a launch from the shore, manned by naked Indians, was soon at our service, to take us up to the city. It was a pull of six miles on the river Panuco. On our way up, we passed Pueblo Viejo, or the old town of Tampico, on our left, once a place of considerable trade, but now deserted, and comparatively in ruins. Two miles above this place, we landedat the mole, as it is called, where our luggage underwent the usual vexatious examinations; after which, permission was given us to enter the town of Santa Anna de Tamaulipas, known also as the Pueblo Nuevo, or New Town of Tampico.
I was soon ensconced in a hotel, kept by a Frenchman. It was a sad place. The accommodations, if such a word can, with any propriety, be used in reference to such a house, were as uninviting as could be desired. The house was, in all respects, uncomfortable and dirty, and the charges $2,50 per day. But a shelter, in this country, though a poor one, is something to be thankful for; and, in the almost universal absence of comfort, one often has occasion to be grateful for any thing that bears a distant resemblance to it. With this kind of philosophy, I endeavored to console myself in the present instance, remembering that my situation was not quite as bad as it might be, nor indeed as it oftentimes had been in other places.
Santa Anna de Tamaulipas stands on what was once the site of a populous Indian town, which was first visited by Juan de Grijalva, in 1518. This "hopeful young man and well behaved," as he is described by one of the old historians, was the captain of the second expedition, sent from Cuba, to explore the large and rich islands, as they were then supposed to be, lying to the west, part of which were discovered by Columbus in 1502 and 1503, and part by Juan Dias de Solis and Vincent Yañez Pinzon, in 1506. At this place, Grijalva had a severe conflict with the "natives," who defended "their altars and their homes" with great bravery. The old historians of the conquest agree thatCortes, who followed Grijalva, and finally succeeded in reducing the whole country to the Spanish yoke, met with a warm reception on the Panuco. Few places were more ably defended, or more reluctantly surrendered by the Indians.
But few traces remain of the ancient city, or of its brave inhabitants. Yet occasionally, in digging for the foundations of buildings recently erected, the bones, and sometimes complete skeletons, of that unfortunate race are found, as well as remains of their household utensils.
Fifteen years ago, this place was occupied only by a few Indian huts, and Pueblo Viejo, the old town, was in its most flourishing condition. But the superior advantages of this position were too apparent to be longer overlooked by the searching eye of commercial enterprise. The bank of the river is very bold, and the water of sufficient depth to allow vessels to anchor close to the shore; and the navigation inland is uninterrupted for more than a hundred miles. The town is laid out in regular squares. The site is a sort of low flat shelf of land, forming the terminus of a rocky peninsula, above and back of which there is a cluster of lakes or ponds, having an outlet into the Panuco. These ponds, like those in the vicinity of Vera Cruz, are fruitful of yellow fever, which annually ravages this devoted coast. This terrible scourge, which seems to be one of the settled perquisites of the place, together with the formidable bar at the mouth of the river, are serious drawbacks to the prosperity of the town. Were it possible to remove them, I think there is little doubt that Santa Anna de Tamaulipas would soon become one of the most flourishing seaport towns in Mexico. Itslocal situation is favorable—it is the nearest point on the coast to the richest of the mining districts, and the place from which the greater portion of the specie is exported. It has also a considerable business in dye-woods and hides.
But the commerce of Santa Anna de Tamaulipas has been declining for several years, and, unless some new impulse is given to it, by some such improvements as are above suggested, it must continue to decline. The little business that is now done there, is chiefly in the hands of foreigners.
Smuggling was once carried on here to a very great extent; but the severe and stringent regulations of the government, have nearly succeeded in breaking it up. Or, to speak with more perfect accuracy, the business has changed hands, and that, which was before done through the venality of the subordinates, is now carried on by the direct connivance of the heads of the departments, who have contrived to monopolize to themselves this lucrative traffic, and thus, by robbing the government, to enrich themselves and the merchants at the same time. There is probably no country in the world, where there is such utter destitution of good faith and common honesty, on the part of those who contrive to secure the offices of trust. It is a remark of almost universal application, though it will probably apply with peculiar emphasis to the custom house department, where the largest amount of spoils are necessarily to be found. The most glaring cases of fraud are constantly occurring. Thousands of dollars are weekly passed over to the officials, which never find their way into the treasury; and thousands thathave gone in are missing, having never honestly found their way out. But little attention is paid to these instances of corruption. The criminals, though well known, are allowed to retain their stations; or, if by chance removed, through the complaints of those who are eager to step into their places, they are only elevated to more important and lucrative offices, where they have a wider field of operation, and a better chance to serve themselves,and those who appointed them. How far we of the United States may be placing ourselves in the condition of those who live in glass houses, by thus throwing stones at the Mexicans, I know not. But it is my candid opinion, shrewd and cunning as we are allowed to be in all matters of finance, that we are quite out-done in these matters by our more southern neighbors.
Letters arriving or departing by ship, cannot be delivered, without first passing through the Post Office. The charges, which are very high, are regulated by weight, as under the new system in the United States. No captain, or consignee, is permitted to receive a letter, without the government stamp, under a heavy penalty. Whether the same restriction and penalty is laid upon passengers and travellers, I am not informed; but it would be very difficult to carry them without observation, as every nook and corner of every trunk, box, or bag, is searched, as well as the linings of every article of dress, and even of your boots and shoes. All letters are liable to seizure and inspection, and they are often broken, when any cause of jealousy or suspicion arises. The ordinary mails in the northern part of the country, are more regular than rapid, being, for themost part, transported on the backs of the Indians. Of course, neither money, nor valuable documents of any kind, are entrusted to this conveyance. An armedconductaperforms this service between the mines and the capital, and between the capital and the principal seaports.
In the buildings of Santa Anna de Tamaulipas, there is no uniformity of style, and no pretensions to beauty. American, English, and Spanish, are intermingled with the rude hut of the Indian. The population is as motley and heterogeneous as can well be conceived; and with the variety of feature, expression, manners, costume and no costume, ranks under what may be termedthe picturesque.
Notwithstanding the gradual decline of business here, rents and wages are extremely high, and the prices paid for every article of consumption are so enormous, that I should scarcely be believed if I should name them. And this, too, among a beggarly-looking, half-naked population. The average range of the thermometer is from 86° to 92°.
As might be expected, from what has been said already, the general tone of morals in society is by no means elevated. The native, or Creole population, are, for the most part, shamefully ignorant and debased, and, with few exceptions, destitute of moral principle. They are extremely jealous of foreigners, and seem to regard every stranger coming among them as an unwelcome intruder. As far as I had an opportunity of judging, which was not inconsiderable, I should say that, as a race, they are as destitute of ambition to improve, as they are of education. There is no tasteamong them for the cultivation of the fine arts, which once flourished in this ill-fated country; whether among the remote ancestors of the present Indian tribes, or among other and nobler races of men, it is not easy now to decide.
The almost universal resource of the Creoles, is the gaming table, at which numbers of them spend a large portion of their time. In this miserable and demoralizing recreation, I am sorry to be obliged to say, that the "natives" are not the only sharers. Strangers, who resort here for business, whether English, American, Spanish or French, with a few rare and honorable exceptions, sustain and encourage them by their example. Large amounts are sometimes lost and won, though, for the most part, the stakes are light; the passion being rather for gaming, and its attendant excitements, than for winning.
The Indians, another and inferior class of natives, though nominally free, are in fact slaves. They are the drudges and bearers of burdens, for the whole community. They are ignorant, indolent and unthrifty to the last degree, and seem to have no idea of the possibility of bettering their condition. Like their superiors, they are much addicted to gaming, though necessarily on a very limited scale. In their condition of desperate poverty, they have little to lose; but that little is daily put at stake, and lost, or rather thrown away, with as much coolness and indifference, as if the inexhaustible mines of their golden mountains were all their own. And it not unfrequently happens, that, having lost his lastmaravedi, he stakes himself upon another throw, and becomes the temporary slave of the winner. Thelaws, though they do not recognize slavery in the abstract, are so constructed, as to admit of this arrangement. The consequence is, that vast numbers, whom indolence or improvidence have reduced to the necessity of running in debt to their white neighbors, are as truly slaves, as they were before the revolution.
It is from the native Indians, that the rank and file of the Mexican army is, for the most part, supplied. A greater burlesque upon the name of a soldier can scarcely be conceived—a debased, insolent, drunken, half-naked rabble, in comparison with which Colonel Pluck's famous regiment would have made a display so brilliant, as to make all Philadelphia stare. It is a marvel to me how they can accomplish any thing with such a miserable set of ill-appointed, semi-civilized beings, especially, when their enlistment is for the most part compulsory, while they fight for self-constituted, tyrannical, unfeeling masters, and not for themselves, or their children. I should suppose that a single company of well disciplined Anglo-Saxon soldiers, would be more than a match for an ordinary Mexican army. If it was with such regiments as these, that Santa Anna undertook to reduce the refractory province of Texas, it is no matter of surprise that a handful of Yankee adventurers were able, not only to keep him at bay, but to put him, and his army of scarecrows, completely to route.
The Indian, as I have before remarked, is the abject slave of the Mexican; and upon him devolves every kind of menial labor. The "Cargadores," who act as porters, are seen in all the streets. They carry the heaviest burdens, such as bales, barrels, boxes, etc.upon their backs; dray and draft horses being unknown here. Others are seen in the market places, and lying about the public streets, houseless, and almost naked, objects at once of pity and disgust to those unaccustomed to such sights. No means are employed, and no desire manifested, on the part of their superiors, to improve their character or condition. Politically, the Mexican regards them as his equals, while he treats them far worse than even the English do their slaves, either at home or abroad.
The Market Place of Tampico is a rude open square, without embellishment, natural or artificial, one corner of which is occupied with stalls or tables, for meats and vegetables, which are guarded and dealt out by as motley a set of beggars as I had ever seen, as uninviting group of caterers as can well be imagined. The tarriers at home can little realize the many disagreeable offsets to the pleasure one derives from visiting foreign lands; while the traveller learns, by a painful daily experience, to appreciate all the little conveniences and proprieties, as well as the thousand substantial comforts of home.
In the centre of this square, a monument is to be erected in honor of the celebrated General Santa Anna, commemorating his successful encounter with the old Spanish forces, in this place, in the year 1829, during the last struggles of Mexico to throw off the yoke of Spain, and establish an independent government. The foundation of this monument is finished, and the builders are waiting the arrival of the column from New York, where, as I was informed, Italian artists are employed in completing it. It is intended to be worthyof the name of the distinguished man in whose honor it is reared, and of the event which it is designed to commemorate. How the two can be fitly blended in one inscription, it is difficult to conceive. The victory which Santa Anna achieved over the Spanish oppressors of the struggling province, may indeed have a claim to be recorded on the enduring marble; but, for the honor due to anamelike that of the exiled hero of San Jacinto, a name so long associated with every species of tyranny and oppression, of treason to his country, and of treachery alike to friend and to foe—how shall it be appropriately expressed? In what terms of mingled eulogium and execration shall it be couched? "Thenameand theevent!" It will doubtless be an easy matter to frame an inscription suitable to theevent—but to illustrate the glory of thename—hoc opus, his labor est.
In a state of society like that which has existed in Mexico, for many years past, it would seem a difficult task to erect monuments to illustrate the services of their great men. Revolution succeeding revolution, and dynasty chasing dynasty, in rapid succession like the waves of the sea, a successful leader has scarcely time to reach the post his high ambition has aimed at, and procure a decree for a triumph and a monument, before a rival faction has obtained possession of all the outposts, and begins to thunder under the walls of the capital. One after another, they have risen, and fallen, and passed away, some of them for ever, and some only to rise again with more rapid strides, and then to experience a more ruinous fall, than before. The monument which was begun yesterday in honor of one successfulhero, may, to-morrow, be consecrated to the victory won over him by his enemy; and then, perhaps, be thrown down to give place to another, which commemorates the overthrow of both.
How many times the government of Mexico is destined to be overturned and remodeled, before the completion of the Tampico monument, and what will be the position of the man for whose honor it was originally designed, when the column shall be ready to be placed on its pedestal, it would be hazardous to conjecture. It may not be unsafe, however, to predict, that neither this, nor any other column, or statue, erected in Mexico, will confer upon Santa Anna a greater notoriety than he now enjoys, or in any way alter the world's estimate of his true character. Impartial history has marred the beauty of many a monumental tablet, and converted that which was meant for glory, into a perpetual memorial of shame.
A few yards from the Market place is a bold bluff of rock, fronting the Panuco, from the top of which we have an extensive view of the surrounding country. Near this place, the River Tamissee, which drains the adjacent lagoons, forms its junction with the Panuco, which sweeps gracefully along from the southwest, broken and diversified by a number of low wooded islands, which disturb, but beautify its course.
On the opposite shore, at some distance, lies the lagoon of Pueblo Viejo, and beyond that, but within sight from this bluff, the ruins of the old town, situated on a beautiful plateau, or table land, flanked by the spires of the Cordilleras.
The low lands of the suburbs are filled with rudehuts of the Indians, built chiefly of bamboo, and covered with the palm-leaf. A more squalid state of misery than is exhibited among this class, both here and in the town, it has never fallen to my lot to witness.
Not satisfied with this distant view of the ruins of the Pueblo Viejo, I determined to form a nearer acquaintance with them, by a personal visit. The American Consul, and his accomplished lady, very kindly accompanied me thither, in a canoe, under the guidance of an Indian. We descended the Panuco a short distance, and passed into a bayou communicating with one of the great lagoons, near which the old town is situated. The locale is decidedly agreeable and picturesque. Though in the uplands, it lies at the foot of a steep and thickly wooded hill, which affords a variety of romantic retreats, and commanding look-outs for the surrounding country. But, however much they might have been improved and valued in former times, they are now deserted, and forgotten. An almost death-like tranquillity reigns in the forsaken streets and environs, forming a melancholy contrast to the half European, and comparatively bustling aspect of its now more prosperous rival.
The houses are low-built, with flat roofs. The façades of some of them show, in the faded gaiety, and dubious taste of their coloring, what they were in the palmy days of the Pueblo Viejo's early glory. Many of them had court-yards and porticos. One group of old buildings, of Spanish architecture, situated near the humble church that consecrated the public square, shows many marks of its ancient grandeur, even in its present state of desolation and decay.
It is painful to stroll through the streets of a city of our own times, once full of life and bustle, but now falling into the decrepitude of a premature old age. It is like walking among the sepulchres of the living; and the few signs of life that remain, only serve to give intensity to the shadows of night that are deepening around it. Here, there was nothing to relieve the melancholy aspect of the scene. The people, both masters and slaves, were poor, listless and inactive; their dwellings were comfortless and uninviting, and their lands miserably neglected and unproductive. A death-like incubus seemed to hang on the whole place.
We traversed the whole length of the streets, through the suburbs, to visit "La Fuente," which is situated in a small dell at the foot of the hill which overhangs the town. It is a beautiful spot, ornamented with every variety of flower. Its source was concealed from view. "La Fuente" is an artificial stone reservoir, of considerable length, beautifully overshadowed with trees, from whose branches depends a kind of curtain of interwoven vines, falling in the most luxuriant festoons on every side. It is not now, as perhaps it has been in former days, a place of public resort for recreation. It is the general laundry of Tampico; and its margin is daily crowded, not with sylphs and naiads, but with a motley set of Indian women, more appropriately compared to ancient sybils, or modern gypsies. It was, altogether, the most remarkable and striking scene that had fallen under my view in my recent travels, and one that would figure well in the hands of the author of the "Twice Told Tales," or the "Charcoal Sketches." To their notice I commend it, withfree license to make what use they please of my poor description.
The sun was setting when we returned to Santa Anna de Tamaulipas. We paddled slowly away, pausing occasionally to admire—with my agreeable companions—the brilliant effect of the last rays of day light upon the lakes, woods and mountains, and the luxuriant foliage, realizing more fully than I had ever been able to do before, the rare beauty of those remarkable lines of Beattie—
Oh! how canst thou renounce the boundless storeOf charms that nature to her votary yields,The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields,All that the genial ray of morning gilds,And all that echoes to the song of even,All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields,And all the dread magnificence of heaven—Oh! how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven!
Oh! how canst thou renounce the boundless storeOf charms that nature to her votary yields,The warbling woodland, the resounding shore,The pomp of groves, and garniture of fields,All that the genial ray of morning gilds,And all that echoes to the song of even,All that the mountain's sheltering bosom shields,And all the dread magnificence of heaven—Oh! how canst thou renounce, and hope to be forgiven!
Winding between verdant banks, through the broken channel, into the beautiful Panuco, we reached the mole before night-fall, well satisfied with the adventures of the day.
Before leaving the town, I wish to introduce to the reader two classes of men, who are somewhat peculiar in their appearance, characters and habits, as well as somewhat important in their relations to the business of the country.
TheRancherosare a mixed race of Mexican and Indian blood. They live on the Ranches, or large cattle farms, and act as drovers. They are brave, and full of life and vivacity, but profoundly ignorant of every thingbeyond their immediate occupations. There is an air of independence, and a fearlessness of manner, in the Ranchero, which is quite imposing. Sallying forth on his sinewy horse, encased in leather, with the ready lasso at his saddle bow, he seems, though in coarse attire, the embodiment of health, strength and agility.
TheArrieros, the muleteers of the country, have their peculiarities, the most striking of which, and by far the most agreeable, is, that they are honest. For this virtue they are proverbial, as indeed they should be in a land where it is scarcely known in any other class of society. Many of them pride themselves much upon their vocation, which frequently passes down from father to son, through several generations. They are civil, obliging and cheerful. They have, as a class, the entire confidence of the community, and millions of property are confided to their care. Their honesty and trustworthiness remain unimpaired amid all the political changes of the country. Often as they are compelled to change masters, they serve the new with the same fidelity as the old, and a stranger, or even an enemy, as well as a friend.
Although this rigid honesty and trustworthinesss, in this class of persons in Mexico, is worthy of remark and of all praise, I take pleasure in stating, from my own personal observation, that it is not peculiar to that country. The same class of persons in many parts of the United States, are distinguished for the same virtue. Our common stage drivers and mail carriers, although their employment is of the hardiest character, and their general associations such as to expose them to many of the worst temptations of taverns, bar-rooms, and otherkindred influences, are as well known for their integrity and faithfulness, in the trusts committed to them, as for their skill and fearlessness in the management of their teams. It is the common custom, in many parts of the country, to employ these men in conveying remittances from the interior, to the banks, or merchants, in the seaport towns. Thousands and thousands of dollars are daily sent in this way, without receipt or acknowledgement, and with perfect reliance on the faithfulness of the carrier. And I do not remember an instance, in that part of the country where I have been most acquainted, in which this confidence has been misplaced. If the MexicanArrierois deserving of more credit for his virtue, in consequence of the inferior tone of morals in the community about him, we would not willingly deprive him of it. At the same time, we confess to a patriotic pride in finding, for every thing that is "lovely and of good report" in foreign lands, an offset of something equally good, or better, at home.
An independent mode of travelling.—The river and its banks.—Soil and productions.—A Yankee brick yard.—Indian huts.—Their manner of living.—Their position in society.—Their dress, stature and general appearance.—Arrival at Topila Creek.—Mr. Coss' rancho.—The Lady's Room.—Company at night.—An aged Indian.—His ignorance of the past.—Mounds.—Ruins of an ancient town.—Rancho de las Piedras.—Topila Hills.—Numerous Mounds.—An ancient well.—A wild fig-tree.—Extensive ruins.—An evening scene.—Attack of the Bandaleros.—Happy escape.
An independent mode of travelling.—The river and its banks.—Soil and productions.—A Yankee brick yard.—Indian huts.—Their manner of living.—Their position in society.—Their dress, stature and general appearance.—Arrival at Topila Creek.—Mr. Coss' rancho.—The Lady's Room.—Company at night.—An aged Indian.—His ignorance of the past.—Mounds.—Ruins of an ancient town.—Rancho de las Piedras.—Topila Hills.—Numerous Mounds.—An ancient well.—A wild fig-tree.—Extensive ruins.—An evening scene.—Attack of the Bandaleros.—Happy escape.
On the evening of the 14th of March, 1844, I took a temporary leave of Tampico, and proceeded up the river Panuco, with the intention of visiting, and as far as my time and means might allow, of exploring the ruins then known to exist, and of seeking others which I supposed might be found, in that vicinity. My mode of conveyance was as primitive and independent, as can well be imagined. In my own hired canoe, with an Indian to paddle me along, I felt that I was master of my own time and movements, and enjoyed, for a season, a perfect freedom from the ordinary restraintsand responsibilities of social life. Leaving care, and business, and the world behind, and committing my little all to the favoring smiles of an omnipresent Providence, I threaded my way through the circuitous windings of that romantic stream, with a resolute purpose to enjoy every thing, and be annoyed at nothing, however strange it might be. This disposition is essential to the comfort of the traveller, in any strange land, and especially in one that is barbarous, or semi-civilized; and, under whatever circumstances it is put in requisition, it is its own sufficient reward.
The river Panuco rises among the lakes near the city of Mexico, and winds its meandering way, under several different names, the principal of which is "Canada," till it debouches into the Gulf of Mexico, six miles below Tampico. It is navigable about one hundred and forty miles, for all vessels that can pass the bar at its mouth; and yet, owing to its circuitous course, the distanceby land, from this head of navigation to Tampico, is not more than forty miles. The river seldom swells so as to overflow its banks. The land, on either side, was found, on examination, to be a deep, rich loam, capable of producing corn, sugar, tobacco and rice. The sugar cane found in this region is extremely productive. It grows in height from fourteen to twenty feet, and requires re-planting but once in nine or ten years. It will be a glorious region for amateur planters and speculators, when "the area of freedom" shall have extended to the Isthmus of Panama. Ebony, rose-wood, dye-woods of various kinds, and sarsaparilla, are cut here in great abundance, and are important articles of exportation.
The banks of this river, though beautifully arrayed in the verdure of nature, want that humanizing interest, that peculiar utilitarian charm, which cultivation and occupation alone can impart. Our progress, therefore, though always presenting something new to the eye, seemed comparatively slow and tedious, with little of life, but that which we carried along with us, to disturb its quiet monotony.
As the evening of the first day was setting in, we stopped at a brick yard, the property of two enterprising kind-hearted Americans, by whom we were hospitably entertained, and who informed us that our day's journey had been made, by travelling a distance of eighteen miles. The new town of Santa Anna de Tamaulipas, brought into requisition, and gave employment to many of our countrymen. And, when the making of brick became lucrative, our good-natured hosts determined to lose no time in taking advantage of the occasion. The adventure was accordingly made, and a few years' thrift has placed their affairs in a hopeful and healthy condition. But, like all other foreigners in this country, they are heartily tired of remaining here, and are looking forward with much anxiety to the happy day, when they shall be enabled to return to their native land; for, such are the decrees of the government, that, in direct violation of treaty, an open warfare is kept up against the rights and interests of all emigrants,—but, more particularly, those from the United States,—many of whom are sacrificing their property and prospects of affluence, and leaving the country in utter disgust.
Early the following morning, we proceeded on ourcourse up the river, stopping, occasionally, to visit the rude huts of the Indians. The huts are formed principally of mud, with thatched roofs, and present a most uncomfortable appearance; whilst the poor, degenerated occupants, derive a mean and scanty support, from a small strip of land along the banks of the river, their chief object being the cultivation of corn for their own use. Pieces of clay, put rudely together and baked, are the common utensils for cooking their food; and a few upright sticks or reeds, driven into the mud floor, with a hide stretched over them, constitute their most luxurious bed. Indolent and filthy, they work only to meet their own immediate wants; and, so degraded is their condition, that gaming and cock-fighting are their principal pastimes. The inebriating bowl, also, is eagerly sought by them, and a large portion of their earnings is spent in this riotous way, even under the guidance of their priests, at the celebration of a marriage, or on the occasion of a christening.
The Indians of Central America, bear as little resemblance to those of our country generally, as the Spaniards among whom they dwell do, to us. They do not, in any place, live by themselves, as independent tribes. They have no peculiar habits of life, or of warfare—no hunting—no sports peculiar to themselves—and none of the customs of their ancestors preserved, to distinguish them from the mass of people about them. It is only their complexion, their poverty, and generally degraded condition, that marks the difference between them and their neighbors. They occupy nearly the same position there, as the free blacks do in the United States, with this difference in favor of the latter—that there isnothing in the spirit of our institutions, civil,or religious, that prevents them from attaining a respectable education, and a comfortable independence.
AN INDIAN MAN AND WOMAN.AN INDIAN MAN AND WOMAN.
Ordinarily, the men wear trousers,—sometimes shirts of cotton,—but, in many parts of the country, owing to the prohibition of certain qualities and textures, this luxury is fast disappearing, and the more primitive dress ofskinsis taking its place. Therebosa, a narrow scarf, thrown over the head and shoulders, is indispensable to females. No matter what constitutes the other portion of their covering, even though, as is oftentimes the case, their wardrobe is so scanty as scarcely to cover their limbs, yet this is considered paramount. On one occasion, I remember to have seen a female, with arebosa upon her head, which cost no less than twenty-five dollars, whilst her body was miserably covered with a sort of under garment, or petticoat, such as few of our common street beggars would be willing to wear.
These people are of the usual color and stature of the Mexican Indians, but not so finely formed as the majority of them are,—nor have they that good expression, so prominent among the people of the southern portions of Mexico. They seem, moreover, to be entirely destitute of that spirit of religion, which their manifest appreciation of some religious rites, would naturally lead us to expect. Altogether, they are the most unfavorable specimen of the natives that have fallen under my observation.
Before night-fall of the second day of our voyage, we reached the mouth of the Topila Creek, a distance of twenty miles from the brick-yard. Continuing our course up that stream about three miles, we came to a rancho, or cattle-farm, belong to a Mr. Coss, of Tampico, brother of the celebrated general of Texan memory. Before I left Tampico, this gentleman gave me a letter to his major-domo, a half-breed, who received us with great attention. The letter being very explicit on the subject ofaccommodation, I could not but fare well in this respect,—and it may yet, perhaps, be gathered from the sequel, that I was treated more like a prince than a common traveller.
Arriving at the place, we were ushered into a bamboo house, with mud walls, and floors of the same primitive material. This house contained no less than two apartments. One of these, sustained the distinguished appellation of "the lady's room"—and it wasnow my privilege to become itssoleoccupant. In one corner of the room, stood a bedstead, without bed or bedding; and a dressing-table, decorated with sundry condemned combs, oil-bottles, scissors and patches, occupied another; whilst a demijohn of aguardiente, and other interesting ornaments, such as saddles, guns, and swords, filled up the picture. However, as I intended to make this place my head-quarters, while exploring the hills and river banks in the neighborhood, I at once resolved to be satisfied with "the lady's room," and such other good things as the place afforded. Accordingly, at an early hour, I spread out my blanket, and retired for the night;—"deep into the darkness peering—long I lay there, fondly dreaming," as before observed, that I was "alone in my glory."
But, alas! the soft reflections of dreamy hours were disturbed by an unexpected visit from a goodly number of well-disciplined, noxious little animals, who introduced themselves to me in a most significant, yet unceremonious manner. No remarks being made respecting the object of their visit, I was left to infer, that the kindness of the major-domo had moved him to organize a new company of lancers, for my especial benefit. After many unsuccessful attempts to induce this unsolicited force to withdraw, my attention was politely called to another quarter. Having been strongly impressed, I was now fully convinced, of the immediate presence of sundry young pigeons, many of whom, protected by their maternal parents, were perched in the crevices of the wall over my head. These, together with the game fowls, setting under my bed, contributed much to destroy that confidence which,until now had not been disturbed, that I had actually secured the undivided occupancy of that unique apartment. Of course, it was unnecessary to arouse me in the morning.
Before sunrise, I found myself well equipped for the explorations of the day. The mules being in readiness, I started in company with a guide, and rode five miles to another rancho, where, as I was informed, there lived an Indian upwards of a hundred years of age. I found him, to my surprise, a hale and sturdy man—though he could give me no intelligence respecting the objects of my research. Indeed, so suspicious are these people of the designs of strangers, that it was with the utmost difficulty I could convince him, as well as others, that my only motive in visiting the country, was to acquaint myself with the ancient places of their forefathers; not, as they supposed, to roam in quest of gold and silver mines.
Supposing that, in a man so much beyond the ordinary limit of human life, whose memory might extend back almost one-third of the way to the era of the Spanish conquest, and who was now in the full possession of his faculties, I had found a rare and enviable opportunity to pry into the mysteries of the past, and learn something of the history of the remarkable people, who once occupied this whole region, and filled it with monuments of their genius, taste, and power;—I employed all my ingenuity to draw out of him whatever he knew. But it was pumping at an exhausted well. Of facts, of history, in any form, he had nothing to tell. He seemed not to have a thought that there was anything to be told, except one vague unsatisfactorytradition, the only one existing among the inhabitants in all this region, that once on a time—they have no conception when, whether a hundred or a thousand years ago—"giants came from the North, as was prophesied by the gods, killed and destroyed the people, and continued on to the South." This tradition, bearing a strong analogy to one which prevails among nearly all the aboriginal tribes of the Mississippi Valley, and the wilds of the west, seems to be the only connecting link between the present generation, and that mysteriously interesting blank—the exterminated obliterated Past.
In the vicinity of this rancho, in an easterly direction from it, I found, in several considerable mounds, the first traces of ancient art that had greeted my eyes. One of these mounds was more than twenty-five feet in height, and of a circular form. At its sides, a number of layers of small, flat, well-hewn stones were still to be seen. Scattered about, in its immediate neighborhood, were also many others of a larger size, and of different forms. These had apparently once been used for the sides of door-ways and lintels. They were perfectly plain, without any mark or sign of ornament.
Upon this spot once stood one of those ancient Indian towns, the memorials of whose departed greatness and glory are so often met with, in every part of this interesting country. The ruins in this place are ruins indeed, so dilapidated as not to afford, at the present time, the remotest clue to the manners and customs of the builders, or the degree of civilization to which they may have attained. I traversed the whole ground, as well as the rank vegetation, and wild animalswould permit, and found my way back to the Topila at dark,—congratulating myself on having been able to accomplish so much, in the way of exploration, with no other protection than the untanned skin of an American, while that of a rhinoceros seemed absolutely necessary to the undertaking; for both the animal and vegetable kingdoms appeared to be combined against the intrusion of man.
On the morning of the next day, I set out with a party of Indians, on a visit to theRancho de las Piedras, distant about two leagues and a half, in a south-east direction. We made our way, slowly, and wearily, as usual, threading the thick wilds with much toil and fatigue, until we reached a rise of land, or plateau, near a chain of hills running through this section of country, and known as the Topila Hills. Here I found stones that were once evidently used for buildings. Proceeding on our way, we came to other and clearer evidences of ancient art. These were mounds, the sides of which had been constructed of loose layers of smooth and uniform blocks of concrete sandstone;—but most of the layers had fallen from their original position, and were found in large masses near the elevation. The blocks of stone, with a surface eighteen inches square, measured about six inches in thickness, and appeared to have been laid without mortar, or other adhesive material. I observed about twenty of these mounds, contiguous to each other, and varying in height from six to twenty-five feet,—some being of a circular, and others of a square form; but, unlike most of those found in other parts of the country, they were not laid out with any degree of regularity. On the topof one of the largest, there had evidently been a terrace, though it was difficult, in its present dilapidated state, to define its outlines, or judge of its extent.
The principal elevation covers an area of about two acres. At the base of this mound, was a slab of stone about seven inches in thickness, well hewn, and of a circular form, having a hole through the centre, and resting upon a circular wall, or foundation, the top of which was level with the ground. This stone measured four feet nine inches in diameter. On removing it, I discovered a well, filled up with broken stone and fragments of pottery. Stone coverings in wells have been found in the ancient works on the main branches of Paint Creek, Ohio, bearing a strong resemblance to the one here noticed; and it is also worthy of remark, that wells covered in this way, strongly resemble the descriptions we have of those used in the patriarchal ages. How much of an argument might be made, from such an isolated circumstance as this, to confirm the opinion entertained by some able writers, that the aboriginal inhabitants of America were the descendants of Abraham, the lost ten tribes, who revolted under Rehoboam, the son of Solomon, and were carried away into Assyria, I shall not undertake to decide. Many a fair theory, however, has been erected upon a foundation no broader than this, nor more substantial; and many a volume has been written to sustain the shadowy fabric.
I should have stated above, that the upper side of the stone removed, bore evidence of having been originally wrought with ornamental lines; but these lines were so much obliterated by time and exposure to the weather, that they could not now be traced.
On the top of this mound, a wild fig-tree, more than a hundred feet high, grows luxuriantly, indicating by its size and age, that the mound on which it stands, is not the work of modern builders.
The walls of the smaller mounds had invariably fallen inwards, a circumstance which led to the conjecture that they had been used as burying places. For, as the bones within would, in process of time, decay and moulder into dust, the loose walls, having no cement to hold them together, would gradually settle in upon the ashes of the dead. The ground for several miles around, was strewn with loose hewn stones, of various shapes, and broken pieces of pottery, evidently parts of household utensils; also, fragments of obsidean, which no doubt had been used as the knives and spears of a people, respecting whom, little is known at this day, except that they were a warlike race, and far advanced in the arts of civilization. The nearest point now known, where this mineral can be obtained, isPelados, near the Real del Monte, in the vicinity of the city of Mexico. The celebrated "Mountain of Flints," which, though but twenty-four miles in extent, cost the indefatigable Cortes, and his brave band, twelve days of the most painful toil to surmount, lies still farther off, in the south western part of Yucatan.
An incident of a somewhat startling character, which occured to me here, while it illustrates another feature in the state of society in these parts, and the character of the people whom the traveller sometimes has to deal with, will serve to bring the present chapter to close; leaving the interesting curiosities discovered among theruins, and a yet more thrilling adventure which befel me, to form the material for a separate chapter.
It was evening. The day had been spent in rambling and climbing about the time hallowed ruins of those old deserted cities, and searching among the mouldering relics of antiquity, for something to identify the dead with the living, or to serve as a satisfactory link between the past and the present. My Indian comrades and myself were cosily discussing our forest fare, each indulging in his own private reflections, and totally unsuspicious of any interruption to our humble meal, when we were suddenly surrounded by a band of those grim-looking, dark-bearded, heavily-whiskered gentlemanly-looking like highwaymen, that infest almost every part of the country. They immediately dismounted, and made us prisoners, seizing us by the hand as if they would bind us, to prevent our escape. We made no resistance, for we were unprepared for defence, and entirely at their mercy. Here, now, was trouble enough. What a poor finale to my brief and unprofitable adventures, to be murdered in cold blood by these merciless banditti, or made a hopeless captive in some of their mountain fastnesses! My position, feelings, and reflections, can be better imagined than described.
Having surveyed us from crown to toe, with the utmost scrutiny, and compared notes respecting our appearance, and the prospect of obtaining any satisfaction in our blood, they drew forth from their bags—the huge and fearful looking horse-pistol?—No. The long, glittering, keen-edged, high-tempered dirk, drunk with the blood of numberless victims of their rapacious cruelty?—No.The slender stiletto, so delicately formed, and so exquisitely polished, as to insinuate itself into the vitals, ere the parted epidermis had realized the rent it had made in passing?—No. The savage cutlass?—the heavy, fierce-looking, trenchant broad-sword?—No. Not these—nor any of them,—but, unexpected, and unheard of, even among civilized highwaymen—they drew out an ample store of substantial food, and invited us to partake of their supper. We did not shrink from their professed hospitality. We made ourselves of their party for the moment, and spent an hour, or more, in their company, with great glee, and with mutual satisfaction—after which, they mounted and rode off, and we took to our hammocks and our dreams.
By what token we escaped, I was not able to conjecture. Whether, as my vanity might have suggested, it was to be attributed to my good looks, or to my Spanish sombrero, flannel shirt, and bandolero air, or to the influence of some propitious star, just then in the ascendant, is a mystery yet to be explained. If I may have the same good fortune in escaping the censure of the reader, upon whose patience these trifling sketches have been inflicted, it will afford me a gratification that will far more than overbalance all the pains and inconveniences that I have suffered, from being brought into conflict with insects, wild beasts, and robbers.