THE PYRAMID OF CHOLULA.
The pyramid of Cholula is very disappointing to any one who has seen
illustrations of it in histories of Mexico; there it is represented as
a mass of steps, growing narrower as they reach the top. At present
it looks like many of the other queerly-shaped hills which one sees
so frequently in Mexico. Closer inspection shows there were once four
stories to it, but it is now badly demolished, and the trainway has cut
through one side, damaging the effect. At present it is three thousand
eight hundred and sixty feet around the base, although once it is said
to have been one thousand four hundred and forty feet on each side, or
four times that around the entire base. Some say its height is no more
than two hundred feet, while others affirm it is at the very least five
hundred feet high; the ascent is made by a Spanish stairway of hewed
stone fifteen feet wide, and there is a second stairway of two hundred
steps leading from the main one to the church door.
The little church on top was first built by the Spaniards in the place
of the temple called Quetzalcoatl (the God of the air), built by the
Aztecs. The church was first in the shape of a cross, but alterations
have been made of late years, destroying entirely the original design.
It was dedicated to the Virgin of the Remedies, or Health--Senora
de los Remedios, and she is said to have performed some wonderful
miracles, at any rate her image is covered with tokens of her goodness.
There is a desk in the church where they sell beads and measures of the
Virgin's face, which are said to keep away the devil and bring good
luck to the wearer. A little tinseled charm on the beads contains some
part of the Virgin's garments, and when I, in a weak moment, asked the
seller if he really meant it, I knew by his answer I had met George
Washington, Jr. It was, "Senorita, I cannot lie."
At places where the hill is dug away can be seen the layers of
mud-brick, which proves undisputedly that the pyramid was really
built. It is thought to have served as a cemetery as well as a place
of worship. The Indians have a tradition that when Cortes tarried at
Cholula, a number of armed warriors plotted to fall suddenly upon
the Spanish army and kill them all. Cortes may have had a suspicion,
or a desire for more blood and more stolen wealth, for without the
least warning, he attacked the citizens of Puebla and killed outright
6,000 besides terribly wounding thousands of others. When the road was
being made from Puebla to Mexico they cut through the first story of
the pyramid. In it was found a square chamber, destitute of outlet,
supported by beams of cypress and built in an odd and remarkable
manner. Curious varnished and painted vases, idols in basalt and
skeletons were in it. The only conclusion offered was that it was
either a tomb for burial or else the warriors who wanted revenge on the
Spanish were by some means buried in this hiding-place. The pyramid is
now covered with grass, trees and orchids.
Famous stone idols are found in this vicinity. In plowing the fields or
digging holes they are turned up by scores, in all shapes and sizes;
the tourist pays good prices for them, and the more sensational the
story attached the higher the tariff; the guide at the hotel showed me
a white arrow flint. He had bought it the day before at Cholula for a
medio, and said he was going to daub it with chicken blood and sell it
to the next party of tourists as a wonderful relic, which had been used
on the sacrificial stone to kill thousands of people. He would tell
them that the worshipers of the sun used to get a victim and the one
who could send the arrow with this flint directly in the center of the
victim's heart stood in favor with their god, the sun. At the depot,
besides being bothered with at least twenty idol peddlers, a woman with
a baby tried to make me buy it. She refused to sell to any one in the
party, but coaxed me to take it, telling all its good qualities. It was
good, very amiable, sympathetic and very precious. Partly to get rid
of her I asked, "How much?" "Dos reals" (twenty-five cents) was her
astounding reply. "That is too cheap," I said; "I cannot take it unless
the price is $100." Evidently she did not understand jesting, for she
kept on saying, "No, senorita, dos reals; muy benito." I successfully
resisted its charms as well as her persuasions. At the last moment,
when the car started, she ran after me, saying I could have the baby
at $100, if I wouldn't take it at twenty-five cents; but the car soon
left her in the distance, and we had a good laugh at the poor woman's
reasoning powers and lack of business qualities.
The tramway ends at Atlixco, a lovely little village midway between
Cholula and Puebla. One of the most beautiful things along the way is
the famous tree at the foot of St. Michael's Mountain. It is called
Ahuehuete. It is many centuries old and a very curious shape. Its trunk
is hollow, with a hole big enough for a horseman to enter at one side.
Thirteen men on horseback can find plenty of room in its big body. The
orchards at this village are valued at $2,800,000.
There are twenty-four hotels in Puebla, and some are first-class in
every respect. They serve coffee from 6 to 9, breakfast 1 to 3, and
dinner 6 to 9. The penitentiary looks like a Spanish fortress. It
is very old, picturesque, and covered with orchids, but the state
authorities decided they needed a new one, and have built a handsome
one of stone and brick, which is said to resemble one in Pennsylvania,
whether East or West I know not, but from a distance it looks somewhat
like the Western, although all similarity faded on closer inspection.
There are several parks, and very pretty ones, too, in Puebla. In the
main one they have music nightly. At the east end of the town they have
sulphur baths, which are considered very healthy.
The most unique bull-fights of the whole Republic are held here. One
Sunday they fought all afternoon in the regular style, but when evening
came, they turned on the electric lights, set a table in the center
of the ring, put on it tin dishes, and all the fighters sat down as
though to eat, one of them attired in a long, white dress. As soon as
they were seated comfortably the gate was flung open, and the toro
rushed in. At the same moment two banderillas containing fire-rockets
were stuck into him, and as they exploded the maddened bull made a
rush for the table. The occupants jerked up the tinware, and with it
began to fight off the bull. Then they jerked the table apart, and
fought it with the pieces. When the men and beast were pretty tired,
the bull was allowed to attack the one in white, the so-called bride,
and the swordsman, who of course represented her husband, defended
her, and killed the bull with one thrust of the sword. It was simply
magnificent, and so exciting that everybody was standing on their
feet yelling lustily at every new move. The fight was called "The
Interrupted Bridal Party."
The next Sunday they fought the bulls on burros instead of horses. The
men had their bodies protected by plates of tin, and when the toro
charged they jumped off the burro and ran behind screens, while the
poor little animal had to run for his life, and that was the funniest
part of the programme. The following Sunday all the fighters stuffed
themselves. They looked as if they had feather beds around their
bodies. Then they dressed up in fantastic garb. No horses were allowed
in the ring. When the time came the men lay flat on their backs, and
and as the door was opened and the bull came tearing in, they wiggled
their legs in the air to attract its attention.
One peculiar feature of bull-fighting is that the bull will never
attack a man's legs, but always strike for his body. The toro would
rush for the prostrate form, and the American auditors would hold their
breath, and think that the fighter's end had come, but just then
the bull would gore him in the stuffed part, and the man would turn
a complete somersault, alighting always on his feet, safe and sound.
The bull would turn those men into all sorts of shapes without either
hurting them or himself.
Puebla is considered the richest State in Mexico, and in it one can
select any climate he desires. Puebla City is never cold, is never
warm; it has the most delicious climate in the world, just the degree
that must please the most fastidious. In the State are wonderful stone
quarries. Every color of clay is used to make dishes, vases, and brick,
and abundance of chalk for making lime. In the rivers and small streams
several kinds of sand are secured, which is used for many purposes,
and a few miles away are large veins of iron and other minerals;
there are mountains of different varieties of marble and onyx, from
the transparent to the heaviest known; extensive fields of coal,
quicksilver, lead, with wonderful mines of gold and silver everywhere;
there is one strange mountain called Nahuatt (star) covered with rock
crystal, the fragments resembling brilliant diamonds, and at another
craggy place beautiful emeralds are found. In many places are hot
springs.
The woods are fortunes in themselves. Besides all the Mexican varieties
are cedar, ebony, mahogany, pine, oak, bamboo, liquid amber, India
rubber, and above all the writing-tree, the wood of which has been
pronounced the finest by five countries. Its colored veins are on a
yellowish ground, and it forms thousands of strange figures, monograms,
words and profiles. Then there are the silk cotton tree, the logwood
and thousands of others. Some of them produce rich essences, others
dyes which never fade. A cactus also grows here from which wine is
made which they say far excels that of Spain or Italy. In the cold
and warm districts are raised cotton, tobacco, vanilla, coffee, rice,
sugar-cane, tea, wheat, aniseseed, barley, pepper, Chili beans, corn,
peas, and all the fruits of the hot and cold zones. There are salt
mines and land where cattle, horses, mules, burros, sheep, goats and
pigs are raised on an extensive scale. The flowers are so varied and
abundant that a gentleman who has been exploring the paradise says
their products would supply all the drug stores of the world with
perfume. These are a few of the charms of the State of Puebla.
There is quite an interesting story connected with the emerald
district. The Indians found one and placed it on the altar of the
church to serve as a consecration stone. It was three-quarters of
a Spanish yard, or a little over one-half English yard, in length.
Maximilian, during his short reign, went to Puebla to examine it,
and offered $1,000,000 for it the moment the jewel expert with
him pronounced it extremely fine. The Indians refused, and asked
$3,000,000. Afterward an armed force went to kill the tribe and carry
off the gem, but were themselves whipped. The Indians then decided to
bury it for safe keeping, when a wily Jesuit promised eternal salvation
to the living, the dead, and the unborn, if they would give it him in
the name of the Holy Virgin, who, he said, had asked for it. The poor
innocent and faithful wretches gave their immense fortune away for a
promise that was worse than nothing, and the treacherous purchaser
cut it into small portions and sent it across the sea to be sold, he
reaping the benefit. The god Quetzalcoatl, which once graced the top of
the pyramid at Cholula, was sold to an American a few years since for
$36,000.
A few miles out from the city, situated in the midst of a barren plain,
stands the magnificent old castle of Perote, which is celebrated in
Mexican history as the last home of many of her dark-eyed senoras, who
have either pined to death in its dreary dungeons or been murdered
during revolutions. It was once the national prison of the Republic,
and was considered one of the strongest buildings in the world. Even
now it is stronger and more formidable than most fortresses. There
is much more of interest, historical and otherwise, to be seen in
and around Puebla, and one could spend months of sight-seeing every
day, and still have something worth looking at. If a gentleman or
lady resident of Puebla is asked where their home is they will
quickly answer, "I live in Puebla, but am not a Pueblaen." The latter
word translated into Spanish means false and treacherous, hence the
carefulness of the people always to add it.
I cannot end this until I give you a sample of the meanness of the
Mexicans, other than Indians. The real Mexican--a mixture of several
nationalities--has a great greed for cold cash, and thinks the
Americano, Yankee, or gringo, was sent here to be robbed. They do not
draw the line on Americans, but also rob the poor Indian of everything.
When I asked for my hotel bill, which was $4 a day, the clerk handed me
a bill with $1.25 extra. "What is the extra for?" I inquired. "Charming
senorita," he answered, "you called for eggs two or three times."
"Yes," I replied, "when you set down goat's meat for mutton, and gave
me strong beef I had seen killed by the matadore in the bull-ring the
day before." "Well," he continued, "eggs are expensive, and it was a
trouble to cook them." "My dear senor, I have no intention of paying
your salary, and your pocket is just minus an expected $1.25. Here is
the other." That settled it.
While looking at some marble objects in a store a poor Indian came in
with twelve blocks of marble twelve by twelve on his back; the poor
fellow had hewn them smooth and then traveled undoubtedly two days or
more on foot over hills and through valleys, the ground at night his
bed and the wild fruits or a few beans brought from home his food. He
was ragged and tired, and dirty, but he had a good, honest look on
his face, he asked the shopkeeper to buy the marble. After a little
inspection the merchant purchased, and for it all, which was weeks
of labor to the poor peon, and meant at least $300 for himself, he
gave fifty cents. Nor was that the worst of it; the two quarters were
counterfeit and the Indian told him so, but he said no. I stepped to
the door and watched the peon go to a grocer's store across the street.
They refused to take the money and he came back and told the marble
dealer. Upon his refusing to give good money the Indian turned to me
for help, whereupon the keeper laughed and said: "She is a Yankee and
can't understand you."
Well, I had not been in Mexico long, and was entirely ignorant of the
language, but my American love for justice was aroused, and in broken
English and bad Spanish I managed to tell him I knew the money was bad,
and that the merchant was like the money--that by even giving good
money he was cheating the poor peon of his goods. He was surprised,
that is if a Mexican can be surprised, and he gave out some little
change, which I examined, and not being sure whether it was good or
bad, put it into my own purse, giving the man a quarter instead. He
thanked me warmly, tied the money up in the corner of a rag he had tied
around his waist, and then went out and tried the other quarter. This
also failed to pass, and he returned to the now furious storeman, who
threatened to call the police if he did not go away. "If you do, I will
tell them that you are passing counterfeit money," I said, whereupon he
gave the peon another piece, and the poor fellow departed happy. While
the storekeeper said some nasty things in Spanish about "Gringos," it
is needless to add I did not buy, nor had he the least desire to sell
to me.