Incidents of Travel.--The Great Road to the Interior.--Mexican
Diligences.--The Priest was the first Passenger robbed.--The National
Bridge.--A Conducta of Silver.--Our Monk visits Old Vera Cruz.--They
grant to the Indians Forty Years of Indulgence in return for their
Hospitality.--The Artist among Robbers.--Mexican Scholars in the United
States.--Encerro.
A railroad eleven miles in length, crossing the morass, connects Vera
Cruz with the great National Road to the table-land of the interior.
The coach in which the journey to Mexico is made is placed on a
railroad track and pushed on before a crazy locomotive, while behind
the engine is a long line of freight wagons. At every cow-path that
crossed our track stood a flagman waving his little red flag to the
train as it passed, apparently in burlesque imitation of a regular
road.
THE NATIONAL BRIDGE.
The famous National Bridge carries the National Road over the river
Antigua, at the mouth of which, a little way below, Cortez built his
Vera Cruz (Villa Rica de Vera Cruz), and where he caused his vessels to
be sunk before commencing his expedition to the interior. Little has
ever been known in our country of that magnificent whole, of which this
and other bridges of solid masonry are but parts. The National Road of
Mexico was conceived and executed by a company of merchants known as
the Consulado of Vera Cruz. It is about ninety miles in length, and
cost $3,000,000. From Vera Cruz it runs northward, often within sight
of the Gulf, till it nearly reaches the Cerro Gordo, where it turns
inland, and passing upward through that celebrated gorge to Jalapa, a
distance of sixty miles from Vera Cruz, and at an elevation of 4264
feet above the sea; thence, for the remaining thirty miles, it is
carried over the famous mountain, Perote, to the great table-land of
Mexico. It is a work of extraordinary character for the period in which
it was built, and the method of its construction; and reminds the
traveler of a Roman road of antiquity, though no Roman road ever passed
over a mountain 10,000 feet in height. The ruin into which it has
fallen in many places during the last thirty years of civil war, serves
to keep up the illusion, though it falls far short of those ancient
roads in the material of which it is constructed, being of small rough
stones, covered over with a durable cement.
[Illustration: THE NATIONAL BRIDGE.]
The system of stage-coaches between Vera Cruz and Mexico is as nearly
perfect as any system of traveling dependent on weather can be.
Comfortable hotels are established at convenient distances along the
road; and if the passenger desires it, he can have endorsed upon his
ticket a permission to tarry upon the road as long as he may desire.
Six, and sometimes eight horses drag the coach along at a hazardous
speed. Twice, out of three times that I have passed over this road, I
have been overturned. Once, while riding on the top, a heavy iron axle
broke like a pipe-stem, throwing me off upon the rough stones, with the
additional misfortune of having a heavy Frenchman fall upon me. But no
bones were broken, and I still live to tell the story.
The neighborhood of the National Bridge is a favorite haunt of the
knights of the road. Though very pious in their way, they have no
scruples in relieving any priest who may fall into their hands of such
worldly possessions as he happens to have about him. In fact, they seem
to take a special delight in plundering these holy men, giving them the
precedence in relieving their wants. Out of respect to the cloth, they
omit the ceremony of searching, to which the other passengers are
subjected; nor do they compel him to lie down like the others. But with
mock solemnity a robber approaches the sacred personage, and dropping
on one knee, presents his hat for alms, which the priest understands to
be a reverential mode of demanding all the valuables that he carries
about him: his reverence having been disposed of, the women are
searched; afterward the men, one by one, are ordered to rise up to
undergo a like ceremony; and, lastly, the baggage is ransacked, and
then all are suffered to go on their way in peace, if no shots have
been fired from the stage. In former times the robbers used to divide
their plunder with the Virgin Mary, but now things are altered; the
robber takes all, and even visits the churches occasionally, not to
worship, but for plunder. If two or three priests take passage in a
single coach, people shake their heads and say, "That coach will
certainly be robbed;" and so it often happens.
The stage ordinarily passes this bridge in the night, when there is no
opportunity to look at the magnificent scenery around. I saw it once by
daylight; and long shall I remember the impression produced. I lingered
about the spot to the last moment that "Jim," or as he is here called
"San Diego," the driver, would permit. We reluctantly took our places
in the coach, and when the hostler let slip the rope that held the
heads of the leaders, our eight wild horses dashed off at a furious
rate over a roughly paved road, to the no small disturbance of the
reflections which such a spot awakens.
We tried to think of the stirring events that had here so often taken
place in times of civil war, when Gomez practiced such cruelties in the
name of liberty; when robberies and murders were committed here in
broad daylight; when the frowning battery that crowns the cliff,
stopped the passage of armies. But it was of no use to try to think;
the wheels would strike fire upon the boulders lying in the road,
tumbling us about until all romance and recollection were pounded out
of us.
Gladly we halted at Plan del Rio to take a little chocolate and look at
the ruins of a stone bridge blown up by gunpowder, while new horses
were being brought out to drag us up the Cerro Gordo pass.
Here we met a small body of soldiers conducting eight freight wagons
that carried loads of coined silver, and were drawn by twelve horses
each, on their way to the coast--a common sight to the people of these
parts, as was evident from the indifference with which they regarded
such cargoes of money; yet it was calculated to make an American stare,
though he had been accustomed to look upon treasures of California in
her palmiest days. But a few millions in silver make a most imposing
show.
FRIAR PAGE AT VERA CRUZ.
Our monk, on his journey to this point, had kept along the shore,
crossing the Antigua near its mouth, visiting old Vera Cruz. He thus
describes what he there saw:
"The first Indians whom we encountered in our journey were at old Vera
Cruz, which is on the sea-shore, where, as we have already said, the
Spaniards first designed to establish themselves on undertaking the
conquest of the country, but which they had to abandon on account of
the little protection it afforded against the north winds. Here we
began to note the power which the clergy and friars have among the poor
Indians; how they rule them, and the respect and veneration which are
paid them. The Prior of Vera Cruz having written, the morning of our
departure, advertising them of the day of our arrival, he commanded
them to come and receive us, and to serve us during our transit through
their territory. The poor Indians obeyed with the greatest promptitude
the orders of the Prior, and at a league from their village twenty of
their principal men encountered us upon horseback, and handed a wreath
of flowers to each one of us. Then they set out on their return in
front of our caravan, and at a bow-shot distance, and in this manner we
proceeded until we came up with others on foot, with trumpets and
flutes, which were played very agreeably before our whole cavalcade.
Those who had come out were the employees of the churches and the
chiefs of the fraternities, all of whom presented us a garland of
flowers. Then followed others--the priests' assistants, acolitos, and
the young people of the choir, who went singing a _Te Deum
laudamus_, until we arrived at the market-place. There is always a
Plaza in the midst of the village, and here it was adorned by two great
and most beautiful elms: between these there had been constructed an
immense arbor, in which was a table covered with jars and dishes of
conserves, and other kinds of sweetmeats and biscuits for eating with
the chocolate. While they were preparing the chocolate, heating the
water, and adding the sugar, the principal Indians and the authorities
of the village came and knelt down, and kissed our hands, and gave us
their address, saying that our arrival was a happy event for their
country, and that they gave us a thousand thanks because we had left
our native country, our parents, and our firesides, in order to go to
regions so remote to labor for the salvation of souls; and that they
honored us as gods upon earth, and as the apostles or Jesus Christ; and
they said so many, many things, that only the chocolate put an end to
their eloquence. We remained an hour, and manifested our gratification
for the demonstration of affection and bounty with which they had
favored us, assuring them that there was not any thing in the world
more dear to us than their salvation, and that to procure it we had not
feared to expose ourselves to all the perils with which we were
threatened by sea and land; nor even the barbarous cruelty of other
Indians who did not know the true God, in whose service we had resolved
to sacrifice even life.
"With this we departed from them, making gifts to the chiefs of
rosaries, medals, little metal crosses, 'the Lamb of God' (_Agnus
Dei_), relics which we brought from Spain; and we conceded to each
one forty years of indulgence, in virtue of the powers which we had
received from the Pope for distributing them, where, when, and to whom
we pleased. On our going out from the shade of the arbor for mounting
our mules, we saw the market-place full of men and women on their
knees, almost adoring us, and asking us to give them our blessing. We
raised the hand on passing, and gave it to them by making the sign of
the cross. The submission of the poor Indians, and the vanity excited
by a reception so ceremonious, and with such public homage, turned the
heads of our young friars, who began to believe themselves superior to
the bishops of Europe; and even our illustrious superiors were not far
from pride, but exhibited excessive haughtiness, now that they had seen
their vanity flattered with such great acclamations in their sight as
were lavished upon us that day, although we were only some simple
friars. The flutes and the trumpets began to resound again at the head
of our procession, and the chiefs of the people accompanied us as far
as half a league, and afterward they retired to their homes."
Slowly has the stage been moving up the pass. The rattle of the wheels
has ceased, the sun has made his appearance, and the awakened
passengers are disposed to listen to tales of wild adventures. The
loquacious are ready with an abundant supply. The best of these is the
tale of "The Artist among the Robbers."
THE ARTIST AMONG THE ROBBERS.
"Four years ago," began the artist who made some sketches for this
work, "while I was making a pedestrian journey over this road, I seated
myself, weak and hungry, upon a stone by the roadside, not a little
tired of life and evil fortune. The remains of the yellow fever were
still upon me, and only a single dollar burdened my pocket; for I did
not learn, until too late, how poor a place for an artist from abroad
is this country, where the San Carlos is creating the native article by
scores. I had not sat long in my gloomy mood before I had company
enough; for as I looked up I saw, trooping down the side of the hill, a
band of men, who I thought would soon put an end to my troubles. I took
the thing coolly, for I cared little for the result; and had I cared,
there was no helping it now. So I patiently waited their arrival. To
the questions of the only one who could talk English I answered
briefly, as I supposed they would soon end my troubles. When I told him
that I cared little if he did kill me, the whole party laughed
uproariously. The leader now came up, and having searched me, found my
story to be true. I then drew an outline of a picture with my pencil,
and gave it to him. This so pleased him that he wrote me a memorandum,
and with verbal directions as to the way I was to go if I wished for
lodgings for the night, he bade me adieu, and the party disappeared up
the side of the woody hill, and I set out on my journey."
The leagues were very long, but the landmarks were unmistakable; and
without difficulty the artist reached the house and presented his paper
to the old woman that appeared at the door. This paper procured him a
good supper, and comfortable quarters for the night; for his fine open
countenance and yellow hair seemed to have touched the heart of this
old Mexican matron--a class of persons, by-the-way, who are the kindest
mortals in the world. The good cheer disposed of, he gathered up his
feet upon his mat for the night, and slept as men do who have nothing
to fear from robbers. When in the morning he awoke, he found the old
dame astir, preparing for him an early breakfast, which was of a
quality unexpected in so unpretending a mansion. When breakfast was
prepared, and after he had finished eating it, the old woman made him
understand by signs that he was to go into the adjoining room and there
replenish his dilapidated wardrobe. She supplied him with a new suit
from head to heel, and then urged him to tie around his waist a small
sheep's entrail filled with brandy, according to the custom of Mexican
Indians. Thus had our transient friend had his inner and outer man
supplied in this out-of-the-way hut, at the robbers' charges, after
which, being shown the direction in which to reach the Jalapa road, he
bade the kind old matron _adios_, and traveled on to Encerro with
a lighter heart than he had borne the day before.
ENCERRO.
At Encerro we left four of our fellow-passengers. They were the son and
three daughters of the widow who kept the inn. They had been through a
full course of studies in one of the Roman Catholic boarding-schools in
the United States, and were now returned, having fully mastered the
English language--the great desideratum of the Spanish-American people,
and one of the sources from which the Catholic schools and colleges in
the United States derive their support.
What a beautiful spot is Encerro, the country residence of Santa Anna!
It may not be as productive as his estate of Manga de Clavo, in the hot
country, near Vera Cruz; but it is more salubrious and delightful. In
the civil wars he had often made a stand here, and had learned to
appreciate the beauty of the spot long before he was rich enough to
make the purchase--for the pay received by officers of the highest rank
in Mexico, is not sufficient to enable them to accumulate a fortune
till far advanced in life. Politicians in Mexico, as in all other
countries, are not unwilling to hazard their private fortunes in their
political contests, and though the estates of the unsuccessful parties
are not confiscated in a revolution, one reason may be that they are
not ordinarily of great value.
The stage-coach has been forgotten in story-telling while slowly
climbing up the pass, but as soon as we had overcome this impediment we
started off again upon an unrepaired road, at our former neck-breaking
speed, which we kept up until we reached Encerro, where for a little
way we had an earthen road. Yet it was only a short breathing before we
were upon the rough stones again. We had been gradually passing through
different strata of atmosphere in our journey upward, the changes in
the character of the vegetation kept pace with the change of the
climate.
"Whose is that estate inclosed by such an antiquated looking stone
wall?" I inquired, of a fellow-traveler.
"That belongs to Don Isidoro; and it extends some thirty leagues," was
the reply. "You see that ridge of hills. That is its northern boundary.
This wall separates it from the estate of Santa Anna. In fact it is
surrounded by a continuous and substantial stone-wall, sufficient to
keep in cattle. This spot of land sufficiently large for a county, with
a soil the richest in the world, and a climate like that of Jalapa, is
given up to be a range for thousands of cattle."
A TROPICAL FOREST.
We must hasten to our journey's end, which, for the present, is Jalapa.
While here, we can sum up the story of our eighteen hours' ride. From
Vera Cruz we passed through a tropical marsh, presenting a striking
contrast to what we had witnessed about that town. In place of being
surrounded by hot, shifting hillocks of sand, we were in the midst of
tropical vegetation. Trees not only bore their own natural burdens, but
were borne down with creepers, vines, and parasitic plants; forming one
strange mass of foliage of very many distinct kinds matted together and
mingled into one. Plantations of vanilla, of coffee, of cocoa, or of
sugar-cane, nowhere approached our road; nor were the cocoa-nut, the
banana, and the plantain, so familiar in all tropical climates, often
visible. Upon the whole route there were little evidences of labor,
except those furnished by the road itself. It was all wilderness. Yet
the graceful features of the creepers, hanging from branch to branch of
the sycamores, and the shady arbors formed by their dense foliage,
looked as though a gardener's hand could be traced in so much
regularity; yet it was only Nature's own gardening, where the wild
birds might build their nests, and breed, and sing without fear of
disturbance. How often have I dismounted, while riding along such a
forest, by the side of some running brook, and while my horse was
feeding I have almost fallen asleep under the soothing influence which
such an atmosphere produces upon a traveler, heated by fast riding
under a vertical sun. It is one of those happy sensations that can not
well be described, nor can it be appreciated by those who have not
experienced it. Poets have exhausted their power in painting the
beauties of scenes where all the senses are satiated with enjoyment.
Yet this voluptuous gratification is soon alloyed by the evils that
remind us that Paradise is not to be found upon this earth. Here is
seen the whole animal kingdom busily laboring for the destruction of
its kind. Reptiles prey upon each other; parasitic plants fix
themselves upon trees and suck up the sap of their existence; and man,
while he enjoys to a surfeit these bounties of nature, must watch
narrowly against the venom and the poison that comes to mar his
pleasure, and teach him the wholesome lesson that true happiness is
only found in Heaven. We are now at our journey's end.