to note that of the considerable flocks we saw grazing upon the wide
pasture lands along our road, the majority were black. This is said to
be the result of Mexican neglect. The white sheep is the work of art.
Flocks are kept white by weeding out the black, but just as hogs when
let run wild will revert to the stronger color, so, too, the flocks of
Mexico, inasmuch as they have been wholly neglected from the day when
Spanish mastership was destroyed, have reverted to the hardier hue,
until to-day the larger percentage are black. To destroy these black
sheep now would bring too great a loss.
In a land like this, where the horse and the mule and the _burro_, as
well as man, are the chief means of transport, one is continually
surprised at the heavy burdens borne, and the skill and care with
which the loads are carried. A piano is taken apart, packed upon a
train of mules and taken to a distant village or _hacienda_. Elegant
and fragile furniture, made in France or other continental countries,
is thus conveyed. In every community there are expert cabinetmakers,
who can repair and put together the most expensive furniture, and
who do the work so deftly that it is even stronger than when
originally made.
[Illustration: A FLOCK OF SHEEP, NEAR ARIO]
There is no burden that a single Indian, or a couple of Indians, or a
dozen Indians, will not bear upon their shoulders to any point or any
distance you may name. These loads and burdens are carried with a care
and safety that might be a lesson to the baggage-smashers and
freight-breakers of our modern railways.
When we drew near Patzcuaro, we overtook multitudes of Indians, men,
women and children, all journeying in the same direction as ourselves.
Upon inquiry, we learned that they were traveling to Patzcuaro there
to take part in the _fiesta_ celebration held in honor of Our Lady of
Guadaloupe, the patron-saint of Mexico, the Indian Madonna, whom the
swarthy citizens of the republic adore. The nearer we approached the
city, the greater the press of peones filling the roadways which lead
to it. In the town the streets were thronged with these strange, wild
people--Tarascon Indians most of them--many having saved up through
all the year for this occasion, and now come here to blow in their
scanty hoards in one single week. A thousand games of chance were in
full blast. All sorts of schemes were being cried, every one of them
calculated to rob the pious Indian of his uttermost _centavo_. Along
the curbs hundreds of little charcoal fires were lit, where food was
roasting over braziers. Men were walking through the streets with
pigskin sacks of _pulque_ on their backs and a gourd cup in hand,
crying “only a _centavo_ for a drink!” _Dulce_ boys were carrying upon
their heads large baskets of guava sweetmeats and candied fruits.
Bakers went by with rings of bread about their necks and small rings
of bread braceleted upon their arms. In the churches a continuous
service is kept going all through the day and night, and the pious
gambler of the _plaza_ has full opportunity to rob the peon and enrich
the church. Along the wayside, groups of Indians are squatting,
exchanging gossip; hundreds of men are leaning against the walls,
wherever the shade gives refuge from the sun, silent and wrapped in
bright-hued _zerapes_, seeing all, but saying never a word. At the
Fonda Diligencia, next the big church, a company of gentlemen of
fortune from Mexico City, clad in dress suits and stovepipe hats, have
opened handsome games of _Caballos_ and _Rouge et Noir_, and about
these are gathered the _Dons_ and _Doñas_ of the town. I see a priest
step to the table, put down his money and make a win; a venturesome
Indian, who has eyed the _padre_ questioningly, now reassured, also
steps up, puts down a few _centavos_ and loses all!
[Illustration: STREET SCENE--PATZCUARO]
We rest again at the Hotel Concordia. We find our room where our
baggage has been safely stored. We take off our corduroys and put on
fresh linen and appear again dressed just as we might be when at home.
Izus is sorry to say good-bye. We add one half to his pay for his
efficient service, and I present him with my large bowie knife to his
delight. I offer him a double price for the fine fighting cock he has
brought from Noria, but this he will not give up. He has a neighbor
whose chicken killed his own some months ago. He has now found a bird
which will give him sweet revenge and as to selling it, money has no
value in his eyes!
XV
Morelia--The Capital of the State of Michoacan--Her Streets--Her
Parks--Her Churches--Her Music
MORELIA, STATE OF MICHOACAN, MEXICO,
_December 12th_.
The Congress of the great State of Michoacan, as big a state as ten
West Virginias, with a population of six hundred and fifty thousand,
is in session at the State capital, Morelia. It meets three times a
week in the Palace. A learned member of the bar and a member of
Congress, escorted me to the dignified body, and formally introduced
me as “_Señor Licénciado Eduardos, del Estado de ‘Quest Verhinia,’ de
los Estados Unidos del Norte._” All the members arose to receive me.
There is only one chamber. Its fourteen members make all the laws for
Michoacan, always subject to the approval of President Diaz in Mexico
City. Diaz decides who shall be the fourteen members. He instructs the
Governor of the State to have elected the fourteen men whom he names,
and those fourteen are always chosen, and no others. President Diaz
also says who shall be elected Governors of the different States, and
they are always elected.
After this Congress had saluted me and I had bowed in response, we all
sat down in the handsome room. The fourteen were mostly small dark men
with good heads. The President of the Congress was an old man with
white hair, a wrinkled face and long white _mustachios_. He did most
of the talking on all measures. He kept his seat while he talked. The
first business before the Congress was “Reports of Committees.” Each
member was a whole committee. Each committee made a report, and stood
up, facing the President to make it. The chief matter under
consideration was a railroad concession to Americans, involving a land
grant of thousands of acres. The Congress will grant it because
President Diaz says the railroad should have it. After an hour or more
of talking, the Congress adjourned. The members came up and were
introduced. I shook hands several times with each member and still
more often with the President.
Adjoining the hall of Congress were several large rooms, the walls
hung with portraits of the great men of Michoacan, who helped to make
Mexico free, and who helped to destroy Maximilian. This fine city of
thirty-five thousand people was formerly called Valladolid. But when
the Spaniards shot the patriot, Morelos, ignominiously in the back,
the people changed its name to Morelia,--for Morelos was their
fellow-townsman,--and they clanged the church bells and made bonfires
and illuminated their houses when the last Spanish Viceroy was driven
from the land.
The _señor_ by whom I had the honor of being introduced to the
Congress, I afterward had the pleasure of meeting more intimately in
his law office, _Señor Don Licénciado_ Vicente Garcia, Senator, Judge,
Counselor of State, and Lawyer profoundly versed in the curious
learning of Spanish-Mexican law. He is a gentleman of the Old School,
a cultivated Mexican of that small class among whom have been
continuously preserved scholarship and learning, since the earliest
advent of the few Doctors of the Law, who accompanied the first
Viceroys to New Spain. Men ripe in mediæval scholarship, apart from
the teachings and doctrines of the Canon Law, they have always formed
a distinct class in Mexico, even as in Old Spain, and have jealously
cherished that seed of intellectual independence from which has
successfully developed the opposition of the State to the incessant
and covert encroachment of the Roman Church.
In _Señor_ Garcia’s library of well stored shelves I noted many
curious and ancient vellum-leaved tomes, containing some of the
earliest printed codes of Mexican law, as well as treatises in French
upon the Napoleonic Code, and there were some few decisions, in
French, of the Courts of Louisiana. There was also a Blackstone in
English and a few newly bound law treatises in that tongue,--volumes
belonging to his son, he said, who was taking a special course in
English in the University of the State.
[Illustration: A VISTA IN MORELIA]
_Don Licénciado_ Garcia is a short-set man with whitening hair and
gray moustache and intellectual face. You at once know him to be the
student and the scholar, although with dark glasses screening his
eyes, he pathetically informed us that he was fast growing blind.
Indeed, he can no longer see to write or read, but employs a reader
and trusts to his son for all correspondence, thus conducting his
large practice with eyes and hands other than his own. We found him a
busy man, for in Mexico the courts are perpetually in session, and a
case once on the docket is liable to be called at any time.
There are many such men in the Mexican Republic as _Señor_ Garcia, and
to them must really be credited much of the conservative disposition
of the government. They are the conservators of scholarly liberalism,
and form a community of intelligence and learning upon whom President
Diaz can always rely to give assistance and direction in sustaining
and preserving the stability of the Republic.
Morelia is a city older than any city of the United States. Its
streets were paved before Boston was out of the swamps, and before
Richmond was thought of. All Mexican cities are paved, every street,
every alley. A great aqueduct, built on immense arches, brings an
abundant supply of sweet, fresh water. There are many beautiful parks
in these Mexican cities, all kept in perfect order at municipal
expense. In them, flowering shrubs, roses, geraniums and heliotropes,
grown to veritable trees, are ever in bloom; there are orange and
lemon, pomegranate and fig, palm and banana trees; there are statues
and flowing fountains, and great carved stone seats, all free to the
people.
There is plenty of flowing water on these high tablelands, and already
its power, harnessed to the turbine and dynamo, is giving the people
free electric lights. The Mexican towns and the city governments are
run for the benefit of the people. There are no monopolies. If
President Diaz hears that a mayor, a city council, or a Congress is
not running things as he judges they should, he just hints to the
gentleman to resign. If he does not comply, a polite invitation
requests him to come to the Capital and dine with the President. If
he is not hungry and fails to come, then a few soldiers (numbering
in one case a small army), come down and politely escort the gentleman
to the dinner. He may be shot, he may be permitted to live quietly
somewhere in the President’s city with a soldier for a life
companion,--but he never goes home. An Ex-governor of the State of
Guerrero has been living in Mexico City, with a soldier for a chum,
these twenty years!
[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL--MORELIA]
Mexican cities are clean. A man who doesn’t sweep his sidewalk, who
disobeys a notice to keep it clean, may wake up in jail. There is no
“_habeas corpus_” in Mexico. Once in jail, a man may stay there a
lifetime. And Mexican jails are not pleasant places wherein long to
abide.
Each State is divided into _Distritos_, corresponding to our counties.
Each _Distrito_, instead of having a county court as do our West
Virginia counties, has a _Jefe Politico_ (Political Chief) appointed
by the Governor. He keeps the peace, he runs the county. If he is a
bad man, the Governor with the approval of President Diaz, may have
the _Jefe_ removed or shot. The _Jefe_ (“Hefy”) within his _Distrito_
has the power of life and death. If a citizen raises “too much hell”
in his precinct, the first thing he knows he is taken out in the woods
by a band of _rurales_--(rural police)--and promptly shot, and he is
buried where he falls. A man thus arrested and shot is said to have
“tried to escape and been shot while escaping.” No questions are
asked. The _Jefe_ rules his _Distrito_ with a hand of steel in a glove
of velvet, just as President Diaz rules the nation.
Mexico has an able, intelligent, if arbitrary government. She is
awake. She is progressive. I have been amazed at the wealth and
beauty, the cleanliness and comfort of her towns and cities, at the
splendor of her capital, at the fertility and variety of her soils and
climates,--the perpetual spring of Ario and Morelia and Toluca and
Mexico City,--the eternal summer and tropical heats of the lowlands of
the _Tierra Caliente_, while between the lofty highlands and the
lowlands lie the temperate levels, the _Tierra Templada_, where are
climates ranging from those of Cuba to Quebec.
Three hundred years ago Spanish civilization was ahead of that of
England and Germany. But Spain and her colonies stood still. To-day
our Teutonic peoples are in the lead. Progressive Mexicans, who have
no love for Spain, know this, and are fast learning what we have to
teach.
No one thing has pleased me more in this splendid, opulent country
than to discover that everywhere men are eager to learn the American
tongue. That language is taught in all public schools, in all the
colleges. It is the hope and pride of every man of means to have his
son able to speak English. In fifty years, or less, English will have
largely driven out the Spanish speech, and none are more eager for
this result than the progressive ruling men of Mexico.
Morelia has much civic pride, and above all else she is proud of her
music; proud of her bands. Once a year the musical _Morelianos_ have a
competition among themselves, and the band declared the winner is sent
to Mexico City to contest with bands from other cities for the musical
pre-eminence of the Republic. Great interest is taken in these musical
contests. For several years the champion band of Morelia has carried
off the national prize. To play in the band is a mark of distinction,
and the band leader is a local dignitary. The chief band plays in the
_plaza_ throughout each afternoon. This park is filled with fine
trees, with many flowers, and has several fountains and comfortable
seats, where you may sit and listen to the plash of the tinkling
waters and the moving melodies of the band. These seats are free to
all. Then, too, there are chairs for which the city sells the
privilege, and the chairs are rented for _cinco centavos_ (five cents
Mexican, equal to about two cents United States) per hour, for a plain
rough-bottom chair; _vicenti-cinco centavos_ (twenty-five cents
Mexican) for a big chair with arms. You pay your money, you sit in
your chair and enjoy the music as long as you care to listen. Poor
_peones_ sit on the free benches; those who have the few _centavos_ to
spare rent a plain chair. The rich merchants and _haciendados_ rent
the big chairs, and sit there with their families gossiping and
applauding the music and watching the circling throngs who walk around
the square. The _señoritas_, three or four abreast, with chaperons,
walk on the inside of the broad pavement. The dashing _caballeros_ and
_rancherros_, the dudes and the beaux, in their bravest adornment,
walk three or four abreast in the other direction on the outside.
Young gentlemen may never speak to young ladies upon the streets, but
they dart burning glances at them, and the black eyes of the
_señoritas_ are not slow in their response.
I spent one morning viewing the markets and watching the city life on
the streets. In Mexico your social standing is marked by the shoeing
of your feet, the covering of your head; your boots and your hats are
the two things a Mexican first looks at when approaching you. The
Mexican loves to thrust his feet into long, narrow toothpick-pointed
shoes; the smaller and daintier the happier he is. For a hat, the
costly _sombrero_, for which fifty to one hundred dollars are often
paid, covers the man of means; sometimes a hat may cost twice this
sum. It may be of felt, or of expensive braided straw with a band of
woven gold or silver threads about the crown. Generally, a large gold
or silver monogram several inches high is on one side. I wore a pair
of broad-soled, oil-dressed walking shoes, with big eyelet holes for
the laces. Substantial and comfortable, they would have been quite
correct in the States, but the passing throngs upon the streets stared
with frank perplexity at these, to them, extraordinary shoes. My
sturdy foot gear became the comment of the town. As I sat in the park
in the afternoon, several groups of the young and fashionable came up,
and pausing, gazed intently at my novel footwear. My hat, a
comfortable slouch of the trooper type, also seemed to them of
wonderfully little cost--“Only five dollars for a hat!” “_Ciertamente!
El Señor_ must have paid more than that!” The American trousers, not
fitting tightly to the leg, were also remarked. It is complained, that
the young men of wealthy Mexican families, who are now attending
Cornell and Harvard and Yale, instead of going to old Spain or to
France, return in these American clothes, and insist upon wearing
these loose American trousers to the scandal of conservative fashion.
Among the ladies, however, the American hat has not yet conquered the
_mantilla_, and for this I have been thankful. The graceful _mantilla_
is so attractive and sits so daintily about the black-braided brow of
the _señora_ and the _señorita_ who pass you by!
It is against the laws of Mexico for the religious orders any longer
to live within the Republic, but at Morelia there are said to be
several of these orders existing clandestinely. A group of ladies,
whom we met at the station of departure, all quietly gowned in black,
wearing black _tapalos_--like a _reboso_ but of more costly
material--about their heads, were pointed out to me as a _subrosa_
company of nuns.
Morelia is the seat of an Archbishop. The cathedral is a beautiful
duplicate of that of Valladolid, in old Spain. It is kept in perfect
repair. Within, it is resplendent with gold and silver and richly
colored walls and roof. It possesses many beautiful statues of the
saints and one of the finest organs in the world. The rich Archbishop
is said to be worth more than six millions of dollars (Mexican). He is
said to own thousands of fertile acres of the best lands in the State
of Michoacan. (All of this worldly wealth the Archbishop holds
_subrosa_, contrary to the letter of the law.)
There are several hundred churches in Morelia. Here Roman
Ecclesiasticism looms large and makes itself attractive to the people.
We attended a night special celebration of the Mass in a fine, large
church, dedicated to _Nuestra Señora de Guadeloupe_. The church within
and without was illuminated with thousands of electric lights. A full
orchestra was employed, violins, cellos and mandolins, flutes,
cornets, horns and trombones, a fine organ as well as a piano, while
several hundred men and boys cassock-clad, chanted and sang in
wonderful harmony with the exquisite orchestral music. Many of the
voices revealed the highest cultivation, and some of the male sopranos
rose strong and sweet and clear as the tones of a Nordica.
As we stood near the portal of the church, listening to the music and
watching the multitude of worshipers, an Indian, wild as the
Cordilleras of Guerrero, whence he came, timidly entered and paused in
the marble portal as one transfixed. His hard, rough feet were without
sandals. His red _zerape_ hung in shreds over his tattered, once white
garments. His shock of black hair had never known a comb; and even
though at last he doffed his _sombrero_, it was some moments before he
pulled it off. He came from the outer darkness. He stood in the
blazing glare of the thousand lights, forgetting to cross himself,
listening to the mighty melody of the great chorus and many
instruments, staring at the brilliant scene. His eyes grew large, his
face stiffened, his breast heaved. He conceived himself transported
to Paradise! My Protestant missionary friend watched him as did I, and
then turning to me, observed, “Can you wonder that the Protestant
missionary is not in it, when he undertakes to compete with the
sumptuous splendor and organized magnificence of ritual and edifice in
the Roman Church? Our only chance is to open schools for the children,
take them young and instruct them early, and then, perhaps, when they
grow up, some few of them may have learned to adhere to the simple
doctrine and plain practice of our Protestant teaching.”
The Jesuits here sustain the fine college of San Nicholas for men,
where Hidalgo once taught and Morelos learned, and which, founded in
1540, boasts that it is the oldest institution of learning in the
Americas. The Jesuits also maintain a large school for young women.
They are endeavoring to resist the tide of progress which is so fast
Americanizing the land. But even here the upgrowing generations are
giving steadily increasing support to the policies of the enlightened
and liberal men now guiding the destinies of the Republic.
[Illustration: A WILD OTOME IN FLIGHT FROM MY KODAK]
XVI
Morelia and Toluca--The Markets--The Colleges--The Schools--The
Ancient and the Modern Spirit
TOLUCA, ESTADO DE MEXICO, MEXICO,
_December 14th_.
Yesterday afternoon at four o’clock I left Morelia by the National
Railroad and reached here at three o’clock in the morning. Tio
continued on to Mexico City, but I stopped over to spend the day with
my friend, El Padre, the missionary, who has been one of our party to
the _Tierra Caliente_.
From my hotel Jardin, in Morelia, I rode down to the station in a most
ancient little car pulled by a single mule; the electric tramway has
not yet arrived at that capital.
It was yet dark when I was awakened for Toluca. When I left the train
the air was cold, frosty. The city was silent, but it was well lighted
with electricity, and a modern electric tram car awaited me at the
station. Toluca thus gave me at the hour of my night arrival the
impression of being more modern than Morelia, and this impression was
borne out upon later acquaintance.
Toluca is one of the more vigorous of the growing cities of the
republic. It is a community of some twenty-five thousand people, the
capital of the State of Mexico, and lies one thousand feet higher in
the air than Mexico City. It is near the center of a fertile valley,
forty or fifty miles in length, and ten to twenty broad, while ten
miles to the southwest towers the snow-capped Volcano de Toluca,
lifting its gleaming cone fifteen thousand feet into the heavens, its
melting snows giving an abundant supply of pure water to the town.
The religious differentiation between Toluca and Morelia is marked.
Morelia is one of the six cathedral cities of Mexico, and is the seat
of one of the six Archbishops. Morelia is also the center of Jesuit
activity in Mexico. In Morelia, the Spanish-Mexican takes off his
_sombrero_ when he passes the cathedral; the Indian kneels down in the
street and crosses himself. The several hundred churches are kept in
excellent repair. Ecclesiasticism dominates, the layman is
subordinate. In Toluca, on the contrary, Church rule is pushed aside;
while there are a number of churches, they are old and most of them
dilapidated. The foundations of a great cathedral, laid many years
ago, are now overgrown with grass and bushes. No money has been
forthcoming from Tolucan pockets to build it up. The governor of
Toluca is among the most progressive and liberal men of the republic.
His administration maintains large schools and academies for the
instruction of young men and women, where the sciences are taught,
where enlightened thought rules, and where particular attention is
paid to the English language and literature. Several of the
instructors are from Chicago.
[Illustration: A DILIGENCIA--TOLUCA]