ANCIENT AND MODERN MEXICO
Of all the lands of the New World, none perhaps has impressed itself
more on the imagination than the picturesque and enigmatical land
of Mexico. It seems to stand, in our thoughts of distant countries,
apart from all others, a riddle we cannot read, surrounded by a
halo or mist of unreality, a region vague and shadowy as its Toltec
ancestors.
Perhaps this view has in part arisen from the description of the
Conquest by famous writers, which so greatly interested our forbears
of the Victorian period, and by the romantic story-writers of the
same era. But these matters alone would not account for the hazy
atmosphere surrounding the old land of the Aztecs, which even the
prosaic matters of trade and finance do not seem to lift. There are
many English and American folk with commercial interests in Mexico,
who draw perhaps, or in happier times there have drawn, dividends
from their investment in mine, or railway, or other enterprise; but
even this material standpoint fades into intangibility before the
endeavour to form a true mental image of the land.
Who are the Mexicans, where does their country lie, what language do
they speak, what dress do they wear? Geography and ethnology will
furnish us with the most exact replies; the books of travellers will
fill in abundant detail, but nevertheless, Mexico remains for us an
enigma.
We shall not hope here successfully to dispel this mystery, even
though we may have been there, traversed its varied surface, and
lived among its people. To say that Mexico is the Egypt of the New
World, whilst it is not untrue, is to deepen the atmosphere. The
sandalled Indian creeps across his desert sands and irrigates them
with his native torrents as he did in centuries past, lives in his
wattle or adobe hut, and, if he no longer worships the sun, at least
he stands before its morning rays to embrace its warmth--_el capa
de los pobres_ ("the poor man's cloak")--for poverty denies him
other comfort. The rich man is clothed in fine textures of European
model and may dwell in a palace, but beneath his modernized exterior
are traits of the Orient, and the blood of the Moor, the Goth, the
Vandal, the Roman, the Celt, the Semite, brought hither in the
Spaniard, is mingled with that of the Aztec, who lived upon the
great plateau and built his temples of strange and bloody worship.
No other American nation constitutes so wide a blending of original
races. Spain itself was a veritable crucible of languages, peoples
and creeds, whilst aboriginal Mexico contained a large number of
tribes, each with their particular culture, or lack of such.[7]
For Mexico, it is to be recollected, was not a land like the United
States or Canada, which contained, relatively, but a few bands of
Indians, without any particular form of government or developed
institutions.
[7] Some of these tribes were unutterably savage and brutal, but
it is doubtful if their methods were worse than those of the
Anglo-Saxon who invaded Britain, with the repulsive horrors they
visited upon the early Britains, in wholesale massacre and torture
of the Celts.
The grandees of Spain came out to rule this diversified land, and
they did not disdain to make it their home. Spain gave it of her
best often, with capable legislators, laws; the _Ley de Indias_,
enacted for the benefit of the colonies, and erudite professors and
devout--over-devout--ecclesiastics; and these often carried out
their work with patriotism and fervency. Although it is not yet,
the student of history will be fain to think that out of this seed
a good growth must in the future come to being, and this we may say
without any unnecessary apologetics for Mexico.
But what, we may ask, is the influence here, that throws back this
fruitful land from time to time to anarchy, and makes its name a
byword?
Disorder and treachery periodically arises, dictator succeeds
dictator, revolution follows revolution, and the country's soil,
whether in the streets of its capital, whether upon its desert
plains or in its tropic valleys, is drenched with the blood of its
own sons. The results of thirty years of a constructive national
policy which Diaz gave, the hopes and pretensions of a high
civilization, laboriously built up, sink down to nought, revert
to the conditions of that dreadful half-century that followed
upon Independence, from which stand forth the names--noble and
ignoble--of Iturbide, Maximilian, Juarez, or Morelos. What ails this
strange land? Is it capable of no better life?
In reply, Mexico is a land following the inevitable law of reaping
what it has sown, and both the sowing and the reaping are but
exaggerated forms of processes that are affecting the world at
large. Judgment must not be too heavily passed upon Mexico as a
whole, for, as I shall later show, a whole nation must not be
condemned by reason of some of its nationals.
Mexico, like all Spanish American States, is at the mercy,
politically and economically, of certain small sections of the
people. Government is of an oligarchy in normal times, which often
abuses its position. The bulk of the people have neither art
nor part in their own governance. The ballot box is too often a
delusion and a snare. A turbulent or ambitious element can seize
power at any moment by a _golpe de estado_ (a _coup d'état_). The
upper and refined class, which, be it said, is the equivalent of
and as well-informed often as that in Europe, stand aloof from
political revolution and disturbance, and would be the last to
commit the excesses which bring execration upon the country's name.
The educated Mexican has all the traditions of the _caballero_,
the gentleman; the Mexican lady is refined, devout, delicate and
tenderhearted. The peon and the Indian are not turbulent, but
well-meaning and generally industrious.
These matters we shall further consider; for the moment let us pass
on to survey the land itself, to traverse its wide and diversified
surface, with its many elements of beauty, interest and utility.
Here, then, is a land of vast extent, in which various European
countries could be contained; stretching from the borders of Central
America northward to those of the United States, two thousand miles
long upon its major axis, shaped upon the map like a cornucopia,
washed on one side by the Atlantic, on the other by the Pacific, and
containing within itself every resource of Nature which could make
for plenty and progress. Its southern half lies within the Tropics,
but consisting in great part of an elevated tableland, where the
diurnal range of temperature--from the heat of the day to the cold
of the night--is so considerable that latitude we find is not a
reliable guide to climate.
This great plateau, whose escarpments, viewed as we approach from
either side present the appearance of mountains, is in large
part sterile, treeless, and without rivers of importance or
navigability. But it is crossed by ranges of steely-blue hills and
intersected by fertile valleys, where agriculture is carried on
under irrigation--an ancient art by means of canals fed from the
intermittent streams. Cacti, strange and gaunt, clothe it by nature,
but there are large coniferous forests upon the mountain slopes in
places.
Do we approach the country from the north, by the railway lines
from the United States border, we traverse deserts among the most
dreadful of the New World, deserts yet with a certain cruel beauty
of their own, where once the Apache roamed--cruellest and most
horrible of all the world's savage folk.
But Nature has disposed along this high plateau, vast, fabulously
vast mineral wealth, and from the famous mines of Guanajuato,
Zacatecas, Chihuahua, Durango, Potosi, Aguascalientes, Pachuca; and
places--some of them noble towns, dowered with royal charters before
the _Mayflower_ sailed for New England--silver and gold poured forth
to fill the needy coffers of Spain. Later, the English shareholder
tried his hands upon the "mother-lode" with varying fortune, and
copper, iron and other metals also came like magic from the rocks of
this great wilderness.
On the eastern and western versants of the country, and in the
south, we encounter a different landscape. Here Nature smiles. In
places it may be hot and humid, perhaps malarious, with tangled
forests. But rich vegetation, gorgeous flora and profuse animal
life--bird, insect, reptile--abound. Here are fruitful plains and
valleys, vast sugar-cane plantations, luscious fruits of kinds
unknown to the world outside--among them the _mamey_, the "fruit of
the Aztec kings," with orange and banana groves, coffee gardens,
cocoa-trees, yielding the _chocolatl_ of the Aztecs, rubber-trees
with elegant foliage, whilst above, the graceful coco-palm rears
its stately column and feathery plume high against the azure sky.
[Illustration: SCENE ON THE GREAT PLATEAU, MEXICO.
Vol. I. To face p. 104.]
Here, indeed, is a region where it might have been supposed that
man could dwell in peace and plenty, with a minimum of toil and
ambition, of care and evil.
The climatic zones of Mexico were named by the Spaniards in
accordance with the condition of their varying temperatures
respectively, as, the _Tierra Caliente_, or hot lands, the _Tierra
Templada_, or temperate lands, and the _Tierra Fria_, or cold lands:
the first lying upon the coast, the second midway up the slopes,
and the last the higher regions, reaching an elevation of 8,000 to
10,000 feet and more above the level of the sea.
In this intermediate zone of the Tierra Templada lies a land which
has been not unjustly termed a region of perpetual spring, a truly
desirable land, where the fortunate inhabitant lives close to the
kindly earth as if in some mortal paradise--as far as Nature is
concerned. In the high zone, healthful and invigorating, lies the
beautiful city of Mexico in its enclosed valley; and many a handsome
town is found throughout the three zones.
This city of Mexico was the coveted prize of Cortes and his
Spaniards, and through the varying zones they passed after having,
on that Good Friday in 1519, landed on the shores to which they
gave the name of Vera Cruz--the place of the True Cross. Across the
waters of the Gulf as they approached the unknown land was seen the
gleaming peak of Orizaba, called by the natives Citlalteptl, or the
Mountain of the Star, hanging in mid-heaven, its point over thirteen
thousand feet above the sea.
From the shore, the native runners of Montezuma bore swiftly
upwards to the mountain city news of the white man's arrival--long
expected of old, from the traditions of Quetzalcoatl, the mystic
god-man of white race. These messengers made curious but faithful
"picture-writings," on Mexican paper, of the great "water-houses" or
caravels swinging in the bay, the dread "men-animals" or horsemen,
and the thunderous guns of the Spaniards, and hastened thence to
warn their master.
Swiftly they returned from the mountains. "Go back," the Aztec
Emperor said, "come not hither, the road is long and difficult," and
he sent presents--a huge wheel of gold and beautiful feather work
and other objects.
But Cortes, heeding not the message, burned his boats; the customary
Mass was rendered by the Padre Olmedo--the Spaniards were always
devout, partly in sincerity, partly as a custom--and the adventurers
set forth on that remarkable and adventurous journey which forms one
of the most thrilling episodes in early American history. Let us
briefly review it.
The Spaniards have allied themselves, in the fruitful land of
Tlascala--the "Land of Bread" in the native tongue--with the
Tlascalans, foes at first but friends afterwards, and then began the
most stirring events of their march.
"The Tlascalans were a people who had developed a remarkable
civilization and social and military organization, akin to that
of the Aztecs. On the arrival of the messengers of Cortes much
dissension had prevailed in their councils, some of the chiefs--the
community was ruled by a council of four--maintaining that this was
an opportunity for vengeance against their hereditary enemies, the
hated Aztecs and their prince, Montezuma. 'Let us ally ourselves
with these terrible strangers,' they urged, 'and march against
the Mexicans.' For the doings of the Spaniards had echoed through
the land already, with a tale of smitten tribes and broken idols.
But the wily old Xicotencatl thought otherwise. 'What do we know
of their purpose?' was his counsel; so it was agreed that the
army of the Tlascalans and Otomies, who were in force near the
frontier, under the command of the fiery young warrior--son of old
Xicotencatl, and bearing the same name--should attack them. 'If we
fail,' the old barbarian urged, 'we will disavow the act of our
general; if we win----'!
"The stone fortification at the valley's end had been undefended,
and with Cortes at their head the Spaniards entered Tlascalan
territory. Skirmishing was followed by a pitched battle between the
Christians and the Tlascalans, in which the firearms and lances of
the Spaniards wrought terrible havoc on their antagonists. Astounded
at the sight of the horses--those extraordinary beings, whether
of animal or demoniacal origin they knew not--and appalled by the
thundering of the guns, which seemed to have some superhuman
source, the Tlascalans at first fell back. But they overcame their
fears, fell savagely upon the invaders, and were with difficulty
repulsed, having managed to kill two of the horses. Greatly to
Cortes's regret was this, for the noble animals were few, and--more
serious still--their death removed that semi-superstitious dread
regarding them, which the natives held. However, the Spaniards
afterwards buried them from sight.
"Night fell, a season when the Indians fought not, but on the morrow
the messengers which had been sent to the Tlascalans arrived--having
escaped--with the news that the enemy was approaching in great
force. So indeed it befel, and upon the plain in front of the
Spaniards appeared a mighty host, varyingly estimated between
thirty and a hundred thousand warriors. The Spaniards with their
allies numbered--fearful odds!--about three thousand. 'The God of
the Christians will bear us through,' said the brave and beautiful
Marina. A frightful battle now ensued, the issue of which hung in
the scale for hours. Charging, volleying, borne this way and that by
the flood of the enemy's numbers, the gallant band of the Spaniards
snatched victory from almost certain defeat, their superior weapons
and cavalry, together with the bad tactics of the Indians, who
knew not how to employ their unwieldy army to best advantage, at
length decided the day for the Christians, who inflicted terrible
punishment upon their foes. The Tlascalans' policy now showed
signs of weakening, but further assaults were necessary, and some
treachery, under the guise of friendship, having been discovered on
the part of the fifty Tlascalan envoys to the Spanish camp, Cortes
barbarously cut off the hands of these and sent them back to tell
the tale.
"The upshot of these engagements was that the Tlascalans
capitulated, apologized for their conduct, invited the strangers to
take possession of their capital, and assured them that they would
now be allies, not enemies, of the white men, who were undoubtedly
the representative of the great and long-expected Quetzalcoatl. The
joy in the Spanish camp at this turn of affairs knew no bounds; well
did the Spaniards know that the continued opposition of the Indians
would have been their ruin, whilst in their alliance was salvation
and the key to the Conquest.
"Behold the war-worn and hungry Spaniards, lean and tattered from
marching and privations in the inclement uplands, now installed in
comfort in the centre of the powerful Tlascalan capital. Forth had
come to greet them young Xicotencatl, who, to do him justice, took
upon himself the responsibility of the war; and as the Spaniards
entered the capital the streets were lined with men, women and
children, and decorated with garlands of flowers as for a triumphal
procession. The old chief who had urged for opposition now changed
his tactics, and as Cortes entered he embraced him, passing his
hand over the face of the Spaniard to see what manner of man he
was, for the aged Tlascalan was blind, having reached, it has been
said--probably with exaggeration--a hundred and forty years of age!
'The city is much larger than Granada,' wrote Cortes to Carlos V,
with a description of its markets, shops, houses and intelligent and
industrious population.
"Six weeks the Spaniards sojourned there, recuperating their
energies, living on the best the plentiful land afforded--Tlascala
signified in the Indian tongue 'the land of bread'--taking wives
from among the maidens, the chiefs' daughters, and endeavouring,
first with the foolish haste of Cortes and then with the slow
prudence of Father Olmedo, to instil some tenets of the Christian
religion into their hosts. But religious fervour had to give way to
material necessities, and the Tlascalan idols remained unsmitten,
although their human sacrifices were somewhat stayed.
"Rested and mended, the Spaniards now set impatient gaze upon the
oak- and fir-clad mountain slopes which bounded the valley. Above
them loomed upward the great Malinche, snow-capped queen of the
Tlascalan mountain fastnesses; and still the friendly Tlascalans,
stern foes but noble allies, loaded them with every favour and bid
them tarry. When, however, they would stay no longer they raised a
great body of warriors to accompany them, warning Cortes against the
wiles of Montezuma. 'Beware of his presents and his promises; he is
false and seeks your destruction,' they urged, and their implacable
hatred of the Aztecs showed itself in their words and mien.
"Contrary to the advice of their new allies, the Spaniards decided
to journey on to Mexico through Cholula, the land of the great
pyramid. Embassies had arrived, both from Montezuma and from the
Cholulans, the latter inviting the Spaniards to go that way; and
the great Aztec monarch, swayed now by the shadow of oncoming
destiny, offering the Spaniards a welcome to his capital. 'Trust
not the Tlascalans, those barbarous foes,' was the burden of his
message, 'but come through friendly Cholula: a greeting received by
the Tlascalans with sneers and counter-advice. The purpose of the
Tlascalans was not a disinterested one. An attack upon Montezuma
was their desire, and preliminary to this they hoped to embroil the
Spaniards with the perfidious Cholulans. Another embassy--and this
was an important event--had waited upon Cortes. It was from the
Ixtlilxochitl, one of the rival claimants for the throne of Texcoco,
which, it will be remembered, was a powerful and advanced community
in confederation with the Aztecs; and Cortes was not slow to fan
the flame of disaffection which this indicated, by an encouraging
message to the young prince.
"A farewell was taken of the staunch Tlascalans, the invariable
Mass was celebrated by Father Olmedo, and, accompanied by a large
body of Tlascalan warriors, the Spaniards set out for Cholula. What
befel in this beautiful and populous place--which, Bernal Diaz
wrote, reminded him, form its numerous towers, of Valladolid--was of
terrible and ruthless import. Cholula, with its great _teocalli_,
was the Mecca of Anahuac, and was veritably a land flowing with milk
and honey. Well-built houses, numerous _teocallis_, or pyramidal
temples, well-dressed people with embroidered cloaks, and numbers
of censer-swinging priests formed the _ensemble_ which greeted
the Spaniards' eyes, whilst the intense cultivation of the ground
and the fields of _maguey_, _maiz_, and other products, irrigated
by canals from the mountain streams, formed the environment of
this advanced community. 'Not a palm's-breadth of land that is
not cultivated,' wrote Cortes in his dispatches to Castile, 'and
the city, as we approached, was more beautiful than the cities of
Spain.' Beautiful and gay doubtless Cholula was when the Spaniards
entered; drenched with the blood of its inhabitants and devastated
by fire it lay before they left it! There had been signs of
treachery, even on the road thither, work of the Cholulans; but,
lodged in the city, the Spaniards discovered, through the agency
of the intelligent Marina, a plot to annihilate them later. Taking
the Cholulans unawares as they crowded the streets with--at the
moment--harmless curiosity, the Spaniards, with cannon, musket
and sabre, mowed down the unfortunate and unprotected natives in
one bloody massacre, aided by the ferocious Tlascalans, who fell
upon the Cholulans from the rear. The appalling and unnecessary
slaughter at Cholula has called down upon the heads of Cortes and
the Spaniards the execration of historians. Some have endeavoured
to excuse or palliate it, but it remains as one of the indelible
stains of the Spanish _Conquistadores_ upon the history they were
making. Having accomplished this 'punitive' act, an image of the
Virgin was set up on the summit of the great pyramidal temple,
and some order restored. 'They are now your Highness's faithful
vassals,' wrote Cortes to the King of Spain!
"After this the way seemed clear. Far on the horizon loomed the
white, snow-capped cones of Popocateptl and Ixtaccihuatl, beautiful
and pure above the deserts, the canyons, and the forests beneath
them--the gateway to Mexico. From the foremost, above its snow-cap,
there belched forth a great column of smoke, for at that period
Popocateptl was an active volcano. Onwards the Spaniards pressed
with buoyant hearts and eager feet, and when they stood upon
the summit of the range their eyes beheld the beautiful valley
of Mexico, the haven for which they had long toiled and fought,
stretched below. There, shimmering in distance, lay the strange,
unknown city of the Aztecs, like a gem upon the borders of its
lakes: its towers and buildings gleaming white in the brilliant
sun of the tropic upland beneath the azure firmament and brought
to deceptive nearness by the clear atmosphere of that high
environment. There at last was their longed-for goal, the mysterious
Tenochtitlan."[8]
[8] _Mexico_, by the Author, South American Series.
* * * * *
The city of Mexico, notwithstanding its modern attributes, is
stamped with history and tradition, and in this respect is perhaps
the most noteworthy metropolis on the American continents. It is,
as it were, a mediaeval city, transplanted from the Old World to
the New. The United States has, naturally, no place which may
compare with it, and in happier times Mexico City has been a tourist
centre for Americans, who, escaping from the more materialistic and
commercial atmosphere of their own busy towns, and the extremes of
heat or cold which alternate therein, have sought the equable and
healthful condition of the Mexican upland capital--an easy journey
comparatively, of a few days in a Pullman car, amid landscapes
attractive from their novelty.
We are in a city of churches and convents. Elsewhere I have
described some of these remarkable edifices, home of the Roman
Catholic faith, and as we view the city from the pleasing hills
surrounding the valley their domes and towers stand up refreshingly.
The houses of Mexico are of a type unknown to the Anglo-Saxon
American; the social customs, the aspects of the streets, the
markets, the flower-market, the old, massive public buildings,
the cotton-clad Indian folk in the _plazas_ side by side with
beautifully dressed señoritas and correctly attired, grave and
ceremonious men--statesmen, lawyers, doctors and men of many
professions, the _serenatas_ or concerts in the _alamedas_, the
lottery ticket vendors thrusting their flimsy wares into one's face,
urging you to tempt fortune--for will not the wheel be turned in
the public square in half an hour, and may you yourself not be
the winner of the sorteo?--all these features catch the traveller's
eye as in the genial sunshine, before the midday heat renders the
shade of the _patio_ or veranda advisable, we observe the life of
the Mexican city. In the market-place, at an early hour or in the
evening, the odour of the _tortilla_ or the _frijoles_, fried in the
open for ready sale, will greet our nostrils, and there are piquant
_chiles_--a favourite article of diet--and many luscious and unknown
fruits which we cannot resist.
[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL, CITY OF MEXICO.
Vol. I. To face p. 114.]
Under the shade trees in the plaza or the alameda, escorted by
Indian maid-servant, or perhaps entering or leaving the temples, are
sweet-faced girls of the upper class, pale oval-faced _señoritas_
with dark hair and expressive eyes, with the mantilla drawn over the
head, bent on their early-morning orisons: but though their thoughts
are at the moment doubtless dwelling upon matters spiritual, there
are glances from expressive eyes--
Para que te miré, mujer divina?
Para que contemplé tu faz hermosa?
Sentiment and love, indeed, play a strong part in the temperament of
this southern race, with all its reserve and seclusion.
The foreigner in Mexico will thus find a varied local colour in the
Mexican capital and in other cities throughout the Republic, such
as could long occupy his pen, and indeed his brush, if he wield
such. To come into actual touch with the people in their homes is
more difficult, but if he is fortunate enough to be the guest in
an upper class Mexican family, he will experience the most pleasing
hospitality. To penetrate such circles, however, there must be the
appropriate qualities and circumstances.
In this peaceful city there are few signs of revolution, disorder or
bloodshed. The walls here and there may be pitted with bullet-marks,
but the things which caused them come and go, and the populace lives
its life with merely passing notice of them.
We may wander somewhat farther afield in the valley: to the
suburbs where the palaces of the wealthy lie embowered in flowers
and orange-trees; to Xochimilco, the Field of Flowers; to
Chalpultepec--the Aztec "Hill of the Grasshoppers," where stands
the presidential castle; to the shrine of Guadalupe, the Lourdes of
Mexico, where the Virgin, it is said, appeared in a vision to Juan,
the poor Indian.
The great lake of Texcoco, a dreary body of water now--it is partly
drained by a great canal, to the far greater salubrity of the
place--formerly extended to the city, which, indeed, at the time of
the Conquest, was built upon it and reached by stone causeways--a
position which might have been impregnable.
The first attempt by Cortes and the Spaniards upon Tenochtitlan
ended in disaster. They were enjoying the Aztec hospitality, which,
however, they outraged. They attacked and massacred a number of the
people and took Montezuma a prisoner in the stout palace which had
been assigned as their quarters. They stormed and carried the great
_Teocalli_, or pyramid-temple, and threw down the great idol of the
Mexicans. Montezuma was killed, either by a missile from without or
treacherously by the Spaniards whilst in their power. All seemed
lost as a result of the mad act of Alvarado in attacking the people.
The story of the disaster is a thrilling one.
* * * * *
"The bridges broken, the savages screaming outside the walls,
hope of victory gone, there was now no counsel of war for the
Spaniards save that of escape. But how? At night and along the great
causeway was the only plan. A weird scene it was on the beginning
of that _Noche Triste_--the sorrowful night--which stands forth so
unforgettably in the history of the Conquest. Disorder everywhere;
piles of gold and valuables on the floor, each Spaniard, whether
cavalier or boor, loading himself with what he thought he could
carry. 'Pocket what you can,' Cortes said, 'but recollect that gold
is heavy and we have to travel swiftly'--grave advice, the neglect
of which cost some their lives upon that awful night.
"And then began the retreat along the fatal causeway. It was known
that there were three openings in this, and a portable bridge had
been made and was borne along to enable passage to be effected.
Hurrying on in the hope of passing the breaches before alarm might
be given, the Spaniards entered upon the causeway and placed their
portable bridge upon the first breach. Was safety to be theirs?
No! what was that appalling sound, sonorous and melancholy, which
rang over the city and the waters amid the darkness? It was the
great drum on the _teocalli_; the _tambor_ of the war-god, sounded
by vigilant priests, calling the people to vengeance and battle.
And in their myriads the Aztecs poured forth and fell upon the
Christians, raining darts and stones upon them, and making the night
hideous with their war-cries. Meanwhile Cortes and the advance
guard had passed over, and reached the second breach. 'Bring up
the bridge!' was the repeated order, as those behind crowded on.
Useless; the bridge was stuck fast in the first breach, wedged
down by the weight of guns and horses which had passed over it,
and as these dread tidings were heard the mass of men upon the
narrow causeway lost their presence of mind. Those behind crowded
on those in front; men and horses rolled into the lake; Spaniards
and Tlascalans fell victims to the Aztecs, who crowded the water in
their canoes and leapt upon the causeway; the shouts of vengeance
and triumph of the savages resounded all along the dyke, silencing
the muttered oath or prayer of the Christians huddled at the breach.
Down went horse and man, artillery and treasure, until the bodies
of Christians and Indians and horses, and bales of merchandise
and chests of ammunition the breach was almost filled, and a
portion of the fugitives passed over. And now the third breach
yawns before them--deep and wide. The morning is dawning upon the
fatal scene; the salt waters of the lake have closed over many a
gallant Christian head; the frightful causeway is strewn with wreck
of man and merchandise. 'The rear guard perishes!' and 'back and
save them!' were the words which rang out then, and Cortes and his
remaining cavaliers, who were in the lead, rode back, even in that
frightful hour--be it recorded to their honour--and, swimming the
breach once more, strove to support their comrades. There stood
Alvarado unhorsed and battling, with the savages pressing upon his
rear. Escape there seemed none. Canoes and spears teemed on every
side, and Cortes and his companions were forced onward."[9]
[9] _Mexico_, loc. cit.
* * * * *
The figure of Alvarado stood up against the grey sky alone--a
moment--and then he measured the breach with his eye. Planting his
lance on the wreckage in the waters of the breach, after the manner
of a leaping-pole, the heroic Spaniard, collecting his energies,
leapt forward, and passed the chasm at a bound. The Aztecs paused in
admiration of this feat of the "Son of the Sun," as they had named
Alvarado, from his fair hair and ruddy countenance. To-day we may
still see the place where this part of the causeway lay, known as
the _Puente de Alvarado_.
Away off the causeway into the grey dawn passed the remnant of the
routed Spanish Army, wounded, bleeding, starving, their comrades
gone, some to death, some to the dreadful sacrifices of the Mexican
priests, where their hearts would be torn living from their breasts,
and annihilation threatening all. Baggage and artillery were gone,
not a carbine was left, and Cortes, seating himself upon the steps
of a ruined temple on the shore, wept bitter tears of sorrow for the
loss of his comrades and his vanished fortunes.
So ended the _Noche Triste_, and to this day may be seen an ancient
tree under which it is said Cortes wept.
The Spaniards, however, were not of such stuff as easily gives in
to difficulty and disaster. Had it been otherwise, Mexico to-day
might have had a different destiny. It might have developed a purely
aboriginal or Indian state. But fate seems not to have willed it
that any such nation should exist in the New World.
Cortes and the remnant of his army--there was no other course
for them--returned to their Tlascalan allies, fighting their way
even here, however, for after passing the ancient pyramid of
Teotihuacan, even then standing ruined and desolate a few miles
north of the city--monument of the shadowy Toltecs, who preceded
the Aztec hegemony, and which, restored by the Mexican Government
under President Diaz, is an object of great interest to the
traveller--they looked down on the Plain of Otumba, and beheld
the forces of the Otomies drawn up in battle array against them.
These warriors wore armour of thick quilted cotton, which formed a
considerable protection against the rude weapons of the country,
and the Spaniards were now without firearms. They were so numerous
that, it is recorded, the plain "looked as if it were covered with
snow," from the white armour.
But the Christians routed them, and thus the Battle of Otumba
was one of the turning-points in New World history, as elsewhere
remarked.
Reinforced by the Tlascalans, Cortes returned to the siege of
the city. Fresh supplies of arms and ammunition had reached the
Spaniards from the coast, with horses and two hundred Spaniards sent
from Hispaniola. Cortes built a number of brigantines, which were
carried by the Indians to the lake in order to attack Tenochtitlan
by water as well as land. But the whole enterprise would have been
hopeless had not the other Mexican tribes, hating the Aztecs, joined
forces with the white men. The plan was to starve out the city on
the lake by laying waste the surroundings, for it was dependent upon
these for its food. To the dead Montezuma's place had succeeded
his nephew Guahtemoc, a noble Aztec prince, animated by the utmost
spirit of patriotism in defending the heritage of his forefathers.
* * * * *
"A series of severe struggles began then, both by land and
water--burning, slaughter and the destruction of the lake towns.
The Aztecs, with their great number, raining darts and stones upon
the invaders at every engagement, attacked them with unparalleled
ferocity both by forces on shore and their canoes on the lake.
The Spaniards took heavy toll of the enemy at every turn, assisted
by their allies the Tlascalans, as savage and implacable as the
Aztecs, whom they attacked with a singular and persistent spirit
of hatred, the result of long years of oppression by the dominant
power of Anahuac. Cortes, on every occasion when it seemed that the
last chance of success might attend it, offered terms to the Aztec
capital, by no means dishonourable, assuring them their liberty and
self-government in return for allegiance to the Crown of Spain and
the renouncing of their abominable system of sacrificial religion.
These advances were invariably met by the most implacable negatives.
The Aztecs, far from offering to yield, swore they would sacrifice,
when the day was theirs, every Spaniard and Tlascalan on the bloody
altars of their gods; and as for entering into any treaty, the last
man, woman and child would resist the hated invaders until the last
drop of blood was shed and the last stone of their city thrown down.
This vaunt, as regards the latter part, was almost literally carried
out, and to some extent as regards the former.
"The siege operations were conducted vigorously both by land and
water. Again before the eyes of the Spaniards stretched that fatal
causeway--path of death amid the salt waters of Texcoco for so
many of their brave comrades upon the _Noche Triste_ of their
terrible flight from Tenochtitlan. And there loomed once more that
dreaded _teocalli_, whence the war-drum's mournful notes were
heard. Guarded now by the capable and persistent Guatemoc, the city
refused an offer of treaty, and invited the destruction which was to
fall upon it. From the _azoteas_, or roofs of their buildings and
temples, the undaunted Mexicans beheld the white-winged brigantines,
armed with those belching engines of thunder and death whose sting
they well knew: and saw the ruthless hand of devastation laying
waste their fair towns of the lake shore, and cutting off their
means of life.
"But the Spaniards had yet to learn to their cost the lengths of
Aztec tenacity and ferocity. It will be recollected that the city
was connected to the lake shores by means of four causeways, built
above the surface of the water; engineering structures of stone and
mortar and earth, which had from the first aroused the admiration
of the Spaniards. These causeways, whilst they rendered the city
almost impregnable from attack, were a source of weakness in the
easy cutting-off of food supplies, which they afforded to the
enemy. A simultaneous assault on all these approaches was organized
by the Spaniards, under Sandoval, Alvarado and Cortes himself,
respectively, whilst the brigantines, with their raking artillery,
were to support the attack by water, aided by the canoes of the
Tlascalan and Texcocan allies. A series of attacks was made by this
method, and at last the various bodies of Spaniards advanced along
the causeways and gained the city walls. But frightful disaster
befel them. The comparative ease with which they entered the city
aroused Cortes's suspicions; and at that moment, from the summit of
the great _teocalli_, rang out a fearful note--the horn of Guatemoc,
calling for vengeance and a concerted attack. The notes of the horn
struck some ominous sense of chill in the Spaniards' breasts, and
the soldier-penman, Bernal Diaz, who was fighting valiantly there,
says that the noise echoed and re-echoed, and rang in his ears for
days afterwards. The Spaniards, on this, as on other occasions,
had foolishly neglected to secure the breaches in the causeways as
they passed, or at least the rash Alvarado had not done so with his
command, his earlier lesson unheeded; and when the Christians were
hurled backwards--for their easy entrance into the great square of
the city had been in the nature of a decoy--disaster befel them,
which at one moment seemed as if it would be a repetition of that
of the _Noche Triste_. 'The moment I reached that fearful bridge,'
Cortes wrote in his dispatches, 'I saw the Spaniards returning in
full flight.' Remaining to hold the breech if possible, and cover
the retreat, the chivalrous Cortes almost lost his life from a
furious attack by the barbarians in their canoes, and was only
saved by the devotion of his own men and Indian allies, who gave
their lives in his rescue. Word, nevertheless, had gone forth among
the men that Cortes had fallen; and the savages, throwing before
the faces of Alvarado and Sandoval the bloody heads of decapitated
Spaniards, cried tauntingly the name 'Malintzin,' which was that
by which Cortes was known among the Mexicans. Men and horses rolled
into the lake; dead bodies filled the breaches; the Christians and
their allies were beaten back, and 'as we were all wounded it was
only the help of God which saved us from destruction,' wrote Bernal
Diaz. Indeed, both Cortes and the Spaniards only escaped, on these
and other occasions, from the Aztec's desire to take them alive for
sacrifice.
"Once more, after disastrous retreats and heavy loss, the bleeding
and discouraged Spaniards lay in their camp, as evening fell. Of
dead, wounded and captured, the Spaniards missed more than a hundred
and twenty of their comrades, and the Tlascalans a thousand, whilst
valuable artillery, guns and horses were lost. But listen! what is
that mournful, penetrating sound which smites the Christians' ears?
It is the war-god's drum, and even from where the Spaniards stand
there is visible a procession ascending the steps of the _teocalli_,
and, to their horror, the forms of their lost comrades are seen
within it: whose hearts are doomed to be torn out living from their
breasts to smoke before the shrine of Huitzilopochtli, the war-devil
of their enemies. From that high and fearful place their comrades'
eyes must be gazing with despairing look towards the impotent
Spanish camp, glazing soon in death as the obsidian knives of the
priests performed their fiendish work. The disastrous situation of
the Spaniards was made worse by the desertion, at this juncture,
of the Tlascalan and other allies. Awed by a prophecy sent out
confidently by the Aztec priests, that both Christians and allies
should be delivered into their hands before eight days had passed
(prophecy or doom, which the priests said, was from the mouth of the
war-god, appeased by the late victory), the superstitious Indians of
Cortes's forces sneaked off in the night.
"Continued reverses, in the face of long-continued action and desire
for the attaining a given end, forges in the finer calibre of mind
a spirit of unremitting purpose. Blow after blow, which would turn
away the ordinary individual from his endeavour, serves to steel
the real hero to a dispassionate and persistent patience, and the
purpose from its very intensity becomes almost a sacred cause, and
seems to obtain from the unseen powers of circumstance success
at last. So with Cortes and others of the Spaniards. The period
prescribed by the somewhat rash prophecy of the Aztec priests and
their infernal oracle having passed without anything remarkable
having taken place, the Tlascalan and Texcocan allies, upbraided and
warned by the Spaniards' messengers, now sneaked back to resume the
attack against the city. The Aztecs had sought to cause disaffection
in outlying places by sending round the bloody heads of decapitated
Spaniards and horses, but with little effect. Cortes then prepared
for a final effort. The plan adopted was to be slower but surer than
the former one of simple slaughter. It was determined to raze the
city to the ground; to destroy the buildings step by step, fill up
the canals, and so lay waste the whole area from the outside, so
that unobstructed advance might be maintained.
"The execution of this plan was begun. The city ends of the
causeways were captured and held; street after street was
demolished, and canal after canal filled up amid scenes of incessant
fighting and slaughter. Day after day the Spaniards returned to
their work; day after day with admirable tenacity the inhabitants
of Tenochtitlan disputed the ground inch by inch, watered with the
blood of themselves, their women and their children. Their supplies
cut off, famine and pestilence wrought more terrible havoc among
them--crowded as they gradually became into one quarter of the
city--than the arms of the Spaniards and the Tlascalans. At the
termination of each day's work the Spanish prepared an ambuscade
for the enemy, drawing them on by seeming to retire, and massacring
them with the artillery and gun-fire and lances, to say nothing
of the weapons of their savage allies. On one of these occasions
'the enemy rushed out yelling as if they had gained the greatest
victory in the world,' Cortes wrote in his dispatches, and 'more
than five hundred, all of the bravest and principal men, were
killed in this ambush.' He added, and it was a common occurrence,
'our allies'--the Indians--'supped well that night, cutting up and
eating their captives!' During the days of this terrible siege the
famous catapult was made, an extraordinary engine to discharge
great stones upon the enemy. This was to enable the Spaniards to
husband their powder, which was getting low, and the Aztecs watched
the construction of this machine with certain fear. It was completed
and set to work, but the builder, a Spanish soldier of inventive
faculty, nearly played the part of the engineer hoist with his
own petard, for the great stone fired rose, it is true, but went
straight up and descended again upon the machine, which was ever
afterwards the laughing-stock of the army.
"Further severe losses were now inflicted upon the beleaguered
inhabitants, as more ammunition had been obtained. Peace had again
been offered by the Spaniards, and again refused by the Aztecs. An
Aztec chief of high rank had been captured, and then returned to
Guatemoc as a peace envoy. The Mexicans' reply was to execute and
sacrifice the unfortunate emissary, and then collecting their forces
they poured out upon the causeways like a furious tide, which seemed
as if it would sweep all before it. But the Spaniards were prepared.
The narrow causeways were commanded by the artillery, which poured
such a deadly hail upon the enemy's numbers that they returned
fleeing to the city.
"And soon the end approaches. The division led by Cortes made a
fierce assault; and whilst the battle raged the Spaniards observed
that the summit of one of the _teocallis_ was in flames. It was the
work of Alvarado's men, who had penetrated already to the plaza.
Forces were joined, and the inhabitants of the city, driven into one
quarter thereof, still made their stubborn and--now--suicidal stand.
For the streets were piled up with corpses, the Aztecs refraining
from throwing the bodies of their slain into the lake, or outside
the city, in order not to show their weakness. Pestilence and famine
had made terrible inroads upon the population. Miserable wretches,
men, women and children, were encountered Wandering about careless
of the enemy, only bent upon finding some roots, bark or offal which
might appease the hunger at their vitals. The salt waters of the
lake, which they had been obliged to drink, for the Spaniards had
cut the aqueduct which brought the fresh water from Chapultepec,
had caused many to sicken and die. Mothers had devoured their dead
children; the bodies of the slain had been eaten, and the bark
gnawed from the trunks of trees. In their dire extremity some of the
chiefs of the beleaguered city called Cortes to the barricade. He
went, trusting that capitulation was at hand, for, as both he and
his historians record, the slaughter was far from their choosing.
'Do but finish your work quickly,' was the burden of their parley.
'Let us go and rest in the heaven of our war-god; we are weary of
life and suffering. How is it that you, a son of the Sun, tarry so
long in finishing, when the Sun himself makes circuit of the earth
in a day, and so accomplishes his work speedily?'
"This remarkable appeal struck renewed pity to the heart of
Cortes, and once more he begged them to surrender and avoid further
suffering, and the Spaniards drew off their forces for a space.
But the inexorable Guatemoc, although he sent an embassy to say he
would hold parley, and the Spaniards waited for him, did not fulfil
the promise at the last moment. Incensed at this behaviour, the
Spaniards and the Tlascalans renewed the attack with overpowering
energy on the one part and barbaric savagery on the other. Contrary
to the orders of the Spaniards, their savage allies gave no quarter,
but murdered men, women and children in fiendish exultation. The
stench of the dead in the beleaguered city was overpowering; the
soil was soaked with blood; the gutters ran as in a rain-storm,
say the chroniclers, and, wrote Cortes to the King of Spain: 'Such
slaughter was done that day on land and water that killed and
prisoners numbered forty thousand; and such were the shrieks and
weeping of women and children that there were none of us whose
hearts did not break.' He adds that it was impossible to contain the
savage killing and torturing by their allies the Tlascalans, who
practised such cruelty as had never been seen, and 'out of all order
of nature.'
"At nightfall the attacking forces drew off, leaving the remainder
of the inhabitants of the stricken city to consider their position.
It is stated that the Tlascalans made a great banquet of the flesh
of the fallen Aztecs, and that on this and other occasions they
fished up the bloated bodies of their enemies from the lake and
devoured them! At sunrise on the following day Cortes and a few
followers entered the city, hoping to have a supplication for
terms from Guatemoc. The army was stationed outside the walls,
ready, in the event of a refusal--the signal of which should be
a musket-shot--to pour in and strike the final blow. A parley
was entered into as before, which lasted several hours. 'Do you
surrender?' Cortes demanded. The final reply of Guatemoc was, 'I
will not come: I prefer to die where I am: do your worst.'
"A musket-shot rang out upon the air; the Spaniards and their allies
fell on to merciless slaughter: cannons, muskets, arrows, slings,
lances--all told their tale upon the huddled mass of panic-stricken
people, who, after presenting a feeble and momentary front, poured
forth upon the fatal causeways to escape. Drowned and suffocated in
the waters of the lake, mowed down by the fire from the brigantines,
and butchered by the brutal Tlascalans, women, children and men
struggled and shrieked among that frightful carnage; upon which
it were almost impious to dwell further. Guatemoc, with his wife
and children, strove to escape, and the canoe containing them
was already out upon the lake, when a brigantine ran it down and
captured him. All resistance was at an end. No sign of life or
authority remained among the ruined walls; the fair city by the
lake was broken and tenantless, its idols fallen, and its people
fled. The Homeric struggle was over; the conquest of Mexico was
accomplished."[10]
[10] _Mexico_, loc. cit.
* * * * *
Under the long rule of the viceroys that followed the Conquest,
Mexico lived her life in a mediaeval but often peaceful and not
unhappy state, and had Spain but understood her and developed the
resources of the land and protected her simple Indian folk instead
of exploiting them, and at the same time antagonizing the colonists,
there is no reason why a magnificent and permanent Spanish empire
should not have grown to being.
We have remarked elsewhere on the abundant mineral wealth of the
country. The great silver deposits of Guanajuato were discovered as
a result of a camp-fire made on the rocks by some muleteers, who
found refined silver among the ashes, which the heat had smelted
from them. The great "mother lode" here yielded up enormous wealth.
The pleasing city of Zacatecas to-day grew from another discovery
of silver ores, which produced a value, up to the middle of last
century, of nearly eight hundred million dollars. The curious
archives of these mines, which still exist, show how carefully the
Spaniards worked them. The Pachuca mines, which to-day are still
worked, yielded similar wealth, and it was here that the well-known
_patio_ or amalgamation process was discovered, with quicksilver
from Peru.
There are other centres, scarcely less important, well known to
the mineralogist. The mineral-bearing zone of Mexico is sixteen
hundred miles long, and yields nearly all the metals known to
commerce. Coal, however, is not a frequent product. The country
has been described as a paradise for the prospector. The mines are
innumerable: almost every hill is pierced or perforated by shafts
and galleries, ancient or modern; some are enormous tunnels, or
_socavones_.
[Illustration: CORDOVA AND THE PEAK OF ORIZABA. STATE OF VERA CRUZ.
Vol. I. To face p. 132.]
The Mexican native miner is, in his way, expert and active, and with
rude appliances performs marvels in the work of ore extraction. Halt
a moment by yonder pit in the rocky slope. Look down: a notched pole
descends, upon which you would hesitate to venture, giving access
to the workings beneath. Yet, in a moment, perhaps, a peon, bearing
on his back an enormous load of rock in a hide or sack, will ascend
from the bowels of the earth, panting and groaning--we shall hear
the noise of his breathing before we see him. He will cast his load
at our feet, and from it will roll the gleaming quartz and pyrites,
with perhaps the red of the _rosicler_, or rich oxide ore of silver,
or the yellow ochres of the decomposed gold-bearing sulphides, more
readily prepared by Nature for treatment and winning of the yellow
metal. Or he may bear it to the stream-bed, there to treat it in
some primitive stone mill.
Otherwise we may visit huge modern mills where hundreds of stamps
are clanging and engines are winding and furnaces are burning, for
a host of these exist throughout the land, though disorder and
revolution may have suspended their operations.
Many curious products of the vegetable world attract our eyes.
Behold yonder stupendous cactus-trees--the organo cactus, whose
symmetrical spiny branches like a giant candelabrum, weighing
perhaps tons, with their mass of sappy foliage, arise from a single
stem, which could be brought down by a stroke of a _machete_, or
wood-knife--that formidable implement or weapon (made perhaps in
Birmingham) which the Mexican peon loves to wield or use. Look at
the marvellous giant leaves of the juicy _maguey_, or agave, as
long as a man, and see the peon insert his siphon to the heart of
the plant to draw forth its sap, which he blows into the goatskin
on his back, and from which he will presently make his _pulque_.
This plant, the great American aloe, comes into flower and dies in
a few years. It exhausts itself in flowering. In England we call it
the century plant, for the exotic lingers long in the unfavourable
climate, and with difficulty puts forth its blossoms at all. There,
too, are hedges and _circas_ of prickly-pear, or nopal, which yield
the delicious wild fig--the cactus familiar to the traveller in the
Holy Land and Syria, whence it was taken from Mexico.
In the coastal lands, as before remarked, the feathery coconut-palm
waves over the villages, and the elegant leaves of the banana form
refreshing groves, and the _cacao_ yields its stores of chocolate.
Lovers of this sweetmeat might hear the name of Mexico in gratitude
indeed, for is not the very name and product of Aztec origin--the
_chocolatl_ of the early folk here? In the tropic forests and
plantations the beautiful rubber, the _Castilloa elastica_-tree,
rears its stately foliage, and here, again, are we not indebted to
Mexico? Remember it, ye lovers of lawn tennis. For when the early
Spaniards arrived they found the Mexicans playing tennis, with balls
of rubber, in those curious courts whose ruins still remain in the
jungles of Yucatan.
Again, yonder flies the wild turkey. Was he not the progenitor of
that noble bird which comes upon our Christmas tables? Here, too,
is the _zenzontl_; or mocking-bird, and a host of gorgeous winged
creatures besides.
Through many a desert range and over many a chain of hills, violet
in the distance, alluring and remote; past many a sacred well or
hill marked by a cross, hard by the paths worn by the generations
of bare or sandalled feet we may pass; and here, perchance, by
some spring stands a startled native maid, her _olla_, or great
water-pitcher, on her shoulder--stands in classic but unwitting
pose. Or through the heat a mounted vaquero rides upon his
attenuated mule or horse--for the equine race works hard and eats
little here, but bit, spur and the bridle are his till the day he
leaves his bones upon the trail--and, "Buenos dias, señor," with
doffed hat the horseman gives us as he passes, with ever-ready
Mexican courtesy to the foreigner; or he did so until of recent
times, when, for reasons we need not here dilate upon, the
foreigner has come to be regarded with anything but friendship.
There was always a charm about this old land of Mexico; there
still is, despite its recent turbulent history. Small wonder that
foreigners in increasing numbers loved to make their life in its
quaint towns, to take up land and industry within it.
Of these towns we cannot speak here; Guadalajara, Puebla, Oaxaca
and many another invite us to their pleasing streets and ancient
buildings. From the Atlantic to the Pacific, from north to south,
they are dispersed over the wide area of the Republic.
The southern, or rather easternmost States of Mexico are, as regards
their landscape and life, often of peculiar interest, mainly by
reason of the more tropical surroundings and the large rivers, such
as those that flow into the Gulf of Campeche, in Vera Cruz and
Tabasco.
Typical of these rivers are the Grijalva and the Usumacinta. In
places lined by dark forests, the banks elsewhere open out to permit
of plantations of bananas, tobacco, maize, pineapples, rubber and so
forth, and an occasional village, its white walls gleaming among the
foliage, the roofs thatched with palm, gives the human touch thereto.
Ascending the river in a slow stern-wheel steamer, we remark an
occasional canoe, laden with skins and other produce, or moored
inshore whilst its occupants are fishing in the plentifully stocked
waters. There are great trees festooned with masses of moss and with
trailing lianas, where monkeys play by day and from whence at night
their howling falls on the ear. The white heron and aigret, whose
snowy plumage is so valuable an article of commerce, startled by the
passage of the boat, sail gracefully away to the bends of the river,
and flocks of parrots, similarly disturbed, scream their defiance,
whilst wild ducks and cranes and birds of the brightest plumage are
in sight at every moment. The alligators, large and small, that
throng the shoals project their grotesque forms into the water,
offering a mark to the gun of the idle huntsman.
In the flower world Nature is often gorgeously arrayed here. Pure
white lilies lie at the base of flowering trees that rise in a mass
of bloom for forty feet or more, of a profusion and beauty almost
inconceivable. The queen of the banks, the stately coco-palm,
carries its load of nuts, waiting for nothing but the gatherer of a
harvest provided by Nature. Here, too, is the cinchona-tree, with
its bright, smooth red trunk and branches and rich green leaves,
offering its virtues of quinine bark. The arnica plant, with its
daisy-like yellow flowers, and the morning glory of rich and
brilliant hue abound, and the orchids--"not the dwarfed product of
a northern hothouse, but huge, entrancing, of the richest browns,
the tenderest greens, the most vivid reds and the softest yellow,
sometimes as many as half a dozen upon one tree"--decorate the
decayed trunks of the trees. There are, too, natural plantations of
wild pineapples, and many fruits besides.
A good deal of land in these regions is capable of cultivation, and,
extremely fertile, yields profitable returns. But means of transport
are, of course, defective, although the rivers offer long lines of
communication. The Indians do not love work, except inasmuch as such
may fill their own small requirements, for in so bountiful a region
Nature supplies them with many things necessary for life, which a
very few hours' labour will supplement for a whole year. There is
rivalry between the established planters for the available labour,
and peonage is largely carried out.
In Yucatan, the labour system upon the plantations of the Mexican
millionaire hemp-growers of the peninsula has been described as
little more than slavery by some writers. But great wealth and
some measure of progress have resulted from this special Yucatan
industry, and Merida, the capital city, shows these elements in
marked degree.
The Yucatan peninsula is a curious limestone plain, originally
covered, and still covered in great part, with tropical jungle,
riverless, but with underground streams. The water was used by
the ancient builders of the Maya cities here, whose beautifully
sculptured palaces and pyramid temples are among the chief
archæological wonders of Spanish America. They constructed wells
adjacent to the buildings--the curious _cenotes_, or sacred wells.
The lore of these silent, buried temples, over-run by the jungle,
the haunt now of wild creatures, is fascinating in its mystery.
Some observers have likened their details of the façades of these
structures to Hindu temples, others to Egyptian, and so forth,
whilst others stoutly proclaim them to be of purely autochthonous
culture.[11] This culture area, we have already seen, extended into
Guatemala.
[11] Vide _Mexico_, loc. cit.
To turn for a moment now to the Pacific coast of Mexico, this
presents its own special points of interest. From hence may have
come the Toltecs originally, with their wonderful native knowledge
and stone-shaping arts, among famous objects of whose handiwork is
the famous Calendar Stone, to be seen in the Museum of Mexico. This
remarkable stone shows the early Mexicans to have had a more exact
division and calculation of solar time than their contemporaries,
the cultured nations of Europe. However, the principal Toltec
remains are not upon the Pacific coast, but at Tula, on the Plateau,
which appears to have been their ancient capital.
Upon the long Pacific coastline Mexico possesses several important
seaports, to some of which access may be gained by railway, and
many picturesque places rarely heard of by the outside world,
together with vast areas of fruitful land and valuable forests.
This littoral, indeed; forms a region which must some day take its
place in the economy of the globe. The long peninsula of Lower
California, forming an isolated part of Mexico, is in many respects
remarkable, and into the head of the Gulf flows the Colorado River,
with many peculiar characteristics.
What we have here said as to the topography of Mexico, with its
beautiful mountains, rivers, archæological remains, cities and so
forth, is little more than an index to a vast field of interest,
which, however, must be studied elsewhere. We are now bidden to
cast a further glance at the people who have their being upon the
diversified surface of the Republic.
A small proportion only of the Mexicans are white--perhaps ten per
cent. The remainder are of varying shades of brown. But there is no
"colour line," although, naturally, the purest European blood is
found among the upper and governing classes.
However, the brown race has produced some of the best of Mexico's
people. The famous Juarez, the lawyer-president who preceded Diaz,
and who was responsible for some of the most important measures of
reform, was a pure Indian by birth, and Diaz himself was proud of
his partly aboriginal ancestry. In fact, it cannot be said that
there is any dividing line in the composition of the Mexicans. The
bulk of the people are thus of _mestizo_ or mixed race, but there
are various districts where only pure Indians are found.
The working population of the country, perhaps three-quarters of
the total, are peones. Peonage is a state of what might be termed
debt-bondage. They dwell upon the great landed estates, dependent
for their livelihood upon the owners of these, unable to leave them,
and are paid their small wage largely in goods under a species
of "truck system." They are often purposely kept in debt. Their
economic condition is a low one. They own nothing of the land upon
which they dwell; they carry on occupations which are not profitable
to themselves, and are subjected to many abuses in this respect;
they dwell in _adobe_, or dried mud huts, generally of the poorest
kind; their food is of the most primitive, and often scanty--meat
is an article which rarely enters into their diet; if a cow dies on
the plain they cut it up for food--but nevertheless they labour hard
from sunrise to sunset upon a diet of maize and beans. This class is
almost wholly illiterate, although there has been some improvement
of late years in this respect.
[Illustration: VILLAGE ON THE PACIFIC SLOPE, MEXICO.
Vol. I. To face p. 140.]
It is not to be supposed that this numerous class is an unworthy
one. On the contrary, the Mexican peon is industrious, faithful,
courteous, and deeply religious--religion, however, greatly
mixed with superstitions. As an agriculturist he does not lack
capabilities, and as a miner the Mexican, as we have seen, is an
excellent workman in many respects.
In brief, the working class of Mexico is the most important and
homogeneous body of brown labour in the world. The European or
American mine or plantation manager (who was until recently
plentifully established in the country) may often express very
diverse views in this connexion, but from a more detached point of
view the above characterization is true.
As for the working class Mexican woman, she has many good qualities,
and is often of pleasing appearance, whilst among some of the Indian
tribes the girls are handsome.
The upper class Mexican is generally well educated, often having
been sent to Europe or the United States for his education. He
has the pleasing courtesy of the Spanish race, and is frequently
a well-informed man of the world. However, it cannot be said that
education in the United States is necessarily an improvement. There
is something about the association which is not pleasing. He becomes
too "smart" and cynical.
The educated Mexican class earnestly lays claim to a "high
civilization," and art, science and literature are, at least in
theory, greatly esteemed. There may be, in some respects, an element
of superficiality about this refinement, and about life in general,
with this class. But to a large extent it has its foundation in
reality, and the educated Mexican and the upper class man of
business has nothing to lose in point of culture in comparison with,
for example, the American or other foreign business man. Indeed, it
is the latter that would often suffer by comparison in this respect,
especially the American.
The Mexican is much less dominated by the money-getting spirit than
is the man of the United States, and has, perhaps, a wider vision,
both in domestic and international affairs. The upper class Mexican
woman is justly noted for her beauty and vivacity, and becomes a
devoted wife and mother. She is extremely religious. Indeed, the
influence of the Church and the priest enter too strongly into the
life of the female population of Mexico. The upper class man has
often thrown off religion and is acquiring an easy materialism.
With a people of the above described characteristics, it might
well be asked from what source does the revolutionary element
and bloodthirsty soldiery come? From what class do the ambitious
"generals," the would-be presidents, the ruthless guerilla bands
spring, whose doings have shocked the civilized world? They do not
come from the ordinary class of educated Mexicans, who are peaceful
estate owners, lawyers, business men, and so forth, who, in general,
would be very loath to risk their persons or property in the hazards
of revolution. As to the young man of this class, he generally loves
the ease and luxury of city life too much to adventure himself far
from his often effiminate pleasures. Nor do they come from the great
peon class, which, so far, has asked little more than to pursue its
normal life, varied by the not infrequent carousals of feast-days,
the _pelea de gallos_, or cock-fight, and the _corrida de toros_, or
bull-fight, as his Sunday diversions, and to drown his sorrows in
draughts of intoxicating _pulque or aguardiente_.
The revolutionary element is, in fact, drawn from a comparatively
small class of ambitious or disappointed politicians and the idle
or dissatisfied military element, in the main. It cannot of course
be denied that revolution at times springs to being under patriotic
or national motives, to remedy the abuses laid on the country by
dishonest or oppressive rulers. In reality, disorder is generally
the result of a mixture of both these elements. A revolutionary
standard having been raised, and a _pronunciamiento_ made, there
are rarely lacking followers. The latent martial spirit of the
Mexican--a heritage from both his Aztec and Spanish forbears--breaks
out. The prospect of place and office attracts the educated
malcontent, of booty and licence the lower element, and of higher
pay and free food the peon. Political murders and ruthless cruelty
attend these operations, and a whole nation is terrorized and its
ordinary affairs brought almost to a standstill thereby. Often,
however, the revolution is little more than a local affair, and is
put down or dies out, although it may have damaged the country's
reputation abroad in a measure far exceeding its real importance.
Is there any remedy for this perennial turmoil, and if so, what is
the remedy? The reply is that whilst the present economic conditions
of Mexico exist, stability will never be reached. A small upper
class practically monopolizes the wealth, education, land and
opportunity of the Republic--a republic in little more than name.
The main bulk of the people, as has been shown, are poor, landless
and illiterate, and in consequence easily throw off their settled
habits at the bidding of upstart leaders. They have little to lose
and perhaps--they think--the possibility of gain by disorder.
The steadying element of a settled middle class grows very slowly to
being in Mexico. Industry is in its infancy. Little is manufactured
in the country, except cotton, textiles, and even here the wage
of the operative is exceedingly low. Such manufacturing industry
is mainly represented by the well-advanced cotton and textile
factories of Puebla and elsewhere, works of much importance,
generally actuated by water-power plant. This is a highly profitable
industry for the mill-owners, who reap dividends often of thirty
per cent. Manufacturing industry here, as in the other Latin
American Republics, is accompanied in its growth by the rise of
the strike habit, which is rapidly increasing. Jealousy of the
foreign concessionaire--who flourished so markedly under the Diaz
regimen--is a further element in disorder. The advancement of
the masses has been extremely slow. A new spirit is needful if
progress is to be made, a recognition of the rights of the Mexican
"democracy," a better co-ordination of the national resources and a
constructive and equitable economic policy, added to disinterested
political leadership.
Mexico in reality offers conditions for prosperous and enlightened
life. Its natural resources are varied, abundant and well
distributed. The country does not, like some other Latin American
States, draw revenue from any great or special article of export
(sooner or later the economic defect of a land), but can be more or
less self-contained and self-supplying. Innumerable pleasing towns
and picturesque villages are scattered over its surface, which
normally are centres of peaceful life, and the population is well
distributed. There is much of beauty in the architecture of these
towns, and of refinement and dignity among the people--elements
largely, a heritage of Spanish rule, added to the native disposition.
The nation is not yet over-commercialized or vulgarized, and if
political and economic stability can grow to being without becoming
so, Mexico might build up for itself a pleasing and durable
civilization, and become a permanent leader among the republics of
the New World.
The traveller who has sojourned in this picturesque and romantic
land, who has experienced its pleasing hospitality and has
understood the character of its people, cannot but hope that such
future awaits it. In the coming settlement of the world Mexico has a
good deal to offer, but trading must be accompanied in the future by
statesmanship, here as elsewhere. Mexico, indeed, is a subject for a
science of constructive economic biology.
The history of Mexico after Independence shows how resolutely the
Mexicans threw off the method of governance by Royalty, but it is
a question whether there might not have been a more sustained and
orderly development under that system.
At this time, Mexico was the third largest empire in the world, and
included a large part of what is now the Western United States,
such as California and Texas and the adjoining territories, as
well as Guatemala. She began her independent history with an
emperor--Iturbide, who patriotically wished to strive against the
"Holy Alliance" which schemed to bring about the re-domination
of Spain, but he was executed by Mexicans, and fell, serene, and
disdainful of his ungrateful compatriots.
The ill-fated figure of Maximilian stands out in picturesque
silhouette in Mexican history, well-meaning but weak; as does the
pathetic story of the Empress Carlota, and her appeal to Napoleon
against his perhaps perfidious withdrawal of French troops from
Mexico. Maximilian was "executed" at Queretaro. Two faithful Mexican
officers shared his fate--Miramon and Mejia. "Take you the place of
honour in the centre," said the ill-fated Hapsburg prince in turn
to each of them, as facing the file of soldiers they awaited the
volley. But each declined, the carbines rang out, and so passed
the dream of empire in Mexico. An Austrian warship arrived to take
his body; the commander asking for the remains of "the Emperor of
Mexico." But he was informed that "no such person had existed,"
although the body of "Maximilian of Austria" was delivered to him.
In the Museum of Mexico to-day, all that remains is his gilded coach
and some other trappings.
The dream of empire in Mexico was largely due to the Napoleon of the
times, and was mainly frustrated by the action of the United States
and the Monroe Doctrine. Imperial government was, however, supported
by a very large party of upper class Mexicans.
The Mexicans, rightly or wrongly, have retained to this day a
certain animosity against the United States by reason of the loss
of their huge northern territory of Texas, in what they called _la
guerra injusta_, the "unjust war," in which they declared that
American machinations were displayed in order to deprive them of
the land. One phase of this history was in the filling up of Texas,
in part, by American filibusters, and in the upholding of slavery
there by the American Government, the Mexicans having made a decree
forbidding slavery; and this must be recorded to the credit of
Mexico. Black slavery there brought a dreadful fruit, and even in
recent--and present--times race riots, including the burning alive
of negroes, have been a result.
However, this is past history, and these territories developed
under American rule in a way that would not have been possible
under the Mexicans. To-day we hear of constant antagonism across
the border. It is urged by some that the United States might enter
and control Mexico, but it is to be hoped that Washington is wiser
than to embark upon such an adventure. It might be a difficult and
bloody undertaking, and, even if successful militarily, would but
perpetuate race-hatred in the New World. The Mexicans, a people of
nearly twenty millions strong, must work out their own destiny. The
history of Mexico shows the evils of forced and unnatural episodes
and conditions, and this would but add to the series.
Many a battle has been fought between Americans and Mexicans since
the first conflict in 1846, and both nations have had occasion to
test each other's bravery and capacity in war. The Mexicans excel
in guerilla warfare, and are splendid horsemen, but the more solid
tactics of the Americans generally prevailed. Mexico was invaded
more than once by United States forces, and, indeed, occupied. The
storming of Chapultepec Castle, near the city of Mexico, was one of
the heroic engagements, when a young Mexican, rather than see his
country's flag fall into the hands of the--to them--"hated Yanquis,"
wrapped it round his body and leapt from the turret, to be dashed to
pieces on the stones below.
All students of American matters will look for that time when these
two countries will dwell in amicable relationship, such as seemed,
in the time of Diaz, to have been reached, but in which, in reality,
jealousy and rancour were but thinly veiled. There is really nothing
fundamental between the two people against amicable relations and
co-operation in those matters of mutual interest on their continent.
* * * * *
Thus we leave this interesting land of Mexico, to make our way into
another region, no less attractive, in its own particular field.
[Illustration: VIEW ON THE GRIJALVA AND USUMACINTA RIVER, MEXICO.
Vol. I. To face p. 150.]