A Mexican _pueblita_ on the banks of the Rio Bravo del Norte--a mere
_rancheria_, or hamlet. The quaint old church of Morisco-Italian style,
with its cupola of motley japan, the residence of the _cura_, and the
house of the _alcalde_, are the only stone structures in the place.
These constitute three sides of the piazza, a somewhat spacious square.
The remaining side is taken up with shops or dwellings of the common
people. They are built of large unburnt bricks (_adobes_), some of them
washed with lime, others gaudily coloured like the proscenium of a
theatre, but most of them uniform in their muddy and forbidding brown.
All have heavy jail-like doors, and windows without glass or sash. The
_reja_ of iron bars, set vertically, opposes the burglar, not the
weather.
From the four corners of the piazza, narrow, unpaved, dusty lanes lead
off to the country, for some distance bordered on both sides by the
adobe houses. Still farther out, on the skirts of the village, and
sparsely placed, are dwellings of frailer build, but more picturesque
appearance; they are _ridge-roofed_ structures, of the split trunks of
that gigantic lily, the arborescent yucca. Its branches form the
rafters, its tough fibrous leaves the thatch. In these _ranchitos_
dwell the poor peons, the descendants of the conquered race.
The stone dwellings, and those of mud likewise, are _flat-roofed_, tiled
or cemented--sometimes tastefully japanned--with a parapet breast-high
running round the edge. This flat roof is the _azotea_, characteristic
of Mexican architecture.
When the sun is low and the evening cool, the azotea is a pleasant
lounging-place, especially when the proprietor of the house has a taste
for flowers; then it is converted into an aerial garden, and displays
the rich flora for which the picture-land of Mexico is justly
celebrated. It is just the place to enjoy a cigar, a glass of _pinole_,
or, if you prefer it, _Catalan_. The smoke is wafted away, and the open
air gives a relish to the beverage. Besides, your eye is feasted; you
enjoy the privacy of a drawing-room, while you command what is passing
in the street. The slight parapet gives security, while hindering a too
free view from below; you see, without being seen. The world moves on,
busied with earthly affairs, and does not think of looking up.
I stand upon such an azotea: it is that over the house of the alcalde;
and his being the tallest roof in the village, I command a view of all
the others. I can see beyond them all, and note the prominent features
of the surrounding country. My eye wanders with delight over the deep
rich verdure of its tropic vegetation; I can even distinguish its more
characteristic forms--the cactus, the yucca, and the agave. I observe
that the village is girdled by a belt of open ground--cultivated
fields--where the maize waves its silken tassels in the breeze,
contrasting with the darker leaves of the capsicums and bean-plants
(frijoles). This open ground is of limited extent. The _chapparal_,
with its thorny thicket of acacias, mimosae, ingas, and robinias--a
perfect maze of leguminous trees--hems it in; and so near is the verge
of this jungle, that I can distinguish its undergrowth of stemless
_sabal_ palms and bromelias--the sun-scorched and scarlet leaves of the
_pita_ plant shining in the distance like lists of fire.
This propinquity of the forest to the little pueblita bespeaks the
indolence of the inhabitants; perhaps not. It must be remembered that
these people are not agriculturists, but _vaqueros_ (herdsmen); and that
the glades and openings of that thick chapparal are speckled with herds
of fierce Spanish cattle, and droves of small sharp-eared Andalusian
horses, of the race of the Barb. The fact of so little cultivation does
not abnegate the existence of industry on the part of the villagers.
Grazing is their occupation, not farming; only a little of the latter to
give them maize for their _tortillas_, chile to season it with, and
black beans to complete the repast. These three, with the half-wild
beef of their wide pastures, constitute the staple of food throughout
all Mexico. For drink, the denizen of the high table-land find his
favourite beverage--the rival of champagne--in the core of the gigantic
aloe; while he of the tropic coast-land refreshes himself from the juice
of another native endogen, the acrocomia palm.
Favoured land! Ceres loves thee, and Bacchus too. To thy fields both
the god and the goddess have been freely bounteous. Food and drink may
be had from them on easy terms. Alas! as in all other lands--one only
excepted--Nature's divine views have been thwarted, her aim set aside,
by the malignity of man. As over the broad world the blight of the
despot is upon thy beauty.
Why are these people crowded together--hived, as it were, in towns and
villages? Herdsmen--one would expect to find them scattered by reason
of their occupation. Besides, a sky continually bright, a genial clime,
a picturesqueness of scene--all seem to invite to rural life; and yet I
have ridden for hours, a succession of lovely landscapes rising before
my eyes, all of them wild, wanting in that one feature which makes the
rural picture perfect--the house, the dwelling of man! Towns there are;
and at long intervals the huge _hacienda_ of the landed lord, walled in
like a fortress; but where are the _ranchos_, the homes of the common
people? True, I have noticed the ruins of many, and that explains the
puzzle. I remember, now that I am on the _frontier_: that for years
past the banks of the Rio Bravo, from its source to the sea, have been
hostile ground--a war-border of fifteen hundred miles in length! Many a
red conflict has occurred--is still occurring--between those Arabs of
the American desert--the _Horse_ Indians--and the pale-faced descendants
of the Spaniard. That is why the ranchos exist only in ruins--that is
why the haciendas are loopholed, and the populace pent up within walls.
The condition of feudal Europe exists in free America, on the banks of
the Rio Bravo del Norte!
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Nearly a mile off, looking westward, I perceive the sheen of water: it
is a reach of the great river that glances under the setting sun. The
river curves at that point; and the summit of a gentle hill, half
girdled by the stream, is crowned by the low white walls of a hacienda.
Though only one story high, this hacienda appears, from its extent, and
the style of its architecture, to be a noble mansion. Like all of its
class, it is flat-roofed; but the parapet is crenated, and small
ornamental turrets over the angles and the great gateway relieve the
monotony of its outlines. A larger tower, the belfry of a chapel,
appears in the background, the Mexican hacienda is usually provided with
its little _capilla_, for the convenient worship of the peon retainers.
The emblems of religion, such as it is, are thick over the land. The
glimmer of glass behind the iron rejas relieves to some extent the
prison-like aspect, so characteristic of Mexican country-houses. This
is further modified by the appearance over the parapet of green foliage.
Forms of tropic vegetation show above the wall; among others, the
graceful curving fronds of a palm. This must be an exotic, for although
the lower half of the Rio Bravo is within the zone of the palms, the
species that grow so far north are fan-palms (_chamaerops_ and _sabal_).
This one is of far different form, with plume-shaped pinnate fronds, of
the character of _cocos_, _phoenix_, or _euterpe_. I note the fact, not
from any botanical curiosity with which it inspires me, but rather
because the presence of this exotic palm has a significance. It
illustrates a point in the character of him--it may be _her_--who is the
presiding spirit of the place. No doubt there is a fair garden upon the
azotea--perhaps a fair being among its flowers! Pleasant thoughts
spring up--anticipations. I long to climb that sloping hill, to enter
that splendid mansion, and, longing still, I gaze.
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The ring of a bugle startles me from this pleasant reverie. 'Tis only a
stable-call; but it has driven sweet reflections out of my mind, and my
eyes are turned away from the bright mansion, and rest upon the piazza
of the pueblita. There, a far different scene greets their glance.