MEXICAN LIFE AND TRAVEL (_continued_)
Anthropogeographical conditions--The Great Plateau--The tropical belt--
Primitive villages--Incidents of travel on the plateau--Lack of water--
Hydrographic conditions--Venomous vermin--Travel by roads and
_diligencias_--A journey with a priest--Courtesy of the _peon_ class--
The curse of alcohol--The dress of the working classes--The women of
the _peon_ class--Dexterity of the natives--The bull-fights--A narrow
escape--Mexican horse equipment--The _vaquero_ and the lasso--Native
sports--A challenge to a duel--Foreigners in Mexico--Unexplored
Guerrero--Sporting conditions--Camp life--A day's hunting.
The picturesque incidents of life and travel in Mexico vary much
according to the particular part of the country we may be sojourning in
or passing through. Civilisation has advanced more upon the great
plateau, threaded by numerous railway systems, than in the less
accessible regions of the Pacific and Atlantic slopes. Mexican national
life has not developed much upon the littoral. A harbourless and
riverless country, aboriginal civilisation made little use of its
coasts, and the same natural conditions have existed until to-day,
although now, at great cost, harbours are being created and transverse
railway lines being built.
[Illustration: THE PACIFIC COAST ZONE: COCOA-NUT PALMS AT COLIMA.]
Yet upon the great plateau, which, indeed, embodies a large part of
Mexico, life is harder--at any rate for the labouring classes--than in
the tropical regions bordering upon the Pacific and Atlantic slopes,
and of that equally or more tropical region to the south of the Sierra
Madres. Scantily clad, the _peon_ suffers from the brusque change from
torrid day to bitterly cold night which the climate of the great
tableland produces. The ground is generally sterile by nature--as
elsewhere described--and all produce is grown under irrigation. In many
parts of the region water is scarce, or is employed for the irrigation
of highly remunerative crops, such as cotton, leaving a minimum for the
growing of food products. In this arid region natural pasture is
scarce, with a consequent dearth of cattle and their produce, whilst
cereals, fruits, and vegetables are far from plentiful. Consequently
the _peon_ has but a small choice of comestibles.
In the more tropical belt, however, the vegetation is profuse, and
fruits, cereals, and any product of the vegetable world grows almost
spontaneously, or with a minimum of care. Bananas, oranges, sweet
potatoes, sugar-cane, and a variety of eatables--all easily
acquired--increase his range of food products, even if they do not
augment his working powers.
Not all the _peon_ inhabitants of Mexico are necessarily attached to
the large estates. Upon the great tableland the traveller, as he
pursues his sun-beat and dusty road, will constantly come upon small
hamlets and even single dwellings, set near the base of some hill or in
the broken ground of a ravine, or _arroyo_, where perchance a feeble
stream or spring provides the inhabitants with the means of satisfying
their thirst. Failing that a dammed-up pond may form the only supply of
water.
These places are generally of the most primitive and miserable
character. Often, were it not for the sterile nature of the land and
the lack of water they would not be in the possession of the people at
all, but would long ago have been taken by the nearest _hacienda_.
Indeed, possibly they may be upon the territory claimed by such, but of
too insignificant a nature to be disturbed. Let us survey briefly these
poor dwellers on Nature's waste places. We have ridden for hours under
the sun and wind; our faces are scorched and our lips are cracked. "Is
there no _sombra_ where we can eat our lunch and take a _siesta_?" I
ask of my servant, who is acting in the double capacity of _mozo_ and
guide. He shakes his head doubtfully. "Quien sabe, senor," he replies,
but recollects a _publecito_, a little farther on, where we may obtain
shade. We ride on. Oh for a drink from some crystal stream! The water
in the bottle is lukewarm; it is not a bottle, but a gourd, such as in
Mexico are fashioned from the wild _calabazas_ for this purpose,
stoppered with maize-cob freed from the grain, and it preserves the
water fairly fresh.
The vociferous barking of a legion of dogs announces our approach, for
however poor the inhabitants of these places may be the bands of
mongrel curs which they keep seem to find means of living. We approach
the huts, our horses kicking and snorting at the attacks of the dogs. A
few of the houses are built of the usual _adobe_ bricks; the major
portion--there may be a dozen or so--are simply _jacales_, as the
Mexican wattle-hut is termed. Dirt, rags, and evil odours surround the
place, for primitive man is a filthy being, and defiles the environs of
his habitation for a considerable area around him. My visions of the
crystal stream vanish. Close at hand is a foul pond of waters collected
from the last rainstorm, wherein a lean-backed hog wallows, and we
learn that this is the villagers' water supply! Naked children of both
sexes run about under our horses' legs, and supplicate me for a
_centavito_. A horse, or at least the framework of a horse--for the
animal is attenuated beyond description--stands tethered under the
shade of a rude roof of boughs and whinnies feebly to our sturdy
mounts.
"There is no water, senor," the old crone, who has emerged from one of
the huts, replies. "God has sent us no rain for many days, but if the
senor would like some _pulque_--" I close with the suggestion and
instruct the _mozo_ to try it, to see if, in his experienced judgment,
it is good. This he does, nothing loath, and pronounces it fresh.
_Pulque_ is a refreshing and not unwholesome drink. It is not a spirit,
although in quantities it is intoxicating. Its manufacture is unknown
outside Mexico, and in Peru the _chicha_, or _maiz_ beer of the
natives, takes its place.
I quaff a gourd of the liquid; custom has rendered it not unpleasant to
the palate, and its singular odour I disregard. And in the cool shade
of the interior of the most respectable of the _adobe_ huts we rest
awhile until the sun's fiery disc has descended somewhat from the
zenith. Then I distribute some small largesse to the woman and her
numerous progeny, for am I not an _ingles_, of that famous race whose
pockets are ever lined with silver and who are known even throughout
these remote regions?
How do these people live? The only vegetation at hand is some gaunt
_nopales_ or prickly pear cactus, forming a protective hedge around the
settlement, and a few other specimens, all armed with spines and
prickles after the fashion of Nature's handiwork in arid regions.
Truly, these outcasts must gather "grapes of thorns and figs of
thistles" if they reap anything here! But probably at the head of the
_arroyo_ there is a little tilled patch of _maiz_ and _alfalfa_, such
as supply the inevitable _tortilla_ for the denizens of the place, and
fodder--and thereby some small revenue, as in our own case--for the
beasts of passing travellers.
But this region is not always dry. At certain seasons heavy rainstorms
occur, and a veritable deluge descends upon the cracked ground and
fills the dry river-beds and _arroyos_ with a turgid flood. In some
situations, as, for example, on the river Nazas, a wave of water comes
down, covering 10 or 15 feet deep and 500 feet wide in an irresistible
flood what a few moments before was a parched and sandy bottom. In the
great gullies of the plains similar conditions occur, and woebetide the
unfortunate horseman or foot passenger who may be journeying along them
at the moment! These sudden freshets are a remarkable feature of the
hydrography of the great plateau, and have been more fully described in
another chapter.
Such a storm we shall have encountered in our expeditions. The rain
comes down in torrents, and the lightning flashes and the thunder
reverberates among the rocks and canyons; for we have approached a
mountain spur, perhaps, in our examination of its mineral resources.
The _peon_ in such situations, if there be no shelter at hand, not
infrequently, when alone or only with his companions, takes off his
clothing and places it in some sheltered rock-crevice, where it keeps
dry, until the storm has passed, he himself remaining nude and
unconcerned amid the downpour. A mouthful of _mezcal_, or fiery native
spirit, will ward off a chill.
At night we have sought the hospitality of the owner of some _adobe_
hut. He has done his best for me, but sleeping on the floor is ever
trying, and the pack-mule with my baggage and camp-bed has tarried on
the road. A rainstorm in this region has the effect of bringing out the
noxious vermin from the soil, where they have lain during the heat.
Among the most uncomfortable of these are the _alacran_, or scorpion,
and the centipede, both of which reptiles are found freely upon the
walls and roofs of the _adobe_ dwellings. For my peace of mind we have
carefully examined the interior, with a candle, before turning in, and
the _mozo_, with a piece of firewood, has smashed the offending
centipedes, of which there were a number. Both the scorpion and
centipede have a venomous sting, the former sometimes fatal. As to the
_peones_, they display small concern at the presence of these vermin.
"God willing we shall not be stung," they say, and, rolling themselves
in their _ponchos_ on the bare floor in a corner of the habitation,
they are soon asleep. But sleep does not visit me so easily. An
uncomfortable impression remains, which has not been lessened by the
casual remark of the owner of the hut regarding the habits of the
scorpions. "Very knowing creatures, senor," he says, as he obsequiously
helps to arrange my couch in the middle of the floor--a position chosen
by myself--"they have a habit of dropping from the roof on to a person
sleeping beneath"!
Mexico, unlike other Cordilleran countries, lends itself to travel in
certain directions by means of roads and vehicles. The _diligencias_
which give communication from remote places to the wayside stations of
the railways, where the nature of the topography admits of roads for
wheeled vehicles, are canvas-topped carriages drawn by half a dozen
mules. Over the dusty plains of the tableland and through the rugged
scenery of hill-passes these somewhat crazy vehicles perform their
journeys, starting often before sunrise and arriving after sunset in
order to accomplish their toilsome trajectory. Jolting over the ruts
and _arroyos_ of the scarcely-tended "roads"--if by courtesy they may
be termed such--and baked by the sun blazing upon the carriage-hood,
the traveller would often prefer to exchange his uncomfortable seat for
that of the saddle. Often a more agreeable method is by alternating
these methods.
[Illustration: LIFE AND TRAVEL IN MEXICO: MULES, PEON, AND CACTUS.]
I journeyed, on one occasion, with a _padre_, or village priest; not,
however, in a public _diligencia_, but in a vehicle of similar nature
which I had chartered to convey me to a distant point. As I was
starting some Mexican friends of a neighbouring _hacienda_ approached
the vehicle, accompanied by a stout _padre_. "Would I do them and the
_padre_ the great favour of taking the latter in my coach, which would
save the worthy representative of the Church a long, hot ride?" they
asked. "Of course I would; nothing would afford me greater pleasure," I
replied, although in strict truth this was an expression of courtesy
rather than of actual fact, for the _padre_ looked very heavy, and I
had desired to journey rapidly without a change of mules. The reverend
gentleman was of a type commonly met with in Spanish-America, of little
education and predominant native physiognomy, but jovial withal. A
basket containing good and liberal provisions to sustain the _padre_
upon his arduous journey was put into the coach by his friends, and
simultaneously put at my service, as a matter of course. From the
covering of the basket protruded the tops of various bottles of wine
and beer, which my travelling companion eyed with satisfaction, and
indeed before we started he insisted upon opening one--of cognac--and
giving us a _copa_ all round. This habit of drinking brandy in the
early morning is a common one in Latin America--it is said to ward off
malaria!--but is not an acceptable one to the temperate Briton.
Well, the coach started. The _peon_ who held the mules' heads--a
necessary precaution--let go, and the half-broken animals bounded
forward along the rough and dusty road, in a way which rendered both
the _padre_ and myself quite speechless for a space. However, they soon
settled down into their rapid jog-trot, and I found my companion quite
loquacious. His mission had been to marry a number of _peones_ at the
_hacienda_, who, at such places, where the visits of a representative
of the Church are apt to be few and delayed, have to wait for the
Church's blessing for some time, and then receive it in batches. This
delay, however, does not necessarily cause a postponement of their
matrimonial relations in other respects--as, indeed, the reverend
father informed me! Other interesting matters and views of men (and
women) and their customs the _padre_ unfolded as we went along, drawn
from his professional experience, and recounted, perhaps, with more
freedom to a foreigner who understood his language, and doubtless
rendered of more facile delivery by the frequent investigations of the
contents of the bottles which he made as the day wore on.
As evening approached my coach halted at a small village at the foot of
a range of hills which intersected the desert, in order that the mules
might water. The inhabitants of the place, eager for the least
distraction, approached; and, learning that a _padre_ was within the
vehicle, the women and girls crowded round to receive the good man's
benediction and kiss his hand, which he graciously extended from the
carriage window. But the throng was considerable, and our stay short,
and it seemed that many of them would not be able to kiss the brown
hand of the priest. And now I absolve myself from having done it on
purpose! My own hand lay upon the sill of the window upon my side of
the coach, and suddenly I felt the pressure of a pair of lips upon it!
Looking out, I saw that some of the girls and women had come round to
that side of the vehicle, and, doubtless, supposing that I was also a
padre, had begun to kiss my hand. A certain feeling of pity or delicacy
caused me to refrain from removing it--let them be happy in thinking
they were also the recipient of some attention; and so I left it there.
No one peered into the gloom of the vehicle's interior, or the supposed
_padre_ would have been discovered as a clean-shaven young Englishman,
dressed, not in priestly black and cassock, but in riding garments! And
when the vehicle started I did not consider it necessary to inform my
companion of the _role_ I had unwittingly played.
But the day's adventures were not over. In crossing the dry bed of an
_arroyo_ a wheel gave way and the coach overturned, fortunately for me
on the side of the _padre_! Had it been otherwise the weight of the
good priest might have caused me much inconvenience; but as it was I
fell _upon_ him. It was in no irreverent spirit that I afterwards
cogitated that, at least on one occasion of my life, the Romish Church
had interposed between me and injury! And as the priest was not hurt, I
could afford to impart this view to him.
The poor _peon_ class is there much under the influence of the priest,
especially the women, and, indeed, among the upper classes the
confessional and other priestly operations are attended with as much
rigidity as in past centuries, although the male sex has very greatly
emancipated itself therefrom, and receives any allusions to the priest
with a shrug of the shoulders, or, at times, with coldness or open
hostility towards that worthy. The Church has fallen into disrepute in
Mexico, and it is impossible that it should ever regain its former
preeminence. The humble _peones_ arouse the foreigner's pity. Poor
people! they are bound by centuries of class-distinction and priestly
craft transplanted from an old-world monarchy. These people are
generally affectionate and respectful; they will undergo hardship and
toil to serve us if we have by justice and tolerance won their respect
and sympathy; and with a faithfulness that is almost canine. Their
feasts, ceremonies, griefs, are quaint and full of colour and the human
touch. Their simple state of life and humble dress take nothing from
their native courtesy. Behold yon sandalled and _manta_- (cheap calico)
clad worker. He will never think of addressing us without taking off
his grimy and battered hat, nor will he speak to his acquaintance or
fellow worker save as "Don"--Don Tomas, Don Juan, or whatever it may
be. His first salutation in the morning is always to ask how we have
slept. Indeed this is a common form of salutation with all classes in
Mexico, "_Como ha pasado usted la noche?_" And it is but an indication
of that importance which they attach to sleep. None would think to
disturb our _siesta_, no matter who might be waiting to see us, and
nothing short of actual danger to us would cause us to be awakened
before the usual hour, or aroused after we had retired.
The great enemy of the _peon_ and Indian class is alcohol. Whether it
be the mild intoxicant _pulque_ of the plateau--for the beverage will
not keep in the _tierra caliente_--or whether the fiery _aguadiente_,
or cane-rum, or the potent _mezcal_, also made from _maguey_, the habit
of drinking to excess is the ruination of the working class. Wherever
it may be, whether under the shade of a tree in the noonday sun, or
riding an attenuated horse across the plains, or at the dwelling of
some _compadre_ or other acquaintance, there is a bottle protruding
from pocket or saddle-bags, and the odour of spirits in the air. The
remedy lies largely in prohibition, but, alas! the country's
legislators are generally great landowners, and part of their revenue
comes from the growing of the _maguey_, or of the sugar-cane, and in
the making and sale of _pulque_ and _aguadiente_.
The dress of the _peon_ is picturesque, and to the foreign observer
ever strikes a note of almost operatic strain. As the sun sets the
_peon_ dons his _poncho_, or _serape_, as the red blanket which is his
invariable outer garment is termed. In the cool air of the morning or
evening he speaks but little, covering his mouth with a corner of the
_serape_, for he has a constant and, as far as the foreigner can
observe, unfounded fear of pneumonia. The crowning point of his dress
is the great conical, broad-brimmed hat, which is the main and peculiar
characteristic of the inhabitants of this land; a national and
remarkable headgear which is met with nowhere else. There is ever a
brigand-like local colour about the Mexican _peon_, and indeed of some
of the upper classes in their national dress. The _peon_, or the
_vaquero_,[32] as he stalks muffled through the streets or _plaza_, or
lurks within his habitation with a corner of the _serape_ thrown over
his shoulder and a knife stuck in his belt, is a subject which might
have stepped from the boards of a theatre! Although he is respectful in
his demeanour, and often devout in his language, the open greeting and
confident demeanour of the Anglo-Saxon is absent. Who can blame him?
The oppression of centuries weighs upon him; he has been doomed to
ignorance and poverty ever since his Iberian conquerors set foot upon
the soil which was his, and the descendants of this same conquering
race do little but perpetuate his melancholy state. In the years since
the Republic was established he has been constantly dragged from his
peaceful labours to serve this or that revolutionary malcontent, and so
made to destroy rather than create industry. And to-day he is the
subject of such unequal wealth and class distinction whose change it
seems impossible to hope for. Yet there is some progress.
[Footnote 32: Cowboy.]
As to the women of the _peones_, their dress is generally sombre-hued
and modest. No scarlet blanket covers them, but a blue _reboso_, or
shawl, which is generally placed over the head in lieu of a hat. The
women of the poorer classes accept, with what to the foreigner seems
almost a pathetic resignation, the style of dress which custom has
dictated to their class. There is no aping of the rich in their attire.
Whether it be the fine lace _mantilla_ or the Parisian hat which the
far-distant-from-her senorita wears, as in temple or _plaza_ she takes
her dainty way, or the pretty frock or delicate shoes, the poor woman
of the _peon_, or the _mujer_ of the petty shopkeeper, casts no envious
glance--but no, that would not be true! She casts them, but she will
not strive to imitate. Is there not some virtue in such non-emulation,
or is it but the spirit of a deadened race? Yet this rather sombre and
unattractive apparel is found more among the _peon_ class; the Indian
girl in some parts of Mexico--as at Tehuantepec--wears a handsome
native costume, derived from Aztec days, at holiday time.
[Illustration: NATIVE WOMEN OF TEHUANTEPEC: ORDINARY DRESS AND
CHURCH-GOING COSTUMES.]
The _reboso_, or shawl, is a useful article of clothing of the women of
this class. We shall meet her trudging along dusty roads or over steep
mountain trails, sad-faced and patient, with her baby slung behind her
in a _reboso_ tied round her waist; or possibly she has utilised it to
collect some scanty _lena_, or firewood, from among the dry scrub of
the _arroyo_, just as her man uses his _serape_ as a universal hold-all
on occasions for potatoes, maize, or other articles which he has
purchased at the village market.
The complexion of the Mexican _peon_ class is generally exceedingly
dark, approaching coffee-colour, although they have, of course, no
strain of African blood in their composition. But the types of faces
vary much for different parts of the country--due to the numerous
distinct races. Some purely aboriginal faces are almost clear-cut and
attractive, especially among the women. The _peon_ women, too, are
often soft and pretty, and attract, and are attracted, by the
foreigner. Near the lines of the railroads the progeny of Mexican
women--Anglo-Saxon in type--are often seen!
The Mexicans, _peones_ and Indians, have a remarkable aptitude--like
those other peoples of aboriginal blood in America, as Peru--for making
things by hand which require care and patience. The exquisite figures
with delicately carved features and dress, pottery, woven material, as
mats and pouches, straw (and Panama) hats, and so forth, are such in
delicacy and texture as it is improbable could be made by the workmen
of Europe.
Indeed, the elements of care and patience are much developed among
these semi-civilised peoples. A Mexican _peon_ will not miss his way on
the plains or in the mountains--the least indication will serve his
recollection of the route, and, indeed, it is not necessary to enlarge
upon the aborigine's natural science of woodcraft. Moreover, the _peon_
will carry any delicate object--a theodolite or barometer, or other
scientific instrument, for example--with such care over the roughest
and most precipitous places that it will never be injured, and where in
similar situations, the clumsy European or American would inevitably
bring it to disaster.
The Mexicans are dexterous in pottery-making, and they fashion great
_ollas_ to a wonderfully symmetrical form without other appliance than
that of a small wooden paddle or beater, with which the red
earth-mortar is shaped and patted into form. This method, indeed, dates
from Aztec time, when there was no potter's wheel. They are sun-dried
first and then baked. The makers of these, or the vendors, carry
numbers of them about bound up in crates, a huge load on their backs;
and as they are much in demand, the women rush out of their houses
eager to purchase, as the _olla_-carriers enter the villages. These
huge pots are mainly used for carrying water from the spring, and with
a _reboso_ or shawl as a pad upon their shoulder or their head, the
women walk gracefully along with their heavy burden of the necessary
water-supply, at morning or evening.
The _peon_ is ever ready to exchange work for play, or indeed to shelve
the former altogether at times, and the numerous feast-days--the _dias
de fiesta_--which are the despair of the foreign employer of labour in
Mexico, fall in well with this disposition. The spectacle of the
bull-fight appeals greatly to him, ever the national sport. Even in the
small villages and _haciendas_, remote from the capitals, bull-fighting
is the favourite sport, and local _toreros_ from among the middle-class
young men of the place enter the arena to display their valour. A
bull-ring is easily made in the _plaza_, or a _corral_ or courtyard,
and young bulls, sometimes with their horns blunted to render the
pastime less dangerous, are harried about the improvised arena in the
usual style, the _picadores_, _bandilleros_ and _capeadores_ all taking
up their office in approved style. The sport tries the mettle of these
_aficionados_, as the amateur bull-fighters are termed, and many,
considering discretion the better part of valour, promptly retreat and
hurriedly climb the barrier as the angry bovine makes his entrance to
the ring. As a rule, however, the young Spanish-Mexicans show a bold
front to the animal. Is this not the sacred and national sport of the
land of their forefathers? Does not the _sangre espanola_ run in their
veins? None so low as to turn before a bull, or if he does the howls of
the _peon_ spectators who line the walls will make him blush for shame.
In such a scene I found myself on one occasion. A remote _hacienda_,
and bull-fight, of _aficionado_ nature, inaugurated in honour of some
occasion of birthday or other anniversary of the proprietor, whose
guest I was. Some lively bulls were performing in the arena, and more
than one ambitious amateur bull-fighter had retired the worse for his
temerity. "Senor," said one of the guests turning to me, "doubtless you
would like to try your hand!" The idea met with instant approval by the
others present, and the word went round that the _ingles_ was to enter
the ring. I confess the invitation did not appeal to me. The bull at
that moment occupying the arena had already drawn blood from one of his
tormentors, who was outside repairing his injuries, and the animal
stood in the centre of the space, lashing his tail and throwing earth
over his shoulder after the manner of his kind, what time he wrathfully
eyed the audience. My host--he was a Spaniard, a large
landowner--possibly seeing some disinclination reflected on my face,
interposed: "There is no shame in refusing," he said. "It is not to be
expected that an Englishman knows anything about this sport." But the
ladies of the party looked, I thought, disappointed, and the _peones_
around the walls were already shouting my name, and calling upon me to
"_entrar_"! This would never do. "Senores," I said in the most
grandiloquent Spanish I could muster, "you are much mistaken if you
think an Englishman is any more afraid of a bull than a Mexican or a
Spaniard"; and, taking a proffered pair of _banderillas_, I descended
from the platform and entered the arena.
The cheers and yells which arose from the _peon_ audience were
deafening, and then an ominous calm. The bull advanced towards me
and--I must confess it--loomed large as a locomotive! But perhaps
fortune favours the brave, and whether from often having seen it done
or whether from good luck alone, I placed the decorated _banderillas_
successfully in the animal's neck, and instantly leaped aside with
instinctive agility, having felt the breath from his nostrils upon my
face, whilst the animal, smarting with the pain from the barbed points,
bounded some paces away, and the audience cheered itself hoarse and
gave repealed _vivas_ for the _ingles_. Now was the moment to retire in
"peace with honour," but desirous of showing how little I cared for the
animal--a sentiment I did not really feel--I turned my back to the
bull, and ostentatiously unrolled a Havana cigar from its lead-foil
covering, and calmly cutting off the end, I proceeded to light it. The
bull saw it. With a bound he was upon me, and as I turned to leap aside
his horns passed clean under my waistcoat and shirt, and ripped them
open to the flesh. Hurled aside by the impact, I lost my balance and
staggered wildly, but faced the brute again, whilst deafening
yells--whether of delight at possible disaster or encouragement to go
on, I could not tell--arose from the spectators who thronged the
barriers. But up came the _capeadores_, and diverting the animal's
attention as was their office, I retired, not without dignity, and
received the congratulations of my friends, and a Spanish sash from the
presiding "queen" of the entertainment. But I took no credit for it
myself; rather I felt that I had done wrong and barely escaped
punishment, in countenancing and taking part in what every Englishman
must consider an uncivilising form of sport.
Horsemanship and its accompanying callings play a prominent part in
rural life in Mexico. The _hacendado_, or estate owner, or _ranchero_,
mounts his horse directly after early morning coffee, in order to make
the round of his plantations. The _vaquero_, or cowboy of Mexico, is
possibly the most expert horseman in the world, and the method of
training the horse to the lightest touch of the rein, and the
comfortable yet swift _paso_, or rapid march to which the animal is
trained, are such as the foreign observer notes with interest. Indeed,
is he wise he adopts this _paso_ himself, instead of the English trot.
A distinctive riding dress is used by the Mexican horseman--the
_charro_ costume, which is a remarkable and even gorgeous habiliment,
both as regards man and horse. The short coat and tightly-fitting
trousers are made of soft deerskin, tanned to a rich burnt-sienna hue.
Down the edges of the coat and upon its lappels a border of luxuriant
gold or silver lace is worked, and round the buttonhole similar profuse
ornament is planted, and upon the cuffs. A stripe of intricately
patterned gold lace runs down the seams of the trousers, which latter,
tight-fitting at the top, are adjusted very closely at the calf of the
leg. For riding in rough country a further leg-covering is worn; a kind
of loose trousers put over the others and buckled round the waist,
called _chaparreras_, made and ornamented with similar material. The
crowning glory of the whole is the huge Mexican hat. This is made of
thick beaver-looking felt, with a soft silky surface. Its form is well
known with a very high tapering dome-like crown and very broad brim.
This great headgear is also profusely ornamented with gold or silver
lace, worn principally by the _rancheros_, and the owner's initials are
generally worked upon the front of the crown in large gold letters. The
hat is of considerable weight. To return to the lower members again,
the feet are armed with a pair of spurs of appalling size and weight,
the "wheel" portion being several inches in diameter, and the whole
weighing several pounds each. These are often of steel inlaid with gold
or silver, and are buckled upon the foot with an elaborate strap and
embossed medallion. These spurs do not lacerate the horse, as their
points are blunt. The effect of the whole dress is almost dazzling, but
the big hat set over the tight trousers and short coat gives a somewhat
top-heavy appearance.
The trappings of the horse are not unworthy of the gorgeous habiliments
of the _jinete_, or horseman. The Mexican _montura_, or saddle, is of
beautifully tanned leather of a high colour, and profusely-embroidered
with silver patterns and ornamentations, and the whole is exceedingly
heavy. It is, however, remarkably comfortable, and "the horse carries
the weight," the Mexican will inform you if you criticise its bulk in
comparison with an English saddle. For work in the country no
experienced traveller would ever think of using the English form of
saddle. In Mexico or South American countries it is altogether
unsuitable, both for horse and rider, giving a maximum of fatigue and
minimum of comfort. Also the heavy Mexican bit and single rein are
better for travel in these regions, as ever used by the natives. This
bit is not necessarily cruel, and in fact the Mexican horses are so
remarkably trained as to their mouths, that the faintest touch of a
single finger on the bridle is sufficient for instant obedience. As to
the huge spurs they are not necessarily cruel, indeed they are less so
than the sharp English kind, which draw blood easily where the native
instrument does not abrade the skin.
The remarkable and dexterous management of the lasso, or _riata_, by
the rural Mexican is such as fills the beholder with admiration and
surprise that so skilful a combination of hemp and horseflesh, managed
by a man's hand, could exist. Behold the _vaquero_, with his _riata_
whirling aloft as at full gallop he pursues a fleeing bull! Closing
upon it a few yards away the lasso swings its unerring coils through
the air, the noose descends upon horns or hoofs at the will of the
_vaquero_, and it is quite common to lasso the two hind legs of the
animal whilst he is in full gallop. And now the horse plays his
intelligent part. The noose has fallen with the accuracy desired; the
_vaquero_ winds his end rapidly around the horn of the saddle; the
horse gives a half-turn in the quickness of thought, in obedience to
his own knowledge and a touch of the bridle, so presenting his flank
and a long base to the direction of the strain; the rope tightens tense
and smoking with the pull; horse and rider stand unmoved, but the great
bulk of the arrested bovine falls prone to the ground. It is an art, a
wonderful dexterity we have witnessed, acquired from birth. I
ambitiously tried it once, but failed to turn the horse quickly enough,
and was pulled over to the ground. Of sports on horseback the Mexicans
indulge in several. Mark our friend the _ranchero_, in his holiday
dress, upon a _dia de fiesta_. He is going to show us the "raya." His
man marks a spot on the flat ground; the horseman retires with his
steed to a short distance, put spurs to the animal, comes thundering
along towards us at full gallop, and as he reaches the mark on the soil
he suddenly draws rein, and the obedient horse putting his legs rigidly
together, slides forward on his hoofs with his own momentum, scoring
out a mark about his own length on the ground, and stops dead without
moving a muscle. This mark is the "raya." Another diversion is that
where gaily-be-ribboned chickens--alive--are provided by the _novias_,
or sweethearts of the young men: and these, mounted on their steeds,
ride fast and furious to capture the bird from the one who holds it.
The unfortunate chicken is generally torn to pieces, and sometimes in
jealous anger and rivalry other blood is shed than that of the innocent
bird!
The _riata_ at times serves the Mexican as a lethal weapon. Perhaps a
quarrel between two hot-blooded _vaqueros_ has taken place. One draws
his revolver--if his circumstances permit him the possession of so
expensive a weapon, and they are generally carried--whilst the other
lays hand to his _riata_. It might be supposed that the man with the
revolver would triumph, but woebetide him if he fails to bring down his
enemy--both are darting about on their agile horses--before the
chambers are exhausted, for the other, whirling the rope aloft, lassoes
him, and putting spurs to his own beast, drags the unfortunate man from
his horse and gallops away across the plain, dragging him mercilessly
to death among the rocks and thorns. For the Mexican when aroused to
anger--and his fiercest passions are generally the outcome of love
affairs or of drink--is mercilessly cruel and revengeful, and thinks
little of shedding the blood of a fellow-creature in the heat of a
personal encounter. Among the lower class the knife, or _punal_, is a
ready weapon, and a stab, whether in the dark or in the daylight, is a
common way of terminating a personal question. This is the shadow of
the Aztec war-god thus thrown across the ages! Again it may be said of
the Mexicans--love blood, wine, dust!
Among the upper class Mexicans such matters are, of course, unknown,
but the challenge and the duel is still a custom of the country, as it
is throughout Spanish-America generally. It fell to my lot in one
Spanish-American country to receive a challenge. The gentleman who
thought himself aggrieved formally sent two friends to wait upon me,
requesting that I would name my seconds and select weapons. There was
something operatic about the matter to my mind, although they appeared
to be in earnest, and I could not help reminding my two visitors of the
proposal of a famous American humourist regarding a choice of weapons
in such a case--"brick-bats at half-a-mile, or gatling-guns," or
something of that nature. However, they would not be turned from their
purpose even when I seriously asked if they really desired the shedding
of gore. I gravely replied that Englishmen did not enter into such
affairs and that I considered it uncivilised; and absolutely refused to
have anything to do with them. This they pretended to attribute to
cowardice, and said that in such a case I should be exposed to affront
or attack in the street, to which I made reply that I expected to be
able to take care of myself and to punish any one who should dare to
attempt such a course. I easily gathered that an elaborate duel was in
their minds, a show or scene, such the Latin races love and the
Anglo-Saxon abhors, and I accused them of this. At length, in order to
get rid of them I made the following proposal: "If your friend is
really desirous that his blood or mine shall be shed, let him meet me
alone--I want no seconds, nor friends nor any other fanfare. I go out
every morning on horseback along a certain mountain road. To-morrow I
will go alone--let your friend meet me, also alone, and there, without
more witnesses than Heaven, we can settle all accounts." This
grandiloquent-sounding exhortation had the advantage of coming straight
from the heart; it was what I had resolved to do, and moreover my side
was the just one. The two seconds departed without much comment, and on
the following morning I mounted my horse and went out alone, along the
described road. But in the front holster of the saddle there was a
long-barrelled Colts revolver, and the Winchester carbine I had
occasionally brought down a deer with was strapped in its usual place
alongside the saddle. Yet upon all that expanse of road not a soul did
I meet, neither that day nor on the several following ones during which
I remained in the vicinity.
But such matters are comparatively rare, and the Spanish-American is
generally a warm and courteous friend, with a considerable regard for
Englishmen, and ever ready to show his hospitality, and those general
qualities which are ever esteemed of the _caballero_.
The _riata_, which appliance or weapon has been described, is ever the
accompaniment of the Mexican horseman, and part of his equipment. No
rider would ever go forth without, for its multiplicity of uses in
woodcraft and travel is remarkable. It is one of the main accoutrements
of the _rurales_, the fine body of county police which were called into
being by President Diaz. At the time of the war with the French of
Maximilian the _riata_ was sometimes employed by the Mexican soldiers
with deadly effect in foraging or scouting parties. Two Mexicans, each
with the end of a _riata_ wound round the horn of his saddle, would
charge suddenly from ambush upon some unsuspecting _Franceses_, tearing
them from their horses with the taut rope. "The Mexicans have a
terrible and barbarous weapon--the _riata_!"--was recorded by the
French soldiery at that time.
As to foreigners in Mexico at the present time, those most in evidence
are the Spaniards and the Americans of the United States. Spaniards are
continually arriving, and they generally settle down and make good and
useful citizens, and often amass much wealth. They are not, however, of
the upper or cultivated class from Spain, and their manners and
language are far inferior to those of the cultured Mexicans. The
Spaniard of a certain class is possibly the worst-spoken man to be met
with. His speech teems with indecent words and profane oaths, and
whilst he does not mean to use these except as a mere habit, it marks
him out from other races, even from the American with his own peculiar
and constant "god-dam" and other characteristic terms, both profane and
indecent. The most noticeable and objectionable American habit,
however, which is shared by the Mexican and South American to the full,
is that of continually expectorating. The Anglo-American never leaves
it off, whilst, as to the Spanish-American, it is necessary to put up
notices in the churches in some places requesting people "not to spit
in the house of God!" There is a considerable population of Americans
in Mexico, and some of these are of doubtful class and antecedents. But
it would be unjust to pretend that only the Americans have furnished a
doubtful element for Mexico's floating population. The shores of Albion
have furnished a good many examples in the form of "unspeakable"
Scotchmen, Englishmen, and Irishmen, at times. Yet the British name
has, as a rule, been well established throughout Mexico and
Spanish-America, and the American from the United States has often
enjoyed the benefit of a reputation he had not earned, for, to the
native mind, the distinction between the two English-speaking races is
not always apparent at first sight, although it is upon closer
acquaintance.
Whilst there is a growing sense of respect and esteem between the
Mexicans and the Americans, the former have never quite forgotten that
the latter despoiled them of an empire--from their point of view--by
the Texan war, half a century ago or more, and only recently have the
Mexicans come to believe that the big republic to the north no longer
cherishes desires of further annexation of territory. The Americans,
for their part, have given up dubbing the Mexicans as "greasers," and
have acknowledged the pleasing and refined civilisation of their
southern neighbours. The North American, or _Americano_, is often known
in Mexico as the "Yankee"--not used in an offensive sense, but as a
convenient designation. This is varied by the still less distinguished
term of "gringo," and indeed, both these terms are employed, not only
in Mexico, but thousands of miles below, in South America--Ecuador,
Peru, Chile. The latter is not necessarily an opprobrious term, and it
is applied to all Anglo-Saxons, British or American, and, indeed, in
South America, to all Europeans of a fair complexion. Its derivation
has been expounded by various writers as having come from the words of
a song sung by some British or American sailors upon landing at a
Mexican port, but the etymology seems doubtful. That of "Yankee" is
more assured--the corruption of "English," or "Anglais," or "Ingles,"
employed by the Indians of North America towards the early settlers.
Conditions of life and travel in Mexico vary greatly according to the
region we may be called upon to traverse. On the great plateau such as
I have described, the hand of civilisation prevails, even if its
evidences are at times far apart. In the tropical lowlands, whether of
the Gulf or of the Pacific side of the country, we may be much more
seriously thrown upon our own resources, whether for food, transport,
or habitation. In the State of Guerrero there are yet large tracts of
land absolutely unexplored, and the numerous tribes of Indians
inhabiting certain of the tropical regions are under scarcely more than
the semblance of control. Yet it cannot be said that they are ferocious
or dangerous. Some of them, indeed, are cowardly, and will not even
venture far from their villages for fear of wild beasts, whilst others
form the most active and fearless guides, varying characteristics which
show the wide range of peoples embodied in the country, as set forth in
a previous chapter. Whilst Mexico cannot be called a "sportsman's
paradise," there is in certain regions a great profusion of game, from
turkeys to crocodiles. The _guajalote_, or Mexican wild turkey, with
its great red beard and shimmering blue-black plumage, is a conspicuous
inhabitant of Tamaulipas and other wild regions, and its low flight and
plump body render it comparatively easy of securing, whilst it forms an
excellent addition to the bill of fare. Huge wild cats abound in the
broken country, and _osos_, or Mexican bears. Of sport, adventure, and
romantic travel we may take our fill among these semi-tropical valleys,
rivers, and mountains. Of noxious insects, malaria, wild beasts; of
flooded streams and parched deserts; of sand-storms, snow-storms, and
rain-storms; of precipitous mountains, tracts, and dangerous bogs; of
gloomy forest and appalling crags; of delay, danger, and hardship, we
shall have all that adventurous spirits may seek, and count the time
well lost. Of pleasure in nature and solitude we shall have much, and
of the study of primitive and civilised man, and of coquettish maidens
and Indian maids, we shall carry away enduring recollections.
We are in camp. The exigencies of our travel have bid us take up our
abode in that hastily-constructed _jacal_, or hut built of branches and
plastered outside with mud, such as the _peon_ knows cunningly how to
contrive. Indeed, in such habitations a large part of Mexico's fifteen
million inhabitants dwell. I inspect the well-ventilated walls, for
numerous open chinks are left. "The wind will come in," I say. "Yes,
senor," Jose, my _peon_-constructor, replies with unconscious wit, "it
will not only come in but it will go out"--and he proceeds to remedy
the defect.
Our residence in this spot may be for some weeks whilst at our leisure
we examine mines, hydrographic conditions, flora, or other matters of
scientific or commercial interest which our self-chosen exile demands.
The simple habitation is pitched when possible, of course, near to a
water supply, a clear running stream, or lake, and if the latter we can
take a morning plunge. This excites the surprise of our _mozo_, or
servant, and the other men in our employ.
"No, senor," they hasten to urge us, "it is dangerous to bathe the
body." This objection to the use of cold water in this way does not
arise from a dislike of cleanliness necessarily. The traveller in
Western America soon finds that care must be exercised in bathing in
the open, for the effect of the sun and the water is to bring on
malaria sometimes, which is more easily acquired than cured.
On the edge of our lake great white herons stand in the cool of the
early morning, and the wild ducks swimming lazily on its surface invite
a shot. If it is winter and we are upon the high regions of the great
plateau, the lake may freeze at its edges, imprisoning the unfortunate
birds in the ice. The heat of the midday sun at these high elevations
is succeeded at night by the bitter cold of the rarefied air, and the
white drill suit we have worn must be supplemented by heavier garments.
The sun sets in gorgeous splendour over the plain and upon the
grey-blue hills, and the short tropic twilight gives place to darkness,
save perchance as the silvery moon of Mexico may cast its peaceful
beams over the desolate landscape. Cigarettes and coffee are finished.
No sound breaks the silence; our men's tales are all told as they
crouch round the campfire. We have sought our couch and turned in,
bidding the _peones_ look to the horses, which, tethered near at hand,
champ their oats or maize contentedly, giving from time to time that
half-human sign with which the equine expresses his contentment and
comfortable weariness. All is still. Sleep falls upon us.... Hark! what
is that? A long mournful howl comes from the plain and winds through
the canyon, and is repeated in chorus. "What is it, Jose?" I call to my
_mozo_ and the other men. "Coyotes, Senor," he replies, "they are
crying to heaven for rain." Of course, I had forgotten for a moment
that they have this habit, and the sound seemed almost unearthly.
To return to the game. We are going a-hunting to-day. The great barren
plains and sterile rocky ribs which intersect them, the stony foothills
and the dry _arroyos_ do not seem to offer much prospect of sport. But
our friend the Mexican _hacendado_, who has ridden up from his
_hacienda_ for the purpose of inviting us, assures us to the contrary.
And, indeed, his words are soon justified. He and his men have led us
far away towards the head of the canyon, and the dry stream-bed is
fringed with _mesquite_ and cactus which might offer shelter to quarry
of some nature. A dozen dark forms start suddenly from the shadow of
the bank upon whose verge we stand. Bang! bang! bang! In the twinkling
of an eye we had dismounted, flung our horses' reins to the attendant
_mozos_, and pointed our Winchesters. Several of the dark forms lie
upon the sand below, inert; the others, already squealing far enough
off, scrambling away. What are they? "_Javelines_, Senor," the _mozos_
make reply. They are peccaries. A good bag indeed and excellent eating,
as their ribs, roasted over a fire at the bottom of the _arroyo_,
attest. Later on we look round for our host, but he is away after a
plump _venado_--deer--which, passing near at hand, proves too strong
for the sportsman's instinct. But the night falls ere he returns.
"Never mind," is his greeting, "although we have to sleep here we may
eat good venison," and across the horse of his _mozo_ lies the drooping
body of the deer, its eyes glazed in death, and the blood still
dripping from the bullet wound which laid it low.
And so our _hacendado_ friend, who owns the land we are upon for
leagues away, and knows it well, leads us to a cave snugly hidden in
the rocky wall, with a floor of purest quartz sand, and a limpid
rivulet flowing thereby. The saddle bags are brought in; they are full
of bread and tinned meats and native fruits, brandy and wine from his
own vineyards. We are his honoured guest, and he plies us with all this
fare, not forgetting the venison roasting outside. And filled and
comforted with good food we discourse far into the night of weird
things tinged with our friend's strange superstition and curious lore.
Outside the coyotes howl, far away on the plain, and the mournful cry
of the _tecolote_, or Mexican night owl, faintly reaches my ears, as,
wrapped in my blankets with a saddle for a pillow, I fall asleep upon
the cavern floor.