houses, mostly of one story, form a continuous wall along the street--or
along the sidewalk, if there be one--and their projecting, heavily
barred windows, in front of which the young fellows have to do their
courting, suggest prisons more than homes. Now we come to the massive,
crumbling, gloomy church, and wonder where the priest keeps the family
which everybody knows he has. Here is the government house, and we stop
to picture the wily politicians, who--with noble exceptions--obtain the
offices of local grandeur, and the little horde of clerks, many of them
rendered prematurely decrepit by their vices, that fawn but cannot be
made to work at the nod of authority. In vain we look for a book-store,
though somewhere that name doubtless appears on a sign; but we do find
the office of the comandante general, an officer who represents the
central power, has charge of the military, and often is mining and
counter-mining in a sharp struggle with the governor. How intolerably
dull it must be to live here! Business of a large sort there is none.
The little newspapers are scarcely more than echoes from partisan
sheets at Mexico. Religion is a subject that one must let alone, and
education a subject that it is useless to discuss. Of science, history,
art, nothing is known. The small men in power brook no criticism except
from enemies. Affairs in other states, even a famine or a flood,
excite little interest. Not much is left except petty intriguing and
the gratification of coarse appetites. A revolution is about the only
possible escape from this more deadly ennui.[1.8]
[LIFE AT MEXICO]
Our second day shall be given to the metropolis. The suburbs of Mexico
are mostly ragged and unclean, but some broad avenues lined with fine
trees run through them, and entering the city by one of these we make
our way to the great central plaza. On the eastern side of this extends
the palace, a very long two-storied building of little distinction, and
on the northern side towers the huge cathedral, quite in the grand,
heavy, Spanish style, seamed with earthquake scars and pockmarked by
revolutionary bullets. It is a Sunday morning and still rather early,
but the plaza is alive. The usual nightly crop of dead and wounded is
being carried to the morgue or the hospital. Sick men, cripples and
stalwart beggars are beginning to pose for alms. Prisoners in chains
are pretending to put the streets in order; but their guards, with that
mixture of good nature and indolence that characterizes the Mexican
unless his passions are excited, let them do about as they please, and
they take their cue for street-cleaning from the Book of Revelation:
They that be filthy, let them be filthy still.[1.8]
Indians in various tribal costumes, mostly picturesque and all dirty,
patter through the square with loads of provisions or babies. As
no stoves or fireplaces exist, the charcoal man's loud "Carbosiú!"
(_Carbón, señor!_) resounds through the streets. So does the plaintive
cry of the water-carrier, bending under his great earthen jar, for the
houses are all supplied from a few public fountains, the termini of
aqueducts. "Orchata, lemon, pineapple, tamarind!" calls out a shrill
voice; "What will you take, my darling? This way for refreshment:"
and we see a good-looking girl in a short skirt expanded wide with
hoops, her arms bare and her bodice cut low enough for a ball, selling
"temperance" drinks. Here is a dingy cell stuffed with chin-basins,
razors, dental implements, boxes of pomade, a guitar, a fighting-cock
tethered in a corner, and sundry pictures of saints, parrots and
battles; and there a cigar shop with a slender, black-eyed girl behind
the counter, bold enough and handsome enough, even without the red rose
in her hair, to tempt St. Anthony. Observe the _evangelista_, or public
letter-writer, with two quills and an inkstand ready on his little desk
under a canopy of straw matting; and observe, too, that lépero with his
back against a donkey's pannier, robbing the pannier while he pretends
to be buying a knife.[1.8]
Priests in long shovel hats; lousy soldiers in ragged, ill-fitting
uniforms; gaudy officers chatting and smoking; jugglers with snakes and
balls; cynical dandies retailing love affairs; half-naked léperos in the
corners sleeping off their pulque; lottery venders with long strings
of tickets; sellers of flowers, toys, candy, glass, wax-work, mock
jewellery, cheap cutlery, and a thousand other things; closed carriages
taking ladies to church; more beggars and still more--these and many
other sights keep us too busy for reflection; but we cannot help
noticing that seven out of ten persons are social drones or parasites,
and that vice of one sort or another dims the face and weakens the step
of almost every one. Suddenly a light bell tinkles, and the crowd is
instantly grave and still. "God is coming," they whisper, or in other
words the viatic is going to a sick man. A coach drawn by two mules
and followed by a dozen slovenly friars holding lighted candles and
chanting, comes slowly down a street. All uncover and kneel, and we must
do likewise or very likely get a pummelling.[1.8]
This reminds us of duty; and, electing the cathedral in preference to
sixty other churches, we enter. Before us is a great throng, chiefly
women and léperos, of most devout worshippers. The finest ladies in
the city are here, dressed all in black, with no ornaments except
a silk mantilla, edged with lace, and a high tortoise-shell comb;
and they kneel humbly beside the drudge or the beggar. The church
itself--designed in the Spanish style, which places the choir in the
middle of the nave and a balustraded walk between that and the great
altar--with a cloud of incense filling the air and many hundreds
of candles gleaming murkily from the shrines, is most mysterious
and impressive. The gorgeousness of the sacred ornaments amazes us.
Literally tons of silver are in sight; gold, precious stones and gems
abound; and magnificent vestments try to hide the vulgar priests. But
the splendor is oppressive, and the stench of the léperos intolerable;
let us return to the light of day.[1.8]
All the streets are laid out at right angles, and most of the houses
that line them are in two stories, of which the lower one is reserved
for horses, carriages, servants, cows and storage; and the walls, built
of rough stone, are very thick. The outside is usually frescoed in
white, orange, blue, red or pale green, and often adorned with pious
verses or biblical texts. Entering the big double gateway, we find
ourselves in a courtyard, upon which doors and grated windows open; and
we observe that a covered balcony of wrought iron or possibly bronze,
reached by a central stairway and giving access to the rooms of the
second story, is built round it. In many courtyards there are flowers
and a fountain, and sometimes there are trees. Occasionally we find
what looks like a grandee's residence, for Mexico was called in the
Spanish time a city of palaces, and some of these residences, built of
superior stone, equipped with gilded balconies and stairs, adorned with
artistic sculptures, and perhaps decorated with Dutch tiles in blue and
white, have survived in a fair condition the ruin of fortunes and the
disappearance of titles; but at their best they were always imperfect,
reminding one of the golden image with clay feet, and now most of them
are dilapidated.[1.8]
Here is a gambling place, well filled; but it is only the usual monte,
and if we care to watch a game, there will be something like a thousand
more opportunities. Already, people are making for the bull-fight; but
the upper classes mostly ignore that sport, and we may well follow
their example. On the other hand let us drop in at the cock-pit. "Hail,
immaculate Mary, the cocks are coming!" the herald is proclaiming. On
the benches one may see the most delicate and fashionable young ladies
of the city as well as the sharpest gamblers, and everything is quiet
and orderly. But a glance is enough; and now as the "quality" will soon
have dined, we will stroll on past the stately trees of the Alameda to
the New Promenade, and be ready for them.[1.8]
Here, every afternoon at about five o'clock, and especially on Sunday,
may be seen the Mexican élite. About a thousand carriages are in line
to-day, many of them heavy, grand affairs from Europe, but some very
antiquated and shabby, for the lady, however poor, must have a carriage
of some sort. Here one sees the fair sex at their best. Clad in the
most sumptuous and brilliant costumes they can possibly obtain and
well covered with diamonds--for everybody above the rank of a lépero
has diamonds--they sit up straight and handsome, and many of them
look almost regal. More horses than mules are to be seen, and many of
them have been imported. Guided by postilions instead of drivers, the
carriages roll sedately along with an exchange of mutual salutes but
not a word of conversation, and after a turn or two draw up and stop
side by side, so that the ladies may review some four or five thousand
cavaliers, who now ride past.[1.8]
Each gallant, without appearing to notice the carriage of his choice,
pays court to an adored occupant of it by a special show of grace and
horsemanship as he goes by. Small fortunes in silver and gold are
lavished on the equipment of the steed, and the cavalier is resplendent
in his tightly fitting trousers, short jacket, huge sombrero, gilded
spurs, silver buttons, silk braid and gold lace. For us the impression
is impaired considerably by his manner of riding, for he leans forward,
puts barely his toes into the stirrup, and carries his heels far back;
but he can ride very showily after all, curvetting and prancing, and the
Mexicans are fully satisfied that no other horsemen in the world are
their equals.[1.8]
The promenade over, all go to the play--not that anybody of fashion
cares for it, but because that is the style, and few have any other way
to pass the time. Let us have a look ourselves at the principal theatre,
which travellers have pronounced--after one at Naples--the finest
edifice of the kind. It accommodates more than eight thousand persons,
and the rent of the best boxes is about $3000 a year. But almost every
man and many of the women appear to be smoking; one can hardly see
the actors; the noise of conversation is distracting; and as we are
not adepts in the play of glances and fans which keep so many ladies
in the boxes and so many gallants in the pit fully occupied, we shall
find it pleasanter at the British legation ball. _Allons!_ Why, what a
clangor the church bells are making! To be sure that opens the gates of
purgatory for a while and gives the inmates a respite, but it certainly
bears rather hard on the living.[1.8]
While by nature the most sociable of people, the Mexicans are the least
so in practice, wrote an American minister at that capital. This is
partly because many of social rank now lack the means to entertain, and
partly because society is cut up by intrigues, jealousies and bitter
memories; but at a foreign legation one has no expenses, and all meet on
neutral ground. As we enter, everything seems fine and even brilliant.
Diamonds are in profusion again, and the lustre of the great pearls
matches them. But in Mexico it is never wise to look closely, for gross
imperfections are sure to be discovered; and here, as we soon observe,
the gowns are not really in style, and the musicians are only unshaven,
half-blind, tatterdemalion scrapers.[1.8]
However, the people are what we care for, and they are certainly most
interesting. Again we see the dignified ladies; they move now, and with
a decided though rather ponderous grace. Conversation is not their
forte, for they seldom read and never think; but all have beautiful
eyes, teeth and hair; all have small hands and feet; and all are
amiable, sincerely kind and by no means wanting in tact. The older
ones appear stout and rather phlegmatic, it is true, but those of an
earlier age are often fascinating. Look for instance at the girl under
the chandelier, plainly all sentiment and senses, not really tall but
slender enough to appear so, with a profile of carved ivory, pale cheeks
just warmed with crimson, large, dark, languorous eyes, and a voluptuous
figure disguised with no stays; and all this poised seemingly on the toe
of a dainty satin slipper. What matters it if she and the rest of the
ladies passed their day in gazing idly out of windows, smoking, nibbling
sweetmeats and chattering trifles, and did not put on their stockings or
do up their hair until dinner-time?[1.8]
But for us the men are more important. That short individual in
spectacles, who looks erudite and speaks in a low tone with a
gravity and reserve that emphasize his remarks, is Alamán, the most
distinguished of the conservatives. The thin-featured, sharp-nosed
person, so elegant and cynical, is Tornel, posing now in his favorite
attitude as the patron of learning. Smooth-faced Bocanegra, an honorable
if not very able statesman, is talking yonder to the British minister
with the easy courtliness of a genuine hidalgo. Handsome and brave
Almonte--"a good boy," as Santa Anna calls him--is laying siege to the
belle under the chandelier; and Peña y Peña, seemingly rather dry and
uninspired, is debating somewhat laboriously with a brother judge.[1.8]
Let us join a group. How strong, genial, easy, ready and gay, yet
dignified and reposeful, they all are! Few indeed of our own countrymen
could be so charming. Some one approaches, and they grasp him warmly by
the hand, throwing the left arm at the same time round his shoulder and
softly patting his back. "Friend," "Comrade," are frequent salutations.
We are presented to the group, and find ourselves at once among devoted
intimates. "My house is yours," exclaims one with a look that carries
conviction. "Remember, I exist only to serve you," says another. "Only
command me and all that are mine," exclaims a third.[1.8]
Mexico, however, reported a British minister, "judged merely by outward
Appearances, is a perfectly different thing from Mexico seen in the
Interior." One might be presented with a dozen houses and all their
contents, yet go to bed on the sidewalk hungry. These friends and
comrades are daily intriguing and conspiring against one another. Talk
with an eloquent declaimer, and you will find his beautiful ideas vague
and impracticable. Discuss them with him, and you will either excite
wrath by demolishing his opinions or earn contempt--since he suspects
in his heart that he is an ignoramus--by letting him vanquish you.
Notice how lightly they speak of religion. That is considered good
form. The Church is to be regarded as an institution for the women.
But at bottom almost every one is mortally afraid of the hereafter,
as a child is afraid of the dark, and when seriously ill is ready to
grovel before a priest. The apparent robustness of these men, largely
due to their indolence, is too often undermined by Cyprian accidents,
which are confessed without hesitation. Hardly one of the husbands is
loyal to his vows, while the other sex care only to elude numberless
watchful eyes, and observe a strict regard for appearances; and in
the lower walks a mother will quite readily sell her daughter's good
name. However, courtesy is delightful whatever lies behind it, and if
a person will try to eat a picture of grapes, he should blame himself
for his disappointment. Temperament, environment and education make
sangfroid and intellectual mastery impossible here; and in a world
where passionate men and women grow up in traditions of idleness and
self-indulgence they can hardly be expected, especially with the
bad example of their priests before them, to be distinguished for
self-restraint.[1.8]
Meanwhile, are the common people at home knitting? Let us walk back to
the cathedral. The full moon is out. Almost above us rise the powerful
towers against the clear firmament, and on our left is the palace,
filling one whole side of the square with its numberless balconies
and windows, while in front spreads the great plaza, glittering with
innumerable lights against the shadowy arcades that fill the opposite
side. The sky is a soft, pale blue; and the stars, fading near the
brilliant moon, appear like dust raised by her chariot wheels. Under the
trees on our right a huge serpent, the scales of which are human beings,
turns, winds, bends, parts and rejoins in a circular promenade.[1.8]
Some occupy themselves with prosaic thoughts,--business, politics
or social events--and a few talk of science and poetry. Yonder goes
a millionaire, a real king of gold, at sight of whom all hats come
off, while all eyes court his glance; but another, who passes with
a triumphant step and bold gestures, appears to the crowd a greater
man, for he is the king of the sword, the king of the bull-ring, the
_matador_. But most, perhaps, are talking and thinking of love and of
pleasure. Furtive but meaning glances are often exchanged; occasionally
hand presses hand under the folds of the cloak; at times a few
mysterious words pass quickly; now and then one sees a pretty woman
on the arm of her bold lover, showing herself proudly to the world,
while the husband follows on behind as best he can; and here and there
a scowling, discarded friend looks out from behind a post with a knife
clutched behind him.
Would you like to see a little more? Then visit the Barrio Santa Anna,
and watch men with bloodshot eyes and women in red petticoats and loose,
open chemisettes dancing a wild fandango, or plunge into a lépero's
dive and watch the pariahs gambling sedately with a bloody knife on the
table before them, while down in one corner a crouching woman moans and
mutters over a prostrate figure. But how lightly all is done, even the
tragedies, compared with northern depth and seriousness. In a sense we
feel we are observing children.[1.8]
Of course in so brief a space the subject of this chapter could not be
thoroughly treated, but our inquiry seems to make certain facts plain.
Little in the material, mental and moral spheres was really sound in
the Mexico of 1845. Her population was insufficient, and was badly
welded together, so far as it had been welded at all; and while the
lower orders of the people lay deep in ignorance, laziness and vice, the
upper class, if we ignore exceptions, were soft, superficial, indolent
and lax, urbane, plausible and eloquent, apathetic but passionate,
amiable and kind though cruel when excited, generous but untrustworthy,
wasteful but athirst for gain, suspicious and subtle but not sagacious,
personally inclined to be pompous and nationally afflicted with a
provincial vanity, greatly enamoured of the formalities of life,
greatly wanting in the cool, steady resolution for which occasional
obstinacy is a poor substitute, and still more wanting in that simple,
straightforward, sober and solid common sense which is the true
foundation of personal and national strength. In particular, the Mexican
was intensely personal. This made him and his politics very interesting
yet was really unfortunate, for in such men principles and institutions
could have but feeble roots. Finally, as one result of this awareness
of self, every man of any strength had the instincts of a dictator.
Authority he instinctively resented; but on the other hand, when some
one appeared to be dominant, a consciousness of this inner recalcitrancy
and a fear of its being detected, combining with a hope of favors,
produced adulation and apparent slavishness.
Evidently, then, Mexico was not intrinsically a strong country.
Evidently her people had few qualifications for self-government.
Evidently, too, they were unlikely to handle in the best manner a grave
and complicated question requiring all possible sanity of judgment and
perfect self-control; and, in particular, misunderstandings between them
and a nation like the United States were not only sure to arise but sure
to prove troublesome.
II
THE POLITICAL EDUCATION OF MEXICO
1800-1845
It was of course the political side of Mexican civilization that had the
most direct bearing on our relations with that country, and this can
best be explained by approaching it historically. At the same time we
shall be aided in studying, not only some of the principal figures in
the war and their mutual attitudes, but some of its most important and
mysterious events.
The colonial régime of Spain was intended and carefully planned to
ensure the safety, prosperity and contentment of her distant subjects,
but for certain reasons it worked badly. Like all nations of that
period, she believed that her colonies existed for the good of the
mother-country, and aimed first of all to control and exploit them. She
had to depend upon very human agents that were practically beyond her
reach. While theoretically all Mexicans, except the aborigines, enjoyed
an equality before the law, the government felt that emigrants from the
Peninsula were especially worthy of confidence; and at the same time
not a few of these men had friends industriously scheming for them at
court. The consequences were, first, the establishment of a powerful
Gachupine oligarchy, largely dependent on the royal will, the lowest
member of which, even if penniless, felt superior to every Creole,
and, secondly, the enthronement of privilege, often gained by ignoble
means, in government, army, church and business. The Creoles--overawed
by the almost divine prestige of the king, trembling before his power,
and convinced that only his troops could protect them against the
Indians--submitted; but they hated their insolent oppressors, and the
Indians hated both groups. On the principle of "Divide and conquer"
the government fomented these dissensions; and, supported by the
intolerance of the Church, it did its utmost to bar out foreigners and
foreign ideas in order to ensure an unreasoning subordination.[1.1]
What Mexico owed to Spain, therefore, aside from the remembrance and
fruits of an efficiency that she could not hope to equal, was a settled
tradition of arbitrary rule based on force, of authority selfishly
and often corruptly used, of the government as possessing the sole
initiative, of social disunion resulting from privilege and monopoly,
of personal successes frequently due to intrigue or purchased favor, of
political indifference except among the controlling or aspiring cliques,
of apathy concerning all high interests, of ignorance, inertness,
fanaticism, hard oppression, blind obedience, passionate feuds and gross
pleasures.[2.1]
[THE REVOLUTION AGAINST SPAIN]
Little by little new ideas reached a few of the more intelligent,
however. The American Declaration of Independence became known, and also
the fact that Spain, by supporting England's rebellious colonies, had
coöperated with heretics long pictured as infidels and fiends. Echoes
from Diderot's encyclopædia and reports of the French revolution crept
in; and the natural desire both to share on equal terms in the offices
and in business, and to escape from the extra cost of living due to the
monopolies, quickened thought. When war with England led to the raising
of Mexican troops, a new sense of power began to be felt; when the
Spanish monarchy crumbled before Napoleon in 1808, the illusion of the
king's divinity and invincibility faded; when the royal family exhorted
the Mexicans to accept the heir of the French revolution as their
master, loyalty quivered to its base; and when the people of Spain took
up arms to defend their betrayed nationality, the principle of popular
sovereignty loomed up as greater than royal prerogatives. Finally the
mass of the people, though too apathetic to realize the full meaning of
these facts, were roused by a thunder-clap at home.[2.2]