had concluded that the sugar and cattle industries promised the surest
and greatest returns. I heard of a ranch, with sugar-plantation, for
sale up in the Tuxpam valley. It was owned by an American who had
occupied it forty-seven years, during which time he had made enough
to live comfortably and educate two sons in American schools. He
was well past seventy and wished to retire from the cares of active
business,--which I regarded as a justifiable excuse for selling. We
visited the place and found the only American-built house we had
seen since leaving home. The place was in a fairly good state of
repair, though the pasture lands and canefields had been allowed to
deteriorate. The whole place was for sale, including cattle, mules,
wagons, sugar-factory, tenement houses, machinery and growing crops;
in fact, everything went. The price asked appeared so low that I
was astonished at the owner's modesty in estimating its value. I
accepted his offer on the spot, paying a small sum down to bind the
bargain,--fearing that he would change his mind. It was not long,
however, before I changed my estimate of his modesty, and marveled at
his boldness in having the courage to ask the price he did. On our way
back to town my companions argued that I was foolish to try to make
money in sugar or cattle raising; that there was no nearby market for
the cattle, and that the Cuban sugar was produced so abundantly and
so cheaply that there would be no profit in competing with it in the
American market. This was perfectly sound logic, as testified to by
later experiences, but it fell upon deaf ears. I had been inoculated
with the sugar and cattle germ as effectively as my friend had been
with the tobacco germ, and could see nothing but profit everywhere.
Mr. A. was to have a Cuban tobacco man, and why couldn't I have an
experienced Cuban sugar man? I expected to double the magnitude of
the canefields, as the foreman--who promised to remain--had declared
that this could be done without crowding the capacity of the factory.
I would also import some shorthorn cattle from the United States, and
figured out that I should need a whole carload of farming implements.
It may be remarked that almost without exception the American visitor
here is immediately impressed with the unbounded possibilities
of making vast fortunes. The resources of the soil appear almost
limitless. The foliage of the trees and shrubs is luxuriant the year
round, and the verdure of the pastures and all vegetation is inspiring
at all seasons. The climate is delightful, even in midsummer, and with
such surroundings and apparent advantages for agricultural pursuits
one marvels at the inactivity and seeming stupidity of the natives.
After a few months' experience in contending with the multiplicity of
pests and perversities that stand athwart the path of progress, and
becoming inoculated with the monotony of the tropical climate, one can
but wonder that there should be any energy or ambition at all. The
tendency of Americans is always to apply American energy and ideas to
Mexican conditions, with the result that nothing works harmoniously.
The country here is hundreds of years behind our times, and cannot
be brought into step with our progressiveness except by degrees. Our
modern methods and ideas assimilate with those of Mexico very slowly,
if at all. It is almost impossible to develop any one locality or
industry independent of the surroundings. The truth is, if you would
live comfortably in Mexico (which in these parts is quite beyond human
possibility) you must live as Mexicans do, for they are clever enough,
and have lived here long enough, to make the best of conditions. If
you would farm successfully in Mexico, you must farm precisely as they
do, for you will eventually find that there is some well-grounded
reason for every common usage; and if you would make money in Mexico,
stay away entirely and dismiss the very thought of it. Pure cream
cannot be extracted from chalk and water,--though it may look like
milk,--because the deficiency of the necessary elements forbids it; no
more can fortunes be made in this part of Mexico, because they are not
here to be made, as every condition forbids their accumulation. The
impoverished condition of the people is such that a large percentage of
the families subsist on an average income of less than ten cents a day,
silver.
Although the peon class are indigent, lazy and utterly devoid of
ambition they are so by virtue of climatic and other conditions that
surround them, and of which they can be but the natural outgrowth. The
debilitating effects of the climate, and the numberless bodily pests
draw so heavily upon human vitality that it is surprising that any one
after a year's residence there can muster sufficient energy to work at
all. The natives, after a day's labor will throw themselves upon the
hard ground and fall asleep, calmly submitting to the attack of fleas
and wood-ticks as a martyrdom from which it is useless to attempt to
escape. It is a labored and painful existence they lead, and it is not
to be wondered at that smallpox, pestilence and death have no terror
for them; indeed, they hail these as welcome messengers of relief.
When by the pangs of hunger they are driven to the exertion of work
they will do a fair day's labor, if kept constantly under the eye of a
watchman, or _capitan_, as he is called. One of these is required for
about every ten or twelve workmen; otherwise they would do nothing at
all. If twenty workmen were sent to the field to cut brush, without
designating someone as captain, they would not in the course of the
whole day clear a patch large enough to sit down on. The best workmen
are the Indians that come down from the upper-country settlements.
Upon leaving home they take along about twelve days' rations, usually
consisting of black beans and corn ground up together into a thick
dough and made into little balls a trifle larger than a hen's egg,
and baked in hot ashes. They eat three of these a day,--one for each
meal,--and when the supply is exhausted they collect their earnings
and return to their homes, no matter how urgent the demand for their
continued service may be. In two or three weeks they will return again
with another supply of provisions and stay until it is consumed, but no
longer. If Thoreau could have seen how modestly these people live he
would have learned a lesson in economic living such as he never dreamed
of. The frugality of his meagre fare at his Walden pond hermitage
would have appeared like wanton luxury by comparison. If the virtue
of honesty can be ascribed to any of these laborers the Indians are
entitled to the larger share of it. They keep pretty much to themselves
and seldom inter-marry or mingle socially with the dusky-skinned Aztecs.
It is difficult to get the natives to work as long as they have a
little corn for _tortillas_ or a pound of beans in the house. I have
known dozens of instances where they would come at daylight in search
of a day's work, leaving the whole family at home without a mouthful of
victuals. If successful in getting work they would prefer to take their
day's pay in corn, and would not return to work again until it was
entirely exhausted. Hundreds of times at my ranch men applying for work
were so emaciated and exhausted from lack of nourishment that they had
to be fed before they were in a fit condition to send to the field.
The basic element of wealth is money, and it is impossible to make an
exchange of commodities for money in great quantity where it exists
only in small quantity. In other words, if you would make money it
is of first importance that you go where there is money. If--as is
the case--a man will labor hard from sunrise to sunset in Mexico, and
provision himself, for twenty-five cents in gold, it would indicate
either a scarcity of gold or a superabundance of willing laborers, and
it must be the former, for the latter does not exist. Some have argued
that money is to be made in Mexico by producing such articles as may be
readily exchanged for American gold, but there are very few articles
of merchandise for which we are _obliged_ to go to Mexico, and these
cost to produce there nearly as much or more than we have to pay for
them. For example, a pound of coffee in Mexico[11] costs fifty cents,
the equivalent in value to the labor of an able-bodied man for twelve
hours. There is some good reason for this condition, else it would
not exist. In other words, if it didn't cost the monetary value of
twelve hours' work (less the merchant's reasonable profit, of course)
to produce a pound of coffee, it would not cost that to buy it there.
It does not seem logical, therefore, that it can be produced and sold
profitably to a country where a pound of this commodity is equal in
value to less than two hours of a man's labor. If it were so easy and
profitable to raise coffee, every native might have his own little
patch for home use, and possibly a few pounds to sell. In order to be
profitable, commodities must be turned out at a low cost and sold at
a high cost; but here is a case where some visionary Americans have
thought to get rich by working directly against the order of economic
and natural laws. I have not consulted statistics to ascertain how the
Mexican exports to the United States compare with their imports of our
products, but it is a significant fact, as stated at the beginning
of this narrative, that the highest premium obtainable for American
money is for eastern exchange, used in settling balances for imports
of American goods. The needs of the average Mexican are very small
beyond the products of his own soil, and if the agricultural exports
from their eastern ports were large the merchants would have but little
difficulty in purchasing credits on New York, or any important eastern
or southern seaport.
[11] It will be understood, of course, that in speaking of Mexico I
refer only to the district where I visited.
I had the good fortune _not_ to be able to make any satisfactory
arrangement for a practical sugar-maker from Cuba. I was more fortunate
than my friend Mr. A., in not having any friend there to look out for
me. Thus I saved not only the cost of an expert's services, which,
comparatively speaking, would have been a trifling item, but was held
up in making the contemplated extensions and improvements until my
sugar-fever had subsided and I had regained my normal senses, after
which I was quite contented to conduct the place in its usual way with
a few slight improvements here and there. I had not in so short a time
become quite reconciled, however, to the idea that the place could
not be run at a profit; but figured that it could be made to yield
me a considerable revenue above expenses, and that it would afford a
desirable quartering-place for my family on an occasional tropical
visit in winter. After returning home later in the season I induced my
family to return with me in the fall and spend a part of the following
winter there; and although we experienced the novelty on Christmas-day
of standing on our front porch and picking luscious ripe oranges from
the trees,--one of which stands at each side of the steps,--I have
never again been able to bring my persuasive powers to a point where
I could induce them to set foot on Mexican soil. It is largely due to
the abhorrence of smallpox, malaria, snakes, scorpions, tarantulas,
_garrapatas_, fleas, and a few other minor pests and conditions to
which they object. Mosquitoes, however, did not molest us at the ranch.
Once while we were at the ranch my wife was told by one of the servants
that there was a woman at the front door to see her. Upon going into
the hall she found that the woman had stepped inside and taken a seat
near the door. She arose timidly, with a bundle in her arms--which
proved to be a babe--and spoke, but Mrs. Harper could not understand
a word she said. The maid had entered the hall immediately behind my
wife, and, as she spoke both Spanish and English, the woman explained
through her that the baby was suffering with smallpox, and that she had
heard that there was an American woman there who could cure it. The
resultant confusion in the household beggars description. Every time
I mention Mexico at home I get a graphic rehearsal of this scene. The
poor woman had walked ten miles, carrying her babe, and thought she was
doing no harm in bringing it in and sitting down to rest for a moment.
She was put into a boat and taken down the river to Tuxpam by one of
the men on the place who had already passed through the stages of this
disease, and under the treatment of a Spanish physician whom I had met
there the child recovered and was sent back home with its mother.
It may be observed that since arriving at Tuxpam I have appeared to
neglect my friend Mr. B., but, although so far as this narrative is
concerned he has not as yet been much in evidence, he was by far the
busiest man in the party. Being the only unmarried man in our company
he had not been long in Mexico when he began to busy himself with an
industry in which single men hold an unchallenged monopoly, and one
that is far more absorbing than vanilla, rubber, coffee, sugar and
tobacco all combined. The immediate cause of his diversion was due to
a visit that we all made to the large hacienda of a wealthy Spanish
gentleman of education and refinement, who had a very beautiful and
accomplished daughter but recently returned home with her mother from
an extended tour through Europe, following her graduation from a
fashionable and well-known ladies' seminary in America. I have made the
statement in the foregoing pages that no American fortune-hunter had
been known to return home from here richer than when he came, but later
on we shall see that this no longer remains a truth. For the present,
however, as long as we are now discussing problems of vulgar commerce,
we shall leave Mr. B. undisturbed in his more engaging pursuit, and
return to his case later.
Next to silver, corn is the staple and standard of value in Mexico,
though its price fluctuates widely. Everybody, and nearly every
animal, both untamed and domestic, and most of the insects, feed upon
this article. It is the one product of the soil that can be readily
utilized and converted into cash in any community and at any season.
The price is usually high, often reaching upwards of the equivalent of
$1 a bushel. It is measured not by the bushel, but by the _fanega_,
which weighs 225 pounds. It may appear a strange anomaly that the
principal native product should be so high in a soil of such wonderful
productivity. An acre of ground will produce from fifty to seventy-five
bushels, _twice a year_. It is planted in June as soon as the rains
break the long, monotonous dry season which extends through March,
April and May, and is harvested early in October; then the same ground
is planted again in December for harvesting early in April. The ground
requires no plowing and, if recently cleared, no weeding; so all that
is necessary to do is to plant the corn and wait for it to mature. It
sounds easy and looks easy, but, as with everything else, there are a
few obstacles. Corn is planted in rows, about the same distance apart
as in America, and is almost universally of the white variety, as this
is the best for _tortillas_. The planting is accomplished by puncturing
the ground with a hardwood pole, sharpened at one end. The hole is
made from four to six inches deep, when the top of the pole is moved
from one side to another so that the point loosens up the subsoil and
makes an opening at the bottom of the hole the same width as that at
the top. The corn is then dropped in and covered with a little dirt
which is knocked in by striking the point of the pole gently at the
opening. The moisture, however, would cause it to sprout and grow
even if not covered at all. The difficulties now begin and continue
successively and uninterruptedly at every stage of development to
maturity, and even until the corn is finally consumed. The first of
these difficulties is in the form of a small red ant which appears in
myriads and eats the germ of the kernels as soon as they are planted.
When the corn sprouts there is a small cut-worm that attacks it in
great numbers. When the sprouts begin to make their appearance above
the ground there is a blackbird lying in wait at every hill to pull it
up and get the kernel. These birds, which in size are between our crow
and blackbird, appear in great numbers and would destroy a ten-acre
field of corn in one day if not frightened away. They have long sharp
beaks, and insatiable appetites. Following these the army-worm attacks
the stalk when knee high, and penetrating it at the top or tassel-end
stops its growth and destroys it. These ravages continue until the corn
begins to tassel, if any is so fortunate as to reach that stage. When
the ears appear another worm works in at the silk, and a little later
a small bird resembling our sapsucker puts in his claim to a share in
the crop. Beginning at the outer edge of the field and proceeding down
the row from one hill to another, he penetrates the husks of almost
every ear with his needlelike bill, and the moment the milky substance
of the corn is reached the ear is abandoned and another attacked. When
punctured in this way the ear withers and dries up without maturing.
The succession is then taken up by the parrots and parrakeets, which
abound in Mexico. They may be seen in flocks flying overhead or
hovering over some field, constantly chattering and squawking, at
almost any hour of the day. When the corn begins to mature the raccoons
appear from the woods, and entering a field at night they eat and
destroy the corn like a drove of hogs. As a means of protection against
these pests many of the natives keep a number of dogs, which they tie
out around the field at night, and which keep up an almost constant
barking and howling. Finally, just as the corn has matured and the
kernels are hardening the fall rains begin, and often continue for days
and even weeks with scarcely an interruption. The water runs down into
the ear through the silks and rots the corn. In order to prevent this
it is necessary to break every stalk just below the ear and bend the
tops with the ears down so the water will run off. Later it is husked
and carried to the crib, when it is subjected to the worst of all the
evils, the black weevil. The eggs from which this insect springs are
deposited in the corn while in the field and commence to hatch soon
after it is harvested. I have personally tested this by taking an
ear of corn from the field and after shelling it placed the corn in
a bottle, which was corked up and set away. In about three weeks the
weevils began to appear, and in six weeks every kernel was destroyed.
At first I wondered why the Mexicans usually planted their corn in such
small patches and so near the house, but in view of the foregoing
facts this is easily explained. Almost the same vexatious conditions
prevail in nearly everything that one attempts to do in this country,
the variety and numbers of enemies and hindrances varying with each
undertaking. There is a hoodoo lurking in every bush, and no matter
which way the stranger turns he finds himself enmeshed in a veritable
entanglement of impediments and aggravations.
All along and up and down the banks of the Tuxpam River, and in other
more remote localities, there are countless wrecks and ruins of sugar
mills, distilleries and other evidences of former American industry,
which mark the last traces of blighted ambitions and ruined fortunes of
investors. The weeds and bushes have overgrown the ruins and tenderly
sheltered them from the sun's rays and the view of the uninquisitive
passer-by. They have become the silent haunts of wild animals,
scorpions and other reptiles. At the visitor's approach a flock of
jaybirds will immediately set up a clamorous chattering and cawing in
the surrounding trees, as if to reproach the trespasser who invades the
lonely precincts of these isolated tomb-like abodes. They tell their
own tale in more eloquent language than any writer could command. With
each ruin there is a traditional and oftentimes pathetic story. In
some cases the investor was fortunate enough to lose only his money,
but in many instances the lives along with the fortunes of the more
venturesome were sacrificed to some one or other of the various forms
of pestilence which from time to time sweep over the country.
Among the native fruit products in this section the orange and the
mango hold first rank, with bananas and plantains a close second. In
close proximity to almost every native hut one will find a small patch
of plantain and banana stalks. The plantain is made edible by roasting
with the skin on, or by peeling and splitting it in halves and frying
it in lard or butter.
Of all tropical fruits the mango is perhaps the most delicious. Its
tree grows to enormous size and bears a prolific burden of fruit. In
front of my house are a great number of huge mango trees which are said
to have been planted more than two hundred years ago. The fruit picked
up from under a single tree amounted to a trifle over one hundred and
sixty-one bushels. Unlike the banana or even our American peaches,
pears and plums, the mango is scarcely fit to eat unless allowed to
ripen and drop off the tree. Much of the delicacy of its flavor is lost
if plucked even a day before it is ready to fall. When picked green
and shipped to the American markets it is but a sorry imitation of the
fruit when allowed to ripen on the tree. It ripens in June, and it is
almost worth one's while to make a flying trip to the tropics in that
month just to sit beneath the mango tree and eat one's fill of this
fruit four or five times a day.
The only native fruit that ever could be profitably raised here for
the American market is the orange. The Mexican orange is well known
for its thin, smooth skin and superior flavor and sweetness. The trees
thrive in the locality of Tuxpam, and bear abundantly from year to year
without the least cultivation or attention. On my place thousands of
bushels of this fruit drop off the trees and go to waste every year,
there being no market for it. I made an experimental shipment of 1,000
boxes to New York on one of the Ward Line Steamers. After selecting,
wrapping and packing them with the greatest care, and prepaying the
freight, in due time I received a bill from the New York commission
house for $275 (gold) for various charges incidental to receiving and
hauling them to the public dump. The steamer, however, had been delayed
several days. The ratio of profit on this transaction is a fair example
of the returns that one may reasonably expect from an investment in any
agricultural enterprise in Mexico.[12] If ever we get rapid steamer
service between Tuxpam and Galveston or New Orleans, it is my belief
that orange-growing could be made profitable in this country, but until
then it would be useless to consider the orange-growing industry.
[12] While this volume was in process of issue there appeared in
several leading newspapers a full-page advertisement by some Mexican
orange-grove company, which contained many of the most extraordinary
offers. For example, the promoters agree, for a consideration of $250,
to plant a grove of fifty orange trees and to care for them two years;
then turn the grove over to the investor, who receives $250 the first
year, $375 the second year, and so on until the tenth year, when the
grove of fifty trees nets an income of $5,500 (gold) per annum, which
will be continued for upwards of four hundred years. The company's
lands are located "where the chill of frost never enters, where the
climate excels that of California, where you are 500 miles nearer
American markets than Los Angeles and 60 days earlier than Florida
crops--this is the spot where you will own an orange grove that will
net you $5,500 annually without toil, worry or expense. We will manage
your grove, if you desire, care for the trees, pick, pack and ship your
oranges to market, and all you will have to do is to bank the check we
send to you." It would appear that anyone with $250 who refuses this
offer must indeed be heedless of the coming vicissitudes of old age;
for the promoters pledge their fortunes and their sacred honor that
"when your grove is in full bearing strength you need worry no longer
about your future income."