IN THE MIXTECA ALTA
(1898)
Of all railroad cities in the Republic, Oaxaca is the most completely
indian. It is the capital of a state the population of which is
nine-tenths of native blood. Fifteen native languages are spoken in the
state to-day. While some of these are related to each other, they are
distinct languages, not dialects, even those which are related being as
unlike as the French, Italian, and Spanish. The indians commonly seen on
the city streets are Zapotecs or Mixtecs, but at times Mixes come from
their distant mountain homes with burdens on their backs, or parties
of Tehuantepecanas attract attention, by their fine forms and striking
dress, as they walk through the streets. The market is crowded, even
late in the day; ox-carts from the indian towns for miles around are
constantly seen in the streets. Most of the sellers in the market are
indians; they bring fruits and vegetables, dried fish from the Pacific,
_jícaras_ and strainers of gourds, beautifully painted and polished
gourds from Ocotopec, honey, sugar--both the crude brown and the refined
yellow cakes--and pottery. The indian pottery here sold is famous. Three
kinds of wares are well known--a dull plain red, an unglazed but highly
polished black, and a brilliant glazed green. The black ware is made
into useful vessels, and also into a variety of toys, chiefly whistles
and bells. Pottery would seem to be one of the least suitable materials
for bells. Here, however, bells of pottery in many shapes are
found--little bells, with handles like the upper part of a human figure;
larger bells, with curious flat handles set transversely; others, still
larger, like cow-bells in size and tone, and curious cross-shaped bells,
really a group of four united. Among the whistles some are made into the
shape of animals and birds and curious human figures; among the latter,
some closely resemble ancient whistles from the prehistoric graves. This
black ware is made at Coyotepec, and when the objects are first taken
from the kiln they are almost white; before they are cold, they
are exposed to dense smoke, and thus assume their black color. The
brilliantly glazed green ware is the most attractive. Vessels made from
it are thin, and, in the parts which are unglazed, resemble common
flower-pot ware. The larger portion of their surfaces, however, is
covered with a rich, thick, emerald-green glaze. Cups, bowls, saucers,
plates, sugar-bowls, tea-pots, flasks, and censers are among the forms
commonly made in this ware. The shapes are often graceful and the
prices low. Most beautiful, however, and relatively expensive, are the
miniature vessels made in this ware--scarcely an inch in height, but
formed with the greatest care, and in such variety of dainty forms that
one may seek some time to duplicate a piece which he has found; these
little pieces are completely covered with the rich green glaze both
outside and inside.
Our plan of journey for the year was first to make an expedition from
Oaxaca to the north-west, into the Mixteca Alta; returning to Oaxaca,
to strike eastward by way of Mitla, and the land of the Mixes, to
Tehuantepec, from which place we should make a brief trip to the Juaves;
returning to Tehuantepec, we should take the high road, by way of San
Carlos, back to Oaxaca. Our first duty in the city of Oaxaca was to
procure letters and orders from the governor. No governor in Mexico more
completely realizes his importance and dignity than Governor Gonzales of
Oaxaca. It is ever difficult to secure an audience with him; appointment
after appointment is made, only to be broken when the inquiring visitor
presents himself, and has been kept waiting an undue length of time. We
had been through the experience before, and therefore were not surprised
that it required four visits, each of them appointed by the governor
himself, before we really had our interview. Governor Gonzales, is,
however, an excellent officer. While we were waiting for our letters,
after having explained to him our errand and plan of procedure, we had
the opportunity to see a somewhat unusual and interesting sight. Like
all public buildings and better-grade houses in Mexican cities, the
governor's palace is built about _patios_, or inner courts. A wide
balcony surrounds the court at the level of the second story and upon
it the rooms of that story open. Having given orders that our letters
should be prepared, the governor excused himself for a few moments, as
he said that certain of his local authorities were ordered to meet him.
We were seated where we could watch the reception. As we had entered the
palace we had been impressed by the great number of indians, carrying
official staves, who were waiting near the door. We now found that they
were official delegates from the different towns, and that they had been
sent from their homes to give the governor New Year's greetings. Having
carefully arrayed himself for the meeting, the governor took his
position in the wide balcony already referred to, with two officials of
the palace stationed near, one on either side. The Indians represented
perhaps twenty-five different towns, the delegation from each town
varying from three or four to fifteen or twenty persons. All were
dressed in their cleanest garments, and all carried their long staves of
office, most of which had ribbons of bright colors streaming from them.
The secretary of the governor arranged these delegations in their order,
and they were presented one by one to the chief executive. As each
delegation was presented, its members scraped and bowed, and the
_presidente_ and _secretario_ kissed the governor's hand. A word or two
of greeting having been exchanged, the spokesman from the village made a
speech, sometimes read from a written copy, after which he presented
a bouquet of flowers, real or artificial. The governor received the
bouquet with a bow, placed the flowers on a little table near by, or, if
the gift were a large bouquet of real flowers, handed it to one of the
attendants standing near, and then made a polite speech of response,
emphasizing it with vigorous gestures and plainly expressive of much
interest and earnestness. The delegation then took its leave, always
bowing reverently, and each man kissing the governor's hand as he passed
out. As he received this mark of respect, the governor would make a
playful remark, or pat the persons on the head, or otherwise treat
them as a father might his little children. Instantly the flowers were
cleared away, the next delegation ushered in, and the same ceremony
gone through with. Finally, all was ready for our leaving. The party
consisted of five persons--myself, as leader, Mr. Lang, my American
photographer, Don Anselmo, my Mexican plaster-worker, Manuel, and the
_mozo_. All but the _mozo_ were mounted on horses, more or less good or
bad. The _mozo_, Mariano, a Mixtec indian, went on foot, carrying the
photographic outfit on his back, and our measuring-rod in his hand.
It was well on in the afternoon before we started, and hardly were we
outside the town, before Mr. Lang's horse showed signs of sickness. His
suffering was plain, and every person we met volunteered the information
that unless something was done promptly, we should have a dead horse on
our hands. Going to a little shop on the roadside, where strong drinks
were sold, we stopped, and after preparing a remedy with the help of a
passing Indian, threw the horse down, wedged his mouth open, and gave
him what seemed to be an unsavory draught. More than an hour was lost
out of our already short afternoon by this veterinary practice, and long
before we reached Etla, where we were compelled to pass the night, it
was dark.
Leaving Etla in the morning, looking down as we passed out from the city
upon a wonderful group of mounds, we passed rather slowly through the
town of Huitzo. Don Anselmo and I loitered, as we found the whole
country to be rich in ancient relics, examples of which were to be found
in almost every house. As the afternoon passed, we found that we were
likely to be completely left by our companions, and were forced to
hasten on. The latter part of the daylight ride was up a continuous, and
at times steep, ascent. As the sun neared setting, we reached the summit
and found ourselves close by the station of Las Sedas, the highest point
upon the Mexican Southern Railway. We had there expected to overtake
the others of our party, but found that they had hurried on. It was a
serious question whether we should try to overtake them. It had been
wisdom to have stayed the night where we were. In this uncertainty,
we met an indian boy driving mules toward Oaxaca, who volunteered the
information that he had met our companions, who were just ahead, and
that we would soon overtake them. This decided us, and we started down
the trail. A heavy wind was blowing, and the night air was cold and
penetrating. In a few minutes we met a half-breed Mexican, who,
accosting us at once, urged us to go no further. His manner was somewhat
sinister and disagreeable. He warned us that, if we attempted to make
the descent in the darkness, we would at least lame our animals. He
asserted that our comrades were fully three leagues ahead when he had
met them, and that we would never overtake them. He also hinted darkly
as to other dangers of the road, if we should succeed in making the
descent without breaking the legs of our horses. Refusing his invitation
to stop with him for the night, we pressed onward, and as we did so, he
called out derisively after us.
The descent would not have been an easy one, even in the daytime, and
in the gathering darkness there was really an element of danger in the
journey. We left the following of the trail almost entirely to our
animals. We were finally down the worst of the descent before night had
actually set in. From here on, although the road varied but little from
a level trail, we were obliged to go slowly, and it was with a feeling
of true relief that, after floundering for a while in a brook in which
our road seemed to lose itself, we heard ourselves called by name, from
an indian hut situated a little way up the bank. As usual, the house
consisted of a single room, of no great size, and was lightly built
of cane. Two men, three women, a boy, and three little girls were the
occupants. Our companions were already resting; their horses were
unsaddled and were eating contentedly, and we were told that supper
was being prepared for us. Entering the house, we found the women busy
making _tortillas_, and fresh goat's meat, hanging from the rafters,
gave promise of a substantial meal. When all was ready, we sat down to
the finest of corn-cakes, beans, eggs, and tender kidmeat. We spread our
blankets under a little shelter which stood in front of one side of the
house. None of us slept well. It was very cold; dogs barked all night
long; now and then a sudden outbreak of their barking, and curious
signals and whistles, which were repeated in various parts of the
mountain, gave us some uneasiness. At three o'clock in the morning, just
as we were napping, Don Anselmo startled us by the statement that our
mule was dead. In a moment, all was excitement. Mariano examined the
animal and reiterated the statement. As for us, we were in the mood to
care but little whether the mule was living or dead. Half frozen and
very weary, our frame of mind was not a cheerful one. Just before
daybreak we could stand the cold no longer, and gathering some dry wood,
we started a fire and crowded around it. The report about the mule
proved to be false, and when morning came, there was no sign that
anything was the matter with him.
It was nine o'clock before we started on our journey in the morning. We
had three long hours of clambering up and down heavy slopes, and, much
of the way, through a stream the bed of which was filled with slippery
boulders and pebbles, over which the horses slipped and stumbled
frightfully. Our horses slid down small cascades, but, when we came to
larger ones, we had to mount the banks by ugly bits of road, descending
below the falls. After much labor and weariness, we reached El Parian at
noon. Having rested through the hotter portion of the day, we took the
road again at two. We followed up the brook-bed to the point where
another stream entered it, at an acute angle. Up this stream we turned,
and after following it a little, struck suddenly up a steep hill, and
then climbed on and on over a good road, cut in the limestone rock, up
and up, until we reached the very summit. The vegetation here was a
curious assemblage,--palms, cedars, oaks, and a mimosa-like tree, formed
the chief types. The limestone rock upon the summit was curiously
eroded, as if by rain rills. The masses presented all the appearance
and detail of erosion shown by the great mountain mass of the country
itself; looking at one of these little models, only a few feet across,
and then gazing out upon the great tangle of mountain peaks around us,
one could almost imagine that the one was the intentional reproduction
of the other, in miniature. For a long time we followed the almost
level summit; then a little climb and a slight descent brought us to
Huaclilla. At the _meson_ we found real rooms and true beds, and decided
to stay for the night. The supper was less attractive. A brief walk
about the village brought to light two cases of small-pox, and, on
returning to the _meson_, we were charmed to find a third one in the
building itself. Still, we slept well, and were up betimes next morning.
The country through which we were passing was Mariano's _país_ (native
land). Assuming that his knowledge was adequate, we left our _meson_
early, with the intention of breakfasting at San Pedrito, where we were
assured that everything was lovely; we were also told that it was but
a short distance. The road thither was through a high open country,
planted to wheat and oats and with some _maguéy_. The road was
discouragingly long, but after at least three hours of constant riding,
we reached precious San Pedrito, chiefly notable for the amount of
_pulque_ drunk there. It was with the greatest difficulty that we
succeeded in getting anything to eat; the breakfast was certainly worse
than the supper of the preceding night. With the prevalence of _maguéy_
as a cultivated plant, the appearance of the houses and other
buildings changed, as all of them were thatched with the broad, long,
sharp-pointed leaves of the famous plant. Everyone in the district
carries _tinajas_, or little sacks woven from splints of palm. Here, for
the first time, we noticed that many of these had decorated patterns
worked in black splints on the lighter ground. The blackness of
these splints is given by exposure to the smoke of burning pine.
Carrying-straps, also made of palm, are used for adjusting these
_tinajas_ to the back.
From San Pedrito the road is over a soft rock, which produces, when
worn, a white glaring trail. The country through which we passed was
fertile. Everywhere were fields of grain, wheat, oats, and, as we were
descending into the lower land, corn. The little watch-houses for
guarding the newly-sown fields are a striking feature of the landscape.
In the higher districts they were small, conical or dome-shaped
structures, made of the leaves of the _maguéy_, and hardly large enough
for a man to lie down in. Lower down, these were replaced by little
rectangular huts, only a few feet across, with thatched roofs, the whole
construction being raised on poles ten or twelve feet above the ground.
It was scarcely more than noonday when we reached Nochixtlan, where
the _jefe_ of the district lives. Telling him that we desired to visit
Yodocono and Tilantongo, he wrote orders for us, and charged some
indians of Tidaa to show us the road, so far as they were going. The
country through which we passed was a continuation of that preceding
Nochixtlan. The road was nearly level, with but slight ups and downs,
until a little before we reached our destination, when we had an abrupt
up-turn to Yodocono, a pretty town on the border of a little lake, which
has but recently appeared, and which covers an area which a few years
ago was occupied by cultivated fields. Our letter from the _jefe_
introduced us to Don Macario Espinola, a _mestizo_, owner of the chief
store in the village, who showed us gracious hospitality. We were guests
of honor. The parlor was surrendered to our use; the chairs were placed
in such a way that, when supplied with mattress, sheets, and blankets,
they made capital beds. Our meals were good. Don Macario, on hearing
the purpose of our visit, placed himself entirely at our disposition.
Unfortunately, he gained the idea that the people whom we wanted for
measurement and photography were old folk, and the most astonishing
collection of aged men and women was summoned from every part of the
village and surrounding neighborhood, and all had to be measured,
although the measurements were afterwards discarded.
[Illustration: YODOCONO]
Leaving Yodocono at ten the following morning, we rode to Tilantongo.
Though assured that the road was over a district as level as a floor,
we found a good deal of up-hill riding. Tilantongo itself, with 2,266
inhabitants, is located upon the further slope of a hill, and but few
houses were in sight until we were actually in the town. The public
buildings surrounded a small open space, in the centre of which is a
stone sun-dial. One side of this little _plaza_ is occupied by the
schoolhouse; the town-house and jail occupy the rear. The town is built
upon a horseshoe-shaped, sloping ridge, and the church is at the edge
of the town, at one of the very ends of the horseshoe. Riding to the
town-house, we presented our documents to the _presidente_, and ordered
dinner for ourselves and food for the horses. We had letters to the
priest, but he was not in town. The schoolhouse was placed at our
disposal, and we moved two long benches close to each other, side by
side; rush mats were brought, and these we laid upon the benches, and
upon the teacher's table, for beds. Mr. Lang and Don Anselmo took the
table, Manuel and I the benches, and Mariano had the floor. The cold was
so intense that none of us slept much. We were astonished, in the middle
of the night, and at intervals in the early morning, say at two or four
o'clock, to hear snatches of songs. At first, we imagined it might be
some religious festival, but on inquiring, we found that it was nothing
but bands of drunken indians making night hideous.
We waited some time in the morning before beginning work, hoping that
the _cura_ might come and assist us with his influence. Finally,
wearying of delay, we explained to the _presidente_ the work we planned
to do. We told him we must have subjects for measurement, photographing
and modeling. He showed no great enthusiasm in the matter. One and
another came to be measured, if they chose, but a number entirely
refused. It was plain that something must be done. Quitting my work, I
sent orders for the _presidente_ to appear, and, after an intolerable
delay, he presented himself. I told him that we were losing time; that
subjects were not presenting themselves; that some of those who did
present themselves refused to be measured; that I wished a _mozo_ at
once to carry a report from me to the _jefe_ that my wishes were not
regarded by the authorities, and that his orders had no influence; that
the _mozo_ must be ready at once, as there was no time to lose, and we
should shortly leave his town without accomplishing our work. The effect
was instantaneous. The official air of arrogance disappeared; he replied
quiet humbly that subjects should be at once supplied, as rapidly as
they could be brought in. I replied, "Here are two persons now who have
refused; why wait while others shall be brought?" The fiat went forth,
the two obdurate and not good-humored victims were marched up. As I
measured them, they whispered to me that the _presidente_ himself
had not been measured, and begged that he be ordered to undergo the
operation. The request was reasonable, and when they were through, they
waited to see what would happen. Great was their delight when, turning
to the chief man of the town, I said, "It is best for you to be measured
next. It will set a good example to the rest," and without a word,
although I knew that he had stated that he would not be measured, he
stepped under the rod. From then on there was no lack of material. Our
subjects were measured, photographed and modeled as rapidly as we could
do the work. At noon the priest had come. As he passed where we were
working, he gave us an extremely distant greeting and rode on up to the
_curato_. From his castle he sent immediate complaint because our horses
had been put into his stable without his permission. I went to the good
man's house and found him hearing confessions. Leaving with him the
letters from the archbishop and the _jefe_, I returned to my work,
leaving word that the horses would have to stay where they were, as
there was no other suitable place for their keeping. After a hard day's
work, the night started very cold, and we hurried to bed early. All were
sleeping, but myself, when a rap came at the door. It was a message from
the _cura_, begging us to come to the _curato_, where we would be more
comfortable. Sending back a word of thanks, I stated that we would be
there for the following night.
[Illustration: MIXTEC HOUSES; TILANTONGO]
The _cura_ had been away from home for several days. The result was
that, on his return, his parishioners turned out in force to greet him,
and hardly was he housed, when a procession bearing gifts marched to the
_curato_. In front went one bearing flowers. Those who followed carried
some kind of food,--great pieces of meat, fowls, eggs, corn, chilis,
and other supplies. The following morning we were awakened by a great
explosion of fire-crackers and rockets, and by pealing bells, announcing
the early mass. After his religious duties were performed, the _padre_
came down to the _plaza_ to watch our work and use his influence in our
behalf. When it was dinner-time, he invited us to go with him to that
meal. We had thought that the donation party we had witnessed was a
generous one; after that dinner, we had no doubt of the matter. Hardly
had we disposed of the many good things on the table when the _padre_
took us to a large room, the parish schoolhouse, and showed us the
arrangements he had made for our comfort. Four beds, descending in grade
of comfort from the one for myself to the one for Manuel, were shown us.
Never was a party happier to move from one set of quarters to another.
Called away the next morning by his religious duties, the priest left
us in charge of house and household. The work went merrily on in the
_plaza_. We quickly found, however, that the town was getting into a
condition of intoxication, and long before noon every person in
the place was drunk. At noon we were waited upon by a committee,
representing the town, who informed us that they appreciated the lofty
honor which was conferred on the place by our presence, and stated that,
realizing that we had brought with us letters from the President of the
Republic and from the Archbishop of the diocese, they desired not to be
lacking in the respect due to such distinguished visitors. Accordingly,
they said, they had arranged for the brass band to discourse sweet music
for us, while we ate our dinner. No sooner was the statement made, than
preparations were begun. The band stood around us in a semi-circle,
chiefly notable for its unsteadiness on its legs, and regaled us with a
series of most doleful pieces. When word came that dinner was ready
at the _curato_, the band accompanied us to our stopping-place. The
bandmaster announced his intention of personally serving us at the
table. At the same time orders were given that the musicians, standing
without, should continue to play pieces throughout the repast.
[Illustration:]
[Illustration:]
The last day of our stay at Tilantongo, the _padre_ stated that it must
be interesting to see the way in which a parish priest, returning from a
visit to a neighboring town, is received by his parish. Accordingly, he
planned that a picture should be taken of himself on horseback, with all
the people gathered around welcoming him. Telling us that he would
be ready when we should have made our own preparations for this
photographic effort, he waited for our summons. We quickly found,
however, that the proposition, although hailed at first with joy, did
not create great enthusiasm. We recommended to the people that they
should get ready; told the musicians that the band should be prepared,
and that soon we should send for the _padre_ to be welcomed. When we
finally succeeded in getting the matter under way, and were seriously
thinking of summoning the reverend gentleman, it was reported that
an old woman had been found dead in her lonely hut that morning, and
arrangements were at once started for her funeral. In vain we suggested
that they should wait until the picture had been made. Musicians and
parishioners alike disappeared, going down to the house where the dead
body lay. The afternoon was passing. It would soon be quite too dark for
a picture. Meantime, the _cura_, having become anxious in the matter,
hastened from his house on foot, to ask why he had not been sent for. On
our explaining that a funeral was in progress, he was greatly outraged.
We pointed out the house in front of which the funeral procession was
now forming. He stood watching, as the line of mourners approached. The
person who had died was an aged woman named Hilaria. The body was borne
upon a stretcher, as coffins are not much used among these people. The
procession came winding up the high-road, where we stood. The band in
front was playing mournfully; next came the bearers, two of whom, at
least, were sadly drunk. The corpse was clad in the daily garments of
the woman, and the body sagged down through gaps in the stretcher; a
motley crowd of mourners, chiefly women, some with babies in their arms,
followed. One man, walking with the band in front, carried a book in his
hand and seemed to read the service, as they slowly passed along. When
the procession had come near us and was about to pass, the _padre_
stopped it; expressing his dissatisfaction at the failure to arrange for
the photograph which he had ordered, he told the bearers to take the
corpse out behind the house and leave it there. They did so, returned,
and were arranged in a group with the _padre_ in their midst, and
photographed, after which the body was picked up again, the procession
was reformed, and proceeded as if nothing had happened.
The following morning at six o'clock we were again upon the road. We
first descended into the valley, passing the miserable hut from whence
the dead woman had been borne. In all the yards we noticed peach-trees
loaded with their pink blossoms. From the deep and narrow valley, we
began to climb steadily upward. We passed along the side of a gorge,
the bed of which had all the appearance of a giant stairway. Higher and
higher we mounted, leaving San Juan Diusi on our right. Great masses of
gray clouds hung upon the summits of the highest mountain, their lower
line coming very nearly to our level. The wind beginning to blow, the
gray mass soon was whirled and spread down like a great veil around us.
We were indeed glad when we began to descend and have a little shelter
behind us, against the wind, and dry skies instead of damp clouds above
us. Making a sudden descent, we found ourselves in a cleared district,
where the only trees left on the high summits were palms, which bore
little round dates with round seeds; these were quite sweet and good.
Small ranches were scattered, here and there, along the road. After
another descent and ascent, we found ourselves in an extensive forest of
great gnarled oaks, thickly covered with tufts of air-plants and with
orchids. Many of the latter were in full bloom, forming masses of
brilliant color. In making the descent from here, we found the slope
composed of slippery limestone, with sharp, rain-channeled surfaces,
where our horses with great difficulty kept their footing. Soon after we
were down, we reached San Bartolo.
This purely Mixtec town was a delightful spot. It is large, and strung
along two or three long straight streets.
[Illustration: THE PEOPLE RECEIVING THEIR PADRE; TILANTONGO]
The houses were in yards completely filled with fruit
trees--_chirimoyas, limas, granadas de China, ahuacates_ and oranges.
Garden-beds of spinach, lettuce, and onions were frequent. The houses
were of poles set upright, with thick thatchings of palms. Bee-hives in
quantity were seen at almost every house. At Tilantongo we had seen but
few women in native dress. Here almost every woman was clad in native
garments, many of which were beautifully decorated. The men wore
brilliant sashes, woven in the town. When we reached the town-house we
found the doorway decorated with flowers,--stars and rosettes made of
palm. We were well received, and a capital dinner was soon served, after
which we were escorted around the town by the authorities, who arranged
for photographing everything that seemed to us of interest. But, at
three o'clock, we left this pretty spot. Again, we climbed much of the
way over limestone roads. Santo Domingo, past which we journeyed, is a
mean little town, with houses much like those of Tilantongo, but of a
gray color instead of reddish-brown. From here we plunged downward, and
when we ascended again, followed along the side of a rock-walled cañon
with pretty cascades and magnificent masses of fallen rock. The last
part of our journey was made by moonlight, along a brook-side over
a road which seemed quite endless. With some trouble, we found the
dilapidated old church and the municipal house; we took possession of
the school, and after a miserable supper, thoroughly tired, lay down to
rest upon the benches.
The town--Magdalena de los Comales--is so named from the _comales_, or
earthenware griddles, made there. Besides this characteristic product,
the town makes a good deal of unglazed but polished red pottery. The
forms are chiefly candle-sticks, censers and toys. Much weaving of palm
is here done, and the hats of the place are rather famous. Famous,
too, are the _mantas_, or women's dresses, of black wool, made in long
rectangular pieces. The common grade sells for $6.00, and in using it,
it is, like indian dresses generally, simply wrapped about the figure
and held in place by a sash or belt.
Nowhere in our journey in southern Mexico had we met with the kind of
scenery which we encountered between Magdalena and Tlaxiaco; its whole
character was like that of New Mexico. Directly behind the town was
a fine cart-road, worn in red sand pumice; before the town rose a
magnificent cliff, which had been a landmark in our journey of the day
before. The road running up the mountain, over gray and red pumice
strata, was deeply worn, just like the road back of Cochiti, New Mexico.
Here, too, were the same noble pines for forest. It was a full hour's
climb to the summit, where we found a pretty brook tumbling over ledge
after ledge into deep round basins of purest water. A long and rather
gentle slope downward led to a valley filled with neat farm-houses and
cleared patches. Our last ascent brought us to a mass of rounded hills,
composed of brilliant clays--yellow, brown, pink, red and white. From
among these hillocks Tlaxiaco, a magnificent picture, burst into view.
It is compactly built; the flat-topped houses are white or blue-tinted;
trees are sprinkled through the town; the old convent, with the two
towers of its church, dominates the whole place; a pretty stream flows
along its border; and a magnificent range of encircling mountains hems
it in on all sides. The descent was rapid, and we reached Tlaxiaco with
the morning but half gone.
[Illustration: MIXTEC HOUSES WITH BEEHIVES; SAN BARTOLO]
The _jefes_ of the districts of Mexico are frequently men of ability and
force. Rarely, however, have we encountered one so prompt and energetic
as Javier Cordova, then _jefe_ of the district of Tlaxiaco. When he took
possession of this district, not long before, deeds of robbery along
the high-road were common. In many portions of the district, acts of
violence were quite the rule. Perhaps the largest agricultural district
in the Republic, it possessed few of the conveniences of modern life.
Under Cordova's administration, vast improvements have been made. The
roads are secure, deeds of violence are rare, the advantages of the
district are being rapidly developed, telephone and telegraph have been
introduced, and a railroad is talked of. Although we had no letter
from the governor addressed to Señor Cordova, when we showed him the
communications for other _jefes_, we were received with the greatest
courtesy and everything was done to facilitate our work. We told him
that we planned to visit the Triquis at Chicahuastla. He at once wrote
letters to the town authorities and to Don Guillermo Murcio, living at
that village. The plaster for our bust-making had not yet been received,
but Señor Cordova promised, in case it came, to forward it after us
promptly, and, in case it did not come, to send twenty miles into the
mountains for the raw plaster, which he would have prepared and sent on
to Chicahuastla. It was late in the afternoon, before we started for
Cuquila, where we planned to pass the night. It was a mistake to make so
late a start. For a time, the road was fairly level, but at last we went
up a brisk ascent, reaching the summit near sunset. The road down would
have been a bad one, even in the daytime. As it was, if we had not had a
good moon, we could hardly have made the descent. From the depth of the
cañon we ascended to Cuquila, thoroughly tired, somewhat before seven.
It was with the greatest difficulty that we could find anyone of whom to
ask our way to the town-house. Our voices were sufficient to plunge any
house into instant darkness and silence. After a long search, we found
a man who agreed to seek the _presidente_. He and the rest of the town
officials finally met us on the road, and, after reading our order, took
us to the town-house. It was with difficulty that we got fodder for our
horses. It was only after persistent and dire threats, that we secured
food for ourselves, and firewood to make the room, in which we were to
sleep, endurable. It was long past eleven before we were through our
troubles and lay down on mats to sleep.
Though we had warned the town officials that we should leave at seven,
and must have breakfast before we left, when we arose, we found no steps
whatever taken for our accommodation. Yet the town officials had been
up long enough to be thoroughly affected by their early morning drinks.
Feeling that patience had ceased to be a virtue, we summoned the
authorities, and told the _presidente_ that he had paid no attention
whatever to his _jefe's_ order; that we had had far too much difficulty
in securing the bad accommodations we had been furnished; that their
promise to prepare a suitable breakfast had been completely disregarded.
We told them that our duty was to send immediate complaint to Tlaxiaco;
that we would, however, give them one more chance. We should not stop
for breakfast, but would proceed upon our journey hungry; if, however,
we sent him further orders regarding our return journey, we should
expect them obeyed to the very letter. With this we mounted.
In vain the _presidente_ and officials begged us to wait, promising that
everything should be prepared. Time was too precious, and away we rode.
Soon after leaving Cuquila we struck a fifty-minute mountain, the summit
of which we made at nine o'clock exactly. Here we sat in the shade and
lunched on bread and pineapples, bought the day before in Tlaxiaco. From
the summit, there was a slow and gentle descent around that ridge, and
then a slow incline along an endless ravine, until at last we came
out upon a crest, from which we looked down upon one of the grandest
mountain scenes of the world. A valley of impressive size, surrounded by
magnificent mountain masses, lay below us, and just to the right, at our
feet, was Chicahuastla. Few people in Mexico are so little known as the
Triquis. Orozco y Berra, usually a good authority, locates them near
Tehuantepec, in the low country. The towns which he calls Triqui are
Chontal; the five true Triqui towns are in the high Mixteca. The largest
is the town which we were now approaching. The Triquis are people of
small stature, dark-brown color, black eyes, aquiline, but low and
rather broad nose; they are among the most conservative, suspicious and
superstitious of Mexican indians. Most of them dress in native clothing,
and all speak the Triqui and not the Spanish language. As a people they
are sadly degraded, through being exceptionally addicted to drink.
Don Guillermo Murcio is a character. He and his family are almost the
only _mestizos_ in the place. He is a hale and hearty blacksmith, and
has lived for fifteen years in this purely indian town, where he has
gained almost unbounded influence among the simple natives. His word is
law, and the town-government trembles before his gaze. He is impetuous
in manner, quick-tempered, and on the slightest suggestion of disregard
of his commands, freely threatens jail or other punishment. He received
us cordially, and we lived at his house, where we were treated to the
best that was available.
We have already referred to the beautiful location of Chicahuastla. Its
appearance is most picturesque. Unlike the indian towns in the Mixteca
which we had so far visited, it has many houses of circular form with
conical roof. It is possible that this style of construction is the
result of African influence. At Chicahuastla we were on the very summit
of the great water-shed, and from it, when the air is clear, one may
look down, over a sea of lesser summits and mountain ranges, to the
waters of the Pacific. Along the Pacific coast, in the state of
Guerrero, are whole towns of Africans, descendants of slaves, who build
their houses after the circular pattern, so common throughout the dark
continent. We did not find in the Triquis any admixture of African
blood, but it is possible the mode of house-building may have been
influenced by negro example.
Our first glimpse of the town suggested a veritable paradise. At eleven
the sky was clear, the sun almost tropical, the whole country smiled
under its warm beams; but at two there came a change. Fogs, so dense as
to shut out the view of what was across the road, drifted down from the
summit on which we had seen cloud masses forming. Deeper and deeper,
wetter and wetter, colder and colder grew the mist. All, wrapped in
their thickest blankets, were shivering, crouched upon the ground,
trying in vain to keep themselves warm. At first we thought this might
be a rare occasion, but were assured that it is an every-day occurrence,
and from our own experience of four or five days, we can easily believe
the statement to be true. How any people can live in such a spot,
suffering keenly twenty hours in the day, simply for the four hours of
clear sunshine and warmth is inexplicable; and the nights were torments!
Don Guillermo's house is well built of logs and plaster, but no house
could keep out that bitter cold night air which chilled us, as we lay in
bed, until we could hardly move.
[Illustration: DON GUILLERMO AND HIS FAMILY; CHICAHUASTLA]
[Illustration: GROUP OF TRIQUIS; CHICAHUASTLA]
We have already stated that the people of Chicahuastla are conservative
and superstitious. Our operations of measuring, photographing and
bust-making filled the town with alarm and concern. It was hard enough
to get our male subjects; the women were yet more difficult. At first
we failed to secure any, but after we had several times told the town
officials that twenty-five women must be forthcoming for measurement,
and Don Guillermo had stormed and threatened, the town-government began
to plan a mode of carrying out our wishes. Close by Don Guillermo's
house was the miserable little village _plaza_, where the women of the
town assembled with corn-cakes and other articles for trade. There, they
met the travelling peddlers coming from Tlaxiaco, from Cuquila and the
coast, and drove their bargains, mostly a matter of trade, not purchase,
with them. Waiting at the place where we were working, until one or two
women were to be seen in the _plaza_, the town officials separated,
going in two directions. In a few minutes an anxious watcher, from our
point of view, might have seen a gradually contracting circle of men
surrounding the _plaza_. Usually at the same time that this circle was
evident to the watcher, it became also evident to the women. With cries
of terror, the poor creatures would start off as fast as their legs
would carry them, over the mountain trails, with the whole town
government, sixteen strong, in pursuit, with yells and screams. It was
like nothing but the chase of deer by hounds. Usually, the women, given
strength by terror, escaped; but once out of three times, perhaps, the
officials returned in triumph with their prisoner in their midst, who
was at once measured and then, if need be, photographed. In course of
time these hunts supplied the twenty-five victims desired.
It might not be uninteresting to describe the events of a single
afternoon in a Triqui town. On one occasion, having eaten dinner, we had
scarcely begun our work when we heard a great uproar and din upon the
road toward Santo Domingo. Looking in that direction, we saw a crowd of
men and boys struggling toward us. As they came nearer, we saw that
six or eight of the party were carrying some awkward and inconvenient
burden. It was a man, sprawling face downward; two or more held his
arms, an equal number his legs; about his waist a belt, knotted behind,
was tied, and then through the knot was thrust a strong pole, which was
being carried by two men, one on either side. Struggling against those
who carried him, raising his face and snarling and gnashing at the
crowd, the prisoner presented a fearful spectacle. It seemed that, being
drunk, he had quarreled with his friend, whom he had nearly murdered
with his _machete_. About the middle of the afternoon we heard a loud
crying in the other direction, toward the church and jail, and, on
looking, saw coming toward us a man, whose head was broken open and from
it was streaming blood, his head and face were covered, and his white
shirt, to the waist and even below, was soaked with the red fluid. He
was wringing his hands and crying in a piteous manner. When he came to
where we stood, he told his tale of woe. He was the majordomo in charge
of the church property. He had expected that the priest would make his
visit to the pueblo on that day, and had so announced it to the people;
the pious parishioners looked forward, with interest, to the coming of
the _padre_. When the day passed, however, and the priest failed to
appear, one of the more religious felt so outraged that he had
broken open the head of the majordomo with a club, on account of his
disappointment. We told the poor fellow to go home and let his wife
clean him up and change his clothing, promising that, if he died, his
assailant should be punished. That evening there was a little moonlight
at Chicuhuastla, the only time during our stay. As we sat eating supper,
we heard an outcry in the direction of the church and jail. Asking Don
Guillermo what might be the cause, he replied that there was probably
some trouble at the jail. We insisted on going to see what might be
happening. Don Guillermo, the plaster-worker, Mariano, Manuel and I,
seizing whatever weapons were convenient at hand, started for the jail.
We found an excited crowd gathered around the doorway. On a log before
the door there sat a creature crazy-drunk. I have never seen a case more
horrible. He screamed, yelled, gnashed his teeth, struck and snapped
at everyone around. The whole village stood in terror. I addressed the
policemen, who seemed quite helpless. "Why not thrust him into the jail?
Quick! Seize him! In with him!" Encouraged by our words, they seized
him, the door was quickly opened, and he was cast into the little room,
which already contained more than thirty persons, the harvest of a
single afternoon. When the door was locked, we saw for the first time
why the policemen had been so timid. One of them came limping up to us,
crying, and showed his leg. From its fleshy part a good mouthful of
flesh had been cleanly bitten by the madman. The wound was bleeding
profusely, and the poor fellow wrung his hands and cried with pain.
[Illustration: VIEW AT CHICAHUASTLA]
We had finished our measurements and photographs, but there had been no
sign as yet of the plaster; concluding that Señor Cordova had forgotten
his promise, we were prepared to leave town early the next morning.
After dark two men came from Tlaxiaco, one of whom brought sufficient
plaster for making two good busts. This plaster had been brought, in
a crude state, twenty miles from the mountains to Tlaxiaco; had been
calcined and ground there, by prisoners in the jail, and then sent
fifteen miles to us over the mountains. We were interested in the men
who brought it. One of them was a prisoner from the Tlaxiaco jail. He
had been sentenced to ten days for drinking, and it was he who carried
the plaster. The other proudly informed us that he was a policeman, and
had come to make sure that the prisoner returned. Thoroughly delighted
at their coming, we broke our custom and gave the men a trifle. Alas,
the day! That very night both men, policeman and prisoner, were thrust
into the local jail, helplessly drunk.
One evening, during our stay at Chicahuastla, Don Guillermo begged me
to go into the kitchen to examine a baby, upon whom he was thinking
of performing a surgical operation. The creature was a boy some three
months old, pure indian. We had heard him crying at night ever since
we had come, but had not seen him. A tumor, or some growth, was on his
neck, below the chin. Don Guillermo handed me the razor, in order that
I might remove the swelling, but I refused the task. The story of the
child is sad. It is the son of a young indian boy and girl, not married.
That would not be a serious matter among the Triquis. For some reason,
however, the mother did not like the child, and scarcely was it born,
when she went with it into the forest; there in a lonely place she
choked it, as she thought, to death, and buried it in the ground. The
town authorities, suspecting something of her purpose, had followed her
and were watching at the moment. No sooner had she left the spot than
they dug up the child, found it still alive, and brought it to Don
Guillermo, who had kept it at the town's charge.
The last night of our stay at Chicahuastla, just after supper,
a cavalcade came to the door. It was the _jefe_ of the next
district--Juxtlahuaca--with a guard of six mounted men. Apparently a
pleasant fellow, he was at the moment excited over a recent disturbance
in his district. In an attempt which he had made to adjust a certain
difficulty, he and his guard had been fired on and stones thrown
from the height above them, by the people of the pueblo. One of his
companions died from the effect of the attack. The officer plainly
feared an outbreak or uprising, and was nervous and uneasy, though Don
Guillermo assured him that in his house there was absolutely no danger.
Finally, we quieted down and all went to bed, we with the intention of
an early start the next morning.
[Illustration: AT WORK; MEASURING]
[Illustration: AT WORK; BUST MAKING]
After an uneasy night, I awoke about five o'clock. Just as I was
thinking of calling my companions, I felt a faint trembling, which
rapidly increased to a heavy shaking, of the house in which we slept.
There was a moment's pause, and then a second shaking, which began
stronger than the other, but which lasted about the same time. It was
the most serious earthquake shock we ever experienced in Mexico. Had the
house been made of brick and plaster, considerable damage might have
been done. Everyone was wide awake in an instant. The whole town was in
excitement. The church-bell was rung and the people flocked out into the
street. The shock passed at exactly 5:20, and, in other towns, notably
in Oaxaca, it did considerable damage.
Two days before, we had sent word to the authorities at Cuquila, that we
should breakfast with them on our way back to Tlaxiaco, and ordered them
to be ready for our coming. This was the opportunity which had been
promised them for redeeming themselves and avoiding complaint to their
_jefe_. Arriving at the town at 9:40, we were met at the roadside by
some of the officials, who led us at once to the town-house. Here the
whole town government was gathered to greet us; politely each one,
stepping forward, removed his hat and kissed my hand; they then invited
us to sit down at the table and breakfast,--whereupon eggs, chicken,
_tortillas_ and _frijoles_--the best the town could supply--were set
before us. The whole government sat by, looking on as we ate.
Immediately after breakfast, in accordance with our order previously
sent, we were taken to see a potter at work. Cuquila is famous for two
lines of manufacture, pottery and woolen garments. The pottery here made
is skillfully shaped into wonderfully large vessels of different forms.
The product goes throughout this whole district, and even down to the
Pacific coast, a hundred miles distant. Along the roads it is a common
thing to meet parties of three or four men carrying great loads of
water-jars, large bowls, etc., for sale or trade. While we were
inspecting the potter's work, a slight shock of earthquake, almost too
gentle to be noticed, passed through the place.
At Cuquila, we found that we should not meet Señor Cordova at Tlaxiaco.
He had passed through the town the night before, on his way to
Juxtlahuaca, with a band of soldiers to assist his neighboring _jefe_ in
maintaining order.
Leaving our Cuquila reprobates in friendly and gentle mood, we started
for Tlaxiaco, where we arrived at half-past two. Something after four
o'clock, we heard a violent ringing of the church-bell and saw the
people flocking out onto the streets; looking up at the church-tower,
although we did not feel the shock, we saw that the whole church was
being violently shaken, and that the ringing bells, which we had heard,
were not moved by human hands. This third shock of the day was more
strongly felt in other districts, than with us. In the City of Mexico,
three hundred miles away, it was the most severe of the day.
The whole town was in commotion; people threw themselves upon their
knees in the streets and prayed to the Virgin for protection. Later
in the day, we saw a priest and a saint's figure passing through the
streets, and as they passed the people paid reverence. Surely the little
procession, illegal though it was, must have been successful, for there
were no further shocks. We found here a most interesting superstition,
which we had not met before, but which we heard several times later, in
other districts. We were assured that the earthquake was but one of many
signs that the world was coming to an end. We discovered that thousands
of the people expected the ending of the world in 1900, and when we
asked why, were reminded that this was the last year of the century.
This is certainly a survival of ancient superstition. The old Mexicans
did not count their years by hundreds or centuries, as we do, but by
cycles of 52 years each. It was believed that the world would come to an
end at the close of a cycle, and important ceremonies were conducted
to avert such a catastrophe. It is clear that the old idea, of the
destruction of the world at the close of a cycle, has been transferred
to the new mode of reckoning time.
[Illustration: VIEW AT CHICAHUASTLA]
From Tlaxiaco to Teposcolula, there was a cart-road, though it was
possible that no _carreta_ ever passed over it. It presented little good
scenery. We passed the pueblos of San Martin Jilmeca, San Felipe, and
San Miguel. Just before reaching the first of these towns, the road
passes over a coarse rock mass, which weathers into spheroidal shells.
At Jilmeca and some other points along the day's route the rock over
which we passed was a white tufaceous material loaded with streaks of
black flint. Sometimes this black flint passes into chert and chalcedony
of blue and purple tints. Here and there, along the mountain sides,
we caught glimpses of rock exposures, which looked snow-white in the
distance. Between Jilmeca and San Felipe there was a pretty brook, with
fine cypresses along the banks, and a suspension bridge of great logs.
Having passed through San Felipe and San Miguel, a pleasant road,
through a gorge, brought us to the valley in which Teposcolula lies. The
great convent church, historically interesting, is striking in size and
architecture. The priest, an excellent man, is a pure-blooded Mixtec
indian, talking the language as his mother tongue. With great pride
he showed us about the building, which was once a grand Dominican
monastery. The old carved wooden cupboard for gold and silver articles,
used in the church service, is fine work. The gold and silver articles
for which it was built have long since disappeared. In the _patio_ are
many old paintings, most of which are badly damaged, and some of which
have been repaired with pieces cut from other pictures, not at all like
the missing piece. Among these pictures is a series of scenes from the
life of Santo Domingo. Of the figures in the church, two are fairly
good; one, which is famous, represents Our Lady of the Rosary. In a
little chapel are buried the remains of the old friars; here also is a
beautiful old carved confessional. In front of the old church is a great
court surrounded by a stone wall, which is surmounted here and there
with little, pointed, square pillars. To the right of the church is a
mass of masonry, in reddish-brown freestone, consisting of a series of
arches, now more or less in ruins. When the convent was at the height
of its splendor, the crowd of worshippers was too large for the church
itself, and these beautiful arches were erected to receive the overflow.
In the church itself, the plaster in the domes of the towers and the
coloring on the walls and domes had chipped and fallen, on account of
the earthquake, the day before. In the ruins of the upper rooms of the
convent proper, stone and mortar, dislodged from the decaying walls by
the same shocks, lay in little heaps on the floor.
The _cura_ had ten churches in his charge. He says there are 2,000
people in Teposcolula, few of whom are indians. In his ten churches,
he has 12,000 parishioners. He seemed a devout man, and emphasized the
importance of his preaching to his congregation in their native tongue
and his. So convinced is he that the native idiom of the people is the
shortest road to their heart and understanding, that he has prepared a
catechism and Christian doctrine in the modern Mixtec, which has been
printed. The town itself is desolate; the _plaza_ is much too large,
and dwarfs the buildings which surround it, and signs of desolation
and decay mark everything. With the fondness which Mexicans show for
high-sounding and pious inscriptions, the municipality has painted,
upon the side of the town-house, in full sight for a long distance, the
words, "Nations to be great and free must be educated." From here to
Nochixtlan there was nothing of special interest. For some four leagues
the road was through a gorge; from this valley we mounted to the height,
just before reaching the town of Tiltepec, from which we caught an
extensive view down over the great valley in which Nochixtlan and this
town lie. From Tiltepec we had a rather tiresome, hot, and painful ride,
passing San Juan Tillo and Santiago Tillo. By half past one we were
again in the city of Nochixtlan.
[Illustration: TRIQUI CHILDREN; CHICAHUASTLA]
[Illustration: MIXTEC POTTER; CUQUILA]