On the Mexican Highlands Part 5

The night was cold, almost frosty. On these high tablelands, a mile and a half above the sea, the radiation of the sun's heat is rapid and, the year round, by morning the thermometer is usually close to thirty-nine degrees (Fahrenheit).

We were up betimes, out of the town, and among cultivated fields and orchards and pine and oak woods again, before the sun became at all oppressive.

As yet, I have not seen many birds in Mexico, only the waterfowl along the lakes and a few finches in the thickets along the way. To-day we have traveled in company with many ravens. Tame and companionable they are, so usual is the sight of mules and men along this frequented highway.

Santa Clara is close to the height of land. Seven thousand two hundred feet above the sea, my aneroid declared, and from that alt.i.tude we began to descend. The thirty miles to Ario is one steady decline, a gradual fall of twelve hundred feet.

This whole country hereabout is held in vast _haciendas_ of thousands of acres, and is chiefly owned by nonresident landowners who rarely, if ever, visit their possessions, but trust entirely to overseers to manage and work them and wring an income from the hapless peon. It is a land of great fertility. Only the most primitive methods of agriculture are employed, and work is done in the most inefficient way. Yet huge incomes are withdrawn from the land, and spent by the distant _haciendado_ in his city home in Mexico, or in Paris, or Madrid. These lands are said to be marketable (buyable) at about ten dollars (Mexican) per acre, say four dollars in United States money.

As I have been riding along, viewing mile after mile of this superb fertility in a climate temperate all the year around, I have pondered much on what a garden it might have been, and it yet may be, if ever the thrifty American shall have it in possession.

Toward noon we began to gain a wider view of the landscape opening before us toward the south and west. Our alt.i.tude was steadily lessening and, many miles distant, seemingly, there was a sudden falling away of the land to profound and indefinite depths, whence came the impression of tropical verdure, the whole expanse backed on the horizon by blue and jagged lines of lofty mountain chains, peaks and summits which sometimes pierced the zenith, far to the southwest.

They were the mighty Cordilleras of Guerrero, a hundred miles away and barring from view the Pacific Ocean just beyond. On a day wholly clear, it is said, the snow-capped cones of Colima may be seen, also, far to the northwest, but gaze as we might we could catch no glimpse of the mighty volcano.

Thousands of cattle are raised in Mexico, and we pa.s.sed many extensive herds being driven toward Patzcuaro. They were urged on by vociferous _vaqueros_, swearing musically the immense and c.u.mbrous Spanish oaths--yet have we seen almost no milch cows and the few we saw were those gathered in a _corral_ hard by a wide thatched-roofed building, known as a "milk ranch," an establishment where milk is gathered and s.h.i.+pped to nearby Ario, and b.u.t.ter and cheese are made for immediate sale. A cross upon the gable denoted it to be under the protection of the Virgin and I hope a.s.sured milk unadulterated to its patrons. From my saddle I caught a snap shot of the ranch and send you the pretty picture.

Our road now showed signs of being in better repair. Finally, the maze of intricate paths along which we had traveled, coalesced, and the ancient pavement now appeared intact. On either hand, tall wide-spreading ash trees arched over the perfect road, carven stone benches stood beneath them, and we found ourselves entering the important town of Ario. It is a place of more than five thousand inhabitants, the county seat of the District, the home of the _Jefe Politico_ (the "political chief," mayor, governor, boss and judge), through whose iron-handed rule the central government of Diaz maintains its firm control.

We pa.s.sed an ancient church, turned to the right, entered a wide doorway and halted in a well-flagged court, in the center of which a fountain played amid many flowering plants and cages of gay-feathered birds. It was the hotel Morelos. We were at the end of our journey in the Highlands. We were come to the last town in the _Tierra Fria_. We were on the brink of the hot country, the _Tierra Caliente_, which lay stretched out beyond us, one short day's ride and below us six thousand feet.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A MILK RANCH--NEAR ARIO]

X

A Provincial Despot and His Residence

CUYACO, MICHOACAN, MEXICO, _November 28th_.

Day before yesterday, I wrote to you from the curious and most ancient town of Ario, but did not tell you all I might, for lack of time. The city stands upon the verge of the highlands, the _Tierra Fria_. When the Spaniards founded it, several centuries ago, they placed it, with strategic judgment, at that point which would enable it to command the several trails which here descend to the lowland hot country and lead on to the Pacific. They placed it on a sloping hillside, as was their wont, the better to insure more perfect drainage, for, in those days, the sanitary engineers of old Spain knew better how to a.s.sure healthful cities than did the more barbarous English and the less civilized peoples of North Europe.

The streets of Ario, including every alleyway, are paved with sharp, flat stones, set on edge, wedged fast, the pavement running from wall to wall with a low stone gutter in the middle, into which open all the drains from the houses on either side. Along these central gutters are turned streams of ceaselessly flowing water, keeping the city constantly clean. This same sort of street paving and drainage prevails wherever possible in every Mexican city. To every town of consideration, water is carried, anciently, by substantial and often costly aqueducts; modernly, through pipe lines carefully laid. During the centuries of Spanish dominion these towns and cities have enjoyed a supply of water, pure, abundant and free to the poorest inhabitant.

There are no water rates in Mexico. Water is regarded as one of the gifts of G.o.d to which every man and beast has an inalienable right. To charge for it, would be regarded as indecent and criminal. At the Rancho Tejemanil, I offered a boy a _centavo_ for bringing me a cup of cold water. He refused to take the coin and let it drop upon the ground, rather than disgrace himself by so much as touching it. He turned away, the coin lying where it fell. I apologized to the master of the house for having done such a thing as offer money for a drink of water. He answered, saying, "_Si, Si Senor!_" "Water is indeed a gift of G.o.d, for which no man should be asked to pay."

Although Ario is in the neighborhood of extensive forests of pine and oak, yet all the buildings are constructed of stone and cement, mortar and adoby sun-dried brick. Indeed, I have seen no wooden buildings in Mexico. Consequently, there pervades Mexican cities, towns and even villages an air of substantial solidity, quite lacking in American wooden towns.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE AUTHOR--PLAZA GRANDE--ARIO]

We brought letters to the Jefe Politico, _Senor Don_ Louis Salchaga, the despot of the county and governor of the iron hand. He was of large physique; tall, broad-shouldered, firmly knit, with strong, square chin and commanding eye. His hair was gray almost to whiteness; and a sweeping mustache, re-enforced the general impressiveness of his countenance. He was clad in a linen undress military uniform. He greeted us with courtly Spanish graciousness. He lives in a two-storied stone house at the intersection of two streets, one of which leads from the _plaza_. Entering through a narrow doorway, at the side, we found ourselves in a small, cement-paved room, whose stone walls perhaps, in years gone by, were white with lime. Don Louis sat at a table scrutinizing papers handed him by a dark-faced youth, who stood at his side. As we entered he hastily signed them, pushed them toward the clerk and rose to greet us. We learned afterwards what the doc.u.ments were, one of them a decree settling a lawsuit, the other an order that a prisoner be transferred from one jail to another some miles distant. Such an order is equivalent to a death warrant in this land of the iron hand. On the way, the prisoner is said to have "tried to escape." Necessarily they have been forced to shoot him. He is buried where he falls.

_Don_ Louis pressed us to dine with him that evening at seven o'clock, having first politely inquired of my Spanish-speaking friends whether "_El Senor de Estados Unidos tiene dinero?_" (Does the gentleman from the United States possess money?) My friends replied, "_Si, Si, Senor, mucho dinero_," ("Yes, yes, sir, much money;") so we were asked to dine! Probably, of all people upon this planet none are more expert in extracting the _dinero_ from the American pocket than are the gracious Latins of the south. If you have money, the laws open wide their gates, and all government officials pat you on the back, meanwhile filching just a little from your unsuspecting pocket. Even the _Padre_ and the Archbishop, for the proper toll of gold, will shove you through the quicker to the gates of Paradise.

At seven o'clock it was dark; the stars glowed big; the moon was not yet up. The city was ablaze with electric lights. On this second visit we did not go to the office door, but entered the wide-arched entrance for man and beast. We came into the usual square _patio_, where waters plashed and tropical plants, many of them in flower, were set about in pots. _Don_ Louis greeted us as we entered. He shook hands twice all round. He led us across the court to the far side and into the dining room, a stone and cement-walled chamber with stone-flagged floor, wholly without adornments. No cloth covered the plain wooden table. There were wooden benches along the wall on either side. He introduced us to his wife, _Dona_ Maria, and a little grandson of twelve years. The _Dona_ was tall, for a Mexican woman, and stout. Her hair was white, parted in the middle and brushed smoothly back from her forehead. She wore a light muslin of white. She displayed no jewels, although undoubtedly possessing them. _Don_ Louis wore an immense diamond on his left middle finger, while a heavy gold chain about his neck secured a big gold watch.

Our hostess could speak no English, but our host said he could read it and understood it "spoken very slow, a leetel;" "but the grandson," he said, "had a tutor who was teaching him English,--a young man who had lived six months in Texas at San Antonio and there mastered the northern tongue!" The meal was simple. A very good soup, redolent of garlic and peppers, was followed with boiled rice and stewed chicken, a _dulce_, some really delicious preserved guavas, and cheese. Then cups of hot water and the small pot of coffee essence were set before us, and we "coffeed" the water to suit our taste. Just when I presumed we were at an end, a servant entered and set before each of us a soup plate of _frijoles_, with a big spoon. No Mexican considers a dinner properly concluded without _frijoles_. I had heard of _frijoles_. I had been told that _tortillas_ and _frijoles_ were the staff of Mexican life. Now the _frijoles_ were before me. What were they? My plate contained nothing but large black beans floating in a thin soup.

Perhaps the water should have been poured off, I do not know, but the beans floated and the liquor was thin. And _Don_ Louis ladled them into his mouth with evident relis.h.!.+ _Vivan frijoles!_

_Don_ Louis had resided in Ario three years. He came from the state of Toreon. How long would he remain in Ario? He did not know. _Quien sabe?_ El Presidente Diaz sent him here and there, into such States and Districts as might be in need of a trusted lieutenant whose smile was beneficent, whose hand was proven steel.

In response to the letters we bore, _Senor Don_ Louis gave us other letters to the chief men of the _Distrito_--a sort of circular blanket letter--and hinted that he would go part of the way with us next day, which, it came to pa.s.s he did.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE DISTANT CORDILLERA]

Later in the evening, we also called upon _Senor Don_ Juan Rodrigues Tarco, one of the leading citizens of Ario, a lawyer of distinction, and who gave us letters to the superintendent of the Mina El Puerto, at Churumuco, on the river Balsas. We met him at his house. Through an unpretentious doorway, which you might drive through, we came into a _patio_ with many flowering plants and palms and a fountain. Near the entrance, on the left, we entered the reception room. This was a large high-ceilinged chamber with handsomely tiled floor, palmetto rugs, modern French furniture of cane, walls and ceiling frescoed in good taste. There were some good pictures on the walls, a new upright piano, and several mahogany book-cases, whose shelves were well filled with books, mostly in Spanish, a few in French and English. There were porcelain vases and handsome modern lamps. In any city, this would be regarded as a room of elegance, and to think that every luxury we looked upon had been carried more than fifty miles over frightful trails, upon the backs of men and mules!

_El Senor_ was a small dark man, alert in his movements and quick of mind, a gentleman, having wide knowledge concerning the mineral wealth of Michoacan. He studied in the Universities at Morelia and Mexico City. He was a liberal in politics, and spoke with enthusiasm of modern Mexico, her mineral resources, the awakening of her industries, the growth of her commerce. He read French and English, but spoke only Spanish. His sons were away at school, in Toluca, and were learning English. It is the great desire of the young men of Mexico to learn to speak English, he said. The language is already taught in all the princ.i.p.al schools of Mexico. It is becoming the language of business and commerce. Before many years it will be the chief language of Mexico, and he regretted that he had not himself, while young, been able to master the difficulties of the tongue.

The ancient inn, the Hotel Morelos, where we put up, was built by the Spaniards more than two centuries ago. When we arrived we rode all our six mules and horses right through the big doorway into the interior paved court. Here we turned to the left and stopped at a flight of stone stairs, which went up to the second floor. All our baggage was carried up. A large square room was a.s.signed to us. The walls and floor were of stone. Three narrow iron bedsteads were brought in, each having good woven wire springs, a thin mattress, a sheet, a blanket and a small pillow. Our baggage which the two pack mules had carried was piled in a corner. A table and three commodes, one next each bed, a basin and pitcher of enameled iron, and four chairs completed the furniture, all brought in after our arrival. Big double doors opened on the inner, tile-floored piazza, overlooking the _patio_, and cas.e.m.e.nted windows opened on the little balcony overlooking the street. On our left was another similar chamber, then round the corner, a dining room, then the kitchen, then another large room, the water-closet, with a dozen seats all in a row, used freely by both s.e.xes and no lock to the door! A whole company might use it simultaneously. These places, in Mexico, are always close to the kitchen. I then understood the reason for constant yellow fever in less lofty alt.i.tudes.

[Ill.u.s.tration: BEGGING A CENTAVO]

In the town is a very old and large church with two towers and a great clock. Many women were kneeling along the dusty floor, saying their vespers, when we entered.

An artistic fountain (whose waters are said to be "Holy") carved with lions' heads, plays in the center of the _plaza_. From the _plaza_ one can look over the lower town and far to the southwest, over and into _La Tierra Caliente_ (the hot country) in which we now are. But Ario was cool, and at night I slept in flannel pajamas under two blankets.

We were early astir! and enjoyed an excellent breakfast of coffee, eggs, chicken, rice, _tortillas_--in fact, I may remark that all meals I have thus far eaten off the beaten track of travel in Mexico, are quite as good as any I would get in the mountains of West Virginia. We had the two pack animals loaded, paid our bill, about forty cents each, (one dollar Mexican), mounted into our saddles and filed out of the _patio_ into the street by seven-twenty o'clock.

There we found _El Jefe Politico_ superbly mounted, astride an elegant saddle with red trappings and ta.s.sels. He was accompanied by six cavalrymen on handsome black chargers, in white and blue uniforms, and a company of foot soldiers in white uniforms. With them was the prisoner, a tall dark man, his left hand in a sling and his right hand tied behind to the small of his back. All were lined up awaiting us, to be our escort till late in the day. So we left Ario with dignity and pomp. Whether the prisoner would reach the day's end was an open question.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE JEFE POLITICO AND SOLDIERS]

XI

Inguran Mines--Five Thousand Six Hundred Feet Below Ario

INGURAN MINES, _November 29th_.

From Santa Clara to Ario we had descended one thousand two hundred feet in thirty miles. Now we were again going down. Each mile the country grew more tropical. A fine, rich, rolling land it was, a soil black and fertile; guavas, bananas, coffee, and other like trees began to be common along the road; long lines of monstrous century-plants (maguey), supplying an unfailing source of _pulque_, bordered the roadway on either hand, serving as impenetrable hedges. The _camino_ (road) showed signs of having once been graded and on the slopes it had been paved from curb to curb. Now, as yesterday, all the road is gone, or nearly so. Chasm-like ruts, vast holes, diverse and many paths, give the traveler a varied choice.

Again we met hundreds of loaded horses, mules and _burros_ and scores of men also, bearing crates and heavy burdens upon their backs. They were transporting cocoanuts, and sugar, and brown ocean salt, and palm leaves, and tropical products even from the distant Pacific sh.o.r.es, seven or eight days' journey across the gigantic summits of the Cordilleras far to the southwest. Also, we met trains of pack mules loaded with bags of concentrated copper ore from the mines of this great mineral belt, wherein now I am.

I took many kodaks of these travelers as well as of pa.s.sing incidents.

The Jefe Politico stopped his whole "army," or would have done so, if I had not waved him to come on, for the picture had been taken while he gave his order, "_Instantemente_," greatly to his surprise.

By 11:00 A. M., we reached the Rancho Nuevo, and entered through the big white wall into an extensive courtyard. Here, were already several pack trains, some from the mines, one going on beyond the Balsas River into Guerrero. The journey is from dawn to midday. Then a halt is made, the packs are taken off, the animals cooled,--led slowly about by boys,--then later, the saddles and _aparejos_ (Mexican subst.i.tute for pack-saddle) are taken off and, finally they are watered, and given "roughness" (the stripped dried leaves of maize) to munch, but are not fed with grain till night.

Nothing differentiates the Spanish-Indian civilization of the Mexican--mediaeval and Roman as it is--from the twentieth century civilization of our own modern life, more than the att.i.tude of the two peoples in regard to the suffering of dumb creatures. This I see everywhere and at all times. For example: The Spanish-Mexican knows no other bit to put upon his horse than a cruel combination of rough steel bars and pinching rings sufficient to break the jaw. No horse nor mule, nor _burro_, wearing this cruel device, will pretend to drink a drop of water, nor can he, until it is removed. When you would water your beast, you must dismount, take off the bridle and remove the harsh ma.s.s of iron from his mouth.

[Ill.u.s.tration: TRANSFERRING THE PRISONER]

Pack-animals are rarely shod and are often driven until their hoofs are worn to the quick and their backs are raw and the flesh is chafed away even to the bone. When they can travel no further they are turned out to die or to get well as best they may, no one caring what may be their fate. Hors.e.m.e.n ride the ponderous leathern saddles of the country in the fierce heat of the _Tierra Caliente_ as well as upon the highlands of the _Tierra Fria_. And no one would think, for a moment, of pausing in his journey for the mere reason that his horse's back had become galled and sore, however grievous the wounds might be.

The gigantic spurs with their big blunt points are perpetually rolled with pitiless insistence and an incessant jabbing heel motion along the animal's b.l.o.o.d.y sides.