We had picked out our subjects for modeling before we started on our rounds to measure women; and had left Ramon in charge of that part of our work, staying only long enough to see him make the mould of the first subject. This was an indian, named Juan, the first _alcalde_ of the village. We had carefully explained the operation to our subjects; we had described in detail the sensations and emotions connected with the thing, and thought we had the subjects well prepared. When Juan began, he seemed to have good courage, but we told a young fellow, who sat near and understood Spanish, that he should tell the man certain encouraging things which we repeated to him. The translation was promptly done, and we were therefore much surprised to see our subject's confidence gradually give way to terror. While we were applying the first mould, he began to sob and cry like a child; this was, however, nothing compared with the abject terror and sorrow which he displayed while we were making the face-mould. The tears flowed from his eyes; he sobbed, cried aloud, and we could see the thumping of his heart against his chest. We had never had a subject who took the matter so hardly.

When the operation was completed, we learned the cause of all this trouble. Our interpreter turned out to be a joker, and, while we were telling him encouraging remarks, with which to soothe the subject, he was saying, "Now you will die; pretty soon you will not be able to breathe any more; you will be dead and buried before to-morrow; your poor widow will no doubt feel badly, but probably she will find another quite as good as you." We had always realized the possibility of such misinterpretations, but, so far as we know, this was the only time that our interpreter ever played us false.

On our return from measuring the women, we found that Ramon had made no progress. The three subjects, whom we had selected and left in his charge, under strenuous orders, had taken fright at Juan's experience and fled. We lost two hours in hunting them and bringing them in; and we should not have succeeded then, had it not been for Juan's a.s.sistance.

He seemed to feel that, having undergone the operation, it might ease his position, and decrease possible danger, if he had companions in misery. Finally, at 4:30, long after the hour we had set, we left for Tumbala. We secured six _cargadors_--one each for the four moulds, one for the instruments, and one for the remaining plaster,--as our pack-animals had long since pa.s.sed. Five of them were left to follow at their leisure, on condition that they reach Tumbala early the next morning, but the sixth, a wee old man, who had helped us woman-hunting, went with us, by his own request, to carry the instruments. He was so small that we did not believe he could carry the burden, but he made no sort of trouble about it, trotting along most happily. We had been told that the road was _pura subida_--pure ascent--and so we found it. We were soon in the tropical forest of the Chinantla, and the land of the Mixes, with begonias, tree-ferns, bromelias, and orchids. Here and there, were bad bits of road, deep mud, slippery stones, irregular limestone ma.s.ses. It was dark before we reached Tumbala, and although there was a moon, the mists were so dense that it did little good.

Arriving at 6:45, we found the town a wretched place, with a worthless and nerveless _agente_. This was once the largest of the Chol towns, and we had thought to do the bulk of our work there. It is fortunate, indeed, that we stopped at Hidalgo, because Tumbala is now completely ruined by the contract-labor system, which has sent its men all through the country onto _fincas_. The _agente_ would probably have done nothing for us, but his little daughter, much impressed by our letter from the governor, took an active interest in our welfare, promised to prepare a dinner, and decided him to give us sleeping-quarters in a store-room in the building. He thawed a little after we had eaten, but spoke discouragingly regarding the possibility of working there. He said we would do well to go to El Triunfo; that it would take two days to find indians and bring them to the town; that there were no animals, nothing to eat, no conveniences in Tumbala, in all of which he probably was quite correct. Our _arrieros_ had contracted only to this point from San Cristobal. We urged them to make the further journey, and offered them a price much above the regular, but they wanted to be back in San Cristobal for Holy Week, and a.s.sured us that the roads ahead were the worst that could be imagined, and that they ran the risk of killing all their animals if they went with us.

[Ill.u.s.tration: THE TORO; FRAME AND BEARER; EL TRIUNFO]

[Ill.u.s.tration: PLAYING TORO; EL TRIUNFO]

As we were on the road, a little before we reached Tumbala, we found a company of indian boys making camp for the night. Calling to us, they said that Don Enrique had told them if they saw us on the road, to say that we should keep straight on to El Triunfo, as he had a message for us. We had never heard of Don Enrique, and thought there was some error, but after supper, the _agente_ handed us a letter which had come that afternoon from the gentleman in question. In it we read: "Sir: Mr.

Ellsworth, of the Rio Michol Rubber Co., Salto, asked me by telephone to tell you that he will be waiting for you the 4th of April in La Cruzada, and hopes that you will kindly accompany Mrs. Ellsworth as far as Mexico, and that, in case she would not find a steamer in Frontera, he is going to charter one. Hoping to see you here in Triunfo, and waiting for an answer to La Cruzada, I remain, Yours truly, H. Rau." This was a gleam of light amid our dark affairs. There we were, with all our baggage and instruments, but without carriers, deserted by our _arrieros_, and with no opportunity in Tumbala to secure new animals or helpers; it was like the voice of a friend, to receive this English letter from El Triunfo, and we felt that, if worst came to worst, Don Enrique might help us out.

The room in which we slept was filled with stored stuff and two tables.

On one of these I made my bed, while my companions spread a large _petate_ on the floor, and our little indian carrier put down a small one for himself, as he declared he should not leave us until morning. He had a good supper, and in a fit of generosity, presented Louis with what was left of his package of _posole_. With much enthusiasm, he told us of an "animal" which he had seen and tried to catch upon the road. From his description, it appeared to be an armadillo. Before he lay down on his _petate_, he kissed my hand, wished me a good night's rest, and asked my good-night blessing. He was happy in possession of a _real's_ worth of _aguardiente_, from which, at intervals during the night, he drank.

Early in the morning, he opened the door, and, looking out, crossed himself, and repeated his morning prayer. He then came to _Tat.i.ta_ (little father) to receive his morning's blessing, and hoped that I had pa.s.sed a good night in slumber. He then brought me a _jicara_ of cool, fresh water, after which he urged me to take a sip from his dear bottle.

Going outside a little time, he returned with two roses, heavy with dew and very fragrant, and gave them to me as if they were a gift for kings.

Very soon, however, his potations got the better of him, and bidding us a fond farewell, he started for Hidalgo.

It was my day of fever, and I spent the greater portion of the morning on my hard bed, getting up from time to time to try to move the _agente_ to procure an animal, on which I might make the journey to El Triunfo.

Finally, in despair, after difficulty in securing a foot-messenger, I sent a letter to Don Enrique, asking him to send an animal for my use.

During the afternoon, a fine mule and a letter came from El Triunfo.

"Sir: The boy brought me your letter, and I send you a good mule for yourself, so we shall talk all the rest when you shall get here. If you need more pack-mules I will send them afterwards, as soon as you tell me how many you need. Hoping to see you this afternoon, I remain, Yours very truly, Henry Rau." The road was down hill, and there were but two or three bad spots. I rode through tropical forests, the whole distance, with high trees, bound together with a ma.s.s of vines, and loaded with parasitic or aerial plants. Here and there, rose the largest tree-ferns I have ever seen. I was not in the best mood, however, for enjoying the journey, and the hour-and-a-quarter seemed like much more. The great coffee _finca_ of El Triunfo occupied an irregular valley, the slopes of which were covered with thousands of coffee-trees, with their magnificent dark green leaves and sweet-scented, white flowers. Three hundred and fifty thousand trees made up the plantation, which was one of two owned and managed by Senor Rau. The house was large, and rather pretentious, two stories in height, with buildings for cleaning, packing and storing coffee on the same terrace, and with a veritable village of houses for the indian workmen down below. I received a warm reception from the Senor and his household, who have established here a veritable bit of Germany in tropical America. Not only was I myself cared for, but I was urged to make no haste in going further, as no steamer would go from La Cruzada before the 4th, and it would be easy to reach that place in twenty-four hours. So, for several days the hospitable plantation-house was my home. Great lines of mules were constantly going from here, through to El Salto and La Cruzada, with loads of coffee, and coming back with provisions, and the many supplies necessary for an establishment of this importance. When the next _mulada_ should appear, animals would be sent to Tumbala for my companions and the luggage.

Curiously, none came for two whole days--a very unusual occurrence--and the boys remained prisoners in that dreary town for all that time. For my own part, I was thankful to reach a place where a comfortable bed and certain meals were to be counted on. My fever left me, but the following morning I found myself suffering from swollen jaws; every tooth was loose and sore, and it was difficult to chew even the flesh of bananas; this difficulty I had lately suffered, whenever in the moist mountain district of Pennsylvania, and I feared that there would be no relief until I was permanently out of the district of forest-grown mountains.

Nor was I mistaken, for ten days pa.s.sed, and we had reached the dry central table-land of Mexico, before my suffering ended. One day, while we were on the _finca_, considerable excitement was caused by one of the Indians working in the field being bitten by a poisonous serpent. The man was brought at once to the house, and remedies were applied which prevented serious results, although his leg swelled badly. The serpent was killed, and measured about five feet in length, having much the general appearance of a rattlesnake, but with no rattles. Don Enrique says that the most dangerous snake in this district is a little creature more brightly colored, with a smaller head, which is less markedly flat, and with smaller fangs; he showed us one of these, not more than a foot in length, from whose bite a man on the plantation, a year before, had died. In telling us of this event, he gave us a suggestion of the working of the contract-labor system; the man who died owed one hundred and forty pesos of work--almost three years of labor; the _jefe_, indeed, had sent the son to work out the debt, but the young man soon ran away, and the most diligent effort to recapture him had failed.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHOL WOMEN; LA TRINIDAD]

Perhaps two hundred persons lived as workmen on the _finca_ of El Triunfo. They were, of course, all indians, and were about evenly divided between Tzendals and Chols; it was impossible to gather them for measurement till Sunday, when they all came to the house and the store.

It was a day of amus.e.m.e.nt and recreation for the laborers, a day when all of them--men, women, children--drank quant.i.ties of liquor. It was interesting to watch them as they came up to the store to make their little purchases for the week. All were in their best clothing, and family groups presented many interesting scenes. On Sundays and fiestas, they play _toro_--one man creeping into a framework of light canes covered with leather, meant to represent a bull, while others play the part of bull-fighters. The Chols present a well-marked type. They are short, broad-headed and dark-skinned; their noses are among the most aquiline in Mexico. Men, especially those of Tumbala, have a characteristic mode of cropping the hair; that on the back of the head is cut close, leaving the hair of the forward third of the head longer.

The men are almost immediately recognized, wherever met, by the characteristic _camisa_, made of white cotton, vertically striped with narrow lines of pink, which is woven in the Chol towns, and does not appear to be used by other Indians.

The doors of the hospitable home at El Triunfo are ever open, and a day rarely pa.s.ses without some traveller seeking shelter and entertainment.

Spaniards, Mexicans, Germans, Englishmen, Americans, all are welcome, and during the few days of our stay, the house was never free of other visitors. Among these was Stanton Morrison, famous in Yale's football team in '92; he now lives in this district, and has a coffee _finca_ four hours' ride away.

Finally, at 10:10 Tuesday morning, April 2d, having completed all our work, we started from El Triunfo for our last ride of the season. We could easily have gone, starting in the early morning, to El Salto before night; as it was, Don Enrique planned a different method. We had good animals, which he had loaned us, or for which he had arranged for us with the muleteers. At two o'clock we reached La Trinidad, where he had promised that we should eat the finest meal in the State of Chiapas.

We found a complete surprise. Trinidad is little more than a _finca_, or _rancho_, but it has an _agente_, and quite a population of Chol indians. The _agente_ was a decent-looking fellow, active and ambitious; he talks a little English, and is something of an amateur photographer.

His house of poles and mud presented no notable external features, but within, it was supplied with furniture so varied and abundant as is rare in any part of Mexico. Chairs, rockers, tables, cupboards, washstands, all were there; and beds, real beds, which for cleanness were marvels.

As soon as we entered the house, fresh water and clean towels were brought. On the tables were vases of fresh-gathered flowers, in quant.i.ties, and beautifully arranged. The visible service for all this elegance, and for the meals, were two little indian girls not more than six or eight years old, neatly dressed, and an indian boy of the same size and cleanness. The invisible helpers were buxom indian girls, well-dressed and clean, but who never came into the room where we were, leaving all carrying, setting of tables, and serving, in the hands of these three little servants. There was, indeed, one other person in the household--a beautiful girl, slender and refined, whose relation to the master I do not know, but who was treated by him as if she were a veritable queen, or some lovely flower in the wilderness. Here we rested, ate and slept in comfort, and here, when morning came, we paid a bill which ordinarily would have seemed large; however, if one finds beautiful flowers in the wilderness, he must expect to pay. It was worth while paying to enjoy the best sleep, in the best bed, that one had had for months.

[Ill.u.s.tration: A CHOL FAMILY; LA TRINIDAD]

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHOLS; LA TRINIDAD]

The _agente_ rode with us in the morning quite a league upon our road, to a place which he was clearing for a _milpa_. We had heard so much of the horrors of the road to El Salto, that we were prepared for the worst. It was not an abrupt descent, as we had expected, but for the most part level, over black mud. There were a few ups and downs, and there was one limestone hill with tree-ferns and begonias, and all that that implies. Much of the way we had a drizzling rain, and everywhere the air was hot and heavy. After four hours' riding, we stopped at ten to eat a breakfast which we had brought with us, and then rode through to El Salto, where we arrived at 12:30. This is the _cabecera_ of the district, and the _jefe_ could not understand why we should continue on our journey, as the steamer would not leave until the following day.

Don Enrique, however, had urged us not to stop at El Salto, where he insisted the risk from yellow fever was great. He advised us to go on to La Cruzada, where he had a house and an agent, and where, he told us, we could arrange for sleeping and eating as comfortably, and far more safely, than in the town. The distance was short, but the place, in truth, was dreary. The landing was at the bottom of a little slope, at the upper edge of which stood Don Enrique's place, the store-house of the steamship company, the house and barnyard of the manager of the mule trains, and one or two unattractive huts. When we arrived, we found that the mayor domo had that day resigned, and left the place, going to El Salto; before he left, he quarreled with the cook, and she had gone off in high dudgeon. Two young employes, left behind, advised us to return to El Salto until the time of embarkation. We, however, had left El Salto behind us, and had our luggage with us, and were little inclined to retrace our steps. After some grumbling, we were supplied with beds, but told that the food problem was impossible. After much wheedling, coaxing, bribing, and threatening, a woman in one of the huts promised to cook something for us, and we had nothing more to do but wait, until the steamer should be ready. The chief excitement of the day was when the mule trains were driven in, towards evening. With them came a swarm of mosquitoes, which absolutely darkened the air. Fortunately they did not stay, but after an hour and a half of troubling, disappeared as suddenly as they arrived. The river had fallen to that degree that it was impossible for our steamer, the Mariscal, to come up to La Cruzada, and we learned that it was anch.o.r.ed about a league down the river. A flatboat, poled by indians, came up to the landing, ready to receive cargo and pa.s.sengers, and to transfer them to the steamer. In the morning, the loading of the flatboat and the getting ready for departure, took all our thought. At ten o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Ellsworth, with their baby and two servants, appeared in small canoes, which had been poled by indians from the plantation, several hours' journey up the Michol River. At the last moment, Mr. Ellsworth had decided to accompany his party to the city. When everything was loaded, quite promptly, at twelve o'clock, the flatboat pushed out from its moorings. Mr.

Ellsworth's little launch was standing at the landing, and he invited me to ride in it, with him and Mrs. Ellsworth and the baby, to the steamer.

We started off right proudly in the Miriam, but, alas, pride goes before destruction, and we had hardly left the heavy flatboat a little behind us, when our machinery broke down, and we had to wait until the clumsy scow overtook us, when we became common pa.s.sengers again, and drifted down the stream to the Mariscal, pa.s.sing the Lumeha plantation, an American enterprise.

[Ill.u.s.tration: CHOLS RESTING, LA TRINIDAD]

The Mariscal itself was a little steamer, too small for the pa.s.sengers and freight it had to carry. It had no beds nor cabin; it was dirty and crowded; it had not food enough to feed the first-cla.s.s pa.s.sengers, who paid twenty-five pesos each for their short journey. There was, indeed, no other cla.s.s of pa.s.sengers, only one grade of tickets being sold.

When complaints were made of the accommodations, or lack of all accommodations, the _agente_, who was on the vessel with us, expressed surprise, and seemed profoundly hurt. The stream is full of curves and bends, is broad, and notably uniform in breadth; it has considerable current, and is bordered closely by the tropical forest, except where little clearings have been made for _fincas_. Formerly, caimans, or alligators, were common, but they have become rare, through the diligent hunting to which they have been subjected for supplying skins. Two days are usually taken in the journey to Frontera, though it is not a fifteen hours' run. Mr. Ellsworth arranged for our going directly through, so that, except one stop at a midway station, we made a continuous journey, and drew up at Frontera at 9:50 in the morning.

It is a mean little town, but far cleaner than Coatzacoalcos. Real gra.s.s grows there, and the little plaza is almost a lawn. Last year, when yellow fever was so terrible at Coatzacoalcos, and when, even at El Salto, there were forty cases, there were none here. The town is hot, and during the two days we spent there, our chief effort was to keep cool. The steamer, Mexico, appeared upon the 6th, planning to leave the same day. A norther came, however, and rendered the bar impa.s.sable. In the morning, Easter Sunday, the wind had fallen somewhat. We saw the little celebration at the church, and, learning that the boat was likely to leave at noon, went aboard. At one we started. Sailing down the river, we soon found ourselves between the piers, and the moment of test had come. At the first thump of the keel upon the sand, we doubted whether we should pa.s.s the bar; still we kept along with steam full on and the bow headed seaward; nine times we struck the sandy bottom, but then found ourselves in deeper water, and were again upon the Gulf. The Mexico was just as dirty, the food was just as bad, and the crew just as unaccommodating, as in 1896, when we had our first experience of her.

Rather than lie in the stuffy cabin, I took my blanket out on deck, and rolled up there for the night. Room was plenty, as there were only a score of pa.s.sengers. When we woke, the boat was standing in the harbor of Coatzacoalcos, and we landed to eat a breakfast at the hotel. Through the day, we wandered about town, but were again upon the vessel at four o'clock. We now numbered about a hundred pa.s.sengers, and everything was crowded. In the company was a comic theatre troupe. The day before, a number of the pa.s.sengers had been seasick; on this occasion, three-fourths were suffering, and the decks were a disgusting spectacle.

Still, fresh air was there, and again I made my bed on deck. In the middle of the night, having moved slightly, I felt a sharp and sudden pain in my right temple, exactly as if I had rolled upon a sharp, hot tack. I had my jacket for a pillow, and thought at first that there really was a tack in one of the pockets, and sought, but in vain, to find it. Lying down to sleep again, I presently moved my hand over the blanket on the deck, and suddenly, again, I felt the sharp, burning p.r.i.c.k, this time in my thumb. Certain that it could not be a tack this time, I brought my hand down forcibly, and, rising, saw by the moonlight that I had killed a large, black scorpion. For two hours the stings felt like fire, but by morning had ceased to pain me; then I found two or three of the other pa.s.sengers suffering from similar stings, and reached the conclusion that the Mexico was swarming with the creatures. At dawn, we sighted Vera Cruz, and were soon in the harbor, standing at anchor; at eight o'clock, we stood upon the wharf, and our journeys in Indian Mexico were ended.

[Ill.u.s.tration: INDIAN HUT; SANTA ANITA]

[Ill.u.s.tration: GUADALUPE; DECEMBER 12]

CHAPTER XXVII

CONCLUSION

But it was not necessary to go to distant Oaxaca and Chiapas to find Mexican indians. On the border of the capital city lie Santa Anita, Iztacalco, Mexicalcingo, Ixtapalapa, and a quant.i.ty of other villages and towns, where one may still find Aztec indians of pure blood, sometimes speaking the old language, sometimes wearing characteristic dress, and maintaining, to the present, many ancient practices and customs. At Santa Anita, for example, one may eat _juiles_ and _tamales_, catch a glimpse of indian weddings, and delight his eyes with the fresh beauty of the _chinampas_,--wonderful spots of verdure and flowers--the floating gardens of the ancient Aztecs. Half an hour, or less, in the tram-car takes the traveller to Guadalupe, which may be called the heart of Indian Mexico. There, on the rock of Tepeyac, the Virgin appeared to Juan Diego; there, in the churches, dedicated in honor of that apparition, thousands of indians, from leagues around, gather yearly. On December 12, in the crowded streets of Guadalupe, groups, fantastically garbed as indians, dance in the Virgin's honor, and in their songs and dances, modern though they be, can be found suggestions of the olden time. Now and then, one may witness, what I saw in December, 1895--a group of indian pilgrims from a distant town, singing and dancing to the Virgin, within the great church itself. And near the high altar, where thick gla.s.s plates are set into the floor, letting a dim light into the crypts below, one may see crowds of indians rubbing the smooth surface with their diseased parts to effect a cure.

On the streets of the capital city, one daily sees bands of pure Otomis in rags and filth, bringing their loads of charcoal and of corn to market. Their ugly dark faces, their strange native dress, their harsh language, make on the stranger an impression not easily forgotten.

Reliable figures are wanting as to the number of pure Mexican Indians.

If the population of the Republic be estimated at fifteen millions, it should be safe to say that five millions of this number are indians of pure blood, speaking their old language, keeping alive much of the ancient life and thought. In some parts of Mexico, it almost seems as if what white-blood once existed is now breeding out. The indian of Mexico is conservative; he does not want contact with a larger world; his village suffices for his needs; he is ready to pay taxes for the sake of being let alone, to live in peace, after the way his fathers lived. In his bosom there is still hatred of the white man and the _mestizo_, and distrust of every stranger. The Chamula outbreak in 1868, and the Maya war just ended, are examples of this smouldering hatred. Mexico has a serious problem in its Indians; the solution of the problem has been attempted in various ways, according to whether the population dealt with was Totonac, Yaqui, Maya: it is no small task, to build a nation out of an indian population.

Soon after the publication of my "Indians of Southern Mexico," I had the pleasure of presenting a copy of the book to President Diaz, and of looking through its pictures with him. When we came to the general view of Yodocono, and its little lake, tears stood in the old man's eyes as he said, "Sir, that was my mother's birthplace, and in her honor I have established, at my own expense, two schools, one for boys, and one for girls." Looking at the round huts of Chicahuastla, he shivered, and remarked: "Ah, sir, but it is cold in Chicahuastla." I replied, "Your Excellency, I see that you have been in Chicahuastla." When he saw the Zapotec types, from the District of Tehuantepec, he said: "They are fine large fellows; they make good soldiers; when I was Governor of Oaxaca, I had a body-guard of them." He then told me of the six orphan boys who, in memory of his body-guard, he had adopted and educated; he told me with pride of the success which the five who still live had made, and of the positions they were filling. When he reached the portrait of the little Mixtec, carrying a sack of corn, who, with pride, had told me, in answer to my question, that his name was Porfirio Diaz, the President of the Republic looked long and earnestly at the picture, and I noticed that, when we turned the pages, his finger marked the spot where the likeness of his name-sake was, and, when the book was finished, before closing it, he turned back again, and looked at the little fellow's face. At the first Otomi portrait, he had said: "Ah, sir, but my schools will change the Otomis."

It would be pleasant to have faith in President Diaz' solution of the Otomi problem, but to me it seems doubtful. Of course, I recall with pleasure my visit to the boys' school at San Nicolas Panotla. It was interesting to see those little Tlaxcalan fellows solve problems in alligation and percentage, in bonds and mortgages; but it is doubtful whether any of them, in actual life, will have to deal with blending coffees, or with selling bonds, and cutting coupons. Still, from such indian towns great men have come in the past, and great men will come in the future. Benito Juarez, who laid the foundations on which Diaz has so magnificently built, was a pure-blood Zapotec. From the Aztecs, the Tlaxcalans, Mixtecs, Zapotecs and Mayas, we may hope much in the future.

They were races of achievement in the past, and the monuments of their achievement still remain. But that the Otomi, the Triqui, or the Mixe, should be made over by the schools is doubtful. Personally, I feel that the prosperity of Mexico rests more upon the indian blood than on any other element of national power. That schools will do much to train the more gifted tribes perhaps is true. But there are indians, and indians, in Mexico.

GLOSSARY OF SPANISH AND INDIAN WORDS

abusos. abuses, disturbances.

adios. adieu, good-bye.

agente. agent.

agua. water.

agua bendita. blessed water.

agua miel. lit. honey water, the unfermented juice of the maguey.

aguardiente. a spirituous liquor.

aguas frescas. refreshing drinks.

ahuacate. a fruit, the alligator pear.

aje, or axe. an insect; a greasy ma.s.s, yielding a lacquer-like l.u.s.tre.

alcalde. a town judge.

arbol. tree.

arriero. a convoyer of loaded mules or horses.