THE CHURCH; HUIXQUILUCAN
OTOMI INDIAN; HUIXQUILUCAN
In the olden time Huixquilucan had a bad reputation for highway robberies. A great hill overlooking the town is called the hill of crosses, and here a cross by the wayside usually signifies a place of murder. Many a traveller in the not distant past found his way from here as best he could to the capital city minus burden and money, minus hat and shoes, and sometimes minus clothing. They used to say that from Toluca to the city a man was robbed three times; the first time they took his money, the second his watch and valuables, the third, his clothes. We were told that the church here, the chief church of our Otomi friends, is called "the church of the thieves," and that it was even lately a favorite resort of ladrones, who prayed for blessing upon their thieving expeditions and for release in case they should be taken captive. And not so long ago, among the little silver votive offerings,—eyes, legs, arms, hands,—all given in fulfillment of promises for the cure of ailing members,—one might see little chains and manacles, visible evidence that saint or Virgin had kindly released some fellow, taken in his misdeeds, from a well deserved punishment, in answer to his pious prayers.
Below the station of Dos Rios a little ravine borders the main valley. There, within sight of the track on one side of the ravine lies the stone which long ago "fell from the moon." It is a great boulder, with flat lower surface, and round upper surface, sufficiently large for a considerable party to camp on. The earth is washed away somewhat from below it, and on its under side are rude figures painted in imitation of suns and circles and symbolic designs. It is said that the indians throughout the country around respect this rock, making prayers and offerings to it.
One of Huixquilucan's pretty hamlets is Agua Bendita,—blessed water,—near the upper, narrowing end of the valley. A dozen or so houses compose the settlement. Near it, upon a little side gorge, two lovely springs burst forth from the rock. From them a babbling stream of sparkling water flows, in which, in the bright sunshine, women wash clothes, and lay them out on bushes or grassy banks to dry; little naked children play about while the mothers labor; hither dusky maidens come to perform their toilets; here women fill their ollas with water; here pulque-gatherers wash and scrape their skin bottles. In the little tank below, where the water lies so clear that everything is visible upon its bottom, one may see axolotls creeping. They are water-salamanders, but they have a strange history. Like frogs, they pass through a series of changes, and the larval is very different from the adult form. In some Mexican lakes of genial temperature, the little creature goes through its full history from the larva to the adult; but in cold mountain lakes, the adult form is never attained, and the larva (elsewhere immature) lays eggs that hatch its like.
Our last evening at Huixquilucan, I went out to purchase native garments. We rode from house to house, and were quite away from the town in a district where houses were few and far between. It was nearly dusk and our search must end. We were at the last house on a slope near the bottom of a valley, on whose opposite slope were but a few houses. The people were primitive in appearance, dress and language. They could not understand all we said, but were anxious to please the "padrecito," whose hand they kissed. Having no clothing to sell us, they tried to help us procure some. Orders were given to a shy and wild girl, with deep-set, shining jet-black eyes, raven hair and dark brown skin, dressed in rags. Stepping to a little out-jutting mass of rock, she gave a wild cry, looking across the valley to the nearest house on the opposite slope, fully half a mile away. We could see the people of the house turn out to hear. Then, in a high, clear voice, strangely penetrating, but without harshness or a break or pause for breath, with rising and falling intonation, she cried her message. There was a moment's pause, and then we saw the answering crier take her place, and in the same clear, penetrating, unbroken, up-and-down voice, came back the reply. It was not favorable, and the old man apologized for the failure, as he kissed the padrecito's hand in parting.
Some weeks later we were again at Huixquilucan, this time to secure some busts. Having reached the house of the presidente, we sent out our drunken friend Augustin, who had been useful to us during our measuring experiences, to find subjects. He finally appeared with a man who agreed to submit to the operation for one peso. Everything went well until the moulds were removed; it is true that in the removal a good deal of hair was pulled out, but no serious damage was done. When the peso agreed upon was offered, the subject indignantly refused to receive it, demanding five. I replied that he well understood our agreement: there was his peso; if he cared to take it, good; if not, I would keep it; but that to pay five pesos was out of the question. He thereupon grew angry and boisterously demanded the increased sum. Several of his friends gathered and backed him in his demand. The noise they made attracted a still greater crowd until at last we were surrounded by forty or fifty angry Indians. The man continued to demand his five pesos, the other crying, "Pay him five pesos." I was firm, declaring that the man should receive no more than had been promised. Again the peso was offered, again to be rejected. At that moment some brilliant genius cried, "If you do not pay five pesos we will break your moulds." And the cry was caught up by the angry crowd: "Yes, we will break the moulds unless you pay five pesos." At this threat I told my two companions to stand back out of the way, and then, speaking to him who had suggested the breaking of the moulds, said, pointing to them, "Yes, break the moulds." His ardor cooled. Turning to another, I said to him, "Come, break the moulds." He began to back away. Turning to the cause of the disturbance, who had joined in the cry about destroying the moulds, I said to him, "Come, come, we are waiting for you to break the moulds." No one made a move toward destroying our plaster-work, so I said, "No, you know quite well you will not break the moulds; if you did, you know what would happen; I should take you all as prisoners to Toluca." At that moment, catching sight of the old presidente who was passing on the road, I clapped my hands and beckoned him. When the old man came I laid the matter fairly before him, telling him the agreement that had been made, the time taken for the work, and the fact I had offered the man the peso promised; that he now demanded five pesos, refusing to take the proffered money. The old man looked a moment at me, then at the angry indian; then at me, and again at the indian; then, stepping up to him, he patted him on the back as a father might a spoiled child, saying, "Come, come, son; don't be a fool; three good days' wages for an hour's time; take your peso and be gone." We had feared the incident would cast a damper on our work and hinder other subjects. Far from it. We were supplied as rapidly as our men could work at the same price we paid our first subject.
CHAPTER VI
LAKE PATZCUARO
(1897)
Mexico has few large lakes, the largest, Chapala, having an area of only 1,685 square kilometers. Patzcuaro is much smaller, but far more picturesque. The form is something like a fat horseshoe; fine hills rise around it on all sides, behind which are mountain heights, with jagged outlines; pretty islands dot its waters, and twenty-two villages or towns of Tarascan indians are situated on its borders. The indians of these villages rarely use the land roads in going from town to town, commonly journeying by canoes, of a somewhat peculiar type. These are "dug outs," made from single tree trunks, and range in size from those intended for a single hunter to those which will carry ten or twelve persons. At the stern they are cut almost squarely across; at the bow they are trimmed to a slope; they are flat-bottomed and considerably wider at the bottom than above; they are dug out in such fashion that the walls are thin and almost vertical on the inner side. Buttressing pieces are left at the bottom, at two or three places, extending across the canoe and no doubt strengthening the sides; they also serve as squatting places for the passengers. The prow narrows as well as slopes upward, and a buttressing piece left in it serves as a foot-rest for the steersman, who sits in the bow, instead of in the stern. He steers by means of a long-handled paddle thrust through a loop of wood fastened to one side of the canoe. The paddles used for propulsion have handles three or four feet long, with round blades. The paddlers sometimes make their stroke on but one side of the canoe, sometimes on both. When they paddle over one side only, the stroke of the oar through the water is oblique, maintaining a steady course.
SANTA FE DE LA LAGUNA
In such canoes the Tarascans of the lake villages go from place to place; in such a canoe, we started one morning before six o'clock, for Santa Fe de la Laguna. Our force consisted of three persons, an old man named Felipe, his wife, and a young man. All three had paddles, but only two really paddled, the third one steering. The sun rose shortly after we started, and the light effects of early morning on the water and surrounding mountains were fine. Though we had made an early start, many had started earlier, and in the first part of our journey we met scores of canoes, the paddlers of which were on their way to Patzcuaro. It was a beautiful sight to see six or eight paddlers in some great canoe keeping exact time in their movements, singing as they went. Sometimes two canoes were raced, and laughter and excited cries accompanied the contest. Here and there along the shores we saw little huts of fishermen, with nets hung out to dry, or groups of men seining or dropping dip-nets; upon many slopes were little terrace garden spots, where modest crops were cultivated; here and there were mats lately finished or heaps of fresh-cut rushes for their fabrication. Five hours of good paddling brought us to Santa Fe de la Laguna, just opposite the far more famous Tzintzuntzan, and but a little distance from the much larger town, Quiroga. Santa Fe is quite a town, stretching for a considerable distance along a terrace, but little elevated above the water level. The houses are built of rather large, dark-brown, adobe bricks; the walls are usually white plastered; the roofs of all the houses are tiled, and the supporting rafters of the roof extend out far beyond the front wall of the house, so that the passer on the footpath is sheltered against rain and the noonday sun. The outer ends of these rafters are cut to give an ornamental effect. All the houses are surrounded by fruit trees—orange, lemon, lime, ahuacate and chirimoya. Each little property is surrounded by a stone wall of some height; the gate-way through this, giving entrance to the yard, is surmounted by a pretty little double-pitched roofing of thatch.
A crowd of pure indians had gathered at the landing, by the time we were unloaded. Forty or fifty men and women of medium stature, dark-brown skin and broad, expressionless faces, watched our every movement with curiosity, but none was ready to assist us in carrying our luggage to the curato. Taking it ourselves, as best we could, we found a boy to direct us and made our way to the house. The cura, had gone to Quiroga and his suspicious household would not receive us until his return, although permitting us to leave our goods. Going to the plaza, we succeeded in getting bread and cheese at a tienda, and after eating loitered until, at half-past-two, the Padre Ponce made his appearance. We showed him our letters and asked his interest and aid. He at once made us at home in his house, summoned the officials, read the governor's letter aloud to them, and told them it was their duty to assist us in every way. We at once began our work, and before nightfall had measured and photographed a number of cases.
The next morning, Saturday, all started merrily. After breakfast, however, Padre Ponce left us, going to Quiroga for celebrating Christmas. The moment he was gone, work slackened, and it was with difficulty that we could procure subjects. Early the next morning the padre appeared to say mass, after which he stirred up the people and we were again at work. But as soon as he left for Quiroga, once more, the interest diminished. Finally, as no one came and the officials had disappeared, we started out upon a tour of investigation. We found the whole town drunk; the juez, the chief of police, the mayores, all were too drunk for measurement. We experimented upon two or three subjects, but soon gave up in despair.
LOS VIEJOS; SANTA FE DE LA LAGUNA
Padre Ponce need not have gone to Quiroga for Christmas celebrations; we had them also. For example, we had Los Viejos. One afternoon, we saw a band of half-a-dozen persons singing in the street. All but one of them were men or boys dressed in long robes of brilliant red, purple or green, which were buttoned down the front; their heads were covered with white cloth, over which were fitted little masks of clay. The last one in the company was a woman, dressed quite in the usual fashion, but barefoot and with her rebozo covering her face and a man's sombrero on her head. Two of the party had guitars of local manufacture. This company strolled through the streets, singing and dancing; some of the dancing was clog-dance, some the jarabe, a man and woman taking part. Having noticed this group, we saw that the whole town seemed in movement toward the corral connected with the shrine behind the church. Following with the crowd, we found the corral already filled with people. The men were seated on benches or squatting against the walls; women and children were sitting on the ground. We noticed that all the women brought burdens, which proved to be pots full of hot atole, bundles of large tortillas, trays heaped high with tamales, or sacks full of little cups. Various bands of dancers made their way around, delighting the crowd with their performances. The group we had already seen was the least interesting. Those that really represented los viejos (the old men) were the best. These wore large, comic, wooden masks, many of which showed signs of long-continued use; one represented a long, warty, bearded face and was painted purple; others were painted red or brown, but most of them were of the natural color of the wood; great wigs of corn-husk or of matting were worn over the back of the head; the clothing was ragged and dirty, and in some cases was really of ancient style; some wore roughly made garments of the skin of the tigre. Each band had its leader, and each tried to outdo the others in the oddity of performance, vigor of dancing and coarseness of jest. Much fun and laughter were caused by their antics. Meantime, boys and young women were busied as waiters. Cups of steaming atole, delicious tortillas, hot tamales were distributed until everyone, including the strangers, were supplied. No one ate until the whole company had been served, when the town officials set the example and all fell to feasting. Dancing, music, laughter and fun followed, and were kept up until some time after nightfall.
On the second day after Christmas a strolling band of pastores, from San Geronimo, passed from house to house singing their Christmas songs. The company consisted of two or three musicians, a carrier—who was an indian boy about fifteen years old—and half a dozen other youngsters, wearing new palm hats and carrying long staves ending above in a loop from which streamed strips of brilliantly colored tissue paper. The carrier bore a cushion, upon which was stretched a figure of the infant Christ. At each house, he passed before the spectators, allowing them to kiss the figure and to deposit gifts of flowers or of money for the little church at San Geronimo; the music then struck up, the leader began to sing, and the little shepherds (pastores) marched around and around singing in chorus.
We lost quite two days on account of the drunkenness of the town. When it was past, by a vigorous indulgence in wheedling and threatening, we got the work again under way, and were just finishing with our one-hundredth man, when Padre Ponce returned for good and all. We had nearly starved during his absence; his old housekeeper had done her best with the poor materials which we were able to secure, but the best was bad. With Padre Ponce came another priest, Padre Torres of Patzcuaro, who used to be located at Santa Fe and was much loved by the natives. With the assistance of the two Padres we were able to secure and deal with our female subjects in less than a day, and were ready to bid adieu to the padrecitos and leave for Tzintzuntzan.
CHURCHYARD AND BELLS; TZINTZUNTZAN
VIEW AT JANICHO; LAKE PATZCUARO
All the tourist world that goes to Patzcuaro visits Tzintzuntzan to see the Titian. Padre Ponce was anxious to have us see the famous picture and photograph it. It was late when we reached the town, which consists in large part of mestizos and indians who speak little but native Tarascan. We found the cura was not in town, but were taken to the curato; arrived there, we discovered that the good man had taken his keys with him. We arranged, with some difficulty, for something to eat, and, after supper, were shown into an open room, with an unfinished roof, without a door, and with no hint of bed. Here we shared a lumber pile with two or three young men and suffered frightfully from cold all night. We were up early, as sleep was impossible, and filled our time as best we could, until it was light enough to photograph the picture.
We had our letter from Padre Ponce to the cura, in which he recommended the priest to have us photograph the painting. This letter and the governor's letter we had shown the town officials the night before, telling them that we should make the picture. They replied that they could not give permission to do so during the padre's absence. After we had breakfasted, and the light had become sufficient, we made our way to the old church, in front of which are some beautifully gnarled and irregular ancient olive trees, amid which the old bells are quaintly hung. Entering the church, we soon found the Titian, a descent from the cross. The figures are boldly painted and skillfully grouped; the action and lighting concentrate upon the figure of the Christ. Padre Ponce had told us that the proper place from which to photograph was the pulpit, and he was right. The sacristan was looking on with doubt: when he saw us making preparations for the picture, he hurried to us and said it was against all rule for anyone to take a photograph when the cura was not present. We told him our time was short; that we must return to Patzcuaro that day to arrange our farther journey; we showed the governor's order and Padre Ponce's letter, but all in vain. We must wait until the cura came. With this I put some centavos in his hand and told him I was certain his duties called him outside the church and that we would not detain him; that we should stay awhile to gaze upon the picture, which deserved close and pious examination. He at once withdrew, locking the door behind him. The instrument was quickly placed in the pulpit and the picture taken. Curiously, the sacristal duties ended just as we were ready to leave the church and the door opened as if we had said "Open sesame."
By ten-thirty we had secured a canoe and boatmen, two young and vigorous pure-blood indians. Though a wind was blowing squarely against us, we made good time. We stopped at the picturesque fishing-village of Janicho, on its rock island. Its houses cluster on a little terrace near the bottom of the hill, which rises behind it as a fine background. Steps of rock lead up the stony slope from the water's edge to the houses. In every yard mattings are laid, upon which little white fish are drying. As they walk through the streets or stand talking together, the men are ever tatting at nets; long lines of net-cord are reeled out for many yards along the wayside; hundreds of feet of seines are hung out in the sun to dry. The houses, with their pretty red tiling, are irregularly clustered along narrow winding streets. The people are purely indian, and wear the characteristic dress.
TARASCAN FISHERMEN; JANICHO
No town in all the region makes so much use of the tsupakua, or spear-thrower, a wooden stick cut to fit the hand and support the shaft of a spear or long dart, the end of which rests against a peg near the tip of the thrower. By means of this instrument, the long, light, darts of cane with iron points are thrown more directly and forcibly than by the hand alone. These spears are used in hunting ducks. Anciently a spear-throwing stick was widely used through Mexico; to-day it lingers in few places, the best known of which is here on Lake Patzcuaro.
CHAPTER VII
TO URUAPAN BEFORE THE RAILROAD
(1898)
We easily arranged at Patzcuaro to leave for Uruapan the next morning. Although delayed beyond our proposed hour of starting, we were off at six. It was early enough, indeed, for the morning air was cold; heavy frost coated the leaves and grass and lay upon the soil; in spite of our heavy blankets, wrapped closely about us, we shivered as we rode along upon our horses.
The ride, however, was a lovely one. At first we seemed to leave the lake behind us; mounting for some time we reached a summit from which it again broke upon our view; descending, we constantly caught glimpses of it, with its sinuous shores, its lovely mountain backgrounds, its islands, and its pretty indian towns. Finally, we again left it and rose into a magnificent mountain region, covered chiefly with pines. Passing through Ajuno, which lies upon a steep slope, we overtook a party of police, mounted on horses, taking a group of prisoners to Uruapan. At Escondidas, itself a miserable village, we were impressed by the mercantile spirit of these indians. In all these villages the houses are constructed of heavy logs or timbers, closely and neatly joined; the roofs are shingled with long and narrow shingles, and are abruptly four-sloped. At every house there was something for sale—food, drink, or cigarros. All these houses were built close to the edge of the road, and in the middle of the front was a little square window, in which the goods were shown. When no trade was solicited, these windows were closed with solid wooden shutters. Not only, however, was every house a store, but on the highway between towns, we passed many places where, beneath brush shelters, women offered fruit, food, or drink for sale. Usually several such shelters would be near together, and the venders had gay times, chatting, laughing and singing. Such houses and roadside-selling are common through the whole Tarascan region.
TARASCAN WOMEN; JANICHO
Soon after passing Escondidas, we began a descent, which seemed absolutely endless. Time after time we thought we had reached the bottom, only to find that we were on a terrace from which another drop led us still further down. On and on into this bottomless pit we descended to Ziracuaretaro, a striking town. Banana plantings surrounded the houses; orange-trees covered with their golden spheres reared themselves to the unusual height of thirty feet or more; maméys, with their strange nut-brown fruits, and coffee-trees, loaded to breaking, were abundant. Amid this luxuriant mass of tropical vegetation, houses were almost invisible until we were directly in front of them. Notwithstanding the enormous descent we had made, it appeared to us, when we crossed the stream and began the ascent, that we had not really been to the bottom of the great valley. For a long distance we mounted through a district of sugar-canes; then passed a little settlement of rude huts spread out over a reddish space; then, by a gentle but circuitous ascent, to a rugged trail which brought us to the summit and the edge of the great slope to Uruapan. At the further side of the valley and to our left, in a mass of green, we saw smoke rising from the factories of Uruapan. Crossing one of the characteristic bridges of the district, with a pretty shingled roof—four-sloped like those of the houses—over it, and with benches at the sides, where passers can sit and rest, while looking at the dashing, gurgling, foaming, water below,—we followed a level road between blackberries, wild roses, and other shrubs, to Uruapan.
No town in Mexico is more beautiful. Perpetual spring reigns. Although several thousand feet above sea level, it is so situated, with reference to mountain slopes and funnel valleys, that it has a genial climate, where plants nourish which are usually found only at lower altitudes. Its fruits and "the finest coffee in the world" have rendered the town long famous. The houses, bowered in dense groves of green, are of the picturesque Tarascan type. The four-sloped roofs, now covered with long, narrow shingles, now with the dull red tiles, suggest the prettiest pictures in Japanese towns. The streets are clean. Through the centre of the town dashes a mountain stream of clearest water, with the hue of sapphire. This pretty stream furnishes power for mills, factories and lighting-plant, and is crossed several times by picturesque, roofed bridges, in the shelter of which one may spend hours in watching the dashing water, foaming cascades, curious potholes worn in the rocky banks, and the passing Indians. Most Mexican towns are contented with one plaza; this one has three, following each other closely, separated only by single lines of narrow buildings. They are neatly planted, and supplied with bandstand and monuments. The town is electric-lighted and several hotels had been lately put in readiness to receive the crowd of visitors expected with the completion of the railroad, a matter of a few months later.
The prefecto of Uruapan and jefe politico of the district is the son-in-law of Governor Mercado, and to him we bore a special letter from his father-in-law. The old gentleman had been insistent that we should return by Capacuaro and Cheran, indian towns. He said that at the former we should find a mogote (mound or heap of stones and dirt) which every traveler should see, while at the latter Lumholtz had secured some skulls of exceptional interest, and that we should do the same. As our time was short, we asked the prefecto to send a messenger to Cheran with orders to dig some skulls and have them ready against the time of our arrival. That official expressed delight in doing our bidding, and we saw the messenger summoned and the order placed in his hands, with full direction as to its delivery.
INDIAN SPEAR-THROWER; LAKE PATZCUARO
Meantime, there were objects of interest for us in Uruapan itself. The town is famous for its lacquer work, made with aje, like that of Chiapa. Gourds are ornamented, fruit-forms are colored after nature, bowls made from fruit shells are elaborately decorated, all quite like the Chiapa work. What is characteristic of Uruapan are the placques and table-tops of wood, decorated with floral designs in brilliant colors, upon a background of dark-green, pink, blue, yellow, or black. This art is in the hands of a few persons, some pure indians. Visiting them, we found the wooden placques and table-tops are brought from one of the mountain villages of the Tarascans; they are first covered thickly with the background color; upon this the pattern is pencilled and then cut out in the lacquered surface; the color, mixed with oil and aje, as with other substances, is then applied with the finger-tips to fill the cut patterns; the lustre is then brought out by careful rubbing. The work is striking, and is prized throughout the Republic.
In the same quarter of the town, where this local industry is carried on, are many goitrous persons. The disease seems to be confined to the one district, but there perhaps one-half the people have it, most of them to but a slight degree. Occasionally the swelling is notable, and in the families affected we find, as usual, deaf-mutism.
HOUSES AT URUAPAN
On the morning of New Year's day, we left for Capacuaro and Cheran. As we rode out from the city, we were more than ever impressed with its verdant beauty and picturesqueness. The road to Capacuaro was unexpectedly level and good, and we reached the town, which is purely indian, by nine o'clock. Women, almost without exception, wore the native dress. Goitres were common, and some, among the men, were really enormous. Riding through the long town, we drew up before the house of the jefe de policia (chief of police), and summoned the village officials. On their appearance we found that all but the jefe himself, were drunk, the secretario in particular being almost useless. When we handed him the letter from the prefecto he was quite unable to make aught of its grandiloquence. Having looked it through in a dazed way, he declared that we were "gringos," "like the one who was here last year" (presumably Lumholtz). With some severity, I told him he did wrong to call visitors to the town by the opprobrious name of gringos, and ordered him to read the letter and make known its contents to the jefe. He made another effort and then helplessly said—"Who can make anything of such a letter? It is in their idioma." Sternly pointing to the signature I said—"The letter is from your prefecto and written in his idioma; you see the firma." Helplessly shaking his head, he said, "Oh, yes, the firma is that of Silvano Martinez, but the letter is in your idioma." Seeing that he was of no earthly use, I took the letter from him, and, turning to the crowd which had gathered, rebuked them for their drunkenness, asserting that it was disgraceful for a whole town government to be intoxicated at the same time; that some one ought always to be sober enough to attend to business; that we had been insulted by being called gringos, and that our order had not been read to them because the secretario was too drunk to do his business; that there were two ways of dealing with such town governments, and that, unless something was done promptly, we would see how they would like to go back with us to Uruapan, whence we had come. The jefe, who was really not drunk, thereupon begged to know what we desired, and the drunken secretario was somewhat frightened; the remainder of the official body expressed a wish to do only what we wanted. I then read the prefecto's letter in my best manner and added that we had come to Capacuaro only at the desire of the governor himself, to visit their mogote, and that we ought to wait no longer for guidance. At once all was commotion and bustle. Bidding the disgraced secretario go to his house and stay there, the jefe de policia summoned the rest of his company about him, seized his staff of office, buckled on his great machete, and took the lead; three policemen, with their machetes, followed; two others, unarmed, followed, and, with this escort, we started to hunt our ruins on the mountain. They proved to be two heaps of rubbish, from constructions of stone. Had we had time for serious investigation they might have proved of interest; as it was, we spent but a few minutes in their inspection, and then, bidding our drunken escort good-bye, we continued our journey. We had planned to go first to Nehuatzen, thence to Parracho, and, after visiting Cheran, back again to Nehuatzen. At the mogote, however, we were already near the Parracho highway and at once struck into it. Our journey led through forests, chiefly of pine, with open glades, at intervals; on many of the trees we saw great bunches of a parasite that bore honeysuckle-like, yellow flowers. Parracho we found lying at the base of mountains at the very end of a long stretch of level. It is an unattractive town, our only reason for visiting which was to see something of the manufacture of its famous rebozos, which differ from others in the wide border of white and azure blue silk, which is attached to a netted foundation to form decorative patterns, representing birds and animals, or geometric figures. The work is curious, and I am inclined to see in it a surviving imitation of the ancient feather-work for which the ancient Tarascans were famous. From Parracho our road led through Aranza to Cheran. Just beyond Aranza we passed over the astonishing wash from some summer torrent. During the wet season a single rain may fill the gorges, sheet the mountain slopes with water, tear great trees from their hold, break off mighty rock fragments and carry them onward, like wooden blocks, with hundreds of tons of finer gravel. At this season there was not a sign of water; not a trickling thread was visible in any of the gorges; but from their now dried mouths there spread fan-shaped deposits many rods in length and breadth, containing quantities of blocks of rock that measured from four to ten feet in diameter, trunks of trees up to two feet in thickness, all in the greatest confusion and at places completely covering our road to a depth of several feet. We could trace the tailing out of the fans of deposit, from their thicker, heavier part at the base of the torrent, to their margin on the plain; from heavy rock masses weighing tons, through smaller masses, into sand and gravel.
The way to Cheran seemed endless, but at last we reached that interesting, great indian town, when the afternoon was nearly spent. It was the New Year, and the street celebration of los negritos (the negroes—or the little negroes) was in progress. As we rode through the streets, however, we attracted much attention and the performance was neglected. We rode directly to the town-house, entered and asked for the presidente. He was slow in appearing and long before he arrived scores of people were crowding around the doors and windows to see us and know our business. When he arrived, we greeted him in a most friendly way and told him that we had come for the skulls. He looked aghast. "The skulls, what skulls, sir?" "The skulls the prefecto ordered you to dig for us." By this time, the crowd outside, which had increased with every minute, showed uneasiness. The presidente declared he knew nothing of any skulls. After we had explained the matter more fully, he assured us that no messenger had come from the prefecto; this, which at first we thought to be a lie, was no doubt true. He was plainly scared. He begged us to be careful lest the people, who were ignorant, should overhear us. He told us that a year before Don Carlos (Lumholtz) had been there; that he, too, had wanted skulls, and that the town officials had given him permission to dig some from the graveyard; that this caused so much excitement and so many threats that the permission had to be revoked. He feared the people had already heard our wishes and were even then in an ugly mood—a thing which seemed likely from an inspection of the faces in the doorway and windows. He said, however, that Don Carlos afterward secured some skulls from an ancient burial-place not distant from the village, and, if we pleased to wait in Cheran through the morrow, as it was now too late, five in the evening, to do aught, he would gladly show us the burial place of the ancients, where no doubt abundant skulls could be secured. Not yet certain that the man was telling truth, we spoke to him severely, saying that we should report him to the governor for not having obeyed the order of the prefecto. At the same time we demanded an official document signed by himself as presidente, and by the secretario, and duly sealed, stating that no messenger had come to him from the prefecto. To our surprise this document was promptly furnished, good evidence that the prefecto had played us false, only pretending to despatch the messenger whom we had seen started.
With profuse apologies and expressions of regret from the officials, we left Cheran, hurrying on to Nehuatzen for the night. Our chief reason for doing so was that everyone who knew of our intention to visit Cheran had shaken their heads, remarking "Ah! there the nights are always cold." Certainly, if it is colder there than at Nehuatzen, we would prefer the frigid zone outright. Nehuatzen is famous as the town where the canoes for Lake Patzcuaro are made. We had difficulty in securing food and a place to sleep. The room in which we were expected to slumber was hung with an extensive wardrobe of female garments. These we added to the blankets we carried with us, but suffered all night long from the penetrating cold. The two indian boys, who accompanied us as guides and carriers, slept in the corridor outside our door and when day broke they were so cramped and numbed and stiff with cold, that they lighted matches and thrust their cold hands into the flames, before they could move their finger-joints. We had planned to leave at five, but it was too cold to ride until the sun should be an hour high, so finally we left at seven. There was heavy frost on everything; curved frost crystals protruded from the soil, and we broke ice a half inch thick in water-troughs, unfinished canoes, by the roadside.
For ten hours we rode, without even stopping for lunch, through Sabina and Pichataro, San Juan Tumbio and Ajuno, back to comfortable Patzcuaro.
CHAPTER VIII
TLAXCALA
(1898)
We have always loved the State of Tlaxcala and its quaint little capital city of the same name. For more than a dozen years its governor has been Prospero Cahuantzi, a pure-blood indian, whose native language is Aztec. He is a large, well built man, with full face and little black eyes that are sunken deeply into the flesh. He is a man of some force and energy. The population of his little state, the most densely populated in the Republic, is almost entirely indian, and it at once fears, hates, and respects him. Having made several previous visits to the city, and having always been graciously received by Don Prospero, we thought it hardly necessary to carry with us our usual letters of recommendation from the Federal authorities.
Just before we were ready to visit Tlaxcala, while we were in the City of Mexico, we learned that Governor Cahuantzi was there, on business. We thought it best to call upon him, explaining our proposed work and asking his interest. So to the Hotel Sanz, where he always stops when in the Capital, we went. We called twice without finding him and our third call appeared to be as unsuccessful, but just as we were leaving, resolved not to try again, we met the governor alighting from his carriage at the door. Intercepting him, we asked a moment's interview, which was granted, though with ill grace. It was plain that he was sadly out of humor. Apologizing to him for our intrusion at so late an hour and so immediately after his return to his hotel, we told him of our projected visit, described the measurements, photographs and other data we were gathering, reminding him that two years earlier he had heard our plans and promised his assistance. In a somewhat gentler mood, he told us we might visit Tlaxcala and that he would aid us, but he must have a little time "for preparing the soil;" that all his people were indians, and that our work would necessarily be considered with suspicion. Upon our asking him how much time would be needed "to prepare the soil," we received no definite reply. He, himself, planned to leave for home the following morning, Friday; so we suggested that we would go first to Puebla, and reach his capital on Monday. He plainly considered this somewhat hasty, but grunted his assent, and we left him, somewhat surprised at his unusual gruffness and lack of interest.
Early Monday morning, we appeared upon the scene. After breakfast we betook ourselves to the state palace; the governor was already in his reception room, but, instead of being ushered promptly into his presence, as had always happened in our previous visits, we were left to sit two hours in the outer office. Finally, on our displaying some impatience, a message was again taken to his Excellency, and a few minutes later, the jefe politico of the district bustled past us into the carefully guarded reception chamber. He did not long remain there, and, on coming out into the office where we were waiting, brusquely asked, "Are you the persons who want to measure heads? Well, they are waiting for you out there in the corridor; why don't you go to work?" Seizing our instruments, blanks and camera, we hurried to the corridor and began operations. Three or four were measured in quick succession; then, when I cried, "Otro" (another), the jefe's eyes began to bulge. That one measured, and another called for, he seemed half-distracted; desperation seized him; as he faintly repeated "Otro" he looked wildly around in search of subjects and it was plain that he had not begun to realize what demands we planned to make upon him. Before the noonday rest, we had measured fourteen subjects, but the jefe's personal interest had ceased, and he had completely disappeared from the scene of action. When we returned at three o'clock to resume work, only the guards were there to help us. One and another subject, invited to be measured, showed no interest in advancing science. So, Mr. Wilson went to see the jefe in his office; the old man was furious and actually ran out, with the statement that he had plenty of his own work to do. When this scene had been reported, it in no wise increased the readiness of subjects to undergo the operation. Finding that we were accomplishing nothing, we decided upon desperate measures. Going to the office of the governor's private secretary, we insisted on his telling the chief executive that we were losing time, that no one was assisting us, that subjects were obdurate and stubborn, and that something must be promptly done. We waited but a few minutes. The fiat went forth; the jefe politico appeared, puffing and blowing, and wildly excited. He was closeted a moment with the governor. On his reappearance, we greeted him cordially, and told him that the people present would not be measured and indicated one particularly stubborn subject, who was dealt with, promptly, and without gloves. The jefe remained long enough to reestablish order, though, under his breath, he muttered curses and threats, and expressed his feeling to any official, who chanced to pass. He said the business was driving him clean crazy; that he was doing what he did, not for love of us, but from respect to the orders of his chief. Having set the ball to rolling, he left us and there were no more delays.
When the labor of the day was over, we stopped at the jefe's office to inform him that we should continue work the following day, and emphasized the fact that we wished one hundred cases, and, as yet, had less than half that number. We suggested that systematic arrangements would not only facilitate our labor, but would lessen his own task. The result was evident; on the following day delegations, ordered by the jefe, and consisting of from six to a dozen persons each, began to come in from the outlying villages. This made our work easy, indeed. In one respect, Tlaxcala differs from all the other Mexican states with which we are acquainted. Most of the people live in very little towns, which cluster around the larger places. Thus, around the capital city, Tlaxcala, there are some seventeen of these small pueblos.
Working at the palace, we had secured almost no women for measurement. Asking the advice of the cura, in the matter, he recommended that we should go to some one of the neighboring indian villages; that he would give us a letter to the juez and that, thus, we would secure our subjects easily. He suggested San Estevan and wrote the promised letter to the juez of that village. San Estevan is a pretty village, near the summit of some low gray hills of tufa, behind which rises a background of higher hills of the same material. The slope is terraced for the houses, which are all built of adobe bricks and have flat roofs. The "three part house," of the ancient Aztec type—god-house, kitchen, and granary—is better shown in this state than almost any other part of the Republic. The granary, or cuezcomate, is particularly characteristic. It is built of clay, in the form of a great vase or urn, open at the top, above which is built a little thatch to shed rain and to protect the contents. The cuezcomate is often ten feet high. One or more of them is found in connection with every house.