TUMBALA. S. CRISTOBAL. MITLA.

Return to TenosiquÉ—S. Domingo del Palenque Revisited—Departure for S. Cristobal—First Halt—No Tamenes—Setting out alone for Nopa—Bad Roads—No Food—Monkeys—Three Days Waiting at S. Pedro—The Cabildo—Hostile Attitude of the Natives—The Porters Arrive—They make off in the Night—From S. Pedro to Tumbala—Two Nights in the Forest—Tumbala—The Cura—Jajalun—Chilon—Citala—A Dominican Friar—Cankuk—Tenejapa—S. Cristobal—Valley of Chiapas—Bullocks—Tuxtla—Santa Lucia—Marimba—Tehuantepec—Totolapa—Oaxaca—Santa Maria del Tule—Ruins of Mitla.

There is positively nothing new to say about the long, wearisome journey from Copan to TenosiquÉ; it is the usual road through forest, with no incidents to mark it from former journeys, which besides we performed in Stephens’ and Maudslay’s company from whom we borrow both descriptions and monuments. We will therefore start from TenosiquÉ, where our personal explorations begin.

In order to avoid going by Frontera, which I had visited several times, I returned to Palenque, crossed the Sierra of Chiapas, that I might see S. Cristobal, Tehuantepec, and the various Indian villages which are found along that road new to us.

As it was a long distance, offering many difficulties over almost impassable mountain paths, which at times are almost perpendicular, I dismissed my men and sent Lucian and one of my two servants to wait for us at Mexico, whilst Julian and I, with our arms and photograph apparatus, set out for S. Domingo del Palenque, where I engaged six men to convey our baggage over the Sierra to S. Cristobal.

I had been duly instructed upon the route I was to follow by the alcalde, so that leaving our men to come after us, which we were assured would be done immediately, Julian and I mounted our horses, and we were soon galloping in the direction of the rancho, which we reached towards ten o’clock; here our guide wished to return to Palenque, but I required him to await the arrival of the tamenes, who were not yet in sight, and with whom I could not communicate without his help. But the whole day passed in fruitless expectations, all the more disagreeable that they had all the supplies, and we were reduced to a large ball of posole,181 not much for empty stomachs, so towards evening the guide went along the river’s banks in search of snails, and we had to content ourselves with them for our supper.

The following day I sauntered in the wood to do something, and found a tortoise of 8 or 10 inches long, having its lower shell furnished at both ends with two appendices, which enabled the fellow to shut himself up and defy all enemies, a true snuff-box tortoise. I thought at first of keeping it; but, alas for human resolve! by noon it was in the pot fast turning into delicious soup.

Two men who were returning from Palenque, brought us news at last of our porters; they had got drunk on the money which, according to custom, they had received in advance from us, an affray had followed, they had been handed over to the police and shut up in jail; they were, however, to be released on that very day, and a few hours would bring them to us.

The guide, who was anxious to go home, exchanged a few words with the men which I could not understand, then informed me that they were willing to carry my luggage to S. Pedro, where we should find ample accommodation, plenty of supplies, and that it would be a better place to wait for our tamenes. I agreed, and we were soon winding up the sierra, which, at first gradual, soon became precipitous, obliging us to throw off our clothes and to retain only our nether garments, and even these we cut above the knee to facilitate our movements. The men carried everything, but far from feeling the weight put upon them, they seemed to have wings to their feet, and left us far behind to toil up as best we might.

At last we halted by the side of a stream, where our much reduced posole was entirely consumed amongst us all. Somewhat refreshed with the rest and food, we resumed our ascent, but towards evening the cravings of the stomach were again felt, and our sluggish legs refused to carry us much further. The porters had indeed drawn our attention to some hoccos hovering among the branches, but I had missed one at a few yards’ distance, and the scarcity of ammunition, the bulk of which was with the missing tamenes, made me unwilling to venture on another shot unless I was sure of it.

Poor Julian was fast losing heart; fortunately just then we heard cries of monkeys quite near, and deviating to one side we came upon a whole tribe of them perched in the queerest attitudes, which our approach did not seem to scare in the least, giving me ample time to take aim at a fine powerful fellow some fifty or sixty feet overhead, which I brought down with one single shot.

We had now reached a broad expanse of several thousand feet above the level of the ocean, and were only a few yards from the rancho Nopa, built for the use of travellers; the night was drawing near, and we were glad to get some kind of shelter. Meanwhile the female monkey had followed us with her two young ones, uttering the most lamentable cries; they had perched on a tree quite close, and the mother was now watching with mournful eyes her late lord being cut up.

But, alas for human sympathy! far from being touched at this mark of conjugal devotion, I only thought of the substantial meal we should make after our long fast, and that the animal was large enough to last over the next day for our breakfast, when with renewed strength we set out again, and after hours of wearisome toiling, we came upon a large river not marked on the map, which we crossed in a pirogue, and two hours more brought us in view of S. Pedro, an Indian village consisting of about a hundred huts, scattered over some of the hillocks with which the plain is dotted. No admixture of white blood is seen here, and nothing but Indian is spoken.

I directed my steps towards the centre of the village, hoping to find a hut in which to rest our weary limbs; but the first I ventured into was occupied by women, who shrieked with terror on perceiving me and rushed out, whether at the arms I carried, or because I was white, must remain a mystery to the end of time. Their cries brought the whole female population into the street (the men were at the milpa), glaring at me and scampering away the moment I tried to get near.

My repeated inquiries for “el Gobernador” (the alcalde is so styled here), at last induced the boldest in the crowd to point to a large building to our right; I went in and found some young girls, clad from the waist in a cotton garment, engaged in breaking Indian corn on mectates, whilst an elderly woman similarly attired was stirring a kind of Scotch broth, boiling on the hearth, the smell of which was so appetising that I immediately pantomimed to the old dame to give me some, showing at the same time a shining real in my open palm to help my eloquence. But the virago, brandishing her spoon in my direction, advanced to prevent my further ingress, pouring out a volley of questions and vituperations the while, which, of course, I could not understand, but which plainly meant that she was not to be persuaded by such means, and that the sooner I vacated the place the better for me.

I hesitated what I should do; but, reflecting that I was in the stronghold, with no better chance of a welcome anywhere, I determined to stand my ground, and going into the yard I seized the first fowl within my reach, wrung its neck, and holding it up to the woman, signed to her to cook it, presenting her with three reals.

The fowl had been eaten, and I was fast asleep under the verandah, when I was aroused out of my slumbers by the owners of the hut, who had just returned from the fields, and were now standing before me with hatred in their looks and demeanour. They were soon joined by others, and all signed to me to leave the place immediately; I thought it no disgrace to yield before such numbers and to go to the cabildo, “common room,” filled already with natives from various parts of the sierra on their way to or from “las playas.” Here fortunately I found a meztizo who spoke Spanish and was civil enough to arrange with an old couple to provide me with some food twice a day, and who promised besides to hurry on my tamenes as soon as he met them.

Shall I ever forget the first night I spent in this horrible cabildo, where all the abominations which are inseparable from barbarians seemed to have concentrated in it: the atmosphere was such as could be expected in a room overflowing with unwashed, unkempt, uncared-for humanity, alive with dirt! Sleep was of course out of the question; whilst a tropical rain precluded our sleeping in the open air.

We had three days of this nameless, indescribable horror; on the fourth the tamenes arrived looking rather foolish, displaying their bruises to account in some way for their delay. I was too thankful to have some clean clothes and a hammock in which to sleep, away from the filth of the last days, to think of reprimanding them, and I was so worn-out with the unrest of the preceding nights, that I slept on until broad daylight.

When I opened my eyes, I saw indeed my packages arranged as they were the evening before, but no tamene was standing by them. A horrible suspicion crossed my mind. I rushed out followed by Julian to look for them, but ere long I had to convince myself that they had made off in the night to save themselves another toilsome journey.

Armed with gun and revolver, I went round the village to find other porters, but my offers were met everywhere with jeers and defiant looks, until at last, disheartened and hardly knowing what to do, I bethought me of the old Indian couple that had cooked my dinner and had betrayed some signs of sympathy at our mishaps, and begged them to take care of my luggage until I should send for it from S. Cristobal. Then provided with only what I thought strictly necessary for three days’ march (rugs, waterproofs, shot, a posole cake, and some ham), which I made into two bundles, one for Julian and the other for myself, we took the road to Tumbala, fervently hoping never to set foot in S. Pedro again.

I cannot say much for our first attempts at turning tamenes: the straps supporting our burdens cut into our flesh, we advanced slowly and with great difficulty, and although it was comparatively cool in the forest, I felt hot to suffocation; we stopped every five minutes to take breath and ease ourselves of our burdens, but after a while we got used to our new mode of life, which was not so bad after all, for we found plenty of water on the road, and towards noon we sat down by the side of a running stream to eat our ham and posole, when Julian felt so exhilarated by his present comfort, as to indulge in small jokes about our late sad experiences.

Still holding our course up the sierra, at night we encamped at a considerable height, not far from a spring, round which we cleared a kind of green tent, lighted a good fire, which we took in turns to keep alive, as a protection against moisture and wild beasts. As day broke I heard a cock crow, showing that we were close to some habitation, but according to my calculations we should reach Tumbala in a few hours, and having enough for our immediate wants, we only thought of pressing on to the end of our journey, where I knew we were expected, when everything would be made right.

And now the forest was truly grand, glowing in all the splendour of a tropical vegetation; some of the arborescent ferns rising to a height of 40 feet, with far-spreading leaves, whilst the branches of the stately trees were gaily festooned with the entire family of orchids and other flowering parasites of the most brilliant hues. Long processions of arrieras (ants), laden with bits of foliage which they tilted up like a sail, gave them the appearance of a green moving belt.

Towards evening we met an Indian on his way home from “las playas,” of whom we bought some maize-bread, and at night we encamped like the evening before in the forest. But a heavy storm arose; the driving rain and hail penetrated our waterproofs, drenched our garments, and threatened to put out the fire as well; the trees were cracking and falling about us like hail. By-and-by the rain ceased, and we could hear the hard breathing of a jaguar quite close to us; but the wood, thoroughly saturated with the rain, smouldered on without burning up; so that, in darkness which could be felt, I discharged at random the contents of my revolver, but the brute kept his ground until the first morning light, thus preventing our having any rest.

We rose with the lark, and, resuming our march, came in sight of Tumbala towards ten o’clock, having employed three days over forty-two miles! The cura was out, and our clothes soiled with mud, rain, and adhering brambles, gave us such a sorry appearance, that the housekeeper at first refused us admittance. After a while the cura returned; he was a man of about thirty years of age, with a benevolent countenance, full of kindness and sympathy over our hardships.

“Leave the tamenes to me to be dealt with as they deserve for their breach of contract; although the rogues are likely to keep away until they know you are out of the district.”

Meanwhile the dinner, to my deep satisfaction, was placed on the table; I did ample justice to the viands, which were well cooked and neatly served, the wine generous and the Comitan brandy excellent, but my late harassing life had so weakened me that when I tried to get up I could not steady myself, so I went to lie down, and slept on until noon of the following day, when I felt completely restored and myself again. The priest lent me some clothes till mine came, which, by his care, had been sent for; and thus accoutred, I went about with him fully enjoying my return to civilised life.

Tumbala has nothing to distinguish it from other Indian towns; it stands on one of the highest levels of the Sierra Madre, girt with a dark belt of pines and long lines of shadowy hills, stretching away in the far distance. The population numbers about 12,000 inhabitants, who live in the forest rather than in their mud cabins, so that the pastor is sometimes three months without seeing the male portion of his congregation.

A taxation of six shillings per head a year is the only act of submission to the State exacted from this semi-barbarous but almost independent people. The Governor, generally a native, collects the taxes, but in all other matters he is the humble servant of the padre, in whom are vested all powers both civil and spiritual; on the whole he makes very good use of his immense influence, in curbing and directing these childish, untutored, ignorant people.

Crimes are punished by jail or the bastinado; if the treatment is primitive, it suffices in all cases, which may well be, for the number of strokes varies from twelve to one hundred and fifty.

Whilst I was here, I witnessed a curious incident: one day a woman came to the cura demanding justice against her son, who had been wanting in respect to her. The son, a big, tall fellow of five-and-twenty, was with her; both were the worse for drink. The priest remonstrated with the mother, but she was obdurate; the law allowed her twelve strokes, and twelve strokes she would have. “Never mind, SeÑor Padre, I know I don’t deserve them, but she is my mother, and since it pleases her, I may well consent to it.” He got his twelve strokes “pro formÂ,” after which they fell into each other’s arms perfectly happy. On another occasion two brothers preferred receiving twelve strokes rather than make friends.

They own no money except what they earn as tamenes for the whites of the districts round about S. Cristobal. They still retain the character of the old tamenes, who followed armies and merchants in their distant expeditions; they begin their apprenticeship at eight years of age, when they accompany their elders, carrying, like Æsop, the supplies of the company; their load is increased from year to year until it sometimes reaches two hundred pounds. Their avocation is so ingrained in their habits, that they fancy they cannot walk unless they carry some weight, so that on their return journey they generally have a few stones at their back.

But the larger proportion of their earnings finds its way to the padre; for marriages, christenings, confessions, burials, masses, etc., have all to be paid for, so that the priest of Tumbala is not badly off, but he shares with his bishop, who must have a well-feathered nest. Besides this, the simple natives give in kind of all they have; they are proud when they are required to repair their pastor’s house, to run his errands, or carry him over the sierra when he travels; they consult him in all things, fully believing that the cura is able to help and see them out of all their troubles.

My luggage arrived at last, and as there was nothing to keep me any longer at Tumbala, I took leave of the hospitable priest, amply provided with food and letters of introduction to all the curas along the road, and set out for Jajalun, only a few hours distant, on foot, for the simple reason that no horses or mules could be obtained.

Jajalun stands on the declivities of the Cordillera, sloping down towards the Pacific; the hills are clad with dark forests of pines, whilst fields show signs of careful cultivation, where black beans intervene with golden harvests of maize. The population has a good sprinkling of half-castes or meztizos, who speak Spanish and live like the ancient aborigines, in houses built with mud coated over with plaster; their manners are those of the villages of the Mexican plateaux, rather than of the settlements we have just visited. Anteburros, “tapirs,” people the forests and the streams.

We were received in the same kind manner by the cura as we had been at Tumbala, and having thoroughly rested mind and body, we did not much mind having again to perform our next journey on foot. The road was good, and lay across level ground, we were well provided with all the necessaries of life, so that there was little to complain of; indeed, Julian was so set up with the good cheer and the kind attentions of the women during the last few weeks that, in his desire to entertain me, he sang nearly all the way what was meant to be a comic song.

At Chilon we found horses which carried us comfortably to Citala, where a Dominican friar, for the time being cura of the place, received us in his house and entertained us most hospitably. I found him a remarkably agreeable, well-bred man, of far greater culture than is generally the case with his brethren. Some years before he had published his views upon religious reform, and this had brought him in bad odour with his superiors. He was by nature of a sensitive, proud disposition, and he felt keenly the slur cast upon him by his banishment in which the best years of his life were frittered away, and his health undermined by the unhealthy climate and the absence of all social intercourse. The days I spent in the society of this genial, superior man, seemed to flit by unheeded; whilst I was given opportunities of noting down new traits in the character of the natives.

One day I happened to be in the church, whilst the friar was in his confessional, and, to my surprise, I saw him confess two persons at the same time, each speaking loud enough to be heard at some distance. Naturally enough I expressed my surprise to the padre. “Oh! it is the custom here; they do not think anything of it, and it not unfrequently happens that I confess husband and wife at the same time. You are aware that the seventh commandment is utterly disregarded by these people; so that when they happen to confess together, they of course hear of each other’s delinquencies, and the two culprits look daggers at each other across the grating. They are imposed a penance, which is always observed, are both absolved on their promise to go and sin no more, and the couple return peacefully to their home. It was a confession made in the presence of God, who has forgiven, therefore the husband has nothing to complain of; but if he found out the backslidings of his wife through any other means, it would go hard with her. Do not hurry away,” said the padre, “to-morrow I join twenty couples in holy matrimony; it is a saving of time and drunkenness, for one entertainment will do for all.”

I was much interested in a pretty patriarchal custom here, which consists in the female population coming up every evening to kiss their pastor’s hand and ask for his blessing. I came in for my share, and had then the opportunity to notice that they are not remarkable for good looks; and, as the priest said, there is small merit in resisting the devil.

We wished the friar farewell, and continued our course to Cankuk; where the kindly “padre” procured some men to carry us some twenty-seven miles of such bad road, that even the Indians do not trust their animals on it. It is the usual mode of travelling in this part of the sierra, but an uncomfortable feeling of the unfitness of things is experienced, in subjecting a fellow creature to become a beast of burden on your account. However, the feeling soon wears off, for they do not seem to mind it themselves, and they handle you about as they would a bale of cotton, and have a disagreeable way of flourishing you over fathomless abysses, which I found so trying that I deemed it prudent to perform the precipitous descent on foot.

This gave me the opportunity of stopping at my leisure to admire the grand prospect which from time to time opened out before us; the valley with its gay confusion of cultivated fields, and the houses of S. Cristobal shining in the sun. The ancient capital of Chiapas rises on a narrow plateau more than 7,000 feet above the level of the ocean, with a population of some 12,000 inhabitants; its climate is colder and damper than that of Mexico, and if we except the church of S. Domingo, possesses no edifice of interest. The houses are all built on the same pattern, and few are more than one story high, with no outer ornamentation of any kind. It looks what it really is, a poor, miserable place.

The market of S. Cristobal is the only one in Mexico where bags of cocoa are still used as currency, as in the time of Montezuma. The clergy of Chiapas, formerly so wealthy, has been deprived, like that of Mexico, of its emoluments and glebe lands, and the religious orders have also been suppressed.

We next follow the circuitous road to Chiapas, through a wild and dreary country, intersected by torrents, barrancas, and precipices of two or three thousand feet. We passed Ystapa, where the priest wished to know if France was a sea-port like Vera Cruz; and pressing on we reached the broad level of Chiapas, covered with sombre forests, bounded to the rear by the hills of Tuxtla, whilst to the right and left the eye travels over a boundless distance. Along the river which traverses the plain, specks of white show where the town lies.

We only stopped at Chiapas the time necessary to change horses, and pushed on to Tuxtla, twenty miles beyond, now the capital of the province, where no mules could be hired, and we were obliged to buy horses to take us on to Oaxaca. No danger was to be apprehended, for the country was quiet; we were, moreover, fully armed and provided with a good map.

Osocantla, our first stage, exhibits abundant traces of volcanic action. We hold our course across great rolling plains, dotted with forests and patches of cultivation, intersected by broad rivers, and pass Santa Lucia, the finest hacienda in these parts, surrounded by huts occupied by the labourers employed on the property; it possesses a sugar-mill, and a granary for corn and maize, whilst the woods are peopled with wild turkeys, pheasants, numerous red aras, green parrots, and clouds of gaudy butterflies, rivalling the beauty of the vegetable creation nowhere so brilliant as here, where the river, with its interminable windings, casts across this privileged land a perpetual green and variegated mantle.

Life here is primitive and patriarchal: In the evening after prayers, the servants come round to take their orders for the next day, kiss the master’s hand and wish him good night; then they all collect in the yard to enjoy, what they are pleased to call, an hour’s rest, which consists in games, singing and dancing, some accompanying the singers on the marimba, a kind of piano which is played with small sticks topped by india-rubber paddings, an instrument found also in South Africa, where it bears the same name, whence in all probability it was imported to America by negroes at the time of the Conquest.

We resume our march, and pass successively Llano Grande, Casa Blanca, S. Pedro, and La Gineta; the latter is one of the highest peaks of the sierra, clad with forests on the eastern side, but is only carpeted with grass towards the Pacific. We toil up its long winding ascent, but when we reach its summit, one of the grandest panoramas unfolds before our enraptured gaze. Looking back to the north, which we have just left, is the Cordillera, gradually sloping down from the high plateaux of Chiapas, to its deep, sombre valleys; whilst beyond are vast plains, and in the far distance the glimmering light of the Mexican Gulf; before us, to the south, is the verdant Gineta; lower down, the rich plain of Tehuantepec, bound on the horizon by the broad sheet of the Pacific. The pass of the Gineta is very dangerous in winter, owing to the violent winds which then prevail, carrying off both man and beast.

As we advance haciendas disappear, and we find the sides of the roads dotted with villages as in Mexico. The population seems indolent and inert, content to pinch or starve rather than exert themselves beyond what they have been accustomed. Villages are usually built near running streams, in which women are seen the whole day bathing; but, unlike Diana, they do not mind being looked upon, contenting themselves with turning their backs upon the intruder.

We steered our course safely through Zanatepec, Miltepec, but at Yaltepec we lost our way, and wandered about some time in the woods before we could find the main road, approaching Tehuantepec about nightfall, celebrated for its fair women, the handsomest in the State. They are cast in noble proportions, and have a dignified, erect carriage. Their dress consists of a short petticoat reaching the ankles, a jacket which leaves neck and arms bare; a uipil embroidered with gold and silver covers their head, whilst their small feet are incased in dainty little shoes. Their dresses sometimes cost a hundred pounds, a large sum in this part of the world.

TEHUANTEPEC WOMEN.