Pictures of life in Mexico/Volume 2/Chapter 28
CHAPTER XXVIII.
MEXICAN HACIENDAS, OR FARMS.
In such a country as Mexico it is in vain to look for the rural beauty and tranquillity of more favoured countries. Rich as are the soil and climate the most frequent aspect of the scenery is wild and desolate; and as the soil needs but small attention and cultivation the little that it does demand has been withheld. Dense and teeming forests—where the branches of trees are interlaced herbage grows rank and unrestrained and flowers are borne down by their own abundance—present themselves on the one hand; while on the other whole tracts of country are neglected—lands which, with the slightest care might produce an endless abundance: beds of hardened land, covered with layers of soil and rubbish, and miles of undulating upland and valley, which ought to be duly ploughed and sown with wheat and Indian corn, are all waste and useless. Indeed, it is seldom that the eye can rest upon a spot where the evidences of care and cultivation are visible. The most magnificent and entrancing prospects are to be found occasionally; but they owe everything to nature, and nothing to man. We gaze with wonder and untiring admiration upon the beauteous works of God; but when we view the rich landscapes in connection with the prosperity and advancement of mankind, our thoughts find no response, and we turn from the prospect with a feeling of unmingled sadness.
The spots most resembling the old familiar scenes in England, are to be found surrounding; the better class of haciendas, or plantation and agave farms, in some of the mere rural neighbourhoods.
Agriculture is in a lamentably backward state, at present, in Mexico. Many portions of the country require to be irrigated from time to time, the rainy season not continuing long enough to produce sufficient moisture beneath the surface of the more arid regions. Fair and promising crops have absolutely withered away because the shallow streams in their vicinity have dried up; and as the constitution and habits of the people are opposed to all innovation in the shape of improvement in many instances no provision whatever is made for irrigation. In some districts, certainly there are large drains or ditches (acequias), from which individual farmers are allowed to form minor drains and reservoirs; but too often the former are allowed to remain out of repair and the latter are wholly unused.
The elevated plains in the temperate region afford excellent grazing lands; for though the ground is occasionally too dry for agricultural purposes, it produces remarkably fine nutritious grass. This grama is most valuable immediately after the rainy season; it is frequently left on the ground to become hay during the winter, in which state it supplies the earth with abundant food, without the trouble of having it cut and stacked. Stacks of oca, or fodder, are often to be seen in the vicinity of the farm-houses; but as a rule, little provision of this kind is cared for.
Mud fences and walls of adobé bricks are sometimes to be observed in place of other divisions on the fields; more commonly, however, there are no enclosures at all; consequently, the owners of cattle and horses are compelled to employ herdsmen, to prevent them from encroaching on the crops and lands of their neighbours.
Agricultural implements are miserably rude and inefficient. Their wooden ploughs are usually shaped out of the trunk of a tree, cut into handles; the ploughshare being merely a wooden projection sloping downwards; while the yoke consists of a flat beam, to which the oxen are secured. The hoe, of uncouth manufacture, and frequently containing little or no iron, is the article most in use upon the lands. Thus are the people condemned, by their indolent spirit, to throw up the soil from the first in a slow and unsatisfactory manner, on account of the unserviceable nature of their most indispensable instruments of cultivation.
Pure vegetable and farinaceous productions are neither very various nor extensive in this country. Indian corn and wheat are the recognised staple articles of the latter class; and in some soils two or three crops are realized in one year. Frijoles, or small beans, are grown extensively. Chilé pepper is cultivated on numerous large tracts of land. The wild potato of small size appears in some districts, but its nurture has been generally neglected. Onions (xonacatl), artichokes (tagarninas), water-cresses, gourds, sorrel, and haricots (ayacotli), are all cultivated in great quantities. Among productions of the soil of another kind, must be mentioned the agave, or maguey, upon the culture of which great care and much time are bestowed, as it furnishes the national drinks. Cotton also must be named, though it is not grown to a tithe of the extent which the country would admit. A species of wild flax is to be found in abundance at the bases of many mountains, yet no attempts are made to rear it. Tobacco, though cultivated in considerable quantities in a few districts, does not occupy a portion of the attention which might profitably be devoted to it. Sugar plantations are to be encountered in some fine neighbourhoods; they are most numerous on the plains in the direction of the Pacific. Bees'-wax is produced in great quantities, and its consumption, in the shape of church candles, is enormous. But the most flourishing production of the country, perhaps is the banana tree; its fruit is so abundant and massive that a field only capable of producing thirty pounds of wheat, would yield three or four thousand pounds weight of food, if planted with the banana or plantain.
Numerous haciendas throughout the republic, which were at first only single farm-houses, have become miniature villages and hamlets, composed of a number of habitations of different grades. This is one effect of the unsafe and uncertain state of society in the country.
The traveller may occasionally observe a favourable specimen of one of these haciendas before him, as he descends the rugged mountain paths so frequently to be encountered on his way. Perhaps it may be in the bosom of a verdant hollow, enclosed on all sides by hills. The walls of the principal buildings will most likely be of a particoloured admixture—here a dash of red, and there a wall of white. Small huts will probably surround the larger erections, where the Indian labourers on the estate reside. Sugar plantations may be seen in the background, of a productive quality, and kept in better order than ordinary. The landscape altogether is of a very attractive character; the surface of the soil is rich and varied; and a look of prosperity and happiness pervades the whole. He will meet with a hearty welcome on his arrival on the grounds; and if he wishes to survey the various arrangements they will be cheerfully exhibited to him. He will be led through storehouses and kitchens to inspect boilers and pressing-machines cooling-vats and moulding-rooms, where birds in cages are kept about the walls and every one appears to be employed and contented. This however is a very favourable specimen indeed of such establishments.
The peculiar and important culture of the maguey plant demands a somewhat more lengthened account.
The agave or maguey plant—said to flower in some countries only once in a century—blossoms on good soil in this country once every five years. Toluca and Cholula are the districts most celebrated for its cultivation. Two of the most extensive national drinks are distilled from it—the pulque and aguardiente or mexical; it yields a great quantity of sugar; and its fibre has been made into flax, and sometimes paper; for the ancient Aztecs painted their hieroglyphics upon paper made from it. The singular process of extracting its juices, however, yet remains to be told.
The greatest possible care and deliberation are employed to ascertain when a maguey has arrived at its period of flowering; for it will die if any mistake be made in this respect. The object of the proprietor is then to obtain the juice, which in the course of nature would nourish and supply the large and numerous flowers. To this end, an incision is cautiously made in the stem, on the very earliest indication of forthcoming blossoms: first, the central leaves are slit; then the opening is gradually enlarged, taking care, meantime, to tie it securely on the outside with leaves and hemp; and in this artificial receptacle the whole abundant juices of the plant collect. The sweet fluid continues to form in this manner for from two to three months, and this wonderful natural fountain may be tapped by the attendants three or four times a day.
Eight quarts of pulque are frequently derived from this singular plant in one day; three of which are obtained at sunrise, two at mid-day, and three more in the evening. The root of this shrub is unusually strong and tenacious; so that the plant is hardy, although the stem perishes after the period of flowering. A number of new sprouts speedily spring up from the old stock; for no vegetable product thrives more generously than the maguey. The fermented juice has an agreeable, sweet; yet acid taste; and in three or four days it is nearly ready for use. To assist the process of fermentation the natives add a little old pulque of an acid quality. This drink has a peculiarly strong scent; but when a stranger has become habituated to this the flavour is a rather pleasant one. The pulque and aguardiente are—if we except atole—the most favoured and universal beverages in use in Mexico; pulque being a light; thin drink; and aguardiente a strong distillation; nearly as intoxicating as brandy.
It is not surprising, then; that this unique vegetable spring should be highly valued throughout the republic; and become an article of commerce in itself; as well as the juices that are continually being fermented from its stem.
The vaquero; or cowherd; of a farming hacienda; is a human sloth—an impersonation of sluggishness—living in such a state of unconsciousness of all necessities, that the idea of labour in any shape—even standing, thinking, seeing, or eating—is a burden. He is a creature who would hug himself—were it not too much trouble—upon his very vacancy: upon his seeming non-existence.
There he reclines at full length, in the shade of yon huge plantain tree; the immense shadows of whose branches, cast by the sunlight on the ground, have often changed their shape and place since the morning hour; but the place and posture of the vaquero, since then, have changed not, save for the purpose of lazily doling out from his pouch some fruits and nuts for his own eating: nor is he likely to arouse himself before the shades of evening gather upon the landscape.
It is the business of the vaquero to preserve the sheep and cattle under his charge from straying and making inroads upon the unprotected vegetable and grazing-lands of other proprietors; but as the animals are almost as indolent as himself—lying as they do, blinking and sleeping in the more shady parts of the field—his occupation is a very light one, and he trains himself to follow it with only one eye, and that but partially open.Behold the boor as he breathes heavily and sonorously upon the ground! Every limb seems relaxed with laziness; his hands are partly closed—for it would be labour to hold the fingers extended; his knees are turned to rest upon the earth—for to bear their own weight would be impossible; his mouth hangs open—for it would require exertion to keep it closed and at present it assists his breathing. His eyes are shut—except the business one, which half opens with difficulty from time to time. His head bushy with thick masses of tangled hair, is bowed upon his breast; his hat is placed forward on his forehead; his serapé is folded beneath his head; his pantaloons are unbuttoned at the waist; and his boots are almost off—for the confinement of clothing would interfere with his ease and enjoyment.
It required the application of the whip this morning at the hacienda, to rouse him from his nightly slumbers, and it is only the fear of the whip that induces him to bear an eye to his important duties at present. The whip darkens the quiet sunshine of his existence always; for without that, his portion in the world would be too blissful for humanity. He is not incapable of exertion, however; but the evening hour, when all is cool, is the proper time to exercise it—then, after he has girded up his loins and escorted his charges to their resting-place, for the night—when he is cosily seated by the furnace side in the servant's room of the farm—his feats in bolting the tortilla cakes, and clearing the mutton platters are astounding: empty cups and pots of stew attest his energy, and his attentions to the pans of frijoles and chilé, and his exertions in swallowing draughts of pulque and atole, are most laborious.
What cares he, meanwhile, for republics or empires, pronunciamientos or rebellions? War or treason, courtly luxuries or mercantile disasters, are as nought to him. Allow him his shadowy resting-place and luxurious ease, his ragged serapé and battered sombrero, his savoury supper and straw couch o' nights, and let the world go on as it pleases! He knows no want, and he desires no change. What animal could ever wish for greater happiness?
He has a companion by his side also, nearly as gloriously idle as himself—a dog who looks very like a wolf, for his colour and outline are of that savage kind. He winks and slumbers like his master sometimes in the shade and at others in the sun and has the same fear of the whip before his eyes. They are a worthy couple; very much alike in every respect.
Alas! for the height of human or canine felicity here below; even the waking dreams of a vaquero and his four-footed comrade are liable to disturbance.
Presently the dog begins to open his eyes, growl, and stretch his legs, and the man, on hearing the well-known signal, betrays unwonted signs of returning animation. When dog and man have gained their feet, their demeanour assumes a strangely different appearance; the dog is all noise and irritability, and the man all bustle and activity. Several sheep in the distance, having left the main body and strayed out of bounds, are greedily nibbling the rich green frijoles in a field belonging to a neighbouring farmer!
A sweltering race has that poor vaquero to run, over the fields in the burning sunshine, after the missing sheep. He holloas, pulls up his pantaloons, perspires, and raves, and calls upon Our Lady, as he manœuvres to get on the other side of the wanderers by the nearest way; yet the truant animals appear obdurate to his advances. The dog leaps and yells, and, being indifferently trained to this part of his duty frightens the sheep away instead of driving them in. At length however the offenders are secured in their old quarters; the dog is left in charge; and the vaquero retires once more to his shade beneath the plaintain conscious that he has earned a lengthened and grateful repose.