33 See my book, "The Andes and the Amazon."
Ancient ore-reduction works, arrastres, canals, ditches, excavations, tunnels, pits, ruined buildings, and in some cases falling church walls, all of this bygone age, are encountered throughout the country, scattered far and wide. Those who lived and moved and had their being therein lie mingled with the dust these centuries past, and kind nature has often covered up the evidences of their handiwork with flower and foliage.
There was a steady flow of the two precious metals to the City of Mexico from the innumerable mines of the regions which produced them. To attempt to describe these mines, even those renowned for their richness, would fill a chapter alone. Fantastic displays of wealth are recorded by the owners of some of the great silver-producing mines—the bridal chambers of a palace, lined by the father of a bride with silver bars; the footpath from the plaza to the church paved with great silver ingots, for the bridal party.
A famous hill of iron—standing on the plains of Durango, stands out also from the historical vista of metallurgical discovery of those early days. In 1552 Vasquez de Mercado, a Spaniard of wealth and family in Mexico, living in Guadalajara, heard from the Indians that a great mountain of pure silver existed on the boundless plateau far to the north. Arming an expedition he set forth with this vain illusion actuating him, and travelled on day after day expecting that every sunrise would gleam upon the burnished slopes of this silver mountain. Battles were fought with the savage Indians who inhabited the plains, but vanquishing these the deluded party pushed on. At last, on the horizon, the hill rose; they approached it: it was iron! Sleeping sore-hearted at its base that night, Mercado and his companions were attacked by Indians, various soldiers killed, and he himself wounded. Returning homeward towards Guadalajara, the unfortunate leader succumbed to his wounds, fatigue, and the ridicule of his companions, and he perished. But the great Cerro de Mercado, the hill of iron, still remains one of the wonders of Mexico.
The long years of the struggle for throwing off the dominions of Spain wrought a great change in Mexican mining, and even when independence was accomplished, the warring revolutionary factions of a country divided against itself destroyed all sense of security, alienated the labour, and so mining fell into disuse, and the mines into ruins. The history of the great Guanajuato silver mines is typical of the effect political conditions exercised upon this industry. The great output of silver from the Valenciana mine—300 million dollars during the last half of the eighteenth century—fell, after the first decade of the nineteenth, to insignificant proportions. The city was attacked in 1810, when in the zenith of her production, by the revolutionary army of the Republicans under Hidalgo, the famous instigator of independence. Sanguinary struggles took place in the city, which fell, and with it the mining industry. Work was stopped; the waters flooded the shafts and galleries, general lawlessness took the place of order, and bands of armed robbers helped themselves at will to the silver, and made forced loans upon the community. Indeed, at the great mining centres throughout the country, Mexican mine buildings resemble fortifications rather than the structures of a peaceable industry; those which were constructed during those turbulent times. Battlemented walls and loopholes give some of these places the appearance of the stronghold of robber barons of the Middle Ages, and remind the traveller, under the peaceful régime of to-day, how rapid has been the country's progress.
The troubled times of Iturbide followed, and mining operations practically ceased. The Indians at this period became unruly in some districts, due to the withdrawal of the Spanish soldiers who protected the mining communities; and in Sonora, one of the busiest of the mining states, a great uprising of the savage Apaches in 1825 caused the abandoning of towns and industries and the inauguration of a long period of ruin and bloodshed. In 1824 something of a revival had begun, by the operations of English capitalists in the great silver-producing centres of Real del Monte, at Pachuca, as already mentioned, and at Guanajuato. The history of this period at Real del Monte is a remarkable one, not yet forgotten, and the lavish outlay of funds made by the London company in Mexico and the extraordinary speculation upon the shares in London are still pointed to as an example of mining operations as conducted at that period. After spending twenty million dollars and extracting sixteen millions from its mines, the company was wound up in 1848. It was succeeded by a Mexican company, which operated to the present time, when sale has been made to American capitalists. The turbulent times of Maximilian and the struggles later for the Presidency of the Republic among its ambitious and unscrupulous military element in later years told against peaceful industry. Soldiers and bandits vied with each other in extortions and robberies, and the fortifications which it was necessary to construct around the mine buildings attest the state of lawlessness of that period.
Even towards the close of last century life and property were insecure, and men went armed in daylight in the streets of Pachuca even in 1890. At Guanajuato the English company which had acquired the great Valenciana and La Luz mines worked them successfully for years, but often under difficulties due to the raids of revolutionists—as in 1832. But a disastrous period followed, and during the last decade of the nineteenth century the end came. The regeneration of these historic groups of mines which is now taking place is due to American enterprise—the British régime is over. The Aztec, the Spaniard, the Mexican, the Briton, and the American—each have had their day in taking this treasure of the white metal from the mother lodes of Anahuac. Whatever their operations, good or evil, they have in succession done service to the world—putting into circulation added means of currency and commerce.
The extent into which religious matters and emblems entered into mining in these early days in the New World was remarkable. In many cases the entrances to the mines were through elaborate stone doorways, with pillar, capital, and pediment, carved figures of saints, and surmounted by a cross. Such are often encountered in Mexico and Peru, and they seem rather the portals to a temple than the entrance to a mine. There was some virtue in work which lavished its sentiment and artistic skill upon the surroundings of a purely industrial enterprise. Churches and chapels, in many instances, surmount the hills whose bowels are pierced by shaft and gallery, and upon the walls of these hang strange pictures, depicting, in some places, incidents of mining life and accidents, placed there perchance by some devout one who had escaped from danger. In some cases these churches were built by fortunate men who had become fabulously rich by the discovery of some great bonanza, and in token of their gratitude to their patron saint who had guided them to so fortunate a destiny they raised the temple which bore his name.
The fine cathedral of Chihuahua, which cost more than half a million dollars, was built from a tax levied upon every pound of silver from the rich Santa Eulalia mine—discovered in 1704—of that region; and in the State of Guerrero, at Taxco, a splendid church was built which cost, it is stated, one and a half million dollars to construct, yielded by the famous mine there. A huge gallery, or tunnel, which was begun by Cortes, forms part of the extensive workings. Another example embodying this strange medley of silver and piety is that of the celebrated shrine, or church, of Guadalupe, near the capital, whose sacred vessels, altar rails, candelabra, and other accessories of a like nature, are formed of silver contributed by the pilgrims who, since the time of the vision which made the place famous, journeyed thither. The weight of the silver contained in these articles is calculated at fifty tons. In the plateau-city of Durango stands a fine cathedral, and this was built from the taxes imposed upon the great Avino mine, and stands as a lasting monument to the great natural wealth of silver which gave it being and which for 350 years has enriched the inhabitants of that favoured spot. In some of the rich mines it is recorded that the miners were permitted to carry out each day a large piece of rich ore, which they presented as an offering to the priest, who devoted the total to the building of a temple. At Catorce a splendid church was so constructed, at a cost of nearly two million dollars.
The great Valenciana mine at Guanajuato, of which mention has been made as the scene of ruthless oppression practised upon the natives by the Spaniards, which terminated in bloody vengeance, left a monument to the fabulous wealth extracted from it. This was built by a miner, one Obregon, who, the chronicles of the city state, became the "richest man in the world." With that almost fanatic and inexhaustible credence and energy which has often characterised the Spanish miner, he drove his adit year after year into the bowels of the great "mother lode"; penniless, ruined at last, without credit, and earning by his losses and persistence the name of el tonto—"the fool." But—almost as if his patron saint had resolved to teach his detractors a lesson—the reward came. The richest bonanza that the "mother lode" ever yielded he struck. From the results of this great treasure—a mere fraction of it—he caused the fine Valenciana church to be raised, whose handsome façade still draws the traveller's attention and marks the romantic episode of mining lore which gave it birth. The building of the temple was begun in 1765; its cost was a million dollars.