Catholic churches and priests form, as usual in all Spanish towns, a prominent feature of the neighborhood; and we are sorry to say that beggars are very importuning and numerous. It is the same in Spain and in Italy as it is in Mexico,—where the priests abound, beggars do much more abound.

In the environs of Queretaro one sees immense plantations devoted to the growth of the maguey plant, from which the national beverage is manufactured. Pulque is to the Mexican what claret is to the Frenchman, or beer to the German, being simply the fermented juice of the aloe. It is said that it was first discovered here, though its advent is attributed to many other towns in Mexico; but it is certain that either the process of manufacture here is superior to that of most other localities, or the plant grown here possesses peculiar properties, as it commands the market. When we consider the matter, it is surprising to recall the number of uses to which the maguey plant is put. Paper is made from the fibre of the leaves, as well as twine and rope; its thorns answer for native pins and needles; the roots are used by the Indians in place of soap; the young sprouts are eaten after being slightly roasted; while in the dried form the leaves are used both for fuel and for thatching the native cabins. The maguey plant has been called the miracle of nature, on account of the large number of articles which are made from it and the variety of uses to which it is adapted. It may be added that of all these properties of the agave the early Toltecs were fully aware, and improved them for their own benefit. We have measured specimens of the well developed plant, the leaves of which were eight feet in length, a foot in width, and eight inches in thickness. When the maguey is about seven or eight years old it is at its best for the production of the desired liquor, and is tapped for the milk-like sap, of which it yields from two quarts to a gallon daily for three or four months. This natural liquor is then called agua miel, or honey water, but when it has gone through the process of fermentation it becomes pulque. If the plant is left to itself, at about ten years of age there springs up from the centre of the leaves a tall stem, twelve or fifteen feet in height, which bears upon its apex clusters of rich yellow flowers, and then the whole withers and dies,—it never blooms but once. The maguey plant constituted the real vineyards of the Aztecs, as well as the tribes preceding them, its product being the drink of the people of the country long before the days of the Montezumas. At this writing, over eighty thousand gallons of pulque are consumed daily in the national capital. It is to be regretted, as we have seen it announced, that an American company propose to go into the business of pulque making by the use of improved facilities, claiming that it can be produced by the use of this machinery at one half the present cost, the plants being also made to yield more copiously. Of course it will be adulterated, every intoxicant is, except pulque as at present made from the maguey by the Indians.

The Mexicans have two other forms of spirituous liquors, namely mescal, which is also prepared from another species of the maguey, by pressing the leaves in a mill, the juice thus extracted being distilled; and aguardiente, or rum, made from sugar-cane juice. Both of these are powerful intoxicants. A very valuable and harmless article is thus sacrificed to make a liquid poison. So in our Middle and Western States we pervert both barley and rye from their legitimate purposes, and turn them into whiskey,—liquefied ruin.

Wherever we go among civilized or savage races, in islands or upon continents, in the frigid North or the melting South, we find man resorting to some stimulant other than natural food and drink. It is an instinctive craving, apparently, exhibited and satisfied as surely in the wilds of Africa, or the South Sea Islands, as by the opium-eating Chinese, or the brandy-drinking Anglo-Saxons. Every people have sought some article with which to stimulate the human system. Oftenest this is a fermented liquor; but various articles have been found to serve the purpose. The Aztecs, and the Toltecs before them, had the fermented juice of the maguey plant. The Chinese get their spirituous drink from rice. People living under the equator distill the saccharine product of the sugar-cane for aguardiente. The German combines his malt and hops to produce beer. The Frenchman depends upon the juice of the grape in various forms, from light claret to fierce Bordeaux brandy. The Puritans of Massachusetts distilled New England rum from molasses. The faithful Mohammedan, who drinks neither wine nor spirits, makes up for his abstinence by free indulgence in coffee. In the islands of the Indian Ocean the natives stimulate themselves by chewing the betel nut; and in the Malacca Straits Settlements, Penang, Singapore, and other islands, the people obtain their spirit from the fermented sap of the toddy-palm. In Japan the natives get mildly stimulated by immoderate drinking of tea many times each day; and all of the civilized and barbaric world is addicted, more or less, to the use of tobacco.

One of the staple commodities produced here is that classic, beautiful, and precious gem, the opal. It is found imbedded in a certain kind of rock, in the neighboring mountains, sometimes in cubes, but oftener in very irregular forms. It will be remembered that Nonius, who possessed a large and brilliant specimen of the opal, preferred exile to surrendering it to Marc Antony. Whether he was opal-mad or not, it is clear that persons who visit this place are very apt to become monomaniacs upon the subject of this beautiful gem. Our party expended considerable sums for these precious stones, cut and uncut, during the brief period of our visit. The choicest of these specimens is the true fire-opal, which in brilliancy and iridescence excels all others. Nearly every person one meets in Queretaro seems to have more or less of these lovely stones to sell; nine tenths of them are of a very cheap quality, really fine ones, being the exception, are valued accordingly. The pretty flower-girl, who first offers you her more fragrant wares, presently becomes confidential, and, drawing nearer, brings out from some mysterious fold of her dress half a dozen sparkling stones which she is anxious to dispose of. Even the water carrier, with his huge red earthen jar strapped to his head and back, if he sees a favorable opportunity, will importune the stranger regarding these fiery little stones. These irresponsible itinerants have some ingenious way of filling up the cracks in an opal successfully for the time being; but, after a few days, the defect will again appear.

The finest specimens of the opal come from Hungary. They are harder in texture than those found in other parts of the world. Those brought from Australia are nearly equal in hardness and brilliancy, while, so far as our own experience goes, the Mexican often excel either in variety of color and brilliancy; but it is not quite so hard as those from the other two sources. This quality of hardness is one criterion of value in precious stones, the diamond coming first, the ruby following it, and so on. The author has seen an opal in Pesth weighing fourteen carats, for which five thousand dollars were refused. They can be purchased at Queretaro at from ten dollars to ten hundred; for the latter price a really splendid gem may be had, emitting a grand display of prismatic tints, and all aglow with fire. The natives, notwithstanding the seeming abundance of the stones, hold very tenaciously to the valuation which they first place upon them. Of course, really choice specimens are always rare, and quickly disposed of. While the ancients considered the opal a harbinger of good fortune to the possessor, it has been deemed in our day to be exactly the reverse; and many lovers of the gem have denied themselves the pleasure of wearing it from a secret superstition as to its unlucky attributes. This fancy has been gradually dispelled, and fashion now indorses the opal as being both beautiful and desirable.

Mexico also produces many other precious stones, among which are the ruby, amethyst, topaz, garnet, pearl, agate, turquoise, and chalcedony, besides onyx and many sorts of choice marbles.

On our route to the national capital we pass through a number of small cities and towns, while we ascend and descend many varying grades. Native women, here and there, bring agua miel, or fresh pulque, to us, of which the passengers partake freely. It is a pleasant beverage when first drawn from the plant, very much like new cider, and has no intoxicating effect until fermentation takes place. As we progress southward, occasional wayside shrines with a cross and a picture of the Virgin are seen, before which a native woman is sometimes kneeling, but never a man. Among other interesting places we come to Tula, which was the capital city of the Toltecs more than twelve centuries ago. The cathedral was erected by the invaders in 1553. The baptismal font in the church is a piece of Toltec work. There is to be seen the yellow, crumbling walls of a crude Spanish chapel, even older than the cathedral, now fast returning to its native dust. There are other extremely interesting ruins here, notably a portion of a prehistoric column, and the lower half of a very large statue situated in the plaza. Mr. Ruskin said in his pedantic way that he could not be induced to travel in America because there were no ruins. There are ruins here and in Yucatan which antedate by centuries anything of recorded history relating to the British Isles. Across the Tula River and up the Cerro del Tesoro are some other ancient ruins which have greatly interested antiquarians, embracing carved stones and what must once have been part of a group of dwellings, built of stone laid in mud and covered with cement. The valley shows a rich array of foliage and flowers, forming bits of delightful scenery. There are some fifteen hundred inhabitants in Tula; but it must once have been a large city; indeed, the name indicates that, meaning "the place of many people." The locality of the ancient capital is now mostly overgrown and hidden from sight. We are fifty miles from the city of Mexico at Tula, and about seven hundred feet below it. The records of the Spanish conquest tell us that the natives of this ancient capital were among the first, as a whole community, to embrace the Christian religion; and it seems that its people ever remained stanch allies of Cortez in extending his conquests.

Here we experienced one of those freaks of tropical weather, a furious summer hail-storm. The thermometer had ranged about 80 deg. in the early day, when suddenly heavy clouds seemed to gather from several points of the sky at the same time. The thermometer dropped quickly some 30 deg.. It was a couple of hours past noon when the clouds began to empty their contents upon the earth; down came the hailstones like buckshot, only twice as large, covering as with a white sheet the parched ground, which had not been wet by a drop of rain for months. This unusual storm prevailed for nearly an hour before it exhausted its angry force. "Exceptional?" repeated the station-master on the line of the Mexican Central Railroad, in reply to a query as to the weather. "I have been here ten years, and this is the first time I have seen snow or hail at any season. I should rather say it was exceptional." By and by, after stampeding all the exposed cattle, and driving everybody to the nearest shelter and keeping them there, the inky clouds dispersed almost as suddenly as they had gathered, and the thermometer gradually crept back to a figure nearly as high as at noon. The fury of the storm was followed by a sunset of rarest loveliness, eliciting ejaculations of delight at the varied and vivid combinations of prismatic colors. One does not soon forget such a scene as was presented at the close of this day. The sun set in a blaze of orange and scarlet, seen across the long level of the cactus-covered prairie, while soft twilight shadows gathered about the crumbling, vine-screened walls of the old Spanish church in the environs of Tula. Soon the stars came into view, one by one, while the moon rode high and serene among the lesser lights of the still blue sky.



CHAPTER VII.

City of Mexico.—Private Dwellings.—Thieves.—Old Mexico.—Climate. —Tramways.—The Plaza Mayor.—City Streets.—The Grand Paseo.— Public Statues.—Scenes upon the Paseo.—The Paseo de la Viga.— Out-of-door Concerts.—A Mexican Caballero.—Lottery Ticket Venders. —High Noon.—Mexican Soldiers.—Musicians.—Criminals as Soldiers. —The Grand Cathedral.—The Ancient Aztec Temple.—Magnificent View from the Towers of the Cathedral.—Cost of the Edifice.—Valley of Anahuac.

As Paris is said to be France, so is the national capital of this country equally representative, it being indisputable that the main business and the social interests of the country all centre here. The city derives its name from the Aztec war-god Mexitli, and is a large and handsome metropolis, containing considerably over three hundred thousand inhabitants, who embrace a large diversity of nationalities. In 1519, when Cortez first saw it, the city is represented to have been nine miles in circumference, and to have contained half a million of inhabitants,—a statement which, we doubt not, is greatly exaggerated, as were nearly all of his representations and those of his followers. This capital originally bore the name of Tenochtitlan, and was completely destroyed by the invaders, who established a new city upon the same site. Cortez officially announced, three or four years afterwards, that the population was thirty thousand. "For a century," says Charles Lempriere, an able writer on Mexico, "the city continued to increase in numbers, wealth, and power, so that when Captain John Smith and his followers were looking for gold mines in Virginia and the Pilgrims were planting corn in Massachusetts, an empire had been founded and built up on the same continent by the Spaniards, and the most stupendous system of plunder the world ever saw was then and there in vigorous operation."

The streets of the city as we see them to-day are generally broad and straight, lined with two-story houses, and there are also several elegant boulevards and spacious avenues. The better class of houses are built of stone, covered with stucco, the windows opening upon cosy little balconies handsomely ornamented and shaded by linen awnings, often in high colors. The interior construction of the dwellings follows the usual Spanish style, as seen on the continent of Europe, in the island of Cuba, and elsewhere, often displaying touches of exquisite Moorish effect, whose highest expression one sees in the Alhambra at Granada. Here and there there are seen horseshoe arches supported at the abutments by light and graceful columns, inclosing marble-paved courts. The open areas about which the houses are built often present most pleasing effects by a display of fountains, flowers, and statuary tastefully arranged. On the main thoroughfare leading from the Plaza Mayor to the alameda are several grand private residences, having the most beautiful courts, or patios, as they are called, that the imagination can conceive, lovely with tropical trees and flowers in vivid colors, and rendered musical by the singing of caged birds. Upon these areas, which are open to the sky, the inner doors and windows of the dwellings open, the second story being furnished with a walk and balustrade running round the patio. Heavy, nail-studded doors shut off this domestic area from the street at night. It is not safe to leave anything outside the house after dark that a man can lift. It is sure to be stolen, if so exposed. The lower classes all over the country are inveterate thieves. The bolts that fastened the ties to the rails of the National Railway were stolen nightly by the people, until they were finally riveted on. But then there are thieves everywhere; we chain our out-door mats to iron fastenings in Boston, Chicago, and New York, and dealers in "improved burglar alarms" do a thriving business in all our Northern cities.

The houses in this capital are very substantially built, the walls being composed of stuccoed bricks of great thickness. Fires are of rare occurrence, and, indeed, it would be nearly impossible to burn up one of these dwellings. If a fire does occur, it is almost always confined not only to the building in which it originates, but even to the room where it first makes its appearance. The roofs are nearly all flat and without chimneys; there is no provision made for producing artificial heat in the dwelling-houses. This is quite endurable even to foreigners in a climate where the temperature seldom falls below 60 deg. Fahr., and averages the year round nearly ten degrees higher. It is always warm in the middle of the day, and cool only early in the mornings and at night. The climate may be said to be temperate and the atmosphere is extremely dry. Travelers are liable to suffer considerably from thirst, and the lips are prone to chap, owing to this extreme and peculiar dryness. The warmest months of the year are April and May. It was somewhat of a surprise to the author to learn that the death-rate of the city of Mexico averages nearly double that of Boston. As to elevation, it is over seven thousand feet higher than the city of Washington, D. C., or more than a thousand feet higher than the summit of Mount Washington, N. H.

Regarding the fine residences on San Francisco Street, there is a peculiarity observable as to their location. This is almost wholly a business street, and therefore to select it for an elegant home seems incongruous. The choicest residence we can remember on this thoroughfare stands between a large railroad-ticket office and a showy cigar store. This house has a most striking facade finished in Moorish style with enameled tiles, and is on the opposite side of the street from the Iturbide Hotel.

Numerous large squares, beside the grand plaza and the spacious alameda, ornament the capital. Several of the main thoroughfares enter and depart from the Plaza Mayor, as in the city of Madrid, where the Puerto del Sol—"Gate of the Sun"—forms a centre from which radiate so many of the principal streets. Some are broad, some are narrow, but all are paved, cleanly, and straight. The street-car system is excellent. If any fault is to be found with the management, it is with the rapid manner in which the mules attached to the cars are driven through the highways amid a crowded population; and yet, we were told, accidents rarely if ever happen. They are generally run double, having a first and second class car, both of which are seemingly well filled at all hours of the day. Funerals are conducted by turning one of the street cars, made for the purpose, into a catafalque, or hearse, another being reserved for the pall-bearers and mourners. Sometimes one sees a long string of these cars occupied for this purpose gliding into the suburbs where the grave-yards are located. The use of cow-horns by the driver to warn the people who obstruct the way appeared to be a little primitive, to say the least of it, in a city so large as this capital. It seems very effective, however. The fact that all of the tramway cars start from and return to the Plaza Mayor in front of the cathedral makes it easy for a stranger to find his way to any desired point of the city or its environs, and safely to return to the starting point when he desires to do so. The Plaza Mayor in every Mexican city is not only the central park, but also the central idea. There could no more be a full-fledged Spanish city without a plaza than a cathedral without a bishop.

Statistics show that there are nearly, or quite, five hundred miles of streets in the Mexican capital. These, intersecting each other at right angles, are so strangely alike as to be not a little puzzling to the uninitiated. It is also somewhat awkward at first to find one continuous avenue bearing many names, each block being individualized by a fresh appellation. This subdivision of the large avenues, we were told, is gradually to be discarded. The admirable boulevard called the Paseo de la Reforma, leads out of the city to the castle of Chapultepec, and is over two miles in length, with a uniform width of two hundred feet, forming the fashionable afternoon drive and promenade of the town. It has double avenues of shade trees to the right and left, with stone sidewalks and convenient seats for those who desire them. On either side of this grand boulevard are seen an occasional chateau with handsome gardens. At certain intervals the avenue widens into a glorieta, or circle, four hundred feet in diameter. The first of these contains Cordier's Columbus, one of the most admirable and artistic modern statues which we remember to have seen, though there appeared to be some confusion in the extraordinary amount of detail which is crowded upon the base. Other appropriate monuments ornament the several circles, including an equestrian statue of Charles IV. of colossal size; thirty tons of metal was used in the casting, and, if not the largest, it is the second largest that has ever been cast. Still another represents Guatemozin, the last of the Indian emperors. It is a little singular that Montezuma II. is not remembered in this connection, he whose life was so intimately interwoven with the history of the Aztec race in the time of Cortez. Humboldt is said to have declared that the statue of Charles IV. had but one superior, namely, that of Marcus Aurelius. There are six of these glorietas, which beautify the long line of perspective ending in the elevated palace-castle of Chapultepec, with its snow-white, picturesque walls clearly defined against the blue sky. When Maximilian planned and completed this charming driveway, he named it the Boulevarde Emperiale; but on the establishment of the republic the more appropriate title which it now bears was adopted. Some people persist in calling it the Empress's Drive, in honor of Carlotta.

One never wearies of sitting upon the well-arranged benches of the paseo in the afternoon, and watching the motley throng of people driving, riding on horseback, or promenading: the ladies with piercing black eyes and glossy dark hair shrouded by lace mantillas; the dashing equestrians exhibiting all the gay paraphernalia of a Mexican horseman; stately vehicles drawn by two snow-white mules; tally-ho coaches conveying merry parties of American or English people; youthful aristocrats bestriding Lilliputian horses, followed by liveried servants; while here and there a mounted policeman in fancy uniform moves slowly by. In the line of pedestrians are well-dressed gentlemen in black broadcloth suits, wearing silk hats and sporting button-hole bouquets, mingled with whom are a more common class of the people in picturesque national costumes. The women of the middle class add gayety of color by their red and blue rebosas, sometimes partly covering the head, at others thrown carelessly over the shoulders, or tied across the chest securing an infant to the back. The general effect of the constantly moving throng is kaleidoscopic, while the mingled groupings are delightfully entertaining. Nothing more peculiar and striking in its line is to be seen this side of the Maidan, Calcutta. Here, as in that Asiatic Champs Elysees, now and again one sees a light American trotting wagon or a heavy-wheeled English dog cart, with a dude at the reins and a liveried flunky behind holding a flaring bouquet!

The carriages go out towards Chapultepec on one side and return on the other, during the popular hours for driving, leaving the central portion of the roadway exclusively for equestrians. Every man who can afford it owns a saddle horse in this city, and the men are universally good riders. The horses are broken to a certain easy gait called the passo, a sort of half run, very easy for the rider, scarcely moving him in the seat. These horses average about fifteen hands in height, and are taught to stop, or turn back, at the least touch of the bit. They are both fast and enduring, with plenty of spirit, and yet are perfectly tractable. The enormous spurs worn by the riders, with rowels an inch long, are more for show than for use. Mexican or Spanish ladies are hardly ever seen on horseback, though both English and American ladies are often met in the saddle, dashing gallantly through the throng upon the paseo at the fashionable hour. Something of oriental exclusiveness and privacy is observed by Mexican ladies of the upper class, who drive on the paseo even in close carriages, not in open barouches, like those of European cities. In shopping excursions they do not enter the stores; but the goods are brought to the door of the vehicle, in which they retain their seat while examining the articles which are offered. It is a Sunday scene which we are describing; but it is all the gayer for that reason. The pulque shops drive a lucrative business; the billiard saloons are all open. Children ride hither and thither in little fancy carriages drawn by goats; donkeys covered with glittering ornaments are ridden by small boys, and led by their owners; clouds of highly-colored toy balloons float in the air, tied to the wrists of itinerant venders; gambling stands do much abound; while candy-sellers, with long white aprons and snow-white paper caps, offer candy and preserved fruits on all sides. The class of women whom we meet as pedestrians are quite Parisian in the free use of rouge for lips and cheeks, not forgetting indigo-blue with which to shade about their dreamy-looking eyes. Ladies belonging to the aristocratic class are rarely, if ever, seen walking in the streets. They only drive in the paseo. For a couple of hours in the closing part of the day, the paseo is a bright, giddy, alluring scene. A military band performs on Sundays, adding life and spirit to the surroundings. The wholesome influence of these out-of-door concerts upon the masses of the people is doubtless fully realized by the government. A love of music is natural to all classes here. Groups of half-clothed men and women, bareheaded and barefooted, always take places modestly in some corner and quietly listen during the performance of the bands, never speaking while the music lasts. To such these out-door concerts are a real boon. To the higher classes they are simply an addition to a long list of other pleasures. Another boulevard, known as the Paseo de la Viga, runs along the banks of the canal of the same name, and leads out to the Lake Xachimilco; but, since the new paseo was completed this has ceased to be the favorite resort for driving. It is situated in the southern suburb of the city, and seems to be rather deserted, though as we view it there passes a typical horseman, a description of whom shall be literal.

The horse is of Arabian descent. His sire must have been imported from continental Spain, and being crossed upon native stock has produced a medium-sized, high-spirited, handsome animal, with a broad chest expanded by the air of this altitude, the nostrils being widespread, the ears small, and the eyes full of intelligence. The horse's saddle, bridle, and trappings are gorgeous with silver ornaments, without the least regard to usefulness, twenty-four inches square of leather fancifully worked and shaped being attached to each stirrup. His rider appears in a short leather jacket, bedizened with silver buttons, tight pantaloons of the same material, also heavy with silver buttons, being partially opened at the side and flaring at the bottom. He does not wear a waistcoat, but has a mountain of frills on the linen bosom of his shirt, set off by a red scarf tied about the waist. The spurs upon his heels are of silver, weighing at least half a pound each, while the rowels are an inch long. On his head is a sombrero of yellow or brown felt, the brim of which is twelve to fifteen inches broad, and the crown measuring the same in height. The sombrero is covered with gilt cord formed into a sort of rope where it makes the band. The wearer's monogram, in gold or silver letters from two to four inches long, on the side of the crown, completes the whole. Every article is of the finest material, and therein, principally, he differs from a Western cowboy or a dandified Buffalo Bill.

During the period of Lent, owing to some caprice of fashion, the Paseo de la Viga becomes the popular afternoon resort for vehicles and equestrians.

While we are making these notes, sitting upon the curbstone of a fountain of the paseo, we are personally reminded that the lottery ticket vender is ubiquitous. Sometimes it is a man who importunes you to purchase, sometimes a young girl, and at others even a child of eleven or twelve years belonging to either sex. The pretty girl of course finds the most customers, offering to "kiss the ticket for good luck," and on the sly, perhaps the purchaser also. This must be a Spanish idea, as it is practiced both in Madrid and Cuba. The Mexican government realizes fully a million dollars per annum from the licenses granted to protect this gross swindle upon the public. It is a regular thing for prominent business houses to make their monthly purchases of these lottery tickets; rich and poor, prince and beggar, alike invest, differing only in the amount; while most strangers, smothering their conscientious scruples, purchase a ticket, thus adding their mite to the general folly. We were told in Havana that one satisfaction in buying tickets in the national lottery there was, that like the Louisiana Lottery it was honestly conducted. Our incredulity upon the subject was laughed to scorn, but since then the Havana Lottery has been detected in a series of the most barefaced swindlings that can be imagined. As to that of Louisiana, we never for a moment have believed in there being anything "honest" about it. A concern which can afford to offer the State government of Louisiana over a million dollars per annum for the privilege of running a gambling institution there, must carry on a more reckless swindling game upon the public at large than its worst enemies have suspected.

Just at high noon, on our return from the Paseo de la Viga, the Plaza Mayor was reached on the great square fronting the cathedral, where a simultaneous movement was observed among the people who filled the large area. As the cathedral and church bells throughout the city chimed the hour of twelve, every Mexican in sight uncovered his head and bowed devoutly. It was difficult to analyze this spirit of reverence, for which no one could assign any satisfactory reason except that it was the custom.

The swarthy soldiers of the republic are often seen paraded opposite the plaza, and though they are sure to recall the French Zouaves, yet they lack their admirable discipline and perfection of company movements. Indeed, to speak plainly, the author has never seen a more slatternly, knock-kneed, uncouth body of soldiers than the rank and file of the Mexican army. The white gaiters of the French Zouaves moving all together have a fine effect when a body of them are marching through a Parisian boulevard; but the Mexican soldiers have neither stockings nor gaiters, besides which they do not pretend to keep step at all when marching. They move at will, while the bottoms of their feet only are covered with the crudest sort of sandals, laced about the ankles with leather thongs. Every soldier in the Mexican service is his own shoemaker. An intelligent officer, in reply to a question regarding the sandal for army use, said: "They are far more comfortable for a soldier on the march than any shoe that can be made. They are cool, cheap, and do not irritate the feet. They can be renewed anywhere in this country, and a sandal that will fit one man will do for any other in the regiment. In a warm climate nothing is so suitable for the feet of a soldier." It is well known that so painful will close shoes often become to the foot soldier, that he will take them off and throw them away in despair when making a forced march, preferring to walk barefooted rather than endure the suffering caused by swollen feet and tight shoes, which cannot occur when the sandal is used. The feet have always perfect freedom in them, and the sole and toes are protected. Neither men nor women of the common class wear stockings, and in fact nine out of ten of the population of the country go barefooted all the year round.

It puzzles a stranger to see a good military band—and they are excellent musicians here—play upon their instruments in perfect harmony, and at the same time march out of step or cadence with the music. It would seem almost impossible for one possessing a true musical ear to perform such a trick. With any European or American band, both feet and instruments would get out of accord constantly, or fall into it naturally. Like the king's guard in Hawaii, the troops here parade in white linen or cotton uniforms, stout and unbleached, with a plenty of silvered buttons, the cap being white and of the same material as the rest of the simple costume. At times they appear in a plain uniform of dark blue, but this is on special occasions only, as it is considered to be full dress. The officers are nearly all graduates of the military school at Chapultepec, where the best of foreign teachers are employed in the various departments, so that in future it is confidently expected that the army will be found in a more efficient condition than ever before. The common soldiers, we were told, are composed of rather questionable material. A large percentage of them are criminals released from prison on condition of their enlisting and serving for a certain length of time in the ranks of the regular army. On the caps of those serving out a term of imprisonment in this manner are certain marks indicating the same, as well as showing the length of the prescribed service. Punishment is ever prompt in this country, and despotic methods prevail. Any one attempting to evade his term of service, or breaking army regulations, is very apt to have his business settled by a bullet at once, without even the form of a trial. The department of the cavalry seemed to a casual observer to be much more efficient than that of the infantry. The fact is, the average Mexican is an admirable horseman, and appears better in that capacity than in any other. The national or standing army numbers about forty-five thousand of all arms, besides which each state has a regular militia force, but of a poorly organized character, in most instances, as we were informed, being neither uniformed, nor drilled at regular periods. President Diaz is opposed to the employment of criminals, such as we have described, thinking with good reason that it has a tendency to bring disrepute upon the service. This would seem to be such an unquestionable fact as to admit of no argument.

As, in the case of the first Spanish invasion, Cortez with his handful of followers could not have conquered and possessed Mexico but for the dissensions existing among the several native tribes, so, as regards the French invasion and attempt to seat Maximilian on the throne of a new American empire, these invaders could not have met with even the partial success which they achieved had the Mexican people presented an unbroken front in opposition. The American invasion was also more or less favorably affected by partisan divisions among the Mexicans. The present organization of the army is upon a basis so national, and is governed by a spirit so faithful to the whole union of the states, that in case of another war Mexico could put a large and effective army into the field. In other words, she is better prepared to-day than ever before to successfully maintain her national integrity by force of arms.

The famous cathedral of Mexico, with its tall twin towers and graceful dome, is built of unhewn stone, and fronts upon the Plaza Mayor, forming the main architectural feature of the city. Ninety years did not suffice to complete it, and several millions of dollars were expended in the original construction. Among the sixty churches of the capital it is preeminent for its vast proportions and elaborate architectural finish. The edifice stands upon the spot, or very near it, which, was once occupied by the great Aztec temple dedicated to the war god of the nation, which the Spaniards promptly destroyed after subjugating the natives and taking full possession of the place. The first church on this site after the destruction of the idolatrous temple was founded by Charles V. His successor ordered it to be pulled down, and the present edifice erected in its place. We are told that the great Aztec temple was surrounded by walls having four gates fronting the four cardinal points, and that within the enclosure were five hundred dwellings accommodating the priests and priestesses, and others who were devoted to religious dances and devotional ceremonies connected with the worship and service of the idols. Five thousand priests chanted night and day before the altars. Consecrated fountains and gardens of holy flowers were there, mingling barbaric fanaticism with natural beauty. In describing these matters the old priests and monks gave free scope to their imaginations.

The ancient temple was pyramidal, the summit being about one hundred and fifty feet above the ground, and accessible by numerous broad stone steps. On the platform at the top, according to Spanish authorities, human sacrifices took place not only daily but hourly; wars were made with neighboring tribes to supply victims for the altar, and when there was a revolt among the native tribes, it was subdued by the strong arm, while the offending district was compelled to supply a certain number of their people to die on the sacrificial stone. It is represented that the number of lives thus disposed of was reckoned by tens of thousands. David A. Wells, in his able and comprehensive work entitled, "A Study of Mexico," says of these Spanish chroniclers that their representations are the merest romance, no more worthy of credence than the stories of "Sindbad the Sailor," though from this source alone Prescott drew the data for his popular "Conquest of Mexico." One of these chroniclers, who gives his name as Bernal Diaz, not only repeats these stories of the multitudinous sacrifice of human beings at the rate of thousands monthly, but charges the Cholulans with "fattening men and women to use for food, keeping them in pens as animals are fatted!" Wilson pronounces this to be intolerable nonsense, and though Diaz pretends to have been one of Cortez's soldiers, always with him throughout his remarkable invasion, Wilson proves clearly that he was never in the country at all. His obvious and constant blunders as to geography and other matters would alone convict him of being a pretender and not a true witness. Besides which, he contradicts both himself and Cortez's account in many important particulars. We believe, with Wilson, that this name of Bernal Diaz is a pure fabrication, gotten up as a priestly scheme to further their own purposes, and cover up the insufferable wickedness of the Roman Church in Mexico, as well as to screen the bloodthirsty career of its agent Cortez. Las Casas declared all these Spanish histories of the conquest to be wicked and false. He wrote a history himself, from personal observation, but as it would have exposed the falsehoods and schemes of the priestly chroniclers, it was promptly suppressed by the all-powerful Inquisition.

In destroying and leveling the great sacrificial mound which formed the pyramid supporting the Aztec temple, together with the debris of the dismantled dwellings and temples generally belonging to the native race, the Spanish conquerers must have found ample material wherewith to fill up the many canals and small lakes which made of this ancient Aztec capital another Venice. Every vestige of aboriginal architecture has disappeared from the surface of the city. Three hundred and sixty odd years have served to turn the probably frail dwellings of the people completely to dust. So, also, have the earliest structures of the Spaniards disappeared. There are few of their churches which have not been rebuilt. The causeways which connected the ancient city with the mainland are still considerably higher than the general level of the plain, and are thus distinctly marked, besides being bordered with venerable umbrageous trees, tall and graceful, producing a fine effect, particularly when seen from a distance, forming divisional lines in the broad and varied landscape.

The facade of the present grand cathedral, at each side of which rises a massive tower crowned by a bell-shaped dome, is divided by buttresses into three parts, and though there is some confusion of orders, Doric and Ionic prevailing, still as a whole the front is majestic and imposing. The towers are each over two hundred feet in height, and are also of mingled orders. In the western tower is the great bell, nineteen feet high, named Santa Maria de Guadalupe. We know of nothing of the sort exceeding it in size and weight except the great Russian bell to be seen in the square of the Kremlin at Moscow. The basso-relievos, statues, friezes, and capitals of the facade of the great edifice are of white marble, which time has rendered harmonious with the gray stone. Though millions of dollars have been lavishly expended upon the interior,—the cost of the bare walls was over two millions,—it will strike an artistic eye as incongruous. Like the grand and costly interiors of the churches at Toledo, Burgos, and Cordova, in Spain, the general effect is seriously marred by placing the choir in the middle of the nave. It is like breaking midway some otherwise grand perspective. The cathedral is over four hundred feet in length and two hundred in width. Quadruple pillars, each thirty-five feet in circumference, support its roof, which is a hundred and seventy-five feet from the floor. The high altar—there are six altars in all—was once the richest in the world, and though the church has been many times plundered, it still retains much of its magnificence. The solid gold candlesticks, heavier than a single pair of arms could lift, the statue of the Assumption, which was also composed of solid gold, inlaid with diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones, valued at a million dollars, besides many other equally extravagant and nearly as costly objects, have from time to time disappeared. But with all of its losses, this cathedral is doubtless decorated in a more costly manner than any other in America. The railing of the choir is a remarkable affair, manufactured in China at great cost, and weighs nearly thirty tons. It is said to be composed of silver, gold, and copper, containing so much gold that an offer has been made to take it down and replace it with one of solid silver in exchange. The original cost of this railing is stated to have been one million and a half dollars! (Spanish authority.) There are a dozen or more side chapels, inclosed in bronze gates, in one of which the Mexican Emperor Iturbide is buried, though he was condemned and executed as a traitor. Two invaluable oil paintings hang upon the walls, a genuine Murillo and an original Michael Angelo. A dim light pervades the interior of the cathedral, tempered by the flare of tall candles, but it lacks the beautiful effect of stained glass windows. The imagination, however, is very active, and easily summons from the dim past ghostly shadows, while an overpowering sense of height and silence prevails.

Here Maximilian and Carlotta were crowned, in 1864, emperor and empress, with great ceremony, little dreaming how briefly their imperial honors would remain to them.

In contemplating this grand architectural development, as well as the hundreds of other similar structures, erected at such enormous expenditures of money and labor, one cannot but be exercised by mingled emotions. We are apt to recall how much of absolute misery was entailed upon the down-trodden natives, who were compelled to work for barely sufficient food to sustain life. The control of the priesthood was absolute; they levied taxes upon everything and everybody. They were amenable to no civil laws, and recognized none but those of the church. The extent to which they carried their extortion is almost beyond belief, and the amount of wealth which they accumulated is nearly incredible. At the time of the reform, the clergy absolutely owned three fourths of the entire property of the country.

The view from the towers of the cathedral,—in which there are between forty and fifty costly bells, each dedicated to some saint or martyr,—is so remarkable that not even the most casual visitor to the capital should miss it. It presents such a picture as promptly photographs itself on the brain, never to be obliterated. It was from this locality, on the summit of the Aztec temple which stood here four hundred years ago, that Montezuma pointed out to Cortez the beauties of his capital and its fairy-like environs, so soon to be destroyed by the hands of the ruthless invader. At our feet lies the tree-dotted plaza, with its central pleasure-garden and its fine architectural surroundings, including the long, white facade of the national palace, while the entire city is spread out before us with its myriad domes, spires, thoroughfares, and causeways. There are typical scenes and groups everywhere formed by the eddies of busy life. Long lines of heavy-laden burros thread the streets, the natives assume the size of huge insects crawling about in bright colors, the blooming trees are like button-hole bouquets, and dashing horsemen move about like animated marionettes. Not far away looms against the blue sky the tall castle of Chapultepec, while the clustered towers of Guadalupe, the Mecca of all pious Mexicans, comes still nearer to the vision. The many outlying villages upon the plateau, each with its central spire, recall the lovely plains of Granada. The distant fields of maguey, the verdant patches of alfalfa, luxuriant meadows, groups of grazing cattle, and the two arched stone aqueducts are all prominent features presenting themselves to the eye, together with the gardens and villas of Tacubaya and San Angel. As we gaze at the unequaled panorama, which Humboldt pronounced to be the most beautiful the eye ever rested upon, the thought forced itself upon us that with all its scenic beauty, this valley and plain of Anahuac has for centuries been cursed with crime and barbarism. The whole scene is inclosed by a grand circle of mountains, just far enough away to clothe them in charming purple. The rarefied atmosphere adds distinctness and brilliancy of coloring to everything. Two of these sky-reaching elevations are of world-wide reputation, namely, Mount Popocatepetl ("the smoking mountain"), and Mount Ixtaccihuatl ("the white woman"). The former presents so perfect a conical form, while the summit is rounded into a dome of dazzling whiteness, that it seems to far exceed the height of eighteen thousand feet which is accorded to it; and though it does not rise abruptly from sea level to its giddy height, like Mount Tacoma in the State of Washington, still in shape it much resembles that noble elevation.

Cortez in 1520 and Scott in 1847 led their conquering hosts over the elevated pass which nature had formed between these mountains. The two summits are connected by a well-wooded ridge, itself some three thousand feet in height, looking from a distance like a deep valley between the grand mountains. While regarding the interesting scene, it was natural to compare the loftiest elevation before us with that of the Valley of Chamounix. Mont Blanc is a little less than sixteen thousand feet at its summit above the sea. Popocatepetl is a little less than eighteen thousand, but the latter rises from the plateau of Mexico, which is over seven thousand feet above the sea, while Mont Blanc at the base, is only thirty-five hundred feet above the ocean. Thus about two thousand feet more of elevation is visible to the eye in the Swiss mountain than the Mexican monarch shows above the plain.

In the rear of the cathedral, and adjoining it, is an interesting chapel known as the Capilla de las Animas, "Chapel of the Souls." It is really a part of the cathedral, though arranged quite separate from it, facing upon the Calle de las Escalerillas. We find no record of its origin, though it is said to have been built in 1748 to replace a similar edifice which was destroyed by fire. The branch of business to which this chapel is devoted, as we were told upon the spot, was to pray to the good God to release souls from purgatory! One Concha, a priest who carried on this lucrative farce until he was eighty-seven years old, died so long ago as 1755, having, as the church record shows, "celebrated" over forty-five thousand masses in his time; the amount of cash received for the same is not set down. As the priests do nothing on credit, officiating at marriages or funerals, selling indulgences or performing masses for cash only, this good man must have realized for his services, in the aggregate, at the very lowest reasonable estimate, about one million dollars. Undoubtedly high rates were sometimes paid to get a very "hard case" out of purgatory. Sinners who dreaded a future state of punishment, as a just reward for their evil deeds on earth, were accustomed to leave Father Concha a good round sum of money, to pray them out of the uncomfortable quarters to which they expected to be consigned after departing from this life. Like a certain shrewd Irishman, they "accepted" purgatory, fearing they might go further and fare worse.



CHAPTER VIII.

An Extinct Volcano.—Mexican Mountains.—The Public Institutions of the Capital.—The Government Palace.—The Museum.—Maximilian's State Carriage.—A Peculiar Plant.—The Academy of Fine Arts.— Choice Paintings.—Art School.—Picture Writing.—Native Artists. —Exquisite Pottery.—Cortez's Presents to Charles V.—A Special Aztec Art.—The Sacrificial Stone.—Spanish Historical Authorities. —Public Library.—The Plaza.—Flower Market.—A Morning Visit.— Public Market.—Concealed Weapons.

The crater of Popocatepetl—being an extinct volcano—is now a valuable sulphur mine. To obtain this product, it is necessary to descend into the crater by means of a rope, one of great length being required for the purpose; and when a certain quantity is secured, it is packed in mats before being hoisted to the mouth of the crater. The Indians tie these packages together; then, making a cushion of their serapes, they slide down the mountain as far as the snow extends, dragging the mats after them. On the north side of the volcano, near the limit of tree growth, the sulphur is distilled in iron retorts, and is then ready for the market. The crater's mouth is huge in dimensions, being half a mile in diameter, and the amount of native sulphur deposited there is enormous,—practically inexhaustible. This profitable sulphur mine is owned, or was, a few months since, by General Ochoa, a resident of the capital. It is said that when Cortez had expended his supply of gunpowder, he resorted to the crater of Popocatepetl for sulphur to make a fresh supply, and that the natives had never ascended the mountain until the Spaniards showed them the way. Earthquakes are not uncommon, even to-day, near the base of this monarch mountain; but no eruption has taken place since 1692. Earthquakes have always been more or less common in Mexico, but never very serious in the capital; otherwise, with its insecure foundations, it must have suffered seriously. Smoke is reported to have been seen bursting forth from the crater of Popocatepetl several times at long intervals, but no positive volcanic action has taken place since the date named. Its actual height is given by the best authorities as being but about two hundred feet less than eighteen thousand.

One is apt to speculate mentally, while gazing upon it, as to the possibility of this sleeping volcano one day awaking to destructive action. That it still lives is clearly seen by the smoke and sulphurous breath which it exhales, and the occasional significant earthquakes which occur about its widespread base. There are seventeen or eighteen mountains in the republic which rise more than ten thousand feet above the level of the sea, four of which are over fifteen thousand feet in height, Popocatepetl being the loftiest of them all. Parties ascend on horseback to the snow line, and from thence the distance to the summit is accomplished on foot. Some adventurous people make the descent into the crater by means of the bucket and windlass used by the sulphur-gatherers, but the most inquisitive can see all that they desire from the northerly edge of the cone. The expeditions for the ascent are made up at Amecameca. The time necessarily occupied is about three days, and the cost is twenty-five dollars for each person. It is a very exhausting excursion, and few persons undertake it.

The city of Mexico is famous for its large numbers of scientific, literary, and charitable institutions, its many schools, primary and advanced, and its several well-appointed hospitals. The national palace covers the whole eastern side of the Plaza Mayor, having a frontage of nearly seven hundred feet, and occupies the site of the royal residence of the Montezumas, if we may credit tradition. The present edifice was erected in 1693, in place of one which Cortez and the Spanish viceroys had occupied until it was destroyed by fire in 1692. Though the palace is only two stories in height, yet the central tower over the main entrance and the finish on each side of it give it all necessary prominence. It contains the President's suite of rooms, and those devoted to the various departments of the state officials. The hall of ambassadors, a very long, narrow apartment, is interesting on account of its life-size portraits of Mexican rulers from the period of independence, a majority of whom either endured exile or public execution! At the extreme end of this hall is a very good full-length portrait of our Washington. Here, also, is a pretentious battle-piece by a native artist, representing the battle of Puebla, when the French were so completely defeated. The picture is entitled "Cinco de Mayo," the date of the conflict. It is not a fine specimen of art, but it is certainly a very effective picture. This battle of the 5th of May was another Waterloo for the French. An apartment known as Maximilian's room is shown to the visitor, situated in the corner of the palace, having two windows at right angles and thus commanding a view in two directions, one window overlooking the plaza, the other the business streets leading to the market. A room called the hall of Iturbide is hung in rich crimson damask, displaying the eagle and serpent, which form the arms of Mexico. The edifice contains also the General Post-office and the National Museum. In the armory of the palace there was pointed out to us the stand of arms with which the Archduke Maximilian and his two faithful officers were shot at Queretaro. In the grounds which form the patio of the palace, a small botanical garden is maintained, containing many exotics, choice trees and plants, besides a collection of those indigenous to the country. The curiosities in the department of antiquity of the museum are of intense interest. In an historical point of view they are invaluable. A great amount of money and intelligent labor has been expended upon the collection with highly satisfactory results. It is of engaging interest to the merest museum frequenter, but to the archaeologist it is valuable beyond expression. Here are also deposited the extensive solid silver table-service imported for his own use by Maximilian, and also the ridiculously gilded and bedizened state carriage brought hither from Europe, built after the English style of the seventeenth century. The body of the vehicle is painted red, the wheels are gilded, and the interior is lined with white silk brocade, heavily trimmed with silver and gold thread. It surpasses in elegance and cost any royal vehicle to be seen in Europe, not excepting the magnificent carriages in the royal stables of Vienna and St. Petersburg. Among the personal relics seen in the museum is the coat of mail worn by Cortez during his battles from Vera Cruz to the capital, also the silk banner which was borne in all his fights. This small flag bears a remarkably lovely face of the Madonna, which must have been the work of a master hand. The shield of Montezuma is also exhibited, with many arms, jewels, and picture writings, these last relating to historic matters, both Toltec and Aztec. The great sacrificial stone of the aborigines, placed on the ground floor of the museum, is, in all its detail, a study to occupy one for days. It is of basalt, elaborately chiseled, measuring nine feet in diameter and three feet in height. On this stone the lives of thousands of human beings, we are told, were offered up annually. The municipal palace is on the south side of the plaza, nearly opposite to which is a block of buildings resting upon arcades like those of the Rue Rivoli in Paris. Let us not forget to mention that in the garden of the national palace the visitor is shown a remarkable floral curiosity called the hand-tree, covered with bright scarlet flowers, almost exactly in the shape of the human hand. This is the Cheirostemon platanifolium of the botanists, an extremely rare plant, three specimens of which only are known to exist in Mexico.

In the rear of the national palace is the Academy of Fine Arts, generally spoken of as the Academy of San Carlos,—named in honor of Carlos III. of Spain,—which contains three or four well-filled apartments of paintings, with one and, in some instances, two pictures each of such masters as Leonardo da Vinci, Velasquez, Titian, Van Dyck, Rubens, Perugino, and others. There is also a large hall of sculpture attached, which presents casts of many well-known and classic originals. This department, however, does not compare well with the rest of the institution. The art gallery will be sure to greatly interest the stranger, as being the foundation of an institution evidently destined in time to reach a high degree of excellence. Besides possessing several priceless examples by the old masters, there are many admirable pictures, the result of native talent, which are remarkable for their conception and execution. Two large canvases by Jose Maria Velasco, representing the Valley of Mexico, form fine and striking landscapes which few modern painters can equal. These two paintings were exhibited at the Philadelphia Exposition, and won high encomiums. In our estimation, the gem of the galleries is, unquestionably, the large canvas by Felix Parra, a native artist. It is entitled "Las Casas protecting the Aztecs from slaughter by the Spaniards." This young artist, not yet much over thirty years of age, has given us in this picture an original conception most perfectly carried out, which has already made him famous. It was painted before Parra had ever seen any other country except Mexico, but it won for him the first prize at the Academy of Rome. The original painting was exhibited at the New Orleans Exposition not long since, eliciting the highest praise from art critics. It is worthy of being placed in the Louvre or the Uffizi. One canvas, entitled "The Dead Monk," attracted us as being singularly effective. The scene represents several monks, with tapers in their hands, surrounding the dead body of a brother of their order. The dim light illumines the scared faces of the group, as it falls upon the calm, white features of the dead. The masterly handling of color in this picture has rarely been excelled.

The Academy of San Carlos contains an art school free to the youth of the city, and is subsidized by government to the amount of thirty-five thousand dollars per annum. As we passed through the galleries, a large class of intelligent-looking boys, whose age might have ranged from twelve to fifteen years, were busily engaged with their pencils and drawing-paper in copying models placed before them, under the supervision of a competent instructor. It was pleasant to see the democratic character of this assemblage of pupils. All classes were represented. The school is as free to the son of a peon as to him with the richest of parents. Prizes are given for meritorious work by the students; one annual prize is especially sought for, namely, an allowance of six hundred dollars a year for six years, to enable the recipient to study art abroad. The institution is in a reasonably flourishing condition, but it lacks the stimulus of an appreciative community to foster its growth and to incite emulation among its pupils. Strangers visit, admire, and applaud, but native residents exhibit little or no enthusiasm for this nucleus of the fine arts in the national capital. The encouragement offered to artists in any line in Mexico is extremely small. There can hardly be said to be any home demand for their products. There is one other canvas, seen in the galleries, which comes back to memory, and of which it is a pleasure to speak in commendation. The artist's name has escaped us, but the admirable and effective picture represented "Columbus contemplating the Sea."

Art should certainly be at home in Mexico, where it has found expression in various forms for hundreds of years. What were the picture-writings of the aborigines but early examples of art? There are numerous specimens of Aztec paintings illustrative of the early history of Mexico, which were produced long before the arrival of the conquering Spaniards. Some of these on deerskin, and some on a sort of parchment, or papyrus, which the Toltecs and Aztecs made from the leaves of the maguey plant, may be seen in European museums. They show that the arts of metal casting and the manufacture of cotton and of jewelry were derived from the Toltecs by the Aztecs. There are plenty of examples to be seen showing that these aborigines were admirable workers in silver and gold. So eager was Cortez to send large sums of gold to his sovereign, and thus to win royal forgiveness and countenance as regarded his gross insubordination in stealing away from Cuba, and in boldly taking upon himself all the prerogatives of a viceroy, that he not only extorted every ounce of gold dust he could possibly obtain from the natives of the conquered provinces, but he melted many of their beautiful and precious ornaments into more available shape for his purpose. Some of these he transmitted to Spain, where, in course of time, they also shared the same fate. The aggregate sum thus sent by him to Spain, as given in the records of the period, was so large as to provoke our incredulity. Were specimens of those golden ornaments, the product of Toltec and Aztec art, now extant, they would be worth fifty times their weight in gold, and form tangible links of history connecting the present with the far past. This native art has been handed down from generation to generation; and there is nothing of the sort made in the world superior to Mexican silver filigree work, which recalls the lace-like texture of similar ornaments manufactured at Genoa. Again, illustrative of this natural instinct for art in the aborigines, let us not forget to speak of the colored straw pictures produced by the Indian women, representing natural scenery and prominent buildings, done with wonderful fidelity, even in the matter of perspective. Statuettes or wax figures are also made by them, representing the native laboring classes and street scenes to the very life. This is a sort of specialty in Naples; but we have never seen one of these small Italian figures superior to those which one can buy in the stores on San Francisco Street in Mexico, all of which are the work of untaught native Indians. While we are writing these lines, there stands upon our library table a specimen of Mexican pottery which we brought from Guadalajara. It is of an antique pattern, made by hand in an Indian mud cabin, beautifully decorated and glazed, combining colors which mingle in perfect harmony. This is not an organized industry here. Each family produces its own ware for sale; and no two pieces can be exactly similar. No people, unless possessed of a high degree of artistic instinct and appreciation, could produce pottery, either in shape or finish, such as the traveler sees at Guadalajara.

We are told that the ancient Aztecs excelled in one branch of art above all others; namely, in the production of scenes and various ornamentations in feather work, the effect of which is similar to Florentine mosaic. The gorgeous plumage of the humming-bird and of parrots was especially devoted to this object. The feathers, glued upon a cotton web, were made into dresses for the wealthy to wear on festal occasions. The gradations and brilliancy of these feather pictures are said to have been marvelous. There is preserved in the museum at the national capital a vestment of this character, said to have been worn by Montezuma II. Antonio de Solis, royal historiographer, speaks of "a quantity of plumes and other curiosities made from feathers," by the Aztecs, "whose beauty and natural variety of colors, found on the native birds of the country, were placed and combined with wonderful art, distributing the several colors and shadowing the light with the dark so exactly, that, without making use of artificial colors or of the pencil, they could draw pictures, and would undertake to imitate nature." One is constantly importuned, in the patio of the Iturbide Hotel, to purchase figures and small landscapes newly made of these brilliant feathers, offered at a very moderate price. Indeed, their production forms quite an industry among a certain class of Indians. So it seems that this art has been inherited; there being no present market for such elaborate examples as used to be produced, the fine artistic ability of centuries past is neither demanded, nor does it exist. According to one Spanish authority (Clavigero), so abundant were sculptured images that the foundation of the cathedral on the Plaza Mayor is entirely composed of them! Another writer of the same nationality (Gama) says that a new cellar cannot be dug in the capital without turning up some of the mouldering relics of barbaric art. As cellars cannot be dug at all on account of the mere crust of earth existing above the water, this veracious historian could not have written from personal knowledge, or have visited the country. It is these irresponsible writers who have made "history" to suit their own purposes. Father Torquemada surpasses Baron Munchausen when he tells us that, at the dedication of a certain aboriginal temple, a procession of persons two miles long, numbering seventy-two thousand, perished on the sacrificial stone, which is now exhibited in the National Museum of Mexico. This stone, by the way, is to our mind clearly Toltec, not Aztec. Examination shows it to be identical with the stone relics of Tula, the original capital of the Toltecs. The same may be said of the "Calendar Stone," placed in the outer walls of the cathedral.

The National Conservatory of Music, dating from January 25, 1553, is near at hand; so also is the National Library, where the admirable collection of books numbers nearly two hundred thousand. The confiscated convent of Saint Augustine serves as an appropriate building for this library of choice books. We say of choice books, not only because they are many of them unique, but because all books are choice, being sources from which the careful student and historian can cull true history and philosophy. He does not accept each and all of the statements which are here presented, but from the collated mass culls the truthful deductions. These books very largely and very naturally relate to religious subjects, as they are mostly made up from the confiscated convent libraries heretofore existing in Mexico. Valuable modern and secular books have been added to these collections from time to time. Our attention was called to a volume bearing the date of 1472, and to one still older which was printed in two colors. There is here an atlas of England which was printed in Amsterdam in 1659, with steel plates, and in colors which are as bright and fresh as though just from the press. A Spanish and Mexican dictionary, printed in Mexico in 1571, showed how early the printing-press followed the period of the conquest. A book of autographs bearing the names of Cortez's notable soldiers was interesting. This, we understood, was one of the much-coveted prizes which has been sought by foreign collectors. The manuscripts are of great antiquity and interest. One was in the form of a large volume, done with the pen in old English letters; another, very highly prized, is of painted pictures, which purports to be original dispatches from Montezuma to his allies, and which was captured by Cortez. This last is on a roll of prepared deerskin. The richly-carved front of the library is a profound study in itself, and is the work of a native artist. The fence which incloses the edifice is ornamented with marble busts of famous scientists, orators, and authors, while beautiful flowers grace the small plot in front, the whole made refreshingly cool by the playing of a small fountain. This library contains books in all languages, and bearing dates of four hundred years since. Some of these books are almost priceless in value, very old, and believed to be unique. We were told that an agent of the British Museum, who came thousands of miles for the purpose, had offered a fabulous price for some half a dozen volumes on the shelves of the National Library of Mexico; but he offered the princely sum in vain,—a fact which speaks well for those in authority. The library has no systematic arrangement and no catalogue.

The Plaza Mayor must be fully a thousand feet square. It was laid out and beautified under the personal direction of the youthful, handsome, and would-be empress, Carlotta, who exhibited exquisite taste in such matters, and hesitated at no cost to carry out her imperial will, freely expending from her private fortune for the purpose. In the centre of the plaza is the Zacalo, so called, screened with groups of orange-trees, choice shrubbery, and flowers. Here there is a music stand and fountain, where frequent out-of-door concerts are given by military bands, especially in the evenings. At the western side of the square, under the shadow of the cathedral, is the flower market, rendering the whole neighborhood fragrant in the early mornings with the perfume it exhales, while it delights the eye with hillocks of bright color. This market is in an iron pavilion covered in part with glass, the lovely goods presided over by nut-brown women and pretty Indian girls. Barbaric as the Aztecs were, they had a true love and tenderness for flowers, using them freely in their religious rites, a taste which three hundred years and more of oppression, together with foreign and civil wars, has not served to extinguish. The most abundant specimens of the floral kingdom one meets with here are red and white roses, very finely developed, pinks of all colors, violets, mignonette, heliotrope, scarlet and white poppies, pansies, and forget-me-nots. Such flowers were artistically mingled in large bouquets, with a delicate backing of maiden-hair fern, and sold for fifteen cents each. There is no fixed tariff of prices, strangers naturally paying much more than the residents, and the sum first demanded being usually double what will be finally received,—a manner of trade which is by no means confined to the Spanish-speaking races. It must be remembered that although, these are cultivated flowers, still they bloom out-of-doors all the year round. The women venders emulate their lovely wares in the colors they assume in their costumes. The dahlia, we are told, first came from the valley of Mexico. The universal love of flowers finds expression in the houses, not only of the rich, but in those of the very humble poor, all over the town and the environs.

It was interesting to note the special class of customers drawn in the early morning to this flower pagoda. These were the true lovers of Flora, bent upon securing their favorites while damp with dewy sweetness. There was the very humble but appreciative purchaser, who invested only a few centavos, but took away a choice collection of bright colors and of mingled fragrance. Here was an ardent lover, all eagerness, who would write his words of devotion to his idol in the alphabet of angels. Now and then an American tourist was seen to carry away an armful of bouquets to bestow with impartial hand among his lady friends. Looking on at the suggestive scene is a scantily-clad Indian girl, with a curious hungry expression upon her face. Is it flowers or food that she craves? She shall have both. How rich the color of her cheek; how eloquent the expression of her dark eyes; how grateful her hesitating smile, as she receives from the stranger a piece of silver and a cluster of flowers!

On the open space in front of the cathedral a sort of daily fair is held, where a most incongruous trade is carried on amid great confusion; but there are no more male and female slaves offered for sale here, as in the days of the Spanish victors. Slavery existed both under Aztec and Spanish rule; but it was abolished, as an institution, soon after the establishment of Mexican independence. The match boys, lottery-ticket venders, fruit men, ice-cream hawkers, cigar and cigarette dealers, and candy women (each with a baby tied to her back), rend the air with their harsh and varied cries, while the stranger is quickly discovered, and importuned to the verge of endurance. We were told that this army of hawkers and peddlers were allowed just in the shadow of the church by special permit, a percentage of the benefit derived from the sales accruing to the priests, who carry on their profession inside the walls of the grand and beautiful edifice, where a less noisy, but quite as commercial a performance is going on all the while, "indulgences" being bartered and sold to moneyed sinners nearly every hour of the day.

The principal market-place has always been near the plaza, at its southwest end, a single block away; but a new and more spacious one is in course of erection at this writing, progress being made in the usual manana style. Sunday morning is the great market day of the week, the same as in all Mexican cities, when there is here a confusion of tongues that would silence the hubbub of the Paris Bourse. How a legitimate business can be accomplished under such circumstances is a marvel. Each line of trade has its special location, but confusion reigns supreme.

In passing through the Calle de San Francisco, we were struck with the difference of temperature between the sunny and the shady sides of the street. It must have been fully ten degrees. One becomes uncomfortably warm while walking in the sunshine, but upon crossing into the shade he is quickly chilled by the frostiness of the still, dry atmosphere and a realizing sense of dampness beneath his feet. "Only dogs and Americans walk on the sunny side," say the Mexicans. To this we can only answer by commending the discretion of both men and beasts. In the early evening, as soon as the sun sets, the natives begin to wrap up their throats and faces, even in midsummer. Yet they seem to avoid the sun while it shines in the middle of the day.

In New Zealand and Alaska, when two natives meet each other and desire to express pleasure at the circumstance, they rub their noses together. In Mexico, if two gentlemen meet upon the street or elsewhere after a considerable absence, they embrace cordially and pat each other on the back in the most demonstrative manner, just as two parties fall on each other's neck in a stage embrace. To a cool looker-on this seemed rather a waste of the raw material, taking place between two individuals of the same sex. In Japan, two persons on meeting in public begin bowing their bodies until the forehead nearly touches the ground, repeating this movement a score of times. In China, two gentlemen who meet greet each other by shaking their own left hand in their right. In Norway and Sweden, the greeting is made by taking off and replacing the hat half a dozen times; the greater number of times, the more cordial is the greeting considered; but in Mexico it is nothing more nor less than an embrace with both arms.

The carrying of concealed weapons is prohibited by law in the United States and some other countries, but in Mexico a statute is not permitted to be simply a dead letter. While we were at the Iturbide, the police of the capital were vigorously enforcing a new law, which forbids the carrying of any sort of deadly weapon except in open sight. The common people were being searched for knives, of which, when found, they were instantly deprived, so that at one of the police stations there was a pile of these articles six feet high and four wide. They were in all manner of shapes, short and long, sharp and dull, daggerlike or otherwise, but all worn for the purpose either of assault or defense. They came from the possession of the humble natives, who could not plead that they kept them for domestic uses or for eating purposes, since they use neither knife nor fork in that process. We were told that this wholesale seizure had been going on for a month or more, the police stopping any person whom they chose in order to search them in the street. Such a thing as resistance is not thought of by a peon; he knows that it is of no sort of use, and will be the cause of sending him to prison immediately. Quarrels at low drinking places are no longer followed by the use of knives. It was the frequency of these assaults which filled the hospitals with victims and caused the passage of a law which meets the exigencies of the case. The fine for carrying concealed weapons is heavy, besides involving the penalty of imprisonment. A certain class of persons coming from out of the city are permitted to carry revolvers, but they must be in a belt and in full sight. Probably no municipal law was ever more thoroughly enforced than this of disarming the common class of this city.

The tramway facilities are so complete in the city of Mexico that one has very little occasion to employ hackney coaches. Sometimes, however, these will be found, if not absolutely necessary, yet a great convenience. The legal charges are very moderate, and may well be so, for the entire turnout is usually of a most broken-down character,—poor horses, or mules, a stupid driver, and a dirty interior, with such a variety of offensive smells as to cause one to enter into an analysis to decide which predominates. One dollar an hour is the average charge made for these vehicles, the driver expecting, as in similar cases in Paris, Berlin, or elsewhere, a trifle as a pourboire at the end of the service for which he is engaged. Where these ruinous structures which pass for public carriages originally came from is a conundrum; but there can be no possible doubt as to their antiquity. Mexican fleas, like those of Naples and continental Spain, are both omnivorous and carnivorous, and these vehicles are apt to be itinerant asylums for this pest of the low latitudes. There are three grades of hackney coaches in the capital, those comparatively decent, another class one degree less desirable, and a third into which one will get when compelled to do so, not otherwise. Each of these grades is designated by a small metal sign in the shape of a flag, of a certain color, and the charges are graduated accordingly. As to the drivers, they are not such outright swindlers as those of their tribe in New York, nor by any means so tidy and intelligent as those of Boston.



CHAPTER IX.

A City of Vistas.—Want of Proper Drainage.—Unfortunate Site.—Insecure Foundations.—A Boom in Building Lots.—Pleasant Suburbs.—Night Watchmen.—The Iturbide Hotel.—A Would-be Emperor.—Domestic Arrangements.—A New Hotel wanted.—Places of Public Entertainment. —The Bull Ring.—Repulsive Performance.—Monte de Piedad.—An English Syndicate purchase it.—The Alameda.—The Inquisition.— Festal Days.—Pulque Shops.—The Church Party.—Gilded Bar-Rooms. —Mexican Marriages.—Mothers and Infants.—A Family Group.

Mexico is a city of vistas. One looks down the long perspective of a thoroughfare north, south, east, or west, and at the end he sees the purple mountains, some far away, some quite near to view, some apparently three miles off, some sixty; but the air is so transparent that even the most distant objects seem to be very near at hand. Beneath the plain which immediately surrounds the city is a dry marsh which was a broad lake in Cortez's day,—indeed, it is a lake still, four or five feet below the surface of the ground, containing the accumulated drainage of centuries. The site of the national capital was formerly an island, only a trifle above the level of Lake Texcoco; hence there are no cellars possible beneath the dwelling-houses of the populace. Herein lies the secret of the want of drainage, and of the unpleasant and unwholesome odors which are constantly saluting the senses and challenging the remarks of strangers. Were it not for the absence of atmospheric moisture in this high altitude, where perishable articles of food dry up and do not spoil by mould or putrefaction, the capital would be swept by pestilence annually, being underlaid by a soil reeking with pollution. As it is, typhoid fever prevails, and the average duration of life in the city is recorded at a fraction over twenty-six years! Lung and malarial diseases hold a very prominent place among the given causes of mortality. Owing to the proximity of the mountains, the rains sometimes assume the character of floods. A resident friend of the author's told him that he had seen the surrounding streets and the Plaza Mayor covered with two feet of water, extending a quarter of a mile up San Francisco Street after a sharp summer shower, which did not continue much more than an hour. Of course this gradually subsides; but the inconvenience of such an episode in a busy city, not to speak of its unwholesomeness, is a serious matter. The wonder is that Cortez, after destroying the Aztec capital, should have rebuilt it on so undesirable a site, while there was plenty of higher and more inviting ground close at hand. To this blunder is owing the unhealthfulness of a city which might have been rendered one of the most salubrious dwelling-places on the continent, if placed on any of the neighboring elevated lands, with their possibilities for pure air, their location above fogs, and their being so entirely out of the range of devastating storms. Peter the Great had good and sufficient reason for building his capital at such enormous expense upon marshy ground beside the Neva, but one can see no good reason for Cortez's choice of a site for this capital. History gives us an account of seven disastrous floods which have occurred in this city since 1521, all of which were accompanied with serious loss of life, as well as great destruction of property. If a broad channel could be opened so as to reach the Tula River, some forty miles away, adequate drainage might be obtained for the capital. This is too stupendous an undertaking, however, for Mexican capital or enterprise. Perhaps a foreign company will some day accomplish it; but whether such a scheme would be a safe one, quien sabe? It is possible that in attempting to procure perfect drainage, even a worse condition of affairs might be brought about. The city, it will be understood, rests upon a body of water supported by an intervening stratum of earth and accumulated debris. If this buried lake were to be drained, that is, absolutely removed, would not a collapse of some sort necessarily take place? What would support the present frail foundations of the city buildings, which seem to be now sustained by hydraulic pressure? Even as it is, no heavy structure can be found in the limits of the capital which is not more or less out of plumb, in emulation of the leaning tower of Pisa. The thick walls of the Iturbide Hotel are so full of cracks and crevices, caused by the settling here and there of its insecure foundation, as to cause anxiety and constant remark among its guests. There is another consideration worthy of mention. It is said by persons whose intelligence makes their opinion worthy of consideration, that during the severe earthquake which took place here in 1882, the nearness of the water to the surface of the earth prevented the city from the destruction which was imminent. This certainly may have been a correct deduction.