Aztec Land Part 6

The number of infant children, strapped or tied to their mothers' backs, that one sees in the streets of the capital, and indeed all through the country, is something marvelous. The fecundity of the peons is beyond all calculation. Eight women out of ten, belonging to the humbler cla.s.ses, are sure to be thus enc.u.mbered. Marriages take place here at as early an age as in Cuba or South America, namely, at twelve years. Few young girls among the common people remain unmarried after fourteen years of age, or rather there are few of them that do not bear children as early as that. Marriage among the poor is a ceremony not always considered necessary, and, indeed, as a rule, they are too poor to pay the priest the price he charges for performing the ceremony. Speaking of marriage, this relationship among people of position and property is a.s.sumed under somewhat peculiar circ.u.mstances in Mexico. First, a civil marriage takes place, which makes all children born to the contracting parties legitimate. After this civil rite is duly complied with, perhaps a day and perhaps ten intervening, the usual church ceremony is performed, and then the bride and bridegroom join each other to enjoy their honeymoon, but until the latter ceremony is consummated, the couple are as much separated as at any time of their lives. Why this delay in consummation takes place is by no means clear to an outsider.

One not infrequently sees a mother carrying two infants at a time wrapped in her rebosa, and tied across her chest; only ten months of age separating the little creatures. Besides these infants the mother carries her burden of vegetables, fruit, baskets, or pottery, to dispose of in the market near the plaza. Like j.a.panese and Chinese babies, these little ones seldom, if ever, cry, but submit patiently and with apparent indifference to what seems to be a very trying position, as well as to almost total neglect. These children were never in a bed since they were born. They probably sleep at night upon a straw mat spread upon the earthen floor, and we much doubt if they are ever washed. Sometimes the father is seen carrying the baby, but this is very rare; the women take the laboring oar almost always here, as among our Indian tribes, the people of the East, and the South Sea Islanders. This is a characteristic applicable not alone to the national capital, but observable again and again all over the republic. Though so very poor, and doubtless often suffering from hunger, the half naked people are not infrequently seen with a cigarette between the lips. Drunkenness is seldom seen, notwithstanding that pulque is cheap and potent, and it is very rarely the case, as already intimated, that any quarreling is witnessed among the people. They are quiet and orderly, as a rule, yet most of them are homeless and hopeless.

Though begging is chronic with the Spanish race everywhere, and notoriously prevalent in continental Spain, persistent in Havana and Matanzas, and nearly universal throughout the Mexican republic, still, in the national capital it is far less obtrusive than elsewhere, because the police are instructed to suppress it. So, also, begging is prohibited by law in Paris, London, and Boston, but how constantly the law is disregarded we all know. Sad is the condition of things which, as Thackeray expresses it, gives the purple and fine linen to one set of men, and to the other rags for garments and dogs for comforters.

It is not uncommon to see a family group, mother, father, and one or two children, huddled close together in a street corner, where they have pa.s.sed the night, sleeping in a half upright position, while leaning against an adobe wall. In an early morning walk towards the Paseo de la Viga, we saw just such a scene, with the addition of a mongrel dog, which had so bestowed himself as to give the shelter of his body as well as its natural warmth to a couple of small children. One thing the reader may be a.s.sured of, to wit: the whole family, including the dog, had a hearty and nourishing breakfast that morning at least.

CHAPTER X.

Benito Juarez's Grandest Monument--Hotel del Jardin.--General Jose Morelos.--Mexican Ex-Convents.--City Restaurants.--Lady Smokers.

--Domestic Courtyards.--A Beautiful Bird.--The Grand Cathedral Interior.--A Devout Lottery Ticket Vender.--Porcelain-Ornamented Houses.--Rogues in Church.--Expensive Justice.--Cemetery of San Fernando.--Juarez's Monument.--Coffins to Let.--American and English Cemetery.--A Doleful Street and Trade.

There exists a much grander monument to the memory of Benito Juarez than the fine marble group over his last resting-place in the cemetery of San Fernando, namely, the n.o.ble School of Arts and Trades founded by him.

Poor native girls are here afforded excellent advantages for acquiring a knowledge of various arts, while they are both clothed and fed free of cost to themselves. The pupils are taught type-setting, book-binding, drawing, music, embroidery, and the like. There is a store attached to the inst.i.tution in which the articles produced by the inmates are placed for sale at a moderate price. We were told that their industry went a long way towards rendering the inst.i.tution self-supporting, and so admirably is the work of embroidery executed here that the orders for goods are in advance of the supply. Nearly four hundred girls are at all times reaping the advantage of this school, which is a grand and practical form of charity worthy of emulation. Individual instances of notable success crowning the career of graduates from this inst.i.tution were related to us, some of which were of touching interest, and many quite romantic, showing that genius knows no s.e.x, and that opportunity alone is often all that is required to develop possibilities frequently lying dormant about us.

The College of Medicine, near the Plazuela of San Domingo, occupies the old palace of the Inquisition, whose last victim in Mexico, General Jose Morelos, was executed in December, 1815. For two hundred and fifty years, since 1571, this inst.i.tution of the church fattened upon the blood of martyrs. We do not wonder at the futile efforts of the Romish church of the nineteenth century to ignore, deny, and cover up these iniquities; but their awful significance is burned too deeply into the pages of history to be obliterated.

While engaged upon a voyage of discovery accompanied by a friend who has long resided in the city of Mexico, we chanced upon the Hotel del Jardin, a cheerful, sunny hostelry, occupying a building which was once a famous convent, leading our companion to remark that "the shameful record of wickedness, licentiousness, and cruelty, practiced in these Mexican inst.i.tutions before their suppression, could it be made public, would astonish the world." The present Hotel del Jardin nearly surrounds a garden full of tropical verdure, and seemed very inviting. Determining to test its cuisine, dinner was ordered, the presiding genius being given _carte blanche_ to do his best; but, heaven save the mark!--all we have to add is, don't try the experiment of dining at the place referred to. The best and most usual way for transient visitors to this city is to take rooms in comfortable quarters, and to eat their meals at some of the fairly good restaurants in the neighborhood of the plaza. Of course, one cannot expect New York or Boston fare, nor do we come to Mexico for what we can obtain in the way of food and drink.

Among the groups observed sitting on the little balconies of the dwelling-houses, matrons are seen smoking their cigarettes as openly as do their husbands. Senoritas do the same on the sly. No place is exempt from the pungent fumes of tobacco. Pipes seem to be very seldom resorted to, and the chewing of tobacco, we are glad to say, is not indulged in at all,--a disgusting use of the weed almost solely confined to North America and ships' forecastles. Smoking, after all, did not seem to be so universal and incessant as we have seen it in some other countries.

Perhaps this arises, in a measure, from want of means to pay for the article among the general population, since they are only half clothed in wretched rags, being mostly bareheaded and barefooted also. The lower cla.s.s of Mexico could give the lazzaroni of Naples "points," and then outdo them vastly in squalor and nakedness. The idle, indolent, and thriftless outnumber all other cla.s.ses in the republic, one reason for which is found in the fact common to all tropical countries, that the climate is such that the poor can safely sleep out of doors and without shelter, with nearly as much comfort as those who have an humble covering in the shape of four adobe walls and a thatched roof. As a rule, these common people, men and women, are ugly in form and feature, except that they have superb black eyes and pearl-white teeth. Physical hardships do not tend to develop comeliness.

Strong contrasts meet the eye,--naturally to be expected in a community which is slowly becoming revolutionized from a state of semi-barbarism, as it were, to the broader civilization of its neighbors. This transition is very obvious as regards the dress of the populace. Silk stove-pipe hats and Derbys are crowding hard upon the c.u.mbersome sombrero; the dainty Parisian bonnet is replacing the black lace mantilla; broadcloth is found to be more acceptable clothing than leather jackets and pantaloons; close-fitting calico and merino goods are driving out the rebosas, while woolen garments render the serapes needless. This, of course, is a city view. Small country communities still adhere to the simpler and cheaper national costume of the past, and will probably continue to do so for years to come.

In strolling about the better part of the city, one sees through the broad, arched entrances to the courtyards of the finest private residences in Mexico, upon the first or street floor, the stable, the kitchen, and the coach house, with hostlers grooming the animals, or washing the harnesses and vehicles, while the family live directly over all these arrangements, up one flight of broad stone steps. This is a Spanish custom, which is observable in Havana and continental Spain, as well as in all the cities of Mexico. Other patios, whose occupants do not keep private vehicles, adorn these areas with charming plants, small tropical trees, blooming flowers, statuary, and fountains. Here and there hang cages containing bright-colored singing birds, parrots, and paroquets, not forgetting to mention the clear, shrill-voiced mocking-bird, which is a universal favorite. The Mexican macaw is pretty sure to be represented by a fine member of his species in these ornamental patios. He is a gaudy, noisy fellow. The head, breast, and back are of a deep red, the wings yellow, blue, and green. The tail is composed of a dozen feathers, six of which are stout, short, and tapering, while the rest are fourteen inches in length. He pa.s.ses his time in screaming, and scrambling about with the aid of his claws and hooked beak combined, going as far as the tiny chain which is attached to one foot and fastened to the perch will permit. His favorite att.i.tude seems to be hanging head downward from his perch like an acrobat, often remaining thus a distressingly long time, until one would fain coax him into a normal position with some favorite tidbit of cake, sugar, or fruit.

Officials and merchants often combine their dwellings and places of business, so that here and there a patio will exhibit various samples of merchandise, or the sign of a government official over a room devoted to office purposes. How people able to do otherwise are willing to sleep, eat, and live over a stable certainly seems, to us, very strange. At night these patios are guarded by closing large metal--studded doors, a concierge always sleeping near at hand either to admit any of the family or to resist the entrance of any unauthorized persons, very much after the practice which is common in France and the cities of Northern Europe.

We used the expression "while strolling about the better part of the city," etc.; but let us not convey a wrong impression thereby, for there are no exclusively aristocratic streets or quarters in the city of Mexico. The houses of both the upper and lower cla.s.ses are mingled, scattered here and there, often adjoining each other. Some few of the better cla.s.s of houses, like the domes of some of the churches, are faced with porcelain tiles, giving the effect of mosaic; but this has a tawdry appearance, and is exceptional in the national capital. At Puebla it is much more common, that city being the headquarters of tile-manufacturing.

No matter how many times one may visit the grand cathedral, each fresh view impresses him with some new feature and also with its vastness. As to the harmony of its architectural effect, that element does not enter into the consideration, for there is really no harmony about it.

Everything is vague, so to speak, irregular, and a certain appearance of incompleteness is apparent. There is at all times a considerable number of women, and occasionally members of the other s.e.x, to be seen bending before the several chapels; deformed mendicants and professional beggars mingle with the kneeling crowd. Rags flutter beside the most costly laces; youth kneels with crabbed old age; rich and poor meet upon the same level before the sacred altar. Priests by the half dozen, in scarlet, blue, gilt, and yellow striped robes officiate hourly before tall candles which flicker dimly in the daylight, while boys dressed in long white gowns swing censers of burning incense. The gaudy trappings have the usual theatrical effect, and no doubt serve, together with the deep peals of the organ, the dim light of the interior, the monotone of the priest's voice, in an unknown tongue, profoundly to impress the poor and ignorant ma.s.ses. The largest number of devotees, nearly all of whom, as intimated, are women, were seen kneeling before the small chapel where rest the remains of Iturbide, first emperor of Mexico, whose tomb bears the simple legend: "The Liberator." None more appropriate could have been devised, for through him virtually was Mexican independence won, though his erratic career finally ended so tragically.

Just outside of the main entrance of the cathedral, a middle-aged woman was seen importuning the pa.s.sers, and especially strangers, to purchase lottery tickets, her voice being nearly drowned by the loud tongue of the great bell in the western tower. Presently she thrust her budget of tickets into her bosom and entered the cathedral, where she knelt before one of the side altars, repeating incessantly the sign of the cross while she whispered a formula of devotion. A moment later she was to be seen offering her lottery tickets on the open plaza, no doubt believing that her business success in their sale would be promoted by her attendance before the altar. How groveling must be the ignorance which can be thus blinded!

It may not be generally known that these lotteries are operated, to a considerable extent, by the church, and form one of its never-failing sources of income, proving more profitable even than the sale of indulgences, though the latter is _all_ profit, whereas there is some trifling expense attendant upon getting up a lottery scheme. A few prizes must be distributed in order to make the cheat more plausible. As to the validity of indulgences, one cannot actually test that matter on this side of Lethe.

As will be seen, all cla.s.ses of rogues are represented among the apparently devout worshipers. On the occasion of our second visit to the cathedral, a gentleman who had his pockets picked by an expert kneeling devotee hastened for a policeman, and soon returning, pointed out the culprit, who was promptly arrested; but, much to the disgust of the complainant, he also was compelled to go with the officer and prisoner to the police headquarters, where we heard that he recovered his stolen property, though it cost him three quarters of a day's attendance at some sort of police court, and about half the amount of the sum which the rogue had abstracted.

All observant strangers visit the cemetery of San Fernando, which adjoins the church of the same name. This is the Mount Auburn or Pere la Chaise of Mexico, in a very humble sense, however. Here rest the ashes of those most ill.u.s.trious in the history of the country. One is particularly interested in the tomb and monument of the greatest statesman Mexico has known, her Indian President, Benito Juarez, p.r.o.nounced Hoo-arez. The design of this elaborate tomb is a little confusing at first, but the general effect is certainly very fine and impressive. The group consists of two figures, life size, wrought in the purest of white marble, showing the late president lying at full length in his shroud, with his head supported by a mourning female figure representing Mexico. The name of the sculptor is Manuel Islas, who has embodied great n.o.bility and touching pathos in the expression of the combined whole. The base of the monument, as we stood before it, was half hidden by freshly contributed wreaths of flowers. A small Grecian temple surrounded by columns incloses this commemorative group, to which the traveler will be very sure to pay a second visit before leaving the capital. Many of the monuments in this city of the dead are of the beautiful native onyx, which has a very grand effect when cut in heavy slabs. The grounds are circ.u.mscribed in extent and overcrowded. No name, we believe, is held in higher esteem by the general public than that of Benito Juarez, who died July 18, 1872, after being elected to fill the presidential chair for a third term.

Juarez was a Zapotec Indian, a hill tribe which had never been fully under Spanish control. He was thoroughly educated, and followed the law as a profession. Being fully alive to its character, he always opposed the machinations of the Catholic Church. His dream and ambition was to establish a Mexican republic, and the present const.i.tution, which bears date of 1857, was virtually his gift to the people. He has been very properly called the prophet and architect of the republic.

In the cemetery of San Fernando were also seen the tombs of Mejia and Miramon, the two generals who, together with Maximilian, were shot at Queretaro. Here also are the tombs of Guerrero, Zaragoza, Comonfort, and others of note in Mexican history. The cemetery as a whole is very poorly arranged and quite unworthy of such a capital. The bodies of most persons buried here are placed in coffins which are deposited in the walls, and even graves are built upon the surface of the ground, because of the fact that at a few feet below one comes to the great swamp or lake which underlies all this part of the valley. There is another Mexican cemetery worthy of mention, which is beautifully laid out and arranged. It is that of Dolores, on the hillside southwest of Tacubaya, just beyond Chapultepec. In the American cemetery are buried some four hundred of our countrymen, soldiers, who died here in 1847. The English and American cemeteries lie together. The poor people of the city, when a death occurs in the family, hire a coffin of the dealers for the purpose of carrying their dead to the burial-place, after which it is returned to the owner, to be again leased for a similar object by some other party. The dead bodies of this cla.s.s are buried in the open earth, a trench only being dug in the ground. Suitable wood is so scarce and so valuable in the capital that coffins are very expensive. Those designed for young children are seen exposed for sale decorated in the most fantastic manner. One narrow street near the general market and close to the plaza is almost wholly appropriated, on the street floor, to coffin-makers' shops. We counted eleven of these doleful establishments within as many rods of each other. The coffins designed for adults are universally colored jet black; but those for children are elaborately ornamented with scroll work of white upon a black ground. One of these last is hung up as a sign at the entrance of each shop devoted to this business. When a funeral cortege appears on the street, be it never so humble, every one faces the same with uncovered head until it has pa.s.sed. An episode of this melancholy character is recalled which occurred on San Francisco Street one morning. A very humble peon was seen bearing his child's coffin upon his back, followed by the mother, grandmother, and two children, with downcast eyes, five persons in all forming the sad procession, if it may be so called. It was observed that the gayly-dressed and elegantly mounted caballero promptly backed his horse to the curbstone and raised his sombrero while the mourners moved by, that other peons bowed their bare heads, and that every hat, either silk or straw, was respectfully doffed along the street, as the solemn little cortege wound its way to the last resting-place of humanity.

CHAPTER XI.

The Shrine of Guadalupe.--Priestly Miracles.--A Remarkable Spring.--The Chapels about the Hill.--A Singular Votive Offering.--Church of Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe.--Costly Decorations.--A Campo Santo.-- Tomb of Santa Anna.--Strange Contrasts.--Guadalupe-Hidalgo.--The Twelve Shrines on the Causeway.--The Viga Ca.n.a.l.--The Floating Islands.--Indian Gamblers.--Vegetable Market.--Flower Girls.--The "Noche-Triste" Tree.--Ridiculous Signs.--Queer t.i.tles.--Floral Festival.

Guadalupe, the sacred Mecca of the Roman Catholics of Mexico, is reached by a tramway of about two or three miles in length, running in a northeasterly direction from the city. It appears that in the Aztec period there was here a native shrine dedicated to some mythological G.o.d, and as the foolish legend runs, a miracle caused this spot to be changed to a Christian shrine. The story is told with great unction by "true believers," but to a calm, unbiased mind it is too utterly ridiculous for repet.i.tion. These church miracles were simply chronic during the Spanish rule. "The religion of Mexico," says Wilson, "is a religion of priestly miracles, and when the ordinary rules of evidence are applied to them, they and the religion that rests upon them fall together." Guadalupe forms a rough, irregular elevation some hundred feet or more above the level of the surrounding plain. Beside the rude stairway leading to the top of the hill, there is built a stone column, in the shape of a ship's mast with the square sails set upon it. This is said to have been a votive offering by some sailors who were threatened with shipwreck at Vera Cruz. When in dire distress, the party referred to vowed that if the Virgin of Guadalupe would save the lives of the crew, they would bring the ship's mast to her shrine and set it up there, as a perpetual memento of her protecting power. The mariners were saved and kept their vow, bringing the mast upon their shoulders all the way from Vera Cruz. Here they set it up and built around it a covering of stone, and thus it stands to this day. It is between thirty and forty feet high, and about twelve feet wide at the base, tapering upwards--a most unsightly and incongruous monument. On the summit of the hill there is a small chapel known as the Capilla del Cerrito, and two or three near its base, one of which has a large dome covered with enameled tiles. This is known as the Capilla del Pocito, and supports in its cupola some of the harshest and most ear-piercing bells which we have ever chanced to hear. This chapel covers a somewhat remarkable spring, which is abundant and never failing in its supply, for whose waters great and miraculous power is claimed. It manifestly contains a large impregnation of iron, and is no doubt a good tonic, beyond which its virtues are of course mythical. It is held by the surrounding populace to be an infallible remedy in the instance of unfruitful women, and is the constant resort of that cla.s.s from far and near. These chapels at Guadalupe are decorated in the crudest and most inartistic manner, entirely unworthy of such belief as is professed in the sacredness of the place, or of the virtues attributed by the priests to them as a religious shrine. Money enough has been wasted, but there seems to be an utter lack of good taste.

Over two million dollars had been expended on the church of Nuestra Senora de Guadalupe, which stands at the foot of the hill, in supplying the usual inventory of jewels, gold and silver plate, and other extravagant church belongings. The church just named is built of brick and stone combined, with four towers about a central dome, and is also known as the cathedral of Guadalupe. The solid silver railing extending from the choir to the high altar is three feet in height. Owing to its presumed sacredness, this church, unlike the cathedral of the city near at hand, has never been despoiled. Its interior is very rich in ornamentation, among the most effective portions of which we remember its fine onyx columns supporting lofty arches of Moorish architecture.

The costly elegance displayed in this cathedral is exactly suited to a faith in which there is so little worship and so much form and ceremony.

On coming out of this elaborate edifice, half dazed by its expensive and gaudy trappings, we step at once into an atmosphere of abject poverty and want. The surroundings of the chapels and cathedral of Guadalupe are in strong contrast with the interiors. This is undoubtedly the dirtiest and most neglected suburb of the capital, where low pulque shops and a half-naked population of beggars stare one in the face at every turn.

What sort of Christian faith is that which can h.o.a.rd jewels of fabulous value, with costly plate of gold and silver, in the sacristy of its temple, while the poor, crippled, naked people starve on the outside of its gilded walls? "Ah!" says Sh.e.l.ley, "what a divine religion might be found out if charity were really made the principle of it instead of faith!"

The grand view to be obtained from the summit of the hill of Guadalupe amply repays the visitor for climbing the rude steps and rough roadway, notwithstanding the terribly offensive odors arising from the dirty condition of the neglected surroundings. It embraces the city in the middle foreground, a glimpse of Chapultepec and the two grand mountains in the distance, together with the surrounding plains dotted with low adobe villages. The long white roads of the causeways, lined with verdant trees, divide the s.p.a.cious plain by artistic lines of beauty, while between them green fields of alfalfa, and yellow, ripening maize give delightful bits of light and shade. On the back of the hill, behind the chapel crowning the summit, is a small cemetery full to repletion of tombs dedicated to famous persons. Great prices, we were told, are paid for interments in this sacred spot. Among the most interesting tombs was that of Santa Anna, the hero of more defeats than any notable soldier whom we can recall. He is remembered as a traitor by the average Mexican (just as Bazaine is regarded by the French), although he was five times President and four times military Dictator of Mexico. It will be remembered that this eccentric and notorious soldier of fortune was banished to the West Indies, whence he wrote a congratulatory letter to the intruder Maximilian, and sought to take command under him. His proffered aid was coolly declined, whereupon he offered his services to Juarez, who was fighting against Maximilian, but was repulsed with equal promptness. In a rage at this treatment, he fitted out an expedition against both parties, landed in Mexico, was taken prisoner, and in consideration of the services once rendered his country his life was spared; but he was again banished, to finish his days in poverty and in a foreign land. His wooden leg, captured during our war with Mexico, is in the Smithsonian Inst.i.tution at Washington. The town which surrounds the immediate locality of these shrines of Guadalupe has a population of about three thousand, and is particularly memorable as being the place where the treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo was signed, February 2, 1848, between the United States and Mexico. The name of Guadalupe was combined with that of Hidalgo, the Washington of Mexico as he is called, who in 1810 raised the cry of independence against the Spanish yoke, and though he was captured and shot, after eleven years of hard fighting, the goal of independence was reached by those who survived him. He is reported to have said just before his execution: "I die, but the seeds of liberty will be watered by my blood. The cause does not die. That still lives and will surely triumph."

Churches bearing the name of Guadalupe are to be found all over the country, the Virgin of Guadalupe being the adopted patron saint of Mexico. Along the main road or causeway leading from the capital to the hill of Guadalupe,--now given up to the use of the Vera Cruz Railway,--one sees tall stone shrines which were erected long ago, before which deluded pilgrims and penitents knelt on their way thither.

These were intended to commemorate the twelve places at which the Saviour fell down on his journey while bearing the cross to Calvary. It was called the road of humiliation and prayer, over which devotees crept on their hands and knees, seeking expiation for their sins, instigated by priestly suggestions and superst.i.tious fears. Over this causeway, Maximilian, actuated by his fanatical religious devotion, and by a desire to impress the popular mind, walked barefooted from the city walls to the shrine of the Virgin of Guadalupe! The hold of the priests on the Mexican people to-day is confined almost entirely to the peons and humble laborers. It is a common saying that when a peon earns two dollars he gives one dollar and forty-five cents to the priest, spends fifty cents for pulque, and supports his family on the remaining five cents. Among the educated cla.s.ses the men are beginning to refuse to permit their wives and daughters to attend the confessional, the most subtle and portentous agency for evil that was ever invented, which has contaminated more innocence and destroyed more domestic happiness than any other known cause.

The tramway which runs out to the Viga Ca.n.a.l takes one a couple of miles into an extremely interesting region, exhibiting many novel phases of native life. The thoroughfare runs beside the ca.n.a.l for a considerable distance, the banks of which are shaded here and there by drooping willows and rows of tall Lombardy poplars. How old the ca.n.a.l is, no one can say; it certainly antedates the period of the Conquest. The straw-thatched, Indian, African-looking town of Santa Anita is a curiosity in itself, surrounded by the floating islands, which we are soberly told did really float centuries ago. "Here they beheld," says Prescott, "those fairy islands of flowers, overshadowed occasionally by trees of considerable size, rising and falling with the gentle undulations of the billows." One does not like to play the _role_ of an iconoclast, but probably these islands were always pretty much as they are to-day. The "floating" idea is a poetical license, and was born in the imaginative brain of the Spanish writers. Had Prescott ever seen them, he would doubtless have come to the same conclusion. "Hanging"

gardens do not necessarily depend from anything, "floating" islands need not necessarily float. They really have the appearance of buoyancy to-day, and hence the figure of speech which has been universally applied to them. "I have not seen any floating gardens," says R. A.

Wilson, author of "Mexico and its Religion," "nor, on diligent inquiry, have I been able to find a man, woman, or child that ever has seen them, nor do I believe that such a thing as a floating garden ever existed at Mexico." They are now anch.o.r.ed to the bottom fast enough, that is certain, being separated from each other and the main land by little narrow ca.n.a.ls. The soil of which they are const.i.tuted is kept always moist by natural irrigation, and is wonderfully fertile in producing flowers, fruits, and mammoth vegetables. Seed-time and harvest are perennial on these peculiar islands. Men are always ready with a rude sort of boat, which the most poetic imagination cannot dignify into a gondola, but which is so called. These floats are about fifteen feet long, four wide, flat bottomed, with low sides, and have no covering.

The boatmen row, or rather pole, the boats through the little ca.n.a.ls, giving the pa.s.sengers a view of the low, rank vegetation on the islands, some of which present a pleasing floral picture, rather curious, but not very interesting. On Sundays and festal days the middle and lower cla.s.ses of the capital come hither in large numbers to amuse themselves with the tall swings, the merry-go-rounds, and the scowlike boats, to eat dulces at the booths, and to drink inordinate quant.i.ties of pulque at the many stands at which it is dispensed at popular prices. The pungent liquor permeates the surrounding atmosphere with its sour and offensive odor. Here one sees numerous groups busy at that besetting sin of the Indians, gambling. It is practiced on all occasions and in all places, the prevailing means being "the wheel of fortune." An itinerant bearing one of these instruments strapped about his shoulders stops here and there, soon gathering a crowd of the curious about him. The lottery-ticket vender drowns all other cries in his noisy search after customers, reaping a large harvest, especially on Sundays, in this popular resort. The old stone church of Santa Anita is a crumbling ma.s.s of Moorish architecture, with a fine tower, the whole sadly out of repair, yet plainly speaking of past grandeur.

On the way to these islands by the Paseo de la Viga, we pa.s.s through an out-door vegetable market, which is remarkable for the size of some of the specimens offered for sale; radishes were displayed which were as large as beets, also plethoric turnips, overgrown potatoes, ambitious carrots, and broad spread heads of lettuce as big as a Mexican sombrero.

There were many sorts of greens for making salads, of which the average Mexican is very fond, besides flowers mingled with tempting fruits, such as oranges, lemons, melons, and pineapples. The latter, we suspect, must have come from as far south as Cordova. Young Indian girls, with garlands of various-colored poppies about their necks, like the natives of Hawaii, offered us for a trifle tiny bouquets made of rosebuds, pansies, violets, tube-roses, and scarlet geraniums, all grown close at hand on these misnamed floating islands. One low, thatched adobe cabin, between the roadway and the ca.n.a.ls, in Santa Anita, was covered with a mammoth blooming vine, known here as the _copa de oro_. Its great yellow flowers were indeed like cups of gold, inviting our attention above all the other floral emblems for which the little Indian village is famous.

Great quant.i.ties come daily from this suburb to supply the city demand, and especially on the occasion of the floral festivals, which have their headquarters in the plaza and the alameda, as elsewhere described.

There is much to be seen and enjoyed in these brief excursions by tramway into the environs of the city. One should not forget to take the cars which start from the west side of the Plaza Mayor, and which pa.s.s through the Riviera de San Cosme out to the village of Popotla, where the famous "Noche-triste" tree is to be seen. It is situated about three miles from the plaza. Cortez is said to have sat down under its branches and wept over his misfortunes when he was obliged to retreat from the capital, on the night of July 1, 1520, still known as the "Dismal Night." Whether this story be true or otherwise, it matters very little.

Suffice it that this big gnarled tree is held sacred and historic by the citizens, and is always visited by strangers who come to the capital. It is of the cedar family, and its dilapidated condition, together with the size of the trunk, shows its great antiquity. At present it measures ten feet in diameter at the base, with a height exceeding forty feet.

Although broken and decayed in many of its parts, it is sufficiently alive to bear foliage. The gray, drooping moss hangs from its decaying branches, like a mourner's veil shrouding face and neck, emblematic of the tears which the daring adventurer is said to have wept in its shadow. An iron railing protects the tree from careless usage and from the knives of ruthless relic hunters. A party of so-called ladies and gentlemen--we are sorry to say they were Americans--broke off some of the twigs of the tree, in 1885, to bring away with them. For this vandalism they were promptly arrested, and very properly fined by a Mexican court. Close by this interesting tree of the "Dismal Night"

stands the ancient church of San Esteban.

The practice prevails in the cities of Mexico that one sees in Cuba and in continental Spain, as regards the signs which traders place over their doors. The individual's name is never given, but the merchant adopts some fancy one to designate his place of business. Seeing the t.i.tle "El Congreso Americana," "The American Congress," we were a little disconcerted, on investigation, to find that it was the sign of a large and popular bar-room. Near by was another sign reading thus: "El Diablo," that is, "The Devil." This was over a pulque shop, which seemed to be appropriately designated. Farther on towards the alameda was "El Sueno de Amor," signifying "The Dream of Love." This was over a shop devoted to the sale of serapes and other dry goods. On the Calle de San Bernardo, over one of the entrances where dry goods were sold, was seen, in large gold letters, "La Perla," "The Pearl." Again near the plaza we read, "La Dos Republics," meaning "The Two Republics." This was a hat store, with gorgeous sombreros displayed for sale. "El Recreo," "The Retreat," was a billiard hall and bar-room combined, while not far away "El Opalo," "The Opal," designated a store where dulces were sold. "La Bomba," "The Bomb," was the sign over a saddle and harness shop. "El Amor Cantivo," "Captive Love," was the motto of a dry goods store. "La Coquetta," "The Coquette," was the t.i.tle of a cigar shop.

These stores are almost all conducted by French or German owners, with now and then a Jew of uncertain nationality; few are kept by Spaniards, and none by Americans, or citizens of the United States. American enterprise seeks expression here in a larger field. Where a trunk line of railroad a thousand miles or more is demanded, as in the instance of the Mexican Central, they are sure to be found at the front, with capital, executive ability, and the energy which commands success. The surveys for the Mexican railroads demanding the very best ability were made by Americans, the locomotive drivers are nearly all Americans, and more than half the conductors upon the regular railway trains are Americans. The infusion of American spirit among the Mexican people is perhaps slow, but it is none the less sure and steady.

Each sort of business has its distinctive emblem. The butcher always hangs out a crimson banner. In some portions of the town there are painted caricatures on the fronts of certain places to designate their special business. For instance, in front of a pulque shop is found a laughable figure of a man with a ponderous stomach, drinking his favorite tipple. At another, which is the popular drinking resort of the bull-fighters, is represented a scene where a picadore is being tossed high in air from the horns of an infuriated bull, and so on. The names of some of the streets of the capital show how the Roman Catholic Church has tried to impress itself upon the attention of the populace even in the t.i.tles of large thoroughfares. Thus we have the Crown of Thorns Street, the Holy Ghost Bridge, Mother of Sorrows Street, Blood of Christ Street, Holy Ghost Street, Street of the Sacred Heart, and the like. Protestants of influence have protested against this use of names, and changes therein have been seriously considered by the local government. As previously explained, some of these streets have been so named because there were churches bearing these t.i.tles situated in them.

Friday, the 28th of March, the day of Viernes de Dolores, was a floral festal occasion in and about the city of Mexico. The origin of this observance we did not exactly understand, except that it is an old Indian custom, which is carefully honored by all cla.s.ses, and a very beautiful one it most certainly is. For several days previous to that devoted to the exhibition, preparations were made for it by the erection of frames, tents, canvas roofing, and the like, in the centre of the alameda and over its approaches. At sunrise on the day designated, the people resorted in crowds to the broad and beautiful paths, roadways, and circles of the delightful old park, to find pyramids of flowers elegantly arranged about the fountains, while the pa.s.sageways were lined by flower dealers from the country with beautiful and fragrant bouquets, for sale at prices and in shapes to suit all comers. Nothing but a true love of flowers could suggest such attractive combinations. Into some of the bouquets strawberries with long stems were introduced, in order to obtain a certain effect of color; in others was seen a handsome red berry in cl.u.s.ters, like the fruit of the mountain ash. We had observed the preparations, and were on the spot at the first peep of the day. The Indians came down the Paseo de la Reforma in the gray light of the dawn, and stopped beside the entrance to the alameda, men and women laden with fragrance and bloom from all parts of the valley of Mexico within a radius of forty miles from the city. One lot of burros, numbering a score and more, formed a singularly picturesque and novel group. The animals, except their heads and long ears, were absolutely hidden beneath ma.s.ses of radiant color. Groups of women sitting upon the ground were busy making up bouquets, which were most artistically combined.

These natives love bright colors, and have an instinctive eye for graceful combinations.

Of course the variety of flowers was infinite. We remember, among them, red and white roses, pansies, violets, heliotropes, sweet peas, gardenias, camelias, both calla and tiger lilies, honeysuckles, forget-me-nots, verbenas, pinks in a variety of colors, larkspur, jasmine, petunias, morning glories, tulips, scarlet geraniums, and others. Three military bands placed in central positions added spirit and interest to the suggestive occasion. The harmony of the music blended with the perfume of the flowers, completing the charm of such a scene of floral extravagance as we have never before witnessed. Our florists might get many bright, new ideas as to the arrangements of bouquets from these Mexicans.

None of the populace seemed to be too poor to purchase freely of the flowers, all decking their persons with them. As fast as the bouquets were disposed of, their places were filled with a fresh supply, the source being, apparently, inexhaustible. Young and old, rich and poor, thronged to the flower-embowered alameda on this occasion, and there was no seeming diminution of demand or of supply up to high noon, when we left the still enthusiastic and merry crowd. In the afternoon, no matter in what part of the town we were, the same floral enthusiasm and spirit possessed the populace. Balcony, doorway, carriage windows, and market baskets, married women and youthful senoritas, boys and girls, cripples and beggars, all indulged in floral decoration and display. It appeared that several carloads of flowers came from far-away Jalapa to supply the demand in the national capital made upon the kingdom of Flora for this flower festival.