The Plaza Mayor of Queretaro is a beauty and a joy forever, with its musical fountain uttering ceaseless and refreshing notes, its tropical verdure, its tufted palms and flowering shrubs, its fruitful banana trees, pomegranates, and fragrant roses. Here Maximilian was accustomed to pass an hour daily, and here, we were told, he took his evening recreation, his favorite seat being upon the curbstone of the capacious fountain. The besiegers discovered the fact, directing shot and shell accordingly at this special point, and though the emperor was unharmed by the missiles, a monumental statue situated within a few feet of him was shattered to pieces. In the sunny afternoons the pretty señoritas come to the plaza with their heads and necks lightly shrouded in Spanish veils, and otherwise clothed in diaphanous garments, short enough to show their shapely ankles in white hose, and their small feet in high-heeled, pointed slippers. He must be indeed calloused who can withstand, unmoved, the battery of their witching eyes.
There is a large cotton factory about two miles from the city, known as "The Hercules Mills," having over twenty thousand spindles, and nearly a thousand looms. The machinery was imported from this country. A colossal marble statue of Hercules is seen presiding over one of the large fountains, in the midst of ornamental trees and flowers. This statue cost fourteen thousand dollars before it left Italy. The mill gives employment to some twelve or fourteen hundred natives, mostly women and girls. One of the young sons of the house of Rubio, the family name of those who own this property, went to England years ago, and learned the trade of cotton spinning. This industry as now carried on was established by him, and is still conducted by the same manager, Don Cayetano Rubio. The excellent system of the establishment would do credit to a Lowell or Lawrence factory; indeed, almost any similar establishment might take a favorable lesson from this at Queretaro. The immediate surroundings form a well-arranged and fragrant flower garden, ornamented with fountains and statuary, with fruit trees, where the employees are all welcome, and the sweet fragrance of which they can enjoy even during the working hours. Wages, to be sure, are insignificant, being only about forty cents a day for each competent operative, and the hours are long, twelve out of each twenty-four being devoted to work; but as wages go in Mexico this is considered to be a fair rate, with which all are content. We were told that a portion of the cotton used in the mill comes from Vera Cruz, that is, the short staple; the long comes mostly from the Pacific coast; while fully half of the raw material is imported from the United States. The fibre of the Mexican cotton is longer, and not so soft as the American product; but the cotton raised in some parts of the republic has this remarkable property, that for several consecutive seasons the plant continues to bear profitable crops, while in our Southern States the soil must not only be fertilized, but the seed must also be renewed annually. The cotton plant is indigenous to Mexico, and is more prolific in its yield than it is with our Southern planters. It is the same with cotton as with wool; though quite able to do so, Mexico does not at present grow enough of either staple to supply her own mills, or produce enough of the manufactured article to furnish the home market. Both water and steam power are employed as motors in the Hercules Mill. The overshot wheel used in the former connection is a monster in size, being forty-six feet in diameter. Such has heretofore been the disturbed condition of the country that it has been found necessary to organize and maintain a regular company of soldiers, with ample barracks inside the walls, to defend the property of the mill; and it has three times repulsed formidable attacks made upon the well-fortified walls and gates which surround it.
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° 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°. 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 Lemprière, 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 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° 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 façade 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 Elysées, 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.