MEXICO.
Her New Appearance—Moral Transformation—Public Walks and
Squares—Suburbs—Railway—Monuments—Cathedral—S. Domingo—S.
Francisco—La Merced—Hats _à la_ S. Basilio—Suppression of
Religious Orders.
Mexico has undergone a still greater change than Vera Cruz. The large
square, which used to be ill-paved and empty, has become a fine garden,
planted with eucalyptus trees, which have grown wonderfully during the
last twelve years, some measuring seven feet in girth and over 100 feet
in height. Beneath the shade of these beautiful trees stretch beautiful
gardens and green turf, whilst the centre is occupied by the Zocalo,
a pavilion, in which every evening very fair concerts are given,
attended by the Mexican society.
Spacious houses in modern style have been constructed at different
points of the city; new districts have arisen on the site once occupied
by convents; pretty squares are distributed about, and the Paseo Nuevo,
which was to extend as far as Chapultepec, is one which the proudest
cities in the world might envy. But will it ever be completed? At
present, it only reaches the imposing monument erected in honour of
Christopher Columbus, which every Frenchman should admire as coming
from Paris and the work of a Frenchman. The immediate area round Mexico
has been completely transformed by lines of railroad and tramways; in
places once occupied by fetid water or marshy ground, pretty villas
and flower gardens are now to be seen, whilst on the other side of
the Paseo, to the right and left of S. Cosme, the smaller suburbs
are extending so fast that they will soon join the main city. Should
Americans come—and a goodly number are here already—all this land, now
almost valueless, would in a few years double and treble in price.
But what is still more remarkable is the moral transformation: a new
life seems to animate Mexico: education, trade, industry, and public
works, have received great development; security has increased, a
public conscience has been awakened, ideas have become more liberal,
change of power is now effected without disturbance, whilst formerly
it was preceded, accompanied and followed by the ever-recurring
_pronunciamentos_; a feeling of good-fellowship begins to penetrate
all classes, and Government House is in a true sense the House of
the people, being filled from early morning by friends, employés,
or petitioners. Every one is free to come and go, without let or
hindrance, all are received by the Governor without having to ask an
audience, and every one is welcomed with the greatest affability,
as I can from personal experience amply testify. To give an idea how
far the spirit of patriotism was roused by the war of intervention, I
will quote the words of a deputy, who, on my preliminary bill being
submitted to Congress, which had been agreed to between the Government
and myself respecting my excavations and their export, rushed into
the tribune to speak against its adoption. “Gentlemen,” he cried, “I
feel savage, beside myself, almost idiotic, when the interests of
our country are at stake.” The speaker was right in his description
of himself, for the removal of a few fragments from the soil of the
Republic was not deserving of such an outburst.
But it is the privilege of the young ever to exaggerate, and Mexico
is as yet in her youth. The public press is just started, and there
are but two independent papers, the admirably conducted Republican
_Moniteur_ and the _Nineteenth Century_, which give any profits. All
the others are paid by the Government, are short-lived, and disappear
one after another, to reappear under new names and take up with a
different party. And yet there is no lack of talent, the drawback
is in the difficulty of communications. The heavy postal charges (a
letter from one village to another costs one shilling), the ignorance
and indifference of the masses about political events, are the main
causes which prevent any newspaper from succeeding. The only interest
evinced in politics is at the time of the elections, and even in these,
Mexicans take very little interest, knowing beforehand that it will not
much matter to them, and that their burden will hardly be made lighter.
It may be safely predicted that the Indians will not be roused from
their apathy until they are better educated, and until they discover
that they have a direct interest in mixing in politics—for which they
are eminently qualified—and if their vast majority be considered, they
would undoubtedly contribute a large contingent, whilst their industry,
their intelligent quickness to seize everything, coupled with a
natural talent of adaptation, would soon raise them to the foremost
ranks in the army, politics, the bar and science, as may even now be
seen in the few who have had the privilege of education; nor would this
be difficult, for they now stand on a perfect footing of equality with
the Mexicans, for unlike most conquerors, jealous to preserve their
nationality, the modern Mexicans repudiate their Spanish descent and
are proud to call themselves Indians. But what is to be the outcome of
it all? Will the Indian, forgetting his humble and thrifty aspirations,
thirst, like the Mexican, after Government employment, which, whilst
it keeps him idle, unfits him for commercial and industrious pursuits?
He has lived hitherto under laws harsh and severe for him alone;
is there no fear that once free, he will plunge into the vices of
freed men, rather than put on the virtues of civilised people? If we
are to borrow our experience from the past, this would be the case,
since when, shortly after the conquest, he lived under milder laws,
the effect was to sink him into such an appalling condition of moral
depravity as to move the good Franciscan monk Sahagun to say of him:
“We ought not perhaps to be surprised at finding among them the usual
shortcomings which belong to their country, since the Spaniards who
live here, and especially the American born, are in no way better than
the Indians. Even the natives of Spain, after a few years in this
country, are quite altered, and I have always ascribed this change to a
difference of climate and latitude. It is humiliating to our feelings
as Christians,” exclaims Sahagun, “to reflect that the Indians of olden
time, wise in their generation, knew how to remedy evils peculiar to
the soil, by means of practices which were their safeguard, whereas we
succumb to our evil propensities; the result of which is that we see
a new generation, Indian as well as Spanish, rising around us, which
it is difficult to manage or to save. Parents have not that authority
they ought to have over their offspring to guard them against their
natural proclivities. The ancient dwellers of this soil were far better
inspired when they abandoned the education of their children to public
authority, which replaced paternal rights. Unfortunately this method
was tainted by idolatrous and superstitious practices; but were these
to be eliminated and the ancient method introduced afresh among the
Indo-Spanish people, a great public good would undoubtedly follow,
which would relieve the Government of many difficulties now pressing
upon it. As it is we hardly know how to deal with those reared in our
schools, who, finding themselves no longer checked by the fear and
discipline of former, nor the severity of pagan times, do not care
to learn and are indifferent to admonition; very different in this
respect from their Aztec forefathers. At first, following their ancient
practice, which placed the youth of both sexes in buildings within the
enclosure of their temples, in which they were drilled in monastic
discipline, and taught to reverence their gods and obey the laws of
their country, we tried to bring them up in our establishments, and
to this end we collected them in buildings adjoining our houses, in
which they were accustomed to rise in the middle of the night to sing
the matins of Our Lady, and recite the ‘Hours’ at early dawn; they
were also required to beat themselves with stripes and to spend some
time of the day in mental exercises, but as they were not compelled as
in pagan times to do any manual labour, as their natural aspirations
seemed to demand, and as moreover they were better fed and more mildly
treated than their student ancestors, they soon learnt and fell into
evil ways. We also directed our attention to the women to see whether
it were possible to place them in convents, as in heathen times, and
with this end in view we made them Christian nuns, and imposed on them
perpetual vows; convents and retreats were erected, in which they were
taught their religious duties and the art of reading and writing. Such
as had shown themselves proficient in these pursuits and were possessed
besides of becoming dignity and decorum, were chosen to preside over
these establishments as guides and teachers of Christianity and purity
of life[5]. At first we fondly hoped, as in the men’s case, that they
would become worthy and spotless nuns, but we were mistaken, experience
having shown that, for the present at least, they were incapable of so
much perfection, and convents and conventicles had to be abolished, and
we have to confess that the time has not yet come for repeating the
experiment.”
The passage just quoted is suggestive of many things.
A deplorable change for the worse is already observable in the
character of the Indians of Tabasco and Chiapas since the Suffrage
Bill, which by making them partly independent of the whites, has also
made them idle, insolent, treacherous, and depraved. A sad look-out
for times to come. But even granting that all happens for the best, is
there much probability that the Indian will have time to develop his
natural resources before the Anglo-Saxon invasion shall have confined
him for ever to the lower ranks in the social scale?
However that may be, Mexico, although bent on progress, seems only
to receive her notions second-hand. Eager for action, every new idea
or advance which has received a trial with other nations, is sure to
be promptly adopted, without any inquiry whether it is applicable,
suitable, or useful, among a people wholly unprepared to receive
them; and this total impossibility of legislating for half savages
and illiterate people made a deputy say one day to me: “We have a
constitution fit for angels, whereas we ought to have one fit for
asses.”
What happens? The Mexicans at present enjoy perfect liberty, which
they use to stop the action of the Government, and as each department
is entirely independent, the lowest clerk is able to stop the whole
machinery. Most Mexicans have, or wish to have, Government employment,
leaving to foreigners the development of their national wealth;
banking, trade, and the working of their rich mines are, with few
exceptions, in the hands of Spaniards, French, English, and Americans.
The latter are swarming in; and, save Vera Cruz, all the railways are
American.
Very few Mexicans have been found willing to risk their capital
in these important enterprises, being satisfied with receiving a
premium, or joining the companies as employés. What will happen? It
would be a strange and novel phenomenon to see a superior (?) race
disappearing before an inferior one. Be that as it may, it is certain
that on the day when the Anglo-Americans shall be able to dispense
with the services of the Mexican, they will not scruple to thrust him
aside, careful however to keep the Indians of the Highlands, now a
docile, frugal, hard-working people, whom they will use for mining and
agricultural purposes, as well as for the construction of railways. But
this is not yet. The absorption will come, however—gradually, silent,
peaceful—a slow, easy death, but a sure death nevertheless.
Yet it would be a matter for regret that this attractive people, open
to every new idea of progress, eager to distinguish themselves, as
shown a hundred times in the defence of their liberties, should be
swallowed up by the Saxon element. The “Timeo Danaos dona ferentes”
is surely applicable here, and Mexico should beware of her powerful
neighbour—_Caveant Consules_.
Mexico has a great wealth of monuments, palatial houses, and churches,
the finest of which is the Cathedral, occupying the northern side
of the Place d’Armes, with the Palace to the east, the Houses of
Parliament to the south, and the Portal de las Damas on the western
side. It was erected on the site of the sumptuous temple dedicated to
_Huitzilopochtli_, the war god and the patron deity of the Aztecs,
whose altars reeked with the blood of human hecatombs in every city of
the empire. The first stone for this church was laid in the reign of
Philip II., and the canonicate of Archbishop Pedro Moya de Contreras.
The foundations, which extended as far as the north side of the
old temple, embracing the whole space now taken up by the courts,
were carried on under the energetic supervision of Alonzo Perez de
Castañeda. The work required for these foundations, owing to the
unsteady, marshy nature of the soil, was so enormous that in 1615 the
walls only rose to some twenty feet above the ground. Philip III., on
being informed of the difficulties which retarded the work begun by his
father, sent a plan drawn by his own architect, which was to simplify
the original one, and accelerate the completion of the church.
The principal sacristy was finished in 1623; the vaults in the middle
nave were completed between 1623 and 1665. In 1667, the interior of the
Cathedral being quite finished, the inauguration took place. The choir,
however, was only completed in 1730, when the rich and marvellous
balustrade, which divides the choir from the sanctuary, executed by
Macao, was put up. This balustrade, composed of bronze and silver,
which has all the appearance of burnished gold, is most striking in its
general effect.
The expenses of this church (completed in 1791) amounted to 2,446,000
piastres, or £489,200. Seen from the square, the edifice has the
imposing appearance of churches of the latter portion of the sixteenth
century. The façade, though simple, is very imposing, and contrasts
favourably with the other sacred edifices in the city; three doors
intervene between Doric columns and open into the middle and lateral
naves. Over the main door two stories superimposed and ornamented with
Doric and Corinthian pilasters, support a most elegant steeple, crowned
by three statues, representing the theological virtues. On each side,
towers, severe in design, and topped by cupolas, rise to the height
of 78 metres.[6] The interior is one mass of gold. The choir, which
is immense, occupies the principal nave, and, by means of a costly
composite gallery, is made to join the main altar, designed after St.
Peter’s in Rome. The two lateral naves, destined for the congregation,
have no choir or seats of any kind, and Mexican ladies, who are very
regular in their attendance at church, are satisfied with kneeling
or sitting on the damp stones of the pavement, whether from zeal or
because it would not be “good form” not to do so, remains doubtful,
whereas it is quite certain that their delicate constitution demands a
less dangerous practice. The few men who are ever seen in the interior
of a church generally stand; most, however, remain outside talking to
one another, and waiting for the ladies, who on coming out reward them
for their patience by a bewitching look or a graceful inclination of
the head.
Among the works of art possessed by the Cathedral, may be mentioned a
small picture by Murillo, known as the “Virgin of Belen,” not a good
specimen of the great master. The priests attached to the church look
upon it, however, as their most precious jewel; to this may be added
the “Assumption of the Virgin,” of massive gold, weighing 1,116 ounces;
a silver lamp hanging before the sanctuary, which cost £16,000; the
tabernacle of massive silver valued at £32,000, besides diamonds,
rubies, emeralds, amethysts, pearls, and sapphires in shoals, and a
vast quantity of gold and silver vases, representing fabulous sums of
money.
On the wall of the left tower to the west, may be seen the famous Aztec
calendar, found on the 17th December, 1700, whilst the new esplanade
of Impedradillo was being constructed. By order of the Viceroy it was
carefully encased and preserved in the steeple wall, and has proved to
be one of the most precious monuments of Indian antiquity. Antonio de
Gama, in a masterly treatise, explained the objects to which it was
devoted, and poured a flood of light on the astronomical science of the
Aborigines and their mythology. His work has been criticised, however,
by Valentine of New York, and both are impugned by Chavero of Mexico,
whilst others pass a severe judgment on all three. So true is it, that
archæological, like other questions, are ever open to hot dispute.
The Sagrario is a huge chapel close to the Cathedral, used for
marriages, christenings, and burial services. The host is exposed at
all times on the altar for the veneration of the faithful. The Sagrario
deserves a passing note, for though vicious in taste, it has such
a wealth of ornamentation and sculpture, as to make one forget the
defects of its style considered as a whole. It is from the Sagrario
that the last sacrament used to be carried to comfort the rich and
powerful, in a gilt carriage, or beneath a gorgeous daïs, amidst a
cortège of priests, who preceded and followed it, its presence being
announced by the ringing of a silver bell. At its approach the traffic
and movement of the town was suspended; every one, no matter the state
of the weather, humbly knelt down in dust or mud; all were expected
to join the procession and accompany the host to the house of the
dying; the viceroy himself was not exempted from this formality, and
chroniclers tell us that many were the times when he was thus compelled
to head the marching column.
[Illustration: EL SAGRARIO.]
But that was in the good old time, which I am old enough to have
seen, when priests and monks, their heads covered with huge hats,
_à la_ Don Basilio, filled the streets with their portly, dignified
figures, their faces ever open to a smile. That time has gone by; monks
and priests, shorn of their dress and privileges, have disappeared
and become private citizens. The Church on that occasion was not
proceeded against by slow degrees; the Government, feeling at home
in a country peculiarly religious and Catholic, decreed on the same
day the suppression of all religious communities, the confiscation
of their goods, and the disestablishment of the Church, and though a
large majority mildly protested, nobody cared; not so the monks and
priests, who whirled anathemas and fulminated the _excommunicatio
maxima_ against whomsoever should lend a hand to the demolition of
the convents—nay, even against those who would be found bold enough
to pass through the streets thus opened on ecclesiastical property.
The Leperos, however, engaged in these demolitions, had recourse to
an ingenious device to nullify the spiritual thunderbolts of their
ancient patrons. They bedizened themselves with amulets, scapularies,
and chaplets as a protection against the wiles of the devil, and thus
attired they proceeded gaily to the destruction of cell and chapel,
whilst weeping dueñas, indignant at being witnesses of such sacrilege,
poured out their unavailing supplications.
The excitement lasted but a week, and the Leperos thought so little of
it that they did not refrain from bearing away to their housewives the
wainscoting of the religious houses, and the newly made streets were
used like any others.
But it will be asked, what of the monks? Most have become citizens and
taken wives, and are now heads of families; some have gone into exile;
whilst others are business men. I have even met a few, who, having
turned Protestants, were employed as guides by the Boston and New York
Biblical Missions. As for the clergy, contrary to the received opinion
that on being deprived of their emoluments and tithes they would be
richer than before, they have become as poor as their vows require, as
humble as they profess, reading their services as heretofore to crowded
congregations, and every one is or seems to be satisfied.
But to return to our edifices. The Church and Convent of S. Domingo
(Dominick) stands in Custom House Square, blocked up at all times
by carriages, carts, mules, and a motley crowd. At this point, when
_pronunciamentos_ were the rule, rebels used to take their stand,
and sheltered behind the high steeples of the church, shot at their
fellow-citizens lodged on the azoteas (flat roofs) of the neighbouring
houses. They did their work so often and so well that the desolation
of these cloisters is complete. The pictures which once were their
chief ornament are mostly in holes, and the walls blackened with shot
and powder. S. Domingo has the hardly enviable privilege of having
been the seat of the Inquisition. Here, in 1646, the terrible tribunal
celebrated its first _auto-da-fè_, when forty-eight persons were burnt
at the stake. These human sacrifices, which were only abolished at the
beginning of this century, were not better than the revolting practices
of the Aztecs, save that Catholic priests were content to burn their
victims without eating them, but to make up for this they branded them
with eternal infamy.
The Convent of S. Francisco, which at one time extended over fifteen
acres of ground, is situated between the street bearing the same name
and S. Juan de Latran y Zuletta Street. It is intersected by beautiful
cloisters, courts, and gardens, and was formerly the most important
as well as the richest convent in Mexico: having two churches, the
interiors of which were adorned with gigantic altars of finely-carved
gilt wood; three exquisite chapels, and elegant cloisters covered with
pictures, thus forming one of the most remarkable monuments in Mexico.
But alas! all that wealth is gone, the ruthless hand of democracy
has pulled down cell and chapel; streets run in places once occupied
by its altars; its flower-beds are turned into a nursery-garden,
and its silent cells are tenanted by poor families, whose women and
children fill the air with their shrill and discordant voices. All that
remains is the façade, with its magnificent gate—a curious mixture of
Renaissance pilasters, covered with figures in high relief, surmounted
with composite capitals, divided by niches adorned with statues,
besides a marvellous wealth of ornamentation, not in the best taste,
but highly finished. Their chief interest, however, lies in their
being the work of the Indians, rather than the production of a Spanish
chisel. Indians, according to Mendieta, were no contemptible artists;
“with tools made of tin and copper, they could cut not only metals, but
the hardest substances. They carved their vessels of gold and silver,
with their metallic chisels, in a very delicate manner. They imitated
the figures of animals, and could mix the metals in such a manner, that
the feathers of a bird, or the scales of a fish, should be alternately
of gold and silver.”
They worked the various stones and alabasters with _guijarros_ (a
tool made of silex and flint), in the construction of their public
buildings, entrances and angles of which were frequently ornamented
with images, sometimes of their fantastic and hideous deities.
Sculptured images were so numerous, that the foundations of the
Cathedral in the Plaza Mayor are said to be entirely composed of
them.[7] They also painted from nature, birds, fish, and landscape, and
after their conversion to Christianity, says Mendieta, they
reproduced admirably our images and reredos from Flanders and Italy.
[Illustration: CLOISTER OF THE CONVENT OF LA MERCED.]
The religion of the Aztecs imposed upon their followers certain forms,
in their delineation of the human figure, or the personification of the
Deity, which they were not permitted to discard; this explains why we
find so many rude images side by side with the most exquisite work of
ornamentation.
But to return. No one would stop to look at the Convent de la _Merced_
were it not for its cloisters, the finest in Mexico; they are composed
of white, slender columns, in Moorish style, with indented arches,
forming galleries which surround a paved court, the centre of which is
occupied by an insignificant fountain.
The Convent stands in the middle of a densely populated suburb, forming
a striking contrast to the tumult and hubbub outside. The feeling of
profound desolation which is felt at gazing on these walls is beyond
description, for the silence is only broken in the rare intervals when
an _aguador_ comes to fill his _cantaros_ and _chochocoles_ (earthen
pots and jars) at the fountain. The white picturesque tunic of the
monks which relieved the solitude of these endless galleries has for
ever disappeared, and now its vast passages only give access to empty
cells.
The walls of the galleries are covered with innumerable pictures, the
figures in which are of life-size, representing martyrs of the order
of S. Domingo and its most celebrated saints. They are not pleasant
to look at, presenting to the eye nothing but distortions, funeral
piles and dislocations; all the tortures, in fact, which the perverted
ingenuity of man has devised to harass his fellow-creatures. Among
them, some are lifting to heaven their gory heads, whose blood is
streaming down to their feet, whilst others are stretching out their
freshly-stunted arms and calcined limbs. At no time can the priests of
Huitzilopochtli have sanctioned more harrowing suffering, or consented,
in their religious frenzy, to more revolting practices.
The Convent de la Merced used to possess a good library, and many
precious manuscripts of Indian antiquity; but the superstitious
ignorance of the monks allowed it to fall into decay, and documents
of highest interest to the historian and archæologist were used as
waste-paper or consigned to the flames.
The choir of this church had one hundred seats of carved oak, and was
considered one of the finest in the world. The Government is converting
the church into a library, which, when completed, is expected to be one
of the finest monuments of the city.
Among buildings of public usefulness, the School of Mines, El Salto del
Agua, Chapultepec Military College, the Art Academy, and the Museum may
be mentioned.
[Illustration: MEXICAN MONKS.]
[Illustration: EL SALTO DEL AGUA (FOUNTAIN).]