LETTER THE SIXTH

Departure from Puebla--Chirimoyas--Rio Frio--Indian Game--Black

Forest--Valley of Mexico--Recollections of Tenochtitlan--Mexican

Officer--Reception--Scenery--Variety of Dresses--Cheers--Storm of

Rain--Entry to Mexico--Buenavista--House by Daylight--Sights from the

Windows--Visits--Mexican Etiquette--Countess C----a--Flowers in

December--Serenade--Patriotic Hymn.

Mexico, 26th December.

We left Puebla between four and five in the morning, as we purposely made

some delay, not wishing to reach Mexico too early; and in so doing, acted

contrary to the advice of Don Miguel, who was generally right in these

matters. The day was very fine when we set off, though rain was predicted.

Some of the gentlemen had gone to the theatre the night before, to see the

_Nacimiento_, and the audience had been composed entirely of _Gentuza_, the

common people, who were drinking brandy and smoking; so it was fortunate

that we had not shown our faces there.

The country was now flat but fertile, and had on the whole more of a

European look than any we had yet passed through.

At Rio Prieto, a small village, where we changed horses, I found that I had

been sitting very comfortably with my feet in a basket of chirimoyas, and

that my bordequins, white gown, and cloak, had been all drenched with the

milky juice, and then made black by the floor of the diligence.

With no small difficulty a trunk was brought down, and another dress

procured, to the great amusement of the Indian women, who begged to know if

my gown was the _last fashion_, and said it was "_muy guapa,_" very pretty.

Here we found good hot coffee, and it being Christmas-day, every one was

cleaned and dressed for mass.

At Rio Frio, which is about thirteen leagues from Mexico, and where there

is a pretty good posada in a valley surrounded by woods, we stopped to

dine. The inn was kept by a Bordelaise and her husband, who wish themselves

in Bordeaux twenty times a day. In front of the house some Indians were

playing at a curious and very ancient game--a sort of swing, resembling

"_El Juego de los Voladores,_" "The game of the flyers," much in vogue

amongst the ancient Mexicans. Our French hostess gave us a good dinner,

especially excellent potatoes, and jelly of various sorts, regaling us with

plenty of stories of robbers and robberies and horrid murders all the

while. On leaving Rio Frio, the road became more hilly and covered with

woods, and we shortly entered the tract known by the name of the Black

Forest, a great haunt for banditti, and a beautiful specimen of forest

scenery, a succession of lofty oaks, pines, and cedars, with wild flowers

lighting up their gloomy green. But I confess that the impatience which I

felt to see Mexico, the idea that in a few hours we should actually be

there, prevented me from enjoying the beauty of the scenery, and made the

road appear interminable.

But at length we arrived at the heights looking down upon the great valley,

celebrated in all parts of the world, with its framework of everlasting

mountains, its snow-crowned volcanoes, great lakes, and fertile plains,

all surrounding the favoured city of Montezuma, the proudest boast of his

conqueror, once of Spain's many diadems the brightest. But the day had

overcast, nor is this the most favourable road for entering Mexico. The

innumerable spires of the distant city were faintly seen. The volcanoes

were enveloped in clouds, all but their snowy summits, which seemed like

marble domes towering into the sky. But as we strained our eyes to look

into the valley, it all appeared to me rather like a vision of the Past

than the actual breathing Present. The curtain of Time seemed to roll back,

and to discover to us the great panorama that burst upon the eye of Cortes

when he first looked down upon the table-land; the king-loving, God-fearing

conqueror, his loyalty and religion so blended after the fashion of ancient

Spain, that it were hard to say which sentiment exercised over him the

greater sway. The city of Tenochtitlan, standing in the midst of the five

great lakes, upon verdant and flower-covered islands, a western Venice,

with thousands of boats gliding swiftly along its streets, long lines of

low houses, diversified by the multitudes of pyramidal temples, the

Teocalli, or houses of God--canoes covering the mirrored lakes--the lofty

trees, the flowers, and the profusion of water now wanting to the

landscape--the whole fertile valley enclosed by its eternal hills and

snow-crowned volcanoes--what scenes of wonder and of beauty to burst upon

the eyes of these wayfaring men!

Then the beautiful gardens surrounding the city, the profusion of flowers,

and fruit, and birds--the mild bronze-coloured Emperor himself advancing in

the midst of his Indian nobility, with rich dress and unshod feet, to

receive his unbidden and unwelcome guest--the slaves and the gold and the

rich plumes, all to be laid at the feet of "His most sacred Majesty"--what

pictures are called up by the recollection of the simple narrative of

Cortes, and how forcibly they return to the mind now, when, after a lapse

of three centuries, we behold for the first time the city of palaces raised

upon the ruins of the Indian capital. It seemed scarcely possible that we

were indeed so near the conclusion of our journey, and in the midst of so

different a scene, only two months minus two days since leaving New York

and stepping aboard the Norma. How much land and sea we had passed over

since then! How much we had seen! How many different climates, even in the

space of the last four days!

But my thoughts which had wandered three centuries into the past, were soon

recalled to the present by the arrival of an officer in full uniform at the

head of his troop, who came out by order of the government to welcome the

bearer of the olive-branch from ancient Spain, and had been on horseback

since the day before, expecting our arrival. As it had begun to rain, the

officer, Colonel Miguel Andrade, accepted our offer of taking shelter in

the diligence. We had now a great troop galloping along with us, and had

not gone far before we perceived that in spite of the rain, and that it

already began to grow dusk, there were innumerable carriages and horsemen

forming an immense crowd, all coming out to welcome us. Shortly after the

diligence was stopped, and we were requested to get into a very splendid

carriage, all crimson and gold, with the arms of the republic, the eagle

and nopal, embroidered in gold on the roof inside, and drawn by four

handsome white horses. In the midst of this immense procession of troops,

carriages, and horsemen, we made our entry into the city of Montezuma.

The scenery on this side of Mexico is arid and flat, and where the waters

of the Lagunas, covered with their gay canoes, once surrounded the city,

forming canals through its streets, we now see melancholy marshy lands,

little enlivened by great flights of wild duck and waterfowl. But the

bleakness of the natural scenery was concealed by the gay appearance of the

procession--the scarlet and gold uniforms, the bright-coloured sarapes, the

dresses of the gentlemen (most, I believe, Spaniards), with their handsome

horses, high Mexican saddles, gold-embroidered _anqueras_ generally of

black fur, their Mexican hats ornamented with gold, richly-furred jackets,

pantaloons with hanging silver buttons, stamped-leather boots, silver

stirrups, and graceful mangas with black or coloured velvet capes.

At the gates of Mexico the troops halted, and three enthusiastic cheers

were given as the carriage entered. It was now nearly dusk, and the rain

was falling in torrents, yet we met more carriages full of ladies and

gentlemen, which joined the others. We found that a house, in the suburbs

at Buenavista, had been taken for us _provisoirement_ by the kindness of

the Spaniards, especially of a rich merchant who accompanied us in the

carriage, Don M---l M---z del C---o; consequently we passed all through

Mexico before reaching our destination, always in the midst of the crowd,

on account of which and of the ill-paved streets we went very slowly.

Through the rain and the darkness we got an occasional faint lamp-light

glimpse of high buildings, churches, and convents. Arrived at length in the

midst of torrents of rain, C---n got out of the carriage and returned

thanks for his reception, giving some ounces to the sergeant for the

soldiers. We then entered the house, accompanied by the Mexican officer,

and by a large party of Spaniards.

We found the house very good, especially considering that it had been

furnished for us in eight-and-forty hours, and we also found an excellent

supper smoking on the table; after doing justice to which we took leave of

our friends, and, very tired, prepared for sleep.

The servants and luggage arrived late. They had been left with the

diligence, under the guardianship of Don Miguel, and it appeared that the

robbers had mingled with the crowd, and followed in hopes of plunder;

insomuch that he had been obliged to procure two carriages, one for the

servants, while into another he put the luggage, mounting in front himself

to look out. Tired enough the poor man was, and drenched with rain; and we

found that much of this confusion and difficulty, which was chiefly caused

by the storm and darkness, would have been avoided had we left Puebla some

hours sooner.

However, "All's well that ends well." I thought of Christmas in "Merrie

England," and of our family gatherings in the olden time, and as if one had

not travelled enough in the body, began travelling in the mind, away to far

different, and distant, and long gone-by scenes, fell asleep at length with

my thoughts in Scotland, and wakened in Mexico!

By daylight we find our house very pretty, with a large garden adjoining,

full of flowers, and rosebushes in the courtyard, but being all on the

ground-floor, it is somewhat damp, and the weather, though beautiful, is so

cool in the morning, that carpets, and I sometimes think even a _soupcon_

of fire, would not be amiss. The former we shall soon procure, but there

are neither chimneys nor grates, and I have no doubt a fire would be

disagreeable for more than an hour or so in the morning. The house stands

alone, with a large court before it, and opposite to it passes the great

stone aqueduct, a magnificent work of the Spaniards, though not more so,

probably, than those which supplied the ancient Tenochtitlan with water.

Behind it we see nothing but several old houses, with trees, so that we

seem almost in the country. To the right is one large building, with garden

and olive-ground, where the English legation formerly lived, a palace in

size, since occupied by Santa Anna, and which now belongs to Señor Perez

Galvez; a house which we shall be glad to have, if the proprietor will

consent to let it.

But what most attracts our attention are the curious and picturesque groups

of figures which we see from the windows--men bronze-colour, with nothing

but a piece of blanket thrown round them, carrying lightly on their heads

earthen basins, precisely the colour of their own skin, so that they look

altogether like figures of terra cotta: these basins filled with sweetmeats

or white pyramids of grease (_mantequilla_); women with rebosos, short

petticoats of two colours, generally all in rags, yet with a lace border

appearing on their under garment: no stockings, and dirty white satin

shoes, rather shorter than their small brown feet; gentlemen on horseback

with their Mexican saddles and sarapes; lounging _léperos_, moving bundles

of rags, coming to the windows and begging with a most piteous but false

sounding whine, or lying under the arches and lazily inhaling the air and

the sunshine, or sitting at the door for hours basking in the sun or under

the shadow of the wall: Indian women, with their tight petticoat of dark

stuff and tangled hair, plaited with red ribbon, laying down their baskets

to rest, and meanwhile deliberately _examining_ the hair of their copper-

coloured offspring. We have enough to engage our attention for the present.

Several visitors came early--gentlemen, both Spaniards and Mexicans. Señor

A---z, decidedly the ugliest man I ever beheld, with a hump on his back,

and a smile of most portentous hideosity, yet celebrated for his _bonnes

fortunes_; Señor de G---a, Ex-Minister of the Treasury, extremely witty and

agreeable, and with some celebrity as a dramatic writer; Count C---a,

formerly attached to the bedchamber in Spain, married to a pretty

Andalusian, and entirely Mexicanized, his heart where his interests are. He

is very gentlemanlike and distinguished-looking, with good manners, and

extremely eloquent in conversation. I hear him called "_inconsecuente_,"

and capricious, but he has welcomed C---n, who knew him intimately in

Madrid, with all the warmth of ancient friendship.

We are told that a great serenade has been for some time in contemplation,

to be given to C---n, the words, music, and performance by the young

Spaniards here.

27th.--A day or two must elapse before I can satisfy my curiosity by going

out, while the necessary arrangements are making concerning carriage and

horses, or mules, servants, etc.; our vehicles from the United States not

having yet arrived,--nor is it difficult to foresee, even from once passing

through the streets, that only the more solid-built English carriages will

stand the wear and tear of a Mexican life, and that the comparatively

flimsy coaches which roll over the well-paved streets of New York, will not

endure for any length of time.

Meanwhile we have constant visits, but chiefly from gentlemen and from

Spaniards, for there is one piece of etiquette, entirely Mexican, nor can I

imagine from whence derived, by which it is ordained that all new arrivals,

whatever be their rank, foreign Ministers not excepted, must in solemn

print give notice to every family of any consideration in the capital, that

they have arrived, and offer themselves and their house to their

"_disposición_;" failing in which etiquette, the newly-arrived family will

remain unnoticed and unknown. Our cards to this effect are consequently

being printed under the auspices of Count C---a. I have, however, received

the visits of some ladies who have kindly waived this ceremony in my

favour; and amongst others, from the Dowager and the young Countess of

C---a; the eldest a very distinguished woman, of great natural talent, one

of the true ladies of the old school, of whom not many specimens now remain

in Mexico; the other extremely pretty, lively, and amiable, a true

Andalusian both in beauty and wit. The old Countess was dressed in black

velvet, black blonde mantilla, diamond earrings and brooch--her daughter-

in-law also in black, with a mantilla, and she had a pretty little daughter

with her, whose eyes will certainly produce a kindling effect on the next

generation.

They were both extremely kind and cordial; if there are many such persons

in Mexico, we shall have no reason to complain. I hope I am not seeing the

cream before the milk!

Some Mexican visits appear to me to surpass in duration all that one can

imagine of a visit, rarely lasting less than one hour, and sometimes

extending over a greater part of the day. And gentlemen, at least, arrive

at no particular time. If you are going to breakfast, they go also--if to

dinner, the same--if you are asleep, they wait till you awaken--if out,

they call again. An indifferent sort of man, whose name I did not even

hear, arrived yesterday, a little after breakfast, sat still, and walked in

to a late dinner with us! These should not be called visits, but

visitations,--though I trust they do not often occur to that extent. An

open house and an open table for your friends, which includes every passing

acquaintance; these are merely Spanish habits of hospitality transplanted.

Had a visit from Señor ----- and his wife, very civil and obliging people,

always agreeing with each other, and with you, and with all the world,

almost to the extent of Polonius to Hamlet. Our conversation reminded me of

that the whole time they were here.

I have just brought from the garden a lapful of pink roses,

clove-carnations, and sweet-peas. Rosetta could not sing here--

"For June and December will never agree."

The weather is lovely, the air fresh and clear, the sky one vast expanse of

bright blue, without a single cloud. Early this morning it was cool, but

now, by ten o'clock, the air is as soft and balmy as on a summer-day with

us.

28th.--Day of the memorable serenade. After dinner some ladies paid me a

visit, amongst others the wife and daughter of the Spanish consul, Señor

M---y, who were accompanied by the sister of Count A---a. They and a few

gentlemen arrived about six o'clock, and it was said that the serenade

would not begin till twelve. It may be supposed that our conversation,

however agreeable it might be, would scarcely hold out that time. In fact,

by nine o'clock, we were all nearly overcome by sleep, and by ten I believe

we were already in a refreshing slumber, when we were awakened by the sound

of crowds assembling before the door, and of carriages arriving and

stopping. Not knowing who the occupants might be, we could not invite them

in, which seemed very inhospitable, as the night, though fine, was cold and

chilly. About eleven the Count and Countess C---a arrived, and the Señora

de G----, a remarkably handsome woman, a Spaniard, looking nearly as young

as her daughters; also the pretty daughters of the proprietress of this

house, who was a beauty, and is married to her third husband; and a lively

little talkative person, the Señora de L---n, all Spanish; and who, some on

that account, and others from their husbands having been former friends of

C---n's have not waited for the ceremony of receiving cards. Gradually,

however, several Mexican ladies, whom we had sent out to invite, came in.

Others remained in their carriages, excusing themselves on the plea of

their not being _en toilette_. We had men _à discrétion_, and the rooms

were crowded.

About midnight arrived a troop of Mexican soldiers, carrying torches, and a

multitude of musicians, both amateur and professional, chiefly the former,

and men carrying music-stands, violins, violoncellos, French horns, etc.,

together with an immense crowd, mingled with numbers of léperos, so that

the great space in front of the house as far as the aqueduct, and all

beyond and along the street as far as we could see, was covered with people

and carriages. We threw open the windows, which are on a level with the

ground, with large balconies and wide iron gratings, and the scene by the

torch-light was very curious. The Mexican troops holding lights for the

musicians, and they of various countries, Spanish, German, and Mexican; the

léperos, with their ragged blankets and wild eyes, that gleamed in the

light of the torches; the ladies within, and the crowd without, all formed

a very amusing _spectacle_.

At length the musicians struck up in full chorus, accompanied by the whole

orchestra. The voices were very fine, and the instrumental music so good, I

could hardly believe that almost all were amateur performers.

A hymn, which had been composed for the occasion, and of which we had

received an elegantly-bound copy in the morning, was particularly

effective. The music was composed by Señor Retes, and the words by Señor

Covo, both Spaniards. Various overtures from the last operas were played,

and at the end of what seemed to be the first act, in the midst of

deafening applause from the crowd, C---n made me return thanks from the

window in beautiful impromptu Spanish! Then came shouts of "Viva la

Espana!" "Viva Ysabel Segunda!" "Viva el Ministro de Espana!" Great and

continued cheering. Then C---n gave in return, "Viva la Republica

Mexicana!" "Viva Bustamente!" and the shouting was tremendous. At last an

Andalusian in the crowd shouted out, "Viva todo el Mundo!" (Long live

everybody), which piece of wit was followed by general laughter.

After hot punch and cigars had been handed about out of doors, a necessary

refreshment in this cold night, the music recommenced, and the whole ended

with the national hymn of Spain, with appropriate words. A young Spanish

girl, whose voice is celebrated here, was then entreated by those within,

and beseeched by those without, to sing alone the hymn composed in honour

of C---n, which she naturally felt some hesitation in doing before such an

immense audience. However, she consented at last, and in a voice like a

clarion, accompanied by the orchestra, sung each verse alone, joined in the

chorus by the whole crowd. I give you a copy:

Himno Patriotico que varios Espanoles, Residentes en Mexico, dedican al

Esmo. Sr. Don A---- C---- de la B----, Ministro Plenipotenciario de S. M.

C. en la República, con Motivo de su Llegada a dicha Capital.

Música del Sr. J. N. DE RETES; Palabras del Sr. DN. JUAN COVO.

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