THE CAPITAL
The City of Mexico represents progressive Mexico. In it is concentrated
the wealth, culture and refinement of the republic. It is the political,
the educational, the social and the commercial centre of the whole
country. It is to Mexico what Paris is to France. In fact it would
be Mexico as Paris would be France. The same glare and glitter of a
pleasure-loving metropolis are found here, and within the same boundaries
may be seen the deepest poverty and most abject degradation.
[Illustration: MAP OF THE VALLEY OF MEXICO]
“Wait until you get to the City of Mexico,” said an educated Mexican
to me as we were crossing the sparsely-settled tablelands of northern
Mexico, where the only inhabitants are Indians. The Mexicans are proud of
their city and are pleased to have it likened to the gay French capital,
for their ideals and tastes are fashioned after the Latin standard
rather than the American. The French, they say, have the culture and
can embrace _a la Mexicana_, which is done by throwing an arm around a
friend whom they meet and patting him heartily on the back. They prefer
the easy-going, wait-a-while style of existence to the hurried, strenuous
life of an American city. No people love leisure and the pursuit of
pleasure more than our neighbours in the Mexican metropolis. They work
during the morning hours, take a noon _siesta_, close up early in the
afternoon and are ready for pleasure in the evening until a late hour.
In appearance the capital resembles Madrid more than any other city I
have ever seen. The architecture is the Moorish-Spanish style, into which
some Aztec modifications have been wrought by the new-world builders.
The light, airy appearance of an American city is absent for there are
no frame structures anywhere. The square, flat-roofed buildings, with
walls thick enough to withstand any earthquake shock, are two or three
stories in height and built round a _patio_, or courtyard, the centre of
which is open to the sky. The old architects were not hampered by such
paltry considerations as the price of lots, and so they built veritable
palaces with wide corridors and rooms lofty and huge. Through many of
these rooms you might easily drive a carriage. There are parlours as
large as public halls, and throughout all one notes the _grandiose_ ideas
of the race. The houses, of stone or brick covered with stucco, are built
clear up to the sidewalk so that there is no tinge of green in front. The
Mexican is not particular about the exterior of his home, but expends
his thought and money on the open court within. The plainness of the
outside is relieved only by the large gate, or door, which is also the
carriage drive-way, and the neat little, iron-grated balconies on which
the windows open from the upper stories.
[Illustration: THE PATIO OF AN OLD RESIDENCE]
These balconies afford a convenient place for the women of the household
to see what is passing on the street, and also for the _señorita_, or
young lady, to watch the restless pacing to and fro of the love-stricken
youth who is “playing bear” in front of the house. The great doorway,
which is carefully barred and bolted at night, and strictly guarded by
the porter during the day, is the only entrance to the _patio_, which,
in the better class of homes, is adorned with pretty gardens, statuary
and fountains. Many of them contain an open plunge bath. Through the
wide windows one catches glimpses of fascinating interiors, and through
the broad doorways the passer-by on the street gets many a pretty view
of the courtyards, and of these miniature gardens. One or two rows of
living-apartments extend around and above the court, with broad corridors
in front handsomely paved with tile, protected by balustrades and adorned
with flowers and vines. Above, the red tiles of the roof add a little
additional colour to the scene. There are no cellars nor chimneys. The
latter were never introduced because of the mildness of the climate. In
the courts protected from the winds, the people keep on the sunny side
when it is cool and hide from the same orb when it is hot. Charcoal fires
are used for cooking and heat when it becomes necessary. Cellars are made
impossible because of the marshy nature of the soil.
It will be recalled that Tenochtitlan, the Aztec capital, has been called
the New World Venice, whose streets were once canals. It must have been
a gay and picturesque scene when the fair surface of its waters was
resplendent with shining cities and flowering islets. The waters have
since receded until Lake Texcoco, at its nearest point, is three miles
distant. Mexico is now a more prosaic city of streets and cross-streets
which extend from north to south and from east to west. Some of the
principal thoroughfares are broad, paved with asphalt and well kept;
but many are quite narrow, and especially is this true of the streets
called lanes, though devoted to business. There is no exclusive residence
section, except in the new additions, and many of the homes of the old
families are found sandwiched in between stores. It is a difficult matter
to become familiar with the names of the streets, for they are more than
nine hundred in number, and a street generally has a different name for
each block. If several blocks have the same name, as, for instance, Calle
de San Francisco, one of the finest streets, and on or near which are
some of the largest hotels, finest stores and richest private dwellings,
then it is First San Francisco, Second San Francisco, etc.
A few years ago the streets were re-named. All the streets extending
east and west were called _avenidas_, and the north and south streets
_calles_, each continuous thoroughfare being given but one name.
The people, however, in this land of legend and tradition, clung so
tenaciously to the former designations that they have practically been
restored. Some of the old names of streets commemorated historical
events, as, for instance, the Street of the _Cinco de Mayo_, which is in
remembrance of the victory of the Mexicans over the French at Puebla in
1862. Others are named in honour of men noted in the history of Mexico.
Many religious terms appear, such as the street of Jesus, Sanctified
Virgin, Holy Ghost, Sepulchres of the Holy Sabbath, and the like. Others
owe their names to some incident or legend, which is both interesting and
mysterious. Of the latter class may be mentioned the Street of the Sad
Indian, Lane of Pass if You Can, Street of the Lost Child, Street of the
Wood Owls, Lane of the Rat, Bridge of the Raven and Street of the Walking
Priest. The Street of the Coffin Makers is now known as the Street of
Death. It is a thoroughfare of one block, and is one of the few streets
that still preserves its ancient caste, for it is devoted exclusively
to the makers of coffins. All of the coffins are made by hand. It is a
gloomy street and there are cleaner spots on the face of the earth.
Mexico is a very cosmopolitan city. Its three hundred and seventy-five
thousand inhabitants include representatives from nearly every nation
of the earth. The Indians are vastly in the majority, and they are
the pure and original Mexicans. The Creoles, who are descendants of
Europeans, generally Spanish, call themselves the Mexicans and rank
second in number. They form the real aristocratic body from whom come
the representative Mexicans. They are not all dark, but a blonde is a
rare specimen. Most of them have an olive-brown colour, thus showing
the mixture of Indian blood, for in early days it was not considered a
_mesalliance_ for even a Spanish officer of high rank to marry an Aztec
maiden of the better class.
The old families cling tenaciously to the great estates, or _haciendas_,
many of which have remained intact for centuries. Quite a number can even
trace their estates back to the original grants from the king of Spain.
Many of these _hacendados_, or landed proprietors, enjoy princely incomes
from their lands, and nearly all of them own residences in the capital.
They maintain elaborate establishments and keep four times as many
servants as would be found in an American house.
The average Mexican does not care for business. Neither is he an inventor
or originator, for he is content to live as his ancestors have lived.
Nearly all lines of commerce and industry are in the hands of foreigners.
The Germans monopolize the hardware trade; the French conduct nearly
all the dry goods stores; the Spaniards are the country’s grocers; and
the Americans and English control the railroad, electric and mining
industries. All these interests centre in the City of Mexico. Railroads
are not very numerous until you approach the Valley of Mexico where
they converge from all directions. The hum of industry is apparent here
as nowhere else in the whole republic. The Mexicans boast of their
capital, but they often forget the debt they owe to foreigners, for all
the modern improvements have been installed by alien races and outside
capital. It is another foreign invasion but with a pacific mission.
The American colony alone in that city numbers more than six thousand
persons, and the number is constantly increasing. Hatred of the American
has almost disappeared, and the incomers are cordially welcomed. There
are two flourishing clubs around which the social life of the expatriated
Americans centre.
The society of the capital, and indeed of the whole country, is very
diverse. What might be said of one class would not apply to another. The
differences of dress and customs alone make known the heterogeneousness
of the population. They all use the same language and all classes are
brought together on a common level in their religion. No other nation has
ever made such complete conquests as Spain. She not only subjugated the
lands but forced her language, as well as religion, upon the conquered
races. The English have succeeded in extending their sway over a large
part of the world, but in no instance have they been able to accomplish
these two results with the native population. The priests of Spain went
hand in hand with the _conquistadores_, and, within a few generations
after the conquest of Mexico by Cortez, the Spanish language was
universally used and the Indians were at least nominal Catholics.
The climate of the City of Mexico is delightful. It is neither hot nor
cold. It is too far south to be cold and the altitude, seven thousand,
four hundred and thirty-four feet above the level of the sea, is
too great to be hot. The temperature usually ranges from sixty-five
to eighty-five, but sometimes goes as high as ninety, and as low as
thirty-five, and frosts occasionally are experienced. The mornings and
evenings are cool and at midday it is always hot. There is a great
difference in the temperature between the sunny and shady side of the
street. Only dogs and Americans take the sunny side, the Mexicans say.
The rainy and dry seasons occur with great regularity, the former
lasting from May to October. It is the best season in the year although
most visitors go there in winter. The rains always occur in the afternoon
and usually cease before dark. At this time, too, all nature takes on a
beautiful shade of green which replaces the rather dull landscape of the
dry season. There is also a brisk, electric condition of the atmosphere
that is decidedly exhilarating and a good tonic.
This mildness of climate has greatly influenced the life of the capital.
The streets, except during the noon _siesta_, are full of people at all
times. To judge from the crowds, one might think the capital a city of
a million people. In the morning the women go to mass garbed in black,
generally wearing a black shawl over the head. Occasionally a black lace
mantilla is seen half-concealing, half-exposing the olive-brown face, and
bright, sparkling eyes of a _señorita_. Shoppers are out and business
is active. The women of the wealthier classes sit in their carriages
and have the goods brought out to them, or go to a private room where
articles are exhibited by clerks. They think that it is unbecoming to
stand at the counters, although the American plan of shopping is becoming
quite popular in recent years.
About the middle of the afternoon the crowds again appear, and a
little later the streets begin to fill with carriages. Nowhere, not
even in Paris, have I observed so many carriages as can be seen here on
any pleasant afternoon. They form one continuous, slow-moving line of
many miles. The procession moves out San Francisco Street through the
Alameda, along the Paseo de la Reforma, and then into the beautiful park
surrounding the Castle of Chapultepec which is set with great cypresses,
said to antedate the conquest. The cavalcade winds around through the
various drives at the base of the rock, along the shores of the lake,
past the castle and back to the city. The carriages go out on one side
and return on the other, leaving the central portion for riders. It
is a sight that never wearies for one to sit on a bench and watch the
motley throng of people driving, riding on horseback and promenading.
An oriental exclusiveness is observed by ladies of the upper class who
always ride in closed carriages. All kinds of vehicles are to be seen,
from fine equipages with liveried drivers and footmen, to the poorest cab
in the city with its disreputable driver and broken-down horses, fit only
for the bull-ring.
There are many horsemen and the Mexicans are always excellent riders.
Their horses are Lilliputian in size but fast and enduring. The saddle,
bridle and trappings are frequently gorgeous with their silver ornaments
and immense stirrups fancifully worked and shaped. The rider is often a
picture wonderful to behold from the heavy silver spurs which he wears,
to the sombrero of brown or yellow felt with a brim ten to fifteen inches
wide and a crown equally as high, the whole covered with heavy gilt cord
formed into a sort of rope. Then there is the dude or fop, who is well
named in Mexico. He is called a “_lajartija_” which means a “little
lizard.” He used to dress in such close-fitting and stiff costumes that
he had not much more freedom of motion than the stiff little lizard.
Now he is the dandy who is generally seen standing on a public corner,
wearing a French cutaway suit, American patent leather shoes and an
English stovepipe hat, with his fingers closed over the indispensable
cigarette.
In the evening the populace attend the theatre or some social function.
Sunday is the day of all others for recreation, and, with the average
inhabitant of Mexico, is one continuous and eternal round of pleasure.
After morning service the entire day is devoted to pleasure. Band
concerts are always given by the military bands on the Plaza in the
morning, in the Alameda early in the afternoon, and at Chapultepec about
five o’clock. Then there is the bull-fight which occurs only on Sundays
and holidays.
The average crowd in the City of Mexico is a good natured and peaceable
one. The city Indian and his country cousin, the peon from the
plantation, join the crowd on a feast day with their numerous progeny.
They are not the pleasantest neighbours in the world for both have
the odour of garlic and _pulque_ and their baths are of the annual
variety. That the little brown man is a peon is no fault of his. His
uncleanliness is, in a measure, the result of centuries of neglect, and
more particularly of a scarcity of water at his home. It is possible that
if he had the water his condition would be just the same. Though he is
poor and down-trodden, there is nothing of the anarchist about him. He is
absolutely devoid of envy or malice; and withal his spirits are gay and
he is as generous to his family or friends as his finances permit. The
artificial refinements of modern civilization have not yet spoiled him,
and there is a pleasant, even if malodorous, naturalness about him.
In no city do ancient and modern customs come into such intimate
contrast as in the City of Mexico. Nowhere is a greater mixture of races
to be seen than here. There are many tribes of Indians speaking scores
of dialects, and there are _mestizos_ of various degrees of mixture with
African, American and European blood. Types of four centuries can be seen
in any group on one of the plazas. The Plaza Mayor is a great, imposing,
central square of fourteen acres in the centre of the city, and on its
walks all the types can be seen at their best. Men and women come into
the city through the streets lighted by electricity, bearing immense
loads on their heads and backs rather than use a wagon. Peddlers carry
around jars of water for sale just as in the olden times. Indians, who
are almost pure Aztecs, pass along, taking the middle of the street in
Indian file. Well dressed men in black broadcloth suits and wearing silk
hats go by. The women of the middle class add colour to the scene with
the red and blue _rebosas_, sometimes covering the head, or tied across
the chest and holding an infant at the back. Nearly all the passers-by
show in their colour that they can claim kinship with the hosts of
Montezuma. The general effect is kaleidoscopic but entertaining. The
great cathedral on the north side of the Plaza is the one place where
all are brought together and class distinction obliterated. Visit the
cathedral any day and you may see an Indian with his pack on his back
side by side with a young woman who may inherit a dozen titles. There
are no select, high-priced, aristocratic pews for rent, but all meet by
a common genuflection before the sacred altars. The poor Indian may not
understand all the pomp and ceremony, the music of the vested choirs,
or the solemn chanting by the priests, but it fills a deep want in his
nature and he is satisfied.
At one side of the Plaza Mayor once stood the great Aztec _Teocalli_, the
Temple of Sacrifice. This was a high imposing altar reached by a flight
of more than a hundred steps. From the top was a magnificent view of
the entire valley, and it was from this point that the envious eyes of
Cortez looked out upon this beautiful scene. The altar was dedicated to
the Aztec war god Huitzilopochtli, and here, to appease the wrath of this
terrible god, human sacrifices were offered. The breast was cut open and
the heart, still palpitating, plucked out and placed upon the altar. The
bodies were cast down to the ground, whence they were taken and prepared
for the banquet table.
[Illustration: THE CATHEDRAL]
A part of the space once covered by this gruesome but majestic pile, is
now occupied by the Monte de Piedad, or “mountain of mercy,” one of the
most unique charities in the world. It is nothing more or less than a
gigantic pawn-shop, but it is one of the most beneficient institutions
in the country. The Count of Regla, a noted personage in Mexico, founded
this institution by a gift of three hundred thousand dollars. He did
this in order that the poor and needy, and the impoverished members of
families once genteel, might secure small sums upon personal property at
low rates of interest, instead of becoming involved in the meshes of the
blood-sucking vampires who prey upon this class of unfortunates. About
three-fourths of the actual value of the property pledged as fixed by
appraisers, will be loaned. If the interest is not paid, the property is
kept for seven months, when it is offered for sale at a fixed price. If
not disposed of in another five months it is sold at auction.
The truly remarkable feature of this establishment is, that if a greater
sum is realized than the amount of the loan and interest, the excess is
placed to the credit of the owner, or his heirs, and will be kept for
one hundred years, after which time it reverts to the institution. Many
old heirlooms of former grandees, Aztec curios, diamonds, gold ornaments
and even family gods have passed through this organization of charity.
For more than a century it has existed, having survived all the civil
wars, revolutions and changes of government. The original capital has
been more than doubled by the forfeitures, and many branches of this
parent institution are operated in the capital and in several of the
large cities of the republic. It is an example that might be suggested to
some of our multi-millionaires who do not know what to do with their vast
accumulations of wealth.
Even the funerals are conducted in a strange way. With the exception of
funerals among the wealthy, the street cars are universally used. The
enterprising owner of the street car system some years ago acting on the
trust idea, bought up all the hearses and introduced funeral cars. After
a short time the people became accustomed to the new plan, which seemed
to give satisfaction. Now, trolley funeral cars of the first, second and
third class are furnished at a price varying from five dollars for the
cheapest class, to a hundred dollars or more for a first-class car. Some
of the poor rent coffins which are returned after the burial. The very
poor may be seen carrying their dead on their shoulders to the _Campo
Santo_, or holy ground. Graves are usually sold only for a certain number
of years, after which, unless the relatives pay the prescribed fee, the
bones are taken up and the ground made ready for a new occupant. The
dead are soon forgotten. A pile of bones in a corner of the cemetery
represents all that is mortal of the generations who passed away not many
years ago. There is an entire lack of reverence for the mortal remains of
the departed, such as one is accustomed to find in our own country. One
is reminded of the couplet
“Rattle his bones over the stones,
He’s only a pauper, whom nobody owns.”
The City of Mexico is not the healthiest city in the world. On the
contrary the death rate is unusually high. The average duration of life
is said to be only twenty-six years. This is due in a great measure to
infant mortality. Typhoid and malarial fevers are prevalent because
of the accumulated drainage of centuries, which lies just a few feet
beneath the surface. Pneumonia is common and regarded as very dangerous
because of the rarefied air, and patients suffering from this disease are
immediately transported to lower altitudes for treatment. The entire
lack of hygiene and sanitary conditions among the peon classes is in a
great measure responsible for the unusual percentage of mortality. Few
other cities in the world have such a high rate of deaths compared with
the population.
Strange it is that the capital was ever built on this low, marshy soil
when higher land was available and near at hand. It was one of the great
blunders of Cortez, for Mexico might have been made a healthy city. No
exigency of commerce dictated its selection, for it is far from the
sea coast on either side and was difficult of access before the day of
railroads. The new city was built on the site of the old, and the temples
of the Christian religion were raised on the sites of the old pagan
altars wherever possible. A plan of moving the city to higher ground
was strongly agitated at one time but the vested interests succeeded
in killing this project. It is hoped and believed that when the plans
for sewerage are completed, the health conditions will be placed on a
par with that of most cities. The authorities are making an honest and
earnest effort to carry out these commendable projects.
“Know ye not pulque,
Liquor divine,
The Angels in heaven
Prefer it to wine.”
Thus sings the lower class Mexican to whom this liquor has become a
curse. To it is due much of his poverty and many of his crimes. For it he
will neglect his family and steal from his employer. It does not contain
a large percentage of alcohol, but, taken in large quantities, as is
customary among these people, it puts them in a dopy condition which they
sleep off. One railroad brings in a train-load each day, and, besides,
large quantities are brought in by other lines. There are sixteen hundred
pulque saloons in the capital, but they are all closed at six o’clock by
a law which is strictly enforced. The pulque-shop betrays itself by its
odour, as well as by the crowds of poorly dressed and even filthy men and
women who surround its doors and press around the counter. It is a gaily
decorated affair and is oftentimes adorned in flaring colours inside and
out, with reds, blues, greens and yellows predominating, and frequently
with a huge, rude painting on the outside walls. In some of the shops you
will find a curious string knotted in a peculiar manner or strung with
shells. This is a survival of the Aztec method of counting by means of
beads, or shells, strung together.
As one writer says, “the pulque shop, notwithstanding its evil influence
upon the life of the people, presents a very picturesque appearance to
the tourist who has never seen anything like it before. The dress of
the people, the curious, vivid colours of the walls of the building,
the semi-barbaric appearance of the decorations within, the curious
semi-symbolic pictures upon the walls, the unaccustomed groupings of the
people, all combine to attract the attention of the stranger in Mexico.”
[Illustration: A PICTURESQUE PULQUE SHOP]
In the naming of the pulque-dens the imagination is allowed full play.
I quote from a Mexican periodical the names of some of these resorts: A
place in the suburbs of Mexico is termed the “Delight of Bacchus.” One
is called “The Seventh Heaven,” another “The Food of the Gods,” while
still another bears the euphonious title of “The Land of the Lotus.” “A
Night of Delight” is another place near “The Heart’s Desire.” The above
names are commonplace by the side of the following: “The Hang-out of
John the Baptist,” “The Retreat of the Holy Ghost,” “The Delight of the
Apostle,” “The Retreat of the Holy Virgin,” “The Mecca of Delight,” and
“The Fountain of the Angels.” Nothing disrespectful is intended by these
appellations but they sound very sacrilegious to us.
There is, however, a brighter side to the Indian life in the City of
Mexico. In one corner of the Zocalo, and covering a part of the site
formerly occupied by the great sacrificial altar, is the flower-market.
This flower-market is always attractive and a never-ending source of
interest to the tourist. Immense bouquets of the choicest flowers are
sold so cheap that the price seems almost absurd. By judicious bargaining
a few cents will purchase a large and varied supply of roses, violets
and heliotrope, which only dollars could buy from a New York florist. No
hot-houses are needed here at any season, for in this climate flowers
bloom all the year round, and one crop succeeds another in a never-ending
succession. The Mexican Indian is a lover of flowers. It is one of the
redeeming traits of his character. He is not always particular as to his
personal appearance; he may be unkempt and untidy to look upon; but he
loves flowers, is prodigal in his use of them and shows good taste in
their arrangement. This taste is innate, is no doubt inherited from his
Aztec ancestors, and has survived the oppressions and exactions of the
succeeding centuries. This love for flowers finds expression even in his
worship, and it is no uncommon thing to find flowers before the image of
the Virgin, and such an offering is one of the expressions of his good
will. When we consider that our forefathers were taught to worship God
with the first fruits of their husbandry, it is not surprising that this
primitive and ignorant race should still find use in their worship for
these beautiful products of a prodigal nature.
The gardens and parks of the City of Mexico attain a luxuriant growth
that cannot be equalled in our northern cities. These breathing-places
where one can sit amid scenes of tropical verdure, and admire the bright
tints of the flowers while shielded from the hot sun by the broad-leafed
foliage of the plants, are truly delightful spots for an American to
visit. They contrast so strongly with the cheerless appearance of the
streets. In the centre of the large Plaza Mayor lies the Zocalo, a little
green oasis in the great paved waste. It is in the very heart of the
city’s throbbing life, and everything either has its beginning or ending
on this imposing square.
On one side of the Plaza lies the Palacio Nacional which has stood there
for more than two centuries. It covers the site of the ancient palace
of Montezuma, and has an imposing façade of nearly seven hundred feet.
Over the main entrance hangs the Liberty Bell of Mexico which was rung
by Hidalgo on the first call to independence at Dolores, where it had so
often summoned the people to mass. The immense windows which look out
upon the Plaza open into the various rooms where the official business of
the executive department of the republic is transacted. Other parts of
this immense structure, for it is almost a square building enclosing an
open court, are occupied by the legislative chambers and barrack rooms
for several regiments of soldiers.
A few blocks away from the Plaza lies the Alameda, which is the park
of the better classes. Every city has an alameda, as the visitor soon
learns, but this is _the_ alameda of Mexico. It is a pretty place, and,
with its beautiful trees, flowers and fountains, forms a resort for the
fashionable people, who congregate here on Sundays and feast days to
listen to the military bands. The visitor can almost lose himself in this
part, for the view is circumscribed on every hand by the dense shrubbery.
It is on the subject of the Paseo de la Reforma that the Mexican becomes
enthusiastic. This beautiful boulevard extends for a distance of two
miles from a place near the Alameda to Chapultepec. It is a smooth
thoroughfare averaging five hundred feet in width, with promenades on
each side shaded by trees under which are stone seats, and with paved
driveways in the centre. Here and there the Paseo widens into circles,
called _glorietas_, in the centre of which are placed statues. Those
already erected include statues to Charles IV of Spain, Columbus and
Cuautemoc, the Aztec warrior and emperor. To Maximilian is due the credit
for the Paseo, and a more beautiful boulevard cannot be found in Europe
or America.
I have purposely described the old features of the city and the unique
characteristics before touching upon the more modern innovations. The
average visitor would follow that plan, for he would be more interested
in the unusual than in that with which he is more or less familiar.
Like all capitals and large cities affected by commercialism, the City
of Mexico is fast becoming cosmopolitan. The traveller who visited it
ten, or even five, years ago would be astonished at the changes wrought
by improvements. The fine system of electric lights, the excellent
electric traction lines with modern, cars, the asphalted streets and the
attractive new suburbs of an entirely foreign architecture, link the old
with the new, the sixteenth with the twentieth century. A city hindered
by a racial conservatism, and obstructed at every turn by tradition,
does not become entirely modern in a decade, but the trend is there and
its progress has been really remarkable. It will never be a city of
skyscrapers for a hard stratum is not encountered until a depth of a
hundred and forty feet is reached.
A new and modern hotel is more needed than anything else. There are
plenty of hotels of the Mexican kind, where it is almost impossible to
find a room with an outside window. All the rooms simply have an opening
on the _patio_ which answers for both door and window. In cool weather
which is sometimes experienced here, there is no means of heating these
rooms except by an open pan of coals, which is not very satisfactory to
one accustomed to modern steam-heated hotels or a good stove.
The national government controls the federal district within which is
situated the City of Mexico, much the same as the District of Columbia,
in our own land, and is assisted by a city council. Plans have been drawn
for fifty million dollars’ worth of public buildings, many of which
are already under way. The fine new post-office which has been building
for several years is now occupied by that department. It is a beautiful
structure of the medieval Spanish style, and is a striking departure from
the other public buildings. It is four stories high, equipped with every
convenience and is finished within and without in elaborate style.
A new legislative palace is under construction, which is the most
pretentious building yet planned. Its estimated cost is $20,000,000.
Opposite the post-office a national theatre is being erected to cater to
the amusement lovers, which is designed to be the finest theatre in the
new world. An entire block is being razed to make room for the Panteon
Nacional—a resting place for Mexico’s illustrious dead. Within the
marble walls of this unique memorial will rest all that is mortal of her
heroes. An army and navy building, a museum of art and a department of
public works are among the other improvements planned for the capital.
These buildings are being scattered over the city instead of following
the group plan as designed at Washington. The reason for this has been
a desire to have every section of the city benefited and beautified by
these public structures. The year 1910 marked the centennial of Mexican
independence. The month of September was almost wholly given up to
celebrations of this event in the capital. A number of public buildings
were dedicated during the celebrations. Among these were a new insane
asylum and several fine new public school buildings, which greatly added
to the educational facilities of the city. A magnificent new monument
to independence, recently erected on the Paseo, was dedicated with
great ceremony. A number of gifts were made by foreign colonies and
governments. Not the least of these was a monument to Washington, which
was presented by the resident Americans. The ceremonies and functions of
the centennial celebration were very elaborate, and the capital has been
beautified in many ways as a result.