In Mexico City
"The city has changed since the days of Cortez and Montezuma. It is not now the New World Venice whose streets were canals and whose connections with the mainland were…
From: 1893 C.E. To: 1917 C.E.
Location: Mexico City, Mexico
Note: This article has been excerpted from a larger work in the public domain and shared here due to its historical value. It may contain outdated ideas and language that do not reflect TOTA’s opinions and beliefs.
From Thirty Years with the Mexicans: In Peace and Revolution by Alden Buell Case, 1917.
In Mexico City
One thousand years ago—according to best tradition—the Toltec kingdom was in its glory; it is believed to have been destroyed in the twelfth century, having stood four hundred and fifty years.
While the Aztecs were not the immediate successors of the Toltecs, it is evident that much in their remarkable civilization was due to the older people.
The Aztecs arrived in the valley of Mexico early in the fourteenth century, and were the founders of that ancient Mexican empire, the remains of whose capital—their first-built city—lie beneath the present metropolis.
My description of the famous metropolis shall be of its peace period and as we saw it during our visit of 1893.
The city has changed since the days of Cortez and Montezuma. It is not now the New World Venice whose streets were canals and whose connections with the mainland were boats and causeways. Modern Mexico occupies the identical ground of the ancient city, but in the four hundred years since Montezuma's time the waters have receded until the nearest shore of Lake Texcoco is three miles distant. Notwithstanding all the changes, one is pleased to learn that the old capital still counts among its dwellers many Aztecs as pure in blood as the old-time defenders of Anahuac. Yet one cannot believe them as red-blooded as those who drove the invading Spaniard from their city and gave Cortez that memorable noche triste (sad night).
The Indians, of various tribes, encountered here are a thoroughly subject and seemingly degenerate people, occupying the lowest stratum in the social make-up, servants, street-labourers, venders of toys and curios. It is interesting to learn, however, that Aztecs still dwell in this valley who have through all these years kept themselves more apart from the conquering race. These speak a language believed to be substantially that of their fathers. They are of more independent spirit and proud of their ancestry.
Of this city I can hardly attempt a description; but let the reader imagine himself in our company to-day and we will show him some things that have interested us.
The morning is cool. Were we to ride, rather than walk, it would be wise to take our overcoats; but long before noon they would be a burden. Still, the heat is not excessive, the temperature never passing ninety degrees and rarely reaching eighty degrees in the shade. Let us go first to the centre of things — the Plaza Mayor. On the north side is the cathedral, a remarkable building. Its site is about that of the Aztec Temple of Sacrifice, where unknown thousands of handsome Indian youths were offered to the god of war. The first stone of the cathedral was laid in 1573. It was dedicated in 1667, the towers were completed in 1791. Its dimensions are 387 by 177 feet and the interior height is 179 feet. Its cost was approximately $2,000,000.
On the entire American continent there are few edifices of equal magnificence and interest. Suppose we climb the right belfry tower, going slowly, lest we get out of breath. Every step brings us nearer heaven. Now look! — first on the mountains encircling the famous valley of Mexico, glorious under the morning sun. Two thousand square miles lie before our eyes. See the suburban pueblos and villas: to the north is the line of the Mexican Central Railway; to the west, the Mexican National leaves the city; to the northeast the Vera Cruz trains are running, and to the southeast is the Inter-oceanic road.
You perceive that the valley is not a level plain, but contains numerous lakes and imposing hills. Three miles to the east gleams the broad expanse of Lake Texcoco, connected with the city by a canal. Another canal stretches to the south connecting the capital with Lake Xochimilco. Flanking this canal are the far-famed "Floating Gardens." If they ever floated, they are now fast on the shoals of the one-time lake, which is still so near the surface that the gardeners reach all their plats by waterways. There are many miles of these intersecting canals, quite narrow and separated only by the great beds of vegetables. With the richest of soil, abundance of water, a vertical sun, and patient labour, one is not surprised at the prodigious output of these gardens, from which every day of the twelve months come boats laden with supplies for the city markets.
It is not difficult to believe that the City of Mexico was at one time surrounded by water, at least during certain periods. The valley has no natural outlet and seasons of exceptional rainfall have repeatedly caused alarming inundations. So serious were these in the first centuries following the Spanish occupation that a change of site for the capital was more than once considered, but finally abandoned in the attempt to drain the district. For this project enormous sums were expended, the efforts extending over a period of two hundred and fifty years, but without success until American engineers took hold of it.
What a view below us — a checkerboard of broad, flat roofs and deep street lines, set here and there with picturesque towers and resplendent domes, representing some seventy church edifices, all of the Roman faith. At our left rises majestically the National Government Palace. There is the National Museum, the Mint, the Monte de Piedad, a famous government-controlled pawnshop, sometimes styled "Uncle of the impecunious Mexican." Here is the Bazaar, whose numerous portales attract a constant stream of sight-seers and shoppers. The great plaza far below and directly beneath us holds the eye as with a spell. Street cars are continually arriving and departing, fine carriages and two-wheeled carts are passing. And what throngs of pedestrians! Merchant princes and beggars, silk-hatted representatives and scantily clothed peons, important policemen and tipsy pulque drinkers.
"Some in rags and some in shags,
And some in velvet gown."
But from our viewpoint all are Lilliputians.
A foreign tenderfoot may have difficulty in making his way through those plaza crowds, as well as by the swarming portales and market-places. At the very entrance of the cathedral an eager lottery agent cries, "Only a dollar and a great fortune may be yours." On the street a Queretaro opal merchant thrusts his tempting collection before your eyes. The stones are beautiful, and genuine, for here they are so plentiful and so moderate in price that imitations are not worth while. Better invest for friends at home; at one-half his first-named prices you may finally take your choice.
Here is a brown, barefooted flower girl, black-eyed, beseeching. Those lovely violets are only three cents a bunch. This other girl has roses: for six cents she gives you a handful. "Muchas gracias, señor." — Many thanks, sir. Look here! This Indian has his arms full of canes! He looks as primitive as his forefathers. The walking sticks are curiously carved, attractively tinted, and bear in cunningly cut letters the legend "Mexico." The bargaining is highly satisfactory to us all.
The second-hand market is interesting. "Thieves' Market," it is called, and doubtless most of the articles found here were stolen. Some of these traffic places cover the space of an entire block, where scores of second-hand men are assigned trading locations under municipal supervision. The dealers are as poor as the articles they deal in. Everything is arrayed upon the ground, with only an occasional box or shelf. The universe seems to have been ransacked for oddities, yet nothing under the sun "common or unclean" is wanting! There is a general similarity in assortments, but some are more extensive than others. The following, which I quote from the man who took the stock, is unusually small:
1 sickle; 3 electrotypes; 1 jewelry case; 1 monkey wrench; 2 crosses; 1 set of teeth; 1 sofa; 1 bung-starter; 6 balls twine; 1 book; 1 guitar; a quart of nails; 3 tape measures; 1 hoopskirt; a mouse-trap, and a bouquet.
Pulque is the Mexican national drink and is the fermented juice of the maguay, or century plant. Every morning pulque trains arrive from the suburbs. The liquor is distributed among the thousand and one pulque shops of the city; there dispensed and consumed, producing intoxication. To some extraordinary brain stimulation may be attributed the names of many pulque resorts; on one shop front in immense letters you read, "Una Noche de Deleite" — A night of delight. Across the road is another, "El Septimo Cielo" — The seventh heaven. Other names encountered are, "El Triunfo del Diablo" — The devil's triumph; "La Cola del Diablo Rojo" — The tail of the red devil; "El Ultimo Esfuerso" — The last effort. Just what is the idea in this last one I leave to you. Even such sacrilegious titles as the following are found over pulque dens: " El Retiro de Juan Bautista " — The Retreat of John the Baptist; "El Retiro del Espiritu Santo" — The Retreat of the Holy Spirit; "El Retiro de la Santa Virgen" — The Retreat of the Holy Virgin.
As in all Mexican cities, here also are found queer names of streets, as, "Street of the Lost Child"; "Street of the Sad Indian"; "Holy Ghost Street"; "Blood of Christ Street"; "Crown of Thorns Street"; "Mother of Sorrows Street." There is a lane called "Callejon del Raton " — Lane of the Rat — and another so narrow that it has received the sobriquet, "Sal, si puedes" — Get through, if you can!
As to cleanliness, the less said about some quarters of the city the better. In certain localities the odours are neither few, feeble, nor far between, and no small variety may be encountered in a morning's walk. A lady friend having occasion to drive through such a district, passed in discreet silence many offensive airs only to remark at last with vigour, "Enough! This is the thirty-second variety of smell since I began to count."
But Mexico has charmingly attractive streets, as the Calle de San Francisco, where are most handsome stores, stately hotels, and splendid private residences. The Paseo de la Reforma, which leads to the Castle of Chapultepec, is a boulevard of which any city in the New World or the Old would be proud. It is five hundred feet wide, two and one-half miles long, and is lined by double rows of magnificent trees, beneath which are promenades. At intervals are immense circles — glorietas — with imposing statues in the centre. One, of Charles IV of Spain, was declared by Humboldt to have but one superior in the world. It is of bronze and thirty tons of metal were used in its casting.
This avenue of almost unparalleled beauty is the work of Maximilian. Passing statues of Columbus, and of the Aztec emperor, Cuatemoc, we ascend the far-famed hill of Chapultepec. Here is a wonderful forest of cypresses, the trees dating back at least twenty centuries. Some are more than forty feet in circumference and nearly two hundred feet high. Tradition says that the Aztec emperors lived upon this hill. We know that it was the home of the Spanish viceroys, and later this castle — which was begun in 1783 — became the "White House of Mexico."
The view from Chapultepec is unspeakably glorious. Says a one-time visitor, "From this beautiful spot one looks across a valley fair as a dream of paradise, with soft green fields and waving hedges and avenues of lofty trees outlining grey country roads that fade into the azure distance. In faint lines, pale blue mountains, purple sometimes with deep shadow, rest like brooding and watchful spirits around the dim horizon; and farthest of all, beautiful with that sublime sense of remoteness and awfulness which belongs only to them, the solemn presences of Popocatepetl and Ixtaccihuatl rise like radiant clouds against the serene heavens above.
Everything we had before known of mountain scenery becomes secondary in the imagination compared with these wonderful heights. The great serenity of the plain, the soft changing greens which cover its entire extent, and the undulating, exquisite line of hills, like the frame of some rich jewel, is something unspeakable when contrasted with the grand solitary state of these twin monarchs who dominate them all. If no more loveliness than this view can give were added to one's inner life, the journey to Mexico would be fully requited."
There are four perpetually snow-capped mountains in Mexico, of which Popocatepetl is most famed. Its altitude is 17,800 feet; the crater is 5,000 feet across and 1,000 feet deep. An enterprising Mexican has now undertaken the business of extracting its age-long accumulations of sulphur. Cortez at one time, running short of gunpowder, despatched men here on the same errand. Many tourists make the ascent.
The National Museum houses a vast collection of Mexican antiquities. The Aztec relics — a remarkable assemblage — are quite modern in comparison with others belonging to prehistoric races of a far distant past. The famous Aztec Calendar Stone, which was unearthed when levelling the ground for paving the Plaza Mayor one hundred years ago, was a most extraordinary "find," testifying to a higher civilization than the Aztecs were considered to have attained. In size the stone is impressive, its diameter being eleven feet and eight inches and its weight more than twenty tons.
The Sacrificial Stone is scarcely less mighty, and is grimly fascinating as one pictures the horrors once enacted upon it. That bowl-like cavity in the centre was chiselled out to collect the blood of the victims, and from that to the border runs the canal for carrying away the overflow. Enough is known of the Aztec religion to warrant the belief that more than one hundred thousand Indian youths were immolated upon this very stone. On days of special religious celebration, long processions of intended victims were marched to their sacrifice. For many hours together human blood flowed in a constant stream, and hearts just torn from human breasts were offered to the hideous god of war. Beside its Sacrificial Stone is the statue of that same stone god, Huitzilopochtli, whose propitiation was sought at such tremendous costs. The victims were captives taken in war.
Was the Aztec religion cruel? They did not so consider it. When the Spaniards made shocked protestations against the practice of human sacrifice, the reply was that to slay their enemies as offerings to their god was no worse manner of death than to slay them in any other way. In fact, death as it came upon this stone was almost instantaneous. Their religion was barbarous, but not cruel.
The conquering Spaniards at once threw down the Aztec temple, abolishing forever its shocking rites; but they set up the Inquisition in its place. Dr. William Butler, in his "Mexico in Transition," tells that workmen, when examining the foundations of an old monastery in Puebla, came upon a number of secret cells in the solid masonry, each cell containing the skeleton of an Inquisition victim. Alive and in upright position these Indians had been sealed in by the mason's hand and left to die! The horrors of the Inquisition in Mexico are not generally known. For three hundred years its terrible machinery was in operation there. The last victim was General Jose Morelos, who was burned at the stake in 1815.
We pass hours in the Museo and in the National Library, coming away with increased respect for the Mexican people and for the government which has made these magnificent collections.
Protestant work is well established in this great strategic centre. The churches, day-schools, colleges, Young Men's Christian Associations, and busy printing presses are slowly, but effectively, dissipating prejudices, winning confidence, and laying the foundations for the new Christian Mexico which is to be. There is abundance of room for the various denominations which are labouring in such splendid cooperation for the coming of our Lord's kingdom in this land.
Case, Alden Buell. Thirty Years with the Mexicans: In Peace and Revolution. Fleming H. Revell. 1917.
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