Orleans County Monitor

LETTER FROM MEXICO

City of Mexico, Mch. 25, '85.

The City of Mexico is 153 miles from Queretaro and 1228 from the Rio Grande at El Paso. It claims a population of 300,000. The streets are regularly laid out, are of fair width, well paved and well lighted with gas and electricity. The buildings are of stone and well built, and to a casual observer from a carriage in the street not unlike those in the better class of American cities.

And not until the traveller reaches his hotel and is ushered through a great stone doorway and across a great open court, up through which are seen the sky and the stars, to the dimly lighted little office where he registers; and then is shown to his room by a bright boy who promptly lights the tallow candle and puts in order the bed on a little iron bedstead does he begin to realize that he is in a strange place. Then when you try to tell the boy, by motions, that you want a towel, and the boy understands that soap is wanted—which hotels in Mexico never furnish—and constantly shakes his head till you show him your cake of soap, when light suddenly dawns upon him and with an apologetic smile he brings the towel, you still further realize that you are in a strange place.

Then as you go down to the cafe for tea and encounter beggars in the court; and when fairly seated at your meal a little lame yellow dog comes limping forward and pitifully wags his tail and beseechingly licks his chops, and, notwithstanding you remind him that he is a stranger and has no claim upon you, he deliberately sits back upon his haunches and views you with a patient, imploring look till a morsel is thrown him, when he retires and a big speckled fellow steps forward and stays till you again pass the bread; you cannot help saying to yourself, surely this is a strange place! where the dogs even recognize a new comer and hold out their hands. And then as you take a stroll upon the street and notice that every building has a great opening through the solid wall large enough for a coach and six, which is hung with massive doors; and a glance within reveals a first and sometimes a second court, frequently set with flowers and trees, in which children are at their sports and the dog, cat and game-cock are a happy family; and then look upon the motley scene in the street; upon droves of donkeys loaded with merchandise from the country; upon the rapidly driven carriages of the rich carrying ladies without bonnet or hat or wrap of any kind; upon squads of soldiers both foot and horse in uniform of blue;—thanks for the blue!—upon the mounted ranchero in his elaborate sombrero, who sits his horse like a prince; upon the crowd of pedestrians one-half of whom are barefoot; upon the peon beneath his heavy burden; upon the gay cavalier and the starveling who is everywhere present; and if upon the plaza on concert nights, or on Sunday, when the band speaks "in music's golden tongue" to thousands of promenaders, you see, and perhaps within a few feet of each other, the elegantly dressed senorita, always accompanied by her mother or father or trusted female servant, and the half clad Indian mother with her papoose—and in one case I saw two—lashed to her back with her rebozo; and if you join the promenaders yourself, as you pass the portales de flores you catch the sweet perfume of flowers, great quantities of which may there be found every day; and at the other end of the plaza at the portales de mercaderes you see great heaps, in fact cart loads of every variety of tropical fruits; then at last as you cast your eye for relief from the strange sights of the city, on Mt. Popocatepetl, near by, standing 18,000 feet above the sea, and wrapped in eternal snow for three thousand feet down its sides, and, as seen through the clear atmosphere in its dress of white, looking like a ghost among the other mountains of lesser height, whose somber sides are bathed in purple hues and dusky shadows, the conclusion is inevitable that you are, indeed, in a strange country. And you recall what George Augustus Sala, the distinguished French journalist, thought of Mexico. Said he: "Of all the strange countries to me Mexico is the strangest. It is the only country about which I dream; its quaint and picturesque scenery and tropical products lingering in my imagination."

But not alone in scenery and products and in her population as seen to-day is Mexico a strange country. Her history both ancient and modern is passing strange; and strangest of all is the origin of her people and their highly civilized condition when discovered by the Europeans. They were wholly unlike any of the other North American tribes. When found by the Spaniards they were well advanced in agriculture and manufactures and the mechanical arts. They understood the manufacture of cotton and the Spanish historians themselves, admit that their gold and silver and copper smiths were unequalled by those of their own or any other European nation. Here, also, were civil rulers and courts of justice, while painting and sculpture were among the fine arts practised by them, as is abundantly shown by their picture writings and their idols and other carving in stone; nor were poetry and music unknown to them. Here too on the exact site of the present one was a city of 500,000 population, built on an island in lake Texcoco, now so subsided that it is more than two miles away; the buildings of which extending out into the water and resting partly on piles were of elaborately sculptured stone and ornamented with balconies of marble resting on columns of porphyry and jasper. As seen from the main land with which it was connected by causeways, Prescott says it appeared to Cortez on his approach more like a fairy creation than the work of mortal hands."

Both the city and civilization of which it was the result were the wonder of the world. How to account for that civilization was the problem then and still unsolved. What was the origin of this strange people and what their early history are questions still unanswered, though much discussed by scholars and scientists from that time till now. Siguenza made it clear to himself, if not to others, that they sprung from a grandson of Noah who left Egypt soon after the confusion of tongues. Lord Kingsborough published an elaborate work in the early part of the present century to show that they were the lost tribes of Israel; while Humboldt who spent much time in Mexico maintains that they are the same in race characteristics as the other Indian tribes of North and South America, and of the same origin : viz, Asiatic.

However this may be one thing is certain, they are still here. They have not passed away at the approach of the blue eyed race like other North American tribes, nor has the white man in his contact with them, shown himself distinctively superior. He has shown his superiority as a getter of money but not in war or statesmanship. The foremost men in Mexican offices to-day are either partly or wholly of Indian blood. Diaz, the present president is one-third Indian; and Juarez whose name will always be among the greatest in Mexican history was an unmixed Aztec. Not only is this strange race, of mysterious origin still here, but here also are the relics of their native history; the ruins of temples and pyramids, of aqueducts and cities all indicating the barbaric splendor of their primeval state. Here too are their ancient idols and implements of heathen sacrifice: but these baubles have lost their power over them. They are now christians and their temples are dedicated to the one living and true God. In fact upon the exact site of their great heathen temple to Mexitli, chief of all their gods, now stands at the head of the plaza the grand cathedral, which is actually the largest and most imposing religious edifice on this continent. That pagan temples should be torn down and re-built on the christian model is not so strange; but it is something new in history that a race should do this for itself. And though in the beginning it was upon compulsion, the fact remains that they did it and are still the dominant race, in politics at least.

As a rule, history shows that peoples are never stronger than their civilization. If their civilization gives place to another they generally fade away or are absorbed by their conquerors and lose their identity. But not so here. The Indian element is still a power in Mexico. It is withal progressive. The Aztec of to-day is not only a christian but is tolerant of every form of christian worship. He believes in a government of the people and has his own formed on that model. He welcomes the railroad, the telegraph and telephone as helps to a higher civilization. Instead of going out with the old, after the manner of other Indian tribes, he proposes to stay and reap the benefits of the new. In racial development he is an anomaly, one of the strange products of this strange land. From any standpoint he is a study. His past is like an epic poem—full of heroism. His present is full of pathetic interest. What will his future be?

G.