Castle of Chapultepec.—“Hill of the Grasshopper.”—Montezuma’s Retreat. —Palace of the Aztec Kings.—West Point of Mexico.—Battles of Molino del Rey and Churubusco.—The Mexican White House.—High above Sea Level.—Village of Tacubaya.—Antique Carvings.—Ancient Toluca. —The Maguey.—Fine Scenery.—Cima.—Snowy Peaks.—Leon d’Oro.—The Bull-Ring and Cockpit.—A Literary Institution.—The Coral Tree.— Ancient Pyramids.—Pachuca.—Silver Product of the Mines.—A Cornish Colony.—Native Cabins.—Indian Endurance.

One of the pleasantest excursions in the environs of the capital is in a southwesterly direction to the castle of Chapultepec, a name which signifies the “Hill of the Grasshopper.” It is situated at the end of the long Paseo de la Reforma, the grandest avenue in the country, running straight away two miles and more between statuary and ornamental trees to this historic and attractive locality. About Chapultepec are gathered more of the grand memories of the country than on any other spot south of the Rio Grande. Here it was intended to establish the most grand and sumptuous court of the nineteenth century, over which Maximilian and Carlotta were to preside as emperor and empress. Their ambition was limitless; but how brief was their day-dream! The fortress occupies a very commanding position, standing upon a rocky upheaval some two hundred feet above the surrounding plain, thus rising abruptly out of the marshy swamp. It is encircled by a beautiful park composed mostly of old cypress-trees, many of which are draped in gray Spanish moss, as soft and suggestive an adornment as that of the moss-rose. We ascend the hill to the castle by a deeply-shaded road, formed by a wood so dense that the sun scarcely penetrates its darkness. On the side of this tree-embowered road, about halfway to the summit, one is shown a natural cave, before the mouth of which is a huge iron gate. Herein, it is said, the Aztec kings deposited their treasures. Here, also, Cortez is believed to have placed his stolen wealth, under guard of his most trusted followers, which was afterward transported to Spain. One immemorial cypress was pointed out to us in the grove of Chapultepec, said to have been a favorite resort of Montezuma I., who often enjoyed its cooling shade. This tree measures about fifty feet in circumference. We were assured, by good local authority, that some of these trees date back to more than twice ten hundred years. If there is any truth in the concentric ring theory, this is easily proved. The best-informed persons upon this subject have little doubt that these trees are the remains of a primeval forest which surrounded the burial-place of the Incas. There is plenty of evidence to show that when Cortez first penetrated the country and reached this high plain of Anahuac, it was covered with a noble forest of oaks, cedars, cypresses, and other trees. To one who has not seen the giant trees of Australia and the grand conifers of the Yosemite Valley, these mammoths must be indeed a revelation,—trees that may have been growing before the advent of Christ upon earth. Here and there a few modern elms and pines have been planted in the Chapultepec grove; and though they are of respectable or average size, they look like pigmies beside these gigantic trees. During all the wars and battles which have taken place around and above them, these grand old monarchs have remained undisturbed, flourishing quietly amid the fiercest strife of the elements and the bitter contentions of men.

According to Spanish history, here stood of old the palace of the Aztec kings; and it seems to have ever been the favorite abiding place of the Mexican rulers, from the time of Montezuma I. to President Diaz, being a fortress, a palace, and a charming garden combined, overlooking the grandest valley on the continent. On Sundays the elite of the city come here to enjoy the delightful drive, as well as the shady park which leads to the summit of the hill, welcomed by the fragrance of flowers, and charmed by the rippling of cooling fountains. At the base of the elevation on which the castle stands, at its eastern foot, bursts forth the abundant spring from which the city is in part supplied with water. Here begins the San Cosme aqueduct, a huge, arched structure of heavy masonry, which adds picturesqueness to the scenery. Maximilian, upon taking up his abode here, caused a number of beautiful avenues to be constructed in various directions, suitable for drives, in addition to the grand paseo leading to the city, which also owes its construction to his taste and liberality. The drives about the castle are shaded by tall, thickly-set trees of various sorts, planted within the last twenty years.

Chapultepec is now improved in part for a military school, the “West Point” of Mexico, accommodating a little over three hundred cadets, who, coming from the best families of the country, here serve a seven years’ apprenticeship in acquiring a sound education and a thorough knowledge of the art of war. The course of studies, it is understood, is very comprehensive, and to graduate here is esteemed a high honor from an educational point of view. Several of the professors who are attached to the institution came from the best European schools. We were shown through the dormitories of the cadets and other domestic offices, where everything was in admirable order, but it was a disappointment to see the lackadaisical manner of these young gentlemen on parade, quite in consonance with the undisciplined character of the rank and file of the army. The pretense of discipline was a mere subterfuge, and would simply disgust a West Pointer or a European soldier. These cadets were somehow very diminutive in stature, and their presence was anything but manly.

This is justly regarded as classic ground in the ancient and modern history of the country. It will be remembered that the steep acclivity, though bravely defended, was stormed and captured by a mere handful of Americans under General Pillow during the war of 1847. In the rear of the hill, to the southward, less than two miles away, is the field where the battle of Molino del Rey—“the King’s Mill”—was fought, and not far away that of Churubusco, both contests won by the Americans, who were under the command of General Scott. Lieutenant Grant, afterwards General Grant and President of the United States, was one of the first to enter the fortified position at the taking of Chapultepec. Grant, in his memoirs, pays General Scott due honor as a soldier and a strategist, but expresses the opinion that both the battles of Chapultepec and Molino del Rey were needless, as the two positions could have been turned.

Any civilian can realize the mistake which Scott made. The possession of the mill at that juncture was of no consequence. Chapultepec was of course to be carried, and when our troops were in possession of that fortified height the position at the mill was untenable. A fierce and unnecessary, though victorious battle on our part was here fought, wherein the Americans suffered considerable loss, principally from a masked battery, which was manned by volunteers from the city workshops. Near to Molino del Rey the Mexicans have erected a monument commemorating their own valor and defeat, when close to a city of nearly three hundred thousand inhabitants their redoubtable army was beaten and driven from the field by about ten thousand Americans. The Mexicans did not and do not lack for courage, but they required proper leaders which they had not, and a unity of purpose in which they were equally deficient.

As intimated, a portion of the spacious castle forms the residence of the chief of the republic, being thus the “White House,” as it is termed, of Mexico, in which are many spacious halls and galleries, all of which are handsomely decorated, the outside being surrounded by wide marble terraces and paved courts. Here Maximilian expended half a million dollars in gaudy ornamentations and radical alterations to suit his lavish desires. The interior decorations were copies from Pompeii. For the brief period which he was permitted to occupy the castle, it was famous for a succession of fêtes, receptions, dinners, and dances. No European court could surpass the lavish elegance and dissipation which was indulged in by Maximilian and his very sweet but ambitious wife Carlotta. Her personal popularity and influence was fully equal to that of her husband, while her tenacity of purpose and strength of will far excelled that of the vacillating and conceited emperor.

The view from the lofty ramparts is perhaps the finest in the entire valley of Mexico, which is in form an elevated plain about thirty by forty miles in extent, its altitude being a little less than eight thousand feet above the sea. This view embraces the national capital, with its countless spires, domes, and public buildings, the magnificent avenues of trees leading to the city, its widespread environs, the looming churches of Guadalupe, the village-dotted plain stretching away in all directions, the distant lakes glowing beneath the sun’s rays, and having for a background at the eastward two of the loftiest, glacier-crowned mountains on the continent, bold and beautiful in outline, tranquil and immovable in their grandeur. The steady glow of the warm sunlight gilded cross and pinnacle, as we gazed on this picture through the softening haze of approaching twilight,—a view which we have hardly, if ever, seen surpassed.

In ascending the many steps which lead to the battlements of Chapultepec, one of our party, a Boston lady, fairly gasped for breath, declaring that some serious illness threatened her; but when she was quietly informed that she was about forty times as high above the sea as the vane on Park Street Church in her native city, she realized what it was that caused a temporary difficulty in breathing; it was the extremely rarefied atmosphere, to which she was not accustomed. At such an elevation, in the latitude of Boston, the temperature would be almost arctic; but it is to be remembered that this high table-land of the valley of Mexico is under the Tropic of Cancer, and therefore enjoys almost a perpetual spring, though it is extremely dry. The atmosphere is, in fact, so devoid of moisture that food or fresh meat will dry up, but will not mould or spoil, however long it may be kept.

On the left of Chapultepec lies the attractive suburban village of Tacubaya, already referred to, where the wealthy citizens of the capital have summer residences, some of which are really so elegant as to have a national reputation. These are thrown open to strangers on certain days, to exhibit their accumulation of rare and beautiful objects of art, and the luxuries of domestic life.

As we left Chapultepec by a narrow road winding through the remnant of a once vast forest, attention was called to the ancient inscriptions upon the rocks at the eastern base of the hill near the roadside. They are in half relief; and, so far as we could decipher them, they seemed to be Toltec rather than Aztec. They are engraven on the natural rock, and are of a character quite unintelligible to the present generation. For years these were hidden by the dense undergrowth, being on the edge of the plain, near the spot where the Americans clambered up the steep acclivity when they stormed the castle. The shrubbery has now been cleared away so as to render them distinctly visible.

Toluca, the capital of the State of Mexico, is easily reached by a narrow gauge railway, being less than fifty miles from the national capital. It is a well-built and thriving town, containing about twenty-five thousand inhabitants, more or less, and situated at an elevation of about eight thousand and six hundred feet above the sea. The municipal buildings and state capitol, all modern, are thought to be the finest in the republic. They face upon a delightful plaza, the almost universal arrangement in these cities. Beyond the valley of Toluca, which is larger than that of Mexico, are others as broad and as fertile, all of which are watered by the Rio Lerma. The trip hither from the national capital leads us through some of the grandest scenery in the country, as well as taking us over some of the most abrupt ascents in Mexico. The districts through which the road passes nearest to the city are mostly given up to the cultivation of the pulque-producing maguey. These plantations are of great extent, being arranged with mathematical precision, the plants placed ten feet apart in each direction, in fields of twenty or thirty acres. The very sight of them sets one to moralizing. Like the beautiful but treacherous poppy fields which dazzle one in India, they are only too thrifty, too fruitful, too ready to yield up their heart’s blood for the pleasure, delusion, and ruin of the people. We are all familiar with the broad, long, bayonet-like leaf of this plant, which is to be seen in most of our conservatories, known to us by the name of the century plant, and to botanists as the Agave Americana. It rarely blooms except in tropical climates. Indeed, it is best known with us at the north as the century plant, a popular fallacy having become attached to it, that it blooms but once in a hundred years. Hence the name which it bears in New England. When the juice is first extracted it is sweet like new cider, and is as harmless; it is believed to possess special curative properties for some chronic ills that flesh is heir to, but fermentation sets in soon after it is separated from the plant, and the alcoholic principle is promptly developed. We were told at the city of Mexico that the government treasury realizes a thousand dollars each day as a tax upon the pulque which is brought into the capital from various parts of the country, and that the railway companies receive an equal sum for the freight.

There are two kinds of maguey: the cultivated plant from which comes pulque, and one which grows wild in the desert parts of the country. From the latter is distilled a coarse liquor which is highly intoxicating, called mescal. This is a digression. Let us speak of our journey to Toluca. If this very interesting city did not possess any special attraction in itself, the unsurpassed scenery to be enjoyed on the route thither would amply repay the traveler for the brief journey. At about twenty miles from the city of Mexico, it is found that we have risen to an elevation of eleven hundred feet above it, from which point delightful views present themselves, embracing the entire valley, its various thrifty crops distinguishable by their many hues; here, yellow, ripening grain; there, the blue-green maguey plant; and yonder, wide patches of dark, nutritious alfalfa; together with irrigating streams sparkling in the sunshine, enlivened here and there by groups of grazing cattle. Now an adobe hamlet comes into view, the low whitewashed cabins clustering about a gray old stone church. Creeping up the mountain paths are long lines of toiling burros, laden from hoofs to ears with ponderous packs, and on the dusty road are straggling natives, men and women, bearing heavy loads of produce, of wood, pottery, and fruit, to the nearest market; while not far away a ploughman, driving three mules abreast, turns the rich black soil with his one-pronged, one-handled plough. Villages and plantations are passed in rapid succession, where scores of square, tower-like corn cribs, raised upon four standards, are seen adjoining the low, picturesque farmhouses.

At Dos Rios (Two Rivers), half-clad, gypsy-looking women and young, nut-brown girls besiege the passengers to partake of fresh pulque, which they serve in small earthen mugs. Two stout engines are required to draw us over the steep grade. The highest point reached is at Cima (The Summit) twenty-four miles from the city of Mexico, and ten thousand feet above the level of the sea. This is the most elevated station in the country, seriously affecting the respiration of many of our party. Indeed, any considerable exertion puts one quite out of breath at such an altitude. The conductor of the train was an American, who had been engaged upon this route for a year and more; but he assured the author that he was as seriously affected by the great elevation as when he first took the position. It was observed, however, that the natives did not seem to experience any such discomfort.

From Cima we descend the western slope of the ridge by a series of grand, abrupt curves through the valley of San Lazar, after having thus crossed the range of mountains known as Las Cruces. The white-headed peak of the Nevada de Toluca, over fifteen thousand feet in height,—the fourth highest peak in Mexico,—is long in sight from the car windows, first on one side of the route and then on the other, while we pass over the twists and turns of the track to the music of rippling waters escorting us to the plains below. Mountain climbers tell us that from the apex of this now sleeping volcano the Pacific Ocean, one hundred and sixty miles away, can be seen. It is also said that with a powerful field-glass the Gulf of Mexico can be discerned from the same position, at a much longer distance. Baron von Humboldt tells us that he ascended this peak in September, 1803, and that the actual summit is scarcely ten feet wide. It occupied this indefatigable scientist two days to make the ascent from Toluca and return.

But let us tell the patient reader about Toluca itself. The streets are spacious, well-paved, and cleanly. A tramway takes us from the depot through the Calle de la Independencia, on which thoroughfare there is a statue of Hidalgo, which by its awkward pose and twisted limbs suggests the idea of a person under the influence of pulque. At the hotel Leon d’Oro, an excellent and well-served dinner was enjoyed, and it is spoken of here because such an experience is a rara avis in the republic of Mexico. Among the numberless churches, a curious one will long be remembered, namely, the Santa Vera Cruz, the façade of which very much resembles that of a dime museum, having a lot of grotesquely-colored figures of saints standing guard.

Toluca, notwithstanding its appearance of newness, is really one of the oldest settlements in the country, dating from the year 1533. Activity and growth are manifest on all sides. There is a spacious alameda in the environs, but it is not kept in very good condition. The town has two capacious theatres, and a large bull-ring, which is infamously noted for its many fatal encounters. The bull-ring and the cockpit are two special blots upon this otherwise attractive place,—attractive, we mean, as compared with most Mexican towns. Cock-fighting is the favorite resort of the amusement seekers, and in its way is made extremely cruel. One of the two birds pitted against each other must die in the ring. This and the hateful bull-fight were introduced by the Spanish invaders of Mexico centuries ago, and are still only too popular all over the land. In the cities one frequently meets a native with a game-cock under each arm, and at some of the inland railroad stations they are tied in long rows, each by its leg, and out of reach of the others, so that purchasers can make their selection. It must be a very small town in Mexico which does not contain one or more cockpits, not only as a Sunday resort for amusement, but also as a medium for the inveterate gambling propensities of the native people.

Here, also, there is the usual profusion of Roman Catholic churches, but there is nothing remarkable about them. A couple of miles west of the city is the church of Nuestra Senora de Tecajic, in which is exhibited a “miraculous” image which is held in great veneration by the credulous Indians. It is a picture painted on coarse cotton cloth, and representing the assumption of the Virgin. This is an ancient shrine, and has been in existence over two hundred years.

Near Toluca is an extinct volcano, the crater of which forms a large lake of unknown depth, the water being as cold as ice.

The city supported several notable convents previous to the confiscation of the church properties, which are now utilized for schools, hospitals, and public offices. One educational establishment, the Instituto Literario, is perhaps the widest known institution of learning in Mexico, and has educated most of the distinguished men of the country. It may be called the Harvard College of the republic. The edifice devoted to the purpose is a very spacious one, and besides its various other departments, it contains a fine library and a museum of natural history, together with a well-arranged gymnasium.

Toluca has the best and largest general market which we saw in Mexico. It is all under cover, and each article has its appropriate place of sale, meats, fruits, vegetables, fish, flowers, pottery, baskets, shoes, and sandals. It was a general market day when we chanced to be upon the spot, and the throng of country people who had come in to the city to dispose of their wares could not have numbered less than a couple of thousand. Such a mingling of colors, of cries, of commodities! The whole populace of the place seemed to be in the streets.

We chanced to see in the patio of a private dwelling-house at Toluca a specimen of that little tropical gem, the coral-tree, a curious and lovely freak of vegetation, its small but graceful stem, six or seven feet in height, being topped above the pendent, palm-shaped foliage with a prominent bit of vegetable coral of deepest red, precisely in the form of the Mediterranean sea-growth from which it takes its name. A pure white campanile with its inverted hanging flowers, like metallic bells, which it so much resembles, stood beside the coral-tree.

An excursion of about thirty miles on the Mexican and Vera Cruz Railroad took us in sight of the two remarkable pyramids erected to the gods Tonateuh, the sun, and Meztli, the moon, situated near the present village of San Juan Teotihuacan. With the exception of the pyramid at Cholula, these are doubtless the most ancient prehistoric remains on the soil of Mexico. That dedicated to the moon has been so far penetrated as to discover a long gallery with a couple of wells situated very nearly in the middle of the mound. The entrance to this is on the southern side, at about two thirds of the elevation. What the purpose of these pits could have been, no one can say. There are still some remains on the pyramid dedicated to the sun which indicate that a temple once occupied the spot, which is said to have been destroyed by the Spaniards nearly four hundred years ago. Excavations show that the neighboring ground is full of ancient tombs. The pyramid dedicated to the sun-god is a little larger than the other, being about two hundred feet high and seven hundred feet in length at the base, with a nearly corresponding width.

Speaking of Teotihuacan, Bancroft says: “Here kings and priests were elected, ordained, and buried. Hither flocked pilgrims from every direction to consult the oracles, to worship in the temples of the sun and moon, and to place sacrificial offerings on the altars of their deities. The sacred city was ruled by the long-haired priests of the sun, famous for their austerity and their wisdom. Through the hands of these priests, as the Spanish writers tell us, yearly offerings were made of the first fruits of the fields; and each year at harvest-time, a solemn festival was celebrated, not unattended by human sacrifice.” In the neighborhood of these huge mounds there are traces of a large and substantially built city having once existed. It is believed to have been twenty miles in circumference. Obsidian knives, arrowheads, stone pestles, and broken plaster trowels are often found just below the surface of the soil. A large number of smaller pyramids stand at various distances about the two principal ones which we have named. These do not exceed twenty-five or thirty feet in height, and are thought to have been dedicated to the stars, and also to have served as sepulchres for illustrious men. We have mounds of a similar character and size to these secondary ones in the Western and Middle States of the Union.

After passing through several small cities and towns, by taking a branch road, the city of Pachuca is reached, at eighty-five miles from the city of Mexico. It is interesting especially as being a great mining centre which has been worked long and successfully. It was in this place that the process of amalgamation was discovered, and a means whereby the crude ores as dug from the mines are most readily made to yield up the precious metal which they contain. It will be remembered in this connection that for more than two centuries Mexico has furnished the world with its principal supply of silver, and that she probably exports to-day about two million dollars worth of the precious metal each month. The production of gold is only incidental, as it were, while the output of silver might be doubled. The ore of this district is almost wholly composed of blackish silver sulphides. Mr. Frederick A. Ober, who has written much and well upon Mexico and her resources, tells us that the sum total coined by all the mints in the country, so far as known, was, up to 1884, over three billions of dollars, while the present annual product is greater than the amount furnished by all the mines of Europe.

Pachuca is the capital of the State of Hidalgo, lying on a plain at an altitude of eight thousand feet and more, environed by purple hills, and is one of the oldest mining districts in the republic, having been worked long before the Spanish conquest. It has a population of about twenty thousand, nearly half of whom are Indian miners. The surrounding hills are scarred all over with the opening of mines. In all, there are between eighty and a hundred of them grouped near together at Pachuca. The streets are very irregular and narrow, the houses being mostly one story in height, and built of stone. The place is said to be healthy as a residence, though in a sanitary sense it is far from cleanly. A muddy river makes its way through the town, the dwellings rising terrace upon terrace on either side. The market-place is little more than a mound of dirt; cleanliness is totally neglected, and everything seems to be sacrificed to the one purpose of obtaining silver, which is the one occupation. The wages of the miners are too often gambled away or wasted in liquor. There are both English and American miners at work with fair pecuniary success; and this is almost the only locality where foreign miners have been introduced. Government supports a school here for teaching practical mining, established in an imposing structure which was once a convent.

Quite a colony of Cornish miners emigrated to this place a few years since, many of whom have acquired considerable means and have become influential citizens. Here and in the immediate district, including Real del Monte to the northwest, El Chico to the north, and Santa Rosa to the west, there are nearly three hundred silver mines, all more or less valuable. The most famous is named the Trinidad, which has yielded forty million dollars to its owners in a period of ten years! Real del Monte stands at an elevation of a little over nine thousand feet above the sea. The country which surrounds this district is extremely interesting in point of scenery. It was here that an English mining company came to grief pecuniarily, under the name of the Real del Monte Mining Company. At the organization of the enterprise, its shares were a hundred pounds sterling each; but they sold in one year in the London market for sixteen hundred pounds a share! The management was of a very reckless and extravagant character. Economy is certainly more necessary in conducting a silver mine than in nearly any other business. After a few years, it was found that sixteen million dollars worth of silver had been mined and realized upon, while the expenses had amounted to twenty million dollars,—a deficit of four million dollars in a brief period. The property was then sold to a Mexican company for a merely nominal sum, and is now regularly worked at a handsome percentage of profit upon the final cost. Much of the modern machinery was promptly discarded, and the new managers returned to the old methods of milling the ore. The Indians who bring in the supplies from the vicinity for this mining town are typical of the race all over the country. At their homes, far away from the city, they live in mud cabins, under a thatched roof, with the earth for a floor. One room serves for every purpose, and is often shared with pigs and poultry. These Indians do not eat meat once a month, nay, scarcely once a year. Some wild fruits are added to their humble fare, which consists almost wholly of tortillas, or cake made from maize and half baked over charcoal. A rush mat serves them for a bed, a serape as an overcoat by day and a blanket at night. The men wear a coarse, unbleached cotton shirt and cotton drawers reaching to the knees, leaving legs and feet bare. The women wear a loose cotton chemise and a colored skirt wrapped about the loins, the legs, feet, and arms being bare. They supply the town with poultry, charcoal, eggs, pottery, mats, baskets, and a few vegetables, often trotting thirty miles over hills and plains with a load of one hundred and twenty pounds or more on their backs, in order to reach the market, where a dollar, or perhaps two, is all they can hope to get for the two or three days’ journey.

An Indian will cheerfully spend four days in the mountains to burn a small quantity of charcoal, load it upon his back, and take it twenty-five miles to market, where it will sell for half a dollar or seventy-five cents. When he gets home, he has earned from ten to fifteen cents a day, and traveled fifty or sixty miles on foot to do it! If the poor native lives anywhere within the influence of a Catholic priest, the probability is that the priest will get half of this pittance. There is a local saying here that “Into the open doors of the Roman Catholic Church goes all the small change of Mexico.” This is a sad story, but it is a true one; and it represents the actual condition of a large class of the country people known as Indians. The condition of our own Western tribes of aborigines is, in comparison, one of luxury. And yet these Mexicans, as a rule, are temperate and industrious. The women, though doomed to a life of toil and hardship, are not made slaves, nor beaten by fathers or husbands, as is too often the case among our Western tribes.

We are speaking of the Aztecs pure and simple, such as have kept their tribal language, habits, and customs. They form nearly two thirds of the populace of the republic, and, as a body, are ignorant to the last degree, complete slaves to superstition of all sorts. The idolatrous instinct inherited from their Indian ancestors finds satisfaction in bowing before the hosts of saints, virgins, pictures, and images generally, which the Catholic Church presents for their adoration; while their simplicity and ignorance permit them to be dazed and overawed, if not converted, by a faith which presents itself in such theatrical form as to captivate both their eyes and ears. “This people have changed their ceremonies, but not their religious dogmas,” says Humboldt, significantly.