SECTION II.
RESIDENCE IN THE CAPITAL; AND RETURN TO THE COAST.
The approach to Mexico did not give us a very favourable idea either of the Capital, or of the country about it. The valley on the Otumba side possesses none of the beautiful features which are so remarkable to the South and East; for, having more recently formed a part of the great lake of Tĕzcūcŏ, which in the rainy season still extends as far as San Crĭstōbăl, the waters in receding have left a barren tract, covered with a crust of Carbonate of Soda. Sterility prevails, with few interruptions, from the village of Săn Jūān dĕ Tĕŏtĭhuăcān to the Convent of Guădălūpĕ, in which the Virgin of Guadalupe, the Patroness of Mexico, has taken up her abode. A drawing of this rich but singular building will be found in the first volume : it is difficult to say to what style of architecture it belongs, as all pretentions to uniformity are destroyed by the Capillas, (chapels,) erected in the vicinity of the principal edifice by the more wealthy votaries of the Virgin, one of which is very remarkable, for, having been built in consequence of an escape from shipwreck, in order to commemorate the event, it has assumed as much as possible the form of the sails of a ship.
The avenue which extends from Guădălūpĕ to the gates of the Capital is traced upon the line of one of the ancient Mexican causeways: it is broad and paved in the centre, with a row of trees on each side; but the suburb to which it leads by no means corresponds with this magnificence. It is dreary and desolate, the Indian population by which it was formerly tenanted having been destroyed by an epidemic disorder, while their houses, which are merely composed of mud-bricks baked in the sun, are entirely in ruins.
Such a scene agreed too ill with the picture which Humboldt has drawn of Mexico, not to occasion us considerable disappointment, nor were we satisfied with the assurances which we received, that we had not passed through any one of the principal streets of the town, on our way from the Gate, until a view of the splendid Calle de San Francisco, which enters the Alameda close to the house in which we were lodged, convinced us of the propriety of not forming too hasty an opinion. The second day made converts of us all: in the course of it we had occasion to visit most of the central parts of the town, and, after seeing the great Plaza, the Cathedral, the Palace, and the noble streets which communicate with them, we were forced to confess not only that Humboldt's praises did not exceed the truth, but that amongst the various Capitals of Europe, there were few that could support with any advantage a comparison with Mexico.
In the general style of the architecture there is something very peculiar. The streets are broad, airy, and drawn at right angles, so that by looking down any two, at the point where they intersect each other, a view of nearly the whole extent of the town is commanded. The houses are spacious, but low, seldom exceeding one story; the roofs are flat, and as they sometimes communicate with each other for a considerable distance, when seen from an elevation, they look like immense terraces, the parapets by which they are separated being lost in the distance. Few of the public buildings attain the height to which an European eye is accustomed in such edifices. This is owing partly to the difficulty of laying a good foundation in the valley of Mexico, where water is uniformly found at a very few feet from the surface, and partly from the frequency of earthquakes. The first renders it necessary to raise all the larger buildings upon piles, while the second, although the shocks are seldom severe, would endanger the safety of very lofty edifices, which are the first to suffer.
Every one who has resided in a Southern climate, knows how much the purity of the atmosphere tends to diminish distances; but even at Madrid, where the summer sky is beautifully clear, I never saw it produce this effect in so extraordinary a degree as at Mexico. The whole valley is surrounded with mountains, most of which are, at least, fifteen miles from the capital, yet on looking down any of the principal streets, (particularly in the direction of Săn Āngĕl, or Săn Aŭgŭstīn,) it appears to be terminated by a mass of rocks, which are seen so distinctly, that on a fine day, one can trace all the undulations of the surface, and almost count the trees, and little patches of vegetation, which are scattered over it.
The general appearance of the town at the period of our arrival was dull; except at an early hour of the morning, when the great streets presented a very lively scene, particularly those near the Cathedral, and the Plaza Mayor, where the Părĭān, and the principal shops are situated. In these we found many articles of domestic manufacture; hats, with cotton and woollen cloths, from La Puebla and Qŭerētărŏ;—a great variety of coloured blankets, called Mangas, used as a cloak when riding by most people, and as a substitute for every other kind of clothing by the lower orders;—leather, curiously wrought, from Guadalajara;—with saddles, spurs, lassos, and all the trappings with which the Mexican horses are usually disfigured. All these were concentrated upon one point; near which, in the Calle de Plateros, there was a whole nest of silversmiths. In the other parts of the town, some cumbrous furniture was occasionally to be met with, as bedsteads, presses, and tables, painted, varnished, and inlaid at a vast expence, but of a most uncouth shape, and generally as little calculated for comfort, as for ornament. All the other contents of the shops appeared to be European, but the supply was scanty, and the price enormous. Nature, on the other hand, as if to compensate the want of the luxuries of the Old World, appeared to have been most munificent in her gifts. For many days after my arrival, I could never pass a common fruit-stall, without stopping to admire the variety of fruits and flowers with which it was adorned. Pine-apples, Oranges, Bananas, Chirimoyas, Melons, Grenaditos de China, and a thousand other delicious fruits, are found in abundance during the greatest part of the year, together with Pears, Apples, and all the productions of more Northern climates. Many of these fruits do not, it is true, thrive on the Table-land; but it must always be borne in mind that Mexico, from the peculiarity of its geological structure, and the manner in which heat is modified by height in every part of its territory, combines, sometimes within a very few leagues, the greatest possible variety of climates. On the road to Acapulco, for instance, a descent, as rapid as that from Las Vigas to Jalapa, commences within a few miles of the Capital, so that on reaching the plains of Cuĕrnăvācă, you find a Tierra Caliente, with all its various productions, from which Mexico derives a constant and most abundant supply. On the Table-land, flowers are to be found at all seasons, but particularly from March to June, when roses spring up in such profusion, that, on the dias de fiesta, hundreds of men and women, of the very lowest classes, are seen returning covered with garlands from the Chĭnāmpăs. The trees, too, preserve their foliage during ten months of the year.
With such advantages as these, the valley about the Capital might be made a paradise; yet there is hardly a single country-house to be seen, except in the Pueblos of Săn Āngĕl, and Săn Aŭgŭstīn, which have been almost abandoned since the commencement of the Revolution. The principal feature in the smaller villages is a little white chapel, which produces a beautiful effect when seen through the trees at a distance; but, as you approach, the charm is broken, for it is usually surrounded by nothing but wretched hovels, which afford shelter to a few Indian families, with all their live stock, compressed into the smallest possible compass. Yet there are very pretty rides in many directions: Chăpūltĕpēc and Tăcŭbāya, (of which I shall have occasion to speak later,) are within a moderate distance; and, by taking the direction of the Păsēŏ dĕ lăs Vīgăs, you see the remains of the Chĭnāmpăs, or floating gardens, which are to be found at a little distance from the canal of Chalco. It seems to me questionable whether they ever did float, but it is certain that they are now all fixtures: they are surrounded, however, by a broad ditch full of water, over which a little drawbridge is thrown, to keep up the communication with terra firma. Of the correctness of the description which Humboldt gives of their beauties, it was impossible for us to judge, as, in January, we naturally looked in vain for the hedges of flowers, with which he states them to be adorned: to us they appeared mere kitchen-gardens, and it is, in fact, from thence that the Capital is principally supplied with vegetables. The hut of the Indian proprietor, far from adding to the attractions of the scene, is generally a miserable hovel, but too well suited, in point of appearance, to the squalid looks and tattered garments of its inhabitants.
The canal of Chalco presents a much more lively prospect. Both evening and morning it is covered with canoes, in which the natives convey the produce of their gardens, fruit, flowers, and vegetables, to the Mexican market. Chalco is a large town, situated upon a lake of the same name, about twenty miles to the South-east of the Capital; the canal which leads to it is very narrow. The canoes mostly used are of two kinds: one, a punt, which is pushed along by men, and contains sometimes the joint stock of two or three families; the other, a very light narrow canoe, about twelve feet in length, and just broad enough to contain one person sitting down, at each end, with their little provision for the market piled up between them. The canoes are chiefly worked by women, with single paddles, with which, however, they are made to skim over the water with great velocity. The gesticulations of these ladies, when animated by a little Pulque on their return home, their extreme volubility, and the energy which they display in their quarrels with the tribes of children which they carry about with them, form a curious contrast to their melancholy looks, and extreme taciturnity at all other times. They are, however, a very hardy race, and capable of supporting great fatigue. I have often met, when returning from my rides, whole files of men and women, all loaded, the men with baskets, the women with a couple of children each, setting out from Mexico at five in the evening, to return to their villages, which I usually found, upon inquiry, to be seven or eight miles off; and this they accomplish in an hour and a half, by continuing steadily at a long Indian trot, which many of them are able to keep up for a surprising distance. If a question be asked of the leader, the whole party stops, and when it is answered, they proceed again together at the same uniform pace.
Amongst the many curious scenes that Mexico presented at the end of 1823, I know none with which we were more struck than the Alameda. As compared with the Prado of Madrid, it was, indeed, deprived of its brightest ornament, the women; for few or none of the ladies of Mexico ever appear in public on foot; but to compensate this, it had the merit of being totally unlike any thing that we had ever seen before. On a Sunday, or Dia de Fiesta, the avenues were crowded with enormous coaches, mostly without springs, but very highly varnished, and bedizened with extraordinary paintings in lieu of arms, in each of which were seated two or more ladies, dressed in full evening costume, and whiling away the time with a segar en attendant the approach of some of the numerous gentlemen walking or riding near. Nor were the equestrians less remarkable; for most of them were equipped in the full riding-dress of the country, differing only from that worn by the lower orders in the richness of the materials. When made up for display in the Capital, it is enormously expensive. In the first place, the hind-quarters of the horse are covered with a coating of leather, (called the anquera,) sometimes stamped and gilt, and sometimes curiously wrought, but always terminating in a fringe or border of little tags of brass, iron, or silver, which make a prodigious jingling at every step. The saddle, which is of a piece with the anquera, and is adorned in a similar manner, rises before into an inlaid pummel, to which, in the country, the lasso is attached; while the plated headstall of the bridle is connected by large silver ornaments with the powerful Arabic bit. Fur is sometimes used for the anquera; and this, when of an expensive kind, (as black bear-skin, or otterskin,) and embroidered, as it generally is, with broad stripes of gold and silver, makes the value of the whole apparatus amount to four or five hundred dollars, (about 100l.) A common leather saddle costs from fifty to eighty dollars. The rider wears a Mexican hat, with a brim six inches wide, a broad edging of gold or silver lace, and a very low crown: he has a jacket, likewise embroidered in gold, or trimmed with rich fur, and a pair of breeches open at the knee, and terminating in two points considerably below it, of some extraordinary colour, (peagreen or bleu celeste,) and thickly studded down the sides with large silver buttons. The lower part of the leg is protected by a pair of Guadalajara stamped-leather boots, curiously wrapped around it, and attached to the knee with embroidered garters; these descend as far as the ankle, where they are met by shoes of a most peculiar shape, with a sort of wing projecting on the saddle side;[1] and the whole is terminated by spurs, (made at Lerma or Toluca,) of so preposterous a size, that many of them weigh a pound and a half, while the rowels of all trail upon the ground, if, by any chance, the wearer is forced to dismount. A cloth manga, or riding-cloak, is often thrown over the front of the saddle, and crossed behind the rider in such a manner as to display the circular piece of green or blue velvet in the centre, through which the head is passed when the manga is worn, and which is generally very beautifully embroidered. The cost of the whole dress, when the saddle is of fur, with armas de agua of the same materials, it is not easy to calculate, as it depends entirely upon the degree of expence to which a person chooses to go in the embroidery. A very handsome saddle may be bought for three hundred dollars. I have known two hundred dollars given for a pair of Guadalajara boots, (worked with silver,) but eighty may be taken as a very liberal price. A jacket, not at all particularly fine, would cost as much more. The hat is worth twenty dollars; the breeches, if at all rich, fifty or sixty; the spurs, with embroidered stirrup-leathers, twenty; the plated bridle thirty-two; while a manga of the most ordinary kind is not to be procured under one hundred dollars, and, if at all remarkable, could not be purchased for less than three. The horse usually mounted on these occasions must be a Brazeador,[2] fat, sleek, and slow, but with remarkably high action before; which, it is thought, tends to show off both the animal and the rider to the greatest advantage. The tout ensemble is exceedingly picturesque; and the public walks of Mexico will lose much in point of effect, when the riding-dress of England, or France, is substituted, as it probably will be, for a national costume of so very peculiar a character.
The Ălămēdă, which is situated nearly at one extremity of the town, communicates with the Paseo Nuevo, a broad avenue of trees, from the extremity of which the road to Chăpūltĕpēc, and Tăcŭbāya, branches off. The first is a summer palace, built by the celebrated Count Galvez during his Viceroyalty, upon a rock, to the foot of which the waters of the lake of Tĕzcūcŏ formerly extended. Nothing can be more beautiful than its situation, or more striking than the view of the valley of Mexico which it commands. The road to Chăpūltĕpēc is divided by an aqueduct, which separates the portion of it destined for carts and mules, from that intended for carriages and equestrians. The structure of this aqueduct is solid; it consists of nine hundred arches, and the fountain, from which it is supplied, produces the clearest and most pellucid water I almost ever saw. On entering the gardens of Chăpūltĕpēc, the first object that strikes the eye is the magnificent Cypress, (Sabino, Ăhŭahuētē, or Cupressus disticha,) called the Cypress of Montezuma. It had attained its full growth when that monarch was on the throne, (1520,) so that it must now be, at least, four hundred years old, yet it still retains all the vigour of youthful vegetation. The trunk is forty-one feet in circumference, yet the height is so majestic, as to make even this enormous mass appear slender. On a close inspection, it appears to be composed of three trees, the trunks of which unite towards the root so closely, as to blend into one; this circumstance, however, led us to give the preference to a second Cypress, not quite equal to the first in circumference, (it is thirty-eight feet in girth,) but as old, as lofty, and distinguished by a slight curve towards the middle of the stern, which gives it a particularly graceful appearance. Both trees are covered, in part, with a parasitic plant, (Tillandsia usneoides,) resembling long grey moss, which sets off their dark foliage amazingly. They were formerly surrounded by a whole wood of Sabinos as venerable as themselves; but the Revolution, which spared nothing, did not respect them. A detachment of troops was quartered at Chăpūltĕpēc, which, from its commanding height, is a strong military position; and although it was never attacked, more damage was done by these barbarians, than the place would have sustained had it been taken by storm. They cut down a number of the finest old trees for fire-wood, and as no notice was taken of such slight excesses, at a time when licence was the order of the day, it is wonderful that any should have escaped. The view from the Ăzŏtēă of Chapultepec, embraces the whole extent of the valley of Tĕnōchtĭtlān, with its lakes and villages, and highly cultivated fields, intersected, every here and there, by rocks of the most uncouth shape, which stand sometimes isolated, and sometimes in groups so very singularly put together, as to give quite a novel character to the scene. Beyond these again, the eye rests upon the two splendid mountains, which form the boundary of the valley to the South-east. The most distant of these, Pŏpŏcătēpĕtl is higher than any mountain in the Northern division of America, except Mount St. Elias. Īztăccihuătl, which is much nearer, is two thousand feet lower; but, from whatever part of the valley the two are seen, they stand proudly preeminent; and, in the evening, it is beautiful to watch the effect of the last rays of light playing upon their summits, whilst every thing around is sinking into obscurity.
In the interior of Chăpūltĕpēc, there is nothing at all worthy of remark, for the principal apartments are neither spacious, nor lofty; but the building, when seen from without, is a beautiful object, and one, upon which the eye rests with pleasure in almost every part of the valley.
The great road to Lĕrmă and Tŏlūcă, which diverges to the South-west from Chăpūltĕpēc, passes through Tăcŭbāya, a village about four miles from the gates of the Capital, which was formerly the country residence of the Archbishop of Mexico. The episcopal palace is situated upon an elevated spot, with a large olive plantation, and a garden attached to it. The windows of the principal rooms command an extent of country nearly equal to that seen from Chăpūltĕpēc, but the whole place has a deserted and melancholy appearance, having been entirely neglected since the Revolution.
Amongst the few public buildings in the town of Mexico which it can be necessary to describe, the Cathedral is one of the finest. It covers an immense space of ground, but to those who are accustomed to the beautiful spring of the arch, by which the old Gothic churches in Europe are distinguished, nothing 
CHAPULTEPEC
can make up for the want of height, which, as I have already remarked, is an unavoidable defect in Mexican architecture. Riches have been lavished upon the interior of the cathedral; but there is nothing grand or imposing in the effect of the whole. The most remarkable feature is a balustrade, which occupies the centre of the church; it is composed of a metal that was brought from China, through the Philippine Islands, (whence its name. Metal de China,) and which appears to be a composition of brass and silver, massive, but not handsome: it must however have cost a very large sum, as it was paid for by the weight in dollars. In the outer wall of the cathedral is fixed a circular stone, covered with hieroglyphical figures, by which the Aztecs used to designate the months of the year, and which is supposed to have formed a perpetual calendar. At a little distance from it, is a second stone, upon which the human sacrifices were performed, with which the great Temple of Mexico was so frequently polluted: it is in a complete state of preservation, and the little canals for carrying off the blood, with the hollow in the middle, into which the piece of jasper was inserted, upon which the back of the victim rested, while his breast was laid open, and his palpitating heart submitted to the inspection of the High Priest, give one still, after the lapse of three centuries, a very lively idea of the whole of this disgusting operation. Whatever be the evils which the conquests of Spain have entailed upon the New World, the abolition of these horrible sacrifices may, at least, be recorded, as a benefit which she has conferred upon humanity in return.
The Cathedral forms part of the northern side of the Plaza Mayor, or great square. Another whole side is occupied by the Palace, which was formerly the residence of the Viceroy, but is now occupied by the Executive power, the Ministers, who have their offices there, and the principal courts of justice; so that it presents, at all hours, a very busy scene. In the interior, the part most worthy of notice is the Botanical Garden, which was extensive as well as rich, until the Revolution, when a portion of it was converted into barracks for the body-guard of the Viceroys, who were taught, by the fate of Iturrigaray, the necessity of having a strong military force constantly at hand. Some of the most valuable productions were afterwards removed, by order of Madame Căllējă, when Vice-Queen, to make room for some European vegetables, of which she was particularly fond; but in 1823, it was supposed that the garden still contained nearly three hundred species of plants little known in Europe. Of these I can attempt no description. I was, however, much struck with a tree of considerable size called "El Arbol de las Manitos," the tree of the little hands, (Cheirostemon platanifolium,) bearing a beautiful red flower, the centre of which is in the form of a hand, with the fingers a little bent inwards. Only three trees of the kind exist in all Mexico; two in the botanical garden, and one, (the mother plant,) in the mountains of Tŏlūcă, where it was accidentally discovered. The same mountains produce a very singular species of Cactus, which has likewise been transplanted to the botanical garden. It looks exactly like an old man's head, as it is covered with long grey hair, which completely conceals the thorns: it is raised in boxes filled with pieces of the scoria, amongst which it was originally found. The garden is full of Humming Birds, which feed upon the flower of the Arbol de las Manitos, and, to the European visitor, add much to the novelty of the scene.
Like most Spanish towns, Mexico abounds in churches and convents, the interior of which is very splendid, particularly that of the Profesa, and the great convent of San Francisco. The College of Mines is likewise a magnificent building, the plan of which does honour to the taste of the architect, (the celebrated Tolsa;) although, from some radical defect in the execution, the whole structure is now falling into ruins. It is supposed that the piles, upon which the foundations were laid, were not driven to the depth specified by the contract, in consequence of which the whole superstructure has given way, while the lower floor has sunk below the level of the street. It is quite melancholy to see magnificent rows of columns, windows, and doors, completely out of the perpendicular, with walls and staircases cracking in every direction. The roof, too, in some places, and the ceilings in almost all, are falling in, and a very few years will complete the destruction of this noble edifice, which ought to have served as a monument of the wealth and magnificence of the miners of New Spain, at whose expence it was erected. The collection of minerals, which the College contains, is rich, but in the very worst order possible; as are also the models and instruments, though a little more attention seems to have been paid to them. They are under the care of a Professor, who gives lectures on chemistry and mineralogy, alternately, which were formerly very numerously attended. His auditors are now reduced to two or three solitary pupils, and the gloom of the vast apartments in the interior corresponds but too well with the dilapidated state of the building without.
By far the most disagreeable part of Mexico, at the close of 1823, was its Lazzaroni population, which rendered the suburbs one continued scene of filth and misery. Twenty thousand of these Leperos infested, at that time, the streets, exhibiting a picture of wretchedness to which no words can do justice. In addition to the extraordinary natural ugliness of the Indian race, particularly when advanced in years, all that the most disgusting combination of dirt and rags could do to increase it was done. Dress they had none: a blanket full of holes for the man, and a tattered petticoat for the woman, formed the utmost extent of the attire of each; and the display of their persons, which was the natural consequence of this scarcity of raiment, to a stranger was really intolerable. Yet amongst these degraded creatures are found men endowed with natural powers, which, if properly directed, would soon render their situation very different. The wax figures, with which Bullock's exhibition has rendered most people in London acquainted, are all made by the Leperos, with the rudest possible implements. Some of them are beautifully finished, particularly the images of the Virgin, many of which have a sweet expression of countenance, that must have been borrowed, originally, from some picture of Murillo's, for it is difficult to believe that the men by whom they are made could ever have imagined such a face. It is Humboldt, I believe, who remarks that it is to imitation that the powers of the copper-coloured race are confined: in this they certainly stand unrivalled, for while the Academy of San Carlos continued open, (a most liberal institution, in which instruction was given in drawing, and models, with every thing else required for the use of the students, provided at the public expence,) some of the most promising pupils were found amongst the least civilised of the Indian population. They seemed (to use the words of the Professor, who was at the head of the establishment,) to draw by instinct, and to copy whatever was put before them with the utmost facility; but they had no perseverance, soon grew tired of such little restraint as the regulations of the Academy imposed, and disappeared, after a few lessons, to return no more. It remains to be seen whether any thing can be effected, by a better system of government, for a race of men composed of such heterogeneous elements. In 1824 they were nothing but a public nuisance. It was hardly possible to pass through those parts of the towns, of which they had possession; and had it not been for the extreme purity of the air, the accumulation of filth before their doors must infallibly have produced a pestilence. The fear of wandering, by mistake, into their territories, which we did, once or twice, on our return from distant excursions, induced us latterly, to prefer the Tacubaya road to any other, because it led at once into the open country, and afforded an easy communication with the spacious avenues, which extend from the Chăpūltĕpēc gate in different directions, for nearly two leagues round the town.
Of the state of society in 1824 it is unnecessary here to speak, as we saw the Capital under very unfavourable circumstances. A civil war, carried on with unexampled cruelty on both sides, had desolated the country for thirteen years; and, although the contest with Spain was at length decided, the disturbances which had arisen in consequence of Iturbide's elevation to the throne, had terminated only a few months before our arrival. The form of government to be adopted was not definitively determined upon; for, though the Provinces united in a cordial detestation of the yoke of the Mother-country, great differences of opinion prevailed with regard to the propriety of substituting a Central, or a Federal Republic for her authority. The composition of the Executive was exceedingly singular: it consisted of Generals Victoria, Bravo, and Negrete, each of whom being employed in different commissions in the Interior, was replaced by a substitute, named by the Congress, who exercised the supreme authority, in conjunction with his colleagues, until the return of the Propietario, (the member originally named,) to the Capital. The substitutes in January 1824 were Messrs. Michelana and Dominguez, with General Guerrero, by whom the affairs of the country were for some time conducted. A government thus constituted, found it no easy task to curb the licentious spirit which had been generated by the civil war; and there was, consequently, much wildness in the appearance of the troops, and no little insubordination on the part of the officers, of which the insurrection of Lobato afforded a memorable example. Means were found to repress both this, and every similar attempt to resist the authority of the Supreme Government; but time was requisite in order to efface the demoralizing effects of the Revolution, and every thing was still in an incipient state. The streets of the Capital were unlighted; the pavement in many places destroyed, and the principal houses shut up; while the general appearance of the population bespoke poverty and distress. There was hardly a single foreign resident, with the ception of two gentlemen, (Mr. Ruperti, of the house of Green and Hartley, and Mr. Staples,) who had formed establishments in the city of Mexico, a few months before the arrival of the Commission. Trade was in a state of absolute stagnation; for most of the old Spanish capitalists had withdrawn from the country, and no new channel of communication with Europe had been opened to supply their place. The Mines were in like manner abandoned, and all the numberless individuals who depended upon these two great sources of national prosperity for their subsistence, were reduced to absolute want.
The effects of such a state of things were felt by every class of society, for a great depreciation in the value of agricultural produce was the consequence of the general distress; and many landed proprietors, whose incomes, in better times, exceeded fifty and sixty thousand dollars, were compelled to reside entirely upon their estates, from the impossibility of keeping up an establishment in the Capital. The seeds of future prosperity were, however, in existence, and it was evident that time and tranquillity were alone requisite in order to bring them to maturity. All our inquiries tended to give us a higher opinion of the resources of the country; and next to Independence, the general, and most anxious wish of the population seemed to be for peace. I, therefore, quitted the Capital, where my stay did not exceed three weeks, with a conviction that if it should be my fate to revisit it, I should find things in a very different state; and it is not without satisfaction that I reflect upon the manner in which this belief was justified by subsequent events.
Before I left Mexico, I had an opportunity of ascertaining the exact nature of the sensations excited by an earthquake, and I cannot say that I found them sufficiently agreeable to entertain any wish for their frequent repetition. On the morning of the 14th of January, 1824, we experienced a shock of the most unpleasant kind, which lasted about six seconds: the motion was perpendicular, not horizontal, and the various noises by which it was accompanied, the cracking of the doors, the rattling of the windows, and the melancholy howling of the dogs, who are usually the first to feel and to announce the approach of an earthquake, were well calculated to alarm even the least timid. The first shock, which occurred at four in the morning, was followed by a succession of others, which, though very slight, served to connect it with a second very severe one, which took place at sunrise. Seventeen other vibrations, so slight as to be almost imperceptible to foreigners, were counted during the next twenty-four hours, after which they ceased, nor have I since experienced any thing of the same kind. Earthquakes seldom do any serious injury in Mexico; a church or two is sometimes thrown a little out of the perpendicular, but beyond this their effects have not often extended. The past, indeed, is no security for the future, in a country every part of which abounds in the traces of great volcanic eruptions; but still, it enables you to meet an incipient earthquake with infinitely more composure than I at least should feel, under similar circumstances, at Caracas, or upon the ruins of Callao. The natives are both more sensible than strangers of the smaller shocks, and more alarmed by them; while even animals give evident indications of anxiety at their approach.
Having given so detailed an account of the first journey of the Commission to the Capital, it will be unnecessary for me to state any thing with regard to my return to the Coast, except that, not being encumbered with a carriage, I was enabled to effect it in a very short time. I took with me a number of baggage-mules very lightly laden, and two good horses for myself, and my servant. My escort, which the unsettled state of the country rendered indispensable, was changed at each of the towns through which we passed, so that I proceeded with great rapidity. I took the La Puebla road, (the disturbances at that place having been entirely settled,) and made my first stage to the Venta de Cōrdŏvă, about eight leagues from Mexico, having left that town very late in the day. The second day I reached Lă Pūēblă; the third, Ŏjŏ dĕ Āgŭa; the fourth, Pĕrōtĕ; the fifth, Jălāpă, where I passed the morning of the sixth day, and from whence I arrived at Vĕrăcrūz in twenty-four hours, which included a few hours rest at Plan del Rio, and Pūēntĕ dĕl Rēy. I found the Thetis still at her anchorage, but was prevented from embarking by a violent Norte, which, with other circumstances, compelled me to remain at Veracruz for nearly a week. Fortunately, the season was healthy, and the firing from the Castle at an end; a suspension of hostilities having taken place in consequence of both parties being tired of such desultory warfare. I lodged at the house of Mr. Smith, (subsequently appointed His Majesty's Vice-Consul,) which was exactly opposite the great battery of San Juan de Uloa, and bore evidence to the precision with which the guns had been brought to bear upon the town, by the number of shots which had gone through it. It must have been a very uncomfortable residence, from what I saw of the effect produced by the opening of the batteries one evening, during my stay, which was sufficiently unpleasant to have induced me to seek other quarters immediately, had not the violence of a Norte without rendered it impossible to think of a change of abode. Nothing can be more melancholy than the appearance of Veracruz during one of these winds. The air is filled with sand, and the sky darkened with clouds, while the waves are driven with such impetuosity upon the beach, that the whole line of coast is one sheet of foam. All communication between the shipping and the town is suspended, even when at anchor under the walls of the Castle, which are not half a mile from the pier-head. The rapidity with which these gales come on is equal to their violence. A little ripple from the North first indicates their approach, and if boats are out, or on shore, not an instant should then be lost in placing them in security. Five minutes afterwards I have seen the strength of a whole boat's crew exerted in vain, in order to keep the head of the boat towards the sea: they sometimes succeeded in carrying it through the shoal water off Mocambo Point, but, as soon as they trusted to their oars, they were driven back again, and compelled to abandon the attempt. The only consolation in these cases is the reflection that, as long as the Norte lasts, there is no danger in the detention on shore. It purifies the atmosphere, and seems to destroy for the time the seeds of that terrible disorder, the "Vomito," which at other seasons proves so fatal to foreigners, upon the whole Eastern Coast of New Spain. This fever, which is very similar to the worst species of the Yellow Fever common throughout the West Indies, takes its name from one of its symptoms, the black vomit, (vomito prieto,) by which dissolution is usually preceded. At Veracruz its cause has been sought in the local peculiarities of the situation, and there is little doubt that the exhalations from the marshes which surround the town, must have a tendency to increase the virulence of the disorder. But throughout the Gulph of Mexico, the Vomito has made its appearance wherever a number of Europeans have been assembled for the purposes of trade. At Tămpīcŏ, where it was little known, or, at least, little remarked, before 1821, it is now almost as prevalent as at Veracruz; and New Orleans, to the extreme North of the Gulph, being subject to it during the hot months of the year, it is probable that all the intervening line of Coast will be found exposed to this scourge, when the arrival of Foreigners shall call into activity the latent malaria, which appears not to act upon the Natives with similar violence. In them it produces Frios, (Agues,) from which many suffer during the summer months, and to which Europeans who have survived the Vomito are likewise liable; while with others it leads to a bilious fever of so very virulent a nature, that unless the most powerful remedies are immediately employed, there is but little time for medicine to act. In many recent cases, the disorder has proved fatal on the third day. Those who survive the fifth are almost out of danger, if they have sufficient stamina to carry them through their convalescence; but there is such a total prostration of strength, that nature often fails at the moment when the most sanguine hopes of recovery are entertained.
One peculiarity of this disease is the facility with which it is contracted. There have been instances of individuals who have not even passed through the town of Veracruz, but have got into a litter upon the beach, and taken the road to Jălāpă within a quarter of an hour after leaving the ship, who have nevertheless carried with them the seeds of the disorder, and died of it upon the road. I should be inclined however to think that these must have been persons of a particularly nervous disposition, whose very anxiety exposed them to additional danger, by creating great mental irritation, and with it a predisposition to fever. Precautions ought not indeed to be neglected, but the best are temperance, and abstinence from wine on the voyage out, so as to produce a good habit of body before arriving on the Coast. Any unnecessary stay at Veracruz, and too great an exposure to the sun, should also be avoided; but in all other respects a predestinarian would have a much better chance of escaping, than a man overanxious to hurry the preparations for his departure in a country where, without the exertion of something far beyond any ordinary patience, very little can be effected. On reaching the level of the Ĕncērrō, it is supposed that all danger of infection ceases. It is at least certain that the Vomito never spreads amongst the inhabitants of Jălāpă, or of the villages upon the higher parts of the road to that place, in which poorer travellers sometimes stop to die. As far as Plan del Rio its ravages are occasionally felt: it is probable that the disease is indigenous there, as at Veracruz, for Humboldt denies that it can be communicated by infection, or contagion, and states that there is nothing in the air of a sick man's chamber that could render the miasmata, which might exhale from it, dangerous to those around him. Be this as it may, the rarefaction of the air in the higher regions exempts them from such visitations; and although the disorder may prove fatal to the patient, it has never been known to extend to those who attend him.
When once contracted, however, removal to a more healthy region is of no avail; the Vomito runs its course with equal violence at Jalapa, and on the Coast, and the event depends entirely upon the strength of the sufferer. In general it is remarked that the most robust in appearance are the first to sink under the attack: women are less liable to it than men, and very young children have, I believe, never been known to be affected by it. There is a difference too between the inhabitants of the Southern parts of Spain, or Italy, and other Europeans; the first being less frequently visited with the disorder, while very few natives of a Northern climate, if they become residents, for any time, at Veracruz, are known to escape it. Like the smallpox, it seldom visits the same person twice. Those who survive the first attack, particularly if it be a severe one, consider themselves as acclimates, and think no farther precautions necessary. The inhabitants of the Table-land of Mexico are even more liable than Foreigners to be seized with the Vomito on visiting the Coast. This is probably owing to the suddenness of the transition: the rapidity of the descent from Pĕrōtĕ allows no time for the body to become seasoned to the moist heat of the Tropics, so different from the dry and rarefied atmosphere of the higher country: all the pores are opened at once, and the general relaxation of the system necessarily renders them peculiarly susceptible of disease. Few of the muleteers of the Interior will descend lower than Jalapa during the hot months, (from the end of April to the beginning of October,) and when they do, it is lamentable to see the poor wretches, as I have done more than once, actually dying upon the road. When they can no longer sit their mules, they stretch themselves out under the first tree or shrub that will afford them protection from the sun, wrap up their heads in their blankets, and meet their fate with that composure, which, in every part of the New World, seems to be one of the characteristics of the Indian race.
During this season, the Government couriers are changed at Jalapa, and no one, who is not compelled to do so by business of the most urgent nature, thinks of visiting the Tierra Caliente. Commerce is nearly at a stand; and it is only upon the approach of the autumnal equinox that business begins to be again transacted with any sort of activity. From the middle of October till the end of March, if the winter be not unusually mild, Veracruz, though never a safe, is at least not a very dangerous residence.
The Nortes, though inconvenient for the shipping, are infinitely preferable to the almost certain destruction of the crew with which the fatigue of unshipping the cargo of a merchant-vessel in summer would be attended; and while they continue, the unhealthy season is seldom known to commence. There have been instances, indeed, of deaths from Vomito in the months of November and December, but these are exceedingly rare, and would probably be found, if inquired into, to have proceeded from some incautious exposure, or excess, on the part of the sufferer.[3] In an ordinary year, I should have no objection to pass through Veracruz at any time between October and March: indeed, with proper precautions, I should think that it might be done without very great risk much later in the year. The persons most likely to suffer would be servants, and persons of that class, who often will not be induced to prepare themselves for landing beforehand, and, when on shore, are either excessively apprehensive, or unnecessarily imprudent. Amongst these the mortality is sometimes very great. In 1826, a number of Frenchmen, mostly in inferior stations of life, who had come to Veracruz pour chercher fortune, were swept away at once; the want of hospitals, which have not been properly re-organized since the Revolution, rendering the progress of the disease doubly rapid. In 1825, a terrible instance of the effects of the climate in cases where exposure to the sun is unavoidable, occurred. In consequence of some delay in the completion of the Real del Monte steam-engines, the expedition, which was entrusted with the charge of conveying them up the country, under the orders of Captain Colquhoun, did not reach Veracruz until the commencement of the sickly season; and out of this small party fifteen men were buried near the spot where the disembarkation of the machinery was effected. The attempt to remove it inland was of course abandoned, until the commencement of the winter, but it is grievous to reflect upon the waste of life which was occasioned by a little miscalculation with regard to the time on this side of the Atlantic.
Of the mode of treatment adopted in cases of Vomito at Veracruz I am wholly ignorant. The natives do not willingly resort to the violent measures which are common in the West Indies, and which, where the patient is sufficiently strong to support them, undoubtedly cut short the disease at once. They usually employ medicines of a less decided character, such as olive oil, and infusions of various kinds, which if not very effective as remedies, at least do no harm.[4] In such cases, the patient, if he survives, is indebted for his recovery to the goodness of his own constitution. This, at least, is the language of our English physicians, though I have seen the copious bleedings, and still more copious use of calomel, which our sailors endure at Jamaica, prove fatal at once, when tried upon the less robust constitution of a Spaniard. No clever medical man has yet practised at Veracruz. An American doctor, who was very successful there in the early part of 1826, was carried off by the disease himself at the end of the season; and no good account has been given, either by him, or any one else, of the change which the late influx of foreigners has produced in the proportion of the number of deaths to that of the persons attacked by the fever, which Humboldt states, in the best of the Veracruz hospitals, (in 1804,) not to have exceeded sixteen in the hundred. The Vomito has become, I believe, much more generally fatal, since natives from so many of the Northern parts of Europe have been exposed to its action: I know, however, some instances of persons who have escaped, and whose general health has been even improved by the dangerous crisis which they have undergone.[5] . Neither the natives of Veracruz, nor the black population, are subject to the Vomito. By natives, I do not mean the inhabitants of the whole Province, (for those on the Slope of the Cordillera dread a journey to the Coast as much as those who descend at once from the Table-land,) but individuals born in the town of Veracruz, or in the Tierra Caliente immediately around it. These seem to enjoy a special exemption from the dangers of the climate, and, strange as it may appear, they do not lose it even if they are removed at an early age from their native shore, and pass several successive years in countries, the natives of which cannot sustain the heat of the Tropics without imminent danger. I am myself acquainted with one young man, of a most respectable Veracruz family, who, after having been sent to receive his education at Paris, Hamburg, and Madrid, returned to Veracruz at the very worst period of the sickly season of 1821, (which was remarkably violent,) after an absence of ten years, and remained there, without the slightest apprehension of danger, for nearly six weeks.
Whether the rule is a general one, or whether his was an exception, due, perhaps, to the very freedom from anxiety, which the conviction of his own safety produced, is a question well worthy of . investigation: the general belief of the country is decidedly in favour of the first supposition.
I have been led into details which belong of right to a later period than that comprehended in this Section, by my wish to state connectedly all the facts with which I am acquainted relative to a disorder, the nature of which, as our commercial intercourse with Mexico becomes more extensive, it will be of infinite importance to ascertain.
It is to be hoped that the attention of some competent person will soon be drawn to the subject; for although it is hardly to be expected that art can devise a remedy for a disease, the seeds of which seem to lie in the action of the sun upon the mass of rank vegetation, which, wherever there is water, a Tropical climate is sure to engender; still, there is little doubt that its effects upon the human frame will be less dangerous, in proportion as they are better understood. Great indeed will be the benefit conferred upon mankind, by him to whom the merit of even a moderately efficacious treatment of the Vomito is first due. Most fortunately, its ravages are confined exclusively to the land, few or none of the ships, in which common precautions are taken, and the men not unnecessarily exposed, having suffered from the fever. This has been particularly remarked of our men of war, many of which have remained at anchor off Veracruz, on different occasions, five or six weeks, and yet have left it with a clean bill of health. In vessels where solitary cases of Vomito have occurred, it has not spread on board, unless where several of the men have been exposed to the action of similar exciting causes, in which case the vessel itself at last becomes a foyer, or receptacle, of those miasmata, by which the disorder is supposed to be propagated. The whole crew is then exposed to the utmost danger; but such instances are exceedingly rare, and with the attention that is now paid to cleanliness and ventilation, they may be expected rather to diminish, than to increase. The Thetis buried only one man during the seven weeks which she passed at the anchorage of Sacrificios, and he died of a disease in the heart.
On the 5th of February, 1824, I returned on board, and we sailed for England the same morning. In crossing the Gulph we met with a severe Norther, which, however, was much more disagreeable in its effects, than while it actually lasted, as it threw the whole volume of water into such a commotion that we had not a quiet moment afterwards for several days. I still recollect with pleasure the relief which we experienced, after passing five whole days with our quarter-boats alternately under water, as we glided past the Morro, and entered the magnificent harbour of the Havana, where there was neither a ripple to be seen on the surface, nor the slightest motion to be felt in the ship. The transition to such a perfectly quiescent state, to a young sailor like myself, was inexpressibly delightful, nor have three subsequent voyages made me forget it.
We were ten days in reaching the Havana from Veracruz, and ten more in the Island, notwithstanding which we anchored within the Plymouth Breakwater on the 17th of March, after a passage of twenty-one days. Few ships have performed the voyage in so short a time. We were only thirty-one days at sea between Veracruz and Devonport.
- ↑ The use of these is more general amongst the middling and lower classes.
- ↑ The name is taken from the peculiar action of the brazos, or fore-legs, which are doubled up at every step, while the whole weight of the horse is thrown upon the hind-quarter.
- ↑ In November 1826, Mr. Oxley, a gentleman who had been travelling for some time in Mexico on the account of some great Manchester houses, died at Veracruz of the Vomito, after having purposely delayed his departure from the Capital from July to October, in order to select the most favourable time for it.
- ↑ Mr. Carrington, who came out to Mexico in April 1826, and afterwards resided for nearly a year with me, got over the Vomito at Jalapa, by a negative treatment of this sort. He arrived there in a state of delirium, having been seized with the disorder upon the road, and was immediately forced to take a large tumbler of oil and lemon-juice, by the master of the inn. Youth, (he was only nineteen,) and a good habit of body, probably contributed still more effectually to save him, which they did after a severe struggle.
- ↑ Amongst the most remarkable of these instances I might mention Don Rafael Beraza, who is employed as King's messenger to the Mission in Mexico, and who, having survived the first attack, now performs the journey to Veracruz on horseback with his dispatches, once or twice a month, in the very worst seasons, without apprehension or inconvenience.