Читать книгу The Ancient Cities of the New World - Désiré Charnay - Страница 5

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MEXICO.

Her New Appearance—Moral Transformation—Public Walks and Squares—Suburbs—Railway—Monuments—Cathedral—S. Domingo—S. Francisco—La Merced—Hats à la S. Basilio—Suppression of Religious Orders.

Mexico has undergone a still greater change than Vera Cruz. The large square, which used to be ill-paved and empty, has become a fine garden, planted with eucalyptus trees, which have grown wonderfully during the last twelve years, some measuring seven feet in girth and over 100 feet in height. Beneath the shade of these beautiful trees stretch beautiful gardens and green turf, whilst the centre is occupied by the Zocalo, a pavilion, in which every evening very fair concerts are given, attended by the Mexican society.

Spacious houses in modern style have been constructed at different points of the city; new districts have arisen on the site once occupied by convents; pretty squares are distributed about, and the Paseo Nuevo, which was to extend as far as Chapultepec, is one which the proudest cities in the world might envy. But will it ever be completed? At present, it only reaches the imposing monument erected in honour of Christopher Columbus, which every Frenchman should admire as coming from Paris and the work of a Frenchman. The immediate area round Mexico has been completely transformed by lines of railroad and tramways; in places once occupied by fetid water or marshy ground, pretty villas and flower gardens are now to be seen, whilst on the other side of the Paseo, to the right and left of S. Cosme, the smaller suburbs are extending so fast that they will soon join the main city. Should Americans come—and a goodly number are here already—all this land, now almost valueless, would in a few years double and treble in price.

But what is still more remarkable is the moral transformation: a new life seems to animate Mexico: education, trade, industry, and public works, have received great development; security has increased, a public conscience has been awakened, ideas have become more liberal, change of power is now effected without disturbance, whilst formerly it was preceded, accompanied and followed by the ever-recurring pronunciamentos; a feeling of good-fellowship begins to penetrate all classes, and Government House is in a true sense the House of the people, being filled from early morning by friends, employés, or petitioners. Every one is free to come and go, without let or hindrance, all are received by the Governor without having to ask an audience, and every one is welcomed with the greatest affability, as I can from personal experience amply testify. To give an idea how far the spirit of patriotism was roused by the war of intervention, I will quote the words of a deputy, who, on my preliminary bill being submitted to Congress, which had been agreed to between the Government and myself respecting my excavations and their export, rushed into the tribune to speak against its adoption. “Gentlemen,” he cried, “I feel savage, beside myself, almost idiotic, when the interests of our country are at stake.” The speaker was right in his description of himself, for the removal of a few fragments from the soil of the Republic was not deserving of such an outburst.

But it is the privilege of the young ever to exaggerate, and Mexico is as yet in her youth. The public press is just started, and there are but two independent papers, the admirably conducted Republican Moniteur and the Nineteenth Century, which give any profits. All the others are paid by the Government, are short-lived, and disappear one after another, to reappear under new names and take up with a different party. And yet there is no lack of talent, the drawback is in the difficulty of communications. The heavy postal charges (a letter from one village to another costs one shilling), the ignorance and indifference of the masses about political events, are the main causes which prevent any newspaper from succeeding. The only interest evinced in politics is at the time of the elections, and even in these, Mexicans take very little interest, knowing beforehand that it will not much matter to them, and that their burden will hardly be made lighter. It may be safely predicted that the Indians will not be roused from their apathy until they are better educated, and until they discover that they have a direct interest in mixing in politics—for which they are eminently qualified—and if their vast majority be considered, they would undoubtedly contribute a large contingent, whilst their industry, their intelligent quickness to seize everything, coupled with a natural talent of adaptation, would soon raise them to the foremost ranks in the army, politics, the bar and science, as may even now be seen in the few who have had the privilege of education; nor would this be difficult, for they now stand on a perfect footing of equality with the Mexicans, for unlike most conquerors, jealous to preserve their nationality, the modern Mexicans repudiate their Spanish descent and are proud to call themselves Indians. But what is to be the outcome of it all? Will the Indian, forgetting his humble and thrifty aspirations, thirst, like the Mexican, after Government employment, which, whilst it keeps him idle, unfits him for commercial and industrious pursuits? He has lived hitherto under laws harsh and severe for him alone; is there no fear that once free, he will plunge into the vices of freed men, rather than put on the virtues of civilised people? If we are to borrow our experience from the past, this would be the case, since when, shortly after the conquest, he lived under milder laws, the effect was to sink him into such an appalling condition of moral depravity as to move the good Franciscan monk Sahagun to say of him: “We ought not perhaps to be surprised at finding among them the usual shortcomings which belong to their country, since the Spaniards who live here, and especially the American born, are in no way better than the Indians. Even the natives of Spain, after a few years in this country, are quite altered, and I have always ascribed this change to a difference of climate and latitude. It is humiliating to our feelings as Christians,” exclaims Sahagun, “to reflect that the Indians of olden time, wise in their generation, knew how to remedy evils peculiar to the soil, by means of practices which were their safeguard, whereas we succumb to our evil propensities; the result of which is that we see a new generation, Indian as well as Spanish, rising around us, which it is difficult to manage or to save. Parents have not that authority they ought to have over their offspring to guard them against their natural proclivities. The ancient dwellers of this soil were far better inspired when they abandoned the education of their children to public authority, which replaced paternal rights. Unfortunately this method was tainted by idolatrous and superstitious practices; but were these to be eliminated and the ancient method introduced afresh among the Indo-Spanish people, a great public good would undoubtedly follow, which would relieve the Government of many difficulties now pressing upon it. As it is we hardly know how to deal with those reared in our schools, who, finding themselves no longer checked by the fear and discipline of former, nor the severity of pagan times, do not care to learn and are indifferent to admonition; very different in this respect from their Aztec forefathers. At first, following their ancient practice, which placed the youth of both sexes in buildings within the enclosure of their temples, in which they were drilled in monastic discipline, and taught to reverence their gods and obey the laws of their country, we tried to bring them up in our establishments, and to this end we collected them in buildings adjoining our houses, in which they were accustomed to rise in the middle of the night to sing the matins of Our Lady, and recite the ‘Hours’ at early dawn; they were also required to beat themselves with stripes and to spend some time of the day in mental exercises, but as they were not compelled as in pagan times to do any manual labour, as their natural aspirations seemed to demand, and as moreover they were better fed and more mildly treated than their student ancestors, they soon learnt and fell into evil ways. We also directed our attention to the women to see whether it were possible to place them in convents, as in heathen times, and with this end in view we made them Christian nuns, and imposed on them perpetual vows; convents and retreats were erected, in which they were taught their religious duties and the art of reading and writing. Such as had shown themselves proficient in these pursuits and were possessed besides of becoming dignity and decorum, were chosen to preside over these establishments as guides and teachers of Christianity and purity of life5. At first we fondly hoped, as in the men’s case, that they would become worthy and spotless nuns, but we were mistaken, experience having shown that, for the present at least, they were incapable of so much perfection, and convents and conventicles had to be abolished, and we have to confess that the time has not yet come for repeating the experiment.”

The passage just quoted is suggestive of many things.

A deplorable change for the worse is already observable in the character of the Indians of Tabasco and Chiapas since the Suffrage Bill, which by making them partly independent of the whites, has also made them idle, insolent, treacherous, and depraved. A sad look-out for times to come. But even granting that all happens for the best, is there much probability that the Indian will have time to develop his natural resources before the Anglo-Saxon invasion shall have confined him for ever to the lower ranks in the social scale?

However that may be, Mexico, although bent on progress, seems only to receive her notions second-hand. Eager for action, every new idea or advance which has received a trial with other nations, is sure to be promptly adopted, without any inquiry whether it is applicable, suitable, or useful, among a people wholly unprepared to receive them; and this total impossibility of legislating for half savages and illiterate people made a deputy say one day to me: “We have a constitution fit for angels, whereas we ought to have one fit for asses.”

What happens? The Mexicans at present enjoy perfect liberty, which they use to stop the action of the Government, and as each department is entirely independent, the lowest clerk is able to stop the whole machinery. Most Mexicans have, or wish to have, Government employment, leaving to foreigners the development of their national wealth; banking, trade, and the working of their rich mines are, with few exceptions, in the hands of Spaniards, French, English, and Americans. The latter are swarming in; and, save Vera Cruz, all the railways are American.

Very few Mexicans have been found willing to risk their capital in these important enterprises, being satisfied with receiving a premium, or joining the companies as employés. What will happen? It would be a strange and novel phenomenon to see a superior (?) race disappearing before an inferior one. Be that as it may, it is certain that on the day when the Anglo-Americans shall be able to dispense with the services of the Mexican, they will not scruple to thrust him aside, careful however to keep the Indians of the Highlands, now a docile, frugal, hard-working people, whom they will use for mining and agricultural purposes, as well as for the construction of railways. But this is not yet. The absorption will come, however—gradually, silent, peaceful—a slow, easy death, but a sure death nevertheless.

Yet it would be a matter for regret that this attractive people, open to every new idea of progress, eager to distinguish themselves, as shown a hundred times in the defence of their liberties, should be swallowed up by the Saxon element. The “Timeo Danaos dona ferentes” is surely applicable here, and Mexico should beware of her powerful neighbour—Caveant Consules.

Mexico has a great wealth of monuments, palatial houses, and churches, the finest of which is the Cathedral, occupying the northern side of the Place d’Armes, with the Palace to the east, the Houses of Parliament to the south, and the Portal de las Damas on the western side. It was erected on the site of the sumptuous temple dedicated to Huitzilopochtli, the war god and the patron deity of the Aztecs, whose altars reeked with the blood of human hecatombs in every city of the empire. The first stone for this church was laid in the reign of Philip II., and the canonicate of Archbishop Pedro Moya de Contreras. The foundations, which extended as far as the north side of the old temple, embracing the whole space now taken up by the courts, were carried on under the energetic supervision of Alonzo Perez de Castañeda. The work required for these foundations, owing to the unsteady, marshy nature of the soil, was so enormous that in 1615 the walls only rose to some twenty feet above the ground. Philip III., on being informed of the difficulties which retarded the work begun by his father, sent a plan drawn by his own architect, which was to simplify the original one, and accelerate the completion of the church.

The principal sacristy was finished in 1623; the vaults in the middle nave were completed between 1623 and 1665. In 1667, the interior of the Cathedral being quite finished, the inauguration took place. The choir, however, was only completed in 1730, when the rich and marvellous balustrade, which divides the choir from the sanctuary, executed by Macao, was put up. This balustrade, composed of bronze and silver, which has all the appearance of burnished gold, is most striking in its general effect.

The expenses of this church (completed in 1791) amounted to 2,446,000 piastres, or £489,200. Seen from the square, the edifice has the imposing appearance of churches of the latter portion of the sixteenth century. The façade, though simple, is very imposing, and contrasts favourably with the other sacred edifices in the city; three doors intervene between Doric columns and open into the middle and lateral naves. Over the main door two stories superimposed and ornamented with Doric and Corinthian pilasters, support a most elegant steeple, crowned by three statues, representing the theological virtues. On each side, towers, severe in design, and topped by cupolas, rise to the height of 78 metres.6 The interior is one mass of gold. The choir, which is immense, occupies the principal nave, and, by means of a costly composite gallery, is made to join the main altar, designed after St. Peter’s in Rome. The two lateral naves, destined for the congregation, have no choir or seats of any kind, and Mexican ladies, who are very regular in their attendance at church, are satisfied with kneeling or sitting on the damp stones of the pavement, whether from zeal or because it would not be “good form” not to do so, remains doubtful, whereas it is quite certain that their delicate constitution demands a less dangerous practice. The few men who are ever seen in the interior of a church generally stand; most, however, remain outside talking to one another, and waiting for the ladies, who on coming out reward them for their patience by a bewitching look or a graceful inclination of the head.

Among the works of art possessed by the Cathedral, may be mentioned a small picture by Murillo, known as the “Virgin of Belen,” not a good specimen of the great master. The priests attached to the church look upon it, however, as their most precious jewel; to this may be added the “Assumption of the Virgin,” of massive gold, weighing 1,116 ounces; a silver lamp hanging before the sanctuary, which cost £16,000; the tabernacle of massive silver valued at £32,000, besides diamonds, rubies, emeralds, amethysts, pearls, and sapphires in shoals, and a vast quantity of gold and silver vases, representing fabulous sums of money.

On the wall of the left tower to the west, may be seen the famous Aztec calendar, found on the 17th December, 1700, whilst the new esplanade of Impedradillo was being constructed. By order of the Viceroy it was carefully encased and preserved in the steeple wall, and has proved to be one of the most precious monuments of Indian antiquity. Antonio de Gama, in a masterly treatise, explained the objects to which it was devoted, and poured a flood of light on the astronomical science of the Aborigines and their mythology. His work has been criticised, however, by Valentine of New York, and both are impugned by Chavero of Mexico, whilst others pass a severe judgment on all three. So true is it, that archæological, like other questions, are ever open to hot dispute.

The Sagrario is a huge chapel close to the Cathedral, used for marriages, christenings, and burial services. The host is exposed at all times on the altar for the veneration of the faithful. The Sagrario deserves a passing note, for though vicious in taste, it has such a wealth of ornamentation and sculpture, as to make one forget the defects of its style considered as a whole. It is from the Sagrario that the last sacrament used to be carried to comfort the rich and powerful, in a gilt carriage, or beneath a gorgeous daïs, amidst a cortège of priests, who preceded and followed it, its presence being announced by the ringing of a silver bell. At its approach the traffic and movement of the town was suspended; every one, no matter the state of the weather, humbly knelt down in dust or mud; all were expected to join the procession and accompany the host to the house of the dying; the viceroy himself was not exempted from this formality, and chroniclers tell us that many were the times when he was thus compelled to head the marching column.

EL SAGRARIO.

But that was in the good old time, which I am old enough to have seen, when priests and monks, their heads covered with huge hats, à la Don Basilio, filled the streets with their portly, dignified figures, their faces ever open to a smile. That time has gone by; monks and priests, shorn of their dress and privileges, have disappeared and become private citizens. The Church on that occasion was not proceeded against by slow degrees; the Government, feeling at home in a country peculiarly religious and Catholic, decreed on the same day the suppression of all religious communities, the confiscation of their goods, and the disestablishment of the Church, and though a large majority mildly protested, nobody cared; not so the monks and priests, who whirled anathemas and fulminated the excommunicatio maxima against whomsoever should lend a hand to the demolition of the convents—nay, even against those who would be found bold enough to pass through the streets thus opened on ecclesiastical property. The Leperos, however, engaged in these demolitions, had recourse to an ingenious device to nullify the spiritual thunderbolts of their ancient patrons. They bedizened themselves with amulets, scapularies, and chaplets as a protection against the wiles of the devil, and thus attired they proceeded gaily to the destruction of cell and chapel, whilst weeping dueñas, indignant at being witnesses of such sacrilege, poured out their unavailing supplications.

The excitement lasted but a week, and the Leperos thought so little of it that they did not refrain from bearing away to their housewives the wainscoting of the religious houses, and the newly made streets were used like any others.

But it will be asked, what of the monks? Most have become citizens and taken wives, and are now heads of families; some have gone into exile; whilst others are business men. I have even met a few, who, having turned Protestants, were employed as guides by the Boston and New York Biblical Missions. As for the clergy, contrary to the received opinion that on being deprived of their emoluments and tithes they would be richer than before, they have become as poor as their vows require, as humble as they profess, reading their services as heretofore to crowded congregations, and every one is or seems to be satisfied.

But to return to our edifices. The Church and Convent of S. Domingo (Dominick) stands in Custom House Square, blocked up at all times by carriages, carts, mules, and a motley crowd. At this point, when pronunciamentos were the rule, rebels used to take their stand, and sheltered behind the high steeples of the church, shot at their fellow-citizens lodged on the azoteas (flat roofs) of the neighbouring houses. They did their work so often and so well that the desolation of these cloisters is complete. The pictures which once were their chief ornament are mostly in holes, and the walls blackened with shot and powder. S. Domingo has the hardly enviable privilege of having been the seat of the Inquisition. Here, in 1646, the terrible tribunal celebrated its first auto-da-fè, when forty-eight persons were burnt at the stake. These human sacrifices, which were only abolished at the beginning of this century, were not better than the revolting practices of the Aztecs, save that Catholic priests were content to burn their victims without eating them, but to make up for this they branded them with eternal infamy.

The Convent of S. Francisco, which at one time extended over fifteen acres of ground, is situated between the street bearing the same name and S. Juan de Latran y Zuletta Street. It is intersected by beautiful cloisters, courts, and gardens, and was formerly the most important as well as the richest convent in Mexico: having two churches, the interiors of which were adorned with gigantic altars of finely-carved gilt wood; three exquisite chapels, and elegant cloisters covered with pictures, thus forming one of the most remarkable monuments in Mexico. But alas! all that wealth is gone, the ruthless hand of democracy has pulled down cell and chapel; streets run in places once occupied by its altars; its flower-beds are turned into a nursery-garden, and its silent cells are tenanted by poor families, whose women and children fill the air with their shrill and discordant voices. All that remains is the façade, with its magnificent gate—a curious mixture of Renaissance pilasters, covered with figures in high relief, surmounted with composite capitals, divided by niches adorned with statues, besides a marvellous wealth of ornamentation, not in the best taste, but highly finished. Their chief interest, however, lies in their being the work of the Indians, rather than the production of a Spanish chisel. Indians, according to Mendieta, were no contemptible artists; “with tools made of tin and copper, they could cut not only metals, but the hardest substances. They carved their vessels of gold and silver, with their metallic chisels, in a very delicate manner. They imitated the figures of animals, and could mix the metals in such a manner, that the feathers of a bird, or the scales of a fish, should be alternately of gold and silver.”

They worked the various stones and alabasters with guijarros (a tool made of silex and flint), in the construction of their public buildings, entrances and angles of which were frequently ornamented with images, sometimes of their fantastic and hideous deities. Sculptured images were so numerous, that the foundations of the Cathedral in the Plaza Mayor are said to be entirely composed of them.7 They also painted from nature, birds, fish, and landscape, and after their conversion to Christianity, says Mendieta, they reproduced admirably our images and reredos from Flanders and Italy.