In one of our rambles through the city, we were accosted in the most remarkable manner by a well-dressed and beautiful sigñorita. She was seated at a window of one of the houses of the wealthy. As we caught her piercing black eye, she smiled a cordial greeting, to which one of the party responded by a respectful “Buenos dias, sigñorita!” Her reply was a terrible oath, and a most obscene expression in English, and yet there was that about her manner and tone which denoted that she meant to say that which was very civil and kind. We were told, when relating the incident afterward to an Englishman residing in the city, that some American soldiers very basely amused themselves, while pretending to teach the sigñoritas our language, by making them repeat just the expressions we had heard, and other similar ones, as forms of polite salutation.
We spent two days in the city to give rest to our animals, and then proceeded on our way toward Guadalaxara. Between these two cities the country is more uneven. The scenery is often very beautiful. We received many cautions to be on our guard, as we were to pass through a part of the country where many depredations and murders had been committed. We were told of travelers who had been suddenly dragged from their horses by the lasso, and murdered. One day we witnessed an instance of the surprising skill of the Mexicans in the use of the lasso. One of the horses threw his rider, and went galloping off across the plain. In a moment a muleteer had spurred his mule forward in pursuit, coiling up his rope as he went. Presently the coil darted through the air, and fell with unerring aim over the head of the horse, bringing him at once to a pause.
The most beautiful city we saw in Mexico was Santa Maria de los Lagos. Its cathedral was grand, towering high above its houses, and, as we rode through the streets, was inviting, by its chimes, to vespers. This town appeared to be more thriving and prosperous than any we had seen. The remark has often been made that the views of the city and its environs, from the tower of the cathedral, are similar to those of Jerusalem. San Juan de los Lagos, another city a day’s journey from the former, was almost equal in beauty. Its cathedral was even more splendid. The first object which caught our attention, as we were crossing the plaza on which it fronted, was a woman creeping on her knees toward the steps of the cathedral, probably as a penance.
It was not without some apprehension, after having heard so much of guerilla parties, that we saw before us, the day after we left the last town, a company of armed men coming toward us. We were ordered to examine our arms, and have them ready for use. They proved to be government troops, which were marching to meet the insurgents in Tamaulipas county. At their head were several American deserters, but not Americans, who were leading along some females by the hand. We also met a company of “Volunteers,” who had just been “pressed” into service. They were chained together in gangs of ten or more, and were driven along—the most desperate-looking wretches.
On the 2d of April, 1849, we reached Guadalaxara. This is the second city in Mexico, and contains a population of 125,000. Some of the cathedrals have cost millions. Many of the public buildings and squares, and the palaces of the wealthy, are very beautiful. The interiors of the cathedrals glistened with their silver shrines, chandeliers, and railing. The rude floors were covered with kneeling worshipers. The tones of the bells are very clear and sonorous. This is probably owing to the large amount of silver used in their composition. This, like the city of Mexico, is very compact, the streets straight, broad, and well paved. The houses, with their heavy-grated windows upon the streets, and their huge door-ways in the centre, gave them the appearance of so many fortresses. It is behind these walls and gates that the Mexican is luxurious and extravagant. His house is most gayly furnished, nor does he spare any expense in procuring that which will please his fancy. The women never wear bonnets. The covering for the head is called the reboso. This is a kind of scarf, some six feet long and three wide, which covers the head, and is drawn closely down over the face, and then crosses in front. It is a very common practice with the Mexican women to smoke the cigarrito.
In this city we were first made rather painfully aware of a custom of the country, of uncovering the head while passing the front portal of the cathedral. Two or three stones, well aimed, removed the hats which our hands should have removed. The streets, as in the cities generally, are here cleaned by the convicts, who are chained and guarded by soldiers. As we were passing one of these gangs, I had fallen behind my companions, and was alone. One of the soldiers came to me, and, saying “Amigo” (friend), suddenly thrust his hand into my pocket. Supposing that he wanted tobacco, I told him I had none. While I was speaking, another soldier put his hand into a pocket on the other side.
Here we witnessed the procession of the Host. The priest, carrying the sacred emblems, rode in a carriage, followed by a band of music, and numerous attendants bearing a flag, upon which was painted the likeness of a lamb, about which were many persons bearing lighted lanterns. Then came a crowd of citizens. As the procession passed, all in the street knelt.
One among the many cathedrals we visited greatly interested us. It was filled with beautiful exotics, brought there from the gardens of the wealthy in honor of the approaching Easter holidays. As we were passing through the aisles, examining the flowers, a lady of rank and fortune, perceiving us, called a lad to her, whispering to him. He went out by a side door, but soon returned, followed by a venerable-looking priest, who addressed us in correct English. When he had read Bishop Kendrick’s letter, he gave us a cordial welcome, and led us into his library, one of the largest on the continent. This contained many of our own standard works, and was ornamented by the portraits of distinguished men, among which we noticed a splendid portrait of Washington. Assuring me we should want nothing to render our journey agreeable and safe, he sent an attendant to show us the paintings and treasures of the cathedral.
On the 4th of April we left Guadalaxara, having received notice from an officer of government that no travelers were permitted to enter or to leave the city during the Easter solemnities. In a few hours we entered the wild passes of a very picturesque and mountainous country. The first time for many days our road led us along over many fine mountain streams, and through forests, where we began to find our own pine and oak. “A song for the brave old oak” was heartily responded to by all. As night set in, we pitched our camp in a narrow defile, surrounded by high peaks, which we were to ascend on the morrow. The inhabitants seemed as wild as their country. Every hour our guides were coming to us with stories of recent robberies and murders, and committed upon the very spot, perhaps, where we then were. In one deep gorge of the mountains into which we were passing, we were told that three hundred armed guerillas awaited us. And, in another place, a few days previous, some government soldiers had met a large company of robbers, and had dispersed them, after shooting several of the most desperate. In corroboration of these stories, we suddenly came upon a scene so fearfully in keeping with our own excited state of feeling, and the wild character of the country around us, that we shall never lose the impression left upon our imaginations. In the midst of a field charred and blackened by a fire which had passed over it, stood out in bold relief a gallows, upon which were hanging three mangled and distorted bodies. There they had hung about six weeks, after having murdered twenty persons. Over the gallows, which was a painted one, were printed these words of warning: “Asi Castiga La Ley Al Ladron Y Al Asesino.”
Magdalena is a pleasant town, situated among the mountains, on the banks of a beautiful lake. Here we saw the first of the dramatic street representations of the closing scenes in the life of our Savior. These consisted in enacting each day in their order the events recorded in Scripture. Most of the day and one entire night were devoted to these exhibitions, in which all the people participated. In Magdalena the procession paraded the streets during the night, with torches, and accompanied by a band performing solemn music. The image of the Savior, which was Spanish in its features, like all the sacred images of Mexico, had a bandage over the eyes, and was led away by a band of ruffians, as if for trial. At a distance the image of the Virgin Mary was borne along by weeping females. We saw nothing more—not again entering any town—till the third night, when we reached Tocotes. At this stage in the series the Savior was represented as borne by the centurions and soldiers to the tomb. The image was placed in a glass coffin strewed with flowers. This was borne by men. At a distance was the image of Mary led by women, her hands folded in an attitude of grief. The cathedral was decorated with a profusion of flowers, in the midst of which was the tomb. These tragical scenes were followed, at the close, by a fandango, which is a dance peculiar to the country. It is a lazy shuffle, accompanied by music upon the guitar, varied occasionally by a song, in the chorus of which all present join.