We went up the broad stairway with the handsomest and reddest of carpets, which Allart said had been bought for the Centenario celebration. We entered the Sala de Espera at the top, where our wraps were disposed of, under a huge allegorical picture of "La Constitución." We then went through a series of really handsome rooms in the sumptuous style; with their great proportions and high ceilings they are most impressive. Everywhere are hung pictures of their illustrious men, who mostly did not die in their beds—Hidalgo, Morelos, Iturbide, Juarez, Diaz.
At one time I found myself in a huge room, and looking down upon me was the delicate, ascetic face of Hidalgo—"other-worldliness" stamped all over it. The scroll in his hand, proclaiming independence to Mexico, the same kind, unfortunately, I should judge, that we were there to celebrate, testified to the fires consuming him from the earthly furnace of liberty and regeneration, in which he dreamed of purifying his nation and his race. The pictures, however, are mostly more remarkable for their size and the value of their frames than for their artistic work.
We were received with dignity and ceremony by President de la Barra and the members of his Cabinet. But Madero was the center of attraction as he moved about with a dreamy, pleased expression, not unduly elated, however. A sort of simplicity stamps all that he does. The women were mostly in hats. Their afternoon costumes are apt to be the dressiest. But the Corps Diplomatique was en grande toilette. We had been wondering, in absence of notification from the Foreign Office, what we were to wear, but accepted Hohler's verdict that "after seven o'clock you can't go wrong in evening togs."
As we strolled about the handsome rooms a life-size painting of the German Emperor, given on I don't know what occasion, was the only European sovereign we met. There are many fine Chinese vases. In the red room, they told me, those supporting the candelabra had belonged to Maximilian, but during viceregal days much very beautiful Chinese porcelain found its way to Mexico from the East to the port of Acapulco, and was brought up to the capital on the backs of Indian runners.
Señor Calero, the very clever Minister of Justice, took me out to supper. The table was high, and as we stood instead of sitting at our destined places we were not too far from our plates.
Calero speaks unmistakable American-English extremely well, with a slight Middle-West twang. He knows almost all the things we Anglo-Saxons know, and some that we don't. Though still in deep mourning, black studs, cuff-buttons, vest, etc., for his first wife, he was accompanied by a pretty, shy bride of two weeks, who seemed to be very pleased at finding herself standing just across the table from him. I suppose there is some rule here about wearing black which does not take into consideration possible early reblossomings. He is extremely clever, and I fancy very ambitious. However, as honors, wealth, and power are the natural objects of human life, why not?
The table was decorated with three splendid silver épergnes, and some very large, fine fruit-dishes, all bearing the tragic and imperial crest; though I understood from Allart that the plate used for the service of the supper dated from Diaz's time, and was first used when the famous Pan-American Congress met in Mexico City.
A blaze of light came from the great crystal chandeliers, and the walls and windows were hung with crimson brocade. We went through a long menu, with many courses and appropriate wines. I think no expense was spared. De la B. is used to functions, anyway.
Of course, the great moment of the evening was the ringing of the Independence Bell. The President stepped out on the little balcony overlooking the Plaza, a few minutes before midnight, followed by Madero, and voiced the celebrated cry, "Libertad é Independencia," while just above the balcony sounded the Campana de la Independencia, which Hidalgo rang to call the patriots together in Dolores on the night of September 15, 1810.
Then the great bells of the cathedral rang out, and cheers and cries came from a crowd of about a hundred thousand people.