The Red Track: A Story of Social Life in Mexico

by Gustave Aimard

Even at the present day, although owing to the negligence of the Creoles and their continual fratricidal Wars, combined with the sudden earthquakes, these cities are half ruined, and the life which the powerful Spanish organization caused to circulate in them has died out, these cities are still a subject of surprise to the traveller accustomed to the morbid crowding of old European cities. He regards with awe these vast squares, surrounded by cloister-like arcades; these broad and regular streets through which refreshing waters continually flow; these shady gardens in which thousands of gaily-plumaged birds twitter; these bold bridges; these majestically simple buildings, whose interiors contain incalculable wealth. And yet, we repeat, the majority of these cities are only the shadow of themselves. They seem dead, and are only aroused by the furious yells of an insurrection, to lead for a few days a feverish existence under the excitement of political passions. But so soon as the corpses are removed, and water has washed away the blood stains, the streets revert to their solitude, the inhabitants hide themselves in their carefully-closed houses, and all becomes again gloomy, mournful, and silent, only to be galvanized afresh by the hoarse murmurs of an approaching revolt.

If we except Lima, the splendid "Ciudad de los Reyes," Mexico is probably the largest and handsomest of all the cities that cover the soil of ancient Spanish America.

From whatever point we regard it, Mexico affords a magnificent view; but if you wish to enjoy a really fairy-like sight, ascend at sunset one of the towers of the cathedral, whence you will see the strangest and most picturesque panorama imaginable unrolled at your feet.

Mexico certainly existed before the discovery of America, and our readers will probably pardon a digression showing how the foundation of the city is narrated by old chroniclers.

In the year of the death of Huetzin, King of Tezcuco, that is to say, the "spot where people stop," because it was at this very place that the migration of the Chichimèques terminated, the Mexicans made an eruption into the country, and reached the place where Mexico now stands, at the beginning of the year 1140 of our era. This place then formed part of the dominions of Aculhua, Lord of Azcapotzalco.

According to paintings and the old chronicles, these Indians came from the empires of the province of Xalisco. It appears that they were of the same race as the Toltecs, and of the family of the noble Huetzin, who with his children and servants escaped during the destruction of the Toltecs, and was residing at that period at Chapultepec, which was also destroyed at a later date.

It is recorded that he traversed with them the country of Michoacán, and took refuge in the province of Atzlán, where he died, and had for his successors Ozolopan, his son, and Aztlal, his grandson, whose heir was Ozolopan II. The latter, remembering the country of his ancestors, resolved to return thither with his entire nation, which was already called Mezetin. After many adventures and combats, they at length reached the banks of a great lake covered with an infinitude of islands, and as the recollection of their country had been traditionally kept up among them, they at once recognized it, though not one of them had even seen it before. Too weak to resist the people that surrounded them, or to establish themselves in the open country, they founded on several of the islands, which they connected together, a town, which they called after themselves, Mexico, and which at a later date was destined to be the capital of a powerful empire.

Although the Mexicans arrived on the banks of the lake in 1140, it was not till two years later that the American Venice began to emerge from the bosom of the waters.

We have dwelt on these details in order to correct an error made by a modern author, who attributes to the Aztecs the foundation of this city, to which he gives the name of Tenochtitlan, instead of Temixtetlan, which is the correct name.[1]

Like Venice, its European sister, Mexico was only a collection of cabins, offering a precarious shelter to wretched fishermen, who were incessantly kept in a state of alarm by the attacks of their neighbours. The Mexicans, at first scattered over a great number of small islands, felt the necessity of collecting together in order to offer a better resistance. By their patience and courage they succeeded in building houses, raised on piles, and employing the mud of the lagoons, held together by branches of trees, they created the chinampas, or floating gardens, the most curious in the world, on which they sowed vegetables, pimento, and maize, and thus, with the aquatic birds they managed to catch on the lake, they contrived to be entirely independent of their neighbours.