There is a very charming and cultivated society in Santa Fé of the small circle of American residents,—a circle that is of late rapidly increasing. The country around is rich in gems,—the turquoise, opal, onyx, garnet, and bloodstone being found in liberal deposits; and in the town is a manufactory of Mexican filigree work that employs the natives only who are very skilful in this delicate art. The Plaza is a curiously fascinating place to saunter around, and the visitor finds himself loitering and lingering as he is wont to loiter and linger on the old Ponte Vecchio in Florence. The nomenclature of Santa Fé is sufficiently foreign to enable one to fancy himself in Andalusia, as such names as Padilla, Quintona, Lopez, Gutierrez, Vaca, and others recur.
The Rosario Chapel, built by Señor Diego de Vargas, stands on a height overlooking Santa Fé a mile distant from the Plaza and the Old Palace. Near it is now located the Ramona School for the children of the Apaches. The legend of the founding of San Rosario is still on the air. When, in 1692, Señor de Vargas, marching from the south with his band of two hundred men, gazed upon the city from which, in 1680, his compatriots had been so tragically driven, he prostrated himself on the ground and implored in prayer the protection and aid of "Our Lady of the Rosary," and recorded his purpose that, would she but lead him on to victory, he would build, on the very site where he was kneeling, a chapel to her name. Arising, he led his band on to assault, and after a tragic struggle of eleven hours' duration he was victorious. Did the "Lady of the Rosary" shield and strengthen him? Who shall venture to deny it?
"More things are wrought by prayer
Than this world dreams of."
De Vargas had promised that, in case the victory was granted to him, he would have the statue of the Virgin carried from the cathedral to the Rosario Chapel, as already noted. To this day the custom is fulfilled; and each year, on the Sunday following Corpus Christi, this sacred drama is enacted, with sometimes two thousand people, drawn from all the country around, forming the procession. The statue is kept in the chapel a week, with solemn masses celebrated every morning, after which it is returned to the cathedral and the chapel is closed, not to be opened again until the octave of the Feast of Corpus Christi the next year.
The "City of the Holy Faith" is very quiet in these days, and one finds little trace of the turbulent past when it was the storm centre of tragic wars and revolutions. The incessant warfare between the Spaniards and the Indians, the sublime courage and devotion of Bishop Lamy and other Fathers of the Church, constitute a wonderful chapter in the history of our country.
Santa Fé antedates the landing of the Pilgrims by more than twenty years. Its history is an unbroken record of thrilling and romantic events, from its capture by the Pueblos in 1680; the terrible massacre of the Mission Fathers, and the flight of the Governor to El Paso; its conquest again by de Vargas in 1692; the change from Spanish to Mexican rule; then the splendid entrance of General Kearny and his troops (in the summer of 1846) in the name of the United States, down to the scenes and the incidents of the old Santa Fé Trail and thence to the present day, when three railroads have brought the city into close touch with the modern life of which it still refuses to become a part. Still, Santa Fé has nine mails a day, a free-delivery postal system, electric lights, and local and long-distance telephonic connection. The Capitol, where Governor Hagerman presides over the councils of state, is a fine modern building with a beautiful view from the dome. There is a new Federal Building of stone in classic design, in front of which is placed a monument to Kit Carson. St. Michael's College, the residence of the Archbishop, and the Government Indian School attract the eye. But it is the old Santa Fé of haunting historic memories that one dreams of in the narrow streets, or in looking down on the town from a mountain-side. The quaint little Plaza dreams in the sunshine, which lingers, as if with a Benedicite, on the Kearny memorial, while through the unshuttered and uncurtained windows of the Old Palace, forming one side of the Plaza, the antique débris may be dimly seen. Should the ghost of any of the old Spanish warriors peer forth, the apparition would hardly produce a ripple of surprise. The long colonnade may be the favorite promenade of phantoms for aught one knows,—phantoms, that come and go,—
"With feet that make no sound upon the floor."
The twentieth-century sunshine lights up the dusky corners wherein are stored the relics of the Spanish conquerors and the followers of St. Francis. Perchance Francis d'Assisi himself, "revisiting the glimpses of the moon," glides along the shadows, drawn to the spot where, at so fearful a cost of life and treasure, his "holy faith" was guarded; or it may be the warrior in his armor who for an instant is dimly discerned through the dust-covered windows. Coronado, too, may haunt this scene. Many are those in the historic ranks who have contributed to the making of Santa Fé. It is the most composite city in American history. The very air is vocal with tradition and legend.
The little shops around the Plaza bear their signs mostly in Spanish. Yet mingling with these is the office of Mr. Lutz of the Santa Fé transcontinental line, with which the New Mexican capital is connected by a branch to Lamy, on the main line, where one may stand and converse with Denver,—a feat which may surprise the ghost of Coronado or of Juan de Oñate were it looking on; and Colonel Frost's daily journal, with its news of the world, is just at the corner. Not far away, too, is Mr. Linney, who represents the United States Signal Service, and regards Santa Fé as a most opportune town in which to pursue his most up-to-date study of atmospheric phenomena.