In 1550 the lake of Texcoco overflowed, and almost submerged the City of Mexico. Among the objects found drifting upon the water was a large canvas, on which appeared a beautiful representation of the Virgin. None could determine where it came from, so a chapel was built for it. It is called "Our Lady of the Angels." For centuries it has received the veneration of man.
Another inundation occurred in 1607, and all the chapel, except the side holding the Virgin's picture, was washed away. Despite all the storms the picture was said to be as bright as if just from the painter's brush. A new chapel was built around this marvelous painting, which stood until 1627, when another flood took it all away excepting the one wall holding the Virgin's likeness. There, neglected and unprotected, it stood as the storms had left it until 1745, when a succession of public calamities drove the people to implore the succor of the Virgin. A building was again erected around the uninjured painting. Thus, until the present day, the people in need seek the painting to pour forth their prayers at its feet.
El Desierto and its old Carmelite convent occupy the most charming spot in Mexico. It is only fifteen miles from the capital, and the way is along the most romantic and picturesque road a Southern clime can produce. The forest that surrounds El Desierto is composed of the largest trees in the valley, hardly excepting those of Chapultepec. The convent was a group of massive buildings, domes and turrets, now crumbling into decay. In 1625 the monks retreated to this wilderness to mortify the flesh, and strange stories of their serio-jovial life, their sparkling wines and romance of their hermit-like existence come creeping down through centuries; the jolly monks are no more, and the winds sigh through the mighty forest that has ridden romance, love and tragedy from the world.
The conqueror, Cortez, not satisfied with robbing the grand old Aztec king, Montezuma, of his land and life, also robbed him of his daughter. The poor woman, after he deserted her, died in a convent, leaving a daughter, the child of Cortez. This daughter of Cortez', and granddaughter of Montezuma, was married very young to a Spanish captain, Quinteros. There are now in Puebla descendants of that illegal love.
[CHAPTER XXXVII.]
PRINCESS JOSEFA DE YTURBIDE.
I cannot close this little book without speaking of one of the most remarkable and brilliant women in Mexico, the only daughter of the emperor. After the execution of the emperor the family came to the States, and settled in Philadelphia. Josefa was sent to Georgetown to receive an English education, and she yet retains a love for America and its people. When Maximilian entered Mexico he restored the titles to the Yturbide family, and invited the cultured princess to become a member of his imperial household. Subsequently Emperor Maximilian adopted Augustin Yturbide, grandson of the late emperor, and appointed the Princess Josefa guardian of the "prince imperial." Maximilian soon recognized the wonderful executive abilities of the princess, and he consulted her on momentous occasions. Had he taken her advice, I doubt not but that Mexico would have had an empire to-day.
After the fall of Maximilian, Mrs. Yturbide (formerly Alice Green, of Washington, D. C.) claimed and recovered her son, who had been temporarily "heir presumptive" to the throne of Mexico. The Princess Josefa went to the court of Austria. Nine years ago she returned to Mexico, where she lives in seclusion.
She is one of the loveliest women, in every respect, I ever met. Her rooms at the Hotel Humboldt are plain, but contain many little mementos of former glory. The pictures and busts of the unfortunate emperor and empress occupy prominent positions.