El Paséo de Las Vigas is a beautiful road just without the inhabited part of the city, at its south-eastern extremity. It is bordered by double rows of aspins and willows; and upon one side of it, passes the canal which connects the lakes of Chalco and Tescuco. Though it is the month of February, nature has assumed the gay mantle of spring—all is verdant—all is smiling with luxuriant sweetness. The temperature of the shade is most delightful.
At the moment when the sun, sinking behind the mountains, has lost its oppressive warmth, the population of Mexico pours itself upon this charming spot. Hundreds of coaches roll along amid multitudes on horseback and on foot. These ponderous vehicles, uniform in shape, are various in their decorations, showing the several fashions which prevailed at the time of their construction;—some adorned with paintings commemorative either of heathen mythology or of remarkable historical events; the pannels of some tell us of sieges or of battles in days long gone by; some represent the perils of the deep; others exhibit Neptune riding gently upon his subdued waves, or perhaps the "pale Diana" or the "laughing Venus," or Calypso in her grotto using her bewitching sorceries to win the youthful hero. These, and similar devices, mark the period of vice-regal magnificence, and are now peculiar to the hackney coach. Those of modern date, are in better taste, being painted modestly, of a uniform color, but the wheels and carriage part are generally richly gilded.
The coaches are filled with well dressed women—I won't say that many of them are beautiful—who recognize their acquaintances by a coquetish quirk of the fan—(a never-failing attendant even in coldest weather)—or an active play of the fingers, at which the Mexican ladies are very dexterous, and which might be misconstrued by the uninitiated as a beckon to approach. Horsemen, in the characteristic costume of the country elsewhere described, pass and repass, exhibiting their proud and gallant steeds; and the multitude on foot display their Sunday dresses, in which there has been of late a manifest improvement.
The canal is strewed with boats, crowded with passengers of the lowest class, who are amusing themselves with guitars, to which they sing and dance. They return decorated with flowers woven into a chaplet, which, contrasted with the black hair hanging down in a single plait behind, of a pretty Mestiso girl, renders her quite interesting, notwithstanding her copperish color.
All these in themselves present a highly exhilarating picture; but added to the fine prospect of the mountain barriers of the Mexican plain, and especially of the snowy peaks of the volcanoes of Puebla which rise in full view to the south-east, this scene can scarcely be equalled.
As pleasing however, as the scene is, and though we meet none but smiling faces, yet I cannot refrain from observing that remarkable inequality so revolting to the feelings of a republican. Marchionesses and countesses with the richest jewels, are seen at one glace with the poor lepero, whose all is the single blanket which hides his nakedness. Nor is it agreeable to see a strong guard of cavalry, whose attendance it must be presumed, is necessary to prevent disorder. Sentinels, indeed, are posted around and in all the public buildings of Mexico—they are posted at the entrance to the halls of Congress and to the galleries, in various parts of the palace, (a name by which the government house is still known,) where the President resides, and in which are the public offices—and they are posted even in the theatre. I am sorry thus to detract any thing from the scene which I witnessed this evening with so much pleasure, but candor requires it.
Lent has now commenced. Public amusements (except occasionally a concert at the theatre,) and large parties are suspended for a while. The ladies complain occasionally of ennui. Their present diversion is stupid enough. They assemble in small tertulias every night at each others' houses, and play an uninteresting game with cards, called lottery. The sole object achieved is to kill time, of the value of which Mexicans have no idea, for in themselves they have no resources whatever. Reading is so irksome they cannot endure it—and work of any kind costs labor. They can do naught but eat, sleep, smoke, talk, and visit the theatre.
For the Southern Literary Messenger.