CHAPTER IV

THE VALLEY OF ANAHUAC

The dim traditionary history of Mexico shows us shadowy tribes flitting across the stage, each acting its part like the different performers in a vaudeville show, and then making way for other actors. The Valley of Mexico, or Anahuac, meaning “near the water,” seems to have been the centre of the civilization of these early tribes. It is a beautiful valley nearly sixty miles in length and thirty in breadth, and is enclosed by a wall of mountains which circumscribe the view in every direction. Six shallow lakes lie in this hollow: Texcoco, Xochimilco, San Cristobal, Xaltocan, Zumpango and Chalco, of which the first named is the nearest to the city and lies distant about three miles. It is easy to believe that the waters of these lakes at one time entirely surrounded the ancient city of Tenochtitlan, for within historic times their shores have greatly receded.

The history of these early races rests mostly upon tradition; yet a diversity of architectural ruins, and the few meagre records that remain, present certain general facts. These positive proofs leave no doubt that this valley was inhabited from a very early period by tribes or nations which made distinct advances in civilization. These tribes had developed certain of the useful arts and had evolved a social system that exhibited some refinement. The first of these races of whom we have reliable record are the Toltecs, who appeared in the Valley of Mexico in the seventh century at almost the same time that Mohammed was spreading his religion over Asia and Africa. Their sway lasted about five centuries, when they disappeared as silently and mysteriously as they came.

These peaceful and agricultural people were succeeded by the Chichimecs, a more barbarous race, who came from the north. They in turn were followed by the Nahuals. Lastly came the Aztecs, who entered the valley about 1196, and reached a higher state of civilization than any of their predecessors. War was their choicest profession, for they considered that warriors slain in battle were immediately transported to scenes of ineffable bliss. They offered human sacrifices to their gods. Prescott tells us of a procession of captives two miles long, and numbering seventy thousand persons who were sacrificed at one time. This is incredible, for at that rate the population would soon have been exhausted even in this prolific land. Furthermore we know that the Aztecs were not always successful in war, and may have furnished victims from their own numbers, for sacrifice to the gods of the other nations in the same land.

The Aztecs were clever workers in gold and silver, and were acquainted with a number of arts that are lost to-day. Their picture writings bear witness to a clever fancy and fertile invention of symbols. The numerous idols show their skill in carving and a true artistic instinct. Many antiquities have been exhumed from the swampy soil on which the capital city is built, in making excavations for improvements. The National Museum is a treasure house of these relics and it would take a volume to describe them. The huge Sacrificial Stone, which is generally supposed to have been placed on the top of the great altar, is preserved there. It also houses the horrible image of the god Huitzilopochtli, and a varied assortment of inferior gods, goddesses, and other objects of worship. But the most celebrated antiquity—the one showing the greatest advancement—is the Calendar Stone. This stone was buried for centuries, and when resurrected was placed in the west tower of the cathedral. From this place it was removed a few years ago and placed in the museum. It is a mighty stone, eleven feet and eight inches in diameter, and weighs more than twenty tons. The Aztecs divided the year into eighteen months of twenty days each, and then arbitrarily added five days to complete the year.

“Let us follow the cross, and if we have faith we will conquer,” was the motto on the banner of Cortez. It was with this spirit that he led his little band over the mountains and into the heart of the empire of Montezuma, late in the fall of 1519. He was met by that sovereign, tradition says, on the site of the present Hospital of Jesus, with every manifestation of friendliness. For several months they were the honoured guests of the Aztec chief, but at length the aggressions of the Spaniards changed friendship to hate and the Aztecs, rising in their wrath, chased the invaders from the city. Driven before the infuriated natives like sheep, they fled over the present road to the suburban village of Tacuba, and many were those who fell. This rout of the Spaniards has been painted with wonderful vividness by Gen. Lew Wallace in “The Fair God.”

It was an awful night of despair, that first day of July, 1520, and the Spaniards who escaped named it La Noche Triste, “the sorrowful night.” The pursuit stopped at the little town of Popotla. In this village is a great cypress tree whose branches are blasted by the storms of centuries. For a moment the strong will of Cortez gave way and he sat down upon a stone under the spreading branches of this tree and wept. Whether he wept most for his fallen soldiers or disappointment over his ignominious defeat, we are not told by the chroniclers. This tree is now noted as _el arbol de la noche triste_, or “the tree of the sorrowful night.” A high iron fence protects the ancient relic from the souvenir vandals.

The Spaniards retreated beyond the valley to their allies, the Tlaxcalans, at Cholula. Reinforcements and supplies arriving, they returned a few months later and began the memorable siege of Tenochtitlan, and made a triumphal entry into that city on the 13th of August, 1521. Then Guatemotzin, the last of the Aztec emperors, wept in his turn, because the sacred fires of the temple had for ever gone out, and his people would henceforth be slaves. “Take that dagger,” he said, “and free this spirit.” But, no, torture must come before death, for Cortez fain would learn where the gold was hidden that had so suddenly disappeared. To-day, in the City of Mexico, a statue stands in one of the circles of the famous Paseo, which commemorates this great warrior and his torture by the Spanish chieftain. This monument is greatly cherished by the Indians, who hold annual festivals in his honour and decorate it with a profusion of flowers and wreaths.

The great Valley of Mexico is without a natural outlet, and this fact has caused seven inundations of the capital during exceptionally rainy seasons. One of the lakes, Zumpango, is twenty-five feet higher than the city and drains into Texcoco, from which the waters spread over the city. When the first serious inundations came in 1553, 1580 and 1604, the project of removing the city to a higher level was strongly agitated. It was only the loss of millions of dollars of property that prevented this action. Then the idea of draining this valley was definitely adopted and the work was begun in 1607. A tunnel was decided upon and fifteen thousand Indians were set at work sinking shafts and driving the tunnel in both directions. Within a year a tunnel four miles long had been completed. This tunnel eventually caved in, so that very little good was realized from it and efforts were made to convert it into an open cut. But this undertaking was not finished until two centuries later. It is a great trench, however, with an average depth of from one hundred and fifty to two hundred feet, and from three hundred to seven hundred feet in width at the top. It is called the _Tajo de Nochistongo_, or Nochistongo cut, and its only use now is as an entrance for the Mexican Central railway. Even this waterway did not drain the valley, remarkable engineering feat as it was, but a new canal was constructed by American engineers a few years ago which successfully accomplishes the work of draining these shallow lakes and carrying off the sewerage of the city.

The first Aztecs who settled in this valley lived almost entirely in the marshes and lakes, we are told, because of the hostility of their fierce neighbours. They were thus obliged to depend almost wholly upon the products of these watered lands for their sustenance, and they acquired some strange and—we would say—depraved tastes. A reminder of those days is seen in the cakes made of the eggs of a curious marsh-fly, which are sold in the market of the City of Mexico to-day. The flies themselves are pounded into a paste and sold after being boiled, but the eggs are preferred. The Indians collect the eggs in a systematic manner. Bundles of a certain kind of sedge are planted in Lake Texcoco and the insects deposit their eggs thereon in great quantities. These bundles as soon as covered are shaken over pieces of cloth and replaced for another supply. The eggs thus collected are made into a paste and form a favourite article of food, especially during Lent.

It is interesting to learn what different races regard as toothsome dainties. In Southern Mexico I have seen bushels of common grasshoppers sold in the markets as a delicacy, reminding one of the locusts and wild honey used as food in Biblical times. In other parts of Mexico the honey-ant is greatly sought after for food. The natives of Central America are partial to the iguana, a large lizard sometimes reaching a length of three or four feet, and prefer it to beef. After all there is no accounting for tastes. A man who eats snails might criticize another who relishes oysters. And perhaps the man who want his cheese “ripe” should not criticize the poor Indian who has inherited a taste for the eggs of the fly.

There are many places of interest round about the City of Mexico which are easily reached. One should not fail to visit the famous _jardines flotandos_ or “floating gardens” where the beautiful flowers sold in the market are grown. These gardens, called by the Aztecs _chinampas_, are reached by the Viga Canal. The inquirer is told to take a gondola and float down to them. The name gondola excites pleasant anticipations of a delightful trip. Entering a mule-car at the Plaza Mayor the canal is soon reached after traversing a number of narrow streets which would not especially delight the fastidious traveller. The gondoliers take the stranger almost by force and urge him into one of the flea-infested boats that abound at the landing, and which more resemble a collection of mud-scows than any other kind of floating fleet. Instead of using oars these queer gondoliers with the picture hats pole the boat through the muddy waters of La Viga, stirring up odours which cause the passenger to wish that he was not gifted with the sense of smell, or that he could temporarily dispense with breathing. However, there is life in the stream and on the banks that is typically Mexican, for boats are constantly passing up and down. Occasionally a load of Indians will float by playing native airs on guitars and other string instruments, with the light-heartedness and gaiety peculiar to this race. On the bank are scattered many native thatch huts around which idle natives group. Along the road pass men and women going to and from the city with loads on their heads or on their backs. The “floating gardens” are always just beyond. They are first at Santa Anita but, when this place is reached, they are at Mexicalcingo. Arrived there the visitor is sent to Ixtacalco, and then he is forwarded to Xochimilco, and so the real floating gardens are never reached. The fact is that they do not float and perhaps never