CHAPTER XVII
RELIGIOUS FORCES

The Aztecs, who originally believed in one supreme invisible creator, Taotl, adopted the gods of conquered races, like the Romans of old, and became polytheists. The Toltecs, one of the vanquished people, were nature worshippers, and made offerings of fruits and flowers to their deities. After their defeat, the peaceful gods of the Toltecs, who took pleasure in the offerings of the fruits of the soil, soon took a place by the side of the terrible god of war of the Aztecs, Huitzilopoxtli, and shared with him the offerings of human sacrifices. This repulsive deity is portrayed as a hideous idol with broad face, wide mouth and terrible eyes, but was covered with jewels of gold and pearls and girt with golden serpents. At the altars hung censers of incense and braziers filled with the hearts of the victims offered in sacrifice. It is said that this god was ministered to by more than five thousand priests.

When the Spanish conquerors came, the policy of Cortez left the Mexicans no alternative but the adoption of the Christian religion. “Conversion” and “Baptism” became interchangeable terms and the baptized pagan was immediately considered a good Christian even though the conversion only followed the judicious use of the fire and rack. One of the priests boasted that his “ordinary day’s work was from ten to twenty thousand souls.” Within a few years after the conquest baptism had been administered to more than four million Indians. Dreams of avarice swayed the minds of the conquering legions, for it was believed that from the unknown, western world was to come the gold that was to make every man a Crœsus. But first these ungodly people must be converted to Romanism. As the unlettered Indians could not understand the real spirit and meaning of this new religion, visible symbols and pictures were substituted for the former idols. Humboldt, the traveller so often quoted because of his careful research, says: “The introduction of the Romish religion had no other effect upon the Mexicans than to substitute new ceremonies and symbols for the rites of a sanguinary worship. Dogma has not succeeded dogma, but only ceremony to ceremony. I have seen them marked and adorned with tinkling bells, perform savage dances around the altar while a monk of St. Francis elevated the Host.” It soon became a religious duty for the Spaniard returning from Europe to bring paintings and statues of saints to adorn the newly-erected churches, and holy relics of the saints to place therein. In this way these cruel invaders no doubt sought to satisfy their consciences for their outrages upon a mild and unresisting people. It is little wonder that the Indians could not fully appreciate the humanity of the lowly Nazarene when represented by such ferocious invaders.

A few of the Aztec gods blossomed out as Christian saints soon after the Conquest, through the ingenious schemes of the early priests who adopted this method to make the new religion accepted. They brought with them into the Roman Church the particular characteristics and powers which they were credited with as gods. As for example, the goddess of the rains who was much worshipped in the regions of little rain can be recognized in Our Lady of the Mists, or Our Lady of the Rains of the Mexican church. These saints are appealed to for the much-needed rain and are believed to have the same power to bring it which they, as Aztec or Toltec gods, were supposed to have had. In many places there are shrines erected to these saints of the Church who are supposed to have power over the rain. It has been proven that, in most instances, in Aztec times, a temple existed on the same spot dedicated to the goddess of the rains or mists, as the case might be.

These schemes of miraculous appearances upon scenes already sacred made the transition from the native ceremonies to the ritual of the Catholic Church easy to a people who were accustomed to outward show and symbolism. The striking ceremonies of the Catholic Church, as practised in Mexico, and its impressive services in an unknown tongue, seemed in harmony with the rites of the Aztecs, and it was not hard for Cortez to force his religion upon the simple and superstitious mind of the poor, conquered Indian, who was more interested in form than sentiment. The religion of the Roman Church in Mexico is not free from pagan features even to this day. As one writer expresses it “paganism was baptized, Christianity paganized.” Outward display means more than spirituality and piety with the ignorant who constitute a very large proportion of the population.

One can still recognize in the rites of the Catholic Church, as practised to-day in Mexico, a tinge of the Aztec worship. A noted French Catholic prelate, Abbe Domenech, in 1867 wrote of that church as follows: “Mexican faith is a dead faith. The abuse of external ceremonies, the facility of reconciling the devil with God, the absence of internal exercise of piety, have killed the faith in Mexico. The idolatrous character of Mexican Catholicism is a fact well known to all travellers. The worship of saints and madonnas so absorbs the devotion of the people that little time is left to think about God. The Indians go to hear mass with their poultry and vegetables, which they are carrying to market. The gobble of the turkeys, the crowing of the cocks, the mewing of the cats, the chirping of the birds in their nests in the ceiling, and the flea-bites rendered meditation impossible to me, unaccustomed to live in such a menagerie.”

In remote caves of mountain regions it is claimed, and, I believe, truthfully, that the ancient deities are still worshipped. It is no infrequent occurrence to see a bouquet of flowers before the image of the virgin in the churches or wayside shrines. Sometimes even offerings of wheat or fruits are found, the gift of some poor peon in whose mind the conception of the Saviour and his mission on earth is very vague. Several writers assert that they have personally seen Indians on their way to the mountains to sacrifice lambs, chickens and flowers to their gods, thus proving that the grosser forms of paganism have not been stamped out entirely. The priests, of course, do not approve of this, and try in every way to stop these practices, but without success.

The Catholic Church used to be all-powerful in Mexico. It held the wealth and the learning, and the priests preyed upon the people as well as prayed for them. They were taxed to the utmost, and “Pay or pray” was the motto affixed to the cross by the priests. Rich men gave freely of their substance. Poor peons—and they are vastly in the majority—went clothed in rags that the Church might be benefited. The favourite method was by the sale of indulgences. General Thompson, United States Minister to Mexico in 1845, wrote as follows: “As a means of raising money, I would not give the single institution of the Catholic religion (in Mexico) of masses and indulgences for the benefit of the souls of the dead for the power of taxation possessed by any government. I remember that my washerwoman once asked me to lend her two dollars. I asked her what she wanted with it. She told me that there was a particular mass to be said on that day which relieved the souls in purgatory from ten thousand years’ torture and that she wished to secure the benefit for her mother.” It is like the harangue that so aroused Martin Luther: “The very moment the money clicks on the bottom of this chest the soul escapes from purgatory and flies to Heaven! Bring your money, bring money, bring money!”

Shrines and chapels were so numerous that the true believer passed through the streets with head uncovered and hat in hand, for fear that he might pass one unobserved and not remove his head covering as piety demanded. During the latter years of Spanish rule in Mexico, the Church became so enormously rich that it was reported to have in its possession one-third of all the wealth in Mexico. In addition to the power the Church naturally held, this immense wealth gave its leaders great prestige in governmental affairs, for wealth everywhere commands power and respect among those in authority. At one time the clergy held property to the value of about $180,000,000, yielding an annual income of $12,000,000, according to reliable authorities. Some have estimated the wealth at more than $600,000,000.

It had secured control not only of the wealth, but also much of the best agricultural land within the republic, owning eight hundred haciendas and more than twenty-two thousand city lots. All this was tied up and became useless and non-productive. The Church used its great influence to oppose all progress. The opposition finally broke forth, and the immense wealth of convents, shrines and monasteries was poured forth with lavish hand in what the Church considered a holy war against heretical ideas and persons. Reformers set envious eyes upon this property, and numerous attempts were made to dispossess the Church of it. An edict aimed at the power of the Church was issued by Commonfort in 1857, but the Indian reformer and president, Juarez, was the first to actually accomplish the separation of church and state several years later. The establishment of the empire with Maximilian as Emperor was simply a reaction, and an attempt to establish a government in which the interests of the Church would again be paramount. It is not much wonder that the native population yielded so readily to the overthrow of the priestly power. In accomplishing the complete overthrow of church and state, Mexico only did what Italy did a few years later, and what France is endeavouring to do at the present time. Even in Spain, the handwriting on the walls seems to point to the same ultimate result. And yet it is strange to see a nation so rigidly and even unmercifully regulating a church to which ninety-five per cent. of the people belong.

The reactionary movement on the part of the Church under the guise of French intervention failed. The reform anti-clerical movement prevailed once more, even though opposed by the enormous wealth of the Church. The greater portion of the property once owned by the Church has been lost. The country abounds in ruined churches and convents. The law went so far as to prohibit the Church from holding the title to property, and if it wished to own property, it must be in the names of individuals. Priests were forbidden, under penalty of fine and imprisonment, to appear in the streets in their clerical dress. Religious processions outside the walls of the church, or churchyard, were prohibited. Civil ceremonies were made obligatory to render a marriage valid. Sisters of Charity and the Jesuits were sent out of the country, and even the ringing of bells was regulated by law. It has now lost not only its property but its prestige as well.

The property was confiscated, or “denounced,” and sold for beggarly sums in numerous instances. Many hotels are now located in former churches or convents, and schools and barracks innumerable occupy former homes of nuns. Even the famous prison of Belem in the City of Mexico, where more than three thousand offenders (most of them justly no doubt) have been incarcerated at times, was the old convent of that name; and the military prison, Santiago de Tlalteloco, was one of the oldest churches in Mexico, having been founded by the first viceroy. Protestant services are held in a number of places that were former Catholic churches, the buildings having been purchased by these organizations, or the use of them granted by the authorities. The rich silver plate and the altar rails were looted from the sacred edifices, or were sold for small sums by the officers.

For many years Mexico has thus gone along the line of reform. The ambition of the Church has been held in check but not killed. They are regaining some of their former power, and recovering much of their former property, so it is claimed by good authority.[4] The average Mexican is superstitious. He is boastful and bold in times of peace, but craven when the time of trial comes. Consequently, when sick and about to die, he will send for the priest, no matter how he may have fought the Church when in health. The priests, or some of them at least, claiming that the Catholic Church, as the chosen of the Lord, has a lien on all earthly goods, refuse to administer the sacrament without some restitution. If the dying man owns a confiscated church property, he must restore its value before he can get a clear title to a home in Heaven. With the persistence characteristic of the Mexican Catholic priests, they are ferreting out their former property and again accumulating wealth for their beloved Church. Their fees are utterly out of proportion to the earning capacity of the people. Marriage costs $14.00, baptism $2.25 and plain mass $6.00. Many of the poor peons are obliged to forego the services of the Church because of these high charges, for all services must be paid in advance.

They are also openly disregarding the established laws in some of the restrictions imposed. I travelled for two days on the railroad with the Bishop of Tehuantepec who wore his purple robes of office all the time. At nearly every station priests met him, and he was given a continuous ovation. A few months ago, according to a Mexican periodical, a well known priest, in defiance of the law which prohibits public religious processions, authorized such a procession, and blessed at the altar those who arrived with it. In many of the more remote districts the law requiring marriage ceremonies to be made by civil authorities is completely disregarded. The priests tell the people that the religious ceremony is all that is necessary. Although the Church upholds such marriages, in law they are absolutely null and void, and it is a deceit upon the contracting parties. Some priests go so far as to tell their people that the civil marriage is positively impious. And yet nothing is done to punish the above violations of the established laws. The government probably does not consider that these infractions of the strict letter of the law have reached a serious phase.

If the Roman Church of Mexico to-day, with its wealth confiscated, its public voice muzzled, its political powers annulled, has still power so that it can openly violate some of the fundamental laws of the country, we can have some faint idea of its power when it ruled the country with an iron hand. Those who see trouble ahead because of the avariciousness of some of the clergy, are fond of quoting the old Spanish proverb “The devil lurks behind the cross.” Nevertheless, I believe that the clergy in Mexico to-day are superior to those who served prior to the change in status. Many of them are noble men striving to uplift the people and aid the government in its campaign for the enlightenment of the masses. The strife has purified them and they think less of the perquisites than the duties of their office. The well meaning priest no doubt suffers for the sins of his predecessors as well as those of his contemporaries who are blinded by the past glory of the Church. The Church as an institution is probably to some extent the victim of the ignorance and fanatical zeal of its early founders in Mexico. The Church will thrive far more when placed on the same footing as all churches are in the United States, and people and priest accept that condition. As one prominent American priest has recently said in commenting on the struggle in France: “Everywhere that church and state are united, the church is in bondage. Nowhere is the church so free and untrammelled, or so progressive, as in the United States.”

The churches in all the cities are numerous and their capacity far greater than the number of those attending. Puebla, the City of the Angels, so called because of the many miraculous visits of the angels who even, on their first visit, measured off the city and fixed the site of some churches, is called the city of churches as it has the greatest number in proportion to the population of any city in the republic, many of them being erected in honour of the various angelic visitations. The City of Mexico contains the largest and most pretentious church building in the new world—the cathedral. It is also one of the largest church edifices in the world. This grand cathedral begun in 1573 was ready for service about three-quarters of a century later but the towers were not completed until 1791. It is four hundred and twenty-six feet long and almost two hundred feet wide with walls of great thickness, and reaches a height of one hundred and seventy-five feet in the dome. The towers are a little more than two hundred feet high. Then adjoining this building is another church, the Sagrario Metropolitano, which, to all appearances, is a part of the main structure, although of an entirely different and less beautiful style of architecture.

Within these two edifices were concentrated for centuries the pomp and ceremony of the Church of Rome and within their walls much of Mexico’s history was made. It is still the headquarters of the church party while across the plaza is the National Palace, the official home of the government which conquered in the long struggle between the two forces. The estimated cost of the cathedral is $2,000,000, but that represents only a fraction of the actual cost if the labour is figured at a fair rate and the material had all been purchased at market value. There are some paintings by famous artists on the walls and dome. A balustrade surrounds the choir which is made of composite metal of gold, silver and copper and is so valuable that an offer of a speculative American to replace it with one of equal weight in solid silver was refused. Within the walls there are fourteen chapels dedicated to the various saints, and candles are kept constantly burning before the images, and in these chapels are kept many gruesome relics of these same saints. The remains of many of the former viceroys and some of the other noted men in Mexican history lie buried here. This, the greatest church in the western world, is also built on the foundations of the greatest pagan temple of the continent—the imposing Teocalli of the Aztecs. From the top of the towers we can look upon the same valley that Cortez viewed when Montezuma took him by the hand after ascending the great altar, and pointed out the various places of interest. The lakes have receded, the architecture is different, but our admiring eyes see the same majestic hills on every side.

Listening to the bells in the towers of this cathedral, once so powerful, one, who is a “dreamer of dreams,” can almost imagine them lamenting the changed times in the words of the last poem written by the poet Longfellow:

The very first movement on the part of Protestant organizations to evangelize Mexico was made by the American Bible Society when they sent out one of their representative with the American army in 1846. This man distributed several thousand copies of the scriptures between Vera Cruz and the capital which afterwards bore fruit. A few years later a woman, Miss Matilda Rankin, who had been engaged in missionary work in Texas, crossed over the border and held services in Monterey. In 1862 a Baptist missionary, Rev. James Hickey, also began work in Monterey. However, no organized effort was made by Protestant bodies until the years from 1869 to 1880, when missionaries were sent by the following denominations: Protestant Episcopal, Methodist Episcopal, Methodist Episcopal South, Presbyterian, Baptist, Christian and Congregational. Bishop H. C. Riley obtained an old church for the use of the Protestant Episcopal Church and Rev. William Butler purchased a part of the convent of San Francisco, in the heart of the city, for the Methodist Episcopal Church.

Dios y libertad had been the watchword of the reform movement, but it had not been put into practice until the time of President Juarez, who encouraged mission work, and exerted himself to protect the missionaries from fanatics. However frequent attacks upon these workers were made in provincial towns and one foreign missionary, Rev. J. L. Stephens, of the Congregational Church, was slain at Ahualuco in 1874. A number of native converts and preachers have met with serious, and even fatal injuries, but no other Americans have been killed. President Diaz has also encouraged these ministers when they were downhearted. Rev. William Butler quotes an interview which several missionaries had with him in which the President expressed himself as follows: “I have seen this land as none of you ever saw it, in degradation, with everything in the line of toleration and freedom to learn. I have watched its rise and progress to a better condition. We are not yet all we ought to be and hope to be; but we are not what we once were; we have risen as a people, and are now rising faster than ever. My advice is, do not be discouraged. Keep on with your work, avoiding topics of irritation and preaching your gospel in its own spirit.” The president has no warmer supporters than the Protestant missionaries and their little bands of adherents.

Their numbers to-day after thirty years of aggressive work seem small, as the ten Protestant denominations who maintain missions in Mexico only claim about twenty-five thousand members, or about one hundred thousand adherents including those who attend the Sunday-school and other services. The Presbyterians are working in fourteen different states. They have fifty organized churches and two hundred and twenty-two outstations which are served by twenty-one foreign missionaries and one hundred and one native workers. The Methodist Episcopal Church has twenty-nine missionaries in the field and one hundred and twenty-two native workers, and is holding services at more than a hundred different places. The various denominations have divided up the field and are working together in harmony. The Methodists, for instance, are working in Guanajuato, Leon, Pachuca, Puebla, Silao, and Oaxaca. The Presbyterians have centred their efforts in Aguas Calientes, Zacatecas, Saltillo, San Luis Potosi and Jalapa. All denominations have missions in the City of Mexico. The Methodists, Baptists, Presbyterians and Congregationalists have their own publishing houses and issue periodicals and a great deal of printed matter in Spanish. There are in all about two hundred and fifty foreign missionaries in Mexico serving about seven hundred congregations. Many of these workers are medical missionaries who are doing a vast amount of good, and others are teachers who are instructing the youth. The Protestant bodies own property in Mexico valued at nearly two million dollars.

An era of at least tolerance toward Protestants is dawning in this land, and religious liberty is an actual fact. The Young Men’s Christian Association has a strong organization in the capital. A fund has recently been raised to erect a splendid new building for the association. The President and his cabinet have also attended some special memorial services in the Protestant churches. This may seem a small thing, but a quarter of a century ago it would have been incredible. Some of the broad-minded Catholic clergy are even displaying a kindlier feeling toward the Protestant workers. It may not be many years before Catholic clergy and Protestant ministers may unite together in working for a common cause—the betterment of the morals and conditions of the people.

CHAPTER XVIII
PASSING OF THE LAWLESS

A rude wooden cross set up in a pile of stones is one of the striking features of Mexican landscape that is frequently seen. As the train whirls along through a narrow pass, high up on the mountain sides the cross is seen outlined against the sky; or, if you are pursuing your journey by horse or mule, in the remote districts away from the railways, your reverie is suddenly interrupted by coming upon one of these silent sentinels unawares. These crosses are mute reminders of an age that is passing away. Each one marks the spot where a murder has taken place in times past. It is an appeal for the good Catholic to mutter a prayer for the soul of the murdered one, who was thus without preparation thrust into the world beyond. There was a time, and that not more than a generation ago, when the murderous and lawless classes were numerous in Mexico. The Mexican bandit was so much feared, that, even to this day, some hesitate to travel in that country, and many more make walking arsenals of themselves before turning their faces toward our southern neighbour.

If the traditionary history that has come down to us is to be believed, these robber clans can trace their lineage back to the peregrinating merchants of the Aztecs, and Toltecs. The rich merchant of those days travelled over the country visiting the various cities with his wares. For self protection they were obliged to carry with them a large force of armed retainers. This knowledge of their own power led them to violence. If, for any reason, these merchants became angered at a town, or, if the people refused to trade with them, they would attack it, pillage it and carry off the inhabitants to be sold as slaves in other remote places, or hold them for ransom. This course generally proved far more remunerative than the more prosaic occupation of barter and trade. It was indeed a strong town in those days that could afford to refuse to trade with some of the powerful merchants. If one trader was not strong enough himself, he could easily enlist the assistance of another of his class, as the loot and slaves would be sufficient to remunerate both very well for the undertaking.

Later came the freebooters, who, in early Spanish days, had things very much their own way. Although many of these were well known, they would visit the cities armed to the teeth and no one would dare to molest them. It is even claimed, and with good reason, that many officials were in league with these knights of the road, and gave them information, and assisted them in their plans to waylay wealthy inhabitants. So long as the outlaws did not interfere with matters of government, their immunity was practically secure. There is one city in the northern part of Mexico named Catorce, the Spanish numeral for fourteen, because, for a long time, it was the stronghold of fourteen of the boldest, bravest and worst bandits that Mexico ever produced, who terrorized the country round about and could not be captured or subdued.

After independence, came a series of revolutions and uprisings for more than a half century. The bandits then became guerillas, fighting on whichever side offered the greatest advantage. They would loot a church, or rob the hacienda of some wealthy landowner, with equal cheerfulness. The place or person robbed depended upon whether the guerillas were enlisted in the cause of the clericals, or anti-clericals. By reason of the many turmoils and fights that took place, these guerillas became a numerous and powerful class with their rendezvous in the mountains, which, in no part of Mexico, are far distant. Before the advent of the railroads and telegraph it was a difficult matter to cope with these robber bands in Mexico because roads were lacking, and their haunts were almost inaccessible. This was one of the first problems attacked by President Diaz when he came into power, and he did it with the boldness, originality and dash for which he was noted.

This new leader found the army a disorganized band of guerillas led by a few men, not always over-scrupulous, and many parts of the country overrun by bands of outlaws with whom the local authorities were utterly unable to cope. Having some veteran troops after his many campaigns, Diaz sent them after the bandits whenever opportunity afforded. They were hunted and trailed into their mountain fastnesses. The soldiers were instructed never to take captives. A little heap of fresh dirt, or a few stones, marked the place where a living and breathing bandit had once stood. This war of extermination made welcome to many the proposition of Diaz. This was that he would furnish employment to those outlaws who should surrender, and would grant to them protection. The President being known as a man of his word, this proclamation had its effect and large numbers formerly under the ban of law, surrendered.

From this class of men the first companies of rurales were formed. Finding it was more profitable, or at least safer, to be in favour with this aggressive government than under its ban, they willingly entered this service. These men were brave and thoroughly familiar with all the mountain retreats and haunts of the outlaw bands. They hunted down their former confederates until a live bandit was a rare specimen. Travelling once more became secure, and now there are few places in Mexico where it is not perfectly safe for a traveller to journey. The companies of rurales, of which there are many, form one of the most effective forces for preserving order ever devised by any government. Like the famous guardia civil of Spain, the rurales patrol the remote mountain trails and great plains of the central plateaus, and are in reality a body of rural police. Many a lonely traveller has been made glad by the sight of the gray uniform of this band. They are generally kind hearted, and will do everything in their power for a foreigner. Their uniform is the typical riding costume of the country, and differs from the French appearance of the uniforms of the regular army. They are fine horsemen, expert in the use of pistol and carbine, and form one of the most picturesque cavalry bodies in the world.

There is no sickly sentimentality wasted upon law breakers, and the highwayman, or robber, gets little sympathy. Few criminals get a second opportunity to commit their outrages through the pardoning process. The old ley fuga, or law of attempted escape, which was in force under Spanish rule, under which Indians or slaves attempting to flee were shot, was revived. Orders were promulgated to shoot highwaymen on sight, and all other prisoners if escape was attempted. Few attempts to escape are now made by prisoners, for the guards have a reckless way of sending bullets after fleeing prisoners, so that no chains are needed to secure them. The bullets are swift and any one in custody, even though held as a witness, will be followed by the quick, death-dealing messengers, if an attempt to escape is made. Gangs of convicts may be seen in various places working on the streets, or on the roads, under military guard but without shackle. The only report necessary in the event a prisoner is killed is that he attempted to escape. It may be a harsh proceeding, but it saves the state a great deal of money, and conviction is sure. Furthermore, it relieves judge, jury and prison officials of much hard work and annoyance.

A few years ago the Mexican army consisted of a few thousand irregular, nondescript soldiers so common in Spanish-American countries. Such men it was who placed Porfirio Diaz in power in 1876, the same year that we were celebrating the first centennial of our independence. In promoting peace this man of Mexico has not forgotten the arts of war. The army has been improved until it has ceased to be made up of the comic-opera type of the barefooted, half-naked soldier, and is now a well fed, well equipped, and well clothed organization to which Mexicans can point with pride. To the American eye the soldiers appear rather indifferent and insignificant, because of their smaller stature and brown skin, which reveals the fact that the regular soldier is generally drawn from the lower classes of Mexicans.

Although Mexico might be termed a military nation, as military service is made obligatory by the law of the country, yet in times of peace this service is not enforced. It is said that the majority of the enlistments are not even voluntary, but that recruits are drawn from the ranks of those who are persistent law breakers—those guilty of petty criminal offences which we would term misdemeanours. Many of these peon soldiers who before enlistment never knew what it was to have regular meals and wear clean clothes every day, leave the service after a few years much better citizens, and possessing a better education, for schools are maintained in connection with all the barracks where instruction is given in reading, writing and mathematics. The pay is about forty cents per day, in Mexican silver, and is good pay for that country when you take into consideration the fact that the soldier has absolutely no expenses except for such luxuries as he may want.

The standing army of Mexico consists of thirty thousand men and three thousand two hundred officers. Of this number the infantry number twenty-two thousand six hundred, cavalry five thousand five hundred, artillery two thousand, engineers and other branches of the service making up the remainder. This gives a soldier for every five hundred inhabitants, as compared with one for every fifteen hundred inhabitants in the United States. Both infantry and cavalry are equipped with the Spanish Mauser rifles and carbines. The headquarters of the army are in the City of Mexico, and several battalions of infantry and regiments of cavalry are stationed there at all times. The country is divided into a number of districts, at the headquarters of each of which are stationed large bodies of troops. Nearly every town of any size has a commandancia where a few troops are quartered. This general distribution of the military forces has been made with a prudent foresight in order to prevent any local uprising.

In addition to the regular standing army, there are a number of armed forces which would swell the number of available troops in time of war. First and foremost are the Rurales who number about three thousand five hundred by actual count, but double that number in effectiveness. The Fiscal Guards number about one thousand and are in the revenue service. The police of the states and cities are compelled to undergo military drill also, and could be drafted into the army as trained soldiers. These several forces would constitute another army almost equal in number to the regular standing army. Militia organizations have been provided for by law similar to those organizations in our own country, but as yet little has been done. When these plans are perfected, it is designed to have the total war footing number a force of one hundred and fifty thousand drilled and disciplined men.

The President of Mexico is the commander-in-chief of the army and navy. The “West Point of Mexico” is located next to the presidential residence and is called the Chapultepec Military Academy. It was founded in 1824. During the war of 1847 Chapultepec was successfully stormed by the American forces, but heroically defended by the cadets. A monument now stands at the foot of the hill in memory of those cadets who fell in that engagement, and a graceful tribute is paid to the memory of those youthful patriots on each fourth of July, when wreaths are placed on the monument by the American residents of the capital at the same time that they decorate the graves of American soldiers who are buried near the city. This school now ranks high as a military school, and more than one-third of the commissioned officers of the army are graduates of this institution. The graduate leaves this school with the rank of lieutenant. The student must bind himself to serve seven years in the army, if he takes the technical courses, and, if he is discharged, or refuses to serve, must repay to the government $16 for each month he remained in the academy. If war should occur, all retired graduates would be compelled to report for service.

Not a generation ago the capital itself was the home of innumerable thieves. In fact, a goodly percentage of the people were either thieves, robbers or beggars. These were drawn from the mestizo class, and formed a picturesque but filthy group of blackguards. They would make love to any one’s pocket, and argue with one another at the point of a long, sharp knife. Each one carried a knife and revolver. “Unfortunate men, women and children, the legitimate heritage of wrong, oppression and misgovernment, thronged the streets begging in daytime, and committing petty robberies by night. They slept by hundreds in doorways, on benches in public parks, in ruined houses, and in the dirtiest of apartments. A score or more of filthy beings of all ages and both sexes would sleep together in one small room reeking with the miasma that rose from sewers and unclean cobble-stone pavements.”

Vice was the natural outcome of such conditions. All natural feelings of delicacy and shame were deadened. Morality was unknown, and they lived like animals rather than human beings. Marriages were unthought of, and children knew not their parents, for even their mothers deserted them. If not deserted, they were frequently maimed and turned out into the street to beg. Pulque and mescal added its touch to the picture. Disfiguring diseases were added, and the name leperos attached to them. Brantz Mayer, a writer on Mexico, has given the following definition of the lepero. “Blacken a man in the sun, let his hair grow long and tangled and become filled with vermin; let him plod about the streets in all kinds of dirt for years, and never know the use of a brush, or towel, or water, even, except in storms; let him put on a pair of leather breeches at twenty and wear them until forty without change or ablution; and over all place a torn and blackened hat and a tattered blanket begrimed with abominations; let him have wild eyes and shining teeth, features pinched by famine into sharpness, and breast bared and browned; combine all these in your imagination and you have a recipe for a Mexican lepero.”

These leperos were the thieving class. They frequented all parts of the city. Even the churches were not exempt and you were just as likely to be robbed by some apparently devout, kneeling worshipper saying his ave marias in a sacred edifice as on the street. In the less frequented streets many hold-ups took place, and the bodies of those murdered would be found on the pavement in the morning. It was hardly safe to move about the street after night had fallen. The thieves’ market was well known and did a thriving business. Here were the pawn-brokers who did a profitable business acting as “fences” for the thieves. Many instances are told by foreigners who were robbed, and, in a few hours, found their property exposed for sale in this market. They were obliged to pay considerable sums to recover their own property.

All these types are now disappearing, and even the beggars are less numerous. The former lawless leperos are now seen in the poor venders of lottery tickets who crowd every public place. Begging is forbidden in most parts of the city. Vice has not disappeared, it is true, nor has it in American cities. The poor peon still gets intoxicated and is dirty, but he is more law-abiding than formerly. Conditions, which are the result of neglect and misrule of centuries, can only be overcome entirely by education, immigration and the infusion of saner ideas, and this is a gradual process. A whole city, or a whole country, can not be plowed up and re-sown in a season, as the corn fields of last year were transformed into the waving fields of golden grain this year. A generation is even too short a time. The change actually wrought has been almost a miracle. Work can now be had by all who are willing to work, and the government is making strenuous efforts to get rid of the idle classes. It is a long and hard task, but another decade under present conditions will work wonders.

An excellent police system is found in the capital and all the other cities. A policeman is not hard to find. One is stationed at nearly every street intersection. During the day he stands like a statue, occasionally leaning against a door post. At night the policeman brings a lantern and a blanket, and sets the lantern in the centre of the crossing, while he stands beside it or not far away. The joker says the lantern is intended to aid the thief in avoiding the officer of the law. Sometimes after the people quit passing, he may lean up against a building and fall asleep, but you can locate his vicinity by the lantern. As the windows are all heavily barred, and the doors are heavy oaken affairs that it would take a stick of dynamite to move, and as fires are infrequent, his lot is not a very hard one. The police are very numerous, however, because the government wants to keep informed in order that a revolutionary movement may not gain any headway. One seldom hears of knock-downs now, and pocket picking is about the only kind of robbery.

These guardians of the peace are generally called serenos. This name clings to them from the old Spanish watchman whose duty it was to call out the time of the night and state of the weather. As this was usually clear, the watchman would say “tiempo sereno” meaning “weather clear.” From the frequent repetition of this term the watchmen were dubbed serenos. The Mexican sereno is generally a faithful and reliable official and is obliging to a stranger. They have made the streets in the City of Mexico as safe as in Paris. The senses of sight and smell may be offended more often, but purse and life are just as secure.

CHAPTER XIX
THE STORY OF THE REPUBLIC

There is a strange fascination about the history of Mexico, and no one can thoroughly understand the country or the people without a little insight into those stirring events that preceded the establishment of the present republic. With the increasing friendly regard and the growing commercial intercourse between the two countries, a few pages devoted to this subject will not be amiss; and the prospective traveller, as well as the one who has already travelled in that country, will find an additional interest in Mexico and the Mexicans.

However we may feel inclined to criticize Cortez, the fact remains that he thoroughly subjugated the country, and presented to Spain the fairest jewel of her domain. Having been made the first governor of New Spain, he was too busy with fresh conquests and the task of keeping order to make a successful ruler. In order to reform the various abuses that had grown up, and represent in every way possible the person of the king, King Charles V sent the first viceroy in the autumn of 1535. This first of a long line of viceroys, reaching down to the year 1821, was named Antonio de Mendoza, himself of noble descent, a man of ability, and one who had at heart the best interests of the colonists and the welfare of the Indians. The latter had been subjected to many humiliations and hardships all of which were removed by him, and they were encouraged in the cultivation of the lands.

The colonists themselves were a source of great trouble for they were mostly adventurers and were not, like the early American colonists, men who were seeking religious liberty. The arm of the church was stretched just as strongly in new Spain as in the land of their birth, and to the religious orders was due in great measure the firm foundation upon which the Spanish government was established. During the rule of this man and his successor, Velasco, the country prospered, agriculture was stimulated and a number of industries suitable to the climate of the country encouraged.

At the close of the sixteenth century, Spain underwent great changes. The line of able rulers had passed away, and the government fell into the hands of profligates who were favourites of the reigning sovereign. The line of viceroys continued in rotation, and most of them were fair men who probably governed the best they knew how, but their knowledge on that subject was not very great. They were poor rulers when compared with the first two above mentioned. The church retained its firm grasp. As one writer has put it, during the first century of Spanish rule the church was a blessing to the country, during the second an indifferent quantity and during the third an actual menace. The inquisition—that terrible institution—had been established in Mexico as early as 1570. The first auto-da-fé was celebrated in 1574, when “there perished twenty-one pestilent Lutherans.” Indians were exempt from this institution and it was only aimed at heretics of other nations. Large numbers were burned in the capital and other cities. In Puebla, the old house of the inquisition was remodelled within the last half-century, and a number of walled-up cells opened in which skeletons were found—no doubt remains of victims who had been buried alive. The inquisition was not formally abolished until the beginning of the last century, just prior to the beginning of the movement for independence. Even this concession, and the promise of correcting other abuses, did not stop the growing discontent, for generations had grown up who had few ties linking them to the mother country; who had intermarried with native races; and who would be satisfied with nothing but complete severance of their relations.

The beginning of the nineteenth century opened with a feeling of unrest in all European nations and their colonies. When Napoleon overturned monarchies, the idea of the divine right of kings received a shock. Among the countries thus affected was Spain, which had dropped down from the high pedestal it had formerly occupied. The eyes of the people of Mexico were opened by the events in Europe, and also by the successful revolution of the American colonies. All the offices of profit in Mexico were held by Spaniards, and the policy of the mother country toward her dependents was well expressed by one of the viceroys as follows: “Let the people of these dominions learn once for all that they were born to be silent and to obey, and not to discuss nor to have opinions in political affairs.” The spirit of revolution and liberty was in the air and restraint became more and more galling. The events leading to the independence of Mexico, and the stirring times subsequent thereto, can best be treated by a glance at the men who were in the limelight during the various periods.

When Miguel Hidalgo, curate of the little village of Dolores, sounded the “grito” of independence by ringing the bell of the parish church early on the morning of the 16th of September, 1810, a struggle for independence was started that lasted for eleven years, and during which much of the soil of Mexico was crimsoned with the blood of those slain in battle or executed by the authorities as traitors. At the outset no people were less prepared for such a contest. They knew nothing of military tactics; their weapons were primitive and their leaders were without military training. No more righteous cause ever existed for rebellion against tyranny and usurpation. The first two leaders were consecrated representatives of the church that had assisted a despotic government in bringing about such an unfortunate state of affairs. These two martyrs who were excommunicated by the church, and executed by the government as traitors, are now honoured with resting places in sacred ground by a grateful nation.

The first revolt was headed by a picture of the patron saint of the country, and shouts of “Viva Nuestra Señora de Guadalupe” and “Viva la Independencia” were intermingled. Hidalgo and his compatriots were compelled to begin their movement before thoroughly prepared, because their plans had been discovered and betrayed to the government. On the morning of the memorable day above mentioned, Hidalgo addressed the people from the pulpit of the church where he had so often celebrated mass, and, leading his followers forth, released the prisoners in the town, and captured the principal Spaniards. Soon afterwards this priest-warrior patriot, who had been named Captain-General, followed by a few hundred of human beings (they can not be called soldiers), marched forth to conquer Mexico and give “death to the Spaniards.”

It was a motley crowd armed with stones, lances, machetes, arrows, clubs and swords, whose numbers and enthusiasm were ever increasing as they marched across the country without meeting resistance. San Miguel and Celaya, Irapuato and Querétero, yielded, and the army which by this time numbered tens of thousands marched towards Guanajuato. The governor of that province assembled the terror-stricken populace in the now famous Alhondiga de Granaditas, built for storing grain but now a prison, as noted in that city as the Bastille of Paris. Upon a refusal to surrender, Hidalgo and his followers attacked this fortress with fanatical zeal, and captured it by the mere force of numbers. This supplied him with plenty of food and a million dollars in money which furnished the sinews of war.

Terror struck the hearts of the Spaniards and every town yielded to this new leader, who now bore the title of Generalissimo, as the army approached the City of Mexico. One terrible battle occurred at Monte las Cruces and both forces withdrew. Hidalgo—and this was probably his greatest error—retreated, and his fortune immediately turned. The volatile nature of the people asserted itself and his followers deserted by the thousands. He started for the United States, but was betrayed and captured, and was executed at Chihuahua on July 31st, 1811. For ten years his head was suspended by a spike from one of the corners of the Alhondiga de Granaditas, once occupied by him as conqueror, as a warning to revolutionists, but was afterward buried with great ceremony in the cathedral at the capital.

It was around a disciple of Hidalgo that the forces of discontent and patriotism rallied upon the death of their first leader, and that man was also a priest, Jose Maria Morelas. Of low birth and poor, this man drove mules until thirty years of age before an opportunity presented itself for education to fit himself for the priesthood, which was his ambition. In that time he had acquired the qualities of patience and cool calculation from the animals he drove. A student under Hidalgo, he had imbibed a love for independence, and leaving his church upon the sounding of the “grito,” offered his services to the Generalissimo. He was an abler leader than Hidalgo and showed great military skill, winning a series of victories clear across the country from Acapulco, on the Pacific Coast, to Cuautla not far from Vera Cruz. At Cuautla he was besieged for over two months, and then successfully withdrew with all his forces by night. Returning to Acapulco he summoned the first Mexican Congress, which met at Chilpantzingo, a small town near that city. This congress met on the 14th of September, 1813, and on the following day issued its famous declaration of independence, as follows:—“The Congress of Anahuac, lawfully installed in the city of Chilpantzingo, of North America, solemnly declares, in the presence of God, arbitrator of kingdoms and author of society, who gives and takes away according to the inscrutable designs of his providence, that, through the present circumstances of Europe, it has recovered the exercise of its sovereignty, hitherto usurped, its dependence upon the throne of Spain being thus forever disrupted and dissolved.”[5]

This congress provided a form of government with a military executive called Generalissimo, and Morelas was elected to this position for life, or “so long as he was worthy.” Shortly after this his forces were defeated at Valladolid, now called Morelia, and his power began to wane, though resistance was kept up for some time afterwards with varying success. Spanish troops had arrived, and stronger leaders were in charge of the government forces and the cause of independence looked dark. The plans of Morelas were betrayed to the enemy and he was captured. The ecclesiastical tribunes covered him with ignominy. He was then sentenced to death by the military authorities, and shot in the little village of San Cristobal Ecatepec, near the capital, on December 22d, 1815, dying the death of a hero. This muleteer-priest-warrior was an able leader, an honest man and a patriotic citizen. He seemed devoid of personal ambition, although accepting title for the sake of the cause he fought for. He was possessed of restless energy and great piety, for he always made confession before entering battle. To-day, he is second only to Hidalgo in the affections of the people, and worthily fills that position. Over the door of the house once owned by him in Morelia appears the following inscription:—

“Morelas the illustrious
Immortal Hero.
In this house honoured by thy presence
Salute you the grateful people of Morelia.”

The revolution was seemingly crushed at the death of Morelas but a few patriots retired to the mountains, and there kept alive for better days the sacred fire of liberty. Guerrero was one of those heroes who showed an unwearying activity, and kept up a constant warfare upon the government forces. The next prominent name in succession among those leaders of the movement for freedom was Agustin de Iturbide, a former active and able officer of the royalist forces, and to whom more than anyone else was due the failure of Morelas. Deserting the cause of Spain, because he thought injustice had been done him, General Iturbide issued the “Plan of Iguala” on the 20th of February, 1820, composed of three articles: preservation of the Roman Catholic church; independence of Mexico under a monarchical form of government with a prince of the royal house of Spain as ruler; union and equality of Spaniards and Mexicans. From this proclamation his army became known as the army of the three guarantees. His act was full of duplicity, for he had obtained the largest force possible from the Viceroy Apodaca in order to turn them over to the new scheme.

Before the viceroy could recover from his surprise, Iturbide, who had been joined by most of the insurgent leaders, had started on his victorious campaign. Valladolid, Querétero and Puebla succumbed. The viceroy tried by suppressing liberty, and enforcing enlistments in the royal army, to stem the tide but in vain, and he was deposed. O’Donoju, the sixty-fourth and last viceroy, arrived about this time at Vera Cruz, but was intercepted by Iturbide and entered into the treaty of Cordoba in which the independence of Mexico was recognized with a sovereign to be selected from the royal house of Spain, and a provisional Junta formed. Iturbide was selected as president of this Junta, and made a triumphal entry into the City of Mexico on the 27th of September, 1821. This ended three hundred years of Spanish rule in Mexico. Iturbide had accomplished in a little more than a year, and with little bloodshed, what ten years of strife had failed to do. He can not be classed with Hidalgo and Morelas as a pure patriot, but he has been officially designated as the “Liberator of Mexico.”

The rejection of the treaty of Cordoba by the Cortes of Spain gave new impetus to the smouldering ambitions of Iturbide. The second Mexican Congress having been called, Iturbide at a packed session was declared Emperor by a majority of four to one of those voting, but not a constitutional majority, and he took the office as Agustin I. When he was crowned and anointed in the cathedral with much form and solemnity, on the 21st of July, 1822, the ambition of this self-made emperor had reached its full. The saying that uneasy lies the head that wears a crown never had better application than in this instance. Other leaders in the cause of liberty felt that they had been slighted, and every discontented person made common cause against the Emperor. A republic was proclaimed at Vera Cruz in December of the same year by Santa Anna, who was commander of a regiment stationed there, and he issued a pronunciamento. This plan failed, but it encouraged Bravo, Guerrero and other revolutionary leaders, and rebellion sprung up in a number of places. Iturbide had dissolved congress and this increased the dissatisfaction. A more formidable revolt arose, and on March 19th, 1823, Iturbide abdicated without attempting to retain his position by force of arms.

A few weeks later the ex-Emperor left Mexico and sailed for Italy, having been granted an annual sum of $25,000 for his services. He soon went to England and wrote the government from there that the republic was in danger, and he would come back to help fight the battles of his country. He did not know that his death had been decreed by congress, and so he set sail upon his last voyage. When he arrived at Vera Cruz he was captured, and after some delay was executed at Padilla on the 19th of July, 1824, as a traitor, in his forty-first year. His body was buried in a roofless old church and lay there until 1838, when it was removed to the Cathedral.

Opinion is very much divided as to the rank that should be accorded Iturbide. He was able, brave, honest so far as is known, and probably fell a victim to his ambition like many a man before him. The relative regard in which he is held is shown in the fact that the town which gave both him and his former vanquished foe, Morelas, birth, is now called Morelia, and a state is also named Morelas. In contrast to this there is neither city nor state named after Iturbide, and the famous Iturbide Hotel in the capital city, once his residence, is the only institution perpetuating his name so far as I could learn. The only things accomplished by him during his brief reign were the settlement of the titles by which he and his family should be addressed, the succession to the throne, order of precedence among the dignitaries, allowances of himself and family, and the creation of the Order of Guadalupe to bestow honours upon his followers.

At last a so-called republic was established, and Guadalupe Victoria was inaugurated as the first president on the 10th day of October, 1824, and served until 1828. When the fort of San Juan de Ulua at Vera Cruz lowered its flag, in 1825, the last vestige of Spanish power was gone, and the red and yellow striped banner of the Iberian peninsula was not to be seen on Mexican soil. And Mexico, as then constituted, was a big country, containing almost twice as much territory as to-day. From the end of the administration of President Victoria until after the death of Maximilian, there was not a year of peace in Mexico. Revolutions, pronunciamentos, “plans” and restorations followed each other in quick succession. Generals, presidents and dictators sprang up like mushrooms, and their position was as evanescent. The congress unwisely decreed the expulsion of the Spaniards, and their departure took much of the wealth of the country. Revolutions were an every-day affair. A man in position of authority did not know when his time to be shot might come. A sudden turn of fortune might send him either to the national palace, or before a squad of men with guns aimed at his heart.

A good illustration of this uncertainty of affairs is seen in the treatment and fate of the grim old patriot Guerrero. Born of very low Indian parents he had climbed to the front and borne many of the burdens of the struggle with Spain. He cheerfully yielded his command to the renegade Iturbide, and fought valiantly under that leader for liberty. By a turn of fortune he became the third president in 1829. A few months later he was compelled to flee, but was soon afterwards betrayed and captured at Acapulco. At a farcical trial he was condemned to death as “morally incapable” to act as president, and shot on the 15th of February, 1831, at Cuilapa. Soon afterwards he was declared a martyr and his body removed to the capital with honours. Two monuments to this martyr now adorn that city, and a state has been named after him. Under his short rule slavery was abolished by statute.

Elections eventually became a farce. The unfortunate habit was acquired of appealing to arms instead of submitting to the result of the ballot. The trouble was that the people had copied the letter, and not the spirit of the American constitution. Liberty was interpreted as license, after their exaggerated ideas of the former. The scheming politicians would hesitate at nothing—revolution or civil war—to attain private ends or personal aggrandizement. A general indolence of character, and the hindrances to the acquirement of property among the masses, made the people more willing to yield to disturbing and designing politicians. They are impetuous by nature, impatient of restraint and easily fired up. The rapid changes in government can be seen when you read that there were five different presidents in each of the years 1846 and 1847, and four in 1855—not an evidence of tranquillity at least. The two leading parties constantly at war were the “progresistas” and “retrogrados.”

During this period a few prominent names are constantly recurring, and by far the most prominent one is that of the notorious Santa Anna, who, for more than fifty years, occupied a prominent, but not always honourable, place in Mexican affairs. Earlier in life his restless energy was expended in a fairly commendable way, and he fought some battles in defense of the rights of the people. During the war of intervention with France in 1838 he lost his leg in the defense of Vera Cruz. Ever afterwards, when in trouble, he would flourish his severed limb and remind the people how he had been mutilated in the defense of his country, with the effect of restoring himself in public favour. As he grew older his naturally quarrelsome disposition increased, his vanity knew no bounds, and when at the height of his glory, he declared himself dictator and ordered all people to address him as “most serene highness.” Never honest except as a matter of policy, his cupidity became more pronounced, until, near the close of the war with the United States, he offered to appoint commissioners and confirm a treaty of peace for the sum of one million dollars. First elected president in 1833, he was again either chosen to, or assumed the office, in 1839, 1846, 1847, 1853 and 1855, but did not serve long at any time. On one occasion his amputated leg was buried with great ceremony, but afterwards fickle sentiment changed, and the martyr part of this hero was brought forth by the rabble, dragged through the streets of the capital, and insulting epithets heaped upon the former idol.

Santa Anna led the forces against the Texas insurrectionists, and was the man responsible for the Alamo slaughter, when one hundred and forty brave Texans were trapped and slain. Visitors to that place are still shown the stains made by the blood of that brave frontiersman, Davy Crockett, and the cry of “Remember the Alamo” still has potency. This insurrection was soon followed by the war between Mexico and the United States.

Franklin says, there never was a good war nor a bad peace. The United States can not be justified in warring upon Mexico, though the results have perhaps been for the best with both nations. Bancroft does not mince words in his treatment of the subject for he says: “It (the Mexican War) was a premeditated and predetermined affair; it was the result of a deliberately calculated scheme of robbery on the part of the superior force.” The result was a foregone conclusion, for Mexico, torn by internal dissensions, impoverished by the expense of revolutions and official robbery, and with a government changing with every change of the seasons, had neither armies, money nor supplies for such a conflict. The people were used to the smell of powder but were not trained soldiers, and the “generals” were simply a few of the twelve thousand recipients of military commissions that had been distributed by various presidents in the preceding three years. “Plans” promulgated by one party were bombarded with “pronunciamentos” from another. This was the condition of affairs when General Taylor assumed the offensive and fought the battle of Palo Alto.

Mexico might have sued for peace at this time, but no government was in power long enough to negotiate a treaty. A special envoy sent from Washington at the request of one president was refused an audience by a new one, who had usurped the office before his arrival. Generals Taylor and Fremont subdued Northern Mexico, and General Scott later began his memorable march toward the ancient Aztec capital, from Vera Cruz, like Cortez of old. Santa Anna, who had been “recuperating” from public unpopularity at Havana, returned and state after state immediately “pronounced” in his favour. He issued a manifesto assuming the executive control and took the field against the invaders. He first tried to secure $15,000,000 from the Church, but although the priests hated the “northern heretics” they were loth to give up the coin, and little was secured. Vera Cruz fell after two weeks’ bombardment, and Puebla yielded to the Americans. Patriotism was finally aroused to save the City of Mexico, but the victories of Chapultepec, Chorubusco and Molino del Rey were followed by the triumphal entry of General Scott into the capital. The treaty of Guadalupe-Hidalgo ceded to the United States more than six hundred thousand square miles of the Mexican domain, including some of the richest mineral lands of the republic. Disgraced and humiliated as Mexico had been, it was, I believe, the beginning of better things for that country.

Santa Anna went into voluntary exile to Jamaica. The first president after the war, Herrera, actually served the appointed time of his office, but disorder soon began under his successor. “Pronouncing” became popular again, and Santa Anna returned. He was made dictator for a short time by his favourites. This was the last office held by this selfish politician. He exiled himself to St. Thomas again, and afterwards in Elizabethport, New Jersey. During the second empire he tried to curry favour with both sides, but neither would listen to him. Discouraged and disheartened he lived abroad, until, burdened by the weight of eighty years, he sought and obtained permission to return to the capital, and died on the 20th of June, 1876. Thus passed a man who had lived in stirring times, was most intensely hated, had been president six times, military dictator four times, had upset fifteen governments, had been marked for the assassin’s bullet many times; and yet he lived to a ripe old age and died a natural death. However, all his glory had faded, and, blind, lame and infirm, he spent his last days in extreme poverty.

Here is a picture of this man drawn by Rev. William Butler,[6] who visited him about a year before his death: “Santa Anna was living in an obscure street, neglected and forgotten by all parties. On entering the apartment we found the old man sitting on a sofa, behind which hung a picture of his wife ‘her serene highness, Dolores Tosta de Santa Anna’ arrayed as a vice-queen. The magnificence of the painting contrasted sadly with the poverty-stricken aspect of the room and furniture. To him, however, this could make but little difference, as we soon saw that he was totally blind as well as feeble and broken in spirit, with a tendency to mental weakness.” He was buried in the cemetery at Guadalupe without honours or recognition by the government, and his remains still rest there. As I gazed upon his tomb I could not help thinking what a contrast between his career and that of the patriots Hidalgo, Morelas, and Juarez.

The early constitution had declared that the Roman Catholic religion should perpetually be the religion of Mexico. Nevertheless a struggle had been growing up between the clericals and liberals for many years with increasing intensity. It finally centred in a struggle over the sequestration of the church property, and became wider and wider until the whole country was involved and divided into two great parties. The liberals were probably just as good Christians as the others but thought the Church had too much wealth.