# Pictures of life in Mexico/Volume 1/Chapter 2

Contents
CHAPTER II.
A MESON; OR BOARDING HOTEL.
Entering the city of Mexico by the Puerto de San Lazaro (gate of St. Lazarus), with my moso, I was startled by cries of "Stop Señor—the lasso—take care! Madre di Dios! he is upon you." "The lasso! To the left—Holy Virgin—stay!"
I had just time to wheel round the pony I was leadings when swift footsteps approached from behind, a sound as of rustling whipcord rushed past my ear, something appeared to hover for an instant over my right hand, and a wild and crouching figure on horseback ​thundered by me, with the curse of disappointed villany upon his lips.
"There is another on our track!" exclaimed my attendant. "The plundering rascals! But no—blessed Mother!—now he turns away, discouraged by the ill success of his companion."
We had, indeed, narrowly escaped being corded like a couple of packages, thrown down, and robbed on the highway; for this second ruffian had doubtless intended to secure my fellow-traveller, had his comrade succeeded in rifling my person and saddle-bags.
This system of lassoing in the public streets of the capital is still pursued; although the authorities pretend to prohibit riding on horseback at night, that the practice may be suppressed, and endeavour to persuade people that mounted videttes are posted at the corners of the streets for the same purpose. The crime and negligence continually lying at their doors are woful: yet they have the assurance to give out that every precaution is taken to prevent the depredations of both ladrones and léperos. But the governors of Mexico are ridden by the priests: it is not to be expected that either watchmen or officers will do their ​duty unless they are regularly paid; nor that the authorities can pay them, when they are themselves so frequently in hot water; indeed, they cannot be in any other position, while almost all the wealth in the country is locked up either in the cathedrals, or the strong-boxes of the priests.
Our adventure was in perfect accordance with the miserable locality through which we now proceeded, and with the groups of wretched objects we ever and anon passed by. The streets were filthy and ill-conditioned in the extreme: even in the uncertain light of evening, I could perceive that the water in the kennels along the middle of the roads was putrid. The bye-courts were pent up and unhealthy; and the houses in some places were almost gorged by the heaps of rubbish before them.
The people were mere walking bundles of dirty rags—with oblique eyes, distorted limbs, bound-up heads, and offensive sores. They appeared to be of mixed descent, and of different shades of colour; but all looked sickly or ill-formed, and had a malignant or passionate look and reckless air. This is the worst quarter of the town and well, for several ​Reasons, does it deserve its title of the suburb of St. Lazarus.
Presently we passed something lying on the ground in the shadow of a court-yard, with a large-sized sombrero slouched upon its face. It seemed awfully motionless as I stooped down to gaze upon it; the limbs were rigid, the hands clenched, and blood was flowing on the earth beside it,—yet it attracted little or no attention from the residents and passers-by. It was the body of a murdered man who had just perished in a gaming quarrel; and it would be removed, most likely in company with one or two victims from other quarters, to the Morgue, before morning.
The streets gradually improved in appearance as we advanced; and as our jaded limbs, as well as the faltering steps of our animals, attested our need of rest, I looked wistfully round for some friendly and cleanly Meson, or boarding-inn, where we could take up our abode for the night: not without a melancholy foreboding, however, recollecting the detestable accommodations I had shared at innumerable places on my journey.
"But the 'Hotel of the Blood of Christ!'" thought I, interpreting a pompous and ​characteristically Mexican title overhead: "surely this must possess appliances and means of comfort better than ordinary: it would be sacrilege, indeed, to bestow such a name upon the accustomed filthy huts of mud and adobé. "Ease the ponies," I exclaimed; "call the host, and inquire what entertainment he can muster on so short a notice."
The door of the court-yard for some time only echoed to our knocks and vociferations for "Don Concho"; till at length a withered hand bearing a light, with a shrivelled fore head, sunken eyes, and nose and chin to match, emerged from an upper window: and the voice belonging to the nose and chin was heard to mutter its belief that "we must be either ladrones or sneaking zopilotes," and that we had, most likely, a design upon him.
As there are not many inns for travellers in Mexico (I do not include gaming-houses in the number, for their name is Legion), the landlord is well aware that a stranger cannot be very fastidious in his selection. Presuming upon this, he is generally a petty tyrant, and treats a casual guest exactly as he would a dependant on his bounty; indeed, such he considers him for the time being. "Don Concho" ​was one of the most irritable of his class: only give him an idea that you do not consider the city of Mexico the wonder of the world, and his the best establishment of the kind in it,—or that you do not think he conducts it in the most perfect manner,—and out you must budge, bag and baggage; with the most abusive epithets imaginable ringing in your ears.
Mollified by our entreaties, the door at last turned upon its hinges; and our eyes were refreshed by the sight of an avenue of sheds and rooms, beginning at the entrance, and embracing in its course a feeble attempt at a blacksmith's shop. The fond, or eating-house of the meson, was at the extreme end of the range; sheeps' fodder lay littering in every corner; a dilapidated old coach, with two turkeys dozing beneath it, blocked up the centre; and a number of raw hides hung drying on the walls around. I courteously preferred a request for rooms and refreshments; speculating in my own mind the while, as to where they—especially the rooms—could be found.
"No hai! no hai; Nada; no hai!" "We have nothing, nothing! We have no rooms; no refreshments: we cannot accommodate ​you!" Such were at first the only replies. Neither surprised nor despairing, however, I had recourse to an infallible remedy in the shape of a peso (dollar), with which I offered to satisfy mine host for his trouble. The sight of the coin elicited an avaricious twinkle from the faded eyes of Don Concho; and after a moment's pondering, and such a minute questioning as reminded me of the custom-house, he bade my moso take the ponies to an out-building, and prepared to submit his only spare apartment, as he said, to my scrutiny.
Numbers seven, eight, nine, and ten,—number one began, I supposed, at the sheds outside. Two rooms belonged to a holy "padre," who only occupied them occasionally; another was hired by a very respectable old gentleman, known as the "alcalde;" a third led to the entresol, or portion occupied by the domestics; and a fourth was the entrance to his own.
At length we stopped before the door which opened upon his "spare room;" which, unlike the others, was upon the ground-floor, and almost adjoining an entrance to the court-yard. Such a room! Yet, for a similar tenement, a traveller in Mexico has often to be ​grateful: and "it's nothings when you are used to it."
The apartment was low and confined, being not quite seven feet high, by about eleven square; and the wonder was, how it had been made to contain such an immense variety of miscellaneous articles. The floor was of earthy with here and there a patch of mud; and the first thing-that attracted my attention was a full grown mule lying on a heap of straw at one end; with his leg's stretched out in a very comfortable position. In one corner stood a decayed maguey plant (aloe) of large size; while broken pots, bones, charcoal, sticks, and hoofs, lay scattered about in confusion. On one side was a miserable sleeping-cot with a rope bottom; and on the other a rough table, with a pan of exceedingly dusty frijoles (beans) in the middle.
The walls were almost covered with vermin, and hung with tawdry ornaments: the central picture—a commanding one in point of size—had evidently been perpetrated with an intent to represent the Virgin, or Holy Mother of Guadaloupe, the patron saint of Mexico; and this figure, in common with some half-dozen other saints, all in Mexican costume, ​was surrounded by a halo of faded gilded rays.
In a niche stood a clumsy cross, with stony drops of blood issuing-from the limbs of the figure upon it, while a variety of articles of a different character were suspended around; among them a saddle and a halter, some sheepskins and a cuchillo (a weapon resembling-a knife), a pair of enormous silver spurs, with heavy Mexican stirrups belonging to them, a ragged reboso (or scarf for the head), an old pistol, a lasso, a broken powder-flask, and several not very devotional-looking-string's of beads.
​The floor was black, the ceiling was black, and the walls were black; so were the fleas, the skins, and the arms; the dead aloe, the crucifix, and the pan of beans, were blackening; the cot with the sacking bottom, the saddle, and the pictures were dark with dirt; and the tarnished glory round the heads of the saints loomed out in a greenish half-light from the surrounding obscurity. In short, a coating of dirt encrusted everything.
Such was the room in which I did not sleep; though the landlord was greatly surprised that any objection could be started against such quarters,—and it was not without a very stormy debate that he could be prevailed upon to grant me any other.
Beggary is a profession—by far the most universal one in the city of Mexico. I had before seen it in great force in other districts, and had heard much of its prevalence in the capital; but I certainly was not prepared for such a tumultuous exhibition of mendicity as I beheld next morning from the window of my apartment. A good-natured and remarkably shy-looking old gentleman, with a short white beard and a much lighter complexion than ordinary, was attempting to cross the court​yard; and, much to his discomfiture, was besieged by a swarm of léperos of both sexes, of all ages, and of various hues; each endeavouring to excite his compassion by the loudest outcries, and the most touching-adjurations.
Such an awful din of confused noises I never heard before. A volley of bitter curses burst from the impatient crowd behind; while a chorus of blessings was vociferated by those in front, who had been relieved. Sufferers, real and counterfeit, blind, halt, and maimed, joined in calling upon all the saints to aid their petitions; and the most holy names and the most holy things, were bandied about on their filthy tongues. The landlord seeing it necessary to salty forth to the rescue, his guest was dragged in doors, and some of the most obstreperous vagrants were hustled out of the yard—only, however, to increase in a tenfold degree the dire confusion that prevailed before.
The public room of the meson was an apartment on the ground-floor of considerable size, with a profusion of wooden beams about it; very sparely furnished with comforts, though profusely embellished with bad prints, images, and papers reminding one of the indulgences sometimes to be seen advertised on ​the church doors in Catholic cities. In the wooden-work, about the walls, on the doors of the cupboards, and in the divisions of the floor, there seemed to be a grotesque attempt at trellis work; and even the legs of the table and the dust under foot, to my fancy, evinced a predilection for the same appearance.
This room was often thronged with persons who came to witness the dancing exhibitions of Indian girls; and these performances, with the quarrels constantly arising from gaming, seemed to be the principal sources of interest and amusement. The manners and appearance of these dancing girls were often coarse and obtrusive, their movements so boisterous, and their attitudes so disgusting, that the less said about them the better.
Indians and Mestizoes were the most frequent visitors. The former would, perhaps, bring in a hot tortilla cake and a plate of frijoles from the fonda, and call for a cup of pulque,—the fermented juice of the maguey plant, almost universally drunk in Mexico; sometimes a Mestizo, or half-caste, would drink with him, and they would play at dice or cards together, very sociably, for a quarter of an hour or so; by which time, most likely, they ​would be at daggers' points. Occasionally, too, a customer of a better class would present himself, boasting of a purer flow of Spanish blood in his veins, and wearing an embroidered jacket and red sash, who would play at monte, and solemnly smoke his cigarillo, imbibing strong-spirit, also distilled from the juice of the maguey—called aguardiente.
The fonda, or eating-room and kitchen in one, at the end of the court-yard, was resorted to for meals, both by boarders and casual visitors; and its appearance was almost enough of itself to allay the appetite of a stranger. Fancy a hot, steaming room fitted up with charcoal furnaces, some in use and some in disuse, but all equally sooty; over which, either on griddles or in pans, the cooking was accomplished. Sometimes a mess of stewed mutton would be "on," at others, a thrice cooked turkey; pans of beans were in universal request; and occasionally the tortilla cakes would be devoured with only a "helping" of the odious chilé, or red pepper boiled in lard, to accompany them.
Pepper was, indeed, by far the most predominant ingredient of every dish, excepting the equally abominable mixtures of garlic, onions, ​and grease: whether it were mutton or turkey, beans or lard, soup, lettuce, or atole (a thin drink made from Indian meal), nothing could be done without pepper. It was almost impossible to partake of the mildest and most innocent compound without a strong reminiscence of pepper: green pepper was served up as a salad; red pepper in everything; pepper everywhere—and soot.
The tortilla cakes must not be forgotten; as among the masses in Mexico they supply the place of bread. These, of course, were constantly being made at the fonda. They are composed of Indian corn, which is first boiled in water with a small quantity of lime to soften it, that the skin may be peeled off; it is next ground on a smooth stone, called metate, with a stone roller; then mixed into a paste, with a due (or rather an undue) proportion of chilé; laid and made into shape on a thin sheet of iron named comal, and placed on the fire. The thinness of the tortilla is the grand desideratum; it is baked in about three minutes: and should be eaten while hot.
Very frequently a customer on entering would seat himself on the floor, and taking a plate of lard, pepper, and beans upon his knees, ​would despatch his repast without knife, fork, or spoon; using a piece of tortilla doubled between his fingers instead. The hue of the cooks, male and female, of the waiters in attendance, the platters, the viands, and the table-cloth—when there was one—were all in keeping with the sooty walls.
"Pardon me, Señor," exclaimed my attendant, laughing, as he once entered my apartment, "but there has been a very strange scene in the fonda to-night! A poor Indian, the picture of starvation, with hollow cheeks, skinny arms, and eyes almost starting from their sockets, came to the door, and with hands uplifted, implored us in this manner:—
"'For the love of God! Señores—for the sake of the blessed Virgin! as you hope never to come to my state yourselves—pity me and relieve me! Is there not a morsel of tortilla? nor the least portion of chilé? Not a scrap of dried flesh? nor a cup of cold stew for a poor Indian? For the love of the blessed Virgin, relieve a starving Indian!'
"Now, as it happened, there was no one in the fonda at the moment but a poor arriero (a common carrier), the cooks, the waiter, myself, and Perata—the priest's servant, who resides ​at the upper end of the street. This last—a malicious fellow—had a huge platter of stewed mutton before him which he was eyeing; greedily; and perceiving that Josée, the head cook, was about to throw a bit of tortilla towards the Indian, he waved his hand between them, shouting,—
"'How is it that a thief like you dare to show his face within the fonda? As to your being hungry—pah! I don't believe a word of it.'
"'I am starving. Ah! Señores, pity me! I have not tasted food for three days space! I would thrust my hand into the blazing fire for a tortilla cake!'
"'Oh! you lying" dog!' replied Perata, 'you would thrust your hand into the fire, would you? Look ye, Señor Starvation, let me see you place your hand in the flame beneath that furnace, and I will give you the delicious meal here before me. But if not, vanish: take yourself away quickly; do you hear?'
"The Indian advanced to the charcoal fire, stooped down, placed his hand over the flame, and uttered a loud scream of pain. 'Now' he said, 'my supper is fairly earned.' ​"'Not fair! not fair!' shouted Perata, who never meant to make good his offer. 'He did not touch the fire: I must see it fairly done.'
"Again the poor fellow stooped before the stove; and all eyes were turned upon him searchingly. He thrust his hand into the flame, and held it there for a moment: the pain seemed to produce a faintness; and with deep groans of agony he fell helplessly to the ground.
"We all, excepting' Perata, repented that the frolic had been carried so far, and gathered about him in concern. Raising himself upon one elbow after a short time, he motioned us aside that he might have more air; we drew off a little from him, and in a moment he started to his feet, rushed round the table, to the place where the yet untasted platter of stew was standing with two tortilla cakes beside it, seized greedily upon them all, and darted swiftly in the direction of the door.
"One of the cooks hastily snatched up an iron ladle, and hurled it after the crafty delinquent, upsetting the priest's servant in the act, as well as a dish of boiling chilé on the top of ​the furnace; and there lay Perata struggling and screeching on the ground, with the scalding-hot mixture pouring down over his head and neck.
" 'Santisima Virgen! yo ho! Santisima Virgen!' yelled the scalded wretch, as he placed his hands upon the parts affected.
" 'Santisima Virgen!' exclaimed the cook, as the ladle, missing its aim, shattered to pieces the only entire pane of glass of which the fonda had been able to boast for many a day.
" 'Santisima Virgen!' cried the waiter, as he saw the viands vanish, and the fragments flying about.
" 'Santisima Virgen!' echoed the Indian, with a grin of triumph; pausing for a moment at the door, before decamping with his strangely-gotten repast.