THE CITY OF PEACE: TYPICAL HOMES OF ARISTOCRATIC MEXICANS.
Written originally by Fannie B. Ward
Quaint Customs and Charming Hospitality—Lower California's Ancient Capital, etc. La Paz (L. C), Mexico. You may search all the Encyclopedias of Universal Knowledge and the Gazetteers of the World — even the histories and geographics — without finding anything about La Paz, except the bare fact that it is the capital of Baja California and is located on the Gulf side of the peninsula, near its southern end, facing a bay which is also called La Paz. European eyes first looked upon the spot about 352 years ago, when a ship, under orders from Hernán Cortés, came sailing into the bay. Cortez himself came here a few months afterwards, while exploring the gulf which for three centuries bore his name: and, having anchored and looked about him, being impressed by the same calm that to-day prevails, he dubbed both sea and shore La Paz — "The Peace."
One hundred and seventy-five years later (in 1710) another famous character visited the place — Alexander Selkirk, then sail- jugmaster of the Dover (one of Woodes Rogers' fleet), who, on his way from the Island of Juan Fernandez, was compelled to lie here some weeks for repairs to his ship.
After Cortex, came a host of missionaries, and in the wake of the missionaries followed a number of Spanish expeditions, and the efforts of both toward Christianization and colonization were mainly con-fined to this vicinity — probably on account of the gold in the near-by Ceralbo Island and the richness of the pearl fisheries hereabouts. English expeditions also came to various points — the earlier ones for the express purpose of capturing the richly-laden galleons on their voyage from Manila to Mexico, and in more recent years for geographical and scientific purposes. The first mission in either California —that of Our Lady of Loreto — was founded in 1697, on the gulf side of the peninsula, in latitude 29° 30', by Father Jose Marie Salvatierra. There were several others near the eastern coast, notably those known as Dolores del Sur, Santa Rosa de Molige, and San Francisco de Vigge. By the way, between La Paz and San Jose del Cabo, is the old town of Loreto, or what is left of it, which was THE ANCIENT CAPITAL Of the two Californias, Upper and Lower, and the place where the first mission was established. The site seems to have been badly chosen, as from time to time parts of it were carried away by water, and now all that remains is the mission church and its dependant buildings. It is worth making a detour to visit this old-time sanctuary, which is still kept in tolerable repair. It is of solid stone, large and quaint, with arched roof and dome at one end. In it are some remarkable paintings (remarkably ugly, though Scriptural), and queer "ornaments" that are not in the least ornamental, rusty and musty with the mildew of years. The altar and baptismal font, however, are worthy of note, being of pure alabaster, in exceedingly graceful design. Approached from the sea, through a narrow and somewhat dangerous channel, La Paz — springing suddenly into view —looks so like the city of a dream that it is hard to believe oneself awake. Its low white walls (which closer inspection shows to be of much-plastered adobe), gleaming like purest marble in eternal sunshine, overshadowed by stately tamarind trees and groups of towering palms, seem to rise directly out of the ocean, and remind one strongly of Oriental cities — the cities of pictures. A few domes and spires add to the illusion, and the cool, calm water of the foreground is dotted with myriads of small "white wings" belonging to the pearl fishers. The great gun fired on deck, that shook the ship like an aspen in the wind, instantly collected a crowd on the wharf —for the arrival of a vessel in sleepy La Paz is an event of importance. Boats were put out at once, the foremost group, each sporting the Mexican flag, bringing the health and customs officers, the Comandante and El Consul Americano. No trouble is experienced here by foreigners, whether they be here on business or pleasure, so long as they show themselves disposed to do the fair thing; for La Paz bears the well deserved reputation of containing the most accommodating officials, the most hospitable people and the prettiest ladies in all Mexico. If ever a name was exactly suited to a town it is this of " THE CITY OF PEACE." Which seems to lie in an eternal dream. It’s population is something over 6,000, but — though the capital of an extensive Territory of a great Republic — it is literally isolated from the outer world, having neither railway, telegraph nor telephone communications with any other point, and only to be reached by infrequently passing vessels. Being the seat of Territorial government, it has by far the best society of any city in Lower California, if not in western Mexico, and numbers among its citizens many families of wealth and high position. As we mounted the broad steps of the stone-piled pier, after a short row from ship to shore, the cocoa palms were throwing long, fantastic effigies of themselves upon the slow-rippling waters, and the sun was disappearing behind the mountains, which were fast fading from purple to shadowy gray. The city was built upon a slope, which gradually ascends from the sea to the near-by heights — the latter rising range above range, higher and higher, with now and then a solitary peak sharply outlined against the cloudless skies of endless summer. From these hills the most magnificent views may be obtained of the Californian gulf and its countless islands. The climate is unsurpassed, the thermometer never rising above 90 degrees and the nights being always cool.
There is an upper and lower town. The tortuous streets, though narrow, are wonderfully clean and well shaded by orange, palm and tamarind trees. The pavements are of the roughest, being merely piles of stones to protect the houses from pacing wheels, if there are any. Nobody walks on them, however, but always in the clean, ankle-deep sand that does not soil your shoes like northern dust, nor cling to your clothes like clay, but rolls off easy as water from a duck's back. There is scarcely a cart or a carriage or any other wheeled concern in the town, because there is no place to go where people cannot walk or row, and if there were, horseback riding would be preferred; while everything marketable is toted about on the backs of donkeys.
The houses are all of the same pattern or rather, two patterns — those of the upper passes being one-story adobe, with grated windows and inner court-yards that are PERFECT BOWERS OF BEAUTY, While the lowly abide in straw-thatched huts, each embowered in flowers and over shadowed by its orange or olive or tamarind tree. There is a garrison of soldiers, and the Governor lives in a fine house in the midst of a beautiful garden. The reservoir which supplies the people with water is in the middle of an orange grove, and is owned by a private individual, who wants to sell it to the town for the sum of $10,000; but the municipality feels too poor to purchase. La Paz is not so prosperous as in former days, many of her younger and more ambitious spirits having left for newer fields. Many have long been out of employment since the abandonment of some of the mines and other industries of the past. The American Consul, Santiago Viosca, though of Spanish parentage and for many years a resident of this coast, is an American citizen, having been born in Louisiana. He is a remarkably fine looking gentleman, somewhat past middle age, his strongly marked face lull of force and character, dark eyes, piercing but kindly, and hair just tinged with gray. Escorted by this distingue Consul and the Captain, your correspondent proceeded to the casa of the former through the dusty streets of the "City of Peace," which, in the fading twilight, looked more than ever like the city of a dream. Imagine a high wall over-topped by palms and overgrown with flowering verdure; a gate in this wall— unlocked by the Consul with a key from his pocket — which, when opened, heralded an entrance by tinkling bells: odors of tropical fruits and flowers, intensified, by falling dews; beauty and fragrance everywhere; a graveled pathway hedged by roses, leading to the vine-wreathed veranda that half surrounds the inner court, inclosing a fountain and garden, the veranda, long, wide and deep as a town hall, rambling away down the other wing of the great casa, past dining-rooms and kitchen — that portion if it nearest the main entrance is really an immense out-of-doors drawing-room, furnished with luxurious couches, rockers and reclining chairs, tables scattered about, book-shelves here and there, statues and bric-a-brac, flowers in bowls, in baskets and vases — the whole softly illuminated by tall lamp and candelabra, with rose-colored shades, producing an effect of indescribable beauty, combined with the fragrance and the sweet night air. The Señora Viosca, a tall and stately lady with face as striking as her husband’s, expressing intense capacity for love or hate, rage or grief , softened by true goodness of heart and a happy life —came to welcome us with charming cordiality, expressed in Castellano, for the lady speaks no English. Her children, who were educated in the best schools of the United States, have all flitted from the home-nest — the daughters to their husbands' homes, and the sons to business in the great world, all but the youngest, a lovely girl of twenty years, who was educated in San Francisco and speaks English as well as Spanish and French. There is a wonderful charm about the aristocratic Mexican, male or female, which no phlegmatic Saxon ever possessed or can acquire. Possibly it comes from their numerical rarity, became of which, they have ruled the interior masses from generation to generation by the power of superior knowledge, refinement, and wealth. Besides, there is something of the rich vintage and warm sun of the tropics in their veins, and their gentle courtesy and dignified grace are an unconscious heritage. Of this ultra "best society" of the Rio Californias the Senorita Viosca(3) is an exceedingly ''fair" representative — the perfected flower of her race. Dinner was not long over in the Viosca mansion, but supper for the foreign quests was soon announced, and we went down the flowery veranda to a dining-room opening from it. Upon the daintily appointed table there was turkey with mole tamales steaming hot, a delicious salad and other dishes characteristically Mexican, served with old Spanish claret and supplemented with coffee and cigarettes. Then we rambled about the gardens, which, though located in the heart of an old city, are very extensive. There were lemon and orange trees evolving the perpetual miracle of buds, blossoms and fruitage, green and perfected, on the same branch. There were all the fruits of the tropic and temperate zones, roses galore, flowers unnumbered in variety and quantity; there were fountains and bowers and statuary, and in the midst of all this greenness was a little house by itself, containing only a luxuriously furnished parlor and an inner MUSEUM OF CURIOS Whereto the master of the house, in imitation of the Aztec Kings, could retire for solitary meditation when oppressed by the cares of the world. Turtle-doves cooed in the trees, and there were birds and pets of many species, including a droll monkey chained to a tree. Afterwards we made a tour of the house, which is one of the most delightful I have ever seen in any country — with a wide hall running through the middle from veranda to veranda, and large, airy rooms, exquisitely furnished, upon either side. Whether the eye rests indoors or out, there is something to delight the most cultured taste and satisfy the senses. Upon the walls are peculiar paintings, some of them of the early Spanish school — having been taken from some ruined Mission churches. There are books in all languages, flowers everywhere, and a grand piano upon which the senorita is an accomplished player. A ball was to be given that night in the house of a married daughter of the Vioscas, (4) and though in traveling attire, your scribe could not resist the pressing invitation to at least look in upon it — another enchanted casa, whose entrance was blocked by a crowd of commoners who had collected as usual, to take innocent delight in observing the doings of the great folk of this little world. There was lovely, graceful hostess, beautifully dressed señoras and señoritas, and gallant caballeros and, as a matter of course, there was the finest music, for these Spanish-Americans, in common with all Latin races, are exceedingly good judges of that art. It was la danza Mexicana, the most slow, graceful and dreamy dance that can be imagined, just suited to warm climates, affording ample scope for love-making and conversation. Ices, cakes and champagne circulated freely in the pauses, and towards midnight a singular game was played with shells, in which all participated. The beautiful inner court-yard had been floored for the occasion, the boards covered with canvas. In most of these aristocratic houses, in which frequent balls are given, a removable flooring is kept fitted around the trees and shrubs and fountains, which the servants (and there are always a great many) can put down or take away at an hour's notice. Chairs were running around the sides of this patio, orange and rose buds bloomed overhead, a fountain murmured amid an embankment of lilies and violets, and softly-colored lights illuminated the whole. When we finally sought the landing, in the fragrant hours "ayant the twal," the old town, asleep in unspeakable stillness, looked more than ever like a city in a picture — a glorified city — its thatched huts and white-walled casas and distant hills and near-by palms, all silvered by the moon and bathed in calm and mellow radiance. The cathedral towers, dominating all, as God's temple should, rose in gloomy grandeur above human habitations, as of old the Acropolis. Like half conscious somnambulists we climbed down the stairs of the pier and into the waiting boat, and were swiftly conveyed over the billowy stretch between shore and ship, whose ladder we ascended — still in a dream. Fannie B. Ward (1) Santiago Viosca del Solar (1827-1895) (2) Rosalia Carlota Navarro Castro (1835- ) (3) Eloisa Viosca Navarro Castro (1864- ) Eloisa married Alfredo Rosenweig in 1891 so at the time of this visit she would still be at home. (4) Ma. Rosa Paulina Navarro Castro (1860- ) Paulina married Rodolfo Nieto and in 1891 had two children. ![]()
Mrs. Ward was born in Monroe, Mich., in 1843. She was educated in the public schools of that place and Ravenna, to which her parents moved when she was but ten years old. When sixteen years old she received a county teachers' certificate, and taught school for three years, until her marriage to William H. Ward. Mrs. Ward was the youngest daughter of 'Fanny Ball and Elisha Brigham.
In 1874 Mrs. Ward came to Washington to take a temporary appointment in the Treasury. Later she entered newspaper fields and soon became successful. She was employed by several papers, both of this city and throughout the United States, and at one time conducted a syndicate. In 1898 Mrs. Ward accompanied Miss Clara Barton as a newspaper correspondent and Red Cross reporter to Cuba. She was in Havana at the time of the explosion of the Maine, and later with Miss Barton during her entire service through the Galveston flood. She traveled extensively in Mexico and South America, writing travel letters to many papers in this country.
In March 1905, Fanny B. Ward died at the home of her daughter, Mrs. Nelly Ward. She had been ill for more than six years after suffered a slight cerebral hemorrhage, which resulted in total blindness in the right eye. From that time, she had been in failing health. Besides her daughter, Mrs. Jex, a son, Charles E. Ward, and two grandsons, Garnet W., and Walter P. Jex, both students at McKinley Manual Training School. and a nephew, J. W. Turner of Cold Water, survive her.
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