By a road leading south-westwardly from Chapultepec, at the distance of about a mile, you reach Tacubaya, a town somewhat celebrated in the history of Spanish diplomacy. It is a quiet country village, containing many delightful residences of the Mexican merchants, and is chiefly remarkable for a palace of the Archbishop surrounded by beautiful gardens and groves, from the azotéa of which there is one of the finest views of the volcano of Popocatepetl and the neighboring mountain of Iztaccihuatl.
On the 28th of April, 1842, the city of Mexico was thrown into commotion by the recital of a dreadful double murder that had been committed on the previous night in this village.
Mr. Egerton was an English artist—a landscape painter of great eminence—who had resided several years in the Republic, and had just returned again to the country from a visit to England, bringing with him a lovely young woman as his wife. After residing a few months in town, he rented a small establishment at Tacubaya, to which he repaired with his lady, and during the period that he remained there, but seldom visited the Capital. Yet he sometimes came in to see his brother, and on the evening of the day preceding the fatal event, he left the city on his return home.
As soon as he reached Tacubaya, he went out accompanied by his wife, to take their usual evening walk; and this is the last that is known of them with any certainty. In the course of the night, the little dog that usually followed them in their rambles returned to the house alone.
On the morning of the 28th, some péons, who were going from the village to work in the fields, discovered Mr. Egerton's body lying on the road. The spot was soon thronged by the villagers, and, after a thorough search in the neighborhood, the body of his wife was found in an adjoining field of aloes.
Those who saw the shocking sight, describe it as the most horrible they ever beheld. Egerton had evidently been slain, after a severe struggle; a rattan, which he still held firmly in the grasp of death, was cut and broken; his body was pierced with eleven wounds, and, though he had been dead near eight hours when discovered, his teeth were still clenched as if in anger, his eyes wide open, and his hair stiff on end! The poor lady was stripped naked, with the exception of her stockings and shoes; one wound, as if with a small-sword, penetrated her right breast; marks of strangulation were around her throat; her stomach was bitten, and she had evidently been violated.
It is impossible to describe the horror with which all classes in Mexico received this dreadful tale. The British Minister and Consul, and Mr. Egerton's brother, immediately instituted the most diligent search for the perpetrators of these crimes; but, although several men were arrested, the monsters remain to this day undetected.
