Introduction
Before Chapultepec Castle became the grand stage for emperors and presidents, a humbler structure stood quietly on its slope—the First Palace of Chapultepec. Built not for grandeur but for function, this early colonial palace served as a retreat, a ceremonial site, and a stage for bullfights beneath the forest canopy.
Though largely forgotten, the First Palace of Chapultepec played a curious and chaotic role in the story of colonial Mexico. From viceroys to gunpowder, its tale is one of ambition, neglect, and unexpected legacy.
A Viceroy’s Leisure Dream
Between 1590 and 1595, Luis de Velasco y Castilla—viceroy and son of a former viceroy—commissioned a modest recreational palace on the slope of Chapultepec Hill. Unlike the later monumental structures that would crown the hilltop, this palace was not meant to dominate the skyline.
It featured two courtyards, a small garden, and an open area used for bullfights to celebrate the arrival of new viceroys. Italian traveler Giovanni Francesco Gemelli, visiting around 1700, described it as a well-marked location with a sign at its entrance and noted that it still stood at the time. Though not royal in appearance, it was a symbolic foothold of Spanish authority and colonial leisure in the woods of Chapultepec.
Bullfights, Ceremonies, and Colonial Chaos
Chapultepec’s wooded terrain became the backdrop for festive receptions, bullfights, and ceremonies honoring the new rulers of New Spain. But this charming image was complicated by logistical and moral challenges.
A royal decree in 1739 criticized the area for being remote and difficult to access, with narrow forest roads prone to breaking down under the weight of stagecoaches. The dense forest also hosted unruly gatherings, and colonial authorities were scandalized by “felonies and follies” taking place under the trees. The picturesque woodland became a setting of both pageantry and mischief—entertaining to some, alarming to others.
Gunpowder and Fireworks
Just a stone’s throw from the first Palace of Chapultepec, around the year 1600, colonial authorities established a gunpowder factory—New Spain’s first of its kind. The choice of Chapultepec made strategic sense: it was far enough from the city to prevent catastrophe in case of an explosion, yet close enough to distribute supplies.
The factory supplied the army, island garrisons, prisons, and even the makers of fireworks. A map from 1768 confirms its location and role. Chapultepec’s reputation as a peaceful retreat was now paired with a more volatile identity—part garden, part munitions depot.
The Decline Begins
By the 18th century, the First Palace of Chapultepec had begun to lose its purpose. It was used temporarily as a prison for those sentenced by the Court of Agreements, a far cry from its ceremonial beginnings.
Meanwhile, treasure hunters, drawn by tales of Moctezuma’s hidden gold, desecrated the grounds in search of mythical riches. Their reckless digging likely destroyed what remained of the 200-year-old chapel. Romantic legends clashed with harsh reality, and monument preservation was no match for greed.
The palace faded into disrepair, its stone walls and courtyards slowly devoured by time and vegetation.
Conclusion
Though overshadowed by the later grandeur of Chapultepec, the First Palace of Chapultepec marked an important chapter in Mexico’s colonial story. It served as a place of celebration, authority, and even scandal—its walls echoing with music, gunpowder, and whispered legends of gold.
Forgotten by many, it nonetheless laid early foundations—both literal and symbolic—on the hill that would later rise as the heart of national power. And in its quiet fall, it reminds us that even palaces, like empires, can disappear into the forest.