I early had trouble with the men stealing tools, and soon found that the only way was to charge whatever tools were missing amongst the whole crew. This kept the thieving within bounds, as the innocent men watched the guilty, though they would never tell on them, as this was against their code of honour. This does not hold good in every case, and lucky for us it did not. We had a gatekeeper whom we trusted implicitly, giving him duplicate keys for the office, storerooms, &c. Well, he and the night-watchman fell out. One morning the latter came to me and asked me to make the portero give him back $3 that he had of his. I told him that I could not interfere with their private quarrels. He said, “But he stole the money from me.” I still told him that I would not interfere. “But,” said he, “he is stealing from you also.” I think this really slipped out in the heat of anger. I asked him who else knew about the matter, and had all witnesses at once taken to the Commissaria. There they were forced to tell their tale and sign their names to their declaration. We then had the portero tried, convicted, and sentenced to six years and four months in the penitentiary.
A Mexican seldom forgets a grudge, and the day he got out this man found and tried to kill the old night-watchman, and I later met him in Chihuahua dressed as a soldier, and he told me he had got a five-year term in the army. I have known of cases of men getting stabbed, and yet denying that they knew the man who had done it, hoping when well to be able to revenge themselves, as they only believe in personal vengeance and dislike the law to step in. One of my stable hands had trouble with some man, and one night there was a tap at the stable door (he slept in the grain-room); when he poked out his head to see who it was he was slashed with a knife from ear to ear. He recovered, but never would tell who did it, saying that he had not seen; yet I have no doubt that matter has been settled ere now. Another of our men had a fight to which there were two eye-witnesses, one of whom told me how the whole affair came off. Yet when the man was arrested both swore that they knew nothing about it and had never seen any fight. The man was held four months for evidence and then turned out. I suppose, morally, I should have told what I knew, but it is a good axiom in this country never to volunteer information to the police, as you will surely be held in jail as an important witness. As a very friendly judge once said to a friend of mine, “My dear sir, you know too much.” My friend at once took the hint and immediately forgot everything he had been trying to tell.
Americans seem to have an idea that Englishmen have no sense of humour, and are very fond of telling stories at our expense. To illustrate the cleverness of an American over an Englishman, they tell of the American over in England who insisted in smoking in a “non-smoking,” first-class carriage. An Englishman in the carriage, who had protested in vain, finally called the guard. When the guard arrived the American quickly spoke first. “Guard,” he said, “this gentleman is riding in a first-class carriage on a third-class ticket.” Investigation proved this to be true, and the irate Englishman was ejected. One of the spectators asked the American how he had known that the Englishman only had a third-class ticket. “Well,” said the American, “I happened to see a corner of it sticking out of his waistcoat pocket and noticed that it was the same colour as my own.” But I have also heard a story of an American from the interior, unfamiliar with crustacea, who was doing England. By way of seeing life he lunched at the Savoy on the day of his arrival, and, settling himself at a table, prepared to enjoy a hearty meal. Some celery in a glass was placed before him, which he ate whole without much satisfaction. But the second course—a crab in mayonnaise—was too much for him. Beckoning the waiter to him, he said, "Say, I’ve eaten your bouquet, but I’m damned if I’ll eat that bug." Mexicans also are great story-tellers, but their humour is so peculiar that one has to be a Mexican to understand and appreciate it. But then their way of looking at things is so different from ours. They think a boxing match a most brutalising sport, and will hardly allow even amateur boxing exhibitions in the country; yet they think bull-fighting is elevating, and can see absolutely no harm in it. Whereas to most foreigners one bull-fight is all that they can stand.
Neither Americans nor Mexicans here show much interest in any but local affairs. Of course educated men know something of European matters, but the ignorance of some Americans on such a subject as India is surprising. A doctor here argued with me the other day that “Hindu” simply meant the race, and “Mohammedan” was their religion; and he tried to prove it by saying they got the name “Hindu” from “Hindustan,” the name of the country, as Englishman from England, and that the religion of the Hindu race was Mohammedan. Yet he is an educated American professional man!
CHAPTER XXVII
Bull-fighting—Mexican etiquette—The police department and its difficulties—Treatment of habitual criminals—The army.
There is one kind of bull-fighting that I have often attended and thoroughly enjoyed. In the first act they bring out a young bull, or steer, which is then roped and thrown, and a thick rope is put around its body just behind its forelegs. A man mounts it while it is on the ground (barebacked) and holds on to this rope. The bull is then allowed to get up, and the idea is to see how long the rider can stick on. I have seen many horses buck, but a fighting bull can give a horse points, as he has some steps that are entirely his own, and few men stay with him very long. When the rider is thrown, others rush in with capas (red capes) and attract the bull away from his fallen foe before he can do any damage. In the next act they set up a sort of a "giant’s stride" right in front of the bull-chute. A bull is then turned in, and when he charges the man makes a run, swings out, and over the bull. It is certainly exciting and pretty risky work. One time I was there the bull charged, and as the man started for him and sailed up into the air, the bull stopped in astonishment right in the man’s descending course. There was nothing for it, so the man stiffened himself, stuck out his feet, and landed square on the side of the bull’s head, turning him head over heels. They both got on their feet about the same time, and the bull chased the man round the pole so rapidly that it was some time ere he could make use of his rope to swing again.
Another form in which they do this act is using a pole and pole-vaulting over the charging bull. In the next act they have an enormous Mexican, all padded out like an American football player. The bull is turned in (generally a young two-year-old), and he plays with it for a while with the capa, till he gets his distance; then he suddenly lunges forward and, with his chest against the bull’s horns, leans over and grabs the animal round the neck. Then there is a tussle indeed, but the man seems easily to hold his own, and finally, when he has tired the bull, he lies down on his back, pulling the bull’s head down with him, and, taking off his hat, waves it at the crowd. This also is not so easy as it sounds, and is sometimes dangerous, for I once saw a young bull scratch with his hind-legs like a cat, and he was not long in pulling the stuffing off his opponent. He probably would have killed the man, but assistants are always ready, and they dashed in and pulled the bull off by main strength. In other cases, when the man is through his act he suddenly releases the bull, springs to one side, and waves the capa in the bull’s face. The show ends with acrobatic and other performances, and is well worth seeing. On one occasion they let any of the public who wished to do so go in and play with the bull; when the bugle blew about one hundred peons jumped into the ring with their red blankets, and the fun was furious for a short time, as the bull would charge one and then another, finally tossing two or three of them who could not get out of his way, but without serious consequences. Most Mexicans of the lower classes are would-be bull-fighters, and the great game amongst the Mexican children is “bull-fighting”; one boy represents the bull and the others the matadores, picadores, &c., and when the bull pokes one of the others in the ribs he is supposed to be out. An American lady here had a very cross Jersey bull in a corral. Some lads from sixteen to eighteen years were baiting him, but, as they were not experts, he killed three of them before they decided to leave him alone.
Mexicans in some ways are very polite and look upon Americans as boors; and truly a great many of them are so, especially the tourists, whom I have seen going into the churches here with their cameras, when mass was being said, and other things equally outrageous. The Mexican takes off his hat to his gentlemen friends as well as to the ladies; he shakes hands with everybody (whether known to him or not) when entering or leaving an office, and does not put on his hat till he leaves the building; he will generally give you the inside of the side-walk if he meets you on the street (always to a lady). I have seen two of them arguing for quite a while on meeting as to who was to give the other the inside. All this to his men acquaintances; on the other hand, he will stare in the rudest way at any pretty woman he may meet in the street or in a street-car, and I have often been tempted to punch their heads. He will stand on the street-corner with a knot of friends taking up the whole side-walk and making everybody who passes walk round them in the street. Their ideas of politeness are so contradictory that I have never been quite able to make them out. When they have a row it is considered quite gentlemanly to beat your opponent over the head and shoulders with your cane, but to strike him with your fist is a deadly insult. The following are a few of the main rules of Mexican etiquette, for the benefit of those who might visit this country: Ladies do not attend funerals. Children kiss the hands of their parents. The hostess is served first at a Mexican table. The bridegroom purchases his bride’s trousseau. Women friends kiss on both cheeks when greeting or taking leave. Gentlemen bow first when passing lady acquaintances in the street. The sofa is the seat of honour, and a guest waits to be invited to occupy it. Men and women in the same social circles call each other by their first names. When a Mexican speaks to you of his home he refers to it as “your house.” When you move into a new locality, it is your duty to make the first neighbourhood calls. When friends pass each other in the street without stopping they say adios (good-bye). Young ladies do not receive calls from young men, and are not escorted to entertainments by them. Daily inquiry is made for a sick friend, and cards are left, or the name written in a book, with the porter. Dinner calls are not customary, but upon rising from the table the guest thanks his host for the entertainment. Mexican gentlemen remove their hats as scrupulously on entering a business office as in a private residence. If in riding costume one must remove one’s spurs—this applies more especially to government offices. Often on entering a house the owner will ask you to keep on your hat (this, however, you are not supposed to agree to), and this is meant to make you feel as much at home as if you were the owner. After a dance a gentleman returns his partner to the seat beside her parents or chaperon and at once leaves her side. Never allow a caller to carry a package of any size from your house; always send it to his home: Mexicans do not carry parcels. If you change your residence you must notify your Mexican friends by card, otherwise they will not feel at liberty to enter your new home. The fashionable call of a few minutes is unknown. A lady who arrives at four o’clock will remain until six or seven. The calls of intimate friends are half-day visits. Gentlemen raise their hats to each other, or at least salute in passing, and shake hands both at meeting and parting, though the interview may have lasted only two minutes.
I have been in contact with the police department a good deal, owing to our men getting into trouble, or to other people causing us trouble in our work. Paving was such a new thing that the people would congregate in crowds to see the work progress and how Gringoes did things. Thus they would not only block up the side-walks but crowd into the street so that we could hardly work. The first year, when I was rolling, I had to ask for police protection to keep the people out of my way so that I should not run over any one. (Our rollerman in Mexico City did run over and kill a man who slipped and fell in front of the roller when trying to get out of the way.) But as the police were as much interested as any one else, and spent most of the time gaping themselves, they were not of much use. There are said to be over 900 police (including detectives and mounted men) in this city, and they are certainly to be found at every street corner except in the “Colonias,” or foreign colonies. But they are a bedraggled lot, undersized, with ill-fitting uniforms, armed with clubs, and pistols of every size and calibre. The mounted men who, as a rule, are a better built lot, have no club, but carry a sabre and a rifle (of very antiquated pattern) as well as a pistol. Nobody pays much attention to the foot police, but the mounted men make themselves respected, as the following instance will show. On the 16th of September 1905 (the great national holiday) some of the mounted men were clearing the streets by the simple expedient of backing their horses into the crowds. The horse of one of these was crowding a big burly peon (farm labourer) and occasionally stepping on his feet, till in desperation the man put his hands under the horse’s flank and gave such a push that he nearly sent horse and rider over. Immediately he did so he ran, and directly the policeman recovered himself he pulled out his sabre and went after him. As far as I could see them the policeman was belabouring the poor fellow over the head and shoulders with his heavy sword, until the man found an opening where he could duck into the crowd and was safe.