There is a spacious bull-ring at the northern end of the paseo, on the left of the roadway as we drive towards Chapultepec, where exhibitions are given to crowded assemblies every Sunday and on festal days. Of all the public sports the bull-fight is the most cruel, being without one redeeming feature to excuse its indulgence, while its evil moral effect upon the people at large is clearly manifest. There is certainly a close affinity between the Spanish language and the Latin, as well as a strong resemblance between the old Roman masses and the modern Spanish people. In the olden days the Roman populace cried, Panem et circenses (bread and circuses); so to-day the Spanish people shout, Pan y toros (bread and bulls). The bull-fight is a national institution here, as it is in continental Spain and in Cuba, and is strongly indicative of the character of the people. While we were in the country a bull-fight performance was given on a Sunday in one of the large cities, as a "benefit" towards paying for a new altar-rail to be placed in one of the Romish churches. Only among a semi-barbarous people and in a Roman Catholic country would such horrible cruelty be tolerated, and especially as a Sabbath performance. This is the day when these shameful exhibitions always take place, at Madrid as well as in Mexico, it being also the most popular and fashionable evening of the week for theatrical entertainments.
Some of our party attended one of these exhibitions in the city of Mexico; but they very promptly and emphatically declared that nothing could induce them again to witness anything of the sort, pronouncing it to be only a repulsive butchery. The author had seen both in Spain and in Cuba quite as much as he desired of this wretched national game, and therefore he did not visit it on the occasion referred to above. A distinguished citizen of the national capital, General H——, told us that the better class of ladies did not now attend the bull-fights in Mexico, though there are plenty of women who do so regularly. "I have four grown-up daughters, one of whom is married," said he, "but neither they nor their mother ever witnessed this debasing exhibition. Be assured," he continued, "that the cultured class of our community do not sympathize with these relics of barbarism." This is a sentiment which we are gratified to record, more especially as at Madrid, the headquarters of the cruel game, it has not only the full sanction of the public officials and of the élite of the Spanish capital, but the patronage of royalty itself. The central box of the bull-ring in that city is reserved for the court, and there are no empty seats during the performance. A law was passed a few years since forbidding bull-fights to take place in the Federal District of Mexico; but this law has been repealed in accordance with the clamorous demand of a large majority of the people; besides which the law was virtually inoperative, as these exhibitions were held all the same, only they were removed to a few rods beyond the boundary of the prohibited territory. The thought comes over us that, after all, the bull-fight is but one degree worse than the shameful prize-fights of professional bruisers in England and America.
One of the most admirable and practical charities established in the Mexican capital is known as the Monte de Piedad, which is simply a national pawn-shop. The title signifies, "The Mountain of Mercy." It was originally founded more than a century since by Count Regla, the owner of the famous silver mine of Real del Monte, who gave the sum of three hundred thousand dollars for the purpose, in order that the poor and needy of the population of this city might obtain advances of money on personal property at a low and reasonable rate of interest. Any article deposited for this purpose is valued by two disinterested persons, and about three fourths of its intrinsic worth is promptly advanced. If the owner ceases to pay the interest on the loan, the article in pawn is kept six months longer, when it is exposed for sale at a marked price. After six months more have expired, if the article is not disposed of, it is sold at public auction, and all that is realized above the sum which was advanced, together with the interest, is placed to the original owner's credit. This sum, if not called for within a given time, reverts to the bank. The capital of the institution has more than doubled since its organization, but the amount of good which it has been the means of accomplishing cannot be estimated. Its first effect was to break up all the private pawn-brokers' establishments which charged usurious interest for money, its own rates being placed at a low figure, intended barely to meet necessary expenses. These exceedingly low rates have always been scrupulously maintained. The average annual loans on pledges amount to a million dollars, distributed among about fifty thousand applicants. The establishment is also a sort of safe deposit. All the goods in its vaults have not been pawned. As the place is a sort of fortress in its way, many valuables are here stored for safe-keeping. One dollar is the smallest sum that is loaned, and ten thousand dollars is the largest. The loans will average from two to three hundred daily. It appears that one third of the merchandise deposited is never redeemed. Among other articles of this class is the diamond snuff-box which was presented to Santa Anna when he was Dictator, and which cost twenty-five thousand dollars. Tourists often call in at the Monte de Piedad, looking for bargains in bricabrac, and sometimes real prizes are secured at very reasonable cost. A gentleman showed the writer an old, illuminated book, of a religious character, entirely illustrated by the hand of some patriot recluse, which was marked five dollars, and upon which probably four dollars had been loaned to the party who deposited it. The time for its redemption had long since expired, and our friend gladly paid the sum asked for it. He said he should take it to the Astor Library, New York, where he felt confident of receiving his own price for it, namely, one hundred dollars: "Then," said he, "I will give the money to some worthy charity in my native city." The volume had undoubtedly been stolen, and pawned by the thief. Possession is considered to be bona fide evidence of ownership, and unless circumstances are very suspicious, money is nearly always advanced to the applicant on his or her deposit.
Speaking of old books, there are three or four second-hand bookstalls and stores under the arcades running along one side of the plaza, where rare and ancient tomes are sold. Volumes, of the value of which the venders seem to have no idea, are gladly parted with for trifling sums. Civil wars and the changes of government have never interfered with the operations of the Monte de Piedad. All parties have respected it and its belongings, with one exception—during the presidency of Gonzales in 1884, when its capital was somewhat impaired and its usefulness circumscribed by a levy of the government in its desperation to sustain the national credit in connection with its foreign loans. A curious collection of personal property is of course to be seen here, including domestic furniture, diamonds, rubies, and other precious stones, swords, pistols, guns, saddles, canes, watches, clothing, and so on. The large building used for the purpose of carrying on the business stands upon the site once occupied by the private palace which formed the home of Cortez for so many years, a short distance west of the great cathedral. This institution has lately been sold to an English syndicate for the sum of one million dollars. The new owners have a cash capital of twenty-five millions, and will resume the banking department, which was suspended in 1884, and carry on the pawnbroking business as heretofore.
The alameda, a name usually applied to large Spanish parks, is a parallelogram of about thirty or forty acres in extent, situated between the two streets of San Francisco and San Cosme, abounding in eucalyptus trees, poplars, evergreens, orange and lemon trees, together with blooming flowers and refreshing fountains. In olden times this alameda—this forest-garden in the heart of the city—was inclosed by a wall pierced with several gates, which were only opened to certain classes and on certain occasions; but these grounds, greatly enlarged and beautified, are now open on all sides to the public, easily accessible from the surrounding thoroughfares. We were told that the name comes from the fact that the park was originally planted with álamos, or poplars. One cannot forget, while standing upon the spot and recalling the early days of the Spanish rule, that it was on a portion of these grounds that the hateful Inquisition burned its victims, because they would not subscribe to the Roman Catholic faith. According to their own records, forty-eight unbelievers were here burned at the stake at one time. We do not think that the Aztec idolaters ever exceeded in wickedness or cruelty this fiendish act.
The alameda has a number of open circles with fountains in the centre, about which stone benches are placed as seats. These spaces are much frequented by children as playgrounds. An interesting aviary ornaments one of the roomy areas, filled with a variety of native and exotic birds, which attract crowds of curious observers. The inexhaustible spring at Chapultepec supplies these fountains, besides many others in various parts of the city, from whence water-carriers distribute the article for domestic use. The alameda is the largest public garden in the capital, of which there are twelve in all, and is the daily resort of the corpulent priest for exercise; of the ambitious student for thought and study; of the nursery maid with her youthful charge; and of wooing lovers and coquettish señoritas, accompanied by their staid chaperones. On Sunday forenoons a military band gives an out-of-door concert in the central music stand, on which occasion all grades of the populace come hither, rich and poor alike, the half-fed peon in his nakedness and the well-clad citizen. All classes have a passion for music. The cathedral empties itself, as it were, into the alameda just after morning mass. This, be it remembered, is the forenoon. The closing hours of the day are devoted to driving and promenading in the adjoining Paseo de la Reforma. On the evenings of festal days, the central pavilion, where the band is placed, as well as other parts of the alameda, are illuminated with Chinese lanterns and electric lights disposed among the trees and about the fountains, so that the artificial lamps rival the light of day. On these gala occasions two or three additional bands of musicians are placed at different points to assist in the entertainment. The fountains play streams of liquid silver; the military bands discourse stirring music; the people, full of merriment, indulge in dulces, fruits, ice-cream, and confectionery, crowding every available space in the fairy-like grounds, and Mexico is happy.
There is no noisy demonstration on these occasions. The multitude, we must frankly acknowledge, are better behaved than any such assemblage usually is in Boston or New York. All seem to be quiet, contented, and enjoying themselves placidly. It should be mentioned, in this connection, that all pulque shops in the capital are promptly closed at six o'clock P. M. throughout the year. This is imperative and without exception; consequently, no evening disturbance is to be anticipated from that source. It was found that there are over two thousand pulquerias in the capital. The effect of this special stimulant, however, is not to make those who indulge freely in it pugnacious or noisy. It acts more like a powerful narcotic, and puts those who are overcome with it to sleep, having, in fact, many of the properties of opium. The gilded bar-rooms where the upper classes seek refreshment, who, by the way, seem rarely to abuse the privilege, are permitted to remain open until midnight, but into them the common people have not the wherewithal to procure entrance. A tumbler of pulque which costs them a penny they indulge in, but drinks at fifteen or twenty cents each, and in small portions at that, are quite beyond their means. A somewhat peculiar effect of pulque drinking was also mentioned to us. The people who partake of it freely have an aversion to other stimulants, and prefer it to any and all others without regard to cost. The beer-drinking German is often similarly affected as regards his special tipple. Chemical test shows pulque to contain just about the same percentage of alcohol as common beer; say, five or six per cent.
Besides witnessing the foul deeds of the Inquisition when the priesthood publicly burned and otherwise tortured unbelievers, the alameda has frequently been the scene of fierce struggles, gorgeous church spectacles, and many revolutionary parades. Here scores of treasonable acts have been concocted, and daring robberies committed in the troublous times not long past. To-day it is peaceable enough; so quiet in the summer afternoons, here in the very heart of the busy city, that the drone of the busy humming-birds among the flowers comes soothingly upon the ear of the wakeful dreamer. Quiet now, but awaiting the next upheaval, for such, we are sorry to say, is pretty sure to come, sooner or later; the Roman Catholic Church party is not dead, but sleepeth. A strong, costly, and united effort on its part, stimulated from Rome, to once more gain control of the government of Mexico, has been successfully defeated without an open outbreak since the second term of President Diaz commenced. The success of the church party would simply throw Mexico back half a century in her march of improvement towards a higher state of civilization. It would check all educational progress, all commercial advance, and smother both political and religious freedom.
The number of infant children, strapped or tied to their mothers' backs, that one sees in the streets of the capital, and indeed all through the country, is something marvelous. The fecundity of the peons is beyond all calculation. Eight women out of ten, belonging to the humbler classes, are sure to be thus encumbered. Marriages take place here at as early an age as in Cuba or South America, namely, at twelve years. Few young girls among the common people remain unmarried after fourteen years of age, or rather there are few of them that do not bear children as early as that. Marriage among the poor is a ceremony not always considered necessary, and, indeed, as a rule, they are too poor to pay the priest the price he charges for performing the ceremony. Speaking of marriage, this relationship among people of position and property is assumed under somewhat peculiar circumstances in Mexico. First, a civil marriage takes place, which makes all children born to the contracting parties legitimate. After this civil rite is duly complied with, perhaps a day and perhaps ten intervening, the usual church ceremony is performed, and then the bride and bridegroom join each other to enjoy their honeymoon, but until the latter ceremony is consummated, the couple are as much separated as at any time of their lives. Why this delay in consummation takes place is by no means clear to an outsider.
One not infrequently sees a mother carrying two infants at a time wrapped in her rebosa, and tied across her chest; only ten months of age separating the little creatures. Besides these infants the mother carries her burden of vegetables, fruit, baskets, or pottery, to dispose of in the market near the plaza. Like Japanese and Chinese babies, these little ones seldom, if ever, cry, but submit patiently and with apparent indifference to what seems to be a very trying position, as well as to almost total neglect. These children were never in a bed since they were born. They probably sleep at night upon a straw mat spread upon the earthen floor, and we much doubt if they are ever washed. Sometimes the father is seen carrying the baby, but this is very rare; the women take the laboring oar almost always here, as among our Indian tribes, the people of the East, and the South Sea Islanders. This is a characteristic applicable not alone to the national capital, but observable again and again all over the republic. Though so very poor, and doubtless often suffering from hunger, the half naked people are not infrequently seen with a cigarette between the lips. Drunkenness is seldom seen, notwithstanding that pulque is cheap and potent, and it is very rarely the case, as already intimated, that any quarreling is witnessed among the people. They are quiet and orderly, as a rule, yet most of them are homeless and hopeless.