TEATRO COLON, GUATEMALA CITY.
All Guatemala is proud of its Teatro Colon, the National Theatre, for the government in these Spanish-American countries considers it a part of its duties to furnish amusement for its subjects. The building is modeled after the famous church of the Madelaine in Paris. It stands in the middle of a large enclosure surrounded by a high iron fence. The grounds are laid out as a garden with oleander and orange trees and flowers of many kinds planted in generous profusion along the walks, and there are several fountains which send out their cooling spray. The coat of arms of the republic stand out prominently on the façade and there are numerous other plaster ornaments in relief against the stucco walls, which are laid out in blocks to imitate stone. The interior is in good taste and the stage is large and roomy. The government allows a generous yearly subsidy which enables good talent to be brought from Italy, Spain and Mexico. There are two tiers of boxes which run clear around the hall and several proscenium boxes, of which one is reserved for the President. Silk hats are worn by the men and canes are carried, while the women wear a few feathers in their hair, but no hats, and much powder and paste on their faces. During the long intermission nearly everybody leaves his seat and wanders out into the vestibule to visit and smoke—even some of the ladies indulging occasionally in this pastime.
The people are inordinately fond of amusements as are all people of Latin blood. In this enumeration the bull-fight should not be omitted. In the large bull-ring which stands just outside the central railway station all classes meet on Sunday afternoon, and the “carramba” of the Spaniard mingles with the stronger expressions of his fairer-skinned Anglo-Saxon or Teutonic neighbour. The Spaniard believes that the bull-fight is an exemplification of the superior prowess of his race, for the Spaniard is as much superior to all other men as the Spanish bull is more valiant than all other bulls. The bull-fight in Guatemala City is usually a poor imitation of the sanguinary conflicts of the Iberian peninsula. The victims are generally oxen, with perhaps one or two bulls doomed to the death. The town was all excitement during my visit, for Mazzantini, the great Spanish matador, was coming to give three “corridas” with imported bulls. The boat that I came on carried ten of these bulls in boxes, and the old custodian with his bulls caused more trouble than all the rest of the cargo, including the passengers, put together. Excursions were advertised by the railroad and it was the principal topic of conversation. Everyone that I met, American and native, urged me to stay for the first great event to take place the following Sunday. I had seen the bull-fight, however, in all its horrible details in its native land, and it did not appeal to me even with the great “Mazzantini” taking part.
A BULL-FIGHT IN GUATEMALA CITY.
I attended one bull-fight while there in order to get some photographs, and was thoroughly disgusted. Two bulls of the six advertised for the occasion were doomed to the death and there were two matadores. One of them was a young Spaniard whom I had met on the steamer. He wore the lock of long hair on the side of his head which is affected by all bull fighters, and claimed to be a good fighter. He was agile and leaped over the bull with a vaulting pole and planted the banderillos quite adeptly. As a matador he was a failure, and after he had made three ineffectual attempts to kill the bull, and had buried three swords in the poor creature’s neck, the crowd became hostile and he was obliged to leave the arena, followed by the anathemas and hisses of the large audience. Then my bull-fighting acquaintance, who had given me such a cordial invitation in the morning to attend the performance, retired in great discomfiture, and I have never seen him since.
There is a prosperous American club in the city to which many other foreigners belong, and I was fortunate enough to be given a visitor’s card. The social life of the expatriated American centres around this organization and it has considerable influence in the city and country. It was very interesting to talk with the older members of the stirring events in the time of President J. Rufino Barrios and his dramatic method of proclaiming the confederation of all the Central American republics. There are several hundred Americans in the country engaged in various enterprises, from promotion to construction, and from plantations to manufacturing. The Germans occupy the leading place in the commerce as they seem to amalgamate more readily with the country, for they come to make permanent homes, while most of the Americans expect to make their fortune and then leave for Uncle Sam’s domains once more. A number of Chinese merchants are also engaged in business here and a few French. Jews are also numerous and a Jewish synagogue is the only non-Catholic religious edifice I saw, although there is a Presbyterian Mission maintained in the city.
Nearly every business house runs a money exchange department and the sign “Cambia de Moneda” (money exchange) vies in number with the “cantinas.” Even the bootblack in the hotel wanted to exchange money and followed the quotations each day as carefully as any banker. During my stay it varied from twelve and one-half to thirteen and one-fourth paper dollars for one in gold with the American eagle on it. Every merchant was anxious to secure New York, London, or Hamburg exchange. Prices of commodities varied from day to day, for, although posted in paper values, they were regulated on a gold basis. Business begins about eight in the morning and ceases about seven in the evening, but all business houses put up their shutters and close up tight for two or three hours in the middle of the day during the siesta hours. You will never know, however, unless you study the calendar, whether the stores will be open or not, for holidays and feast-days are many. There is an old saying that Spanish holidays numbered three hundred and sixty-five, not including Sundays.
The principal market is a large structure in the rear of the Cathedral, and has large gates at each corner through which a line of people are passing at all times during the business hours. The entrance is nearly always obstructed by women with fruit for sale, whose presence was tolerable from the fact that they sold it extremely cheap. Every available space is filled with native merchants—mostly women—who offer for sale home and foreign goods and a great variety of indigenous fruits. Vendors outside of the enclosure suspend straw mats on poles for shelter from the torrid sun. Beneath each one sat a woman or girl with her articles for sale spread about and before her—a little fruit, some vegetables, or even some cooked meat. Inside the building one can get a three course meal of native concoctions for a few cents, or can buy the luscious fruits of the country, including oranges, bananas, zapotes, or pineapples, for a song almost. Although the place is generally crowded there is no jostling or confusion. It would be hard to find a quarrelsome or disorderly person or any one who would raise his voice above the tone of polite conversation, and even the babies—of whom there are always many—refrain from crying. The dealers are all bargainers and will invariably ask at least twice as much as they would readily accept. A look of surprise or astonishment at a price given will invariably bring the query, “What will you give?” There is no such thing as a fixed price, and yet the lowest price that will be accepted does not vary much among the different merchants, as I found on several occasions.