Pictures of life in Mexico/Volume 1/Chapter 3
CHAPTER III.
A VISIT TO THE MONTE PIO.
Half a century ago, the city of Mexico was adorned with many magnificent buildings occupying prominent positions in the more spacious squares and streets. The man of science, the artist, and the manufacturer, had each an elegant public building, whither they could resort at pleasure; to the erection of which either they or their forefathers had largely contributed, and upon which they gazed with pride and interest. But now the glory has departed from these structures: they are generally either diverted from their original designs, or disused and left to decay; and the descendants of their founders may wander through the deserted rooms and dismantled galleries, musing on the days that are gone by, and on their dreary prospects of the future.
Of all the stately edifices which once graced the city—and they are noble even in their decay—scarcely any have retained their endowments, except the establishments belonging to the priesthood: these are still wealthy and luxurious; and perhaps the very decline of some far more deserving institutions, may have promoted their prosperity and splendour.
The Mineria, or school of mines, is one of the very finest building's in all Mexico, and would not disgrace the best squares either of London or Paris. It was designed by Tolsa—a Spanish sculptor and architect—and erected under his superintendence, at a cost equal to one hundred and thirty thousand pounds, English money; which sum was contributed by the wealthiest persons in Mexico. It is built with a very clear kind of freestone, and is of great extent; containing numerous magnificent saloons and upper chambers, besides courts, galleries, staircases, and commodious ante-rooms.
The enthusiastic anticipations of its projectors for its success and support, however, were falsified by the result. The collection of minerals and curiosities is utterly despicable; the scientific apparatus very inefficient; its income barely covers a small portion of its limited expenditure; the pupils are few and inattentive; and the masters, how great soever their capabilities, can only gaze through the windows of the useless chambers, lamenting their lot, and almost envying the superior fate of the common carriers in the streets.
The Academy of Fine Arts, so often and so deservedly praised, has also become nearly unoccupied. Furnished at great cost, under the old Spanish government, and supplied with excellent casts from the finest specimens of statuary in Europe, it was, indeed, an academy of art—for a time; and appeared likely to sail down the stream of popular approval and encouragement with the full tide of success. But the sanguine hopes of its founders, and the earnest efforts of their successors for its prosperity, have alike proved unavailing: little remains to signify its present use, besides its name, and the beautiful figures that adorn its halls. Another very fine edifice—a kind of model manufacturing-establishment—founded in the north-west portion of the city during the period of the old government, has since been converted into a military store and citadel.
The Botanic Gardens, near the chamber of deputies, behind the palace, have long been utterly neglected; and the University has shared the fate of the Mineria and the Academy of Fine Arts.
The Palace of the President, on the other hand, has vastly improved in its internal appearance within the last few years. Before 1842, it was but sparely supplied with necessary articles of furniture; and deplorably deficient in either comfort or splendour. Since then, however, it has been filled with gorgeous articles of decoration: the principal saloons are furnished with gilded thrones, crimson canopies, and enormous French mirrors, with painted festoons, and decorated panels; and many of the private apartments are fitted up and embellished in excellent taste.
The Plaza Mayor of the city contains the great cathedral, several palaces, and other public edifices; some held in honour, and some in dishonour. Among the best of these monuments was a colossal statue of King Charles IV., by Tolsa, the designer of the Mineria; it occupied a huge pedestal of Mexican marble in the centre of the square, but has now disappeared.
Part of the splendid palace—the erection of which is ascribed to Cortes—is appropriated to the purposes of the Monte Pio, or National Pawnbroking Establishment.
The Monte Pio presents too many characteristic scenes and incidents of Mexican life to be left unvisited.
The system pursued at this establishment resembles in many respects that of the Mont de Piété at Paris; and the spacious rooms; which are very numerous, are most commodiously arranged. Passing under an archway, we at once enter one of its principal and most extensive apartments.
Order is usually pretty well maintained, considering the number and qualities of the applicants; and due privacy may be observed, when required in particular cases: though, for the most part, the motley groups jostle each other in the freest manner possible. Boxes, shelves, bins, and partitions, line the sides of the apartments; attendants and clerks, with books and pens, stand behind the counters and drawers; and bustle, eagerness, and anxiety are observable everywhere.
If we could examine some of the bundles and boxes in those private cells, we should see an abundance of splendid apparel: the richly embroidered lace mantilla of the haughty dame, and the expensively wrought serape of the cavalier; the magnificently brocaded dress and spangled tippet, beside the bordered jaceti and slashed pantaloons of the fashionable horseman. Chased silver spurs and stirrups, massive boots, richly-adorned saddles and bridles, are huddled together in the greatest confusion. Of gold trinkets and precious stones, there is a large assortment; for the ladies of Mexico are unrivalled in the exhibition of jewellery on their persons, and they are continually either purchasing, exchanging, or pawning them:—diamond necklaces and ear-drops; magnificent stomachers and bracelets, in oriental profusion; caskets of gems, gold chains, emerald frontlets, pearl bandeaux, ruby and gold rings, costly fringes and inlayings, gilt boxes, and jewelled purses, all abound.
Arms and accoutrements are in great variety: long Toledo swords in chased sheaths belonging to the nobles, with cuchillos and daggers deposited by léperos; silver-mounted rifles and revolving pistols, side by side with rusty barrels, damaged locks, and shattered gun-stocks, broken powder-horns and hinge-less flasks. Also a fine collection of massive gold and silver plate,—gold vases, silver services, gilt trays, chased bowls, urns, and other vessels.
Of books and pictures none—with the exception of a few attractive-looking missals, some pieces of embroidery in gold frames, and a few foreign perpetrations, reminding us of the Chinese. And articles of furniture very few; for the upper classes seldom pledge their furniture, and the lower ranks have no furniture in the world to pledge.
The various groups are as opposite in appearance as can be imagined: léperos and léperas, beggars and ladrones, shoulder the fashionable and well-attired; and filthy Indians, whose earthly possessions are centred in the ragged blankets that but half conceal their nakedness, encounter the haughty and supercilious dames and caballeros at every turn.
The place of a mendicant who has just deposited a faded frezada, is taken by a remarkably tall, handsome young man, well-dressed, and of distinguished appearance; but who has a restless and eager look, and with feverish haste implores the officer to give him his instant attention. Addressing the clerk, who inclines his ear to him respectfully, he says,—
"I wish you to advance me twenty pesos, if you can possibly do it, upon this necklace: and may the Virgin help thee to be quick, for I have instant need of the money!"
But that individual is in no hurry to obey his commands, and he carelessly continues sorting some labelled parcels, upon which he had been previously occupied. The anxious look of this young man, and the hectic flush upon his cheek, have been produced by the excitement of the gaming-table; his temples throb, his eyes glow, and, in the extremity of his impatience, he fiercely, but inadvertently, clutches the handle of his dagger. At length the clerk in attendance condescends to comply with his demand, or at least with two-thirds of it. The usual questions are asked, the customary memorandum is made, the money is handed over, and the necklace is surrendered. It was the last dying gift of a departed and dearly beloved sister that he has now relinquished: last night, when heated with wine, he staked his whole worldly wealth upon a cast of the dice, and lost it; and he has now sold his only remaining treasure in desperate haste, hoping to recover his losses. Soon his comrades will fleece him of this paltry sum, as they have of every other:—then death, either by the dagger or the stream, poison or bullet, will be his portion; and the consequences of his fatal sport will have to be played out through the endless years of eternity.
A stately lady in mantilla and splendid costume has just entered the room, accompanied by an attendant arrayed in a scarcely less elegant manner: she has come upon the usual errand. One of the ruling passions of a Mexican lady, is to appear in as magnificent a dress as possible at the theatre or opera, particularly on grand occasions; and the fortunes of their husbands are heavily taxed for the purchase of gold and silver ornaments, jewelled. wreaths, and precious stones. This lady happens to have a daughter who has just attained her fourteenth year—a mature age in this country, which entitles her to the privilege of being "brought out" splendidly in fashionable circles—and the managing mama has resolved that no expense shall be spared in this instance. The day after to-morrow closes with the grand, opera night—a fine opportunity for display; conquest, and rivalry; but, unfortunately, the family jewels are in pledge! A few necessary articles, however, have been sold, a little money has been borrowed, and the haughty dame and her confidential companion, are come here to release the desired articles from durance vile, for a few evenings.
The business transaction is entrusted to the attendant, who makes the proper inquiries, replies to the questions put, and deposits the required amount of interest money. The lady is evidently here only for the purpose of examining the jewels, and assuring herself of their safety. Casket after casket, pins and studs, necklace and clasp, chain and bracelet, are diligently inspected; rings, ear-drops, jewelled comb, and studded zone, are once more carefully examined. The lady and her family are sure of a dazzling and entrancing display; and the mother's breast will expand with gratified pride, for her daughter will be one of the most resplendent stars of the fashionable hemisphere. Such glorification, however, is destined to be shortlived; the borrowed money will be soon demanded; difficulties will continue to increase; and the sparkling treasures will shortly find their way to the well-lined safety chests of the Monte Pio.
A sanguinary-looking wretch, with bloodshot eyes, straggling-beard, and furtive face, now presents a bundle of miscellaneous articles in very dirty condition, to the notice of the clerk, who looks at them with evident suspicion. The first thing taken up is a griddle for cooking, coated with soot and grease, then a torn but gilded missal, a pack of filthy playing-cards, a handsome pocket pistol, a gilt chain and crucifix, a broken string of beads, an ornamented purse, much soiled, a greasy old leathern powder-flask, a bolt and two hinges, a handbasket, and lastly, three or four stone jars! Not an article among them but is stolen: they are the accumulations of a week's pilfering, at the least.
The interview with this applicant is rather protracted; for his manners and the account he gives of himself are not altogether satisfactory. The officer with the book appears to be in two minds about apprehending him for closer examination; but the fellow's impudence comes to his aid, and his story suddenly assumes an 
air of probability. In default of further evidence it is accepted; a list is made of the articles, and about a fourth part of their value is tendered him; with which he walks away, with greater zest for plunder than ever, and a determination to avail himself largely of future opportunities.
The blushing maiden who next advances unattended, with a packet in her hand, has come upon a pious mission. Long despised at home by a dissipated father and a scornful mother, now that adversity has come upon them, she is their sole support; their ministering spirit. Her proud and noble family have given costly entertainments, frequented places of popular amusement, and rivalled the wealthiest in personal magnificence and benefactions to the Church; but a course of riotous extravagance, gaming, and debauchery, have had their usual effect, and neither the friendship of their former visitors, the sympathy of relations, nor even the blessings of the Church, are to be obtained by them now. Every external resource is exhausted. At this juncture, the fair daughter comes to their relief; she has mustered the whole of her trinkets and personal effects—many of them valued gifts, and now offers them at the Monte Pio for the relief of her unworthy but distressed parents. The rich colour mantles upon her cheek as she exposes those cherished relics of more prosperous days; but an expression of tearful joy illumines her eyes, as she thinks of the benefit her present sacrifice will confer upon her relatives. As she turns away, one might envy her the happiness she anticipates.
A visitor of another stamp now makes his appearance—a tradesman, residing in one of the mathematically straight streets, branching from the Plaza Mayor. Of course, he is in difficulties. It is surprising how these storekeepers contrive to keep open their houses from month to month, so great is their pride and indolence, and so grossly do they mismanage their affairs:—it is no unusual thing for one of these retailers to request you to call again, if you require some article which he is too lazy to look for—and a Mexican shopkeeper seldom knows where to lay his hand upon any article required.
The individual in question has so long lived on in a kind of dream of inactivity and gentility, that he is quite electrified to find himself, on awakening, almost without the means of a bare subsistence, and his visions of fashionable independence all melted away. Throwing down the articles he has brought, with an air of recklessness and offended dignity, he replies to the interrogations of the clerk on duty in a curt and insolent manner. He receives the amount advanced to him with an oath and a bitter smile of contempt, letting the money fall into his pocket as if it were an offering of propitiation to an offended deity; then, scowling upon the assembled multitude, he retires, muttering maledictions and vowing to revenge himself upon society in general.
Presently the hasty rush of footsteps and a roar of voices are heard approaching from the direction of the outer passage. The hubbub is caused by our friend the ladrone, who just now presented the miscellaneous bundle of stolen goods: he is surrounded by an indignant crowd, grasping his limbs, and pushing him before them, struggling and protesting, to the doorway. Encouraged by his recent success, he has been plying his vocation upon the persons of several visitors in different parts of the building, and has been taken in the act: a small box of jewels, a watch, and an embroidered sash, have been found upon him; yet he persists in asserting his innocence. Throwing himself doggedly on the ground, he refuses to move on any terms, by turns threatening and imploring his resolute captors; but he is compelled to rise, and with a shout of execration, is dragged by main force out into the street.
He is no sooner there, however, than a sympathizing group of léperos, with a few adherents of his own "profession," make a rush to his assistance. For a moment his escape seems certain; but his guardians, among whom are a few police officers, cling to him with wonderful tenacity. A conflict ensues; blows and cuffs are exchanged; muttered curses and cries of agony are intermingled; several of the bystanders are thrown down and wounded; the vociferations increase, and the embroglio becomes general. In the confusion, the scoundrel who has occasioned it throws off the hold of his captors by a vigorous movement, and darts with incredible swiftness through an opening made for him in the crowd.
In the mean time, more police officers and a few soldiers have arrived on the scene, and a pursuit is instantly set on foot; some of the mob join impetuously in the chase and a sort of running fight takes place—the delinquent is once more knocked down and arrested—and the scene closes by a procession to the Accordada, consisting of the serenos (police officers); soldados; the prisoner an attendant throngs and some léperos, who have been apprehended for the very active share they have taken during the progress of the affair.