FEAST OF FLOWERS AND LENTEN CELEBRATIONS.
If they had put both in a kettle and, after constant stirring, poured
the contents out, there would not have been more of a mixture of
religion and amusement than there was during Lent; to a sight-seer it
looked as if the two forces were waging a battle to see which would
predominate. It was very interesting, more so from the fact that in
no other place on earth is Lent celebrated like it is in the City
of Mexico. I think I told you how the carnival season opened, with
balls, picnics, and driving in full dress on the paseo; then suddenly
everything collapsed, and the city put on somber robes. Bells tolled
forth from morning until night, and every other day was a saint's day,
when, Catholic or otherwise, we were compelled to fast; the stores
closed, and everything came to a standstill. All the night previous
fireworks were set off, and revolvers cracked until one's wildest wish
was that their inventors had never been born.
One morning I was surprised to learn I could not have any coffee--the
solitary cup which constitutes our dainty, delicious breakfast here.
My limited Spanish prevented my giving vent to my feelings, and so I
nursed my righteous wrath while I took observations. The whole house
was closed and darkened, the mirrors were covered with purple cloths,
and every little ornament, which had hitherto decorated the house, was
missing. All the people of the household were dressed in black, talked
in whispers, and walked around on their tiptoes. Dinner-time came and
we sat down to a bit of dry toast (butter is an unheard-of thing),
black coffee, chile, or red pepper, and beans. By this time I began to
get "shaky," especially as they did not talk and pulque was dispensed
with. After saying: "Some one must be dead;" "They must have gotten
into some kind of trouble, and are trying to make believe they are
away," I decided to quit "guessing," and try to find out the true cause
of these strange doings. Finally, I decided to see if any of my Mexican
"bears" wore visible; and, going through the parlor, I opened the
window leading to the balcony. Just as I had removed all the monstrous
bars, my landlady came rushing to me, with a burning candle in one
hand and beads in another, and in louder tones than she had spoken
before she besought me not to open the window. Completely mystified and
feeling sure they had done some terrible deed, I closed the bars, with
one longing sigh to my "bears," and then catching her by the shoulder,
asked, in trembling tones: "Tell me, what have you done?"
"No comprehende," she ejaculated, looking at me as if I had lost my
senses.
"Porque?" I asked, pulling her around, and pointing to the bare tables
and cabinets, the draped mirrors, the barred shutters.
"I am sad because it is my saint's day and my mother's day," she
explained, and she took me into her room, where everything was draped
in somber colors. Below the picture of her mother were a number of
burning candles placed around a large cross. Before this cross the rest
of the family were on their knees, and as I slipped out and closed the
door I saw her sink down beside them, with a look of submission on her
face. I have nothing more to say, except that I am glad that before a
similar day rolls around I shall be over the Rio Grande and doubtless
at home.
Holy week began on Piernes de Dolores (Friday of Sorrow), April 16.
As early as 3.30 in the morning the bells began to toll, and people
flocked to the churches. At five o'clock we started for La Viga,
where this day is celebrated by the Feast of the Flowers, or Paseo
de las Flores (Flower Promenade). Even at that hour the way was
crowded with people laden with flowers. When we reached La Viga we
found it filled with canoes and boats burdened with beautiful flowers
of every description. As far as we could see up La Viga it was the
same--picturesque people paddling their equally picturesque boats in
and out and around the crowd. Some of the boats were ready for hire.
They had awnings made of cane covered with ferns and flowers. Very few
could resist their inviting appearance, and by nine o'clock there was
not an empty boat to be found.
Along the fragrant, grassy banks sat flower girls surrounded by heaps
of ferns, creamy lilies, delicious pinks of hundreds of shades,
geraniums and fuchsias of wonderful size and color, and roses whose
colors, sizes and perfumes bewildered me. Honeysuckles, roses, lilies
and poppies were woven into wreaths, which people bought and wore on
their heads and around their shoulders. Eating-stands were about as
plentiful as the flowers, and everything that was ever made in Mexico
was here for sale. They did a big business, too. Gay crowds would sit
down on the grass and take breakfast off of a straw petate as merrily
as if in the finest dining-room. Some of these booths were fixed up
with canvas covers and flower sides; other long booths were fitted
up in the same manner, hung with the Mexican colors and filled with
chairs, where the tired could pay a medio (six and one quarter cents)
and sit down. Three bands in holiday attire sent forth lovely strains,
alternately, from similar booths; the trees on either side kept the
paseo shady. It was filled with people riding and driving; the riders,
who numbered many ladies, formed a line in the center and the carriages
drove around and around, down one way and up the other. Most of those
out driving alighted and mingled with the masses, it was certainly a
most enjoyable scene.
At several places we found things for sale which looked like dahlias,
with a strange mixture of colors. None could determine just what they
were, but presently we found a man and woman manufacturing them.
They were nothing more or less than long radishes, which with his
penknife the man turned into all kinds of flowers, as well as crosses
and other designs. The woman delicately touched one part one color,
another another, until they formed one of the most beautiful of the
many strange sights on La Viga. There was quite a rush for them, and
the happy purchasers triumphantly carried them off, while the less
fortunate looked on with regret. I got a number, but before the next
morning their beauty had departed forever, and their perfume was loud
and unmistakable. Of course there were plenty of venders and beggars
there. The venders had wax figures representing ballet dancers,
rope-walkers, angels--any sort of female that was skimp in her wearing
apparel. Others had men fighting bulls, monkeys on horseback, baby
dolls made of rags, and every little thing which could be invented.
This feast lasted until Sunday evening, and there was not a moment from
three o'clock Friday morning, until twelve o'clock Sunday night, but
what the place was crowded worse than Barnum's show in its brightest
days. The prettiest sight was when the people returned to town. Every
carriage, even to the driver's seat, was filled with flowers. The
horses and riders were decorated with wreaths, and in this manner they
all returned to their homes. I must describe one rider to you before
I leave La Viga. He rode a beautiful black horse. The Mexican saddle
was a bright, deep yellow, covered with silver ornaments, and a bright
sword dangled at the side. The bridle was entirely of silver, even to
the reins, and silver cord and tassels decorated the horse's neck. The
rider's pants were black and fitted as if he had been poured into them.
A row of silver buttons, at least the size of pie-plates, reached from
waist to knee, where they were met by high side-buttoned boots. An
immense silver spur completed that part. His vest was yellow velvet,
his coat blue, and his wide sombrero red, all heavily trimmed with
silver, while at the back, peeping beneath his coat, were two mammoth
revolvers. He was the most gorgeous butterfly I ever saw, and attracted
attention from Mexicans as well as myself.
Sunday was observed by the churches as well as on La Viga. It was Palm
Sunday, and the Indians had made pretty things out of dry palms which
they sold to the people for from a real (twelve and one half cents)
up to cinco pesos ($5). The devout took these to church and had them
blessed, and after carrying them home they were fixed to the bars of
windows, the balconies and above the doors, where they will stay for
the whole year. They say they keep the devil out, and that is their
reason for using them.
Excursion trains were run in from all the connecting points, people
appeared in the most gorgeous hues, and venders had no trouble in
selling the effigies they carried. Holy Thursday came and the bells
tolled from early morning until ten o'clock, when every one was
silent in sorrow for the crucifixion. Mass was said in the morning,
and all turned out to attend divine service. In the Alameda, Zocola
and paseo bands, to the number of three or four, delighted their
hearers. It seemed rather strange to stand within the church door and
hear the voice of the priest repeating mass, the piano playing a soft
prelude (no pipe organs are permitted during holy week), and the band
mingling the lively strains of some light opera, or something equally
ridiculous, with this solemn service. The altars were all hung with
squares of silver or gold tinsel, which were constantly in motion.
Thousands of candles lighted up the gloomy building, and Christ and the
Virgin were the only images in sight. At 3 o'clock in the afternoon
they brought in what they said were the oldest and most neglected of
beggars. The priest washed their feet, and after making the sign of the
cross with holy oil upon them, they were allowed to depart. I noticed
these men's feet had been washed recently, and also that there were
dirtier and poorer people in the audience. However, the washer took
good care not to touch the feet without an intervening towel. At night
the churches were brilliantly illuminated. It would be hard to give
an estimate of the candles required, but I fully believe that in some
of the big edifices 20,000 would not be a bad guess. The devout were
all on their knees, and everything was as silent as death, except the
piano, which still kept up its soft, soothing melody.
On Good Friday all the men and women were dressed in black, and every
church was draped with purple. The Virgin was dressed in heavy black
velvet. The poor Indians laid flowers, money and candles around the
image, and they could not have been more deeply touched had the
crucifixion taken place then instead of so many hundred years ago. They
kissed her feet, her garments, and the floor before her, and showed in
a thousand humble ways their love and devotion.
The ceremony of the Tres Horas (three hours) was celebrated in Texcoco.
First a lot of masked men ran around the yard with sticks, beating the
bushes, trees and flowers as though in search of something. Then one
of the men who was far from representing Christ in form, feature or
complexion, took a heavy wooden cross on his shoulders and walked into
the church, being lashed with a leather strap by the masked men. When
he fell the people covered their faces and groaned. He fell three times
before reaching the altar, where an effigy was nailed to the cross. The
sounds of the hammer and groans and cries of the people made one feel
as if somebody had dropped a piece of ice down their back. Finally,
amid the most heartrending cries, the cross was raised and the ceremony
was over.
All day wagons, horses, boxes, everything in the toy line, with a
racket in them, were sold to the people. All the venders were located
around the cathedral and Zocolo, and the din could be heard several
squares away. These are called matracas. When Christ was on earth,
they say, they had no bells with which to call the people to mass,
so these matracas were made, and a number of men would promenade the
streets, swinging them around to keep up the incessant cracking. The
men would cry out, "The hour has come for mass, the hour has come for
mass," and the faithful would hurry away to count their beads and say
their prayers. A foreigner told me this custom was still in vogue in
some parts of his country, France, during holy week. Hideous effigies,
called Judas, were for sale. Little ones made of lead were bought and
tied to the button-hole, the parasol, the bracelet, the belt, or any
other convenient place. Some made of plaster of Paris and paper, from
three inches to twelve feet long, were bought by old and young and
carried home for Saturday.
Sabado de Gloria (Saturday of Glory) came bright and sunny. All along
the streets were strung long Judases, some having pasted on them the
thirty pieces of silver for which he betrayed Christ; the image was
made in the most horrible form--as a negro, devil, monkey, half beast,
half human, every form that could possibly be thought of. At 11 o'clock
the bells began to ring merrily, as though rejoicing over the fate of
Judas, and a match was applied to every image in the town; they were
all filled with powder, and with one accord there was a universal
bursting and tearing and rejoicing throughout the city. As fervent as
had been their devotion to the Virgin, just as strong was their hatred
of Judas--even the smallest scraps they tramped upon.
By 12 o'clock gay colors were resumed, carriages which had been
rigorously kept out of sight came forth and were flying down the
paseo as if glad that the time of quietness was past. All places of
amusement, which had been closed during Lent, began sticking up posters
announcing a grand opening on the next (Sunday) evening. The noise of
the matracas grew fainter and fainter, and gradually ceased. The wind
picked up the stray pieces of Judases, played with them awhile, and
then carried them out of sight. The venders who had jammed the Zocalo
gradually disappeared; the music in the different parks ceased, and
Lent seemed as far gone, by the time 12 o'clock rang forth, as though
six months had passed. Such is life.
On Sunday the theaters, bull-fights, circus and race-courses were well
attended. The bull-fights were advertised as the last of the season.
The one I attended was excellent. The bulls were good ones, and some
very new and striking features were introduced. One man sat down on a
chair in the center of the ring with two banderillas in his hand. The
door was opened, and the bull rushed in and at him. He sat there, and
as it put down its head to gore him he stuck the banderillas into its
neck and sprung aside, while the bull knocked the chair into atoms.
Everybody cheered, and threw the fellow money and cigars. After this
toro had been dispatched, one man lay down on the ground and another
stood over him, keeping his head between his legs. Again they opened
the door and let a toro in. It rushed for the men, but the one standing
stuck the banderillas into it with such force that it roared with pain
and took after one of the other fighters in the ring, leaving the two
men unhurt. The very daring of this delighted the people, for if the
man had missed the bull both of them would have been killed without the
least trouble.
One toro had horns about four feet wide, and at the first plunge it
killed one horse. Then it caught another horse and threw it on its
back, the rider underneath. The fighters tried to draw it off, but it
stayed there until the horse was dead. All that could be seen of the
rider was his head, which he tried vainly to shield with his arms. They
carried him off for dead. This toro was very hard to kill. It required
seven lunges of the sword to convert him into beef. One toro refused
to fight, and when stuck with a sharp pica he jumped over the fence
and was with the audience. Such a scrambling! Most of the people threw
themselves into the ring, about the first ones to go being the guards,
who are placed around to take care of the people. It was quite a while
before quiet was restored, and the toro lassoed and removed.
Bull-fights have lasted longer this season than ever before, as it is
impossible to fight during the rainy season. Now a man comes forward
and says he is going to cover his ring and have fights all summer; this
will make the light in the ring dim, and the fighters will be at a
disadvantage, not being able to calculate their distances. It will also
make the fights more dangerous and more interesting. It is needless
to add that the people are delighted at the prospect. Last Sunday one
man got so excited over the big toro's fighting that when it was to be
stabbed he got down into the ring and, taking off his high silk hat,
asked the judge's permission to do the work. The audience rose to their
feet and shouted "Yes, yes," but the judge was unkind enough to refuse,
and thereby deprived us of seeing a fellow in broadcloth gored because
he thought he could kill a toro.
Congress is in full session now. The other day they passed a bill which
was strongly opposed. It is to the effect that any one caught meddling
with the railroads will be shot down instantly without a moment's
warning, and without a trial. Doubtless many will say that it is a
first-class law when they think of the wrongs committed on the railways
in Mexico. But it is such a law as will allow thousands of Mexicans
whose "honor desires satisfaction" to take advantage of it. The victim
is shot, and after he is dead the shooter steps forward and swears that
he saw him meddling with the railways, or knew he had designs on them.
This is all he has to do to be freed of the murder. While we believe in
dealing out unmerciful punishment to train wreckers, yet this law is
fit only for uncivilized countries, and least of all for Mexico, where
people shoot on the least provocation, ofttimes just for amusement, or
to test their unerring aim, piercing the brain or heart every time. It
is, certainly, a grand chance for those who have a desire for revenge
to obtain it and go scot-free.
However, the law is only to be tried for one year, and if it proves
good it will be adopted permanently. Now is the time for those who
claim the country is ruined by a ring to remove some of its links,
especially the key and padlock, and by doing so once again proclaim
liberty, and prove to the people that the "shoot without trial law"
really did some good.
Cinco de Mayo (5th of May) was the next big day for Mexico. Then they
commemorated the victory over the French, and it is done in princely
style. A French paper rather sensibly remarked that it would look
better if the Mexicans dropped this foolishness, as the French whipped
them on the 4th and again on the 6th. Some little government-paid
sheets came out in editorials as mad as turkey gobblers at the sensible
insinuation.
I for one am glad Lent and its eggs, red-pepper, and bad-smelling fish
is gone. What cowards our stomachs make of us all. I really have begun
to long for home, or rather home-cooking. I have made out a list which
I view every day, and see how much longer my stomach will have to
endure this trash. Fifty-six more mornings to drink black coffee and
long for even ham and eggs, with heavenly thoughts of hot cakes and
butter. Fifty-six more noons to eat boiled cheese, meat stuffed with
chili (red pepper), fish boiled in chili, with the fins, head, eyes,
and tail still adhering, dolce (dessert) of fried pumpkin sprinkled
with chili; fifty-six more suppers to eat the same bill of fare set up
cold; fifty-six more evenings to wonder why pulgras and chinches were
ever invented. By the way, if it were not for their musical names they
would surely be unendurable. There is a great deal in a name, after
all, and if I had to call them fleas and bedbugs I should take the next
train for the States. Well, I have fifty-six more nights to spend in an
iron-bottomed bed and then I shall cross the Rio Grande, and try once
again the pests which inflict mortals there.