LOVE AND COURTSHIP IN MEXICO.
"Why the world are all thinking about it,
And as for myself I can swear,
If I fancied that Heaven were without it,
I'd scarce feel a wish to be there." _Moore._
Beneath the Mexican skies, where everybody treats life as if it
were one long holiday, they love with a passion as fervent as their
Southern sun, but--on one side at least--as brilliant and transient as
a shooting star. Yet there is a fascination about it which makes the
American love very insipid in comparison.
In childhood, boys and girls are never permitted to be together. There
is no rather sweet remembrance of when we first began to love, or
having to stand with our face in the corner for passing "love letters,"
or the fun of playing "Copenhagen" when we didn't run one bit hard. It
is only of a dirty little schoolroom filled with dusky _ninos,_ all of
the same wearing apparel, who studied "out loud;" a fat little teacher
who never wore tight dresses, and who only combed her hair "after the
senoritas had gone home." A scolding French master and an equally bad
music master completes the memories.
When Mexican damsels reach that "hood" which permits of long dresses
and big bustles, they are in feverish expectation until, during a walk
or drive, a flash from a pair of soft, black eyes tells its tale and a
pair of starry ones sends back a swift reply, and with a tender sigh
she realizes she has learned that which comes into the lives of them
all. That night she peeps from behind her curtains and watches him
promenade the opposite sidewalk back and forth, the gaslight throwing
his shadow many feet in advance, which, she vows--next to him--is the
most beautiful thing she ever gazed upon. She does not show herself
the first time nor does he expect it. Modesty or custom prevents. Just
as he takes off his hat to breathe a farewell to her balcony, a white
handkerchief flutters forth for an instant, he kisses his finger tips,
the light goes out, and both retire, longing for _manana noche._
Time goes on, and she gets bold enough to stand on the balcony, in full
glare of the laughing moon, whilst he walks just beneath her. When it
rains he will stand there until hat and clothing are ruined, to show
his devotion. When she goes for a walk he is sure to follow slowly
behind, and if chance offers he touches his hat slightly, and she with
upraised hand deftly gives the pretty Mexican salutation. When the
novelty wears off all this, she gets a pencil, paper, and cord, with
which she transfers to him those sweet, soft little nothings which the
love-stricken are so fond of, and the fair fisheress never draws in an
empty line; hers are but the repetition of what almost any love-sick
maiden would pen--badly written and mis-spelled, it is true; his is
something of this style:
"BEAUTIFUL, ENTRANCING ANGEL,--Your loving slave has been made to feel
the bliss of heaven by your gracious and pleasing condescension to
notice his maddening devotion for you. I long to touch your exquisite
hand that I may be made to realize my happiness is earthly. Life has
lost all charms for me except beneath your fortunate balcony which has
the honor of your presence. Only bless me with a smile and I am forever
your most devoted, who lives only to promote your happiness.
"YOUR SERVANT WHO BENDS TO KISS YOUR HAND."
Every letter ends with this last, as we end ours "Respectfully." If
they do not care to write it out fully they put only the initials
for every word. If a girl is inclined to flirt she may have several
"bears," but her fingers tell a different hour for each. If two should
meet they inquire the other's mission, and their hot blood leads
them into a duel--which, however, is less frequent of late years. No
difference how much a girl may care for a duelist, she does not see him
after he has fought for her.
Winter comes at last, and with it the annual receptions of the
different clubs. A mutual understanding and many fond hearts beat
in anticipation of the event. Once there they forget the eyes of
their chaperons, and in their adorers' arms they dance the Spanish
love-dance. It is really _the danza._ At all receptions it comes in
every other dance and is played twice the length of any. It is the one
moment of a Mexican's life, and I assure you they improve it. The
danza is rather peculiar, and not at all pleasing to an _Americana._
It is nearly the waltz step reduced to a slow, graceful motion; the
high heels and tight boots prevent any swift movement; the gentleman
takes the lady in his arms and she does likewise with him--as nearly
as possible--and in this way they dance about three minutes, then
encircling, as two loving schoolgirls walk along, they advance, and,
clasping hands with the nearest couple, the four dance together for a
little while and then separate; this repeated by the hour constitutes
the Spanish danza. Uninterrupted conversation is held continually
as the girl's cheek rests against the gentleman's shoulder. Love is
whispered, proposals are made, and arrangements for future actions
perfected.
When parents notice a "bear," if they are favorably inclined, they
invite him in, where he can see the object of his adoration hemmed in
on either side by petticoats of forbidding aspect. When he once enters
the house it means that he has been accepted as the girl's husband,
and there is no "backing out." The father sets a time for a private
interview and when he calls they settle all business points: As to
what the daughter receives at the father's death, when the marriage
shall take place, where the bride is to live and how much the intended
husband has to support her; the lawyer finishes all arrangements and
escorts the engaged pair to a magistrate, where a civil marriage is
performed--that their children may be legal heirs to their property.
Even after this they are not permitted to be alone together; the
intended bridegroom buys all the wedding outfit, for the bride is not
allowed to take even a collar from what her father bought for her
before.
The final ceremony is performed in a church by a _padre,_ who sprinkles
the young couple with holy water and hands an engagement ring to the
groom, which he puts on the little finger of his bride, then the
_padre_ puts a marriage ring on both the bride and groom. After which,
holding on to the priest's vestments, they proceed to the altar, where
they kneel while he puts a lace scarf around their shoulders and a
silver chain over their heads; symbolic that they are bound together
irrevocably, as there is no such thing as divorce in Mexico. After mass
is said the marriage festivities take place and last as long as the
husband cares to pay for them, anywhere from three days to a month, and
then, like the last scene on the stage, the curtain goes down, lights
are put out, and you see no more of the actors who pleased your fancy
for a short time.
The husband puts his wife in his home, which is henceforth the extent
of her life. She is devoted, tender, and true, as she has been taught.
She expects nothing except to see that the servants attend to the
children and household matters--and she gets only what she expects. He
finds divers amusements, for, according to the customs of his country,
his "illusion" (what they call love) dies after a few days spent alone
with his bride, and he only returns at stated intervals to fondle or
whip his captive--just as fancy dictates. The men discuss at the club
the fact that he has more loves than one, but they all have, and it
excites no censure. But the world can never know what the bride thinks;
private affairs are never made public. He can even kill her, as did
their predecessor Cortes, and it will excite little or no comment.
When matured years come on, she loses what good looks she had; three
hundred pounds is nothing for weight, and on her lip grows a heavy,
black mustache. She cares for nothing but sleeping, eating, drinking,
and smoking the perpetual cigarette. And in this way ends the fair
Mexican's brief dream of the _grande passion._