We were near the old Church of Santa Ana, whose bells many times a day
remind the faithful of their devotions. They were played skilfully,
with a loud noise and with a vivacity such as I never before heard
from bells. On one bell a man would drum a tune, the military music on
a church bell having a decidedly frivolous effect. At six o’clock in
the afternoon, the native inhabitants pause wherever they may happen
to be at the vesper bell, and perform their devotions. I frequently
met the Archbishop and his secretary in an evening walk, who would
stop suddenly when the bell struck and, uncovering their heads, would
repeat their prayers. I visited most of the churches. Imposture nowhere
reigns with more open demands upon the credulity of the people. In
one of the churches there are large paintings of the “Holy Girdle,”
whose marvellous cures, and power over serpents, and the bestowment
of blessings in answer to faith in it, are described in large letters.
Each of the many parishes has a monthly procession in which the
population join. One evening we encountered a procession which blocked
the streets for two hours. Four thousand women in black filled each
side of the wide street, chanting Scripture and prayers, the men
occupying the middle of the street with an imposing show of images of
canonized persons surrounded with lighted chandeliers. Each woman in
this procession had a lighted wax candle which she had bought of the
priests, to be returned to them after the march. This is the source
of a large revenue to the Church. These processions keep up a lively
enthusiasm among the people.