Perhaps in no country has religion so many devoted days as in Mexico.
The "fiestas" are supposed to have a good effect in Christianising the
natives, and the saints' calendar has been considerably enlarged in that
pseudo-holy land. Nearly every week supplies a festival, with all its
mummery of banners, and processions, and priests dressed as if for the
altar-scene in "Pizarro," and squibs, and fireworks, and silly citizens
kneeling in the dust, and hats off all round. Very much like a London
Guy-Fawkes procession is the whole affair, and of about like influence
upon the morals of the community.
Of course the _padres_ do not get up these ceremonial exhibitions for
mere amusement--not they. There are various little "blessings," and
"indultos," and sprinklings of sacred water, to be distributed on these
occasions--not _gratuitously_--and the wretched believer is preciously
"plucked" while he is in the penitent mood--at the same time he is
promised a short and easy route to heaven.
As to any solemnity in the character of the ceremonials, there is
nothing of the sort. They are in reality days of amusement; and it is
not uncommon to see the kneeling devotee struggling to keep down the
cackle of his fighting-cock, which, full-galved, he carries under the
folds of his _serape_! All this under the roof of the sacred temple of
God!
On days of fiesta, the church genuflexions are soon over; and then the
gambling-booth, the race-course, bull-baiting, the cock-pit, and various
minor amusements, come into full operation. In all these you may meet
the robed priest of the morning, and stake your dollar or doubloon
against his, if you feel so inclined.
"San Juan" is one of the "_fiestas principales_"--one of the most noted
of Mexican ceremonials. On this day--particularly in a _New_ Mexican
village--the houses are completely deserted. All people turn out, and
proceed to some well-known locality, usually a neighbouring plain, to
witness the sports--which consist of horse-racing, "tailing the bull,"
"running the cock," and the like. The intervals are filled up by
gambling, smoking, and flirtation.
There is much of republican equality exhibited on these occasions. Rich
and poor, high and low, mingle in the throng, and take part in the
amusements of the day.
It is the day of San Juan. A broad grassy plain lies just outside the
town of San Ildefonso, and upon this the citizens are assembled. It is
the scene of the festival, and the sports will soon begin. Before they
do, let us stroll through the crowd, and note its component parts. All
classes of the community--in fact, all the community--appear to be
present. There go the two stout _padres_ of the mission, bustling about
in their long gowns of coarse serge, with bead-string and crucifix
dangling to their knees, and scalp-lock close shaven. The Apache will
find no trophy on their crowns.
There is the _cura_ of the town church, conspicuous in his long black
cloak, shovel hat, black silk stockings, pumps, and buckles. Now
smiling benignly upon the crowd, now darting quick Jesuitical glance
from his dark ill-meaning eyes, and now playing off his white jewelled
fingers, as he assists some newly-arrived "senora" to climb to her seat.
Great "ladies' men" are these same black-gowned bachelor-churchmen of
Mexico.
We have arrived in front of several rows of seats raised above one
another. Let us observe who occupy them. At a glance it is apparent
they are in possession of the "_familias principales_," the aristocracy
of the settlement. Yes--there is the rich "_comerciante_," Don Jose
Rincon, his fat wife, and four fat sleepy-looking daughters. There,
too, is the wife and family of the "Alcalde," and this magistrate
himself with tasselled official staff; and the Echevarrias--pretty
creatures that they think themselves--under care of their brother, the
beau, who has discarded the national costume for the _mode de Paris_!
There is the rich "_hacendado_," Senor Gomez del Monte, the owner of
countless flocks and broad acres in the valley; and there are others of
his class with their senoras and senoritas. And there, too, observed of
all, is the lovely Catalina de Cruces, the daughter of Don Ambrosio, the
wealthy miner. He will be a lucky fellow who wins the smiles of
Catalina, or rather perhaps the good graces of her father--for Don
Ambrosio will have much to say in the matter of her marriage. Indeed,
it is rumoured that that matter is already arranged; and that Captain
Roblado, second in command at the Presidio, is the successful suitor.
There stands he, in full moustache, covered with gold-lace, back and
front, and frowning fiercely on every one who dares to rest eye for a
moment upon the fair Catalina. With all his gold-lace and gallant
strut, Catalina displays no great taste in her choice;--but is he her
choice? Maybe not--maybe he is the choice of Don Ambrosio; who, himself
of plebeian origin, is ambitious that his blood should be mingled with
that of the military hidalgo. The soldier has no money--beyond his pay;
and that is mortgaged for months in advance; but he is a true
_Gachupino_, of "blue blood," a genuine "hijo de algo." Not a singular
ambition of the old miser, nor uncommon among parvenus.
Vizcarra, the Comandante, is on the ground--a tall colonel of forty--
laced and plumed like a peacock. A lively bachelor is he; and while
chatting with padre, cura, or alcalde, his eye wanders to the faces of
the pretty _poblanas_ that are passing the spot. These regard his
splendid uniform with astonishment, which he, fancying himself "Don Juan
Tenorio," mistakes for admiration, and repays with a bland smile.
There, too, is the third officer--there are but the three--the
_teniente_, Garcia by name. He is better looking, and consequently more
of a favourite with both poblanas and rich senoritas, than either of his
superiors. I wonder the fair Catalina does not give her preference to
him. Who can tell that she does not? A Mexican dame does not carry her
soul upon her sleeve, nor upon her tongue neither.
It would be a task to tell of whom Catalina is thinking just now. It is
not likely at her age--she is twenty--that her heart is still her own;
but whose? Roblado's? I would wager, no. Garcia's? That would be a
fairer bet. After all, there are many others--young "hacendados,"
employes of the mines, and a few merchant dandies of the town. Her
choice may be some one of these. _Quien sabe_?
Let us on through the crowd!
We see the soldiers of the garrison, with tinkling spurs and long
trailing sabres, mingling fraternally with the serape-clad tradesmen,
the _gambucinos_, and _rancheros_ of the valley. They imitate their
officers in strut and swagger--the very character of which enables one
to tell that the military power is here in the ascendant. They are all
dragoons--infantry would not avail against an Indian enemy--and they
fancy that the loud clinking of their spurs, and the rattle of their
steel scabbards, add greatly to their importance. They have their eyes
after the poblanas, and the sweethearts of the poblanas keep their eyes
after them in a constant vigil of jealousy.
The "poblanas" are the pretty girls of the place; but, pretty or plain,
all the girls are out to-day in their best and gayest apparel. Some
wear _enaguas_ of blue--others of scarlet--others of purple; and many of
them tastefully flounced at the bottoms with a trimming of narrow lace.
They wear the embroidered chemisette, with its snow-white frills, and
the blueish _reboso_, gracefully arranged, so as to conceal neck, bosom,
arms, and, in some cases of coquetry, even the face! Ere night this
jealous garment will have lost half its prudery. Already the prettier
faces peep forth; and you may see, from the softness of the complexion,
that they have been just washed free of the "allegria" that for the last
two weeks has rendered them hideous.
The "rancheros" are in their full and beautiful costume--velveteen
trousers, wide at the bottoms and open up the sides; _botas_ of
unstained leather; jackets of tanned sheepskin; or velveteen richly
embroidered; fancy-worked shirts underneath; and scarfs of rich red silk
around the waist. Over all the broad-brimmed _sombrero_, of black
glaze, with silver or gold band, and tags of the same, screwed into the
crown. Some have no jacket, but the serape, hanging negligently from
their shoulders, serves in place of one. All of these men have horses
with them; and on their feet may be seen spurs full five pounds in
weight, with rowels three, four, and even five inches in diameter!
The "gambucinos," and young men of the town, the smaller tradespeople,
are very similarly attired; but those of higher class--the officials and
"comerciantes"--are clad in broad-cloth jackets and pantaloons, not
exactly of European cut, but approaching it--a sort of compromise
between Paris fashions and the native costume of the country.
Another costume may be noticed, worn by many of the crowd. This is the
dress of the native "Pueblos", or _Indios mansos_--the poor labourers of
the mines, and the neophytes of the mission. It is a simple dress, and
consists of an upper garment, the _tilma_, a sort of coat without
sleeves. A coffee-sack with a hole ripped in the bottom for the head to
pass through, and a slit cut in each side for the arms, would make the
"tilma." It has no waist, and hangs nearly to the hips without other
fastening than the support at the shoulders. The tilma is usually a
piece of coarse rug--a cheap woollen cloth of the country, called
"gerga," of a whitish colour, with a few dyed threads to give the
semblance of a pattern. This with a pair of dressed sheepskin breeches
and rude sandals--_guaraches_--constitutes the wear of most of the
"Indios mansos" of Mexico. The head is bare; and the legs, from the
knee to the ankle, shine forth in all their copper-coloured nakedness.
Of these dark aborigines--the "peons" of the mission and the mines--
there are hundreds stalking about, while their wives and daughters sit
squatted upon the ground in rear of their _petates_; upon which are
piled the fruits of the soil--the _tunas, petahayas_, plums, apricots,
grapes, _sandias_, and other species of melons, with roasted nuts of the
pinon-tree, the produce of the neighbouring mountains. Others keep
stands of _dulces_ and _agua-miel_ or _limonada_; while others sell
small loaves--_piloncilios_--of corn-stalk sugar, or baked roots of the
agave. Some squat before fires, and prepare _tortillas_ and _chile
Colorado_; or melt the sugared chocolate cake in their urn-like earthen
_ollas_. From these humble "hucksters," a hot peppery stew, a dish of
_atole_, or a bowl of _pinole_, is to be had for a few _clacos_. There
are other stands where you can buy cigarillos of _punche_, or a drink of
the fiery _aguardiente_ from Taos or El Paso; and these stands are
favourite resorts of the thirsty miners and soldiers. There are no
"booths," but most of the hucksters protect themselves from the sun by a
huge screen of palmetto mat (_petate_) placed umbrella-like over their
heads.
There is one class of persons yet to be spoken of--an important class at
the festival of San Juan--they who are to be competitors in the sports--
the real wrestlers in the games.
These are young men of all grades in society, and all of them mounted--
of course, each in the best way he can. There they go, prancing over
the ground, causing their gaily caparisoned steeds to caper and curvet,
especially in front of the tiers of seated senoritas. There are miners
among them, and young _hacendados_, and _rancheros_, and _vaqueros_, and
_ciboleros_, and young merchants who ride well. Every one rides well in
Mexico--even the dwellers in cities are good horsemen.
Nearly a hundred are there of these youths who intend to take part in
the various trials of skill in equitation.
Let the sports begin!