CHAPTER XIII. COURTSHIP IN MEXICO.--"PLAYING THE BEAR."--LOVERS' TROUBLES.--A SHORT ROAD TO MATRIMONY.--PRESENTS TO THE EXPECTANT BRIDE.--THE MARRIAGE CEREMONY.--TEDIOUS PRELIMINARIES.--CIVIL AND RELIGIOUS MARRIAGES.--DIFFERENCES OF MARRIAGE AMONG THE COMMON PEOPLE AND THE UPPER CLASSES.--A HAND-BOOK FOR LOVERS.--FUNERALS; HOW THEY ARE MANAGED.--CARDS OF CONDOLENCE.--CEMETERIES.--MONUMENT TO AMERICAN SOLDIERS.--ANNUAL DEATH-RATE IN MEXICO CITY.--PREVALENT DISEASES.--DOMESTIC SERVANTS; THEIR NUMBER, WAGES, AND MODE OF LIFE.--A PECULIAR LAUNDRY SYSTEM.

One day while Frank and Fred were strolling along the streets, observing the people and their ways, studying the architecture, and making other observations, according to their custom, their attention was drawn to a young man who was walking slowly up and down in front of a house. His movements were so peculiar that Frank asked their guide what the man was about.

"Oh, he's playing the bear!" was the reply.

"And what is 'playing the bear?' I would like to know," the youth responded.

"He's making love," the guide explained; "that's the Mexican way of courtship."

This was a subject of special interest to the youths, as they knew their sisters and all the other young ladies at home would wish to know about it. Accordingly, they proceeded to inform themselves concerning the Mexican form of wooing, and here is the result of their inquiries:

"Courtship in this country," wrote Frank, "is a serious matter, and requires a great deal of patience. Young ladies are carefully secluded from anything more than the most formal acquaintance with young men, and there is no such thing here as the freedom of social manners that we have at home. When a young man has fixed his thoughts upon a fair damsel whom he has met at a party, or to whom he has been introduced in the Zocalo, he begins his courtship by walking up and down the street in front of her house and keeping his eyes fixed on one of the balconies, which he has somehow ascertained is the proper one for his gaze. A hint has been conveyed to the young lady that he will be there, and also to her parents and sisters. This hint may be given by the priest, who frequently serves as an intermediary; by some relative of the young man; or by means of a note sent to the young lady herself through the medium of the portero, or door-keeper, whose trouble must be paid for with cash in advance.

"This promenading in front of the house is kept up for hours at a time day after day, and also at night, and is what is called 'playing the bear.' It is generally done on foot, but sometimes the lover appears on horseback, the lady having been notified, through the subsidized portero, at what hour he may be expected.

"The lover is observed by the lady and her mother and the other feminine members of the family, who sit inside the window and are partially, if not wholly, screened from sight. If the match is favored by the parents the 'bear business' lasts only a month, or perhaps two or three months; but if it is not so favored the lover may keep it up for a long time, or until he gets discouraged and withdraws his suit. Of course it happens here as in other countries that parental opposition occasionally develops the young lady's affection, and then the young couple resort to all sorts of stratagems to exchange billets-doux. Letters are raised or lowered by means of strings, or transmitted through the hands of the portero already mentioned. In the case of parental opposition the portero runs a great risk, and consequently must be highly paid. Courtship under such circumstances is a luxury that only the affluent can afford.

"When the proper time arrives, provided everything is running smoothly, the young man, accompanied by a gentleman friend older than himself, calls on the father of the girl, and makes a proposal for her hand. The father says he will see about it, and the visitors take their leave.

"The father asks the girl if she desires to marry the young man. However much she may desire to do so she must profess indifference and say she cannot tell until she has met him. Then he is invited to call, and when he responds he is met by the entire family, including the servants. After he becomes the novio oficial, or accepted lover, he has the privilege of calling without a friend; but at no time is he ever left for a moment alone with the young lady. All interviews must be in the presence of a member of the family or of a duenna, no matter how long the courtship may continue after the formal acceptance.

"As the time for the marriage ceremony approaches the groom has a serious matter to contemplate—the 'matter o' money' connected with matrimony. He must furnish the house and home, and also buy the bridal outfit. Not infrequently the parents of the bride relieve him of a part of the expense, though they allow him to buy the jewels and bridal dresses. One thing that he must provide, according to a long-established custom, is an ivory-covered prayer-book; whatever else he fails in he must not be negligent in this. Eight or ten weeks before the ceremony, the pair must register at church, giving their names, ages, etc., very much as they do in some of the American States. A similar registry is made at the civil office. The banns must be published for five Sundays, and the bride must state before the priest and a notary that she marries 'of her own free-will.' The civil marriage takes place a few days before the ceremony in the church, and when the matter is ended the young couple are fairly launched into wedded life."

"Hadn't you better say something," Fred remarked, "about the ceremony itself?"

"That's hardly necessary," replied Frank, "as it is not much unlike the ceremony in all Catholic countries, and has been described over and over again. There are some local customs, however, that may be worth noting; for instance, a lady describes a wedding that she saw here in a church, where the groom passed several gold coins into the bride's hands, as an indication that she was to manage their financial affairs. But the chances are more than even that he did not permit her to do anything of the kind. When they knelt at the altar a silken scarf was put around their shoulders and a silver cord around their necks, to indicate their complete union."

"A cynical commentator might say," observed Fred, "that the silver cord indicated that the couple was united by financial considerations."

"That's something I've nothing to do with," answered Frank, quietly; "we'll go on with our description. But it is said that marriages in Mexico depend more on social, family, or business matters than upon sentiment."

"After the church ceremony," he continued, "there is a festival to which intimate friends are invited. Then the pair send cards to all friends and reasonably intimate acquaintances announcing their marriage, and the notice winds up with an equivalent for the 'at home' card of married couples in the United States and England.

"And one thing more," added Frank, "while we are on this subject. A woman who never marries is not stigmatized as an 'old maid,' as is often the case in the Northern States. Nobody ever thinks of suggesting that she has never had an offer of marriage; the remark about her always is that 'she is difficult to suit' even though no man may ever have thought of showing her any attention.

"Of course, you understand that in the marriage just described I had the upper classes in mind. Among the common people there is much less ceremony and formality; marriages are generally arranged by the parish priest, who conducts the principal part of the negotiations, and he has also a great deal to say on the subject among the middle, or tradesman, class. There is as much feasting and revelry as the parties can afford, and generally more than is prudent for them. Sometimes matches are made up by the parents of the young couple, without any consultation with them; but as children in this country are obedient to their parents, they are very unlikely to make any opposition to matches thus arranged."

Frank invested a real in a pamphlet called "El Secretario de los Amantes," or, to translate somewhat freely, "the hand-book of lovers." It is probably the most widely circulated book in the Mexican republic, and is as popular among young people as is "The Complete Letter-Writer," among those whose education has not been all they could wish, and who have occasion for epistolary correspondence.

The earnest attention which was given to this little work as soon as it fell into the hands of the youths led to a suspicion on the part of the Doctor that Frank and Fred meditated a little love-making on their own account, by way of experiment. But so far as we have been informed, nothing of the kind occurred; should any later information on the subject come to hand, it will be duly set forth in the second edition of "The Boy Travellers in Mexico."

The "Secretario" contains a code of cipher writing, forms for using numerals in place of the letters of the alphabet, symbols for each of the twenty-four hours of the day and night or the fractions thereof, and the one-hand alphabet for deaf-mutes. The necessity for this alphabet in love-making, and the practice that comes from it, may probably be the reason why many Spanish-Americans occasionally make signs in conversation, instead of speaking in words. There are chapters of advice to lovers, and there is a full signal code for the use of the fan, the handkerchief, the sombrero, and the glove. Spanish women have long been famed for their skill with the fan, and for the conversations they can conduct with its aid, and it has a very important place in the language of love.

In most editions of the book there is a separate chapter on the language of flowers and their various meanings accordingly as they are arranged or combined with others. A love-story can be told in the skilful construction of a bouquet—at least enough of it to form the opening chapter. There is also a language of fruits, and Fred suggested that there should be one of tortillas, frijoles, tamals, and other articles of the Mexican cuisine.

"Here is a wide range," said he, "for the author of 'El Secretario.' Provide each of the lovers with a thermometer, and then the temperature of a tortilla, as it is tossed into or out of a window, can be made to express a great deal. Forty degrees Fahrenheit might mean, 'My love is cold,' and one hundred and twenty degrees would say, 'I'm sighing like the furnace.' Ninety degrees signifies, 'Look out for the old gentleman,' and one hundred would literally say, 'I'm up to par.' The new edition of the book, with the tortilla annex, ought to sell like—"

"Like hot cakes," Frank remarked, and then the subject of matrimony was dropped.

The youths next considered the subject of the funeral, a ceremony with which the Church has quite as much to do as with weddings. It was Fred's turn to make an investigation, and commit his information to writing, and the following is the result of his efforts:

"One of the odd things about funerals in this city," wrote the youth, "is that they go by rail to the cemetery. The enterprising manager of the street railways formed his scheme, and then bought up all the hearses, so as to compel the populace to adopt his plan. There was opposition to it at first, but a short trial showed that it was much more economical than the old system. There is a good service of funeral cars, and they are graduated to suit all purses that have any money at all in them. The range of prices is from three to one hundred and twenty dollars; for the lowest sum a single car drawn by a mule is supplied, and for the highest figure one may have a hearse-car, gorgeously draped, plumed, and liveried, drawn by a pair of black horses, and with attendants appropriately liveried and of most solemn countenance. The hearse-car is followed by two, and perhaps three cars, containing the mourners, friends of the deceased, and others, who go to make up the funeral cortÉge, and these cars are as appropriately draped as the hearse. Ranging between the highest and lowest figures are half a dozen or even more 'outfits,' so that any desires can be met.

"Another curious custom is that poor people rent handsome coffins to be used during the funeral ceremony, the body being transferred to a plain unpainted box as soon as it reaches the cemetery.

"Funeral cards are printed in the newspapers along with the advertisements, and sometimes they have been inadvertently placed among the 'amusements.' They are also posted on the street corners and in other places where they can be seen, and printed cards heavily bordered with black are sent to relatives and friends. There is a fashionable card form for a funeral as much so as for a wedding, and it would be a great social blunder to vary from the conventional style. Friends and relatives must respond to these cards, and any one who has a large circle of acquaintance is obliged to write a good many notes of condolence in the course of a year.

"When we first arrived in the city we were somewhat surprised at the large number of people in mourning, until we learned that mourning is worn not only for relatives but for friends, and there is a prescribed time for which it must be worn in each case. Suppose a school-girl's father or mother dies, her companions put on mourning for fifteen days; if the girl herself dies they go into mourning for a month. The same rule holds throughout society, and there is also a rule that when one visits a house where the family is in mourning, the visitor must be costumed in mourning also. The result is that fashionable people are in mourning for a goodly part of the year, and a mourning suit, or dress, is a necessity for everybody's wardrobe.

"It is not the custom generally for ladies to attend funerals, but they send cards of condolence and make visits of pÉsame (regret) immediately after the ceremony. Families in mourning are secluded from society very much as in other civilized countries.

"The old cemeteries which are now in the city limits are closed, and no more burials can be made there. They have a general resemblance to the cemeteries that we described in chapter xxii. of 'The Boy Travellers in South America.' Those who can afford permanent burial for their relatives or friends take a perpetual lease of the niche where the corpse is deposited; in such case the word propiedad is placed over the entrance, along with the date when the entombment was made. If only a temporary lease is taken, the remains are removed at the end of five years to make room for a new tenant. The bones are either buried in one of the new cemeteries or thrown into a pit, where the bones of hundreds who once breathed the air and walked the streets of Mexico are indiscriminately mingled. The new cemeteries are laid out in modern fashion; we visited those of Campo Florida and La Piedad and saw some very tasteful tombs, which indicated to us both the tender remembrance of the Mexicans for their dead and the skill of the designers of the monuments.

"We have also visited the English, French, German, and American cemeteries; all of them have recently increased their population with greater rapidity than formerly, owing to the influx of foreigners. In the American cemetery our attention was specially drawn to the monument which marks the resting-place of four hundred soldiers who fell in the attack upon Mexico, the circumstance of their death being told by a brief inscription. The English and American cemeteries are side by side, and as time goes on it is probable that both will need additional ground.

"A medical publication here gives the annual death-rate of the city of Mexico as about 37 in 1000, but it says that many Indians come here from the lower lands and die of exposure and the effects of the rarefied air at this great elevation. In one year recently there were 13,008 deaths, of which 5577 were males and 6431 females; 4292 deaths were from pneumonia, bronchitis, and pulmonary and tuberculous affections, and there were 179 deaths from small-pox. Diseases of the lungs are dreaded, and those who have resided here for any length of time take great precautions against them. It is not considered safe to remove the hat in the open air for any length of time, and a stranger should be very particular about venturing into a draught. He should also take care not to emerge suddenly from a dimly lighted room to the dazzling sunshine; the air at this elevation is very pure, and the light is consequently strong. We have been told that persons neglecting this precaution have become permanently blind."

Frank and Fred had learned, before being long in Mexico, that there were many things to be avoided in the rarefied air of the valley, or, if not avoided, they should be taken with caution. Ascending stair-ways, or other laborious exercise, at an elevation of 7600 feet had to be done with deliberation, and the least unusual exertion was sure to put them out of breath. They were more sedate in their walking than in New York or other cities on or near the sea-level, and as for running, it was quite out of the question. Frank said he was sure that much of the traditional slowness of the people was due to their high elevation, and the need of taking things easily.

"Yes," replied Fred, "that's probably why this is the land of maÑana. The people don't like exertion, and so they put off till to-morrow everything that can be postponed, together with many things that have been positively promised for to-day."

"If they had been in a more northerly climate," said Frank, "it is probable that the Mexicans would be more advanced than we find them. Their location in the tropics has not been to their advantage. The opening of our railways will connect them with northern climes, and if we can fill the Valley of Mexico with our atmosphere it may enable them to breathe quicker than they do now."

The attention of the youths was turned from the elevation and atmosphere to some of the customs of the country, which they had learned from their guide or from others. They were told that it was estimated that about one-fifth the population was in household or domestic service in one form or another, directly or indirectly. The direct form would include those attached to a household, the indirect those who supply water, wood, charcoal, and other necessities of life, or perform outside work for families or individuals. The wages are low, but a great many servants are employed, so that the aggregate foots up to a large amount.

"There are from ten to twenty servants employed in a house," wrote Fred, "and we are told that large establishments will have thirty or even more. It is very much here as we found it in India—a great number of people, each with an allotted thing to do, and a servant would risk losing his place rather than do anything that belonged to another.

"Here's a list," he added, "that I have copied from the description of a Mexican household by an American visitor: portero, door-keeper; cochero, coachman; lacayo, footman; caballerango, hostler; mozo, man of all sorts of work; cargador, public carrier; camarista, chamber-man in a hotel, or valet in a private house; recamerera, chamber-maid in a private house; ama de llaves, house-keeper, 'mistress of the keys;' cocinera, cook; galopina, kitchen girl; pilmana, nurse-maid.

"There are other servants, such as the molendera, the woman who grinds the corn (for making tortillas); the costurera, sewing-woman; or the planchadora, ironing-woman. The most important servant is the portero, who has general charge of the house, and sometimes of a large building in which several families live. He is the exact counterpart of the German door-keeper, and, like him, generally lives with his family in a narrow retreat, which is situated so that he can command the entrance and observe who comes in or goes out. Servants do not change places as often as in England or the United States. It is by no means rare for them to spend their entire lives with a family; their parents before them served it, and their children will do so when they themselves are gone.

"The cook receives from two to five dollars a month, and chamber-maids and seamstresses the same. The men-servants are paid from ten dollars a month upwards, and out of their wages they are required to buy part of their food, and in some cases all of it. At least this is the theory, though the practice is that the employer really supports them, though indirectly. Servants are nearly always in debt to their employers, and this state of affaire is encouraged by law, as they are not allowed to leave a place as long as they are in debt. The only way in which this can be done is for the employer to assume the debt, pay the creditor, and then collect the amount by holding back a portion of the servant's wages each month till the obligation is discharged."

When Fred read aloud the foregoing account of the Mexican servants and their ways, Doctor Bronson suggested that he might add something about the lavanderas, or laundresses.

"That's so," replied the youth; "I had forgotten about them for the moment." Then he sat down and wrote as follows:

"Some of the houses have laundries, where the washing is done; but many dwellings are not thus provided, and the clothes are taken outside to be cleansed. In the smaller cities the washing is done on the banks of a stream or lake; the clothes being first put into a tub or box and soaked in water in which soap has been dissolved; then they are pounded with sticks or stones and rubbed with the hands. The work is not done with gentleness, and a few trips to the laundry generally wear out garments made of ordinary material. Some of the lavanderas undertake to wash, starch, and iron the clothes, while others attend only to the washing, and leave the other work as a separate contract with the planchadora. The employer is generally expected to furnish soap for washing clothes, and very often the servants are supplied with it for their own use, in addition to their wages."

---