THE PAPAL SHADOW IN CHILE.
By C. M. Snow
MRS. LULU M. LA FETRA gives, in a late number of the Converted Catholic, a striking setting forth of what might be called the social and religious conditions of the people of Southern Chile. At least the conditions which she describes in the vicinity of Yumbel, province of Conception, are a fair portrayal of the conditions that exist throughout that country and in all countries that have been long under the dominating sway of the Papal Church. Once each year, on the 20th of January, a pilgrimage is made by the superstitious peasantry of Conception to the shrine of St. Sebastian, at Yumbel, where each penitent deposits a liberal contribution or performs some act of penance, or both. The following is Mrs. La Fetra's description of the doings of that day, and the carousals at night:— "From the first light of dawn all the roads that lead to Yumbel are filled with carts and rickety carriages which creak and groan frightfully. All are covered with a cloud of fine dust, raised by the caravan, which trots or gallops quickly along, in order to gain the first place at the church door, where is consummated to-day the wholesale robbery tolerated by our laws and blessed by Catholicism. "In these tumble-down carriages ride the ragged and dirty children, among baskets of lunch and demijohns of wine and brandy, together with the harp, which later will help to celebrate the carousals and drunken revels which will follow the fulfillment of vows, the mass, and the procession. "There are also many perspiring fanatics who came barefooted and weary, expiating—so they say—sins they have committed. Perhaps among them are those who expect to be forgiven for the sins they will commit when the orgy is at its height and the liquor—the bad liquor—has risen to their heads. "There are some who make the pilgrimage in all good faith, conscientiously, pitifully so. At the beginning of the mass many of these may be seen several squares away painfully advancing on their knees, prostrating themselves and almost fainting on account of the rough pavement, which tears the flesh, causing so much blood to flow that one truly pities them. "And these poor deceived ones, who are for the most part women, as they touch the threshold of the temple door, light bits of candles and penetrate within, always sadly prostrating themselves, until they go to leave at the money box, over which a priest stands guard, the money which they have saved after working like animals on the farms. Much of it, too, has been saved by living on half rations for days and weeks. "During the mass and long afterward the pilgrimage to the money box, which receives the offerings, does not cease for an instant. It is a stream of money which falls drop by drop before the impassive image of St. Sebastian, who stands over the altar, protected by an iron fence. It is an awkward, repugnant figure. One searches in vain to find a harmonious line or a trace of art. It has the expression of a bandit arrested by justice in punishment for some low crime. "What is most worthy of attention at this saturnalian feast of St. Sebastian is the grimace which the priest or sacristan who guards the coffer puts on as the money is deposited. If it is a little, his expression is sour and hard; if the amount is satisfactory, he laughs lightly, with a patronizing and benevolent air. "Meanwhile the atmosphere has become heated and vitiated. It is heavy and nauseating from the heat of the tall wax candles, from the smoke of the incense, and all the bad exhalations of the sweaty and unclean crowd. There is a continual murmur and noise of prayers, disturbed every moment by the harsh, strident accents of the priests who officiate. "The sum of money obtained to-day assumes almost incredible proportions. One is safe in saying that the average amount never falls below $50,000 even in the worst years. "Once the carnivalistic ceremony is concluded, the faithful and those carried away by fanatical fervor disperse through the city and give themselves up to frightful excesses. It is not rare to find numbers lying in the street, sleeping off their drunkenness. The sound of the harp and guitar and the songs of women last till late at night, disturbing the peace and quiet of Yumbel, which is usually calm and orderly. All the thieves are present at the feast, and there is no watch nor pocket safe from their depredations. At night it is dangerous for a peaceable citizen to walk through the streets. "Such are the ceremonies celebrated at Yumbel by the clergy of Conception on the 20th of January." If, as a result of the Spanish and Filipino war, those fields over which the shadow of papal darkness has hovered so long, are opened up to the liberty-giving light of the Gospel, it will be but another illustration of that scripture, "All things work together for good to them that love God"—an illustration of God's power to make the wrath of man praise Him. C. M. SNOW.