At each of these and other places, “Brotherhoods” (Hermandades), affiliated to the original at Rocío, were established to guard these effigies; and it is from these points that every Whitsuntide the various pilgrim-fraternities journey forth across the wastes towards Rocío, each Brotherhood bringing its own carved replica to pay its annual homage to its carved prototype.
In the spring of 1910 the authors attended the Fiesta. Already, the night before, premonitory symptoms—the tuning-up of fife and drum—had been audible, and during the twelve-mile ride next morning fresh contingents winding through the scrub-clad plain were constantly sighted, all converging upon Rocío. It was not, however, till reaching that hamlet that the full extent of the pilgrimage became apparent, and a striking and characteristic spectacle it formed. From every point of the compass were descried long files of white-tilted ox-waggons—hundreds of them—slowly advancing across the flower-starred plain; the waggons all bedecked in gala style, crammed to the last seat with guitar-touching girls, with smiling duennas and attendant squires; the ox-teams gaily caparisoned, and escorted by prancing cavaliers, many with wife or daughter mounted pillion-wise behind, while younger pilgrims challenged impromptu trials of speed—a series of minor steeplechases. There were four-in-hand brakes, mule-teams and donkey-carts, pious pedestrians—a motley parade enveloped in clouds of dust and noise, but all in perfect order.
The following quaint description was written down for us by a Spanish friend who accompanied us:—
It is at the entry of the various processions that the most striking and picturesque effects are produced by the cavalcade. Here one sees displayed the grace and ability of the Amazon—the robust and comely Andalucian maiden, carried á ancas (pillion-wise) at the back of his saddle by gallant cavalier proud of his gentle companion, and exhibiting to advantage his skill in horsemanship. The noble steed, conscious of its onerous part, carries the double burden with care and spirit, being trained to curvet and rear in all the bravery of mediæval and Saracenic age.
About 4 P.M., while the converging caravans were yet a mile or so afield, all halted, each to organise its own procession, and each headed by the waggon bearing its own Virgin bedecked in gorgeous apparels of silk and silver braid. Then to the accompaniment of bands and bell-ringing, hand-clapping and castanets, drum, tambourine, and guitar, with flags flying and steeds curvetting, this singular combination of religious rite with musical fantasia resumed its advance into the village.
Despite the dust and crush not a unit but held its assigned position, and thus—one long procession succeeding another—the whole concourse filed into the village, crossed its narrow green, and sought the shrine where, within the open doors, the Virgin of Rocío, removed from the altar, was placed to receive the homage of the Brotherhoods. As each Replica reached the spot, its bearers halted and knelt, while expert drivers even made their ox-teams kneel down in submission before the “Queen of Heaven and Earth.” There was but a moment’s delay, nor did castanets and song cease for an instant. Later in the evening came the processions of the Rosario, when each of the visiting Brotherhoods make a ceremonious call upon the Senior Brother—that is, the Hermit of Rocío—after which each confraternity, with less ceremony but more joviality, visited the camps of the others. This last was accompanied by bands, massed choirs, and fireworks. Then the festival resolved itself, so far as we could judge, into a purely secular affair—feasting, merry-making, dancing, till far on in the night.
Rain had set in at dusk and was now falling fast. Rocío is but a tiny hamlet—say two score of humble cots—yet to-night 6000 people occupied it, the womenfolk sleeping inside their canvas-tilted ox-waggons, the men lying promiscuously on the ground beneath.
Sunday is occupied with religious ceremonies, beginning with High Mass. These we will not attempt to describe—nor could we if we would. The Spanish friend who at our request jotted down some notes on the Fiesta uses the following expressions:—
The days of the Rocío are days of expansion, merry-making, animation. Never, throughout the festival, ceases the laughter of joyous voices, the clang of the castanets, the melody of guitar and tambourine. Dances, song, and music, with jovial intercourse and good fellowship, all unite to preserve unflagging the rejoicing which is cultivated at that beautiful spot. At this festival many traders assist with different installations, including jewellers in the porch of the church, vendors of medallions, photographs, coloured ribbons, and other articles dedicated to the patroness of a festival which is well worthy a visit for its originality and bewitchment.
On the Monday morning, after joint attendance of all the Brotherhoods at Mass, followed by a sermon, the image of the Virgin is formally replaced upon the altar (the feet resting upon the same hollow trunk in which the figure was first found), then the processions are reformed and the long homeward journey to their respective destinations begins.