Empire unusual suggested

136 PASSPORT TO MAGONIA
An incident occurring at daybreak, on Saturday, December 9,
1531, in Mexico, however, does represent the culmination of all
the superstitions we have discussed. 5 Of tremendous sociological
and psychological impact, it has left physical traces that can still
be seen—and, indeed, are still an object of much devotion—today.
On that long-ago morning, a fifty-sevcn-year-old Aztec Indian
whose Nahuatl name was Singing Eagle and whose Spanish name
was Juan Diego was going to the church of Tlaltclolco, near
Mexico City. Suddenly he froze in his tracks as he heard a concert
of singing birds, sharp and sweet. The air was bitterly cold: no
bird in its right mind would sing at such hour, and yet the harmonious
music went on, stopping abruptly. Then someone with
a woman's voice called Juan Diego's name. The voice was coming
from the top of the hill, which was hidden in "a frosty mist, a
brightening cloud." And when he climbed the hill, he saw her.
The sun wasn't above the horizon, yet Juan saw her as if against
the sun because of the golden beams that rayed her person from head
to feet. She was a young Mexican girl about fourteen years old and
wonderfully beautiful.
So far, we have a perfect beginning for a standard fairy apparition.
But in the ensuing dialogue, Juan Diego was told that the
girl was Mary, and that she desired a temple at that particular
place: "So run now to Tcnochtitlan [Mexico City] and tell the
Lord Bishop all that you have seen and heard."
This was easier to say than to accomplish. Poor Indians were
not in the habit of going to the Spanish section of the city, and
even less to the bishop's palace. Bravely, however, Juan ran down
the mountain and begged Don Fray Juan de Zumarraga to hear
his story. Naturally, the bishop, although he was kind to the
Indian, did not believe a word of his tale, so Juan went back
through the mountains and met the lady a second time. He advised
her to send the bishop a more suitable messenger, and he
was quite frank about it.
"Listen, little son," was the answer. "There are many I could send.
But you are the one I have chosen for this task. So, tomorrow
morning, go back to the Bishop. Tell him it is the Virgin Mary who
sends you, and repeat to him my great desire for a church in this
place."
NURSLINGS OF IMMORTALITY 137
The next morning, Juan Diego returned to Mexico City and
met again with the patient bishop. Juan Diego was so adamant
and seemed so honest in telling his story that Fray Juan de
Zumarraga was shaken. He told Juan to ask the apparition for a
tangible sign, and he instructed two servants to follow the Indian
and watch his actions. They tracked him through the city, observed
that he spoke to no one, saw him climb the hills . . . and
then he vanished. They searched the area without finding a trace
of him! The perfect fairy tale. But Juan had gone to the hill.
He gave the apparition the bishop's answer, and she said:
"Very well, little son. Come back tomorrow at daybreak. I will
give you a sign for him. You have taken much trouble on my account,
and I shall reward you for it. Go in peace, and rest."
The next morning, Juan did not come. His uncle—his only
relative—was dying. Juan spent the day trying to relieve his sufferings
and left him only on Tuesday, to get a priest. As he was
running to Tlaltelolco, however, the apparition again barred his
way. Embarrassed, he told her why he had not followed her instructions,
and she said:
"My little son, do not be distressed and afraid. Am I not here
who am your Mother? Arc you not under my shadow and protection?
Your uncle will not die at this time. This very moment his
health is restored. There is no reason now for the errand you set out
on, and you can peacefully attend to mine. Go up to the top of the
hill; cut the flowers that are growing there and bring them to me."
There were no flowers on the top of the hill, as Juan Diego
knew very well. In the middle of December, there could be no
flower there, and yet upon reaching the place, he found Castilian
roses, "their petals wet with dew." He cut them and, using his
long Indian cape—his tihna—to protect them from the bitter
cold, carried them back to the apparition. She arranged the
flowers he had dropped in the wrap, then tied the lower corners of
the tihna behind his neck so that none of the roses would fall. She
advised him not to let anybody but the bishop sec the sign she had
given him and then disappeared. Juan Diego never met her again.
At the bishop's palace several servants made fun of the Indian
visionary. They "pushed him around" and tried to snatch the
flowcis. But when they observed how the roses seemed to dissolve