Church and state in Bourbon Mexico: the Diocese of Michoacán, 1749-1810 9780521460927, 9780511885150, 9780521523011

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In the eighteenth century the Mexican Church experienced spiritual renewal and intellectual reform. The establishment of Franciscan missionary colleges, of the Oratory and of convents and sisterhoods greatly enlivened devotion in the diocese of Michoacan. Thriving confraternities demonstrated the vigour of parochial life. But the secular clergy remained divided between a wealthy elite and an impecunious mass of curates and country vicars, with the cathedral chapter dominated by a group of enlightened peninsular canons. Charles III and his successor expelled the Jesuits, secularised mendicant parishes,

closely invigilated popular religion, stripped the clergy of their immunity from royal courts and then seized their wealth. In I81ro priests from the Michoacan diocese led the popular Insurgency which challenged Spanish rule. Here is a rounded portrait of the Mexican Church at its meridian,

which touches upon virtually all aspects of religious life and highlights the clash between post-Tridentine baroque Catholicism and enlightened despotism.

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Church and State in Bourbon Mexico

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Church and State in Bourbon Mexico The diocese of Michoacan 1749-1810 D. A. Brading University Reader in Latin American History, University of Cambridge

I) CAMBRIDGE ly UNIVERSITY PRESS

PUBLISHED BY THE PRESS SYNDICATE OF THE UNIVERSITY OF CAMBRIDGE

The Pitt Building, Trumpington Street, Cambridge, United Kingdom CAMBRIDGE UNIVERSITY PRESS

The Edinburgh Building, Cambridge CB2 2RU, UK. 40 West 20th Street, New York NY 10011-4211, USA 477 Williamstown Road, Port Melbourne, VIC 3207, Australia Ruiz de Alarcon 13, 28014 Madrid, Spain Dock House, The Waterfront, Cape Town 8001, South Africa http://www.cambridge.org

© Cambridge University Press 1994 | This book is in copyright. Subject to statutory exception and to the provisions of relevant collective licensing agreements,

no reproduction of any part may take place without | the written permission of Cambridge University Press. First published 1994

, First paperback edition 2002 A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

Library of Congress Cataloguing in Publication data Brading, D. A. Church and State in Bourbon Mexico: the diocese of Michoacan

1749-1810/D. A. Brading.

p. cm. |

ISBN 0521 46092 1 , Includes bibliographical references and index.

1. Catholic Church. Diocese of Michoacan de Ocampo (Mexico) — Church history — 18th century. 2. Michoacan de Ocampo (Mexico) — Church history —18thcentury. 3. Mexico —- Church history — 18th century. 4. Mexico — History — Spanish colony, 1540-1810. I. Title.

BX1430.M53B73 1994 282’.7237-dc20 + 93-44303 CIP ISBN 0521 460921 hardback — ISBN 0 521 52301 X paperback

In memoriam matri atque patr1

... the People of God 1s by faith set free from Babylon, so that in the

- meantime they are only pilgrims in the midst of her. That is why the Apostle instructs the Church to pray for the kings of that city and those in high places, adding these words: ‘that we may lead a quiet and peaceful life with all devotion and love’. St Augustine, City of God

Contents

Preface Xl

List of tables page X

I2 Méendicant Jesuit expulsion 3 chronicles 20 34 Secularisation Oratorians 40 62

Part 1: The religious orders

5 Nuns 82

, 6 Priests 10§ Part 2: Priests and laity

7 Confraternities and parochial income 131

8 Devotion and deviance 150

Part 3: Bishops and chapter

g Cathedral and chapter 173 106. A bishop and his canons 192 11 Tithes and chantries 211

12. Liberal prelate 228

Appendices 255 Notes 267

Index 294

Bibliography 287 ix

‘Tables

1 Population of the Michoacan diocese, c. 1810 page 106 2 Distribution of clergy in Michoacan diocese, 1793 107

3 Confraternities in Michoacan diocese, 1791 135

4 Average annual income of the parish of Zitacuaro, 1800-4 146

5 Confraternities and mass fees in Leon, 1775 147 6 Parochial income in Michoacan diocese, 1791 148 7 Diocesan tithes: distribution, expenses and stipends, 1790 183

8 Valladolid cathedral expenses, 1790 187 9 Valladolid cathedral fabric capital and income, 1804 IQ! Io Tithe receipts in Michoacan diocese 217

11 Church income in Michoacan diocese, 179I 221 Appendices

rt Church income in Spanish America, c. 1799 255 2 Parochial and conventual income in Michoacan diocese, I79QI 258

3 Tithe income in Michoacan diocese, 1787 264

x

Preface

In 1979 I went to Morelia — viceregal Valladolid — to study the history of the Mexican Church in the eighteenth century. In Miners and Merchants in Bourbon Mexico (1971), I had described the revolution in government

projected by Charles III and traced the fortunes of the entrepreneurial elite who promoted the economic expansion of that epoch, concentrating

in particular on the great mining city of Guanajuato. Thereafter, in Haciendas and Ranchos in the Mexican Bajio (1978), I analysed the | patterns of land tenure and the structure of agricultural production in Leon. During my research I had already worked briefly in the archive of the episcopal curia of Michoacan, a diocese, which in the colonial period

encompassed the territories of the modern states of Guanajuato, Michoacan, San Luis Potosi, parts of Jalisco and Colima. This archive

had been confiscated by the state authorities during the Mexican Revolution and at that time was the only collection of diocesan records open for research. My aim was to complete my exploration of Bourbon _ Mexico by delving into the world of popular religion and conventual piety and thereby approach more closely the thoughts and sentiments of this epoch than had been possible in my previous books. In the event, the paltry few months of sabbatical leave at my disposal

proved far too short a time to master the great mass of uncatalogued documents housed in the Casa Morelos. With over 1,000 legajos for the eighteenth century alone, any attempt even to survey their content was

doomed to failure. Moreover, the bias of these records impelled me towards the material and financial side of church life. The result was that I often found myself following the trail blazed by Nancy Farriss in Crown and Clergy in Colonial Mexico (1968) where the attempts of Charles III and his ministers to reform the church were set out with precision. Even on the Enlightenment in Valladolid I saw that German Cardozo Galué in Michoacan en el siglo de las luces (1973) had already covered much of the ground. Subsequent spells of research in Mexico City and in the Archivo de Indias at Seville did not alter this impression. It was at this point that

I put my notes to one side and embarked on the nine years of wide Xi

| Xil Preface reading and hard writing that went into The First America (1991). All was not lost, however, since in that book I dealt both with the efflorescence

of post-Tridentine Catholicism in New Spain and the assault on its baroque culture launched by the Bourbon Enlightenment. In 1990-1 I returned to Morelia, only to find that in archives where once I had laboured as a solitary student, free to fetch and open such documents as I cared to read, now teams of young graduates were at work cataloguing, reorganising and writing their theses. Within little more than a decade a new generation had appeared on the scene, in part influenced by the new-found interest in local history initiated by Luis

Gonzalez and the Colegio de Michoacan at Zamora. One of the first fruits of that new interest was Oscar Mazin’s Entre dos majestades (1987)

which examined the administration of Bishop Sanchez de Tagle, a prelate about whom I had found abundant traces. Another manifestation of change was the decision of the cathedral chapter to allow a team from the Colegio de Michoacan to catalogue and study their hitherto jealously guarded records. Confronted with this upsurge in archival research, I decided that I could best assist the collective enterprise by employing the materials I had already collected to frame a general account of the church in Michoacan in the second half of the eighteenth century. Although this book can certainly be regarded as the concluding volume in a trilogy on Bourbon Mexico, it possesses a more introductory character than was the case with its two predecessors. To throw into relief the shock caused by the Bourbon assault on the Mexican Church, I have introduced chapters based on the mendicant

chroniclers of Michoacan which depict the dynamic character of baroque Catholicism in New Spain during the first decades of the eighteenth century. Notable features here were the Franciscan colleges de propaganda fide, the Oratory at San Miguel el Grande and the emergence of beaterias. ‘The second section of the book deals with the secular clergy,

the role of confraternities in parochial life and the forms of popular religion. The third section examines the cathedral chapter at Valladolid and provides a systematic account of church finance. The book con-

cludes with a discussion of the life and writings of Manuel Abad y Queipo, the last Spanish bishop of Michoacan. In effect, the book consists of separate essays on different aspects of church life, some taken

from published materials, the bulk based on archival sources, but all dealing with the diocese of Michoacan. Two caveats need to be noted, one of principle, the other of method. At some points I describe scenes of conflict and corruption among the clergy; but it should always be remembered that one bad priest was apt to generate more episcopal paperwork than ten good priests going quietly about their business. More

Preface Xi

practically, since the completion of this book, I have learnt that both the location and the enumeration of documents in the Casa Morelos archive

have been radically altered; to trace my references it will now be necessary to discover their possible correlatives in the new catalogue. In both the research and the writing of this book I have incurred debts

I am anxious to acknowledge. On first going to Morelia I was greatly assisted by Alfonso de Maria y Campos. So also, the late director of the archive in the Casa Morelos, Manuel Castafieda Ramirez, allowed me

uninterrupted use of its materials. On my return to that city I was welcomed by Fausto Zeron Medina; Carlos Herrejon Peredo took me into the archive of the cathedral chapter; and Oscar Mazin and Marta Parada helped clarify my thoughts on diocesan and cathedral administration. The Oratory Fathers at San Miguel presented me with a copy of the life of their Founder and allowed me to consult a key document. The archivist of the province of San Pedro y San Pablo made it possible for

me to inspect the Franciscan archive at Celaya. For the rest, I wish to

thank Margaret Rankine who has typed this manuscript and often corrected my errors. My research in Morelia was made possible by an award from the British Academy, and subsequent visits to Mexico City and Seville were assisted by grants from the University Travel Fund at Cambridge. Finally, I thank Celia Wu for her unswerving support both during our stay in Morelia and during the summers when this book was written.

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Part 1

The religious orders

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] Jesuit expulsion

I

In 1767 Charles III (1759-88) summarily expelled all Jesuits from his dominions in Europe and America. At this time the Mexican province of

the Company of Jesus numbered 678 priests and brothers, many of whom came from leading creole families. At one stroke, the colleges which had provided education in all the chief cities of the kingdom were

closed. In the capital, the San Ildefonso college had been rebuilt on a majestic scale during the 1740s and was renowned for the distinction of its students who became ‘bishops, judges, canons and professors in all the faculties’. In Puebla the Jesuits had only just completed rebuilding their splendidly decorated new church. The Mexican province was in the midst of a marked expansion in activity and manifested all the signs of an intellectual regeneration when the detachments of soldiers bearing the expulsion orders arrived at their colleges and mission stations. A priest

later recalled how his brethren were abruptly instructed to pack their sparse belongings and within two days were escorted to the port of Veracruz, their journey broken only by a last, merciful visit for prayer to

Our Lady of Guadalupe, Mexico’s patron saint, in her sanctuary at Tepeyac. Thereafter, the Jesuits faced a long voyage to Cadiz, followed by an equally arduous journey, first to Corsica, and then to Papal States.! Several elderly or infirm priests died on the way; a few sought release from their vows; and the faithful survivors found lodgings in Italian cities there to eke out a penurious, obscure existence until their death. Of over 500 Mexican-born Jesuits, only two were destined to see their beloved

homeland again. :

The ‘urgent, just and compelling causes’ which had driven the king to

sanction such an apparently arbitrary exercise of power were never divulged to his subjects but remained locked away ‘in the royal breast’. The unquestioning loyalty demanded by the Bourbon monarchy was expressed by Archbishop Francisco Antonio de Lorenzana (1766-72)

who in a pastoral letter warned his flock against even discussing the 3

4 The religious orders matter: ‘What has to be done is to obey and be silent.’ It was the same prelate who persuaded the Fourth Mexican Church Council, convoked in 1771, to call for the dissolution of the Company of Jesus, a resolution duly cited by the Spanish ambassador to the Holy See when in 1774

he successfully obtained from Pope Clement XIV the extinction of the Jesuits as a recognised institute of the Catholic Church.2 To allay popular consternation caused by these events, the bishop of Oaxaca prepared a pastoral, never actually circulated, in which he exclaimed: How can a pen or mouth write or speak without wonder or dread on a matter about which neither Pope nor King wishes anyone to speak or write and which ought to be already buried in the deepest oblivion . . . it is a matter which simply demands a religious silence and devout veneration towards the inscrutable dispositions of Divine Providence and of the two supreme powers of the ecclesiastical and secular realms.?

The expulsion of the Jesuits coincided with the general visitation of

New Spain (1765-71) conducted by José de Galvez and had been preceded by the arrival in Mexico of two regiments of regular soldiers. For both the creole elite and the masses it thus formed part of an entire

series of measures introduced by the Spanish crown, all designed to strengthen the power of the monarchy, measures which transformed colonial government but injured the interests of the Mexican people. When the newly arrived inspector general of troops, Juan de Villalba, sought to levy militia forces without distinction of rank or caste, the city council of Mexico indignantly complained to the crown that he had acted ‘against the ordinances, against the constitution of this country’, entirely disregarding the pre-eminent claims of the creole nobility to officer the

new regiments.* Although the council did not dare to protest against the Jesuit expulsion, nevertheless, the current viceroy, the marquis of Croix, warned the Minister of the Indies, Julian de Arriaga: ‘I shall not _ hide from Your Excellency that all the clergy and lawyers, since they belong entirely to them [the Jesuits} are also the most resentful.”> In

effect, creole judges of the high court and canons of the cathedral chapter of Mexico initiated a whispering campaign against Galvez, alleging that he held ‘strange’ disorderly entertainments in his house. In response the viceroy accused Francisco Javier de Gamboa, an alcalde del

crimen in the high court and the crown attorney (fiscal), Juan Antonio de Velarde, of leading an ‘anti-government party’. The case became more serious when Gamboa and Canon Antonio Lopez Portillo, a creole cleric

famous for his erudition, were accused of being the joint authors of

a pamphlet written in defence of the Jesuits against Archbishop

Jesuit expulsion 5 Lorenzana.® Although evidence was wanting, in 1768 the crown heeded Croix’s insinuations and ordered Velarde, Gamboa, Lopez Portillo and

his cousin Archdeacon Ignacio Ceballos to take up positions in the Peninsula. For the diocese of Michoacan, a province which then encompassed the modern states of San Luis Potosi, Guanajuato, Michoacan and Colima, the Jesuit expulsion was greeted by popular riots which were suppressed with brutal vigour by the visitor general. In all, the Company possessed seven colleges in the diocese, situated at Valladolid, Leén, Guanajuato, San Luis Potosi, Celaya, Patzcuaro and San Luis de la Paz, which housed

some fifty-two priests and fifteen scholastics and associates. At Guanajuato the Jesuits had arrived only a generation before their expulsion and both the owners of its mines and their workers had contributed generously to raise a magnificent college and church, constructed in the latest Churrigueresque style, which had been consecrated amidst universal rejoicing in 1765.’ Moreover, the populace of this great mining city had already rioted the previous year, protesting against the imposition of excise duties on maize, flour and meat; against the badly made cigars of the newly established royal tobacco monopoly;

and against the formation of a local militia. When news of the Jesuit expulsion became public ‘a great number of workers from the mines and

refining mills together with many vagabonds from the town and its district rioted, throwing stones at the treasury, the tobacco monopoly and gunpowder monopoly and at many other houses’. Backed by a Spanish regiment despatched from Mexico and supported by wealthy creoles fearful of popular violence, José de Galvez suppressed this ‘rebellion’ with unprecedented severity, imprisoning 600 men for examination, from whose ranks he hanged 9, sent 31 for life imprisonment and sentenced another 148 for varying periods of confinement.® Much the same sequence of events occurred in San Luis Potosi where

miners from the Cerro de San Pedro joined rioters from the Indian suburbs of the city in attacking shops and state buildings, freeing prisoners and threatening ‘to finish off all Spaniards at once’. In this case,

a leading landowner of the district mobilised his cowboys and joined Galvez in dispersing and capturing the rioters. Other outbreaks occurred

in Valle de San Francisco, Guadalcazar and Venado.? Equally important, in Michoacan the Indian governor of Patzcuaro, Pedro de

Soria Villaroel, succeeded in raising the native communities of the | highlands against the expulsion and the imposition of new taxes. According to Galvez, ‘this mestizo Indian, a blacksmith by profession, in

whom cunning and ambition overflow, succeeded in making himself the leader of all the castes of the lowest populace and extended his

6 The religious orders government over all the 113 villages included in the province’.!° But although various riots occurred, particularly in Uruapan and Patzcuaro, they were easily quelled, their leaders captured and executed and other participants imprisoned or whipped. Although Viceroy Croix and the authorities in Madrid praised Galvez for the decisive fashion in which he defeated the popular challenge to royal authority, many churchmen and officials were appalled at the severity of his punishments. In all, he hanged 85 men, flogged 73, banished 117 and sentenced 674 to various terms of imprisonment. Equally important, he abolished the municipal government of those Indian pueblos in San Luis Potosi and Michoacan which had participated in the riots. Some years after, the parish priest of Santa Clara del Cobre claimed that ‘all the economic, political and Christian government of the Indians has fallen to the ground since the hierarchical order which they had among them was abolished’.!! But although appeals were made to

restore the self-government of these communities, the appointment of Galvez as Minister of the Indies in 1776 prevented any review of the case.

Nor did Galvez express any regrets for his measures, since he insisted that Indians should be prohibited from wearing the clothes of Spaniards

and from riding horses, so that they should be kept ‘in that humble condition designed for them by the Creator’. It was necessary for government to adopt strong measures in America, because the populace were more dangerous than in Spain since there was ‘a greater licence, general nakedness, an exterior religion, and an absence of shame’.!? It

was this view that led him to promote the establishment of militia regiments and standing picquets of troops to patrol the leading cities of the province. In San Luis de la Paz, where the Jesuits had administered the parish,

Bishop Anselmo Sanchez de Tagle appointed two secular priests to administer it jointly. On informing the viceroy of his decision, he noted that he had visited Patzcuaro to prevent any further trouble and that in the parishes of Dolores and San Miguel el Grande no riots had occurred since the priests there could speak the Indian languages and indeed were ‘Indians’. The newly appointed cura of San Luis de la Paz informed the bishop that Galvez had departed for the north leaving ‘an example which has left us horrified, since yesterday he hanged three Indians and had another shot and the heads of each one are placed on the corners of the square’. The families of these four leaders had been banished and their

houses destroyed, their sites sown with salt. Yet he noted that the ‘Indians are very rational’, well-behaved and instructed in the Law of God, and indeed that ‘most know how to read and some to write’.!? Among the assistant clergy was ‘an Indian father from San Miguel called

Jesuit expulsion 7 Ramirez’, a sign of the ethnic acculturation 1n this region during the eighteenth century. The dramatic events of 1767 marked a violent watershed 1n the history of New Spain: a powerful ecclesiastical corporation had been brutally

destroyed by the simple fiat of the crown and the populace savagely repressed for their resistance to change. For Mexico the shock was all the more great since the country had been insulated from the civil wars and foreign invasions which had devastated most European states, including Spain, in the past two centuries. Since the conquest, Mexico had enjoyed

an enviable Pax Hispanica, broken only by perennial frontier raids by untamed native tribes such as the Apache, by a cycle of piratical assaults

on coastal towns and by two great riots in Mexico City during the seventeenth century. Apart from a minuscule viceregal guard, the interior of the country was entirely bereft of a military establishment, so that any popular commotions had to be subdued by leading citizens and their followers or by the clergy salilying forth with the Holy Sacrament.

Since district magistrates were usually more given to the pursuit of commercial profit than the administration of justice, the clergy had come to enjoy the authority and prestige that elsewhere was exercised by the

civil power. Indeed, in certain areas of the empire, the church was the state, its ministers acting as judges and as representatives of the monarchy. !4

In Madrid the accession of the Bourbon dynasty brought to power ministers who were obsessed with the restoration of Spanish power in Europe. Conversant with mercantilist maxims and impressed by the France of Louis XIV, they sought to reanimate the economy and reform society, since only with a greater flow of trade could the state raise the resources to finance the expansion of its military might, both on land and

at sea. The American empire occupied a key place in this project of reform, since with better management its mines and plantations could generate the Atlantic commerce on which the prosperity and strength of

the monarchy could be rebuilt. But reports from Mexico and Peru, written by viceroys and official visitors, denounced the church as an obstacle to the revitalisation of the power of the crown in the New World.

The religious orders were criticised as corrupt and bishops and their

chapters thought to be too wealthy. By reason of their corporate , independence, their extensive jurisdiction, their great riches and frequent laxity, the multiple institutions of the American Church thus presented a

major obstacle to the plans of the Bourbon ministers to augment the power of the colonial state, to revive the colonial economy and to procure a greater flow of revenue from the New World.!5 If the expulsion of the Jesuits constituted the most savage blow dealt

8 The religious orders to the Mexican Church, it was by no means an isolated incident. In 1749

a special junta of ministers and churchmen recommended that the extensive doctrinas administered by mendicant orders in central New Spain should be transferred to the care of the secular clergy, with the

result that during the 1750s friars were summarily expelled from churches and country priories they had occupied since the sixteenth century. Thereafter, in 1771 the Fourth Mexican Church Council debated whether to authorise a general visitation of the religious orders and, when some bishops baulked at this measure, the crown proceeded

to despatch visitors to achieve its purpose. The number of novices admitted for profession was reduced and the mendicants found themselves restricted either to an urban ministry or to missionary activity in frontier regions. By the close of the century, provincials complained that many friars now sought liberation from their vows, obtaining individual secularisation from Rome. Although the Mexican bishops and their cathedral chapters collab-

orated with the crown in its assault on the religious orders, from the 1780s onwards they found their own jurisdiction and income subject to

reiterated attack by the ministers and officials of Charles III and his successor, Charles IV. The first major assault on their interests came in 1786 when they received rescripts, supported by the Intendancy Ordinances, which demanded that the administration of the ecclesiastical tithe be transferred to provincial juntas headed by the intendants.

In this case, the determined resistance of the hierarchy succeeded in forcing ministers to withdraw the measure. By contrast, when in 179§ the crown abrogated the clergy’s absolute immunity from the jurisdiction of

royal courts in cases where they were accused of grave crimes, the equally determined protests of the bishops failed to halt the criminal bench of the Mexican high court from proceeding against several clerics. The spectacle of priests imprisoned in a common gaol proved a sore affront both to the faithful and to the clergy.!© In the same decade, ministers introduced a series of small taxes, all designed to tap the income of the clergy, especially of the cathedral chapters. This quest for revenue, which was given added impetus by the crown’s virtual bankruptcy, culminated

in the Consolidation decree of 1804 which demanded that all church

capital should be deposited in the royal treasury that henceforth would be responsible for payment of interest. This amortisation was implemented by a corrupt viceroy despite a flurry of protests from leading institutions, and acted to alienate the clergy still further from

their traditional loyalty to the monarchy. ,

In effect, at all levels the Mexican Church suffered an unprecedented assault, initiated by ministers and officials who prided themselves on

Jesuit expulsion 9 their enlightened views, exhibited a growing envy of clerical wealth and feared the clergy’s influence over the faithful. Many of these men joined Joseph Bonaparte when in 1808 French forces installed him as king of

Spain, hoping thus to complete their ‘reform’ of the church, closing monasteries and confiscating church property. It was for this reason that bishops and friars figured so prominently in the resistance to the French. Ironically, in New Spain leading clergymen in the diocese of Michoacan called upon their flocks to rebel against the colonial authorities, urging as a pretext the danger of Bonaparte being recognised as king. In reality, their role in the 1810 Insurgency can only be explained as a reaction to

the prolonged and reiterated assault on the privileges, jurisdiction, wealth and income of the Mexican Church launched from Madrid by ministers unconversant with the realities of New Spain.

II To explain the expulsion of the Jesuits, contemporaries fixed upon the famous Motin de Esquilache, when in 1766 the populace of Madrid rioted

and invaded the royal palace, shouting: ‘Long live Spain! Death to

Squillace!’ That an Italian minister should have issued a decree forbidding Spaniards to wear their customary voluminous capes and

broad-brimmed hats was too great an insult to Castilian pride. But : Charles III and his ministers were convinced that such a dramatic challenge to the crown’s authority had been set in motion by a broad coalition of vested interests opposed to their programme of reform of church and state. In a ministerial paper on the riot, Pedro Rodriguez Campomanes (1723-1803), the current attorney (fiscal) of the Council of Castile, identified the Jesuits as its chief, albeit secret, authors. It was not the first time that the Jesuits had plotted against the Spanish monarchy,

since in 1640 the Portuguese province had ardently supported the rebellion led by the duke of Braganza. For Campomanes ‘the prime vice’

of the Company of Jesus was that it was an international institution, enforcing a loyalty which superseded the obligations of its members as

citizens, so that every Jesuit ‘is the enemy of the Sovereign Power, depending on a despotic government resident in a foreign country’.!7 The most striking feature of his report was the prominence given to American issues. The humiliation of Juan de Palafox y Mendoza, bishop of Puebla (1640-54), who was driven from his see owing to his attempt to oblige the Jesuits to pay tithes on the produce of their estates offered

an object lesson to all loyal servants of the crown. As for the Jesuit missions in Paraguay, what did they constitute but a kingdom wholly owned by the father-general resident in Rome? The king of Spain

10 The religious orders enjoyed but nominal authority in a province where the mission priests exercised a despotic power over the natives, forcing them to work on their plantations, selling their produce and employing the profits for unknown purposes. All this led to the conclusion that since the kings of Portugal and France had already banished the Jesuits for ‘reasons of state’, it was now time for the Spanish crown to exercise its ‘economic power’ so as to expel the Jesuits, seize their property and ban their doctrines, measures necessary ‘to save the country and true religion’.!8 If Campomanes condemned the Jesuits so stridently, it was because he sought to enlarge the absolute authority of the Spanish monarchy. Citing

the medieval laws of Partida, which declared that kings are ‘vicars of God, each one in his own kingdom’, he asserted that their sovereign power derived directly from God Almighty. As ‘the anointed of God’,

kings had the right and duty to act as the protectors of the church, crushing heresy and invigilating the discipline of the clergy. Had not Constantine the Great presided over General Councils of the Church? In

Spain the Visigothic kings had convoked councils to discuss church affairs and the medieval Cortes had equally intervened in that sphere. Indeed, the privileges, immunities, jurisdiction and property which the church possessed all derived from concessions of the sovereign power of monarchs, who retained the authority as much to abrogate as to confirm these temporal rights. In his Tratado de la regalia de amortizaciton (1765), | Campomanes demonstrated that all the monarchies of medieval Europe

had passed laws limiting the acquisition of property by the church, legislation especially directed against the religious orders. Despite these measures, however, ecclesiastical institutions in Spain had continued to

grow in wealth to the point whereby in the seventeenth century the

church had become such a burden on society that it was chiefly responsible for the depopulation of cities and the impoverishment of the kingdom.!9 The moral he drew from this bleak history was that the monarchy had ample precedent and clear authority to limit the numbers and wealth of the clergy, measures he considered eminently desirable. Furthermore, in his fuicio imparcial (1769), Campomanes argued that the authority of the Papacy was entirely spiritual and that the church did not possess any inherent right to exercise coercive or legal jurisdiction. At the same time, he appealed to history to demonstrate that the Papacy’s claim to appoint bishops was a medieval innovation. Consonant with this attack on Rome’s pretensions, he counselled that the Papacy should not

be permitted to admit appeals on ecclesiastical affairs from Spain or America and still less allowed to despatch rescripts and bulls to the Hispanic Church without consultation with the king’s councils. All this led to the conclusion that ‘the church exists within the state’ and that the

Jesuit expulsion II clergy were not exempt from their obligations as ‘citizens and subjects’. The king’s divine right to govern thus included authority over all aspects of church life other than the strictly doctrinal and spiritual.2° In these

uncompromising pronouncements, we encounter the dogmatic foundations of the sustained campaign launched by the enlightened ministers of the last Bourbon monarchs against the privileges, income and property

of the Mexican Church.

Charles III] would never have dared expel the Jesuits had he not been assured of the support of an influential party within the Spanish Church. According to a later source, it was Minister of Justice, Manuel de Roda, a talented lawyer of humble extraction, who engineered an alliance of ‘freethinkers and Jansenists’ to destroy the Jesuits. The problem here is | to define what was meant by Jansenism in this context, especially since the Jesuits both then and later tended to accuse all their opponents of being Jansenists. What is clear is that churchmen in Bourbon Spain took little interest in the grand Augustinian questions of free will and divine grace that had divided Jesuits and Jansenists so bitterly in seventeenthcentury France. There was indeed a great deal of French influence. But it was the Gallican theses of Bossuet and the ecclesiastical history of the abbé Fleury that were most frequently read and cited. Moreover, the

Spanish regalist tradition in canon law (on which Campomanes had

drawn) found reinforcement from the works of Van Espen and ‘Febronius’, canonists who sharply criticised the papal monarchy, defining its absolutist pretensions as a medieval abuse which had undermined the rightful authority of national episcopates and church councils.2!

But eighteenth-century Spanish Jansenism moved beyond the forms

of church government to question the value of the religious orders, choosing to emphasise the pastoral primacy of the bishops and the parochial clergy. The magnification of asceticism and mystical prayer so prevalent in Habsburg Spain was replaced by the teaching of a simple,

interior piety and good works. The preaching of the gospel based on scriptural texts was now more esteemed than the pomp and expense of liturgical celebration. As a result, bishops and priests adopted a critical view of popular religion, questioning the belief in miraculous cures and the value ascribed to pilgrimages to sanctuaries housing holy images. It was not long before the enlightened clergy also came to deplore the

extravagant gilded churches and altars of the baroque and.

Churrigueresque styles as offensive to Christian piety and good taste. The simple unadorned lines of the neo-classic satisfied both ‘Jansenist’

and enlightened opinion. In the sphere of theology and philosophy, scholasticism came under strong attack both for its reliance on the

12 The religious orders outmoded doctrines of Aristotle and for its disputatious methods. Instead, students were advised to return to the early Fathers of the church and to become acquainted with church history and the proceedings of the great councils. In effect, ‘Jansenists’ acted as the spearhead of what was a broad movement for reform and renewal within the Spanish Church, a movement which included zealots, moderates and placemen, united only by their repudiation of the spiritual and intellectual culture

| of baroque post-Tridentine Catholicism.?2 If the Jesuits were attacked so strongly, it was because they had employed their formidable talents to defend scholastic doctrines, encourage popular devotions such as the Sacred Heart of Jesus and build richly adorned churches. The issue which united Jansenising churchmen and regalist lawyers was the refusal of the Jesuits in America to pay the full ecclesiastical tithe on the produce of their numerous haciendas. It was his insistence that

Jesuits should pay this tax which had led to the downfall of Bishop Palafox, a zealous prelate whom Charles III aspired to see canonised. What especially angered the coterie of ministers who advised the king on this matter was the special arrangement which the Company of Jesus had obtained from the crown in 1750 whereby, instead of the regular tithe, they were allowed to pay only a thirtieth of their produce. The effect of this agreement was to reduce the income of the bishops and cathedral

chapters who were maintained by the tithe, and to reduce the crown’s : income from its share of this tax, the dos novenos or two-ninths. That this

agreement had been negotiated by a special junta headed by José de Carbajal y Lancaster, supported by Ferdinand VI’s leading minister, the marquis of Ensenada, and the king’s Jesuit father confessor, Francisco de Ravago, only added fuel to the suspicions of those ministers for whom

Ensenada was an enemy whose hand they were later to detect in the Motin de Esquilache.?3

The question of tithes was reopened by Charles III’s father confessor,

Fray Joaquin de Osma, a member of the reformed wing of the Franciscan Order and a native of Palafox’s last see, Osma. He compiled

a file which started in the 1760s when tenants resident on Jesuit haciendas in Chile refused to pay the full tithe, citing the agreement of 1750 that such estates should pay only a thirtieth. Although the cathedral

chapter in Santiago de Chile had strongly protested, the high court

| supported the Jesuits and, indeed, when recourse was had to the Council of the Indies, the crown attorney argued that it could not be resolved by the king (in his royal person) as a matter of executive government, but rather had to be tried by the judicial branch of the Council. Here was an opinion which Osma characterised as entirely favourable to the Jesuits, since ‘the case would be eternalised and the

Jesuit expulsion 13 Council would let its clients maintain their usurped rights’. Although the

king had always been recognised as ‘the sole and absolute lord of the tithes’, the 1750 transaction had clearly undermined that claim, since the Jesuits now claimed that their privileges derived from the Papacy. In a memorandum written in January 1765 to the Minister of the Indies, Julian de Arriaga, Osma declared that if the king would but read a resumé of this case, he would at once observe how ‘some Spaniards, enemies of

their country and king’ had betrayed royal interests in favour of the Jesuits, an order which had entered the Indies ‘as if they had gone there more to conquer haciendas than souls’.24 He called for the ministers of the high court in Chile and of the Council of the Indies to be reprimanded and strongly urged that the 1750 agreement be terminated. The upshot of these recommendations was that count de la Villanueva,

a minister of the Council of Castile, was appointed to head a junta charged with the examination of the whole tithe issue. His report, presented in April 1766, made explosive reading.2° By way of introduction, Villanueva noted that it had proved difficult and at times impossible to locate all the relevant documents, especially the papers dealing with the 1750 Settlement. He then emphasised that the crown’s interest in the matter stemmed from the papal bull of 16 December IS5o01

which had granted the kings of Spain ‘full, absolute and irrevocable

dominion’ over all church tithes collected in the Indies, rights which , were an expression of its patronato over the American Church. Although

the crown had then donated the tithes to the bishops and chapters, nevertheless, it had always retained dos novenos as an expression of Its primordial dominion over this tax. However, when the religious orders acquired estates in the New World, they had claimed exemption from payment of tithes. Indeed, the Jesuits obtained successive bulls from the Papacy in 1549 and I561 which exempted the Company from paying this tax either in Spain or America. If in Europe, this privilege was brought to an end by 1605, in Mexico litigation only started in 1624 and lasted until 1655, in a case affecting all religious orders. In the 1640s Bishop Palafox had complained of the enormous estates which the Jesuits had already acquired and had sought to exact payment. The case was finally resolved by the Council of the Indies in 1655 which commanded that henceforth all religious institutes should pay tithes to the cathedral chapters on the produce of their estates. Faced with such an authoritative ruling, all the parties to the dispute agreed to fulfil their obligations. Only the Jesuits demurred and brought in counter-appeals. Moreover, such tithes as they may have paid thereafter — and the documentation was not clear on this score — were based on their own declarations of production. The result was that in 1735 the cathedral chapter of Mexico complained strongly to

14 The religious orders the crown about the difficulties of collecting tithes from Jesuits. Their complaints were supported by the high court in Mexico City which averred that by then the Jesuits had an income of 400,000 ps. from a chain of seventy-nine haciendas, an improbably high estimate. On reviewing the documents, Villanueva exclaimed that ‘in all the course of this lawsuit the Company has denied His Majesty’s dominion, since only in this way could its privileges retain their value’. Since 1742 Father Pedro Ignacio Altamirano had negotiated with royal ministers over the case, assisted at its conclusion by his fellow Jesuit, Francisco de Ravago, Ferdinand VI’s father confessor. It was not until 1750 that Altamirano accepted the principle of the crown’s ‘full dominion’ over the tithes and even then he refused to accept the rights of the American bishops and chapters, urging that the privileges granted to the Company

of Jesus by the Papacy provided exemption from their jurisdiction. Indeed, Altamirano had flatly rejected the authority of the Council of the Indies and had insisted on negotiating directly with the crown and its ministers. It was this spirited defence that provoked Villanueva to comment indignantly that ‘a subject litigates with his king, a Jesuit with his lord, Ferdinand VI’. The result was a triumph for the Company, since although the Jesuits finally recognised the crown’s absolute dominion over tithes in the Indies, it obtained the extraordinary concession of only paying a thirtieth of its haciendas’ produce rather than the regular tenth. : Moreover, their estate managers’ declaration of production were to be accepted without scrutiny so as to avoid all future quarrels and lawsuits. On recounting this extraordinary sequence of events, Villanueva noted that at least two Jesuit authors had defended the moral legitimacy of rendering false declarations to tax authorities if economic necessity could

be urged. In conclusion, he recommended that the 1750 Settlement should be declared null and void and that henceforth the Jesuits should pay the full tithe. It was on 4 December 1766, which is to say, only three months before

the expulsion orders were signed, that the crown issued a rescript repealing the 1750 Settlement. It referred to ‘the importunate petitions and capricious memorials’ presented by the attorney for the Company and noted that the Settlement had been agreed and signed by ministers of the Council of Castile, ignoring both the complaints of the American

cathedral chapters and the special knowledge of the Council of the Indies.2° In effect, for two centuries the Company of Jesus had escaped

the full rigours of the tithe exacted from all other haciendas and plantations in Spanish America, a contributory cause of their extraordinary success at estate management. Oblivious to the danger which threatened them, tn September 1766 the

Jesuit expulsion 15 Jesuits succeeded in obtaining a papal breve which confirmed and renovated all the powers and privileges currently enjoyed by their missionary priests. Among these rights were powers to issue marriage dispensations, licences to read books prohibited by the Inquisition and the definition of

Indians as neophytes in the Catholic faith. When the Minister of the Indies, Julian de Arriaga, was apprised by the Spanish minister resident in Rome of the content of this breve, he complained bitterly of both the Papacy and the Jesuits, fixing upon ‘the disparity with which that Court treats our bishops of the Indies as compared to the Jesuits, since what to the former it concedes with so much difficulty, to the latter it dispenses

with unparalleled freedom; and what costs our Lord King so many applications 1s effected by an insinuation of the Company’s General’. In particular, he took strong exception to the Jesuits’ right to define their Indian subjects as neophytes, since this concession of virtually perma-

nent mission status was ‘more than sufficient to maintain as many Indians as they please outside the king’s jurisdiction for ages and ages, centuries and centuries’. Obviously, what he had in mind was the status of Paraguay as a virtually autonomous Jesuit state only broadly subject to the monarch’s authority. In January 1767 Charles IIT commanded the

president of the Council of the Indies to ban the papal breve from circulation, since it had undermined the authority of the crown, the American bishops and the Inquisition.2’? On learning of the matter, the attorneys of the Council lamented that the Jesuits had obviously sought to despatch copies of the breve to their colleges and missions in America without first obtaining ministerial permission, and complained that the civil laws did not receive the veneration accorded to ecclesiastical laws, even though they were ‘promulgated in the name of the same God, of whom princes and supreme powers are vicars in the temporal sphere’. When the count of Aranda, a minister usually identified as a ‘freethinker’ provided the president of the Council of the Indies with copies of the decree dated 17 March 1767, which expelled the Jesuits from Spanish dominions in both America and Europe, he emphasised that it was the Jesuits’ constant manoeuvres to obtain privileges exempting them from episcopal jurisdiction which had caused their downfall. He insisted on

the great dangers that flowed from ‘entrusting entire provinces to a religious body with a superior outside the kingdom’, especially when ‘these provinces or missions were found to be substantially separated from the monarchy’. In regions such as Paraguay, the Jesuits had failed to teach the Indians Spanish, forbade Spaniards to enter their missions for trade and did not recognise the authority of the royal courts.28 In future, the crown would rely on the secular clergy to govern the Indians

and would place these territories under the jurisdiction of royal

16 The religious orders magistrates, granting Spaniards the freedom to enter such lands. Henceforth, Leviathan would brook no rivals in the exercise of state power.

III If the Bourbon assault on the church proved so shocking to the Mexican

clergy, it was because many priests still entertained a providentialist interpretation of the Spanish monarchy. In Politica indiana (1648), the standard commentary on the Laws of the Indies, written by Juan de Solérzano Pereira, they encountered the resounding affirmation that the Spanish empire derived from the design of God the Almighty who had chosen Spain from amidst the nations of Europe to bring the Christian gospel to the natives of the New World. Its title-deed was the papal donation of 1493, when Alexander VI recognised the Catholic kings of Castile as lords of the New World on condition that they ensured the conversion of its inhabitants to the Catholic faith. Thereafter, Pope Julius II granted the kings the universal patronage of the American Church, with the right to nominate all bishops and canons throughout

their vast empire. As regards the relation between the secular and ecclesiastical jurisdictions, Solorzano affirmed that ‘of one and the other arm the State of the Commonwealth 1s composed and in each the care of our kings is manifest’. He thus defined the Catholic religion as the chief

foundation of Spain’s empire in the New World and declared that as universal patrons of the American Church the Catholic kings acted as ‘vicars of the Roman pontificate and as constables of the army of God’.29

In effect, Solérzano envisioned the Habsburg realm as a universal monarchy, composed of several kingdoms, in which the crown was supported by two great orders of government, the secular and the ecclesiastical, each endowed with its own laws, courts, ministers and revenue, respectively led by magistrates and bishops appointed by their common ruler. In New Spain imperial providentialism was matched by a religious cult which affirmed that the Mother of God had chosen the Mexican people for her especial protection. In 1737 when the City of Mexico was beset by a devastating plague which carried off thousands of its inhabitants, Our

Lady of Guadalupe was proclaimed as its patron. This proved such a

popular measure that in 1747 the bishops and chapters of all the Mexican dioceses united to proclaim the Virgin of Tepeyac as universal patron of New Spain. This solemn act, which was soon ratified by the Papacy, expressed the culmination of a century-long campaign by the creole clergy to encourage and preach veneration for this image. For it was only in 1648 that Miguel Sanchez published the first circumstantial

Jesuit expulsion 17 account of the miraculous apparition of the Virgin Mary in 1531 to the Indian Juan Diego at Tepeyac, and the equally miraculous imprinting of her image on his cape before Archbishop Zumarraga. Until then, the

shrine at Tepeyac, built on a small peak outside Mexico City once dedicated to the Aztec goddess Tonanztin, had only attracted a local veneration, and, indeed, had been sharply criticised by Franciscan missionaries as a mask for the idolatry of Indian pilgrims. But, with the publication of Sanchez’s work, creole canons and university professors vied to exalt and propagate the cult of the Guadalupe image. In the 1660s the pilgrim highway connecting the sanctuary to the capital was lined with small chapels or stations devoted to the mysteries of the rosary, and

in 1695 work began on a magnificent new church.2° Endowment bequests mounted and in 1751 a college of canons was established to officiate at the sanctuary, the only body of this type in New Spain outside the cathedral chapters. The significance of the cult was threefold. The narrative of the appar-

ition and the patronage conferred by the preservation of the imprinted image was interpreted by the creole elite within the clergy as providing the Mexican Church with a heavenly foundation quite distinct from and superior to the spiritual conquest so exultantly celebrated by Franciscan missionaries from the Peninsula. It was owing to the intercession of the Virgin Mary that paganism was so rapidly eradicated from New Spain. Far from constituting a missionary extension of Europe, the Mexican Church took its start from the apparition at Tepeyac. At the same time, veneration for an image, where the Virgin Mary 1s depicted as an Indian or mestiza, united the creole clergy and Indian masses in a common devotion. That the appointment of canons at the sanctuary was made conditional upon knowledge of Indian languages emphasises the popular nature of the cult. Indeed, the contemporary historian Mariano Veytia commented that each week Indian pilgrims appeared in the courtyard

before the church to dance and sing hymns in their own tongue.?! Finally, the cult served to exalt the primacy of Mexico City and its archbishop, and to unite the entire country under a common patron. In all the cathedral cities and provincial capitals of New Spain, chapels and altars were raised in honour of the Guadalupe, and in many places a sanctuary was built on the outskirts of the town connected by a pilgrim

highway, in direct emulation of the relation between Mexico and Tepeyac. Here, then, we encounter both a foundation myth and a popular cult, which aroused a devotion which was both patriotic and religious, the very symbol of a church that was creole and Indian. In the same decades that veneration for the Guadalupe mounted to its climax, religious architecture entered an exuberant phase of construction

18 The religious orders dominated by the style generally called Churrigueresque. Once more the cathedral in Mexico City played a central role, calling in two Spanish

architects to design the Altar of the Kings and the new sagrario. The result was to introduce into New Spain the latest developments of the Spanish baroque. Thereafter, in the sixty years 1730—90, the altars and facades of Mexican churches, hitherto divided into rectangular panels, their decoration and pillars all dominated by a horizontal emphasis,

seemed to dance, as the traditional orders of the Renaissance were , dissolved and replaced by estipetes, niched pilasters and elaborate mouldings, the sculptural detail entirely subordinated to the upward

movement of the entire frame. The Santa Prisca at Taxco, the Valenciana near Guanajuato, the altars of the Santa Clara at Querétaro: all offer examples of religious architecture for which the only parallels in

Europe are to be found in Andalusia and Austria.3? To judge from chronicles published at the time, both the intellectual elite and the masses joined in acclamation of the new marvels which aroused their delight and devotion, a phase which was brought to an abrupt halt by the

promulgation of the neo-classic style by the Academy of San Carlos, founded in 1784.

The hundred or more years that stretched from the 1640s until the 1750S were a period of spiritual renewal within the Mexican Church,

during which the forms and spirit of post-Tridentine, baroque Catholicism sank deep roots in New Spain. The devotion to Our Lady of Guadalupe was but one expression of the cult of miraculous images, a

: cult so pervasive that virtually every province came to house sanctuaries raised in honour of local images, often acclaimed as patrons of their cities ©

and communities. If the cycle of church building assumed such an exuberant momentum, it was in large measure because the growth of population in the territories lying immediately north of the central valleys proved so explosive, with wealthy silver miners competing to raise ever more splendid edifices. Moreover, the first decades of the eighteenth

century witnessed a renewal of missionary activity so extensive and profound that it constituted a second evangelisation of New Spain. The foundation in 1683 of a Franciscan college de propaganda fide, which recruited friars from existing provinces in Spain and Mexico, proved so successful that other institutes were established in Zacatecas, Mexico City and Pachuca. The vast territories of the northern frontier offered a theatre of missionary endeavour on an heroic scale as the Franciscans relived the experience of their sixteenth-century predecessors, converting

hundreds of Indians to the Christian faith. But the friars of these colleges also conducted extensive and regular missions among the faithful, touring the parishes of the central dioceses. At times, their

Jesuit expulsion 19 penitential sermons proved so powerful that entire congregations sallied on to the streets, carrying crosses and scourging their flesh in repentance for their sins. Moreover, if the impetus to found these colleges came from

the Peninsula, creole friars soon joined them, and, indeed, came to dominate the aptly named college of Our Lady of Guadalupe at Zacatecas. Nor was their influence limited to spectacular acts of penitence, since the founders of the Oratory at San Miguel el Grande and

of the sanctuary at Atotonilco both acknowledged their debt to the Franciscans. Is it any coincidence that in this epoch a number of creole heiresses chose to devote their wealth and lives to the foundation of new

convents? Or that groups of devout women gathered together to form beaterias, nuns without vows, who gained their livelihood teaching children and girls? At all levels of its multifarious existence, the Mexican Church, and in particular the diocese of Michoacan, thus experienced a quickening of its Christian life.

2 Mendicant chronicles

I

In his chronicle of the Franciscan province of San Pedro y San Pablo, published in 1643, Alonso de la Rea saluted Michoacan as ‘this earthly paradise’, whose fertile soils were watered by several rivers, lakes and abundant rains. The sugar, fruits and fish of the districts around the lake of Patzcuaro were matched by the cattle, wheat and maize of the lands lying between Celaya and Querétaro and by the rich silver deposits in the mountain ranges of Guanajuato and Tlalpujahua. The very air was so fresh and temperate that ‘the climate is among the best in the kingdom’. A native of Querétaro, animated by ‘the natural love of patria’, de la Rea celebrated the city and its surrounding gardens and fields as reminiscent of Italy, exclaiming that “there is not a citizen who 1s not a stockman and lord of very great haciendas’. The fertility of nature combined with the benevolent influence of the stars to produce ‘great qualities and talents

. . . aS much in the pulpits and college chairs as in the political and moral spheres’.! The city already possessed priories of Franciscans, Augustinians and Carmelites, as well as a Jesuit college and a hill sanctuary housing a miraculous cross.

Had written memorials existed, de la Rea would have sought to ‘eternalise the valour of the Tarascans with their politic and military government’, especially since their kingdom had never been conquered by their Aztec cousins. As it was, he recorded that their last monarch had freely submitted to Hernan Cortés, accepting baptism from Martin de Valencia, leader of the Franciscan mission to New Spain. He reminded his readers of ‘the liveliness of the Tarascan character’, noting that they were famous in all parts, since ‘they are eminent in all the crafts’, as much in sculpture as in painting. Their churches numbered among the best maintained in New Spain, since ‘by nature the Tarascan is much given to ritual and 1s careful of his religious cult’. At the same time, however, de la Rea confessed that the conquest had inaugurated a tragic epoch for the native peoples of Michoacan, in which they suffered both from 20

Mendicant chronicles 21° Spanish depredations and the onslaught of epidemic disease. During the great plague of 1543, five-sixths of the population had died, the survivors finding ‘the kingdom desolated and without people, the cities in ruins, their haciendas in alien power and they themselves strangers in their own land’. This epidemic was followed by yet another plague in 1577, ‘in which the greater part of the Indians died’. The result was that the whole province now had fewer people than had once lived in a single city; the

former Tarascan capital of Tzintzuntzan, which had housed 20,000 inhabitants, now supported but 200 households.?

Although de la Rea praised Vasco de Quiroga, the first bishop of Michoacan, for ‘his zeal, sanctity and prudence’, he presented the Franciscans as the founding fathers of the missionary church. In particular, he hailed Fray Martin de Jesus as another Moses, who conversed with God on the mountain heights; whose sanctity was ratified by frequent ‘ecstasies and raptures’; and whose daily warfare against the Devil was sustained by daily self-scourging and the donning of cilices,

bristle circlets which afflicted his mortified flesh. The founder of the Franciscan province of San Pedro y San Pablo, which separated from its

Mexican parent in 1565, Martin de Jesus was most distressed by “the excesses of the Spaniards, who acted like lions unleashed upon flocks of

sheep, tearing them apart, destroying and killing’. By far the most indefatigable of the first Franciscan missionaries, however, was Fray Juan de San Miguel who preached the gospel in the mountains and valleys of Michoacan and traversed the plains of the Bajio, seeking at all points to

concentrate the Indian population in new communities. As de la Rea commented: ‘discovering the Tarascans dwelling in their mountain retreats, still so uncivilised, barbarous and ignorant, such a minister was

needed to bring them together and reduce them to a political and sociable life’. At Uruapan Juan de San Miguel built the church and hospital and divided the new settlement into nine barrios (wards), each with their own chapel and patron saint. He taught the Indians the entire range of Spanish arts and crafts, ranging from carpentry and metal work. to music and painting. It was Juan de San Miguel, so de Ia Rea averred,

who had established the hospitals dedicated to the Immaculate Conception of the Virgin Mary, of which twenty still survived, a precedent copied by Bishop Vasco de Quiroga in Patzcuaro.3 Nor was he |

alone in the task of founding communities such as Uruapan and San Miguel el Grande, since even at Tzintzuntzan Fray Pedro de Pilar rebuilt the town, and, ‘like a Roman consul gave laws to its community in both the political and popular spheres’. It was the Franciscans who took the lead in learning native languages,

publishing vocabularies, grammars and catechisms in Tarascan,

22 The religious orders Nahuatl, Mazahua and Otomi. Indeed, Maturino Gilberti, a French friar, published scriptural translations, leading de la Rea to salute him as ‘the Jerome and Cicero of Tarascan’, adding that in Tarascan ‘which is a very sweet, elegant and copious language, the great Maturino Gilberti was the universal master’. To consolidate conversion, the Franciscans enlisted their native charges into confraternities, dedicated to the Holy Cross and the Blessed Souls in purgatory, whose members met regularly in Lent to scourge themselves and to conduct weekly processions. On the feast of the Finding of the Holy Cross, the Indians staged mock battles,

modelled on the Spanish ‘battles between Moors and Christians’, in which they divided into bands of Spanish and Chichimeca warriors, the latter holding ‘mutotes or pagan dances with the most beautiful feathers’, versions of which were celebrated in Querétaro, Patzcuaro, Uruapan, Tzintzuntzan and Celaya.4 Although de la Rea’s chief purpose was to commemorate the heroic achievements of the founding fathers of his province, he also fixed upon contemporary examples of sanctity, observing of one friar who passed a secluded life in his priory, that his brethren had seen him ‘often caught up in the air, insensible and with a face as beautiful and burning as roses wounded by the sun’. So also, he mentioned a lay brother of the priory at Valladolid, who collected alms, traversing New Spain as far south as © the silver mines of Taxco, ‘walking barefoot, wearing cilices and carrying a heavy wooden cross on his shoulders’. Equally important, he described

the foundation in 1607 of the convent of Santa Clara at Querétaro, established by Diego de Tapia, the son of the Otomi founder of that city and ‘the owner of the greatest haciendas’ 1n the district. He endowed the nunnery with estates which yielded an annual income of 13,500 ps., a

sum sufficient to enable his daughter Luisa to become abbess, presumably the only Indian nun in an institution which required each postulant to present a dowry of 2,000 ps. By 1633 when the construction was completed, Santa Clara had over sixty professed nuns.> In effect, de la Rea’s chronicle registered both the tragic course of the ‘spiritual conquest’ of the Indian peoples of Michoacan and the emergence of an |

Hispanic Church based on the cities and haciendas of the region. His

nascent creole patriotism found expression in the celebration of ‘Tarascan attainments, Franciscan sanctity and the positive achievements of Hispanic society in Michoacan.

II The first chronicle of the Augustinian friars in Michoacan, published in

1624 by Juan Gonzalez de la Puente, entirely lacked the patriotic

Mendicant chronicles | 23 quality of its Franciscan counterpart and had comparatively little to say either about the Indians or the region. After a prologue dealing with the conquest, it concentrated entirely on recounting the lives and works of nine holy friars. Virtually all the emphasis here was on bodily mortification as the means to achieve sanctity. Although de la Puente admitted that pride was ‘the root of all vices’ and that ascetic practices were the outward expressions of ‘the interior sacrifice’ of the will, nevertheless, he

defined scourges and cilices as the essential arms of the daily battle against the temptation of the Devil, the world and the flesh. On stressing the need to conquer oneself, he added: ‘man is married to himself, where the flesh is Eve and the reason Adam’. On recounting his experience of

walking for three days with Fray Pedro de Vera, he affirmed that this venerable friar barely spoke during their time together so absorbed was he in prayer, and that he hardly ate and slept on the ground, rising at midnight to scourge himself. So also, in describing the life of Juan de Medina Rincon, who became the third bishop of Michoacan, he made no

mention of his acts of government but chose to emphasise his unchanging asceticism and the scale of his almsgiving to the poor of the diocese. It was a triumph that although a bishop, he preserved the virtues | of a friar. He narrated a revealing incident of a resentful prebendary of the cathedral, whom Medina Rincon had reprimanded for his expensive

garb, spying on the bishop in his country retreat in the hopes of encountering amorous scandal, only to be specKed with blood from the prelate’s midnight scourging of his back.®

As befitted a peninsular Spaniard, de la Puente celebrated the conquest of Mexico as an act of divine providence, freely comparing Columbus to Moses and Cortés to Gideon, the latter’s decision to march

inland with only 300 men characterised as ‘a deed worthy of eternal memory and of a more than human spirit and heart, where in my . opinion grace had more share than nature’. Announced by prodigies and sealed by the apparitions of the Virgin Mary and Santiago in desperate.

moments of battle, ‘this conquest was miraculous and as such was | prophesied beforehand in certain places of Scripture’. After all, ‘Satan,

the great master of dances’ had bathed the land in blood, creating in Mexico ‘this great chaos of abominations’. It was for this reason that de la Puente fixed upon chapter 18 of the prophet Isaiah, where God sends his ambassadors to a nation once terrible in cruelty and idolatry but now downtrodden and devastated. In line with this spiritual interpretation of events, de la Puente defined the three mendicant orders, the Franciscans, Dominicans and Augustinians as ‘the conquerors of these new lands’, men who entered their kingdom as lambs.’ It was perhaps inevitable that he should have celebrated his own order as the first of all religious orders

24 The religious orders recognised by the Catholic Church, founded by St Augustine in the fourth century and established in Spain well before the arrival of the. Muslims. By far the most attractive part of de la Puente’s chronicle was his life

of Fray Juan Bautista de Moya, who arrived in Mexico in 1536 and dedicated himself to the conversion of the Indians of Michoacan. Subsisting on a diet of maize tamales and vegetables, Fray Juan Bautista walked barefoot, exposing himself to both the sun and mosquitoes, and

cut short his hours of sleep in order both to pray and to draw blood through self-scourging. But these practices were but the means by which he strengthened himself for his mission to the Indians, journeying across

the mountains and tropical valleys in his search for native converts. Drawing on materials assembled by a contemporary friar, de la Puente also recounted a number of extraordinary incidents, as when Fray Juan

Bautista slipped from a high mountain path only later to be seen climbing up the other side, his body having been sustained by the air. So

too, he was once seen to cross a stream by stepping on the back of a complaisant cayman, the Mexican equivalent of a crocodile. Finally, some Spaniards once witnessed him so wrapt 1n prayer that his feet were

clearly elevated above the ground. Although de la Puente recounted these apparent miracles with caution, their implications were unmistakable. Nor were such virtues unknown in his own days, since the ascetic Pedro de Vera, who once walked from Michoacan to San Luis Potosi in order to preach the Lenten sermons to the Indians working in the silver mines, did not die until 1621. But change was registered in the life of Diego de Chavez, who spent most of his life as a friar in Yuriria, where he was responsible for the construction of its magnificent church and priory, an edifice which de la Puente dubbed ‘another Escorial in the.

, Indies’. For Chavez was said never to have ventured forth from the

priory, living as a monk in a desert. | The deficiencies of de la Puente’s chronicle were so obvious, especially

when compared to its Franciscan counterpart, that in 1671 the current

provincial secured licence for the publication of the Historia de la provincia de San Nicolas de Tolentino de Michoacan composed thirty years earlier by Diego Basalenque (1577-1651). A peninsular Spaniard brought

to Mexico when he was nine, Basalenque had entered the Augustinians in 1§93 and had served as provincial during 1623-6, before retiring to the

small priory at Charo, where he wrote a chronicle which provided a remarkable range of information both about his order and Michoacan. As was the case with all monastic histories, his aim was to edify, presenting the lives of his province’s holy founders as models for young friars. For information he drew on de la Puente and on the history of the

Mendicant chronicles 25 Augustinian Order in New Spain published 1n 1624 by Juan de Gryalva. But he himself had conversed with elderly survivors of the first missions

and as provincial had reflected on the progress of his Order in Michoacan. Writing his chronicle in retirement, he declared that whereas

grammar was necessary for children and metaphysics the appropriate study for men in their maturity, history was an old man’s solace.? As much as the Franciscans, the first Augustinians to enter Michoacan

had walked from Mexico, barefoot and carrying crosses. They established their first priory at Tiripitio, where the local encomenderos, the Alvarado brothers, had set aside land for that purpose. The friars taught the Indians carpentry, weaving and masonry and opened a school for musicians and choristers, so that Tiripitio emerged as ‘the school of all crafts for the other villages in Michoacan’. As in Uruapan, the town was laid out in squares and streets, with water brought by aqueduct and then distributed in tiled piping to fountains in the hospital, priory and square.

From the start, the Augustinians celebrated mass with great pomp and circumstance since “they knew how much the Indians were taken with external ceremonies’. They organised great dances at Easter, adapted

confession to the ‘little reason’ of the natives and, after a Lenten examination of doctrine, admitted them to annual communion. As he wrote his chronicle, Basalenque observed that at Charo the Indians still attended daily prayers, followed by instruction for the children, and maintained a splendid choir and orchestra. Most households possessed crosses and images of saints and each Friday the villagers participated in a procession headed by the image of Our Lady of the Immaculate Conception which was the hospital patron. It was Vasco de Quiroga, so Basalenque admitted, who had been responsible for the establishment of such hospitals throughout the Indian communities of Michoacan.!° In framing this description of the Augustinian contribution to the ‘spiritual conquest’, he drew freely on de la Puente’s life of Fray Juan Bautista,

portraying him as a virtual saint, whose asceticism and miraculous escapes from danger were matched only by his indefatigable preaching of the gospel to the Indians.

In contrast to de la Rea’s idyllic celebration of his patria and Order, Basalenque displayed no compunction in tracing the conflicts which haunted the Augustinians. Following Juan de Griyalva’s chronicle, he described the career of Alonso de la Veracruz, the great theologian of the previous century, who had served as provincial on four separate occasions, and who had strongly resisted the demands of the bishops that Indians should pay tithes on their agricultural production. More important, in 1567 Veracruz had obtained from Pope Pius V exemption from the provisions of the Council of Trent which had stipulated that the

26 The religious orders religious orders required episcopal licence to administer marriages and to found new priories or colleges. But the Spanish crown then responded in

1574 by commanding that the friars should inform the viceroy of all nominations of priests to administer parishes. In effect, the bishops | sought to bring an end to the missionary church, demanding that doctrinas should be converted into regular parishes, each with a canonically appointed priest, subject to episcopal visitation. The friars vigorously resisted these attempts, arguing that the religious were less costly to maintain than the secular clergy, and that bishops had no night to rob them of their churches and priories. In response, the prelates obtained royal rescripts in 1583 and 1603 recognising their right to conduct visitations and to examine the incumbents’ knowledge of native languages. These pretensions were strongly resisted by a common front of Franciscans, Dominicans and Augustinians who in 1622 obtained a postponement of the rescripts.!!1 The question remained a source of conflict and soon after his appointment as bishop of Puebla in 1640, Juan de Palafox y Mendoza ousted the friars from their doctrinas in his diocese,

replacing them with secular clergy. But no other prelate followed his example and in Michoacan the friars remained in possession of their extensive parishes well into the eighteenth century.

The most striking features of the Augustinians in Michoacan, however, were the splendour of their churches and the wealth of their haciendas. At Yuriria Fray Diego de Chavez, who was the nephew of the Alvarados, succeeded in mobilising the Indian manpower of that doctrina so as to build a majestic church and priory in no more than nine years, an edifice that Basalenque hailed as ‘the first marvel of all the buildings of New Spain’. When a viceroy criticised the magnificence of this church which possessed a richly decorated Plateresque facade that soared far above the surrounding village, Chavez justified its grandeur by

citing the example of Solomon’s Temple, the biblical prototype of all Catholic churches. It is noticeable that if the first Augustinian priories

were established in Indian communities such as Tiripitio, Charo, Cuitzeo and Yuriria, to mention but a few, the second wave of foundations were located in Spanish towns such as Zacatecas, San Luis Potosi

and Salamanca, where wealthy silver miners and landowners donated monies and lands to provide for their endowment. The result was that most of the leading priories came to derive a handsome income from haciendas they had purchased or received as donations. The jewel in the crown, reserved for the province, was the hacienda of San Nicolas, situated in the jurisdiction of Yuriria and Salvatierra, where successive managers had contrived to open a canal several miles long, connecting

the estate to the river Lerma, thereby enabling it to grow wheat on

Mendicant chronicles 27 irrigated land. By the 1640s the San Nicolas hacienda maintained 400 plough oxen, 150 mules for freight and employed 400 Indian peons, its production of wheat rising to 50,000 fanegas a year, a harvest sufficient

to yield an annual income of 6,000 ps.!* The information on the operation and value of this estate provided by Basalenque contrasted vividly with his alternate emphasis on the asceticism and apostolic _ ministry of the first Augustinians in Michoacan.

Despite his avowed desire to edify, Basalenque concluded his chronicle by citing the internal divisions of the Macabees and evoked Jeremiah’s lamentation over the destruction of the temple at Jerusalem. In 1602 the Augustinians in New Spain had divided into two provinces, with the province of San Nicolas Tolentino de Michoacan administering

doctrinas and priories in a vast area which comprised Zacatecas, Guadalajara and Querétaro as well as the diocese from which it took its

, name. Although numbers soon leapt from 120 to about 250 priests and brothers, discord arose as the great influx of creoles was matched by the arrival of peninsular Spaniards destined for missions 1n the Philippines and China who chose to remain in New Spain. So bitter did the conflict

between creoles and gachupines become that the 1614 elections for provincial and priors had to be held in Mexico City 1n the presence of the viceroy and two judges of the high court. It was in that year that the alternativa was introduced, whereby creole and peninsular Spaniards occupied the leading positions within the province in alternating threeyear periods. In part, so Basalenque averred, the quarrel was between |

‘the old observants’ and ‘careless youngsters’. Whatever the case, although his term as provincial in 1623-6 was marked by installing the chief novitiate at the Valladolid priory and the construction of its new

church, it did not see any lessening of partisan divisions. The result was that in 1629 the current viceroy reversed the election of a creole provincial, imposed a peninsular Spaniard in his place and thereafter forbade all further intake of creole novices until the balance of numbers between the two parties had been rectified. It was not until 1646 that this ban was lifted.!3 In effect, the creole patriotism to which de la Rea had

given such heartfelt expression led to the formation of hostile parties within all the provinces of mendicant friars in New Spain. Tensions in the cloister were lessened but never eradicated by the introduction of the alternativa, especially since the decline in the number of missionartes arriving from Spain meant that the small faction of expatriate friars enjoyed an unfair access to high office.

If Basalenque concluded his narrative on a despondent note, like Jeremiah lamenting the destruction of Jerusalem, by contrast his successor as chronicler, Matias de Escobar (1690-1748) boldly justified

28 The religious orders his historical task by evoking the famous vision of the prophet Ezekiel raising Israel from the dead tn the valley of bones. So too, he saw himself

as another St Jerome writing the lives of the desert fathers and, more audaciously, compared himself to St John the Evangelist, since he was the fourth chronicler to recount the great deeds of the Augustinians in Michoacan. A celebrated preacher much in demand in cathedrals across the land, Escobar prided himself on his friendship with the current bishop of Michoacan, Juan José de Escalona y Calatayud (1729-37), during whose episcopate he retired to the small priory at Charo, situated close to Valladolid, there to compose Americana Thebaida (1729—40?). In effect, he spent the best years of his life dwelling in a cell next to that once inhabited by Basalenque, sustained by a library where the stands were full of manuscripts written by friars of his province.!4 But his gifts were more literary than historical and all his considerable talent was devoted to burnishing his prose, multiplying his metaphors, personifications and

similitudes to the point where his chronicle became the literary equivalent of an ultra-baroque altarpiece. It was precisely during the decades when he wrote that churches in New Spain witnessed a striking transformation in a style as Churrigueresque exuberance dissolved the | architectonic forms of the baroque, subordinating sculptural detail and the traditional orders to the concept of the retablo and facade as a unified composition entirely dominated by soaring vertical movement. So also, Escobar piled classical epithet on classical epithet, at times sacrificing meaning to rhetorical effect, the imperatives of eulogy overwhelming his critical intelligence. Once the conventions of his prose are understood, however, there is a great deal to be learnt from Escobar’s narrative, since its very extravagance allows us to approach the religious sensibility of this epoch. A Canary Islander who as a boy had been brought by his parents to

Celaya, Escobar enthusiastically adopted de la Rea’s description of Michoacan as an earthly paradise, asserting that no other part of Mexico enjoyed such abundant rains or possessed such fertile soil. Not content with such a general statement, he offered a detailed enumeration of the

chief rivers and lakes of the province, claiming that he himself like another Columbus had. navigated all these waterways. So too, he provided a sympathetic picture of the ancient Tarascans, tracing their peregrination from the northern caves of Aztlan to Michoacan, where under the influence of their principal god, whom he identified as Satan, they established a monarchy, which succeeded in defending its independence from the Mexican emperors. Saluting Calzontli, the last king, as another Constantine for his peaceful submission to Cortés and subsequent baptism, he lamented that the Tarascan history written

Mendicant chronicles 29 by Don Antonio, Calzontli’s son, had not been preserved, since other-

wise that pious prince would have been as famous as the Peruvian chronicler, the Inca Garcilaso de la Vega.!> Like his predecessors, Escobar also praised the Tarascan skill in all the crafts taught them by the Spaniards.

On turning to the achievements of the Augustinians, Escobar fondly

recalled that they had entered Michoacan barefoot and carrying crosses, : a spectacle which caused him to exclaim: “We were born in the deserts

and we have returned to them’, proceeding then to compare their modest straw huts to the stable at Bethlehem, a fitting symbol of their vows of poverty. Once more, the miraculous incidents 1n the life of Fray

Juan Bautista were rehearsed with loving care, the grounds laid for possible canonisation, the province endowed with a saintly patriarch. But

when he came to narrate the means by which the Indians were taught Christian doctrine and practice during the spiritual conquest, Escobar followed Basalenque in testifying that at Charo the religious practices introduced during the sixteenth century could still be observed without noticeable change. Each day the children were assembled for instruction

in the catechism and daily prayers were offered in the village’s nine chapels. So too, every Friday there was a procession from the hospital, a

practice which had been strengthened throughout Michoacan by the construction of Calvaries and Stations of the Cross outside the villages. In Charo the musicians and choir were still thriving, and indeed from time to time the choir sang in the cathedral at Valladolid. It remained the custom for many communities to stage mock battles between Spaniards and Chichimecas or Moors and Christians. Although Escobar admitted

that drunkenness was as much a vice among Indians as among the Germans or English, he entertained no doubts as to their Christian devotion, noting that many abstained from all alcohol during Lent, a time when they invariably confessed their sins and received holy —

communion.!®

Although Escobar exhibited an attractive sympathy for the natural scenery and native inhabitants of Michoacan, at all points he sought to dignify his narrative by extravagant, often inappropriate comparisons — with European places and personages. Not content with describing the sublime virtues and miracles of Fray Juan Bautista, he also expatiated on

his natural gifts, declaring that in history he rivalled Thucydides and Livy, in eloquence Demosthenes and Cicero, in poetry Homer and Virgil and in philosophy Plato and Aristotle. When ‘the celebrated Antonio Rodriguez’ was merely saluted as ‘the American Titian’, the simplicity of the trope comes as a surprise. The great church at Yuriria,

which even de la Puente had seen as another Escorial, was now

30 The religious orders compared to the temple of Diana at Ephesus, its grandeur prompting the reflection that in America a poor friar had built what in Europe only kings could undertake. Reflecting on the impressive ruins of an encomendero’s

mansion situated amidst the mountain peaks of Guango, Escobar exclaimed that had the first settlers possessed true curiosity about the country they had conquered then “‘Guango might have been the Versailles of this America or the Florence of this New World’. As for the quiet, unassuming valley of Jacona, he acclaimed it as ‘the Cyprus of this America, the Elysian Fields of this New World and the splendid paradise of these West Indies’. As in Churrigueresque architecture, which Escobar praised as ‘the new style 1n retablos’, the deliquescence of classical vocabulary sacrificed meaning to rhetorical effect: but whereas

in a retablo the sculptural detail was constrained and ordered by the soaring movement of the frame, by contrast in narrative prose the sheer hyperbole of such epithets eventually robbed the descriptions of any quality other than a bizarre, tedious charm.!7 Prior for some years of the Augustinian house in Valladolid, Escobar '

provided a valuable account of the city and its bishops, inserting a miniature diocesan history in his chronicle. It was perhaps inevitable that he should have dubbed Vasco de Quiroga as another St Ambrose; but he also paid tribute to his virtues and insisted on his close fnendship with Fray Alonso de la Veracruz, the great Augustinian defender of the Indians in Mexico. It was the third bishop, Juan de Medina Rincon, another Augustinian, who in 1580 had transferred the cathedral and college from Patzcuaro to Valladolid, which was to say, from a primarily Indian town to a city founded by Spanish encomenderos. By the time this

move occurred, Valladolid already had Franciscan and Augustinian priories, each with their parishes, houses which were soon to be joined by a Jesuit college and Carmelite and Mercedarian priories. It was not until

1660, however, that work began on the new cathedral, its construction sufficiently advanced by 1705 for it to be consecrated by the current bishop. !8

In his Voces de triton sonora (1746), Escobar wrote an account of the

life, works and last illness of his dear friend, Bishop Juan José de. Escalona, who had died in 1737. What occasioned his eulogy was the discovery made by workmen repaving the cathedral that Escalona’s blood and intestines, which had been buried in the sacristy, were still liquid, despite the passage of seven years. Moreover, his embalmed corpse (bereft of the heart which had been donated to the Santa Caterina nunnery) had remained uncorrupted and emitted a sweet aroma. All this was taken as a portent and sign of sanctity. What rendered the case yet more significant was that the bishop’s death had been announced by

Mendicant chronicles 31 the appearance of a comet, a phenomenon notoriously caused by the exhalations of the seas and the corrupt humours of the body, and which astronomers generally interpreted as ‘the knives which threaten the heads of princes’. The immediate cause of Escalona’s death was. dysentery, an illness so common during the rainy season in New Spain that there was a punning proverb on its occurrence: por Mayo me desmayo, which was to -

say, ‘in May I faint’. In an extraordinary conclusion, Escobar averred:

‘without doubt the venerable prince’s intestines were a circus for these two evils, the comet and the dysentery, where they struggled to conquer him’. Of more interest to the church historian was the list of Escalona’s good works, which included the construction of the episcopal palace, the building of a sanctuary on the outskirts of the city in honour | of Our Lady of Guadalupe connected by a bridge and highway and the

donation of ‘many thousands of pesos to complete the convent of the nuns of Santa Caterina of this city’.!9 That the bishop had spent many days at Charo and had bequeathed his library to the Augustinian

priory at Valladolid only strengthened Escobar’s veneration for his departed friend. In the closing chapter of Americana Thebaida which dealt with the vale of Jacona, Escobar provided a list of no less than ten crucifixes venerated

in churches and chapels of the region, most of which had been found carved within the trunk or roots of local trees, of which the most famous was the celebrated Christ of La Piedad. So also, he told how an Indian fisherman found a large tree root floating in the waters of Lake Chapala. Just as he was about to cast the log into his fire at home, a friend named

Juan, an Indian from Jacona, requested the wood from him, having discerned in its tortured lines a likeness of the Virgin Mary and the child

Jesus. Taken to his home in 1685 the image soon attracted local veneration and in 1711 a chapel was built in Jacona and a thriving confraternity formed in honour of this miraculous icon. In describing these extraordinary events, Escobar was quick to compare the appear-

ance of this image with the celebrated painting of Our Lady of Guadalupe at Tepeyac, noting that in both cases the images had been discovered by Indians named Juan in years when the respective bishops of Mexico and Michoacan were equally called Juan. The most significant feature of all the crucifixes and images mentioned by Escobar ts that their discovery was not accompanied by any miraculous apparitions: instead they were all ‘discovered’ imbedded within trees or roots, perceived only by the discerning eye of the faithful.29 Here, then, was the final fruit of

the spiritual conquest of Michoacan: in a region that was once a wilderness, inhabited by nomad idolaters, Nature itself now gave birth to images of Christ and the Mother of God.

32 The religious orders

Il In his Chrénica apostolica y seraphica de todos los colegios de propaganda fide — de la Nueva Esparia de los missioneros franciscanos observantes (1746) Isidro

Félix de Espinosa (1679-1755) recounted the story of the dramatic revival in Franciscan missionary fervour which was destined to exercise such a

powerful influence over the religious life of the Mexican people in — the eighteenth century. This spiritual renewal did not derive from the existing provinces of observant friars but rather was expressed in the foundation of ‘apostolic colleges’ at Querétaro (1683), Zacatecas (1707) and Mexico City (1731). A native of Querétaro, Espinosa had joined the local college of Santa Cruz while little more than a boy and thereafter in 1716 and 1721 helped to lead missions to Texas before returning to serve

first as guardian of Santa Cruz and then as president of the hospice of San Fernando in Mexico City. Stricken by poor health he spent his last years chronicling the stirring events he had witnessed and was later acclaimed as another Julius Caesar, who fought his spiritual battles during the day and who wrote at night. Shortly before his death he was

commissioned to write a history of the Franciscan province of. Michoacan, a labour he performed with heartfelt groans. But his life of Fray Antonio Margil de Jesus and his chronicle of the colleges are. indispensable for the history of the Mexican Church during this period, since although his manifest purpose was to edify and inspire by offering examples of heroic zeal, his plain unvarnished style tells more about the

religious attitudes of this period than all the aureate elucubrations of | Escobar.?! Despite his parentage, however, no hint of creole patriotism enters his narrative: his social identity appears to have been entirely subsumed by his Franciscan vocation.

According to Espinosa, the spiritual renewal within the observant provinces of his Order began in the seventeenth century when both in Spain and Mexico certain priories were set aside for friars who wished to withdraw from the world, pursuing a more austere, contemplative form of life. It was Fray Antonio Linaz, a native of Mallorca, familiar since his time at university with the doctrines of his compatriot Ramon Lull, who succeeded in persuading his brethren in these conventos recolectos that they should devote at least half their year, or ten years of their life, to preach the gospel, both to the faithful and the unconverted.22 He himself

had spent thirteen years attached to the Michoacan province of San Pedro y San Pablo, acting as both prior and lecturer, before suffering a spiritual crisis that drove him to renounce all positions of authority so as to sally forth on preaching tours of New Spain. On his return to Spain in 1679 he found support for his ideas and obtained the requisite licences

Mendicant chronicles 33 both from the Papacy and the crown to establish a missionary college at Querétaro, taking over the existing recolecto priory of Santa Cruz. In 1683 he arrived at Veracruz, accompanied by twenty friars recruited from several provinces of Spain, among whom was the celebrated Fray Antonio

Margil de Jesus. Once established, Linaz moved swiftly to conduct missions in Mexico City, Puebla and Valladolid, with the result that a number of Franciscans, both creoles and peninsulars, abandoned their provinces and enlisted in the college, so that as early as 1707 it was possible to found a new institute at Zacatecas named after Our Lady of Guadalupe.23 In effect, the priests resident in these colleges formed a spiritual elite. They did not intervene in the administration of Indian parishes in central Mexico and sought to avoid the miscellaneous. activities of the urban priories, thereby escaping the task of educating novices. For friars from the Peninsula the attraction of such colleges was that they avoided the necessity of administration and the partisan tensions which characterised the observant provinces, enabling them to pursue their missionary vocation without incurring creole enmity. In El peregrino septentrional atlante (1737) Fray Antonio Margil de Jesus

(1657-1726) was portrayed as a virtual saint who from his novitiate in Valencia until his death in Mexico City practised a rigorous asceticism, walking barefoot and preaching the gospel across the length and breadth of New Spain. Although Espinosa freely admitted that interior mortification, the disciplining of the will and emotions, was superior to any physical penitence, nevertheless, he contrasted this ‘passive’ mortification to ‘the active’ which was ‘very important until the beast yields to reason’. Fearful of temptation, Margil never looked at anyone directly in the face and on leaving Spain shrank from allowing his mother to kiss his hand since ‘although she was his mother, she was a woman, recognising it as unworthy of his priestly character, but because of his humility he had to condescend, giving her this small comfort’. Like most friars intent on storming heaven, Margil scourged himself each day and wore cilices

three days a week, and when in residence sallied forth each evening carrying a heavy cross.24 In effect, Margil conceived of the imitation of

Christ as a virtual re-enactment of the Passion, leading Espinosa to. comment: ‘in his own body he portrayed the image of Jesus Christ with voluntary pains, mortifications, hunger, thirst, fatigue and journeying, always living to kill his passions’. As Margil himself wrote about Jesus: ‘since he was born until he died all was cross and more cross, contra-

diction and more contradiction, so as to teach us that this is the best habit of friends’. This extreme penitence was accompanied by intense absorption in prayer. Indeed, on one occasion a chance visitor to his cell, so Espinosa piously recounts, observed him raised from the ground, ‘the

34 The religious orders body spinning with such violence that it formed a single obscure line from the head to the sandals and nothing could be distinguished owing to the circular movement’. That the chronicler could relate such an

incident about a man with whom he had collaborated for several years testified to the craving for physical miracles which characterised the baroque religiosity of this epoch.?5

What distinguished Margil from many self-denying ascetics was his

intense commitment to preaching the Christian gospel both to the unconverted Indians inhabiting the confines of empire and to the Catholic faithful of New Spain. In company with Fray Melchor Lopez de

Jesus, he toured Guatemala and Yucatan, and subsequently led two successive missions to Texas where, in conjunction with Espinosa, he was responsible for establishing permanent mission stations in that vast

province. The founder and guardian of the college of Our Lady of Guadalupe at Zacatecas, he called upon the inhabitants of that city to

repent of their sins and succeeded in preventing a company of comedians from performing in the local theatre, which he denounced as a source of temptation. During one sermon, he quit his habit while in the pulpit and lashed his shoulders with a heavy iron chain, drawing blood and eliciting compassionate repentant groans from the congregation. So effective were his sermons in Guadalajara and Valladolid that canons of. the cathedral placed themselves at the head of penitential processions, carrying crosses through the streets. So great was his fame that when in 1726 Margil died 1n Mexico City, his funeral was attended by the viceroy,

the city council and cathedral chapter, and by all the religious communities of the capital.?° If Margil was loved for his sweetness, by contrast Melchor Lopez de Jesus terrified people by the severity of his penances. The two friars had been scandalised when, on reaching the district of Verapaz in Guatemala, they had found the Indians still worshipping idols. Determined to break the power of the Devil, they threatened the village governors and magistrates with imprisonment and the lash 1f they did not bring in images for burning and assist in the campaign to extirpate idolatry. To demonstrate their repentance the Indians were obliged to walk in public procession carrying heavy crosses and ‘armed with cilices’. Wherever Margil and Lopez preached they erected Calvaries and Stations of the Cross outside

villages as a permanent incitement to the faithful to deepen their devotion to Christ’s Passion. As for Lépez de Jesus himself, Espinosa hailed him as ‘a mystical, animated cross... a living portrait of Christ crucified . . . Every Friday he sallied out to the fields, barefoot, with a heavy cross on his shoulders, a cord at his neck, and a crown of thorns pressed so tight that at times drops of blood drawn from the thorns could

Mendicant chronicles | 35 be seen on his venerable face.’ But despite his apostolic labours and his penitence, Lépez was haunted by fears of eternal damnation, since ‘all his life he suffered the cross of scruples and found it necessary to confess himself three or four times a day’. Even on his deathbed a companion was stationed at his side to warn him against the possibility of one last temptation from the Devil.2’ In his account of the Franciscan missions to Texas, Espinosa painted an attractive portrait of the inhabitants of that province, describing them as handsome in appearance and of good dispositions and understanding, apt for salvation and tractable. “The Asinasis Indians are naturally lively,

perceptive, friendly, proud and high spirited. They have attractive features and are well built, ight and robust, ready for warlike expeditions and of good heart.’ Since they were unsubdued, 1t was necessary for the

friars to be protected by small garrisons of soldiers, their presence required not to enforce conversion but to safeguard the missionaries’ lives. The object of the Franciscans was to concentrate the Indians into villages where they could be taught Spanish crafts as well as Christian doctrine and be assisted in cultivation with plough oxen and other iron implements. Daily prayers were enforced and absentees punished by a whipping. As was to be expected, many Indians sought to escape from these settlements but before succeeding often fell prey to the periodic

epidemics which swept through the compounds. To read Espinosa’s account of these missions is to return to the first years of the spiritual conquest in New Spain, since we encounter much the same story of zealous friars gathering simple natives into villages, teaching them both the gospel and crafts, only then to witness their destruction by successive plagues. Doubtful whether adult Indians could be truly rescued from the

Devil’s grasp, Espinosa commented: ‘the Fathers remained entirely happy and satisfied with the multitude of young children who died, since after being washed with the sacred water of baptism, their happy souls flew to the sacred mansions of Heaven’.28

At the close of his life, when he was aged seventy, Espinosa was instructed by his superiors to write a history of the Franciscan province

of San Pedro y San Pablo of Michoacan, a task he found decidedly wearisome. The problem was simple. Nothing worth recounting had happened in the province since the heroic days of the spiritual conquest

and on that subject all he could find was de la Rea’s chronicle, supplemented by strands of information in such general histories as Juan

de Torquemada’s Monarquia indiana (1615). Nor did he display any interest in celebrating the virtues and glories of Michoacan and its peoples. Indeed, his experience in dealing with the natives of Texas appears to have influenced his view of the Tarascans, since he invariably

36 The religious orders referred to them as ‘barbarians’ and praised the first Franciscans for their | zeal in congregating the Indians into towns, thereby teaching them how to live as men. On noting how difficult it was to enforce monogamy

among the natives, he added that the problem was ‘to contain the current of blind appetite within the limits of a single fountain, for those who were accustomed to bathe in so many filthy rivers’. But he praised the Otomi founder of the Santa Clara convent in Querétaro, Diego de Tapia, who had attained ‘the nobility most esteemed in all times, that which each one acquired with heroic deeds, from which is shaped his . shield of arms’. Whereas de la Rea had expressed fears that the native | population was about to disappear from the face of the earth, Espinosa

commented on the sufficiency of Indians to support the churches, testimony that the demographic recuperation of the native population was already noticeable. For the rest, he noted that in 1626 the provincial chapter had strictly warned against partisan discord between ‘gachupines and creoles’ and had resolved that of the 120 priests in the province 50 should be recruited directly from the Peninsula and that the remaining 70 should consist of equal numbers of peninsulars and creoles professing

in Michoacan. He failed to observe that such an arrangement was designed to enforce a European predominance and that it was doomed to failure.2? Contemporary records reveal that if in 1640 there were 59 creole priests as against 37 gachupines, by 1693 the proportion had swung still further in favour of Mexican-born priests, with 129 creoles as against 28 gachupines.?° If Espinosa carefully avoided mentioning any possible discord between

European and American Spaniards, it was in part because the founders of the colleges of de propaganda fide had quietly resolved the question by institutional segregation. Whereas Santa Cruz and San Fernando continued to import friars from the Peninsula throughout the eighteenth century, by contrast Our Lady of Guadalupe soon became the exclusive

preserve of creoles. Just when this segregation occurred and how complete it became it not yet clear. But in 1749 the college at Zacatecas was secretly accused of neglect of its duties precisely because it had not

requested the crown to despatch a mission of friars from Spain. In response, the guardian assembled an impressive number of witnesses,

from canons of the cathedral in Guadalajara to parish priests and northern governors, who all testified to the heroic zeal of its priests. In

fact, the college maintained five mission stations in Texas, centring on , San Antonio, and had been far more successful in converting the Indians than their colleagues from the Santa Cruz of Querétaro. Recently, they

had accepted from the viceroy an assignment of new missions in the newly colonised region of Nuevo Santander in the modern state of

Mendicant chronicles 37 Tamaulipas. In addition, friars resident in Zacatecas regularly journeyed

across the provinces of northern Mexico, from coast to coast, from | Guadalajara to Monterrey, preaching to the faithful in streets and churches, hearing innumerable confessions and visiting remote rancherias and haciendas. A striking feature of the guardian’s defence was a list of

active members of his community, which comprised forty-nine priests and nine lay brothers, of whom eight priests were resident in Texas, fifteen in Nuevo Santander along the Mexican Gulf and twenty-six in Zacatecas. Within this community there were but two peninsulars of whom one, a former guardian, was aged seventy-eight. Moreover, the guardian affirmed that there were an abundance of qualified candidates waiting to join the college which only admitted one or two applicants every year. There was thus absolutely no need to request the crown to send friars from Spain, especially since transport cost the king great sums of money best spent directly on the established missions.?! In effect, the

college of Our Lady of Guadalupe at Zacatecas was an institution managed entirely by Mexican-born Spaniards, mainly recruited from the vast region stretching from the Bajio northwards, which had maintained its apostolic zeal and which devoted as much, if not more, of its pastoral energy to missions among the faithful than to the conversion of Indians in Texas and the Gulf. The old gachupin canard that creole hegemony in the religious orders entailed spiritual decline was here decisively refuted.

The publication of Espinosa’s chronicle of the apostolic colleges proclaimed to the world that New Spain was in the midst of a grand spiritual revival. Saintly Franciscans preached the gospel to native. idolaters on the northern frontiers and created new Christian communities. Equally important, their missions to the faithful elicited mass demonstrations of penitence and were destined to exercise a determining

influence upon the forms of popular religion in Mexico. The ultrabaroque rhetoric which found expression in Escobar’s Americana Thebaida was surpassed by Espinosa’s unvarnished prose since, whereas

the Augustinian recounted past glories, the Franciscan narrated the heroic achievements of his contemporaries. Moreover, the creole exaltation of Our Lady of Guadalupe, which reached an early apogee in 1747 when all the dioceses of New Spain recognised the image of Tepeyac as their common patron, was balanced by the austere Christological bias of the mendicant missioners who presented the Passion as the chief object of Catholic devotion. Obviously, the Franciscans honoured the Mother | of God as much as other clerics and indeed Margil passed long hours reading the life of the Virgin Mary written by Sor Maria de Agreda, the famous Spanish visionary of the seventeenth century.?2 Their churches housed famous Marian images. But it is surely significant that Espinosa

38 The religious orders © : should have opened his chronicle with an account of the stone cross, his college’s patron, which had been carved, so he averred, in 1531, the very year in which the Mother of God appeared to Juan Diego at Tepeyac, an image which soon became famous for its miraculous cures and for its

prolonged trembling movement during moments of crisis for New Spain.>? In the last resort, however, the most striking feature of Espinosa’s chronicle was its calm assurance of continuity between the heroic epoch of the spiritual conquest and the outpouring of missionary zeal in his own day. What need was there for patriotic enthusiasm when the Christian experience was so dramatic? IV

In 1766 there appeared Fragmentos de la vida y virtudes del. . . Vasco de _

Quiroga, written by Juan José Moreno, rector of the college of San Nicolas in Valladolid, who saluted the bishop as ‘the apostle of the kingdom’ of Michoacan. Lamenting that ‘only the barbarism and negligence of that first century of the conquest of this kingdom have passed over such brilliant achievements and virtues in such profound silence’, Moreno delved into the records of his own college, which

Quiroga had founded, and had been encouraged by the cathedral chapter to consult the documents in their archive. Hitherto, all historical accounts of the Michoacan diocese had been composed by mendicant chroniclers concerned to exalt the sanctity and zeal of the first friars. But now a secular priest chose to magnify the role of Quiroga as founding father of the church in Michoacan and as the legislator who framed the community laws which were to govern the Indian villages of the diocese

for centuries to come. That Moreno should have seen fit to compare the bishop both to Lycurgus of Sparta and Peter the Great attested to the

new horizons of the creole clergy of the Bourbon epoch. That he also praised the current bishop, Anselmo Sanchez de Tagle, for his ‘defence of ecclesiastical jurisdiction’ and signalled the great learning, nobility and

virtue of the dignitaries and canons of the cathedral chapter, suggests that his book should be viewed as an historical manifesto designed to. advance the prerogatives of the bishop and chapter.*4 To start with, Moreno stressed that Quiroga was renowned for his love of the Indians at a time ‘when the generality of our nation despised them

and wanted to enslave them’. He had founded the two ‘hospital’ communities of Santa Fe, installing secular priests as their rectors, whose

ordinances Moreno printed as an appendix, albeit failing to appreciate that they were modelled on More’s Utopia.*> Equally important, he

demonstrated that it was Quiroga and not the Franciscans who had

Mendicant chronicles | 39 established hospitals in the leading Indian villages, institutions which ‘are the centre of the religion, the policy and humanity of the Indians’. There

still survived over twenty such hospitals, all governed by the same ordinances and all dedicated to the Virgin Mary’s Immaculate Conception. So also, it had been Quiroga who had introduced Spanish crafts in the villages, encouraging communities to concentrate on a particular material, be it lacquer, copper or pottery. Finally, the bishop had also taught the Indians to represent the mysteries of the Christian faith in

images, dances and plays, practices which despite criticism of their ‘materiality’ still continued.*°

Although Moreno denied that Quiroga was in any way hostile to the mendicants, nevertheless, he was at pains to note that the bishop had quarrelled with the Augustinians, demanding that they should obtain his licence before erecting any priory in his diocese. So also, the mendicants had to request his permission to celebrate marriages among their native charges. It was his determination to promote the cause of the secular clergy that had prompted Quiroga to establish the college of San Nicolas, to educate students for the priesthood, ordaining many candidates on the strength of their knowledge of native languages.*” To assure his cathedral

and chapter of sufficient income, the bishop demanded that Indians should pay the ecclesiastical tithe, a measure which provoked an effective response from Alonso de la Veracruz, the great Augustinian theologian.

In all this we can discern the raison d’étre of Moreno’s biography. Written at a time when the bishop and chapter were enforcing with considerable enthusiasm the crown’s directive to secularise the parishes still administered by the mendicants, the life of Quiroga was designed to provide an historical justification for the assertion of episcopal authority and to demonstrate the role of a secular bishop in the foundation of the

Mexican Church. It was thus a text which testified to the profound change 1n the balance between the religious orders and the secular clergy that was so striking a feature of Bourbon Mexico.

3 Oratorians

I

After his ordination by the bishop of Michoacan in 1700, Juan Antonio Pérez de Espinosa walked from Valladolid to Querétaro, his native city, there to celebrate his first mass. He was accompanied by his younger brother, then but a subdeacon, Fray Isidro Félix de Espinosa, who in El — familiar de la América y doméstico de Espafia, a life of his brother written fifty years later, fondly recalled how the secular priest had dismounted from his horse so as to make the journey together on foot. Of reduced but still comfortable means, their parents had raised six children to maturity,

of whom the three brothers became priests, and one sister a nun. Educated by the Jesuits in Querétaro, Juan Antonio later studied at the University in Mexico City, residing at the newly founded Oratory, both his education and ordination made possible by Juan Antonio Caballero y Ocio, a wealthy priest and benefactor in Queretaro, who provided him with a chantry endowment sufficient to sustain him. Greatly influenced by Fray Antonio Margil and the college of Santa Cruz, Espinosa joined the Franciscans in preaching on the streets and in the textile workshops of Querétaro, and later accompanied Margil on his mission to Valladolid and Patzcuaro. But if he entered the Third Order of the Franciscans, he was more attracted by the Oratory and with this aim in mind joined the

Congregation of Our Lady of Guadalupe, an association of secular priests which possessed its own church, built with funds offered by Caballero. Although he rose to become prefect of this Congregation, his

hopes of converting it into the nucleus of an Oratory attracted the hostility of the ecclesiastical authorities and he was forced to resign.! By

then the project had become embroiled with Caballero’s scheme to secularise Querétaro’s parish, which was still administered by the Franciscans. In 1712 Espinosa preached the Lenten sermons in San Miguel el Grande and so impressed its leading citizens that he was offered the Ecce

Homo church, which was owned by the mulatto confraternity of La 40

Oratorians 41 Soledad. Accompanied by two young priests, Espinosa built with his own hands the adobe rooms next to the church where they were to live, and also helped in the garden, eking out their diet of bread and sugar

cakes with fresh vegetables and fruits. Licensed by the bishop of Michoacan, these aspirant Oratorians rose early in the morning, spent long hours in the confessional, preached frequently, visited the sick and conducted the rosary and spiritual exercises in the evenings. They

encouraged the faithful to take frequent, even daily, communion. Refusing to beg for alms, they subsisted off their chantries and voluntary

offerings, and supplemented their income by opening a school for children and giving classes in grammar to adolescents. But they suffered

opposition from the parish priest who feared that their public masses might rob his church of fees and attendance.? A further embarrassment

came from the mulatto confraternity which insisted on its right to celebrate its annual feast of Ecce Homo at their church, an occasion accompanied by a great deal of drunkenness, gambling and other disorders. In order to establish a canonically approved Oratory in San Miguel, Espinosa sailed for Europe in 1718, there to solicit the requisite licences from the Spanish crown and the Holy See. This initiative was necessary because each Oratory formed an independent congregation of secular priests, united to fellow institutes only by common observance of the rule of St Philip Neri. In Mexico City the Oratory had suffered a controverted

foundation and had obtained final approval in 1701. On arriving in Spain, Espinosa was shocked by ‘the calamities, miseries and violence’ he

encountered in Madrid and sought refuge in the Oratory at Cadiz, only there to confide to his brother that ‘in Cadiz there is a general neglect of God and greater superstition, enchantments, greater filth and sins than

in all the Indies’. He attributed the languid state of the faith to the presence of foreigners and the effects of trade and warfare. But it was also caused by the popularity of the Comedies, against which he inveighed in the pulpit, only then to learn that Philip V expressly protected the theatre

and had ordered priests to be reprimanded for preaching against 1t.3 Assisted by Cardinal Luis de Belluga y Moncada, the founder of an Oratory in Cordoba, in 1725 Espinosa travelled to Rome where he resided at Vallicelli, the mother house of the Oratorians, and in 1727 duly

obtained a papal breve authorising the establishment of an Oratory in San Miguel. He also negotiated the concession of privileges for the Oratories of Spain and America, in recognition of which he was named preposito, or father superior, of the institute at Cordoba. It was not until 1734 that he finally obtained a rescript from the crown authorising both his Oratory and the establishment of a school and college. All these

42 The religious orders negotiations entailed a considerable outlay of money, since as he observed: ‘only avarice reigns and it is necessary to beg and pay in order that they let us serve God!’ But he was assisted by the wealthy citizens of

San Miguel, such as Manuel de la Canal and José de Landeta. When

Neri.4 |

news of the successful conclusion of his mission reached San Miguel, the Fathers of the new Oratory elected Espinosa as their first prepdsito, albeit

delegating his authority to his brother Francisco, also a member, and invited Fray Isidro Félix to preach the sermon on the feast of St Philip

In 1737, when he was sixty-one, Espinosa wrote to his brother,

exclaiming that ‘I am tired of the things of Spain and of the little fruit that the Divine Word yields.” He remembered Fray Antonio Margil, whose

bruised and wounded feet he had washed on their journey together to Valladolid. He was perplexed as to how he was to transport his library of over 4,000 volumes. But when Manuel de la Canal sent monies sufficient to pay for his voyage home, Espinosa employed those funds to assist the

foundation of an Oratory at Malaga, where he was elected the first preposito. Thereafter, the outbreak of war between Spain and England

meant that Cadiz was subjected to a British naval blockade which effectively prevented any convoys sailing for Veracruz. In 1747 Espinosa died and was buried in Cordoba, his death celebrated with solemnity in

San Miguel, where all the leading citizens and clergy of the town assembled to attend a requiem mass in the church of Ecce Homo.> In his biography, a work written in 1753 but not published until 1942,

Fray Isidro eulogised his brother according to the conventions of Hispanic sanctity of this epoch. Espinosa rose at 2 o’clock, celebrated mass at 4 a.m. and remained in the confessional until noon. He slept in leather sheets, wore a poor soutane, fasted regularly, wore cilices and scourged himself three times a week, drawing blood. He had a family tree illustrated with skulls and skeletons so as to remind him of his origin and end. At times he slept in a coffin. In a peculiar act of abnegation he wore green-tinted spectacles so that the world always appeared rather dim and

off colour. In his frequent sermons, many of which he had printed, he especially warned against sexual temptation, denounced bull fighting as a relic of pagan Rome, inveighed against the Comedies, disapproved of secular music in church and, during the night exercises of the Blessed Souls in Purgatory, beat himself with chains. His sermons emphasised moral examples in place of scholastic doctrine. An advocate of frequent

communion, he was devoted to the Eucharist and to Our Lady of Guadalupe, always carrying a likeness of the Virgin with him.® He did not take money for the masses he celebrated. In effect, Fray Isidro portrayed

his brother as an ideal priest, whose personal asceticism was matched

Oratorians 43 only by a dedication to his pastoral ministry in the confessional, the pulpit and the altar.

Despite the absence of its founder, the Oratory at San Miguel prospered, opening the college of San Francisco de Sales and sponsoring the beateria of Santa Ana where Espinosa’s sister acted as rectora. It also

attracted several priests distinguished either for their sanctity or their learning. In the sphere of religion its most notable figure was Luis Felipe

Neri de Alfaro (1709~—76), a native of Mexico City who in 1730 abandoned the capital to join the Oratory in San Miguel where he subscribed over 5,000 ps. towards the construction of the chapel of La

Salud. An austere ascetic, he soon attracted a following among the faithful and founded several brotherhoods called Escuelas de Cristo (schools of Christ) dedicated to helping the poor, visiting the sick, burying the dead and undertaking personal penitence and prayer. These associations were located in Guanajuato, San Luis de la Paz, Leén and San Luis Potosi, as well as at San Miguel. In 1740 Alfaro left the Oratory

in order to establish a sanctuary and house of spiritual exercises at Atotonilco, situated in a barren part of the countryside some twelve kilometres from San Miguel. And there he remained, still in good standing with the Oratory, for the rest of his life, slowly extending and

embellishing his cherished project.’ None of this would have been possible had he not devoted his considerable inheritance, first in purchasing for 20,000 ps. the surrounding lands to form a hacienda which comprised forty-four caballerias (1,884 hectares), and then in building a dam 500 yards long at a cost of 12,000 ps. which allowed him to plant wheat. A mill producing flour worth 20,000 ps. completed an estate which yielded an income of 4,000 ps. a year, monies which allowed Alfaro to add further chapels to the sanctuary across the years.® Although

he actively opened negotiations with the Dominicans, hoping to persuade them to establish a permanent priory at Atotonilco with twelve friars in residence, nothing came of these plans and he remained the sole chaplain until his death.

The sanctuary at Atotonilco numbered among the most remarkable and personal creations of the Mexican baroque. Having completed the single sanctuary dedicated to Jesus Nazareno, Alfaro then added no less than six or seven other chapels as well as a camarin behind the high altar and a sacristy. In all these rooms there were a multiplicity of altars and images, of which the most striking was the Calvary with life-size figures depicting Christ on the cross accompanied by the two thieves, the Virgin Mary and apostles. The walls and vaultings were covered by paintings and inscriptions, much of the latter consisting of verses composed by Alfaro. Since the lighting is poor, many of these relatively small chambers

44 The religious orders are shrouded in shadow and must be imagined lit by the flickering flame of candles. The idea behind this proliferation of chapels was to depict

scenes which recalled Bethlehem, the holy house at Nazareth and the | Holy Places at Jerusalem where Christ celebrated the Last Supper and suffered his Passion. From the start, Alfaro had perceived a similarity between the barren fields of Atotonilco and the Holy Land.? Adjoining the sanctuary were the rooms, refectory and patio of the house of spiritual exercises, where penitents spent eight days under Alfaro’s direction, their time devoted to collective prayer, meditation, examination of conscience and penitential scourging. The day started at five in the morning and lasted until nightfall, the last sessions conducted in darkness. Since these exercises could attract as many as sixty men, drawn from rich and poor, the large number of chapels allowed penitents

to follow the life and Passion of Christ stage by stage. On all these occasions Alfaro served at table in the refectory and on Fridays preached on his knees with a crown of thorns pressed tight on his head. So powerful was his influence that in the years 1765-76 no less than 7,541 men

took these exercises and individuals of both sexes attended particular courses. It was estimated that he heard 14,000 general confessions in his career as a priest, in which penitents reviewed the course of their lives before resolving to amend their ways.!° Although Alfaro was inspired by St Ignatius’ Spiritual Exercises, he clearly adapted them to local needs and infused them with a Franciscan sensibility since, whereas St Ignatius

urged penitents to place themselves at the side of Christ in his life in Nazareth and in his Passion at Jerusalem, Alfaro not merely reproduced the physical setting of these scenes in the images and paintings of his

chapels, but also encouraged personal replication of the physical sufferings of Christ.

When Alfaro died in 1776, his funeral eulogy was delivered at Atotonilco by Dr Juan Benito Diaz de Gamarra y Davalos, the rector of the Oratorian college of San Francisco de Sales, an address published in the same year under the title of El sacerdote fiel. It was very much a personal tribute, since Gamarra recalled that he had often served mass

for Alfaro and had been present at his deathbed. After praising the sanctuary for its beauty, exclaiming that it formed ‘a beautiful paradise and refuge of mercy and salvation’, the young Oratorian emphasised that although Alfaro was ‘a very broad confessor’, which was to say, merciful but firm, he marvelled at his castigation of his own flesh. For many years Alfaro ate little more than eggs and vegetables and, not content with

loading his limbs with cilices, also donned a spiked hair-shirt which wounded his skin. Often he rose at midnight to adore the sacrament in the chapel where ‘he placed himself in a coffin under the altar, his eyes

Oratorians 45 closed and body extended, and passed the night preparing himself for death’. So often did he practise this penitence that over the years three coffins rotted away. Moreover, when he did use his bed, he took a skeleton which was ‘his inseparable companion for many years in bed and which he had close to him until the eve of his death’. During the day he devoted himself to hearing confessions and leading various devotions, including the Stations of the Cross and the rosary as well as daily mass. On one occasion he prepared for Easter by remaining forty days alone in a small chamber or camarin. His strenuous penitence reached a climax

during Holy Week when he led a Good Friday procession from San Miguel to Atotonilco carrying a heavy wooden cross, his crown of thorns pressed so tight as to cause blood to stream down his face, thus offering

the world a living representation of Christ in his Passion. Gamarra concluded by exclaiming that the Oratory ‘would always glory in having

had such a son’, especially since Alfaro had loved the Oratory until the end of his life, calling it ‘his mother, my beloved and venerable congregation’.!!

As Gamarra reminded his fellow mourners, Alfaro had acted as the

spiritual director of Maria Josefina de la Canal, the daughter of the wealthy patron of the Oratory, Manuel de la Canal, who had funded the construction of the sanctuary of the Casa de Loreto adjoining their

church. From the time she made her first confession with Alfaro the young heiress took daily communion, recited the rosary three times a day and followed the Stations of the Cross. Such a regime reached an early climax when, at the age of sixteen, she undertook eight days of spiritual

exercises with Alfaro at Atotonilco, at their close firmly resolving to employ her estate to found a convent of nuns in San Miguel. The former Oratorian accompanied her to Valladolid where she was interviewed by Bishop Elizacoechea, who approved of her project and rapidly obtained

the necessary royal rescript. In 1755 four nuns from the Regina Coeli convent in Mexico City arrived in San Miguel and admitted several novices to their company, including Maria Josefina who was soon appointed as novice mistress.!2 Although the convent followed the Concepcionist rule, it differed from its counterparts in the capital in refusing to take in servants and in following the common life, eating meals together in the refectory. In his life of Maria Josefina de la Canal, Diaz de Gamarra observed

that ‘the world is a society whose maxims, sentiments and conduct is directly opposed to the sentiments, maxims and conduct of Jesus Christ’. He based his account on the notes written by Alfaro who had acted as her

spiritual director from her first communion until her death in 1770 at the age of thirty-three. Here were ‘no ecstasies, visions or miracles’, so

46 The religious orders Gamarra averred, but simply an edifying story of Christian virtue, of a young woman who had abandoned the world ‘in the very bloom of her

| youth, burying herself alive in a cloister built at her own expense’. But Maria Josefina imitated her confessor 1n practising rigorous penitence,

fasting and scourging herself to the point where her biographer exclaimed that ‘the mere sight of all the cruel instruments she used to punish her body and subjugate her flesh was enough to horrify. Cilices, iron plates, hair-shirts with sharp points, scourges with hooks — all this she used to tame her flesh and subject it to the spirit.” Under such a regime her health soon broke, her bodily periods ceased, and she died in great pain, tormented by worms which even emerged from her nose.}3

The pursuit of sanctity in the Hispanic world was thus an arduous, bloody affair, in which concentration on Christ’s Passion prompted friars, priests and nuns to torture their flesh in an attempt not merely to

discipline carnal desires but, more important, to re-enact Chnist’s physical sufferings.

II In 1765-6 Dr Jeronimo Lépez Llergo, a prebendary of the Valladolid cathedral, was appointed by Bishop Sanchez de Tagle to conduct an ecclesiastical visitation of San Miguel el Grande. The most striking event

of his stay in the town was the triumphant entrance of the nuns of the Purisima Concepcion into their new, still unfinished church and convent. The occasion was marked by a public procession, starting from the parish church, which paraded through streets covered with boughs of wood and adorned with carpets and rich hangings, its progress attended by several choirs and their musicians. The entire ecclesiastical establishment of San Miguel turned out to celebrate. After the standards of twelve confraternities, each accompanied by twelve brothers carrying candles, there came the Third Order of St Francis with their cross, an image of St Joseph carrying the keys of the new church, and a figure of St Anthony

of Padua. There followed the Oratorians with their statue of St Philip Neri, the Franciscans and Dominicans with figures of their respective founders and the image of Santa Ana with the ‘daughters of her college’.

The rear of the procession concluded with a statue of the Purisima Concepcion, the famous image of Christ as Ecce Homo from the parish church borne by four priests and followed by twelve ecclesiastics with candles, and the community of nuns all dressed in white. The Eucharist under its pallium was carried by the visitor general. On arriving at the convent the local cura unlocked the doors of the church and the images were all placed on the altar there to remain for three days during which

Oratorians 47 solemn high mass was celebrated respectively by the parish priest, the preposito of the Oratory and the guardian of the Franciscan priory.!4 The magistrates also arranged for the town to be illuminated at night with fireworks and other expressions of public rejoicing. During his visitation Lopez Llergo took note of the twenty-nine priests resident in San Miguel, of whom only sixteen possessed licences to hear confessions.!> He could not enter the Franciscan priory, however, since the internal government of the religious orders was exempt from episcopal jurisdiction. By contrast, the Oratory was a congregation of secular priests who did not take the solemn vows of obedience, poverty and chastity enjoined on all religious communities, and hence were considered subject to the bishop’s authority. In his visitation Lopez Llergo reported that the Oratory comprised nine priests, two deacons and seventeen lay brothers supported collectively by an endowment of 22,476 ps., which yielded an annual income of 1,123 ps. All this marked a considerable improvement from the congregation’s beginnings, when they had lived ‘in the greatest poverty’, since ‘not even the doors were covered, the small rooms were made from matting which the Founder made with his own hands, the first young men and lay brothers assisting him as labourers’. They had subsisted on stews cooked in an absurdly small kitchen. Although these heroic first days were long since past, the lay brothers still grew vegetables in the garden to supplement what was clearly a meagre income. The priests of the Oratory had maintained their

practice of preaching every night and of reciting the rosary with a congregation composed of both sexes. On Saturdays they preached in the chapel of the town’s textile workshop. During Lent they delivered penitential sermons every day, sallying forth on Palm Sunday on to the streets, carrying images of Christ and St Philip Neri, pausing at various points to preach and sing hymns.!¢ It is clear from this description that

the visitor was most impressed by the dedication and discipline he observed at the Oratory. In the college of San Francisco de Sales, established by royal rescripts

of 1743 and 1753, Lopez Llergo found twenty-one students taking philosophy, of whom thirteen had scholarships; another ten studied grammar, eight of whom had scholarships; and there were another ten

just starting. On applying for entrance, candidates had to present documents certifying their baptism, their good morals and their impieza de sangre, which was to say, that all four grandparents had been baptised as Spaniards, a rule that excluded all mestizos and mulattos. Indians could be admitted provided they came from cacigue or noble families.

Illegitimate or abandoned children could be accepted provided they had been raised in Spanish families. The cost of a year’s education and

48 The religious orders maintenance was I00 ps., a rate which was reduced to 80 ps. if the mother was a widow, and to §0 ps. for candidates who were poor or who wished to become priests. Any student who died while at college was

buried in its chapel, presumably free of charge. Every day students listened to spiritual reading in the refectory and were instructed in Christian doctrine on Saturday afternoons. They were expected to present themselves for confession on Thursdays and then take communion at the sung mass of that day. The daily time-table was fixed according to a rigorous schedule of classes and study, broken by meals, recreation and devotions, with the afternoons of Sundays and Thursdays turned over to recreation. Once a month the rector and masters took the students on a walking expedition to the countryside, taking fruit, milk

and bread, the pupils all expected to wear their gowns and bonnets. Their diet was simple and consisted of mutton, beans, rice, sugar cakes and bread.!” Although the visitor thus inquired minutely into the living

arrangements for the students, in his report he did not raise the question of their curriculum, soon to become a matter of considerable controversy. Another offshoot of the Oratory, albeit more distant, was the beateria of Santa Ana, licensed by the bishop 1n 1742. Unlike nuns, the beatas did not take solemn vows and were free to leave their ‘voluntary enclosure’ when they wished. By the time Lopez Llergo visited them they numbered forty-eight women, living in cramped conditions, often four to a room, who were responsible for administering a college for girls. It was a priest

of the Oratory, Juan Hipolito Aguado, who had sponsored the institute and who in his will of 1748 left his haciendas to provide the beateria and college with an endowment. Sale of his estates brought in 15,830 ps., which was invested to yield an income of 791 ps. a year. The priests of the Oratory continued to act as chaplains of this institute, which was situated next to the college of San Francisco de Sales, but otherwise did not interfere in its administration.!® One of its first rectoras had been a sister of Pérez de Espinosa. Although the Oratory accepted the visitation conducted by Lopez Llergo, especially since it was so favourable, in the following year Nicolas

Pérez de Arquitiqui was despatched to Spain, there to ascertain whether Pérez de Espinosa had left any papers, and to obtain permission to bring

the founder’s bones back to Mexico. A further aim was for him to. proceed to Rome to secure from the Holy See a grant of the privileges and exemptions already enjoyed by the Oratories of Cordoba and Lima. In particular, it was hoped that the prepdsito would be given first instance

jurisdiction over any case, be it criminal or civil, which involved any member of his congregation, with rights of appeal to the bishop. But

Oratorians 49 Arquitiqui had failed to obtain a licence from the viceroy to initiate such ambitious claims which, if granted, were bound to provoke litigation.!°

In consequence, he was denied permission to travel to Italy and was obliged to return to New Spain with little accomplished. In this mission Arquitiqui was accompanied by Juan Benito Diaz de

Gamarra y Davalos (1745-83), recently ordained as priest, who proceeded to Italy where he spent three years familiarising himself with recent developments in philosophy, his efforts rewarded with the title of doctor of canon law from the University of Pisa. A native of Zamora, the son of a peninsular Spaniard who had served as municipal magistrate, on his mother’s side Gamarra descended from the first settlers of that town

and had an uncle who had served as rector of the college of Todos Santos. After a year at the Jesuit college of San Ildefonso in Mexico City, Gamarra had enrolled with the Oratory in San Miguel, first as a student

and finally as a priest.2° While in Rome he resided at the Oratory of Vallicelli, founded by St Philip Neri, and familiarised himself with the privileges enjoyed by the European Oratories and with the recent controversy in Lima where the Holy See had exempted the Oratory from

visitation by the archbishop. On his return to New Spain, however, Gamarra turned his energies to teaching in the college of San Francisco de Sales and in 1774 published his Elementa recentioris philosophiae, in which he strongly attacked Aristotle’s continuing predominance 1n the

schools, and presented the first account of modern philosophy to be _ printed in Mexico. In his prologue he warmly thanked the bishop of Michoacan, Luis Fernando de Hoyos y Mier, for approving the book as © the text for the philosophy course at San Miguel. Episcopal patronage was all important for Gamarra, since his advocacy of curricular reform aroused intense opposition both within the Oratory

and beyond, to the point where he was obliged to resign from the rectorship of the college, a position to which he had only recently been appointed. His opponents claimed that his new course had prevented students from graduating from the University of Mexico, since ‘in that

great theatre which lays down the law in the literary republic of this kingdom’ Aristotle still held sway, whereas Gamarra had dismissed the Stagirite with ridicule. At this juncture Bishop Hoyos y Mier intervened to insist that Gamarra should be appointed prefect of studies, a new post designed to allow him to impose his ideas on the college. In a letter to the Oratory, Hoyos praised Gamarra for ‘his attractive course of philosophy’,

saluting him as ‘the first American who has toiled over this kind of writing’. Indeed, the Oratorian had planted ‘a fertile seed of the most important and true philosophy, eliminating the defects in method and the ineptitude, sterility and disutility of the infantile disputes and

50 The religious orders questioning of that which is current . . . [which 1s] a pure ill-conceived abstraction and equivocation of confused terms’. Such was Gamarra’s reputation that the rector of the University of Mexico sought the crown’s permission to use his new course, thereby ‘imitating the most cultured

nations of Europe’. In effect, it was now time to accept the recent advances in physics and mathematics, especially since Spain itself had achieved so little progress in the arts and sciences in the last two centuries. By way of reply, the new rector of the college in San Miguel, Carlos Antonio Martinez, confessed that he himself was only acquainted with ‘old Aristotle’, but promised to install Gamarra’s course as the basic text for his students.?!

But Gamarra’s attempt to enlist episcopal support for his projects came to grief in 1781-2, when Bishop Juan Ignacio de la Rocha (1777-82) came to San Miguel to conduct a visitation, residing for over six months at the Oratory. At first the relations between the two men were excellent |

and Rocha was later to recall that the young Oratorian had conversed

with him frequently during this time. Indeed, in his Errores del entendimiento humano (1781), published in Puebla under the pseudonym of Juan de Bendiaga, Gamarra warmly commended Rocha as ‘the father of the poor, the protector of the sciences’.22 For his part Rocha set aside 2,000 ps. in his will for the Oratory’s primary school, and in May 1781 nominated both Gamarra and the current prepdsito, Vicente Zerrillo, to assist his visitor general, Archdeacon José Pérez Calama, in conducting an examination of the resident clergy of San Miguel.23 Nor was he alone

in his opinion since Pérez Calama, who accompanied him on the visitation, had also given the Oratory 2,000 ps. and presented a portrait of himself which had been hung in the small chapel.24 It was precisely

these expressions of good will that led Gamarra to presume that the bishop would agree to important concessions about the status of the Oratory, issues which he had discussed with the prelate and archdeacon on several occasions during their stay. The first major grievance he attempted to settle arose from the relation of the Oratory’s church to the parish priest of San Miguel. In 1779 the Congregation had appealed to the bishop to revoke the agreement they

had signed in 1742 with the landlords of their church, the mulatto confraternity of Ecce Homo y Nuestra Sefiora de la Soledad. According to its terms the confraternity had removed the image of its patron saint

and deposited it in the parish church, leaving behind the retablo and pulpit for the sum of 4,185 ps. Although the Oratory thus acquired lease-

hold (dominio util), they had to recognise that the confraternity still | owned the church (derecho directo y de propiedad), and hence agreed as quit-rent to officiate each year at the confraternity’s annual feast-day,

Oratorians 51 providing a preacher and four large wax candles. Unhappy that they depended on ‘a crowd of blacks and mulattos’, the Oratory now complained that although confraternity members were buried in their church,

it was the parish priest or his vicars who officiated and pocketed the fees. Hence they petitioned the bishop not merely to recognise their Congregation as the true owners of the church but also to grant them the right of receiving the fees for all masses and services celebrated in their church, citing by way of corroboration the sanctuary of Ocotlan outside

Tlaxcala, where the chaplain was paid all such fees. As it was, the Oratorians preached sermons, heard confessions and administered the last sacraments during plagues, all without recompense, so that ‘the parish priest has an unpaid vicar in every member of this congregation’ .2> That it was Gamarra who was responsible for urging these changes was demonstrated by a letter he wrote to his father superior (prepdsito) dated

16 February 1780, in which he emphasised that although the Roman Oratory of Vallicelli did not administer a parish it possessed the right to conduct burials, receiving fees without reference to the local cura, adding ‘I lived for a year in Rome; I informed myself in some detail about this

point.’ It was now time to liberate the Oratory of San Miguel from the

authority of the parish priest, especially since ‘in the person of our illustrious Prelate, clemency, benignity and mercy are now enthroned in Michoacan. Place Your Reverence at his feet and with the confidence that a prince who is so filled with love for our institute ought to inspire,

represent to him all that has been said.’26 However, Bishop Rocha had already received strong protests from the mayordomo of the confraternity of La Soledad who affirmed that his brotherhood had owned

the church since 1628 and that without the annual sermon and four candles their rights would lapse. More important, the parish priest insisted on his canonical rights to celebrate burial in any church that lay

within his jurisdiction and to collect such fees as were appropriate:

to abrogate his rights would entail conferring on the Oratory the exemptions and privileges of a religious order. That in March 1780 the

bishop rejected the Oratory’s petition, refusing to alter the terms of the 1742 agreement, offered a clear warning that his admiration for the Congregation’s activities did not include any desire to better its status.27 The rupture between Rocha and the Oratory came in September 1781,

when the bishop signed an official decree announcing that he would conduct a visitation of the Congregation and its college. Since he had been staying with them for six months, the matter had been obviously already the object of discussion. The previous May, Pérez Calama had been given a copy of all the printed documents of the dispute in Lima, which concluded with a declaration of the Holy See in 1758 exempting

52 The religious orders the internal regime of the Oratory from episcopal visitation. The Oratorians in San Miguel admitted that they had been ‘visited’ by either the bishop or his delegate in 1734, 1742, 1766 and 1775, since it was not

until 1763 that they had learnt of the Lima dispute and not until the return of Gamarra that they had become cognisant of their rights. Indeed, ‘the little oratory ... the very strength of the institute’ had not been established until 1770. None of all this persuaded the bishop and, by now annoyed at their resistance, he left the Oratory, taking up residence in a nearby hacienda, albeit not before donating 1,000 ps. to cover the cost of his protracted stay.2®

It was on 7 November that Rocha launched a fierce attack on Gamarra, claiming that whereas he had settled with the father superior

to conduct a limited visitation, leaving the question of rights and privileges to be resolved later, the philosopher had intervened to change his superior’s mind. In effect, ‘the low party, the blind followers of Father Gamarra prevailed over the elders of the Congregation’ and, although he had ordered Gamarra to refrain from meddling in such matters, he had

won the support of the younger priests and now sought ‘the glory of being the hero who would rescue his Congregation from the captivity, tyranny and despotism of the diocesan prelates’. Daunted by this biting criticism, Gamarra now informed his colleagues that he wished to resign from the rectorship of the college, to relinquish his voting rights, and to

return to his home in Zamora. “The notorious resentment of His Lordship’ had destroyed his peace of mind. But the Congregation refused to accept his departure and all its members, young and old alike, signed a declaration that they had acted independently. They then wrote to Rocha stating that they were ‘filled with bitterness’ at his anger, that they were not subject to Gamarra’s influence, and that they would not

expel him from their midst. Their Congregation was ‘composed of secular men, somewhat civilised’ who were not prepared to submit to a visitation of ‘the economic and internal government’ of the Oratory. On 3 December 1781 the bishop decided to suspend the visitation of

the Oratory itself and instead ordered Pérez Calama to inspect the college of St Francis de Sales. But when the archdeacon, accompanied by the parish priest of San Miguel, entered the college he was met by

Gamarra and the staff who informed him that although they freely offered the chapel for his inspection, they refused to provide any accounts of the college since these belonged to its ‘economic and interior government’ over which the bishop had no jurisdiction. Exasperated by

this resistance, Pérez Calama instructed the parish priest to apply his authority as ecclesiastical judge to obtain an account of the teaching in the college, of the number of its students and the state of its finances. On

Oratorians 53 2 January 1782 the Oratory informed him that all the resolutions which dealt with the appointment of professors and the methods of teaching in the college were recorded in the minute books of the Oratory, and hence could not be exhibited. At this point, Pérez Calama warned the recalcitrant priests that they stood in danger of being excommunicated

and, to add substance to the threat, suspended their licences to administer the sacraments. Uncowed by these threats, on 3 January, the Oratory informed Pérez Calama that they had already lodged a legal appeal, known technically as recurso de fuerza, with the high court in Mexico City, and hence advised him that all proceedings should halt until the case was settled. It was at this point that the bishop ordered the archdeacon to excommunicate all

ten priests of the Oratory. At once the town council of San Miguel, composed of wealthy landowners, begged the bishop to lift the sentence, stating that it was their duty to God and king (ambas majestades) to warn him that the local populace might well be stirred by the scandal of this | conflict. ‘The parish priest equally intervened to express his alarm. For their part the Oratory declared that publication of the excommunication edict would cause ‘universal scandal, sorrow .. . discredit to their poor

name’, and threatened to appeal to the archbishop. At this point, Gamarra now reminded Pérez Calama that he was a commissioner of the Inquisition and as such enjoyed immunity from the bishop’s Jurisdiction, an effective argument, since on 7 January his sentence was lifted. Once again the Oratory wrote to complain bitterly of their punishment: they

were zealous priests, devout and poor; yet they had been treated as delinquents, simply because they had dared to defend their legal rights. Once again they denied that Gamarra had caused the entire incident, adding that he was ‘filled with pain and outrage, afflicted, his honour

touched to the quick’. On 8 January the bishop bowed to this storm of protest and to avoid further scandal lifted the sentences of excommunication.

Barely a week later, on 16 January, Rocha wrote to the viceroy denouncing the Oratory and Gamarra for their refusal to countenance his jurisdiction. As bishop he had the right and duty to visit all churches, confraternities and colleges within his diocese, inspecting their accounts. The Oratory had no documents to substantiate their claim for exemption other than the printed account of the Lima dispute: yet they had refused to allow him to inspect the four minute books of ‘the internal government’ of their Congregation. Since the college prepared candidates for the priesthood there was good reason for him to ascertain what was being taught there and how well its accounts were kept; yet he had not even seen its constitution. He added:

54 The religious orders in the said college they do not profess any particular doctrine, allowing the various masters in their time and at their will to teach whatever they themselves

were taught in their tender years or have afterwards embraced; and are now accustomed to teach speculative philosophy according to the principles of the Suarezist school, which conforms but little with the doctrines of St Augustine or St Thomas. In practical moral theology there have been times when they have professed laxism in the said college, not offering the youngsters any other books than the moral tracts of Father Juan Maria, the Summa of Busenbaum, and other works of this kind, whose doctrines both time and experience have shown to be noxlous.

As for Aristotelian philosophy, he averred that the students had been taught ‘to despise and ridicule it, dedicating themselves to reading a course of arts that Father Juan Benito Diaz de Gamarra had printed’.

The result of all this was that when candidates from the college were examined in Mexico for their bachillerato, ‘most of them failed, remaining without the qualification necessary to go forward to higher studies’.

Turning to Gamarra, the bishop claimed that the Congregation had sought to cancel the new course of study, but that he had persuaded Bishop Hoyos to intervene, appointing him prefect of studies. Thus to advance ‘the prejudicial ambitions of Father Gamarra’, the bishop’s jurisdiction had first been invoked but was now rejected. The whole reason for this appointment had been to allow Gamarra to impose his Course of Arts, a book he had had printed without licence. In fact, many of the priests of the Oratory were obedient, unpretentious men, quite willing to accept the bishop’s authority, but ‘the harm that the Congregation now suffers’ is that it is ‘dominated by the spirit of Father

Juan Benito Diaz de Gamarra, a contentious man’, who had won an ascendancy over his colleagues ‘through his insinuating and seductive style ... and his learning’. Later in the same month the diocesan legal counsel (promotor fiscal), Lic. José Joaquin de Eguia, defined the essence of the dispute from the perspective of a canon lawyer. The Council of Trent, he explained, had maintained the exemption of religious communities from episcopal -

jurisdiction, an exemption that derived. from the exercise of papal authority. But the Oratorians were not a religious order: they comprised a loose confederation of autonomous congregations of secular priests,

united only by their common agreement to observe the rules of community life framed by St Philip Neri. They did not take solemn vows. As the Dutch canonist Van Espen had commented, they enjoyed certain privileges but possessed few rights. Since an Oratorian Order, properly speaking, did not exist, it followed that the results of the dispute in Lima

Oratorians 55 had no bearing on the conflict in San Miguel. When in Rome, Gamarra should have obtained a papal breve granting the exemptions he desired. Following Rocha’s example, Eguia criticised Gamarra’s ‘contentious and rebellious character’, and concluded by pronouncing that ‘Father _ Gamarra 1s very far from being able to vie with the venerable founder, Juan Antonio Pérez de Espinosa’, his brother or his nephews or other fathers, who ‘perhaps found nothing useful for their purpose or life in the doctrines of Malebruck [szc], the observations of Noleto [szc], the system of Nuet [szc], and other frivolities of this kind’. Since the high court decided to admit the Oratory’s appeal, lawyers for both parties to the dispute prepared printed statements but, whereas the counsel for the bishop did little more than rehearse the arguments put forward by Rocha and Eguia, by contrast, Lic. Manuel Quijano Zavala, the Oratory’s advocate, provided a vigorous defence which included additional points of fact. Although he agreed that the Oratorians were not a religious order bound by solemn vows, nevertheless, he insisted they all observed the 1612 Constitution of the Roman Oratory approved by the Holy See, which explicitly prohibited any episcopal visitation of the ‘economic and internal government’ of the Congregation. Both the papal breve of 1727 and the royal rescript of 1734, which established the Oratory at San Miguel, conferred upon the new Congregation all the

privileges and rights already enjoyed by the mother house in Rome. Moreover, the papal breve of 1758 had explicitly declared that the archbishop of Lima had no right to meddle with the internal regime of the Oratory in that city, a ruling which obviously applied to all Oratories ©

in the world. As regards the college of St Francis de Sales, Quijano argued that it had been formally established by a royal rescript of 1753 and was a secular institution since it educated boys recruited from the . laity who might opt as much for a secular career as for the priesthood; as such it was not subject to the bishop’s jurisdiction.29

Quijano was also at pains to defend Gamarra from the accusations of , Rocha and his diocesan attorney. He revealed that the bishop had stayed at the Oratory for six months prior to opening his visitation, and that the Oratory had prepared their appeal to the high court almost two weeks

before their excommunication. He dismissed Rocha’s assertion that students from the college at San Miguel could no longer obtain degrees,

by printing a certified statement of the secretary of the University of Mexico, which demonstrated that in a recent triennium no less than sixty-two students from the college had graduated with their bachillerato. Gamarra’s course on philosophy was greatly valued and he printed the

letter from Bishop Hoyos testifying to that effect. As for the diocesan counsel’s opinion, his peculiar spelling of Malebranche, Nollet and

56 The religious orders Newton suggested that he had never read their books. In any case, Gamarra did not simply rely on his own course; he had also printed for the students’ use Esteban de Orellana’s Instruccion de la Lengua Latin and Carlos Rolin’s Selectae Veter: Testamento Historiae, a selection of readings

from the Old Testament. Moreover, the students also used Nebrija’s Grammar and the Colloquies of Luis Vives, together with Virgil and Horace. As for theology, the college did not teach the doctrines of Suarez but concentrated on St Augustine and St Thomas, interpreted by Melchor Cano and other reputable authors. The works of Busenbaum were certainly not used, since they had been strictly prohibited by a royal rescript in 1769. Finally, Quijano demanded to know why a priest of such high talent and devotion as Gamarra had been slandered, a priest ‘who without other interest than the public good has spent his own money and has undertaken immense work’.3° In January 1783 the high court found that the acts of the bishop as

visitor hacen fuerza, which is to say, they constituted an unjustified invasion of the Oratory’s rights. It was accepted that the papal breve of 1758, issued to resolve the dispute in Lima, applied to all Oratories | and hence provided exemption from episcopal visitation. The ruling, however, only affected the Oratory itself and did not directly resolve the controverted question of the status of the college. The following year the Oratory petitioned the crown for recognition of the secular status of

their college and sought permission to change the uniform of their students from a gown to ‘military dress in black cloth’. The case eventually was heard again by the Council of the Indies which, in 1792, confirmed the high court’s judgement but refused to place the college

under royal patronage, instead requesting Viceroy Revillagigedo to report as to what was taught there. The matter thus returned to the intendant of Guanajuato who in 1793 provided an outline of the college’s

curriculum, which demonstrated that Gamarra’s course certainly | , provided the introduction to philosophy but that students also addressed the authors mentioned by Quiyjano in his defence. The intendant noted that the rules provided for weekly communion and insisted on monthly confession and communion; they also forbade the reading of comedies, romances and tales, “books so pernicious for good customs’.3! And there the matter rested.

The chief protagonists in this dispute did not live to see the matter

resolved. Bishop Rocha died in February 1782, still residing on a hacienda close to San Miguel, only a month after issuing his sentence of excommunication. More surprising, Gamarra himself died in November 1783 only aged thirty-eight years. As for José Pérez Calama, he wrote to the Oratory in June 1784 to express his regrets over the whole affair. He

Oratorians 57 acknowledged his great debt to the learning and spirituality of their Congregation and claimed that it had been Rocha who had caused the confrontation and commanded him to excommunicate its priests. Since Pérez Calama prided himself on his enlightened opinions and shared Gamarra’s detestation of the arid Aristotelianism of the schools, there is no reason to question his disclaimers. That Rocha was prone to adopt a peremptory defence of episcopal jurisdiction can be demonstrated by his

querulous criticism of the Dominican provincial for allowing four of his friars to take up residence in San Miguel without obtaining the

bishop’s permission, where neither the provincial’s apologies nor compliance lessened his indignation.

Iil In the prologue of his Elementa recentioris philosophiae, Gamarra saluted the youth of Mexico as ‘the great hope of the patria’, and added that he

had laboured day and night, reading over a hundred books, to inform them about the most recent developments in European philosophy. To this end he had sacrificed ‘my leisure, the agreeable residence in my patria, a considerable quantity of money that I have spent, and that which mortals usually hold in great account, my fame and good name, since among the ignorant I am treated like a criminal for destroying the philosophy and ancient religion of our ancestors’ .33 His consciousness of achievement was revealed in his Errores del entendimiento humano (1781) when, taking advantage of his pseudonym, he praised his own Elementa, immodestly observing ‘one cannot deny this scholar the glory of having

been the first of our compatriots who dared to combat the old method, giving us a philosophy suited to the taste of the most cultivated nations of Europe’. In his attack on Aristotle and outmoded scholastic categories

and his eagerness to inform the Mexican public of ‘the very useful doctrines’ of modern philosophy and science, Gamarra consciously imitated Benito Jeronimo Feyoo, the Benedictine author of Teatro critico universal (1726-39), describing him as ‘the splendour of Spain and of the

century that is now growing old’. As much as the Benedictine abbot, he praised the great discoveries of seventeenth-century science, but expressed scepticism or hostility towards the systems of philosophy that had also emerged during the epoch. Conscious of the variegated basis of his thought, he exclaimed: ‘How happy are the eclectic philosophers who fly from flower to flower like bees searching for the sweet nectar of knowledge. ’34

Above all else, Gamarra attacked Aristotle and the scholastic philosophy that had enshrined him as the supreme authority in all things

58 The religious orders natural. In his Memorial ajustado (1790), a brief satire published after his death, he depicted a scene ‘in the high court of Estagira in this kingdom —

of Chimeras’, where the massed professors of the peripatetic colleges accuse two individuals called ‘reason and experience’ of assembling the disciples of Descartes, Gassendi and Newton so as to destroy Aristotle’s supreme authority and ‘prescriptive right’. Horrified by the threat to the

doctrine of ‘substantial forms’, the court accepted the counsel of the attorney Ergotista and decided to suppress the new ideas and destroy all barometers, microscopes and telescopes.*° In all this Gamarra echoed Los aldeanos criticos (17§8) in which the count of Pefiaflorida, the founder

of the Real Sociedad Bascongada de los Amigos del Pais, boldly acclaimed the doctrines of Newton and derided ‘the most ancient, bald,

wrinkled, tremulous . . . Lord Aristotle of Estagira, Prince of the peripatetics, Duke of substantial forms, Count of antipathies, Marquis

of accidents’.26 To strengthen his case Gamarra had recourse to ecclesiastical history, noting that all the Church Fathers had praised Plato and rejected Aristotle, who had only entered Christian philosophy in the twelfth and thirteenth centuries owing to the influence of Arab

thinkers such as Averroes. The result had been the creation of a barbarous jargon and ‘a disputatious, contentious philosophy’, whose adherents constantly engaged in ‘those sempiternal exercises, disputes and logomachies’. Had not Plato in his Gorgias condemned the sophists of his day? Yet universities in Spain and Mexico were still filled with

professors who rejected modern science and insisted on blindly maintaining Aristotelian categories and doctrines that had been resurrected and systematised during the Middle Ages.?”

It was in his account of physics and perceptions that Gamarra most | clearly embraced modern science, saluting Galileo as ‘the Peter the Great

of philosophy’, since he had descended from his academic throne to learn matters of practical concern, liberating philosophy from Arabic dominion. As regards the natural world, the categories of Aristotle were

not so much false as simply vacuous and irrelevant, since in place of such distinctions as form and matter, substance and accidents, it was necessary to examine the laws of motion. It was thanks to their use of the

telescope and microscope that Galileo had scanned the movement of the heavens and Harvey the circulation of the blood. As regards the revolution 1n astronomy, Gamarra accepted that the heliocentric theories of Copernicus and Galileo explained the movements of the heavens far better than the system of Ptolemy; but described their theories simply as

| the best hypothesis. Not that he was impressed by Catholic rejection of Copernicus on scriptural grounds, since he argued that the purpose of the Bible was to teach doctrines of salvation, instructing Jews and

Oratorians 59 Christians by metaphors and figures, without any intent of satisfying curiosity about the natural world. As regards ‘the sublime Newton, light and ornament of England’, Gamarra accepted that in his study of optics

he had clearly demonstrated that colours derive from the operation of. light and hence were not accidents of nature. But, although he noted that Newton’s physics had been defended by many illustrious philosophers, _ he admitted that ‘this is an impenetrable mystery for those who are not initiated in high mathematics’.38 Unlike contemporary Mexican savants

such as Joaquin Velasquez de Leon and Antonio de Leén y Gama, Gamarra obviously did not command sufficient mathematics to expound the achievements of Newtonian physics. In his discussion of metaphysics, which was to say, the doctrines of the

soul and of God, Gamarra reversed his modernist stance and openly favoured the ‘peripatetics’, praising St Thomas Aquinas as a ‘genius’ and

as an ‘immortal theologian’. Rejecting both materialism and Cartesian dualism, he asserted that the soul was created by God from nothing and was present from the moment of conception. He followed the Thomist principle that the soul was both the animating form of the body, which gave it both life and intelligence, and also an immortal spirit not exposed

to material corruption. He cited an eloquent passage from Cardinal Melchor de Polignac, which depicted the soul as the music and the body as the instrument, both elements necessary to make a human being. As regards the Almighty, Gamarra followed St Thomas in claiming that his existence could be rationally demonstrated, and set out his version of the

five famous proofs of the Angelic Doctor, albeit concentrating on the argument from design. As a clock needed a maker, so the complexity and grandeur of the natural world required the power and mind of a Supreme Being to set it in motion and thereafter sustain its existence.*? When he came to deal with morality, Gamarra launched a fierce attack

on the ‘mob’ of modern authors, men such as Voltaire, Hobbes and Rousseau, who had cited the customs and morality of all ages and all nations so as to undermine the authority of the Catholic Church. Their libertine ethics and their atheism should provoke ‘indignation, scorn and pity’, so Gamarra averred, and he advised his students not to read their poisonous books. What better proof for the truth of the Catholic faith could be found than the apostolic virtues of its many saints? As scripture commanded, one had to love God with all one’s mind and heart, since

God’s love was a consuming fire and his punishments greatly to be feared. If God’s existence be accepted then it was only right that he should be worshipped in public rites, especially since knowledge of God was ‘a necessary bond of natural society and the civil state’. As regards morality, Gamarra affirmed that man was made for society, contrary to

60 The religious orders Rousseau’s fables, and that the golden rule of conduct consisted 1n not doing to others what one did not want to be done to oneself, or, more — positively, to treat one’s neighbour as one would wish to be treated by

morals. ,

one’s neighbour.’ In all this, Gamarra clearly revealed himself as a Catholic priest, encouraging his students to follow the path of Christian

In his brief history of philosophy, Gamarra cited a formidable number of modern authors, a list calculated more to dismay than to illumine the student. Yet, when we turn to his discussion of morality, we find that he was more influenced by his reading of the Greek and Latin classics than

by any contemporary thinker. A clear instance of this bias was his commendation of Cicero’s characterisation of Socrates as abandoning the search for secret causes in Nature in favour of discussion of how to live a good life. In effect he advocated a humanist ethic, drawing upon Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch and Plato for support. How distant all this was from Catholic asceticism can be observed when, on advising readers to take simple, unspiced food, he added ‘the best sauce is appetite and this is acquired by exercise of the body’, with walks in the country the best form of such exercise.*! The bridge between the classics and contem-

porary humanism was to be found in his assertion that as a social creature man must be prepared ‘to love his patria and also the prince’,

: submitting to laws and accepting public duties. Although he cited the traditional definition of philosophy as ‘knowledge of the true, the good and the beautiful’, he also declared that true wisdom was ‘the knowledge of all necessary and useful things’, a utilitarian gloss upon convention. Like most thinkers of his age he was so impressed by the achievements of the past century that he praised ‘the geometric spirit which extends over all the sciences and all the arts’, creating new marvels. But when he came

to discuss ‘good taste’, he described it as based on ‘the doctrine of proportions in the geometry of the spirit’.4? In effect, Gamarra was an eclectic who responded in equal measure to the achievements of modern science and to the neo-classic humanism of his epoch, sources which — impelled him to return to the very roots of the Western philosophy in the

ancient world. | The conjuncture of Luis Felipe Neri de Alfaro and Juan Benito Diaz

de Gamarra within the ambit of the Oratory of San Miguel attests to the complex, if not contradictory, character of eighteenth-century Mexican Catholicism. The two men were at opposite poles within the spectrum of Christian life. Whereas the founder of Atotonilco embodied the most austere form of asceticism, depriving his tortured flesh of all earthly

comfort, spending his days in the confessional or in the pulpit, by contrast the rector of San Francisco de Sales laboured to effect the

Oratorians 61 intellectual renovation of the Mexican Church through his teaching, reading and writing. But the paradox was that Gamarra deeply admired the older priest and celebrated his ascetic virtues in his funeral eulogy. What united both men was dedication to their priestly ministry, the one

through spiritual counsel, the other through books and classes. The presence of such diverse talents within a single institution attests to the extraordinary vitality of the Oratory at San Miguel which, during this

epoch, figured among the most original expressions of the Mexican Church.

4 Secularisation

I

On 4 October 1749 the Spanish crown issued a rescript which commanded that all parishes or doctrinas currently administered by the religious orders in the dioceses of Lima and Mexico should be henceforth entrusted to the care of the secular clergy. On finding that this measure

had elicited little popular protest, in February 1753 the ministers of Ferdinand VI (1746-59) despatched a further rescript extending the process of secularisation to all the dioceses of Spain’s American empire.

The result was that within less than a decade the Franciscans, Dominicans and Augustinians lost numerous parishes which they had governed since the sixteenth century, among which figured the glorious prizes of the spiritual conquest so celebrated by their early chroniclers. The rude shock dealt both to vested interest and institutional sentiment was magnified by the brutal fashion in which these laws were applied. After all, when Juan de Palafox y Mendoza had secularised mendicant doctrinas in Puebla during the 1640s, he had allowed the friars to retain possession of their churches and priories, providing his clergy with newly

built parish churches. By contrast, the colonial authorities now sought to expropriate conventual churches, expelling friars from their small country priories on the grounds that these houses had been constructed without royal licence in Indian villages. According to an anonymous protest, soldiers were at times employed to enforce the measure, so that priories were occupied without warning and friars ordered to leave at. once, obliged to set out on foot, carrying little more than their clothes and breviaries.! To assess the impact of secularisation we should note that in his Theatro americano (1746), José Antonio de Villasefior y

Sanchez estimated that 152 of the §27 parishes in the four central dioceses of Mexico, Puebla, Michoacan and Guadalajara were administered by the three mendicant orders. Indeed, in Mexico the secular clergy only held 88 parishes compared to the 1o1 held by the friars, a figure

which failed to take into account the vast area of many of the more 62

Secularisation 63 remote country doctrinas. Following their occupation the archbishop moved swiftly to divide these jurisdictions, so that by 1780 the number of parishes in the diocese of Mexico had risen to 244.2 In effect, secularisation marked a watershed in the history of the church in New Spain.

At the same time, the failure of the Mexican populace to launch any effective protest against the measure encouraged the crown and its ministers to proceed with a generation-long assault against the inherited privileges and property of the church in America.

The authors of this far-reaching ‘reform’ were the marquis of Ensenada and José de Carbajal y Lancaster, the two leading ministers of Ferdinand VI, who obtained the active support of the king’s father confessor, the Jesuit Francisco de Ravago. They were impelled to action

by a strong letter from the current viceroy of Peru, the count of Superunda, who complained of the excessive number of nuns resident in Lima and sharply condemned the frequently licentious behaviour of the

religious who administered rural parishes. For his part, the viceroy of New Spain, the first count of Revillagigedo, informed the ministers that the religious orders had become so wealthy that they absorbed the greater

part of the colony’s resources, thereby weakening its trade with the Peninsula. By this trme the marquis of Ensenada had presumably read the Noticias Secretas, the extensive report on Spanish possessions in South America, written by Antonio de Ulloa and Jorge Juan, the young naval officers who had accompanied the scientific expedition to Ecuador

led by the marquis of La Condamine, a work which offered a vivid description of the immorality and disorders of friars in Quito.3 To deal with the problem, Ensenada persuaded the king to by-pass the Council of the Indies and to nominate Carbajal as president of a special

committee (junta) of ‘theologians and jurists’, composed of the three

archbishops-elect of Lima, Mexico and Bogota, the king’s father confessor, four members of the Council of Castile and three members of

the Council of the Indies. Acting with exemplary despatch, this committee held its first meeting in November 1748 and presented Ensenada with its recommendations by the end of March 1749. In their report the committee provided a brief sketch of the history of the problem, noting that 1n his Politica indiana, Juan de Solérzano Pereira, had described the conflict between the mendicant orders and bishops in New Spain over jurisdiction, a conflict which had been resolved in 1624 when the three missionary orders recognised the right of bishops to conduct visitations of their doctrinas and agreed that each doctrina should count as a parish,

with a particular friar named as its cura or parish priest, thereby receiving ‘canonical appointment’ from the bishop. But although this agreement subjected the missionary church to the norms of church

64 The religious orders — government set out in the legislation of the Council of Trent, it did not remove all doubts. If in Puebla Juan de Palafox had moved decisively to quit the friars of all their parishes in his diocese, elsewhere bishops moved cautiously and sporadically to extend the role of secular clergy. Nevertheless, as early as the 1680s the viceroy of Peru, the duke of Palata, had attributed the excessive growth in the number of friars and their evident

loss of discipline to their management of rural parishes. Despite this historical precedent and official testimony, the junta recommended Ensenada to limit the application of secularisation to the dioceses of Lima and Mexico so as to ascertain popular reaction. At the same time they urged that all religious houses with fewer than eight resident friars ©

should be closed forthwith. With the support of Ravago, ministers secured royal assent to these measures. Moreover, although they obtained papal bulls approving the projected reforms, they decided to suppress these documents since their phrasing was judged to encroach on the rights of the king as supreme patron of the American Church.?

The brutal celerity with which secularisation was enforced by viceroys and bishops elicited vigorous protest from the friars and the creole establishment. The General Commissaries of the Franciscans, Dominicans and Augustinians in Madrid bitterly complained to the

king’s ministers that friars were in ‘extreme misery, their honour insulted, handled as if they were lawbreakers, and treated in America with a hostility and rigour that was not displayed nor extended to the Moors and Jews when they were expelled from these kingdoms’. In the same vein, the Franciscan province of Santo Evangelio which had houses

and parishes in the dioceses of Puebla, Mexico and Oaxaca, reminded the king of its pioneering role in the conversion of the Mexican Indians — and asserted that the spiritual conquest of the sixteenth century had created rights as strong and as enduring as those won by force of arms. With over 800 members, the province lacked room in its urban priories and had no means to support them. Moreover, the effects of the seizure

on the parishes had been lamentable. The former priories, often hallowed through their historical associations, now served as stables or as textile workshops, or even as accommodation for the poor. The secular

clergy to whom their parishes had been entrusted had no knowledge of the Indian languages in which the friars had become expert and hence were unable to communicate with their flocks, with the result that the natives were threatened by a relapse into superstition or even idolatry.

Much the same emphasis on historical rights was advanced by the Augustinian province of the Dulce Nombre de Jesus, which averred that the Christian faith ‘was planted through the evangelical preaching of the religious, who erected churches, converted barbarians, tamed wild and

Secularisation 65 domesticated men close to brutes’. They also found it difficult to find the means and space with which to support and house in their urban priories the great number of friars expelled from the rural parishes.°*

The city council of Mexico also addressed a long memorial to the crown setting out the harmful effects of secularisation both for the Indians and the friars. In most parishes a team of eight to ten friars had been replaced by two or three secular priests whom custom required ‘to dress in silk and to conduct themselves with pomp and authority’. These clerics often had a family to support, their mothers and sisters, and had to set up house. Worse still, few of these priests could speak an Indian tongue, whereas the friars had always made a point of employing native languages in their pastoral ministry, so that the spiritual needs of the Indians were neglected. The council reiterated the mendicants’ protests as regards overcrowding: it estimated that the central provinces of the Franciscans, Augustinians and Dominicans had about 2,500 members, of whom only 500 used to reside in Mexico City. But now there was the prospect of doubling that number, filling the urban priories with friars,

without adequate accommodation, maintenance or employment. Hitherto, the orders had attracted novices by the prospect of the rural ministry; with that opportunity lost, fewer candidates would be forthcoming.®

None of these considerations deterred the viceroy, the first count of Revillagigedo (1745-55), from seeking to implement secularisation with

breakneck speed. He defended the measure by asserting that the mendicants had broken the law by establishing their priories in Indian

villages and that in any case few of these houses had the requisite number of eight friars; nor did they observe their rule or even sing the holy office. On inquiry, it had been found that few of the ostensible parish priests among the religious had received due canonical appoint-

ment, since superiors moved their friars from district to district | according to the needs of their province. As for the Indians, the change was wholly beneficial, since they would now be obliged to learn Spanish, an outcome he hailed as ‘the best means to wrest them from the misery

and crudity in which they have been left to live for so many years, retaining with their languages their old superstitions and barbarism’. However, his successor, the marquis of Amarillas (1755-60) proved less enthusiastic about the transfer of parishes and sought to slow down the process. By his accession it had become clear that some friars, if not all, had obtained canonical appointment as parish priests from bishops and

hence according to canon law could not be legally ejected from their benefices.’

To allay the disquiet in Madrid caused by these protests and doubts,

66 The religious orders | in 1756 Archbishop Manuel Rubio y Salinas (1749-65) despatched a long letter to the king’s ministers in which he clearly revealed the principles

which underpinned the ‘reform’. To start with, he denied the existence of any shortage of priests with knowledge of ‘Mexican’ (Nahuatl), since in a recent round of parish appointments he had found no less than 174 clerics ordained precisely because of their command of Indian languages. Admittedly, most only knew ‘Mexican’, which they had learnt as children from family servants, and few if any could speak Otomi. In any case, he had established a chair of Mexican language in the diocesan seminary.

But the real solution to the problem, so Rubio argued, was to oblige Indians to learn Spanish. The chief cause of native backwardness, still so

evident, was the wrong-headed decision of the mendicants in the sixteenth century to employ native languages to preach the gospel, an error maintained by their successors until the present time. Yet it was manifestly impossible to explain the sublime mysteries of the Christian faith in these tongues ‘without falling into great imperfections and incongruities’. Already many Indians, especially the leading families of Puebla and Tlaxcala, spoke Spanish and it was precisely such natives who tended to escape the misery and usual vices of their race. Although greatly tempted to abolish ‘the use of Indian languages in the spiritual administration of all secularised parishes’, he had decided to allow native tongues to be employed in at least half of these districts. But this was only

a short-term concession, since he had established no less than 262 schools across the diocese, charged with the task of teaching the Indians

Spanish, so that once their instruction took effect more radical steps could be taken, since ‘it 1s necessary to abolish the general use of their

languages . . . so that in all that concerns religion only Spanish 1s spoken’.®

As regards the friars, Archbishop Rubio adopted an uncompromising stance, insisting that they had never solicited any royal licence to build their priories in Indian villages and that in any case most of these houses only had one or two friars in residence. However, he agreed with Viceroy

| Amarillas that, where friars had been canonically appointed as parish priests, they should be left in place, their parishes only secularised after

the death of the current incumbent. In this way, the process became

more gradual and the influx of fnars from the country into urban priories slowed down. He admitted there was a problem of overcrowding ~ but recommended that it be resolved by reducing or temporarily halting the intake of novices, thereby effecting an overall reduction in numbers. Looking across New Spain, he failed to see any advantage in the existing division of the Franciscans and Dominicans into several small provinces and urged that their interests could best be served by amalgamation. For

Secularisation 67 the rest, he concluded that the mendicants should be encouraged to direct their pastoral energy to the challenge of the missions on the northern frontier, in the vast zone stretching from Tamaulipas to California.

By 1756, when Rubio composed this defence of secularisation, Carbajal had died and both Ensenada and Ravago had fallen from power.

Moreover, the king’s new father confessor, Manuel Quintano Bonifaz, the inquisitor general of Spain, had already intervened to hold ‘repeated discussions’ with Julian de Arriaga, the newly appointed Minister of the Indies, to whom he also acted as confessor.? It was mainly owing to his mediation that a new rescript was issued in June 1757, which confirmed that all religious who had been canonically installed as parish priests by their bishops should remain in their livings until] death. More positively, , each mendicant province was allowed to retain two parishes of the first class, so as to provide an income. All priories which housed eight or more friars on a regular basis were to be kept open, and if already expropriated

were to be returned. But the rescript also commanded the mendicant

orders in America to limit their intake of novices so as to effect a reduction in their numbers and called upon them to prepare their friars for the frontier missions. The effect of this measure was to slow down the

transfer of parishes and to afford a degree of amelioration; this apart,

secularisation remained the objective of royal policy. Nor did the accession of Charles III (1759~88) offer any alteration since, after a - summary of the causes and stages of the process was read out to him in November 1760, he gave it his approval. That the summary emphasised the lack of popular resistance and the benefits accruing to the Indians only confirmed the principles and prejudices which had impelled this

momentous change in the pastoral ministry of the American Church. !°

The impact of secularisation on the Indians, however, admits no easy assessment. Despite Rubio’s assertions that his diocese possessed an abundance of candidates with knowledge of Indian languages, several parishes were in fact given to priests who could only preach in Castilian.

Indeed, the archbishop himself protested privately to the crown that Viceroy Amarillas and his wife had both attempted to secure benefices

for their chaplains, young men from the Peninsula, without more qualification than their social connections. The Franciscan provincial noted sourly that Rubio was also guilty of a similar offence. Neither the expedient of teaching future ordinands ‘Mexican’ nor the establishment

of schools to teach Indians Spanish appears to have resolved this problem. Instead, bishops were driven to offering scholarships to attract Indians, usually recruited from the cacigue class, into the seminaries, men

68 The religious orders who were then destined to serve as assistants to parish priests or who were given benefices in the more isolated districts of the dioceses. One largely unexpected effect of secularisation was thus to accelerate the recruitment of Indians into the ranks of the Mexican clergy, a social phenomenon which still awaits its historian.!!

IT To measure the impact of secularisation on the religious orders, it is

, necessary to recall that the measure only affected the Augustinians, Dominicans, Observant Franciscans and, in certain marginal areas, the

Jesuits. The remaining orders, which is to say, the Carmelites, Mercedarians and descalced Franciscans had never administered doctrinas in the central dioceses of New Spain. At the same time, the missionary orders differed considerably as regards their internal organisation. The Augustinians, for example, had been successful in preserving their unity, so that they consisted of only two provinces; Dulce Nombre de Jesus, which had priories and parishes all the way from Mexico City

to Guatemala, and San Nicolas Tolentino de Michoacan, which extended northwards from Querétaro and Valladolid. By contrast, the Dominicans had separated into three provinces, Santiago de México,

San Miguel de Puebla and San Hipolito de Oaxaca, which each consisted of a large mother house and a circle of doctrinas and small priories. The Franciscans fell between these two models, since its mother province, Santo Evangelio, had preserved its unity in central New Spain covering the dioceses of Mexico, Puebla and Oaxaca. The Franciscans in Yucatan had always followed their own path since the days of spiritual conquest. It was in the north that fragmentation had occurred, when first the custodia of San Pedro y San Pablo de Michoacan became a province

in 1603, followed thereafter by both the Guadalajara and Zacatecas custodias obtaining their independence. But whereas the Michoacan province possessed several large priories in addition to parishes, by

contrast Santiago de Jalisco consisted of a large mother house in Guadalajara and a circuit of doctrinas and missions. The size and wealth

of these provinces differed enormously. Whereas the Franciscans observed their rule and refrained from acquiring landed estates, their houses supported by parish fees, alms and chantry funds, by contrast both the Augustinians and the Dominicans derived a handsome income from their haciendas. As regards numbers, both Santo Evangelio and Dulce Nombre de Jesus provinces had over 700 members, whereas none

of the Dominican provinces supported more than 250 friars. At their height, the Augustinians and Franciscans of Michoacan never recruited

-Secularisation 69 more than 350 members and were soon to fall far below that peak. The northern Franciscan provinces were similar in size to their Dominican counterparts in the south. As soon as secularisation gathered momentum, the crown commanded all these provinces to cut their admission of novices and thereby reduce overall numbers. In 1771 visitors were appointed to inspect the orders so as to frame an appropriate schedule of recruitment and membership for each province, a task that was only completed by the end of the decade.

Some measure of the scale of change can be obtained from the experience of the Franciscan province of Santo Evangelio which before 1749 had 88 priories and houses and 35 parishes served by 700 professed religious and another 140 lay brothers. By 1774 some 64 priories and 32 parishes had been lost and as early as 1765 numbers had fallen to 630 professed religious and 97 lay brothers. In Mexico City, the Franciscans. still retained possession of their great convent which housed well over 100 friars, together with the priory at Santiago Tlatelolco and a house of recollection called San Cosme. But their Indian parish of San José, which they had administered since the first years of the conquest, was taken from them. The two parishes they retained, Texcoco and Toluca, each supported a considerable number of religious. In conformity with royal rescripts, the admission of novices was reduced, so that whereas formerly some 80 to 90 candidates had been professed every six years, in the same period after 1757 only 60 novices took their vows, although 134 members of the province had died. By 1792 the province only maintained sixteen priories, two parishes, and four houses of recollection; membership had fallen to about 600. Perhaps the most ominous statistic was that the 1792

census for Mexico City only counted eight novices resident in the province’s central priory. On the other hand, Santo Evangelio maintained its traditional commitment to the missions in New Mexico and Tampico. !2

The outlying, small Franciscan provinces did not suffer such immediate or drastic change as their central counterpart. In 1766, for example, the bishop of Yucatan obtained the crown’s permission for the local Franciscans to retain the twenty parishes they administered, since the diocese lacked sufficient secular priests to replace them. So too, in 1775 the province of Jalisco was allowed to retain twelve parishes since it possessed but one large priory, situated in Guadalajara, which already

housed some sixty-five friars. The remainder of the province was dispersed in groups of three to eight friars, serving both the parishes and mission stations in Narayit and Sonora. In 1784 the entire province only numbered 137 priests, 19 students and novices and 8 lay brothers. It was not until 1797 that the crown finally ordered the secularisation of their

70 The religious orders doctrinas, leaving them with but two parishes, seven priories and their missions.!3 The scale of the Jalisco province found an exact counterpart in Zacatecas, which in 1815 counted 125 priests, 15 students and 20 lay brothers, albeit by then almost entirely housed in urban priories situated in the leading towns of the north, ranging from Zacatecas and San Luis Potosi to Durango, Chihuahua and Monterrey. !4 The degree to which the smaller provinces of mendicant friars had come to consist of little more than a central priory and a circle of parishes

can best be observed in the Dominican Order which had divided into three provinces, Santiago of Mexico, San Miguel of Puebla and San Hipolito of Oaxaca. According to the visitation of these provinces conducted in 1778, some years after the secularisation had stripped them of many parishes, the Santiago province had declined from 230 friars in | the 1750s to 184 members, of whom 144 were priests, and the remainder © students, and novices and lay brothers. The degree of urban concentration was very high, since no less than eighty-five religious resided in

the famous ‘convento imperial’ in Mexico City, flanked by another twenty-one in the college of Porta Coeli and ten more in a house of recollection. The remainder of the friars were to be found in two Indian parishes and a scatter of small priories situated in such northern cities

as Querétaro, Guadalajara and Zacatecas. Much the same situation prevailed in San Miguel de Puebla, where some ninety-five religious resided in the city divided between the main priory, the college of San Luis and a house of recollection. The remaining twenty friars served two Indian parishes and a small priory in Veracruz. !5 By far the most interesting Dominican province was San Hipolito of

Oaxaca, which in 1778 numbered 144 friars divided between the 68 priests, students and lay brothers in the Santo Domingo priory in Oaxaca and the remainder who served no less than 21 parishes, scattered

in groups of 3 to 4 friars, with only the priory at Yanhuitlan housing the minimum 8 members required by the crown. When news of the secularisation rescript reached Oaxaca, the current provincial protested vigorously, referring to ‘the misery and poverty in which this unfortunate

province finds itself... this miserable province is without doubt about to witness its total extinction’. After explaining that the Dominicans in

Oaxaca were entirely geared to serving their doctrinas, he asked permission to retain ten parishes in addition to Yanhuitlan and Tlaxiaco, which had already been granted.!© His petition was strongly supported

by the current bishop of Oaxaca, Miguel Alvarez de Abreu, a prelate

educated by Dominicans in the Canary Islands, who recalled the glorious history of the province in penetrating the isolated mountain valleys of Oaxaca, where they had built churches and converted the

Secularisation 71 Indians. In the city, they also proved their worth, preaching, confessing and visiting gaols and hospitals. In their priory, they educated a great number of Indian boys, teaching them Spanish and how to read, write and count, so that when they returned to their villages they were in a position to act as intermediaries between the friars and the peasantry. In

the seminary they taught the doctrine of St Thomas and had taken the place of the expelled Jesuits in providing instruction in Latin. The Dominicans were the only religious order to maintain a novitiate in the city, taking in local men and educating them for service in the several

languages spoken in the diocese.!” If the province were to lose its parishes, it would no longer be able to maintain its great priory of Santo Domingo with its magnificent church and ninety-one cells. | It was not merely admiration for the Dominicans that impelled the bishop to support their appeal; he simply lacked a sufficient number of secular priests to replace them. As he explained, his diocese had 135 ' parishes and 335 priests, of whom only 181 were ‘fit for the ministry’: In his seminary, ‘most of those who study are poor, content with what this diocese offers, since the most they can hope for is a parish, which from the foundation of this church until the present they have obtained by means of an Indian language and stumbling Latin, so that hardly do they

finish philosophy than they retire to study a language and abandon letters’. The quality of candidates for the priesthood was poor and included both mestizos and badly educated Indians. The life they had to face was difficult and only a few were able to survive the isolation and the climate of the remote parishes. By contrast the Dominicans trained their priests for this ministry and could always bring them back to the central priory either for retirement or for respite. It was in deference to this argument that in 1781 the crown allowed the Dominicans in Oaxaca to retain twelve parishes. }8

III

: Nowhere in New Spain was the impact of secularisation more pronounced than in the diocese of Michoacan. Prior to the rescript of

1753 the Franciscans administered thirty-five doctrinas and the Augustinians the equivalent of twenty-nine parishes. Since a visitation of 1761 only listed 114 parishes in the diocese, it is clear that the two orders

which dominated the region’s missionary history still continued to exercise a preponderant role until the crown’s intervention changed the balance of power in favour of the secular clergy. Moreover, whereas many priories in central Mexico were situated in Indian villages which had declined in importance, by contrast in the Michoacan diocese former

72 The religious orders frontier missions had become thriving towns surrounded by wealthy agricultural estates. Here too, a clear difference in the reactions to secularisation can be observed. By and large, the Franciscans accepted the changes, albeit not without profound regret in having to abandon time-hallowed churches, and thereafter moved to open new priories

situated in the towns, especially in the Bajio. By contrast, the Augustinians fought a determined campaign to retain their leading priories, a determination strengthened by the bishops’ attempt to expropriate the rich haciendas that were owned by these houses. So intense was the conflict that eventually the case had to be settled by the

Council of the Indies; and as such offered an exemplary instance of the balance of power within the ecclesiastical and civil structures of the. Spanish state in Mexico. At the time of secularisation the Augustinian province of San Nicolas Tolentino possessed eleven urban priories and eleven doctrinas, the latter

so large as to be the equivalent of twenty-nine parishes. Some 103 religious worked in these doctrinas, men who accounted for 40 per cent —

of the province’s membership, but about half of its ordained priests.!°

Although its centre of operations was the diocese of Michoacan, it possessed priories in Querétaro, Guadalajara and Durango, all of which fell under separate episcopal jurisdictions. The first steps at secularisation occurred in 1753 when Bishop Martin de Elizacoechea commanded

| that the doctrinas of Vango and Etucuaro be occupied. Since the prelate proved hesitant in applying the law, in 1754 Viceroy Revillagigedo wrote

a peremptory letter, ordering the immediate occupation of all churches and priories situated in Indian lands, adding ‘it is most necessary to consider that all these priories were founded without the licence of the ©

king and against the laws of the Indies’. It was this demand that prompted Elizacoechea to command the occupation of the magnificent -

priory of Yuririapundaro, whose great church still ranks among the glories of Mexican sixteenth-century architecture. But when the newly named parish priest, Lic. Francisco Antonio de Eguia, entered his — domain in February 1754 he encountered only a few sparse records dealing with the spiritual endowment of the church, so that he was obliged to maintain the established practice of celebrating sung masses on Wednesdays and Saturdays without receiving the customary stipend. Only after repeated complaints did the Augustinian provincial send him 3,000 ps. by way of recompense. But what was at issue here was the fate of the vast hacienda of San Nicolas, situated within the limits of the doctrina of Yuririapundaro, with a chapel which counted as a vicariate of the parish. For this property, which was later to be valued at 500,000 ps., was the favoured residence of the ‘absolute ministers’ — the Augustinian

Secularisation 73 provincials — and figured as the jewel 1n the crown of the province of San | Nicolas Tolentino.2°

It was at this stage that the new bishop, Anselmo Sanchez de Tagle (1758-72), a former inquisitor and bishop of Durango, entered the fray, not merely to hasten the process of secularisation, but also to command the sequestration of the haciendas owned by the occupied priories. Thus, for example, the estates attached to the doctrinas of Charo and Ucareo, which yielded an estimated income of 16,463 ps., were expropriated, and

their profits divided equally between the parishes and the religious. Much the same happened at Patzcuaro and other parishes. But the chief prize here was the great hacienda of San Nicolas, situated in the most

fertile lands of the Bajio. It was to defend their inheritance that the Augustinians now mobilised their great wealth and their social connections to preserve possession of their priories and their haciendas. The key figure here was Nicolas de Ochoa, a native of Celaya who, after being named administrator of the San Nicolas in 1746, had devoted his life to. its development and defence. Indeed, when he served as provincial, in

1758-62 and 1766—70, he remained in residence on the estate. His influence within the province was consolidated by the close alliance he formed with Luis de Ortega, a Spaniard brought to Guadalajara at the age of four, who also served as provincial in alternate quadrennia during this period.?! The case presented by the Augustinians was by no means ill-founded. They argued that the Yuriria priory had been blessed by royal licence and had always functioned as a regular priory with more than the minimum number of eight religious. It had served the local population, offering

alms and medicine in addition to spiritual ministrations. Yet now its magnificent cloisters, which were fit for twelve religious, had been rented

‘to plebeian people and for artisan crafts, which they inhabit with their

women, making do with straw and planks of wood’. Even in their hacienda of San Nicolas a secular chaplain had been installed. These protests carried weight in Mexico City and in 1761 viceroy the marquis of Cruillas (1760—6) accepted the counsel of the royal fiscal, José Antonio

Velarde, and ordered that the priory and its church should be returned to the Augustinians. After all, one of the chief aims of secularisation was to concentrate the religious in their urban priories, among which Yuriria undoubtedly figured. To superintend the transfer, a creole judge of the high court, Felix Malo, was despatched to Michoacan, where he not merely returned Yuriria to the friars and re-sited the parish church of San

Nicolas beyond the limits of the hacienda, but also ordered the restitution of the haciendas of Charo and Ucareo. It was during this visit that Malo also found himself a wife, a young heiress of the Bajio.22

74 The religious orders At this point, accusations began to fly and both sides to the dispute sought to mobilise their connections. For Sanchez de Tagle, a scion of a noble family of Santillana del Mar with several wealthy relatives in New Spain, was ‘a colegial of Salamanca’, which is to say, he had attended the influential colegio mayor in that university, a breeding ground of jurists and prelates. He thus wrote letters to the marquis of Aranda, a minister of the crown, who had attended this college; to ‘my colegial Santelices’,

a member of the Council of the Indies; and also to ‘my compatriot Trespalacios’, a judge who was soon to join that body.?? What most

provoked his ire was that the Augustinians had organised public celebrations to acclaim the restitution of Yuriria, both in that town and even in their priory at Valladolid, with ‘fireworks, rockets, bells and masses of thanksgiving’. At Yuriria itself, the secular priest was given but a day to remove himself and his belongings from the church, obliging him

thus to establish his parish centre in the chapel belonging to the local hospital. Then ‘for the greater celebration of their triumph, they held four comedies in the ante-chamber and bull-fighting in the interior courtyard of the priory, in the presence of many persons of both sexes’. So also, in the hacienda of San Nicolas the agents who negotiated the case in Mexico were received by the provincial ‘with arches, songs, paseos, bull-fights and fireworks’. All these reports led Sanchez de Tagle

to complain that ‘his person, dignity and sacred immunity’ had been wounded by these indecorous proceedings.24 Although Viceroy Cruillas rejected Sanchez de Tagle’s allegations, arguing that he had sought simply to apply the 1757 rescript which had ordered the return of all priories which housed at least eight religious, he failed to stem the prelate’s flood of complaints, even when he asserted

that the bishop was guilty of seeking to question ‘the jurisdiction and powers of the Royal Patron’. Not a whit abashed, in 1766, Sanchez de Tagle wrote a series of letters in which he claimed that Cruillas had fallen under the influence first of Joaquin de Rivadeneira, a creole judge in the high court, and then of the fiscal Velarde. But the key figure in all this was

Francisco Javier de Gamboa, an alcalde del crimen, who had written a lengthy paper on the whole affair favouring the Augustinians. Sanchez de

Tagle denounced Gamboa as ‘an individual entirely addicted to the province’, who had been responsible for framing the petitions which had secured the royal rescripts ordering the return of the haciendas, adding that ‘he enjoyed a great correspondence and intimacy with the Reverend Father Absolute Minister, Fray José de Ochoa, by reason of having an

uncle, his mother’s brother, in this Order’. Another high official who favoured the friars was José Rodriguez Gallardo, the chief accountant of

| tributes who, since he married a close relative of Ochoa, had acted as a

Secularisation 75 lawyer for the province. As for Félix Malo, his support for the province had been ‘increased by the gifts with which they courted him during his commission’. What is fascinating about Sanchez de Tagle’s charges 1s that he singled out a group of high-placed creole judges and officials who. were soon to be accused of conspiring against the visitor general, José de Galvez, especially after the expulsion of the Jesuits. Indeed, Gamboa was despatched to Spain for his enmity towards the future Minister of the Indies.2> In effect, we here encounter two circuits of power and influence: Sanchez de Tagle relying on his colegiales and compatriots and the friars on their creole lawyers and judges.

If the Augustinians succeeded in retaining both their priory at Yuriria

and their haciendas, they were obliged to abandon their doctrinas, keeping only Cuitzeo and Tiripitio, each of which possessed two subordinate vicariates and hence covered a large territory. Sanchez de Tagle and his immediate successors continued to protest and in 1773 elicited a rescript from Madrid ordering the Augustinians to submit their land titles. It was at this point that the province despatched Lucas Zenteno, one of their most brilliant members, to Madrid, advancing 28,000 ps. to cover his costs. Finally, in July 1781 the case was heard in a plenary

session of ali three courts of the Council of the Indies, which after

considering the mass of evidence concluded that the bishop of Michoacan had been within his rights to occupy Yuriria and that the rescript of 1761, restoring the priory to the Augustinians, had been issued on the basis of false evidence. The priory and its church were thus once more returned to the secular clergy. So also, the parishes of Cuitzeo and

Tiripitio were stripped of their vicariates which emerged as the four parishes of Undameo, Copandaro, Chucandiro and Santa Maria de Gracia. A judge of the Mexican high court was appointed to implement this decision, the actual transfer occurring in 1783.26 While the case was . being heard in Madrid, Fr. Lucas Zenteno had negotiated terms with the

current bishop of Michoacan, Juan Ignacio de la Rocha, according to which the Augustinians would cede Tiripitio in return for Yuriria; but this exchange was interrupted by the death of the bishop and the decision of the Council of the Indies.2” The story ended in 1802 when, with the viceroy’s approbation and the bishop’s concurrence, the Augustinians once more entered Yuriria, ceding Tirtpitio as Zenteno had suggested. Thus the province succeeded in preserving a wealthy and attractive enclave in the southern Bajio, which included the adjacent parishes of Cuitzeo and Yuriria and the extensive hacienda of San Nicolas. Just what was the outcome as regards the claims over the remaining haciendas once owned by the province is not at all clear.28

While litigation raged, the province was subjected to a visitation in

76 The religious orders 1773-4 designed to reform its observance of the rule and to reduce the number of fmars. The visitation was heralded by a missive from the Augustinian father general, Fr. Pedro Vasquez, a Peruvian by birth, who revealed his Jansenist colours when he wrote: This holy doctrine we should seek in the only true sources of the Holy Scriptures, Divine traditions, the Holy Fathers and the authority of the church in its living

teachings and councils, but not in any way in the great folios of Aristotelian theology, in which one learns and is taught (as unfortunately happened to me) to

despise venerable authority so as to allow one’s understanding full liberty to think, judge, discuss and decide, each according to his whim. The result of this unbridling is that the Catholic world finds itself inundated with a flood of opinions which conspire to obscure the most clear truths of Christian doctrine.

Unimpressed by this missive, the provincial and his masters of theology stoutly reaffirmed their loyalty to the teachings of St Augustine and St Thomas Aquinas, the traditional doctors of their school. Indeed, their agent in Madrid had already warned them of the servility of the Spanish hierarchy and its willingness to countenance the pretensions of the crown to intervene in questions of church discipline and doctrine.2? In 1776 the province of San Nicolas Tolentino reported that it maintained I2 priories in which resided 20§ priests, 42 professed students, 14 novices and 13 lay brothers, the bulk of whom resided in Querétaro,

Valladolid and Guadalajara. At this time there still were 66 priests working in the II parishes that had yet to be secularised. But the decrees of the visitation, issued in 1778, commanded that the province should be restricted to 170 members, thus necessitating a reduction in the number

of novices. When 73 friars died during the fevers and infections of 1784-6, the overall membership fell to 158, thereby opening the way to recruit further novices. In 1802 the province counted 129 priests, 48 students, 12 novices and 16 lay brothers, which was to say, a total of 205 compared to 274 thirty years before.3°

For the Franciscan province of San Pedro y San Pablo the threat of

secularisation was by no means a novelty, since their doctrina at Querétaro had been a bone of contention since the late seventeenth century. Like other settlements in the Bajio, Querétaro had been founded as an Indian pueblo, only then to receive such an increment of | Spanish and casta householders that in 1656 it was recognised by the crown as a city. To further their pretensions, the secular clergy formed the Congregation of Our Lady of Guadalupe, which in 1671 erected a handsome church. Indeed, 1n 1705 the crown issued a rescript ordering

the secularisation of the Franciscan parish, only to encounter such strenuous protests from both the city council and religious that it —

Secularisation 77 rescinded the decree. So strong was local sentiment that when news of

the 1749 secularisation arrived, the city council despatched a long memorial to the crown, supported by testimonials from other religious communities, in which the Franciscans were hailed as ‘a holy religion

which initiated the spiritual conquest of this place and of all the _ kingdom’, concluding that ‘if temporal conquest creates nights, how much more so does spiritual conquest’. They paid tribute to the weekly sermons and the daily ministrations of the friars who maintained no less than seventeen priests to handle the central parish and its five assistant

churches in the suburbs of San Sebastian and Espiritu Santo and three neighbouring Indian pueblos of La Cafiada, San Francisco and Huichiapan. During Lent special sermons were provided and up to twelve religious were available to hear confessions. The conventual infirmary also served the sick of the city and during times of plague and famine the friars sallied forth to minister to the sick and dying. As for the priory, it housed over fifty religious, including lecturers and students, and offered special facilities for learning Otomi, the native language spoken in the city and its district. As a house of studies, it figured as ‘the womb of the province where the members who distinguish it are born’. Despite this eulogy, when the incumbent died in 1757, a secular priest was entrusted with the parish. But in this case, Viceroy Amarillas had the

wisdom to avoid conflict by providing for the construction of a new parish church, thereby allowing the Franciscans to retain their church and priory, together with all the chantry funds on which their main-

tenance depended.?!

Prior to secularisation, the Franciscans had three large priories at Querétaro, Valladolid and Celaya, and another fifty-three houses of which only seventeen counted as guardianias, priories with votes in the election of officers. Numbers reached their peak in 1755 when the province counted 326 religious, of whom about half lived scattered in

groups of 2 to 4 priests, administering at least 35 doctrinas. Both Querétaro and Valladolid acted as novitiates and Celaya maintained a college which prepared students for degrees granted by the University of Mexico, one of four such institutions in the diocese of Michoacan. With the onslaught of secularisation, numbers fell and houses were closed so that by 1772 the province only numbered 239 friars including novices and lay brothers.32 However, their exclusion from the rural ministry drove the

Franciscans to open new priories in the prosperous, growing urban centres of the Bajio. In 1766 a local landowner provided the means for constructing a priory in Irapuato and in 1791-3 funds were forthcoming for priories to be opened at Silao, Guanajuato and Zamora. At the same time, the province retained the two parishes of Acambaro and San Juan

78 The religious orders de la Vega, both extensive districts, which were operated by teams of religious. 33»

Although the Franciscans did not offer any strenuous resistance to secularisation, at times the anguish caused by the enforced necessity of abandoning time-hallowed cloisters was clearly expressed. When the incumbent at Tzintzuntzan died 1n 1762, the provincial lamented that his Order’s ‘most venerable fathers’ had been buried in its church which also conserved ‘various other pious and tender monuments’. The priory was cherished ‘through having been the glorious cradle of this province and where our first holy founders thrived with such distinguished virtues’. So too, the city council petitioned the viceroy, noting that they had been converted by the friars soon after the conquest of Mexico by Cortés.

When the secular priest arrived to take possession of the church and priory there was a public protest by a group of women and some young men. But none of these laments impressed Bishop Sanchez de Tagle,

who drily noted that the Indians of Tzintzuntzan were too poor to support two churches in their ‘city’. The protest had been organised by misguided friends of the friars and did not represent the common opinion. As for the remains of the holy founders, perhaps their bones

could be exhumed and transferred to the priory at Patzcuaro. The prelates of the Bourbon epoch were not responsive to sentiments evoked by historical associations.*4

Elsewhere, the Franciscans struggled to retain the priories and churches where they could maintain a sufficient number of religious. Thus at Celaya, where the bishop sought to sequester their church for use by the secular parish, a royal rescript of 1785 allowed the Franciscans

to keep the church along with its famous image of La Purisima and its

attendant confraternity. The college and priory here were in part supported by income raised in the nearby parish of San Juan de la Vega. Much the same concessions were made in Salvatierra, where secularis-

ation entailed the construction of a new parish church at an estimated cost of 100,000 ps.*> At Zitacuaro, when the incumbent died in 1759, Sanchez de Tagle gave the Franciscans but one day in which to convey their priory, church and its ornaments to the secular clergy. Since the province usually maintained ten friars in the town, including two priests with knowledge of Otomi, the local guardian appealed to the viceroy, arguing that the crown had provided that priories of this size should not

be occupied, adding ‘I believe that the intention is to extinguish this province’, Although the viceroy commanded that the priory and church be returned to the Franciscans, the bishop demurred, protesting that the © town could not afford the cost of building a new parish church, and only allowed them back into their priory in 1770. It was not until 1785, after

Secularisation 79 another series of appeals, that the Franciscans regained possession of their church together with the image of La Purisima, which had been brought to New Spain in 1543. This image figured as the patron saint of Zitacuaro and was supported by a leading confraternity. The parish priest marvelled that the Franciscans should wish to Keep their priory, since it was so old-fashioned in style, consisting of ‘old walls, so that even to enter them fills one with melancholy’ .*® IV

In 1805 a royal rescript was despatched to the bishops of Mexico repeating admonitions already expressed in 1797 about the excessive

number of personal secularisations obtained in Rome by religious | resident in America. Instead of halting the number of friars seeking to be released from their vows, the previous decree had been ignored and the

number of personal secularisations ‘has been seen to increase to a scandalous degree’. There was thus a real danger that entire priories would be depopulated. Moreover, many of these petitions came from missionaries whose passage to America had been financed by the crown. The archbishop of Mexico in 1803 had also complained of ‘the excessive | number of secularised religious’. It was to stem this tide that the crown

now stipulated that the Spanish minister resident in Rome should henceforth confirm all papal breves granting secularisation and that bishops in America should not accept papal licences unless they carried the minister’s stamp of approval.3? In 1804 the prior of the Carmelite priory in San Luis Potosi informed the bishop of Michoacan that one friar resident in the city had already been secularised and that any day papal breves would arrive liberating another five religious from their vows. The grounds for such applications can be ascertained in the case of a Carmelite of this priory, of whom a fellow friar testified in 1798: ‘I have noted and known the tedium and horror with which he views the penalties and rigour of religion, as well as

the distaste and oppression with which he assists and remains in the choir.’ Many of these secularised friars had friends and patrons in the city

who created chantry funds for them, thereby providing an annuity for their subsistence. The prior complained of seeing one of his former subjects riding about on horseback, a spectacle which provoked the envy

of those remaining in the priory. He concluded gloomily: ‘If your Lordship does not deign to devise remedies, within a few years this holy Province of San Alberto will see its end.’38

The problem was by no means peculiar to the Carmelites, since in 1804 Rome released from their vows five Franciscans who belonged to

80 The religious orders the Michoacan province; and in 1806 another three friars made their exit.29 No complete record of individual secularisations has been found,

but all the evidence suggests that the religious orders in New Spain suffered a crisis of vocation at the beginning of the nineteenth century. In |

1805 the province of San Pedro y San Pablo only had three students taking theology, a mere handful compared to previous decades. Testi-

mony from the reformed or descalced branch of the Franciscans confirms the impression of decline, since in 1790 their provincial desperately pleaded for friars to be sent from Spain, since whereas at one time the province of San Diego had numbered about 400 religious, now it only had 204 members. But although his plea brought forty-nine friars from the Peninsula, by 1814 numbers remained low and many religious were by then elderly and ill. Moreover, ‘for about fourteen years now

no novices have presented themselves for the province’.4° Equally important, in the Michoacan diocese, both the Franciscans and the Augustinians were engulfed in bitter internecine disputes in which devoted religious attempted in vain to challenge vested interests and to halt the slide into laxity. In the case of the Augustinians, the possession of the wealthy hacienda of San Nicolas was always bound to be a source of contention and indeed partisan conflict over elections to high office

proved so fierce that first the viceroy and high court and then the Council of the Indies and the Holy See were obliged to review the proceedings.*! Although the Franciscans appeared to react more positively to the challenge of secularisation, opening new priories in —

Zamora, Irapuato and Guanajuato, nevertheless, they also suffered dissension, especially when friars from Spain, who had been sent to work

in the missions of Rio Verde, sought to enter the province and thus qualify for election under the rules of the alternativa. By this time many

of the Spanish friars were poorly educated and lax in discipline, characteristics which rendered their appointment to high office all the more contentious.#2

Despite their central role in the religious history of New Spain, the religious orders still await their historian. Only when the internal records

of each province have been scrutinised will it be possible for even a preliminary judgement about the degree to which they continued to observe their rule during the Bourbon period. At present, all we possess are mere strands of evidence which suggest that the secularisation of the

doctrinas deprived the religious of that pastoral ministry which had attracted many zealous candidates into their ranks. At the same time, the change in the climate of opinion as regards the utility of a contemplative existence, to which the Bourbon bureaucracy offered so clear a testimony, equally contributed to the decline in vocations. By the beginning

Secularisation SI of the nineteenth century, the mendicant provinces exhibited clear signs of internal decay and thus were ripe for reform. From this general trend, however, the colleges de propaganda fide appear to have been exempt,

continuing to attract both missionaries from Spain and creole friars whose discipline and enthusiasm still attracted the devotion of the laity.

5 Nuns

I In December 1769 Archbishop Lorenzana circulated a printed pastoral in which he sharply criticised the nunneries of Mexico City. It was not the case that the nuns stood accused of any heinous offences or gross. immorality, but simply that for every professed nun there were at least two other women living in the convents, consisting of servants, young. girls and even ageing widows, many of whom came and went according to their whim, so that conventual seclusion was regularly interrupted. The cause of this disorder was the arrangement whereby each nun had her own kitchen, depending on a servant to cook for her and to purchase or bring in food supplied by relatives. It was to remedy this state of affairs that Lorenzana demanded the introduction of ‘the common life’, according to which nuns would henceforth eat together in the refectory. He forbade the entrance of novices who did not subscribe to the new regime. But since all the great convents of the capital, apart from the Carmelites and Capuchinas who observed an austere rule, had maintained the system of separate kitchens and cells from time immemorial, they turned to their wealthy relatives and presented a printed protest supported by the city council, the university and merchant guild, in which, led by the Concepcién and Jesus Maria, they complained that “the

method of common life does not agree with the weak and delicate natures of this country’. Nevertheless, both Lorenzana and Bishop Fuero of Puebla persisted in their campaign. When the matter was considered by the Council of the Indies, the result was a royal rescript of May 1774 which affirmed that no one was to be obliged to abandon individual catering. But it supported the prelates in stipulating that henceforth all novices had to enter the common life, and in demanding that all young girls and other supernumerary females were to be expelled from the. conventual precincts.! The goal of the common life was thus clearly set down as the ideal. It was in Puebla that resistance to the reform was strongest and where 82

Nuns 83

the bishops were most adamant 1n pursuing their objective. The reason

why the crown found it necessary to intervene can be found in the vehement protests of nuns in the Santa Inés convent which, by February 1772, had been effectively divided into two separate institutions each

with their own patio, albeit sharing the same church. Forty nuns persisted in clinging to their old way and thirty had adopted the common

life. The recalcitrant party appealed to the high court in Mexico complaining that the bishop sought to transform their rule, converting them into recoletas similar to the Carmelites and Capuchinas, thereby

introducing ‘a new religion’. Moreover, the bishop wished them to destroy the individual cells which their fathers had purchased for them, an outrage to ‘a community of ladies, of well-born, religious women’. Fearing a public disturbance, since ‘the nuns are generally related to leading families’, the high court referred the matter to Viceroy Bucarelli, who wrote to Bishop Fuero for an explanation, reminding him that ‘the

anger of women is more to be feared than that of men’. But Fuero responded indignantly, claiming that when he arrived in Puebla he had

found that each convent ‘cell’ was ‘a community of women of all conditions’, with servants, girls and other women coming and going and even staying on long visits. Since every nun managed her own purse there

were great differences in the community, ‘some rich nuns and others poor, some with their own cells and others without anything, reduced to begging for a place in which to live’. As was to be expected in these circumstances, it was generally the wealthy nuns who managed the convents and obtained election to its admunistrative offices. Finally, he noted that when he first called for the introduction of the common life, all five convents in Puebla had agreed to the change, but that Santa Inés had retained individual cells and servants, causing twenty-one of its nuns to appeal to him for help tn bringing in reform. If the affair had caused public agitation it was because one of the leaders of the recalcitrant party

in Santa Inés was a sister of the high court judge, Antonio Joaquin de Rivadeneira, who ‘with great determination and astuteness promotes the

resistance’.

Although Fuero was recalled to Spain, becoming archbishop of Valencia, his successor at Puebla, Victoriano Lopez, continued to harry the nuns who resisted reform. Owing to the intensity of protest, the new archbishop of Mexico, Alonso Nufiez de Haro, was commissioned to inquire and if possible to mediate. He indignantly informed Bucareli that ‘among the infidels they would not have done what these spouses of Jesus Christ have suffered. I am perplexed and I do what I can to diminish the

outrages perpetrated by Fuero and those which the new bishop has increased by the enforcement of his commands.’ He found that nuns had

84 The religious orders been threatened with damnation and denied absolution in confessions, even when ill, unless they accepted the changes. Yet in the Santa Inés only twelve nuns in a community of fifty-one wanted the common life, and in San Jerénimo the convent was divided into two equal parties. Lépez had displayed little prudence in his handling of the affair and ‘it 1s fully proven that the common life was introduced with violence’.

Haro forwarded a letter to the viceroy, written by a nun of the Santa Caterina, who recalled that when Fuero first demanded reform he had claimed that it was a mortal sin for the nuns to oppose him. When the prioress agreed to accept his demands he immediately arrived with eight workers and destroyed two dormitories, sixteen cells and four rooms of the infirmary. He then ordered all the young girls to leave the cells within

twenty-four hours and left the convent only seventy-nine servants to cater to all their needs. Moreover, he forbade the nuns to converse with secular persons, even their own relatives, so that ‘there would be no one who would visit us, as if we were born from the weeds’. He also reformed

their constitution and forbade them to take communion other than on the days expressly signalised in their rule. The result was that some nuns had not been to confession for over six months and that others could not find the money to feed themselves properly. The informant concluded: we once were ‘a friendly sisterhood’, but now ‘are as in hell’, with the new bishop coming only to threaten and reprimand them for their resistance. But Lopez remained adamant, insisting that before the reform the nuns had used their income to help their relatives and that ‘each one lives as

in her own house, eating when she wants, according to the hours her appetite suggests’. They often spent a great deal of time cooking sweets, which they then sold, and several rarely attended the choir.* A satire circulated at this time, written by Jorge Mas Theophoro, an

obvious pseudonym, which provided an amusing sketch of a conversation between a father confessor and a nun, with the former inquiring: “How do you feel? Are you in good health? How did you pass the night?’, to which the nun replied: ‘I felt very poorly, since the fleas woke me, the

dogs barked and the cats frightened me.’ He praised the bishops for

enforcing the canons of the Council of Trent and criticised the confessors who encouraged the nuns to resist the reform. But what renders the piece fascinating is the reference to the rumours and false opinions that were said to be circulating in New Spain about ‘the persecution of priests, the new taxes, the expulsion of the Jesuits, and the subjection of the nuns’. In the secular sphere there was much complaint

about the establishment of the royal tobacco monopoly and the stationing in Mexico of regiments of soldiers recruited in the Peninsula. More generally, it was rumoured that ‘Jansenism has taken possession of

Nuns 85

the mitres, of the crown, and 1s very close to the papal tiara.’ The author prudently deplored all these rumours, attributing them to the Jesuits and their doctrines of ‘probabilism’.* Since even the mention of such matters was viewed with alarm, the Council of the Indies ordered that all copies of this pamphlet should be impounded. Despite the rescript of 1774 which forbade the bishops to force any nun to accept the common life, it 1s clear that those who resisted were treated harshly. As late as 1778 five nuns from separate convents, who claimed

to represent 124 of their sisters, appealed first to the Minister of the Indies, José de Galvez, and then to Rome, complaining that their rule had been overturned, that girls had been thrown on to the streets and

that all the positions of authority in their communities were now occupied by those who had accepted the bishop’s demands, so that they were exposed to persecution. The Concepcion noted that ten cells and seventeen bedrooms had been destroyed in order to build a novitiate. In the same year, Viceroy Bucareli confessed that, of all the problems that had arisen during his term of government, the uproar in the convents of

Puebla had been the most difficult and the most painful, since by forming parties within each community Fuero and Lépez had created bitter enemies between nuns, so that the dispute went on and on without any foreseeable resolution. In Mexico City the reform had been handled

more prudently and without strife, although it had meant that the Concepcion no longer took any novices, since it preferred to maintain

individual catering. In August 1780 the crown forbade any further appeals but reiterated its warning against compulsion.®

When the terms of the rescript of 1774 were communicated to the nuns of Santa Clara at Querétaro they consulted with the Franciscan provincial of Michoacan and on his advice agreed to expel all the young

girls who boarded with them. As regards domestic service, it was agreed | that each nun should have a personal servant and that the convent should maintain another eighteen women to do the general cleaning and another ten to help with the habitually ill nuns. In 1775 the community discussed the archbishop’s request that they introduce the common life and then voted unanimously to retain the existing system of individual kitchens.

By way of justification they pointed to the practical difficulties of purchasing and preparing food for a community which by then had ninety-five members. In effect, the Santa Clara numbered among the largest and wealthiest convents in New Spain.? Somewhat earlier, in 1748-63, a dispute between the Franciscan provincial and the convent’s general administrator had revealed that it enjoyed an annual income of about 44,000 ps. which, at the standard § per cent interest, derived from a capital of 880,000 ps. Since all nuns were expected to put up a dowry ©

86 The religious orders of at least 2,000 ps. to cover their living costs, the endowment of the existing cOmmunity came close to 200,000 ps. Many nuns came from wealthy families who also purchased ‘cells’ for their daughters within the convent, one such property going for 2,000 ps. in 1764.8 It was not until

1778 that the Santa Clara was able to admit new novices, who now agreed to observe the common life.

II At the beginning of the eighteenth century the diocese of Michoacan possessed but one nunnery, the Santa Caterina de Sena of Valladolid, founded in 1590 from the Dominican convent of the same name in Puebla. As an institution it was overshadowed by the Santa Clara at Querétaro, which drew candidates from across the Bajio. However, its location in a cathedral city meant that it attracted the patronage of both canons and bishops. In particular, Bishop Escalona advanced funds to complete their new convent, an event celebrated with maximum pomp in 1747, when the entire city turned out to celebrate the procession of nuns from their old residence to the splendid new edifice, an event commemorated in a painting still preserved in the city museum. When Bishop Hoyos y Mier informed the prioress of the crown’s 1774 rescript about ‘the common life’, the convent unanimously agreed to adopt the reform. By then the community numbered seventy-one nuns, including five novices and seven lay sisters. In her letter of acceptance the prioress © noted that the conventual buildings were very large and that many of the cells on the ground floor were very damp, so that many nuns suffered poor health and, indeed, ‘with difficulty does one find anyone who does . not suffer from some illness’. Nor did the infirmary help, since its rooms were so damp that it aggravated illness and the sick preferred to avoid it. To compound the problem, the convent’s income from its endowment was insufficient to cover costs, and on two separate occasions in recent

| years it had been necessary to eat into capital in order to pay for clothing. , If costs were high, it was because each nun needed a servant to clean her

cell, wash clothes and tend her in case of illness. Several nuns were habitually ill and needed two servants. To administer the infirmary, the

bakery, the porter’s lodge, to sound the bells, to clean the choir and cloister, to light the lanterns, to sew and clean the sacristy vestments and

to assist the prioress another 40 mozas were required. The bishop accepted this list of necessary staff, but ordered the expulsion of all young girls and other women who had lodged in the convent. He also took the opportunity to insist on a few trifling ‘reforms’, such as, that the mother sacristan should not converse with the priests as they took chocolate after

Nuns 87

celebrating mass, and that servants should not join the nuns in choir. More important, he commanded the prioress to obtain a secret report on all candidates for the novitiate to ascertain their character, morals,

legitimacy and limpieza, which was to say, their ethnic status as Spaniards.? Finally, he advised the prioress to see that not too many tallow candles were burnt in the choir, since they were apt to give the nuns headaches. The decision to adopt the common life, which entailed the establish-

ment of a conventual kitchen and refectory, proved to be neither popular nor economical and in January 1788 the community voted to return to la vida particular.!° Although the Santa Caterina possessed a capital endowment of 315,511 ps., by 1782 some 69,000 ps. had been

either lost or tied up in litigation over estates embargoed for debt. Accounts for the years 1777-8 registered an annual income of 17,614 ps.,

which was barely sufficient to cover the costs of food, clothing and church expenses. It is fascinating to observe that the community © consumed 2,364 sheep (carneros) a year, which meant that each individual, including nuns and servants, ate about 12 sheep a year. By 1788

the mayordomo, Gabriel Garcia de Obeso, a leading merchant of Valladolid, reported that the convent owed him over 10,000 ps. on supplies received. It was this growing debt that caused the bishop to approve of the community’s decision to abandon collective catering.!! Henceforth each nun received 314 ps. a week to feed herself, a system

which immediately reduced overall costs. In these last years of the eighteenth century, the Santa Caterina suffered a decline in numbers. In

I801 the prioress requested the bishop to rescind Rocha’s edict that dowries should be increased from 2,000 ps. to 4,000 ps. since, whereas in 1783 the community had comprised seventy-seven religious, it now only had fifty-two. But the downward drift continued, with the result that a greater proportion of nuns were elderly or infirm. Whereas in 1797

there were forty-two nuns with a vote and eight excluded, by 1812 only twenty-nine nuns voted, with thirteen excluded because of their incapacity. !2

It was in 1747 that eight nuns set out from the Santa Caterina to establish a new convent in Patzcuaro, founded under the double advocation of Santa Caterina de Sena and Nuestra Sefiora de la Salud. The funds

had come from Pedro Antonio de Ibarra, a local merchant, who had donated §5,000 ps. imposed on three haciendas. Other citizens also offered monies. According to the accounts of 1786-90 the convent received an annual income of 9,802 ps., the equivalent of an endowment worth 196,000 ps.!3 By then the numbers had grown since, in the 1775 | chapter summoned to elect a prioress, there were thirty-nine nuns with a

88 The religious orders vote, and another five novices and recent professed. When in the same year the bishop inquired about their decision as to the common life, the community agreed to adopt the reform. In her letter, the prioress noted that the convent was composed ‘of a multitude of small houses and apartments which are dispersed over a large space of ground which is enclosed to form a cloister’. There were no dormitories and no common buildings

since the community did not have any funds with which to erect such buildings. Since all the religious lived 1n dispersed cells they each needed a woman to clean, wash and cook and accompany them at night. More-

, over, twelve nuns were gravely ill, of whom three were demented, so that another fourteen women were required to care for them. What with the demands of the bakery, the porter’s lodge, the lighting and cleaning, the convent needed another thirty-one staff in addition to forty-three personal servants. It should be noted that the community did not possess their own church but used the adjoining sanctuary of Nuestra Sefiora de

la Salud, employing six poor girls to sound the bells. Attendance at church was a problem for elderly or infirm nuns owing to ‘the slopes, lanes and unevenness of the ground of the convent’, so that their women

had to help them. The bishop reluctantly allowed the community to retain its large staff but demanded that the prioress should strictly regulate the entrance of all secular women into the convent precinct.!4 The most impressive of new foundations in the diocese came in 1756 when the crown accepted Bishop Elizacoechea’s recommendation that a convent dedicated to the Purisima Concepcion should be established in

San Miguel el Grande. The initiative had come from Maria Josefina Luisa de la Canal, a young heiress who, at the age of sixteen, had decided to employ her inheritance of 70,000 ps. for the construction of a convent. In supporting this proposal, the cura of San Miguel noted that her father, Manuel de la Canal, whose wealth was matched only by his religious zeal, had hoped to set up a convent of Capuchinas, an Order which observed an austere rule of life. His daughter preferred to follow the Concepcionist

rule, bringing nuns from the Regina Coeli convent in Mexico City as_ founders, albeit insisting that they should not employ servants and should share a common kitchen and refectory. The project envisaged a community of seventy-two nuns, each with a dowry of 3,000 ps. The benefits of such a convent were expounded by the father superior of the Oratory who pointed to the example of Santa Clara in Querétaro, exclaiming: ‘examine in the commerce of that city how many parts of

its great capital the merchants manage, how great are its deposits, properties, livestock and houses, with all these operations derived from the fountain or bank of silver of that single convent’. It would be a great consolation for the leading families of the town to have their daughters

Nuns 89

who wished to become nuns living so close.!5 Nor were these hopes

disappointed, since 1n 1765, when the community walked in triumphant

procession to take possession of its church and convent, it numbered twenty-one professed nuns and six novices and lay sisters. However, donations had been less than expected, so that the endowment was still © only 95,200 ps. which yielded an income of 4,7I0 ps. as against expenses _

of §,350 ps., the convent depending on its mayordomo and other benefactors to cover its deficit. !6

During his visitation, conducted in 1765-6, Dr. Jerénimo Lopez Lilergo provided an account of the life of these nuns. In good weather they rose at § a.m. and at §.30 were in the choir where half an hour of prayer was followed by Prime, the first office of the day. In the season of heat they rose at 4.30 so as to begin their prayers at § a.m. Breakfast followed. They reassembled in church for community mass and at 8 sang the three lesser hours of the Divine Office which, however, on feastdays were included with Prime. On Saturdays mass was followed by benediction and the litany sung in procession around the cloister. They took a refection followed by half an hour in the workroom and a quarter of an hour of spiritual reading. At 11 they devoted fifteen minutes to an examination of conscience and at 11.30 had lunch in the refectory where they listened to spiritual reading. After giving thanks in the choir they rested until 2 p.m. when it was time for Vespers, the Magnificat, the commemoration of San Miguel, the Salve Regina, the rosary with litany and prayers for patrons. They then took chocolate, went to the work-

room for thirty minutes and, once finished, rested. At 6 they sang Matins, the Magnificat, had fifteen minutes of private prayer, fifteen minutes of examination of conscience. At 8 they returned to the refectory for supper with spiritual reading, and at 9 received the blessing of their

abbess and, after brief prayers, retired to bed. On feast-days this schedule varied somewhat.!”

When Bishop Hoyos inquired about their reactions to the royal rescript commanding observance of the common life, the abbess replied that they had always followed this rule, ‘eating together in a common refectory and resting in the same way in a dormitory and in some other cells’. They did not employ any servants but relied on a number of lay sisters. They had twelve young girls who lived separately, whom they — were educating and who did not join the religious either in the choir or at recreation. It should be noted that all nuns had to present certificates of legitimacy and of lampieza, a provision that prevented the admission of all mestizas and mulattas.!8 In 1782 a new abbess was elected and she soon wrote to the bishop complaining of the torment of the accounts, since the convent did not

90 The religious orders possess sufficient capital and hence always had expenses greater than

its income. The problem here was in the years 1752-61 the cost of constructing the convent and its church had come to 106,178 ps., of which 58,000 ps. was taken from the inheritance of Maria Josefina de la Canal and the remainder supplied by Francisco de Landeta, count of the Casa de Loja, her guardian and first patron of the convent. But the cost of construction meant that the nuns had to subsist on the interest from their dowries, together with a small number of donated endowments. If the convent survived it was because its mayordomo, José Maria Loreto

de la Canal, the brother of the foundress, handled all the necessary purchase of supplies and set aside on his own hacienda a herd of sheep to supply mutton at a fixed rate. In 1782 the convent owed its mayor-

domo 19,000 ps. By then the community numbered thirty professed nuns, together with nine lay sisters and another eighteen donadas, lay women who effectively acted as servants.!9

By 1790-1 the convent at San Miguel was sinking ever deeper into debt. Its income was 5,845 ps., but expenses came to 7,496 ps., leaving the mayordomo to find 1,651 ps., so that the total debt owed to de la Canal then stood at 39,134 ps. Although the convent’s endowment had risen to 148,500 ps., part of this capital was tied up in lawsuits and no less than 1,690 ps. of annual interest had not been paid. So acute was the

crisis that Bishop San Miguel commissioned his trusted lieutenant, Manuel Abad y Queipo, to conduct a visitation, charging him to ascertain whether it would be advisable for the Purisima Concepcion to follow the example of the Santa Caterina in Valladolid and ‘many other convents of this kingdom’ and abandon the common life, giving each nun a fixed weekly amount for subsistence. This arrangement was to be installed until ‘they manage to set about putting their income in a state sufficient to support the greater costs of a rigorous common life’. In April 1792 Abad y Queipo suspended the common life and ordered that each nun should receive 2’ ps. a week. The pipes which supplied each cell with fresh water were to be cut, leaving four fountains in each corner

of the upper patio. Although in 1794 the new mayordomo, Narciso Mariano de la Canal, who had inherited the post from his father, reported that income now matched expenses, three years later he noted

that the total debt had risen to 42,181 ps. Moreover, by 1800 it was necessary to raise the weekly allowance to 4 ps., owing to the general increase in prices.29 | If the common life proved so costly it was in part because the nuns had

abused the kitchen, arranging for meals to be sent out for relatives and feeding the poor who thronged at the porter’s lodge. It 1s perhaps of some interest to note that a community of forty-six women and a few children

Nuns oI

should have consumed I00 pounds of cacao, 250 pounds of sugar and 89

sheep each month. On the other hand, the introduction of individual kitchens meant. that the nuns now required servants, some of whom lodged in the convent but many of whom came and went each day, so that the cloisters were now disturbed by ‘the multitude of servants that there are in the convent’. Papers and letters from friends and relatives flowed in and out without the abbess being able to invigilate this correspondence. By this time there were only twelve surviving donadas, women who, by reason of their ethnic calidad as mulattas, could not be

admitted to ‘the lay profession of the white veil’. In 1798 the abbess requested the bishop for permission to allow such women to be professed as lay sisters on their deathbeds as a reward for their faithful service. A licence was granted, with the provision that such women should not be

buried with the rest of the community, thus ensuring that even in the grave ethnic distinctions were maintained.?!__ The insufficiency of the original capital endowment meant that the Purisima Concepcion was never properly completed in the eighteenth century. In 1801 Antonio Velasquez, a trained architect, inspected the building and found ‘various cracks, infiltrations of rain water’ and the danger that the vaulting over the porteria might fall. The cura of San Miguel, Dr Ignacio Antonio Palacios, agreed that the patio leaked but thought it was only the porter’s lodge that stood in any danger. He pointed out that the upper cloister had been finished thanks to donations

from the current bishop, Antonio de San Miguel. But the church had never been completed since, although it was designed as a cross, only the |

choir and altar area had been made ready in 1765 when the nuns took possession, leaving the nave to be closed by an adobe wall only sixteen feet high, the remaining space filled by curtains.22 With the outbreak of the Insurgency of 1810 the Purisima Concepcion was threatened with destruction. Although its capital by then amounted to 159,400 ps., the devastation wrought by civil war meant that the great part of its income | was no longer paid since, in the years 1813-17, the convent only received

an average of 1,463 ps. a year. Its mayordomo, Narciso Loreto de la Canal, had died after being accused of complicity in the rebellion. If the

convent survived, it was because the current cura of San Miguel, Dr

Francisco Uraga, subscribed 3,559 ps. every year to maintain the community of thirty-two nuns and fourteen donadas.?3

III Whereas most nuns in Mexico belonged to orders which had allowed the strict rule of their foundation to be modified by the social expectations of

Q2 The religious orders the creole elite, by contrast the relatively small number of religious who opted for the Carmelites and the Capuchinas embraced an austere form of life. But 1f the disciples of Santa Teresa had arrived in Mexico and

Puebla in 1604-16, it was not until 1665 that the Capuchinas, who followed the rule of St Clare without relaxation, arrived in New Spain.24 In 1721, a group of nuns set out from Mexico City to found the Capuchin convent of San José de Gracia in Querétaro, a community which by 1784

numbered thirty-eight nuns, supported by an income of 3,297 ps., the annual deficit of 1,486 ps. covered by the mayordomo.?> The spiritual reputation of this convent was attested at the funeral in 1792 of the

former abbess, Mother Maria Ignacia, who was saluted by Fray Francisco Frias y Olivera, an Augustinian friar, as ‘a sacrament of love’, adding that ‘the same indwelling of persons which one sees in the Sacred Eucharist, one also sees in Ignacia’. Tormented by spiritual dryness for

eighteen years, she had suffered attacks from the Devil, ate only four ounces of food a day and was merciless to her mortified flesh, at times planting ‘many crosses on the ground with her tongue’. She had written | an account of her spiritual life and devotions. The preacher concluded that ‘she always maintained an immaculate life, dying with the grace she received in holy baptism’. This sermon, which was printed at the expense

of Manuel Rincon Gallardo, a wealthy landowner of Aguascalientes, eventually fell under the scrutiny of the Inquisition, which ordered it be withdrawn from circulation and its author censured, only to find that he had died fourteen years before.6

From the same convent there survives a spiritual autobiography written by Mother Maria Marcela in 1793, in which the author recounts how, after seven years of initial rapture, she suffered both persecution from her companions and an inability to pray, a stage which lasted for many years until she finally attained a sense of peace, assured that the

Trinity dwelt within her. The daughter of a wealthy landowner, she recalled that at one point a nun working with her in the sacristy, ‘did not treat me as a companion but simply as if I were an Indian’. No doubt she echoed many another religious’ plaint when she exclaimed: ‘I say in truth that my neighbours are my cross.’ Counselled by wise confessors, she found the peace she sought and ended her days 1n ‘a fixed and simple

sight before God’.27 : In 1798 seven Capuchin nuns left Querétaro in two carriages, accompanied by the ubiquitous Manuel Abad y Queipo, and after

passing the night at a hacienda, arrived the next morning at Salvatierra, where they were welcomed by the town council and all the clergy both secular and religious. After stopping off at the Carmelite beateria, they walked in public procession to take possession of their new convent and

Nuns 93

church, named after the Purisima Concepcién, where the guardian of the college of Santa Cruz celebrated mass and preached the sermon lauding this new Franciscan foundation. The genesis of this convent had been

protracted, since a royal licence had been issued as early as 1767 to Santiago Ginés de Parada, who had offered 35,000 ps. for its construc-

tion. It was not until the count of Jalpa intervened to take charge of the venture that the cloisters and church were actually built. But he quarrelled with the abbess of the Capuchinas in Querétaro, accusing the community of drinking chocolate and indulging in undue comfort when ill so that only eight or ten nuns actually attended office in choir, the rest parading their infirmities. His object in levelling these accusations was to

obtain a contingent of nuns from the Capuchin convent in Lagos and thereby ensure that the foundation at Salvatierra should be ‘the most observant and exemplary of all’.28 Despite his claims to have completed

construction, in 1806 the abbess complained that building was still continuing and that donations received to cover the nuns’ subsistence were often used to pay the builders. Although seven novices had been accepted on arrival, the community was still low in number and with many ill the rest ‘work until they are exhausted’. She concluded that although the rule prescribed a spacious dormitory, 1n fact they still slept ‘in a very narrow room with only some curtains poorly dividing it’.29 By 1816 the community at Salvatierra numbered twenty-two nuns, of whom only seven or eight enjoyed good health, the remainder suffering

from unspecified illnesses. In that year the diocesan authorities commanded the parish priest to conduct an official visitation of the convent since it had fallen prey to partisan conflict. The problem was that the

current chaplain, whose sister had joined the community, had lost the confidence of many of his small flock, in part because, owing to poor health, he had insisted on limiting confessions to the space of an hour. On the other hand, priests from the Carmelite priory in Salvatierra had

also acted as confessors, and were accused by the visitor of causing ‘upheaval and partisan spirit in this religious community’. So despondent was the visitor at this state of affairs that he suggested closing the convent

and sending the nuns elsewhere. But the diocesan authorities rejected this counsel of despair and simply wrote a stern letter of reprimand to the

abbess, prohibited the Carmelites from entering the convent, and changed the chaplain.*° After all, who would take these nuns at such a time, when the country was engulfed in guerrilla warfare?

It was not until 1803 that the Carmelites finally entered the Bajio, establishing a convent in Querétaro. So successful was this foundation that in 1808 they petitioned for a licence to build a daughter house in San Miguel el Grande but, although permission was eventually given, the

94 The religious orders upheaval of independence apparently prevented this project from being

realised. The driving force behind the Carmelite expansion was the marquesa de Selva Nevada, Maria Antonia Gomez Rodriguez Pedroso, who owned six pulque producing haciendas and property in Mexico City

worth an estimated 622,000 ps. Since her son had died and two daughters had become nuns, she was able to offer up to 70,000 ps. to construct a convent in Queretaro, together with another 12,000 ps. for three nuns’ dowries. The plans for the convent were framed by Manuel | Tolsa, a celebrated architect and sculptor and the current director of the Academy of San Carlos, an institute founded to promote the neo-classic style. Although the city council of Querétaro enthusiastically supported the proposal, at first the crown refused a licence, apparently on the grounds that the city already possessed a Carmelite convent.?! Undeterred by this response, the marquesa called upon Dr Juan José

de Gamboa, a canon of the Mexico City cathedral, to join her in. presenting an extended memorial which eventually elicited the required licence. They dismissed the supposed Carmelite convent in Querétaro as a beateria whose members taught young girls and who were ready ‘to make and grind chocolate with the strength of their arms’, a sure sign that they were not true nuns. Turning to the broad question of the forms and availability of religious life in New Spain, they asserted that there were only 2,100 nuns in all New Spain, dispersed among 49 convents, whereas

in the Peninsula, Seville alone counted 30 nunneries. Moreover, whereas the archbishopric (including Querétaro) had 1,100 nuns, the diocese of Puebla had but 455 and Michoacan only 160. By and large, convents divided into two classes, the great majority which they called ‘white convents’, where each nun had ‘a servant for her service and kitchen’, and a limited number of recoletas which followed the strict common life, a distinction which clearly suggested that the campaign initiated by Lorenzana and Fuero to impose the common life on all convents had failed. The numerical disparity was accentuated by the Carmelite rule which limited each convent to twenty-one members and, since nuns in the two houses in Mexico City survived until old age, opportunities for the admission of novices were few. Moreover, there were no Carmelites in the diocese of Michoacan; and Querétaro, the third most populous city in New Spain, only possessed the Santa Clara which was wealthy and numerous, and the Capuchinas who were strict and poor. The Carmelites were thus to be regarded as the happy mean between these two branches of the Franciscan Order. Their dowries of 4,000 ps. ‘will circulate in the hands of merchants and farmers... and will form a sure fund for the public’. Such an authoritative memorial elicited a favourable response from the royal attorney in Mexico City who

Nuns 95.

commented that, whereas in Europe convents were being closed down

owing to the revolutionary turmoil, by contrast in New Spain new foundations were proposed.?2 The result was that in 1803 Archbishop Nujfiez de Haro escorted three Carmelite nuns from Mexico City to Querétaro, accompanied by the marquesa de Selva Nevada who entered the community as a novice. Less than four years later the founders and their novices were able to take possession of their new convent, built in exquisite neo-classic style. In his classification of Mexican convents, Gamboa failed to mention

two significant innovations which occurred during the eighteenth century, both as regards ethnic entry and vocational function. As should be by now apparent, convents in New Spain required dowries ranging from 2,000 ps. to 4,000 ps., and certificates of impieza de sangre, a rule ~ which excluded castas and Indians from the religious life. But in 1727 the combined recommendation of the archbishop and the viceroy obtained a licence to found a convent of Capuchinas, named Corpus Christi, which

was reserved for the daughters of Indian chiefs and nobles. Their application had been sharply challenged by the Jesuits, who taught the sons of such chiefs and nobles in the college of San Gregorio, on the grounds that ‘not only the greater part of the natives of this kingdom, but almost all have a very changeable will and inconstant character. This 1s one of the innate faults of this nation.’ Father José Maria de Guevara asserted that since ‘these poor natives have a very limited understanding’,

they were best fitted for mechanical tasks and hence ‘are not apt or capable of the perfection required in the religious life’. It was very common for the Indian women who acted as servants in convents to leave, return and leave again. With infinite condescension he added: ‘One of these poor natives has more merit and pleases Our Lord God more by placing flowers before a saint’s image, lighting their candles... than if they spend many hours in the holy exercise of mental prayer, in which without doubt they will pass their time without any profit.” How

could they observe the rules of perfection when they could barely understand the most simple sermon? Contrary to this Jesuit onslaught, _ the Dominicans supported the project, affirming that in several convents in Mexico City there were Indian women who had spent their entire life working as servants, never leaving their precinct. Indeed, in the Santa Clara, six daughters of caciques had spent periods ranging from twenty-five to forty years in that nunnery.?? Despite Guevara’s dire prognostications, the Corpus Christi convent was duly opened and soon attracted sufficient novices for it to found daughter houses in Valladolid . in 1737, and in Oaxaca in 1755.

In Michoacan it was Bishop Escalona who promoted the

96 The religious orders establishment on the outskirts of Valladolid of the convent of Santa Maria de Cosamaloapan, using the funds bequeathed for this purpose by Canon Marcos Mufioz de Sanabria. Although he sought to place it under

direct episcopal jurisdiction, the high court ruled that this Capuchin house should be subject to the Franciscans. Since these Indian nuns were not expected to present a dowry on admission, the convent was always very poor and subsisted off almsgiving. Abstaining from meat, their diet consisted of grain which their lay agents collected in the fields. In 1795

they obtained a special licence from the viceroy authorising them to appoint two laymen to beg for alms. A small community, limited

to thirty-three nuns, the convent insisted on inspecting baptismal certificates so as to restrict entry to Indians, especially excluding mulattas. It is worth noting that a candidate in 1792 could not sign her name.*4

The only significant innovation in the form of religious vocation came in 1757 when the convent and college of the Company of Mary, known

in Mexico City as La Ensefianza, was opened. This Order had been founded at the beginning of the seventeenth century in France and was dedicated to the education of girls. Whereas most convents had simply taken in female children as boarders, the Company of Mary organised a college in which the boarders lived apart from the nuns, and also operated a free public school. The initiative to introduce this institute in New Spain was taken by Maria Ignacia Azlor, the sister of the marquesa de San Miguel de Aguayo, and hence heiress to funds which amounted

to over 100,000 ps. After joining the novitiate in the convent at Pamplona, she led a mission from Spain to found a house in Mexico City, dedicating all her influence and wealth to drive through a project which was initially opposed by the archbishop. Although the foundress

wished to admit novices of any race, the requirement of dowries effectively excluded all but creoles. Moreover, although in the first years the teaching function came foremost, there was later a tendency to admit candidates who took little interest in the college or its school.35 | The diocese of Michoacan benefited from the new departure when in 1804 the cura of Irapuato, Diego Salvago, escorted seven nuns from the

Ensefianza in Mexico City to his parish, where they were to take possession of the church of La Soledad and its projected college and

convent. The cost of this scheme was estimated at 80,000 ps. for construction and 60,000 ps. for dowries, sums which derived from the estate of Ramon Barreto de Tabora. Funds were not lacking, however, since the wealthy silver miner, the count of Pérez Galvez, agreed to maintain four nuns throughout their lifetime at a cost of 800 ps. a year. By 1812 the convent had sixteen nuns, of whom eight were teachers of a

Nuns 97

style.

college which had thirty-three boarders paying I20 pesos a year, and a

free public school of about 300 pupils.3° As with the Carmelites at Querétaro, the convent and college were constructed in an elegant neo-classic

IV

Although the emergence of beaterias often went unchronicled by contemporaries, these small communities of pious women were but the first wave of what was to be the flood-tide of female vocations in the late nineteenth century. Beatas differed from nuns in that they did not swear

any solemn vows on admission to their communities but simply promised to observe its rule of life, a promise from which they could be readily released with the bishop’s approval. Unlike nuns, they brought no—

dowries, only a willingness to work to maintain themselves. Apart from alms, most beaterias turned to education as a means of employment and support, so that their development was intimately linked to the diffusion

| of female literacy in eighteenth-century Mexico. As much as nuns, they were expected to live secluded from the world, not venturing out of their enclosures, and mostly they adopted a religious habit, usually based on those worn by the Third Orders. Although they did not sing the hours of the Divine Office, they generally sang the ‘little office’ of the Virgin Mary

and, like their counterparts in established convents, depended a great deal on the counsel of their father confessors. Indeed, it was the rare beateria which did not depend on the protection of a clerical patron or of a religious house.

According to the nineteenth-century historian of the diocese of Michoacan, Dr José Guadalupe Romero, in 1810 there were seven beaterias in the diocese: two in Valladolid, two in San Miguel el Grande

and one each in Celaya, Leén and Zamora.3’ There were also at least two in Querétaro and possibly another in San Luis Potosi. To begin in

Valladolid, Santa Rosa de Viterbo was founded by Bishop Matos Coronado in 1743 as a college for girls. Part of the funds came from Canon Francisco Javier Vélez de Guevara who had bequeathed 4,000 ps. to set up ‘a public school for girls in the college of Santa Rosa’, a school for poor girls ‘of whatever quality and condition, no matter how low’.

The aim was to teach the pupils Christian doctrine, how to read and write and how to sew and other female skills. Each girl was to be provided with a rosary, paper and ink and sewing materials. Despite this attractive prospectus, however, the girls who boarded in the college were

expected to present certificates of their impieza and to pay first 6 and then 8 ps. a month in fees.38 Although the college attracted donations

98 The religious orders from various benefactors, its funds were not well managed and, towards

the close of the century, its mayordomo, Gabriel Garcia de Obeso, a leading merchant, noted that, although the capital endowment was nominally 60,000 ps., little more than half that sum actually yielded any interest, since the rest had been lost in litigation. By then the college had |

seventy-four girls boarding instead of the forty-one provided for, and only half of the excess number actually paid any fees. The result was that the college ran a considerable deficit every year.>?

The other beateria in Valladolid was founded by Ana Maria de Transito y Silva, who in 176§ retired to a small house on the outskirts of © the city, taking the habit of the Third Order of the Carmelites. She began

to teach ‘not only girls of distinguished birth, but the poorest, most humbie and rustic, especially devoting herself to Indian girls’, since they

lacked all means of education and because of their poverty often remained ignorant of the very elements of their faith. Up to ten or twelve

women joined her, hearing mass and taking communion together, the community maintained by teaching and their own efforts. Out of these poor beginnings came the college of Santa Teresa de Jesus. The beateria and its college was greatly assisted by Mariano Timoteo de Escandon, later to become count of Sierra Gorda, who arrived in Valladolid in 1775 as prebendary and who passed all his long career in the cathedral, rising

to become archdeacon. As wealthy as he was pious, this influential creole provided the funds for a small church and the college.*° In effect,

the transition from a small group of pious women living together and

teaching a few girls, to an institution approved by the bishop and maintained by an endowment, depended on the good will of wealthy patrons. In Leon, for example, Bishop Matos Coronado licensed a beateria in 1742, naming the local Jesuits as its spiritual directors. The community had thirty-seven full members and another twenty-two associates, who | lived a common life, managed a school for children and worshipped in |

their own chapel. But the parish priest informed the bishop that ‘they have a very cramped dwelling and so many necessities that I have been obliged personally to seek alms for them’. After the Jesuits were expelled

the beateria fell on bad days until a wealthy benefactress rebuilt their church as thanksgiving for her recovery from an illness.4! A simular beateria in Celaya was described as ‘some poor women of particular virtue, laborious and of honest life, known as the Third Order of Jesus the Nazarene’. Their task was to educate all classes of girls, ‘rich or poor, Spaniards or Indians’. They also took 1n a few boarders. By 1775 they had their own residence and a modest chapel.42 Not all beaterias began in penury. In 1742 the cura of San Luis Potosi

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informed the bishop that for the last twenty years a mother with her four spinster daughters, together with a few other women, had lived together

and attended mass and the sacraments together in the Jesuit church. They were described as educating children, some ‘of notorious quality, and others poor’. But they had an endowment of 2,616 ps. which yielded a small income, and were later bequeathed 12,000 ps. for a house and a chapel.43 So also in 1796, two sisters from Patzcuaro, Maria Teresa and Josefa Martinez de Aguilera, obtained the bishop’s approval to set up a beateria together with a college for girls. They owned a house in the town’s main square worth 10,000 ps. and another property worth 3,600 ps. Other local residents had promised to assist the college financially. They further proposed to attach their beateria to the sanctuary of Our.

Lady of Guadalupe, built in 1730 after an earlier structure had been destroyed by fire and greatly extended by their father in 1762 when he had served as municipal magistrate. The sanctuary was endowed with 11,970 ps., including a chantry of 4,000 ps. for a priest.44 The advantage of this arrangement was that the beateria would thus have the ‘free’ use of the church and its chaplain. Much the same pattern can be found in San

Miguel el Grande where the fathers of the Oratory promoted and endowed the beateria and college of Santa Ana, building it next to their

college of San Francisco de Sales. There was also in San Miguel a beateria of Santo Domingo attached to the town’s sanctuary of Our Lady of Guadalupe which, in 1791, had thirty members. Finally, we note that in Salvatierra the bishop licensed a Carmelite beateria in 1771, which was built adjoining the church of Nuestra Sefiora de la Luz.*° In Querétaro there were two beaterias, of which the oldest, the college

of Santa Rosa de Viterbo, had been founded in the late seventeenth century with an endowment provided by the city’s great benefactor, Juan Caballero y Ocio, and from the start dedicated to the education of girls.

Although its members wore the habit of the Franciscan Third Order, they were subject to the jurisdiction of the archbishop and the local ecclesiastical judge. In 1723 there were some forty-three beatas who were under the spiritual direction of the fathers of the college of Santa Cruz. Their college received papal approbation in 1732, and in 1752 they were given a very specific rule of life by Archbishop Rubio y Salinas. Somewhat earlier it was noted that the college had fifty-five girls and fifteen

servants, and was very poor, a situation that was later remedied by benefactions, since the community’s church soon came to boast of gilded retablos which figure among the glories of the Mexican Churrigueresque.

In 1804 the college endowment amounted to 103,380 ps.46 Thus, although the sisters did not count as true nuns, since they did not take solemn vows or offer a dowry, nevertheless their institute was very

100 The religious orders different from the impoverished beaterias found elsewhere. Moreover, their rule stated that ‘since the diversity of “qualities” is often the cause of disunion, great care should be taken that those who are admitted should be of clean blood, of honourable and well-born families’ and that they should not be ‘mulattas, moriscas, lobas, or other mixtures of blood’. What is also striking 1s that the college did not have a refectory, so that the sisters had servants to assist them 1n their kitchens. For the rest, the rule provided for weekly confession and communion, as well as a daily regime of mass, the little office of Our Lady and two half-hour sessions of mental prayer in the morning and evening.?’ In effect, the college of

Santa Rosa de Viterbo recruited its members from the lower ranks of the creole class and was far removed from the world of the populace which laboured in the infamous obrajes and workshops of the city’s

textile industry. ,

The other beateria in Querétaro was founded in 1739 by Maria Magdalena Villagran with ten other women who sought a more austere

life than that pursued by the Santa Rosa. They wore the habit of the Carmelite Third Order and before entry had to offer guarantees that their family would pay 8 ps. a month for their maintenance. Like other beaterias they took in some girls as paying boarders and also opened a school where, ‘besides the rudiments of religion, they teach them how to read, write and count, to embroider and to sew and other skills proper to their sex’. But they lacked an endowment and over the years changed their residence several times. The marquesa de Selva Nevada remarked disdainfully that not merely did the sisters grind and make chocolate to sell, but that their beateria was just ‘an aggregate of upper storey rooms

in some houses in poor condition built of adobe, and their church a hermitage as poor in its adornment as in its services’. In effect, the beateria remained poor and dependent on alms, so that the sisters often had barely enough money to pay for food and clothing. For all that, they pursued a common life, eating their meals in a refectory, and demanded certificates of legitimacy and lumpteza from their novices.48

,V

For the male religious orders the second half of the eighteenth century was a period of crisis and decline. The Jesuits were abruptly despatched

into exile; the mendicant orders were expelled from their country doctrinas and obliged to reduce their intake of novices; and all orders by 1800 suffered an internal erosion from individual secularisations. Only the missionary friars of the colleges de propaganda fide appeared to have preserved their primitive zeal. At first sight, the female orders seemed to

Nuns IOI

have experienced a similar crisis. The determination of Lorenzana and Fuero to impose the common life split many convents into hostile parties and derived from the bishops’ justifiable concern that life had become

too comfortable and lax in these wealthy establishments. Although evidence from Michoacan suggests that this reform failed because administering a common kitchen and refectory was more expensive than self-catering, the effect of the bishops’ intervention may well have been to reduce the numbers of nuns in these convents. But there were several features which clearly distinguished the female orders from their male

counterparts. In the first place, several new foundations occurred in dioceses such as Michoacan, Guadalajara and Oaxaca. The establish~ ment of the Purisima Concepcion in San Miguel and the Santa Caterina in Patzcuaro were clear examples of this expansion, as indeed was the remarkably late foundation of the Carmelites in Querétaro. As in the case of the male orders, it was the Franciscans which offered the most austere

life and which attracted many vocations. If the first Capuchinas only arrived in Mexico City in 1665, during the course of the eighteenth century they made no less than ten foundations in New Spain, among which the Purisima Concepcion at Salvatierra was a late example. It was

, the Capuchinas who also sponsored the entrance of Indians into the religious life, founding three houses for the daughters of the native elite, an innovation which at last opened the religious life to women of non-

Spanish origin. A further innovation in female religious life was the arrival of the Company of Mary, with their foundations of La Ensefianza,

first in Mexico City and then at Irapuato and Aguascalientes. In 1811, when the Company took over the college of Our Lady of Guadalupe in Mexico City, an institute founded by Indian sisters for the education of | Indian girls, the two currents of innovation came together.*9 One notable

feature of this expansion was the role played by a small number of wealthy foundresses, women such as Maria Ignacia Azlor, the marquesa

de Selva Nevada, and Maria Josefina de la Canal, who devoted their inheritances to establishing new convents. The determination with which

they drove forward their enterprises revealed that Mexican women were more than capable of individual initiative in this sphere of action. Similar qualities lay behind the foundation of the beaterias which formed

sO important a feature of female religious life in Bourbon Mexico. Essentially local in origin, they expressed a twofold vocation, since the contemplative prayer of all enclosed nuns was here paralleled by their labour in educating children and young girls. The fact that so many of what were little more than small groups of pious women should have succeeded in creating colleges which came to have their own buildings and churches, indicates the vitality of these local initiatives. In all these

102 The religious orders diverse ventures we find that, in the sphere of religion at least, Mexican

women were as original and enterprising in their projects as their male counterparts, La Ensefianza and the various beaterias the female equivalent of the Oratory at San Miguel, the shrine of Atotonilco and the missionary college of Our Lady of Guadalupe at Zacatecas.

Part 2

Priests and laity

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6 Priests

I

In 1776 the Mexican savant, Antonio de Leon y Gama, described Michoacan ‘as the most populous and thriving bishopric in all America’,

in which ‘one can say that the dominant language of the country is Castilian, since only in very remote villages where there is no trade, does one not hear it’. At its inception it had been divided into three geographical zones: the tierra caliente of the Pacific coasts and valleys; the terra fria of the Michoacan highlands, the heartland of the former Tarascan kingdom; and the tierra templada which stretched northwards

from Valladolid, a frontier zone colonised by Spaniards and Otomi Indians.! But these traditional distinctions had been overtaken in the eighteenth century by the emergence of the Bajio, an area broadly coterminous with the central and southern sections of the modern state

of Guanajuato, where the densely populated plains produced an abundance of foodstuffs for the mining city of Guanajuato, which by the

1790s counted no less than §5,000 inhabitants in its urban centre and surrounding industrial villages.2 Gama cited the diocesan census of 1761 which enumerated a grand total of 426,260 individuals aged seven years

and above, of which 252,355 — almost 60 per cent — were described as Spaniards and castas, the remainder Indians who spoke Mexican (Nahuatl), Tarascan, Masahua and Otomi.* But the population was growing at the rate of about 2.3 per cent a year and, despite the setback of the great famine of 1785-6, by 1810 was reliably estimated at over a million, divided as shown in Table 1.

Although these figures may not be entirely accurate, they clearly

indicate that the diocesan authorities had not responded to the extraordinary increase in population which had occurred in Guanajuato. If we return to the more reliable estimates of 1791 we find that, whereas

the intendancy of Valladolid (modern Michoacan) had ninety-three parishes (including eleven that were soon to be transferred to the bishopric of Guadalajara), Guanajuato had but twenty-three and San 105

106 Priests and laity Table 1. Population of the Michoacan diocese, c. 1810

Intendancy Spaniards Castas Indians Priests Friars Nuns Total (Yo)

Guanajuato 149,183 172,931 254,014 225 175 72 $76,600 (50.37) Valladolid 108,970 117,134 168,027 282 147 129 394,689 (34.47) San Luis

Potosi 22,609 62,007 88,949 23 63 — 173,651 (15.16)

Total 280,762 352,072 §10,990 §30 385 20I 1,144,940 (100.00) Source: Navarro y Noriega, Memoria sobre la poblacién, foldpaper.

Luis Potosi a mere eleven.* The failure to create new parishes meant

that by the close of the eighteenth century a striking disparity had emerged between the rich, populous, urbanised curatos of the Bajio and the poor, sparsely inhabited parishes of the Tarascan highlands and the

tierra caliente. An obvious consequence of this failure was that the number of priests in the intendancy of Guanajuato was noticeably fewer

than in Valladolid, especially if its greater population be taken into account.

To ascertain the number and distribution of the secular clergy it is necessary to inspect the confidential reports submitted to the viceroy in 1793 by the intendants of Valladolid, Guanajuato and San Luis Potosi. Their lists can be supplemented by the local counts of clerics compiled by parish priests in 1777 and 1809 in response to episcopal circulars

demanding such data.> Unfortunately neither of these collections is complete and for 1809 only a handful of important parishes were covered. What all these reports revealed was the sheer concentration of priests residing in the leading cities of the diocese and the high number of priests without benefice or fixed occupation. In effect, the four cities of Valladolid, Guanajuato, San Miguel el Grande and Patzcuaro housed just over a third of the clergy registered by the intendants for their two provinces. The figures for San Luis Potosi are much less reliable but indicate an even greater concentration in the capital city.

Equally revealing was the blunt assessment of the intendant of Guanajuato that 78 of the 238 priests he listed were ‘without an appointment’, albeit obviously including under this head clerics supported by chantries. This glut of unbeneficed priests was far more pronounced in Guanajuato than in Valladolid, since the province only possessed twenty-three parishes as against eighty-two in Its southern neighbour and, although wealthy curas often employed several vicarios,

many clerics eked out a penurious existence. The poor, numerous parishes of Valladolid thus supported a greater number of priests active

Priests 107

Table 2. Distribution of clergy in Michoacan diocese, 1793

Intendancy Priests — City Priests

Valladolid 300 Valladolid 77 Patzcuaro 25 Guanajuato 238 Guanajuato 58

San Miguel 27 Irapuato I9 Silao 17

Celaya 13

Total 577 266

San Luis Potosi 39 San Luis Potosi 30

Source: AGN, Historia 568 (a).

in the pastoral ministry than was the case in their wealthier counterparts in the Bajio. The causes of this apparent excess of priests can be encountered in a statement for 1791 prepared by Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, at that time rector of the college of San Nicolas in Valladolid, who estimated that the © diocese possessed 756 secular clergy, of whom 106 were still in minor

orders. That he counted about 100 more priests than the three intendants can only in part be explained by the inclusion of eleven parishes that were subject to Guadalajara: the discrepancy suggests that considerable uncertainty surrounds these statistics. More importantly, Hidalgo divided the clergy into the following classes: 126 permanent and interim curas in charge of parishes; 43 clerical sacristans; 230 chaplains ordained by right of their chantries; 144 priests ordained for ‘administration’; and 107 ordained by night of language, which was to say, because

they knew ‘Mexican’, Tarascan, Otomi and Masahua. The remainder were tonsured students, subdeacons and deacons. What Hidalgo did not specify was how many of the clergy 1n diverse classes served as vicarios, assisting the parish priests in their pastoral ministry. Nor did he indicate that curas and sacristans had been originally ordained by reason of their chantries, or for ‘administration’ or because of their linguistic ability. To understand the origins of these ‘titles’ for ordination we should recall that from the very foundation of the diocese, Vasco de Quiroga had insisted that the secular clergy should emulate the mendicants and minister to its native peoples in their own languages. Moreover, when in 1770 Bishop Sanchez de Tagle opened the Tridentine seminary in Valladolid, he established chairs in the four languages most commonly used in the diocese and reserved six of the thirty bursaries offered to poor

108 Priests and laity students for the sons of Indian caciques.’ In effect, secularisation increased the need for priests with the requisite linguistic ability, a condition which favoured the ordination of Indian candidates. The second great category of priests, equally found since the sixteenth century, were candidates who by reason of family descent or connection

possessed chantry endowments sufficient to maintain them without recourse to parochial appointments. The problem here was that historic

endowments of 2,000 ps. no longer yielded a sufficient income for subsistence, and that even the annual 200 ps. accruing from 4,000 ps. capellanias, the late eighteenth-century norm, was barely adequate.®

It was Bishop Rocha (1777-82) who introduced the third category of priests, who were ordained ‘by title or administration in Castilian’, a category to attract candidates to the pastoral ministry in parishes where the growing population of creoles, castas and acculturated Indians only spoke Spanish.’ The result of this innovation was that in many parishes, especially in the Bajio, priests knowledgeable in native languages were replaced by men ordained with only Spanish, testimony to the changing composition of the population. What is surprising, however, is that even in Patzcuaro, where presumably the majority of its inhabitants still spoKe Tarascan, the number of priests proficient in that language had by 1809 dwindled to half the number of 1777.!° By contrast there was little change in the proportion of the clergy supported by chantries. What our sources do not reveal with any degree of certainty is whether the overall number of priests was on the increase during the last decades

of the eighteenth century. In a harshly worded edict issued after the outbreak of the 1810 Insurgency, Manuel Abad y Queipo, the bishopelect of Michoacan, declared that ‘the number of clergy has grown excessively’ and blamed previous bishops who had ordained too many candidates ‘with the title of administration, a title which leaves those so ordained without necessary work, particular attachment or fixed residence’. The result was a large number of unbeneficed, unemployed priests ‘who remain forever without any occupation or position, in a state of poverty and on the verge of abandoning their profession’. The problem here is to find the evidence for his assertions.!! Indeed, if the ecclesiastical census of 1777 for the parishes of Guanajuato be compared with the list compiled by the intendant in 1793, we find that the overall

number had dropped from 275 to 238. On the other hand, the four parishes of Irapuato, Silao, Salvatierra and Valle de Santiago registered an increase of over 50 per cent between 1777 and 1809, their combined numbers rising from fifty-five to eighty-six. On the eve of the Insurgency led by Miguel Hidalgo, when so many priests chose to join the rebellion against the Spanish crown, the secular

Priests 109

clergy of the diocese of Michoacan were characterised by a striking

inequality between a relatively small number of wealthy, well-educated curas and a much greater number of unemployed priests, many without

qualifications, who barely contrived to support themselves and their dependants. In 1809 the two curas of Irapuato, a town situated in the midst of the thriving haciendas of the Bajio, listed no less than thirty priests resident in their parish, of whom two were maintained by the sacristy and five employed as their vicars.!2 Another four acted as chaplains to local convents and hospitals. The remaining nineteen priests

were variously described as residing on haciendas, officiating at a particular mass, hearing confessions or simply as ‘without employment’. Although the curas claimed that ‘the lower clergy of this happy parish are

undeniably among the best in the diocese . . . humble, docile, wellbehaved, assiduous at the Divine Office, obedient and without harm to— anyone’, they also noted that many priests could barely afford to clothe

themselves properly, ‘because of the infelicity and misery of most of them, who even when they have a chantry do not know how to maintain

themselves’. Indeed, when such priests fell ill, their treatment and eventual burial were often covered by alms. They concluded: ‘the poverty and lack of means of the clergy of this kingdom is constant’.

II In an influential memorandum, written in 1785 for the Bishop San Miguel, the current dean, José Pérez Calama, strongly opposed the division of the wealthy, populous parishes of the diocese.!3 In his experience as visitor during the last ten years, he had found that a parish with an income of 6,000 ps. could comfortably support a cura, a clerical sacristan and five vicarios, whereas if it were to be divided into two, each cura would only employ a single vicar, thereby reducing the number of priests available for the parochial ministry. Moreover, he adverted that ‘curas with a low income are in general not so respected and obeyed

as those with an abundant income. No one can be unaware of the dominion, authority and respect that a respectable endowment attracts, or that by contrast, scarce means are exposed to scorn.’ For the clergy,

the existence of these rich parishes was a great stimulus to study, especially since ‘in this kingdom the high prizes for Minerva are so few’. | There were but four cathedral chapters with a full complement of members paid an attractive scale of stipends. The diocese of Michoacan only possessed twelve to fourteen wealthy parishes, benefices which attracted strong competition from ‘individuals of the best education, virtue and

brilliant learning’. Pérez Calama concluded: ‘It is a matter of some

IIO Priests and laity importance for the diocese to have parish priests of illustrious birth and fine breeding, of polished ideas and eminent knowledge.’ The key to ecclesiastical preferment was academic achievement. In

1793, apart from the cathedral chapter, there were thirty-six secular priests in the diocese who were listed by the intendants as doctors and licentiates in theology or canon law. Of these men, no less than twenty-

five were curas, administering the wealthiest, most populous urban parishes. Virtually ail this select group had completed their studies in Mexico City, spending several years registered with the university before obtaining their higher degrees. To gain these qualifications was a costly

business, so that although an occasional talented but poverty-stricken

candidate might well find a wealthy benefactor, most successful candidates came from families with assured means. Advanced education and social status thus combined to create a relatively small diocesan elite. who in aspiration and income were far removed from the impecunious

bachilleres who were ordained shortly after finishing their studies in Valladolid. It was common for these highly qualified priests to return to the diocese, there to teach in the Tridentine seminary or at the college of San Nicolas, often sustained by appointments as sacristans in wealthy parishes, an office which did not require residence. A few practised law in the diocesan court. Thereafter, they offered themselves in competition for parishes, often accepting a moderately prosperous benefice before

finally becoming cura in such cities as Guanajuato, San Luis Potosi, Irapuato, Silao, Leén, San Miguel el Grande, Celaya, Zamora, Zitacuaro and Tlalpujahua, exercising their authority, as ecclesiastical judges, over parishes which often had over 20,000 inhabitants. To measure the gulf that separated this clerical elite from the general

mass of impecunious clerics we need only turn to the schedule of earnings of the parochial clergy that Bishop San Miguel compiled in| 1791.14 According to his data, total parish fees (derechos parroquiales) within the diocese amounted to 322,274 ps., a total that comprised the

| net earnings of 127 curas, 39 clerical sacristans and the monies raised to maintain the fabric of churches. The direct income of parish priests was 253,467 ps., which thus yielded an average stipend of 1,993 ps. Their gross returns, however, were somewhat higher, since the salaries they paid to their vicarios had already been deducted. Piecing together what were obviously incomplete reports to the bishop, we encounter another §9,552 ps., which were paid to some 178 vicarios, a figure which yields an average stipend for these assistants of 335 ps. What San Miguel’s schedule revealed most clearly was the great inequality of income which characterised the parochial clergy. At the top end of the scale there were nine parishes which provided their incumbents with stipends of over

Priests III

4,000 ps. a year, and indeed four of these were so wealthy that they

supported two joint curas. By contrast, there were thirty-seven parishes whose pastors received less than 1,000 ps. a year, their average stipend

amounting to no more than 649 ps. The product of history and geography, this inequality was also manifest at the provincial level, since if the parishes still administered by the mendicants be subtracted from © the calculation, we find that the average parochial income in Guanajuato WAS 3,931 ps., as against 1,360 ps. for parishes in Valladolid. -

When in 1793-4 the crown sought information on priests thought suitable for promotion, Bishop San Miguel and the three intendants fixed upon much the same group of outstanding clerics, confirming the impression of a relatively restricted circle of talent and achievement. Thus the senior cura of Guanajuato, Dr Manuel Quesada, was described as ‘a young man of brilliant career in canon law’, a former student at the . college of Todos Santos and worthy of all appropriate promotion. So also, the parish priest of San Miguel el Grande, Dr Ignacio Palacios, was ‘of lively talent, vast and fine erudition and of a moderate and peaceful disposition’, who had served as cura in Ayo el Chico and Salamanca before reaching San Miguel.!> Similarly, Dr Juan José de Michelena, son

of a wealthy family of Valladolid, had enrolled in the Todos Santos college in Mexico City, thereafter serving in the cathedral parish in his home city, before becoming parish priest at Celaya. There were also two brothers, sons of the general manager of the great hacienda of Corralejo

in Pénjamo, Dr José Joaquin and Br Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla. The former had taught at the San Nicolas, became rector of the seminary and

acted as pastor of San Felipe and Dolores, before removing to Santa Clara del Cobre in an attempt to relieve his illness. His brother, Miguel Hidalgo, had failed to achieve a higher degree from Mexico despite spending some time in the capital. However, he taught for many years at

the San Nicolas, eventually becoming its rector, where he gained the friendship of Manuel Abad y Queipo, the chief lieutenant of Bishop San Miguel. Appointed cura of San Felipe in succession to his brother, he was —

described by the intendant, Juan Antonio de Riafio, as ‘of a gentle disposition and one of the best theologians of the bishopric’.!6

Other priests praised included the curas of Irapuato, Silao, Zamora and Zitacuaro. A striking testimony came from the intendant of San

Luis Potosi, Bruno Diaz de Salcedo, who lauded the cura of that city, Dr Manuel José de Herrera, for his wisdom and knowledge, his remarkable oratory, his prudence, probity and ‘singular example’. After a long career in which he had acted as rector of the San Nicolas after studying in Mexico, he had served as cura first in San Felipe and then in San Luis Potosi. What was most remarkable, added the intendant,

112 Priests and laity — was that having a rich parish of the first class, he lives in poverty and scarcity, because he distributes everything to his poor flock. He is beloved of God and of men, and in a word is perfectly adorned with all the gifts and requisites that the Apostle St Paul affirmed that all those chosen for high office in the church ought to have.!?

The degree to which such well-placed, highly qualified priests of good character could expect rapid promotion was illustrated by the career

of Dr Antonio Mariano Lavarrieta, the son of a city councillor and magistrate of Valladolid, who after starting his studies at the San Nicolas and the seminary, entered the San Ildenfonso college in Mexico City to read both civil and canon law, qualifying in 1794. The following year

he was ordained and, after teaching at the San Nicolas and acting as diocesan attorney, in 1799 was named parish priest of Guanajuato, the richest benefice in the diocese. !8

In effect, Michoacan possessed a small clerical elite, no more in number than about a tenth of the secular clergy, priests with higher degrees, who could confidently expect appointments either to the cathedral chapter or to the leading parishes in the diocese. Most of these men came from well-established families and, by reason of their education and their residence in Mexico City, generally prided themselves on their enlightened views. Their wealth and their authority as | ecclesiastical judges enabled them to mix on terms of social equality with

the peninsular intendants and officials who represented the Spanish crown. It was owing to his erudition and enlightened views that Miguel Hidalgo was befriended by Juan Antonio de Riafio, who was well known for his knowledge of French literature. Indeed, Hidalgo was denounced to the Inquisition for the freedom with which he criticised the pretensions

| of the Papacy and his questioning of the utility of the religious orders. The cura of Dolores was a Keen student of the ecclesiastical history of the

abbé Fleury and had adopted the Gallican theses of his mentor.!9 Whether such views were at all typical of the clerical elite remains to be seen; but they were certainly views which had found welcome among the ministers of Charles III.

Hl Below the world of the ecclesiastical elite there existed an entire gamut of

income and circumstance ranging from quiet comfort to dire poverty. | Some of the chantry priests came from families that still retained their estates; others found occupation acting as chaplains on haciendas or, in the case of Guanajuato, for particular mines. Those priests who were ordained by reason of their command of native languages often belonged |

Priests IT3

to the petty elite of Indian districts and supported themselves through agriculture or trade. As regards the beneficed clergy, it is clear that curas who enjoyed an income of over 1,000 ps. a year had sufficient means to subsist in some comfort, especially since they were usually located in prosperous parts of the countryside or in small towns blessed with local

industry. So too, it is clear that the teams of vicarios who assisted the parish priests 1n the wealthy cities of the Bajio could easily double their stipends of 300 ps. by daily exercise of their pastoral ministry, adminis-. tering the sacraments and saying mass. All this is obvious. But there were still many priests, ‘without appoint-

ment’, ordained for administration or supported by an antiquated, insufficient chantry, who undoubtedly found it difficult to make ends meet and who at times were obliged to beg for alms. The problem was compounded when such priests also had to support a family, usually composed of a widowed mother and sisters. Even among the beneficed

clergy there was a group of thirty-seven curas with parishes in the mountainous and tropical zones of Michoacan, who received an average income of 649 ps. Many of these priests were obliged to cede almost half of their possible earnings to their vicar, at times desperately seeking to attract a companion with such an inducement. Moreover, whereas the climate of the Bajio was agreeable, the tierra caliente of Michoacan’s

tropical coastlands often wrecked newcomers’ health with fevers and other infections. Obviously, only the least qualified bachilleres were nominated for such posts, men who had studied at the seminary thanks to a bursary, and who often looked to the priesthood as a means to support their poverty-stricken family, accepting employment as vicars in remote rural parishes. Indeed, there existed a class of priests who were destined never to become curas, serving as perpetual vicars. In effect, we. know little of the world of the lower clergy in late colonial Mexico and can only approach their experience by a scatter of cases preserved in the episcopal archives.

What virtually all these priests shared was a decidedly imperfect education at the colleges of the diocese which enabled them to qualify as

bachilleres. In a report on the curriculum of the San Nicolas college,

written as late as 1807, Antonio Maria Uraga commented that in philosophy the practice of dictating from texts of Aristotle was ‘the most ridiculous that can be imagined’, adding that ‘in no college in Europe nor in those of America, save Michoacan’ was such an antiquated system still used. What was needed was ‘the precious little work’ of Altieri, which exhibited ‘concision, clarity, an eclectic method without any systematic affiliation, a geometric style and luminous principles’, thus following the

recommendations of ‘Our celebrated American, Dr Benito Diaz de Gamarra’.2° Part of the problem came from the junior school attached to’

114 Priests and laity the college where the Latin taught was ‘most barbarous and unworthy of the name’. In all this, Uraga unconsciously echoed the critique of José Pérez Calama, who in 1784 had observed that ‘moral philosophy, history

and economic and political science’ were nowhere to be found in Valladolid. Although he had sought to improve the teaching of Latin by

suggesting better texts, no effect had been observed owing to the incapacity of the students, some of whom were descendants of mulattos and hence of relatively penurious circumstance.?! The material reasons that impelled some men to enter the priesthood were clearly spelt out by José Maria de Luna, a student at San Nicolas,

who in 1808 applied to be ordained as subdeacon. He had started his studies there at the age of eighteen, ‘suffering the greatest want’, dependent on a kindly benefactor, since his family were poor, numerous

and looking to him for future support. His chief credential was ‘the perfect knowledge I have of the Otomi language’, a considerable advantage owing to ‘the grave necessity which Our Holy Mother suffers as regards this class of minister’.22 Knowledge of native tongues might well provide employment as vicar, especially as the trend by 1800 was to. obtain more priests for administration than for languages, but it did not in any way guarantee future appointment as cura. In 1804 Br Salvador Zacarias y Cervantes applied for a benefice.23 He had studied with the

Franciscans in 1776-8 at Tlalpujahua and Querétaro before attending the seminary in Mexico City, assisted by a bursary, thereby ‘graduating free of charge from the university’. But he had failed to pass in theology and so completed his career at the seminary in Valladolid, ‘construing morning and evening the catechism of Pius V’. Ordained by title of the Otomi and Masahua languages, he thereafter passed sixteen years as a vicar, ministering successively in Zitacuaro, Tepalcatepec, Pungarabato,

Taximaroa, Maravatio and Irimbo. He had now withdrawn from the tierra caliente owing to poor health and in the light of his excellent testimonials now petitioned the bishop for a benefice.

The economic desperation that drove men to accept posts in the tropical zone was clearly set out by José Antonio Iturriaga who, after labouring as a vicar for almost a year in Tarimbaro, had found that his income was insufficient to maintain ‘my family which resides in the town of Salamanca’ and still less pay off the debts he had incurred on becoming a priest. In 1802 he thus applied to the bishop’s secretary for an appointment in the terra caliente where the climate and scarcity of priests obliged curas to pay their vicars ‘a regular salary’. His application

met with success and he was duly despatched to Cutzamala, which apparently enjoyed a notoriously difficult climate.2# Such calculations, however, did not always meet with the expectations they aroused. In

Priests II5

1797 a secularised ex-friar, Manual Viana, agreed to serve as vicar in Tecpan, where the cura offered him a stipend of 400 ps. a year together with food and a share of the fees arising from masses and the sacraments.

However, on arrival he found that he was only assigned a mass on Sundays, so that his hopes of raising his income to at least 700 ps. by saying mass every day were disappointed.2> He therefore petitioned the. bishop’s secretary for permission to transfer to Urecho, where he was promised better terms. But the cura learnt of his letter and became very annoyed with him. In a second letter, Viana pleaded to be shifted at once, since he found it most disagreeable to take his chocolate and dine with a man who now hated him, especially taking into consideration, he added, that ‘we are in an epoch of iron when we ecclesiastics are the object of.

the most severe criticism from secularism’. It was by no means rare for curas to encounter problems with their vicars, albeit rarely so severe as the parish priest of Pungarabato, who 1n 1803 informed the bishop that his current vicar, Nicolas de Torres, was quite useless, owing to

‘the drunkenness to which he is daily accustomed, to the extent that I doubt whether there is a single hour in the day during which he has the judgement which is required for the worthy exercise of his ministry’ .26

But the rural isolation and tropical climate of many parishes also affected their curas as much as the assistant clergy. In 1792 José Vicente

de Ochoa, the cura of Irimbo, requested the bishop for a transfer, explaining I now have spent four years and four months of purgatory in this parish, of whose insufferable pains my sins have made me worthy. It is not possible to explain to your Lordship how I have suffered in this terrible solitude, where bitterness has

been my bread both day and night, all to suffer and feel, accepting it all with patience and offering it to God until His Majesty wills better times.

But he had now fallen ill and so requested to be given the parish of Indaparapeo, which had recently fallen vacant, ‘whose climate I know and which agrees with me’. He promised to finish the church there, as he had done in Irimbo, asking for the parish as ‘the last reward for almost thirty years of pastoral administration’, concluding piously that ‘I look for some consolation and health with new strength, so as to work with new determination in the vineyard of the Lord.’2? Some measure of the

plight of such curas can be obtained from a letter to the bishop written , in 1799 by José Pablo de la Piedra, the parish priest of Caracuaro, complaining that his vicar had left him alone to minister to an area which measured twelve leagues by thirty, which was to say, about thirty-six by ninety miles. He had to travel to remote settlements, passing over ‘very

116 Priests and laity rough roads, inaccessible mountains and very dangerous fords across. rivers’. He had always had a vicar since entering the parish and, although

its income never exceeded goo ps. a year, he was willing to pay him 600 ps. Even so, he had to confess that only a third of his flock complied with the Easter precept of confessing during Lent. As to the difficulty of finding a vicar, he concluded: ‘I am persuaded that so general a refusal

does not simply depend on the general horror which the terra caliente inspires, but perhaps more certainly from what is known about how useless and difficult is this parish.’28 His successor, José Maria Morelos, the insurgent leader, was to thrive 1n this apparently inhospitable terrain, | engaging as much in agriculture as in his ministry.

Lest it be thought that the sufferings of the lower clergy derived entirely from the tropical parishes or were caused by an increase in clerical numbers, it is useful to cite an appeal to the bishop written in 1768 by Francisco Mariano Solis, who complained that he had been relieved of his post as coadjutor of the church of San Juan Bautista in Guanajuato. His function had been to teach doctrine, hear confessions and take the sacrament to the dying. Indeed, during the plague of 1762, he had administered the last rites to 2,531 persons. But, since he had lost his post, he lacked all means of subsistence so that ‘I have become a poor beggar of a priest, since 1n order to eat I have gone from house to house on several occasions and I am now ashamed to do so again.’ In effect, he had been reduced to begging for alms.2? Obviously, such an appeal to the bishop was inspired by desperation: other priests found their niche and

there were always pious benefactors willing to succour any indigent cleric. But the opinion of the curas of Irapuato in 1809, that most of the lower clergy lived in a state of poverty barely able to clothe themselves respectably, reminds us that the cases here cited were not exceptions to a general rule, but should be seen as exclamations of desperation uttered within the context of low earnings. The wealth and status of the ecclesiastical elite was thus matched by the endemic poverty of the clerical proletariat. IV

One unexpected result of secularisation was an increase in the number of Indians and mestizos ordained as priests. As early as 1697 the Spanish crown had issued a rescript which had expressly called for the admission

of mestizos and Indian caciques to the priesthood. This policy was reaffirmed in August 1769 when the crown not merely insisted that seminaries should be established in all dioceses, but also ordered that a third or a quarter of all students should be Indians or mestizos.*° By then

Priests 117

it was clear that the secular clergy could not compete with the friars in conducting their ministry in native languages and hence would have to

rely on native ordinands to assist them as vicars. In Valladolid, as we have seen, Bishop Sanchez de Tagle set aside six of the thirty bursaries of his new seminary for Indian candidates, albeit of noble family. What success

met this policy is difficult to say, since all we possess are scattered references to Indians acting as priests, without any overall census. That in 1809 the cura of Charapan reported that his vicar, ordained for his knowledge of Tarascan, was an Indian was an accident which in no way demonstrated the presence or absence of other native priests.3! At Piedad in 1790 we have reference to Juan José Sandoval, described as an Indian

born in the town, who was accused of abusing his authority as vicar by having a boy arrested and whipped.32 That mestizos were admitted to the priesthood as a matter of course was demonstrated by a successful

application for the tonsure and admission to minor orders by José Cris6tomo Gonzalez y Ramirez, a native of San Miguel el Grande and a student at San Nicolas, who described his father as ‘a pure Indian’ and his mother as a Spaniard.33 He was admitted by reason of his knowledge

of Otomi. In effect, there 1s good reason to suppose that many of the candidates who were ordained for their command of native languages were themselves probably of Indian extraction, albeit usually of the cacique or mestizo class. By the late eighteenth century the process of mestizaje often worked in both directions, which is to say, that both poor creoles and noble Indians frequently had distant ancestors from across the racial divide. The one ethnic group in society who were debarred from entering the priesthood were the mulattos, at this time a numerous class in the Bajio

and the tropical coastlands of Michoacan, whose slave ancestry, no. matter how distant, still counted against them. This rule was all the more

invidious since by the last decades of the eighteenth century many ‘mulattos’ had entered the artisan class and often passed as Spaniards or

mestizos, especially since there was often extensive intermarriage between the different ethnic groups and strata that composed the Mexican population in this epoch. Just how confusing the situation was can be demonstrated from the case of José Manuel Apresa, who in 1770

applied for the tonsure, the first step towards ordination, presenting certificates which demonstrated that his parents and grandparents were all Spaniards. But when the preliminary banns were read out at mass in Guanajuato, witnesses came forward to assert that his maternal grandmother was ‘a mulatta de saya and known as such in this city’, and indeed that she was the daughter of a slave. The result of this challenge was that

the diocesan attorney advised the bishop against allowing Apresa to

118 Priests and laity proceed to minor orders since he had the ethnic status of a morisco, a status which debarred him from the priesthood, adding that, ‘although

this condition is not an irregularity in written law, it is in the nonwritten, through the legitimate and universally accepted custom in these kingdoms and even tacitly approved by His Holiness in frequent acts of conceding dispensations to those who appeal against this defect’. It was © with some anguish that Apresa asserted that the hostile witnesses were animated by hatred of his father, only then to admit that he could not

afford the cost of written depositions, adding ‘great poverty casts a shadow over family lineage, since if the poor cannot either mix with persons of quality nor dress like them, their very poverty degrades them’. Anxious to see justice done, Bishop Sanchez de ‘Tagle commissioned the parish priest of Silao to visit Guanajuato to take sworn depositions from

witnesses. The heartwarming result was that seven individuals, all Spaniards in status, affirmed that the grandmother was not a mulatta but was either a mestiza or an Indian principal. One witness affirmed that the reason why she wore a saya over her head ‘was her poverty, not her being a mulatta, black or slave’. But another witness denied this, asserting that she wore a rebozo or that when she went to the sacrament ‘she raised her

outer skirt over her head’. After these depositions, a search in the baptismal register revealed that she had been baptised as a mestiza, and thus Apresa was allowed to go forward, since he had ‘no mixture of the race of blacks or mulattos’.34 Not all these cases had such a happy outcome. In 1788, when Rafael Ramirez Becerra, a native of Zapotlan el Grande, a coastal jurisdiction, applied for the first tonsure and four minor orders, several witnesses in his home town declared that this family was notoriously considered to be mulatto, especially on his father’s side. Yet Ramirez had studied at the colleges of San Francisco de Sales in San Miguel el Grande and at San

Nicolas in Valladolid, which had accepted his baptismal certificate declaring him to be ‘a Spanish child’. Both colleges provided testimonials as to his good behaviour. With the support of his patron, a widow willing

to advance close to 2,000 ps., Ramirez appealed to the Council of the

Indies for permission to take the matter to the Holy See, the only authority competent to grant dispensations from diocesan rules. But the Council accepted the opinion of the diocesan attorney who, if he admitted that in strict justice there was no good reason for denying Ramirez ordination since he was of proven good conduct, nevertheless, insisted that since in New Spain mulattos had always been excluded from the priesthood, it was not advisable to allow him the chance of obtaining

a dispensation from Rome, as this would open the door to other applications from candidates of ‘base blood’. Moreover, the attorney ©

Priests T19g explained that mulattos were excluded from the priesthood, “because there has been noted tn this kind of person bad and perverse inclinations and because of this they are reputed as contemptible and as base persons by the men of honour who compose the republic’. It was thus not simply the stigma of past slavery but the presumed character of most persons of

African descent that debarred mulattos from ordination. The Council

of the Indies accepted the attorney’s opinion and denied Ramirez permission to proceed with his appeal to the Holy See. In his last, pathetic letter to Bishop San Miguel, Ramirez protested that he was now insolvent owing to the cost of his appeals, although he had to maintain |

his mother and three unmarried sisters. Even if his grandmother had been a mulatta, ‘in public, notorious and common esteem I have been accepted as a legitimate Spaniard without stain or defect’ and as such had

been admitted to two colleges which had testified to his good conduct. He concluded: ‘since I came to the age of reason, I was always inclined to the ecclesiastical state and with that expectation I dedicated myself to study, consuming my youth in that’. But such protests, no matter how moving, were all to no avail: his petition was denied and he was informed that it was useless to continue with his appeals.*°

A third case of this kind, more fortunate in outcome, demonstrates that denial of the tonsure to a candidate might well injure the social standing of his entire extended family. When the banns for José Ignacio de Alcarez y Medrano were read out in Guanajuato, the cura, Dr Manuel de Quesada, noted that the candidate’s maternal uncle, Ramon Espinosa

y Villasefior, a master tailor, had been recently denied a certificate of limpieza de sangre, a certificate declaring that he was an old Spaniard

without admixture of the ‘bad blood’ of Jews, Moors and blacks. Although Espinosa and his parents passed as Spaniards, his maternal grandmother was thought to have been a slave. As can be seen, inquiry thus reached back into the late seventeenth century. According to a hostile witness, the Alférez Real Fernando Pérez Marafién, Espinosa

descended from an illegitimate mestizo son of the city councillor, Damian de Villavicencio, who had begot a child off Maria Sebastiana, ‘who they say was a slave’. One of the children of this union was Nicolas

Villasefior y Cervantes, a tailor. Such were the ramifications of these allegations that at this point another of Alcarez’s uncles, a leading silver refiner in Marfil, José Bartolomé Villasefior y Cervantes, intervened to demand that a search be made in the baptismal register, since the case now affected his own standing as a Spaniard. Sure enough, it was found that Maria Sebastiana Cruz had been baptised in 1679 as an Indian and that her illegitimate daughter had married Nicolas Cervantes, a mestizo,

, and that their children had been baptised as mestizos. Despite Quesada’s

120 Priests and laity continuing doubts, in 1795 Alcarez was given a tonsure and the first four orders of the clergy.*° The interest of these cases lies not merely in the pathos of young men denied a legitimate and honourable career simply owing to an accident

of ancestry. What they further reveal is the social complexity of late eighteenth-century Mexico, where artisan families of casta extraction had reached the pomt where their sons might aspire to enter the priesthood. Such was the racial mixture in the Bajio that many individuals had little certainty as to their antecedents. Yet the Spanish crown and the colonial church still attempted to maintain an outmoded system of ethnic castes

and, in particular, deny respectability to the descendants of African. slaves, no matter how extenuated that descent might prove to be. Obviously, much depended on local circumstances and, where a family was either powerful or lacked enemies, few obstacles would block its social ascent, thereby allowing its sons to enter the priesthood. Every case was different. For all that, the unfortunate outcome of Ramirez Becerra’s

appeal demonstrated the sheer weight of ethnic prejudice against mulattos that still haunted the upper reaches of colonial society, a prejudice that was not extended in such blatant form either to mestizos or Indians. V

Curas were also expressly named by the bishop as ecclesiastical judges, charged with applying canon law, exercising first instance jurisdiction.

To judge from complaints, the parochial clergy in Indian districts employed native alcaldes to whip and imprison offenders who transgressed the traditional norms of Christian society. The exercise of this jurisdiction, however, required the compliance of the local magistrates appointed by the crown, and conflict between the two powers was always liable to occur especially when individual passions were aroused. It was

only during the latter decades of the eighteenth century, however, that

the crown actively sought to curtail, if not eliminate, ecclesiastical jurisdiction. In any case, priests inevitably took account of the hierarchy

of colonial society, neither daring nor wishing to apply the same. penalties to the social elite that they imposed on the populace. In the last

| resort, the authority of any parish priest depended on his ability to attract the support of the local elite, be it Indian or creole, and where necessary, to invoke the power of the royal magistrates. The bishop maintained a gaol in Valladolid; but it was a costly business to send any delinquent |

there. Episcopal authority best served curas by intercession with the viceroy or intendants for the purpose of mobilising local magistrates.

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What remained to the parish priests was their right to deny access to the sacraments and to excommunicate any determined offenders. That the parochial clergy at times inflicted summary punishments was attested by the statement of a widow from Piedad, who complained in 1790 to the viceroy that Juan José Sandoval, an Indian born in the town, had abused his authority as vicar by arresting her son and having him badly beaten.3’? She further complained that the local cura, Francisco de la Barcena Cagiga, had belonged to the bishop’s ‘family’, so that she

could obtain no redress in Valladolid. On examining the case at San Miguel’s request, Barcena found that Sandoval had suspected the boy of | robbing jewels from an image in his church and had ordered him to be

whipped and imprisoned with chains so as to make him admit the offence. He confessed that Sandoval had the reputation of being violent

and not given much to reflection. In response, the diocesan attorney ordered Sandoval to be severely reprimanded or else expelled from Piedad. But he also advised that the widow should be sharply reproved for her slander of the bishop and that the royal magistrate be requested

to despatch her to Valladolid, there to be confined in the women’s asylum (casa de recogidas) until she repented.

A more serious case occurred in Tancitaro where in 1780 the parish priest, Juan Vicente Gomez Davalos, was found guilty by the provisor and

vicar general of the diocese of having ordered two Indian women to be whipped to the point that they both suffered abortions.28 He was commanded to install a vicar in his place and to take up residence in the

seminary in Valladolid, there to undertake spiritual exercises for a period of four years. Having spent much money on his defence, Gomez Davalos accepted the verdict, albeit claiming that his conscience was

clear, but appealed to the bishop to dispense him from the sentence, since in the city he would be a source of scandal and shame for his companions in the priesthood. Instead, he sought permission to work in a friend’s parish and eventually to exchange Tancitaro for the parish of Cuitzeo. But the diocesan attorney advised the bishop that although he had the power to moderate its terms he could not substantially overturn the provisor’s sentence. Although Gomez Davalos should be allowed to leave until the scandal passed away, he should be obliged to undertake the spiritual exercises in the city, albeit residing in a priory rather than in the seminary.

A similar case had already occurred in 1766 when the Indians of Zapotlan denounced their Franciscan cura for whipping them and for changing the route and time of their processions during feast-days.?9 In reply, the Franciscan admitted that he had administered a light whipping (cordonazos) to those Indians who had come late to mass, and that he had

122 Priests and laity whipped and imprisoned an Indian who had hid under a mat so as to listen to his wife’s confession. As for the processions, they used to be

conducted ‘very late at night and in a disorderly fashion’. He had changed the route so that they would finish before nightfall. When the leaders of the Indians had attempted to follow their old route, he had sentenced them to eighteen strokes of the lash. The cura complained that the Indians did not observe the church fast during these Holy Days, but persisted in ‘the disorder of gluttonous meals, drinks and dinners’ tn their

houses. Finally he denied that one Indian had died as a result of the whipping: after his punishment he had been seen drinking and playing his violin and guitar before succumbing to a sudden fever.

It should not be imagined that Indians always accepted the punishments inflicted by the clergy. In 1785, when the parish of Pomaro was advertised for the appointment of a cura, its villagers walked for twelve days to Valladolid to beg the bishop not to appoint the current, interim cura, José Joaquin Ortega, since he could not understand their T'arascan nor they his Spanish.4° Soon after, the Indians rioted and, armed with

sticks and stones, liberated prisoners from the local gaol; wounded Ortega’s nephew in the head; and, when the cura tried to flee on horseback, pulled him off his mount, obliging him to walk over ten miles to the next village. On hearing of these events, the bishop requested the cura of . the adjoining parish of Maquili to investigate the matter. ‘The depositions

he took showed that prior to the incident the villagers had already complained of Ortega insulting people, of beating an old man and of demanding eight young men to work for him on his cotton and chilli farm. It was clear that his punishments had provoked a great deal of resentment. Although Ortega defended himself and demanded rigorous penalties, the vicar general simply instructed him to return to his parish and treat the Indians ‘with the gentleness and kindness that is fit for such ignorant and rustic unfortunates’. An amusing incident from Cuitzeo in 1782 shows that reverence for the clergy was not universal nor automatic, and that if priests meddled with the populace they could easily come to grief.4! The feast of Corpus Christi was celebrated by the local Indians by consuming great quantities of pulque, which left many of them utterly drunk. The subprior of the

Augustinian convent in the town was standing near the royal treasury when an Indian tried to give a ride to a woman on his mule. Since they were drunk, both fell off, much to the amusement of the standers-by, including the subprior. But the woman’s husband then arrived and immediately started to insult the friar. —T’o restrain the man, the subprior lightly struck him with a cord he carried, only himself to be attacked by

the Indian who picked up a stone and hit him on the top of his head,

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causing him to bleed profusely. ‘The local magistrate then intervened to have the offender imprisoned, ordering him to be whipped, all without any plea from the subprior.

The right of ecclesiastical judges either to imprison or to inflict corporal punishment on offenders, however, was strongly contested by

the last generation of ‘enlightened’ Spanish bureaucrats to govern Mexico. When a group of Indian tenants in Apaseo refused to pay tithes on crops hitherto exempt from the tax, in 1787 the local cura despatched their leader in chains to Valladolid to be tried by the jueces hacedores. The Indians appealed first to the local magistrate and then to the high court in Mexico City against these proceedings. The crown attorney for the treasury, Ramon de Posada, demanded that the prisoner should be freed

forthwith and that the ecclesiastical judge of Apaseo should be reprimanded for invading royal jurisdiction. When Bishop San Miguel refused to comply with what he designated an invasion of ecclesiastical jurisdiction, Posada insisted that it was contrary to the Laws of the Indies for the church authorities to order the imprisonment of an individual without recourse to the secular magistrates. The question was settled by successive royal rescripts issued in 1787 and 1788 when, in response to an inquiry from the high court in Mexico about the appropriate procedures

for dealing with an offender guilty of sacrilegious theft, the crown declared that the right to sentence and inflict corporal punishment was solely the prerogative of the temporal power. The old practice, whereby diocesan courts had passed sentences of corporal punishment, delegating infliction to ‘the temporal arm’, was thus finally brought to an end.*? At all points the church thus found its jurisdiction challenged and reduced. VI

Relations between district magistrates and the parochial clergy could always turn sour and lead to conflict, especially when personal passion intervened. In particular, the sexual proclivities of some alcaldes mayores

and their tenientes de justicia often elicited ecclesiastical censure, especially when offenders scandalised the public by neglect of their religious duties. In 1764, Bishop Sanchez de Tagle complained of the current alcalde mayor of Valladolid who not merely wished to be treated as if he were the equal of the bishop, but was also guilty of maintaining illicit relations with two women, both well born, whom he had set up in houses in the city. Unabashed by the bishop’s reproaches, the magistrate refused to attend any functions in the cathedral and registered as Indian tributaries cathedral staff who had always been accepted as Spaniards.*? In this case the bishop’s complaints met with a favourable response from

124 Priests and laity the high court which ordered the magistrate to apologise personally to the prelate.

A striking illustration of how sexual licence could provoke open conflict between royal and ecclesiastical jurisdiction occurred in 1768 in

the parish of Ayo el Chico, situated in the hills bordering Jalisco and subject to the high court of Guadalajara. First news of the case came in August 1768 when the cura, Dr Ignacio Antonio Palacios, informed Sanchez de Tagle of the scandalous behaviour of the local tentente de justicia, Joaquin Camargo, who not merely had initiated illicit relations | with the wife and daughter of Francisco Rojas, but had been seen by witnesses disporting himself with the daughter one afternoon by the river bank where people of the town were accustomed to walk.44 When Rojas

complained about these goings-on, Camargo imprisoned him. Events took a dramatic turn when the cura sent his ecclesiastical notary to warn — the magistrate not to frequent Rojas’ house, only to learn that Camargo

had promptly imprisoned both his notary and the assistant later sent to remonstrate. At this point the cura summoned the citizenry and ‘in the

name of our Holy Mother Church’ instructed the Indian alcalde or magistrate to release the notary and his assistant from gaol. He also posted a notice of Camargo’s excommunication on a board outside the.

church. By then Camargo had fled to La Barca, where the district magistrate resided, taking with him Rojas’ daughter, who was by then expecting his child. On hearing of these events, the bishop wrote to the high court in Guadalajara, demanding that Camargo be punished for ‘his contempt for ecclesiastical jurisdiction’ and his unconscionable offences against God’s law. But Camargo now appealed to the high court for relief, presenting a recurso de fuerza, arguing that the parish priest had attacked him and undermined his jurisdiction as royal magistrate. He

also claimed that he had imprisoned Rojas because the man had physically attacked his wife with an axe. Much to the bishop’s indig-

nation, the high court accepted this appeal and, indeed, strongly condemned the cura for his ‘scandalous and disorderly proceedings’ which had overturned royal jurisdiction. Palacios thus had to lift his sentence of excommunication and leave the parish, with the result that

Camargo returned in triumph and promptly imprisoned several unfortunates who had testified against him. Rojas continued to languish

in prison. In response to the high court’s demand that the cura be punished, the bishop despatched the neighbouring parish priest of Piedad to take depositions from witnesses, all of whom declared in favour

of Palacios, so that in June 1770 Sanchez de Tagle concluded the case first by affirming that Palacios could not be blamed for his actions but that, nevertheless, taking into account ‘the superior insinuations of that

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royal senate’, the high court of Guadalajara, the cura should spend eight days attending spiritual exercises and that in all future cases of conflict with magistrates he should first consult with the bishop. What this case demonstrated was the jealousy with which the civil authorities regarded any public exercise of ecclesiastical authority, especially when it entailed an appeal to the populace. It was this jealousy which led the high court and its attorney to ignore Camargo’s scandalous abuse of his office and fix all their attention on the conflict of jurisdiction. The degree to which a parish priest’s authority could be nullified by conflict with magistrates was further illustrated by a letter written in 1798 by the cura of Coalcoman, a coastal district in Michoacan, in which he

begged his bishop to provide him with an interim appointment elsewhere. José Antonio Vargas complained that ‘the drunkenness of this town and the irreligion of its residents is well-nigh incorrigible’. He had preached to ‘these people, almost heretics’, without success and could obtain no assistance from the royal magistrates in obliging them to attend

mass on Sundays.*5 Soon after entering the parish, he had preached against drunkenness and, on hearing of a rowdy, immoral dance in a nearby rancho, had sent a messenger to halt the uproar. But the brother of the subdelegate, Santiago Aguilera, hit the man with a Knife, insulted the priest by name and ordered the dance to continue throughout the night. ‘The next day Aguilera went to the priest’s house, shouting that he was not the first cura whom he had beaten. Although Vargas called a

meeting of leading citizens, he could find no one willing to replace Aguilera as the agent of the subdelegate. Moreover, Aguilera now burst into the offices of the tobacco monopoly where the cura had confined a woman accused of ‘illicit commerce’ with his nephew and, knife in hand, restored her to her lover. Vargas ended his letter with a passionate plea for another appointment, adding ‘here I can do no less than exclaim: in what land do I live? What is my future here?’ Confronted by such evident contempt for the church and its laws, he felt ‘without support or health’ and demanded: ‘your Lordship, what should I do? Your Lordship will not allow me to die in this land. Please remember that I served in the

college with the greatest dedication and that I have served in the administration of sacraments for eight years.’ After two years at Coalcoman he was ready to die. No doubt by then accustomed to such pleas from the clergy in the more remote parishes, the bishop simply

advised him to stick more closely to his ministry and refrain from quarrelling with the royal magistrates. In particular he was reprimanded for trying to assemble the citizens of his parish to replace Aguilera, since such actions exposed ecclesiastical jurisdiction to censure.

Such were the poor relations between the clergy and the royal

126 Priests and laity bureaucracy by the close of the eighteenth century that the authorities on both sides of the divide were apt to take action without either full inquiry

or consultation. In 1796 there occurred an incident in Salamanca, insignificant in itself, which demonstrated how wide was the distance which then separated the secular and spiritual arms of the monarchy.*° It all started when the subprior of the Augustinian convent, Fr. Joaquin Romero, entered the office of the royal mail, only to be greeted with abuse from its manager, Pedro Mier who, irritated by previous complaints about poor service, shouted that the Augustinian provincial ‘was not worth anything, he was a pig who did not know his obligations’. Indeed, anyone in the postal service was better and more honest than these friars in their cells. Infuriated by such a tirade, Romero rushed at Mier shouting ‘let me kill this dog’, only to be surprised by a fierce counter-attack in which Mier scratched his face ‘with his nails, drawing blood’. The friar then picked up a pair of scissors but was restrained by Mier’s son and by a sergeant in the militia who was present. Both men then came to their senses, separated and reported the incident to their superiors.

When news of the affair reached Valladolid, the diocesan attorney characterised Mier’s assault as a ‘horrible and sacrilegious crime’, which automatically rendered him subject to ‘the terrible chain of anathema’. Bishop San Miguel agreed with this opinion and commanded that Mier’s excommunication should be posted on the doors of all churches in the diocese. Thanks to the mediation of influential friends, however, Mier entered the priory and there begged pardon for his offence on his knees, albeit ‘in an irritating and provocative fashion’, so that the local ecclesiastical judge lifted the sentence of excommunication. By then, however,

a report of the incident had reached Mexico City and the director general of the post complained to the viceroy, expressing his amazement ©

that a servant of the crown could be excommunicated, especially since Mier ‘is subject to the high and private jurisdiction of your Excellency’. The treasury attorney adopted an equally critical view of the matter, asserting that Romero was the guilty party and that the bishop should substantiate a case against him, as was set out in the rescript of 1795 and

the new code of Laws of the Indies. Although the current viceroy accepted this opinion and demanded satisfaction from San Miguel, no reply was forthcoming and it was left to his successor, Miguel de Azanza, to renew this demand in 1799, writing: Your Lordship should arrange to provide satisfaction to the public so that the honour and decorum of the royal office of the post can also be vindicated, and that above all, its manager should be absolved from censure, thereafter framing the relevant case against Father Romero as regards his offences, so that in the

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light of the decision which Your Lordship might take about this, this Superior Government can resolve what is most convenient.

Vil

But the bishop, convinced of Mier’s guilt, chose not to reopen the case and simply ignored the viceroy’s letter. And there the case rested.

The context of these local conflicts between the parochial clergy and magistrates had been transformed when in 179§ the crown issued a rescript incorporating articles of a projected new code of law for the Indies in which the absolute immunity from royal courts hitherto enjoyed by all ecclesiastics was abrogated in cases where members of the clergy were judged guilty of ‘grave and atrocious crimes’. The procedures of assessment were not clearly established and, although the presumption was that royal judges would intervene once the ecclesiastical judges had

found an individual guilty, the criminal bench of the high court in Mexico, led by its attorney, Ambrosio de Sagarzurrieta, at once initiated a campaign to bring erring priests to justice, not hesitating to instruct the intendants to confine them in royal gaols. The spirit animating the court

was expressed by Sagarzurrieta when he claimed that ‘atrocious and scandalous offences by secular and regular ecclesiastics are frequent’

and demanded that it was for his court, the Sala del Crimen, to determine which offences were to be classified as ‘atrocious or grave’, regardless of what the church authorities had to say about the matter. In any event, only fifteen cases were heard by the court, and several of these were strongly contested.*7

In a strongly worded letter addressed to the Minister of Justice, the

bishop of Puebla recounted the scandalous incident of Manuel de Arenas, the parish priest of San Juan Quismixtal, who had been imprisoned in a public gaol by the intendant of Puebla, acting on orders from the Sala del Crimen.*® The case originated when the cura reprimanded the local agent of justice (encargado) for allowing his daughter to sleep with a youngster without any suggestion of marriage, only then to be insulted by the magistrate in the streets of the town. Incensed by such behaviour, coming as it did from ‘a chino married to a mulatta’, the priest had the crown’s agent imprisoned by the local governor of the Indian community. Aware that this action would be interpreted as an attack on royal jurisdiction, the diocesan provisor ordered Arenas to leave his parish and confined him in a Franciscan priory in Puebla, there to

await an inquiry into the case. It was at this point that the criminal court in Mexico, acting on receipt of a complaint from the aggrieved

128 Priests and laity magistrate, commanded the intendant to imprison Arenas, which he did by sending a troop of soldiers to the priory to escort him to the public gaol. These proceedings created an immense public scandal; the case became ‘the conversation of the kingdom’; and the bishop had to employ

his influence to restrain the populace from riot. What rendered the incident all the more reprehensible was that when the high court heard

the bishop’s appeal, it ordered Arenas to be freed and, as the law demanded, directed the prelate to initiate proceedings. It was the broad implications of the affair which most concerned the bishop. With their immunity lost, the parochial clergy now stood exposed to the slander of local magistrates, men who were often of the lowest quality. Indeed, the subdelegate of Tetela, in whose jurisdiction the incident had occurred, © was ‘a monster of vice, drunken, blasphemous, a libertine’. Already, three priests in his diocese had been imprisoned simply on the basis of denunciations lodged with the criminal court by district magistrates. And

yet, the bishop added, nothing better maintained the tranquillity of monarchies than the intimate union of the priesthood and the empire .. . the clergy is a class in the state which by reason of its fundamental principles and its own interest will never break with its king and lord. Constituted by their ministry as the teachers of the people, ecclesiastics not only teach the holy dogmas of religion, but also teach subjection to the powers of the world.

Elsewhere, when respect for the clergy had been undermined, the monarchy’s authority had also been diminished. Indeed, since the Mexican clergy had lost its power to inflict moderate punishments, the © Indians had become insolent, so that all landowners now complained of their ‘pride and poor service’. It was in 1799 that the leading bishops and chapters of New Spain

addressed extensive memorials to the crown, protesting against the abrogation of the absolute immunity of the clergy and the headstrong application of the 1795 rescript by the Sala del Crimen. The chapter of Mexico, writing on behalf of all the American clergy, declared that the rescript, which embodied the new code of the Laws of the Indies, ‘has | caused the most sensational cases which occupy all the attention of this royal audiencia and has embittered the ecclesiastical state, not without disquiet to the whole kingdom, where religion is so well based that ministers of the altar are afforded the greatest veneration’.49 Since the time of Constantine the Great the Catholic clergy had enjoyed immunity.

But now the world was flooded with books attacking the church. Hitherto, the clergy have been ‘seen as another species and of another | nature’, but if they were subjected to public punishment, they would fall

Priests — | 129 into contempt and lose their influence over the people. But the ruin of the church would be soon followed by that of the empire since ‘its firmest support is religion . . . it sweetens the chains of vassalage’. After all, the — clergy traced royal authority from God, whereas ‘the other sects deduce it simply from the social contract’, theories which had caused the present

catastrophe in Europe. Yet where once Hernan Cortés knelt in the dust to kiss the hands of the Franciscan missionaries in Mexico, the judges of

the high court’s criminal bench now actively persecuted the clergy, accepting recursos de fuerza against the bishops’ jurisdiction, taking offence at the slightest cause, and, worst of all, ordering priests to be confined in common gaols. The new laws ‘not only have robbed the clergy of their privileges, but have also stripped its members of the distinction that corresponds to them according to common law’, since it was the rule that persons of quality were not to be put in the public gaol. In effect, the crown had enjoyed the patronato of the American Church and indeed ‘the donation of the West Indies and its tithes’, on condition that the church and its clergy should be maintained and honoured: the chapter now feared the worst consequences of the attack on the clergy’s privilege.

In 1804 the archbishop of Mexico, Francisco Javier de Lizana y Beaumont (1802-11), complained bitterly to the crown of ‘the intolerable excess which the abuse of bringing recursos de fuerza has reached tn this country’. When a bishop issued a judgement against any individual, the

lawyers immediately presented an appeal in the high court of justice, which now increasingly inclined to find against the hierarchy’s rulings. Even in the case of ordination, where a candidate had been refused for confidential reasons, the royal magistrates had intervened. Lizana also lamented the mounting tide of individual secularisations, whereby friars

obtained licence from Rome to abjure their vows as religious yet continued to officiate as priests, much to the scandal of the laity. Any attempt to prevent them celebrating mass at once elicited an appeal to the high court. Whether it was ‘the corruption of customs, the influence

of the country or the blood of infidels’ which accounted for this abandonment of the cloister he was not sure, but obviously ‘the desire for

liberty reigns here far more than in Spain’. He concluded by warning ministers that the ‘libertines’ sought to destroy all ‘hierarchies’ and were the church to be further weakened the authority of the crown would be threatened. It was in 1809 that Lizana returned to the same theme to complain that the crown ‘has placed many new and successive restrictions on the exercise of ecclesiastical jurisdiction since the middle years of the eighteenth century’. He reminded Madrid that ‘it was principally through the secular and regular clergy that the Americans have been and

130 Priests and laity are loyal to God and the king . . . he who has the priests has the Indies’. But the ministry, headed by Manuel de Godoy, ignored these warnings and strove to devise new means of exploiting the wealth of the American Church.*° In 1810 Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, parish priest of Dolores,

called out his native flock into rebellion and thereby sparked off an insurgency in which the creole clergy were able to play the leading role.

7 Confraternities and parochial income |

I

~ In 1775 the royal accountant of community funds discovered that many Indian villages lacked any collective fund because their lands, capital and

cattle had been absorbed by confraternities and brotherhoods whose income was devoted to ‘church ceremonies, dinners, fireworks and other useless and harmful things’. Not only were the Indians themselves often reduced to poverty by such expenses, but at times royal tributes could not be collected. On learning of these abuses, the crown attorney, Juan Antonio de Areche, called for measures to end this evil by abolishing the confraternities and returning their property to the village. In the same -

vein, the bishop of Oaxaca recommended that each village should be allowed only one brotherhood (hermandad) in which all adults were to— be enrolled, with a small charge made for the upkeep of the local church and its liturgy.! Once alerted to the existence of innumerable popular organisations, about which the crown possessed virtually no record, in 1776 ministers in Madrid issued a rescript which declared that all confraternities required a royal licence and that their constitutions should be inspected to ensure

they conformed with royal policy. It was later emphasised that these

organisations were temporal rather than spiritual in character and that their property was subject to royal rather than ecclesiastical . jurisdiction. Over 500 copies of a rescript of 1791 were circulated which stringently prohibited confraternities or any similar body from meeting

without a royal official present. When the intendant of San Luis Potosi informed the viceroy later that year that the local branch of the Third Order of St Francis had met without informing him, the crown attorney replied that he should assist at all such meetings or else send his legal counsel.2 Indeed, he was advised to treat all unauthorised meetings ‘as clandestine and illegitimate’ and was ordered to provide

information on all confraternities which lacked the requisite royal licence. 131

132 Priests and laity In 1796 the crown demanded that all existing confraternities should submit copies of their constitutions to the Council of the Indies, with a view to obtaining a licence. But when in the same year four confraternities of Toluca, dedicated respectively to the Most Holy Sacrament, the Holy Cross, St Febronia and the Rosary and Holy Souls, applied for ratification of their constitutions, the attorney for New Spain, Ramon de Posada, roundly denounced the prejudice and disorder produced by the countless number of guildconfraternities and other bodies which through whim, seduction or vanity have been established and are increasing every day in the churches of both the regular and secular clergy, in chapels and convents, throughout the Dominions of the Indies . . . all redounding to public harm by réason of the weekly contributions, the excessive costs of the mayordomias, through which countless families of poor subjects are ruined every year.

His suggestion that only two confraternities, dedicated to the Divine Sacrament and Holy Souls, should be allowed and the rest prohibited was accepted by the Council of the Indies. What entirely escaped the attorney’s ‘enlightened’ concern was that the archconfraternity of the Holy Cross had over 300 members and was dedicated to a venerable image housed in an old chapel built by farmers in the district. So also, the

confraternity of St Febronia, which had been founded in 1685, had | over IOO members and possessed a new constitution approved by the archbishop only a few years before. But, since such associations were described as ‘a profane body’, entirely lay in membership, and hence subject to royal jurisdiction, they were to be suddenly extinguished, victims of bureaucratic intolerance. The difficulties which lay in wait for confraternities seeking approval can be further observed in a case from Calimaya in Tenango de Valle, where since 1785 parishioners had petitioned for permission to establish a confraternity dedicated to St Joseph and Holy Souls. It was in 1802 that the same fiscal of the Council of the Indies reviewed their proposed ordinances and strongly objected to the provision of 25 ps. for the funeral

of their members, arguing that brothers should not be given a more elaborate ceremony than what was appropriate to their social class. Surplus funds should be spent ‘in succour of poor prisoners or the sick or other useful things for their neighbourhood’. More generally, he suggested that all other confraternities in the parish church should be abolished, and asked that the viceroy be exhorted ‘to render uniform and organise these useful establishments which sustain the liturgy, benefit the souls of the departed and remedy the necessities of the ill and invalid’. Returning to his previous proposal, he advocated the amalgamation of

Confraternities and parochial income 133 these societies, retaining only two dedicated to the Divine Sacrament and

Holy Souls, with the aim of supporting the liturgy and paying funeral costs.4 In these proposals, we encounter evidence of the reiterated ambition of the Bourbon bureaucracy to regulate all aspects of social life

in Mexico, ambitions, we may suspect, more easily realised on paper. than in reality. But what was the purpose of this multitude of confraternities? Were

they as important or as pernicious as the fiscal claimed? Before any answer to this question can be offered, it is necessary to distinguish between the various types of society all listed under the same heading. In 1794 Archbishop Nufiez de Haro informed Viceroy Revillagigedo

that he had enumerated within his extensive diocese no less than 951 confraternities, brotherhoods (hermandades) and congregations, of which he had abolished 500. However, he counselled caution in dealing with the Indians since ‘they were very tenacious in maintaining their customs

and devotions’, and might well riot were their brotherhoods and mayordomias to be suppressed. Provided a parish priest or a royal magistrate was present at their meetings, no harm would come from their continued existence. Turning to the associations of Spaniards and castas, © Haro divided them into three broad categories: retribucién temporal, by which he meant societies whose members paid a monthly fee in return

for funeral expenses; associations which simply supported liturgical functions, usually in their parish churches; and those which he called spiritual, whose members gained special indulgences through regular prayers. But he failed to distinguish between confraternities which were. composed of individuals attracted by special devotions and those which

expressed the corporate identity of particular occupations or communities. Nor did he note that most religious orders had groups of laity attached to their priories by incorporation in a Third Order or a confraternity. Moreover, despite variations, virtually all these associations were self-governing, met regularly and were led by the laity.

Most confraternities had a capital endowment and they all used their income both to cover the cost of masses and other liturgical functions

and to pay for the funerals of their members. The same form of organisation thus spanned the social scale, since poor carriage-drivers and wealthy merchants usually belonged to their respective confraternities, governed by similar or identical constitutions. Only in their resources did they differ, with several of the great archconfraternities of Mexico City possessing a capital endowment of over 500,000 ps. each.5 When enlightened ministers and officials sought to curtail the activities of these bodies, they thus struck at the very substance of post-Tridentine Catholicism, a religious culture which had been remarkably successful in

134 Priests and laity enlisting the laity into both public demonstration of their faith and the maintenance of the liturgy in all due pomp and splendour.

Ol In Michoacan, Bishop San Miguel took advantage of the crown’s demand for a complete schedule of church income to elicit from his parish priests a detailed list of all confraternities, congregations, mayordomias and Indian hospitals known to exist in 1791.6 Obviously, curas differed considerably both as regards the detail they provided and

as to which institutions and funds they chose to include in their submissions. So also, twenty-two parishes, small or isolated, did not enter the grand summary, no doubt because their curas failed to answer the bishop’s circular. Moreover, at no point was any mention made of the membership of these associations, so that it is well-nigh impossible to assess their penetration of local society. Despite these qualifications, San

Miguel compiled a list of no less than 519 associations and funds, possessing a combined endowment of 1,006,166 ps. distributed inunequal fashion between city and countryside and across the three main provinces of the diocese.

What this scheme demonstrates is that although the intendancy of Guanajuato exceeded Michoacan in population, its ecclesiastical frame-

work had not been modified to encompass this increase. With only twenty-three parishes catering for its inhabitants, the Bajio did not possess an adequate pastoral ministry. In effect, Michoacan still maintained associations and institutions that dated from the sixteenth century, when the northern province was little more than a frontier zone. At the same time, the survival of the Indian communities in the Michoacan highlands obviously favoured the maintenance of the hospitals established by Vasco de Quiroga. In effect, the list compiled by San Miguel included highly diverse institutions. In both Spanish towns and Indian villages, the functions of a confraternity were often assumed by individual mayordomos who either administered endowment funds or who simply covered the cost of particular liturgical functions out of their

own pocket. In Indian villages the distinction between hospital, mayordomia, confraternity and the community at large was by no means clearly defined. Obviously, it was only in the leading cities of the diocese that there existed any associations that comprised particular occupations

or which were linked with guilds. Finally, it should be noted that although the endowment at § per cent interest yielded an income of 50,308 ps., this figure is a gross underestimate of confraternity expendi-

ture, since members usually contributed monthly fees, and, more

Confraternities and parochial income 135 Table 3. Confraternities in Michoacan diocese, 1791

Confraternities Endowments

(no.) (%) (ps.) (%o) Valladolid 27751 53.4 Guadalajara 9.8468,340 64,07246.5 6.4 Province

Guanajuato 132 25.4 338,811 — 33.7 San Luis Potosi 59 11.4 134,943 13.4

Total | 519 100.0 1,006,166 100.0

Valladolid 15 79,029 Guanajuato 17 116,941 | Cities

San Miguel el Grande I3 62,199

San Luis Potosi 20 72,901

Total 65 12.5 331,070 32.9 Source: ACM, XIX, 14, 4 Aug. 1791.

important, mayordomos often subscribed considerable sums on their own account. If we examine the Hispanic sector first, the most cursory examination

of the 1791 summary reveals that there were three essential confra-

ternities which virtually every parish possessed. By far the most important association was the archconfraternity of the Most Holy Sacrament, which was responsible for funding the masses, sermons and processions of Holy Week and Corpus Christi and at least one monthly sung mass. As the senior association within any parish, 1t was headed by leading citizens and was generally the oldest, wealthiest and most honoured of all lay institutions. In second place, most parishes possessed

a Marian confraternity which assumed the task of funding the feasts of the Immaculate Conception, the Annunciation, the Visitation, the

Presentation and the Assumption. Although the oldest of these associations were generally dedicated to the Rosario, there existed a considerable diversity of Marian advocations. The third essential confraternity was Benditas Animas, the Blessed Souls in Purgatory, which organised processions on All Souls day and generally raised alms for masses for the dead. But in addition to these three prime associations,

there existed any number of bodies, especially in the leading towns, which served as burial societies or which helped to maintain particular churches and chapels. Both in the cities and in the countryside, many | of these lesser confraternities were created precisely to support the

136 Priests and laity liturgy in chapels which supplemented the activity of the main parish church. Of the 132 confraternities located 1n the 20 parishes of Guanajuato for which information 1s available, 36 were dedicated either to the Eucharist or to Christ under the advocations of Santo Entierro (Holy Burial), Jesus Nazareno and Veracruz. If the oldest and wealthiest of the thirty-eight

Marian confraternities bore the title of Our Lady of the Rosary, other advocations such as Soledad, Dolores and Purisima Concepcion were also common. Although Our Lady of Guadalupe figured as the patron of New Spain, only four associations were dedicated to her. There were six

archconfraternities of the Holy Cord of St Francis, which in reality were branches of the Franciscan Third Order, associations which were distinguished by their construction of separate chapels. As regards the saints who figured as patrons of twenty-six confraternities, the most frequent names were San Jose, San Nicolas Tolentino, San Antonio and

San Roque. In effect, we encounter a relatively limited number of advocations, which were distributed uniformly across the province, nor

is there any reason to suppose that the remainder of the diocese exhibited any different pattern. The central role of the Eucharist confraternity can be clearly observed

from the statement of the Archicofradia del Santisimo Sacramento of

Querétaro, an association founded in 1665 with the archbishop’s approval, which in 1795 obtained approval of its constitution from the high court of Mexico, since it had never applied for a royal licence. Its principal object was ‘the most religious sumptuous and magnificent cult of Our Lord Jesus Christ in the most august sacrament of the Eucharist’. Its membership of about 200 was recruited from both sexes and included many of the distinguished residents of the city, who by reason of their wealth or their office engaged in charitable activity, ‘pouring forth with Catholic liberality copious voluntary alms’. Like most such bodies, the confraternity covered the cost of Corpus Christi, Maundy Thursday, Good Friday and a monthly Sunday mass. It also maintained a coach and mules to carry the viaticum to the sick and the dying.’ Its members paid half a real a week and on death were provided with a shroud and funeral worth 20 ps. In a proposal from a cura to establish an eucharistic confraternity 1n his parish (not identified), we may observe that membership was to be open to both men and women and to Indians and castas as well as Spaniards.

After a common entrance fee of 2 reales, Spaniards were expected to contribute 2 real a week and the other ethnic groups % real. But the purpose of the association was not simply to fund the principal feasts of the liturgical calendar, but also to encourage its members to participate

Confraternities and parochial income 137 on these occasions. During the octave of Corpus Christi, all cofrades were expected to confess and take communion, to attend an anniversary mass for all deceased members and to participate in a procession through the streets before attending vespers in the parish church. Every third Sunday of the year, the confraternity was to arrange for a sung mass, followed by a procession round the aisles of the church accompanied by the Eucharist under the pallrum. On the death of a cofrade, the governing body, if not all members, was expected to attend the funeral. In addition to the Marian confraternities which supported and funded the feasts devoted to the Mother of God, virtually every parish possessed an association or a capital endowment which not merely funded the feast

of All Souls in November, but which also actively collected alms for funerals and anniversary masses celebrated across the year. An illustration of how these societies operated can be found in a petition from a group of residents in the oddly named barrio de los desterrados in Guanajuato, who in 1759 applied for permission to form a brotherhood of Benditas Animas, the Blessed Souls in Purgatory. They agreed to visit the cemetery of San Sebastian each Monday, reciting the rosary as they walked around its boundary, and to attend mass in its chapel, their '% real weekly contribution employed to pay for this mass and for the lantern and candle which they carried in procession. They also hoped to set up a stall on the main highway entering the city, with a painting of the Blessed

Souls, so as to solicit alms. It is significant that of the twenty-four prospective deputies, only five could sign their names.? Their project evidently met with success, since in 1791 their brotherhood figured as the chief support of the church of San Sebastian.

Apart from confraternities charged with the celebration of the main

events of the liturgical calendar in the parish church, there were a number of associations which acted as simple burial societies, or which embodied the social identity of particular communities or occupations. Thus, for example, in 1767 the bishop approved a new constitution for

the brotherhood of San Roque which was attached to the Franciscan priory in Valladolid, and reorganised by its mayordomo, José Simon Gonzalez, an Indian cacigue. Each brother had to pay an entrance fee of 2 reales and a fee of 2 real each week. In return the confraternity gave 12% ps. or a Franciscan shroud for the funeral of every defunct brother,

together with a sung mass attended by all members of the society carrying candles. The confraternity also held a monthly mass and procession around the cloister, carried its banner through the streets in Holy Week and celebrated its patron’s feast with especial solemnity. Where the funds did not cover the expense of these functions, it was up to the mayordomo and the governing board of twelve deputies to reach

138 Priests and laity into their pockets.!0 Although this was a poor society composed of Indians and poor artisans, its constitution and practices were similar to all the lesser confraternities. By 1791 it had come to own a house and two patches of land worth 683 ps. and to enjoy an income of about 500 ps., mainly derived from a membership of 167 individuals.!!

Such associations, however, could always serve to express social solidarity. In 1804, for example, the mayordomo and deputies of the

archconfraternity of St Francis, located in the parish church of Acambaro, sought the bishop’s permission to erect a simple chapel in the cemetery of the parish, ‘where we would have our services and celebrate

the respective functions of our brotherhood’. The local ecclesiastical judge reported that all members were poor, men who ‘maintain themselves by their work and are all of broken colour’. About three of them owned small workshops with two or three looms for weaving cotton cloth. He noted that the confraternity took 1n a weekly fee and had been active during the plague of 1786, spending 712 ps. on funerals and other assistance. It had monies saved and could cover the cost of building the chapel, which was only to be thirty-five yards long.!2 With his recommendation, permission was granted. It was in the provincial capitals of the diocese that the complexity of

confraternity organisation could be best observed. In Valladolid, the

parochial functions had been exercised by the Franciscan and Augustinian priories until secularisation converted the sagrario, a chapel situated within the cathedral, as the city’s parish church.!3 Since this was

obviously inadequate for its purpose, Bishop Sanchez de Tagle constructed an ayuda, the ancillary church of San José. It was this history, combined with the presence of other religious houses, which determined the distribution of confraternities. As far as can be ascertained, only the

archconfraternity of the Most Holy Sacrament, a wealthy association

with an endowment of 20,590 ps., was attached to the cathedral. Moreover, in Valladolid it was the cathedral chapter and not any lay organisation which managed the funds of anniversary masses for the dead. The Franciscan priory church housed the two confraternities of Our Lady of the Rosary, one for Spaniards, the other for pardos, which had been founded as early as 1586. Whereas the Spanish association had

accumulated funds worth 20,§90 ps., the mulatto society only had 1,750 ps. in capital and relied on weekly contributions to generate its annual income of 500 ps. The Franciscans had another two societies, dedicated respectively to the Holy Cross and San Roque, attached to their church, and also ministered to the archconfraternity of the Cord of St Francis, which was constructing its own Third Order chapel.

The Augustinian, Carmelite and Mercedarian priories also had

Confraternities and parochial income 139 confraternities located 1n their churches, and the Dominican nunnery of Santa Caterina housed the wealthy archconfraternity of Christ’s Precious Blood, which possessed an income of over 1,000 ps. a year to expend on

its functions. Finally, in the ancillary church of San José its main confraternity was exceptionally named after its patron rather than dedicated to the Eucharist. With an income of 1,300 ps., it not merely funded the principal feasts of the year, it also covered the cost of the oil for the altar lamp, candle wax and the salaries of the sacristan and bellringer. If we pause to reflect that in addition to the friars resident in their priories, Valladolid supported no less than seventy-seven secular priests and fifteen confraternities, then the sheer concentration of clerical funds and personnel in the diocesan capital becomes apparent. !4 The confusion between confraternity and mayordomia was most clearly evident in the wealthy mining city of Guanajuato, where the so-called cofradias of the Most Holy Sacrament and of Our Lady of Guanajuato, the image which was venerated as the city’s patron, were both in fact annual mayordomias, occupied by leading citizens who administered their funds, organised the functions and covered the deficit from their own pockets.!> Much the same was true of Benditas Animas, where the parish priest appointed a mayordomo to manage funds worth 37,000 ps. as well as a substantial annual collection of alms, which was used to pay for a weekly sung mass for the dead and a procession around the cemetery. In November the mayordomo organised processions which traversed the streets of the city, reciting the rosary and carrying an image of Christ. In

addition, the parish church housed no less than eight other confraternities, of which at least three were in fact mayordomias managed by merchants. Of these, it 1s worth noting that the mayordomia of Nuestra Sefiora de la Soledad y Santo Entierro de Cristo not only funded a weekly sung mass but also paid for processions of its images during Holy Friday and on Christmas Eve, with solemn music and great wax candles. Among the other associations, there was the congregation of San Pedro Apostol, founded especially for priests but open to laymen, and the confraternity of San Crispin y San Crispiniano, founded in 1705, which embodied the. guild of master cobblers. For the rest, the three ancillary churches of San Roque, San Sebastian and San Juan Bautista all possessed associations | which supported and helped cover the cost of their liturgical activity. The archconfraternity of La Santisima Trinidad, founded in 1743, embodied

the tailors’ guild, since although ‘persons of whatever quality or occupation’ had to be admitted, all its officers were tailors. With an income of 902 ps., 1t was well placed to assist San Juan Bautista, the church where it was located. For the rest, two former hospitals for Tarascan and Otomi Indians still survived as brotherhoods with chapels,

140. Priests and laity with an income from a number of small houses. Finally, the priory of San Diego administered by the descalced Franciscans ministered to the archconfraternity of St Francis’ Cord. In San Luis Potosi, the cura enumerated no less than seventeen confraternities, three congregations and two brotherhoods, which spanned the gamut from associations or mayordomias which supported the chapels

serving the ranchos in the city environs, to Benditas Animas with a capital of 17,848 ps., sufficient to fund a weekly sung mass and another 446 low masses, all for the dead.!®© The Franciscan and Augustinian priories had their attendant associations. But by far the most splendid of all these bodies was the archconfraternity of the Most Holy Sacrament,

founded in 1594 and united to the confraternity of Our Lady of the Rosary in 1624.!’7 Its rector and twelve deputies were recruited from _ ‘individuals of the first distinction among the citizens and merchants’ of the city. Endowed with a capital of 8,458 ps. and twenty houses let for rent, it enjoyed an annual income of 2,115 ps. which was employed to celebrate the chief events of the liturgical calendar, which is to say, Holy Week, Corpus Christi and the Marian feasts, with sung masses, vespers, sermons and processions. It also paid for sung mass every Thursday of | the year, 153 masses for benefactors and arranged for another 22 masses to be sung in the chapel it had constructed within the parish church. It also covered the cost of 250 pounds of candle wax and 30 botiyas of oil for altar lamps, which were consumed every year in that church. Its members were enjoined to avoid quarrels and promised to visit the sick, bury the dead and engage in other pious practices. As was to be expected,

its own members were buried with especial ceremony, the funerals attended by the deputies and other cofrades.

A controversy over the order of precedence in the Corpus Christi procession in San Luis Potosi reveals the public role of the confraternities

during these last decades of Spanish rule.!8 It had always been the custom for this procession to be headed by ‘giants’, puppets of the kind also to be found in Spain, followed by the Indian communities with their

standards, palms and candles, and accompanied by images from their chapels. Then came the various confraternities of the city, also carrying candles, followed by the religious orders, which in this case were

Franciscans, Augustinians and Carmelites. The twelve deputies of the archconfraternity of the Most Holy Sacrament then walked behind their crucifix. Then came the prelates of the religious communities dressed in stoles, taking it in turns to carry the sacrament and a silver candelabrum, followed by the secular clergy and the Eucharist in its custodia. But in

1779 this order of precedence was challenged by the heads of the religious orders who wished to lead their friars and be preceded by

Confraternities and parochial income 141 the archconfraternity. In 1781 the bishop resolved the dispute by simply demanding that Roman ritual be observed, in which the prelates headed their own communities, each with cross and candle, and were preceded

by the confraternities, with the archconfraternity of the Most Holy Sacrament thus leading the procession with its cross, albeit with six deputies honoured by their carrying the pallium over the Eucharist. In all this we observe the public demonstration of social hierarchy which was such a significant characteristic of post-Tridentine Catholicism.

Il What the most cursory inspection of the 1791 list reveals is the gulf that separated Indian institutions and practices from the religious organisation of Hispanic society, be it creole or casta. For most Indian villages still possessed the hospitals founded by Vasco de Quiroga in the sixteenth century, some quite decadent, others still flourishing, all of which were

invariably dedicated to the Purisima Concepcion. Some of these hospitals still possessed lands or cattle which yielded an income which was used to cover the costs of the church services and feasts. Although the hospitals were included as confraternities, it is difficult to distinguish them from the community, at least as regards their funds. At the same time, most villages also elected mayordomos to organise the principal fiestas of the year and to cover the expenses of these occasions. In Cutzio, for example, the hospital possessed 328 cattle, 20 mares and a plot of land on which were sown 2 fanegas of maize and a quarter of cotton, an endowment which yielded an income sufficient to pay for a sung mass every Saturday, a funeral mass for every villager who died,

, candles for the weekly rosary procession and solemn mass and sermonon | the principal feasts of the Virgin Mary.!9 Managed by an elected prioste and mayordomo, the hospital was also assisted by women from the five barrios or wards into which the village was divided, who took turns to prepare food both for the sick and the hospital officers, and spin and sell

cotton mantas to bring in extra revenue. In addition to the hospital,

which operated at a community level, each barrio also elected mayordomos to organise and pay for the feasts of their patron saints and for the general feasts of Corpus Christi and the Finding of the Cross. In

the parish of San Francisco Ixtlan, however, it was the prioste of the hospital who was expected to fund the chief Marian feasts and also ‘feed those who act as apostles in Holy Week and invite the other natives on Christmas Eve to atole, on the Tuesday of Carnival to tamales, and on the day on which village offices are assumed, on Holy Thursday and the day of the Purisima Concepcidén to a small meal worth about 22 ps.’.2° |

142 Priests and laity In Uruapan the Indians named ‘captains of Moors and soldiers for the feast of the Holy Cross, obliging the father cura to dance with them on the last day, being greatly saddened if he refuses’. In addition to the

famous dance of Moors and Spaniards which has survived until the present day, the Indians celebrated the feast of Corpus Christi by dressing one of their number to represent the Archangel Michael and another the Devil, and then set up a stage and he who plays the role of the archangel, invoking the same words as in the fall of Lucifer hits him with the naked sword . . . later that day the Indian who represents St Michael is taken in procession to the royal offices where he asks

the magistrate for the keys of the gaol and releases some prisoners with small offences.?!

In effect, Indian confraternities were distinguished from their Hispanic counterparts by their identification with the community and its hospital, by their barrio affiliations, by their dramatic re-enactments of biblical and

Christian scenes and battles and finally by their provisions of meals during the feasts. In effect, it was virtually impossible to draw the line between mayordomia and confraternity and between confraternity and hospital.

Indian villages also differed from Hispanic parishes in the manner

in which they supported their curas. Since their conversion by the Franciscans and Augustinians it had been their practice to offer their pastors foodstuffs and services as well as cash, customary payments which varied from district to district. Many of the secularised parishes continued to observe this system, which was called tasacion in contrast to the standard schedule of church fees fixed by the diocesan arancel, which

were all payable in money. Thus the 350 tributary Indians of Uruapan | paid their cura 1,164 ps. a year for his officiating at weekly mass and during their various feast-days and fiestas.22 But they also paid a standard 2 ps. for burials, provided candle wax weighing twenty-five pounds, and

both at noon and in the evening supplied him with maize tortillas and tamales together with chilli and salt. Every eight days he was given meat

worth 1 ps., milk on vigils, and he also received thirty chickens and twenty-eight cotton mantles a year. The community staffed the church with singers, bell-ringers and a sacristan, and supplied him with servants for specific tasks. In other villages, such at Cutzio, it was customary to pay the priest a fee of 3 to 8 ps. for particular feasts and 2 ps. for masses on Sundays and for the dead.23 But there was also a contribution in kind, here called a pindequa, which consisted of thirty pieces of cotton cloth

each worth 1'% ps.; a pound of chocolate and a pound of sugar; and fruits, meat and conserves; but whether this was a monthly or annual

Confraternities and parochial income 143 payment is not clear. As in Uruapan, the Indians supplied twenty-five pounds of Spanish wax for the church, but added an equivalent amount of Mexican wax for rosary processions on Fridays and Saturdays. An account of the tasacién customary in Indaparapeo dating from 1742 provides an interesting variant in that each village within this extended parish fed their pastor for twenty days at a time, a practice designed to oblige him to shift from hamlet to hamlet across the year.24 Every day at noon and in the evening he was given two chickens, one of which was a ~

guinea-fowl, together with maize tortillas, water and firewood. In exchange he had to bury adults for “% ps. and children for % ps., officiate at weddings with a mass for 2 ps., and administer baptism for

3 reales. During Lent he was expected to visit each village to hear confessions at no charge other than his food. Each village celebrated its patron saint’s feast with solemn high mass and procession, paying their

priest 20 ps., part in cash, part in produce. For the general feasts of Corpus Christi and the Immaculate Conception the fee was 24 ps., but for lesser occasions the rate fell to 9 or even 3 ps. In all, the parish priest —

of Indaparapeo estimated that at most he gained 1,200 ps. a year, of which a third consisted of local produce, a sum which by 1790 had risen to 2,189 ps. IV

Although confraternities played a central role in parochial life, their contribution to parish finance should not be overestimated. Curas in this epoch earned more from the administration of the sacraments than from

the celebration of mass. To examine the sources of their income, however, it 1s necessary first to review the arancel, a printed schedule of parochial fees, promulgated in 1731 by Bishop Juan José de Escalona y | Calatayud.2° Its opening lines reminded parish priests that it was their

duty to visit the sick and administer the sacraments without charge to. those members of their flock who were too poor or ill to pay the standard fees, a principle reaffirmed at its close when priests were warned not to. oblige the laity to celebrate any religious function nor to exact any labour — service from Indians without paying the usual peon wage. Between these laudable sentiments, the arancel set out in considerable detail just what

fees were to be charged for the services of the church. In effect, the parochial clergy gained their livelihood through the administration of the sacraments and the celebration of mass; it was expected that every exercise of sacerdotal power should be rewarded by payment of an appropriate fee. ‘Thus, for example, whereas a sung mass cost 8 ps. and a solemn high mass with vigil 16 ps., the rate for an ordinary ‘low’ mass

144 Priests and laity was I ps. For a movena of masses organised for the celebration of a feast

one paid 27 ps. or 18 ps. according to whether they were sung of not. Anniversary masses for the dead cost 6 ps., and any sung mass which was accompanied by a procession and vespers, as was regularly provided by confraternities, 8 ps. As can be observed, the collective acts of parochial

worship all carried a fee for their celebrants. It was thus the task of the confraternities to raise the funds which ensured that the principal feasts

of the liturgical calendar were distinguished by solemn high mass, sermon and procession.

A striking feature of the @rancel, which was to arouse the ire of nineteenth-century Liberals, was its provision of different rates of fees for

the three main ethnic groups into which the population of the diocese was divided, which was to say, Spaniards, castas and Indians. Whereas marriages cost Spaniards 8 ps., mulattos were charged 4 ps. and Indians only 2 ps. Baptisms, however, were administered at a standard rate of I ps. a head, regardless of race. Moreover, the clergy played a central role in perpetuating these ethnic distinctions, since most parishes kept three

separate registers, grouping individuals according to their ethnic | category, often including mestizos with Spaniards, but firmly assigning

anyone of African ancestry, no matter how remote, in the register of mulattos and blacks. This system of ethnic differentiation was exacerbated by the division of parish churches into four sections, running from the altar to the main entrance. Only priests and clerics in minor orders could be buried within the altar rails in the area known as the presbytertum, an honour for which they were charged 20 ps. The three sections open to the laity cost 10 ps., 4 ps. and I ps., according to their proximity to the altar. To judge from

the way in which this system was applied in one parish church, the section closest to the altar was effectively reserved for Spaniards, where funerals were conducted with candles, high cross, bells and responses, at

a cost of 8 ps.26 Poor Spaniards were interred in the two remaining sections for 3 ps. and 1'/ ps., with the indigent relegated to an outside cemetery for a mere 4 ps. In this instance both mulattos and Indians were interred in the third section of the church, closest to the entrance, paying 11/4 ps. and *% ps. respectively. All these charges were obviously |

minimum rates. At Irapuato in 1804 a first-rate funeral, with mass and responses and an orchestra with four violins, two clarinets, two trumpets, a cello, a bass and five singers, cost 40 ps.27 With fewer instrumentalists and singers the cost of the function declined to 25 and even Io ps. The practice of employing the church as a graveyard had profound implications. It meant that the community literally prayed over the bones of its ancestors. The anniversary masses celebrated across the year gained

Confraternities and parochial income 145 added meaning by the close proximity of the mortal remains of the deceased. That even in death the population was divided according to its ethnicity and wealth expressed the deep sense of social hierarchy that pervaded post-Tridentine Catholicism in America. At the same time, church burials could also lead to health problems, as when in 1780 the town council of Salamanca reported the effect of the current smallpox epidemic to Bishop Rocha.?8 Since so many people had died, ‘the only church in which they are buried now emits an intolerable stench’. The air was infected and the faithful no longer wished to attend

mass. To deal with the situation, the city evoked ‘the economic and political power which this council exercises in the royal name of His Majesty’, to decree that all the dying who were obviously povertystricken should be buried ‘as a work of charity, without paying parish fees’ in the field which already served as a cemetery for the Indian chapel.

In a letter to the bishop, written at the end of March, the parish priest, Salvador Sebastian Nieto, commented that ‘this and similar calamities had their chief origin in the anger of God, provoked by our sins’. The best remedy would be for the citizenry to desist from its scandalous behaviour

and to put an end to public amusements. He estimated that in about eight weeks some 2,200 deaths had occurred, a rate which meant that the sepulchre in the parish church had to be opened every day as bodies were

brought in from the countryside for Christian interment. As for burial fees, he depended on such monies for his income. Nevertheless, he had adhered to the diocesan arancel governing such matters, which clearly laid down that the very poor should be buried without charge. It was to avoid the obvious dangers of infection that in May 1804 the crown issued a rescript commanding that cemeteries should be established outside all

towns, ‘with the aim of avoiding the harm caused to health by burying corpses inside churches’.2? But since it was only in 1808 that the bishop

despatched a circular requesting parish priests to comment on the practicability of this scheme, it is highly doubtful whether any steps were taken to implement the rescript.

To ascertain the respective parts played by the administration of sacraments and the celebration of masses in parochial revenue, it is convenient to examine the summary accounts presented by the cura of Zitacuaro, a prosperous town in Michoacan, set out in Table 4. Out of this revenue the parish priest employed three vicars, to whom he paid a stipend of 260 ps. each and in addition maintained a permanent vicar at the church of San Mateos at a cost of 755 ps. Once he had paid a copyist 208 ps. and deducted minor expenses, the parish priest was thus

left. with an annual income of 3,402 ps. The fabric of the church was allocated 70I ps. accruing from interment charges and, once the

146 | Priests and laity Table 4. Average annual income of the parish of Zitacuaro, 1800—4 (pesos)

Baptisms1,088 504 Marriages Burials 1,637

Rogation masses 222

Patron saint masses 445 Confraternity masses 693 Masses for the dead 227

First fruits Lesser items 33 217 7 Holy works endowments 116

Total 5,182

Source: ACM, XIX, 37, Zitacuaro, 30 April 1805.

assistant who managed the sacristy and the bell-ringer were both paid, there remained 475 ps. for possible maintenance. It will be noted that the

administration of the sacraments yielded 62 per cent of parochial income; the remainder derived from masses funded from diverse sources. The parish possessed a small endowment of 5,190 ps. charged on houses ©

and haciendas, which yielded 259 ps. a year and was used to cover the costs of oil for the altar lamp and fund certain masses. So also, the three confraternities that it housed had a joint income of 626 ps. derived from a capital fund of 12,461 ps., which was expended in the provision of masses and feast-day celebrations. In these humdrum figures we may

observe how the church and its clergy were supported during the eighteenth century. If we probe another set of accounts, rather more detailed, we can also demonstrate that the assistant parochial clergy, the vicarios, could earn

more than their stipend of about 300 ps. by deputising for the cura at masses funded by confraternities. ‘The importance of this scheme lies not in the magnitude of the sums involved but rather in its illustration of the division of fees between the parish priest and his assistants. It suggests

that vicars were able to increase their meagre stipends by performing

many of the functions of the parish. Moreover, it should be noted that Leon possessed two Indian pueblos in its suburbs, each of which possessed their chapel, where no doubt the services of the assistant clergy

were frequently required. In all, 1t appears that the town had eight

confraternities which contributed a total of 597 ps. a year for the celebration of masses and feasts, of which the three vicars took 279 ps. and the cura 317 ps. What is by no means clear is whether in their reports

Confraternities and parochial income | 147 Table §. Confraternities and mass fees in Leon, 1775 (pesos)

Confraternity Functions Vicario Cura Total Our Lady of the Rosary Mass every Saturday §2 26 78

Monthly mass I2 6 18 Feasts of Our Lady 8 24 32

4 anniversary masses 6 22 28

Most Holy Sacrament Monthly Sunday mass 12 6 18

Individual masses 9 18 27 Anniversary masses I 5 6

Total II§ 140 255 Corpus Christi Octave 15 33 48

Source: ACM, XVIII, 451, Leon, 10 Oct. 1775.

to the bishop, parish priests merely reported their own earnings or whether they included the ad hoc fees earned by their assistants in the

Vv |

parochial total.

In 1791 Bishop San Miguel compiled a detailed schedule of parochial revenue. To obtain this data he had circulated all curas in his diocese and, where no answer was forthcoming, he included figures already available

in the episcopal secretariat. There was nothing new in this quest for reliable information, since Bishop Sanchez de Tagle had already imposed

a small annual charge on all clerical income, the pensién conciliar, to support the Tridentine seminary.*° But the new inquiry was prompted by the crown’s decision to levy an Ecclesiastical Subsidy on all the clergy, charged at the rate of a sixth of their stipends over a period of four years. What San Miguel’s submission revealed was that at 322,274 ps. a year, parochial fees (derechos parroqutiales) equalled the tithe levied on agri-

cultural production as a major source of church revenue. This grand total, it should be noted, included the net earnings of 127 parish priests, - 39 priests appointed as sacristans and the monies raised to maintain the physical fabric of churches. The net income of the curas then came to

253,467 ps., a figure which yields an average stipend of 1,993 ps. However, if we piece together what were obviously incomplete returns, we encounter another §9,552 ps. paid to 178 vicarios, which had been

already deducted from the statement of parochial income, since the assistant clergy were not obliged to pay the Subsidy levied by the crown, a figure yielding an average stipend of no more than 33§ ps...

148 Priests and laity Table 6. Parochial income in Michoacan diocese, 1791 (pesos) Church —

Parishes Curas fabric Sacristans ‘Total Percentage Vicartos

Guanajuato 23 94,772 21,002 14,657 130,431 40.4 19,027 (57) Valladolid 82 107,381 16,923 4,586 128,890 40.0 32,225 (96)

Guadalajara II 21,662 3,002 1,757 26,421 8.2 §,000 (15) San Luis

Potosi II 29,652 4,379 2,501 36,532 + I1.4 3,300 (I0)

Total 127 253,467 45,306 23,501 322,274 100.0 59,552 (178) Note: The eleven parishes in Jalisco (including Colima) were transferred to the diocese of Guadalajara in 1794. The bracketed figures under the vicario column indicate the number of vicartos listed in each intendancy. Source: ACM, xix, 14, 4 Aug. 1791.

Above all else, what the 1791 summary revealed was the extraordinary inequality, not merely in clerical stipends, but in the size and prosperity

of their parishes. At one level it expressed the contrast between the densely populated, urbanised parishes of Guanajuato and sparsely inhabited, mountainous parishes of the Tarascan highlands and the tierra

caliente. But the returns also embodied the contrast between parishes which applied the arancel and those which depended on a local tasacién. It was precisely from the more remote districts that the bishop had the greatest difficulty in eliciting information and where the contributions

paid in the form of food and labour were no doubt understated in any submission of parochial income. On the other hand, the difficulties of the mountainous terrain often made the appointment of a vicar imperative,

even when income was low, so that in parishes such as Santa Ana Amatlan, the vicario gained almost as much as the cura.

Despite these qualifications, the contrast between the provinces of Guanajuato and Valladolid remains stunning. If we take subsequent census figures, recalculated by Fernando Navarro y Noriega, then by 1805-10 the average population for a parish in Guanajuato was 25,000 individuals, whereas in Michoacan proper, it was only 4,800.3! As a direct result of this startling difference, whereas the average net earnings of the cura in the Bajio were 4,105 ps., in Valladolid they amounted to

no more than 1,309 ps. On the other hand, it 1s clear that because the southern province possessed so many parishes, its inhabitants contributed considerably more to the church 1n parish fees than was the case in Guanajuato. The greater number of confraternities and mayordomias and hospitals 1t possessed also indicates that its inhabitants were more

Confraternities and parochial income 149 willing to contribute to the celebration of religious functions than occurred among the shifting population of the Bajio. In 1796 Bishop San Miguel informed the high court in Mexico that he proposed to revise the general tariff of clerical charges introduced in 1731 by his predecessor, Bishop Escalona y Calatayud.32 After sixty years there

was good reason to reform, since customs and outlook had changed, thereby effecting ‘a notable decline in the public cult and religious functions to which ministers’ stipends are tied’. At the same time, prices

for most things had risen greatly, simce whereas in the seventeenth century nuns’ dowries and priests’ chantry endowments had been fixed at 2,000 ps., it was now necessary to raise provision to 4,000 ps. Thirty years ago, parish priests had hired vicars for 300 ps., but they now found it necessary to pay them 700 ps., even though ‘the clergy is very much augmented in this bishopric’. But although clerical stipends needed to be increased, he had rather sought to reduce the fees set out in the arancel,

explaining that whereas ‘my predecessors established an income for ministers which was comfortable and 1n proportion to the esteem which they enjoyed at that time, I have established what is absolutely necessary, so as to conform to the present day, in which criticism and satire have replaced veneration and respect’. He therefore reduced the fees charged by the episcopal secretariat and the diocesan courts. As for parochial fees, by and large he left them unchanged, not wishing to reduce the clergy’s

income, but unable to increase them, since ‘today’s opinions and customs have made contributions to the Church so hateful’. What the bishop failed to note was that the increase in population in his diocese, when combined with his decision not to divide the populous parishes of the Bajio, meant that the income of the clerical elite who administered these districts grew appreciably in these last decades of the colonial epoch. It was the persistence of the clergy in applying the arancel as regards baptisms, marriages and funerals which was destined to precipitate the conflict between the church and Liberal politicians that . was to culminate in the Laws of the Reforma..

8 Devotion and deviance

I In 1764 there appeared in Mexico City El fénix del amor, a history of the

celebrated image of the crucified Christ at La Piedad, written by Dr Agustin Francisco Esquivel y Vargas, a distinguished creole canon of Valladolid cathedral. On Christmas Eve 1687, so local tradition averred, a poor fisherman and his family dug out the rooted trunk of a thepame

tree, only to find that, when they threw it on their fire, it was not consumed: instead the flames revealed the features of Christ on his cross

imbedded in the wood. Soon after, three Indian sculptors visited the family and raised the image’s face by cutting the beard free from the breast. News of this momentous discovery spread through the entire district of Tlazacalca and lots were cast to determine what name

the image should bear and where it was to be kept. In the event it was called Nuestro Sefior de la Piedad — Our Lord of Mercy — and was

left in a hamlet of three cottages, which promptly renamed itself La Piedad. Soon visited by pilgrims, the first miraculous cure occurred when Dofia Emerenciana of Jaloltitlan, hitherto paralysed, rose from her wheelchair and walked. Such was the strength of local veneration

that, when the parish priest removed the image to Tlazacalca, over 200 armed men sallied forth to recover it, returning in triumph. Thereafter, two successive owners of the great hacienda of Santa Ana Pacueco,

Alonso Altamirano and Pedro Pérez de Tagie, provided funds and labour for the construction, first of a chapel in 1699-1702, and then of a splendid new church completed in 1741—52.! La Piedad became

a parish in its own right in 1748 and four years later was visited by Bishop Martin de Elizacoechea, who consecrated the church and presided over the translation of the town’s patron image to its new home.

Appointed cura of La Piedad in 1748, Esquivel y Vargas had been commanded by his bishop to gather information about its famous image. Not content with the bare outlines of the story, he adorned his text with 150

Devotion and deviance 151 a multitude of biblical analogies, comparing the original discovery of the image to the appearance of God Almighty to Moses in the burning bush.

When the image was brought back from Tlazacalca he compared the town’s jubilation at its return to the entrance of the Ark of the Covenant in Jerusalem. Nor was he loathe to emphasise the miraculous cures wrought by the image, since he cited Juan de Palafox’s affirmation that such miracles were testimony of the truth of the Catholic faith. At the

same time, however, he declared that the greatest miracles he had witnessed were the conversion of sinners, acts attested by their subsequent confessions. Such was the growing fame of the Christ of La Piedad that several copies were made and a representative image was

taken from town to town to beg alms for ‘its cult and adornment’. Arriving in Querétaro in 1750 during a plague this image was taken to the beateria of Santa Rosa where three sisters had already died, and

immediately calmed the storm of illness, in memory of which the community had a copy carved and commemorated the event by an annual mass. Dedicated to Bishop Anselmo Sanchez de Tagle, who was its. Maecenas, El fénix del amor included a preface written by a Franciscan missionary from the college of Our Lady of Guadalupe at Zacatecas, who praised Esquivel both for his learning and his pastoral dedication, adverting that, during the three-week mission he had conducted in La

Piedad, the cura had assisted throughout in the confessional and the pulpit. In his text, Esquivel described the mission conducted by Fray Antonio Margil de Jesus, when at mass the great Franciscan seemed almost to rise from the ground, so intense was his contemplation of Christ’s image. His visit inaugurated a cycle of periodic missions conducted by friars from the colleges at Querétaro and Zacatecas. But it was the preaching of a Jesuit from Leén which seems to have caused the greatest sensation, since not merely did he fiercely condemn gambling,

burning a figure covered in playing cards, but he also beat himself mercilessly with chains in the pulpit. Moved by the spectacle, the. ecclesiastical judge climbed into the pulpit to join this penitential bloodletting. Then the local royal magistrate and other leading citizens started

to scourge themselves, all confessing their sins. Such scenes were apparently by no means uncommon in eighteenth-century Mexico and were an expression of its baroque forms of devotion. As Esquivel’s account attested, the influence of the Franciscan colleges de propaganda fide was all pervasive in the diocese of Michoacan during

the eighteenth century, promoting patterns of intense Christological devotion which still await their historian. For example, in 1772, the guardian of the Santa Cruz college at Querétaro applied to the bishop for

152 Priests and laity licences to preach and administer the sacraments, since the cura of San Miguel el Grande had requested the college to conduct a Lenten mission.

, The base for this mission was to be the Franciscan church in that town and one of its aims was to encourage the erection of ‘Stations of the Holy Way’, in which the faithful followed Christ’s Passion. In the autumn of

the same year the guardian despatched three separate missions, each composed of three or four friars, one group setting out for San Luis de la

Paz, another for Tarimbaro, and the third for the terra caliente. In the meanwhile, the priests who had preached at San Miguel spent some time in Guanajuato before returning to their college.* Nor did the frequency of these missions dwindle as the century drew to a close, since in 1797 the

marquis of San Juan de Rayas, a leading silver miner at Guanajuato, sought to arrange for friars from the Zacatecas college to come to Rayas,. noting that a team of eight Franciscans from the Santa Cruz had recently conducted a mission in the rival mining village of Valenciana and in the © city centre.° Testimony of the enduring influence of the missionary colleges can be found in San Francisco Uruapan, where in 1797-8, Nicolas Santiago de

Herrera, the cura, obtained permission to establish a hospice for the Santa Cruz friars, with twelve cells and a chapel, designed to serve as a base for their preaching tours of the tierra caliente. Their influence would also benefit Uruapan itself, which was growing in prosperity and population. In his application Herrera stated: the indefatigable zeal of these workers and the reverent love which the people have for them, makes their apostolic visits very fruitful. Attendance is voluntary but almost universal. These rustic people listen to their voice with great feeling: they are instructed, they confess themselves and reform their customs. In fifteen days of mission by two or three missionaries they advance more than in all the year with the cura and his ministers.®

An explanation for the popularity of these friars was advanced by a witness supporting this application, who recalled that ‘in many communities, once the religious were ousted from their doctrinas, the Third

Orders which they had founded fell into abandon, which is what happened in this town until the zeal of the present cura reawoke it’. In effect, secularisation of the Franciscan parishes had caused a decline in popular devotion. That missions were the best means to revive Christian practice was equally affirmed by the cura of Tancitaro, who claimed that | in the tropical valleys of his parish people lived in a state of sin adding, | ‘most of those living in the hills and the wilderness neither frequent the churches to hear mass, nor confess, or profit from the exhortations of their parish priests’. Yet the austere example and the powerful preaching

Devotion and deviance 153 of the friars from the missionary colleges moved ‘even the most rustic people and the most ignorant Indians’.’ That the only other religious institute to conduct such missions was

the Company of Jesus testifies to the grievous loss suffered by the. Mexican Church at their expulsion. In 1764 the rector of the Jesuit college in Guanajuato, Ignacio Coromina, informed the bishop that he preached every Sunday at the church in Rayas, inculcating devotion to ‘the Sacred Hearts of Jesus and Mary’, with the object of attracting the congregation and ‘reducing them by this means to some kind of civilised and Christian life’.2 Once he had gained some influence over them, he dedicated a collateral altar to this devotion, claiming that ‘it has served to

reform in great measure the customs of people who lived profoundly

| oblivious to their salvation’. In many houses it was now the custom to sing ‘the divine praises’ on rising in the morning and before retiring to bed. So also, the practice of reciting the rosary, either in church or at home, had become common and many more of the faithful now frequented the sacraments, with ‘over 500 persons taking communion on the first Fridays of the month’. To hear Lenten confessions, Coromina

had taken five other Jesuits to assist him, only to find they were insufficient. He was about to establish a school for children, ‘where they will learn Christian doctrine and also to read and write’, seeking thus to | prevent their fathers from sending them to work in the mines, where their health was endangered and where they learnt how to steal. If Coromina

was able to exercise so much influence among the populace it was because, during the last great epidemic to afflict the city, his selfless zeal in ministering to the sick had attracted universal applause.® It should never be forgotten that in addition to their spectacular missions on the

frontier of empire and their daily efforts to educate the social elite, the Jesuits had always encouraged a number of their priests to dedicate themselves to the urban apostolate.

II No matter how eloquent the missions’ sermons, the Mexican populace at times remained recalcitrant to the exhortations of the clergy. In 1790, for example, the cura of Rincén de Leon complained to the bishop that

‘the natives of these villages . . . are of a hard character, proud and arrogant... their negligence in caring for the church 1s very great’. He could not persuade parishioners to contribute to the upkeep of the fabric of their church which was in danger of destruction; nor would they send their children for instruction either in school or at church. Everyone claimed to be an Indian so as to avoid the higher parish fees exacted from —

154 Priests and laity Spaniards and castas. Although three friars from the Santa Cruz college

had spent thirty-eight days on a mission in Rincon, no discernible improvement had occurred as regards contributions for the church’s upkeep.!° As was so often the case the only remedy which occurred to the

diocesan authorities was to suggest that the bishop should write to the intendant in Guanajuato requesting him to instruct the subdelegate of Rincon to insist on the Indians complying with their obligations to the church.

Provided his flock was docile, a parish priest could employ his authority as ecclesiastical judge to sentence transgressors of church law to public punishment and humiliation. In 1768 a young, illiterate creole was found to have had illicit relations with a young mestiza in a remote

corner of Inapecuaro, during which she had borne two children. On learning of the matter, the cura had them arrested and informed the diocesan court in Valladolid, which granted a licence for the couple to marry, but demanded that as punishment and penitence they were | to recite the rosary every week for two months. More important, on the first Sunday after their marriage, the couple would have to attend high mass in the parish church, standing through the occasion close to the altar rails dressed penitentially, which is to say, he ‘with loose hair and the face uncovered, a cord at the neck, a crown of thorns on the head and a cross or crucifix in the hands and she the same . . . with a black candle in her hands’.!! Once the mass was completed, they had to visit the side altars in the church, pray to the Holy Sacrament and offer 12 ps. of alms. Clearly, such public humiliation was not inflicted on the social elite, who were able to compound for their sins in private penitence. Perhaps the most striking example of the parochial clergy’s spiritual power was their ability to compel observance of the Easter precept that all the faithful should confess their sins and take communion. If in urban parishes lists were compiled and a serious attempt was made to enforce

this church law, in remote, mountainous districts the clergy ruefully confessed failure. As we have seen, the cura of Caracuaro in 1799 lamented that only a third of his flock complied with their Lenten obligation. So also, in 1808 the parish priest of Rio Verde complained that the district magistrate had not helped him enforce observance on a local hacienda where ‘the peons, tenants and squatters’ all escaped his

jurisdiction. The reliance curas placed on royal justice was clearly demonstrated in the complaints of the parish priest of San Francisco

Etucuaro who in 1788 urged Bishop San Miguel to persuade the lieutenant of justice in Tiripitio to arrest a local landowner for his failure to fulfil his annual obligation. Indeed, don Pablo Fuentes had not been seen to enter a church or hear mass during the last five years. The parish

Devotion and deviance 155 priest complained of his bad example, noting that ‘he is a very wild, uncivilised man... he has an estancia for cattle, a farm for maize and beans, and a house on his rancho where he passes the whole year, living a rustic life, not recognising any civil or ecclesiastical superior’. There was also a story of ‘a niece’ living with him. All remonstrances had failed

and the local lieutenant of justice had refused to act.!2 The solution

would be to have him arrested and sent to Valladolid where his knowledge of the Christian faith could be tested and his failure to comply with church law punished by imprisonment. In 1800 Dr Antonio Lavarrieta, senior cura of Guanajuato, lamented

that only about 10,000 of the city’s population fulfilled their Lenten obligation owing to a shortage of priests willing to hear their confession. Although the city housed almost seventy clerics, many of the unbeneficed

clergy refused to administer a sacrament which did not bring them remuneration. By contrast, in the equally populous but more rural parish of Valle de Santiago, Lic. Francisco Antonio Cano de la Puente affirmed that in his twenty-five years as cura he had experienced no problems in securing compliance with the annual precept until 1801, when he had had to publish an edict threatening no less than 175 parishioners of both

sexes with excommunication if they did not fulfil their obligation. Although some wavered, the majority proved obdurate, so that in | October he read out at Sunday mass the names of 112 men and 16 women, all of whom he solemnly excommunicated.!3 The result was that

most now repented and were absolved. But a handful still offered ‘a tenacious resistance’, leaving him with no other alternative than to request the municipal magistrate to imprison twenty men, a threat which brought most to their senses, so that in the upshot only two or three men actually went to gaol.

In cases of outright rejection of Christian doctrine and morality the Inquisition could always be brought into play, albeit often without much effect. In the episcopal archive there are the records of 132 cases arising from the years 1740-1803 and covering the whole diocese. There is no means of knowing whether this is a fortuitous, select or complete sample; nor is it clear why the accusations they preserve went to Valladolid rather than to the court of the Inquisition in Mexico City. As regards alleged offences, about a quarter consisted of incidents of bigamy and another

quarter derived from accusations of blasphemy and heretical ‘propositions’, different but closely allied crimes. About an eighth arose from denunciations of maleficia, which was to say, bewitchment and casting

spells on other people. The remainder concerned a great variety of - Incidents, ranging from amorous priests and love potions to pacts with the Devil and female folk-healers (curanderas). Many of the accusations,

156 Priests and laity especially for minor offences, were dismissed with a reprimand or penance; and only a handful were remitted to Mexico City for consideration. Indeed, since the legal requirements of the Inquisition were so complex, the diocesan authorities often advised the parochial clergy to resolve the cases by admonition or simple punishment. As was to be expected, blasphemy was more common than heresy and

was often occasioned by drunkenness or the accusations of hostile witnesses. In 1795 one drunken individual exclaimed that the Virgin Mary was a whore, and when reprimanded by a companion who reminded him that ‘God gives us to eat’, replied that ‘only his cattle gave him to eat’. For such an offence a letter of humble apology, accompanied no doubt by penitential exercises, was sufficient to end the matter. So also, when in 1767 an Indian in Jerecuaro claimed that ‘Christ did not suffer any torment, since although his Divinity made the suffering, he did not feel it’, the diocesan provisor simply commanded his parish priest

- to instruct him, as his ‘heresy’ was the result of ‘pure ignorance and rusticity’. On the other hand, when in 17§2 the local royal magistrate heard Joaquin de Velasco Duque de Estrada, a city councillor of Guanajuato, opine that a woman they knew was more beautiful than the Virgin Mary, and that the coming of Antichrist at the end of the world was a mere fable and not an article of faith, the effect of his denunciation

was to despatch Velasco to the Inquisition’s prison in Mexico City. There, the court’s Dominican attorney accused him of blasphemy, ‘in contempt, injury and offence of the most holy Virgin, whose beauty does

not admit stain or defect’ and of heresy, since church councils had affirmed the reality of the advent of Antichrist.14 Despite his denial of these offences, his repentance if he had erred through inadvertence and his allegations that he had been ‘framed’ by enemies, the unfortunate city councillor languished in detention in Mexico City for several years. Some fascinating evidence of more reasoned dissidence came to light in 1763 when Felipe Barragan, a wealthy merchant of Valle del Maiz, was

accused of doubting the apparition of Our Lady of Guadalupe, dismissing it as a story designed to assure the conquest of the Indians. ‘The priest making this accusation described Barragan as ‘a man little given to any practice of virtue; most presumptuous of his knowledge; a usurer; avaricious, outspoken in his disparagement of the reputation of others; an adulterer, a murderer and a trouble-maker’. A Franciscan added that he was universally hated since he refused to give any alms and bought maize from the poor at 2 ps. to sell it at 2 or 3 ps. It was further alleged

that Barragan had dismissed the church’s collection of tithes as an injustice, as a man-made law which had nothing to do with God’s will.!5 On looking into the case it was found that the accused’s father, Rufino

Devotion and deviance 1$7 Barragan, alias Gabriel del Castillo, had also been denounced for claiming that simple fornication was no sin, but ‘a natural thing’. Indeed, not only had he lived with several concubines, raising their children as if they were legitimate, but he had also encouraged his sons to follow suit, welcoming their women into his house. According to these allegations, Barragan had abandoned his wife in Spain, coming to New Spain as a young man where, after spending some time on the outskirts of Mexico

producing false brandy, he had joined a well-known gang of bandits, killing and robbing, before seeking refuge in the Huasteca, where he started trading with a few mules and a stall. But he was also described as

an arrogant, lively man, who ‘without having followed any course of study, knows Latin and skilfully cites and uses sacred texts and the

authority of the Church Fathers, and makes his conversation most attractive and agreeable by raising moral questions’.!© Despite an eventual fortune of 100,000 ps., Barragan slept, and eventually died, on a simple leather couch, with linen sheets and a cheap blanket, neglected by his illegitimate sons. Nothing appears to have come from all these extraordinary accusations and in 1793 Rufino’s three sons, Felipe, José

and Miguel Barragan, were described as acting as mayordomos of a brotherhood, to which they had donated 13,600 ps. for the construction of a chapel.!”

Among the populace it was the practice of natural magic, at times assisted by invocation of diabolic powers, that concerned the clergy. In 1780, for example, a mulatta folk-healer (curandera) of Tlaxcalilla was accused of witchcraft when she cured a woman of stomach pains in a ceremony where first she lit a candle which she placed in a corner, and then she passed a whole egg without breaking it over all the body as if ironing it. Then she placed on the stomach a small chicken with rose water of Castile and oil and anointed the body with pork fat, lime and some powders which she took from her bag and which she said was tobacco; and with all this she healed the illness.!8

In such cases, the healers usually denied that they had invoked the Devil: their cures derived from natural causes. However, in 1760 and again in 1767, a mulatta of San Miguel el Grande named Maria Guadalupe, was accused of ‘superstitious magic, amatory witchcraft and sorcery and a

- pact with the Devil’. The administrator of the hacienda on which she lived denounced her for making dolls and piercing them with thorns, with the aim of causing pain to the persons they represented.!9 On being arrested, she admitted that she had indeed pierced with thorns a likeness

of the administrator, later burying it in the hope that he would fall ill. Worse still, she had done the same for her own daughter, who had died

158 Priests and laity as a result of her maleficio. Moreover, she confessed that she and a group.

of friends, nearly all mulattas, used to meet to drink rosa maria and peyote, and that on three occasions the Devil had appeared to them, assuming the forms of a pig, a goat and a turkey. She and her companions were wont to fly at night across the countryside. The Devil had appeared

to her in various guises, once as a man with chicken feet, and had had

carnal intercourse with her. To add to her sins she had once taken communion twice on the same day, and had taken the communion wafer

from her mouth so as to burn it later at home, acting ‘under orders from the Devil’. Such dramatic revelations obviously demanded severe punishment but, before she could be despatched to the Inquisition gaol

in Mexico, she died in San Miguel without the blessing of the last sacrament. Nevertheless, she was given a Christian burial, since a local . Dominican theologian pronounced her crimes were against religion and morality but not against faith, since she had never denied any article of faith even if in practice her worship of the Devil was heretical.

Among a Certain class of men it was apparently quite a common

practice to make a pact with the Devil. The guardian of the San Fernando college de propaganda fide in Mexico City complained to the Inquisition that in Rio Verde a group of men had not participated in any of the sessions of the mission that his friars had recently conducted in that town. A relative of one of these men had confessed that they had all signed slips of paper (cédulas), which stated that they renounced the name and laws of Christ, and entrusted their souls to the Devil. In 1755

the Inquisition requested Fray Junipero Serra, then on mission in the Sierra Gorda, to investigate the matter, since he had powers as a commissary of the Holy Office.2° According to the two depositions which have been preserved concerning this ‘detestable confraternity’, one José Manuel Sanchez, a barber, had fallen off his horse and was offered by way of remedy ‘a written paper offering his soul to the Devil’. A friend claimed that, ‘with his help the Devil would make him a good horseman,

bull-fighter, lover and similar things’. Although it might appear surprising that a friend should be carrying such a document, it was because they were exceptionally easy to come by, there being a person in Rio Verde who wrote out these cédulas and sold them for 2 ps. each, a remarkably low price for such a Faustian transaction. Despite the inroads of the Enlightenment, many of the parish clergy © continued to believe in witchcraft and the possibility of casting harmful spells. In 1795 the cura of Santa Ana Amatlan reported to the bishop that the natives in his parish enjoyed a bad reputation for ‘their practice of

witchcraft’.2! It was to counter the influence of the Devil that he had requested a mission which had lasted for twenty days, thereby opposing

Devotion and deviance 159 ‘the common enemy who has obtained such profit from the errors which were introduced into unhappy France and whose infernal contagion now appears to be spreading in this kingdom’. Himself obviously untouched

by such errors, the priest accused an Indian widower of being a practitioner of ‘the diabolic art of maleficio’, claiming that he may have taken the life of his wife and was now sleeping with the wife of a cousin, whom

he had rendered impotent by his curses. With the assistance of royal justice, the cura arrested the Indian and then requested the bishop for information as to how he should form a case against the man. But the diocesan attorney pointed out that 1n the case of Indians only the bishop could act as judge, since the Inquisition was forbidden to meddle with

natives. But cases of impotence and sudden death often had natural causes and to initiate legal proceedings would be very costly. He counselled that the cura be praised for his zeal but instructed simply to — reprimand the Indian for his offences. Episcopal jurisdiction over Indians accused of superstition and other such offences was exercised 1n a decidedly lenient fashion. At San Luis de la Paz, the parish priest received an anonymous letter which alleged

that a group of thirty Indians was accustomed to meet at night in their chapel, there to drink peyote, a common hallucinogen, to whip crucifixes and to play the role of priest.2 Sure enough, on the night of 29 December 1796, the cura discovered fifteen men and some women shut in a room which had an altar, many candles, four plates in which there were 6 ps. of cash, and under the altar a jar with peyote in water. Two men were playing their guitars. On being questioned, the Indians admitted that they were drinking peyote, explaining that ‘they take it so as to weep and pray with more fervour’. The music also moved their emotions and caused ‘tenderness and tears’. Another declared that ‘the peyote helps one to understand where God is and moves one to give alms for God’. They explained that they were collecting money for masses to be offered to the image of Ecce Homo in San Miguel. One of the men, José Gil Morales, was captain of the Mecos dancers and was nephew of Pedro Ramirez, an Indian priest resident in San Miguel. Unimpressed by these declarations, the cura asked the royal magistrates to imprison all the men for further questioning. At this point any number of accusations and counter-accusations erupted, all derived, it would seem, from a quarrel between rival claimants for the post of governor of the community. When

the matter was considered by the bishop he commanded the cura to release the natives, since some had been kept in the local gaol for five months. In any case, it was common knowledge that the Indians of San Miguel and San Luis drank peyote in the belief that it would render their prayers more effective. By way of punishment the bishop ordered that the

160 Priests and laity fifteen men should confess and receive communion and present themselves at high mass in the parish church ‘with their hair loose, a lit candle in their hands, a rope at the neck and a crown on their heads’.

But the cura’s inquiry had revealed that two Indian women had entered the Calvary chapel, the one to whip a cross, the other to bury a cross with the heads and bones of dogs. When questioned as to the purpose of these acts, they replied that the cross had been whipped in order ‘to plead with. God’. The burial of the cross with dog bones was an

instance of sympathetic magic, designed to procure the death of an unwanted spouse, since the woman in question was engaged in an adulterous affair. In this case, the bishop ordered the two women to parade around the square of San Luis after Sunday mass wearing crowns

on their heads, and there in public to be exhorted to abandon their superstitious beliefs. This exercise was to be repeated as often as deemed necessary by the parish priest, and was to be followed by the penitents confessing and taking communion four times in the next two months.

One unfortunate effect of these proceedings was that the cura had ordered the Indians’ Calvary chapel to be destroyed, an action which

elicited episcopal disapproval, especially since the Indians had complained to the viceroy, whose counsel had condemned the priest as ‘a usurper and violator of the regalian rights of the royal patronato’. In the event, the cura was obliged to pay 100 ps. for a new chapel.

The monopoly over preaching and the liturgy exercised by the. Catholic clergy was always liable to be invaded by the laity, a challenge which was repelled with considerable rigour. In an undated letter from Mexico City, a parish priest complained of the unwillingness of parents to send their children to school, claiming that only Io or 12 boys out of a possible 300 attended classes with the master installed by his predecessor. But he also denounced the ‘wild masters’ (maestros cimarones)

who wandered from village to village ‘reciting prayers so that the youngsters might learn’.23 From teaching children their prayers to aping

the role of missionary friars was but a short step. In 1742 Juan José Rodriguez, a free mulatto, was arrested in Zamora at the request of the local commissary of the Inquisition. His offence was to go through the streets ‘exhorting the Indians .. . scourging himself in front of them’. On this occasion he did not preach any sermon but simply uttered an act of contrition and other common prayers.2* But elsewhere, on a hacienda, he had recited the rosary with two women and then showed them a reliquary

which contained, so he claimed, the Eucharist, so that they knelt in adoration. He alleged that he was a member of the Third Order of St Francis and that he had been given special powers by his prelate to distribute communion ‘in case of death’. On another occasion he had

Devotion and deviance 16I entered a church in the village of Guarachita, crying out to attract the people, and had scourged himself with a chain, calling upon the Lord to have mercy on him. On arrest he was accused of fomenting idolatry,

since the reliquary with a small silver custodial only contained an unconsecrated wafer and a print of Our Lady of Sorrows. As punishment he was stripped to the waist, paraded through the streets, and in the main square given twenty-four strokes of the lash, after which he was freed.

Guilty of littlk more than an excess of religious enthusiasm, was Rodriguez punished so harshly because the local Franciscans perceived in his actions a vulgar parody of their own penitential practices? The practice of carrying copies of famous images from town to town with the aim of raising alms could easily lead to abuse on the part of the demandantes, as the licensed alms-collectors were called. In 1765 there

appeared in the mining town of Guadalcazar, situated amidst the sparsely inhabited haciendas of San Luis Potosi, a lay preacher dressed in a gown of coarse serge, with a short cloak of the same material, and a white hat that he wore hanging from his shoulders.25 On his feet he had leather sandals and from his belt there hung a metal cross and rosary. In appearance he was a coyote, a white Indian, with a long scanty beard, a

round face and a long nose. He carried a straw image of Jesus the Nazarene of San Pedro Piedragorda, with a silver crown, housed in a tabernacle with a glass front. He also had with him a standard with an iron cross, seven small bells and a drum. Such a striking figure soon provoked suspicion and he was arrested by the local Franciscans who denounced him to the Inquisition. The offence of José Luis Barbarin was to wander through the remote

haciendas and villages of San Luis Potosi accompanied by two youngsters who rang the bells or played the flute, and on arrival at a settlement to sound the drum to assemble the people and then stand on a stall and preach. Like the Franciscan missioners, he concentrated on the sufferings of Christ ‘in the way of bitterness’, so moving his hearers ‘as to make them interrupt with compassionate groans’. He then recited the rosary, intermingled with responses sung in Latin, especially the con dominus vobiscum. When asked about his status he replied that he was ‘an apostolic father’, which was to say, a Franciscan missionary. Had he

been content with simple preaching he might not have angered the Franciscans so much, but Barbarin fell into the error of encouraging idolatry. For he claimed that the image of Jesus the Nazarene which he carried sweated blood from the wound in its side every Friday. Moreover,

he distributed strips of cotton and small pieces of bread, all crimson coloured, which had been dipped in this blood. Then again, he had with him a small monstrance in which there was ‘a host of white paper and a

162 Priests and laity print of Jesus’. Pretending that the monstrance held the Eucharist, he genuflected before it in adoration, inviting his audience to join him in worship, an act which the Franciscans condemned as idolatry. Just what he did on particular occasions obviously depended on who was present, since the administrator of a hacienda described him as ‘silent, humble, and very devout’, noting that he simply assembled the people with his drum to recite the rosary and responses. But the administrator did not believe him to be a priest and after the prayers were ended said to his wife: ‘if this hermit does this before us, what will he do among the more remote people and ranchos?’ In the event Barbarin was arrested and the local Franciscans confis-

cated his belongings, throwing his custodial into the fire as an object of idolatry. However, on inspection of his papers they found that he possessed a licence to beg, issued by the cura of San Pedro Piedragorda, and a notebook in which to record the alms he had received. On being sent home Barbarin was imprisoned by the cura, who sent him to the gaol

in Guanajuato where he would be fed by charitable visitors, since in nearby Leon several prisoners had died of hunger. The cura reported to the Inquisition that Barbarin had previously acted as a schoolmaster in San Pedro Piedragorda and had been universally liked, since ‘he has always been taken to be very good, to the point where his simplicity and humility amused people’. He had been given a licence to beg for alms in Guanajuato so as to raise funds for the parish church. On receiving

this testimony, the Inquisition attorney decided to drop any further proceedings, since framing a case with witnesses from the scattered and shifting population of San Luis Potosi would be difficult and costly. In any case, it was clear that Barbarin had been impelled by ‘his good and simple character and not by malice’. In the event, Barbarin was released from gaol and entrusted to the custody of his parish priest, who simply reprimanded him, ordering him to sign a declaration never to act as a demandante again, and then freed him without further punishment. The practice of churches with well-known images sending out agents

to collect alms, usually carrying a copy of the original, continued throughout the eighteenth century. In 1799 the mayordomo of the sanctuary of La Salud in Patzcuaro obtained permission to seek alms for | a period of two years in the bishopric of Michoacan, since the chapel’s income was so low.2© However, in 1794 the current viceroy, the marquis of Branciforte, complained to the Council of the Indies that the diocesan

authorities had granted licences to ‘an infinite number of people’ to wander across the country, begging alms for their images. At times, so he

claimed, they had converted the matter into a business and took a commission on the proceeds, or even purchased a licence cash down.

| Devotion and deviance 163 Although the crown attorney demanded that the diocesan courts should be ordered to form a summary account of all demandantes on circuit, the high court observed that the existing Laws of the Indies allowed bishops to grant these licences without seeking viceregal approval. The response of the Council of the Indies, however, was swift, since in 179§ a rescript was despatched commanding the bishops to limit the issuance of such licences, which in all cases henceforth had to be first approved by the

viceroy.2? At all points the Bourbon bureaucracy sought to curtail ecclesiastical power and jurisdiction.

Il In a pastoral letter of 1769, Archbishop Lorenzana expressed his concern |

at the excesses of popular religion and magic, condemning all superstitious cures and the use of peyote. In particular he banned, under pain of twenty-five strokes of the lash, ‘all live representations of the Passion

of Christ our Redeemer, the Volador pole, the dances of Santiago... representations of Shepherds and Kings’.?® Much the same view was

adopted in 1772 by a newly appointed parish priest of Santiago Tlatelolco, who proposed ‘a great reform as regards images, since they are innumerable and most indecent, ugly and ridiculous, which far from exciting devotion only serve to provoke mockery and derision’.2? The

gulf which separated the new breed of enlightened cleric from the popular religion of the baroque era was nowhere better expressed than by the parish priest of San Pedro Paracho in Michoacan, who confessed that, although he did not understand Tarascan, he found the Holy Week

celebrations unacceptable, since an Indian was chosen to represent Christ, his body painted with the signs of the Passion, ‘the face, shoulders and body bathed in blood’, who was kept captive from Holy Thursday until noon on Good Friday when he was taken and tried before Pilate and Herod, all the ceremony spoken in Tarascan. He added that it was obviously conducted ‘in accordance with the Passion, but 1llsounding to my way of thinking, since I did not see anything which moved them, even in the outward sense to devotion . . . when these barbarians went from house to house asking for Jesus of Nazareth’. His

predecessor had wished to extinguish the practice but feared, as he did, to provoke a riot, since ‘they are so tenacious and bound to their customs’.?° That the priest in question was a European Spaniard no doubt accentuated his sense of alienation from his native parishioners; but enlightened creole opinion was moving in the same direction. In his pastorals, Archbishop Lorenzana admitted that ‘the Indians have a soul as noble as that of the Europeans’, but then demanded that

164 Priests and laity they should ‘know Christian doctrine, not only in their own language, but principally in Spanish’. After all, how could ‘Mexican, so thin and barbaric’, be compared to Hebrew and Latin? ‘Who without caprice could not but admit that, as their nation was barbaric, so also was and is their language?’3! His friend and colleague, Bishop Fabian y Fuero of Puebla, published an edict in which he forbade the parochial clergy to employ any language other than Castilian in their dealings with the Indians. In a risible schedule he demanded that within a year all native children should be taught Spanish and that within the space of four years all Indians within his diocese should be able to recite their catechism 1n that language.32 In 1803 the new bishop of Oaxaca, Antonio Bergosa y Jordan, issued a pastoral in which he reproached his flock for ‘maintaining your rough, unknown tongues’, asserting that with eighteen

different languages Oaxaca resembled the Tower of Babel.33 He observed that ‘one of the chief tricks of the Devil has always been to prevent the use of our Castilian language’ and admonished his Indian subjects to abandon their ‘barbarian’ tongues, which had prevented their

advancement in Christian knowledge and civility. Nowhere was the difference between the missionaries of the sixteenth and the enlightened hierarchs of the late eighteenth century more clearly signalised than in their contrasting attitudes towards the employment of Indian languages in the pastoral ministry of the church. At all times, however, the clergy were shocked by the exuberant, often drunken fashion in which the populace celebrated religious occasions. In 1774 the newly installed secular cura of the former Augustinian parish of | Yuririapundaro was appalled by the way the town paraded the image of the Purisima Concepcion, housed in the hospital chapel, for fifteen days through the surrounding villages and ranchos before arriving back for the feast-day on 8 December.*4 At all points in this journey processions were

held at night, illumined by candles and accompanied by music and dances which lasted until daybreak. So popular had the occasion become that people arrived from as far away as Valladolid to join the celebrations,

with the lamentable result of ‘thefts of women, deflowering, and dishonour among the married’. Scandalised by these drunken scenes, he

had ridden on horseback to Pinicuaro, accompanied by the chief constable, in order to disperse the crowd and quit the square of the stalls selling food and drink. But his efforts to halt such excesses had met with little success, since among the Indians ‘the principle which governs them is disobedience, so that nothing which 1s ordered has any effect, and this with such a hypocritical appearance that they appear like saints’. One further source of complaint was that, although the ostensible purpose of the procession was to beg alms, of the 200 ps. collected only 47 ps. went

Devotion and deviance 165 to the cura. On receipt of these complaints the bishop of Michoacan summarily prohibited the celebration and dances, despite the protests of the Indian governor who sought to defend practices ‘to which we have been accustomed since time immemorial’. In 1792 the viceroy received an anonymous missive denouncing the fair celebrated at Patzcuaro on Palm Sunday and the three following days of Holy Week. It was an event attended by outside traders and by a great many labourers from the surrounding district who came ‘solely with the aim of committing iniquities’.2> There were open kitchens in the main square, where people ate meat regardless of Lent and drank excessively, so that men were to be seen lying on the ground. Fighting, wounds and theft were common. In reply to this accusation the city council explained that the fair dated back to the very foundation of the city. They denied the disorder was so great, pointing out that no murder had occurred for some years. People came to Patzcuaro to purchase foodstuffs and cloth

manufactured in New Spain, retiring to their own villages for the celebrations of Maundy Thursday and Good Friday. But they also insisted that the timing of the fair had a religious significance, since the — first citizens of the city ‘desirous of the good of souls, disposed with holy

zeal that the owners of mines, mills and haciendas should halt work during the Week of Sorrows, so that their workers might gather in this city during Holy Week and, on the pretext of obtaining supplies, might hear the word of God and at the same time go to confession’. Decidedly unimpressed by this defence of ancient practice, the crown attorney in Mexico City expressed his dismay that labourers should abandon work during Holy Week in order to become drunk and suggested that it would be best to abolish the fair. However, when the intendant indicated that if the fair was closed it would be necessary to find other ways of supplying people in the country with foodstufts and clothing, and that the royal

exchequer would suffer a loss of revenue, the attorney withdrew his proposal, leaving the city magistrates to supervise the occasion with greater rigour.

It was in their reaction to the related question of holding fairs on Sundays and of working on Sundays that the shift in clerical attitudes can be clearly observed. In 1793 the merchants of Guanajuato were licensed by the bishop to sell any kind of commodity after high mass in the parish church until two o’clock in the afternoon, a licence conceded in return

for their assuming the mayordomias of the leading confraternities, covering any deficit in the cost of liturgical functions.*° In 1800 and 1806 | the owners, first of the Valenciana mine and then of the Rayas mine, obtained the bishop’s permission to employ workers on the construction and maintenance of their new general shafts on Sundays and other Holy |

166 Priests and laity _ Days. The parish priest of the city, Dr Antonio Lavarrieta, supported their applications since on all such days ‘the populace dedicate themselves to drunkenness, gambling and frivolities’ to the point that more murders always occurred on holidays than during the week.?’ In response the bishop agreed to permit work on Sundays, provided that at mass the

priest explained some point of Christian doctrine. Much the same problem arose in the small mining camp of Angangueo where, since its discovery, it had been the custom to hold fairs on Sundays and Holy Days, paying the workers but obliging them to labour in the refining mills and on drainage operations during the night of such days. In 1805 the miners and merchants applied to the bishop for a licence to continue this long-established practice, pointing out that thanks to their alms the local

church was almost completed. Although the diocesan attorney first demurred, fearing that impious opinion ‘of those who nowadays pronounce with philosophic liberty’ might accuse the bishop of selling the licence in return for alms, it was eventually decided to allow these practices to continue, provided the workers were obliged to attend mass.7®

In Irapuato, local merchants opened their shops and sold all kinds of goods on Sundays and Holy Days, in return for which they assumed the mayordomias of the parish church, covering the costs of its cult. When this

custom was denounced as ‘vile and reprobate usury’, the curas of the town agreed that it was something of a scandal for stores to remain permanently open, but that the practice was ancient and well known. However, they also noted that merchants often strongly resisted their appointment as mayordomos: ‘their replies are very hard and shameful

for the ministers so that priests are exposed to ignominy in naming whatever mayordomia’. The solution would be to close the stores on all Sundays and Holy Days and free the merchants from their obligation to serve as mayordomos, especially since the functions they funded were at times the cause of popular uproar.?9 In 1806 the bishop commanded that henceforth only foodstuffs should be sold on Sundays and Holy Days

in Irapuato and ended all obligations for local traders to serve as mayordomos. The expense and pomp with which the confraternities paraded their

images during Holy Week and on other feasts attracted the condemnation of both the civil authorities and the Catholic hierarchy. It was that paragon of enlightened despots, Viceroy Revillagigedo the Younger, who in 1794 sharply criticised the processions of Holy Week in Mexico City, where the leading confraternities paraded pasos, or floats, carrying images —

of their patrons or of scenes of the Passion, followed by numerous cofrades dressed as penitential mazarenos or armed as Roman soldiers. He ~ complained that the populace wasted their money in hiring costumes and

Devotion and deviance 167 arms, so that they fell into debt, neglected their families and were unable to pay their tributes to the crown. The processions exposed religion to. ridicule. In future, so he decreed, no uniforms or arms were to be worn, a decree that brought to an end practices which still thrived in Seville and elsewhere in Spain.#° Mexico’s colonial status thus converted it into a laboratory of liberal reform. Enlightened clergymen shared the prejudices of their secular confréres and were no longer willing to countenance the mingling of temporal and spiritual celebration so characteristic of baroque Catholicism. At Leon

in 1804 Dr Tiburcio Camifia complained that during Holy Week the processions which left the suburbs and the two Indian pueblos of San Miguel and Cuisillo were the occasion of ‘the shameful prostitution not only of a Catholic people but also of any country that is penetrated by the

slightest impression of the true religion and of the holiness of these days’.4! The processions left their chapels at eight or nine at night and returned as late as two o’clock in the morning. The mingling of the sexes in the darkness was accompanied by drunkenness, theft, quarrels, rape and cursing, so that the Devil had free range at what should have been the holiest days in the calendar. Last year, he had attempted to make the images leave earlier, but had found it soon necessary ‘to retire to my

house so as not to expose my authority and person to indecorous outrage’. Camifia requested the bishop to prohibit all such processions, allowing only the images which proceeded from the parish church and the chapel of the Franciscan Third Order, since these left and returned

at an early hour. One advantage of this ban would be that the mayordomos responsible for the costs and organisation of the processions would no longer be exposed to the poverty such offices often entailed. In response, Bishop San Miguel forbade all processions of images from the lesser chapels of the town and requested the intendant of Guanajuato to instruct the subdelegate of Leon to assist the cura to enforce his decree. Two years later, after much appeal, licence was given to reintroduce the processions, but on the condition that they were to end by eight o’clock at night. The growing fissure between clerical opinion and popular religion was nowhere better illustrated than in Silao where, in 1793, Bishop San Miguel summarily banned the parade of images during Holy Week. The grounds for this decision were familiar: the processions caused excessive expense to the Indians and led to drunkenness and disorders. The images themselves were ‘for the most part indecent in their construction and much more indecent in their adornment’, and hence brought religion into ridicule. The populace did not want silent, pious processions, but rather occasions which would satisfy their inclination for ‘uproar, puerile

168 Priests and laity ostentation and pernicious meetings’.*2 As was to be expected, his decree provoked protests. The local magistrates noted that many families now

spent Holy Week elsewhere, so that commerce at this period had declined. The administrator of the alcabalas, the royal excise, declared in support of this protest that in 1788 three missionary preachers from the college of Santa Cruz had helped reform the populace and that since then the processions had been staged during the day and not at night, as had

been the case hitherto. What makes this case unusual, however, was not the prohibition

and prejudice of the bishop but rather the defence offered by the mayordomos of the confraternities, who described themselves as Indian tributaries, /adinos in the Castilian tongue, representing the artisan guilds of Silao. They complained that the country-folk, rancheros and Indians, who used to attend the Holy Week celebrations 1n Silao, no longer came to town but sought out more distant places where processions were still held. Commerce had suffered. Equally important, they argued that the

faith of common people was now growing cold since it lacked the stimulus of spectacle and physical representation. In a passage which deserves to be quoted in its entirety they set out the case against the prohibitions of the Jansenising clergy. The devotion of the faithful, especially of the poor and ignorant, is becoming lukewarm and soon will arrive at a mere shadow .. . for the very reason that they lack those living representations or images which so create an impression on them that they form some idea or concept of the sublime mysteries of faith, because

their rusticity and ignorance does not yield or let itself be conquered by any explanation in words, no matter how clear, unless there is not added an object which teaches them by sight or can be so adapted as to teach them through the material of their senses . . . Which is to say, that since the doors to their intellect are sealed against any discourse, entrance has to come through the senses, if they

, are to perceive anything or form some idea of the mysteries of religion. Of this truth all parish priests and confessors are faithful witnesses, since no matter how much they preach and explain to the people in the most simple words or with the clearest catechism, they always meet with most crass ignorance of the mysteries of religion among the populace.

Here, in the simple and at times ungrammatical words of these acculturated Indian artisans of the Bajio, we encounter a clear echo of

missionary doctrine derived from the sixteenth century. The first mendicants in Mexico were soon persuaded that the best, if not the only, way of converting and holding the Indians to Christianity was by means of emphasis on collective liturgy rather than on individual morality. The

great mysteries of the Passion and life of Christ were depicted and enacted in countless variations and ceremonies. It was a lesson that the

Devotion and deviance 169 enlightened clergy of the late eighteenth century chose to ignore, more persuaded of the necessity of good taste and sober piety. Whereas the Baroque culture of late Tridentine Catholicism had succeeded in uniting both intellectual elite and the masses in common devotion and equal aesthetic delight, by contrast its repudiation led to a growing division between educated opinion and popular religion. San Miguel also prohibited in 1803 the processions and floats which were staged in several towns of the Bajio on Christmas Eve, since the crowds which attended these functions had converted ‘this devout act into a scandalous spectacle’. In future only the image of the Virgin Mary could be paraded, accompanied by the faithful carrying candles. Two years later the subdelegate of Celaya protested that this prohibition was greatly resented, since Christmas Eve was a popular fiesta with people coming into the town from ten leagues about. It had been the custom to_ parade through the streets various pasos or images on wagons, ‘dressing children of five or six as shepherds and other figures’. His plea met with temporary relief since the bishop granted a licence for the procession, provided that the children be properly clothed, in particular those who represented Adam and Eve, and that the function be brought to an end by nine o’clock at night. But in 1807, after further complaints from a local cleric that the images brought religion into disrepute — he cited the dress of the Magi and the beheading of the Holy Innocents as the chief cause

of levity — all further parades of this nature were summarily banned throughout the diocese.#7 To meet popular demand for celebration, however, the municipal magistrate of Salvatierra hit upon an ingenious compromise whereby he authorised a ‘civic paseo’ with a shepherd’s hut

carried on a wagon accompanied by shepherds dancing, without any sacred images or figures. The diocesan authorities had no choice but to approve this secular diversion, simply stipulating that the wagon and dancers set out after the procession of the rosary had entered the church. The conclusion of this episcopal campaign against the public manifestation of popular religion was thus to effect a sharp distinction between the spheres of religion and secular rejoicing. IV

In 1805 the attorney of the Council of the Indies received a denunciation of an elaborate annual procession which had been organised in recent years by a leading prebendary of the cathedral chapter in Mexico City for the purpose of soliciting alms to obtain the canonisation of Blessed Felipe de Jesus, a Mexican-born Franciscan martyred in Japan.*4 According to the informant, the procession from the cathedral to the convent of San

170 Priests and laity Francisco began with fifteen images of the martyr carried by the city guilds, with accompanying floats depicting scenes from his life, some of

which were done in grotesque style, with a Devil in horns and tail, dressed in the most recent dandy fashion and a Chinese torturer with a Jacobin cap. Then there followed the religious communities, the university, the cathedral chapter with its choir and the city council with three

bands and a picket of soldiers, all parading along streets lined with coaches and crowded with people. Needless to say, the royal attorney deplored such a ridiculous spectacle enacted in a capital as civilised as

Mexico. He demanded that the prebendary be reprimanded, the collection of alms suspended and the procession banned. In this instance, however, the Council of the Indies decided to listen to the comments of the viceroy and archbishop, both of whom advised caution.

For the prebendary, José Joaquin Ladron de Guevara, was son of the venerable creole regent of the Audiencia, and backed by the city council and university, both bastions of the creole interest. Moreover, the parish priests of the capital warned that the cause of Felipe de Jesus enjoyed

widespread support among the populace, and any attempt to ban the procession might lead to disturbances. Guevara himself declared warmly that all americanos venerated their martyred compatriot and lived in hope of seeing their country endowed with an American saint. In the light of these reports, the diocesan authorities chose to allow the processions to continue.

Part 3

Bishops and chapter

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9 Cathedral and chapter

I

In 1803 the crown issued a rescript inviting interested parties to submit

opinions about the project, formally proposed by the current attorney for the Council of the Indies, Ramon de Posada, to create three new bishoprics in New Spain, respectively based on Veracruz, Acapulco and

San Luis Potosi.! A former canon of Valladolid cathedral, Manuel de Iturriaga, presented estimates of tithe revenue, 1n which he asserted that

the dioceses of Puebla, Mexico and Michoacan enjoyed a broadly comparable income, ranging from 320,000—360,000 ps. in the 1790s. Once distributed among the bishop and chapter, this revenue yielded stipends of over 6,000 ps. for cathedral canons, a remarkably generous remuneration if it be considered that the twelve intendants who governed New Spain also received 6,000 ps. But Iturriaga, who had resigned his post in order to enter the newly established Oratory at Querétaro, his native city, argued that there was no good reason why these clerics should

enjoy such high stipends. The country would be far better served if the tithe revenue was devoted to creating five new dioceses, respectively

based on Querétaro; San Luis Potosi; at either Cordoba, Jalapa or Orizaba; along the northern coast of Veracruz, including the Huasteca mountains; and along the Pacific coast with a capital at either Acapulco, Chilapa or Chilpancingo. In effect, he accepted Posada’s proposals, but suggested cutting the Veracruz province into two dioceses and sought a new bishop for his home city.

The case for a new bishopric was made most forcibly by the city

council of San Luis Potosi, which asserted that by reason of its 100 leagues’ distance from Valladolid, its residents hardly ever saw their bishop. True, the ever-conscientious Bishop San Miguel had arrived in 1791, but only for ‘a lightning visit’, in which he had confirmed no less | than 21,000 souls in twenty days. Yet the city now ranked as capital of an extensive intendancy, housed no less than five priories, and possessed

‘a fine parish church with three naves, which by reason of its good

, 173

174 Bishops and chapter construction and adornment could serve as a cathedral’. Where the city especially stood to gain from the presence of a bishop would be in the provision of a seminary college, since at present its sons had to migrate southwards for an education.? Nor was San Luis alone in presenting its claims, since in the intendancy of Guanajuato, the city of Celaya also

petitioned for a bishop, arguing that its rich agricultural lands and Franciscan university college rendered it a more appropriate diocesan

capital than Guanajuato itself, which, like all mining centres, was exposed to cyclical decay. What its council did not address was the superior claims of the neighbouring city of Querétaro, situated in the

diocese of Mexico, which possessed a positive galaxy of priories, convents and colleges, not to mention a thriving textile industry and a tobacco monopoly factory. As was to be expected, these proposals aroused immense opposition

from vested interests. In effect, the central Mexican dioceses had retained their boundaries intact since the sixteenth century, and the creation of new bishoprics at Monterrey (1777) and Hermosillo (1779) had not greatly affected their income. The most vigorous protest came from the newly arrived bishop of Puebla, Manuel Ignacio Gonzalez del

Campillo, who wrote directly to Spain’s chief minister, Manuel de

Godoy, to insist that the loss of the rich agricultural districts surrounding the three cities of Jalapa, Cordoba and Orizaba would ruin

his cathedral and its chapter. In any case, the port of Veracruz was renowned for its unhealthy climate and would soon prove to be ‘the grave

and sepulchre of bishops and canons’. Rejecting Iturriaga’s argument that chapter stipends were too high, he argued that the existence of such posts was an important stimulus to the parochial clergy who all aspired to have their devoted service crowned by the status and high income of a canonry 1n the cathedral.* Not that he was entirely averse to reform, since he accepted the case for a new see centred on Chilapa, because virtually no prelate of either Puebla or Mexico had ever visited the mountainous and coastal region that comprises the modern state of Guerrero. But it was the diocese of Valladolid de Michoacan which was most exposed to dismemberment, since its vast area encompassed the modern states of San Luis Potosi, Guanajuato, Michoacan and parts of Guerrero. Already, 1n 1794 it had lost eleven parishes to the neighbouring diocese of Guadalajara, a transfer ordered by the crown despite vigorous protests

from Bishop San Miguel, so as to align the southern boundaries of the intendancy and bishopric of Guadalajara. Through this measure the

Valladolid see had lost an estimated 28,532 ps. of tithe revenue.® Threatened with outright partition, Bishop San Miguel framed an extensive protest to the crown, a document which was obviously written

| Cathedral and chapter 175 for him by his trusted lieutenant, Manuel Abad y Queipo. Taking a broad view of the proposals, he dismissed the projected dioceses of Veracruz.

and Acapulco as unnecessary and as ruinous for Puebla. Instead, he

suggested creating a diocese to include the Sierra Gorda north of Querétaro, the Huasteca, Rio Verde, Valle de Maiz and the northern coast of Veracruz, territories in which Franciscan missions were still active and which were hardly ever visited by a bishop.’ But he strongly rejected the establishment of a new see at San Luis Potosi on the grounds that Valladolid would lose revenue and that the burden of maintaining a bishop and canons would ruin that city which already suffered from an excessive number of clergy, especially since it only had a population of about 14,000 and a mere hundred families who lived 1n any comfortable respectability. Despite these protests, however, there can be little doubt ©

that Posada and Iturriaga were correct 1n arguing that the central Mexican dioceses were too large and that their bishops and chapters received an excessive income that might have been better employed elsewhere.

II The cathedral-church of Valladolid was composed of the bishop and

chapter (cabildo) who jointly administered the cathedral and the ecclesiastical tithes which supported them. Although the bishop was the sole governor of the diocese, the chapter claimed to be its senate and sacred consistory and to form one body with the bishop who was its head. When bishops died, the chapter governed the diocese until a new prelate

was installed, and thus ‘succeeds to the ordinary jurisdiction of the bishop, not through privilege or delegation, but by common right’. The grand protests which the Mexican Church presented to the crown about threats to clerical immunity and its administration of the tithe were

framed by the bishops and chapters of the leading dioceses and not by bishops alone.® In the same way that the Holy See of Rome is still composed of the pope and his cardinals, so in the eighteenth century © each cathedral-church formed a corporate body, a sacred college, its

pre-eminence demonstrated by the grandeur of its cathedral, the complex pomp with which it celebrated the Divine Office, and the learning and distinction of its members. Although the chapter did not possess any corporate right to intervene in diocesan government, in | practice the bishop staffed his curia, his courts and officers, from the

senior members of the chapter, thereby confirming the corporate character of ecclesiastical authority. Moreover, since many of the bishops of this epoch were elderly and infirm, it was the leading figures within the

176 Bishops and chapter chapter who provided both continuity and experience in the government of the diocese.

Whereas in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries bishops were recruited in roughly equal numbers from the religious orders and the secular clergy, in the eighteenth century there were only two religious among the thirteen bishops who governed Michoacan in the period 1700-1815. All were peninsular Spaniards, but most of them had served

elsewhere in America before their installation at Valladolid.? In the period under discussion the following prelates held office:

| Martin de Elizacoechea 1745-56

Pedro Anselmo Sanchez de Tagle 1758-72 Luis Fernando de Hoyos y Mier 1773-5

Juan Ignacio de la Rocha 1777-82.

Antonio de San Miguel Iglesias 1784-1804

Marcos de Moriana y Zafrilla 1809

Manuel Abad y Queipo (bishop-elect) I81O-15§ Of these men, Elizacoechea and Sanchez de Tagle had served as bishops of Durango before transferring to Valladolid; Hoyos and Rocha had been dignitaries in the Mexico City chapter; and San Miguel had been bishop

of Comayagua in Central America since 1779. By contrast Moriana apparently came directly from Spain, and Abad y Queipo served as San Miguel’s trusted lieutenant for twenty years and entered the chapter as a canon before his appointment as bishop by the Regency that governed Spain in 1810, an appointment which was never canonically confirmed. San Miguel differed from other prelates of this period in that he was a Jeronymite monk and indeed had acted as father general of his Order in Spain. One consequence of the crown using appointments in Michoacan as the culmination of ecclesiastical careers was that most bishops of this period were elderly, often ill, and frequently unable to discharge their duties. In particular, the obligation to conduct visitations of the diocese and to confirm the faithful, at times proved too great a burden. In 1756 Bishop Elizacoechea, who was then aged seventy-seven, passed eight months engaged in a prolonged visitation of parishes in the Bajio, an experience that left him so ‘broken in health’ that he died two months after his return to Valladolid. So also, both Bishops Hoyos and Rocha died on haciendas while conducting respective visitations of Celaya and San Miguel el Grande.!° In 1771 Sanchez de Tagle informed the crown that he was nearly eighty years old and was so infirm that he could barely celebrate mass. He urged that Dr Pedro Juarrieta, his vicar general and provisor, should be appointed as auxiliary bishop. Already, Juarrieta, a

Basque from Navarre who had qualified in law in Mexico City, had

Cathedral and chapter 177 greatly assisted him in dealing with the controversy over the secularisation of the mendicant parishes and in handling the effects of the expulsion of the Jesuits. Nothing came of this petition, however, and the bishop died soon after.!! But a similar proposal came from Fray Antonio de San Miguel who after his arrival in 1784 found himself so ill

that he proposed that José Pérez Calama, the current dean, should be appointed as auxiliary bishop. Again, nothing came of this suggestion and in 1799 San Miguel reiterated his proposal, this time nominating

Juan Antonio de Tapia, his vicar general and provisor, as the best candidate.!2 In this instance the authorities in Madrid heeded his request, but named Benito Maria de Moxo y Francoli, a distinguished Catalan cleric, as auxiliary. By the time Moxo arrived in Mexico and was

consecrated, however, San Miguel had died, and Moxo soon after departed for South America to take up office as archbishop of Charcas.!3 The result of appointing elderly prelates was thus to leave the chapter as the effective diocesan governor for several years at a time.

During the second half of the eighteenth century, the diocese of Michoacan was governed by two outstanding bishops, Pedro Anselmo Sanchez de Tagle and Fray Antonio de San Miguel Iglesias. As we have seen, the former adopted a high-handed policy towards the mendicants, attempting not merely to secularise their parishes but also to expropriate

their rural estates. But he also devoted his episcopal income to the construction of a magnificent new Tridentine seminary and built the church of San José in Valladolid. By birth the scion of a noble family of Santillana del Mar, he was related to wealthy merchants and miners in New Spain and, by reason of his education in the colegio mayor of San Bartolomé in Salamanca, was the former colleague of several ministers of the crown.!* Less is known of San Miguel’s background. A native of Santander, he had entered the Jeronymite Order, rising to become father general before accepting the diocese of Comayagua. As bishop he was responsible for the completion of the great arched aqueduct that still adorns the city of Morelia, and enjoyed a reputation for sanctity, the consequence of his generous almsgiving and his retreat from society. | Whereas Sanchez de Tagle implemented royal policy with enthusiasm, especially since 1t was then largely directed against the religious orders, it fell to San Miguel to sign several outspoken representations to the crown | in defence of the rights and income of the secular clergy. !*

If bishops drew on the chapter for assistance in administering the diocese, it was because it was headed by men of considerable talent, learning and wealth. Although the crown reserved the right to name all bishops and canons, for certain positions it was the custom of the |

chapter to present the authorities with a list of three candidates,

178 Bishops and chapter

indicating the number of votes cast in their favour. When Vicente Gallaga died in 1804, the chapter invited candidates to submit themselves for examination for his post as candnigo penitenciano, noting that

the competition was open to all ‘doctors and licentiates who have graduated in the Faculties of Holy Theology and Canon Law’. Six : months’ notice was given and the announcement was circulated among all the cathedrals and universities of New Spain. After scrutiny of the documents, three candidates were chosen for examination, an exercise which consisted of expounding points of theology or canon law before the chapter assembled in the cathedral, and thereafter to answer objections raised by the competitors. On the basis of this extended session, a vote was taken among the dignitaries and canons of the chapter and the result forwarded to Madrid, accompanied by a letter from the asistente —

real, the delegate of the crown, in this case the Carmelite prior of Valladolid who had been appointed by the intendant acting as vicepatron. Whether this procedure applied to all posts or only to some is not clear, especially since the crown obviously reserved its right to appoint candidates directly from Spain.!6 Since 1737 the chapter had a full complement of members, which was to say, five dignitaries (dignidades), five canons by right (de oficio), five canons by grace (de gracia), six prebendaries (racioneros) and six junior prebendaries (medio-racioneros). As in most European cathedrals, the five dignitaries consisted of the dean (dean), the archdeacon (arcediano), the precentor (chantre), the chancellor (maestre de escuela) and the treasurer |

(tesorero).17 An inspection of the minutes compiled by its secretary suggests that the chapter’s chief concerns at its monthly meetings was

the administration of the cathedral and the tithe. It was the chapter which effectively governed the cathedral, considering and deciding on

all matters dealing with its liturgy, its finances, its choir school and orchestra. In addition, it was responsible for the college of San Nicolas, an arrangement dating back to the sixteenth century, and for appointments to the rectorates of Santa Fe, which had also been founded by Vasco de Quiroga. Each year the chapter voted to appoint a number of officials, clerics usually drawn from their ranks, including

superintendents for the hospital at Valladolid and the San Nicolas college, and a judge and treasurer responsible for handling the tithes. 18

As far as can be ascertained, the five dignitaries did not exercise any ex oficio role in diocesan administration: their participation derived from the bishop’s appointment and obviously depended on their individual competence and the degree to which they enjoyed his trust. Within the cathedral, however, certain traditional duties still continued. The dean acted as president of the chapter and was generally responsible for the

Cathedral and chapter | 179 celebration of liturgy within the cathedral. It was the task of the treasurer to supervise the supply and purchase of oil for altar lamps, wax candles,

bread and wine for the sacrament, and vestments for celebrants. The precentor superintended the choir, the orchestra and the school for junior choristers. But what the archdeacon and chancellor did is not at all clear, still less what was the distinction between the two classes of canons.

To comprehend the structure of diocesan administration it is necessary to describe the duties of the bishop’s chief officers and to draw

a clear distinction between diocesan and cathedral business. In the first place, the bishop appointed a relatively junior cleric to serve in his secretaria de camara y gobierno, the office which handled both his private | correspondence and such acts of government as the issuance of titles of appointment, priests’ licences to confess, the approval of confraternity constitutions and the collection of the pensi6n concihar, the contribution levied on all secular clergy for the funding of the Tridentine seminary. It was the bishop’s private office that thus kept records of the income of the parochial clergy.!9 But the chief officer on whom the bishop relied was his vicario general y provisor, almost invariably a senior member of the chapter, who as vicar general exercised the delegated executive authority

. of the bishop, but who as provisor acted as a judge, whose jurisdiction, although exercised in the bishop’s name, could not be readily overturned. In the case of an erring priest, sentenced for abusing his native parishioners, the bishop was advised that by employing his ‘govern-

mental or canonical political power’, he could moderate but not substantially alter the provisor’s yuadgement.2° The provisorato acted as the

diocesan court, handling all marriage cases, criminal accusations against priests and the embargo and auction of goods owed to the church. The court was staffed by a notary and a scribe but also drew on the services of the promotor fiscal, a canon lawyer who acted as diocesan attorney, — prosecuting offenders and advising the provisor. It was also his task to provide legal opinions for the bishop on all questions of jurisdiction, both as regards relations between church and crown and between bishop and clergy. Also resident in Valladolid were at least four other canon lawyers called procuradores, who prepared and presented cases for clients in the diocesan courts.?!

The second court which formed part of the episcopal curia was the Juzgado de Testamentos, Capellanias y Obras Pias, only established in its final form in 1768, which exercised jurisdiction over last wills and testaments, dealing with probate and disputed inheritance. This longstanding jurisdiction, however, was abrogated in 1784 when the crown decreed that royal courts would henceforward deal with all testamentary

180 Bishops and chapter questions. But the judge named by the bishop still administered the growing mass of chantries and pious endowments, appointed chaplains to celebrate the requisite number of masses and invested the funds in loans secured on property, both rural and urban. In cases where interest

was not paid, the judge had powers to order embargo and auction of estates or houses. Since these funds were substantial, the juzgado kept

its own chest (arca) within the episcopal palace where they were temporarily deposited. Like the vicar general, the judge was appointed

by the bishop, but did not have to be a member of the chapter. He was assisted by a notary and two lesser officials. In cases of dispute the diocesan attorney (promotor fiscal) and the procuradores presented the papers for the judge and the litigants.?2

Since bishops were often elderly or infirm, they usually appointed a secretario de visita, a secretary who either assisted them during episcopal

visitations or who exercised delegated authority and conducted visitations on behalf of the bishop. It was the task of the visitor to inspect churches, examining the account books of parishes and confraternities

and the licences of priests to hear confessions and preach. He also inspected nunneries and colleges and any other institutions that fell under the authority of the bishop. The religious orders were normally exempt from visitation, but where they administered a doctrina or parish they were expected to present registers and accounts for inspection. But these visitors were unable to implement one great purpose of episcopal inspections, which was to administer the sacrament of confirmation to the faithful. As regards the appointment of parish priests, the bishop relied upon a board of jueces sinodales recruited from the chapter, whose task was to examine all candidates who entered the oposicion, or competition, and

to recommend in order of suitability three possible nominees. The bishop was free to choose any of the three candidates whom the judges recommended; but 1n turn his choice had to be ratified by the viceroy who exercised the patronage rights of the Spanish crown in the Indies. In 1793 the current bishop identified eight members of the chapter as gueces sinodales, comprising the precentor (chantre), five canons and two

prebendaries. The presumption is that they owed their posts to the bishop and that these appointments were not associated with any particular office in the chapter. Since there were often numerous candidates for vacant parishes, it is likely that these judges examined different candidates.23

A third court, situated within the cathedral precinct, was the haceduria, an office administered by two judges, jueces hacedores, assisted by a notary

and a copyist, which was responsible for managing the collection and

Cathedral and chapter I8r eventual distribution of the ecclesiastical tithe. Since the main benefic1aries of this levy on agricultural production were the bishop and chapter,

each of the two interested parties appointed a judge and took a keen interest in the court’s operations, examining its accounts and discussing its decisions. It was the task of the two judges to appoint tithe collectors throughout the diocese, negotiating terms and, where the tax was directly administered rather than being farmed out for a lump sum, inspecting

accounts. The judges were also responsible for the distribution of receipts between the bishop and chapter, rendering due account. The court also exercised the right to embargo property or bring cases against delinquent tithe payers.24

When tithe receipts arrived in the cathedral precinct they were immediately deposited in the claveria, the treasury, an office managed by two officials whose task was to receive monies, guard them and disburse

them, their operations invigilated by two claveros, members of the chapter, one appointed by the bishop and the other by the chapter. But . no payments could be made unless authorised by the haceduria. It should

be emphasised that the accounts of the cathedral treasury simply | recorded the entrance and outflow of monies from its chests. What 1s not

clear is the degree to which funds other than the tithes were also deposited in the claveria.25 The office responsible for handling the often complicated accounts of tithe collection, and for framing the final statement of annual revenue and its distribution, was the contaduria, managed by two accountants and two clerks. These officers also scrutinised the accounts of the claveria and of cathedral expenditure. In 1775 the crown appointed a contador real de diezmos in each cathedral, especially charged with the defence of the royal share of tithes, the two-ninths (dos novenos). His position was ambiguous, however, since he was the chief accountant,

with a salary paid from the tithe, and hence subordinate to the jueces hacedores. In 1802, when the royal accountant attempted to assert his independence, at least as regards royal taxation, the bishop informed him

that his office was merely ‘instrumental as regards the mechanism of account and balance, dependent and subordinate to the jueces hacedores’.

The accountants’ signatures were also needed for the authorisation of

payments from the treasury.?6

Finally, it should be noted that the bishop and chapter employed an alguacil mayor, a chief constable who, with a number of alcaldes, was

responsible for implementing all the sentences pronounced by the diocesan courts as regards individuals and property. In his brief description, Antonio de Leén y Gama noted that Valladolid was blessed with a strong new diocesan gaol, built at the cost of 20,000 ps.?7 It was the responsibility of the alguacil mayor to administer this institution and

182 Bishops and chapter safeguard the security of its inmates. As in the case of probate, however,

the physically coercive aspect of ecclesiastical jurisdiction was progressively challenged by the crown so that, by the close of the eighteenth

century, the diocesan courts often had to appeal to the secular -magistrates to enforce their sentences.

As will be observed, a considerable number of the administrative officers appointed by the bishop and chapter were engaged in the collec-

tion, reception and disbursement of the tithes levied on agricultural production throughout the diocese. The reason for this joint system was

that both parties drew their income from this source. In effect, tithe receipts were first divided into two halves, of which the first half was distributed in two equal parts or quarters between the bishop and the chapter. The second half was subdivided into nine parts, novenos, of which two were reserved for the crown. Both the cathedral fabric and the hospital in Valladolid each received one and a half novenos, leaving a surplus (superavit) of four-ninths which went to augment the income of

the chapter, which thus received nearly half of the entire tithe. By the close of the eighteenth century the growth in population and prosperity of the diocese, especially in the Bajio, meant that the tithe revenue had

increased very considerably, and that the stipends of the chapter had come to surpass the salaries of the royal bureaucracy. During the quinquennium 1786-90, tithe receipts at Valladolid averaged 336,402 ps. The diocesan officers subtracted their stipends from this sum, leaving 323,704 ps. for distribution. It will be observed that the 500 ps. paid to the jsueces hacedores and claveros were honorariums and in addition to their stipends as canons. One surprise is that the donation of 80,000 ps. to the crown, made in 1779 for the construction of a shipbuilding dock at Huasacualcos, had been charged to the tithe and was being slowly amortised. For the rest, it should be noted that the crown had assigned various pensions and

contributions to the bishop’s quarter, so that the prelate received 68,826 ps., still a remarkably high income. As regards the chapter’s share, it was the practice to return a part of the tithe to the parish priests of the Bajio, a practice dating from the sixteenth century when those districts

were frontier settlements. The chapter also paid for seven chaplains to | assist them in the choir. Their collective income was augmented by payments from the Colecturia de Aniversarios, funded masses celebrated for the dead. The result of these deductions and additions was a remarkable level of remuneration, with both canons and dignitaries equalling,

, where they did not surpass, the salaries paid to royal intendants and judges of the high court. In 1787 Bishop San Miguel requested opinions from local ecclesiastics

Cathedral and chapter | 183 Table 7. Diocesan tithes: distribution, expenses and stipends, 1790 (pesos) A. Diocesan administration and other costs

22jueces hacedores 1,000 claveros 1,000

Contador real 1,500 Contaduria, Ist officer 800 Contaduria, 2nd officer 325 Notary tithes 500 Chapter of secretary 300

Attorneys Attorneys in inMexico MadridI,I00 300

Other costs 3,207

Total 12,698

Amortisation of subsidy for Huasacualcos Arsenal 2,666

B. Tithe distribution

Bishop’s quarter (4% ninths) 80,926 Chapter’s quarter (4% ninths) 80,926 King’s dos novenos (2 ninths) 35,967 Cathedral fabric (1% ninths) 26,975 Royal hospital (1’/2 ninths) 26,975 Superavit (surplus 4 ninths) 715934

Total 323,704 C. Chapter income and costs —

Income Deductions

Chapter quarter 80,926 — 7 choir chaplains 2,098

Superavit 71,934 Clerical puntador 550 Anniversary masses 3,771 Organist 250 Total 156,631 Tithe rebates divided among curas of

San Miguel, Dolores, Irapuato, Silao,

Salamanca, Valle de Santiago 11,731 Other iterns 6,282

Less total deductions 20,911 | Total 20,911

Net income 135,720

Dean 8,862 4Inquisition dignitaries canon7,680 55735

D. Chapter stipends -

g6 prebendaries canons 5;908 4,135 6 junior prebendaries 2,067

Total 135,720

Note: The noveno or ninth was in fact an eighteenth part of the total net tithe. Source: ACM, XIX, 14 and 35. .

184 Bishops and chapter and merchants as to the income required to maintain a chapter canon in

a style appropriate to his status. The priory of the Augustinian friars in Valladolid stated that it was necessary for a canon to have a carriage or chaise from March or May until November, owing to the rains and wind, even if some of the prebendaries lacked such a convenience. The cost of

foodstuffs and clothes had risen greatly in recent years. Moreover, the city had an ‘infinite number’ of poor who frequented the palace and houses of chapter members seeking alms, especially since the religious houses were so poor. He therefore estimated that a canon required an income of §,000 ps. to run a carriage, employ domestic service and distribute alms. A leading merchant, Juan José de Lejarza, agreed with him, and noted that servants usually wanted their wages in advance and often took flight owing up to 30 ps. On Wednesdays and Saturdays he had often seen 1,500 poor people clustered at the episcopal palace begging alms. Another merchant, a city councillor, agreed that prices in general had doubled over the last twenty years.2° In effect, the members of the chapter were leading figures in the society of Valladolid and were thus expected to maintain a style of life and largesse that defined them as part of the social elite. It was a position that was to be threatened in the last years of the eighteenth century by any number of charges on their stipends levied by royal officials anxious to raise revenue. At the same

time, their management of the tithe, their jurisdiction and their immunity from the royal courts were all threatened. |

Ill In his brief description of the diocese, Antonio de Leén y Gama praised the cathedral at Valladolid, claiming that ‘it barely has an equal in its adornment and richness .. . all the altar fronts are of beaten silver’.29 The majestic edifice, which still dominates the city, was constructed during

the years 1660-1745 and was thus the last of the great cathedrals of

central Mexico to be completed. Initial costs were estimated at 14,000 ps. a year, of which the bishop and chapter subscribed 4,000 ps.,

together with another 2,000 ps. accruing from a suppressed canonry. The crown ceded its two-ninths of the tithe and allocated other monies from taxes paid by Indians and encomenderos. Estimates of the final cost vary, but in 1732 it was reckoned to have consumed 398,000 ps. so far and to need another 140,000 ps. to complete. Although the cathedral was consecrated in 1705, the twin towers which soar about the surrounding city were only erected in the 1740s, modelled on their counterparts in Puebla. During this epoch, its altars were constructed in a richly adorned Churrigueresque style; but in the nineteenth century a combination of

Cathedral and chapter 185 neoclassic prejudice and Liberal assault devastated its interior so that it is now difficult to picture the splendour of its baroque furnishings.?° Although the building of this great cathedral owed much to the determination and generosity of successive bishops, it also depended on the continuity in direction provided by the chapter and its officers. The function of the cathedral was ‘the celebration of the Divine Office’ and the observance of the liturgical calendar with the maximum of pomp

and ceremony. The administration of sacraments to the faithful was relegated to the sagrario, a chapel situated within the cathedral, which was staffed by its own cura and his three vicarios, their task being to conduct baptisms, marriages and funerals, as well as celebrating mass. In

1794 the current cura complained of the poor state of his chapel and suggested that he should receive all the fees accruing from the administration of the sacraments. But the chapter refused to grant his request, since such a concession would erode their absolute rights over the ‘spiritual fabric’ of the cathedral and instead offered him 1,000 ps. to assist with the renovation of the sagrario. The position of cathedral cura was much coveted, not because its stipend was particularly high, but because it offered the opportunity to deal with the governors of the diocese and hence negotiate future promotion.?!

To assist the chapter fulfil its functions, the cathedral employed fourteen choir chaplains, priests who helped the often elderly and infirm dignitaries and canons to their seats, and who often substituted for them

when they were unable to attend. During the 1790s the choirmaster complained that they ‘entirely lack the formation for Gregorian chant’,

an observation which prompted the chapter to decide that before appointment all future chaplains should be tested as to their singing ability, and that incumbents should be requested to attend lessons. Paid

a salary of 300 ps., seven chaplains were employed directly by the chapter, and the remaining seven were supported by the cathedral fabric fund. It is possible, however, that four of these clerics may have increased their stipends by acting respectively as head sacristan, church warden and masters of ceremony.?2

For the celebration of the Catholic liturgy the cathedral maintained a choir and an orchestra. Apart from the choirmaster (sochante) and his

' two assistants, the choir consisted of three psalmists, three experts in Gregorian chant, two counter tenors, three tenors, two baritones and a treble.33 There were also ten boy choristers, for whom a school was maintained, headed by a clerical rector who was given 2,250 ps. a year to feed,

clothe and educate the boys. During the week the children acted as acolytes, a task which on Sundays and Holy Days was assumed by students from the seminary.*4 For music, the cathedral employed three

186 Bishops and chapter organists and maintained an orchestra headed by a chapel-master and composed of three violins, two violincellos, two double basses, two horns, two oboes, two trumpets and three bassoons or fagottos. Payment of these singers and musicians ranged from 100 to 300 ps., with only a few leading performers gaining more. The choirmaster earned 600 ps., the chief organist 800 ps. and the first violin 500 ps. If the chapel-master gained 800 ps., it was because he also taught 1n the choir school, acted as

treble and composed music. In the 1790s there was a scheme to raise the wages of the lower-paid musicians and singers, since the inflation of these years threatened to reduce them to poverty. A bassoon player complained that he had spent thirty-six years in the cathedral, entering as a choir boy and thereafter graduating from the horn to the bassoon, but had received the same wage of 250 ps. for twenty-five years, with the result that he now suffered from ‘great poverty and a numerous family’, a plea that won him an increase of 50 ps. Much the same was true of the first tenor who at this time had spent no less than forty-one years in the

cathedral, having also entered as chorister. For the leading posts there was evidently considerable competition, since the first violin, appointed in 1779, was a European Spaniard named José Beltran Cristofani, who had been about to accept a position in the cathedral in Mexico City when he won the competition at Valladolid.?° In the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries the bishop and chapter had appointed a lay mayordomo to handle the finances and material maintenance of the cathedral. But, since the opportunity for peculation was so extensive, fraud had often occurred. In 1731 the post of superintendent of the spiritual fabric was created, and from 1751 onwards was always

occupied by the clavero appointed by the bishop. In this way the management of the income and the upkeep of the fabric was undertaken

by members of the chapter. The superintendent’s office possessed its own chest (arca) for the deposit of its funds, with the bishop, the dean and the superintendent each possessing a Key. It was from this chest that the cathedral staff were paid their monthly wages and the treasurer and

precentor provided with monies to cover the respective costs of the liturgy and the choir school.*° To assist him the superintendent had a treasury notary, paid 400 ps., and a fabric notary, paid 300 ps. Lesser officials were responsible for the cathedral clock, its bells and for keeping the premises free from dogs. The sacristy employed a staff of five costing 726 ps., subject to the clerical sacristan.

A cursory examination of cathedral accounts, presented in 1790, reveals that the total annual cost of operating this great liturgical centre was 28,275 ps., divided as shown in Table 8. By far the most startling feature of this schedule was the amount of imported Spanish candle wax

Cathedral and chapter | 187 Table 8. Valladolid cathedral expenses, 1790 (pesos) Treasurer

Candle wax, 3,250 Ib 3,250 Wine, 6 barrels Incense, 100 Ib210 80

Lamp oilboys 560 Clothes for choir 816

Other items 448 Total 53364

Choir costs 2,000

Precentor

Other items 460 Total 4,260 Rector of Choir School, for maintenance etc. 1,800

Choir, orchestra and staff wages 18,651

Grand total 28,275 Source: ACM, XVIII, 638, 9 Sept. 1790.

that was consumed each year. In effect, the cathedral spent more on illumination than it did on its choir school. But what the scheme clearly reveals is the degree to which the celebration of the Catholic liturgical calendar required an extraordinary concentration of clerical manpower as well as a numerous body of singers, musicians and assistant staff. All this required extensive funds, and without the allocation of its 11/2 novenos (ninths) of the annual tithe the cathedral could not have maintained such an impressive ritual. IV

In the last decades of Spanish rule, the cathedral churches of New — Spain found themselves at loggerheads with the crown as ministers and officials sought to curtail their jurisdiction and tax their revenue. The most spectacular instances of this bureaucratic assault were the attempt.

to wrest control over tithe collection from the jueces hacedores, the imposition of an Ecclesiastical Subsidy on all clerical income and the. amortisation of church wealth. But the chapter clergy were particularly affected by the introduction of an entire series of minor taxes which cut

deep into their stipends and eventually challenged their control of cathedral finances. To start with, since the Concordat of 1750 between the Papacy and the crown, all upper clergy had to pay media anata, which is to say, that half their first year’s salary in a new post went to the royal

188 Bishops and chapter treasury. But in May 1791 it was announced that they were also liable to

a mesada, 18 per cent of the first year’s stipend in a new post, a tax hitherto only levied on the parochial clergy who did not have to pay media

anata.>’ Worse was to come. In 1802 the chapter received a rescript in which the crown imposed an anualidad, which 1s to say, ‘an entire year’s income from all the earnings and stipends arising from ecclesiastical benefices, both secular and regular, in Spain and the Indies... that are vacated by death, resignation, exchange or transfer’. To add insult to injury, Viceroy Iturrigaray (1803-8) demanded that this impost should

be applied to all vacancies which had occurred since 1801, thereby antedating the rescript which had only been issued in April 1802. During

the heated debate which greeted this new tax, Manuel Abad y Queipo,

the Juez de Testamentos, Capellanias y Obras Pias, advised the Valladolid chapter that Iturrigaray’s decree offended both natural and positive law, since ‘the uniform testimony of theologians, jurists and

philosophers who treat of the nature of positive law .. . rejects all retrospective effects’. But the viceroy remained adamant and demanded

that the anualdad be applied to all priests holding chantries or occupying positions in the cathedrals, exempting only the parochial clergy from its operation.#®

In response, the Valladolid chapter addressed an indignant protest to the crown about the effect of all these charges on the income and prestige of its members. They noted that in 1787 Bishop San Miguel had estimated that a prebendary required about 4,000 ps. to support himself with decorum. But since then prices had risen and royal taxes had been multiplied. Indeed, in November 1804 the crown had annexed unto itself a further noveno from the tithe in addition to the two-ninths it already collected, a sum which obviously had to come from the superavit and which was thus estimated to reduce the chapter’s share of the tithe by II per cent.?? The result of all these combined charges was that, when a priest was appointed as prebendary or canon, he had to pay the media anata, the mesada and the anualidad, the equivalent of twenty months’ salary, an imposition mitigated only by the crown allowing the anualidad to be paid in four yearly instalments. On top of all this, the collection of the new noveno meant that each chapter member had suffered a loss of II per cent in salary and was also liable for a 7.5 per cent deduction for the Ecclesiastical Subsidy. But what caused the greatest indignation was that the crown now imposed all this impressive battery of charges each

time an individual received promotion within the chapter, so that the

slow ascent from junior prebendary to dignitary was periodically punctuated by a heavy onslaught of taxation. The chapter concluded its protest by observing that the priests who occupied the wealthy urban

Cathedral and chapter 189 parishes within the diocese of Michoacan were now far better paid than the junior members of the cathedral clergy. The Council of Trent had defined chapters as the senate of each diocese, but in recent years ‘we have declined greatly in authority and privilege and, because of the extent to which we have been charged and over-burdened, we have declined in income when compared to other vassals’.4° In effect, the cumulative

taxes levied on the cathedral clergy had undermined the traditional hierarchy of the Mexican Church. The degree to which both ministers and royal officials had come to regard the cathedral clergy as a veritable milch cow was clearly demonstrated in February 1805 when Viceroy Iturrigaray despatched a circular

to the chapter in Valladolid, at that time the governing body in the diocese, insisting on the necessity of ‘continuing to help our hard-pressed

metropolis’. He enclosed a letter from the colonial minister informing him that Great Britain had broken neutrality in November 1804 and had seized four frigates sailing from Montevideo, laden with builion. At the same time the harvest had failed in Spain and epidemic disease raged in Malaga, Cartagena and Castile. To provide immediate relief, Iturrigaray decided to adopt ‘the most easy, swift, simple and unprejudicial’ means of raising money, which was to expropriate ‘the funds of the fabric of the holy cathedral churches’, albeit taking these monies under the guise of a forced loan.*! Once again, the colonial church was expected to bail out the Spanish crown. As was to be expected, Iturrigaray’s demand evoked strong resistance from the leading dioceses of New Spain. In March 1805 the chapter

of Mexico City informed the viceroy that they had in their coffers 100,000 ps. from the estate of Archbishop Nufiez de Haro, recently deceased, and that this sum could be ‘loaned’ to the crown. As for his command to hand over the funds of the cathedral fabric, they reminded him that both the Council of Trent and Laws of the Indies specifically ‘place under the private and particular care of the prelates and chapters the administration of the goods of the Spiritual Fabric’. It was these funds which covered the costs of candles, altar oil, wine and vestments, as well as paying for the maintenance of the building. Indeed, in Mexico the last assistance that the cathedral had received from the crown had been in 1786 when Viceroy the count of Galvez had set aside 100,000 ps. from the medio real paid by the Indians to complete its twin towers. Since then the chapter had employed fabric funds to tile the cathedral’s domes

and to install the balustrade. They refused to believe that the viceroy sought to enforce ‘an innovation which is contrary to the establishment of these churches, to the laws of this kingdom, and to the practice and custom uniformly and tranquilly observed for almost three centuries’.*2

190 Bishops and chapter In Valladolid the chapter took legal advice which confirmed that all the

laws of church and state had conferred the management of cathedral funds on the bishop and chapter of each diocese. On looking into their

coffers they found that the estate of Bishop San Miguel, recently deceased, consisted of 34,224 ps. which, together with 4,700 ps. in the cathedral chest, could be handed over to the viceroy. In April 1805, therefore, the chapter informed Iturrigaray that they could offer him 50,000 ps., by adding another 10,000 ps. from tithes to these sums.

At the same time they reminded him that they had contributed the following donations to the crown in past decades:

19 May 1777 80,000 ps. for Arsenal at Huasacualcos 26 January 1793 30,000 ps. I2 July 1793 60,000 ps. paid in three annual instalments

12 July 1795 10,000 ps.

6 November 1798 50,000 ps. The donation for the Arsenal had been paid out of tithes, deducting

about 2,000 ps. a year in repayments, so that there still remained 10,666 ps. to pay off. What the chapter emphasised was that most of these donations had come from the funds assigned to the cathedral fabric.*3 In effect, over the years the cathedral had come to possess an endowment of 298,685 ps. charged on haciendas and houses, yielding 5 per cent interest. In addition the cathedral had 155,130 ps. invested in ‘constructions and purchases of the houses of the colecturia of this bishopric’, which came from donations for anniversary masses for the dead. This endowment capital yielded an income which supplemented

the revenue accruing from one and a half noveno allocated to the cathedral fabric from the tithe, and thus yielded a substantial annual surplus. It was obviously this large annual surplus which had enabled

the chapter to respond to the crown’s demands with such apparent generosity without material harm to its members’ stipends. Since 1784 management of the endowment funds had been transferred to the jueces hacedores, since these officers possessed sufficient authority and jurisdiction to resist any interference from royal officials.*4 It had been their careful management and reinvestment of the surplus which had caused these funds to increase. The origin of the houses which belonged to the

Colecturia de Aniversarios is not known, still less whether its rents _ should be distinguished from the anniversary fees for masses which were paid directly to the chapter. Each year the chapter named one of its | members as colector to manage these funds.* When the chapter offered Iturrigaray 50,000 ps., they also insisted that their right to administer tithes and the cathedral fabric funds rested on ‘the general laws of the universal church’. They forcefully asserted that

Cathedral and chapter I9I Table 9. Valladolid cathedral fabric capital and income, 1804 (pesos)

Income Capital Endowment interest 14,991 298,685

Colecturia rents 7,417 155,130

Tithe 114 novenos 32,803

Total §§,211 453,815 Average costs (1800-4) 32,701

Annual surplus ¢. 22,000 Source: ACM, XIX, 35.

at present what is magnificent and attractive in architecture and the fine arts, in great measure derives from the bishops and chapters as managers of the spiritual fabric... if they were unable to restrain the disorder of good taste 1n the sixteenth

and seventeenth centuries, they have been the first to co-operate in its re-establishment during the eighteenth century.

They reminded the viceroy that the chapter had only protested to the crown on three grand issues: the personal immunity of the clergy, the bishop’s and chapter’s mght to manage the tithe and their current assertion of their duty to manage the cathedral fabric funds. They concluded: ‘the clergy of America have suffered with the most generous

resignation the innovations which, during the last thirty years, have almost extinguished ecclesiastical jurisdiction in temporal matters and the immunity of the church and its members’. For their pains, they received a curt note from Iturrigaray acknowledging receipt of the §0,000 ps.46 What the incident revealed was the gulf that now separated the upper clergy from the royal bureaucracy. Rights and practices which had endured for 300 years were challenged in the name of fiscal exigency, and ancient loyalties sorely tried.

10 A bishop and his canons

I In June 1784 Fray Antonio de San Miguel [glesias arrived in Mexico after an exhausting journey from Comayagua in Central America, which left him prostrate with ‘an attack of hernia’ and other afflictions. Unable to

take formal possession of his see at Valladolid until December of that

year, he appointed José Pérez Calama, the archdeacon, and Juan Antonio de Tapia, the chancellor, as governors of the diocese. Both these men, he later declared, exemplified ‘priestly moderation and conduct as

Christian as it was polished and affable’.! In particular, it was largely thanks to Pérez Calama that he was able to cope so effectively with the devastating effects of the great harvest failure which occurred in the autumn of 1785 when maize prices, already unusually high because of a preceding poor harvest, soared.2 In Mexico City the young viceroy, the count of Galvez, strove to ensure that the capital had a sufficient supply

of foodstuffs, and Archbishop Haro distributed over 100,000 ps. to finance the planting of maize in irrigated lands or in the trerra cahente.3

Nowhere was the crisis more severe than in the Bajio where by November prices were already 28 reales a fanega of maize, with speculators confident that prices would soon reach 48 reales, which is to say, ten times their lowest point in the annual cycle.* It was at this point that San Miguel decided to mobilise all the resources available in the coffers of the cathedral in an attempt to avert the human tragedy of thousands

| dying of hunger. In a dramatic pastoral letter he denounced rich landowners who were still hoarding their grain in hopes of higher prices, and promised his flock that We and all our revenues are yours. . . the prelate and the chapter are agreed that if it is necessary for your help and support, we will sell the silver crucifix and lamps and all other sacred vessels and jewels of our holy cathedral church ... true eloquence today has to be based solely on providing help so that the poor do not suffer hunger or want.° 192.

A bishop and his canons 193 Proof that this was no mere rhetoric can be found in the Gazeta de México, which, in its issue of 27 December 1785, printed a list of monies distributed by the bishop and chapter which 1n all amounted to 288,000 ps.®

In effect, large sums of cash were advanced to the city councils of Valladolid, Patzcuaro, Guanajuato, Irapuato, Dolores and Leon for the purchase of maize with the aim of selling grain at ‘moderate’ prices, which is to say, at 28 as against 48 reales a fanega. All these monies were

to be repaid and, in the case of Guanajuato, with a charge for interest. There was also a project to purchase grain in tropical, low-lying parishes, where prices were still very low, transport it to the coast and then ship it

up the river Balsas, thereby approaching Valladolid. More practically, funds were advanced to local merchants, men such as Juan Manuel de Michelena, Isidro de Huarte, José Bernardo de Foncerrada and José Joaquin de Iturbide, who possessed haciendas in Urecho, Taretan, Ario and other districts in the terra caliente. The advantage here was that maize sown in November could be harvested in February, and hence provided relatively rapid relief to the starving poor. In Valladolid itself, the dean and chapter donated 7,000 ps. for the repair and construction of a bridge and roads. More significant, in addition to 12,800 ps. of alms | for the poor, San Miguel invested 40,500 ps. of his own episcopal income in the construction of the impressive arched aqueduct which still adorns

the modern city.’ In accordance with current, enlightened thought, he justified this measure by stating the true and discreet way of distributing alms and banishing idleness and vagabondage 1s to project works in which all classes of people, including boys of eight and over, are employed and earn their due wage, so as to assure them their

food, a principle of political economy which is yet more important when at present the poor are suffering want in their chief foodstuffs.

In deploying his income on such public projects, San Miguel affirmed that ‘I will fulfil in some measure my essential obligations as a man, as a loyal subject, as a bishop and as a loving citizen.’® For his part, the dean compared the bishop to St Thomas of Villanueva, the

archbishop of Valencia, who had been famous for the scale of his almsgiving.

Both the count of Galvez and San Miguel paid tribute to the energy displayed by José Pérez Calama, the dean of Valladolid, in applying these

measures of relief. Indeed, in December 1785 San Miguel wrote to Madrid proposing that the dean should be appointed as his auxiliary bishop, since his illness prevented him from conducting visitations or addressing business. He commended him for his ‘exemplary conduct,

194 Bishops and chapter virtue, profound knowledge, great tact, prudence and experience in the management of ecclesiastical and political affairs, and great charity for the poor’. At the same time he commented that the dean’s very success in managing the business of the diocese had made him enemies and the object of calumny.? Undeterred by such envy, in August 1786 Pérez Calama published an essay in the Gazeta de México in which he reflected

on the causes and effects of the great famine and suggested the construction of public granaries in the leading cities of the diocese, a

project which was to be later implemented by the intendant of Guanajuato, Juan Antonio de Riafio, in building the famous Alhondiga de Granaditas. It was in recognition of his talent and achievement that in 1789 Pérez Calama was named bishop of Quito, where he soon made his mark by reforming the curriculum of the university and by assisting in the establishment of a Patriotic Society designed to promote the economic and cultural development of the country. It was in connection with that project that he inquired: “Will it be possible in Quito, now so poor and miserable, to establish the great art of making money, which is the spirit and political soul of all educated peoples?’ Already, when in Valladolid a member of the Real Sociedad Bascongada de los Amigos del Pais, Pérez

Calama thus belonged to that tight circle of noblemen, ministers, bureaucrats and clerics who prided themselves on their enlightened ideas, scorning the dead weight of tradition, and confident in the power and patronage of the crown.!° That both José Pérez Calama and his compatriot and colleague, Juan Antonio de Tapia, had been brought to Mexico by Francisco Fabian y

Fuero, bishop of Puebla, 1765-73, immediately identified them as members of the ‘enlightened’ wing of the Spanish Church. As we have seen, Fuero had played a leading role in the Fourth Mexican Church

Council, and had become embroiled in the reform of nunneries. A creole admirer later recorded his enthusiasm for the works of the Greek Fathers, for Cicero and Linnaeus, for the IJiad and Pascal’s Pensées, and for Luis Vives and the Gallican canonist, Van Espen. It was thanks to Fuero that Pérez Calama became first, junior prebendary and then canon at Puebla as well as serving as cura of the cathedral sagrario and as rector of the seminary founded by Juan de Palafox.!! Following their mentor’s return to Spain, both Tapia and Pérez Calama transferred to Valladolid, where they won the favour of Bishop Rocha. It was in these years that Pérez Calama published two short books, of which Politica Cristiana (1782) carried a preface by Vicente de Herrera, the current regent of the Mexican high court, lauding his knowledge. He paraded his adhesion to the ‘enlightened’ cause when he confessed that in his youth he had been ‘a pure, high-sounding ergo’, until a wise Dominican had alerted him to

A bishop and his canons 195 , the danger of relying on mere syllogisms, urging him instead to study ecclesiastical history. }2

In 1784 Pérez Calama wrote a brief report about the curriculum of the colleges in Valladolid in which he noted that the Tridentine seminary still

followed Aristotle in philosophy, dictating conclusions, pursuing ‘the erroneous tracks of the peripatetic philosophers’. In moral theology the summa of ‘Master Ferrer’, a medieval scholastic, was used, matched in the dogmatic sphere by the Thomist text of the French Dominican,

Jean Baptiste Gonet. Although he had suggested that for Latin the students should be taught Cicero, Cornelius Neponte and ‘the erudite treatise on studies by Rollin’, his recommendations had little effect owing to the students’ incapacity. The problem here was the poor background of many of these future priests, especially since some were descendants of mulattos. Nor was the situation any better at San Nicolas, since much the same outmoded texts were used. As for the former Jesuit college, it

now served as a place of ‘correction’ for erring clerics, who undertook spiritual exercises. Pérez Calama concluded that ‘moral philosophy, history and political and economic science’ nowhere found any lodgement or home in Valladolid.}3 When Pérez Calama appointed three new professors at the seminary in 1784, he directed them to read The True and Sohd Method of Studying

Sacred Theology, a reformist tract written by Luis Antonio Verney, a. Portuguese cleric whose work had been published in Spanish in 1760. Other idols of the Spanish Enlightenment he recommended were Feijoo and Piquer and, once again, Cicero. So also he warned them against the laxism of Jesuit theologians and suggested their using Daniel Concina. For the rest, he urged them to read St Augustine, St Gregory Nazarene and Melchor Cano. It should be noted that all three professors had been bursary students at the seminary before graduating to the Faculty. Much the same was true of a young professor of theology at the San Nicolas, Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, whose dissertation so impressed him that he saluted the future insurgent leader as ‘a young man in whom talent and — industry join in honourable competition’. He averred that Hidalgo was no mere ‘ergotista’, but rather a true disciple of Minerva.!4 But Pérez Calama’s publicly acknowledged commitment to reform attracted vehement criticism since, in a vicious anonymous satire, he was

accused of being no more than a plagiarist, a typical product of ‘a century of pure masquerade. . . in which all is smoke and trumpery’. Worse still, he was described as ‘a gachupin horse’, who obviously imagined that America lacked authors and books, unaware that it was ‘a region no less fecund in genius than in mines’.!5 At Valladolid, the chief

opponent of Pérez Calama and Tapia was the treasurer, Dr Vicente

196 Bishops and chapter Antonio de los Rios, who before their arrival had managed the Juzgado de Testamentos, Capellanias y Obras Pias. Only with his appointment as archdeacon at Puebla in 1786 was his criticism quelled.!© However, opposition was not confined to creoles, since two peninsular canons, Juan Carro and Manuel Yafiez, the one a protégé and the other a friend

of Tapia and Pérez Calama, now turned on their former associates, employing the diocesan attorney to prepare a blunt attack which eventually found its way to the ministry in Madrid. In effect, the two men

were criticised for their ‘predominance, despotism and delinquent dealings’, the result, so it was averred, of their absolute command over the bishop, whose trust they abused to appoint as jueces hacedores and claveros men belonging to their faction, thereby assuring their control of the finances of both diocese and cathedral. As for Calama’s claim that he had saved thousands from dying from hunger, it was asserted that he had distributed thousands of pesos to ‘vagrants, gamblers, from among the most vicious in the city and its environs’. The result was that Valladolid had been filled with people seeking alms, causing many to die of the

plague. Nor was Tapia exempt from blame, since he was accused of

, patrolling. the city at night with a small guard, undermining the authority of the royal magistrate and frequenting the house of a mulatta of ill-fame.?!7

This denunciation failed to affect opinion in Madrid, since Pérez Calama was friend and correspondent of the count of Tepa, a leading councillor of the Indies who, on inquiring into the matter, was informed that it was a shameless plot led by ‘our Europeans’ against the dean. On learning of the denunciation, Bishop San Miguel equally praised his chief lieutenants and once more mooted the possibility of the dean becoming

auxiliary bishop. The crown attorney in Mexico City, Lorenzo Hernandez de Alba, equally dismissed the charges, noting that part of the

resentment came from Lic. Matias de los Rios, the former treasurer’s brother who, after renting the tithe collection for Taximaroa, had been reproved for attempting to obtain high prices during times of scarcity. He noted that Carro had owed his promotion to the dean before turning against him. For the rest, although Pérez Calama had publicised his measures against the famine too much, they had been both necessary and desirable, most of the monies in fact going to city councils. When the current viceroy, Manuel Flores, came to report on the matter, he noted how difficult it was to obtain any sure information about the case, and suggested that the minister might discuss the matter with Vicente de Herrera, who had recently left Mexico to become a councillor of the Indies. Any letter to Valladolid asking for information would provoke a scandal, especially since the bishop knew little of what happened about

A bishop and his canons 197 him, relying on his two lieutenants to administer the diocese, adding that ‘this virtuous prelate is confined to the narrowness of a cell, which he ordered to be built in his palace, where he observes the contemplative life. of a true Jeronymite monk, generously offering his income for the public good’.!8

Despite the support of his bishop and friends Pérez Calama was evidently cut to the quick by these accusations, since in the autumn of 1788 he retired to Acambaro, there to write a ‘Brief Historical Memoir’, in which he reflected upon his career in a somewhat defensive fashion.!9 Born of poor parents, ‘although honourable’, he had entered Salamanca at the age of twelve, registered in the college of Concepcidén, then vulgarly

called the orphans’ college. But after six years of study ‘he rubbed shoulders with persons of rank’, and was accepted by the students of the prestigious colegios mayores, owing to ‘his fine breeding, sweetness and affability’. By the age of twenty-one he entered the oposicidn for a canonry in Santiago de Compostela, proof of the talent which had caused Fuero to bring him to Mexico in 1765 when he was twenty-four. It had been Fuero who had taught him never to accept gifts and to fight the four great enemies of good government: ‘ignorance, gambling, women and money’.

On coming to Valladolid in 1776 as precentor, he was soon named visitor general by Bishop Rocha, whom he had vainly attempted to persuade not to pursue his visitation of the Oratory at San Miguel. After Rocha’s death, by then archdeacon, he had governed the diocese and, when San Miguel finally arrived at the close of 1784, he had contrived to suspend the usual fiestas of bull-fighting, comedies and cock-fighting, since they provoked immorality.

, It was precisely because he had provided the bishop with an exact, individual report on all members of the chapter that a party had formed

against him. Despite his energetic measures to combat the danger of famine in 1786, this party had proclaimed him to be a tyrant, as ‘antinational .. . and, in a word, capital enemy of the provincials or natives of this kingdom’. He perceived education in America to be very deficient, and had found that many whom he had helped had turned against him,

a phenomenon which caused him to cite ‘the great Ganganeli’ (Pope Clement XIV), who in his published letters wrote: ‘America 1s the earthly ©

paradise where the forbidden fruit is eaten very frequently.’ Yet he himself had gained 100,000 ps. 1n the twenty-three years he had spent in the Indies, sending only 12,000 ps. to Spain and disbursing most of the

remainder in charity, maintaining four poor American students for the priesthood in his house. During the famine of 1786 he had given cooked rice and maize to the poor in groups ranging up to 600 individuals, alms which, as he averred, identified him more with the Good

198 Bishops and chapter Samaritan than with the Levite. In all his efforts to govern the diocese and assist its people he had been always supported by Tapia, ‘my com-

patriot and companion’, who had served Bishop Fuero as diocesan attorney before joining him in Valladolid, adding ‘Dr Tapia’s knowledge of canon law is by no means simple ergotismo [cut-logic] or scholastic bachilleria’. Like David and Jonathan, the two clerics had presented a

common front against ‘ignorance, gambling, women and wrongly acquired money’. Pérez Calama then cited Psalm 4o of the Vulgate, where King David pleads with the Lord to deliver him from his enemies and laments that ‘mine own familiar friend’ had turned against him, a

reference either to Yafiez or Carro. He concluded by citing a prayer of Juan de Palafox, the patron saint of regalist clerics during the reign of

Charles III. As will be observed, the memoir is by turns unctuous and | exculpatory, the work of a priest all too conscious of his own virtue and achievements.

II The opposition to Tapia and Pérez Calama derived from a bizarre, often scandalous blend of partisan jealousy, personal corruption and wellfounded suspicion of tax evasion. To take the most pathetic case first, in 1779, Dr Nicolas José de Villanueva y Santa Cruz, a junior prebendary who came from a distinguished creole family with high connections in both the Mexican chapter and the high court, appealed to the viceroy for an equivalent appointment in the cathedral at Puebla, complaining that ‘all the citizenry is greatly afflicted and filled with consternation at seeing justice monopolised in the episcopal palace’. The archdeacon, Pérez

Calama, dominated Bishop Rocha and in conjunction with the city councillors and magistrates, Juan Manuel de Michelena and José Bernardo de Foncerrada, controlled the course of justice.2° On learning of this complaint, the bishop explained that Villanueva was ‘of a haughty

character, turbulent and audacious, insulting his colleagues and other

persons of this city’. If this were not enough, since his arrival in Valladolid he had displayed ‘a violent inclination towards the other sex’,

raising scandals which had already elicited reprimands from Bishops Sanchez de Tagle and Hoyos. His current lover was his sixteen-year-old

niece, with whom he had been seen both at the baths at Cuincho near Valladolid and walking through the streets of the city when she was noticeably pregnant. Although Villanueva later claimed that the girl had been violated by her cousin and that she had come to his house already expectant, she herself confessed that they had been lovers for at least a year. His patience exhausted by Villanueva’s protests, in 1780 Bishop

| A bishop and his canons 199 Rocha sentenced the prebendary to fifteen days of spiritual exercises in the Correctional College situated in the old Jesuit college in Valladolid,

and gave an account of the matter to the crown. But Villanueva fled to Madrid, only to be promptly arrested and returned forthwith to Valladolid, where he was installed in the Correctional College for five years. But in March 1784 the chapter, which governed the diocese prior

to the arrival of San Miguel, took note of his exemplary life in that institution and lifted the sentence, readmitting him to their ranks.?! The charges against Pérez Calama and Tapia, however, derived from two European canons, Dr Juan Carro, an erstwhile protégé who died

suddenly, and Dr Manuel Vicente. Yafiez, a man with relatives in the Ministry of the Indies in Madrid and who had been addressed by the

dean as late as 1787 as ‘my beloved companion and most simpdtico friend’. Indeed, the dean had then suggested that together with a group | of mainly European friends they should convoke a weekly meeting to discuss in conversational form religion, history and politics.22 But Yafiez had other diversions 1n mind, since in company with a junior prebendary, Dr Diego Suarez Marrero, a native of Habana, he had since 1786 courted

the four daughters of Manuel de Anas Maldonado, an official who worked in the cathedral’s treasury. According to Bishop San Miguel, who reported the affair to Antonio Porlier, the new Minister of the Indies, the two clerics had openly danced with these girls, who suddenly ‘have assumed the lead in fashion with much dance and song, exceeding in finery and fashion the richest persons’. Yet on their mother’s side they were mulattas, and Arias’ father was but a village player in Spain, their money derived from the estates of two deceased canons for whom Arias

had acted as executor. Thus Yafiez had formed ‘musical, theatrical, feminine meetings’ and with Suarez was to be seen in his coach with the four girls pulled by four mules passing around the square and streets of Valladolid. Yet it was these men who had impugned the good name of Pérez Calama and Tapia, a spectacle which led San Miguel to cite Juan

de Solérzano, the leading colonial jurist, that ‘In the Indies there are more scandals and plots than mines.*23

Matters reached such a pass that in 1789 the widowed mother of the Arias girls complained to the viceroy that Yafiez and Suarez had taken two of her girls to the baths at Cuincho, staying there for over a week, sleeping in the same room. All four had attended bull-fights together and promenaded around the square for all the world as if they were married, the two clerics dressed ‘in cloaks and white berets’. Later, she wrote that her two eldest daughters now lived in Yafiez’s house and were often to be seen on its balconies. News of the scandal reached Madrid and a decree

was sent ordering the bishop to form a legal case against the erring

200 Bishops and chapter priests. But San Miguel demurred, arguing that to start proceedings or remove them from office would cause a public scandal and uproar in the

city. When the viceroy, the marquis of Branciforte, inquired about the case in 1795, San Miguel replied that Suarez had died and that Yafiez’s sister and her children had arrived from Spain and that the canon now lived quietly with his family. In effect, the bishop had sought to end the affair privately without subjecting his cathedral chapter to the public ignominy of legal proceedings. One curious pendant to the affair was a letter written in 1799 by Yafiez to the crown complaining about

his lack of promotion, insisting that he had been ‘neither warned nor corrected’ about his alleged misdeeds.?4 An intriguing aspect of this affair emerged in 1788 when Diego Suarez

Marrero, the Cuban junior prebendary who had joined Yafiez in courting the Arias girls, informed the viceroy that he suspected that there

was a great deal of money lurking in the cathedral coffers, which | probably belonged to the crown. He had served briefly as juez hacedor and, on revising the accounts, had found a 120,000 ps. surplus of no clear origin. But when he sought to ascertain whence it came, the dean, Pérez Calama, became annoyed. Alerted by this revelation, the royal treasurer

in Valladolid, whose office had only been established in 1786, now discovered that there were 115,999 ps. owing to the crown, derived from the period after Rocha’s death when the bishopric had been vacant. In turn, the royal accountant of tithes, who worked in the cathedral offices, now revised his records and found that there was a further sum of 95,571 ps. outstanding on the vacant periods after the deaths of Bishops Sanchez de Tagle and Hoyos. None of this was contested by the current jueces hacedores, who in September 1789 and February 1790 made two payments to the royal treasury which totalled 211,570 ps., calmly asserting that it was the task of the royal accountant to deal with such matters.2> In

effect, the monies which San Miguel and Pérez Calama had lent in 1785-6 to city councils and landowners to purchase and plant maize had come from the episcopal quarter of tithe revenue which had accrued after the successive deaths of three prelates, monies which, during vacancies, reverted to the crown. Despite his service to the royal treasury, Suarez did not meet with any recompense other than the detestation of his superiors. When he entered the competition for a canonry he came last out of four candidates, the

position going to a highly respected Mexican cura, Dr Manuel de Iturriaga. In any case, by this time San Miguel had informed the viceroy that he had little Latin and less law and was little better than a charlatan; he had been removed from the haceduria because of incompetence; and

had associated with Yafiez both in pursuing the Arias girls and in

A bishop and his canons 201 © slandering the dean.26 Seeking to defend himself, in 1790 Suarez wrote. to Antonio de Porlier, the Minister of the Indies, claiming that he had

been persecuted because of his efforts on behalf of the crown, being derided by his colleagues as ‘the royalist prebendary and the attorney for the royal exchequer’. He now asserted that Tapia, the vicar general, was also ‘perpetual clavero and superintendent of the cathedral fabric’, and headed a faction which dominated the chapter and diocesan government. Of San Miguel he wrote: ‘with his natural mildness and clemency the

kind prelate does not penetrate the astute ideas of these opulent and powerful men... they use a refined policy and astute persuasion to hide the poison of their schemes’. Whatever the truth of these allegations, Suarez died soon after, still a junior prebendary.2’ Another member of the chapter who quarrelled with his colleagues over the question of taxation was Lic. Luis Zerpa Manrique, a European canon, who had been nominated as the commissioner for mesadas and media anata, the charges of a month’s and half a year’s stipend which all

members of the chapter had to pay on appointment and promotion. Once again it 1s not entirely clear whether it was his scandalous behaviour which provoked the bishop and colleagues to denounce him to the crown or their annoyance at his officious questioning of the taxes they had failed to pay. Apparently he was often absent from Divine Office in the choir and quarrelled with his colleagues even during mass. But when

he was reprimanded by a royal rescript from Madrid, ordering him to comply with his duties, he responded by accusing his colleagues of

failing to pay the media anata at the full rate. When they received relatively small stipends for posts within the cathedral offices such as juez hacedor or clavero, he tried to collect media anata on these payments. He

refused to approve of the titles of appointment of curas on the grounds that their stipends were much greater than the sums recorded in the bishop’s secretariat. All this proved too much for the chapter which, in

December 1798, met in formal session to approve the initiation of proceedings against Zerpa. He was described as thoroughly irreligious in behaviour, a man who had insulted virtually all his colleagues, who rarely attended Divine Office, who had hit both servants and tradesmen, who had attempted to corrupt his servant girls and who, in general, acted as a madman.28 Some fifteen witnesses were ready to sign depositions against him. As in the case of Suarez, Zerpa attempted to curry viceregal favour by claiming that it had been his attempts to collect taxes which had caused these proceedings, so that he was ‘now the poorest, most unfavoured and indebted servant of Your Majesty, afflicted, badly treated, scorned by my enemies’. Indeed, he was hated because he was the nephew of Francisco

202 Bishops and chapter

Machado, the accountant general who had formed the Intendancy Ordinances which threatened the chapter’s administration of the tithes. He claimed that some of his colleagues had accused Machado of being a heretic and Porlier of injustice. But none of his charges or protests proved

of any avail, and Viceroy Miguel Azana condemned ‘the intrepid character of this subcollector and the fastidious arrogance with which he

abuses his jurisdiction’.2? Fined by the chapter for his accusations, in June 1804 Zerpa was finally removed from Valladolid, appointed canon in the far poorer diocese of Oaxaca. When he had the impertinence to request San Miguel to provide him with a certificate of good conduct, the

indignant bishop noted that Zerpa had accused him of being utterly dominated by his vicar general, adding a note written in his own hand to refute this charge.*° If Zerpa was finally expelled from Valladolid, 1t was in part because in these last years he had formed a party with Nicolas José de Villanueva and the precentor, Dr Ramon Pérez Anastariz, an alliance of men who felt excluded from power and denied promotion. The reason for this was not hard to seek. Already in 1795, when San Miguel had explained to_ Viceroy Branciforte why it would be unwise to initiate legal proceedings

against Yafiez and Suarez, he had also noted that both Villanueva and Zerpa once had had illicit relations with women but that by now the

real problem was a question of character. Deceived by Villanueva’s apparent reform, he had recommended him for promotion to senior prebendary, since he had to support his elderly sisters, only to find that

‘his pernicious insolence, seduction and libertine tongue disturb my peace’. As for Pérez Anastariz, his conduct was utterly correct, but he was very difficult in character. The bishop lamented: ‘the clear knowledge of the terrible account I shall have to give God over the conduct of these ecclesiastics often prostrates me, filling me with tribulation and bitterness’ .*!

But San Miguel now found himself the object of fierce recrimination when, in successive letters written in 1799 and 1801, Villanueva angrily

complained that since coming to Valladolid in 1768 he had spent. eighteen years as junior prebendary and twelve years as senior prebendary, suffering the mortification of seeing younger men promoted over his head. He accused the bishop of being ‘the most active poison of my honour, the obstacle to my promotion and consequently the origin of my transcendental [szc] backwardness to my poor illustrious family’. By

way of proof, Villanueva adverted that both Zerpa and Anastariz had procured copies of letters written by San Miguel defaming him. In response San Miguel denounced the prebendary to the Minister of

Justice, José Antonio Caballero, characterising him as ‘haughty,

A bishop and his canons 203 sarcastic, backbiting, detracting, provocative and self-important’. In 1801 he had only spent fifty-six days in Valladolid and, indeed, was to

absent himself in Mexico for the whole of 1802.32 The bishop also

complained of Pérez Anastariz who, despite his apparent good behaviour, was always intriguing with the rebels. On learning of. this letter, which he obtained from his connections in the viceregal secretariat, Villanueva presented a recurso de fuerza in the high court of Mexico, vainly pleading for his case to be tried by royal jurisdiction. Ina

_ passionate attack he changed his tack and accused Manuel Abad y Queipo, at this time San Miguel’s most trusted lieutenant, as the cause of all his difficulties, now asserting that ‘my prelate is a saint as his notorious personal virtues and worthy fame attests’, especially owing to ‘his retreat and abstraction from all temporal things, as if he still lives in the bosom and centre of his cell in his old monastery’. In fact, he hardly ever left the palace save to go to the cathedral or attend a public function,

and thus ‘hears no evil, sees no evil and smells no evil’. Although apparently a saint, he thus neglected his duty as a bishop, and ‘is entirely and blindly bound over in the hands of men he trusts’, who govern the chapter and diocese.>? The result was that Villanueva had been accused, tried and found guilty without appeal.

Wounded to the quick by this accusation, San Miguel wrote to the high court in Mexico vehemently defending himself. He noted that he was now aged seventy-seven, and had spent sixty years as a monk and twenty-six as a bishop. Far from becoming a prisoner in the palace he had

visited nearly all his diocese, knew its parishes and its curas, whom he

personally appointed, and had administered confirmation to over 400,000 souls. He despatched his own business and ‘no one opens a single letter for me’. In a letter to the Minister of Justice, San Miguel averred that he had suffered five months of ‘tribulation and anguish’, since the recurso de fuerza and Villanueva’s derisive citation of Psalm 113

of the Vulgate, comparing him to an idol that could not hear, see or smell, had exposed him to ridicule across the kingdom. His suffering had been caused by the spirit of party, by the fury of ambition and vengeance, by national and family sentiments (since Villanueva is a creole well-related in Mexico) and that aversion

which is always noted in subjects against the government and he who rules. Without personal experience, Your Excellency, it is not possible to form an idea of what one suffers in America from this state of things.

He concluded in approved style by asserting that at his age all he sought was ‘to serve both Majesties [God and King], public utility, the good of the Church, justice and truth’.*+ His letter had the desired effect, and

204 Bishops and chapter in 1804 royal rescripts arrived appointing Villanueva as prebendary in Durango and Zerpa as canon in Oaxaca, transfers that reduced their stipends, since the tithe revenue in these dioceses was considerably lower than in Michoacan.3> But Fray Antonio de San Miguel had little time in which to savour his release from their presence since in June 1804 he departed this world, much lamented by the poor of his diocese

whom he had succoured so generously with alms. In Valladolid the aqueduct built in 1785-6 constitutes a permanent monument to his name.

Il In July 1794 Bishop San Miguel provided the ministry in Madrid with a detailed assessment of his chapter, albeit more concerned to praise than

to damn, the object of the exercise to provide the authorities with candidates for promotion. The year before, the intendant of Valladolid, Felipe Diaz de Ortega, also sent Viceroy Revillagigedo a list of clergy,

adding comments on outstanding individuals, but otherwise merely specifying whether they were Europeans or Americans. The advantage of examining these lists is that they at once reveal the existence of a number of much regarded, learned, virtuous priests who discharged their duties

competently and who in consequence rarely figured in the bishop’s correspondence. In effect, the mass of documents generated by the scandalous behaviour and tiresome character of a handful of individuals obscured the unchallenged — and hence unnoticed — merits of so many

other members of the chapter of Valladolid. T’o demonstrate this observation it is necessary to summarise the bishop’s report, adding where pertinent, the intendant’s observations.*¢ Dignities (‘dignidades’)

Dean (‘dean’) Dr Vicente José Gorozabel: an American ‘of notorious probity and well-ordered, exemplary conduct’; a brilliant canon lawyer who had qualified in the University of Mexico and thereafter ascended slowly through all the ranks of the chapter, but who was now very old and ill. He was generous with alms. Archdeacon (‘arcediano’) Dr Juan Antonio de Tapia, a European provisor and governor of the diocese during the visitations and illness of

the bishop. ‘Of notorious knowledge in law, judgement, prudence, integrity and firmness in the management of all kinds of business’; he enjoyed the greatest confidence of both Rocha and San Miguel; but

A bishop and his canons 205 had been the object of inhumane calumny. He was also highly praised _ by the intendant, who noted his ‘exemplary life, well-ordered conduct

and generosity in alms’, adding that he had been proposed for bishoprics. Precentor (‘chantre’) Dr Ramon Perez Anastariz, a European who

had served as chaplain in the regiment of infantry of Granada before | obtaining a canonry in Oaxaca. He had acted as rector of the Tridentine seminary and was named clavero by the chapter. The intendant added that he was a good orator and of ‘recommendable conduct’. Chancellor (‘maestre de escuela’) Lic. Agustin José de Echeverria y

Orcolaga, an American who had studied in the college of ‘Todos Santos,

named by the bishop as juez hacedor. He had served in Durango. He was ‘of vast experience in all kinds of business, of probity, well-ordered,

judicious conduct and, for all that I can perceive, worthy of greater dignities’.

Treasurer (‘tesorero’) Dr José de Arregui, a European, who had ascended through the ranks of the chapter, of ‘solid conduct’ but aged seventy-nine and ‘unfit for everything’.

Canons by grace (‘canonigos de gracia’?) Dr Manuel Vicente Yafiez, a European who had studied in Granada and served as canon in Durango before coming to Valladolid. Dr Manuel Antonio Salcedo, a European, ‘of brilliant career in sacred theology’, cura in the Toledan archdiocese at the age of twenty-two. Visitor and clavero superintendent of the cathedral fabric for six years. He

had served as rector of the San Nicolas. ‘Of exemplary, well-ordered conduct’, he preached often. He was worthy of appointment as a bishop

and had already attracted the attention of Viceroys Flores and Revillagigedo as a candidate for promotion. Lic. Mariano de Escandon y Llera, an American, professor of law, ‘of brilliant lights’, yuez hacedor for eighteen years; ‘of a laborious character, active, and from whose management of the revenues of this Holy Church comes the increase they now have’. After twenty years as prebendary and canon he was worthy of promotion to a dignidad in the cathedral. The intendant added that ‘he invests all his income in a beateria to the great profit of those who voluntarily reside there, and for the teaching of girls’. Escandon later succeeded to the title of count of Sierra Gorda. Lic. Luis Zerpa, a European, who ‘is not of any career, nor do I find in him qualities worthy of the king’s grace’.

206 Bishops and chapter ©

Canons by nght (‘canonigos de oficio’?) Dr Ildefonso Gomez Limon, an American (?), ‘of a most brilliant career, a distinguished orator, of especial taste and of exemplary well-ordered conduct’. He had

been rector of the Correctional College and ‘eleven years cura and ecclesiastical judge of Irapuato in this bishopric, where his well-known charity and active zeal in instructing the faithful in the mysteries and dogmas of our holy Catholic faith and his utter disinterest made him greatly loved’. He was fit for appointment to dignidades and bishoprics. Dr Manuel de Iturriaga, an American rector and restorer of the former Jesuit college of San Francisco Javier in Querétaro, diocesan attorney under Rocha, cura of Rincon de Leon, clavero named by the chapter, ‘of well-ordered conduct, probity and recommendable gifts’, fit for appointment as a dignidad in the cathedral. Dr Vicente Gallaga, an American, ‘of outstanding knowledge, of most exemplary, well-ordered conduct’; he was professor and rector of the Tridentine seminary, ‘to the notorious profit of his students, owing to his application, efforts, and a character fit for the education and instruction

of youth’. After serving as cura in Tacambaro and Celaya, he had resigned to enter the Oratory at San Miguel el Grande. He was ‘of notable charity for the poor and of continual assistance in the confessional’. He currently served as rector of the seminary and was deemed worthy of promotion.

Senior prebendanes (‘racioneros’) Lic. José Antonio Pina, an American, was ‘not of any career, but of notorious well-ordered conduct,

exemplary customs’, but was old and ill. He had been a cura in the diocese.

Lic. Manuel de Leso, an American of no career and of reprehensible qualities. He had served as cura 1n the diocese. Dr Nicolas de Villanueva y Santa Cruz, an American whose ‘conduct, quality and personal gifts do not make him worthy of the king’s grace’.

Lic. Antonio Belauzaran, a European, ‘of notorious well-ordered conduct and retirement, constant in fulfilling his obligations’. He had served as clavero and was the current rector of the Correctional College. Lic. Nicolas Collada y Plata, a European, who had served as cura in the diocese of Oaxaca and prebendary in Guadalajara; of good conduct but was over seventy and usually ill. Junior prebendaries (‘medio racioneros’) Dr Diego Suarez Marrero,

an American of Habana, a graduate in law from the universities of Cuba and Guadalajara, who had been chaplain in the navy before coming to Valladolid.

A bishop and his canons 207 Lic Manuel de Cubilano, a European, who had served as cura in the archdiocese of Guatemala and in Valladolid as juez hacedor; ‘of wellordered conduct and worthy of higher appointments in this church or

elsewhere’.

Lic. Roque Garcia Cifuentes, a European, had been a cura in the diocese of Oaxaca, and by reason of his advanced age and ‘small instruction’ was not worthy of promotion. Lic. Francisco Angel del Camino, an American, was juez hacedor; ‘of

the most well-ordered conduct, exemplary customs and competent intelligence’; worthy by reason of ‘his recommendable gifts’ of higher appointments. Immediately after his assessment of the chapter, San Miguel inserted

the name of Lic. Manuel Abad y Queipo, his Judge of Testaments, Chantries and Holy Works, a European who held the well-paid but nominal post of chief sacristan of Guanajuato, and whom the bishop

praised for his ‘great knowledge of law, integrity, well-ordered, exemplary conduct’. It was precisely his ‘talent, virtue and admirable gifts, his great expedition in business, rare disinterest, prudence and agreeable treatment of everyone’ that caused San Miguel to take him on his visitations ‘for the despatch of all judicial affairs’ and now to recom-

mend him for promotion. In the second place, he recommended Dr Gabriel Bartolomé Gémez de la Puente, the diocesan attorney (promotor

fiscal), who had served as interim cura both of the cathedral and of Tzintzuntzan. It is worth noting that in his generally favourable assessment of the teaching staff of the Tridentine seminary, San Miguel singled

out Dr Manuel de la Barcena, a European who taught philosophy, describing him as endowed with ‘particular talents, judgement, solid virtue, of indefatigable tenacity in his studies and of a singular modesty,

affable manner and lovable gifts’. Other lecturers who were highly praised for their conduct, learning and natural gifts were Lic. Francisco Uraga, Lic. José de la Pefia, Br. Vicente Pisa and Lic. Juan Salvador, all listed by the intendant as Americans. It is significant that the intendant entered Abad y Queipo under the heading of ‘episcopal palace’, along

with the bishop’s secretary, Lic. Santiago Camifia, an American ‘of average knowledge and great probity and conduct’; and Fr. Juan de Santander, the bishop’s chaplain, a Jeronymite monk ‘of brilliant

circumstances and irreprehensible conduct’, who had obviously accompanied San Miguel from Spain. As will be observed, there were six vacancies in the chapter, occasioned by recent death and promotion. This apart, the most significant feature was the presence of ten European Spaniards, men of obviously mixed

talents since, whereas both Tapia and Salcedo were lauded in the

208 Bishops and chapter highest terms as possible bishops, Yafiez, Zerpa, Pérez Anastariz and

Garcia Cifuentes were either condemned or listed without recommendation. What is equally significant was the warm praise San Miguel

lavished on a number of Americans, including Escandon, Iturriaga, Gallaga and Camifia. It should be noted that although we have listed Gomez Limon as an American, this attribution 1s by no means certain, since the intendant, while agreeing with the bishop as to his talents, failed to define his origin. As we have seen, there also existed in the diocese of Michoacan a number of well-qualified priests, doctors of theology or

licentiates in law, who were eminently qualified for positions in the chapter but whose entrance had been blocked by the appointment of inferior candidates from abroad, including in this case two clerics, Pérez

Anastariz and Suarez, who had previously served as chaplains in the armed forces. When in 1789 a leading canonry fell vacant, San Miguel informed the

Minister of the Indies, Antonio Porlier, that it would be an absolute disaster if Suarez Marrero was appointed to this post. Fortunately, the

voting in the chapter favoured Manuel de Iturriaga, a native of Querétaro, who had served under Bishop Rocha as diocesan attorney, ‘in which difficult position he won credit for his considerable jurisprudence,

both theoretical and practical, and his great integrity and disinterest, circumstances which in these countries are a miracle’ .*”7 But Iturriaga did

not win further promotion despite his obvious merits, and in 1797 opted to resign in order to join the Oratory first in Mexico City and then in

Querétaro. An example of an ambitious, highly qualified priest who

found his entrance to the chapter blocked was Dr Juan José de Michelena who, after serving as cura of the cathedral chapel and then of Celaya, a prime living, was only admitted as junior prebendary in about 1799 and promoted to senior prebendary in 1807. On recommending him, the bishop of Durango wrote that he possessed the three qualities that are needed for good canons: ‘sufficient Knowledge, but without swollen pride; a pure lineage and fine breeding; and humility without affectation’ .38

In addition to such admirable qualities, a candidate for promotion within the chapter undoubtedly benefited from episcopal patronage and connections in Spain, conditions which obviously favoured Europeans as against Americans. If we examine a more cursory list drawn up in 1813, we find that Manuel Abad y Queipo by then figured as bishop-elect of Michoacan and that if Escandon y Llera had risen to become archdeacon and Gabriel Gomez de la Puente treasurer, Manuel de la Barcena figured as Chancellor and José de la Pefia, now described as a European, as a

canon.?9 None of the other lecturers in the Tridentine seminary had

A bishop and his canons | 209 entered the chapter, although Francisco Uraga had by then secured the leading parish of San Miguel el Grande. It is well known that Abad y Queipo accompanied San Miguel from Guatemala to Valladolid, where he was immediately named Judge of Testaments, Chantries and Holy Works, a position that gave him control over considerable funds for investment. In addition, Abad y Queipo was entrusted with the task of framing the memorial to the crown concerning the controverted question of clerical immunity from royal jurisdiction. After the bishop’s death, Abad y Queipo adverted that ‘I was always at his side’ in questions of diocesan administration.*° But San Miguel was also assisted by his lifelong companion, Juan de la Barcena, alias Santander, a fellow Jeronymite

monk who, after his death, petitioned for secularisation, noting that he

had always acted as the bishop’s ‘confessor and companion’ in Comayagua and Valladolid, and at times as his ‘almoner and mayordomo’.*! Obviously, he recommended Manuel de la Barcena, born in the mountains of Santander, and no doubt a relative, who came to Valladolid as a young member of the bishop’s ‘family’, enrolling in the seminary and

eventually obtaining his doctorate in theology from the University of Mexico. Named cura of Salamanca almost immediately after receiving his higher degree, Barcena entered the chapter in 1796 as a canon and

in 1805 became treasurer. Recommended by Abad y Queipo as ‘an individual of outstanding talent and enlightenment, a good orator and of a moderate and sweet character’, in 1815 the bishop-elect named him governor of the diocese in his absence, an office in which he continued

for some years.42 A signatory of the Act of Independence of 1821, Barcena figured as a member of the Regency Junta and as an ardent adherent of the short-lived empire established by Agustin de Iturbide. The chief effect of the multiple infirmities of the elderly bishops who governed Michoacan in the second half of the eighteenth century was that these prelates inevitably relied on a small circle of trusted clerics to help them govern this immense diocese and its unruly chapter. What is

significant is that San Miguel chiefly relied on European Spaniards. There was a line of succession here, from Tapia and Pérez Calama to Abad y Queipo and Barcena, a tight circle of men who all prided themselves on their enlightened ideas and on their practical competence in governing the diocese. It is clear that these men dealt easily with the leading merchants of Valladolid, with Michelena, Foncerrada and Huarte, who were also from the Peninsula. Obviously, they maintained good

relations, even friendship, with creole clergymen who shared their commitment to reform. Abad y Queipo was the good friend of the rector

of the college of San Nicolas, Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla. Nor were © creoles excluded from diocesan government: the role of Mariano

210 Bishops and chapter Escand6on as juez hacedor was clearly significant. Similarly, the bishop’s secretary, Santiago Camifia, remained in office for over thirty years and as late as 1813 was praised by the bishop-elect for his great intelligence and services. But as the chance remarks of Perez Calama and San Miguel illustrated, this small group of enlightened Spaniards who governed the

diocese in the closing years of colonial rule were always conscious of the dangers of ‘national’ or ‘provincial’ enmity. It was to sustain the imperial interest that they sedulously urged the promotion of talented compatriots. In consequence many leading creole clergymen preferred to

administer the wealthy parishes of the Bajio rather than spend years slowly ascending the ranks of a chapter dominated by Europeans.

11 ‘Tithes and chantries

I In 1501 the Holy See granted the king of Castile the income accruing from church tithes in the New World, a right which was confirmed in 1508 when the crown was recognised as universal patron of the American

Church. From the start, however, the crown entrusted the management and receipt of this tax to the bishops and chapters of the Indies, merely reserving dos novenos (in fact a ninth) for royal expenditure, a sign of its

primordial rights over this branch of revenue. In the first century of colonisation, even the dos novenos were often allocated for capital investment in church building. For their part, the Catholic hierarchy regarded

the tithe as a universal Christian obligation, rooted in antiquity, supported by the Bible, and hence as an intrinsic right of the church. When the ministers of Charles III sought to encounter information about

the tithe — its magnitude and its distribution — they soon found that circulars and rescripts to bishops in the Indies elicited remarkably little response. In 1774, therefore, the crown commanded that a royal — accountant should be installed in all cathedral offices, whose function was to ensure that the royal ninth was fully collected. This accountant was paid from diocesan tithes and was subordinate to the jueces hacedores,

the clerical judges who managed the collection and distribution of this tax.! The rescript appointing these accountants openly complained ‘of the absolute and despotic management of this tax to the notorious harm of my royal exchequer, hospitals and cathedral fabric . . . taking into account that I enjoy the ownership and absolute dominion over these

tithes, since they are the patrimonial goods of the Crown’. The implications of this statement were later clearly stated by Ramon de Posada, the attorney for the treasury in Mexico, when he defined the tithes as ‘a quantity assigned for the maintenance of ecclesiastical ministers from a branch of the royal exchequer’. In November 1785 an ad hoc committee of the Council of the Indies headed by the count of Tepa assented to the arguments presented by the 211

212 Bishops and chapter accountant general, Francisco Machado, that the current system of distribution of tithe income was abusive and should be reformed. The result of their deliberations was a rescript issued in August 1786 which demanded that cathedrals should be supported by the contributions of their own parishes and, more importantly, that the four-ninths of the tithe known as the superavit or surplus, should be distributed among the parishes of the diocese rather than, as at present, employed to increase the stipends of the chapter. It was also urged that the king’s ninth should be assessed before rather than after the deduction of certain costs. This rescript might well have been ignored had it not been corroborated by the

Ordinances establishing intendancies in New Spain, promulgated in December 1786, which provided for a Tithe Junta to be established in each diocese headed by the local intendant as vice-patron of the church. The jueces hacedores were flanked by treasury officials on this committee, to which they were henceforth to be responsible in the exercise of their

duties and jurisdiction. Thus the crown stripped the bishops and chapters of their authority over tithes and envisaged a reformed division of receipts. Whatever may have been the case elsewhere in America, in New Spain the Catholic hierarchy united under the leadership of the archbishop of

Mexico, Alonso Nufiez de Haro, to reject these measures, instructing. their jueces hacedores not to collaborate with the intendants or accept the

authority of the projected Tithe Juntas. In June 1787, when Haro was serving briefly as interim viceroy, they despatched a joint representation to the crown in which they sharply denounced ‘measures which overthrow all the order and economy observed in the distribution of tithes

since the very beginning of these churches’, measures which were impracticable, filled with ‘the most serious inconveniences’, and which

left them ‘filled with sorrow and bitterness . . . wounded in the most tender and vital part of their honour’. Justifying their stance, they asserted that when the rescripts of the king or his councils ‘are against the

law or due rights . . . then the laws always provide that “they are to be obeyed but not applied” ’.4 In any case, the clergy had always possessed the right to write directly to the king. Turning to the question at issue, they insisted that the pope’s concession of dominion over tithes to the Spanish crown was advanced on the precise condition that the revenue be employed to support the church and its prelates. For two and a half centuries, the tithe had been managed by the jueces hacedores, acting as delegates of the bishops and chapters, without appeal to the high courts or intervention by the Council of the Indies. Their rights in this case did not rest on the pope’s concession to the crown, but derived from the tradition of Castile and in particular from the Concordance of Burgos,

Tithes and chantries 213 when the kings of Castile had made ‘a perpetual donation’ of tithes to the

church. Moreover, the Council of Trent, whose decrees were fully accepted by the crown and the Council of the Indies, had clearly affirmed

the right of the church to collect tithes. Contrary to what was stated in the Intendancy Ordinances, royal authority as regards tithes ‘never had

more function than to assist and protect the bishops’ measures’, especially since tithes preserve ‘their primitive and natural quality as spiritual and ecclesiastical goods’.

As regards the distribution of tithe receipts, the hierarchy stated that cathedral parishes were situated 1n cities and hence did not generate any

tithe income, so that to divert tithes to the parishes would leave the cathedrals without support. As for the superavit, which amounted to twoninths of the total receipts, they cited a royal rescript of 1779 addressed to the bishop of Michoacan, which approved of the current practice of allocating these monies to the chapter. ‘They asserted that the chapters were composed of ‘priests distinguished by birth, virtue and learning’. A position in the chapter, even the poorest, 1s ‘the prize with which your Majesty rewards zealous parish priests who have spent their best years

and consumed their health in the most arduous and useful ministry’. Moreover, if relatively generous stipends were paid to dignitaries, canons and prebendaries, it was because ‘many years ago the golden age of the

church passed away’, so that public respect and honour depended as much on material resources as on virtue. ‘A ragged canon, living in a

humble house, who goes on foot amidst the sun, the wind and the mud, confounded with the populace, would be an object of universal contempt.’ Canons were respected because of their almsgiving, their dress and their carriages. In short, the chapters were now threatened with ruin. Nor in future would they be able to assist the crown with loans or

pay the subsidy still outstanding. Finally, the bishops concluded by defending their right to suspend the implementation of the new legislation until they had informed the king of its defects, and reminded his ministers that they were ‘judges authorised by the pope’ and hence enjoyed ‘plenary faculties and apostolic authority’.

By the time this outspoken protest reached Madrid, José de Galvez had died and Charles ITI was soon to pass away. The new Minister of the

Indies who had responsibility for church affairs, Antonio Porlier, displayed a more accommodating approach to American sensibilities than his predecessor. For sure, in November 1787 he reproached the. bishop of Michoacan for failing to apply the rescript of August 1786 and

condemned his signing the joint protest with the bishops of Mexico, Puebla and Oaxaca, thereby calling into question ‘the supreme regalian rights of the crown’. Each bishop should have applied the rescript and

214 Bishops and chapter | then petitioned the king separately. However, in March 1788 Porlier despatched a secret order to the viceroy instructing him that if the new

ordinances and rescript had not been put into operation, then its provisions as regards the church and tithes should be suspended, albeit

‘taking just exception to the illegal conduct of the aforementioned prelates and chapters, since even if their petition was justified they

should have first executed and applied the aforesaid royal dispositions’.> Confronted by the intransigent resistance of the Catholic hierarchy, the authorities in Madrid thus chose to rescind their projected reform.

Confirmation of the minister’s decision was advanced in a plenary session of the Council of the Indies held in 1792. Only the accountant general, Francisco Machado, continued to urge reform, when in a long memorandum submitted in 1794 he roundly denounced ‘the opposition’,

which was to say, the cathedral chapter of Mexico and Its allies, for seeking ‘to preserve their injustice and usurpation’. He argued that the terms of their founding charters should be literally observed and that

| appeals to immemorial custom should be dismissed. Custom had no rights in the light of law, especially when it had sanctioned the chapters’ usurpation of tithe income which rightfully belonged to the parishes. He also sharply criticised the generous stipends of the canons, adding ‘the

decorum and public esteem of ecclesiastics does not consist in high incomes but in great virtues’. Nor did he accept that tithes belonged to the church as of right, defining them simply as a branch of royal revenue,

which had been assigned for a specific purpose but which could be equally applied elsewhere.® He concluded: ‘It is advisable to cut the root

_from which these false ideas spring . . . the king resuming control over the tithes and endowing the church with sufficient income from the remainder of his royal patrimony.’ Although the matter continued to agitate the Council of the Indies, no further initiatives were framed in Madrid as regards the collection and distribution of tithes: all the attention henceforth was on ways to raise

additional revenue from this source. One feature of the case which merits notice 1s that whereas the South American dioceses apparently supplied detailed information about the tithe receipts, as late as 1819 the accountants general still complained that the Mexican dioceses had yet to comply with royal decrees. Such information as they did possess was

manifestly erroneous. The interest of the dispute lies in the sharply opposed principles of bishops and royal ministers, the former appealing to tradition and the Council of Trent, the latter basing their case on the crown’s sovereignty and an essentially utilitarian view of church revenue. In Machado’s memorandum there can also be discerned a note of envy,

Tithes and chantries 215 that dignitaries and canons at times disposed of stipends superior to the upper echelons of the royal bureaucracy.

Il If ministers sought to intervene in the administration of tithes, it was in large measure because church revenue from this source had increased so markedly during the last decades of the eighteenth century. The reasons

for this phenomenon are clear. The population of New Spain was growing in number during this period and thus generated demand for a greater volume of the foodstuffs produced by haciendas and ranchos. At the same time, the prices of staple crops all rose appreciably. The | obvious result of this expansion in volume of production and rise in monetary value was a manifest increase in tithe revenue. The stipends of bishops and canons thus soared. Although the general inflation of these

years reduced the real value of all earnings, nevertheless, the chapter clergy continued to enjoy an income equal and at times superior to the salaries of leading royal officials. Frustrated in their attempt to control the management of the tithes, ministers relied on taxes such as media anata, mesada, anualidad and the new noveno to cull the stipends of the dignitaries, canons and prebendaries of New Spain whose earnings they considered excessive.

Here is no place to discuss the controverted question of the overall yield from tithes during this period, especially since even contemporary officials often failed to grasp the complexity of the accounting system employed by the jueces hacedores. The only general statement available

was compiled by Eusebio Ventura Belefia, a distinguished high court judge, who in 1791 provided Viceroy Revillagigedo with a table listing the tithe revenue of the dioceses of Mexico, Puebla, Valladolid, Guadalajara, -

Durango and Oaxaca for the years 1770-90. His figures showed that whereas in 1771-5 the total yield had amounted to 1,229,968 ps. a year, in 1785-9 it had risen to 1,872,703 ps., an increase of over §2 per cent.’ In the case of Michoacan, it can be shown that Belefia’s statistics were relatively accurate, since they were comparable to a scheme of net returns | presented by Bishop San Miguel. But for the archdiocese of Mexico, Belefia’s figures were grossly misleading. According to his table, during the quinquennium 1785-9 Mexico received an average 748,772 ps. a

year, a sum which represented no less than 40 per cent of the tithe revenue of New Spain. But a contemporary document, obviously prepared by the contaduria of the archdiocese, demonstrated that gross revenue was but 544,669 ps. during these years and that Belefia had

included the 204,104 ps. of existencias, monies held in the claveria and ,

216 Bishops and chapter which in varying sums were carried over from year to year. Moreover, even this figure overstated true income, since once the costs of collection

and administration were deducted, only 420,129 ps. a year were distributed between the archbishop, the cathedral, the hospitals, the crown and the chapter. In effect, the archbishop had an annual income of 100,693 ps., a sum which was superior to the total tithe revenue of the dioceses of Oaxaca or Durango. The dean received 12,459 ps. and the ten canons 8,306 ps. each, stipends comfortably above the 6,000 ps. paid to the twelve intendants of New Spain.®

In 1791 Bishop San Miguel compiled a detailed account of tithe revenue for 1786—90, which demonstrated that with a gross income of 336,402 ps., Michoacan was second only to Mexico, roughly comparable

to Puebla and clearly superior to Guadalajara, which only averaged 260,175 ps. in these years. The soaring returns for 1800-9 were both a measure of the rise in the price of maize and livestock and of the continued growth of population. Whether all the dioceses of New Spain.

experienced a similar expansion is by no means clear. In the case of Michoacan, the vacancy caused by the death of Bishop San Miguel in 1804 meant that the crown pocketed the prelate’s ‘quarter’ of the tithes for over four years, thereby reaping well over 250,000 ps. extra revenue. If contemporaries were so apt to provide conflicting estimates of tithe receipts, it was in part because collection was difficult and often delayed, with the consequence that the final balance was usually not completed for some years. Although it was relatively easy for collectors to obtain

accurate statements of hacienda production of maize and wheat, it required considerable ingenuity and perseverance to exact the appropriate quantity of corn from the multitude of Indians and castas who leased lands from the great estates, especially since subletting was common. Indians were not liable for tithe on crops grown on village land for their own consumption; but of course many entered the market or worked on haciendas. In practice, there existed any number of customary arrange-

ments, whereby the tithe was commuted to a specific amount, small subsistence farmers and squatters paying a fanega of maize. This was even more the case with stock raising, where on the more remote latifundia cattle and sheep wandered across the ranges without much supervision. Moreover, once the produce had been handed over, it still had to be sold by the collectors, who often waited until market prices favoured the release of their stock. Maize harvested in December or January was often not sold until August. So also, foals or calves born in August and September were usually not branded and sold until well into the following year.? The result was that collectors were often slow to

despatch their returns to Valladolid so that the annual accounts

Tithes and chantries 217 Table 10. Tithe receipts in Michoacan diocese (pesos) A. Tithe receipts, 1786—90

Dulces Back- Diocesan

Year Gross (sweets) payments Total . costs Net 1786 297,428 73975 7,018 312,412 12,723 1787 306,018 8,050 8,980 323,049 12,760 1788 288,412 7,613 16,568 312,593 12,209 1789 346,771 6,674 30,872 384,318 12,943 1790 323,374 11,100 15,156 349,630 12,854 Average 312,400 8,282 1§;719 336,402 12,698 323,704 Source: ACM, XIX, 14, 4 Aug. 1791. B. Average annual tithe receipts, 1740-1809

1740-9 184,294 1750-9 218,389 1760-9 218,816 1770-9 271,020 1780-9 323,940 1790-9 3703459 1800-4 464,919 1805-9 507,871 Source: Morin, Michoacan, p. 103. C. Intendancy tithes, 1787

Intendancy Tithes Percentage Guanajuato 175,564 49.76

Valladolid 113,409 32.15 Guadalajara 27,470 7.79 San Luis Potosi 32,010 9.07

Other 4,350 1.23

Total 352,803 100.00 Sources: ACM, Xvi, 650; ACM, XIx, 14. D. Annual average tithe receipts in New Spain, 1771-89 (pesos)

Mexico Puebla Michoacan Oaxaca Guadalajara Durango Total .

1771-5 327;796 = 287,725 270,660 66,765 183,773 93,238 1,229,957 1785-9 748,365 351,652 321,520 83,864 263,073 106,329 1,874,803 —

Increase 420,569 63,927 50,860 17,099 79,300 13,091 644,846 Source: Florescano, Los problemas agrarios, p. 69.

218 Bishops and chapter presented by the jueces hacedores to the bishop and chapter always included outstanding payments from previous years. For most of the eighteenth century it was the practice in the diocese of

Michoacan to appoint tithe collectors who were remunerated by an 8 per cent commission on money receipts, a system which entailed the

submission of detailed accounts. If we examine the documents despatched to Valladolid by the collector for Leon, we find that he listed all sixty-five haciendas and ranchos by name and then broke down their.

tithe payments by crop and animal. He then entered the prices he had obtained for the sale of this diverse array of produce. As might be expected in the Bajio, the 10,000 fanegas of maize he sold accounted for 62 per cent of total receipts; wheat yielded another 12 per cent; but the remainder came from sale of beans, chilli, barley, cheese, hens, colts,

mules, donkeys, calves, lambs and pulque, all in small sums. Once 513 ps. of expenses had been subtracted from total receipts of 3,812 ps., the collector’s commission only amounted to 260 ps. The payment to the

cathedral claveria was made by merchants resident in Valladolid, on whom the collector had drawn three lbranzas, the Mexican bills of exchange. !°

The diocese was divided into fifty-one districts for tithe collection, some coterminous with a parish, others the union of several parishes. In 1761, thirty-four districts were administered on a commission basis and another seventeen leased for varying periods of years to tithe farmers who contracted to pay a fixed sum each year for the period of their lease. The ©

advantage of tithe farming for the jueces hacedores was that they thus avoided sharp annual variations in receipts and were relieved of the task of checking the collectors’ accounts. During the 1770s, the chapter opted to abandon the traditional system of collection in favour of farming out uthes to the highest bidder. By 1787 only five districts remained under

direct administration, no doubt because their remote location did not attract any interested parties.!! If we examine the geographical origin of the tithes, we find that the intendancy of Guanajuato contributed nearly 50 per cent of the total yield, whereas Valladolid only paid 32 per cent, a distribution which

indicated the richness of the Bajio’s soil and the prosperity of its haciendas and ranchos. By contrast, San Luis Potosi still remained a mere frontier extension of a diocese that had come to rival Puebla and Mexico in wealth and population. An irony arising from the distribution of tithe revenue should not pass unnoticed. In the sixteenth century, the. impoverished frontier parishes of San Miguel, Dolores, Silao, Irapuato, Salamanca and Valle de Santiago had been granted a rebate on tithes collected in their districts, amounting to a moveno. At the close of the

Tithes and chantries 219 colonial period, these parishes numbered among the most populous and

wealthiest in the entire diocese of Michoacan. Yet their curas still continued to receive these tithe rebates which thus accentuated yet further the contrast between the ‘plump’ benefices of the Bajio and the impoverished parishes of the highlands and tierra caliente. }2

il In 1783 José de Galvez, the imperious Minister of the Indies, issued a rescript to all viceroys, governors and bishops of the American empire,

demanding that the outstanding installments of the Ecclesiastical Subsidy should be paid forthwith. Although in two successive breves of 1721 and 1740 the Holy See had authorised Philip V to collect a subsidy

of over 4 million ducats from the American Church, by 1780 only 272,210 ducats had been paid.!3 Despite this admonition, many dioceses still demurred, with the result that in 1790 the crown imposed a levy of a sixth or 16.6 per cent on all clerical income. ‘To ensure that an accurate assessment should be made, bishops were instructed to submit detailed estimates of all church income, no matter what the source. It is testimony

to the newfound efficiency of the Bourbon regime that by May 1794 Viceroy Revillagigedo informed Madrid that he had already collected 382,299 ps. of the §73,741 ps. still outstanding on the subsidy. Flushed with the success of the operation, in 1795 and again in 1799, ministers obtained further subsidies, each of 1% million.!4 One result of this exercise was the assembly of an unprecedented quantity of fiscal data about the American Church. Although returns were slow in coming in, the accountants general of the Council of the Indies strove to compile a consolidated list of all the American dioceses and where they failed to elicit a response inserted estimates based on earlier data. In 1799 they presented a grand summary

which purported to demonstrate that the total annual revenue of the American Church, including the Philippines under this heading, was about 10 million ps., an estimate which was soon revised upwards by another half a million ps. after receipt of the returns from the archdiocese

of Charcas.!5 Had statements from Caracas and Popayan been forth- | coming, no doubt the total would have been further augmented. It 1s essential not to confuse these estimates with the quite separate inquiry into the tithe revenue of the American dioceses. As the breakdown

provided by the archbishop of Charcas indicated, the summaries included all branches of church revenue, ranging from tithes and parish fees to the income of the religious orders and confraternities. Indeed, in

| Upper Peru, it was clear that tithes were overshadowed by parish fees,

220 Bishops and chapter accounting for a mere 16.2 per cent of diocesan income compared to the §I per cent arising from the parochial ministry.!® It is of some interest to note that the Mexican Church was by far the wealthiest in America and provided over 40 per cent of all clerical income. By contrast, Peru and Chile together only contributed 25 per cent of the total. It fell to Bishop San Miguel to present the result of his inquiries in 1791

to the crown. Obviously, at times he was obliged to estimate income where parish priests failed to answer his circular. So too, not all curas were to be fully trusted 1n their returns. Despite these reservations, his submission provides the only global estimate of church revenue in Michoacan in the eighteenth century that we possess. In Table I1, we present San Miguel’s figures and recalculated estimates based on the detailed returns compiled for his submission to the crown. To understand this scheme it is necessary to note that, apart from alms |

(about which we have no data), the Mexican Church had four main sources of income: tithes on agricultural production; parish fees charged on sacraments and masses; chantry and endowment interest (capellanias and censos); and profits and rents from agricultural and urban property. The division can be further simplified if we note that tithes and parish fees were taxes On production, agricultural and ecclesiastical, whereas

endowment interest, profits and rents were returns on capital investment. Another distinction was that tithes, much of endowment interest and profits all derived from payments emanating from haciendas. As regards recipients, the analysis is rendered complex in that many priests and clerical institutions obtained income from two if not more of these four categories. Parish priests often held chantries and the cathedral at Valladolid was maintained by its share of the tithe, by capital endowments . and by rents of the houses owned by the Colecturia de Aniversarios.

On inspection of the 1791 estimates, we find that tithe revenue accounted for 29.3 per cent of all church income within the diocese as | compared to the 34.4 per cent embodied in parish fees and the vicarios’ stipends. It was surely a remarkable feature of ecclesiastical finance in this epoch that the bishop, chapter, cathedral and hospital at Valladolid should have absorbed so great a proportion of available income. At the same time, the estimates for parish fees were in all likelihood understated. As we have seen, vicarios could often double their stipends by celebration of masses, either for individual intentions or for confra-

ternities. In this respect it is difficult to know how to allocate the 50,308 ps. expended by confraternities, since much of their expenditure undoubtedly entered the estimates of parish fees and thus should not be double-counted. On the other hand, their capital was also understated, since the value of Indian lands and cattle was rarely assessed with any

‘Tithes and chantries 221 Table 11. Church income in Michoacan diocese, 1791 (pesos)

MSS estimates | Calculated estimates

Tithes (net) 287,737 Tithes 323,704 Chantries 147,784 Chantries 147,784 Ex-Jesuit endowments 7,274 Ex-Jesuit endowments 75274 Parish fees 322,274

Parish fees and religious houses 506,401 Vicarios’ stipends 59,552

Religious 161,608

Others 22,864

Total 949,196 Total 1,045,060 Confraternities 50,872 Confraternities 50,308 Source: ACM, XIX, 14, 4 Aug. 1791.

rigour. Nor indeed, for that matter, were native contributions to curas in foodstuffs and services given their due monetary equivalent. Despite

these qualifications (which mainly affect the poorer parishes), San Miguel’s figures provide a useful guide to the fiscal balance between the cathedral and parishes.

As regards the resources which supported the secular clergy, the standard rate of § per cent interest meant that the chantry priests of the diocese derived their income from a collective capital endowment of 2,955,680 ps. As we have seen, this was a relatively low figure, especially

if it be compared to the equivalent funds in the dioceses of Puebla and

Mexico. Alongside this must be placed the cathedral capital worth 451,815 ps. and the 238,460 ps. endowment of the Santa Cruz sanctuary

in Celaya. What were not listed on the returns, with only some exceptions, were the multiple small endowments possessed by parishes for altar lamps, anniversary masses and other local purposes. Under this heading, it is probably correct to include the 1,006,166 ps. of confraternity capital, invested both in property and 1n censos, since the income was almost entirely expended paying priests for their services. if this be accepted, then we can conclude that the secular clergy in Michoacan were supported by an overall capital endowment of 4,652,121 ps. Turning to the religious orders, San Miguel listed three nunneries, a college for girls and four beaterias which possessed a collective income of 42,931 ps., which was to say, an endowment of 8§8,620 ps., virtually all of which was charged on haciendas and houses. It 1s striking to note that this sum was probably inferior to the capital which supported the single convent of Santa Clara in Querétaro. It is more difficult to calculate the

wealth of the male orders, since whereas the Augustinians and Carmelites depended on extensive landholdings for their maintenance,

222 Bishops and chapter the Franciscans observed their rule forbidding ownership of property and relied on ‘spiritual’ capital instead. The problem here is that all priories attracted a range of pious endowments and chantry funds, but that in the

case of the Carmelites and Augustinians, no breakdown between hacienda profits and interest on such capital was provided. If the rate of 5 per cent return on investments be applied, then the total wealth of the | male religious orders, excluding the value of their priories and churches, Was 2,293,350 ps. However, this is but a crude estimate, since obviously haciendas could yield both more and less than § per cent according to their harvest yield and the prevailing price level. From other sources we know that the Augustinian hacienda of San Nicolas had an estimated value of 500,000 ps., a figure which corresponds to the combined income of the priories at Salamanca and the property in Salvatierra. As for the Franciscans, they possessed a capital fund of 571,600 ps. divided into a

multiplicity of endowments and chantries charged on haciendas and

houses, so that each priory bore a heavy burden of masses to be celebrated. But the Franciscans also managed no less than seven parishes in the diocese from which they derived an income almost as great as that

provided by their endowments. Finally, it should be noted that the former Jesuit colleges still possessed funds worth 145,480 ps. In all, therefore, the religious orders, male and female, possessed spiritual

endowments and property in the diocese of Michoacan worth approximately 3,297,430 ps. IV

In December 1804 the crown commanded that all church property in America should be sold and the proceeds deposited in the royal treasury, which henceforth was to be responsible for the payment of interest on this capital, albeit at the reduced rate of 3 per cent. Although a similar amortisation measure had been implemented in Spain in 1798 without

causing undue commotion, by contrast the Consolidation decree aroused a flurry of protests from virtually all the leading institutions of New Spain.!7 The reason for this outcry is not hard to seek. Unlike its © counterparts in Europe, the Mexican Church did not own a great deal of land. Only the religious orders had actively sought to acquire haciendas and, in the case of nunneries, urban property. But the secular clergy, confraternities and many convents drew their income from ‘spiritual’ capital, which was to say, from a bewildering array of capellanias, obras pias and censos (chantries, holy works and liens) charged on haciendas

and houses, which all yielded an annual § per cent interest on the principal. The origin of these funds can be traced back to the sixteenth

Tithes and chantries 223 century, from whence they had continued to grow in scale as pious | donors set aside further funds to support priests and churches. As late as the 1790s, wealthy miners from Guanajuato were still intent on establishing new chantries. The economic consequences of Consolidation were forcefully stated by Miguel Dominguez, the creole corregidor of Querétaro, who wrote

the representation that the mining court made to Viceroy Iturrigaray. He argued that the measure constituted a savage capital levy which would effectively ruin most landowners, since they would be required to make immediate arrangements to redeem the often multifarious range of church funds charged on their estates. More generally, the effect would be to drain the economy of its prime source for investment. At best, there were about 15 million ps. in circulation at any one moment: yet church funds charged on property probably amounted to about 4o million ps.,

thus rendering immediate redemption a monetary impossibility. For merchants, miners and landowners, church funds had been the chief recourse for loans and investment capital, since ‘in this kingdom there are no Exchanges, banks or public funds from which to take money on interest and the only expedient there was, was to have recourse to the Juzgados de Capellanias, to the chests of the convents, or those of the confraternities, in a word to the obras pias’.!8 It was the availability of

these funds for investment which thus impelled all branches of the Mexican economy so that their amortisation would cause universal ruin.

Despite such protests, Viceroy Iturrigaray rigorously enforced Consolidation, installing diocesan juntas headed by the intendants to administer collection. About the only concession to common sense was that landowners and households were allowed to redeem the funds charged on their property over a period of ten years. By the close of 1808 when the measure was finally brought to an end, some 10% million ps.

, had been paid into the treasury and thereafter despatched to Spain where the royal exchequer was virtually bankrupt. The sheer concentration of church wealth in Mexico City and its environs was demonstrated by the © archdiocese paying just under half of the total monies collected during these years. By contrast, Michoacan only contributed about a million ps., a clear indication that although it had surpassed Puebla in tithe revenue, the diocese still lacked an equivalent capital, the result of donations over almost three centuries.!9 For all that, the burden of redemption provoked

immense resentment among landowners who presented a vigorous protest to the viceroy. In October 1805 the Valladolid chapter remonstrated with Iturrigaray

about Consolidation, obviously drawing on arguments presented by

Manuel Abad y Queipo, who had administered the Juzgado de

224 Bishops and chapter Testamentos, Capellanias y Obras Pias for over twenty years. They asserted that the Mexican Church did not possess more than 2§ million ps. in funds, of which Michoacan accounted for a mere 4% million as compared to the 9 million registered in the archdiocese of Mexico. Of this sum, only 2 million consisted of haciendas and urban property: all the remainder took the form of chantries and other funds. To enforce

redemption would cause ‘incalculable bankruptcies’ and lead to a ‘universal sequestration’.2° Unimpressed by these dire predictions, the

diocesan Consolidation junta met in October 1805 and immediately commanded Abad y Queipo to provide them with a detailed list of all chantries subject to his court. In response, he complained that since ‘ecclesiastical jurisdiction is almost extinguished by the latest dispositions of the Sovereign’, his office no longer had sufficient income with which to employ the clerks necessary to compile such a list. In 1791 he had enumerated 1,183 endowments with a total value of 2,988,050 ps. Since then another 148 chantries had been set up at a cost of 457,834 ps., so that the current value now amounted to 3,445,884 ps. But it would be an immense task to track down the beneficiaries of all these funds and to

ascertain on which haciendas the funds were charged. To illustrate the scale of the problem, he noted that during the period 1780-1800 his office had received and invested each year an average of 96,885 ps., which

derived from redemptions of existing chantries and new foundations. Since 1800, however, the scarcity of specie and the low prices of agricultural produce had caused that rate to fall to 64,000 ps. a year and indeed so far during 1805 only 21,000 ps. had entered his chest.2! So

scarce were funds for investment, that when an endowment was redeemed, there were ten applicants offering security for it.

In these brief lines, Abad y Queipo provided invaluable testimony about the operation of his office, since he demonstrated that the funds under his supervision were still increasing 1n value and that they were ‘turned over’ with some frequency, thereby obliging the Juzgado to act as an investment agency. It did not receive the income from these chantries,

since landowners paid the chaplains directly. Some measure of the growth in the capital endowment for priests can be obtained from the © declarations of Vicente Antonio de los Rios, who in 1781 noted that the

7 Juzgado as a separate office had only been created in 1768, since until then ‘the scarcity of clergy and the low endowment of their chantries had greatly limited the general fund’.? In effect, the diocese of Michoacan only emerged from its frontier condition in the course of the eighteenth

century. Under Abad y Queipo’s management, however, the Juzgado came to play an important role in the local economy. Perhaps the most spectacular example of this activity occurred in 1798 when the marquis

Tithes and chantries 225 of San Juan de Rayas, a leading silver miner of Guanajuato, applied for no less than 80,000 ps. for ‘the development of his vast business’, offering as security his hacienda in Irapuato, his house and refining mill in Guanajuato. The purpose of this loan was to finance the construction

of a general shaft for the Rayas mine. In May 1798 Abad y Queipo handed over the 20,861 ps. that were deposited in the Juzgado chest and

then completed the 80,000 ps. by November of the same year, thus entrusting all the funds coming into his office to one great entrepreneur.??

The degree to which merchants used their haciendas as security to obtain loans can be observed in a statement provided by the executors of the estate of Antonio Peredo, a leading businessman of Valladolid. On three haciendas and his house, he had raised no less than 92,650 ps., a

sum which consisted of thirty-three separate entries, ranging from 20,000 ps. borrowed from the convent of Santa Caterina in Valladolid to

a mere 400 ps. from the cura of Tarimbaro. He had obtained monies from the local Augustinian and Franciscan priories both at Patzcuaro and Valladolid as well as 6,000 ps. from the sanctuary of Santa Cruz at Celaya. There were at least seven chantries on the list and some 7,800 ps. attributed directly to the Juzgado. So also, the Colecturia de Aniversarios of the cathedral had 4,750 ps. charged on his account. What such a list does not reveal, however, is whether all these sums had been raised by Peredo or whether many entries had been already charged on the haciendas when he purchased these estates.24 Whatever their origin, it is clear that most clerical institutions sought to safeguard their capital by spreading their loans in relatively small sums across any number of

landed estates. Thus in Querétaro the mother house of the Franciscan

province of San Pedro y San Pablo possessed an endowment of 187,743 ps., composed of sixty-eight pious foundations which yielded an

annual income of 9,397 ps., a sum which was clearly insufficient to support a community of over fifty friars. Virtually all these funds carried provisions for anniversary masses, so that the priory had the obligation to celebrate 882 sung masses every year.” As regards individual chantries, it is by no means clear just how many priests depended on income from this source for their livelihood. In 1775 the cura of Leon reported that there were eighteen priests with capellanias in his parish, whose total endowment came to 66,500 ps., thus providing an average income of 185 ps. However, considerable variations existed, since the interim parish priest, José Manuel de Ibarra, had two chantries

together worth 6,000 ps., whereas five priests, including one of the three vicars, had chantries of 2,000 ps., a principal which yielded an insufficient stipend of 100 ps. What 1s equally significant is that no less

226 Bishops and chapter than fourteen of these clerics can be identified as members of landowning families of Leon, thus subsisting in part off endowments established by

their parents or more remote ancestors.26 In effect, chantry priests included both wealthy heirs, such as Ibarra himself, and a relatively impecunious class of creoles whose families had lost their ancestral estates but whose inherited chantries still afforded the means of entry into the priesthood. At the same time, both curas and vicarios often enjoyed a supplementary income from personal chantries. The determination of Viceroy Iturrigaray to enforce the Consolidation meant that landowners, merchants and miners in the Michoacan diocese had to present themselves in Valladolid or else authorise an agent in the

city to negotiate terms of redemption with the diocesan junta. The marquis of San Juan de Rayas, for example, had no less than 154,610 ps.

of church funds charged on his estates and urban property, which he agreed to pay in twelve annual instalments of 12,884 ps.?? Similar arrangements were made by the heirs of Domingo Narciso de Allende of San Miguel el Grande who agreed to pay twelve instalments of 1,500 ps., to redeem their 18,000 ps. debt and by heirs of Gabriel Garcia de Obeso, a leading merchant of Valladolid, who had to redeem 33,969 ps. charged on his estates.28 Not everyone, however, could find the monies necessary to come to an agreement with the junta. Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, the cura of Dolores, made no attempt to redeem the two chantries, together worth 7,000 ps., which were charged on the haciendas of Santa Rosa and San Nicolas which he owned in the district of Irimbo. Since he refused to appear before the junta in Valladolid, protesting his poor health, and

insisted that he was quite unable to pay any monies into the Consolidation treasury, in August 1807 the junta commanded that his haciendas should be embargoed. Valued at 31,602 ps., these properties did not find

a purchaser and in February 1810 were finally returned to Hidalgo, his obduracy having thus saved him from contributing to the royal exchequer, albeit at the cost of forgoing his income from the haciendas.?9

In effect, virtually all the leaders of the 1810 Insurgency had suffered owing to the folly of the wilful enforcement of Consolidation. The extraordinary feature of these last years of the Pax Hispanica was the degree to which the Spanish crown sought to intervene in practically all branches of church wealth and income. Failing tn the attempt to impose official management of the tithes by juntas headed by intendants, the ministers in Madrid introduced an entire series of minor charges ail

designed to tax the cathedral chapters. The Ecclesiastical Subsidy affected all branches of the clergy. But it was the Consolidation decree of 1804 which proved most far-reaching in its effects, since 1t endangered the livelihood of a great number of priests, both secular and religious.

Tithes and chantries 227 In reaction to this concerted attack on hallowed privileges and the accumulated donations of almost three centuries, the bishops and chapters of New Spain cited canon law and the rights conferred by the Council of Trent, only to find their arguments dismissed by appeal to the

government’s fiscal necessity. The Bourbon bureaucracy no longer viewed the church as the mainstay of the crown’s authority over society, choosing rather to identify it as a wealthy corporation ripe for reform,

which offered the prospect of rich plunder for the treasury. When leading members of the clergy of Michoacan emerged as leaders of the Insurgency of 1810, they signalled the final rupture of the traditional alliance between the Mexican Church and the Spanish crown.

12 = Liberal prelate

I

In 1813 the bishop-elect of Michoacan, Manuel Abad y Queipo, published a collection of his important writings addressed to government

and also an extensive pastoral letter condemning the rebellion that afflicted his diocese. He thereby publicly identified himself as an ardent

defender of church privilege and property; as a critic of the gross inequalities of Mexican society, desirous of reform; as an advocate of the

constitutional monarchy envisaged by the Constitution of Cadiz; and as a vehement opponent of the 1810 Insurgency led by his erstwhile friend, Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla. Born in 1751, the illegitimate son of an Asturian nobleman, Abad y Queipo studied law at the University of Salamanca and 1n 1779 accompanied Archbishop Cayetano Francisco

Monroy to Guatemala, where he acted as promotor fiscal or diocesan attorney and was ordained as priest. In 1784 he joined Fray Antonio de San Miguel on his journey to Valladolid and on arrival was appointed Judge of Testaments, Chantries and Holy Works, a post he occupied until 1809.! As we have seen, he was the bishop’s trusted lieutenant and

figured prominently among the circle of enlightened ecclesiastics and officials who governed the diocese in the closing decades of Bourbon

rule. A student of Adam Smith, Montesquieu and Campomanes, Abad y Queipo drew upon his deep experience of Mexico and his wide

reading to frame the first real analysis of colonial society. When he visited Paris in 1806, he presented Alexander von Humboldt with a copy

of his extant memorials, a source which the Prussian savant cited frequently in his Political Essay on the Kingdom of New Spain, albeit attributing them to Bishop San Miguel. A liberal in both politics and

economics, the bishop-elect would be subsequently accused of Jansenism, no doubt in part because he followed Campomanes in accepting the Gallican principles of the abbé Fleury and the Dutch canonist Van Espen.? Despite his radical views, he resolutely defended

the Spanish empire in America and refused to countenance any 228

Liberal prelate 229 accommodation with rebel creoles. Like many another liberal imperialist, he preferred good government to self-government, even if its survival depended on military force. In his first representation to the crown, framed on behalf of the bishop and chapter of Michoacan in 1799, Abad y Queipo lamented the erosion

of ecclesiastical jurisdiction occasioned by recent legislation, and strongly protested against the royal rescript of 1795 which had abrogated the personal immunity of the clergy from royal courts in cases of grave

and heinous offences. Already the country had been scandalised to witness the imprisonment and trial of a priest in Puebla. In particular, the

criminal bench of the high court was intent on ‘the degradation of the American clergy’, taking cognisance of cases without paying heed to the bishops’ counsel or judgement. Without immunity, any clergyman could be accused of criminal offences by local magistrates on trumpedup charges and exposed to the humiliation of trial by royal judges. In the villages of Michoacan ‘everyone 1s an Indian or a mulatto; the only white

faces are those of the parish priest and the magistrate, if the latter | himself is not also a mulatto’. Moreover, the criminal bench of the high court had displayed an alarming tendency to accept any denunciation

of the clergy presented by country magistrates, no matter how illgrounded.?

Not content to warn the crown of the practical consequences of the measure, Abad y Queipo invoked political principles, observing that

‘the immunities of the Spanish clergy are part of our monarchical constitution and cannot be excessively reduced without altering it... The right to be tried by judges of his own class 1s like the most precious property in the mind of each individual and for this reason all the distinguished classes have obtained their respective fueros.’ To strengthen his case, Abad y Queipo cited the example of France where the magistrates of the parlements had so discredited the clergy in popular esteem by destroying their privileges that the people eventually turned on the crown itself. Nor did he hesitate to quote directly from The Spirit of the Laws Montesquieu’s dictum that ‘if in a monarchy you quit the lords, nobility and clergy of their prerogatives, then very soon you will have a popular

state’. In all modern monarchies the nobility and clergy were the two columns which supported the state. Moreover, in New Spain four-fifths of the clergy ‘do not have a benefice and simply subsist on the low stipends of their office; they do not receive anything from the government that might distinguish them from other classes other than the privilege of their fuero’. Since the country clergy were often the only protectors of the masses from the abuses of magistrates and landowners, they still enjoyed

great influence, which hitherto they had always employed to preach

230 Bishops and chapter loyalty and obedience to the crown. In effect, ‘the clerical fuero is the only special bond which ties them to the government’.

The secular, not to say utilitarian character of Abad y Queipo’s thinking can be best observed in a confidential report which he prepared

in 1804 for Bishop San Miguel on the proposals to create three new dioceses in New Spain, respectively based in Acapulco, Veracruz and San Luis Potosi. He sharply criticised the project on the grounds that it would rob the bishops and canons of Puebla and Michoacan of their tithe income and thus lower their status. At present, so he averred, cathedral

chapters were filled with candidates drawn equally from Spain and Mexico: to reduce their salaries would injure the aspirations of the local

priesthood. In any case, ‘the clergy are a charge on the state’ and a burden on the people, who had to pay the contributions which maintained them. To trace the full consequence of erecting a new bishopric,

‘it would be necessary to write a treatise of political economy’. In particular, the effects would be ruinous for San Luis Potosi, a city situated on the northern limits of the Michoacan diocese, since it already possessed five mendicant priories, three parishes, a sanctuary dedicated to Our Lady of Guadalupe, twenty-six confraternities and some thirty clergy living off their chantries. ‘To add a cathedral and canons would be

too great a burden for a town with no more than 14,000 inhabitants, surrounded by a province dominated by a vast latifundia. In liberal strain, Abad y Queipo confessed: ‘The lack of property and the excess of clergy are the true causes of the decay of San Luis Potosi.’ In any case, he was less than persuaded of the moral efficacy of episcopal visitations, arguing that their effects were momentary unless they were accompanied by ‘other motives capable of redressing human passions such as honour, interest and respect for other men... whose force 1s also proportional to the kind of society in which they exist’.> In both these memorials, Abad y Queipo offered a striking analysis of rural society in New Spain and proffered radical proposals for reform. His starting point was that ‘in America there 1s no gradation or middle ground: everyone is either rich or poverty-stricken, noble or infamous’. Of the estimated four and a half million inhabitants of New Spain, ‘the Spaniards compose a tenth of the total population and they alone have almost all the property and riches of the kingdom’. The remainder, which is to say, the Indians and castes, were ‘the retainers, servants or workers of the first class’. The result of this deplorable inequality was open hatred and conflict of interest, leading to ‘envy, theft and poor service on the part of some; and scorn, usury and harshness on the part of others’. True, in a subsequent passage, Abad y Queipo admitted that, beneath the level of the Spaniards, there was a strata comprising a fifth or a third of the

Liberal prelate 231 population who had sufficient means to feed and clothe themselves relatively well. In another report, still unpublished, he divided the rural population of his diocese into four classes: ‘proprietors, workers, tenants

and Indians’, with the ‘rustic workers’ subdivided still further into resident peons and hirelings.6 Of these groups, the maintained peons were by far the best placed, since their families had often lived on the same hacienda for generations and were paid a monthly wage of 3 to. 4% ps. and a weekly maize ration of a quarter of a fanega. These peons, however, usually accumulated debts and their burial fees were frequently covered by their employers. By contrast, the hired workers are taken from the tenants (arrendatarios) of the same haciendas and from the Indians of the nearest villages. These tenants are usually

poor and miserable. Confined to a small portion of land with precarious possession and a few head of livestock, they can barely subsist; and are pursued according to the caprice of the landlords who either move or oust them, so that

they do not cultivate the land with energy, and still less think of building dwellings of any stability.

He concluded that in general the rural population ‘groan under the weight of indigence, ignorance and abjection’. Nor had the recent establishment of intendancies and the abolition of repartimientos de comercio bettered the condition of the masses, since the successors of the alcaldes

mayores were now paid a mere pittance and hence were even more © corrupt than their predecessors. Indeed, the intendants found it difficult to encounter qualified candidates for the post of subdelegate. Although the repartimientos at times had caused hardships, nevertheless, the former district magistrates had brought two great benefits: ‘the one was that they administered justice with disinterest and rectitude in the cases to which they were not party, and the other was that they promoted industry and agriculture in lines which were important to them’. In his description of the rural masses, Abad y Queipo noted that ‘the

castes find themselves defamed by law as the descendants of black slaves’. It was for this reason that they hated paying tribute and sought to change their status by quietly ascending into the Spanish stratum, albeit | always hindered by their poverty and lack of education. But it was on the Indians that Abad y Queipo concentrated his attention, since they still

constituted the majority of the Mexican population. Of their social degradation there could be no doubt: ‘the colour, ignorance and poverty of the Indians place them at an infinite distance from a Spaniard’. Unlike many contemporary European commentators, however, Abad y Queipo did not blame the condition of the Mexican Indian on his sloth or his drunkenness or indeed, on any innate inherited characteristics. Instead,

, 232 Bishops and chapter he blamed the Laws of the Indies. It was the well-meaning but disastrous |

legislation of the Spanish crown which had led to the Indians being treated as minors, prevented from borrowing more than § ps., recently deprived of all credit from district magistrates and, above all, permanently trapped within the system of communal tenure of land. The result was that the Indians dwelt in separation from the remainder of society,

could not undertake binding transactions and, at every point, were denied the means to better their condition. ‘Isolated by their language and by the most useless and tyrannical government, they preserve the customs, usages, and gross superstitions, which in each village eight or ten old Indians mysteriously seek to maintain, living idly at the expense of the toil of the others, ruling them with the most harsh despotism.”8 To remedy the manifold and obvious ills of New Spain, Abad y Queipo drew heavily, albeit without acknowledgement, on Jovellanos’ Report on

the Agrarian Law. In the first place he called for ‘a law which would establish the absolute civil equality of the class of Indians with the class »

of Spaniards’. The only way to do this was to abolish the tribute or capitation tax, allow them to incur such debt as they could obtain and , free them from all restrictions on the sale of their produce. These concessions, however, should be matched by an obligation to pay sales tax (alcabalas) and tithes at the same rate as Spaniards. Much the same concessions should also be extended to the castas, who should be freed of —

tribute, allowed to take all appointments for which nobility was not required and enjoy the same status as other subjects of the crown. Not content with legal and fiscal equality, Abad y Queipo then proposed radical land reform. As regards the Indians, he advocated measures ‘to divide the lands of the Indian communities in dominion and property

among individuals, leaving only the pasture and rough lands in common’. Furthermore, since ‘the bad division of lands’ was the chief

cause of poverty and dispersion of population, he proposed that all vacant public lands should be distributed among Indians, castas and poor Spaniards. Yet more radical, he suggested that land on haciendas which had been left uncultivated for twenty or thirty years should be thrown open to popular cultivation, presumably by means of tenancy arrange-

ments. Other reforms included the abolition of the sales tax on all property transactions, free licence for the establishment of textile workshops and permission for anyone to live in Indian villages. In short, Abad y Queipo fixed upon the inequitable distribution of property as the chief cause of New Spain’s social squalor and advocated individual ownership of land as the chief remedy.? In all this the influence of Jovellanos can be clearly discerned, especially in the premise that every individual, no — matter what his race or history, would respond to economic incentives,

Liberal prelate 233 once government had created a framework of legal equality and availability of land.

In 1805 Abad y Queipo once more addressed a representation to the

crown, this time acting on behalf of the farmers and merchants of Valladolid, to plead for the suspension of the ecclesiastical amortisation decree of the previous year, which threatened the destruction of ‘the

agriculture, industry and commerce of the kingdom and the ruin of the royal exchequer’. What ministers in Madrid had failed to understand,

or had chosen to ignore, was that in New Spain the church owned relatively little land, especially after the confiscation and sale of the Jesuit haciendas. Instead, over the three centuries of colonial rule the complex

gamut of ecclesiastical institutions, from wealthy nunneries and prestigious confraternities to humble brotherhoods and parochial altar endowments, had accumulated vast sums in the form of annuities, loans, unredeemed mortgages and chantry funds, all secured on haciendas and

urban property. Based on his experience as Judge of Testaments, Chantries and Holy Works, responsible for the investments of these

monies once they were redeemed or established, Abad y Queipo esti- , mated that this accumulated capital amounted to 44% million ps. as against landed property worth 22 to 3 million. Yet the crown now demanded that this vast sum should be redeemed and paid into the royal treasury. The result would be nothing short of disastrous for the propertied and entrepreneurial classes of New Spain. For merchants and

miners as much as landowners had raised monies from the church in order to finance their operations, offering haciendas as security. Moreover, a great part of clerical capital had been charged on estates by their owners as annuity funds for sons who entered the priesthood and as such had never involved any transfer of cash. In effect, the crown had imposed

a capital levy on New Spain’s landed elite and its effect would be to

destroy the country’s credit system and drain the economy of its currency. Some 20,000 citizens would have to travel to the diocesan capitals, there to negotiate the rate of redemption over a period of ten years, advertising to all the world the precarious state of their finances.!° Yet it was precisely the upper fifth of the population which paid virtually all the taxes, supported the weight of foreign trade and had always been distinguished for their loyalty to the king. Anxious to seize the opportunity to develop further his analysis of New Spain’s economy, Abad y Queipo included in his memorial a discussion of Mexican agriculture. Why was it that Mexican farmers were unable to compete against their Anglo-American counterparts in supplying flour

to Cuba? As in the allied question of Indian retardation, the answer was simple: the Mexican countryside was dominated by some 10,000

234 Bishops and chapter haciendas, estates which had grown almost continuously since the sixteenth century and which in some cases covered entire districts. The availability of church funds had enabled the haciendas to grow in size, but had equally prevented their partition. Yet many estates bore so heavy a range of church funds that the combined sum at times amounted to half the value of the estate, with the result that annual income barely covered interest payments, leaving the owner to rely on years of high sales to extract his profit. Despite this precarious situation, many owners, so Abad y Queipo averred, chose not to lease their land, but left great tracts uncultivated or devoted it to rough pasture, fearful that Indian tenants © might appeal to the authorities for recognition as a constituted village and therefore be legally entitled to a land endowment. Other factors impeding the development of Mexican agriculture were the church tithe, the crown’s 6 per cent excise duty, municipal laws governing grain sales, poor roads, the mountainous terrain and irregular rainfall. In the last few years, which was to say, since 1800, New Spain had suffered from a marked scarcity of currency which caused ‘a very considerable delay in

all payments, a great slowness in the course of business and much difficulty for new enterprises’. The promissory notes issued by northern miners on merchant houses 1n Mexico City often circulated for two to

three months, endorsed for as many as ten separate transactions. However, no matter how long the list of contributory causes, Abad y Queipo fixed upon the concentration in landownership as the chief cause

for the backwardness of Mexican agriculture and the stark contrasts between rich and poor in the Mexican population. He concluded: “The indivisibility of haciendas, the difficulty in managing them, the lack of property among the people, has produced and continues to produce deplorable effects for agriculture, for the population, and for the state in general.’!!

II In 1808 Napoleon Bonaparte compelled Charles IV and his recently proclaimed heir, Ferdinand VI, to relinquish their dynastic claim to the. throne and installed his brother Joseph as king of Spain. Several Spanish ministers and high officials welcomed the new king as affording an ©

opportunity of implementing long-cherished reforms, especially as regards the church. But any hopes of a peaceful change of dynasty were abruptly dispelled when peasants and townsmen joined in popular riot to

attack the French and hunt down collaborators. Local officials and gentry, who might otherwise have favoured accommodation, hastily established loyalist juntas in all the leading cities and provinces. In many

Liberal prelate 235 districts priests and friars took the lead in preaching a holy war of resistance against the French invaders. Soon after the coup a Central Junta was established to co-ordinate resistance to Napoleon, but neither the regular army nor the militias raised by local juntas proved any match for French troops, who by 1810 occupied most cities in the Peninsula. In that year the Central Junta was replaced by a Regency which established

itself at Cadiz, a city impregnable by land and protected at sea by the British fleet. In order to restore some semblance of legitimacy to its

government, the Regency reluctantly sanctioned the plans of the previous Central Junta to summon a general Cortes, an assembly attended by deputies from both Spain and America. In 1812 a new constitution was promulgated which declared that ‘sovereignty resides essentially in the nation’, a principle which relegated the monarchy to the status of an hereditary executive, powerless to oppose the laws decreed

by the popularly elected Cortes. But many churchmen and aristocrats rejected the new settlement and called upon Ferdinand VII to repudiate this liberal constitution. !2 These dramatic events marked a watershed in the life of Manuel Abad

y Queipo, since he now emerged as an ardent patriot, disposed to sacrifice church wealth and privilege for the temporal salvation of the Spanish nation and its American empire. Resident in the Peninsula at the time of Napoleon’s coup, he wrote a proclamation addressed to the

French people in which he reproached them for their slavish subservience to ‘the genius of evil’, Bonaparte, a despot who had destroyed

their liberty and constitution. Far removed from the heroic years of 1791-3, when they had defended ‘their solemn declaration of the rights of man’, the French now resembled Arabs or Vandals, acting as a horde of conquerors, preying on the peoples of Europe. Yet while the French poured forth their blood to maintain a military tyranny, the English grew in prosperity and power, their manufactures reaching across the globe. Abad y Queipo concluded by prophesying that a resurgent Spain would eventually destroy the armies that sought to conquer it. Written at Cadiz, this highly charged pamphlet was printed by the junta of Valencia, then in Madrid and finally in Mexico City in November 1808.}3

The reason why Abad y Queipo had returned to Europe after so many years in America was that his appointment in 1805 as candnigo penitenciario in Valladolid had been questioned owing to his illegitimacy.

Moreover, as the attorney of the Council of the Indies indicated, there was cause to suppose that his election had been rigged, since the two

other candidates named by the chapter 1n the statutory terna were two comparatively young creoles, the one a professor of theology in the Tridentine seminary, the other a canon lawyer serving as secretary to

236 Bishops and chapter the bishop of Guadalajara.!4 In order to obtain the requisite dispensations from both the Holy See and the Spanish crown, Abad y Queipo left Mexico in July 1806, his journey financed by contributions from an impressive circle of wealthy merchants, miners and curas. Owing to the British naval blockade, his travels took him to Philadelphia and Paris before he finally arrived in Madrid in September 1807. He was later to recall that in Paris he had stayed in a house opposite the Tuileries palace

and had witnessed Napoleon taking the salute of the armies led by General Murat.!> Although he soon obtained all the requisite dispensations he needed for his holding high office in the church, including a

declaration of nobility, he remained in Madrid in a vain attempt to persuade ministers and officials to halt the implementation of the Consolidation decree which already threatened to destroy the Mexican economy. He argued that instead of a savage capital levy, the necessities of the Spanish treasury would be better served by an increase in excise duties and in the price of tobacco sold by the royal monopoly. On arriving in Mexico in the autumn of 1808, Abad y Queipo found the country bitterly divided, the peninsular Spaniards triumphant but apprehensive, the Americans resentful but expectant. For when news of the Spanish uprising against the French invaders reached Mexico, Viceroy Iturrigaray had summoned several meetings of notabilities in

which creole lawyers representing the city council of Mexico had advocated the convocation of a national junta in order ‘to fill the immense gap which now exists between the authorities who govern and

the sovereign power’ of the people. But any hopes of a peaceful transition to home rule were cut short when the judges of the high court conspired with the merchant guild and the archbishop to organise a coup in which Iturrigaray was forced to resign, his place as viceroy filled by an -

aged, impecunious army officer, Pedro de Garibay. Alarmed by the political tensions he observed, in March 1809 Abad y Queipo directed a brief memorandum to the high court, the effective ruler of the country,

in which he argued that New Spain was exposed to the twin threats of internal conflict and a British invasion. Indeed, he speculated that Bonaparte, who was so clever and resourceful, might even come to terms with the United States in order to despatch an army to Mexico. It was > thus imperative to recruit another 40,000 men into the militia, relieving them of the obligation to pay tribute. So also, cannon and munitions should be purchased from Jamaica, the cost to be borne by raising the price of tobacco.!®

In August 1809 Abad y Queipo despatched memorials to both Archbishop Lizana, the acting viceroy, and the Central Junta in Spain, in which he criticised the project to raise a loan of 20 million ps. in Mexico

Liberal prelate 237 to assist Spain, noting that Consolidation had drained the country of any spare capital. The only way to raise money was to increase excise duties from 6 to 8 per cent and to raise the price of tobacco from I0 to I2 reales a pound. Once more he insisted on the need to raise a new army since he > feared ‘the frightful anarchy which threatens us’. Indeed, his worst fears _

were realised when in September 1809 a widespread conspiracy was uncovered in Valladolid which involved any number of young creoles of leading families within the city. Anxious to conciliate public opinion, Archbishop Lizana treated the plotters with great clemency, with exile rather than execution his chosen punishment. The deepening alarm with

which Abad y Queipo viewed the train of events both in Spain and Mexico was most clearly attested when he warned the Central Junta that the very survival of the Spanish nation was now at stake: “To be or not to be: liberty or slavery: glory or ignominy... the supreme law of the safety

of the people now rules so that the effects of all laws, privileges and immunities, both civil and ecclesiastical, are suspended.’ In consequence, he called for such radical measures as melting down church

silver, using the income of pious foundations and ecclesiastical vacancies | and a general tax on all property. Nor did he perceive the utility of summoning a Cortes at a time when the first imperative was to defeat the French.!” In February 1809 a new bishop, Marcos de Moriana y Zafrilla, arrived

from Spain, the first prelate to hold office in Michoacan since San Miguel’s death in 1804. But his tenure proved remarkably short, since he

died in the July of the same year, albeit not before appointing Abad y Queipo as his vicar general and provisor.!8 At once the chapter wrote to

Spain urging Abad’s appointment as bishop, not merely praising his _ character and his charity, but also emphasising his singular patriotism that in a time of dark and tyrannical government obliged him to insist on the rights of peoples and the true interests of the nation 1n two valiant

representations, the one directed to the court, the other to the government of Mexico, inculcating the eternal principles of justice . . . when there was thus no . patria, he was already a fearless patriot; and the happy national insurrection has electrified and inflamed his patriotism yet more.

The trusted servant of two bishops, Abad had undertaken several works of public utility and was universally admired. Much the same note was struck by the intendant and city council of Guanajuato who wrote to

commend Abad’s ‘kind, amiable, sweet, social, noble and generous character’ and ‘the patriotic zeal which animates all his actions’. Apart from his proclamation ‘filled with fire and force’ against Bonaparte’s ‘intrusive, tyrannical government’, he had also defended the true inter-

238 Bishops and chapter ests of the nation when Spain had ‘groaned under the yoke of a minister

who was the enemy and destroyer of our liberty and happiness’, an allusion to Manuel de Godoy, Charles IV’s favourite.!9 None of this eulogy persuaded Archbishop Lizana, who informed the Central Junta that there was no one suitable to be bishop in Valladolid and instead recommended the dean of the Mexican Inquisition, Bernardo de Prado y Ovejero, for the post.2° But the archbishop, who was dominated by his cousin, Isidro Sainz de Alfaro, another Inquisitor, thereafter fell from

favour and was removed from office. In February 1810 the newly established Regency named Abad y Queipo bishop of Michoacan but, since it failed to obtain papal approval for the appointment, he was never actually consecrated. | Soon after taking up office as bishop-elect, in May 1810 Abad y Queipo

despatched an urgent warning to the Regency advising them that ‘our possessions in America and especially this New Spain are very disposed to a general insurrection . . . the electric fire of the French Revolution has

put into movement... an ardent desire for independence’.2! There existed ‘an immense mob of ignorant admirers’ who regarded Napoleon as ‘the regenerator of the world’. Moreover, ‘the ambiguous conduct’ of

Iturrigaray, the coup which removed him from office and the inept administrations of Garibay and Lizana had all exacerbated the traditional

enmity of gachupines and creoles. The news from the Peninsula of competing juntas, defeat and disunion had created the impression that Spain was lost. The result was that ‘the Americans would wish to govern

alone and be the exclusive proprietors’ of the kingdom. As for the Indians and castas, they hated the Spaniards and would follow the creoles

in rebellion, even though their interests were quite different. Indeed, mass rebellion might well degenerate into race warfare and create scenes

reminiscent of the revolution in Saint Domingue, where the former slaves had slaughtered their white masters. It was to forestall these dire

events that Abad y Queipo returned to his previous proposals and advocated the outright abolition of the tribute, a capitation tax only levied on Indians and castas. At present, anyone of African descent, no matter how tenuous or remote their ancestry, had to pay this poll tax, which thus served as ‘a badge of slavery’. To quell creole discontent,

he called for the abolition of Spain’s commercial monopoly, since ‘America can no longer be preserved by the maxims of Philip II’, but required ‘a new system, more liberal and just’. All the leading ports of Spanish America should be opened to foreign shipping. These fiscal concessions could be financed by raising the price of tobacco and the

excise duties levied on imports. Above all else, however, Abad y Queipo urged the immediate recruitment of a regular army in Mexico

Liberal prelate 239 numbering at least 20,000 men: if creole loyalty could no longer be assured, then Spanish dominion had to be assured by military power.

Il In September 1810, Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, parish priest of Dolores, called out the masses in rebellion against European dominion. He was joined by Indians and castas, by the farm labourers, artisans and miners of the Bajio. For a banner and symbol of their movement he offered his followers the image of Our Lady of Guadalupe which he took from the sanctuary at Atotonilco. Acclaimed ‘Generalisimo of America’, Hidalgo led his swollen, undisciplined horde to Guanajuato, marching to the cries of ‘Long Live Our Lady of Guadalupe! Long Live Ferdinand VII! Death to the gachupines!’ On demanding the city’s surrender, he explained that the purpose of his insurrection was to expel the Europeans and recover the rights of ‘the Mexican nation’, and thus end the cruel tyranny of 300 years. “The present movement ts great and it will be yet more great when

it attempts to recover the holy rights conceded by God to the Mexicans | and usurped by a few cruel conquerors.’ Unpersuaded by this rhetoric, the intendant, Juan Antonio de Riafio, concentrated his forces in the Alhondiga de Granaditas, an impressive neoclassic edifice constructed to serve as a corn market and municipal granary. In the ensuing siege and the massacre that followed its capture, over 300 Spaniards lost their lives.

The populace rampaged through the city sacking the properties owned

by the gachupines. These events marked the final rupture between European and American Spaniards; no longer quarrelling cousins, they became suspicious foes, no matter how pressing the need for an alliance against the insurgent masses.”

Thereafter, Hidalgo led his forces first to Valladolid and then to Guadalajara, where he had high mass and Te Deums celebrated in the cathedrals while in the suburbs peninsular Spaniards were murdered. He abolished slavery and, more important, decreed the abolition of tribute | for Indians and mulattos, a measure which thus removed any necessity of preserving records of these invidious distinctions. He also forbade any further leasing of Indian community lands, seeking to protect the integrity of their boundaries. Finally, he called for the expulsion of all gachupines, denouncing them as ‘unnatural men, who have broken the

closest bonds of blood, abandoning their fathers, brothers, wives, and their own children . . . to cross immense oceans. The force behind all their toil is avarice . . . They are Catholics through policy, their true god is Mammon.’23 That Miguel Hidalgo should have headed the Mexican Insurgency was |

240 Bishops and chapter a measure of the crisis in authority and belief that characterised this period. For he numbered among the most learned priests in his diocese and indeed had been accused of Jansenism owing to his admiration for the church history of the abbé Fleury. His knowledge of French literature and his zeal in promoting artisan industry at Dolores had won him the respect of intendant Riafio, an official well known for his enlightened

ideas. When rector of the San Nicolas college at Valladolid, he had become the good friend of Manuel Abad y Queipo. There can be little doubt that the two men shared much the same views about the necessity of economic and social reform in New Spain. But Abad y Queipo was an Asturian, whose liberalism stopped short of any recognition of the right of Mexicans to govern their own country. For his part, when Hidalgo moved into revolt, he suspended his liberal beliefs in favour of the time-

honoured themes of creole patriotism. There thus opened a fissure between liberalism and patriotism that was to haunt Mexican politics for many years to come. Some measure of the sentiments that inspired the priests who served Hidalgo can be obtained from an insurgent periodical, El Despertador Americano (1810-11), edited by Francisco Severo Maldonado, a doctor of theology, who warned the Americans against the inroads of atheism that the French forces had propagated in Spain. It was for the Americans to

take the lead in defending ‘the sacred rights of the altar and patria’. Religion which had been exterminated in Europe could be preserved in America: 1f King Joseph had proscribed the religious orders, the creoles should strive to maintain them. Above all, the insurgents served ‘Our

Holy Mother of Guadalupe, Tutelary Numen of this empire, sworn captain of our legions’. Hidalgo was another Washington, a ‘hero liberator’, who, after 300 years of tyranny, now sought ‘the independence

of a nation that has only taken up arms to recover its sacred rights and maintain the religion of its fathers intact’. Why should the gachupines be allowed to own the richest mines, the most thriving haciendas, to marry the wealthiest heiresses, to monopolise trade, to drain the country of its bullion and currency, to occupy the leading positions in church and state, and, to add insult to injury, then accuse the creoles of idleness? There was a danger that the Europeans might hand over the country to King Joseph.?4

His worst fears realised by these events, Abad y Queipo moved swiftly to issue a series of edicts in which he denounced Hidalgo, ‘who until now had merited my confidence and friendship’, as anew Mahomet, guilty of leading an insurrection that was ‘essentially anarchic’. Under the banner

of Our Lady of Guadalupe, he preached a new religion of hatred, murder and pillage, encouraging the Indians and castas to plunder the

Liberal prelate 241 estates and houses of the propertied classes. Indeed, he accused the cura of Dolores of teaching the Indians that they were the true lords and owners of the land of New Spain, a message which would inevitably provoke a bitter civil war between the natives and the creoles. Mexico

thus stood in danger of a descent into anarchy, threatened by a re-enactment of the horrific experience of Saint Domingue and the French Revolution, in which the masses would slaughter the creoles and destroy the country’s prosperity. Abad y Queipo strongly defended the gachupines from Hidalgo’s slander, arguing that they had identified with America and through their industry had created new sources of employment for the masses. He concluded by invoking his episcopal authority to excommunicate Hidalgo and his chief associates on the grounds that

they had infringed the principle of ecclesiastical immunity when they imprisoned European Carmelites and a sacristan in Celaya.?5 In all this, there was a passionate sense of betrayal, that members of the creole elite,

who were related to the gachupines by ties of blood, friendship and business, should have unleashed the masses against the Europeans.

In his pastoral letter of 26 September 1812, Abad y Queipo set forth a , sustained defence of Spanish rule and reiterated his condemnation of the insurgents. After saluting the Spanish people as ‘a chosen portion, a holy nation . . . a new Israel’, chosen by Divine Providence to promote the Christian gospel in the New World, he lamented that the nation was now

threatened by Bonaparte in the Peninsula and by Morelos and other insurgent clergy in Mexico. Although by then Hidalgo had been defeated and executed, new leaders had emerged and the country was haunted by small bands of rebels. Denouncing the ‘delirious theories’ of Rousseau, he insisted that man was a social animal, unable to dwell in solitude, and that the institutions of society and the state all derived from God. There was thus no right to rebel against government, even if it was tyrannical.

Both the Old and New Testaments of Holy Scripture had denounced rebellion. In particular, Martin Luther had condemned the peasant rebellion of 1525 in Germany and even Rousseau, when discussing the

particular cases of Poland and Geneva, had warned that liberty was a dangerous fruit that required education and guidance if it was not to prove poisonous.76

The right of Spain to govern America derived both from the general right conferred by conquest (a right also exercised by the Aztecs) and by ‘the especial providence of God in the election of the Spaniards’ to convert and civilise ‘so many ignorant and barbaric peoples’. But he strengthened this primordial authority by insistence that the patria was not any particular city or province, since ‘our patria 1s the whole Spanish

nation ... the general association of all the inhabitants of its extended

242 Bishops and chapter , dominions’, thus comprising the Spaniards, Americans, Africans and Asians, who were all governed by the same laws, institutions and religion.

Equally important, the Spanish people, who had ‘suffered with resignation the disorders of the disorganised government of Godoy’, had risen en masse against Bonaparte 1n order to defend their patria, religion and

king and thereafter, after a series of governments, had summoned the

Cortes at Cadiz which framed ‘the most liberal, the most just and prudent constitution of all that have been seen until now in human society’. The Central Junta, the Regency and the Cortes all derived their authority from the sovereign will of the Spanish nation and indeed ‘the

Cortes was legitimately convoked, exercised sovereignty in all its plenitude and is the most just and legitimate government that the Spanish monarchy has ever known’.2? Not content thus to nail his colours to the constitutional mast in the most emphatic manner possible, Abad y Queipo proceeded to argue that the patronato which the Regents exercised on behalf of the king over the church ‘is a regalian right which |

belongs to the nation’. Indeed, even if the nation was to become a republic, either aristocratic or democratic, it would still possess this patronato over the church. As regards the American empire, Abad y Queipo baulked at the Central Junta’s declaration that it formed an equal

integral part of the monarchy, subject to a common king. Instead, he argued that the Peninsula was the original source and home of the Spanish people, who had sallied forth as the conquerors and benefactors of America, so that it still remained ‘the head of all the nation’, serving as its metropolis and seat of government.”® In effect, the Americas were

but the limbs of an extended body politic, mere provinces of the monarchy, and hence subject to the common head, Spain, from whence the kings governed the entire nation. Once more Abad y Queipo condemned Hidalgo and his associates

as ‘true heresiarchs’ who had preached a new, devilish morality, encouraging the masses to rob and murder. He now admitted that in New Spain the insurrection ‘is almost peculiar to the ecclesiastics, since they are its principal authors and those who have promoted and sustain

it’. In an earlier edict, he had already admitted that the diocesan authorities had ordained far too many priests, admitting ‘men of gross

habits, without any idea of the honour, dignity and sanctity of the priesthood’.29 Not that Abad y Queipo himself was ready to stand on principle, since when Viceroy Venegas abolished ecclesiastical immunity for all presumed rebels, he defended the measure as necessary, observing that all such privileges derived from the king, who could thus withdraw

what once had been conceded. Existing immunities were based on the

canon law promulgated by the Papacy in the twelfth and thirteenth

Liberal prelate 243 centuries, legislation based on forged documents and bad history. Only in the last two centuries had it been gradually established that princes

were not subject to the temporal authority of the Papacy and that all bishops and priests were citizens governed by the laws of their respective

countries. In times of necessity, church wealth and privileges could be appropriated and suspended, since salus populi suprema lex, ‘the sovereign law’ was that the safety of the people reigns supreme.?° Perhaps the most extraordinary feature of the pastoral letter was Abad y Queipo’s defence of gachupin avarice against Hidalgo’s condemnation.

“The avarice of the gachupines... only signifies that innate desire in the

heart of man to better his condition, which is the first motive of all human activity and the stimulus of social virtues and of the talent, application, economy, frugality, courage and constancy in enterprises

and adversities.” In an earlier edict, he had praised the immigrant Spaniards for their accumulation of capital, which he defined as ‘the true spring of life which circulates like blood through the body social’. Indeed,

without the enterprise, capital and example of the gachupines, the

Mexican economy would become like a corpse. How different was the situation in the United States, he exclaimed, where every farmer and

artisan knew that the individual who accumulated capital created employment and promoted the general prosperity! In that country rivalry

between Europeans and Americans was unknown, since immigrants found employment from the very day they disembarked from their ships.3! In these remarks, Abad y Queipo revealed the secular, liberal bias of his thinking. IV

The southern phase of the Insurgency was, 1f anything, more dominated

by priests than the movement led by Hidalgo. Indeed, a royalist pamphleteer claimed that José Maria Morelos, the former cura of Caracuaro, who now commanded the rebel forces, had four clear principles: that all Europeans should be expelled from America; that all property should be owned by Americans; that Our Lady of Guadalupe

should be obeyed in all things; and that priests should act as God’s lieutenants, governing in both the temporal and spiritual spheres. So exasperated was Félix Calleja, the royal commander, at the number of creole clerics joining the rebellion that he suggested bringing in friars from the Peninsula to administer all parishes. The religious character of the movement was best expressed by Carlos Maria de Bustamante, by then an insurgent journalist, who avowed his devotion to Our Lady of

Guadalupe, proclaiming that during the apparition Juan Diego had

244 Bishops and chapter heard ‘the authentic certificate of our liberty. You will call me mother and I will be yours; you will call upon me in your tribulations and I will hear you; you will plead with me for liberty and I will loose your chains. 32 The decision of the viceregal authorities to suspend clerical immunity

from royal jurisdiction so as to enable military commanders to try and execute rebel priests without reference to their bishops alarmed the clergy and aroused indignant protest. When the cathedral chapter of

Mexico, composed of canons distinguished for their learning, rank and loyalty to the crown, vigorously condemned the measure, their memorial was printed by Andrés Quintana Roo in his rebel journal. The

chapter argued that ‘in everything the clergy are distinguished from the secular state: they have a holy, indelible, and eternal character; their

persons are sacred and inviolable’. Although priests were citizens, endowed with the same rights and obligations as other men, their sacerdotal character conferred rights far superior to any conceded by society or the state. It had been argued that the sovereign power of princes entailed the subjection of the clergy, but this was to forget that the bishops and clergy exercised sovereign power within the church where the laity only figured as subjects. Since the church’s authority was not of earthly origin, it followed that it was essentially independent of the secular powers of this world. The clergy’s immunity from royal jurisdiction was thus ‘sacred and inviolable’. It was to signalise his

disapprobation that General Mariano Matamoros, one-time vicar of | Tautelelco, ‘gave his troops for their banner a great black flag with a green cross, similar to that used by the canons on Holy Wednesday, with the arms of the Church and a motto which said: “Die for ecclesiastical immunity” ’.33

It was José Maria Morelos (1765-1815) who expressed most powerfully the animating ideals of the Insurgency. A casta of artisan stock, albeit a Spaniard in status, educated in the diocesan seminary, Morelos had served in a remote parish in the tierra caliente, where he

preserved a remarkably archaic, provincial view of society. After assembling his forces, he informed the villagers of Atenango that ‘we are

only about to change the military and political government that the gachupines have, so that the creoles should have it, removing as many taxes as possible, such as the tribute and other charges which oppress us’. In Oaxaca he pursued the same message, proposing to quit all Europeans from government, adding that ‘all taxes should be removed, leaving only the tobacco and excise duties to sustain the military and tithes and parish -

fees to sustain the clergy’. Here, in these apparently simple proposals, we encounter a medieval image of society, in which the two swords,

the warriors and the priests, each possess their own taxes and, by

Liberal prelate 245 implication, their own courts and jurisdiction. When Morelos convoked a constitutional congress at Chilpancingo, he insisted that all deputies should be qualified theologians or lawyers. But, despite this insistence on corporate privilege, he firmly demanded the destruction of the colonial hierarchy of ethnic castes, that invidious system whereby the civic rights and obligations of an individual were defined at birth by inscription in the respective baptismal registers kept for each group. Henceforward, so he declared, ‘with the exception of the Europeans, all other inhabitants will not be named according to their quality as Indians, mulattos and other | castes, but all generally as Americans. No one will pay tribute, and there shall be no slaves.’ Indian lands were no longer to be leased but returned to their respective communities. In effect, Morelos here proclaimed the

radical principle of ethnic equality but justified this ideal, not by invoking the universal rights of man, but through the affirmation of common identity as Mexicans.34 At the same time, he condemned all demands for ‘caste-war’ or a general confiscation of property, on the grounds that it was not his ‘system’ to attack the rich for being so, and still less the rich creoles . . . Since the whites are the first representatives of the kingdom and were the first to take up arms in defence of the natives of the villages and other castes, becoming united with them, for this

reason they ought to be the objects of our gratitude, and not of the hatred that some wish to raise against them.

He concluded that all Americans were brothers in Christ, a new Israel struggling for liberation from its oppressors, and once more insisted that ‘this equality in calidad and liberty 1s the natural and divine problem. It is only virtue which distinguishes a man and makes him useful to the church and state.’35 When his followers acclaimed him ‘Generalisimo of North America’, Morelos chose to call himself ‘the servant of the nation’.

In these years Abad y Queipo grew increasingly despondent as it | became clear that Morelos had succeeded in rallying the rebels who now | commanded much of the countryside. A strong supporter of Francisco

Javier Venegas (1810-13), he was dismayed when the viceroy was replaced by General Calleja who adopted a more conciliatory policy towards the creoles. When the new viceroy introduced the Constitution of 1812, he complained to the Regency that in the first elections held

in New Spain American candidates had swept the board for city councillors, provincial deputies and deputies for the Cortes. In private letters to Venegas in Spain, he confessed that ‘Morelos . . . has at his disposal all the mass of the people.’ Entire provinces were dominated by the insurgents, so that the royal army simply held the leading cities and towns of the central plateau. In fact, there was a generalised desire for

246 Bishops and chapter independence and if the educated and propertied classes remained loyal to the Spanish crown, it was largely because they feared popular anarchy.

As his despair mounted, he peppered Calleja and the Regency with | further proposals and remedies and pleaded for a military expedition to be sent from Spain, numbering up to 10,000 men.** But his own position

became endangered when in 1814 Ferdinand VII returned to Spain, promptly declared the 1812 Constitution void and appointed Miguel de Lardizabal y Uribe as Minister of the Indies. For Abad y Queipo immediately wrote to the new minister criticising his statement that the

Insurgency was a family quarrel between two brothers, creoles and gachupines, competing for the favour of their common father, the king. “This is simply a very beautiful rhetorical figure’ which obscured the fact that the rebellion was ‘an infamous and atrocious conspiracy of some brothers against others, aimed at their beheading and extermination, in order to occupy their positions and property’ .%”

Neither his outspokenness nor his former advocacy of the 1812 Constitution endeared him to the servants of absolute monarchy. The cousin of Archbishop Lizana, the Inquisitor Sainz de Alfaro, denounced

him on the grounds that ‘Hidalgo . . . was his intimate friend.’ So also, Viceroy Calleja complained to Lardizabal that the bishop-elect constantly intervened in public affairs, assuming ‘a certain right to be heard and respected as an oracle in matters absolutely foreign to his profession’. He had admonished Abad to confine his attention to church affairs, especially since the clergy of his diocese were so involved in the Insurgency. He noted that the bishop ‘was and 1s a heated partisan and

defender of the constitutional system ... a blind worshipper and proselyte of the new institutions’.28 But even while these poisoned missives crossed the Atlantic, the new minister had in September 1814 commanded that Abad y Queipo should return to Spain. A reactionary © who had been among the first to denounce the Constitution of 1812, Lardizabal was a creole of ancient lineage, born in Tlaxcala, who in a

memorandum written at this time, declared that the nobility of New Spain remained loyal to the crown. It was the descendants of merchants and artisans, ‘the creole sons of such people, which is to say, of low and ordinary people, who are the authors and supporters of the insurrection’.

, Although it was necessary to suppress the rebellion with force, thereafter it was imperative to seek reconciliation rather than rely on bloody repression. He criticised the immigrant Spaniards, arguing that ‘there the gachupines . . . have been the same as the exalted serviles here’, seeking to employ hard and imprudent measures.39 Obviously, with such policies in mind, the minister had little patience for Abad y Queipo’s proposals for a large expeditionary force to be despatched to New Spain.

Liberal prelate 247 On learning of his recall to Spain, Abad y Queipo confided to Venegas that he was ‘convinced that Minister Lardizabal was astutely working in favour of the independence of the Americas’.*° Before finally leaving Mexico in June 1815, he composed his ‘political testament’ in which he noted that although he had been accompanied by an escort of 400 men

in his journey to Veracruz, he had been twice attacked by rebels. He

averred that there was a powerful coalition which supported independence, based on masonic lodges established in Cadiz, London,

Philadelphia and Caracas. There were secret links between the insurgents and American deputies in the Cortes. As for Lardizabal, he had promoted many Americans of doubtful loyalty to high office, clear proof of the folly of entrusting the Ministry of the Indies to a creole. Despite the huge sums of money expended in the suppression of the rebellion, the insurgents dominated all but the large towns and Cities: ‘they are the true sovereigns of the country’. Only fear of ethnic conflict and another Saint Domingue kept many American Spaniards loyal to the crown.*! As always, Abad y Queipo concluded his memorial, addressed to Ferdinand VII, with a plea for the despatch of an army of at least 10,000 men to Mexico and the appointment of European Spaniards to the bulk of high offices in church and state. On his return to Spain, Abad y Queipo travelled to Madrid, where he was granted an interview with Ferdinand VII, who was so impressed by his views and personality that on 24 January 1816 he was named ‘Secretary of State and of Universal Despatch of Grace and Justice

of Spain and the Indies’. For a brief moment it appeared as if his intransigent defence of Spain’s dominion in Mexico had finally won for him due recognition and reward.?2 But on entering his office, he discovered that the Mexican Inquisition had filed a case against him and that the papers had been forwarded to Madrid. Only three days later, on 27 January, he was informed that the king had learnt of these accusations

Madrid. ,

and hence decided to dismiss him from office. In July 1816 he was arrested by the Inquisition and confined to the priory of the Rosario in

The case against Abad y Queipo could not have been weaker. In the first instance, it rested on the accusations of the Mexican Inquisition, conveyed in a letter of May 1811 to the Council of the Supreme Court in Spain, claiming that he had shown Dr Uraga a copy of Lettres a Eugénie, a well-known materialist tract; that he was ‘relaxed’ in his way of life; that

he was an ‘intimate friend’ of Hidalgo; and that after his directing the diocese of Michoacan for twenty-eight years nearly all its priests were

seditious.43 On looking into these allegations, the attorneys of the Council of the Indies confessed their embarrassment at ‘the strong

248 Bishops and chapter suspicion of his accusers’ “‘malignity’ and concluded that there was no cause to doubt ‘the good concept and reputation of Sefior Queipo’. In December 1816 the chapter of Valladolid wrote to praise the bishop-elect as ‘an estimable companion, a generous friend and a revered bishop’ who had exhibited great patriotism in acting so swiftly to excommunicate Hidalgo: ‘he was the athlete of the just cause, he was an unmovable rock against the furious blows of the rebellion, he was the column of fidelity’.

Before the Insurgency, he had helped to found the Capuchinas at Salvatierra, the Ensefianza at Irapuato and the Franciscans in Silao. His

imprisonment was a great triumph for the insurgents. As for Abad y Queipo himself, he dismissed the Inquisition’s charges as the result of jealousy, since its dean, Prado de Ovejero, had been a candidate for the

Michoacan mitre. For the rest, he noted that as Judge of Testaments,

Chantries and Holy Works, he had no hand in the education or formation of the diocesan clergy. His intimacy with Hidalgo, so he alleged, came from ‘the very close friendship I had with Riafio’, the enlightened intendant of Guanajuato. Nor could his visit to France be held against him, since he had written a strong attack against Bonaparte.

In sum, he attributed his recall and imprisonment to Lardizabal, the former Minister of the Indies, whom he had denounced to the king as a closet insurgent.

But the Inquisition in Madrid chose to pursue the case and turned their attention to his Pastoral Letter, from which they elicited ten propositions reckoned to be heretical. In January 1818 Abad y Queipo presented his defence, first noting, however, that only two out of a board of five consultants had found anything questionable in his writings. At

issue, so he declared, was the standing of the Gallican tradition in Catholic theology, now under attack by the ultramontane revival. He appealed to the works of Bossuet, Van Espen, Fleury, Gerson and the

four propositions of the Gallican Church of 1682, authors whose doctrines had been taught throughout Europe and widely read in Spanish universities during the reign of Charles III. He might have added that his Asturian compatriots, Campomanes and Jovellanos, both belonged to this school. What they affirmed was that the sovereign power in every state derived its authority directly from God and that neither the Papacy in particular nor the priesthood in general had any jurisdiction over temporal affairs. The power Christ conferred on the Apostles and their successors was entirely spiritual. It was only during the twelfth century under Gregory VII that the Papacy had laid claim to temporal jurisdiction. Yet in fact, all the privileges, immunities and jurisdiction exercised by the clergy derived from Christian princes and thus rested on positive rather than divine law. Not that Abad y Queipo denied the

Liberal prelate 249 spiritual power of the Catholic hierarchy, since he had condemned the Mexican insurgents for their naming vicars general for their armies, on

the grounds that they thus assumed episcopal authority. As for his citation of the old Latin tag, salus popult suprema lex, which the Inquisitors condemned as heretical, he argued that in cases of extreme peril, the sovereign power could always decree radical measures to save

the country. In any case, he had proposed the suspension not the abolition of ecclesiastical immunity. Nor could his support of the

Central Junta, Regency and Cortes be held against him, since ‘all publicists admit that sovereignty resides in the mass of the nation’. Deprived of its constituted authority by the abdication of its Bourbon kings and the imposition of Joseph Bonaparte, the Spanish nation had invoked its inherent sovereign power to establish new forms of government, which exercised legitimate authority in the name of the king. Once again, he noted that this doctrine had been taught in all the law faculties of Spanish universities. He concluded by affirming that in theology he was certainly a Gallican, but that ‘I am not a Jansenist nor a Molinist, but an Apostolic Roman Catholic.’44 V

In 1820 troops in Cadiz destined for service in South America mutinied

and thereby started a revolution which repudiated Ferdinand VII’s absolutism and restored the 1812 Constitution. The new Cortes once more expelled the Jesuits, abolished the Inquisition and terminated ecclesiastical immunity. It was at this point that Agustin de Iturbide, a native of Valladolid, who had hitherto distinguished himself by the brutal energy of his campaigns against the insurgents, now conspired

with churchmen and his fellow army officers to separate Mexico from Spain. In his Plan de Iguala (1821) he offered three guarantees:

to maintain the Catholic religion, to achieve independence with a constitutional monarchy and to preserve the peace and union of Americans and Europeans. Subordinate clauses called for the restoration of clerical privilege and property and offered all office-holders the right

to continue provided they accepted the Plan. So seductive were these guarantees that Iturbide was able to effect a virtually bloodless seizure of power. Although the incoming liberal viceroy, Juan O’Donoju, signed the Treaty of Cordoba, in which Mexico was recognised as an independent empire that was to be governed by a Bourbon dynasty, it soon became clear that Ferdinand VII had no intention of recognising

New Spain’s autonomy. The result was that in 1822 Iturbide had himself proclaimed emperor, only soon to face mounting opposition

250 Bishops and chapter

and eventual rebellion, which replaced the empire by a federal republic.

Although four bishops officiated at the coronation of Iturbide, the archbishop of Mexico, Pedro de Fonte, was conspicuously absent and indeed was soon to flee to Europe, ending his days at Valencia, where he was assigned the income of the archdeaconry. He justified himself to the pope by affirming that at his consecration he had sworn an oath of loyalty to the king of Spain and that he would have been guilty of base ingratitude had he participated in the coronation. To do so would have been to sanctify usurpation. ‘How could I dare to take the crown seized from my monarch and place it on the brow of he who had seized it from him?’45 In effect, this last peninsular archbishop of Mexico proved himself more loyal to his king than to his flock or to his vocation as bishop. His attitude becomes more comprehensible if it be noted that in 1809 he had despatched an extensive report on the state of New Spain to the Central Junta in which he had exhibited a pervasive contempt for the inhabitants of the colony, dismissing the Indians and castas as ignorant and vicious and the creoles as idle and corrupt. Indeed, it was precisely the defective moral character of its inhabitants, so he declared, that rendered the prospect of any rebellion so unlikely.4¢ It was the prejudices of Spanish prelates such as Fonte that converted independence into such an attractive prospect for creole churchmen.

Although Fonte’s departure signalised the demise of the Catholic monarchy, in March 1822 representatives of the Mexican bishops met to discuss the situation of the church vis-a-vis the state. The patronato exercised by the Spanish crown had been based on the papal bull of 28 July 1508 and renovated by the bull of 11 January 1753 which had concluded the Concordat between the Papacy and the crown. But with independence, that patronato had to come to an end: the new state did not inherit the right and if it desired to exercise patronage rights over the church, it would have to negotiate directly with the Holy See. In the

meanwhile, the right to appoint canons and curas devolved to each bishop. The meeting concluded, however, that the bishops and chapters should present lists of their nominations to the Supreme Power so that it could veto candidates ‘for political reasons’.*’ In effect, in a single bound

, the chapter dignitaries and canons who headed the dioceses thus liberated the Mexican Church from its dependence on the secular authorities. That such freedom was incompatible with the maintenance of Catholicism as the official religion of the Mexican state had yet to occur to the leaders of the church and the empire.

Not all peninsular clergymen resident in Mexico adopted Fonte’s intransigence nor aspired to liberate the church from civil control.

Liberal prelate 251 Among Iturbide’s circle of advisers there figured Manuel de la Barcena, Abad y Queipo’s former protégé, who, as archdeacon of Valladolid and

governor of the Michoacan diocese, had employed his considerable influence both to support the Plan de Iguala and the coronation of Iturbide as emperor. In 1808 he had printed a small pamphlet praising Ferdinand VII as another Solomon and had argued that monarchy was the best form of government.*’ In 1810 he had been obliged to flee for his life when the insurgents approached Valladolid and suffered the loss of

his valuables when they sacked his house. But in 1821 he issued a manifesto arguing that the time had come for Mexico and Spain to go their separate ways and when no Bourbon appeared to accept the throne, he opted for Iturbide as emperor.4? The hopes entertained 1n ecclesiastical circles by the creation of a Mexican monarchy can be observed in a circular issued by the Minister of Justice in which Iturbide is entitled ‘First Constitutional Emperor and Grand Master of the Imperial Order of Guadalupe, Agustin, by Divine Providence and by the Congress of the Nation’.5°

In December 1822 Barcena preached the sermon at the first solemn function of the Imperial Order of Guadalupe, at which he interpreted its foundation as a living testimony of ‘our alliance with the Mother of God’. After pausing to lament the sorry state of Tenochtitlan groaning under

the burden of paganism and human sacrifice, he celebrated the apparition of the Virgin Mary at Tepeyac as a new dawn, heralding the

conversion of Anahuac to the Catholic faith, a conversion which compensated the church for the heresy of Luther and Calvin. But now after foreign rule, ‘we are a sovereign nation’, so that ‘the Mexican imperial eagle again appears triumphant on its nopal’. But he insisted that ‘if the country of Anahuac breathes freely, we owe it all to the Virgin of Tepeyac’. Although both sides in the recent civil war had appealed to

Our Lady of Guadalupe, she now figured as the mother of the Union, especially since Mexico was ‘the most Catholic country in the world’, a bulwark of orthodoxy and devotion in an epoch when in Europe religion was challenged by impiety and atheism. He concluded that ‘the holy Catholic religion . . . is the soul of this empire: the faith of Jesus Christ is inseparable from it and is identified with the nation of Anahuac, so that he who is not an apostolic Christian is not a citizen of ours: he is not a Mexican’.>! Here, then, was a manifest attempt to vest Iturbide’s empire | with the traditional prestige of the Spanish monarchy and enhance his authority by appeal to Our Lady of Guadalupe, the union of church and state thus still presented as the inevitable foundation of national life. Would Manuel Abad y Queipo have joined Barcena in supporting Iturbide or would he have embarked for Europe with Fonte? There is,

252 Bishops and chapter alas, no means of knowing. As it was, he took advantage of the consti-

tutional revolution to become a member of the Provincial Junta of Madrid and from that vantage point obtained a resolution of the Council of State to drop all charges against him. In 1822 he abandoned his claim to Michoacan and accepted nomination as bishop of Tortosa,

only once more to be denied consecration, since Ferdinand VII had instructed his ambassador in Rome not to seek papal confirmation for the appointment. When the absolute monarchy was restored, he fled northwards to Castro Urdiales, only to find that as a member of the Provincial Junta he had been exempted from the general amnesty.s2 In May 1824 he was arrested and escorted from Santander to Madrid, where after a spell of imprisonment, he was sentenced to six years confinement in the Jeronymite monastery of Santa Maria de la Sisla, situated outside Toledo. On 30 June 1825, he presented a piteous protest against this sentence, urging that since he was already seventy-four years old and close to death, having for the last two years suffered increasing pain from a stone in the gall-bladder, in six years time ‘I will find myself very deaf, decrepit and blind’ and so begged for permission to go into exile at Montpellier. As Manuel Abad y Queipo lay dying near Toledo, did he remember the long years he had spent in Valladolid, surrounded by the fertile plains of the Bajio and the sun-lit lakes of Michoacan, that region which its first Franciscan chronicler had once called ‘an earthly paradise’? His revered mentor, Fray Antonio de San Miguel, had served as master general of the Jeronymite order and may well have visited the monastery at Sisla where he was now confined. Did Abad dwell with pride upon those boldly — argued representations he had written at San Miguel’s behest, where he had warned ministers that tampering with the clergy’s immunity from

the royal courts might well lose Spain its empire? And what of his conversations with Miguel Hidalgo? Their friendship had been in part based on their sharing much the same ideas. Had they not both admired the abbe Fleury’s dismissal of miracle-mongering as so much superstition, unworthy of the gospel of Jesus Christ? So too, Hidalgo had persuaded his parishioners not to spend their hard-won earnings on gilding their church’s retablo, even if he had arrived too late to prevent its | construction in the barbarous baroque style of Spain’s decadence when principles of good taste had been lost. Indeed, he recalled how Hidalgo had approved of his proposals to abolish the tribute levied on Indians and

castas, seeing it as the first step towards the dismantling of the whole invidious caste system, whereby a man’s ethnic quality (calidad) was assigned at birth and thereafter maintained by regular tributary assessment. How could any equality between citizens be achieved without the

Liberal prelate 253 destruction of that system? Of course, both Hidalgo and Morelos had promised the insurgent masses that when the country was liberated there would be henceforth no ethnic distinctions, promises especially attractive

to the mulattos. What Abad could not remember was how Hidalgo had reacted to his criticism of the haciendas and whether or not he had approved of his modest proposals to open their lands for cultivation. But then, creoles were often reluctant to discuss this question since they frequently owned haciendas and indeed at the Cortes a Mexican deputy had furiously rejected suggestions that the haciendas should be divided as an attack on ‘the sacred rights of property’ .*? But why had Hidalgo unleashed the masses in rebellion and how could

he have allowed his followers to massacre in cold blood so many innocent European prisoners? On remembering how he and Barcena had fled so precipitately from Valladolid in fear of their lives, Abad y Queipo could feel no regret for his passionate denunciation of his erstwhile friend as anew Mahomet. To present the insurgents with the image of Our Lady

of Guadalupe had been a dastardly act, using religion for a political purpose. When he had accused the gachupines of avarice, Hidalgo had forsworn his enlightened principles, since it was by now generally accepted that self-interest was the source of all economic progress. Yet what reward had Abad himself gained from his passionate defence of Spain’s right to govern America? The Constitution of Cadiz had proved unworkable in Mexico, since there had been a secret conspiracy which had united the rebels in the field, the so-called ‘loyal’ creoles in Mexico City and the American deputies in the Cortes. All he had achieved with his memorials, denunciations and warnings was to attract the enmity of so many creoles, even of conservatives like Lardizabal who prided them-

selves on their loyalty to the crown. For a brief moment, after his interview with Ferdinand VII, when he had been appointed Minister of the Indies, it had appeared that his efforts were at last to meet with due

recognition. But then had come the years of confinement. Perhaps Barcena had been right after all to encourage Iturbide to manoeuvre for independence and create a Mexican empire. As he reflected on his disillusionment with the king which had prompted him so unwisely to join the constitutionalist revolution, did not Abad perhaps now regret that he had spent so much of his life immersed in public affairs? Was he not apprehensive that he may have betrayed his vocation as a priest? Had he been familiar with the works of Shakespeare, surely he would have echoed Cardinal Wolsey’s lament: Had I but served my God with half the zeal I served my king, he would not in mine age Have left me naked to mine enemies.

254 Bishops and chapter Whatever his thoughts and regrets, on 10 September 1825, overcome by ‘a malignant fever, bilious, and nervous with delirium’, Manuel Abad y Queipo received the last sacraments and died at the monastery of Santa Maria de la Sisla.>4

The tragic deaths of Abad y Queipo and Hidalgo expressed in extreme form the common fate of a generation of enlightened priests who found

their projects for reform overtaken by the forces unleashed by the collapse of the Spanish monarchy in 1808. That both men were then more impelled by patriotic enthusiasm than by religious commitment

indicated the gulf that separated them from the world of baroque asceticism and pastoral dedication that had characterised the best of the Mexican clergy during the first decades of the eighteenth century. Confronted by a crisis of political authority, Hidalgo and Abad both opted for violent measures to resolve the longstanding rivalry between European and American Spaniards in Mexico. It was the very intensity of their patriotic sentiments and their preference for military solutions

for political problems that signalised the destruction of the Catholic» monarchy in America and the final demise, long since announced, of that

post-Tridentine, baroque religious culture which had sustained the Spanish presence in Mexico for the past two centuries.

Appendix 1 Church income in Spanish America, c. 1799 (pesos)

Dioceses Income. Subsidy New Spain Mexico |866,666 1,170,746129,880 175,446 Puebla Michoacan 946,197 142,246 Oaxaca 472,574 Guadalajara 447,09170,820 67,000 Durango 204,295 30,616 New Leon 104,986 1§,732 Sonora 39,900 5,980

Yucatan 170,839 25,612 Total 4,423,294 663,332 Central America

Guatemala 481,988 725232 Chiapa 93,653 14,030 Comayagua 65,068 9,748 Nicaragua 143,481 21,500

Total 784,190 117,510 Habana 563,71428,392 84,478 Cuba 189,461 The Caribbean

Puerto Rico* 15,000 2,246 Louisiana* , , 3,000 448

Total . F7I1,175 115,564 255

256 Appendix I

Dioceses Income Subsidy New Granada

Santa Fe 135,997 Cartagena 124,717 20,382 18,692

Popayan* 37,500 5,020 Panama” 37,500 5,618. Santa Marta 15,300 2,292 Caracas* 207,000 31,020 Guayana 50,093 7,506 Maracaibo 49,852 7,472 Quito* 153,000 22,936 Cuenca 115,677 17,334 Total 926,636 138,872 Lima 996,474 149,328 Cuzco 349,819 §2,420 Arequipa 370,867 559580 Trujillo 249,746 Huamanga 266,849372426 39,988 Peru

Chile 208,418 31,242 Concepcion 62,443 95354

Total 2,504,616. 3753338 La Plata Charcas* 180,000. 26,974 La Paz* 56,000 8,392

Buenos Aires* 32,000 4,798 Tucuman 66,612 9,978 Paraguay 253907 3,882 Santa Cruz de la Sierra 69,352 10,394

Total 429,871 64,418

Manila 110,830 16,608 Nueva Segovia 43,289 6,486 The Philippines

Nueva Caeceres 7,023 1,052

Cebu* 5,500 824 Total | 166,642 24,970 GRAND TOTAL 10,006,424 1,500,004

Appendix I 257 Dioceses Income Subsidy

Tithes Parishes129,114 401,229. Charcas, 1801

Conventos 83,737 Monasterios 71,747 Confraternities 23,582

Chantries 83,546

Total 7923955 | *Indicates estimated revenue in absence of submissions. |

Source: AGI, Indiferente General 2962, Contadores General, 9 Nov. 1779; for Charcas, see AGI, Indiferente General 2966, 31 Oct. 1801.

Appendix 2 Parochial and conventual income in Michoacan diocese, 1791 (pesos)

Parishes Cura Fabric Sacristan Total Vicario

Acambaro (Fran.) 3,987 | vic. of Jerecuaro 1,953 The intendancy of Guanajuato

vic. of Contepec 219 vic. of Coroneo 418

6,578 6,578 Apaseo 1,751 350 300 2,401

Celaya 3,362 394 873 4,629 600 (2) Chamacuero 1,666 407 300 2,273 500 (1)

Dolores 4,276 956 958 6,190 1,200 (4)

Guanajuato 9,868 (2) 5,045 2,299 17,212 1,952 (6)

Irapuato 9,206 (2) 2,090 1,343 12,639 1,200 (4)

Leon 4,824. 2,019 800 7,643 1,200 (4)

Marfil 3,112 690 577 4,379 300 (1) Péenjamo 3,538 1,223 830 5,591 1,870 (5) Piedragorda © 25338 262 306 2,906 600 (2) Rincon 2,857 224 174 35255 805 (2) Salamanca 4,080 845 700 §:625 1,200 (4) Salvatierra 25371 684 700 33755 600 (2) St Ana 1,259 283 213 15755 300 (1) S. Felipe 2,664 644 515 3,823 2,000 (5) S. Juan de la Vega.

(Fran.) 8,872 442 9,314

S. Luis de la Paz 3,000 687 3,687 900 (3) S. Miguel 5,822 837 1,105 7,764 1,200 (4) S. Pedro de los Pozos 350 70 420

Silao §,72I (2) 2,130 ~—- 15453 9,304 1,700 (4) Valle de Santiago — 3,160 720 612 45492 900 (3)

Yuriria 2,840 599 vic. of S. Nicolas 657 vic. of S. Rosa 600

4,097 4,696 . Total (23) 945772 21,002 14,657 130,431 19,027 (57) 258

Appendix 2 259 Parishes Cura Fabric Sacristan Total Vicario

Aguacana 500 500 The intendancy of Valladolid

Angamacutiro 2,124 479 231 2,834 1,200 (3)

Apatzingan 1,548 300 1,848 500 (1) Atoyac 1,083 114 1,197 300 (1) Axuchitlan 2,685 - 136 2,821 500 (1) Capacuaro 281 281

Capula 63885 489 Caracuaro 426 766 II9 500 (1)

Charapan 769 769 300 (1) Charo 476 476

Chilchota 1,033 116 1,149 300 (1) Chucandiro 435 60 495 200 (I) Churumuco 1,853 249 2,102 500 (1) Coaguaytla 4815 587 400 (1) Coalcoman539 7O7 722 Copandaro 1,397 99 1,496 100 (1) Cuitzeo (Aug.) 1,248 vic. of Guandacareo 428

2,546 2,546 Cutzamala 1,566 165 1,731 400 (1) vic. of S. Anna Maya = 8770

Cuzeo 2,137 231900 2,368 800 (2) Erongaricuaro goo Eracuaro 681 681 Indaparapeo 2,189 601 286 3,076 600 (2)

Irimbo 1,303 1,393600 300(2) (I) Ixtlan 988 48go1,036

Jacona 25723 570 203 450 3,743 (3) | Jiquilpan 2,077 2,2801,200 goo (3)

Maquili 674 674 Maravatio 1,223 83 133 1,439 600 (2) Nahuatzen 976 115 1,091600 300 (2) (1) Paracho 1,603. 1,603

Parangaricutiro 568 568 Patamban 700 700

Patzcuaro 1,903 1,052 298 3,252 700 (3)

Periban 1,094 378 1,472 1,000 (2) Petatlan 1,106 | 1,106 Piedad 1,623 487 365 600 (2) vic. of Surécuaro 775 270 200 (1) vic. of Tahuencuaro 47I 112 300 (1)

2,869 869 4,103 Pizandaro 588. 231 819 Pomaro 312 312

260 Appendix 2

Parishes Cura Fabric Sacristan Total Vicario

Pungarabato 1,069 528 1,597 800 (2) Purenchecuaro 890 890 Puruandiro I,1I2 531 288 1,931 600 (2) Purungueo 610 76 686 Sahuayo 1,550 290 1,840 800 (2)

S. Ana Amatlan 563 563 500 (1) S. Clara del Cobre 1,853. 485. 320 2,658 1,200 (4) S. Fe de la Laguna | 598 598 S. Fe del Rio 569 : 569

Herreros 434 434 Tacambaro 3,331 352 3,683 400 (1) Tancitaro 1,5741§3 189 993 1,763400 300(1) (1) Taretan 840 Tarecuato 540300 (1) Tarimbaro 1,122540 148 1,270 S. Felipe de los

S. Maria de Valladolid 498 498

Taximaroa 1,944 384 225. 25553 975 (3)

Tecpan 1,000 1,000 Tepalcatepec 860 88. 800 (2) Teremendo 589948 589 Tingambato 825 825 Tinguindin 1,562 40 1,602

Tirindaro 1,686 SI 1,767 600 (2) Tiripitio (Aug.) 1,169 | 108 1,277

Tlalpujahua 3,488 1,365 | 434 55287 600 (2) Tlazacalca , 2,609 788 425 3,822 1,250 (4)

Turicato 1,281 231 1,512 600 (2) Tuxpan (Santiago) 504 486 990 700 (2) Tuzantla 1,375 208 1,583 800 (2) Tzintzuntzan I,I9I 305 172 1,668 900 (3) Tziritzicuaro 1,271 196 1,467 600 (2)

Tziréndaro 1,275 1702,149 1,445300 400 (1) (1) Uango 1,948 201

Vaniqueo 89254I 12730 1,019 300 (1) Undameo 571 Urecho 1,831 434 2,265 800 (2) Uruapan 1,581 389 1,970 600 (2) Valladolid (Sagrario) 2,103 300 2,403

Zacapu 393 49 442 300 (1) Zamora 1,977 807 256 3,040 600 (2) Zinapécuaro 2,760 799 3,559 700 (2)

Zirahuén Zirosta I,I10 855 I,I10 855

Zitacuaro © 4,260 451 403 §,1I14 1,200 (4) Total (82) 107,381 16,923 4,586 128,890 32,225 (96)

Appendix 2 261 Parishes Cura Fabric Sacristan Total Vicario The intendancy of Guadalajara

Almoloyan 2,865 157 3,022 400 (1) Atotonilco 954 406 306 1,666 800 (2) Ayo el Chico 2,503 633 478 3,614 1,200 (4)

Cayititlan 36 3,317 875 Colima 2,560 839 500 257

Ixtlahuacan 1,238 14 1,252 400 (1) La Barca 1,449 506 266 2,221 900 (3) Ocotlan 1,422 158 1,580 300 (1) Tamazula 2,465 265 2,730 400 (1) Tuxpan (Fran.) (San Juan Bautista) 2,944 127 3,071

Zapotlan | 2,423 200 450 3,073 600 (2)

Total (11) 21,662 3,002 —-1,757 26,421 5,000 (15) The intendancy of San Luis Potosi

Armadillo 25423 224 300 2,947 400 (1) Cerro de S. Pedro 1,382 I4I 1,523 800 (2) Guadalcazar 3,113 281 185 33579

Mesquite 2,407 125 25532 300 (I) Rio Verde (Fran. ) 4,631 826 missions of:

Gamotes 218 Piniguan 261

S. Antonio 251 S. Nicolas 846

6,890 7,716

Valle del Maiz 683 S. Francisco de

los Pozos 965 125 1,090

S. Luis Potosi 5,066. 925 804. 6,795 900 (3)

S. Maria del Rio 1,968 © 964 440 33372 900 (3)

S. Sebastian(Fran.) 1,000 125 1,125 Tlaxcalilla 640 640 Valle de S. Francisco 3,798 643 772 5,213

Total (11) 29,652 4,379 2,501 36,532 3,300 (10) Diocesan total

Guanajuato (23) 94,772 21,002 14,657 130,431 19,027 (57) Valladolid (82) 107,381 16,923 4,586 128,890 32,225 (96)

Guadalajara (11) 21,662 3,002 1,757 26,421 §,000 (15) S.Luis Potosi (11) 29,652 4,379 2,501 36,532 3,300 (10) Total (127) 253,467 45,306 23,501 = 322,274 $9,552 (178) Note: The bracketed figures under the vicario column indicate the number of vicarios listed in each intendancy.

262 Appendix 2 Religious orders

Franciscan Augustinian Carmelite Mercederian

Colima Cuitzeo 53920 746

Priories

Celaya 5,585 4404 8,041 940

Irapuato 25256 Leon 194 Patzcuaro 1,264 558

Salamanca 13,416

Salvatierra? — 1,104 14,548 8,135

San Diego 25343 S. Luis Potosi 4,037 2,834 7,840 2,079

S. Miguel 2,231

Tiripitio 3,828 Tlalpujahua 25954 Valladolid 4,742 6,819 7,652 2,027 Valle de Santiago 310 Zamora 15247 Zitacuaro 623

Sub-total 28,580 525327 31,668 6,102 118,677

Parishes® , Acambaro 6,578 Cuitzeo 2,546 Rio Verde 7,716 Tiripitio 1,277 Tlaxcalilla 640 S. Juan de la Vega 9,314

Tuxpan 3,071

Sub-total 275319 3,823 31,142

Total 555,899 56,150 31,668 6,102 149,819 Nuns

Celaya Beateria 542 S. Luis Potosi college of S. Nicolas 4,861 : S. Miguel Concepci6én 75330 S. Ana College 997

Beateria 50

Patzcuaro S. Caterina 14,340

S.Caterina 12,851 S. Rosa 1,960

Valladolid

Total 42,931

Appendix 2 263

Others

Religious orders (cont.)

Belén Hospital (Guanajuato) 3,837

Colecturia de Animas 5,809

Oratory (S. Miguel) 1,295

Total 22,864

S. Cruz Sanctuary (Celaya) 11,923

“The Augustinians owned the San Nicolas hacienda in Salvatierra. ’Parish fees already included above.

Parish fees 322,274 Religious — 118,677 Grand total

Nunneries 42,931 Others 22,864

Vicars 595552 506,746

Source: ACM, xIx, 14, Bishop San Miguel, 4 Aug. 1791.

Appendix 3. Tithe income in Michoacan diocese, 1787 (pesos)

Districts Tithes Tithes returned The intendancy of Guanajuato

Acambaro 14,510 Apaseo 11,050 Celaya 13,568 17,0001,248 Dolores Irapuato 20,100 4,300

Leon Marfil6,773 1,259 Pénjamo 9,210 Rincon 7,626

Salamanca II,818 2,668 Salvatierra 9,000

S. Felipe 12,226 S. Luis de la Paz 45550

S. Miguel 14,179 1,248 Silao 16,195 2,675

Yuriria 6,500 Total 1753564 12,139 The intendancy of Valladolid

Apatzingan and Pizandaro 5,087

Axuchitlan I,O15 Cutzamala 1,820 Cutzio and Zirandaro 2,950 Etacuaro 210 Maravatio 18,500 Patzcuaro and La Sierra 7,480 Piedad and Tlazazalca 4,105

Pungarabato 1,800 Puruandiro 8,050 264

Appendix 3 265 Districts — Tithes Tithes returned

Purungeo 400 Sahuayo 4,500

S. Rosa Parangueo 2,882 Tarimoro (hacienda) 645

Tecpan, Atoyac, Petatlan 4,550 Tinguindin, Jiquilpan, Periban 4,050

Urecho21,078 375 Valladolid Zacatula 1,750

Turicato, Tacambaro 3,300

Zamora with Chilchota 5,600 Zinagua . 3,262 Zitacuaro 10,000 Total 113,409 © The intendancy of Guadalajara

Colima 8,100 Zapotlan §,100 Ayo, La Barca, Octlan 14,270

Total 27,470 The intendancy of San Luis Potosi

Guadalcazar 7,010 S. Luis Potosi with Armadillo 25,000

Total 32,010 Afil 1,584 Dulces 2,744 Wool 22 Total 45350 Other

266 Appendix 3 Grand total

Intendancy Tithes Percentage Guanajuato 1753564 49.76

Valladolid 113,409 32.15 Guadalajara 27,470 7.79 S. Luis Potosi 32,010 9.07

Other 45350 1.23 Total 352,803 100.00

Note: Irapuato, Salamanca and Silao each had two curas. Source: ACM, xviul, 650; ACM, XIX, 14.

Notes

The following abbreviations are used in the notes and bibliography.

Archives

ACCM Archivo del Cabildo Catedral de Morelia

ACM Archivo Casa Morelos (Morelia) AFPM Archivo Franciscano de la Provincia de Michoacan (Celaya)

AGI Archivo General de Indias (Seville)

AGN Archivo General de la Nacién (Mexico City)

AHG Archivo Histérico de Guanajuato AMM | Archivo Municipal de Morelia

AOSM Archivo del Oratorio de San Miguel Allende BN (Madrid) Biblioteca Nacional (Madrid) BN (Mexico) Biblioteca Nacional (Mexico City)

BRP Biblioteca del Real Palacio (Madrid)

Texas Latin American Collection, University of Texas (Austin) Periodicals BAGN Boletin del Archivo General de la Nacton HAHR Hispanic American Historical Review

FILS Fournal of Latin American Studies I JESUIT EXPULSION 1 Tesoros documentales de México siglo XVIII: Priego, Zelis, Clavyero, ed. Mariano

Cuevas (Mexico, 1944), pp. 23-59, 234-97; Ludwig von Pastor, The History of the Popes from the Close of the Middle Ages, trans. E. E. Peele, 40 vols. (London, 1950), XXXVII, 7-9, 180-9, 414.

2 There is a copy of Lorenzana’s pastoral in AGI, Mexico 1710, 26 Sept. 1768; see also Manuel Giménez Fernandez, El concilio IV provincial mejicano (Seville, 1939), pp. 78-9; von Pastor, History of the Popes, XXXVIII, 239, 289.

3 AGI, Mexico 2604, bishop of Oaxaca, 21 July 1773. 4 BN (Madrid), MS 3650, City of Mexico, Feb. 1766. 5 AGI, Mexico 1365, Viceroy Croix to Arriaga, 26 Aug. 1767. 6 AGI, Mexico 1369, Viceroy Croix to Arriaga, 27 Aug. 1769; José Mariano Beristain de Souza, Biblioteca hispano-americana septentrional, 3rd edn, § vols.

(Mexico, 1947), II, 334-53 Ill, 1§§-8. See also D. A. Brading, Miners and Merchants in Bourbon Mexico 1763-1810 (Cambridge, 1971), p. 39. 267

268 Notes to pages §—15 7 José Mariano Davila y Arrilaga, Continuacién de la historia de la Compania de Jesus en Nueva Espana del P. Francisco Javier Alegre, 2 vols. (Puebla, 1888), 0, 332-52; also Rasgo breve de la grandeza guanajuatense (Puebla, 1767), p. 12. 8 AHG, Insurgencia 1767, 16-17 July 1767; Herbert Ingram Priestley, José de Gdlvez, Visitor-General of New Spain 1765-71 (Berkeley, 1916), pp. 223-5; Ozcar Mazin, Entre dos majestades. El obispo y la iglesia del Gran Michoacan ante las reformas borbonicas 1758-1772 (Zamora, 1987), pp. 127-62. 9 AGI, Mexico 1366, Galvez to Croix, 26 July 1767. 10 AGI, Mexico 1131, Galvez, 28 June 1774. , 11 José de Galvez, Informe sobre las rebeliones populares de 1767, ed. Felipe Castro —

Gutiérrez (Mexico, 1990), p. 76; AGI, Mexico 1127, cura of Santa Clara, 19 May 1769. 12 Galvez, Informe, p. 569. 13 ACM, xvi, 364, Sanchez de Tagle, 4 July 1767.

14 Adriaan C. van Oss, Catholic Colonialism, a Parish History of Guatemala 1524-1821 (Cambridge, 1986), p. 181. 15 Brading, Miners and Merchants, pp. 25-37. 16 The best general discussion is found in N. M. Farriss, Crown and Clergy in Colonial Mexico 1759-1821. The Crisis of Ecclesiastical Privilege (London, 1968),

passim; see also Ismael Sanchez Bella, Iglesia y estado en la América Espanila (Pamplona, 1990), passim. 17 Pedro Rodriguez Campomanes, Dictamen fiscal de expulsion de los jesuitas de Espafia (1766-1767), ed. Jorge Cejuda and Teofanes Egido (Madrid, 1977), Pp. 51, 60-3, 70-3, 84-6, 147, 155-64. 18 Ibid., pp. 52, 74, 97-115, 129-35, 159-76. 19 Pedro Rodriguez Campomanes, Fuicio imparcial sobre las letras de forma de

Breve que ha publicado la Curia Romana (Madrid, 1769), pp. 57-8, 93-5; 154-9, 262-6, 300-8. 20 Ibid., pp. 12-13, 25, 82-6, 94-100, 147-54, 319-20. 21 On Spanish Jansenism see Tedofanes Egido, ‘El regalismo y las relaciones Iglesia-Estado en el siglo XVIII’, in Historia de la Iglesia en Espafia. Siglos XVII y XVI, ed. Ricardo Garcia Villoslada (Madrid, 1979), pp. 125-253, 746-95; D. A. Brading, The First America. The Spanish Monarchy, Creole Patriots and the Liberal State 1492-1867 (Cambridge, 1991), pp. 492-513. 22 Joel Saugnieux, Le jansénisme espagnol du XVIIF siécle, ses composantes et ses sources (Oviedo, 1975), passim; Owen Chadwick, The Popes and the European Revolution (Oxford, 1981), pp. 392—429.

23 Leucadio Doblado (Joseph Blanco White), Letters from Spain (London, 1822), pp. 445-60; John Lynch, Bourbon Spain 1700-1808 (London, 1989), pp. 160-3, 187-92. 24 AGI, Indiferente General 2973, Joaquin de Osma, 28 Jan. 1765. 25 BN (Madrid), MS 19260, Conde de la Villanueva, 5 April 1766.

, 26 AGI, Indiferente General 2973, real cédula, 4 Dec. 1766. 27 AGI, Indiferente General 3086, Julian de Arriaga, 15 Jan. 1767.

28 Ibid., Aranda to Marqués de San Juan, 13 April 1767; see also Rafael Olaechea, Las relaciones hispano-romanas en la segunda mitad del siglo XVIII. La agencia de preces, 2 vols. (Zaragoza, 1965), I, 110-48, 286-309, 400-2.

Notes to pages 16-32 269 29 Juan de Solérzano Pereira, Politica indiana, ed. Miguel Ochoa Brun, § vols.

(Madrid, 1972), UI, 6, 359, 364; see also Brading, The First America, pp. 213-27. 30 Francisco de la Maza, El guadalupanismo mexicano, 2nd edn (Mexico, 1984), passim; Brading, The First America, pp. 343-61. 31 Mariano Fernandez de Echeverria y Veytia, Baluartes de México (Mexico, 1820; facsimile edn, 1967), pp. 60-2. 32 George Kubler and Martin Soria, Art and Architecture of Spain and Portugal and their American Dominions 1500-1800 (London, 1959), pp. 69-81; Santiago Sebastian, El barroco iberoamericano. Mensaje iconografico (Madrid, 1990),

passim. :

2 MENDICANT CHRONICLES

1 Alonso de la Rea, Chronica de la orden de N.S.P. San Francisco, Provincia de San Pedro y San Pablo de Mechoacan en la Nueva Espafia (Mexico, 1643), pp. 2, 109-11. 2 Ibid., pp. 12-18, 45-6, 81-5. 3 Ibid., pp. 72, 31-6, 39, 46, 93.

4 Ibid., pp. 58, 64-7, 83-8. 5 Ibid., pp. 133, 143, 99-107. 6 Juan Gonzalez de la Puente, Primera parte de la chorénica augustiniana de Mechoacan, 2nd edn (Mexico, 1907), pp. 371-2, 406-15, 219-21, 239-42; see also Roberto Jaramillo Escutia, Los agustinos de Michoacan 1602-1652. La dificial formacion de una provincia (Mexico, 1991), passim.

7 Gonzalez de la Puente, Chorénica, pp. 19-33, 67-9, 38, 45-9. 8 Ibid., pp. 75-147; 255-60. g Diego Basalenque, Historia de la provincia de San Nicolas de Tolentino de Michoacan del orden de N.P.S. Agustin, 3rd edn, ed. José Bravo Ugarte (Mexico, 1963), pp. 17-20.

10 Ibid., pp. 30-45, 59-65, III-I4, I5I. 11 lbid., pp. 92, 1§7-72. 12 Ibid., pp. 128-35, 306-8, 330-1. 13 Ibid., pp. 311-29, 374-408; see also Antonio Rubial Garcia, Una monarquia criolla. La provincia agustina en el siglo XVII (Mexico, 1990), passim.

(Morelia, 1970), pp. 18-22. | |

14 Matias de Escobar, Americana Thebaida, 2nd edn, ed. Nicolas P. Navarrete 15 Ibid., pp. 37-43, 46-57, 109-11, 123-4. 16 Ibid., pp. 24-30, 68, 86—92, II9. 17 Ibid., pp. 194, 244, 296, 308, 374, 456. 18 Ibid., pp. 219-44. 19 Matias de Escobar, Voces de tritén sonora queda desde la santa iglesia de

Valladolid de Mechoacan la tncorrupta y viva sangre del Illmo. S.D.D. Juan Fosé

de Escalona y Calatayud .. . (Mexico, 1746), pp. 78-82, 95, 103-6, 190-3. 20 Escobar, Americana Thebaida, pp. 468-9. 21 Isidro Félix de Espinosa, Chrénica apostolica y seraphica de todos los colegios de propaganda fide de la Nueva Espafia de los missioneros franciscanos observantes,

270 Notes to pages 32-43 2nd edn, ed. Lino G. Canedo (Washington, 1964), pp. xv—Ixxxill; see also Beristain, Biblioteca, 11, 240.

22 Espinosa, Chronica apostolica, pp. 254-5, 321-8, 357-60. 23 Ibid., pp. 163-88, 683-5, 785-813. 24 Isidro Félix de Espinosa, El peregrino septentrional atlante: delineado en la exemplarissima vida del venerable Padre Fray Antonio Margil de Fesus (Mexico,

1737), Pp. 29-38, 366-79. 25 lbid., pp. 383, 391, 398. 26 Ibid., pp. 250-2, 306, 325-6. 27 Espinosa, Chroénica apostolica, pp. §33, §70, 608-9, 633. 28 Ibid., pp. 678-776; citations on pp. 680, 713. 29 Isidro Félix de Espinosa, Cronica de la provincia franctscana de los apéstoles San

Pedro y San Pablo de Michoacan, 2nd edn (Mexico, 1945), pp. 87, 153-60, 270; 371, 399; 459-62. 30 Ibid., pp. 459; see also AFPM, E-7: in 1693 there were 129 creole priests, 28 gachupin priests, 25 students and 31 lay brothers. 31 BN (Madrid), MS 12046, guardian’s representation, 15 Jan. 1750; see also José Antonio Alcocer, Bosguejo de la historia del colegio de Nuestra Serfiora de Guadalupe y sus misiones. Afio de 1788, ed. Rafael Cervantes (Mexico, 1957),

passim. 1 am grateful to Guillermo Tovar de Teresa and Teresa Franco Gonzales Salas for their allowing me to consult this document. 32 Cayetano Javier de Cabrera y Quintero, Escudo de armas de México (Mexico, 1746; facsimile edn, 1981), pp. 206-15, 228, 367-91, 471-95; Espinosa, E/ peregrino atlante, p. 407. 33 Espinosa, Chronica apostolica, pp. 121-31. 34 Juan José Moreno, Fragmentos de la vida y virtudes del V. Illmo. y Rvo. Dr. Don Vasco de Quiroga (Mexico, 1766), pp. I-5, 140; see also Vasco de Quiroga y arzobispado de Morelia (Mexico, 1965), passim. 35 Moreno, Fragmentos, pp. 13-22, 1§9 and appendix; see also Silvio A. Zavala, St Thomas More in New Spain (London, 1935). 36 Moreno, Fragmentos, pp. 69—73, 140, 164-5. 37 Ibid., pp. 62, 78-9, 138. 3 ORATORIANS

I Isidro Félix de Espinosa, El familiar de la América y doméstico de Espatia, extranio de su patria y natural de la ajena. Vida muy ejemplar del venerable Padre Dr. D. Juan Antonio Pérez de Espinosa. 1753 (Mexico, 1942), pp. 13-353 see

also AGN, Historia 113-22, papal breve, 6 Jan. 1727, real cédula, 18 Dec. 1734.

2 Espinosa, Vida, pp. 36-63. 3 lbid., pp. 74-82. 4 Ibid., pp. 85, 112, 116. 5 lbid., pp. 123, 171-8; on Margil, pp. r15—16. 6 Ibid., pp. 132-68. 7 José Bravo Ugarte, Luis Felipe Neri de Alfaro. Vida, escritos, fundactones, favores divinos (Mexico, 1966), passim.

Notes to pages 43-55 271 8 For Alfaro’s hopes of attracting the Dominicans see ACM, XVIII, 323, 25 Aug. 1760, and ACM, xVIII, 535, for their close. 9 For a detailed description of the sanctuary written by Alfaro see ACM, xvIiII,

350, 18 Sept. 1766; see also Jorge F. Hernandez, La soledad del silencio. Microhistoria del santuario de Atotonilco (Mexico, 1991), and José de Santiago Silva and Juan Diego Razo Oliva, Atotonilco: visién mistica y libertaria (Mexico, 1985). | 10 Alfaro’s description of his exercises can be found in ACM, xvIII, 350, 18 Sept.

1766; for these numbers see Juan Benito Diaz de Gamarra y Davalos, E/ sacerdote fiel y segun el corazén de Dios. Elogio funebre (Mexico, 1776), PP. 34-45. 11 Gamarra, El sacerdote fiel, pp. 16, 25-7. 12 Juan Benito Diaz de Gamarra y Davalos, Exemplar de religiosas: vida de la muy reverenda Madre Sor Maria Fosefina Lina de la Santistima Trinidad (Mexico, 1831), pp. 9-13.

13 Ibid., pp. II, 40, 67. 14 See the rapturous account of these events by Jerénimo Lopez Llergo in ACM, XVII, 347, 28 Dec. 1765; on the city see Francisco de la Maza, San Miguel de Allende. Su historia, sus monumentos (Mexico, 1972); Miguel J. Malo y de Zozaya and F. Leon de Vivero, San Miguel Allende (Mexico, 1963). 15 ACM, XVIII, 355, 10 Jan. 1766. 16 AOSM, cuaderno de visita de 1781, 14 April 1766; ACM, xvIII, 353; see also Espinosa, El familiar de América, pp. 36-54.

17 ACM, xvIIt, 353, 8 April 1766. Here is a detailed account of the students’ diet, which would repay further consideration. 18 ACM, xvIII, 164, the constitution approved 22 March 1746; ACM, XVIII, 353; visitation, 6 April 1766; ACM, XVIII, 742 (bis), cura, 30 May 1798. 19 AGI, Mexico 1710, 22 March 1768. 20 ACM, XVIII, 364, application for ordination, 14 Jan. 1767. 21 This account is taken from Manuel Quiyano Zavala, La venerable congregacion de N.P.S. Felipe Neri de la villa de San Miguel el Grande expone los justos motivos con que ha resistido ser visitada . . . (Mexico, 1782), see notes 42—6 for Hoyos’ letter, dated 3 July 1775; see also ACM, xXvIII, §35, Valladolid chapter, 20 June 1776.

22 This work was republished in Juan Benito Diaz de Gamarra y Davalos, Tratados, ed. José Gaos (Mexico, 1947), p. 75. 23 ACM, XVIII, 534, Rocha, 2 May 1781.

24 ACM, xvi, §35, José Pérez Calama, 3 Jan. 1781. 25 The story of the dispute can be traced in detail in ACM, xvIII, 535. 26 AOSM, cuaderno de visita de 1781, Gamarra to prepdsito, 16 Feb. 1780. 27 ACM, XVIII, §35, Rocha, 10 March 1780. 28 For this dispute see also German Cordozo Galué, Michoacan en el siglo de las luces (Mexico, 1973), pp. II-20. 29 Quiano Zavala, La venerable congregacion, pp. 19-45; see also José Nicolas de Larragoiti, Informe por la jurisdiccion eclestdstica del obispado de Valladolid de Michoacan en el recurso de fuerza que ha introducido la venerable congregaci6n del

Oratorio... (Mexico, 1782).

272 Notes to pages 56-71 30 Quijano Zavala, La venerable congregacion, pp. 96-101. 31 AGI, Mexico 2638, Audiencia, 13 Jan. 1782; real cédula, 24 Sept. 1792; AGI, Mexico 1308, Riafio, 12 July 1793.

32 For Pérez Calama see AGI, Quito 589, 27 June 1784; for Rocha’s selfimportance see ACM, XVIII, 535, to Dominican provincial, 16 June 1781. 33 Juan Benito Diaz de Gamarra y Davalos, Elementos de filosofia moderna, ed. Barnabé Navarro (Mexico, 1963), pp. 15, 19. 34 Gamarra, Tratados, pp. 121-2, 58, 45; Gamarra, Elementos, p. 193. 3§ Gamarra, Tratados, pp. 131-8.

36 Francisco Javier Maria de Munibe e Idiaquez, count of Pefiaflorida, Los aldeanos criticos .. . (Madrid, 1758), dedication. 37 Gamarra, Elementos, pp. 16, 2-9. 38 lbid., pp. 12-18, 68-87; Gamarra, Tratados, pp. 97-104, 176-205. 39 Gamarra, Elementos, pp. 117-62. 40 Ibid., pp. 174-83. 41 Gamarra, Tratados, pp. 13-36; Gamarra, Elementos, pp. 2-5. 42 Gamarra, Elementos, pp. 183, 25; Gamarra, Tratados, pp. 49, 97; 110. 4 SECULARISATION

1 AGI, Mexico 2716, has a long account of these events. _. 2 José Antonio de Villasefior y Sanchez, Theatro americano, 2 vols. (Mexico, 1746), I, 26-30; Fernando Navarro y Noriega, Catalogo de los curatos y misiones de la Nueva Esparia (Mexico, 1812), passim. I have consulted the 1943 edition. 3 AGI, Mexico 2712, Revillagigedo to Marqués de la Ensenada, 25 April 1749; for Ulloa, see Brading, The First America, pp. 470-3.

4 AGI, Mexico 2716, here is a list of the junta’s members and its report. 5 These protests can be traced through AGI, Mexico 2712, 2714, 2716. 6 AGI, Mexico 2712, Mexico city council, 27 July 1753. 7 AGI, Mexico 2712, Revillagigedo, 22 May 1752. 8 AGI, Mexico 2714, Manuel Rubio to Arriaga, 21 April 1756. 9 Lynch, Bourbon Spain, pp. 188-92. 10 AGI, Mexico 2716, king’s father confessor, 29 July 1759: ‘I have had repeated meetings with Arriaga’. 11 AGI, Mexico 2716, archbishop, 1 March 1759. 12 These numbers can be found in AGI, Mexico 3173, decree limiting novice numbers, 14 Oct. 1763; see also BN (Mexico), Archivo Franciscano 127, doc. 1647-8, and 128, doc. 1650-1; for 1792 Mexico City census see Alexander von Humboldt, Ensayo politico sobre el reino de la Nueva Espafia, ed. Juan A. Ortega y Medina (Mexico, 1966), p. 573. 13 For Jalisco see AGN, Clero 43-1, 4, 16: 13 July 1784. 14 AGN, Templos 23, fol. 414, Dec. 1815.

15 In AGI, Mexico 2747, there is a detailed visitation of all the Dominican provinces of New Spain; see also AGN, Historia 129-7, for the 1770 inquiry. 16 AGN, Templos 15, 12 Dec. 1757. 17 AGN, Historia 129-6, bishop of Oaxaca, 1 June 1770.

Notes to pages 71-83 273 18 AGN, Historia 129-6, 7; see also AGI, Mexico 1308, Revillagigedo, 30 Sept. 1793-

19 See Nicolas P. Navarrete, Historia de la provincia agustiniana de San Nicolds de Tolentino de Michoacan, 2 vols. (Mexico, 1978), I, §13, §40-I, 560-6. 20 ACM, xvi, 345, Francisco Antonio de Eguia, 9 Aug. 1765; ACM, XVIII, 232, Revillagigedo, 17 May 1754. |

sequestrated haciendas. |

21 Navarrete, Historia, 1, 511, 520, 540; ACM, xvilI, 345, has accounts of 22 AGI, Mexico 2725, protest, 13 May 1761; ACM, xvIt, 345; ACM, XvIII, 362,

Sanchez de Tagle, 17 April 1766; see also Miguel J. Malo y de Zozaya, Genealogia, nobleza y armas de la familia Malo (Mexico, 1971), pp. 69-72. 23 ACM, xIx, 51, Sanchez de Tagle to count of Aranda, 20 Oct. 1763. 24 ACM, XxIXx, 5, 21 Dec. 1761; AGI, Mexico 2725, Tagle, 10 March 1762. 25 AGI, Mexico 2725, Tagle, 13 April 1766; AGN, Clero 31-4, 27 July 1765; Brading, Miners and Merchants, pp. 39-41.

26 Navarrete, Historia, 1, 553, 573; the whole case is summarised in AGI, Mexico 2725. 27 ACM, xIx, 7, Rocha, 8 April 1780. 28 ACM, xIx, 34. 29 Navarrete, Historia, 1, 551-2. 30 ILbid., 1, 560-1; I, 88-9. 31 AFPM, Q-2, city council, § Nov. 1751; Viceroy Amarillas, 22 Feb. 1758. 32 AFPM, I-1, and L-B-3, ‘libro decenial de provincia 1734-1803’.

33 AGN, Historia 113-9, Irapuato donation was made in 1761; licence for Zamora foundation, 8 Aug. 1790, in ACM, xviI, 668 (bis). 34 ACM, xvilI, 350, Provincial, 2 Feb. 1762. 35 ACM, xvIII, 356, Croix, 3 Sept. 1766; AFPM, C—M, real cédula, 11 March 1785.

36 AFPM, Z-2, protest, 8 May 1759; ACM, XVIII, 386, cura, 7 Nov. 1770; real cédula, 11 March 1785.

37 ACM, xIx, Reales Cédulas, 1, 12 Aug. 1805. 38 ACM, xIx, 34, Prior, 12 March 1804; ACM, xvul, 739, 15 May 1798. On the Carmelites, see Alfonso Martinez Rosales, ‘La Provincia de San Alberto de Indias de Carmelitas Descalzos’, Historia Mexicana 124 (1982), pp. 471-542.

39 AGI, Mexico 2651: in 1803-4 over fifty licences for secularisation were granted; for 1806, see AGI, Mexico 2545. 40 AGN, Clero 139-1, 30 Sept. 1790; AGN, Clero 88-7, 14 June 1814. 41 Navarrete, Historia, 1, 566—79; see also AGI, Mexico 2733, real cédula, 25 Oct.

1790, insisted on maintenance of alternativa. 42 These disputes can be traced in AGN, Clero 131-5; Clero §8-1; Clero 2-6.

5 NUNS 1 AGI, Indiferente General 3043, Pastoral, 6 Dec. 1791. 2 AGI, Indiferente General 3043, appeal to high court, 22 Jan. 1772; Fuero’s letter, 27 April 1772, was read to the king. See also AGI, Indiferente General 3044, Bucareli to bishop of Puebla, 19 Feb. 1772.

274 Notes to pages 84-94 3 AGI, Mexico 2604, Haro to Bucareli, 9 Oct. 1773. 4 AGI, Mexico 2604, 1§ Oct. 1773. 5 AGI, Mexico 1308, Bucareli to Arriaga, 27 July 1774. The tract by Jorge Mas

, Theophoro (Fr. Luis Vicente Mas) was entitled ‘Carta a una religiosa para su desengafio y direcion’. 6 AGI, Indiferente General 3044, real cédula, 17 Aug. 1780. 7 AGI, Indiferente General 3043, Santa Clara, vote on 15 Feb. 1775; also AGN, Historia 132-4.

8 AGN, Templos 10-2 on income; also AGN, Bienes Nacionales 1925-15, where Ana Maria Marmolejo paid 2,000 ps. for a cell. 9g ACM, XVIII, 457, vote with seventy-one signatories, 7 July 1775. 10 ACM, xvitl, 638, for vote.

11 ACM, Fondo Catalogado 38, for consumption; for capital, see ACM, xviu, 385; XVIII, 513.

12 ACM, xix, 28; ACM, xvi, 731, 12 Aug. 1797; ACM xix, Pretendientes de ordenes 9, 12 Aug. 1812. 13 ACM, xvill, 664, 14 Oct. 1747; for Ibarra see ACM, xvitl, 468; for 1786-90 see ACM, XIX, 4, 14 ACM, xvitl, 459, Aug. 1775. 15 AGN, Historia 113-3, application 26 Feb. 1752. 16 ACM, XVIII, 347, 28 Dec. 1765. 17 ACM, XVIII, 353, visitation, 6 April 1766. The comments on individual nuns were often dismissive; many suffered poor health.

18 ACM, XvIll, 457, 17 Nov. 1775. Here is an account of the visitation conducted by Bishop Hoyos y Mier. 19 ACM, xvIill, §41, 24 July 1782.

20 ACM, xvi, 675, Abad y Queipo, 11 Feb. 1792. Here is an account of monthly consumption; see also ACM, xIx, 4. 21 For servants, see ACM, xvill, 731; for donados, ACM, XVIII, 747, 2 March 1799; on burial, ACM, xIx, 33, 25 Nov. 1803. 22 AGN, Templos 6—1,. Antonio Velasquez, 9 May 1801. 23 ACM, xIx, 22, accounts 1811-17; also ACM, XxIx, 40, 29 Dec. 1818.

24 Josefina Muriel de la Torre, Conventos de monjas en la Nueva Espafia | (Mexico, 1946), continues to be the indispensable introduction for female religious orders in New Spain. 25 AGN, Bienes Nacionales 345-71, 12 Feb. 1784. 26 AGN, Historia 77-1, funeral eulogy, 18 April 1792; Inquisition’s condemnation, 9 June 1809. 27 BN (Mexico), MS 1789, ‘vida de la Madre Maria Marcela’. This is a copy taken in 1844. 28 ACM, XVIII, 355 (bis), conde de Jalpa, 12 Aug. 1789. Here is the story of this foundation. 29 ACM, XIX, 37 and 19 (1). 30 ACM, xvil, 742, diocesan governors, 30 June I816. 31 See Josefina Muriel de la Torre with Alicia Grobet, Fundactones neocldsicas: La Marquesa de Selva Nevada, sus conventos y sus arquitectos (Mexico, 1969), passim.

Notes to pages 95-105 275 32 AGN, Historia 77-1, real cédula, 25 June 1802; for the plans, see AGN, Conventos 18. 33 AGN, Historia 190-1, José Maria de Guevara, 19 May 1723. 34 AGN, Historia 109—4, real cédula, 14 March 1734; for permission to beg, AGN, Clero 27-2, 14 April 1795; for candidate, ACM, xviml, 676, 14 April 1792.

35 See the invaluable, pioneering work of Pilar Foz y Foz, La revolucion pedagogica en Nueva Esparia 1754-1820. Maria Ignacia de Azlor y Echeverz y los

colegios de la Ensefianza, 2 vols. (Madrid, 1981). See also Pilar Foz y Foz, Fuentes primarias para la historia de la educacitén de la mujer en Europa y America. Archivos historicos Compania de Maria Nuestra Sefiora 1607-1921

(Rome, 1989). |

36 ACM, xix, 35, real cédula, 15 March 1803; AGI, Mexico 2544, Council of the Indies, 27 Jan. 1804; ACM, xrx, Pretendientes de ordenes 9, 16 July 1812; for capital, ACM, xix, 22, 10 March 1800; Foz y Foz, La revolution pedagogica, 1, 377-97. 37 José Guadalupe Romero, Noticias para formar la historia y la estadistica del obtspado de Michoacan (Mexico, 1862), p. 27. 38 ACM, xviu, 347, 13 Dec. 1764; see also Gloria Carrefio A., El colegio de Santa Rosa Maria de Valladolid 1743-1810 (Morelia, 1979).

39 ACM, Fondo Catalogado 32, no date. 40 Gabriel Ibarrola Arriaga, Familias y casas de la vieja Valladolid (Morelia, 1969), pp. 104, 109-10; Romero, Noticias, p. 46. 41 ACM, xIx, 8, cura, 7 Jan. 1745; ACM, xvitl, 717: the benefactor was Maria Ana Caballero who built the church of Nuestra Sefiora de los Angeles for the beateria. —

42 ACM, xvIII, 450, city council to bishop, 3 Feb. 1775. 43 AGN, Historia 109-10, San Luis Potosi city council, 8 April 1752; ACM, XVIII, 165, cura to bishop, 19 Oct. 1742. 44 ACM, xvIn, 719, bishop’s approval, 9 Aug. 1796. 45 See ACM, XVIII, 353, for 1766 general visitation; Santo Domingo membership in ACM, xvIII, 668 (bis); for Salvatierra, ACM, XVIII, 405, cura, 20 Feb. 1771.

46 AGN, Bienes Nacionales 242-8, papal approbation, 11 July 1732.

47 This rule can be found in AGN, Bienes Nacionales 474, dictated by Archbishop Manuel Rubio, 1 Aug. 17§2. 48 AGN, Bienes Nacionales 242-8, 19 June 1739; AGN, Templos 9—6, 2 Sept. 1783; AGN, Historia 77-1, the marquesa de Selva Nevada; their rule can be found in AGN, Bienes Nacionales 382-2. ° 49 AGN, Templos 24, Foz y Foz, La revolucién pedagogica, 1, 416-38.

6 PRIESTS 1 Texas, Garcia Col., 370, fols. I-3; note this description was printed in BAGN, I1 (1940), pp. 125-45. 2 Brading, Miners and Merchants, pp. 223-33. 3 The original of this census is in BRP, MS 2824, Miscelanea de Ayala, x-25,

276 Notes to pages 106-19 fol. 232-3, 3 April 1762. If the population aged under seven years is estimated

at 23 per cent, then total population was 524,299. For this proportion see D. A. Brading, Haciendas and Ranchos in the Mexican Bajio: Leon 1700-1860 (Cambridge, 1978), pp. 41-2; see also Claude Morin, Michoacan en la Nueva Espana de siglo XVIII (Mexico, 1979), passim. 4 This list of parishes is found in ACM, xIx, 14, 4 Aug. 1791; see also Oscar

Mazin Gomez (ed.), El gran Michoacan. Cuatro informes del obispado de Michoacan 1759-1769 (Zamora, 1986).

5 AGN, Historia 578 (a), Felipe Diaz de Ortega, 11 Oct. 1793, for Valladolid;

Juan Antonio de Riafio, 11 Oct. 1793, for Guanajuato; Bruno Diaz del Salcedo, 9 Oct. 1793, for San Luis Potosi. For 1777, see ACM, xvul, 490, and for 1809, see ACM, XIX, 44. 6 AGN, Obispos 17, Miguel Hidalgo, 7 July 1791.

7 AGI, Mexico 2622, Sanchez de Tagle, 20 Feb. 1772. Here is a copy of the constitutions. | 8 ACM, xvill, 741, San Miguel, 9 Nov. 1798. 9 AGI, Quito 589, Rocha, no date.

10 Compare reports in ACM, xvill, 490, for 1777 and ACM, xix, 44, for 1809.

11 ACM, xrx, Pretendientes de ordenes 9, printed edict, 7 March 1811. 12 ACM, xix, 44, Irapuato curas, 1809. 13 AGN, Historia 128-4, José Pérez Calama, 24 Sept. 1785. 14 ACM, xix, 14, 4 Aug. 1791. 1§ These reports are located in AGN, Historia §78 (a); San Miguel’s report is in AGI, Mexico 1896, 25 July 1794. 16 AGN, Historia §78 (a), Riafio, 11 Oct. 1793. 17 AGN, Historia 578 (a), Diaz del Salcedo, 9 Dec. 1789. 18 ACM, xvi, 710, Antonio Mariano Lavarrieta y Macuso, 22 April 1795. 19 Procesos inquisitorial y militar seguidos a d. Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla, ed. Antonio Pompa y Pompa (Mexico, 1960), pp. 36-9, §3-5, 68, 104-5, I2I. 20 ACM, xix, Reales Cédulas 1, 28 Feb. 1807. 21 AGI, Quito §89, 25 May 1784. 22 ACM, xIx, 36, 30 Jan. 1808. 23 ACM, xIx, 34. 24 ACM, XIX, 32, 21 April 1802. 25 ACM, XVIII, 739, 16 Nov. 1798. 26 ACM, xIx, 33, cura, 2 June 1803. 27 ACM, xvIn, 673, 7 May 1792. 28 ACM, xvIII, 509, 11 May 1779.

29 ACM, xv, 367, 3 Sept. 1768. 30 ACM, xvii, 356, real cédula, printed 12 March 1697. 31 ACM, xIx, 44. 32 ACM, xvii, 649, Sept. 1790. 33 ACM, xvill, 725, March 1792. 34 ACM, xvIill, 387, application 10 Oct. 1770; approbation, 7 Aug. 1771. 35 ACM, xvi, 649, application for tonsure, 31 March 1788; final appeal, 9 May 1792.

Notes to pages 120-42 , 277 36 ACM, xviu, 711, application 3 Dec. 1792; approbation 6 March 1796. 37 ACM, xvitl, 649, Sept. 1790. 38 ACM, xIx, 7, 22 Nov. 1780. 39 ACM, XVIII, 352, 21 Aug. 1766. 40 ACM, xix, 16, Oct. 1785. 41 ACM, xvIlI, 546, 6 June 1782.

42 AGI, Mexico 1976, Posada, 23 Oct. 1787; ACM, xvill, 647, real cédula, 21 Dec. 1787, 10 Aug. 1788. 43 ACM, xviu, 347, Sanchez de Tagle, 11 Dec. 1764. 44 ACM, xvi, 385, bioshop, 12 June 1770. 45 ACM, xvii, 746, cura, 31 Dec. 1798. 46 ACM, xvlill, 747; initial report, 4 Oct. 1796; Azanza’s letter, 18 Jan. 1799. 47 Farriss, Crown and Clergy, pp. 178-96; ACM, xvilI, 747, Sala del Crimen, 12 July 1799.

48 AGI, Indiferente General 3027, bishop of Puebla, 30 Oct. 1799.

49 ACM, xvi, 747. Here there is undated copy of the Mexican cabildo’s representation.

50 AGI, Mexico 1892, Lizana, 24 Oct. 1804; AGI, Mexico 2256, Lizana, 10 April 1809. 7 CONFRATERNITIES AND PAROCHIAL INCOME

1 AGN, Obispos 18, decree, June 1777; bishop, 5 May 1778. 2 AGN, Obispos 18, real cédula, 18 March 1791. 3 AGI, Mexico 2651, Toluca petitions, 7 Jan. 1796. 4 AGI, Mexico 2651, fscal, 3 Sept. 1802, 10 Dec. 1807. 5 AGN, Obispos 18, Haro, 24 May 1794; on Mexico City, see AGN, Cofradias

6; and more generally Clara Garcia Ayluardo, ‘Confraternity, Cult and Crown in Colonial Mexico City: 1700-1800’ (PhD dissertation, Cambridge University, 1990). 6 ACM, xix, 14, 4 Aug. 1791. 7 AGN, Clero 195-9, mayordomo, 13 July 1795. 8 ACM, xvill, 342, Luis de Cabrera, 2 Dec. 1765. 9 ACM, xvVIII, 323, petition, 22 Feb. 1759. 10 ACM, XVIII, 359, petition, 4 May 1767. 11 ACM, xvill, 732, Tapia, 20 June 1791. 12 ACM, xIx, 34, bishop’s approbation, 10 April 1804. 13 For lists of confraternities, see ACM, XvIII, 732, and ACM, XIX, I4. 14 For lists of priests, see ACM, XVIII, 490 (bis), for 1777, and AGN, Historia 578 (a), for 1793.

15 ACM, xvi, 666, 22 March 1791. 16 ACM, xIx, 14. 17 AGN, Clero 72-19, real cédula, 24 March 1791. 18 ACM, xix, 5, bishop’s edict, 30 May 1781. 19 AGN, Historia 73-18, fols. 142—4. 20 AGN, Historia 73-18, fols. 204-6. 21 AGN, Historia 73-18, fols. 376-8. Several of these village descriptions are

278 Notes to pages 142-58 printed in Inspeccioén ocular en Michoacan, ed. José Bravo Ugarte (Mexico, 1960).

22 AGN, Historia 78-18, fols. 367-8.

: 23 AGN, Historia 78-18, fols. 142-4. 24 ACM, xvilI, 165, Indaparapeo, Io July 1742.

25 ACM, xIXx, 14, printed arancel, 22 Dec. 1731. , 26 ACM, xvIII, 362, 6 March 1767. 27 ACM, XIx, 34, 17 Nov. 1804. 28 ACM, xIx, 7, chapter, 24 Jan. 1780; cura, 18 March 1780. 29 ACM, xIXx, 42, real cédula, 15 May 1804. 30 For parochial earnings in 1760, see Mazin, Entre dos majestades, pp. 285-8.

31 Fernando Navarro y Noriega, Memoria sobre la poblacion del reno de Nueva Esparia (Mexico, 1812), foldpaper. I use the edition of 1943.

32 ACM, xvi, 741, San Miguel, 9 Nov. 1798. | 8 DEVOTION AND DEVIANCE

1 Agustin Francisco Esquivel y Vargas, El fénix del amor, facsimile of 1764 edn in Alberto Carrillo Cazares, La primera historia de La Piedad (Zamora, 1990), pp. 8-18, 31-2, 37-8, 69-70. 2 Ibid., pp. I-2, 26—7, 30, 96.

3 lbid., pp. 45-52, 62-3. 4 ACM, xIx, 1§ (2), Guardian, 28 Feb. 1772. 5 ACM, xvII, 725, marques de Rayas, 14 July 1797. As a creole patriot, Rayas preferred to invite creole friars from Zacatecas rather than peninsular friars from Querétaro. 6 ACM, XIX, 3, 19 Sept. 1798. 7 ACM, xvill, 742 (bis), Herrera, 7 Nov. 1797. 8 ACM, xviII, 327, Ignacio Coromina, I Sept. 1764. 9 Lucio Marmolejo, Efemérides guanajuatenses, 4 vols. (Guanajuato, 1884), I, 108, I61, I70, 217. 10 ACM, XVIII, 667, cura, 27 Aug. 1790. 11 ACM, XVIII, 364, sentence, 6 Feb. 1768. 12 AGN, Clero 12-13, 31 Aug. 1808; ACM, xvil, 623, 14 April 1788.

13 ACM, xIx, 19, Antonio Lavarrieta, 31 Jan. 1800; ACM, xIx, 30, Francisco Cano de la Puente, 1§ Nov. 1801. 14 ACM, Fondo Catalogado Unquisicion) 43, Oct. 1795; ACM, xvilII, 356, . denunciation, 29 March 1767; ACM, Fondo Catalogado 41, denunciation of Velasco, 14 Sept. 1752.

15 ACM, Fondo Catalogado (Inquisicién), 44, denunciation, 18 March 1763.

16 ACM, Fondo Catalogado 44, Ildefonso Alvarez Pereyra, 4 Jan. 1762. 17 ACM, xvii, 694, Valle de Maiz, 27 Dec. 1793. 18 ACM, Fondo Catalogado 43, Maria Gertrudis Reyna, 20 Sept. 1780. 19 ACM, Fondo Catalogado 44, accusations, 26 Aug. 1760, § Dec. 1767. 20 ACM, Fondo Catalogado 41, Junipero Serra, 13 Dec. 1755. 21 ACM, xvi, 710, Francisco Javier Morfin, 13 Jan. 1795.

Notes to pages 159-77 279 22 ACM, Fondo Catalogado 41, cura report, 7 Dec. 1796; bishop’s sentence, II Feb. 1799. 23 BN (Madrid), MSS 3650-3, undated. 24 ACM, Fondo Catalogado 41, sentence, 13 Dec. 1742.

25 ACM, Fondo Catalogado 42, first proceedings, 4 July 1765, Barbarin released 13 Sept. 1766. 26 AGN, Clero 27-1, petition, 15 Jan. 1799. 27 AGI, Mexico 1308, Branciforte, 30 Nov. 1794; real cédula, 9 April 1795. 28 Francisco Antonio Lorenzana y Buitrén, Cartas pastorales y edictos (Mexico, 1770), pp. 91-9.

29 Serge Gruzinski, ‘La “segunda aculturacién”: el estado ilustrado y la religiosidad indigena en Nueva Espafia (1775-1800)’, Estudios de Historia Novohispana 8 (1985), pp. 175-200. 30 ACM, xvii, 648, 31 March 1788. 31 Lorenzana, Cartas pastorales, pp. 38, 45, 68-71. 32 Antonio Joaquin de Rivadeneira y Barrientos, Disertaciones que el asistente real escribio sobre los puntos que se le consultaron por el cuarto concilio mejicano en 1774

(Mexico, 1881), pp. 58-62. 33 AGI, Mexico 2651, printed pastoral, 29 March 1803. 34 ACM, xvill, 460, cura, 18 Nov. 1775. 35 AGN, Historia 437, intendant’s report, 23 June 1792. 36 ACM, xvull, 666, Guanajuato visitation, II Jan. 1793. 37 ACM, xix, Juzgado de Testamentos 6, 18 July 1800; ACM, xIx, 37, 28 April 1806.

38 ACM, xIx, 35, approbation, 17 Sept. 1805. 39 ACM, xIx, Juzgado de Testamentos §, bishop’s decree, 30 Sept. 1806. 40 AGN, Historia 437, Revillagigedo, 18 March 1794. 41 ACM, xix, 34, Tiburcio Camifia, 28 Jan. 1804. 42 AGN, Historia 437, petition, 3 April 1797; San Miguel, 1 June 1798. 43 ACM, xIx, 33, bishop’s prohibition, 3 Dec. 1803. 44 AGI, Mexico 2693, Iturrigaray, 26 Sept. 1806. 9 CATHEDRAL AND CHAPTER

1 ACM, xIx, 35, Posada, 9 Aug. 1799; real cédula, 13 Sept. 1803. 2 AGI, Mexico 2603, Iturriaga, 3 Nov. 1804, 3 Dec. 1809. 3 AGI, Mexico 2603, San Luis Potosi city council, 1 March 1806. 4 AGN, Clero 189-8, Celaya city council, 20 Aug. 1803. 5 AGI, Mexico 2603, bishop of Puebla, 20 Sept. 1805.

6 AGN, Obispos 5-1, real cédula, 11 July 1794; ACM, xIx, 34; AGN, Clero 50-1, Branciforte, 6 May 179%. 7 AGI, Mexico 2603, 8 Feb. 1805. 8 AGI, Mexico 2296, chapter, 1 Dec. 1809. g See the invaluable José Bravo Ugarte, Didceses y obtspos de la Iglesia Mexicana 1519-1965 (Mexico, 1965), pp. 67-72. 10 Ibid., p. 71; also AGI, Mexico 1049, Elizacoechea, 8 Oct. 1756. 11 ACM, xvin, 399, Sanchez de Tagle, 16 March 1772.

280 Notes to pages 177-86 12 AGI, Mexico 2572, San Miguel, 17 April 1787; AGI, Mexico 2567, San Miguel proposed Tapia in 1799. 13 AGN, Obispos 3, Moxo was consecrated bishop in partibus infidelium on 1 May 1804 but San Miguel died 18 June 1804. For Moxo, see AGI, Mexico 2567: he was a distinguished classical scholar and author of Cartas Mencanas (Genoa, 1837). 14 Mazin, Entre dos majestades, is here indispensable; for Sanchez de Tagle’s letter to fellow colegiales, see ACM, XVIII, 334. 15 See Cardozo Galué, Michoacan, pp. 53-68.

16 AGI, Mexico 2693, vote cast in favour of Manuel Abad y Queipo, 22 July 1805.

17 See Oscar Mazin Gomez with Marta Parada, Archivo Capitular de Administracion Diocesana Valladolid-Morelia, Catalogo 1. (Zamora, 1991). This is the best guide to diocesan administration available.

| 18 This account is based on an inspection of ACCM, Actas del Cabildo 38, 10 April 1792-8 Feb. 1793.

19 For this account, I have drawn on Mazin Gomez, Archivo Capitular, pp. 12-42; and on aranceles for diocesan courts and offices found in ACM, | XIX, 44, 10 May 1809, and ACM, xvIII, 741, 16 Oct. 1798. 20 ACM, XxIx, 7, case of G6mez Davalos, 22 Nov. 1780. 21 See list of clergy in Valladolid in AGN, Historia 578 (a). 22 Michael P. Costeloe, Church Wealth in Mexico. A Study of the “fJuzgado de Capellanias’ in the Archbishopric of Mexico 1800-1856 (Cambridge, 1967), passim; on loss of jurisdiction over testaments, see Farriss, Crown and Clergy, pp. 155-63.

23 For San Miguel’s list of chapter and its officers, AGI, Mexico 1896, 25 July 1794. 24 On powers of jueces hacedores, see Farriss, Crown and Clergy, pp. 153-4. 25 See ACCM, Actas del Cabildo 38, January 1793, for these elections.

26 AGI, Indiferente General 2977, real cédula, 19 Oct. 1774, appointing contadores who entered offices in 1775. Here is a good description of the work ~

of the Haceduria. See also ACM, xvilI, 676, 3 Sept. 1792; and ACM, xIx, Reales Cédulas 1, San Miguel, 9 Oct. 1802. 27 Texas, Garcia Col. MS 370, Gama, ‘Descripcion’, fol. 12. 28 ACM, xvi, 639, San Miguel, 23 Feb. 1787. 29 Texas, Garcia Col. MS 370, Gama, “Descripcion’, fol. 9. 30 Oscar Mazin Gomez, Heron Pérez Martinez and Elena I. Estrada de Gerlero, La catedral de Morelia (Zamora, 1991), pp. 32—63. Apart from this splendidly produced study, see also AGI, Mexico 1052, Viceroy Casafuerte, 1 May 1732; and AGI, Mexico 1049, bishop of Michoacan, 14 Jan. 1743.

31 ACM, xvi, 696, Dr Juan José de Michelena, 7 Jan. 1794. 32 ACM, xvIIl, 638, 17 July 1800. 33 A complete list of cathedral staff and their stipends, together with proposed increases can be found in ACM, xvIIl, 638, 17 July 1800; see also ACM, xvIlI, 399, and Mazin, Entre dos majestades, pp. 296-8. 34 AGI, Quito §89, José Pérez Calama, 25 May 1784.

35 ACM, xvinl, 638, 17 July 1800; for Beltran Cristofani see ACM, xix,

Notes to pages 186-95 281 Pretendientes de ordenes 9: after thirty-four years of service, he was ruined by the insurgency. 36 Mazin Gémez, Archivo Capitular, pp. 21, 26-8. 37 AGN, Clero 183-4, chapter, 5 Nov. 1781; AGN, Clero 9—6, papal breve, 20 May 1791. 38 AGI, Indiferente General, 2962, real cédula, 12 April 1802; ACM, xIx, Reales

Cédulas 1, Abad y Queipo, 12 Oct. 1804. 39 On noveno, see AGI, Mexico 1627, Iturrigaray, 26 Nov. 1806; also Sanchez Bella, Iglesia y estado, pp. 30I-2. 40 ACM, xIx, 42, Valladolid chapter, undated copy. 41 ACM, xIx, 35, Iturrigaray, 19 Feb. 1805. 42 ACM, xix, 35, Mexican chapter, 9 March 1805. 43 ACM, xIx, 35, Valladolid chapter, 27 Aug. 1805. 44 ACM, xvii, 638, 17 July 1800. 45 ACCM, Actas del Cabildo 38, 6 June 1792: the 50,000 ps. loan to the crown came from fabrica funds. Note that the Colector de Aniversarios y Obras Pias only managed the 155,130 ps. of the colecturia and not the 298,685 ps. of the cathedral endowment. He was appointed on 2 January 1793 at the meeting when all chapter officers were elected, including a juez hacedor and a clavero. 46 ACM, xIx, 35, Valladolid chapter, 12 May 1805. IO A BISHOP AND HIS CANONS

I AGI, Mexico 2572, San Miguel, 19 May 1788. 2 On this famine, see Enrique Florescano, Precios del maiz y crises agricolas en México (1708-1810) (Mexico, 1969); Fuentes para la historia de la crisis agricola de 1785-1786, ed. Enrique Florescano, 2 vols. (Mexico, 1981).

3 AGI, Mexico 1874, count of Galvez, 29 April 1786; AGI, Mexico 1876; and AGI, Mexico 1877, Haro, 2 Dec. 1786.

4 Brading, Haciendas and Ranchos, pp. 189-92; for parochial reports of mortality in the Bayio, see ACM, XvIII, §98.. 5 AGI, Mexico 1873, 18 Feb. 1786. 6 Gazeta de México, 27 Dec. 1785; see AGI, Mexico 1892, San Miguel, 21 Oct. 1788; Cardozo Galué, Michoacan, pp. §3-78. 7 On these measures, see AGI, Mexico 1874, 25 Nov. 1785; AGI, Mexico 1876. San Miguel, 13 March 1786. 8 AGI, Mexico 1873, San Miguel, 16 Oct. 1785. 9 AGI, Mexico 2572, 17 April 1787.

10 For Pérez Calama, see the indispensable Cardozo Galué, Michoacan, Pp. 70-4, 81-92. 11 For Fuero and Pérez Calama, see Beristain, Biblioteca, 11, 151-16, 312-18.

12 There is a copy of this book in AGI, Quito §89; see also Cardozo Galué, Michoacan, pp. 29-30. 13 AGI, Quito §89, Pérez Calama, 25 May 1784.

14 AGI, Quito 589, 6 Nov. 1783, 8 Oct. 1784; Cardozo Galué, Michoacan, pp. 37-8. 15 Texas, Garcia Col., MS 237, ‘Retrato del Dr. Calama’, 1783.

282 Notes to pages 196-211 16 Cardozo Galue, Michoacan, pp. 31-3, 74-7. 17 AGN, Historia 128-15, 23 Nov. 1786. 18 AGN, Historia 128-15, Viceroy Flores, 27 March 1787. 19 AGI, Quito §89: this account was mainly written in Acambaro, 18 Aug. 1788, and finished at Queretaro, 19 Oct. 1788. 20 AGN, Historia 128-13, Villanueva, 13 Jan. 1779.

21 AGI, Mexico 2635, Rocha’s sentence, 27 Nov. 1780; chapter’s reprieve, 23 March 1784. 22 Cardozo Galue, Michoacan, pp. 134-5. 23 AGI, Quito 589, San Miguel to Porlier, 17 June 1788. 24 AGI, Mexico 1892, Arias girls’ mother, 2 Oct. 1789; AGI, Mexico 1440, San Miguel, 10 July 1795.

25 AGI, Indiferente General 2965, Suarez Marrero, 14 July 1789; AGN, Historia 44-8, Revillagigedo, 28 April 1792. 26 AGI, Mexico 2672, San Miguel to Porlier, 18 Aug. 1789. 27 AGI, Indiferente General 2965, Suarez Marrero to Porlier, 22 Aug. 1790. This story can be pursued in AGN, Historia 129-10. 28 ACM, xvitl, 729, Valladolid chapter, Dec. 1798. 29 AGI, Indiferente General 2967, Azanza, 26 March 1800.

30 AGN, Obispos 2-1, Zerpa to viceroy, 14 Dec. 1798; AGI, Mexico 2545, real cédula, 16 July 1804, appointment in Oaxaca. By 1806 Zerpa was dead. 31 AGN, Historia 128-16, San Miguel to Branciforte, 10 July 1795. 32 AGI, Mexico 2572, Villanueva, 19 Aug. 1799, 18 Dec. 1801; San Miguel, 21 Dec. I8ol!. 33 AGI, Mexico 2651, Villanueva, 24 March 1802. 34 AGI, Mexico 2577, San Miguel to Caballero, 22 May 1802. 35 AGI, Mexico 2545, real cédula, 18 Jan. 1804. 36 For San Miguel’s assessment of the chapter see AGI, Mexico 1896, 25 July 1794. The intendants’ assessments are in AGN, Historia §78 (a). 37 AGI, Mexico 2572, San Miguel, 1789. 38 ACM, xvit, 668, bishop of Durango, 1 March 1791; see also AGI, Mexico 2567, 21 Feb. 1799. | 39 AGI, Mexico 2572, 29 Aug. 1813. 40 ACM, xvi, 741, Abad y Queipo, 15 July 1811. 41 AGI, Mexico 2693, Juan de la Barcena (Fray Juan de Santander), 18 Nov. 1805.

42 AGN, Clero 40-10, Barcena appointed canon, 21 Aug. 1795. See also AGI, Mexico 2568, where statement of his career; AGN, Clero 125-5, 28 Aug. 1805, appointed treasurer; and AGI, Mexico 2572, 29 Aug. 1813, for Abad y Queipo’s commendation. II TITHES AND CHANTRIES

1 AGI, Indiferente General 2966, real cédula, 19 Oct. 1774; also AGI, Indiferente General 2977, Valladolid contaduria, 21 Feb. 1777. For this chapter, see Sanchez Bella, Iglesia y estado, pp. 275-301; and José Lebron y

Notes to pages 211-24 283 Cuervo, Un libro inédito de Lebron sobre diezmos en Indias, ed. Carmen Purroy y Turrillas (Pamplona, 1991). 2 AGN, Diezmos 13, Posada, 16 Sept. 1783. 3 AGI, Indiferente General 2974: this junta met in Conde de Tepa’s house, 14 Nov. 1785; also AGI, Indiferente General 2973, real cédula, 23 Aug. 1786. 4 ACM, xvii, 604: here is a copy of this representation, 26 June 1787. 5 ACM, xvi, 604, Porlier, 10 Nov. 1787; AGI, Indiferente General 2973, 23 March 1788. 6 AGI, Indiferente General 2973, Francisco Machado, 27 Oct. 1794. -

~ BN (Mexico), MS 1399, fols. 72-86. This table is printed in Enrique Florescano, Origen y desarrollo de los problemas agrarios de México 1500-1820,

2nd edn (Mexico, 1976), p. 69. See also Aristedes Medina Rubio, La iglesia y la produccion agricola en Puebla 1540-1795 (Mexico, 1983); and Fluctuaciones

economicas en Oaxaca durante el siglo XVII, ed. Elias Trabulse (Mexico, 1979).

8 Fabian de Fonseca and Carlos de Urrutia, Historia general de real hacienda escrita por orden del virrey, conde de Revillagigedo, 6 vols. (Mexico, 1845-53), II,

262-3; see also AGN, Diezmos 20, 1792. 9 AGN, Diezmos 21, Valladolid chapter, 30 Nov. 1805; ACM, xIXx, 22, 16 Aug. 1805; for Valle de Santiago tithes, see ACM, xIx, 15 (1), 16 Aug. 1805.

10 ACM, Diezmos 848, 854, Leon accounts. Ir AGI, Mexico 1271, has a list of district payments for 1761; see ACM, XvIII, 650, for 1787; also Mazin, Entre dos majestades, pp. 261-2.

12 For these rebates, see ACM, xvi, 650, where the 1789 tithe schedule 1s. 13 AGI, Indiferente General 1965, real cédula, 6 Jan. 1783. 14 AGI, Indiferente General 2966, Revillagigedo, 3 May 1794; papal breves dated 7 Jan. 1795, 7 July 1799; see also Sanchez Bella, Iglesia y estado, pp. 292-6. 15 AGI, Indiferente General 2962, accountants general, 6 Nov. 1799. 16 AGI, Indiferente General 2966, Charcas, 31 Oct. 1801. 17 Farriss, Crown and Clergy, p. 164; Sanchez Bella, Iglesia y estado, pp. 305-14; M. Sugawara, La deuda publica de Espatia y la economia novohispana 1804-09 (Mexico, 1976); Brian R. Hamnett, “The Appropriation of Mexican Church

Wealth by the Spanish Bourbon Government: The “Consolidacién de Vales

Reales”, 1805-09’, FLS 1 (1969), pp. 85-113; Asuncién Lavrin, “The. Execution of the Laws of Consolidation in New Spain: Economic Gains and Results’, HAHR §2 (1973), pp. 27-49; Margaret Chowning, “The Manage-

ment of Church Wealth in Michoacan 1810-1856’, F#LS 22 (1990), PP. 459-96. 18 AGI, Mexico 1817, mining court’s representation, 16 Sept. 1805, printed in D. A. Brading, ‘Relacion sobre la economia de Querétaro y de su corregidor don Miguel Dominguez, 1802-1811’, BAGN II (1970), pp. 275-318. 19 Juan Lopez de Cancelada, El Telégrafo Mexicano (Cadiz, 1813), pp. 29-30; AGI, Mexico 2568, Abad y Queipo, 12 Aug. 1814. 20 ACM, xix, Reales Cédulas 1, Valladolid chapter, 3 Oct. 1805.

21 ACM, xIx, Juzgado de Capellanias 4, Abad y Queipo, 14 Oct. 1805; this | information resolves the questions raised by Arnold J. Bauer, “The Church in

| 284 Notes to pages 224-36 the Economy of Spanish America: Censos and Depositos in the Eighteenth and

Nineteenth Centuries’, HAHR 63 (1983), pp. 707-34. 22 AGN, Obispos 18, Vicente de los Rios, 4 Aug. 1781. 23 ACM, xvIII, 433, 29 Nov. 1798. 24 ACM, xvill, 16 July 1791. 25 AGN, Bienes Nacionales 1865. 26 ACM, xvill, 451, 10 Oct. 1775; see also Brading, Hactendas and Ranchos, pp. 115-48. 27 AMM, 143, I Sept. 1806. 28 AMM, 16 Jan. 1807; for Obeso, see AGN, Consolidacién §, 25 Sept. 1807.

29 AMM, 153-37, embargo of hacienda, 19 Aug. 1807; this case and the hacienda’s inventory were printed in D. A. Brading, ‘La situaci6n econdmica

de los hermanos d. Manuel y d. Miguel Hidalgo y Costilla’, BAGN, I1 (1970), 17-82. I2 LIBERAL PRELATE I The only life is Lillian E. Fisher, Champion of Reform. Manuel Abad y. Queipo

(New York, 1955); but see Carlos Herrején Peredo, ‘Mexico: las luces de Hidalgo y Abad y Queipo’, Caravalle 54 (1990), pp. 107-35. 2 Humboldt, Ensayo politico, p. cvi; San Miguel died in June 1804 aged seventy-

eight. The long memorial usually attributed to him was in all probability written by Abad y Queipo: its proposals for reform are identical with those found in his memorials to the crown. 3 Manuel Abad y Queipo, Coleccion de los escritos mds importantes que en diferentes épocas dirigid al gobierno (Mexico, 1813), pp. 35-41. These were reprinted in José Maria Luis Mora, Obras Sueltas, 2 vols. (Paris, 1837). 4 Ibid., pp. 8-9, 18-20, 50, 60. § AGI, Mexico 2603, memorial attributed to Bishop San Miguel; this has been printed by Ernesto Lemoine Villicana, ‘Un notable escrito pdéstumo del obispo de Michoacan Fray Antonio de San Miguel sobre la situacién social, econdémica y eclesiastica de la Nueva Espafia en 1804’, BAGN, 5 (1964), pp. 5-66. 6 Abad y Queipo, Coleccion de escritos, pp. 51-2; ACM, xvii, 741, San Miguel, 9 Nov. 1798. 7 Abad y Queipo, Coleccion de escritos, p. §3.

8 lbid., pp. §2-3. g Ibid., pp. 53-60. 10 Ibid., pp. 66-78. 11 lbid., pp. 79-91. 12 Brading, The First America, pp. §40—4.

, 13 Abad y Queipo, Coleccion de escritos, pp. 113-23. 14 AGI, Mexico 2693: here is a detailed account of his oposiciones for the canonry, 22 July 1805; he was confirmed in office, real cédula, 27 March 1807. 15 AGI, Mexico 1894, Abad y Queipo, 21 Feb. 1805; AGI, Mexico 2571, Abad y Queipo, 7 Oct. 1818. 16 Brading, The First America, pp. 603-4.

Notes to pages 237-47 285 17 Abad y Queipo, Coleccién de escritos, pp. 132-47. 18 AGI, Mexico 2697, Viceroy Garibay, 22 August 1809. 19 AGI, Mexico 2571, Valladolid chapter, 22 Aug. 1809; Intendant Riafio, 2 Jan. 1810.

20 AGI, Mexico 2571, Lizana, 8 Aug. 1809. 21 Abad y Queipo, Coleccién de escritos, pp. 149-57. 22 Ernesto de la Torre Vilar et al. (eds.), Historia documental de México, 2 vols.

(Mexico, 1969), I, 40-9.

23 Lucas Alaman, Historia de Méjico, 4th edn, § vols. (Mexico, 1968-9), II, 391-3; Luis Castillo Ledon, Hidalgo. La vida del heroé, 2 vols. (Mexico, 1948), passim.

24 Francisco Severo Maldonado, ‘El Despertador Americano’, printed in Periodismo insurgente, 2 vols., facsimiles without continuous pagination (Mexico, 1976), I, 4-5, 17, 27-8, 40-4. 25 Coleccion de documentos para la historia de la guerra de independencia de México de 1808 a 1821, ed. J. E. Hernandez y Davalos, 6 vols., facsimile of 1877 edn (Mexico, 1985), Il, 104-7, 24 Sept. 1810. Abad issued two more edicts, on 30

Sept. 1810 and 8 Oct. I810: see Documentos, ed. Hernandez, II, 152-4; III, 914-22. 26 Manuel Abad y Queipo, Carta pastoral (Mexico, 1813), issued 26 Sept. 1812, pp. 2-17. This was reprinted in Documentos, ed. Hernandez, Iv, 439-84. 27 Ibid., pp. 19-25. 28 Ibid., pp. 105-13. 29 Ibid., pp. 31-41; see also Edicto, 7 March 1811; this can be found in ACM, XIX, Pretendientes de ordenes 9.

30 Ibid., pp. 80-101. .

31 Llbid., pp. §0-2; Edicto, 30 Sept. 1810, printed in Documentos, ed. Hernandez, III, 918-19. 32 Cancelada, Telégrafo Mexicano, p. 254; Carlos Maria de Bustamante, ‘Correo Americano del Sur’, facsimile in Pertodismo insurgente, 1, 194-5.

33 Andrés Quintana Roo, ‘Semanario Patndético Americano’, facsimile in Periodismo tnsurgente, 1, 19-22; Carlos Maria de Bustamante, Cuadro historico de la revolucion mexicana, 3 vols. (Mexico, 1961), I, 444.

34 Ernesto Lemoine Villicana, Morelos (Mexico, 1965), pp. 13-31, 83-6, 181, 264; see also Carlos Herrejon Peredo, Biblioteca Fosé Maria Morelos. Vida preinsurgente y lecturas. Los procesos. Documentos inéditos de vida revoluctonaria, 3 vols. (Zamora, 1984~7). 35 Lemoine, Morelos, pp. 184-90, 264.

36 Abad y Queipo, ‘Cartas del obispo Abad y Queipo sobre la independencia mejicana’, ed. F. J. Mencos Guajardo-Fajardo, Anuarto de Estudios Americanos 3 (1946), pp. 1096-133.

37 Ibid., pp. 1126-7. 38 AGI, Indiferente General 42, Isidro Sainz de Alfaro, 30 Aug. 1814; and AGI, Mexico 2568, Calleja, 31 Oct. 1814. 39 AGI, Indiferente General 42, Miguel de Lardizabal y Uribe, 29 Oct. 1814. 40 Abad y Queipo, ‘Cartas’, p. 1133. 41 Alaman, Historia, Iv, appendices, pp. 20—40.

286 Notes to pages 247-54 42 AGI, Mexico 2571: here is Abad y Queipo’s tragic story 1815-24. 43 Lettres a Eugénte were ascribed to N. Fréret, but were in fact written by Baron d’Holbach. See John McManners, Death and the Enlightenment. Changing Attitudes to Death in Eighteenth Century France (Oxford, 1981), pp. 164-5. 44 AGI, Mexico 2571, Abad y Queipo, 30 Dec. 1817. 45 AGI, Indiferente General 73, Pedro de Fonte to Pope Leo XII, 30 Aug. 1809. 46 AGI, Mexico 1895, Fonte to Benito Hermida, 24 April 1809. 47 ACM, xix, Documentos Varios I. 48 Manuel de la Barcena, Sermon que en la jura del Serior d. Ferdinand VII dyo en la catedral de Valladolid de Michoacan (Mexico, 1808). This is printed in facsimile in Agustin Garcia Alcaraz, La cuna tdeologica de la independencia (Morelia, 1971), pp. 267-90. 49 See Mariano Cuevas, Historia de la Iglesia en México, § vols. (Mexico, 1947), V, I2I-3. 50 ACM, Fondo Catalogado 2.

§1 This printed sermon can be found in ACM, xIx, 14. |

52 AGI, Mexico 2571: concludes the story. 53 Brading, The First America, pp. §74-5. 54 AGI, Mexico 2571, Jeronymite prior’s report. |

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Diezmos (siglo XVIII), legajos 848, 854 Documentos Varios (siglo XIX), legajo 1 Fondo Catalogado, legajos 2, 32, 38, 41-4 Juzgado de Testamentos, Capellanias y Obras Pias (siglo XIX), legajos 1, 4-6 Negocios Diversos (siglo XVIII), legajos 164-5, 232, 323, 327, 334, 3425 3455 347,

350, 353, 355-6, 359, 362, 364, 367, 385-7, 399, 405, 433, 450-1, 457; 459-60, 468, 490, 509, 513, 534-5, 541, 546, 598, 604, 623, 638-9, 648-50, 664, 666-8, 673, 675-6, 694, 696, 71O-II, 717, 719, 725, 7295 731-2; 7395 741-2, 746-7 Negocios Diversos (siglo XIX), legajos 3—§5, 7-8, 14-16, 19, 22, 28, 30, 32-7, 40, 42, 44, SI. Pretendientes de ordenes (siglo XIX), legajo 9 Reales Cédulas (siglo XIX), legajo 1 AFPM — ARCHIVO FRANCISCANO DE LA PROVINCIA DE MICHOACAN (CELAYA)

Legajos C-M, E-7, I-I, L-B, Q-2, Z-2 AGI — ARCHIVO GENERAL DE INDIAS (SEVILLE)

Audiencia de México, legajos 1049, 1052, I127, II3I, 1271, 1308, 1365-6, 1369, 1440, 1627, 1710, 1817, 1873-4, 1876-7, 1892, 1894-6, 1976, 2256, 2296, 2544-5, 2567-8, 2571-2, 2577, 2603-4, 2622, 2638, 2651, 2693, 2697, 2712, 2714, 2716, 2725, 2733, 2747 Audiencia de Quito, legajo 589 Indiferente General, legajos 42, 73, 1965, 2962, 2965-7, 2973-4, 2977, 3027, 3043-4, 3086 287

288 Bibliography AGN — ARCHIVO GENERAL DE LA NACION (MEXICO CITY)

Bienes Nacionales, volumes 242, 342, 345, 382, 474, 479, 1825, 1865 Clero secular y regular, volumes 2, 9, 12, 27, 31, 40, 43, 50, §8, 88, 125, 131, 139, 183, 189, 195 Cofradias, volume 6 Consolidacién, volume § Conventos, volume 18 | Diezmos, volumes 13, 20—I Historia, volumes 15, 44, 72-3, 77-8, 109, 113, 128-9, 132, 437, §78 Obispos, volumes 2-3, I7-18 Templos, volumes 6, 9-10, 15, 23-4 AHG — ARCHIVO HISTORICO DE GUANAJUATO

Insurgencia, legajos for 1767 AMM — ARCHIVO MUNICIPAL DE MORELIA

Legajos 143, 153-4 AOSM — ARCHIVO DEL ORATORIO DE SAN MIGUEL ALLENDE.

Cuaderno de vista de 1781 BN (MADRID) — BIBLIOTECA NACIONAL (MADRID)

MSS 3650, 12046, 19260 BN (MEXICO) — BIBLIOTECA NACIONAL (MEXICO CITY)

Archivo Franciscano, cajas 127-8 MSS 1399, 1789 BRP — BIBLIOTECA DEL REAL PALACIO (MADRID)

MSS 2824 TEXAS — LATIN AMERICAN COLLECTION, UNIVERSITY OF TEXAS (AUSTIN)

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Jaramillo Escutia, Roberto. Los agustinos de Michoacan 1602-1652. La dificial formacion de una provincia (Mexico, 1991) Kubler, George, and Soria, Martin. Art and Architecture of Spain and Portugal and their American Dominions 1500-1800 (London, 1959) Larragoiti, José Nicolas de. Informe por la jurisdicctén eclesiadstica del obispado de Valladolid de Michoacan en el recurso de fuerza que ha tntroducido la venerable congregacion del Oratorio... (Mexico, 1782) Lavrin, Asuncion. “The Execution of the Laws of Consolidation in New Spain: Economic Gains and Results’, HAHR §2 (1973), pp. 27-49

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Index

Abad y Queipo, Manuel, 90, 92, 203; chronicles, 22-31; Dulce Nombre de condemns clergy, 108; Hidalgo’s friend, Jesus province, 64-5; secularisation in III; criticises partition of diocese, 174-6; Michoacan, 72-6, 80; income, 221-2, attacks Iturrigaray, 188; praised by San - 225, 262

Miguel, 207; his influence, 208-9; Ayo el Chico, III, 124-§ attacks Consolidation, 223-5, 233; Azanza, José Miguel de, 126, 202 career, 228; his social analysis, 229-34; Azlor, Maria Ignacia, 96, 101 defence of avarice, 241, 243; his struggle

against the Insurgency, 234, 238-46; Bajio, El, 21, 72-3, 77, 86, 105, 108-9, 117, Minister of Justice, 247; defence of . 120, 148-9, 1§2, 168-9, 176, 182, 192,

Gallicanism, 248—9; death, 251-4 210, 218

Acapulco, 172, 230 Barbarin, José Luis, 161-2

Agreda, Sor Maria de, 37 Barcena, Juan de la, (alias) Santander,

Aguado, Juan Hipdolito, 48 209

Aguilera, Santiago, 125 Barcena, Manuel de la: career, 207-9; his

119-20 253

Alcarez y Medrano, José Ignacio de, writings, 251-2; accepts independence,

Alexander VI, Pope, 16 Barcena Cagiga, Francisco de la, 121

Alfaro, Luis Felipe Neri de, 43-5, 60 baroque style and culture, 11-12, 18, 28,

Aihondiga de Granaditas, 194, 239 43, 167, 185, 252, 254 Allende, Domingo Narciso, 226 Barragan, Felipe, 156—7 All Souls (Benditas Animas), 135, 137,139, Barragan, Rufino, 156-7

140 Basalenque, Diego, 24-8

Altamirano, Alonso, 150 beaterias, 97-102

Altamirano, Pedro Ignacio, 14 Belauzaran, Antonio, 206 Alvarez de Abreu, Miguel, 70 Belefia, Eusebio Ventura, 215

Amarillas, marquis of, 65-7, 77 Belluga y Moncada, Luis de, 41

Angangueco, 166 Beltran Cristofano, José, 186

Apaseo, 123 Bendiaga, Juan de, 50

Apresa, José Manuel, 117-18 Bergosa y Jordan, Antonio, 164 Aquinas, St Thomas, 54, 56, 59, 71, 76 Bonaparte, Joseph, 234, 240, 249

Aranda, marquis of, 15, 74 Bonaparte, Napoleon, 234-8, 241, 248 Areche, Juan Antonio de, 131 Bossuet, Jacques-Bénigne, II, 248 Arenas, Manuel de, 127-8 Bourbon dynasty, 3, 7, 16, 38-9, 80, 234 Arias Maldonado, Manuel de, 199-200 Branciforte, marquis of, 162, 200, 202 Aristotle, 12, 49-50, §4, 67-8, 76, I13, 194 Bucareli y Urstia, Maria Antonio de, 83,

Arregui, José de, 4, 13, 15, 67 85

Arias Maldonado, Manuel de, 199-200 Bustamante, Carlos Maria de, 243 Atotonilco, 19, 43-5, 102, 239

Augustine, St, II, 24, §4, §6, 195 Caballero, José Antonio, 202 Augustinian friars, 20, 39, 62, 68, 7I, 122, Caballero y Ocio, Juan Antonio, 40, 99

140, 184; San Nicolas province Cadiz, city of, 3, 41, 235, 247, 249; 294

Index 295

Constitution of, 228, 242, 245, 249; Constantine the Great, 10, 28, 128

Cortes of, 235, 242, 247, 249, 253 Copernicus, 58

Calleja, Félix, 243, 245-6 Cordoba, 41-2, 48, 173-4, 249

Calzontli, 28-9 Coromina, Ignacio, 153

Camargo, Joaquin, 124-5 Corpus Christi, feast of, 95, 135-7, 140-3 Camifia, Santiago, 207-8, 210 Cortés, Hernan, 20, 23, 28, 78, 129

Camina, Tiburcio, 167 Council of Castile, 13-14, 63

Camino, Francisco Angel del, 207 Council of the Indies, 12-15, 63, 72, 75; Campomanes, Pedro Rodriguez, 9-11, 80, 82, 85, II8—-19, 132, 162-3, 169-70,

228, 248 173, 211, 214, 219, 235, 247-8

Canal, José Maria Loreto de la, 90 creoles, 170; Jesuits, 3-4; patriotism, Canal, Manuel de la, 42, 45, 88 16-17, 19, 22, 32; alternativa in cloisters, Canal, Maria Josefina de la, 45-6, 88—90, 27, 36-7; presence in Valladolid chapter,

IOI 203-10; insurgency, 238-9, 245-6

Canal, Narciso Mariano de la, 90 Croix, marquis of, 4, 6

Cano de la Puente, Francisco Antonio, 155 Cruillas, marquis of, 73-4

Capuchin nuns, 82-3, 88, 92-4, 248 Cubilano, Manuel de, 207

Caracuaro, II5~-16, 1§4, 243 Cuincho, 198-9

Carbajal y Lancaster, José de, 12, 63, 67 Cuitzeo, 26, 75, 112 Carmelites: friars, 20, 68, 79, 93, 95-6, Cutzio, I4I-2 IOI, 178, 221-2, 241; nuns, 82—3, 92-5, Cuzamala, 114 98-I0I

Carro, Juan, 196, 198-9 Diaz de Ortega, Felipe de, 204 Catholicism, post-Tridentine, 46, 133,141, Dolores, 6, 111, 130, 182, 193, 218, 239-41

145, 167-9, 254 Dominican: friars, 23, 26, 43, 46, $7, 156,

Celaya, 5, 20, 22, 28, 73, 77-8, 97-8, 158, 195, secularisation, 64—6, numbers, IIO-II, 169, 173-4, 176, 206, 221, 231 70, San Hipdlito of Oaxaca, 70-1; nuns,

Cerro de San Pedro, § see Santa Caterina

Charcas, archbishopric of, 177, 219, 257 Dominguez, Miguel, 223 — Charles III of Spain, 3, 8-9, 11-12, 15, 67, Durango, 72-3, 176, 204-5, 21§-I7 II2, 198, 211, 213, 248

Charles IV of Spain, 234, 238 Ecce Homo image, 40~1, 46, 50 Charo, 24-6, 28-9, 31, 73 Ecclesiastical Subsidy, 147, 187-8, 219-22 Chavez, Diego de, 24, 26 Echeverria y Orcologa, Agustin José de,

Chilapa, 173-4 205 Chile, 13, 220 Eguia, Francisco Antonio de, 72

194 176

Chilpancingo, 173, 245 Eguia, José Joaquin de, 54-5

Church Council, Fourth Mexican, 4, 8, Elizacoechea, Martin de, 45, 72, 88, 150, Churrigueresque style, §, 11, 18, 28, 30, Ensenada, marquis of, 12, 63-4, 67

99, 184 Ensefianza, La, convents of, 96, 1oI-2, 248

Cicero, 60, 194-5 Escalona y Calatayud, Juan José de, 28; his Clemente XIV, Pope, 4, 197 biography, 30-1; his aid to convents, 86,

Coalcoman, 125 95-6; his arancel, 143, 149

Colecturia de Aniversarios, 182, 190, 220, Escandon y Llera, Mariano Timeteo,

225 | count of Sierragorda, 98, 205, 208-10

Collada y Plata, Nicolas, 206 Escobar, Matias de, 27-31, 37

85 I50-I

Comayagua, 176-7, 192 Espinosa, Isidro Félix de, 32-8, 40, 42 Company of Mary, 96—7, IoI-—2 Espinosa y Villasefior, Ramon, 119

Concepcion, convent in Mexico City, 82, Esquivel y Vargas, Agustin Francisco,

Concina, Daniel, 195 Etucuaro, 72, 154, 259

confraternities, 131-49, 164-70, 219 European Spaniards, 204-8; see also

consolidation of church property, 8, Peninsulares

222-7, 233-4, 236-7 Ezekiel, 28

296 Index Febronius, II Gonzalez del Campillo, Manuel Ignacio, Feyjoo, Benito Jeronimo, 57, 195 174 Felipe de Jesus, 169-70 Gorozabel, Vicente José, 204 Ferdinand VI of Spain, 12, 14, 62-3 Great Britain, 189, 236 Ferdinand VII of Spain, 234-5, 239, Gregory VII, Pope, 248

246-7, 249, 251-3 Grialva, Juan de, 25 248, 252 105, 124-5, 174, 206, 215-17, 235, 239

Fleury, abbé Claude, I1, 112, 228, 240, Guadalajara, 27, 34, 36-7, 68-70, 72, 76,

Flores, Manuel Antonio, 196, 205 Guadalcazar, §, 161

Foncerrada, Bernardo de, 193, 198, 209 Guadalupe: Our Lady of, 3, 16-19, 31, 37;

Fonte, Pedro José de, 250-1 42, 136, 156, 230, 239-40, 243, 251;

Franciscans, 12, 114, I21I-2, 137, 156, college in Zacatecas, 34, 36—7, 102,

161-2, 174-5, 248; colegios de 151-2; Congregation in Querétaro, 40,

propaganda fide, 17-18, 32-8, 40, 44, 76; sanctuaries in Patzcuaro and San 1§1-3, 1§6; San Pedro y San Pablo Miguel, 99; Order of, 251

chronicles, 20-3, 26, 35-6; Guanajuato, city of, §, 20, 43, 77; 148-9,

secularisation, 62, 64-6, in Santo 1§5, 162, 165-6, 173; 193, 207, 225, 237; Evangelio province, 68—70, in 239, 248; Its priests, I0§—7, 111-12, Michoacan, 71-6, 80; San Diego 117-19; its confraternities, 139-40, 143 province, 80; nuns, 8§—6, 92-4, 99-100; Guanajuato, intendancy of: priests and

Third Order, 131, 136, 140, 1§2, 160; population, 105-11; confraternities,

income, 221-2, 225, 262-3 134-6; parochial income, 140-9, 258; French, the, 9, 112, 234-5, 240 tithe income, 218-19, 264

Fuentes, Pablo, 154-5 Guatemala, 34, 207, 228

Fuero, Francisco Fabian y: his attack on Guevara, José Maria de, 9§ nuns, 82-5, 94, IOI; his prohibition of native tongues, 164; patronage of Pérez Haro y Peralta, Alonso Niufiez de: on

Calama, 194, 197 nuns, 83-4, 95; on confraternities, 133, 189, 192; in defence of tithes, 212-13

gachupines, 27, 37; 239, 241, 243, 246; see Hermosillo, 174 also European Spaniards, Peninsulares Herrera, Manuel José de, 111-12

Galileo, §8 Herrera, Nicolas Santiago de, 152 Gallaga, Vicente, 178, 206 Herrera, Vicente de, 194, 196

Gallican doctrines, 11, 112, 228, 248-9 Hidalgo y Costilla, Miguel, 108, 130, 228;

Galvez, count of, 188, 192-3 his estimate of priests, 107; praised by

GA4lvez, José de, 4, §6, 75, 85, 213, 219 Riafio, I1I-12; praised by Pérez Calama, Gamarra y Davalos, Juan Benito Diaz de, 195; Abad y Queipo’s friend, 209, 113; his lives of Alfaro and Canal, 44-6; 246-8, 252—4; resists Consolidation,

his philosophy, 49-50, §7—61; his 226; leads Insurgency, 239-43 conflict with Bishop Rocha, 50-7 Holy See, see Papacy Gamboa, Francisco Javier de, 4, 74-§ Hoyos y Mier, Luis Fernando de, 49,

Gamboa, Juan José de, 94-5 54-5, 86, 89, 176, 198, 200 Garcia Cifuentes, Roque, 207 Huarte, Isidro de, 193, 209 Garcia de Obeso, Gabriel, 87, 98, 226 Huasacualcos, 182-3, 190

Garcilaso de la Vega, el Inca, 29 Humboldt, Alexander von, 228 Garibay, Pedro de, 236, 238

Gazeta de México, 193-4 © Ibarra, José Manuel de, 225-6 Ginés de Parada, Santiago, 93 Iguala, Plan of, 249, 251 Godoy, Manuel de, 193, 198, 209 Indaparapeo, II5, 143

Gomez Davalos, Juan Vicente, 121 Indians: rebellion, 5-6, 17, 216; impact of Gomez de la Puente, Gabriel Bartolome, secularisation, 68-71; nuns, 95-6, IO1;

207-8 | priests, 108, 116-17; conflict with clergy,

Gémez Limon, Ildefonso, 206, 208 121-3; confraternities and hospitals, 131,

Gonet, Juan Baptiste, 195 133, I41-5, 148; use of peyote, 159-60; Gonzalez de la Puente, Juan, 22-4 their languages condemned, 163-4;

Index 297

Abad y Queipo’s assessment, 231—4; Lépez de Jesus, Melchor, 34-5

their Insurgency, 239-41, 245, 252 Lépez Llergo, Jerénimo, 46-7, 89

Inquisition, 1§, 155-8, 247-8 Lépez Portillo, Antonio, 4

Intendancy Ordinances, 8, 212 Lorenzana y Buitron, Francisco Antonio Irapuato, 80, 144, 166, 183, 193, 206, 218, de: defends Jesuit expulsion, 3—4; 225, 248; the Ensefianza, 96; its priests, condemns Mexican nuns, 82, 94, IOI;

108-9, III, 116 criticises popular religion, 163

Irimbo, 114-15, 226 Louis XIV of France, 7 Iturbide, Agustin de, 249-51 Luther, Martin, 241 Iturbide, José Joaquin de, 193

Iturriaga, José Antonio, 114 Machado, Francisco, 202, 212, 214 Iturriaga, Manuel de, 173-5, 200, 206-8 Madrid, 9, 41, 65, 193, 196, 199, 204,

Ixtlan, San Francisco, 141 235-6, 252

Malaga, 42, 189

Jacona, 30-1 Maldonado, Francisco Severo, 240

Jalapa, 173-4 Malo, Félix, 73, 75

248-9 151 252 Martin de Jesus, 21

Jansenism, II—I2, 76, 84-5, 168, 228, 240, Margil de Jesus, Antonio, 32-4, 37, 40, 42, Jeronymite monks, 176—7, 197, 207, 209, _ Maria Manuela, Sor, 92

Jerusalem, 27, 44, 151 Matos Coronado, Francisco de, 97-8 Jesuits, expulsion, 3-II, 20, 75, 84, 95, 98; Mas Theophoro (Luis Vicente Mas), 84 198, 222, 249; their tithes, 12-14; their Mazahua, 22, 105, 107, 114

missions, I§I, 1§3 Medina Rincon, Juan de, 23, 30

Jesus Maria convent, 82 mestizos, §, I16~17, 24§

Jovellanos, Melchor de, 232, 248 Mexico archdiocese: secularisation, 62-9;

Juan de San Miguel, 21 nuns, 82—§5; chapter protest about fuera, Juan Diego, 17, 38, 243-4 128—9; confraternities, 133; division of

Juarrieta, Pedro, 176 dioceses, 173—§; chapter protest against

Jueces Hacedores, 180-1, 190, 196, 200, taxation, 189; defence of tithes, 212-14; _.

205, 207, 211-13, 217-19 tithe income, 215-17; defence of fuero, Julius II, Pope, 16 244 Juzgado de Testamentos, Capellanias y Mexico City, 7, 16-17, 18, 32, 40—-I, 43,

Obras Pias, 179-80, 188, 196, 207, 45, 49; 53, 69-70, 82, 85, 95-6, IOI, III,

223-5, 228, 233 114, 155-6, 160, 166, 169—70, 176, 186, 192, 223, 234-5

Ladroén de Guevara, José Joaquin de, 170 Mexico City Council, 4, 65, 236; High

Landeta, Francisco de, 90 Court (audiencia), 8, 14, §3, §6, 123;

Landeta, José de, 42 170, 194; University, 49-50, §5, 70, II0, Lardizabal y Uribe, Miguel de, 246-8, 253 204, 209

Lavarrieta, Antonio Mariano, 112, 155,166 Michelena, Juan José de, 111, 208

Laws of the Indies, 189, 232 Michelena, Juan Manuel de, 193, 198,

Lejarza, Juan José de, 184 209

Leon y Gama, Antonio de, 59, 181, 184 Michoacan, see Valladolid Leon, §, 43, 162, 193; its beateria, 97-8; Mier, Pedro, 126—7 parochial revenue, 146—7; disorderly Monroy, Cayetano Francisco, 228

processions, 167; its tithes, 218; its Monterrey, 37

chantry funds, 225-6 Montesquieu, 228-9

Leso, Manuel de, 206 Morelos, José Maria, 116, 241, 243-5 | Lima, 48-9, 51-6, 62, 64 Moreno, Juan José, 38-9 limpteza de sangre, 87, 89, 91, 95, 97, 100, Moriana y Zafrilla, Marcos de, 176, 237

117-20 Motin de Esquilache, 9, 12

Lizana y Beaumont, Francisco Javier de, Moxo y Francoli, Benito Maria de, 177

| 129-30, 236-8, 246 Moya, Juan Bautista, 24-5, 29

Lopez, Victoriano, 83-5 mulattos, 117-20, 144, 157-8, 160

298 Index Nahuatl (Mexican), 22, 66—7, 105, 164 Philip V of Spain, 41

Navarro y Noriega, Fernando, 148 Philip Neri, St, 41, 46-7, 49, 54

neo-classic style, 94, 97, I9I Piedad, La, 121, 130-1 Newton, Isaac, 58-9, 65 Pina, José Antonio, 206 — Nieto, Salvador Sebastian, 145 Pius V, Pope, 114

Polignac, Melchor de, 59

Oaxaca, 4, 68, 95, 131, 164, 202, 204-6, Pomaro, 122 215-17, 244; its Dominicans, 68, 70-1 Porlier, Antonio, 199, 201-2, 208, 213-14

Ochoa, José de, 74 Posada, Ramon de: attacks ecclesiastical Ochoa, José Vicente de, 115 jurisdiction, 123; demands confraternity Ochoa, Nicolas de, 73-4 reform, 132-3; advocates division of dioceses, 173-5; defines tithes as royal

Oratory in San Miguel el Grande, 19, 88, tax, 21I 102, 173, 197, 206, 208; foundation, Prado de Ovejero, Bernardo de, 238, 248 40-3; Alfaro at Atotonilco, 43-6; Puebla, 3, 9, $1, 66, 68, 184, 194, 196, visitation, 46-8; college of San Francisco 229-30; Dominicans, 70; nuns, 82-6, de Sales, 47-50, 69; conflict with Bishop 94; defence of church fuero, 127-8;

Rocha, 49-57 division of diocese, 173-5; tithes, Orellana, Esteban de, 56 215-17

Orizaba, 173-4 Purisima Concepcion, convent in San Ortega, José Joaquin, 122 Miguel, 46, 88-91, Io1; images of, 78-9, Ortega, Luis de, 73 164; hospitals, 141, 143

Osma, Joaquin de, 12-13

Otomi, 16, 22, 66, 77-8, I14, I17; 139 Querétaro, 27, 114, 223, 225; Rea’s praise: 20-2, Santa Cruz college, 32-3, 36-7, Palacios, Ignacio Antonio, 91, 110, 124-5 40; secularisation of parish, 68, 70; Palafox y Mendoza, Juan de, 9, 12-13, 26, Santa Clara, 85-6, 88; nuns and beatas,

62, 64, ISI, 194, 198 92-5, 99-100; confraternities, 136,

Papacy, the Holy See, 10, 13, 15-16, 41, I§I—-2; possible bishopric, 173-5 48-9, 55, 78-9, II18—I9, 175, 21I-I2, Quesada, Manuel, III, 119

219, 236, 243, 250, 2§2 Quijano Zavala, Manuel, §5-6

Paraguay, 9, 15 | Quintana Roo, Andrés, 244 Patzcuaro, 20-2, 30, 73, 78, 162; rebellion, Quintano, Bonifaz, 67 5-6; Santa Caterina, 87-8; beateria,99; . Quito, 63, 193 its priests, 106—8; Holy Week fair, 165

Pefia, José de la, 207-8 Ramirez, Pedro, 159

Pefiaflorida, count of, 58 Ramirez Becerra, Rafael, 188-20 Peninsulares, 27, 36, 176, 186, 204~8, Ravago, Francisco de, 12, 63, 67

239 Rayas, marquis of, 1§2, 224-6; mine, 153,

Peredo, Antonio, 225 165

Pérez Anastariz, Ramon, 202-3, 205, 208 Rea, Alonso de la, 20-2, 28, 36

Pérez Calama, José: in San Miguel Real Sociedad Bascongada, 58, 194 visitation, 50-3; defends large parishes, Regency, the, 235, 238, 245-6, 249 109—I0; criticises Valladolid colleges, Revillagigdeo, count of, the Elder, 63, 65,

114, 195; proposed as auxiliary bishop, 72 117, 193; famine relief, 192-3, 209-10; Revillagigedo, count of, the Younger, 166,

his memoir, 196-8, 200; bishop of 204-6, 219

209-I0 239-40, 248

Quito, 197; leadership of chapter, | Riafio, Juan Antonio de, 111-12, 194,

Pérez de Arquitiqui, Nicolas, 48-9 Rincén de Leén, 153-4, 266 Pérez de Espinosa, Juan Antonio, 40~3, Rincon Gallardo, Manuel, 92

48, 55. Rios, Vicente de los, 196, 224

Pérez Galvez, count of, 96 Rio Verde, 158, 175 Peru, 63-4, 219-20 Rivadeneira, Joaquin Antonio de, 74, 83 Philip II of Spain, 238 Rocha, Juan Ignacio de la, 75, 87, 145, 176,

Index 299

194, 197-200, 204, 208; quarrel with 176-7, 182, 190; famine relief, 192-3; Oratory, 50-7; ordains for Spanish praises Pérez Calama, 192-3; conflict in

language, 108 chapter, 196, 200-1; assessment of

Roda, Manuel de, I1 chapter, 204-10; his schedule of

Rodriguez, Antonio, 29 diocesan income, 215-16, 220—-I; Rodriguez, Juan José, 160 promotes Abad y Queipo, 228-30,

Romero, Joaquin, 126 252

Romero, José Guadalupe, 97 San Nicolas College, 38-9, 107, 110-12, Rousseau, Jean Jacques, §9—60, 241 118, 178, 205, 240; its curriculum,

Rubio y Salinas, Manuel, 66—7, 99 113-14

San Nicolas hacienda, 26—7, 72-5, 222

Sagarzurrieta, Ambrosio de, 127 San Pedro Paracho, 163

Saint Domingue, 238, 247 San Pedro Piedragorda, 161-2 Sainz de Alfaro, Isidro, 238, 246 San Roque, 137

Salamanca, 26, III, 114, 126, 145, 183, Santa Ana, beateria, 43, 46, 48, 99 209, 218, 222; university in Spain, 74, Santa Ana Amatlan, 158

- 1775 197, 228 Santa Ana Pacueco, 1§0

Salcedo, Manuel Antonio, 205, 207 Santa Caterina: Valladolid, 30-1, 86-7, 90,

Salvago, Diego, 96 139, 225; Puebla, 84; Patzcuaro, 87-8, Salvatierra, 26, 78, 93-4, 108, 169, 222, IOI

248 Santa Clara, 22, 36, 85-6, 88, 221

San Carlos Academy, 18, 94 Santa Clara de Cobre, 6, 111 Sanchez, Miguel, 16-17 Santa Cruz College, 32-3, 36, 93, 99, Sanchez de Tagle, Anselmo, 6, 38, 46, 118, 1§I—2, 154, 168

198, 200; secularisation, 73-5, 78; Santa Fé, 38, 178 Tridentine Seminary, 107-8, 117; Santa Inés, 83-4 conflict with magistrates, 123-4, 138, Santa Maria de la Sisla, 252, 254 161; seeks Juarrieta as auxiliary, 176—7 Santander, 177, 252

Sandoval, Juan José, 117, I21 Santa Rosa: Valladolid, 97; Querétaro,

San Felipe, 111 99-100, I5I San Fernando College, 32, §8 Selva Nevada, marquesa of, 94-5, 100-1 San Francisco de Sales College, 43, 99, Serra, Junipero, 158 118; visitation, 47-50; curriculum, §2, Silao, 77, 183, 218, 248; priests, 108, 118;

, San 55-6, 60 defence of images, 16778 Gregorio, 95 Smith, Adam, 228

San Ildefonso College, 3, 49, 112 Solis, Francisco Mariano, 166

San Jeronimo convent, 84 Solérzano Pereira, Juan de, 16, 63, 199

San José de Gracia, 92 Soria Villaroel, Pedro de, 5-6

San Luis de la Paz, 5-6, 43, 152, 157-9 Suarez Marrero, Diego, 199-201, 206,

San Luis Potosi, 5, 6, 26, 43, 79, 98-9; 208 161-2, 218; priests, 105-7, III, 1313 .

confraternities, 140-1, 148; possible Tacambaro, 206

diocese, 173-5, 230 Tancitaro, 121, 1§2

San Miguel el Grande (Allende), 6,19, 21, Tapia, Diego de, 22, 36 93, 97, 99, 176, 197, 208, 218, 226; the Tapia, Juan Antonio de, 177, 194-8, 201,

Oratory, 40-57, 60; priests, 107, IIO-II, 204-5, 207, 209 117-18; confraternities, 135, 15253 Tarascans, 20, 28-9, 3§, 105, 107-8, I17,

witchcraft, 157-9 122, 139, 163; see also Indians

San Miguel, Antonio de, 119, 123, 154; Taretan, 193 helps Concepcién convent, 90~1; his Tarimbaro, 152, 225 schedule of parish income, I10, 134-5, Tecpan, 115

147; ascertains clerical income, IIO—IT; Tepa, count of, 196, 211

excommunicates bureaucrat, 126-7; Tepeyac, 3, 16-17, 251 bans processions, 167—9; visitation of Texas, 32-5 San Luis Potosi, 173—4; his career, Tiripitio, 25—6, 75, 154

300 Index Tithes: Jesuit evasion, 12-14, 38, 200; Valle de Maiz, 156, 175 division between bishop and chapter, Valle de San Francisco, § 181-3; cathedral income, 190-1; crown Valle de Santiago, 108, 155, 183, 218 intervention, 21I—15; total yield, 215-19, = Vaillicelli, 41, 49-51

264-5 Van Espen, II, $4, 194, 228, 248

Tlalpujahua, 20, 110, 114 Vargas, José Antonio, 125

Tlazacalca, 150 Vasco de Quiroga, 21, 25, 30, 107, 134, Todos Santos College, 49, I11, 20§ 141, 178; his life, 38—9

Tolsa, Manuel, 94 Vasquez, Pedro, 76

Torres, Nicolas, 115 Velarde, Juan Antonio de, 4, 73

Transito y Silva, Ana Maria de, 98 Velasco Duque de Estrada, Joaquin de, Trent, Council of, 25, 54, 64, 84, 189-90, 156

213-14, 227 Velasquez, Antonio, 91

Tridentine Seminary, 107, I10, 147, 177; Venegas, Francisco Javier, 242, 245, 247

179, 195, 205-7; 235 Veracruz, Alonso de la, 25, 30, 39

Tzintzuntzan, 21~2, 78, 207 Veracruz, 3, 70, 173-5, 230, 247 Verney, Luis Antonio, 19§

Valencia, 83, 193, 235, 250 Veytia, Mariano, 170

Valenciana, 18, 165 Viana, Manuel, 115

Valladolid, city of: 22, 27-30, 38-42, Villagran, Maria Magdalena, 100 45-68, 74-7, 86-8, 95-8, 105-7, III—-I2; Villanueva, count de la, 13-14 II7, 121, 123, 126, 164, 173-5, 182-4, Villanueva, San Tomas de, 193 193, 198, 202—4, 218, 220—6, 233, 235, Villanueva y Santa Cruz, Nicolas José de, 237, 239, 251, 253; confraternities, 137~9 198-9, 202-4, 206, 208 Valladolid cathedral and chapter: protest Villasefior y Cervantes, José Bartolomé,

on fuero, 128; chapter officers and 119

composition, 175-7, 204-10; cathedral Villasenor y Sanchez, José Antonio de, 62 construction, liturgy and income, 175, Vives, Luis, §6, 194

177-9, 184-91; chapter income and Voltaire, 59 taxation, 182-91, 212-13; chapter

conflict, 195-204; praise of Abad y Ulloa, Antonio de, 63

Queipo, 237, 248 University, see Mexico and Salamanca

Valladolid de Michoacan diocese: Jesuit Uraga, Antonio Maria, 113-14, 247 expulsion, §—7; mendicant chronicles, Uraga, Francisco, 91, 207, 209

20-38; Vasco de Quiroga, 38-9; Urecho, 193

secularisation of parishes, 71-181; nuns, Uruapan, 6, 21-2, 25, 142-3, 1§2 gI-I01; population and priests, 105-23; confraternities, 134-6; parochialincome, Yafiez, Manuel, 196, 198-200, 205, 208 147-9; new bishoprics, 173-5; diocesan Yucatan, 34, 69

government, 175-81; tithes, 181-91; Yuririapundaro, 24, 26, 29-30, 72-5, 164 chapter, 184-210; income and capital,

215-27; Abad y Queipo, 228-§4; Zacatecas, 18, 26—7, 32-4, 70, 102, 1§23 parochial income, 258—63; tithe income, Franciscan college, 36—7, 68

264-5 Zamora, 49, §2; 77; 80, 97; IIO—II, 160

Valladolid de Michoacan intendancy, §-7;3 Zapotian el Grande, I18, 121-3

population and priests, I05—I1; Zenteno, Lucas, 75

confraternities, 134-6; parochial income, Zerpa Manrique, Luis, 201~2, 205, 208

148, 259-62; tithes, 218-19, 264-5 Zitacuaro, 78-9, IIO-II, 145-6