This horrifying punishment, suffered by one anointed of the Lord, caused a great commotion among the peaceloving people. The crime was unheard of. The Church issued a decree of total excommunication of the owner of the estate, in which it was ordered that the walls of the patio where the chaplain had been put to shame be torn down and that the land of the estate be sown with salt, not to mention many other rituals concerning which we shall spare the reader.
Our estate owner, who enjoyed great prestige in the mind of the viceroy and who, moreover, was a relative by marriage of his secretary Pedro Bravo, found himself protected by the two aforementioned, who had recourse to every means at their disposal to diminish to some degree the severity of the excommunication. The viceroy went several times to visit the archbishop to that end, but the latter stood firm.
Meanwhile a sort of alarm spread in the town and fears of a serious conflict for the government grew. The people, more and more incensed, were demanding the prompt punishment of the author of the sacrilegious act, and the viceroy, convinced that the archbishop was not a man who could be used for his purposes, found himself obliged to give in despite himself.
Praised be the Lord, those were good days for the Church! The people, as yet not contaminated by impiety, which according to many, is today taking giant steps forward, believed at the time with simple faith. Wicked society that has succumbed to the accursed fever of combating the concerns and errors of the past! Perverse human race that tends toward freedom and progress, and bears imprinted on its banner the imperative of civilization: Forward! Forward!
We repeat that we have recorded this curious fact only in embyronic form and with great caution, wanting nothing to do with adorning it with myriad glosses and incidental details concerning it. Old women recount that when the owner of the estate died, his corpse disappeared, for of a certainty it did not receive a Church burial, having been carried off by the one who appears in paintings at the foot of Saint Michael, and who in the wee hours traveled through the streets of Lima in a coach afire with infernal flames and drawn by a team of four diabolical horses abreast. Today there are still individuals who firmly believe in such nonsense. Let us leave such people to their mad beliefs and write: period, and da capo.
III
How the Archbishop of Lima Celebrated
Mass after Having Had Lunch
It is a well-known fact that for the good inhabitants of the republic of Lima quarrels over privileges and prerogatives between the civil and ecclesiastic powers have always been a source of scandal. Even those of us who were born in these trying times remember many disputes between our presidents and the archbishop or the bishops. But in the era in which, by order of His Majesty Ferdinand VI, His Excellency the count of Superunda governed this viceroyalty of Peru, the two powers nearly counterbalanced each other, and His Excellency was far too timid to have recourse to his authority. Trifling questions, perhaps futile from the start, such as the one that we have consigned to another chapter, embittered the spirits of both the viceroy and of Archbishop Barroeta to the point that they gave rise to a bitter hatred between the two.
“Great was the rivalry,” Córdova Urrutia says, “between the archbishop and the viceroy, because the former had ordered the organ to be played for him as he entered the cathedral and not to be played for the king’s representative, and that a sunshade be raised for him, as for the latter, in processions. The complaints ended up in the court, which decided against the archbishop.
The count of Superunda, in his account of his rule, says, speaking of the archbishop: “He had the misfortune of excommunicating fiery geniuses known to be unruly and capable of changing the best ordered republics. These latter induced him to govern without reflection by persuading him that he ought to govern his jurisdiction with vigor, and that it was without limits. And inasmuch as he acted without experience, he fell out in short order with his council and various tribunals. The paths that many times I induced the archbishop to follow, with an eye to his decorum and the tranquillity of the city, were maxims quite the opposite of those of his advisors, who lost no time in persuading him that his subordination was a snub to his dignity and that he should make it known that he was the archbishop, clearly differentiating his authority from that of the viceroy who so badly humiliated him. The idea that those who thus counseled him deserved him, and the archbishop’s inclination to rule despotically made them hasten to write me a confidential note having to do with a certain personal question, telling me to give him a free hand, but he endeavored to distance himself as much as possible from my message. In a short time rivalries with almost all the tribunals increased and the city was filled with edicts and orders, its inhabitants falling into vast confusion. If all of the incidents and obstacles that were later met with by the government in its dealings with the archbishop were recorded, they would constitute a bulky volume or history.”
And the count of Superunda goes on to tell of the famous quarrel of the sunshade or canopy in the procession of the novena of the Conception, an incident that took place around the year 1752. Since it does not serve our purpose, we prefer to leave it in the inkwell and confine ourselves to the final quarrel between the representative of the crown and the archbishop of Lima
It was the practice that only when the archbishop officiated did he seat himself directly beneath a canopy directly adjacent to the viceroy’s, and in order to keep the archbishop from suffering what vanity would describe as a snub, a servant of his always went to the palace on the eve of the feast day, with instructions to ask whether or not His Excellency would be present.
On the feast day of Saint Clare, also the name of a convent founded by Saint Toribio of Mongrovejo to which he bequeathed his heart, Manso found the means, in his opinion infallible, to humiliate his adversary, answering the messenger that he felt ill and that he therefore would not attend the ceremony. Chairs were set out for the Royal Tribunal, and at twelve noon Barroeta headed for the church and made himself comfortable beneath the canopy; but to his great surprise he saw the viceroy enter shortly thereafter, preceded by the various municipal corporations.
What had made His Excellency decide to change the ceremony in this way? Something of little moment. The certainty that His Reverence had just had for his lunch, eaten in the presence of laymen and clerics, either a consumptive or a robust stewed pullet, which of the two the chronicler took no pains to ascertain.
Let us agree that the archbishop’s position was rather difficult, that without being subject to what he believed to be immense ridicule, he could not have his canopy lowered. His Reverence felt all the more confused the more the smiles and glances of the courtiers were haughty and mocking. Five minutes thus went by and still the ceremony did not begin. The viceroy was enjoying Barroeta’s confusion and all those present were assured of His Excellency’s triumph. The sword was humiliating the soutane.
But the good viceroy had not reckoned with this guest, or what amounts to the same thing, he was forgetting that he who lays down the law lays a trap for himself. Manso whispered in the ear of one of his officials, who approached the archbishop, pointing out to him in the name of His Excellency how odd it was for the viceroy to remain beneath a canopy and on an equal footing with someone who could not celebrate Mass because of the aforementioned pullet that he had eaten for lunch. The archbishop stood up, cast a sidelong glance at the ruffs of the Tribunal present, and said with remarkable self–possession:
“Officer! Announce to His Excellency that I am officiating.” And he headed with resolute step to the sacristy, from which he emerged dressed in liturgical vestments.
And what is notable about this account is that he did just as he said he would.
IV
In which the Pullet Begins to Cause Indigestion
We leave it to the imagination of our readers to calculate the scandal that the appeararance of the archbishop doubtless caused, a scandal that reached a climax when he was seen to consume the Divine Form. The viceroy did not miss the oppo
rtunity to sow discord among the people, so that the flock would declare that its pastor had been caught in the act of flagrante sacrilegio. The suspicion that His Excellency didn’t know that long–suffering lamb called the people is well founded. The Creoles, after commenting on the event at length, broke up after making the following declaration, typical of the fanaticism of that era:
“In view of the fact that His Reverence took communion after having eaten lunch, he no doubt had God’s permission to officiate.”
Perhaps because of such trifles, the ill will of the cloistered religious toward Viceroy Manso was aroused, for a friar, on preaching the sermon on Palm Sunday, had the insolence to say that Christ had entered Jerusalem mounted on a gentle1 donkey, a bit of buffoonery by means of which he believed that he had held His Excellency up to ridicule.
Meanwhile, the archbishop was not asleep, and even as the viceroy and the Royal Tribunal sent off to the king and his Council of the Indies a well–founded accusation of Barroeta, the latter called the ecclesiastic council together in his palace. In point of fact, minutes of the proceedings were drawn up in which, after citing the holy fathers, turning to the secret papal bulls of Paul II and other pontiffs, and undermining canon law, the conduct of the dignitary, which did not stop at eating pullets or buns, was approved, with the aim of furthering what goes by the name of the code of prerogatives and privileges of the Church of Christ. The archbishop thereupon appealed to His Holiness, who gave his approval of the step taken.
The Council of the Indies was not altogether satisfied, and although it did not openly rebuke Barroeta, it called him inconsiderate to have turned to Rome without first taking the matter to the crown. And to prevent the bickering between the political and religious authorities from happening again, His Holy Royal Majesty saw fit to transfer Barroeta to the archiepiscopal seat of Granada, and to appoint to that of Lima His Lordship don Diego del Corro, who entered the capital on November 26, 1785, and died in Jauja after two years as archbishop.
Among the archbishops that Lima has had, one of the most notable for the morality of his life and for his education and talent was don Pedro Antonio de Barroeta y Angel, born in Rioja in Castilla la Vieja. He had the synodal record of Lobo Guerrero reprinted,2and during the seven years that, according to Unanue,3his authority as archbishop lasted, he issued a number of edicts and regulations to reform the manners and morals of the clergy that, according to one writer of the time, were not very evangelical. Judging from the portrait of him in the sacristy of the cathedral, his eyes reveal his energetic nature and his broad forehead shows clear signs of intelligence. He succeeded in making himself loved by the people, but not by the canons, whom he frequently had cause to bring into line, and he vigorously supported those whose awareness of their century and their education he regarded as privileges of the Church.
As for ourselves, if we were to be frank, we declare that we can scarcely imagine excusing the conduct of the archbishop during the feast of Saint Clare, for we believe—a belief from which all the theologians of Christendom will not dissuade us—that the religion of the Crucified, truly a demanding religion, can permit neither deceitful practices nor melodramatic liturgical incidents. Before allowing pride to triumph, before stretching sacred laws, before abusing the faith of a people and sowing within it alarm and doubt, the minister of the Lord on High should have remembered the words of the immortal book: “Woe to him whence scandal cometh.” “Let the house burn down without smoke pouring out” was the proverb wherewith our grandfathers condemned scandal.
V
Episcopal Witticisms
And in case the opportunity to speak of Archbishop Barroeta does not present itself again, I shall take advantage of this one and bring up a few witticisms of his. When radishes come your way, buy them.
As His Reverence was visiting the cloisters of Lima, he arrived at one in which he found the friars in a turmoil directed at their provincial or superior. The community complained that the latter was tyrannizing his inferiors to the point of forbidding anyone to cross the threshold and go outside without permission. The provincial began to defend his conduct, but Barroeta interrupted him, saying to him:
“Shut up, father, shut up, shut up, shut up.”
The provincial shut his mouth, the archbishop said a blessing and headed for the door, and the friars were altogether delighted to see their keeper humiliated.
When the provincial recovered from his stupefaction, he went to the palace of the archbishop and respectfully complained to him that in the presence of the community His Reverence had forced him to hold his tongue.
“I am far, very far, from being rude to anyone, much less to Your Reverence, whom I esteem. What were my words?”
“Your Paternity interrupted me as I was unburdening myself by saying: ‘Shut, up, shut up, shut up!’”
“Blessed be God! What were the friars asking for? Complaining about being shut up? Well then, let Your Reverence allow them out for a stroll along the street and they will leave you in peace. It is no fault of mine that Your Paternity didn’t understand me and took hold of the live coal where it is red hot.”
And the provincial took his leave, satisfied that sen˜or Barroeta had not intended to offend him.
This archbishop was the one who, the story goes, on leaving the town of Mala, a miserable hole in which His Grace and his retinue were obliged to put up with a bad supper and a worse bed, exclaimed:
Entre médanos de arena
para quién bien se regala
no tiene otra cosa Mala4
que tener el agua buena.5
And in conclusion, here is another of His Reverence’s witticisms.
The marquise of X was a relative of his and a person whose every desire was always satisfied by the archbishop. Her Ladyship took great interest in his appointing a certain cleric, her protégé, to a curateship. Barroeta, who had little idea of the purity and morality of the candidate, turned the marquise down. She took it into her head to go to Spain, spent money lavishly, and instead of a curateship obtained a bishopric for her protégé. With the royal decree in hand, the marquise went to visit the archbishop and told him:
“Sen˜or don Pedro, the king is making a canon of the person whom you refused to make a parish priest.”
“And a good deal of money it has cost you to obtain it, Your Ladyship.”
“Naturally,” the marquise answered. “But I would willingly have spent my entire fortune so as to keep your snub from lingering in my bones.”
“Well, milady, if your purpose had been to secure a curateship, I would have granted one for nothing, but to give the care of souls to a good–for–nothing... nequaquam.6A good parish requires a head; to be a good canon requires but one good thing.”
“What is that?” the marquise asked. “A good backside so as to sit comfortably in a choir seat.”
VI
In Which His Excellency’s Star Grows Dim
After 17 years’ rule, not counting those that he had spent as president of Chile, the count of Superunda, who had asked the court to be relieved, handed command of it over to His Most Excellent Lordship don Manuel de Amat y Juniet on October 12, 1761.
The count of Superunda is, without dispute, one of the most notable figures of the colonial era. Chile owes to him the founding of its most important cities, and history, ever just, devotes honorable pages to him. The people are never ungrateful toward those who dedicate themselves to its good, a pleasing truth that, unfortunately, frequently causes public men in South America to be forgotten. While he exercised the presidency of Chile, he governed uprightly, was conciliatory toward the conquered and conquering races, tireless in promoting material improvements, tenacious in awakening in the common people the habit of work. With such worthy antecedents he went on to the viceroyalty, where he did battle with base, creeping intrigues that hindered the advance of his rule and made his disposition of his troops useless. His predecessor, moreover, had handed the country over to him in a state of violent
upheaval. Apu Inca, at the head of a number of rebel tribes proud of the petty triumphs they had won over the Spanish forces, was threatening to make a sudden attack on the capital from Huarochirí. Manso marshaled all his vigor and energy and within a short time managed to imprison and kill the caudillo, whose head was placed on the arch of the Lima bridge. Do not tax us with lacking in love for the American cause because we call Apu Inca a rebel. Nations always find themselves disposed to receive the beneficent dew of freedom, and to our mind, trusting in the documents that we have been able to consult, Apu Inca was neither the apostle of the idea of redemption or the descendant of Manco Capac. His pretensions were those of the ambitious man without talent, who, by usurping a name, becomes the leader of a horde. He proclaimed the extermination of the white race without offering the native his political rehabilitation. His cause was that of barbarism against civilization.
Growing weary of the hazards that surrounded him in Peru, Manso was returning to Europe via Costa Firme when, to his misfortune, the boat that was transporting him put in at the island of Cuba, under siege at the time by the English.
Don Modesto de la Fuente, in his Historia de Espan˜a, recounts curious details regarding the famous siege of Havana, during which the reader will see what a sad role it fell to Superunda to play. As lieutenant general, he presided over the military tribunal assembled to decide either the surrender or the resistance of the threatened fortresses, but “whether because Manso had become short of breath over the years,” as the Marquis of Obando supposes, or because he truly believed it to be impossible to resist, he led the tribunal to decide to surrender, thereby allowing an English ship to take Manso and his companions to the port of Cádiz.
Peruvian Traditions Page 12
