PATIO OF A COLONIAL HOUSE, LIMA.

THE CHOIR AND ALTAR OF THE CATHEDRAL OF LIMA—THE ALTAR OF SOLID SILVER.

CHAPTER VII
THE CHURCH IN COLONIAL DAYS

ARMS OF THE CATHEDRAL OF LIMA.

When the devout and fearless protector of the Indians presented his memorable appeal to the Crown of Spain in behalf of the conquered races of the New World, he gave expression to the lofty purpose which animated the true missionaries of the Cross in their labors among the Indians of Spanish-America. With the courage born of pious zeal, he dared to say to the most powerful monarch in Europe words which must have jarred on the delicate sensibilities of a sovereign accustomed only to flattery; but which, nevertheless, could not be ignored. It is said that Charles V. was “stricken in conscience” as the venerable apostle of righteousness, who had devoted more than a quarter of a century to missionary labor in America, thus proceeded in his arraignment: “The highest Pontiff conceded the conquest of the Indies to the Catholic sovereigns under the solemn promise that with their accustomed zeal they would promote the conversion of those idolatrous people for the greatest glory of the faith and for the salvation of immortal souls. Such an important commission, confided to the Crown itself, cannot be delegated to private individuals. For this reason Queen Isabella was indignant when Columbus gave his followers a number of the natives to serve them, and she obliged those who had brought Indians to Spain to send them back to their own land. The Sovereign Pontiff granted permission to conquer the Indies for the benefit of the inhabitants, and in no case to increase the power and wealth of the monarchs of Castile. Moreover, by the enslaving of the Indians, all that has been gained is the ruin of a population that covered more than two thousand five hundred leagues of land. The object of the administration is not to preserve the territory, the walls, and the houses, but the people. With such an end in view, Queen Isabella declared in her will that all harm to the natives should be avoided, and all damages should be repaired; but the death of that august princess was the signal for the destruction of the Indies!” The spirit of consecration to a sacred task breathes in every syllable of the lengthy document, which concludes with the significant sentence: “The law of God prohibits the doing of evil that good may come of it.” It is said that the worthy priest exaggerated the amount of evil, which he depicted in frightful hues; yet the very excess of his vehemence is to be admired in a cause so just and noble.

Not all the missionaries who accompanied the conquerors joined Father Las Casas in denouncing the encomiendas; on the contrary, some of the worst abuses of the system were charged against the Christian teachers themselves. But, as a rule, the priests stood between the unfortunate Indians and their rapacious masters, and protected the victims of impatient greed. After the abolition of encomiendas, when the natives were settled in communities, the religious orders, to whose care their spiritual welfare was chiefly intrusted,—the Franciscans, Dominicans, Augustinians, and Jesuits,—had frequent controversies with the secular authorities, the former claiming the right to protect the Indians against oppression, while the latter declared that this right was abused in favor of the orders themselves, and that they were growing rich and powerful through the labor and contributions of their protégés. In a land where gold and silver flowed out of the mountains in a constant stream, apparently inexhaustible, it is not surprising that the Church, which was the controlling power in the state, should profit by such blessings; though the wealth of the religious communities was gained through the products of agriculture rather than those of the mines. It was chiefly under the direction of the Christian fathers that the fields were cultivated and orchards planted while the conquerors were occupying themselves solely with the extraction of ores.

The power of the clergy has always been stronger in Spain than in any other Catholic land, and the national religion has been its most cherished institution ever since the Visigoths followed up their conquest of the country, after the fall of the Roman Empire, by embracing Christianity early in the sixth century. Their ecclesiastical synods were not only Councils of the Church but parliaments of the realm, and so great was the power of the clergy at that early date, we are told, that even the kings prostrated themselves before the bishops. Then followed the struggle against the Moors, which was first a fight for independence and later a campaign for conquest, but always a religious war. It is not strange that the final victory, won after a crusade that lasted eight hundred years, should have been signalized by a union of Church and State in the closest bonds, and that the pride of the people should be concentrated in the religion they had so tenaciously upheld and defended, and in the military prowess they had so gloriously vindicated.