In another town in the diocese where the rag-picker lived, an old acquaintance of mine thankfully accepted an opportunity I was able to obtain for her, through friends, of entering an asylum for aged paupers, managed by nuns under the supervision of the municipality. That town has long been markedly Liberal in its politics, and possibly this may have something to do with the more humane administration of the asylum. With this instance in my mind I was surprised at the rag-picker’s rejection of a similar refuge for her old age, but further inquiries convinced me that the rule of the one convent was in truth very different from that of the other.
“Every one knows that Higuero was the son of the Bishop, and that was why they didn’t hang him. There was no doubt at all that he murdered his paramour: he was caught almost in the act. How upset the Bishop was! His son and his daughter married a brother and sister, and both turned out badly, very badly. The son—Higuero was his nickname—and the daughter’s husband—Pepita her name was—fell in love with the same woman, and that was the cause of the murder. If the Bishop had not used all his influence with the Government Higuero would not have escaped hanging. He was taken away to —— Prison, and no one ever heard of him again. Of course he was not really taken to prison, he was allowed to escape. How did we know he was the son of the Bishop? Very simply. His mother had been ama de gobierno [housekeeper] in the Bishop’s house before he was made bishop. No, she was never married. She was well provided for, and the children had some education, but they were bad from the beginning. I lived for some years in the same tenement house with them. Many of the priests’ children turn out ill. What can be expected of the children of such bad men?”
These are a few out of hundreds of such stories told. And the people believe they are true.
Certain scandals, relating to the disappearance of valuable paintings from one Spanish cathedral or another, are familiar to all who travel in Spain. One such incident has always been a mystery to the outside world, owing to the seeming impossibility of a thief getting access to the picture in question, which was in a chapel in the cathedral, protected by a heavy grille extending from floor to ceiling, the door of which was always kept locked.
The following explanation was given by the widow of a former cathedral servant:
“I know quite well how it was done. The assistant-keeper of the keys was on duty that night, his superior having leave of absence because his daughter was ill. The priest in charge of the chapel made some excuse to take the keys from him that afternoon. Next day he and several others were sent to prison, accused of having been concerned in the theft. They were released in a week, for there was no evidence against them, and the proof is that not one of them lost his place. The priest soon after left the city. It was said that he had been promoted, but no one ever heard of him again.” The husband of the speaker was one of those accused.
A scandal which gave rise to a question in the Cortes was the disappearance of two valuable pictures from the Cathedral of Toledo. It appears that these pictures were in a chapel which had been built and endowed in the seventeenth century by a certain family. Two or three years ago their descendants claimed these pictures as their private property, and entered into treaty to sell them to a “foreigner.” The State intervened, declaring the whole contents of the cathedral to be inviolate. Soon afterwards “it was found necessary to repair” the chapel in question, and the pictures were taken down “for safe custody” meanwhile. What happened after that has never been cleared up, but a “foreigner” and a motor figure in the story, and the chapel is now without the pictures. No steps were ever taken, so far as the public could learn, to bring the matter home to any one.
That quantities of valuable old laces and embroideries have disappeared from the cathedrals and parish churches of Spain there is no doubt. I know of one case myself in which an antique chasuble was exchanged for one of cheap jute imitating brocade. The explanation given was that the old one was worn out, but as it now figures in a private museum it is difficult not to believe, as the people say, that some money changed hands with the chasuble.
In the cathedrals each canon had, until quite lately, entire control of the chapel he served, and was responsible to no one for its contents. The temptation to sell old lace and vestments and altar fittings, and to replace them by new, was no doubt great, especially if there is any truth in the popular belief that the priests in many cases maintain a home and bring up families like men to whom marriage is not forbidden. And no one could bring him to book for any change made in the appointments of his chapel or (in the case of a parish priest) his church, because, as a rule, no one in authority over him knew what it contained when he took possession. Even after his death it would generally be impossible to prove peculation, did the superior officers of the Church desire to do so, for it is a rare thing for any cathedral or church to keep an inventory of the valuables it is supposed to possess.
It is said that the priests in many cathedrals and parish churches allow their linen vestments and altar fittings to be taken away from the precincts for laundry purposes. The facility with which valuable old laces can be exchanged for modern machine-made stuff in these cases need not be dwelt on.