DOORWAY, HOUSE OF DON JUAN MANUEL
Somewhere in the course of my readings—I cannot remember where—I have come upon the seriously made suggestion that Don Juan Manuel practically was a bravo: that the favors which he received from the Viceroy were his payment for putting politically obnoxious persons out of the way. This specious explanation does account for his traditional many murders, but is not in accord with probability. Aside from the fact that bravos rarely are men of rank and wealth, a series of murders traceable to political motives during the Viceregal term of the Marqués de Cadereita—whose many enemies keenly were alive to his misdoings—almost certainly would be found, but is not found, recorded in the chronicles of his time. Such omission effectively puts this picturesque explanation of Don Juan's doings out of court.
[NOTE II]
LEGEND OF THE ALTAR DEL PERDON
Simon Peyrens, a Flemish painter, came to Mexico in the suite of the third Viceroy (1566-1568) Don Gastón de Peralta, Marqués de Falces. If he painted—and, presumably, he did paint—a Virgin of Mercy for the Altar del Perdon, his picture has disappeared: doubtless having been removed from the altar when the present Cathedral (begun, 1573; dedicated, though then incomplete, 1656) replaced the primitive structure erected a few years after the Conquest. The Virgin of the Candelaria on the existing Altar del Perdon was painted by Baltasar de Echave, the Elder; a Spanish artist of eminence who came to Mexico about the end of the sixteenth century. Peyrens certainly had the opportunity to do his work under conditions akin to, but decidedly more unpleasant than, those set forth in the legend: as Señor Obregón has made clear by producing facts which exhibit the afflictions of that unfortunate artist; and which also, incidentally, account for the appearance in Mexico of a miracle-story that in varying forms is found in the saintly chronicles of many lands.
Señor Obregón's source is an original document of the time of Fray Alonso de Montúfar; a Dominican brother who was the second Archbishop of Mexico (1554-1572), and who also held the office of Inquisitor—in accordance with the custom that obtained until the formal establishment (1571) of the Inquisition in Mexico. It was before him, therefore, as represented by his Provisor, that the case of Peyrens was brought.
As stated in this document, Peyrens had declared in familiar talk with friends that simple incontinence was not a sin; and he farther had declared that he liked to paint portraits, and that he did not like to, and would not, paint saints nor pictures of a devotional sort. His friends admonished him that his views in regard to incontinence made him liable to arraignment before the ecclesiastical authorities; whereupon—seemingly seeking, as a measure of prudence, to forestall by his own confession any charge that might be brought against him—he "denounced himself," on September 10, 1568, to Fray Bartolomé de Ledesma, Gobernador de la Mitra. As the result of his confession—instead of being granted the absolution that he obviously expected to receive—he was arrested and cast into prison.
Four days later, September 14th, he was examined formally. To the questions propounded to him, he replied, in substance: That he had been born in Antwerp, the son of Fero Peyrens and of Constanza Lira his wife; that he was not of Jewish descent; that none of his family had been dealt with by the Inquisition; that in his early manhood he had gone to Lisbon and later to Toledo, where the Court then was seated, to practice his profession as a painter; that he had come to New Spain, in the suite of the Viceroy, in the hope of bettering his fortunes. In regard to the charges against him, he explained: That what he had said about the sinlessness of simple incontinence had been spoken lightly in friendly talk, and, moreover, very well might have been misunderstood because of his imperfect knowledge of the Spanish tongue; and that what he had said about liking to paint portraits and not being willing to paint saints had been said only because portrait-painting was the better paid. His trial followed: at which nothing more was produced against him—although a number of witnesses, including "many painters," were interrogated—than the facts brought out in his own examination.
In order to force from Peyrens himself a fuller and more incriminating confession, the Provisor, Don Estéban de Portillo, ordered that he should be "submitted to the test of torture." This test was applied on December 1st—when Peyrens "supported three turns of the rack and swallowed three jars of water dripped into his mouth by a linen rag," without modifying or enlarging his previous declarations. By the rules of the game—he having, in the jargon of the Inquisition, "conquered his torment"—the proceedings against him then should have ended. Mr. Lea, commenting on his case ("The Inquisition in the Spanish Dependencies," p. 198), writes: "This ought to have earned his dismissal, but on December 4th he was condemned to pay the costs of his trial and to give security that he would not leave the City until he should have painted a picture of Our Lady of Merced, as an altar-piece for the church. He complied, and it was duly hung in the Cathedral."