CHAPTER II.

THE DOMINICANS PROTEST AGAINST INDIAN SLAVERY.-FATHER ANTONIO'S SERMON.-BOTH THE COLONISTS AND

MONKS APPEAL TO SPAIN. FATHER ANTONIO SEES THE KING. THE LAWS OF BURGOS.

THE

HE Dominican monks of Hispaniola were about twelve or fifteen in number, living under the government of their vicar, Pedro de Cordova. Coming to a new country, they had deepened the severity of their rules, so that it kept its due proportion with the general hardness of living throughout the colony. One of their new rules was that they would not ask for bread, wine, or oil except in cases of sickness; and their habitual fare was most scanty, and of the poorest description. Being fully intent upon the work they had undertaken, they would soon have comprehended, from their own observation, the extent of evil in the state of things about them; but their insight into the treatment of the Indians was rapidly enlarged, and their opinions confirmed, by the acquisition of a new lay brother. This was a man who had murdered his wife, an Indian woman, and then had fled to the woods, where he remained two years; but on the arrival of the Dominicans in the island, he sought what refuge from his sin and his sorrow could be found under the shadow of their order. This man recounted to his brethren the cruelties he had been witness of; and that narration may have brought them sooner to

the determination they now adopted, which was, to make a solemn protest against the ways of their countrymen with the Indians.

The good monks determined that their protest should express the general opinion of their body; accordingly, they agreed among themselves upon a discourse to be preached before the inhabitants of St. Domingo, and signed their names to it. They farther resolved that Brother Antonio Montesino should be the person to preach; a man, we are told, of great asperity in reprehending vice. In order to insure a fit audience on the occasion, the monks took care to let the principal persons of St. Domingo know that some address of a remarkable kind, which concerned them much, was to be made to them, and their attendance was requested. The Sunday came; Father Antonio ascended the pulpit, and took for his text a portion of the Gospel of the day, "I am the voice of one crying in the wilderness."

There is only a short account of the sermon, but we may be certain that it was an energetic discourse; for, indeed, when any body has any thing to say, he can generally say it worthily. And here, instead of nice points of doctrine (over which, and not unreasonably, men can become eloquent, ingenious, wrathful, intense), was an evil uplifting itself before the eyes of all men, and respecting which neither preacher nor hearers could intrench themselves behind generalities. He told them that the sterile desert was an image of the state of their consciences; and then he declared, with “very piercing and terrible words" (palabras muy pungitivas y terribles), that "the voice" pronounced that they were living in "mortal sin" by reason of their tyranny to these innocent people, the Indians. What authority was there for the imposi

tion of this servitude? what just ground for these wars? How could the colonists rightly insist upon such cruel labors as they did from the Indians, neglecting all care of them, both in the things of heaven and those of earth? Such Spaniards he declared had no more chance of salvation than so many Moors or Turks.

We shall but make a worthy ending to Father Antonio's sermon if we imagine it to have concluded with words like those used by a very renowned Portuguese preacher on the same subject and a like occasion: "But you will say to me, This people, this republic, this state can not be supported without Indians. Who is to bring us a pitcher of water or a bundle of wood? Who is to plant our mandioc? Must our wives do it? Must our children do it? In the first place, as you will presently see, these are not the straits in which I would place you; but if necessity and conscience require it, then I reply, yes! and I repeat it, yes! you, and your wives, and your children ought to do it! We ought to support ourselves with our own hands; for better is it to be supported by the sweat of one's own brow than by another's blood. O ye riches of Maranham! What if these mantles and cloaks* were to be wrung? they would drop blood."+

If we can throw ourselves back in imagination to that period, and make ourselves present at such a discourse, we might almost hear during it the occasional clang of arms, as men turned angrily about to one another, and vowed that this must not go on any longer. They heard the sermon out, however, and went to din

* Probably of a scarlet color.

VIEYRA's first sermon at St. Luiz, A.D. 1653, quoted in SOUTHEY's History of Brazil, vol. ii., p. 479.

VOL. I.-L

ner. After dinner, the principal persons conferred to→ gether for a short time, and then set off for the monastery, to make a fierce remonstrance. When they had come to the monastery, which, from its poor construction, might rather have been called a shed than a monastery, the vicar, Pedro de Cordova, received them, and listened to their complaint. They insisted upon seeing the preacher himself, Father Antonio, declaring that he had preached "delirious things," and that he must make retractation next Sunday. A long parley ensued, in the course of which Pedro de Cordova informed the remonstrants that the sermon did not consist of the words of any one brother, but of the whole Dominican community. The angry deputation exclaimed that if Father Antonio did not unsay what he had said, the monks had better get ready their goods in order to embark for Spain. "Of a truth, my lords," replied the vicar, "that will give us little trouble;" which was true enough, for (as LAS CASAS mentions) all that the monks possessed-their books, clothes, and vestments for the mass-might have gone into two trunks. At last the colonists went away, upon the understanding that the matter would be touched upon next Sunday, and, as the remonstrants supposed, an ample apology would be offered to them.

The next Sunday came. There was no occasion, this time, to invite any body to attend, for all the congregation were anxious to come, in the hope of being about to hear an apology to themselves from the pulpit. After mass, Father Antonio was again seen to ascend the pulpit. He gave out the text from the thirty-sixth chapter of Job, the third verse: Repetam scientiam meam a principio, et operatorem meum probabo justum." Those of his audience who under

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stood Latin, and were persons of any acuteness, perceived immediately what would be the drift of this sermon, and that it would be no less unwelcome to them than the previous one; and so it proved. Father Antonio only repeated his former statements, clinched his former arguments, and insisted upon his former conclusions. Moreover, he added that the Dominicans would not confess any man who made incursions among the Indians: this the colonists might publish, and they might write to whom they pleased at Castile. The congregation heard Father Antonio out, and this time they did not go to the monastery, but they determined to send a complaint to the king, and afterward to dispatch a Franciscan (monk against monk) to argue their case at court. Thither the colonists had already sent two agents to plead for having the Indians assigned to their encomenderos for two or three lives, or even in perpetuity.

The Franciscan chosen for this embassage was Alonso de Espinal, and he went out in great favor with the inhabitants of St. Domingo, having all his wants amply provided for. The Dominicans resolved to send their advocate, and found two or three pious persons from whom they contrived to procure the wherewithal for his voyage. Father Antonio, as might have been expected, was the monk chosen by the Dominicans to represent them.

When the letters from the authorities of St. Domingo, complaining of the contumacious conduct of the Dominicans, reached the king, he sent for the head of their order in Spain, and made much complaint to him of the scandal which had been occasioned in the colony by this preaching. Not long afterward came the agents from the principal parties themselves: Father