by Paul Horgan
But Gallegos and those who believed in him were not done with measures of resistance. One day Machebeuf, on a visit to Indian parishes seventy-five miles from Albuquerque, had it on good authority that on the following Sunday—it was sometime in early spring 1853—Gallegos, under a claim that he was not legally subject to removal as pastor, intended to dispute Lamy from the altar for possession of the parish of Albuquerque. What was more, Gallegos had returned to take up his residence again in the rectory to which he no longer had any right. It was the most direct of challenges, and it fired Machebeuf to the most energetic of responses.
He instantly sent by swift courier—so he said with delighted animation in reporting to his sister all that followed—to Lamy at Santa Fe, asking for a paper to confirm the suspension of Gallegos, and once again, and most clearly, to state his own authority to govern the parish. Machebeuf arrived at Albuquerque from the country on Saturday night. On Sunday morning, an hour before the usual time, he went to the church on the Albuquerque plaza to be ready for whatever might come, and found to his astonishment that Gallegos was already there in the pulpit.
Gallegos in his middle years was a spare man with a bald head, tall brow, dark side-hair and sparse side-whiskers and eyebrows. His eyes were pale, pouched with suggestions of fleshly comforts. Below a rather flattened nose, his mouth was wide, with downturned full lips, framed with creases in his narrow cheeks. In repose his face had a sad, rather used look, mixed with an expression of shrewdness, and a hint of a suppressed skeptical smile. Taken altogether, it was a rather amusing face and it was not hard to understand his reputation as a good companion and a man of superior wits.
The church was almost full with the adherents whom Gallegos had secretly notified, and whom he was stirring up to rebellion, or at least to resistance. They barred Machebeuf from entering the sacristy by which the rectory and the church were joined, so that he was obliged to go around to the front of the church to enter by the main door. “Armed by courage,” he ordered all, like the rightful master, to stand aside and make way for him. He went forward through the crowd with a commanding air, and passed beneath the pulpit just as Gallegos was a commanding air, and passed beneath the pulpit just as Gallegos was uttering his name and Lamy’s with the “most atrocious of accusations and the most insulting of insinuations.” Coming to the altar level of the sanctuary, Machebeuf stood there giving conspicuous attention to these.
When Gallegos fell silent, the people turned to Machebeuf for his reply.
With the utmost exactness, he refuted “all of the alleged accusations and with supporting facts proved that Gallegos was guilty of the scandals which had caused him to be punished”; and to settle all with a single stroke, Machebeuf drew from his pocket the letter from Lamy which his courier had delivered to him at midnight. Now he read it in a loud voice. When he was done, he called upon Gallegos to defend himself, or at least to reply, if he had anything to say.
Silence. Without a word, Gallegos, ignominiously, could do nothing but “slink away like a fox,” leaving Machebeuf in undisturbed possession of all. Like a proper pastor, then, Machebeuf celebrated the Mass and preached upon the Gospel of the day, making no reference to what had happened.
But Gallegos was not quite ready to accept defeat. A few days later, to salvage what he could out of his humiliation, he went about the countryside beating the drum to stir up the people and managed to collect twenty or thirty of the most influential of the well-to-do ranchers and his intimates who were “followers of the Devil.” Taking advantage of the absence of the local prefect of the peace, who was on Machebeuf’s side, Gallegos sent his crowd to Machebeuf’s residence and there, insolently and brutally, ordered him to get out of the parish, and if he refused, declared that they would “have recourse to other measures.”
Wonderful, exclaimed Machebeuf: at one and the same moment, God gave him both power and patience quite foreign to his nature. He replied resolutely that he was there by order of the supreme authority to take possession of the parish, and that in the absence of other orders from the same supreme authority, they were at liberty to take whatever “measures” they deemed suitable, but being, as it were, on sentry duty, he would never quit his post, and as shepherd of souls, he was ready to give his life for his flock before he would abandon them. “This brief but energetic response,” he reported unselfconsciously, disconcerted the little mob. They had not a word to say, but left in a body to serve notice upon Gallegos of the failure of his “embassy.” “The poor creatures!” exclaimed Machebeuf. “They didn’t know I was an Auvergnat … Latsin pas!”
They had hardly dispersed when the municipal prefect, who had been sent for, arrived in a furious state. He had already ordered the arrest of the demonstrators, but Machebeuf persuaded him to drop the whole matter, assuring him that further action would do more harm than otherwise for him; and actually, this magnanimous gesture worked so well in his favor that soon from all the outlying villages came deputations offering to defend Machebeuf in case of need. All of that happened on a Saturday, and on the following day, Machebeuf, with only his sexton, went to the church, and everywhere the people greeted him with much more respect than before. It turned out that of those who chose to take part in the “mutiny” only three men belonged to Albuquerque proper; the rest were from the largest and richest outlying district which was known as Ranchos de Albuquerque.
Observing the customs of the Mexicans, Machebeuf deplored nothing so much as the style of their Christmastime celebrations. It was a local habit to hold a novena in honor of the Blessed Virgin Mary in the days just before Christmas; but instead of an occasion for piety, this period had been one of carnival—”dances, orgies,” every sort of license. He felt strongly the basically good dispositions of the people, even in their ignorance, corruption, and superstition; he knew they hungered for the word of God. Like Lamy, he exclaimed over what could be accomplished if only there were enough missionary priests available. Still, alone, one did what one could. Now, after his survival at Albuquerque, he proclaimed the usual novena before the next Christmastide, and was overjoyed to see, instead of hordes of merrymakers, throngs of the faithful coming to confession, who kept him in his latticed stall till long after midnight every night. Even the rebels of Ranchos de Albuquerque came, and many another who had been among the most fierce opponents of Lamy and himself. He could only invoke the father and the prodigal son as he thought of them. So complete was the union of the people with him that when, in due time, he would have to leave them for Santa Fe because his duties must keep him nearer to the bishop, the Albuquerque parishioners would come in crowds, weeping and begging him not to desert them. He would vow to come to them for one Sunday a month all year and how he would rejoice to be with his rancheros again!—the very men who had come insulting and menacing him in his own room. Until he must leave, he delighted in his pastorate at San Felipe de Neri.
Gallegos, however, had no part in the grand reconciliation. Instead, he moved suddenly into another venture. He threw himself into politics, and, as he “did not lack ability,” observed Machebeuf, he managed through “every kind of fraud and intrigue” to get himself elected as delegate from New Mexico to the Congress of the United States. As a territory, New Mexico, until proclaimed a state (an event which would not occur until long after Lamy’s time), had a single non-voting delegate in the House of Representatives. In the summer of 1853, soon after his expulsion from the Albuquerque parish, Gallegos declared himself a candidate, running against Dr William Carr Lane, the former territorial governor. Lane’s successor, Governor Meriwether, noted that “the Nominee of the Democratic Party is a Mexican. Some object to him because he does not speak the English language, and charge that he has been suspended by the Catholic bishop … on account of licentious conduct. Ex-Governor Lane is the opposing Whig candidate, and he is generally popular with the American residents.”
Meriwether found Gallegos “to be a shrewd, intelligent man,” whom he agreed to instruct in the politic
al principles of the Democrats, and in a spirit of fairness—Meriwether was a Whig—provided him with an interpreter to translate his campaign speech at Santa Fe, in which the candidate made “a very favorable impression upon the audience.” In fact, Gallegos had so impressed his followers that they hanged straw-stuffed effigies of Meriwether and another Whig—Judge Davenport—from the flag staff in the Santa Fe Plaza. The election was close—the count showed Gallegos ahead by 445 votes out of 9497 cast. On 19 December 1853, Gallegos’s credentials were presented to the House of Representatives, and he was duly seated. But Dr Lane contested the election, and the House referred the issue to its Committee on Elections. Extensive debate followed in the House. On further study, it appeared that if “Indian ballots were counted, Lane was the winner.” But Congress disallowed Indian votes, thereby throwing the victory to Gallegos. On 27 February 1854, Gallegos asked that he be allowed to bring an interpreter with him into the House chamber, but the request was denied.
It was another aspect of Gallegos’s situation which concerned Lamy, who touched upon it in a letter to Archbishop Francis Patrick Kenrick at Baltimore, identifying Gallegos as “one of those unfortunate priests that I was obliged to suspend.” Lamy believed that the archbishop should be aware of this in case Gallegos should appeal to him in a certain matter. “It may be that he will ask permission to say Mass, and some gentlemen of his party may plead for him, saying that he has been punished unjustly, but he deserves well his suspension, and he cannot show any authentic recommendations.”
But if Gallegos maintained relations with any bishop but Zubiría of Durango, there is no record to say so. Evidently he still considered Zubiría his prelate. From Washington, on 2 June 1854, Gallegos wrote a long and devoted letter to him, which began, “To satisfy the wishes of my countrymen I decided to come to this capital to occupy the place of Delegate,” and he went on to say that he had been well received by his colleagues, who listened “attentively” to his requests. He had obtained an appropriation of $127,000 for New Mexico. He had made a swift tour of the northeastern states—terra incognita to Zubiría—and reported on the benefits of industry and nature to be seen there. Catholics were present, but were greatly outnumbered by Protestants. He was not impressed by the general calibre of the priests—though he excepted the Jesuits, in their “intelligence and zeal.” Indeed, he often visited their college at Georgetown, near Washington. More interestingly: toward the end of March, “His Illustrious Lordship Lamy passed through here on his way to Rome. I assume he is going to justify his behavior before the Holy Father. I am afraid he will discharge upon us the weight of his imputations, so leading the Holy Father to a belief in contradiction of the true facts.” Gallegos held one hope, however. “May it be that the petition of the New Mexico clergy had been expedited before his arrival”—the packet sent by Dean J. F. Ortiz from Durango by way of the apostolic delegate in Mexico. But patience. “I will soon be informed about everything.” wrote Gallegos in an astounding revelation, “by Father Eulógio Ortiz”—a brother of the furious self-exiled dean—”who is accompanying Bishop Lamy; and then I will give Your Illustrious Lordship all the news.” It was plain evidence of a continuing intrigue against Lamy, and it seemed to implicate his priest-secretary, as well as his fellow bishop in Mexico. If so, perhaps patriotism as well as sacerdotal concern held the intriguers together. Gallegos proceeded to declare that his informants in New Mexico told him that “the position of my Catholic countrymen is getting worse every day.” In their resentment against Lamy and his vicar, many had “defected to the Protestants.” He hoped Mexico, whether in part or in entirety, would never be annexed to the United States. “The position of Mexicans would be lamentable if they were in the Union; their character, language, religion and other personal circumstances are diametrically opposite to what the North Americans feel about them.” He perceived fairly a social situation long to endure in the conquered Southwest. He added that he thought the United States would go to war against Spain to annex Cuba—it was true that there was sentiment, even in Congress, and, he said, in the White House, for such an imperialistic move. Public opinion was divided. “God willing,” wrote the delegate, “within two years [i.e., at the end of his term in the House] I’ll have the pleasure of visiting Your Illustrious Lordship and receiving your orders.”
But Zubiría heard also from another quarter concerning the affairs of Gallegos. Connected to the rear of the Albuquerque church stood the long, one-storey adobe building with its many rooms and its spacious patio which served as the rectory, and was loosely called the “convento” as it contained also the sacristy. It had a certain spacious elegance, despite its primitive materials. The main door and the street-side windows were topped by Palladian pediments of wood. Panelled shutters adorned the windows. The slightly peaked roof was topped by a little open cupola ending in a pyramid. The great room, or sala, within had square-cut wooden beams. The walls were washed with a neutral distemper, and the dado, running around the room above the adobe banquette, was of pink muslin printed in a pattern of bluish squares. The banquette and floor were covered with another material in varied stripes. A panelled double door, decorated with a valance and heavy curtains, opened into a room beyond. Paintings hung on the walls of both rooms.
This was the residence of Gallegos, and despite what had happened to him at home, and what required his presence in Washington, he refused to abandon it. Upon his suspension he was asked several times to vacate the church property by Lamy, who even offered to pay him a certain sum to do so. Gallegos insisted that the property had been deeded to him personally by Zubiría.
Machebeuf now wrote to ask Zubiría in May 1854 if this were so. He had already filed suit against Gallegos to recover it. Gallegos had asked for a postponement of the legal action to enable him to “look for his documents,” which the court granted. He produced his papers in April, at the same time asking for a change of venue, which seemed odd to Machebeuf. Moreover, Gallegos had originally applied to the municipal town authorities of Albuquerque for a permit to build his house on the church lot, and had been given it. How, if he had had Zubiría’s deed, would he need also a municipal title to the place? What Machebeuf asked was Durango’s answer to all this, after, in his turn, “by various pretexts,” having secured another postponement of the trial, now to give him time to write to Mexico and obtain a reply. He wrote a second letter in June, in case the first had been lost.
In due course the reply came. In the “most clear and satisfactory manner possible,” Bishop Zubiría officially declared that he had never sold the house to Gallegos. “Behold the impostor unveiled!” exulted Machebeuf, and promptly moved into the rectory. The claim to the place was eventually settled out of court, with Lamy making a certain payment to Gallegos to reimburse his personal investment in the property.
Now Machebeuf was free to rehabilitate his parish, repairing and redecorating the church. Now the people were proudly helping him in his work of renewing their temple. What was yet to be improved was the execrable native music at the services. One of the parishioners heard from Machebeuf what proper liturgical music must be like; and because he was so moved by Machebeuf s labors to bring seemliness into all possible aspects of the church’s conduct, this citizen now offered to present a pipe organ to the parish. Machebeuf gratefully accepted—but who would play the sacred instrument? No one in Albuquerque could do so. At just the right moment, a letter came from the old organist who had played in church for two years in Machebeuf s Sandusky parish, saying he wished he might come to New Mexico to be with his former pastor. Might he come? Machebeuf said that he must. Organ and organist arrived simultaneously in Albuquerque and soon in church “the music fairly enraptured the Mexicans.”
V.
Disputed Boundaries
AT LAS VEGAS, NEW MEXICO, going eastward in January 1854, Lamy and his party joined up with a waggon train setting out for the plains. By March he was in St Louis, visiting Archbishop Peter Richard Kenrick, who wrote to Purce
ll as Lamy left for Cincinnati, “He is a truly Apostolic Prelate, nor could a happier selection have been made for Santa Fe,” and he added that Dr Lane, the former New Mexican territorial governor now living in St Louis, “has the highest esteem for the Bishop to whom he refers as belonging to the class of heroes.”
The journey continued to Ohio and Kentucky. Once again he was at Bardstown, and this time he went on to the Loretto motherhouse at Nerinckx, where he reported to the members on what their sisters were accomplishing at Santa Fe, and where he asked for others of the community, now, to be ready to go back with him to Santa Fe on his return from Europe in the late summer. With the promises of several, he made his way to Boston, and sailed on 29 March. “We had a short and good passage,” he wrote to Purcell. “We were on the sea only nine days and one night.”
He disembarked first in England. In Birmingham, where he hoped to see Father John Henry Newman, he was disappointed, as Newman, briefly home from his troubles in attempting to found a university in Dublin against the opposition of the Irish bishops and clergy, was spending the whole day in Bishop Ullathorne’s retreat house. But Ullathorne, regretting that he could not release any priests for Santa Fe, was hospitable, and showed Lamy “through the city of Birmingham to see some of their Catholic institutions.” Lamy noted that the diocese of Birmingham was making “immense progress,”
Coming next to France, he landed at Boulogne and at once paid a call upon the Ursulines there, whose community had invested so richly in Kentucky a few years ago: how long ago all that seemed now, and how much had happened since to the two young French missionaries who had persuaded them earlier. Now Lamy found that the Ursulines “were pressing upon me so much to stay with them, that I was near missing the cars that day for Paris.” Finally away, he sent messages to the Ursulines of Brown County, in Ohio, of his visit, and arriving in Paris, went to stay once again with the Sulpicians in the rue du Bac. In the Paris headquarters of foreign missions, he thought it advisable to leave his two young New Mexican seminarians for their schooling, and he hoped Purcell might be able to pay their tuition. Perhaps later Lamy could reimburse him for the account of one of them, if the seminary at Clermont should also be able to contribute. He was sorry to presume on his old friendship. Where else to turn? As for other news, it seemed that the new Emperor was very popular, often went through the streets alone, and it was professionally reassuring that Napoleon III kept at court a bishop and chaplains, and that recently they gave a retreat there.