The Columbia herald. [volume] (Columbia, Tenn.) 18??-1935, 1898-12-09
SAN JUAN BAUTISTA.

| would hear your sweet jingle of sounds,
o bells, nor do | ever weary of your re-
verberant echoes; as they sweep through
chancel and nave to die in the high plains
Of Onahuac.
am hoary with age. These thick walls
of San Juan Bautista were fashioned ages
ago by the Dominican friar, Vetanzos, when
Lis order counted Ii centuries OF ministra-
ton to the children of men.
The shadows of countless generations and
memories lurk among these pillars and vi
brate to the deep roll of yonder organ. I'm
numl cred feet have worn the marble floor
ing of these arches, gay bridal professions
and slow funeral marches have passed up
and down, and many faint wall has rung
plaintive and prophetic from the gray bap-
tismal font which stands to the right of
yon open doorway.
Yes since 1880, the date of my construc.
ton, this church of San Juan Bautista has
been mute spectator of the vicissitudes Of
humanity; their careless joys and passing
griefs.
And peering down into the streets of
Coyoacan from belfry and tower | have
noticed along with the eternal mutations OF
nature, the ebb and flow OF human life and
passion, the temporary rush, haste and en-
deavor ever followed by pause, and duh
stagnation, until other generations bring
a revival of bu2tling activity and new en-.
deavors supersede former modes.
One of my earliest impressions is that of
admiration for the grand warrior Friar
Bartolme de Olivedo, when from this stone
pulpit he Numbered his stern rebuke to the
conqueror Cortcz and to his wild and roll
licking companions. For, the tale of their
orgie at a feast given to celebrate their vic
tory over the owner of the soil, a proud
Aztec monarch, had been whispered about
during the chanting of mass, as also the
story of clemency which had spared the life
OF that young native chief.
My structure was nude and unfinished in
those early days. The old monks, poor and
indomitable, with tireless energy, had but
built these heavy walls and reared turret
to incase those bells, which still ring out
their holy chimes down the peaceful valleys
of Mexico.
One spot has ever been more sacred to
me than others, amid the throng of memo
ries which jostle and troop through this
church of San Juan Bautista
1t is yonder square marble fagstone, set
in the flooring by the side of that por-
phyry column, where at eventide the last
rays of the setting sun, just before it sinks
to rest beyond the smooth waters of the
Pacific, fall obliquely from yonder narrow
window beneath the roof.
The light fingers ever, to fade out grad.
uaIly, just as it did those long centuries ago,
when its quivering shaft shone full on fair
face and sad spectacle.
She had crept in slowly and timorously,
she, the wife of an Aztec chief and daughter
of Montezuma, to gaze at the symbols of the
! Christian faith, that religion of the cruel
conquerors of her people.
Tall and slender and beautiful in face and
form, CARRIED in regal colorng, princess at
whose command gold and jewels had lain
profuse and abundant, and to whose least
word thousands would yield a trembling
! obedience, she stood that day alone and
abandoned, mournfu image of sad despair.
Gazing from out her dark brown eyes, in
whose depth was the look of hunted ga,
zelle, at the pomp and circumstance of an
alien religion when the slow chant of the
monks rose and fell, filling with it's monot.
onous wall the hooks and corners of this
heavy building she lifted to Heaven in pro
test against the crushing weight of her mis-
fortunes her slender arms, wringing her
hands in an agony of violent grief.
There was a sudden rush of feet through
the doorway, a clash of arms and few
short words OF stern command.
The wailinG chant of the Dominican friars
was suspended as they drew back, shudder'
ing around their blazing altar.
There were shouts and wells Of defiance, a
sudden attack, wild curses, groan and some
broken calls for help, or mercy, or revenge
A Spanish troop pressed back by those
fierce Aztec warriors fought hard and fierce
around the alleys and pillars of San Juan
Bautista fought like trapped wild beasts
amid the fast waning light of day, as thicker
and more numerous locked in the wild
native warriors, singing high and shrill the
song of their war gods, in mockery of the
Dominican chant which had rung out on thu
summer air short while before.
Painting, but unterrifcd, her slender form
drawn up to its full height, her nostrils quiv
ering and her great brown eyes no longe
pleading and mournful, but blazing with thu
light of her warrior ancestors, Princess Orr
stood close by yon pillar, nor moved no
cried out, nor fled.
Around her ragged the fierce combat
Darker grew the shadows, louder and NOR
numerous were the groans and cries anC
curses.
Then, when spent and exhausted, thei
numbers thinned by death, the Spanish fore,
pressed back around yon altar, on whicl
some few lights still burned, while the Do
minican frars lay hudded and prone agains
it's base, seeing destruction inevitable, raised
one last rallying shout and made one las
onset.
Above the clamor and turmoil rose tn,
chimes of San Juan Bautista. They ran,
out sweet and clear down the streets o
Coyoacan, out into the valley, across tn
plains of Onahuac, calling for help in an
guished entrcaty, waiing and clamorou
appeal.
From belfry and tower | could see tn
glitter of Spanish arms and could hear tn
hurried tramp of the Spanish troops as the
dashed up at the call of the silver chimes Il
bring succor and relief.
The dark shades o. night had settled owe
all things when, beaten hack and deci
mated, the Aztec hordes rushed down. tn
sloping sides of the valley, and silenc
again reigned in this old Church of Can ,Jua
Bautista.
Slowly the Dominicon monks 6Ipd II