[116] Pedro Fernandez de Esquibel, a clergyman in Seville, was arrested by secular authorities in 1581 for forging royal decrees. The magistrates, unwilling to release to the ecclesiastical courts a man accused of such a serious crime, consulted with Church leaders. The Church agreed to defrock him immediately so that he could remain in secular custody before hanging in the Plaza de San Francisco. Here is an example of the partnership between the Church and political authority, and clear evidence of the bonds between Church and crime. ⁽¹⁾

The Church in Seville had ties with both political authority and the underworld because the clergy included a variety of people from different classes. The poorest assistant to a parish priest belonged to the secular clergy, and so did the wealthy and notable officers of the Cathedral. The regular clergy, those who had accepted the regulation of a religious order, were various enough to include cloistered nuns from noble families and monks who wandered the countryside begging for bread. Some priests had experienced hunger and deprivation, and they blamed this injustice on the social order. A few sought redress through social action as well as prayer. One priest even became a popular leader in the Revolt of the Pendon Verde in 1652. ⁽²⁾ On the other hand, some were very unpopular, hated for their educated speech and their presumption that ordinary men could not deal with God without their intercession.

[117] Church relations with political authority and the underworld were further complicated because the Church was far more than a religious institution. During the early modern period the Church and the religious orders owned significant amounts of land. Some religious orders were producers; others invested in commerce. As creditors, they and the Church invested in government bonds (juros), mortgages on land (censos), and simple loans. In addition, the Church, as a political force, shaped legislation, bolstered the legitimacy of secular governments, and furnished men to act as ministers and diplomats. A social institution, the parish church was a focus for each neighborhood in the city. The Church was the major agency for education and charity. It sponsored most of the processions and fiestas of Seville, and it preserved the legends that helped to unify this diverse city.

Underworld people distinguished this complex institution, the Church, from religion, but other city residents believed that the two were symbolically fused. Most people of Seville looked on the Church and underworld as symbols of the holy and profane. More than opposites, the Church and underworld met in a curious confusion of antagonism and mutual exploitation. Their relationship is best demonstrated in three major roles that the Church played in early modern Seville: as intermediary, refuge, and caricature.

THE CHURCH AS INTERMEDIARY

In early modern Seville people usually looked to the Church as intermediary between them and God. From the pulpit they learned what God's laws were. In the confessional they learned how God expected them to translate His laws into everyday behavior. When they wanted to ask something of God, the traditional prayers and rituals of the Church helped them to present their petitions in the proper form and language. Latin, the language of the priest before the altar, was of course unintelligible to most people in the congregation, but they believed that the priest could use it to speak to God for them.

People often turned to the Church to explain disasters and to advise them what to do. A religious procession led by an image [118] of our Lady of the Water in 1605 helped the people of Seville feel less impotent in time of drought. Later in that century, Church authorities explained an epidemic as divine punishment for loose morals, and they urged the city to prohibit all drama and comedies in order to avoid another plague. ⁽³⁾ These intermediaries offered the security of clear-cut answers in uncertain times. They promoted unity by offering a single interpretation of the causes of all ills and the best remedies for them. A community that looked to a priestly intercessor did not fall apart so readily into quarreling factions.

Underworld people awaiting execution in the city's prisons often turned from past cynicism and sinfulness to the monks and priests who could act as intermediaries. Pedro de León, the Jesuit chaplain of the Royal Prison in Seville between 1578 and 1616, described the prisoners' warm reception of his sermons and prayers. Many would kiss his hand and tell him with tears in their eyes how much his words meant to them. ⁽⁴⁾ There is no doubt that some lifelong thugs repented at the end and were sincerely grateful for the priests who walked and prayed with them and helped them to mount the steps to the scaffold, strengthened in spite of their quaking knees.

Not all condemned prisoners looked to the Church as intermediary. Pedro de Leon wrote that it was very difficult to pierce the tough exterior of some prisoners, and another firsthand account of the Royal Prison of Seville describes how the prisoners would mock priests, playing at saying Mass or performing as dramatic penitents. At night they would call for the penitential brotherhood of the prison, not out of devotion but for the [119] horrifying delight of watching them punish themselves. ⁽⁵⁾ To these people the concept of the Church as intermediary was a joke.

One reason for underworld cynicism was that the Church also acted as intermediary between them and the secular law. People of the underworld clearly recognized the close alliance between the institutional Church and political authority. Prisoners often tried to exploit this alliance, confessing to the prison chaplain in such a way that the priest would be moved to intervene on their behalf and get a last-minute reprieve. On the other hand, secular authorities tried to persuade priests to force prisoners to confess to crimes so that they could use their confessions as evidence against them. They sometimes condemned a prisoner to death without sufficient proof of his guilt, refused his appeals, and then assigned a confessor who would insist that the prisoner must confess to the crimes in order to "die a good Christian." ⁽⁶⁾ Priests who helped condemned men go to their death as "good Christians" undoubtedly provided comfort for many, but they also helped to sanctify this ritualized act of violence by secular justice against those accused of breaking its laws. One view of the priest with a condemned man at the gallows is that he was returning a stray sheep to the flock; another view is that he was mesmerizing the sheep, so that the creature would accept its fate as a sacrificial victim.

Churchmen frequently used underworld people to personify evil to the people of Seville. The preacher who thundered against immorality in the city warned of sins committed by the "gente de mal vivir" (bad people), the "rufianes" (thugs), and the "mujeres perdidas" (prostitutes). Because city residents saw these underworld people on their own streets, they could understand the priests' admonitions.

The secular government of Seville could use morality as a pillar of its legitimacy, but it lacked enough sheriffs and judges [120] to enforce its moral legislation without Church assistance. The parish priest railed against immorality from his pulpit, and he used the confessional to hear individual cases of immorality. The more formal courts of the Inquisition punished moral offenders as well as heretics. The Church was an open partner in upholding the moral order of the city oligarchy, and to many underworld cynics this partisanship belied its posture as disinterested intermediary.

Another reason for cynicism about the Church as intermediary was that some churchmen were more concerned with financial affairs than with matters of the spirit. The Archbishopric of Seville owned much of the land within the city walls, as well as large portions in the surrounding areas. Many religious groups administered extensive estates. In 1582 the Archbishop of Seville censured one of his bishops because he had virtually converted his residence into a manufacturing center and store. A great scandal erupted in 1642 when it was discovered that an administrator of the Jesuit School of San Hermenegildo in Seville had used the funds of his order for business speculations, buying and selling cargoes in the Indies and enriching many of his relatives while amassing a debt of 90,000 ducats against the Jesuits. ⁽⁷⁾

Ecclesiastical privileges benefited many churchmen in commercial enterprises, and it also provided many opportunities for the white collar crimes of smuggling and counterfeiting. Clerics and Inquisition officials were exempt from import duties, and they transported goods and papers without customary inspection at city gates. Occasionally they were caught smuggling precious metals and merchandise. ⁽⁸⁾ Theoretically outside the jurisdiction of secular justice, religious houses could be used for undercover counterfeiting. In 1639 a clergyman was arrested for counterfeiting the stamped paper that was required for all legal and [121] commercial transactions in the seventeenth century, and thirteen years later secular authorities invaded a monastery to arrest some clergymen who were restamping money there. ⁽⁹⁾

Ecclesiastical privilege permitted many people to escape the hand of secular justice that lay so heavily on people of the underworld. The numbers of familiares, lay servants to the Inquisition, increased dramatically as the Inquisition became more active during this period. Suspected of being secret informers, the familiares were also unpopular because they had the privilege of bearing arms and were exempt from certain prosecutions by secular authorities. The confusion resulting from the many new and unregistered appointments of familiares was very useful to those of the underworld, who would sometimes escape the secular law by claiming that they were familiares when they were arrested. ⁽¹⁰⁾

Underworld people could also feel cynical about the Church when churchmen squabbled among themselves. The rivalry between Jesuits and Dominicans often degenerated into a power struggle involving the Inquisition, for it had been dominated by the Dominicans since Tomás de Torquemada of this order was appointed by Ferdinand and Isabella to head the Inquisition in 1483. Jesuits were denounced for heresy and for making political sermons. They insisted that they were responsible for their own members and would punish them for misbehavior, but the Inquisition asserted that these matters were subject to the Holy Office. In the case of Padre Barba, for example, a Jesuit accused of having "dishonest relations" with several women, the Society of Jesus argued that this was a matter for internal discipline within the Order, but the Inquisition successfully asserted jurisdiction. ⁽¹¹⁾ The Dominican-Jesuit controversy was further complicated because some bishops, opposing the Inquisition as a [122] rival to their own powerful positions within the Spanish Church, encouraged the Jesuit-Dominican controversy in order to weaken the Inquisition.

Attempts to correct abuses and reform the clergy increased internal dissension within this group. When Cardinal Archbishop Rodrigo de Castro tried to reform the clergy in Seville in the last quarter of the sixteenth century, he ran into so much opposition that he asked the Crown to help him get support from Rome. He succeeded in making several reforms, but at the price of much dissension. Reformed monks attacked the unreformed secular clergy, a form of anticlericalism which one scholar has identified in the picaresque novel Lazarillo de Tormes. ⁽¹²⁾ In the midst of all the accusations and countercharges it is not surprising that one poor beggar of the city, Bartolomé Fuentes, declared that God would not lower Himself to the hands of undignified clergymen. This was too much for the Inquisition, which subjected him to public penance in an auto de fé on December 22, 1560. ⁽¹³⁾

Clerical reform might "purify" the clergy, but it also served political purposes. Both Church and Crown were concerned with controlling ideology, and the Church was a strong competitor that showed disturbing tendencies to act independently. Recognizing that clerical reform could curb this competitor, Philip II readily came to the assistance of Cardinal Archbishop de Castro when he needed help reforming his clergy in Seville. Clerical dissension was a timely excuse for the Crown's imposition of restraint on the power, wealth, and independence of the Church. To many people clerical reform was simply an extension of central control over more members of the clergy, a device to ensure that the Church would be a tool of the secular government.

Cynicism about priests as intermediaries increased in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries as Seville became a major center of an heretical sect, the Alumbrados. These religious mystics taught that direct union with God was possible without [123] a priestly intermediary. The nuns, monks, and secular clergy who belonged to the sect acted as spiritual counselors rather than intermediaries. Mysticism was also an important part of the devotional exercises of Jesuits and followers of Saint Teresa of Avila and Saint John of the Cross, but these groups accepted the discipline of the Church and did not pose the serious Alumbrado challenge to priests. Churchmen like Pedro de León tried to distinguish the "false mysticism" of the Alumbrados from the "true mysticism" of loyal Christians, but their arguments seemed mere hair-splitting to many people. ⁽¹⁴⁾

The Alumbrados also increased cynicism about priests because they provided such tantalizing stories about sexual irregularities accompanying religious ecstasies. Tongues wagged about the Alumbrado monk, Brother Juan de Jesús María, who convinced another monk and a young girl that he could communicate the spirit and love of God to them through his embraces and kisses. Asserting that they could not be guilty of sin because they were in a close state with God, he urged that the three make a spiritual union through the flesh. Francisco Mendez, an Alumbrado preacher, provided another juicy tale when the Inquisition charged him with dancing with a group of beatas after Mass and working them up into such a frenzy that they fell down with their legs uncovered. The Inquisition attempted to root out salacious heretics like these, but their prosecutions also helped to publicize the scandalous tales. ⁽¹⁵⁾

Alumbrados held a special appeal for the women of Seville. Many noble women of the city were followers of Padre Mendez, who may be the Francisco Mendez mentioned above. He stayed at the Franciscan monastery in the city, and on some mornings more than thirty carriages waited there for women who had come to pray and consult with him. An anonymous letter from Seville in 1623 asserted that the greater part of the city was infected with the Alumbrado heresy, "and especially the women." [124] Though some of these women were nuns and beatas, many were the wives and daughters of respectable local aristocrats. It was reported that when the Church offered pardons to all who would denounce themselves as Alumbrados, so many women responded that twenty notaries and twenty inquisitors were not enough to handle all the confessions. More than 5000 pardons were issued in 1624 for this heresy in the Archbishopric of Seville. ⁽¹⁶⁾ The mass confession revealed not only the extent of the heresy but also the willingness of many to conform ideologically to the teachings of the institutional Church. It suggests that the ladies of Seville gained attention by indulging in a little mysticism and confession of heresy. Religious mysticism was one of the few ways they could protest the priestly and secular authorities who so rigidly controlled their lives. In addition, mystical experiments and confession of heresy offered the emotional intimacy and adventure so lacking in the lives of these women. Some well-born women in the city must have felt that they were regarded seriously as people only when they engaged in heresy. In this period of the Inquisition, heresy literally involved playing with fire. Facing this danger could reaffirm for many women a sense of self that was otherwise smothered in their sheltered lives. ⁽¹⁷⁾

Folk practitioners posed another challenge to the priests' monopoly on the role of intermediary. Some priests specialized in exorcizing the devil, but the people of Seville were as likely to call upon a lay expert in the occult arts to vanquish the devil by magic. Folk practitioners spoke a more appealing language than the priests. "The Evil Eye," for example, explained a misfortune more clearly than "God's will," the clergyman's explanation. The spells and charms of the neighborhood wise woman appeared more potent and concrete than a priest's plea to a God whose will seemed so capricious. A saludador (folk faith-healer) who applied his saliva to heal an infected arm performed a specific physical act, while the priest who prayed over the infected arm [125] seemed only to mutter. ⁽¹⁸⁾ Popular support protected many folk-practitioners from prosecution as sorcerers by the Inquisition.

Underworld people favored folk-practitioners not only for their traditional wisdom, but also because the occult arts offered so many profitable opportunities for tricking unsuspecting believers.

Although they were challenged by folk-practitioners, attacked by heretics, and besmirched by internecine quarrels, monks and priests retained their role as intermediaries in Seville. This suited the purposes of a secular government which relied on these intermediaries to sanctify its rule. Secular officials were very much in evidence at the public autos de fé at which the Inquisition subjected some people to penance and handed others to the secular authorities for execution. ⁽¹⁹⁾ On the other hand, churchmen took a prominent role in the secular public executions. The partnership of Church and government bolstered the legitimacy of the secular order and assured the continuance of the Church as intermediary.

Another reason why the Church retained this role was that the people of the city needed religion as a verbal and symbolical language. Although the Church was a social, economic, and political institution, with worldly concerns far removed from matters of the spirit, it was also a religious institution. In Seville during this period the Church was the major interpreter and preserver of religious beliefs, for it had successfully stifled most popular religious groups and all contemporary religious challengers. Holding a monopoly on religion, it became a depository for the traditional metaphors and imagery by which people expressed ideas and attitudes about themselves, their city, indeed all of life. The populace explained public executions as the consequences of sin and believed that their city government was acting justifiably, as God did when he punished His erring children.

In addition, the rituals of the Church were a common language understood by all the people. Religious rites marked the significant [126] events in an individual's life, and all the community could recognize his birth, first communion, marriage, and death. Through religious processions and festivals, people of the city expressed collective unity, common fears, and aspirations. Everyone could participate in these familiar rituals, if only as a spectator observing this demonstration of community.

Ironically, the very dependence on religion as a language and on priests as spokesmen resulted in a form of anticlericalism that is apparent in underworld vocabulary. Just as common people of the city hated the lawyers and legal language on which they had to depend, they disliked the priestly intermediaries and religious language. Priests were hated for revealing the impotence and ignorance of less educated people, an attitude expressed in the underworld vocabulary that gave the religious title "bishop" to the cock. ⁽²⁰⁾ Underworld people used the phrase de San Martín el dormido (of sleeping Saint Martin) to describe the crime of robbing or killing a sleeping victim. The poor box of a church was Juan, and a Juanero was a thief who specialized in robbing poor boxes. Underworld anticlericalism is implicit in their word for clergyman, farfare, a term suggesting thin skin or half-baked. ⁽²¹⁾

The language of religion was useful to the underworld in a more serious sense also. For example, when the hero of one of their ballads was wounded, his friends gathered around him:

Some promised him Masses,
Others fingered their Rosaries;
Others lit candles
Others sang Psalms. ⁽²²⁾

A basic theological attitude is apparent in underworld words for God, man, and woman. Ballads often referred to a man as coyme, a word now used for gambling-house owner or keeper. Women in these ballads were coymas, usually meaning prostitutes. God was el coyme del alto, literally "the man from above." ⁽²⁴⁾ The close similarity between the words for man, woman, and God suggests that these people sensed much less difference between God and themselves than conventionally religious people like the ancient Jews, who for a long time were forbidden to name God. Underworld people might have mocked the Church as intermediary because they felt more similarity with God and less need for an intermediary. They knew the words and procedures of religion, and they broke their holy spell by using them for their own purposes. The Church wanted to bolster its authority as the only agency capable of using the language of religion, but the underworld showed that anyone could use this language.

THE CHURCH AS REFUGE

Traditionally, the Church provided asylum for people whose lives were in danger, but after 1520 this role was limited. As more and more ruffians ran into churches to escape hotly pursuing sheriffs, the Church and secular authorities agreed that churches should not be allowed to become havens for unlawful thugs. The Count of Puñoenrostro took a hard line when he became head of the city government in 1597. He ordered his lawmen to enter churches and forcibly remove any fugitives. ⁽²⁵⁾

Though churches were no longer to be used for asylum from secular authorities, they were still considered sanctified buildings, places that should provide sanctuary from nonauthorized violence. One of the most shocking incidents in seventeenth-century Seville, for example, involved a murder in a church, committed by the gang called the "Esquiveles." A fight over a woman [128] erupted between this gang and another man. Trying to escape, the man dashed into the Church of San Pedro and hid behind the priest. The gang killed him before the altar even though the priest tried to shield him with his chasuble. Leaving the dying man, a horrified priest, and the shocked congregation, the killers fled the city. The ecclesiastical chroniclers reported with some satisfaction that the killers soon died in other skirmishes, implying that Divine Justice had the last word. ⁽²⁶⁾

Although people could look less to the Church as an asylum during this period, they looked to it more as a refuge from need. The population of Seville grew rapidly in the sixteenth century, but many of the people who came to the famous port seeking their fortunes found only poverty. Monks and priests distributed food to the hungry and helped many homeless people find shelter. The Archbishopric provided charity from its own wealth and also administered many charitable bequests made by wealthy individuals. In addition, the Church encouraged less wealthy people to provide charity. One ecclesiastical report described a system by which people wanting indulgences from the Church went to a particular chapel in the Cathedral. There they left alms to buy bread for the poor, and in return they received the indulgences. ⁽²⁷⁾

As a refuge, the Church became a central meeting place for the down-and-out people of the city. Often the only buildings open to penniless vagrants were the churches and the houses of religious orders. In Quevedo's novel El Buscón, the picaresque hero and his roguish friends sought refuge in Seville's Cathedral, where they found some pretty prostitutes to keep them company. ⁽²⁸⁾

The monasteries and hermitages in the countryside around the city were even more likely to be used as refuges for nonreligious purposes. Because of their geographic isolation, they were remote [129] from city lawmen and were sometimes poorly disciplined. In addition, the monks and priests who traveled the countryside from one monastery or hermitage to another resembled the vagabonds of the underworld. They depended on begging to get food and seemed to evade all legal jurisdiction. Underworld people recognized the close relationship and called highwaymen "hermits of the road" (emitaño de camino). ⁽²⁹⁾ Murillo's painting of these traveling monks suggests their isolation and the ease with which they could escape the law. After a 1632 robbery in the Church of San Roque in Seville, a youth was hanged and his hand cut off, a girl accomplice was whipped, but the clergyman involved escaped as a traveling monk. ⁽³⁰⁾

Not surprisingly, hermits and monks found in the countryside were commonly suspected of crime. In one seventeenth-century picaresque novel, La Garduña de Sevilla, a monk acted as the front for a gang of robbers, who hid their loot in his hermitage and marked houses in the city where he got alms so that they would know the best places for robberies. ⁽³¹⁾ This fictional account of crime and remote religious houses is supported by many actual cases reported in histories and ecclesiastical records of Seville: the 1536 killing of an Augustinian provincial by four of his religious brothers; a 1597 scandal in a local convent that resulted in two maids whipped and one hanged; the 1639 murder of a Portuguese monk in his cell by two Augustinian brothers, who escaped; the 1640 discovery of the bones of a missing monk walled up in the monastery cell of a brother who had stolen the money that the victim had previously taken from his own order. ⁽³²⁾

One reason why monks and hermits were associated with crime is that the economic position of many religious orders deteriorated in the seventeenth century. Although the Arch-bishopric of Seville was reported to be very wealthy in the early [130] part of this century, many monasteries appeared to be far more wealthy than they actually were. Their huge art-filled churches were an expense rather than a source of income. Many new religious foundations had been funded by people eager for the esteem but unable to endow them adequately. As one commentator wrote,

There is scarcely a pharmacist who has not been carried by his vanity to pass himself patron of a monastery and lord (señor) of its major chapel. And so, not having a strong endowment, if there is money for the building of the monastery, there is none for the officials of it; so that if they are nuns they eat from their dowries, and if they are monks they look for food from door to door. ⁽³³⁾

---

Squeezed by a shrinking economic base and a rise in the cost of living, religious foundations had to support a clerical population that continued to grow until the last half of the seventeenth century. A description of a religious procession in Seville in 1579 [132] asserted that 1500 clergymen participated; by 1635 more than 3000 religious were reported in Seville. ⁽³⁶⁾ A list of religious foundations in Seville and its nearby countryside in 1650 included 48 monasteries, 28 convents, 23 hospitales, and 9 hermitages. ⁽³⁷⁾ The growing clerical population led to economic strain, less effective discipline, and a decrease in moral and intellectual quality. A clerical association with crime, therefore, was not surprising.

Perhaps the most scandalous crime associated with monks and priests and isolated religious houses was pecado nefando, or sodomy. The Jesuit Pedro de León wrote that this was a serious problem among both religious and secular clergy. One Jesuit told him that women posed no problem for his brothers because they had many young male students and novices with whom they could sin. He mentioned one cleric who was penanced in a private auto de fé by the Inquisition for soliciting young boys in confession, but several other clergymen were "relaxed" (the euphemism for being handed over) to the secular authorities, who burned them for their crimes. ⁽³⁸⁾

The example of the Jeronomite Monastery of San Isidro del Campo suggests the problems of controlling a religious house. Located about two miles outside the city, this monastery had both spiritual and temporal jurisdiction over the village of Santiponce, site of the ancient Roman city of Italica. Noted in the sixteenth century for its rich endowment, the monastery had several powerful nobles as patrons. When the Duke of Medina Sidonia died in 1558, his body was taken there. When Philip II visited Seville in 1570, he stayed there. ⁽³⁹⁾

Despite its wealth and fame, the monastery was also known as a refuge for criminals and heretics. In the fifteenth century its patron, the Count of Niebla, wrote of cleaning out the monastery: [133] "well, the cave of thieves has been turned into a house of prayer, in which our Lord is now served." ⁽⁴⁰⁾ In the sixteenth century the monastery became the refuge for a group of Protestants. Its prior and several members, as well as several nuns of the nearby Jeronomite convent of Santa Paula, were secure in this monastery until the late 1550's, when they had to flee the Inquisition. The Inquisition found that the monastery was one of the major centers of Spanish Protestantism, and that it had been used as one of the depositories for New Testaments printed in the Castilian language and smuggled into the country by Protestants. ⁽⁴¹⁾ In 1567 Philip II ordered the reduction of this monastery and six others. "The causes that moved the king to this decision (which time has borne out)," wrote one chronicler, "were the small amount of conformity in the superiors of these houses that disrupted in them the religious observance." ⁽⁴²⁾ One year later the hermit monks of San Jerónimo, who had occupied the monastery, were incorporated into the larger Order of the Monks of San Jerónimo by order of the Crown, undoubtedly a move to bring the monastery under stricter control.

The Crown wanted to curb the monastery of San Isidro del Campo because its wealth and fame and physical separation from Seville were increasing its independence. Philip II seemed less interested in the scriptural hair-splitting of heresy than in the political threat of a religious group who questioned the religious conformity buttressing his throne. He welcomed monasteries in his kingdom, but only if they supported this conformity. In Hapsburg Spain the Church could continue as a refuge only for people who did not threaten the teachings of the Church or the power of the secular order.

THE CHURCH AS CARICATURE

Underworld people used the Church as a butt for jokes and tricks. Tipsy prisoners dressed up as priests and held raucous [134] religious "services." Ruffians broke into city brothels and hooted as priests preached and tried to convert prostitutes there. False beggars posed as monks collecting money to buy oil for church lamps. Street children hid their stolen loot behind altar pieces. Criminals masqueraded as priests and escaped prison in pious dignity. ⁽⁴³⁾ What is the significance of these jokes and tricks at the expense of the Church?

Much underworld humor can be regarded as a strategy for survival. The false beggar posing as an alms-gathering monk took hard-earned maravedís from a pious widow in order to have money for food, drink, and gambling. He also played this trick in order to laugh at the absurdity and misery of the world around him. If he could not occasionally laugh at some poor wretch, he would probably disintegrate under the burdens of his own miseries. His joke got bread for him, and it also preserved his mental health.

Underworld jokes were often expressions of bravado. Prisoners who presented a religious "service" in the prison were making fun of the priest's performance before an altar, but they were also crying out against impotence. Tomorrow the priest might be able to lead them as lambs to the gallows, but tonight they could show how ridiculous he was as he bowed and chanted and mouthed words that he might not understand. Ridiculing the Church helped these prisoners to feel less impotent in the clutches of authority.

Bravado can bluster away fears. Prisoners who dressed up in white penitential robes to accompany two condemned highwaymen to the gallows turned this religious ritual into a blasphemous carnival. They put on false moustaches, squabbled over rosaries, and proudly preened themselves to the dismay of the prison chaplain. ⁽⁴⁴⁾ Their parody of religion was very entertaining, and it also helped them feel less terror about their own approaching executions.

[135] Humor as an expression of bravado can make a statement about power positions when no other statement is possible. The powerful Church in Seville was allied with the secular government, able to call on the powers of that government to restrain its enemies. It was a large landholder and had ties with a fearsome agency, the Inquisition, which was empowered to arrest, imprision, torture, and punish people. It could confiscate property, and it also seemed to hold the power of eternal damnation. A Street thief who shouted from the Plaza de San Francisco that the Church was too powerful would probably get no farther than the gallows, but he would find an appreciative audience in a nearby tavern if he told them the hilarious tale of how he had escaped prison masquerading as a pious priest. To ridicule the Church and its clergy was a popular and practical way to make them seem less awesome and powerful.

When underworld people called a rooster "bishop," they may have exerted a form of informal social control on the Church. ⁽⁴⁵⁾ Underworld burlesques of the clergy may have brought erring members into line in a manner similar to nicknames, popular ballads, and the vito, a form of charivari or "rough music." Church leaders undoubtedly saw the need to correct abuses within the Church without underworld assistance, but underworld burlesques helped to keep the Church open to popular scrutiny.

As burlesque, underworld humor could be considered a form of social criticism, but this should be distinguished from political protest. Underworld people were so busy exploiting the existing system that they had no interest in proposing a new system. They liked the bread and soup they got from the monks, and they wanted to use the prison chaplains as intermediaries to their own advantages. They also liked to ridicule this powerful institution. Underworld people could be considered cynics and protesters, but never revolutionaries.

Humor helped to defuse the social tensions that grew between the increasingly populous underworld and the powerful Church. [136] As priests began to insist that they would give charity only to the "honorable poor," ruffians might have reacted with an outraged thrust of the dagger into a well-fed cassock. Instead, underworld people made fun of priests and charity. Ruffians hid in the shadows while their women posed as honorable wives whose husbands were in the Indies. Hoodwinking the priests into giving them charity not only avoided a violent confrontation; it also enabled the underworld to use the existing system. Thugs didn't hesitate to use violence, but they became better parasites when they could exploit and ridicule at the same time.

The obverse side of the Church's using the underworld to personify evil was that the underworld used the Church as a caricature. All around them the people of the streets of Seville saw an order that was not just or good or rational. Like the modern philosophers, they, too, looked into the abyss. The response of underworld people, however, was not despair, but jokes. They burlesqued the Church because it exemplified so much that was ridiculous: the wealthy ecclesiastical landholder in a city of paupers, the hypocritical preacher asserting that only the honorable poor should have bread, the pious monk urging the prisoner to confess and go meekly to his execution as a lamb to the slaughter. Such absurdity was not to be changed, but to be laughed at and used.

Inadvertently, however, underworld burlesques of the Church helped to debunk the old religious myths and prepare the way for the rational and secular myths of the modern period. Poking fun at a priest showed that he was human like other people. Stealing the crown and star from a Virgin and Child in the Cathedral demonstrated that these images had no supernatural powers and little value aside from their jewels and precious metals. ⁽⁴⁶⁾ Wearing a rosary made from witches' teeth combined the profane with the holy in such a way that the holy would never appear quite the same. ⁽⁴⁷⁾ In the modern period secular governments substituted national myths for old religious myths, and they replaced traditional religious rituals with modern [137] secular rites. The interaction of Church and underworld in early modern Seville suggests some reasons for increasing secularization: the Church had been an unpopular intermediary; it had been exploited as a refuge for both the holy and profane; and it had been the object of raucous, cynical laughter.

1. "Casos raros," Papeles varios, BC, 85-4-11.

2. Ortiz de Zuñiga, 4:744. See below, pp. 248-262.

3. "Casos raros," Papeles varios, BC, 85-4-11. See also the discussion of this function of religion in William A. Christian, Jr., "De los Santos y María; Panorama de las devociones a santuarios españoles desde el principio de la Edad Media hasta nuestros dias," in Maria Cátedra Tomás, et al., Temas de antropologia española (Madrid, 1976), pp. 86-87; and Keith Thomas, Religion and the Decline of Magic (New York, 1971), p. 152. AMS, Papeles del Conde de Aguila, Sección Especial, Tomo 62, en folio, No. 40; and Miguel de Mañara, "Motibo principal por que zesaron las comedias en Sevilla año de 1679," BC, 80-1-92.

4. Pedro de León, Part II, chapter 14, folio 151^V.

5. Ibid., Part II. C. Chaves, Part II. Rodriguez Marín, La Cárcel, p. 26.

6. This letter is quoted in AMS, Papeles del Conde de Aguila, Sección Especial, Tomo 5, en folio, No. 11. See also Pedro de León, Part II, chapter 16, folio 156^V.

7. Domínguez Ortiz, Orto, p. 43. "Los cargos que resultan de la residencia que se tomO por mando del R^rmo señor don Rodrigo de Castro Arçobispo de Sevilla . . . contra don Alonso Faxardo de Villalobos Obispo de Esquilache Arcediano y CanOnigo de Sevilla," BM 28358, folios 133-134; also cited in Pike, Aristocrats, pp. 71-72. Astrain, 5:40-47.

8. AI, Casa de Contratación, Sección 2, Legajo 58, folio 82.

9. AMS, Efemérides, folio 33. Maldonado, BC, 84-7-21, folio 133^V.

10. Kamen, Inquisition, pp. 147-148. See also Morgado, pp. 189-190, for a description of numerous lay officials of the Inquisition in Seville.

11. Astrain, 2:94-98, 3:353-355, 503-504, 698, 723. José Deleito y Pifiuela, La vida religiosa española bajo el cuarto Felipe; Santos y pecadores (Madrid, 1952), p. 47. AMS, Efemérides, "Noticias y casos," No. 1. Menéndez y Pelayo, pp. 99-102. Ortiz de Zuñiga, 4:517.

12. Marcel Bataillon, El sentido del Lazarillo Tormes (Paris and Toulouse, 1954), pp. 8-10, 12-13, 22. See also Menéndez y Pelayo, pp. 201-2-3; and Deleito y Piñuela, Religiosa, p. 59. Ortiz de Zuñiga, 4:563-564, discussed the Cardinal Archbishop's reforms.

13. Menéndez y Pelayo, p. 115.

14. See the treatise originally written by Padre Rodrigo Alvarez as "Tratado se las discreciones de espiritus," and copied with additions by Pedro de León in 1576, in Domínguez Ortiz, "Vida," pp. 195-196.

15. AMS, Efemérides, contains an account of these clerics in a record of an auto de fé in 1624.

16. Menéndez y Pelayo, pp. 236, 243. AMS, Efemérides, "Noticias y casos," No. 1.

17. Cf. Keith Thomas, "Women and the Civil War Sects," Past and Present, No. 13, April 1958.

18. Saludadores are described in Pike, Aristocrats, p. 92.

19. For example, see Relacion de un auto de fée que se celebró en el, S^to Oficio de la Inquisicion de la ciudad de Sevilla en el conv^to de Sⁿ Pablo . . . el ultimo día del mes de febrero del año de 1627, BC, 64-7-118, folios l24^V-l25.

20. See the germanesca vocabulary at the end of Juan Hidalgo's ballads, printed in Hill, p. 118.

21. Ibid., pp. 107, 112, 113, 114, 116, 122.

22. Ibid., p. 90. The Spanish text is, "Vnos les prometen Missas,/otros rezalle Rosarios;/otros penella candelas/otros cantalle los Salmos."

23. Ibid., p. 92.

24. Ibid., p. 114.

25. AMS, Archivo General, Sección 1, Carpeta 5, No. 70. Ariño, pp. 67-68, 80.

26. Memorias eclesiásticas, BC, 84-7-19, folio 204. Papeles varios, BC, 85-4-11.

27. Bernardo Luís de Castro Palacios, "Tratado de algunas ceremonias y cosas antiguas que se observasen en la S^ta Iglesia Patriarcal, y Metropolirena desta ciudad de Sevilla" (Sevilla, 1712), BC, 83-4-9, folios 24-25. For a more complete discussion of charity, see below, pp. 163-189.

28. Quevedo, p. 213.

29. Hill, p. 113.

30. Papeles varios, BC, 85-4-11.

31. Alonso de Castillo Solórzano, La Garduña de Sevilla y anzvelo de las bolsas, 1642 (Madrid, 1922), pp. 172, 185.

32. Ortiz de Zuñiga, 4:295. "Casos raros," Papeles varios, BC, 85-4-11. Domínguez Ortiz, "Vida," p. 189. "Diferentes casos," Memorias eclesiásticas, BC, 84-7-19, folios 209^V, and 211^V-212^V.

33. "Discurso sobre cierta razon de buen govierno," Biblioteca Nacional 17, 502, hojas 123-127, cited in Domínguez Ortiz, Estamento, p. 72

34. Antonio Domínguez Ortiz, "Dos monasterios sevillanos en dificil situacion económica a fines del siglo XVI," Archivo Hispalense, Series 2, 54 (1971-72), 235-237.

35. Quoted in Domínguez Ortiz, Estamento, p. 212.

36. "Relacion de la translacion de la imagen," Papeles varios, BC, 85-4-13, folio 156. Gordillo, reported in Domíngues Ortiz, Estamento, p. 10.

37. Joseph Maldonado Davila y Saavedra, "Que oy paren en la liberia de Dⁿ Diego Ortiz de Zuñiga su sobrino," Memorias eclesiásticas, BC, 85-7-19, folios 106^V-180^V.

38. Pedro de León, Part II, chapter 26, folios 201-203.

39. Morgado, pp. 411-415. Ortiz de Zuñiga, 4:520, 723-724. Guichot y Parody, 2:73.

40. José de Siguenza, Historia de la orden de San Jerónimo (Madrid, 1907), 1:328.

41. Kamen, Inquisition, p. 83. Menéndez y Pelayo, pp. 104-105.

42. Ortiz de Zuñiga, 4:529; Morgado, pp. 413-414.

43. AMS, Papeles del Conde de Aguila, Sección Especial, Tomo 7 en folio, No. 20. Quevedo, p. 198, describes some irreverent ruses of false beggars. M. Chaves, pp. 80-81. C. Chaves, Parts I, II.

44. C. Chaves, Part II.

45. Hill, p. 118. Pitt-Rivers, "Honour and Social Status," in Peristiany, pp. 47-48, describes informal social controls in Spain.

46. AMS, Efemérides, "Noticias y casos," No. 1.

47. Quevedo, p. 85.