Part 19 (1/2)
J.W. was not quite satisfied with that explanation, but he preferred to wait until he had seen enough so that he could ask his questions more intelligently. So he kept relatively still, but his eyes did not cease from observing.
As the trip progressed, and the jumps between towns became longer, the young salesman had time to see a good deal. In the far Southwest he became aware that the increasingly numerous Mexican population was no longer a matter of box-car dwellers, more or less migratory. It was a settled people. Its little adobe villages, queer and quaint as they seemed to Middle-Western eyes, were centers of established life. And he discovered that in these villages always one building overshadowed all the rest.
One day as they were headed towards El Paso he ventured to mention this to his traveling companion. ”Seems to me,” he said, ”that none of these little mud villages is too poor to have a church, and mostly a pretty good church too. How do they manage it?”
Now Finch was no student of church life, but he did know a little about the country. ”That's the way it is all over this Southwest, my boy, and across the line in Old Mexico it's a good deal more so. My guess is that the churches and the priests began by teaching the people that whatever else happened they had to put up for the church, and from what I've noticed I reckon that now nothing else matters much to the church. It has become a kind of poor relation that's got to be fed and helped, whether it amounts to anything or not. But it's a long way from being as humble and thankful as you would naturally expect a poor relation to be.”
During the El Paso layover the two of them took a day across the International Bridge. J.W. had watched the Mexicans coming over, and he wanted to see the country they came from.
”You'll not see much over there,” a friendly spoken customs official told him. ”It's a pretty poor section of desert 'round about these parts. You ought to get away down into the heart of the country.”
”Yes, I suppose so,” J.W. responded, ”but there isn't time on this trip.
Are such people as these coming over to the United States right along?”
”I should say they are,” said the man of authority with emphasis. ”In the last four or five years the Mexican population of the United States has about doubled; three quarters of a million have crossed the Rio Grande somewhere, or the border further west. You people from the East make a big fuss over immigration from Europe, but you hardly seem to know that a regular flood has been pouring in through these southwestern gateways. You will some day.”
What they saw on the Mexican side of the bridge was, as the customs man had said, nothing much. But J.W. came away with a strange sense of depression. He had never before seen so much of the raw material of misery and squalor; what he had observed with wondering pity in the villages on the American side was as nothing to the unrelieved hopelessness of the south bank of the river.
That night in the hotel lobby J.W. noticed a fresh-faced but rather elderly man whom he recognized as one whom he had seen over in Mexico earlier in the day. With the memory of what he had seen yet fresh upon him, J.W. ventured a commonplace or two with the stranger, and found him so genial and interesting that they were still talking long after Fred Finch had yawned himself off to bed.
”I thought I remembered seeing you over there,” said the unknown, ”and you didn't look like a seasoned traveler; more like the amateur I am myself, though I do get about a little.”
”I'm no seasoned sightseer,” said J.W.; ”this is my first time out. And that's maybe the reason I've developed so much curiosity about the people we saw to-day. Do you know much about them?”
”Who? the Mexicans?” The other man smiled, and then was suddenly serious. ”My friend, I begin to think I'm making the Mexicans my hobby.
I don't know who you are, but if you are really interested in the Mexicans as human beings I'd rather tell you what I know than do anything else I can think of to-night. It isn't often I find a traveling man who cares.”
”Well, I do care,” J.W. a.s.serted, stoutly. ”They're people, folks, aren't they? And it looks as though they could stand having somebody get interested in them a little.”
”Ah, I see now what you are; you are that remarkable combination, a traveling man and a Christian. Am I right?”
”Why, I suppose so,” said J.W., with a smile and a touch of the old boyish pride in his name. ”My initials, as you might say, are 'John Wesley,' and I'm not ashamed of them.”
”And that means you are not only a Christian, but a Methodist? My dear man, we must shake on that. I'm a Methodist myself, as the stage robber said to Brother Van, with the romantic name of Tanner. Got my first interest in Mexico and the Mexicans when my daughter married a young Methodist preacher and they went down there as missionaries. I make a trip to see them and the babies about once a year. But now I am getting interested in these people as an American and, I hope, a Christian who tries to work at the business. What did you say your other name was?”
J.W. hadn't said, but now he did, and the two settled to their talk.
This William Tanner, some sort of retired business man, certainly seemed to know his Mexico. And he had that most subtle of all stimulants to-night, a curious and sympathetic hearer. By consequence he was eager to give all that J.W. would take.
Before long J.W. had edged in a question about the church. He said, ”You know, Mr. Tanner, we have a pretty good Roman Catholic church in my home town, though Father O'Neill doesn't tie up much to what the other churches are trying to do, and some of his flock seem to me pretty wild, for sheep. Now, these churches down here are all Roman Catholic too, yet they certainly don't look any kin to Saint Ursula's at Delafield. Are they?”
It was the sort of question which William Tanner had asked himself many a time when he first came to Mexico. ”This is the way of it, Mr.
Farwell,” he said. ”The church came to Mexico, and to all Latin America, from Spain and Portugal. It had a few great names, we must acknowledge, in those early times. But in a little while it settled down to two activities--to make itself the sole religious authority and to get rich.
It was a church of G.o.d and gold, and as a matter of course it preached that it was the supreme arbiter of life and death in matters of faith, and extended its authority into every relation of life. It brought from the lands of the Inquisition the idea of priestly power, and there was none to dispute it in Latin America, as there was in the colonies of our own country. It gave the people little instruction, and no responsibility or freedom. It made outward submission the test of piety and faith. And so when Spain lost its grip on the western hemisphere the church found itself with nothing but its claim of power to fall back on.
Well, you know that would work only with the ignorant and the superst.i.tious.”
”Mexico, and all Latin America for that matter, clear to the Straits of Magellan, is a land of innumerable crosses, but no Christ. The church has had left to it what it wanted; that is, the priestly prerogatives; it marries, baptizes, absolves, buries, where the people can pay the fees, and the people for various reasons have not cared that this is all. If they are afraid, or want to make a show, they call in the church; if they don't care, or if they are poor, they go unbaptized, unmarried, unshriven, and do not see that it makes any difference. They have no understanding of the church as a Christian inst.i.tution; in fact, I think it would puzzle most of them to tell what a true church ought to be. Now, all this is the church's reward for its ancient choice, which, so far as I can see, is still its choice. To the average Latin American the church is, and in the nature of things must be, a demander of pay for ceremonial, and a bitterly jealous defender of all its old autocratic claims. That is of the nature of the church.”
”But I don't understand,” interposed J.W. ”If the people have no real use for the church, why do they support it? It certainly is supported.”