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Page 8
Season had followed season in rapid succession, and the last rays
of an August sun illumined a scene so beautiful, that I long for
the pencil of a Claude Lorraine. It was a far-off town, in a far-off
state, yet who has gazed on thy loveliness, oh, San Antonio, can e'er
forget thee! Thine was the sweetness of nature; no munificent hand had
arranged, with artistic skill, a statue here, a fountain there.
The river wound like an azure girdle round the town; not confined
by precipitous banks, but gliding along the surface, as it were, and
reflecting, in its deep blue waters, the rustling tule which fringed
the margin. An occasional pecan or live-oak flung a majestic shadow
athwart its azure bosom, and now and then a clump of willows sighed
low in the evening breeze.
Far away to the north stretched a mountain range, blue in the
distance; to the south, the luxuriant valley of the stream. The
streets were narrow, and wound with a total disregard of the points
of the compass. Could a stranger have been placed blindfold in one
of them, and then allowed to look about him, the flat roofs and light
appearance of most of the houses would have forced him to declare that
he had entered a tropical town of the far east.
Many of the buildings were of musquit pickets, set upright in the
ground, lashed together with strips of hide, and thatched with the
tule before mentioned. There were scarce three plank-floors in the
town; by far the greater number being composed of layers of pebbles,
lime, and sand, rolled with a heavy piece of timber till quite
compact; daily sprinkling was found necessary, however, to keep down
the dust, produced by constant friction.
The wealthy inhabitants built of sun-dried bricks, overcast with a
kind of stucco. Yet, unfortunately, the plastering art died with the
Montezumas, for the most vivid imagination failed to convert this
rough coating into the "silver sheen" which so dazzled Cortes's little
band. The reader will exclaim, "I can fancy no beauty from so prosy a
description. Thatched roofs and dirt floors, how absurd!"
Although a strict analysis might prove detrimental, I assure you the
_tout ensemble_ was picturesque indeed.
"Italia! oh Italia! thou who hast
The fatal gift of beauty."
Art rivaled here. Thy gorgeous skies have floated hither, and hover
like a halo round the town. The sun had set; the glowing tints faded
fast, till of the brilliant spectacle naught remained save the soft
roseate hue which melted insensibly into the deep azure of the zenith.
Quiet seemed settling o'er mountain and river, when, with a solemn
sweetness, the vesper bells chimed out on the evening air. Even as the
Moslem kneels at sunset toward the "Holy City," so punctiliously does
the devout papist bend for vesper prayers. Will you traverse with me
the crooked streets, and stand beneath the belfry whence issued the
holy tones?
This ancient edifice was constructed in 1692. It fronted the Plaza,
and was a long, narrow building, flanked, as it were, by wings lower
than the main apartment, and surmounted by a dome, in which were five
or six bells. This dome or belfry was supported by pillars, and in the
intervening openings were placed the bells. The roof was flat, and the
dark green and gray moss clung along the sides. The interior presented
a singular combination of art and rudeness; the seats were of
unpainted pine, and the cement floor between was worn irregularly by
the knees of devout attendants. The railing of the altar was of carved
mahogany, rich and beautiful. Over this division of the long room hung
a silken curtain, concealing three niches, which contained an image of
the "Virgin," the "Child," and in the center one, a tall gilt cross.
Heavy silver candlesticks were placed in front of each niche, and
a dozen candles were now burning dimly. A variety of relics, too
numerous to mention, were scattered on the altar, and in addition,
several silver goblets, and a massive bowl for holding "holy water." A
few tin sconces, placed against the wall, were the only provision for
lighting that dark, gloomy church, and dreary enough it looked in the
twilight hour. About a dozen devotees were present, all kneeling on
the damp, hard floor. The silk curtain which concealed the altar was
drawn aside, with due solemnity, by two boys habited in red flannel
petticoats, over which hung a loose white slip. The officiating priest
was seen kneeling before the altar, with his lips pressed to the
foot of the cross. He retained his position for several moments, then
rising, conducted the ceremonies in a calm, imposing manner. When
these were concluded, and all had departed save the two boys, who
still knelt before the Virgin, he beckoned them to him, and speaking
a few words in Spanish, ended by pointing to the door and uttering,
emphatically, "Go." Crossing themselves as they passed the images,
they disappeared through a side door, and the priest was left alone.
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