lencia and Motolinia, who, heedless of hardships, of dangers, seeking not even glory save perhaps martyrdom, passed in toil and travel even their declining years, when comfort lures most men to repose. They penetrated to distant provinces, now following in the wake of ruthless invaders to act the part of Samaritans; now intruding on the golden arena where rival governors were ranging the forces to wage hot battle for possession of the shackled native; now entering alone on some primeval scene to plant the crucifix, harbinger of a gentle culture, even though it serve only too often to guide the way to vultures, in the shape of rapacious and cruel soldiers. If the missionaries could not prevent this evil, they could at least soften it by interposing at times the shielding arm of the church, and range themselves as champions of the oppressed. In this work they shine with brightest glory, undimmed even by that thirst for gold which overshadows them in many another part. Yet even here the more immediate end, at least, may be summoned to justify the means, embracing also doubtful mummery and miracles. The latter were not so numerous in New Spain, says Mendieta with unintentional significance, for the reason that the natives embraced the faith readily enough without much stimulant of that nature. There are records, however, of rains produced or stayed by carrying around the cross and saints' images; of the resurrection of dead persons, and the like.[1]
Several of the miracles are properly attributed to Father Valencia, as the chief of the Franciscan apostles, and because of a saintly life. While most exemplary in conduct, and rigid in the observance of rules laid down by the order, he was a stout defender of the prerogatives of the church and of the oppressed natives, and on more than one occasion assumed a belligerent attitude toward the local authorities. His
- ↑ Motolinia, Hist. Ind., 105, 145-6; Mendieta, Hist. Ecles., 597-600, and other authorities.
